DEATH
May 17, 2007
based on a true story
The Twin Towers would’ve been blown to bits without my ever stepping foot into them. I would’ve remained relatively ignorant of Radio City Hall’s Christmas program, the workings of the New York public transportation system, the insanity of the Labor Day Caribbean parade. I wouldn’t have understood that it is sometimes okay to splurge, and there is a mighty big difference between a $10-Coach-bag-from-off-the-street and a $200-Coach-bag-from-the-Coach-store.
Although I doubt I would’ve remained completely uncultured (I read enough to make up for any discrepancies), [it is nice to have someone making sure that I gained enough knowledge to be well-rounded and reasonable] ………………..
I am wary of “love” and “loving” people. I’m not sure I want to acknowledge that I am capable of what I perceive as a _______, a chink in the figurative armor I wear. And yet, I know that I feel for my Aunt can only be love. Nothing even comes close.
I love my Auntie G.
She is dying.
!@!@
Okay, so she’s not dying. Not really. She has breast cancer.
I tell people she has breast cancer, and they “oooh” and “hmmm” sympathetically. I’m not even sure I understand the reality of cancer and how terrible it is. I see its effect on her, and it makes me cry, but do I really understand? I highly doubt it.
!@!@
Wikipedia is my friend. I looked up “breast cancer” and received a concise/scientific/whatever response. {insert here}
I overheard my mom telling someone what my aunt said about cancer. It bothers me every time I think about it. My aunt said that the pain of cancer is almost unreal. It’s so deep, deep within the bones, that it seems as though it can’t be touched. It feels like it can never go away, it is ingrained. It’s nothing she’s ever felt before.
Isn’t that insane? I can’t begin to imagine feeling a pain so deep that I can’t even touch it. Damn.
!@!@
Two days before my May 6th SAT date, my aunt finally came to stay with my family after being in the hospital for a couple of months. I helped turn her over (everything is swollen, she can’t move that well on her own). I talked to her a bit. But mostly, I kind of stayed away from her. Maybe I was afraid. Maybe I was too lazy to work up the energy. Maybe I thought I would cry and I didn’t want to. I don’t know.
My SAT date, I came downstairs to find the FDNY in my living room. Never mind the fact that they’ve been to my house several times, between my brother and now-deceased paternal grandmother.
My aunt went to the hospital, while I slaved over the atrociously long test.
!@!@
That very night, around 10,11 pm, my mom got a call from the hospital. The doctor said that my aunt would not live through the night. My favorite aunt in the whole wide frickin’ world was going to frickin’ die.
My mom kept complaining that she was too tired to go over to the hospital. I felt like screaming. Auntie G was there all alone. I didn’t want her to die alone. Some of my cousins came over and picked my sister and I up, and off we went to Kings County.
We practically ran into the emergency room. My aunt was not alert, had an oxygen mask on, and her heart and breathing levels were down. Her hair was gone. Her earrings were gone. She was just laying there.
My cousins held her hand, talked to her. I rubbed my thumb on her arm. Her skin felt papery and thin. They talked and talked. I looked at the screen, I looked at her. I cried. All I thought was “dammit, my favorite aunt in the whole world is dying. Dying, dammit. She isn’t going to make it through the night. She can’t see us. She can’t move. She probably isn’t even aware that we’re there. All she can do is lay there. She might not even be aware of her imminent death.”
It was so damned weird. It was clean and white, and there was someone moaning in the room over. All I could do was cry.
We sang hymns. We said scripture. It felt like we were giving her the last rites. It felt so macabre.
We left at 2 am. I went home and lay in my bed. I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to go to school the next day. I didn't.
!@!@
She was alive the next day. Thank God.
!@!@
She’s still alive now. Thank God.
!@!@
She used to be so alive. So healthy. She traveled everywhere.
Now, her hair is gone. Her nails are dark and bent. Some of them have completely torn off. The skin on her heels is peeling. She can’t breathe on her own. She can’t turn over on her own. She can’t swallow. She can barely speak any more. None of us understand what she’s saying.
I think, cancer is so disgusting. I mean, you hear so much about it, but you never really think it could be so bad. It completely cripples a person. It breaks down every part of a body, bit by bit. Only a miracle can cure cancer, I think. And only a miracle can cure Auntie G.
!@!@
I want to believe. I want Auntie G to get better.
!@!@
One day I went to the hospital to visit her. Her breathing rate kept dropping to critical all the time. Once it went to zero. I had to go next to her and tell her “breathe. Breathe. Open your mouth.” The oxygen mask wasn’t doing much. I held her hand, but I couldn’t stop crying. She stared at me, unable to speak. I was crying; I couldn’t speak either.
I sat next to her, on her right side. She turned her head, stared at me, and-I swear to God-winked. I swear. I nearly cried. I smiled at her instead.
When I was holding her hand, going into hysterics, she motioned for me to come closer. I thought she wanted to talk, so I bent my ear to her mouth.
She kissed my cheek. She couldn’t even speak.
I kissed her back. Then I went outside to cry.
I’ve turned into a sap.
!@!@
Live, dammit. Live!
!@!@
Once, before she went to the hospital the second time, she called my house. I picked up the phone. She sounded sad as she said, “There are so many places we didn’t go. I want to go to your graduation. I want to see you get married.” She was so sad and soft I could barely hear her.
!@!@
Damn. While I’m writing this I’m crying. God help me.
It is not a pretty sight.
!@!@
I would give anything to see her walking. Talking. Eating on her own. Alert.
More later.
May 18, 2007
She died this morning, Friday May 18th. God help me, and rest her soul.
Dammit!
based on a true story
The Twin Towers would’ve been blown to bits without my ever stepping foot into them. I would’ve remained relatively ignorant of Radio City Hall’s Christmas program, the workings of the New York public transportation system, the insanity of the Labor Day Caribbean parade. I wouldn’t have understood that it is sometimes okay to splurge, and there is a mighty big difference between a $10-Coach-bag-from-off-the-street and a $200-Coach-bag-from-the-Coach-store.
Although I doubt I would’ve remained completely uncultured (I read enough to make up for any discrepancies), [it is nice to have someone making sure that I gained enough knowledge to be well-rounded and reasonable] ………………..
I am wary of “love” and “loving” people. I’m not sure I want to acknowledge that I am capable of what I perceive as a _______, a chink in the figurative armor I wear. And yet, I know that I feel for my Aunt can only be love. Nothing even comes close.
I love my Auntie G.
She is dying.
!@!@
Okay, so she’s not dying. Not really. She has breast cancer.
I tell people she has breast cancer, and they “oooh” and “hmmm” sympathetically. I’m not even sure I understand the reality of cancer and how terrible it is. I see its effect on her, and it makes me cry, but do I really understand? I highly doubt it.
!@!@
Wikipedia is my friend. I looked up “breast cancer” and received a concise/scientific/whatever response. {insert here}
I overheard my mom telling someone what my aunt said about cancer. It bothers me every time I think about it. My aunt said that the pain of cancer is almost unreal. It’s so deep, deep within the bones, that it seems as though it can’t be touched. It feels like it can never go away, it is ingrained. It’s nothing she’s ever felt before.
Isn’t that insane? I can’t begin to imagine feeling a pain so deep that I can’t even touch it. Damn.
!@!@
Two days before my May 6th SAT date, my aunt finally came to stay with my family after being in the hospital for a couple of months. I helped turn her over (everything is swollen, she can’t move that well on her own). I talked to her a bit. But mostly, I kind of stayed away from her. Maybe I was afraid. Maybe I was too lazy to work up the energy. Maybe I thought I would cry and I didn’t want to. I don’t know.
My SAT date, I came downstairs to find the FDNY in my living room. Never mind the fact that they’ve been to my house several times, between my brother and now-deceased paternal grandmother.
My aunt went to the hospital, while I slaved over the atrociously long test.
!@!@
That very night, around 10,11 pm, my mom got a call from the hospital. The doctor said that my aunt would not live through the night. My favorite aunt in the whole wide frickin’ world was going to frickin’ die.
My mom kept complaining that she was too tired to go over to the hospital. I felt like screaming. Auntie G was there all alone. I didn’t want her to die alone. Some of my cousins came over and picked my sister and I up, and off we went to Kings County.
We practically ran into the emergency room. My aunt was not alert, had an oxygen mask on, and her heart and breathing levels were down. Her hair was gone. Her earrings were gone. She was just laying there.
My cousins held her hand, talked to her. I rubbed my thumb on her arm. Her skin felt papery and thin. They talked and talked. I looked at the screen, I looked at her. I cried. All I thought was “dammit, my favorite aunt in the whole world is dying. Dying, dammit. She isn’t going to make it through the night. She can’t see us. She can’t move. She probably isn’t even aware that we’re there. All she can do is lay there. She might not even be aware of her imminent death.”
It was so damned weird. It was clean and white, and there was someone moaning in the room over. All I could do was cry.
We sang hymns. We said scripture. It felt like we were giving her the last rites. It felt so macabre.
We left at 2 am. I went home and lay in my bed. I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t want to go to school the next day. I didn't.
!@!@
She was alive the next day. Thank God.
!@!@
She’s still alive now. Thank God.
!@!@
She used to be so alive. So healthy. She traveled everywhere.
Now, her hair is gone. Her nails are dark and bent. Some of them have completely torn off. The skin on her heels is peeling. She can’t breathe on her own. She can’t turn over on her own. She can’t swallow. She can barely speak any more. None of us understand what she’s saying.
I think, cancer is so disgusting. I mean, you hear so much about it, but you never really think it could be so bad. It completely cripples a person. It breaks down every part of a body, bit by bit. Only a miracle can cure cancer, I think. And only a miracle can cure Auntie G.
!@!@
I want to believe. I want Auntie G to get better.
!@!@
One day I went to the hospital to visit her. Her breathing rate kept dropping to critical all the time. Once it went to zero. I had to go next to her and tell her “breathe. Breathe. Open your mouth.” The oxygen mask wasn’t doing much. I held her hand, but I couldn’t stop crying. She stared at me, unable to speak. I was crying; I couldn’t speak either.
I sat next to her, on her right side. She turned her head, stared at me, and-I swear to God-winked. I swear. I nearly cried. I smiled at her instead.
When I was holding her hand, going into hysterics, she motioned for me to come closer. I thought she wanted to talk, so I bent my ear to her mouth.
She kissed my cheek. She couldn’t even speak.
I kissed her back. Then I went outside to cry.
I’ve turned into a sap.
!@!@
Live, dammit. Live!
!@!@
Once, before she went to the hospital the second time, she called my house. I picked up the phone. She sounded sad as she said, “There are so many places we didn’t go. I want to go to your graduation. I want to see you get married.” She was so sad and soft I could barely hear her.
!@!@
Damn. While I’m writing this I’m crying. God help me.
It is not a pretty sight.
!@!@
I would give anything to see her walking. Talking. Eating on her own. Alert.
More later.
May 18, 2007
She died this morning, Friday May 18th. God help me, and rest her soul.
Dammit!