When I was 4 months old

My grandfather was hospitalized

One year of back and forth

IV’s and monitors were normalized from infancy

 

When I was in fifth grade

My grandfather went in for surgery

His years of smoking had led to lung cancer

At the ripe age of 10, I discovered just how frightening the ICU was

 

When I was 15

I found my grandfather, struggling to breath

I called 911, gasping between sobs

It was at this moment, I realized how precious life was

 

That summer, when I was still 15

My grandfather was intubated twice

Tubes forced down his throat

I learned that life and death are separated by a thin line

 

I most remember the doctors

Asking me to translate for my grandmother

Who had left her home of Mexico 20 years before in a search for love, after her husband’s passing

“Tell her that if he isn’t intubated in 5 minutes, he’ll be dead”

 

I still have nightmares about that ER

Every time I visit the hospital

I feel my chest tighten a little bit

And I see his face, terrified of his lungs giving out

 

I can’t help but feel like a part of me will never get to leave the waiting room

Few places have watched me grow up like Rockingham Memorial Hospital

Home is there, and to be quite frank, I really wish it wasn’t