The night before my mom’s 40th birthday, my sister and I had just gotten back from washing our clothes at the laundromat. We were both so tired, but we had so much homework to do since we had school the next day. As we were finishing up our homework, our eyes heavy and itchy from exhaustion, we suddenly heard our mom yell out.
She yelled out, “Wirras no aguanto el dolor, mejor llamen a su tía, tengo que ir al hospital.” (“Girls I can’t handle the pain anymore, call your aunt, I have to go to the hospital.”)
I put my iPad and notes to the side and ran to my aunt’s house next door, while my sister went to help our mom. She helped her get up from bed. It felt like I was dreaming. My heart started pounding, and I couldn’t feel my legs. I rushed in, and just by the look on my face, my aunt knew something was wrong.
She said, “ya mija vamos solo me pongo mi chumpa.” (“There darling, let’s go, I just need to put on my jacket.”)
I quickly ran back home, put on a sweater, and helped my sister carry our mom on our shoulders to get down the stairs.
When we arrived at Kaiser Hospital, the emergency room was empty, dark, and freezing. We checked my mom in, and the doctors quickly put her in a wheelchair. They rushed her inside, while the three of us waited, thinking she was just being placed in a room before her tests began. A female doctor came out to inform us that my mom had suffered a seizure. She would have to stay the night, and get a multitude of tests done to figure out what was wrong. We all panicked and informed the rest of our family. My sister and I got sent home and my aunt stayed by my mom’s side the whole night.
The next day on my mom’s birthday, a Wednesday afternoon, I waited for my sister to pick me up from after-school detention. I had no phone and no friends around to help me contact her, so I just had to wait. Those thirty minutes felt like hours. All I could think about was: Who’s with my mom? Are they taking good care of her? Is she thinking of us? Hundreds of questions ran through my mind, all needing answers I didn’t have.
As I got into the car when my sister arrived, she looked straight into my eyes and said, “Sister, stay calm, but Mom’s in surgery right now. They found a stomach cyst and had to perform an emergency procedure.”
I didn’t say a word. I just stared ahead, spacing out, nothing could’ve prepared either of us for our mom to be going through something like this. At that moment, I felt overwhelmed and deeply concerned. I didn’t know how to react or what to feel. There were so many mixed emotions.
I couldn’t stop having negative thoughts about the possibility of losing her. I kept asking myself: Have I been kind enough to my mom? Have I shown her how grateful I am for everything she’s done for me? I should’ve been doing better in school, and I shouldn’t have gotten into all that trouble.
I felt like I was going crazy, not knowing how everything was going to turn out.
Arriving at the hospital, we got placed into a room with the rest of my family as we waited for my mom to get out of surgery. There was a TV screen that had 10 different colors in which they all represented different stages within the surgery. The colors would light up white and peach which meant she was still on the table or close to being done. We waited for my mom’s name to turn white, indicating that she was done. As we waited we nervously looked at the door eager to see a healthcare provider with news.
Moments later a nurse came out to inform us that everything went smoothly. We felt a rush of relief. She then informed us that we were allowed to see her.
She guided us through a quiet long hallway and we made our way to the ICU.
As we walked in we could see how weak she was left from the surgery. She was conscious but was not strong enough to open her eyes. Her skin was so pale and cold to the touch. It was a scary experience to see my mom look so close to dead.
We were then given instructions on how to take care of her. We were to do physical therapy, around the clock care, and a strict diet along with detailed instructions for her medication. Due to the strength of the medication, she was to take it with every meal. She had so much to do to get better that we were given a packet to guide us through it.
My mother is now the healthiest person I know. Thankfully, she had a speedy recovery and once again able to do everything she’s always loved-though she has to be a bit more cautious now. Since then, I’ve learned to be more present as a daughter and join her wherever she goes. Whether it’s just a quick trip to the corner store, a run to Starbucks, watching basketball games together, or going shopping. I’ve learned to cherish every moment with her.
Watching my mom go through that experience opened my eyes. I realized that life is too precious to waste. Anything could happen in any moment and tomorrow isn’t promised. We hear this phrase constantly but it isn’t until we see it firsthand that we really understand it. I appreciate every moment I share with my mom. My mom is the most valuable thing I have in life, and seeing her almost slip away made me realize how much we take things for granted.
