May 3: Re-admission

Pickle Berry
Jul 22, 2017 · 3 min read

I parked on the street near the hospital and walked into the Emergency wing. I found my brother, Zane, registering my mom when I walked in.

“Where’s Mom?” I asked.

“She’s on a bed somewhere where the ambulance brought her in.” he replied calmly.

I looked around and found her getting wheeled into the Yellow Zone. In the Emergency section there are three zones — Red, Green, and Yellow. My mom usually gets taken to the Yellow Zone — I think that’s where people go if they need to be in a bed. Looking around, I saw so many different people with different ailments. There were children with broken limbs, elders on oxygen support, and even a person with restraints and security guards standing by their bed. Everyone had some friend or family member there to support them. I went and took my place beside my mom in her new curtained area of the Yellow Zone, and recited a prayer. Zane joined me to recite a prayer, too, and then left.

A little while later, a doctor came to ask me what happened, and what symptoms Mom had experienced.

“She was just discharged from this hospital yesterday,” I explained. “Basically, she was admitted because she had a high fever and low blood counts while taking chemo, and experienced some deliriousness. Now, it also seems like she cannot walk or use the bathroom anymore. Today she had an incident where she basically just stopped being responsive, and was just staring ahead blankly. So we brought her back here.”

The doctor took some notes and nodded. Then, he looked at me and said, “Your mom is going to have to stay here. We are going to have to admit her into the hospital to a floor upstairs, okay?”

“Yeah, for sure,” I responded. I mean, obviously she would have to stay at the hospital. I don’t know why he was saying this as if it was like some big news that I needed to swallow.

“Now, another thing. Please don’t take this offensively but we just need to ask these questions as part of routine whenever anyone is admitted here. If something was to happen to your mother — and I’m not saying anything will — but if something did happen, has your mother left any directions on whether she would like to be at home or in the hospital when she passes away?”

I wasn’t offended or frightened. I knew it was a routine question, and a valid question, and we had been asked this multiple times in the past about my mom.

“Yeah, we have discussed it,” I said calmly. “I think my mom said she wanted to be at home, but this was three years ago so I will have to check with my dad to be sure.”

“Thanks,” he said, and walked away.

Welcome to a place where words matter. On Medium, smart voices and original ideas take center stage - with no ads in sight. Watch
Follow all the topics you care about, and we’ll deliver the best stories for you to your homepage and inbox. Explore
Get unlimited access to the best stories on Medium — and support writers while you’re at it. Just $5/month. Upgrade