Not an Average Life Story

Chapter 4

Gary stopped the car with a loud screech right in front of the hospital. Before I could get out of the car, he was opening my door. My hands were wet and cold, even though it was 80 degrees today. Gary went ahead. He opened the front door to the hospital. When I stepped in the smell of bleach pierced my nose, made the hair on my arms stand up, and turned my already upset stomach.

I could hear the heart monitors going off in multiple rooms, then I saw the huge brown desk across the room. Gary walked over to the desk, and motioned for me to follow, and I did. When I made it to the desk Gary recited my parents' names like he has known them forever, he really hasn't. How can he just pretend to know my parents? I was over to the side marveling at a Leonardo Divinci painting. Maybe this will take the pain from my stomach. She said a number and that it was on the bottom floor. Gary had to say my name multiple times to break me out of my trance on that painting. Pretending that everything was okay so that I wouldn't have to think about why I have to be in this hospital.

Gary led me to my parents' room and I heard their heart monitors. I almost didn't want to walk into the room because if I didn't see them, they were still the parents that I know and they are still good. I was so terrified. It was 2006 so the techniques used in the hospital were less detailed with family than they are today.

The doctor then came out and explained their condition to Gary and me. He said that my dad is in a coma, and my mom is in a very bad state and has very severe brain damage. When he let me in I saw what he was talking about. Mom had a lot of cuts and bruises. Her head was bandaged and I could see she was bleeding through the bandage. She was still my beautiful mother that I had known all my life, but she looked a lot different too. She was a little more peaceful from the sleep but also more pained than I had ever seen her. She had blonde hair that was matted and dirty, green eyes that were covered by bruised eyelids, almost a teardrop-shaped face but most of it was covered up by the bandage.

I had always been closer to my mother. She was a wonderful person. She let me do anything I could with the few talents I had. She was the one that bought me the paint set that got me interested in art. She always came home with something that I would be able to help her with. I had a lot in common with her and I was just starting to have all the questions about life for her.

Father had a neck-brace and he had broken bones. He had casts on his leg, his arm, and around his chest. He still looked like the man I knew, but his hair had been messed up, he too had cuts on his face, arms, and feet. He had blue eyes that were covered, light brown hair, a circular face and a very big nose. 

My father wasn't around as much as my mother. He was a little more reserved. He did tell me he loved me, just less than my mother. My mother always told me I could do anything I set my mind to and set me up to be able to do anything I wanted to do.

I thought that all women were like my mother because that's all I had been exposed to. The people who knew my mother just wanted to take care of her and her family and would never dare to cross her. I would soon learn that the world isn't filled with people like my mother or people that would help me and believe in me. The one thing I noticed about my parents is that they loved each other so much. They were always holding hands or sitting close to each other.

They both looked horrible, and very hurt. I sat there quietly and patiently for two days with nothing happened to them. I only left the room to go to the bathroom. People brought me food, but I never looked away from my parents to see the person standing in front of me and putting the food down. I didn't eat much the whole time I was sitting there.

I slept in a chair next to their beds with my ears trained to hear the noises of one of my parents in distress. If they do have to go to heaven, I just want them to hear me and know I love them. I want to be one of the last people they hear from.

Suddenly, three days after the crash, dad's machine went off. The line went from little hills to a straight line and the scream of the monitor pierced my ears. The health care workers ran in to try to take care of my dad.

Then mother woke up. She looked over and saw that dad was dying and she started screaming something I couldn't understand. went over to her and whispered, "Its okay mom, please just stay here for me, please don't be upset", She couldn't hear me. She kept screaming and even more people rushed in to try to take care of her and calm her down. "I love you guys!" I yelled before the nurses escorted me out of the room to a little lounge with some food. I wasn't hungry, but I grabbed a gram cracker and a piece of watermelon. I nervously ate it, very slowly.

I was just sitting there waiting for someone to come in and tell me everything would be all right.  I had been waiting about five minutes, and a woman did walk in. She grabbed a piece of bread and a few strawberries and said, "What are you looking at, stupid little kid". My jaw dropped and tears formed in my eyes. I just wanted some woman to hug me, brush my hair aside, and tell me everything is alright.

A slew of people went in and out of the room I was in. All of them looked at me some with pity and others with anger. I never understand why people could be so cruel to a little kid alone in a hospital.

I cried and cried. I was in the room for hours. Alone, with other people. I thought everyone had forgot about me, and they probably did. The doctor was the only one that came in. No nurses came in, not my aunt, not my cousin. I thought my parents were probably dead. No one came in to comfort me. No one told me it would be all right. No one told me I could tell my parents goodbye before they shut off the machines, keeping them alive. After being in there for about 3 hours, the doctor came in and said, "I'm sorry, we did all we could to keep your parents alive." I didn't understand why there were no women who were like my mom who cared about everyone no matter what they were going through.

"What happened", I asked the doctor, with tears stinging my eyes.

"Your father's machine showed he had an aneurysm or bleeding in his head that we weren't able to see the first time we took a scan . His brain died before we could even diagnose him. We took care of him and got his heart pumping again and put him on the machines to keep him alive. 

Your mom became so scared that she put herself into shock induced coma. She was laying there calm for a while, then she had a major stroke that was fatal for her. Your aunt arrived about 10 minutes ago. She entered your parents room and told us that she talked to you and you didn't want to come and say goodbye. There was no chance you dad could've recovered. She gave the okay to turn the machine off so we did." He explained thoroughly with some grief in his features.

I sat in the small room with food for an hour before anyone came in again. It really was like they all forgot about me. My aunt finally came in and told me to get up and grab my stuff because we're leaving. I walked slowly and I couldn't look up at anyone around me. It felt like they were all staring, and I couldn't take that.

"Can I say goodbye?"

"No. Let's go. You don't need to see them".

The funeral was a week after they died. I didn't want to go, but my aunt made me. I did nothing for weeks after their death. I just wanted to roll over and join my parents somewhere happier. My aunt sold my parents house and moved me into a small spare bedroom in her house 2 hours away from where I grew up.

I refused to go to school. My aunt finally made me go to school about a month after. It was never the same. I had to transfer schools and they were all mean to me at the new place. I had no friends, no family, no happiness. I hated my aunt for taking me away from Carrie and from the place I grew up.

Eventually as time passed, I was able to work past the issues that resulted from my parents death. I never forgave the women who were so cold to me. But as I matured, I felt less sadness and was able to be happier.

As I finished puberty and grew into my looks, the boys were all nice to me. I eventually made a couple guy friends. I enjoyed being able to play games and hang out and not talk about anything too deep. Just be around people.

The only feelings that really still existed from the crash at the point that I moved out was disdain for women. Mostly girls made fun of me at my new school and my cousin made fun of me. My aunt always took her side and I was made to be the laughing stock of the town. I don't know how it happened, but for the longest time I blamed all women because no one was there for me.