Draft of Introduction

BANG!!

I hear the door to my parents bathroom slam, quickly followed by the sound of the water turning on. I turn to my left to look at the clock on my nightstand. The annoyingly bright red lights tell me that its 3:02 a.m. What the hell are my parents doing up at this ungodly hour? The sound of feet softly padding on the carpet warn me of my mother’s imminent arrival in my room.

“Les,” she says “come on we have to go to the hospital, her oxygen levels have dropped.”

I hoist myself into a sitting position and slowly open my eyes, thankful that my mother decided not to blind me by only turning on the hallway light. As my eyes adjust to the semi-darkness of my room I start thinking about what I need. Jeans, a t-shirt and a hoodie are my top priority. The last week taught me that being in a hospital with a naturally low body temperature and no sweatshirt of any kind is not a good idea.

I hear the water turn off and realize I only have about tree minutes until I need to be out the door. Scrambling around my room I pull on my jeans and t-shirt and grab my sweatshirt off the floor. I locate my cell phone and iPod on my desk, grab them and head down the hall to wait for my parents.

The car ride is shorter than usual seeing as my father drove at 75 mph the entire way there. My parents and I jump out of the car as soon as my father puts it in park and walk towards the doors of the hospital. The nauseatingly clean smell I have come to associate with hospitals assaults my senses as we walk thru the automatic doors. My feet are on autopilot as I make my way on to the elevator to the second floor and then from the elevator to her room.

My grandmother laid there, unmoving as we walked in. Her naturally curly peppered color hair has all but disappeared from the chemo. Her sky blue eyes I’ve been so jealous of my whole life are hidden from me and her glasses lay beside her on the table. The constant beeping in the background tells me she’s still here.

The many wires and tubes sticking out of her seem to be doing her a sort of injustice. They don’t tell you of the bright, funny, strong, sarcastic, and ridiculously stubborn woman that lies there in the bed. No. They produce the image of a sickly and weak woman coming to the end of her time.