Descriptive Essay

As we begun to get out of the car I looked at the surrounding area. It didn’t look like anything special. It just looked like another Hospital. Large windows, multiple floors and it’s name of the side.  Nothing stood out, besides the name, “Nazareth Hospital.”  My Dad cracked a joke.

“Tell them were looking for Jesus.”

I chuckled.

      My Grandmother was in the hospital 3 months prior to now due to a urine block. This time she was in the hospital for a broken shoulder. As we walked into the building, I got a whiff of that hospital smell. That dank, old wood, and medicine smell. The interior of the hospital was a combination of Wood and Marble.  The Marble was white with speckles of black and it covered the floor. The wood covered the walls and it had a 70s retro feel to it.  

           As we navigated our way to her room we found out she was sharing a room with someone else. The room was dark with just some sunlight coming it.  Their family was in the room as well.  We moved to the far right of the room where my grandmother was. She was happy to see us and had a plate of untouched food next to her that was from earlier this afternoon. She doesn’t eat often. The room was white with medical equipment surrounding the beds each patient was laying on and a curtain dividing the room into two parts.  We talked about how we were and how she felt. Understanding her was hard. She suffered a stroke 9 years ago, which paralyzed the left side of her body. When she spoke it was a soft mumble and Apraxia of speech due to her stroke. I just sat and smiled and shook my head up and down as if I knew what she was saying and that I agreed.

       My mom gave her a drink of water, several minutes later my grandmother got sick, which resulted in me almost getting sick. I felt noxious and wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. For the rest of our visit I spent most of my time waiting in the bathroom.

            Time flew by and within 10 minutes we had to leave. The nurse came in to check her out and replace her uneaten lunch with fresh food.  As we step outside of the room, my eyes had to readjust to the light from the hallways. I begun to hear, “beep, beep, beep” over and over again due to the various heart rate monitors dispersed throughout the floor we were on.  We pressed the elevator button and waited for it to come to our floor. When it arrived and opened up, it had a metal interior and smelled like the hospital entrance.

              When we finally arrived to our floor, I attempted to get out as quickly as I could. I don’t necessarily have a problem with hospitals, but I get sick around old people who are hospitalized. I navigated my way through the hospital as quickly as I could, till I was right outside of the hospital. I stood there breathing in and out air, till my parents came. We then walked over to the parking lot where the car was. The sickening feeling went away and I was ready to get out of there.  We got into the car and begun to pull out of the parking lot. That was the last time I had to visit Nazareth.

              She’s out of the hospital now and facing 2 options. Staying at home with her husband or going to a retirement home. She can’t make a decision, on one hand she could be in a safe environment, but she doesn’t want to live her life knowing that she is incapable of taking care of herself. Her husband has already been taking care of her for the past 10 years and so has my Aunt. Her only independence is being capable of living at home and not in a retirement home.

               Her fear is being institutionalized and feeling that she can’t do anything for herself. She wants to feel independent and capable of making decisions for herself. The problem is, she hasn’t made decisions for herself in 10 years, since her stroke, it left her incapable of taking care of herself.

              She made a decision. She decided she’ll live at a retirement home or how it was refereed as, “assisted living.” It’s a large step for someone of her age, her liberation of independence and her own private home, but from it comes good. My Aunt and her husband won’t have to sacrifice their lives to take care of her any longer. From this, they gained some independence that they didn’t have for years.  It’s like America, actually. They liberated their independence from Britain and gained their own.

            I think she should do it. After so many years of taking care of herself, then having family take care of her, it’s the best option for her. While, she may not like it at first, she’ll grow to like it. She’ll almost everything will be the same. She’ll have someone taking care of her and a relative visiting her. It won’t be different at all from what she’s been doing for the past 10 years, except she’ll live there.  It’s a step in the right direction for everyone.