I Will Lay Next to Her(Nayeli Sanchez) I Will Lay Next To Her

Slowly I opened my eyes when I heard the loud vibration of a text message. The vibration shook the dark-cherry nightstand. I rolled over, stretched my arm and grabbed my cellphone. I pressed the power button and the bright white-light had me blind for a few seconds. I covered my face with the palm of my left hand. Then I took my hand off my face and pressed the power button once again. I looked at the time.
“Shit! It’s 10 am,” I said to myself.
“I guess I will not go to school today. Where is mom? Why didn’t she wake me up?” I said.
Every morning, I would hear my doorknob twist and the squeaky noise my door would make, while my mother would open it. Then I remembered hearing my mother’s footsteps as she walked in.

My room was ice-cold and my purple blankets were not helping me keep warm. I opened my eyes, looked around my room. Everything in my room was pitch black. My burgundy curtains blend well with the pitch black in my room. The curtains remained closed, impeding the sunlight in my room. I slowly got up from my bed; I turned on my light; went straight to the closet; and grabbed a cozy-sweater.
“Mom, are you home?” There was no response.
“Mom!” I said.
I opened my door and as I reached the end of my room’s chocolate-brown carpet, my bare feet walked across the cold brown square-shaped wooden floor. My finger toes curled every step I took while I headed to the bathroom. The bathroom was located in the middle of the hallway between my room and my mothers. My bladder, like every morning, urged me to hurry to the bathroom, until, I walked in the bathroom and found my mom slouching next to the white-toilet seat. She was staring at the crystal water. Then she bent-over, placed her arms on the ring-shaped toilet seat and puked. I ran to her.
“Mom, are you okay?” I asked and helped her by pulling back her hair. As she finished puking and spitting out the disgusting yellow-green fluids that had exited her body, she stared at me straight in the eyes. I stared at her back. Her hazel-green eyes were the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen, but something different about her eyes caught my attention. Her eyes were a yellowish color. She did not look well. My mother had different symptoms the past months, but we never thought anything of it.
“Yes, honey I’m okay. I just have a cold. I’m a little sick.”
“No mom, you don’t look okay.
Okay, let me help you get up.”

I grabbed my mother from her right arm, helped her get up, and walked her to the water faucet; I grabbed a translucent-plastic water cup; filled it up with water and gave it to her. She grabbed the cup and rinsed her mouth.
As she tried to keep balanced she asked me, “Aren’t you supposed to be at school?”
“Yes mom but you forgot to wake me up.”
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t feeling well this morning.”
“I see that mom. Let me take you back to bed.”
My mother was my alarm. Every morning she would wake me up.
“Maybe I should set my alarm clock as a back-up plan.”
“No, it’s okay. I’ll wake up like every morning. Remember when you were younger and I used to take you to school? I like waking up every morning to wake you up.”
“Mom, I’m not a little girl anymore."
"I know but you will always be my little girl.”
“I love you mom. Get some rest.”
“I love you more.”

While walking my mother to her plain vanilla-wall room, the picture of my mother and me was on her black nightstand. It was the only picture-frame my mother had in her room. I walked my mother to her bed and helped her get in between her zebra-stripe blankets.
“Rest mom, everything is going to be okay.”

I stayed home all day and took care of her.

****************************************************

A few days later, it seemed as if my mother was getting better and I was happy to go to school knowing that she was doing well. Until one day, I got home early from school, and walked in the house. I placed my backpack on the black-small-couch in the living room and headed to her room.
“Mom, I am home.”
While entering my mother’s room, I was taking off the scarf from my neck, and witnessed my mother in pain while she had her hands wrapped around her stomach, complaining about a stomach pain.
“Mom, what’s happening are you okay.”
“Yes, it must be cramps, I should be getting my period soon.”
I was suspicious of my mother. There was something my mother was not telling me. I refused to question her. I did not want to argue with her.
“I have painkillers in my car, I’ll be right back.”
I opened my car and grabbed the painkillers that were in the glove box. Then I ran inside the house and into my mother’s room.
“Mom, we need to take you to the doctor.”
“No, it’s nothing serious. I will be fine. Don’t worry about me. Go to school, get good grades, and make me proud.”

It was my first semester of college and the transition from high school to college was kicking my butt and my mom knew that.
“No, put on a sweater, put on some shoes, and get ready because I am taking you to see your doctor.”
While helping my mother put on her sweater, my fingertips touched her burning hot forehead.
“Jesus Chris mom, how long have you not been feeling well?”
“I am fine. It’s just a cold.”
“I am not taking you to your doctor, we are going to the emergency-room. Where are your shoes?”
“Under the bed.”
The dust under her bed made me sneeze and I realized that my mother had not cleaned her room for a long time. My mom was a very clean woman.
“Mom, how long have you been feeling sick?”
“I am fine. It’s just a cold. You are overreacting.”
“Mom, why did you not tell me?”
“You’re busy with school and stuff. You don’t have to worry about me.”
I grabbed my stuff, helped my mother get in my car, put on her seatbelt, and quickly drove to the hospital.

**************************************************

Finding parking at the hospital was stressful. It seemed as if everyone had decided to get sick that day.
“Finally, a parking spot.”
I pulled in next to a red Cadillac, and accidently made a dent when I opened the passenger’s door to get my mother out.
“I made a dent.”
I got my mother out of the car and slowly walked to the emergency room.
“Emergency,” I read.
“Mom, let’s go, we are almost there,” my mother was too weak to respond to me.
I walked across the parking lot and a car with messed-up brown paint almost hit my mother and me.
“Watch where you are going asshole!” I screamed.
He or she stepped on the gas; I was not able to see the driver.
As I almost reached to the automatic glass doors of the emergency room, a nurse hurried to help me.
“Let me help you,” she said.
“Thank you.”
I grabbed one arm and the nurse grabbed the other arm. We passed the automatic glass doors and the nurse helped me place my mother in a room.
“Thank you very much. I really appreciate it,” I said.
“She does not look well. She will need immediate attention,” the nurse responded.
When I looked up, another nurse was coming with a wheelchair. My mother sat down on the wheelchair and she was taken in a room.
“Please, wait outside. We need you to fill-out some paperwork.”
Mixed feelings took over me: fear, nervousness, depression and frustration.
My sweaty-shaky hands were having a hard time keeping still.
I had to fill out paperwork, and I made mistake after mistake after mistake while trying to input my mother’s information. I walked to the front desk and asked them for new sheets. Finally, I calmed down and filled out my mother’s information. I took the paperwork to the front desk.
“May I please go inside with my mother,” I asked.
“No ma’am, you will have to wait until they call you.”
I turned around and sat on an uncomfortable grey-chair in the plain-white waiting room. I waited for hours.
“The family of Suzanne Vancil?” a male doctor with short-black hair called.
“Yes, I’m her daughter.”
“Is your father here?”
“No, I’m all she has. What’s happening? Please tell me! What is wrong with my mother?” I desperately asked.
The doctor hesitated.
“What I am going to tell you is very serious. I want you to calm down and listen carefully.”
“It’s something bad isn’t it?” I asked.
“Your mother has pancreatic cancer and unfortunately it has rapidly advanced and spread. We can start chemotherapy as soon as possible. I will be as honest as possible. The chances of your mother surviving are very low.”
“Does she know? How is she now? When can I see her?”
“Yes, we have informed her and you can go see her now. She is in room 205.”
He input the code and I was let into the hallway. The long plain white-walls felt as if they were never going to end. I passed room 204 and stopped before reaching her door. Tears dropped from my eyes, and as they touched my mouth I felt the salty-water going inside my mouth. I stood next the vanilla-color wall between room 204 and 205. I covered my face, as I almost lost my breath from the salty-tears dropping down my eyes. I started to slightly hit my head with the wall to prevent my mother from hearing my cry. Few minutes later, after I was able to get my composure, I cleaned my face with my shirt and walked into room 205. My mother was asleep.
I grabbed a chair and placed it next to her bed. she was covered with white-sheets and IV on her left hand. She did not look in pain. She looked calmed. Carefully I grabbed her hand and placed it over mine. She opened her eyes.
“Baby, I am sorry. I did not know,” she told me bursting in tears.
“Shhhhhh mom, it’s okay. Keep calm. We will talk later.”
The doctor walked in to check up on my mother.
“Hello Ms. Suzanne, we want to know when you are ready for chemotherapy?”
“What are my chances?”
“There is still a chance of hope Ms. Suzanne,” the doctor said.
“We both know my time is running out. I want to know when I can go home and spend the rest of my days with my daughter.”
“Mom please, I want you to fight for your life. Please mom, do not give up. Do not leave me. You are all I have. Please mom.”
“Baby, you are going to be fine. You’re not a baby anymore remember.”
As hard as I tried, I was not able to withhold myself and I cried like never before. I hate the world, but I hated God more. He was taking her away from me. I hated everyone.
“I will like to go home tomorrow, if possible,” my mother told the doctor.
“What? No, mom you have to start chemotherapy.”
“I have already made arrangements with the doctor. Please do not intervene,” she told me.
“I will assign a nurse for you tomorrow before you go home so she can take care of you while you are at your house, but we will have you under observation for twenty-four hours. You will also have to sign some papers before you leave.”
“Listen, my mother is sick and you are here talking about her signing papers.”
“Honey calm down,” my mother said.
“No mom, what is wrong with these doctors. Who in the world do they think they are?”
“If you do not calm down we will have to kick you out,” the doctor told me.
“I don't give two shit of what you have to say.”
“Sweetheart, please stop, do not let them kick you out,” with short-breaths my mother told me.
“Mom, mom, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” I asked her. She was too weak to respond.
“I’m sorry,” I apologized to the doctor.
“I will be back tomorrow,” he said.

The next day my mother was released home.

*************************************************

I stopped going to school and learned everything I had to know to take care of my mother myself. Our budget could no longer afford a nurse. I told the nurse, we no longer needed her services. I asked the grocery to deliver once a week and I was able to spend as much time with my mother as possible. Every day after I was told my mother had cancer; I lay next to her. Every day, I see her getting worse, but she refuses to go to the hospital and tells me that her last wish is to spend every minute possible with me. Her stomach pain gets worse every day; high fevers, yellowish skin, loss of hair, and got weaker. I have tried to be as strong as possible, but it’s hard. It is hard to take care of her. It is hard for me to not break down in front of her. It is hard to take off her hair, while putting on a new bandana every day.

Today in the morning, I sat down on the bed; I slipped my feet in my fluffy-pink-slippers; I grabbed my sweater. A slight cold-breeze gave me goose bumps as I opened the window.
“Who would have ever thought that it would be me waking up my mother every morning, after she was the one that used to wake me up” I softly said to myself.
“Mom, are you okay?” I asked her every morning. I was scared to see her sleep; I was scared that she would not wake up.
She slowly uncovered her face, looked at me straight in the eyes, stretched her right arm, and gently touched my face.
“Yes, I am fine,” she said.
But her paled-white face and messy hair said otherwise.
“It’s really hot in here,” she said.
“Mom, it’s really cold in here.”
I touched her forehead and she was burning in fever.
“Mom get up, I am taking you to the hospital.”
“No, let me rest. I will be fine. I just have been very tired.”

To avoid my mother seeing me break down, I would go into the kitchen and cook to distract myself from thinking of her severe pain.
“I’m going to make something so you can eat mom.”
“No, some hot tea or coffee will be fine. I am not hungry.”
As I left the room and walked towards the kitchen, I was able to hear the echo of my footsteps in the silence of my house.
I turned on the stove, grabbed a small pot, and put water in it. After, the water started boiling, I grabbed a teacup and a tea bag. I placed the tea bag inside the teacup and headed to my mother’s room.
“Mom, I made some tea for you.”
I placed the teacup on my mother’s black nightstand; walked to her bed; helped her sit down on the bed; and placed pillows behind her for support. Then I grabbed the teacup and slowly gave my mother some tea.
“Ouch ouch ahhhh!!!” with severe pain my mother complaint while touching her belly.
“Mom, what is wrong? Tell me. What can I do?”

I ran to my bedroom and called 911.
“911 what’s your emergency?”
“My mom is in severe pain and she can’t take it anymore and she keeps screaming, and I don’t know what to do.”
My sweaty-shaky-hands tried to keep the cellphone near my ear. My eyes filled with water and as I tried to keep myself in one-piece before I burst out in tears, I continued to talk to the operator.
“Please give us your name, and your address”
“My names is Sarah, and my address is 345 W. Wilson Street, Santa Monica, CA.”
“Now relax, and do not leave your mother’s side. Paramedics are on their way.”
I stayed with my mother in her room, and sat next to her while she tightly grabbed her zebra-stripe blankets.
“Mom, they are on their way. You are going to be fine, I promise. They are on their way.”

I had never seen my mother in such pain, and I was scared. The pain started to make her feel sleepy and she slowly started to close her eyes.
“No mom, please do not go to sleep.”
I hear a knock at the door. I got up and ran to the front door.
“Hurry, please, she is in her room,” I told them.
Two paramedics with identical royal-blue uniforms walked inside my house.
“This way, she is here” I walked them to my mother’s room down the hall from mine.
“Ma’am, we are here to help you. Ma’am do not fall asleep.”
I tried to get near my mother and they told me, “Please stay away and let us do our job.”
I moved and stood at the door, as I watched them and watched my mother too.
She was too weak to respond. One of the paramedics walked outside and brought a bed in with him. When they carried my mother, her loose-body was easily moved from one side to another, and her tight long florescent dress perfectly showed the shape of her thin body.

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