Dorothy-Personal Narrative

Dorothy was sixty eight. She has been married to her husband for 48 years. She has six children and thirteen grandchildren.

The plaque is building. Action needs to be taken. The right carotid artery is becoming blocked.

Dorothy went into surgery.

There’s been a complication. A blood clot is forming. Oxygen can’t reach the brain.

Dorothy suffered from an ischemic stroke. She was brought to the hospital.

A tracheostomy is needed.

Dorothy stayed in the hospital to recover.

Patient is improving. No longer needs care at hospital.

Dorothy was moved to a nearby care facility.

Patient needs tending.

The caretakers turned Dorothy on her side.

Tracheostomy tube has come out. It isn’t going back in. Patient cannot breathe.

Chairs and chairs and more chairs sat on the slippery speckled tiles. They were that blue color that eats up hospitals. That sort of bright sky blue that tries to cheer up patients. My aunt, mom, and brother all sat in a row. I was on the floor with Grace, my three year old sister. She sat crisscross applesauce, playing with her new Dora doll, oblivious to the events that encased us. I played with her. My aunt laughed at us. It wasn’t her normal laugh. I couldn’t understand it. Everyone was crying. I didn’t know what was wrong. My dad walked out of the swish swashing doors, and made eye contact with my mom. He kept it as he stumbled over to us, head

I watched as my brother fell into the cushions of our couch, hiding his face with his hands as he cried. I watched as my dad stopped coming to Sunday morning mass, because how could He let that happen. I watched as my grandpa sat alone at his dining room table for the next twelve years. I watched this all happen, and I came to realize the degree of this tragedy’s effects. That’s what it truly was - a tragedy, because had her breathing tube not come out, my grandma wouldn’t have died that day. Maybe it was the caretakers’ fault, because they’re the ones who turned her over, or maybe it was their fault for not being able to put it back in. Maybe it was the doctor’s fault, because maybe he didn’t secure it properly. Yet none of that matters, because it was an accident, an unpreventable human error. Something can be done, however, to improve the medical device itself.

This accident, tragic though it was, introduced me to my future. Once I took honors biology my freshman year, I knew there was no turning back. I’d come home babbling about flagella, arthropods, codons and God knows what else, but I wanted more. I wanted to prevent accidents like my grandma’s. I became one of those kids who never left school. I took classes over the summer to open my schedule for more AP science and math credits. I went to multiple camps that showed me how I could accomplish