Personal Narrative Essay: My Father's Surgery
It’s two in the morning and I wake up to the smell of coffee and my mom’s footsteps coming towards my room. She knocks lightly on the wood door and cracks it open, “We are leaving with or without you at three, Doodle.” It was the day of my dad’s open heart surgery and no one spoke a word on the ride over, which made things even more intense. We reached the hospital at about 4:15 and the waiting rooms are already packed… mostly by half of my family members who want to see my father. My mother, father, and I are placed into a room so that they can prepare my dad for surgery. The doctors come in and explain the surgery one last time. Dad is mainly ignoring everything they say while mom tries to take notes and ask final questions, but I think
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Most of the family that was there before the surgery has now left and there are only about 10 members of the Wallace mob occupying the waiting room space. My mom moved a red bar stool closer to the surgery board to see when my dad’s surgery would officially start. She stared at the light blue glowing board as if it was her God. The surgery was scheduled for six that morning, but my father’s name wasn’t in red yet which would indicate he was in surgery. It was 6:07 when it changed colors. It was 6:30 when my mom decided to stop looking like a maniac and move to a regular, more comfortable seat. Four hours later the assisting surgeon came out and told us that everything went well and he should be moving to the Cardiac ICU soon. When my mom tried to relay that message to my family members, she busted into tears and made everyone think he was dead, but really, she was just filled with happiness. Dad stayed in the hospital for about another week and mom only left the hospital once. She slept in the waiting room while he was still in the ICU until visitors were allowed back. After he was moved into a regular room, mom would walk laps with him around his floor of the hospital. She had to learn how to dress his wounds before he was allowed
Most of the family that was there before the surgery has now left and there are only about 10 members of the Wallace mob occupying the waiting room space. My mom moved a red bar stool closer to the surgery board to see when my dad’s surgery would officially start. She stared at the light blue glowing board as if it was her God. The surgery was scheduled for six that morning, but my father’s name wasn’t in red yet which would indicate he was in surgery. It was 6:07 when it changed colors. It was 6:30 when my mom decided to stop looking like a maniac and move to a regular, more comfortable seat. Four hours later the assisting surgeon came out and told us that everything went well and he should be moving to the Cardiac ICU soon. When my mom tried to relay that message to my family members, she busted into tears and made everyone think he was dead, but really, she was just filled with happiness. Dad stayed in the hospital for about another week and mom only left the hospital once. She slept in the waiting room while he was still in the ICU until visitors were allowed back. After he was moved into a regular room, mom would walk laps with him around his floor of the hospital. She had to learn how to dress his wounds before he was allowed