Illness and Dying

The common cold, cancer, diabetes. We have all had experiences involved some type of sickness. Weather it being a person we know or have experienced ourselves, it is bound to happen. So what do we do?

Ever heard of Advil, Tylenol, and exceberian? The common cure for the common symptoms. And if that is not good enough, there are other ways to cure our illnesses. We have doctors; the specialists who know rely on to know what’s wrong and how to fix it. What makes a doctor certified to say what’s wrong with someone? Do they always know the best cure? Can they fully understand what it is like to be the one who is ill? Along with doctors there are hospitals. The buildings that are coded with white halls and white walls. They’re spilt into different units, each designed to accommodate certain illnesses.

My five-year-old brother still afraid of doctors. At a young age I to remember being so afraid of the doctor. So convinced they wanted to hurt me. Their cartoon character uniforms were so misleading. Because little did my brother or I know the needle waiting to price our skin was being held close at hand.

I remember visiting my great aunt Dorothy in the hospital. Her body started to weaken due to her old age. My whole family went to see her. By that I mean my dad, sister, cousin and I. at that age the hospital was a terrifying place. I to my father afraid of what I might see if I looked around. I thought if you somehow ended up in the hospital something really must have been wrong with you. We walked down the solely colored white hallways. We came to my aunt’s room. Again painted white, there really was clingded isn't anything comforting about this place at all. The only symbol of happiness I saw was the flowers that lay beside her bed, and even they looked sad and uncomfortable. They looked like they had been there for a while because they to looked frail and weak. Which makes me wonder: why do people bring flowers to the sick? Why do are there always flowers at a funeral? My old tired aunt was lying in her small sized bed. When I saw her it was hard not to feel sorry for her. I was confused, didn't know how to act, what to say, what she wanted. And so, I didn’t dare start the conversation, I didn’t know how. What should I have said? So what’s life like in the hospital? Uh hey, how’s the food in this place? To avoid the awkward situation, and possibly humiliating one I just kept my mouth shut. My father started with something like how you feeling? Or good to see you. Further n the conversation she just came right out and said it: I know im dying. It was a thought that crossed everyone’s mind, but no one wanted to believe it let alone hear it is said. How could she say it so casually? I stood there appalled, still at a loss of words. The entire visit she would make comments like that. She was completely aware and readily prepared to face whatever was in her future. Death is inevitable, she accepted that. I was inspired by the way she spoke without any fear. She must have known what she was talking about because she died 2 weeks later.

Can a person know? How does a person prepare for such an event?