I always wished to have a power wheelchair since I was in Healdsburg Hospital. I was lying down, and my bed was by the window. I could see the road where the building entrance was and the parking lot beside it. Suddenly, I saw someone, an elderly person, passing by in a beautiful motorized wheelchair. WOW! I was “blown” away by such an incredible thing! I have to have one, I thought, playing with my imagination, just like a little kid. What could be having one chair like that, where I could go, anywhere I want, and any time I want? I took a sigh and thought, ah, my God! I cannot move my hands. How could I ever drive something like that? I didn’t have the answer, but I thought I was going to have one someday.

A few years later, when I was in the nursing home. I asked management about the possibility of having a power chair. They said Medi-Cal wasn’t approving power wheelchairs and scooters for people living in nursing homes; according to Medi-Cal, people living in nursing homes have everything done for them, so they didn’t need anything else. Then I asked my friends to buy one that a resident from the facility was selling for $500, and they did get it for me. I wanted to train myself in the wheelchair, but people from the facility didn’t let me do it; they said it was not safe for me and the surrounding residents. So the wheelchair my friends bought resulted in a waste of money. I went a few times to the disability department at Santa Rosa, but it wasn’t getting me many results, so I was thinking maybe that’s not going to happen for now. I looked at my hands and arms, and I scolded myself, come on, Pancho, you have to be realistic! It was hard to let go, though, and I didn’t want to do that.

I had a young roommate, younger than me, it was like my little brother. His mother and aunt used to stay with him all day, every day. His auntie gave me the website address for the Christopher Reeve Foundation, it was for spinal cord injuries; they help people with those problems. I was exploring the website, and there was a section to ask for help. I wrote a short message and requested help to get an electric wheelchair. I didn’t think someone was going to answer, to be honest. I was mistaken about that because, surprisingly, someone did see my message and replied with the interest of helping me to get my mobile chair. I was like, OMG! I couldn’t believe it. She was from North Carolina and still lives there. We exchanged several email messages and discussed all the details about it. Then, she called the social worker at my place and possibly other places. Soon, I started getting good results. A man from a wheelchair company, Western Rehab, based in Santa Rosa, California, came to evaluate me, and to take some measurements; he was a very good and kind person, he asked me what color did I want for my chair, and how would I want to drive it. I told him I wanted black and silver, and he said ok. He introduced me to various ways a motorized wheelchair could be driven. Nonetheless, I wanted to do the driving with my hand, left hand, I felt like I have a little more control over the left arm. I thought if I had the joystick on the left side and close enough to my reach, I could do it. I was thinking he was not going to take my word for it, but he did and reevaluated me again. He took some notes  and left. I emailed the good news to my friend, she became a very good friend of mine. She was very happy about it.

In July 2013, right before my birthday, I was surprised by the man from the wheelchair company. He was bringing my “wonderful” power wheelchair. A beautiful Permobil, black and silver, 6 wheels, two small ones on the front, too big ones in the middle, and two small ones on the back. Oh boy! I was over the moon! I thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world! When I started driving my new set of wheels, I had so much trouble. My fist couldn’t stay around the joystick; it was very slippery, and my hand came off all the time. Even though it was intimidating to drive, the thrill of being able to move around anywhere I wanted to was AMAZING!

At first, I was behaving, I used to stay inside the facility all the time, but that was about to change. I began to get outside in the parking lot to get comfortable with my substitute legs. Soon, my desire to go beyond the parking lot started to kick in. The sidewalk was so close to the parking lot, too tempting, calling me, 😝 “hey” come on, let’s venture out! I know you want to. What could’ve happened? Ok, I’m going, but I chicken out as soon as I got near the sidewalk. I was shaking and full of anxiety, which was new, I never experience anxiety before. It kept calling me annoyingly! Come on, dude, just around the block. I still didn’t dare, as much as I wanted to. My nerves were too much. I have to do it, I told myself, and one day, I did not care about anything but to make it happen, and “yay,” I made it. Unfortunately, employees from the nursing home noticed and went to the administrator, who called my attention and yelled at me. DON’T DO IT  ANYMORE; YOU CAN GET HURT, AND WE CAN LOSE OUR LICENSE! Don’t be too dramatic! I thought, ok, I won’t do that anymore, for now!

They started to be careful with me and kept their eyes open so I wouldn’t escape again. Next to the facility, on the other side of the street, is a little shopping center, CVS, Round Table Pizza, Wholefoods, and a few other stores, were out there. I wanted to go, but now I had two problems to evade, the staff watching me, and my nerves, very serious crap! I knew that going out again was going to be much harder, but not impossible. I waited until the weekend, when management wasn’t working and there was not much going on. I did escape again, and luckily, this time nobody noticed. So much for watching me! 😂 I was doing better being on the sidewalk, but not good enough. I took two hours on the sidewalk that normally takes 10 minutes walking. I was going like a drunk man, back and forth, and zigzagging. I asked myself, man! “how will you get to the shopping center, if this requires crossing the street”? I was nervous to go on the sidewalk, imagine, crossing the street!

I remembered the first time, I rolled into the street, I was about to finish crossing when, suddenly, my hand slipped out of the joystick. Santa Maria! I started shaking and felt stiff, unable to move my hand, and placed it back on the joystick. Luckily, I made it out of the traffic’s way. I was just on the edge of the street, touching the sidewalk bump. I took a breath and tried to relax, after several attempts, I was able to, sort of, hold on to the joystick, and pushed it forward to the sidewalk. Yay, I did it! I crossed the street barely, but I succeeded. You might think, because of that fear, I would’ve stayed still, right? Wrong! I actually gained a little more confidence in myself; not that you could say, WOW! What a confident person, but still counts. I thought I could actually be out there by myself, safe in the community. I carefully drove close to the Whole Foods store and stayed there for a while, still shaking but calming down! What a feeling! The beautiful feeling of freedom. Sure, I was out there before, but not on my own. My sister and her husband were with me, pushing me in a manual wheelchair. I was enjoying myself when the vehicle of an employee from the facility drove by. He was searching for me, I should say, they were searching for me! Everyone at the nursing home was looking for me. What an IMPORTANT dude! 😂 now I was going to be scored returning home. I didn’t have to worry about crossing the street anymore. Yes, I would be yelled at, but that was a good thing this time.

I thought they should let me be, really! I wanted to be able to go out by myself, at any time, crazy, right? I didn’t ask them yet. I, too, thought that was CRAZY, but I kept escaping very often. They had to put me on an RNA program, a nurse assistant who takes -=+therapy, helps residents take walks, gives a range of motion to them, and keeps them active. She wasn’t going to walk me or give me a range of motion, she had to take me out for strolls and make sure, I wouldn’t crash. I think they were hoping that with the RNA program, I wouldn’t escape anymore. That’s wrong! The RNA program was just three days a week, 30 minutes, and zero on the weekends, not enough! I kept riding by myself; sometimes, nobody noticed, but I was caught in action other times.

By then, I had a couple of years with my awesome power chair and felt more comfortable driving. I started to ask them about letting me go by myself. Of course, they said no! I was going over the same subject every day. They said, I could go, but if family, or a friend, was with me. It was only fair, right? I’m sure it was the ideal and the safest way to go. I wasn’t happy, though! I thought it was no too bad to be able to go out, even if supervised, but I wished to go out anytime, even if no one was with me.

At the beginning of 2016, after almost three years with my Hot Wheels, I still couldn’t go out alone. My driving abilities were still about the same, and my nervousness about driving didn’t improve much. I couldn’t figure out how to make them let me be. I told them one way, another way, and another way, but it didn’t matter what I said, and the way I said it, it was a NONO. I wouldn’t let it go, as long as they kept giving me the same answer. One day, I was deep thinking, trying to figure out what to do and the best approach, but I had no clue. Then, during the night, I had the best idea ever, I thought, they couldn’t say “no”. I remember I signed a paper, making myself responsible in case anything bad happened when eating regular food, so all I had to do was the same thing. I got up the next day and emailed the administrator. I know I live here. I should’ve just gone to the offic e and talked to him in person, but I usually do everything via email. I explained what I wanted to do, but he didn’t feel agreeable and did not let me sign. I was disheartened, but I kept telling management, please let me go, please let me go; I’m a responsible man, I know I have trouble driving, but I know what to do, what is happening. I can’t drive, but I can barely move, not because I don’t know how to do it. I also said, if you guys are not letting me go, I will keep escaping, and I won’t care about anything else.

The month of May hit, and I was emailing back and forth with the administrator, over and over, the same thing. I think they talked about the situation and said, we have to do something because he won’t stop. I emailed management again, and the administrator said, ok, we will give you permission to sign the waiver and let you go by yourself. I was so excited to hear that, OMG! I couldn’t believe it. It was Friday, so I had to wait until Monday, but it was okay. I waited for years, but I could hold my horses for a couple more days. On Monday, I was called to the office. Three other people were there as well. The director of nurses, the activity’s director, and the social worker were going to be the witnesses because I couldn’t really sign myself, which was important. I signed the waiver, or I should say I verbally signed the waiver. HOORAY! I was free to go anywhere and any time, I had a curfew though, I had to get back home, no later than 9 pm. It was okay, I didn’t mind the curfew, to me, it was not a big deal…

In 2008, I wanted to attend college and improve my English skills. It was going to be impossible for me, or I thought, to go to campus in person. How am I supposed to get there and pay school fees and materials, like books and notebooks? Was unthinkable. I made a comment to a friend, and I was told something really cool! This friend advised me that I could take classes online and for free, and this was such good and exciting news.  I asked my (CNA) nurse assistant where I should start and which school. He was very nice and helpful, and sit down with me to look at the Santa Rosa Junior College website. We found the contact information for some lady there, a clerk, and gave it a call. We thought the person answering the phone call might give us some information and point us in the right direction. We were in luck; someone did answer and told us where to go. I contacted Nancy Chinn, the person from the disabilities resources department. She told me she would like to come to my place and talk, in person, about the matter. So fortunate, I felt! She came with her colleague, Tara Johnson. I don’t remember the exact date, but to be honest, it was sometime in the summer of 2009. We talked about the options, and they thought my English was not bad, by the way. I could only take free and online classes. I explained to them, okay, no problem, they said. I was able to take English classes online, I was happy, but not satisfied, I wanted to take real courses, more complex ones. Well, at least I had something to keep my mind busy.

By the end of the year, an American couple, the son, and daughter-in-law of my roommate, I loved that roommate, an elderly man, like my own flesh; they gave me the biggest gift EVER! They sponsored me. I was in a wheelchair. Otherwise, I would’ve fallen backward. I used to watch that sort of thing happen in soap operas when I was a little kid, and I thought “oh man” I wish that could happen to me, OMG! Over 25 years later, it did happen. I didn’t have any MULA to pay for school fees before, but suddenly, I had money to take any class I wanted. Since then, I could even go to campus and see the instructor face to face, all thanks to God, who has been looking out for me; such amazing people, like this American couple, helped me succeed in my life.

I could go and take swimming classes, which for a person in such condition, were classes for wetting your “butt” or half of the body, I really like them, anyway. These classes were meant for people who had some disabilities and limited mobility issues, so they were able to get some PT. I needed to have somebody with me to help me get into the pool and do therapy. Otherwise, I couldn’t take it. I had a caretaker with me, but I needed another person, so one could hold on from my right arm, and one from the left one, and kept me floating in the water, it was FUN! Unfortunately, these classes didn’t last long, I was able to take two semesters, maybe, I’m not certain, but I didn’t qualify anymore. Perhaps, I wasn’t making any progress, yeah, that could be the reason.

I was interested in getting my GED certificate, so I started working in the computer lab at the DRD, a couple of days a week, it was “hard”! I didn’t have many studies in my hometown, 6th grade only, Elementary school in Mexico. My family was impoverished, and couldn’t afford to maintain my studies going forward, thus everything was new to me with respect to the GED. I was doing well with the simulation testing and studies; I thought the real exam should not be too bad.

When I felt like I had studied enough, I scheduled my appointment for the actual exam. The GED was composed of several lectures: Math, Written, Reading, Science, etc. I took math first, and I failed 😝. Yeah, I did bad, bad, bad! I did the same with written and all the other subjects, 5 in total. Luckily, I am a stubborn person, and I didn’t stop until I passed them all and got my piece of paper!

January 2007 arrived, and it was time for me to transfer to my new facility. I wanted to leave but wanted to stay at the same time. I was scared to go to a place I didn’t know existed. However, it wasn’t a matter of choice, and I knew it.

I arrived at the great London House of the city of Sonoma, California, in a room shared with four residents, including me. I was really sorry, scared, and sad. I was the only paralyzed, nonspeaking Mexican and the youngest resident of the nursing home; most of the others were above 50 and older. The first few days were tough for me; I got very depressed and lonely, missing my nurses at Healdsburg Hospital. I didn’t even want to get in a wheelchair. I cried and cried, like a sick puppy, for a few days; I put myself together and started to get off the bed. I asked my brother-in-law for a desk to set up the computer, and he found one and brought it up to the room. I was in the corner, so there was no space for me to set up the desk, two of my roommates occupying the first two beds at the entrance of the room, were scheduled to leave soon. I had to wait for my roommates to get discharged. They left two weeks after my arrival. I moved from bed C to bed A. Now, I had almost the whole room to myself, and there was another Filipino elderly person in the last bed of the room, bed D.

I had the desk set up, the laptop turned on, and I started surfing the web. I was getting good at the computer, I don’t know what happened to me, but I was like smartypants since I woke up. Furthermore, I wasn’t too stupid before, but since the accident, I feel more intelligent and thoughtful about life in general. Anyway, I used to get very tired while using the baseball cap with the pointer stick because my head always bent down. I was quickly adjusting to my new home. I wasn’t getting used to eating my food smashed and drinking thick liquids; they were not tasty and satisfying! I wanted to get regular meals and water, but it was not possible in my condition. I knew I could swallow regular food; I knew I could, but the hard thing was to make them believe, and that wouldn’t happen anytime soon.

I started figuring out how to get the food and liquids regularly. I asked around and got some information on the best, and legal procedures, once I knew what to do, I went ahead. What I was told on the food and drinks issue was, in short, to sign a paper, basically, giving up my legal rights, if something bad happened to me, I was responsible, not the facility. I liked that finding! So I asked management about it, and they tried to talk me out of it, but it was decided already, and nobody would tell me otherwise. I started getting regular meals soon after; I could eat anything I wanted to; YAY, VICTORY!

I woke up from a coma about a week later; DIOS MIO!! What a terrible experience! I wished I wouldn’t have opened my eyes again, but I did and had to confront the cruel reality. I remember I was in a very dark and small room; I think a couple of souls were there with me, my sister, and her husband. I tried to move, I couldn’t, I tried to get out the bed, I couldn’t, and when I tried to speak and ask what was happening, I couldn’t do that either. I started to cry, but I couldn’t cry out loud like a normal person. Only moaning and big, ugly gestures were showing. It was such a devastating, frightening, and miserable situation; I can’t describe it as a nightmare! I was feeling so sorry for myself, thinking my life was over and I had turned into a living vegetable. I couldn’t look straight, and my neck was all messed up, twisted like when a chicken gets killed by grabbing it from the head and spinning it around. I couldn’t stay lying down on my back because every bone of my body hurt. I had to be only on my right side, and my head was in the opposite direction. My only way to communicate with them and answer back and forth any questions was by blinking my eyes.

I couldn’t breathe, so a tube was put in my neck to help me get enough air in my lungs. A feeding tube was inserted into my belly, as well, because I couldn’t eat or swallow anything. After nearly a couple of months, the hospital told my sister and beloved mother, who came in to see me at the hospital, that they couldn’t take care of me anymore; they had to either send me back to Mexico or look for another place/hospital that would take me in. They found a hospital that accepted people like me in the city of Berkeley, so I was sent all the way there. I was discharged from the Memorial Hospital of Santa Rosa around September 2003 while I had a UTI infection.

I had a terrible time in the hospital in Berkeley. I don’t remember what it was called or the name, but I know if my family hadn’t gotten me out of there, I wouldn’t be alive today! The UTI was spreading very fast because I wasn’t cleaning, bathing, and suctioning the flame/mucus from my neck as often as required, so it was consuming me quickly. Luckily, my family found a hospital in the city of Healdsburg, ready to take me in. I got transferred a couple of months before the end of the year; when I arrived at that hospital, the UTI was so bad that it was all the way up to my neck. On the first day, they took care of it, cleaned it, changed the collar, suctioned it, and treated me nicely! I started to get better, and the infection soon disappeared.

The year 2003 hit the final day, and I was going to spend the arrival of 2004 in a hospital bed, alone and unable to celebrate or do anything. HOW SAD! I don’t wish that situation to my worst enemy. As time traveled, I got better, it didn’t seem like, but I did, and v the infection went away. There was a young nurse assistant, or what is called a CNA, in the hospital; he was very nice and smart. He started sitting me in a wheelchair and figured out a way for me to communicate with my family and friends. He attached and taped a laser light on a baseball cap and a letter board with the alphabet posted on the wall in front of my bed. That way, I could wear the baseball hat and point to the alphabet letter board when necessary.

In 2004, my desire to learn English grew in my head, but I had no idea how to begin, and my options were very tight. I started reading a bilingual dictionary with English on the right side and Spanish on the left, or vice versa. I had my bed elevated from the head all the way up so I could sit and place the book on my lap. The nursing staff put the call button under my chin, it was a round shape pad, so I could press it whenever I needed the page flipped over. The hospital’s social worker sometimes brought bilingual magazines and read them to me; she was very nice! Surprisingly, I was absorbing some words very quickly. I wasn’t a “burro” 😂 ! When I was a little kid and went to school, the smart kids used to call “burro” the non-smart ones. I learned enough English to communicate with my nurses and nonspeaking Spanish people. They had terrible times trying to put together sentences and decipher what I tried to say, I didn’t know much about grammar, but I didn’t care, I felt pretty good about myself.

I had over two years since my unfortunate life almost ended; yes, it was the beginning of 2006, so quick, right!? They at the hospital purchased a laptop, PC Windows HP, and a baseball cap with a stick attached to it so that I could poke the keyboard with it. I have never had anything like that before; I thought it was AWESOME! I had no idea how to operate a computer, TURN IT ON, I didn’t know how! Technology was the first time I learned about it, and I LOVE IT. It was quite difficult to hit the keys from the keyboard with my wand, Oh jeez! It took several weeks to get the hang of it, but I did it. I was so desperate for a taste of food, suck candies and lollipops, and drink a Coca-Cola with ice cubes in it, but to my unfortunate being, that was a NONO! I am so happy to say that “miracles” are indeed amazingly true and happen when you hold on to your faith in God for real and never let go.

One day, a nurse came into my room after I had taken a shower. She was going to change the collar for the tube I had on my neck, Tracher, to help me breathe, but she couldn’t because I had no such tube; it was hanging completely off my neck, and I was breathing normally without it. WHAT!? Then the same thing happened to my feeding tube, it sprout off my stomach one night, “it could’ve been put back in by the nurses or a doctor”, you may say, I couldn’t agree more. However, they weren’t able to do it, they were thinking about sending me out to Santa Rosa hospital, but it was during the weekend and for some reason, they couldn’t. Since I knew a couple of words in English, I was bugging them constantly to feed me real food and water, so they agreed to ask for the speech therapist to evaluate me, and she did. I almost flunk, but I did it, I was able to swallow! I started getting fed by the nurses pureed food and thick liquids, which were NOT very tasty, but I was excited about eating again.

Because I could eat, drink, and breathe without the Tracher and feeding tube, the hospital couldn’t keep me with them anymore, so I had to go to a nursing home. It was a bittersweet excitement. I loved my nursing and all the staff members, but I was so excited to leave the hospital.

It was the last few months of the year 2006 when they were trying to find a place for me to go. They found a nursing home in Sonoma, California, my sister, and her family were living there, so they thought, it would be good for me to be close to family members, it was called, London House, at the time. I was scheduled to leave Healdsburg hospital sometime in January 2007. I was wondering what a nursing home was, I never heard that name, or seen one before, it was going to be a completely new experience for me, so I asked what was that. I was told that it was a big facility where many elderly people live because of age or health problems. Also, they said, a nurse was in charge of taking care of a lot of people at the same time. I got a little nervous when I heard that, but I thought, what could be worse than living in a hospital!?

A week went by, and it was time to remove the stitches from my belly. I was very happy. I was beginning to eat and swallow, not too much hard food, either. For instance, any meats, beans, or tortillas, one of my favorite things to eat, were a big “NONO”; my stomach wasn’t strong enough to handle it yet. I was improving, and that was what mattered. In those days, I started to get out of bed and walk a little bit. I was hoping to heal soon and get out of the hospital. Thursday, July 3, a day before Independence Day, a doctor came to me to do his regular check-ups. He said, young man, because you’re doing so good, there’s no reason to keep you here any longer, you’re going home Monday, July seventh. I was immensely happy to hear that; I couldn’t believe it. I have to do a check-up on you, the doctor added. He checked my heart rate, my breathing, my whole body. Suddenly, he spotted a big bruised formed in my right side above my hip; it was huge, and every time he squeezed it, oh-gee!! it hurt. It was an infection, he explained, and we needed to apply surgery to extract all the lousy liquid that was inside, causing problems. Now, don’t be alarmed, it will be a very small operation, just to insert a little plastic tube to absorb the juice, and we will be done. It doesn’t change anything, you still can leave on Monday, “few! “ I sweated cold water.

Around 5:00 in the afternoon, some medical staff came for me to take me to the surgery room. My brother-in-law stepped into the room and found me in the stretcher bed. Where are you going, Cuñado? He asked, the doctor found an infection in my right side, but it’s nothing too preoccupied, they just have to insert a little tube to absorb the bad blood inside, and that’s it. So, I didn’t think it was necessary to alert anyone and make you all worry about it, for no reason. Oh, ok!  They took me to the surgery room and promptly put me under anesthesia. I fell asleep, and they proceeded with their thing. I don’t know how long it took, but when I woke up, I was already back in my room with a drainage thing hanging on my right side. It was already nighttime, and my brother-in-law was already gone. I was still drowsy from the anesthesia, so I just closed my eyes and went back to sleep.

The following morning, a nurse’s assistant interrupted my beauty sleep to take my vital signs, lame! I was sleeping so well. 😂  Then I had small breakfast pancakes with syrup and got off the bed for a walk. It was Friday, the fourth of July; I spent it wandering around the hallways. At 9 pm, I went to the window to watch the fireworks from the hospital, many patients, and their families began to gather, as well to see the lights displayed. Boom, boom! The fireworks started to fill the sky with brightness, amazing colors, and shapes. I enjoyed watching the show and the people with my IV pool aside like a weapon! The artificial lights kept going for about 15 to 20 minutes more. After the show, everyone returned to their rooms, and their relatives went home. I went to bed and tried to sleep too, but I couldn’t, my mind was so restless, all I thought was about Monday, my big day!. I used to say to myself, when I get out of here, I’m going to do this, I’m going to do that, be over here and over there, and why not? Tried to be a better human being this time.

Monday arrived, finally! after a long weekend waiting for it. I left bed bright and early, hoping to go home quickly. However, the nurses told me I wouldn’t be discharged until the afternoon. Oh, no! Why not now? I asked. The person who is supposed to pick you up cannot come in and get you at this time, oh well, better late than never, I replied. I walked down the hallway and back to the room, and took a glance at the clock hanging on the wall, hoping to see the handles advance quickly, but they seemed to run backwards instead. I was just anxious to get out of there, I guess, and because of that, a few more hours felt like an eternity. I laid down and got up, laid down and got up, and so on, until the time to leave the hospital finally hit the spot.

Around four o’clock, my brother-in-law arrived for me. We signed many papers, and then the medical staff took me out in a wheelchair to the vehicle. We climbed into the car and headed to Sonoma! When we arrived home, my sister was working; luckily, I have a wonderful sister; she requested to get off a little earlier. She got home a few hours after our arrival and made dinner for her family and me. She had a difficult decision regarding the food because she did not know what to cook for me, as I was just released from the hospital. I wasn’t hungry anyway, I explained to her. She said in an upsetting voice, are you saying to leave you without dinner until tomorrow morning? Are you crazy!? You know, I won’t do that, okay sister? Do whatever you think is good, and I’ll eat it. She cooked something very simple—simple but delicious—chicken noodle soup. Everyone sat at the table and ate: my sister, her husband, my two nephews, and one niece. I glanced occasionally at their plates because they had something different from mine. I thought, even though mine was okay, theirs looked pretty darn good!

We finished dining and went to sit on the couch for a little while to digest the food. We chatted and watched TV, and after about 30 minutes, I decided to go to bed. My nephew allowed me into his bedroom that night because it was right next door to my sister’s, so she could keep an eye on me.

 I was sleeping, and around midnight, a sudden pain in the head woke me up. It was very severe. I started feeling very dizzy and without strength. I tried to get out of bed and sit down on the edge, but I couldn’t do that. The pain in my head was extremely high and merciless. I felt miserable. Everything was spinning around, and every time I tried to get up, my whole body felt weaker.

 Finally, after several tries, I managed to do it. However, I had to reach out and hold myself with a curtain over the closet by the bed because, if I hadn’t done that, I would’ve fallen backward again. My sister heard me struggle and shouted, “Pancho, are you ok?” I didn’t have almost any strength left to answer back, but I didn’t want her to worry about it, so I made an effort to reply and said, yes, I’m fine, sister, even though I wasn’t. I reached out for a pair of pills that the hospital prescribed for me; I drank two and laid back down. After a while, I slept.

 Another terrible headache woke me up. It was stronger this time. I tried to get out of bed, but that time was too powerful. It made me break down. My sister heard me moaning terribly and immediately ran toward me. She found me struggling in the bed, rolling and tossing and trying to get up unsuccessfully. She was so scared and freaked out. She asked me, “Brother, what happened? How do you feel? Tell me, what’s the matter with you?” I could hardly answer her. My voice was fading away. My sight was blurry. I felt like the room, the bed, and everything around me spun quickly. “I don’t know. I can’t get up, and my body is stiff.”

Suddenly, I started throwing up weird green stuff and began shivering as well. My sister shouted at my niece to dial 911. She called for an ambulance and told them to come quickly. About five minutes after my niece called, the paramedics knocked at the door. They questioned my sister about what happened, but she didn’t speak English, so my niece told them.

Then, they asked me, “How do you feel? Can you get up and help us to get you into the ambulance?” My niece replied, “No, he won’t be able to do that.” Then they put me on a thick blanket, grabbed it from the corners, and lifted me to bring me out of the bedroom and put me into the ambulance. I remember them asking me questions like, “What’s your name? What’s your day of birth? What day is today?” All the basic stuff. But I couldn’t answer most of them.

When we got to the hospital (a different hospital), everything was confusing. The medical staff thought I was high on drugs or intoxicated because I was still having convulsions and trying to vomit. Thus, they proceeded to make a lot of blood tests on me. My sister was very desperate to watch me (basically dying), but she did not know what to do. Because of her lack of English and not being able to communicate with the doctors who were treating me, things were even worse for her.

My sister’s daughter had to go to school, and her husband was working, so she was alone in these agonizing moments. She called her husband and asked him to come in quickly to the hospital because I had a terrible relapse. The last thing I remembered was watching my sister and her husband hugging each other and crying bitterly, like there was no hope left, and they were expecting the worst. Suddenly, everything went dark on me. I lost consciousness and entered a coma stage, I was told.