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Untitled thought #1

Every day for a month it was the same routine. Get up, get dressed, eat somethings, get in the truck and drive to the hospital. The first night, I couldn't stand the sight. I left once the doctor finished telling me that it was almost the end of my mother's life. That was the night I cried into my father's chest. It was the moment that stopped a fight between me and my best friend. It ended the fight between my mom and her siblings. That night I had to tell my sister that we almost had to plan a funeral. That was the night that I had to make my mother's family aware that there was almost another loss in our family. That was the night when I realized how much I hater hearing the words "I'm sorry". It was that night that I called out of work for the first time to take care of my family. The next day, my sister arrived from Nashville. She was the one who made all decisions for my mom. When I didn't have to work, I'd sit in a hospital room and watch a machine make my mother's chest rise and fall. She probably got her best sleep during that week. The doctors couldn't tell us why it happened, just that it happened and they were making sure that she was stabled for the time being. She was slowly taken off if sedation and they'd attempt to pull that damn tube out of her lungs. She finally started to breathe on her own and they moved her from CCU to a regular room. My managers asked me how she was doing. I broke down in front of my manager once, I kept my phone nearby and I would help my customers. Each time they asked how I felt. I'd respond with "I'm okay" or "It could be better" and sometimes they'd ask if everything was ok. I'd tell them that I was worried about my family. I'd keep an eye on the time because my morning shifts caused me to leave my mother early. Every day shift dragged on and by the time I got to visit my mom, it would be time for dinner or I would be so exhausted that we'd only stay for 20-30 minutes but it felt like only five minutes when we left. My mother was my everything and I wasn't sure how I would survive my first time being in college. Even though she was out of the hospital by then, I still spent my time worrying about her. Concerned that something would happen when she was alone at home, I checked my phone periodically, just to make sure I didn't get a text or phone call like I did August 8th, 2017. Those dull white-gray walls still haunt me. I hate hospitals and I never want to see another hospital room for a long time. I've had enough hospital visitation to last me a life time.