Grad

The fall semester was terrible. I started off strong, but it became extremely difficult towards the end. A lot happened this semester, and there were times I did not think I was going to finish. I thought doing this was a mistake. I should have simply taken a year off, worked, gained more experience, and shadowed in the dental field.

Let me start from the beginning. During this period, I continued to work outside of school. I did not feel like I could connect with my professors. Personally, I am someone who engages in class conversation. I want my professors to know whether I was loud and wrong or loud and right. I felt like I was doing fine until I took exams, especially in one particular class. It was like, no matter how much studying I did, I couldn't get an "A" on a single exam. Another class consisted solely of article research and presentations, a subject I'm not particularly passionate about, and it felt like a rigorous and demanding class. I took 5 classes that semester. My favorite classes were physiology and endocrinology. It made sense to me, even though it was difficult and complicated. The test questions were critical thinking application questions, as if I were in medical school or already a doctor. I had never encountered exam questions like these before, and it was a significant learning experience. I had to delve deeper and present numerous justifications for my responses.

This all became very real in my personal life. In the middle of October, I received a phone call stating that my father was in the hospital. He collapsed, vomited, and had blood sugar levels below 30 mg/dl. They said his heart stopped. They performed CPR and other life-saving measures. The doctors sent him to surgery to remove fluid buildup from his lungs. However, following the procedure, my father became unresponsive. He wouldn't wake up; he was just there. Encephalopathy. His hospital room and ICU board read "Encephalopathy." It remained in that state for about 6 1/2 weeks until they decided to do a tracheotomy. After the tracheotomy, he appeared to have completely recovered. He had significantly improved, although he was still disoriented due to prolonged unconsciousness. He was making an effort to speak, despite the challenges posed by the new track in his neck. They also put a portal vein in his neck, and he was very uncomfortable with everything that was going on.

After having the trach for a few days, the doctors decided that he could go back to the care facility. He was there. At the care facility, everything seemed to be going okay in the beginning, but when it was time for dialysis, they were unable to pull the fluid off of his body again. The health team at the care facility gave him some rest days, and then they tried again, but they were still, unfortunately, unable to pull the fluid off of him. It was now the final week of the semester, approximately the second week of December. He had gone to the hospital multiple times over the course of four days.

My grandmother also had issues this semester. She experienced nerve pain in both her back and her right leg. At the start of the semester, she was on medication until her visit to the doctor. The doctor suggested surgery. Before the surgery, she attempted to administer some infusions to her back, hoping to alleviate the pain that was causing her to walk with a limp. My grandmother constantly felt like she was going to fall, and it was very difficult for me to be away from her. To relieve her pain, I would take her to the doctor for injections. Injections are basically epidural, but with a different type of dosage to help with the issue, according to my understanding. The doctor essentially stated that her spine's bones were pinching her nerves.

The doctor scheduled my grandmother's surgery for December 20th. The doctor described the procedure as inserting metal rods between the spinal bones to create space and prevent nerve pinching. They said they should leave a lot of her pain behind and allow her to walk as she had before. On Monday, before the surgery, I visited my father and the care facility. They informed me that they were still struggling to remove the fluid from his body. Despite their best efforts, they were unable to completely remove it, leading to a worsening of the buildup. His stomach was distended. His skin was very tight, and he could see the swelling pulling in his facial fluid, depending on which side his head was lying on. They said the next time they would try again would be on Wednesday due to the Monday-Wednesday schedule that he was on for dialysis. Wednesday was also my grandmother's surgery day, and I was completely stressed and overwhelmed.

Two significant people in my life were in very difficult health situations. On Wednesday morning, I had to accompany my grandmother to the hospital for her check-in and surgery. As soon as my grandma answered the phone, the care facility called me, informing me that they were planning to transfer my father to the hospital where I was already staying. So I went to the emergency room and waited for my father’s arrival. He remained completely swollen throughout the duration of his illness. He also lost his responsiveness, and at this point, he was very unresponsive to anything. It appears that we were unable to obtain any information about my father's condition. His numbers for everything were all over the place every time they tested him every two hours. In a single minute, his blood pressure would spike dramatically. The next minute, his blood pressure would drop, and when it was too low, they couldn't remove the fluids from him at the care facility because he was on the verge of hypotension. His blood levels were erratic, and his lab results consistently varied. They finally admitted my father to the hospital and returned him to the ICU. 

At this point, my grandmother has settled into her room, where she will be recovering. Because she lives in Houston, I was so happy that my mother was here with me during this difficult time. On the first night, we returned home, but the next morning, when my mother woke me up, I had the most terrifying experience of my life. She informed me that they had moved my grandmother to the ICU. On the way there, my mother told me that my grandmother had what the doctors and nurses believed was a panic attack and possibly even cardiac arrest. When I spoke to my grandmother, she said the pain was so terrible that when she tried to go to the bathroom with the help of the nurses, she wasn’t expecting to be in so much pain, and it shocked her and she fainted. The results of her electrocardiogram differed from those obtained prior to her operation. Her electrocardiogram basically showed that she did have some event with her heart, but they didn’t necessarily label it as a heart attack. At this point, I was just bouncing back-and-forth between my grandmother and my father. My father was in the regular ICU and my grandmother in orthopedics. My mom made the decision to take shifts and alternate overnight stays. Observing my grandmother struggle to walk with all the weight on her back was incredibly difficult. Every slight touch seemed to cause her pain, a sensation that I would also experience. At this point, it’s Christmas time, and the nurses and staff numbers were extremely low, so they decided to move my grandmother from the orthopedic ICU to the ICU that my father was in. They moved my grandmother on Christmas Eve. When I heard that, it completely broke my heart. I'm at a loss for what to do or how to approach the situation. My father's room and my grandmother's room were on the same floor in the same unit, and I could look at my father’s room and see my grandma‘s space, and I could look at my grandmother‘s room and see my father‘s space. 

Keeping my head was one of the only things that I focused on. To focus on getting both of these people out and having them here during Christmas was insane. I had always spent every Christmas with my grandma. She would always get a real tree, which we would have to tie down to the car, carry into the house, and decorate, but this year we skipped all of that. My grandmother felt terrible due to the surgery and the fact that we were spending Christmas in the hospital. We didn't anticipate having to spend Christmas in the hospital, but due to her complications, we had to do so. Additionally, my grandmother was diagnosed with massive blood clots in her lungs, a condition she had never experienced before. She didn't have this condition before the surgery. At this point, the uncertainty was overwhelming me. I remember when the doctor was telling my grandma that she needed surgery and that there was a 90% chance that she would get better. I was an advocate for it. After witnessing the complications and pain she endured during her surgery, I would not have recommended that Grandma undergo the same procedure. I want my grandmother to walk, move, and be at her best again. My grandmother has always been an early riser. She wakes up before the sun, and she goes to the store. She would go to the gym. Every day, before he returned home around 12 or 1 o'clock, she would go to the library, conduct a meeting, and complete 10 other tasks. She eventually reached a point where she was unable to complete these tasks. My grandma is my best friend, and I need her to be here for a long time. I need her to be here when we cross the next stage, walk down, build or buy a new home, or have children. 

Christmas night. Me and my grandma always spend Christmas together, and nothing was going to change that. So I told my mom to go home and get some rest that night, because we had been there all day and I was going to spend the night. Spending our nights in the hospital became routine, and we were exhausted. Every device in the room goes off and beeps nonstop. The nurse comes in every hour to check bottles, change fluid bags, administer medication, or help my grandmother go to the bathroom. You can’t sleep in the hospital. At this point, I’m on day five, and I remember hearing a lot of commotion. At this point, all the nurses were already aware that my grandmother and father shared the same floor, and I had ties to two individuals in the ICU. Of course, they were in my father's room when I peeked out of my grandmother's. My father, who was on a ventilator, was being bagged. Why do you need to support a man on a ventilator? The nurse came to me, and she said he’s not doing well, but we’re trying everything we can. My family has been visiting from both sides: my mother's side, which includes my maternal grandmother, and my father's side, which includes his siblings and cousins. At this point, I had to call my family. I knew they would all be together because it was Christmas night. I told them what was going on and that it wasn’t looking good. 

I didn’t sleep at all that night. Between my father, who would seem to go in and out, and my grandmother, who was at this point delirious, the next morning was the hardest day, or at least I thought it was. I have a younger brother, a junior, who my father affectionately refers to as "Part Two"; he is 10 years old. He lives in Dallas with his mother and his brother. He was aware that our father was not doing well, but when things started to deteriorate, I felt compelled to be the one to inform him. So I talked to him and his mother and told them it’s time for him to come back home because I didn’t know how much longer our father was going to be here. The same day, our family met with the doctor. The doctor said that they could no longer do any form of CPR because if he didn’t survive, it would do more damage. She asked me if I wanted to proceed with the ventilator or not. All I could think was that I knew my father wouldn't want to remain in his current state. He was full of fluid. He was unresponsive. If we left them on the ventilator, someone would have to care for him forever, and Mario wouldn't be the same. After she asked me that question, I remember returning to his room, looking at him, but not seeing anything in his eyes. My father was gone. 

I knew that I didn't want to continue watching my father while she was away. But the rest of my family had a difficult time making the decision. Even my little brother said that he didn’t want our father to be what he was. At this point, I’ve been in the hospital for six days, and I feel like my world is coming down. I honestly don’t know how I held myself up. My mother was still there, and she was very supportive and loving. 

My father was still in that room for a few more days. On the 28th, they moved my grandmother to the rehab facility that the hospital offered. Her walking got better, and she was able to go to the bathroom by herself at this point. She was there to regain her strength. 

December 30th. My family had decided that it was time to stop the blood pressure medicine instead of the ventilator. The nurses and the doctors gave him medication to make sure he was comfortable. My father passed soon after. He was gone. He was tired. He was free. 

My brother wasn’t here yet, and the holiday made it even more difficult to get them here. He returned a few days later, and it was very difficult to see you. My mother went home to Houston, but she knew she would have to be back for the funeral. My grandma started having complications again. She wasn’t able to keep down any food, and she didn’t have an appetite. After so many days of not being able to eat or keep food down, I had to take her back to the emergency room. They admitted her because they couldn't figure out what was wrong with her. She discovers that she has a rare bacterial infection. She has bleeding stomach ulcers, and she was prescribed medication to treat them.

At this point, it’s the spring semester. I just keep thinking about how I am going to get through this semester. I barely made it through the last one. I’m planning my father‘s funeral. I never thought that I would be planning my father‘s funeral so young. I’ve been to funerals before, but I’ve never done anything behind the scenes. You have to call and make arrangements at churches. You need to reach out to family members and gather their pictures. Everyone’s calling my phone to apologize and express their condolences. It was all very overwhelming. I had to visit several funeral homes and provide them with all the details of my father's death certificate. My family decided on the color blue for the obituary at the funeral, which they wanted everyone to wear. I was responsible for composing the obituary for my father. I think the worst part of the whole experience was that I had to go to the cemetery. I was required to select the burial spot for my father. I had to go to the actual location; no one else was there yet, and I had to stand on top of the spot where his body would be buried. I feel like that was the first moment everything felt real.

I emailed my spring semester professors and let them know what I was currently dealing with. The first week of classes started, and my mind was everywhere but school. My father's funeral and burial took place on July 13. It was freezing and windy. Personally, I don’t like crying in front of people. However, when I realized that I, a 12-year-old little brother, was crying, it deeply touched my heart. My father would never be able to teach him to drive a car, play sports, talk to girls, or go to prom or college. He wouldn't see me to become a dentist. He wouldn’t see me get married. He would never get a chance to be a grandfather. All of my feelings rushed over me.

This semester, I wanted things to be different. I was tired of explaining and telling my story over and over again. Every single semester I’ve been in college, something has happened, and it’s been out of my control. In the first semester of college, I transferred institutions, but none of my credits transferred. That made me feel like I was behind and that I was never going to make it. The semester of COVID, and I was out of school, and I didn’t feel like I had built a strong enough foundation with my study material. In my sophomore year, my uncle passed away from COVID. A drunk driver tragically killed my friend the following semester. The following semester, during my junior year, I lost someone else in a car accident. The same semester, my boyfriend of four years was a victim of gun violence.My grandfather's health was declining, and I took care of him at home. My aunt died two hours before one of my finals during finals week. Then my father died. All the while, I'm trying to go to school and work off-campus.

I’m in a masters program in the second semester, and I feel like giving up. Every year, I would always joke about what could possibly get worse, and it seemed to get worse and worse every year. My family and the people that I have around me are very important to me. I had to have a real conversation with myself about whether or not I was going to continue with this master program or step away. I decided to continue with the masters program and give it everything that I have. I tried not to overthink. I am one of those people who second-guesses herself on exams. This semester, I was working on unlearning that behavior. With the exception of one course, I was performing well throughout the entire semester. Really shocked me. When I was in high school, I was always a girl who had the grades; getting an A was easy; it was like second nature. Transitioning to college was hard. Getting a C became second nature. I was constantly frustrated and disappointed in myself, which may have contributed to the fact that my undergrad grades weren't the best. I second-guess myself. Over the course of time, I lost confidence in my abilities. 

After everything, I've pursued dentistry, and my goal of becoming a dentist remains unchanged. This semester, I said I’m going to relax. I asked myself again: What more could happen right now that has already happened to me? I couldn’t wait for the next thing to go wrong. I could not let my anxiety get the best of me anymore. I have two little brothers who look up to me. I have to make my mom and my grandma proud. But most importantly, I have to do what I've wanted to do since I was in fifth grade: become a dentist. This semester was more personal to me than any semester prior. I have tried it every semester before, but this semester I let go and let God deal with everything else, and it worked. My grades were better. This is the highest my GPA has ever been in my college career.

I made some wonderful friends. We have been going through this program together for a year, and I will never forget these people. The classes in the second semester were also more engaging, and I found myself actively participating in them. Even up until the end of the semester, there are still days when I struggle to get out of bed. I made it through.

I now have my masters of science in biology, and I am reapplying for this 2024–2025 dental school cycle.