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Rachael Holmes
Professor Bolton
January 30, 2012
English 101
Reality’s Unspoken Events
As I sat back and observed my surroundings, I started to notice what was actually
occurring before my eyes. The nights were getting shorter sitting in the cold waiting room,
and the prayers were getting longer in our worrying minds. My mind wondered to the past.
I remembered the good old days when I was his “little black girl” as he liked to say
it, and recall that scornful look I used to give him when he called me that name. I remember
my mother always saying to my grandfather, “Daddy, Rachael does not like that name.” I
always smile when I think of the bond we held; oddly that bond was never spoken of. After
giving my grandfather a hug, I would plop down with excitement on my grandparents’
huge bed, a smile always spread across his wrinkly face. It was as if I could smell the sweet
peppermint candy through the jar. I can still hear the wrappers crinkling and us crunching
down on the delicious treat. After we would finish I would always say “I love you,
Granddaddy.”Then reality came back into existence, and I thought of that machine as
something I could not rely on, an interference of nature, and a disappointment to reality.
The only event that repeatedly played through my head was that machine, the
machine that kept his joyous life on an old string. I became reliant on that machine to keep
him alive, and I let the fear of losing him run away. I just knew he would make it out okay
and life would go on as I knew it, but it didn’t.
There were many times when we would go back and forth to the hospital, and I would have

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no worries because I had faith in God and that machine. All of my family members would
come out the emergency room smiling with happiness instead of crying with sorrow. Then,
out of nowhere, the machine failed him, and in the blink of an eye. He was snatched from
my sight just that quickly.
I truly wished be able to say “I love you Granddaddy” just one last time. Although I
knew he couldn’t hear me, I said it anyway, I spoke to his lifeless body, and I spoke
through my pain saying “I love you Granddaddy.” I was not prepared for him to leave me
and I just clung to his body, looking up hoping he would wake up and smile. Then my aunt
gently grabbed me saying, “Come on Rachael; It’s ok”, she and led me from the dark room.
Then I pictured God telling him, “Well done my child, well done.” I should not have
relied on what I thought would help, that machine, because it seemed impossible that it
would fail, but it did.
Why did it have to interfere with the basics of life and take away who I truly
needed? That machine was supposed to help the breath flow through the body. The phone
call my cousin received on that wet rainy day made my mood even gloomier. I remember
like it was yesterday, we were driving back to the hospital for a visit and that’s when the
phone rang. She sounded so calm saying, “Ok, I’m on my way” but I knew everything
would not be ok, and then she turned to me with an unsure look whispering “Granddaddy
just died”. She could not speak up because her daughter and nephew were in the back seat,
not aware of the inaudible news. All I could do was reflect back on the saying “Every time
it rains someone dies.” Ironically someone had just told me that a week before, but I
didn’t pay it any attention. Then I thought of the unknown machine they had his body
connected to and was literally lost for words.

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That machine took life and made it unbearable and soon nature took its course. My
first experience even noticing the machine did not seem so hard to take in. There was a time
when breath was in his body and he just laid there not saying anything but I knew he was
alive. Then I remember my last encounter with the machine; it was after being pushed out
the room…unfortunately. As I was assisted to put on gloves and a disposable lab gown in
order to get my last view of my only grandfather, I just held my tears in. All I could see was
a variety of tubes in and out of his body and trying to block everyone’s’ conversation out. I
stared it down wondering why he needed a machine’s support for his own given life. It did
not make any sense to me and I wanted answers, I hated seeing him in so much pain. I can
remember hearing him moaning “hm…” and listening to the sheets rustle. I wanted to be
able to help, I wanted to be able to know what was wrong but there was no hope.
I did not want to have to accept the bad news; I just wanted to wake up from a
horrible dream. I wanted to go back to the time when he walked up to me not rolled in a
wheel chair. I wanted to hear him say my mother’s name one more time, “Margie”, for
some reason hearing him say that made me smile. In that moment I had to realize that what
I wanted did not matter, what mattered was that he was not in any more pain. My heart was
sustained, and all I could do was endure the waterfalls because I could no longer be strong.
I took in what had occurred, contemplated the events that had taken place, and just walked
away. His heart was weak, the machine then became his heart, and it failed on him in his
time of need. Technology that day truly made me see a different perspective of this event.
In the beginning, of course I was devastated, but the way I saw things drastically
changed. Even though this was a hurtful run in with technology, I still appreciate the effort
it gave for the life of a human being. It did not hurt me physically, but it did affect me

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mentally and emotionally. It made me want to strive to do better in terms of creating a
better machine. That is why I chose the pathway to helping people through nursing. I know
he would be proud and happy because of my success.