Saturday, July 14, 2012, my baby sister died due to cardiac arrest. They were able to restart her heart, hook her up to a machine that breathed for her, and kept her going. My parents, sisters, brothers...her husband and daughter clung to the hope that she would pull through as she had done three years earlier. For five days we sat in the critical care waiting room. Visiting for 15 minutes at 8:30, 12:30, 6:00, and finally 9:00. We took turns.
Her friends came and went. Her family came and went. The doctors mostly stayed away in order to avoid awkward questions.
The social worker came once to ask my mom and my sister's husband about organ and tissue donation. They both agreed that if my sister did not pull out of this nightmare, she would give the gift of living to another.
I am so very proud of my mother, and my brother in law, James. They made the decision to donate my sister's organs so that others may continue to live. Easy decision to make, right? You would think so, especially since the neuro said she was 100 percent brain dead. We sat throughout the night w/my sister while waiting for the surgery that would remove her organs and save lives. At times we were in the waiting area, at other times we were with her. The illusion of life that the machines gave made it look like she was sleeping, healing, coming back. The idea that she was going into surgery deceived my mind into thinking that she would be with us today. She finished her journey at 5:00 am Friday, June 20th, ending her life giving the "shirt off of her back." It was the hardest thing...leaving the hospital at 1:00 am. Walking out the door knowing that they were sedating her, putting her under anesthisia (spelling), and removing that which helped her live. My mind kept screaming...No...she's still alive...don't. I kept wanting to turn around and run back in...stopping them from making this mistake. I just wanted to tell her goodbye. But I kept on walking.
Love you, sis. Love you big as the sky.
Could your kids have genetic memories?
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