After spending a couple of months in Memorial Hospital, they found another place where to transfer me. It was a hospital in the city of Berkeley, I don’t know if the main one or how many hospitals are in that city. Unfortunately, the urine infection was still there on my body, it didn’t go away, but the time to move me out was already set. So with or without UTI, I had to go. I can’t say or describe this place detail by detail and tell exactly how was it looks like, because it would be a big fat lie. I was more gone then alive, so my mind couldn’t keep record of all the happenings; however, I do remember a bit, perhaps, enough to astonished you. The very first day of my arrival to the hospital. I got place in a small room all by myself because of my UTI. The building was huge with five different floors, each one according to the patients stage of disease progression. For instance, the first and the second floors were for patients with the less hope to recover and be even a little normal again. The third, fourth and fifth floors were for patients with better expectations. I was in the second floor, Yes! I didn’t show any signals to get any better, by the contrary, I seemed to enworse bit a bit. Most of the employees were Phillipines and Africans. They were terrible people, CNAs and nurses everybody was super cruel, I’d like to emphasize that, the fact they were Philipines and Africans, doesn’t mean all the people from this countries are the same. I have met many people with the same nationalities, and they are very nice with great compassion for dying individuals. Anyhow, these employees were unbelievable merciless with no feelings towards moribund patients. I was always dirty, hardly ever being shower, they swore at me every now and then, and when I pressed a call bottom to called the nurse when I was in pain nobody answers. It usually took hours for someone to come in and checked on me. My family used to visit me on the weekends only, they couldn’t come very often, because it was too far for them and my sister didn’t drive yet, so they had to wait for my brother-in-law to take them. He worked during the week, so they had no choice. When they came to see me, the nurses and aides, whoever was taking care of me, were awfully kind and polite to them and started telling them a bunch of lies. I could understand everything because they had an interpreter, so it was all clear to me. My UTI was getting worse day by day, and they didn’t do anything to stop it. I got really high temperatures quite often. They tried to insert IVs on me to filtrated water into my body; every time they did that, they end up hurting me real bad. They couldn’t find the right vein to place the needle; moreover, they poke me all over until find the spot. In addition, to calm down the fiver, I got water with ice cubes poured all over my body. One day my dear mother and my sister went to see me. I was with a very high fiver and sweating a lot. My sister went immediately for the nurse, guess what was their solution? Yes! they gave me a bath with ice water. My mommy and sister questioned them about it, but it was useless, I got shower with an ice water anyways. They kick out off the room my family while I was taking care of. When my family returned back to the room, they tried to smile, but their eyes were full of water, My sweet mother sat in the edge of the bed touching my face gently telling me, “MY SON, EVERYTHING WILL BE OKAY, WE GONNA GET YOU OUT OF HERE”. My sister and her husband telling me how strong I was, to please keep myself that way, they told me that I was the patient with more alertness all around that floor. I laughed with sarcasm like saying, “Really!” thinking who could be worse than me. But I was way off, “gullible!” there were many more people in awfull conditions, according to what I heard. There were people who already had more than 30 years living in that hospital, they were like mommies being alive dissected, and nobody doing anything for them to decrease their suffering. For a few months my calvary continued and the infection was consuming me extremely quick. It jump from my groin area to the stomach, where my feeding tube was, than, it went from the stomach to my neck, where I had the (tracher) to help me breathe. I feared that at that pace my body would started falling into pieces pretty soon and never would make it out of there alive. I used to spend day and night crying and praying to God asking humbling whether to take me or to get me out of that place. Until one day my prayers were listen, my family found a hospital in Healdsburg California that was getting patients like me, also the hospital was just reopening. It was the finals of November still 2003, when two lovely ladies came to see me. At first, I didn’t know what was all about and who these two ladies were, I thought they were from the same hospital of Berkeley, whom was just making sure I didn’t hang the outfit yet; however, I found it kind of strange because they were too nice to belong from there. Surprisingly, they told me the most marvelous news that day, they said, “we are from Healdsburg Hospital and came to see you to let you know that you are going to be transferred up there.” I looked at them with disbelieve, my eyes growth bigger and started smiling, I was so happy that my smiled turned into laughter, thinking to myself, at least I’m not going to kick the bucket in this place. Silly me! I wasn’t leaving that hospital yet, I could’ve kick it before the date to leave it……….

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