Image result for a picture of a gun and an ice sickle

Literacy Narrative                                                                                                                            Julissa Chiquito

Instructor Sefferino Ramos                                                                                                          English 1A

T/Th 5:30-6:50 P.M.                                                                                                                        January 27, 2017

Eighteen with a Bullet

When I was eighteen, I thought I knew everything. I would never listen to my mother or take her advice. Most of all, I couldn’t stand it when she would pick and choose my friends and with whom I could associate with.  I learned a very valuable lesson one day. This was the day I came face to face with death. I learned to never again disobey my mother. Sometimes it takes an extremely traumatic experience to learn a valuable lesson like the one I learned.

One Friday night after a hard day’s work, I decided to rush over to my friend Teresa’s house. I wanted to go over to her house to plan out where we were going to spend our Friday night.  We were ready for a night full of fun and frolic. In the back of my mind I could hear my mom saying “You are not going out tonight young lady. I don’t want you hanging out with that Teresa girl. Her and her brother John are nothing but trouble.” However, being the rebellious teenager that I was I chose to disobey.  Soon I arrived at Teresa’s house. John, Teresa’s younger brother answered the door and let me inside their house. “Teresa is not back yet, but you can wait in her room if you like.”  I walked down the long dark corridor which lead to Teresa’s room.  The walls were covered with family portraits. I entered Teresa’s drab and frigid room. I sat down on her bed that was covered in a retro floral print comforter.  Half an hour goes by and my friend still wasn’t home. I was starting to get a little bored, so I decided to use the phone. I called my sister and clicked over to use the party line to add my friend Adrian to the conversation.  I had my back towards the door that led to the hallway.  I could hear John and his friend Derek whispering and giggling.

John and Derek walked into Teresa’s room.  I hear John shout “Julissa look!” I turned around towards where John and Derek stood.  Immediately I felt a sharp punch into my right upper chest.  It seemed as though someone had thrown something at my chest as a prank.  I began to laugh and quickly stopped when I focused on John and Derek’s faces. I noticed the look of deadly fright on their faces as their eyes grew wider.  I looked down and focused on what they were holding in their hands.  John was holding a handgun and Derek a riffle.  John screamed “Oh my God…you shot her!”

I looked down at my chest and saw that my ivory shirt was becoming drenched and quickly turning crimson. I could feel the warmth of my blood over my chest. The right side of my ivory shirt was now half scarlet. I soon realized I had been shot. I began to feel faint as my blood began pumping out of my wound onto my shirt. In a short time my body began to go into shock.  Suddenly I felt a jolt of burning stabbing pain run from my chest, down my arm, to the fingertips of my right hand.  My arm suddenly went numb and the telephone receiver fell out of my right hand onto the rust colored shag carpet. I began to panic and cry hysterically as my arm flopped to my side.  The flowered bedspread that adorned Teresa’s bed was also covered with splatters of my blood. The telephone receiver was covered in fingerprints.

I continued to cry, became hysterical, and started hyperventilating.  “John call the ambulance. I’m going to die!”  I shouted.  He said he would call, but only if I agreed to say that the accident happened outside of the house. He said “We can say it was a drive by.” He wanted me to lie, so they wouldn’t get in trouble.  I did not reply to him.  Suddenly my body felt so cold and heavy. I felt a deep feeling of sleepiness taking over me.  I soon began to choke on my blood because my lung became full of blood. “Derek why were you guys playing with guns?”   I pleaded as I gasped for air “tell my mom I love her.”

I could hear the sirens of the ambulance getting louder as they approached.  I was in and out of consciousness.  I was placed on a stretcher and loaded into the back of the ambulance. I was immediately rushed to Victor Valley hospital where it seemed like I was waiting in eternity for the nurses and doctors to do something.  Victor Valley hospital was not equipped with trauma center for gunshot wounds. Soon they got approval from the insurance company to have me transported to Loma Linda. I shivered and trembled as I waited in a freezing emergency room that smelled like chemicals and bleach. I cried from the agony and pain I was feeling. I begged the nurse to give me something for the pain.  She gave me an injection and the pain subsided as I started feeling light headed.  Finally the doctor walked in and said that Health Net had approved for me to get transported by helicopter to Loma Linda’s Trauma Center.  The paramedics loaded me onto the helicopter.  I fell in and out of consciousness.  The turbulence of the helicopter ride would wake me.  Soon the helicopter landed and I was rolled into and exam room where they took chest x-rays.  Then I was rolled in on a stretcher into the operating room.  The anesthesiologist started an IV and injected something in the line that knocked me out. I was in a deep sleep, but I could feel the cold sharp surgical knife cutting my right side close to my rib. It felt like the surgeon was cutting me with an ice sickle.   I felt my flesh rip open, but didn’t feel any pain.  When all of a sudden, I began to feel pressure and pain.  “Doctor it hurts…please give me some more medicine.” They quickly injected more medicine into my IV and I passed out. I remember waking up in a cold room.  Attached to the right side of my rib cage was a tube that was connected to a machine that was draining my blood out of my lungs.  I spent a week in the hospital and was finally discharged to go home.  I was so happy to be alive and very thankful to the Loma Linda medical staff.

I felt so guilty and ashamed for not listening to my mom.  Because I disobeyed her I got hurt and put her through hell.  Here I am today to write about my traumatic experience.  Many teens hate having to obey their parents.  They hate it when their parents pick and choose who they can associate with.  Many take their parent’s advice for granted and think their parents forbid them from hanging out with certain people or forbidding them from going out as a form of punishment.  I know today that is not the case.  I have learned from my traumatic experience and learned to never disobey my mother.  My mother was a good judge of character because she was older and wiser.