Andre, My Older Little Sister
By Geraldine Fuenmayor, Calgary, Canada
I knew that Christmas 2020 would not be the same. The first one without my brother Omar, and I couldn’t travel to Texas to see my mom and my sister Andreina, due to the Pandemic. But, what I never imagined is that around December the 20th, their COVID tests would come up positive.
Five days later, my sister had a lot of difficulty breathing.
When the paramedics arrived, she was terrified, and said, “I will not go to any hospital, I will rather pass at home with my mom.”
That day, after I talked to her over the phone for more than an hour, she agreed to go to the hospital.
Andre was my older sister; she had a happy life 15 years ago, full of colors, a university degree, a small business, a house, a boyfriend … but suddenly she started showing signs of extreme anxiety and other mental disorders. She became less communicative and was lost in her thoughts.
After I explained my sister’s mental health condition, the medical staff understood why she was behaving as a girl, even though she was 49 years old.
After a week at the hospital, her oxygen levels were too low, but they couldn’t remove her oxygen mask to feed her. The hungriness exasperated her.
She told her doctor, “I don’t have COVID,” and asked, “When can I go home?
She was panicking when the doctors tried to perform respiratory therapy. One afternoon, when I called her through Facetime, she looked like breathing was painful. Her eyes were almost closed, just looking at the ceiling.
My heart broke when I saw her like that, but I contained my tears and said, “The whole family is sending you love, prayers, and healing.”
I saw her lips moving through the mask, and the nurse said, “She is saying ‘I love you’.”
None of the treatments had worked; intubation was her only chance. But after it was done, her kidneys failed, then came the blood clots, and finally multiple organ failure.
The phone calls with the doctors paralyzed me; sometimes my partner needed to tell me what to ask or what to say. I was frozen by the doctors’ words, asking me to consider changing the resuscitation code three times.
After fighting for 54 days, Andre passed. Since then, I have been wondering if hospitals should have different policies for someone like her, so vulnerable and scared of everyday life events.
Andre, I always admired your desire to be independent, even when your mental health was a burden. Thank you for being so kind, caring, and loving with me, with our parents, and with the whole family. And especially for sharing your existence with me. My love was holding you during this difficult journey. I love you sister, and I will always.