Angela Rodriguez

04/21/2016
Prof. Gustavson
English 101
My call to write
Eleven was the number. The number when I was of age to understand maturely what was
going on around me. I had lost my childhood, and learned what depression was. It was the year
2006, not only did I lose my grandfather that year, my mother began to pick up the bottle and use
drugs again. Although that year was tough for me, something good came out of that year, I had
realized, I wanted to be a registered nurse. I began to become interested in healthcare and can
read as much as I can, about how it worked and how it impacts us. I also witnessed how the
healthcare system worked, and I knew this was it, this is my future. Ten Years later, I am in
college and almost 21. There are many reasons, why I had chosen healthcare as my core topic,
however I will explain the main reason why healthcare is my future. Please, I expect no
judgment or pity from anyone as I tell my story.
The earliest memory I can think of was in the year 1999, I was 4 years old and all I
remember is my mother passed out on the couch. I didnt understand why she looked as she did,
disheveled and pale. What I can only comprehend, was my father taking my siblings, and I next
door to my grandmothers house. I remember crying, asking daddy why does mommy look like
that? of course he didnt respond and after that everything was a blur. My mother, you see is an
alcoholic and drug addict, even before I was born. She has an illness that she couldnt control
and although it felt like a burden, no matter what, we her children were always there. She wasnt

always like this, for many years she was clean and the best mother there ever was. I had a
wonderful early childhood life, where every Friday, was family night and Every Sunday me and
my 5 siblings would cram in her red Thunderbird, pull out a huge map of Connecticut and
blindly point anywhere, and whatever we chose thats where we would explore. Everything was
great, I didnt know what stress was, all I did was enjoy outside, fight with my siblings as who
can use the phone or internet because in that time you can only use one at a time. Life felt great
until that number 11 came.
At 11 when things were out of control, I would cry each day because I didnt understand
why has everything changed so quickly? My eldest brother was a junior in college, and my eldest
sister was away in her life and for some reason I felt so alone. Yes I did have four other siblings
but like them we didnt know what was going on, they were in high school, they did normal
teenage things where I was the loner at home who would see my mother disappear in her room
drinking away that cheap vodka bottle Dubra. By age 12, things started to really escalate, my
mother wouldnt go to work for weeks, then months. She was an accountant for Ann Taylor
Corporation, she made great amounts of money and I can say it was probably her best job yet.
However, they fired her because she disappeared for months, and she went back to drinking
again, not working this time but living off of unemployment. Months, after she had lost her job,
my sister who was 16 at the time announced she was pregnant. We, didnt know how to handle
this situation because there was a baby on the way and my mother wasnt around for support.
She would be in her room waiting for her unemployment check every Tuesday morning, because
she had cleaned her savings account from buying booze. My mother became sloppy, I wouldnt
remember when she had last showered, because every moment you have seen her she had her 7th
pint of Dubra passed out. There wasnt any food in the house, Bills werent being paid. My father

had left my mother. It was only me who was always home alone hiding food from my mother to
not sell for booze, so my siblings and I had food for that night. I was the one who would have to
sneak into my mothers room (because I was the tiniest) and look into her pockets for money so I
could take it and pay for the past due bills, so we could have power, and hot water again. I was
only 12 years old, and I felt as if I was older, while every other girl my age were worried about
getting their first periods, I was worried how I would feed my family and how we were going to
make it. Yes sometimes, I did have help from my father and grandmothers but I tried not to
bother them as much since the house we lived in my grandmother owned, and we already didnt
pay rent. Years began to pass I was in high school, My eldest brother was fighting in
Afghanistan, and I was still alone dealing with the same situations being antisocial at home and
school, and at school I pretended to be happy so no one knew my situation at home, I tried my
hardest for DCF not to be called. Although, I would get into altercations with my mother at
home, to get money and for her to put down the bottle. I always put up a fight, although my
siblings have given up. I would babysit my niece, and keep her away from my mother because I
was scared of her. My mother still continued to sell the food we had or try going to different
houses saying my niece needed formula and take the money for more booze. This was an
everyday thing for me, I began to become a pothead and drink when I felt at my lowest, I would
cut my wrists because I wanted to die. Rehabs never worked no matter how much we tried, she
would either escape after they pumped her stomach, or say she was recovered stay one day sober,
then hit the bottles again. I can continue with all of the countless stories from my memories but I
would be writing a book about my adolescent years.
Age 16 I moved in with my father, and switched schools, all the years trying to save my
mother, I lost all hope and gave up. I would ignore her and just pray that she remained alive, I

got my first job at a Mexican restaurant, and started paying my own bills without the help of
anyone, my mentality was I am an adult and I dont need help from anyone. Months after, when
my life began to change my mother went back to rehab because she had gotten into crack this
time rather than alcohol, she would send me letters of her apologies and I would ignore. I
thought if I ignore the problem it would go away, it sounds wrong, however I did love my
mother, but I couldnt seem to deal anymore. Senior Year of high school 2013, I forgave her for
everything she has done, I tried to build a relationship again, that was lost since 2006. She had
found someone and they were engaged, and she was most importantly sober. I had a relationship
with her, little did I know, she had 12 slipups that her fianc hid from us. Until summer 2015, age
20, my siblings, and I found out about her slipups and she was abusing pills after her hip surgery.
She would get so high and drunk that her new hip kept popping out, so she endured many
surgeries because of her mistake. I still forgave her when she became well again. It was
December 06, 2015, I was working at the bar, my boyfriend was visiting me and then I get a call
from my sister. I go in the side room and she is in hysterics, she tells me, mom overdosed on
pills, she in coma and they might put her on life support. I hung up the phone and began to
scream and cry forgetting I was at work and my boyfriend was at the bar in the next room. He
comes in and takes me out of my job, and as Im trying to explain, but cant say anything
correctly, he just asks me, Do you want me to bring you to Hartford to see her. We go to
Hartford, its 10pm now and I go see her, she is in ICU and Im crying I am by myself, no one
else is there but my mother. This moment will always be important to me, because this is where I
am talking to her and God. I am forgiving her for everything, rather than showing hatred and
anger, because in my heart it felt right. After leaving the hospital that night at 12am, my
boyfriend had stood by my side, we were in a new relationship, but without any questions it was

like he understood and felt my pain and helped me out extremely. My mother woke up a few
days later, and that was her last incident so far. That is what pushed me to go along with things
and go back to school to start my future as a nurse. Healthcare is important to me, because I want
to be there to help anyone I can because not only am I strong willed I am also compassionate and
patient. I believe working in the healthcare environment is where I should be and which is why I
choose it as my topic. Ive learned a lot to get where I am now, and I am going to further myself.