Surviving in a hospital
Being in Venezuela is not easy, saying that you live in the “worst country in the world”, is not easy for me. Yes I know. There are countries that are worse than Venezuela and that is not something that comforts me but rather makes me feel worse to think that there is someone out there who is suffering or feeling worse than me.
Returning to my story, I still live in this country of shit, where to make matters worse I have been affected with a disease thanks to the same situation in the country. It started as something mild known as Amebas, but then it got complicated to a point where I almost died only that they never told me until when I left that hospital.
I lived several things in that hospital, things that I never expected to live, since they injected my back without anesthesia with a needle to pierce my lung and take out the liquid that I had inside thanks to what a liver abscess was filling and then the worst of all for me, I underwent 2 operations, one in which I placed a chest tube that went from my right lung and left by the side of my chest to a device that I had to carry for several days.
I can tell you with total sincerity that nobody wanted that, the pain was unbearable and there was a point where morphine was not able to relieve pain. Beyond that the crisis did not fail to be noticed, every day there were electrical failures programmed by an “electric rationing plan” created by the shit socialist government. Demonstrating directly that not even the electric service was able to be maintained.
Another thing I wanted to talk about was food, I am a poor person today, and I would say that anyone who ate at that hospital, including myself. I did it out of necessity, since that food was disgusting. Every day they were the same dishes and it was enough to thank that there was something to give patients because sometimes there was nothing to eat.
You could feel the grotesque and sad atmosphere of every hospital, only raised 100 times thanks to the crisis in Venezuela. I went through difficult situations in the hospital, first they sent me a medication for 30 days injected into the vein, a drug that cost 90 thousand bolivars each 30g bottle. And my mother’s salary was barely 150 thousand bolivares (I needed one every day).
We had to get out of things we had at home, sell the fridge, personal belongings, clothes. Many things to keep me alive. And yes, we reached a point where we no longer had anything to sell and they even discharged me. I had to undergo a last operation that cost 150 thousand Colombian pesos (1,500,000 bolivares) something that my mother and I never got in life.
It was there that a friendship that seems to be far away but at the same time I save my life, I have always been a believer of God not only for my upbringing, but also for things that I have lived and that for my subjective personal point I confirm its existence. But at that time more than ever I believed in God, when a friend who has no obligation, who is my partner on this page and who until now kept it online, helped me with that money to keep me alive and thanks to this today I am here telling you this story.
Overall, I lived many things in that hospital, from watching people die by my side, to crying in the early morning because I was hungry and there was no money or food to satisfy her. My mother, more than ever, was close to me, I saw how she cried when I slept so that I didn’t realize it. And in how my peripheral vision at first caught the faces of the doctors who considered me dead of a heart attack.
Today I am very grateful to life, with Harry Hillier, my partner, my friend and my brother from another mother. With my few relatives who were by my side and with my brother Gregory. It is an honor to have a second chance to live and thus be able to fulfill my dreams, move my family forward and have a musical duo with my good friend Harry.
Note from Harry: Emmanuel uploaded the photos himself, I didn’t plan to upload photos of him. I did talk to him about whether he was sure he wanted to do that, and if his mother was ok with it. He said he wanted people to know his story and that it was real. (There’s been a few people in the past who have told him he’s a liar on online forums and looking for sympathy.) This is also a post he had that he’s only just been able to send, so although he is now in Colombia this post is slightly behind in terms of timeline.