On 2013  April 2nd, I felt a severe pain in the abdomen. I went to two clinics and to a hospital, and all under the same diagnosis -tear – they prescribed me anti-inflammatory drugs.

April 3rd I was urgent admitted  in a clinical where I was induced a coma drug, because I could already not breathing. 4th, I was movedto the Hospital “El Cruce” de Florencio Varela, with diagnosis pneumonia. Lungs, heart, and kidneys were affected. I was critically ill.  I woke up on April 14th with a tuve in my throat, with drains, central iv line, probes and unable to move a muscle in my body.

I went through two disappointing months. I felt collapsed. I wasn’t myself.

After a few weeks, the team decided to practice me a tracheostomy because it was too time with the tuve in my throat. And  May 1st, my birthday, my  gift was that planned tracheostomy.

All the ICU team, nurses, physiotherapists, doctors, psychologists, cleaning staff were attentive to my evolution. They knew how to accompany me with so much love, but I was still sad, distraught, surrended. And the pain was heartbreaking. As my muscles were recovering mobility, pains were unbearable. And with each aspiration I felt that I was dying. The weaning from the ventilator was almost imposible.

Days were endless and predictable: morning and afternoon analysis, bathroom, studies, medication, food and roof on my. By night, medication, food, aspirations and fear came to keep me company, my faithful companion.

Time passed and gradually were taking me the probes and the tubes off; I could sit to eat but remained connected to the ventilator. My doctor did not know what to do, I had visits during 12 hours a day in the ICU, I had no infection or risk of life, but I could not leave the respirator.

One evening, he asked me: “What do you want?”.

And drowned in tears I told him: ‘I want to see my ten years old son’.

He, decided, authorized that visit for ten minutes. When I saw him next to me and my son kissed my forehead, I could feel  a inexplicable power moving inside me; I was capable of leaving running of that therapy. I have not seen my son for two months.

A week later, they stopped the respirator and four days more I was discharged to the ward.

My gratitude eternal to all the team that fought for save my life.

And to my son, Patricio.

Ther is no fore or power more inmeasurable than the power of love.

By Fernanda González