Cleopatra Silvia

I was going in an entirely different direction on my final essay. I just recently lost a dear friend; she was like a second mother to me. When reading the instructions for this paper, I noticed that it asked us to write about a person, place or thing that has special meaning to me and it all made perfect sense. I do home healthcare and for the past five years, Ms. Silvia was a client of mine. I remember the first day we met, I walked in and found a heavy set lady with smooth coco skin and a hair bonnet on her head sitting on the edge of a beautifully unique low to the ground black leather bed. One leg was on the floor, and the other rested on the bed. That’s when I noticed the amputated leg. She yelled out “come on in, what are you standing there for, what’s your name?” I answered
Bob is a good kid, he was in school majoring in sports broadcasting out in Chicago when he got a call that his mother was ill and being transferred from the hospital to a nursing home. Bob did what any loving son would have done, he dropped everything and came back home to Memphis to take care of his mother. Silvia was young, and had hopes of walking on her prosthetic leg and getting her life back on track. We worked towards that goal but most days she just didn’t feel up to it, what she really wanted was her real leg. It was hard for her to move around on that fake leg, not only was she in the fight of her life battling diabetes at its worst she also suffered from heart failure. Her heart was so bad that each time she took a step forward it sucked ever bit of wind that she had right out of her. She gave up. Silvia had a boyfriend, well that’s what she called him, I call him a user but that’s another story. I remember her dreams of walking down the aisle with him and making him her husband. His name was Wayne, and oh how she loved this man. Silvia didn’t realize it, but Wayne sucked the air out of her far more than