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I begged her to go to the doctor. We didn’t have great insurance. Most times, it was urgent care and hope for the best.
She kept saying, “Let’s get you across that stage first. That’s the priority.”
It was a Thursday. I was up early because I had to present my capstone project.
I came into the kitchen expecting the smell of coffee and cinnamon toast, but it was silent. The silence hit me first. Then the sight.
She was on the floor, curled slightly, one slipper twisted beneath her foot!
The coffeepot was half-full. Her glasses lay beside her hand.
“Grandma!” I screamed, rushing forward.
My hands shook so badly I could barely get my phone open. I tried CPR while crying out her name over and over.
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