“Teach your father to use the washing machine,” my mother told me, as she promised that as soon as I left the clinic she would start the diet. “I’m seeing that I look bad physically, like an old woman, ha ha,” she wrote on WhatsApp, at the same time that she informed me that the tests that had been done did not go well and that, apparently, she would be intubated. A process that would last between 7 and 14 days.
That video call we made on September 1 at night was the last and it certainly still resonates in my mind. Our hopes were pinned that the miracle of healing would come to her and we could have her alive, enjoying her presence. María Isabel Decola Vásquez, my mother, fought until September 20, the day we received the last call from the clinic, this time to tell us that she had left.
The virus embedded itself in her body so quickly that from the first day she arrived at the clinic and tested positive for Covid-19, was diagnosed as a high-risk patient due to her asthma and overweight. She came to the hospital alone, thinking it was just a “cold.”
While waiting for his transfer to another hospital, we never stopped talking on the phone. The moment he entered FIA they suspended cell phone use, so her special request was: “Mommy, bring me my Bible, with the agenda I use, pens and a magazine. Everything that I give, clean it later ”. Those long hours without knowing anything about her were eternal.