My cousin died at the young age of 17. He was my pillar, my hope and he was the one that helped me not be scared of the future. I was 12 years old when my cousin died and I felt like I had lost everything. I became unhappy, unwilling to talk, and most of all almost suicidal. His death was a memorable event that I can't forget: before going to the hospital, while being in the hospital and after the catastrophe.


He had a sudden heart attack. He'd been having chest pains all night but convinced my aunt it was just indigestion. He was also sick a number of times. My aunt booked a doctor's appointment for him, he insisted that he drove himself and that my aunt was to go to work. And she asked him to text/ring her when he got home and to make sure he was alright. It got to an hour after his appointment and cousin still hadn't heard anything, so she called my cousin phone to make sure he was home and safe, he presumed he had just come home and gone back to bed forgetting to let her know. But, my cousin never made it to the doctors; he hadn't even made it out of bed. My other cousin found him, so we took him quickly to the hospital.


We arrived the hospital with an ambulance. After that, the nurses came quickly to help us with a wheelchair. His face was all puffed up, his hands and legs looked swollen. And there was not even a slight sign of activity on his shape. Then, I moved with no a shred of awareness to the operating room. My cousin and We waited two hours and no one called us .I looked around for the duty doctor to talk to. I saw Dr.Marwan, who also saw me, but looked away pretending to see another patient in the ward, who was looking quite, awake and recovering. I attempted to speak to the nurse but she had nothing to say and said all question must be addressed to the doctor.When I received that dreaded news from that doctor at the hospital lounge .We came immediately and said it is a little serious.