Colossal Youth Page #2

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Then it was every five minutes.

"Hey, it's getting worse."

"You're having your baby.

Come with me."

So I went.

They put me

in the delivery room

and put this thing on my belly.

I had the same belly

I have now.

I didn't even have a belly.

It was the same as it is now.

They put this CTG on me,

a kind of belt.

And I went,

"Hey, get this crap off me! It hurts!

"We can't, ma'am.

It's to listen to the baby's heart."

"Take it off me, or I will!"

"Ma'am, you can't do that."

When I realized

I was stuck there, I said,

"My husband's outside.

Go get him."

"You were alone before,

and now your husband's here?

"He's outside. Go get him."

- "What's his name?"

- "Paulo Jorge."

He came in.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"I can't stand it here.

I'm in pain.

Help me, darling.

I can't take it!"

Then an Indian man came in,

plus my husband and five others.

Seven in all.

The Indian man

climbed up here on me,

because when I pushed,

my daughter moved up here.

It was hard.

She was like a little mouse.

If she'd been big,

she'd have come out quicker.

But the small ones

all come up this way.

The doctor said,

"We have to do something.

She can't take any more."

And all those guys on top of me,

with their knees and hands

they kept pushing and pushing

until the baby came out...

whoosh!

Once she was out,

I didn't even see her face,

or if it was a boy or girl.

I never saw her again.

They said, "You're not going

anywhere. You're sick."

"I'm not f***ing sick!

I want out of here,

you f***ing whores!"

And my husband says,

"Shut up.

You're upsetting these women.

Shut up.

You have to stay here."

I was all stitched up

and couldn't even walk.

Otherwise I'd have left.

I wouldn't have hesitated.

They put me in a room.

First they put me on a gurney

next to another girl

who'd just delivered too.

She was young too.

We couldn't have a pillow.

We had to lie flat

so the blood could circulate.

So I raised myself up

like this and said,

"Hey, I'm starving."

"You can't eat, ma'am."

"Miss, bring me something.

I'm starving!"

The girl next to me said,

"You can't eat anything.

Lie back down.

The blood could go to your head."

"Then let it!"

I felt nauseous,

and I couldn't walk

because of the stitches.

When I looked up...

an hour later,

they started pushing my gurney

God knows where.

I covered that whole hospital

on a gurney.

The doctor was pushing me.

We took one elevator... -

wrong one.

Then we took another one,

and I ended up

on the seventh floor.

Me, all alone in a room.

- What?

- All by myself.

I swear on my mother's soul,

on my daughter's health.

I was left alone in a room.

And I cried every day.

My God! All I had was a TV.

I never saw the doctor's face,

just his eyes.

They all wore masks.

I asked them,

"Why are you wearing those?

Am I that sick?

What's the matter with me?"

"Nothing much.

You just have a spot on your lung,

and we have to be careful,

for your safety and ours."

Then I start crying.

Holy Christ.

One day I told my husband,

"Get me out of here

or I'll jump out the window.

I'll kill myself.

Just like that lady did yesterday."

My husband got scared.

He told them,

"Keep an eye on her.

She says she's gonna use

the oxygen to kill herself."

I had one of those

oxygen things on the wall.

If you open it, it's like gas.

Alone in a room, no windows,

no doors, nothing.

Locked in.

I could have died.

"I'll open the canister,

and they'll find me lying here.

Get me out of here, honey.

I feel better now.

I want to leave."

I cried every day.

Then one day,

"So you won't let me out?

All right, then.

Where's my daughter?"

I asked the doctor,

a Spanish lady.

"She's in an incubator

in the nursery.

You can't see her right now."

"I can't see my daughter?

You bet I can!"

"No, you can't."

After she left

I put my mask on,

and those paper slippers

they have.

You know, those paper slippers.

I slipped them on.

When they found me,

I was at my daughter's side.

"Why can't I see her?

I have to get to know her.

You took her away.

I didn't even see her face."

"You're out of your mind.

You can't be here."

"What do you mean?"

From then on,

they came every day and took me

in a wheelchair.

Me in a wheelchair!

I went to see my baby girl.

But it was so painful.

She was in a bad way,

just like me.

God, how she jerked up and down

in that incubator.

You know,

those glass incubators.

She kept jerking up and down

and hitting the glass.

That'll stay with me forever.

I'll never forget that, ever.

Sh*t.

But thank God, the kid's

absolutely fantastic. She's fine.

She just has trouble breathing... -

but it could've been worse.

May God help you both.

Raising them is hard,

but it's worth it.

- It's true.

- Then they're the ones... -

Yours are grown.

Now they all... -

- They all help me.

- You see? It's true.

I feel so bad for my daughter.

Without her

I'd still be hooked, Papa.

That's no life.

Believe me, without my daughter

and my husband,

I'd still be on drugs.

- You'd be dead too.

- I sure would.

I swear it.

My daughter

gave me such courage,

and God knows how much

my husband helped me.

If I told you his life story,

all he's done for me... -

no man would have done that.

He didn't even know

about the drugs.

I'd send him out to buy them.

I'd say,

"Go to such and such a place

and ask to speak

to such and such a person." Sh*t!

That's why

I love him so much.

He helped me so much.

Maybe too much.

Are you off drugs, Zita?

I mean... Vanda.

Absolutely.

It's been almost two years.

If I hadn't stopped,

you think I'd be like this?

Come on.

That's life.

You shouldn't work so hard, son.

Today's a holiday.

In my day,

we didn't work on holidays.

More rice?

That's enough.

How are things at home?

- Come over for lunch Sunday?

- All right.

And your wife?

Your daughter?

She's in daycare now.

When you were small,

I'd carry you to school

piggyback,

on my shoulders,

up that way,

by the supermarket.

I'd come home exhausted.

"My love...

meeting again will brighten

our lives for at least 30 years.

I'll return to you

renewed and full of strength.

I wish I could offer you

a dozen fancy new dresses.

But most of all,

drink a bottle of good wine

and think of me.

The work here never stops.

There are over

a hundred of us now.

Still no word from you.

Maybe soon."

Hurry up, Ventura. Let's go.

"I'm still waiting.

Every day, every minute,

I learn beautiful new words

just for you and me.

Still no word from you.

Maybe soon..."

August 19, 1972.

I was on a big jet

with 400 immigrants,

plus the serving girls.

It was me

and my cousin Augusto.

Once in the air,

he started to cry.

They served us horse steak

and table wine from Castelo Branco.

He didn't eat.

I ate his entire portion.

At the airport, we met his uncle.

He took us to Salitre Street.

The next day, we started work

with Constru?? o Tcnica

on the Borges Brothers bank

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