My Life Of A Hero : My Hero

She has gone through some rough times in her life, with getting Breast Cancer. She was diagnosed in November of 1989, and had a mastectomy on January of 1990. She made a full recovery and has been breast cancer free ever since. My grandmother is the most amazing woman I have ever known. When I need advice about anything she is my go to lady, she will tell you the truth and she will not hold back. She is so funny, smart, straight forward, kind, and I would not be the woman I am today without her amazing

My grandma Linda was her only daughter. I spent weeks at Ma’s house in Holstein, Iowa. Christmas for the Grell’s was always hosted at Ma’s house. When I was young she would take me swimming at the communities pool, and ice cream afterwards. Ma’ was an expert cook, her favorite summer dish was fried chicken. She was nearly famous for that fried chicken. In September of 2012 Doctors discovered a tumor in Ma’s liver. Ma’s children paid for an assisted living home in Sioux City, Iowa. She pasted away March 21, 2013. Leading up to March the relationship between my mother and her parents decrepitated. My grandparents refused to come to my high school graduation.

One day she talked to me about her pass. She said when she was youth she had a puppy and 2years later the dog was died. She’s devastated and don’t know how to deal with it until a day she found out she has terminal ill.

She was not a mother that supported me getting close with a patient; definitely one who she knew was not in good health. I remember Google-ing everything about COPD. Everything that I found made me cry. Nothing in this world could save Franklin. I was scared for him. I did not understand why he was not scared. I did not understand why his parents were not there to hold his hand through his last days. I had so many questions for him that he seemed like he did not even care to flinch at. He talked to me about where he would be going when he died. The easiness he had in his heart about being okay was something I never knew someone could have. He knew what was wrong with him. He knew he was fixing to die soon. He made sure that was not going to effect his last days. His last days lasted for eighteen more months after that summer. There was not a day that went by that I thought I would never meet a guy like Franklin again. He showed me in his final days that life was not by how you define it; it is how your life defines

It was the end of the weekend. Her dad had been drinking a lot, so she decided to leave for the night with her friends. When she came back on Monday at dawn, he was sitting on her bed waiting for her daughter to enter the room and gave her a lesson that she would never forget. The next day she decided without telling anyone but her mother to leave the house and never come back, not until my grandfather would still be a part of this world. Weeks later, she

When she was 11 years old, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. Her family, being the incredibly supportive and posstive family I know, kept her in high spirits throughout the entire process. " When I was in the hospital, I remember being surrounded by friends and family. We would have "P" parties where everything had to start with a P. We would wear pajamas, eat Penne a la vodka, pizza, watch movies that started with the letter P, and just have a great time. Everyone would squish into my little hospital room and enjoy each other's company. I feel really blessed to have family and friends that are so incredibly

Horatio Alger’s novels Ragged Dick was written in the 1800’s, about a young boy called Richard Hunter. Richard Hunter was from the working class, financially poor trying to survive in the tough city of New York. Richard’s goal to write in the 1800’s, about a young boy called Richard Hunter. Richard Hunter was from the working class, financially poor trying to survive in the tough city of New York. Richard’s goal to achieve the American Dream. Dick gives an awesome example of the late 19th century optimism while the major despairs that overwhelmed America at that time. I agree that this is a stimulating story for children and youths. It gives a lot of standards and values it imparts such as devotion, hard work, cooperation, and persistence. The story also holds something for adults and that is a first-hand sight of post-Civil War New York City. The struggle of the children, the advantages of the privileged class, the thieves, the confidence men, and the unforgiving hardness of poverty are all there. Alger gives our hero many likeable traits. Dick “was above doing anything mean or dishonorable. He would not steal, or cheat, or impose upon younger boys, but was frank and straight-forward, manly and self-reliant.”(Alger). In a way these are the behaviors that made Dick the perfect person. His advisories tend to have minor qualities; they are lazy, submissive, and bullies. It can be seen throughout the novel how Dick uses his great values to survive in the

She was at a hospital quite close to her home in Englewood, I can’t recall the exact hospital she stayed at, with its white floors, white walls, and white beds. Such a plain hospital room can hold so many stories from so many different people. Each time we would drive to the hospital, walk into her room, and see her, I was so scared that she would be worse than the visit before. When we didn’t visit grandma and grandpa in the hospital, I would think of her all the time. I was always so worried that there was a possibility that she wouldn’t make it because cancer doesn’t care who you are, your story, or your family history, it will pick whoever it wants and doesn’t

When my grandma was 58 years old she went for a routine mammogram, while getting that done they found a lump in one of her breasts. She went in soon after finding the lump for a biopsy. Unfortunately the lump came back cancerous. For me and my family it was a very scary time. But for my grandma, she stayed very positive and optimistic, which made me a little hopeful.

. I got to see her after ready and we asked her and grandpa to pack and get ready to come tot United States so she could be treated in the U.S. I got to see her after she arrived, her skin was yellow. Her face looked very sad, and as soon as she saw me, she cried so I ran into her and hugged her. We took her to a hospital that was near our house. The doctor ran some tests on her and then came out. The doctor looked at me and said: “can you come outside with me for a second”? “Okay sure”. I responded.

She was diagnosed with renal failure in her twenties. She had an unsuccessful kidney transplant before she met my dad online in 2005, after the divorce. I learned pretty quick what dialysis was and why it was so important for her. However, because of her “disability”, it is hard for her to have to energy and work as long as the average person. Thus, it was always difficult when unexpected financial need popped up, such as weekly doctor visits to the University Hospital when I was in late elementary school.

She had had her surgeries, making me feel helpless I couldn´t do anything. The fall months had came and this it when it hit me harder. She had begun to lose her hair and become weak from the intenseness of the chemotherapy. As a fifteen year old sophomore, it´s hard to overcome this negativity and adversity. Seeing someone you love and especially someone who has been there your whole life go through this kind of pain is not a sight you want to see; this makes you want to shut down, not do well in school, sports, and your soical life. All you want to do is make your loved one better and when you can´t it can be very defeating. In the months following my mom had always reasured me, seeing the women I look up to most fight this made me want to fight adversity just as hard. It gave me hope to see my mom in the stands during those cold football games, seeing her cheer me on even though it may have hurt. Then it gave me hope to see my mom there when I had won indoor state in track, breaking records and making my name, in the spring months. It gave me hope when when my mom had finished her chemotherapy and radiation and started to regrow her hair. It gave me such reassurance and a more positive attitude that even though she may not feel one-hundred percent she still acted like she did to support her kids and show the most unconditional love. She´s

There are many, many wonderful memories that my grandmother and I shared. If one were to tell you them all this would be a couple hundred pages long. Thankfully, no one is going to do that. Though, many were fun and happy, not all of them were. Some, however, contained my grandmother being sick. As a child, you probably didn’t like seeing somebody else sick. Sure enough, I didn’t. Not at all. From my own experiences, when you are sick, it feels like you will never get better, but you do. My grandmother seemed to always be sick. She confessed that she got used to it, being in a wheelchair, yet somehow, I never did. There was one thing about her that always, inspired me. She was a fighter. She could be one fire, but she would still be smiling.

It was March 2002, my dad was taking my grandma home from her last chemo treatment for breast cancer, I was with my mom and some preschool friends and I fell off the monkey bars and broke my arm, My mom rushed me to the hospital feeling every bump in the road. This hospital couldn't help me and I was driven by ambulance to the children's hospital where my mom called my dad and he dropped off my grandma at her house in seattle and came straight back to the hospital for his daughter with a broken arm. I was really little at the time and don't remember much from the experience of her going through cancer. However I don't think there has been a time in my 17 years of life that I can remember her being healthy. My other grandparents both had skin cancer but they were able to not let that influence the rest of their lives. My grandma however never was healthy.

When I was young, my father and I would always spend the summer on the glistening white sand of the beach at the end of the road. We would splash knee-deep in the cold waves, kicking the water so that droplets of water sparkled like crystals in underneath the warm sun. We would lay on our backs and admire the sky and watch the clouds swirl into marvellous shapes. We would build sandcastles that had moats and bridges and imaginary soldiers that would spar with thrusting swords and swinging shields. These picturesque days went on and on. They were a constant cycle of deep blue skies, imprinted on my mind. My oldest memories are all full of my father in these moments, as he played in the warm sand and stretched out his frown lines. Now, as I stand on the very same beach, moving my toes in the same warm sand, fifteen years on, I can’t help but miss it. Miss him. I can’t help but miss him regardless of the pain he injected into himself and everyone else who cared about him in the years leading up to him leaving.