Personal Narrative : A Life Saved

I was raised on the South Side of Chicago. I pretty much raised myself due to the fact my father is an alcoholic and gang banger. My mother was always working trying to support my four siblings and I. My mother could not always keep up with bills so we would get evicted a couple times a year. This was the norm for me. Lucky, for me I was accept to a boarding school where I begged my mother to let me attend. I honestly believe that school saved my life especially when I would lose a friend to gun violence. Not only that, there is where I found Jesus. My family did not raise me to be a man of God, but I met a man who taught how to become one. He would go out his way to take me to church driving an extra hour for I can receive the word of God.

Growing up with a father in the military, you move around a lot more than you would like to. I was born just east of St. Louis in a city called Shiloh in Illinois. When I was two years old my dad got the assignment to move to Hawaii. We spent seven great years in Hawaii, we had one of the greatest churches I have ever been to name New Hope. New Hope was a lot like Olivet's atmosphere, the people were always friendly and there always something to keep someone busy. I used to dance at church, I did hip-hop and interpretive dance, but you could never tell that from the way I look now.

On admirable 10, 2011, my term changed for eternity. I might have been Along these lines energized What's more frightened toward those same the long haul. It might have been a critical day. I might have been entering the united states from claiming america to the verwoerd Initially period. I might have been nearing here only to a get-away on visit my family, at the same time then i chose with sit tight. My mother. Needed me should sit tight in the states, on account of she needed me should bring a greater amount chances Previously, existence What's more. Should help my gang The point when i develop up.

Well this year was a hell of a year. I mean, i didn't pass any of the semesters but i did observe a ton of stuff that went on in the class. The class in general was pretty lit. Every day went by and i honestly did some work. The class was ready to learn as mrs g was ready to teach. I mean yea we had some days were we didn't want to learn anything and there were also days when mrs g didn't want to teach. But ima be honest, doing the work we did wasn't in my best interest. Most of the projects we did in class i worked on, but at the end i didn't end up liking how i did it so i wouldn't even bother turning anything in. like the obituary we had to write about ourselves. I liked the meaning behind this but honestly i didn't want to work on that because it just brought back memories of my friends that were killed.

When I was 13 years old, my parents started to think about moving to United States because my dad was already working here for a company. We started all the immigration related process which took a while to end. When I was 14, one day I came back from school and my parents told me we were moving to US in 2-3 months. When I heard it first, I was happy, but later I started thinking about how I will be leaving everything behind. My family, friends and neighbors whom I have been with since I was little, I will be leaving all of them in a few months. As the date approached closer, we started to pack more and more things. There was

I sat at the kitchen counter, staring at the green cabinets and bowls of fruit. I wanted to play in tonight’s soccer game, but my mind was still foggy from the drugs I received in the hospital the day before. I didn’t want my teammates to see me like this. My hair was matted from where my head rubbed against the blue hospital pillow, and a wrinkled piece of clear tape secured a nasal feeding tube onto my cheek. I hated what the tube meant: that I was inadequate and that I couldn’t drink by myself. I was someone who insisted on doing everything on my own, and the thin, flexible tube was a physical reminder that I could not. My mom and dad lauded my bravery, but I dismissed them. I didn’t believe bravery was dictated by necessity.

I’d had many mini-lifelines thrown my way, none turned out to be the life-altering, ground shaking beneath me, and gates to opening up “heaven”, though. To me, I’d blame it on the different ways I came off to strangers, depends on the day, I could be a multitude of characters, but never latch onto the following of others. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted my lifeline to latch onto, the problem was, I was like a fishing net with a gaping hole--incapable of doing such things. Then, the last person I expected to, stepped up and accepted the challenge.

There is more to the Union than just the significant health, dental, and other benefits it provides. I have family members who have been greatly affected by the Union. My grandma has been a part of the Union for over 15 years and my mother is currently in her fourth year of being a part of it. Even after my grandma suffered a stroke, 32BJ was there to guide her. My mother is absolutely content with the benefits she gets for herself and her family. However, the Union has not just affected my mother or my grandma, but me as well. While it does affect me in terms of benefits, it most definitely affects me in a way of allowing me to acknowledge what being a part of a community is.

A man named Joe Tiralosi was dead for 40 minutes in NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital. A medical team had been trying to save his life using a defibrillator, drugs, and compressions. Usually the boundary line for going without a pulse is about 10 minutes, and the doctors thought he may have had some sore or brain damage due to the lack of oxygen getting to his brain, but the attending physician decided to keep the resuscitation attempts going. Finally, after more than 4,500 chest compressions, Joe Tiralosi’s heart started faintly beating again. Though his heart failed again and stopped beating, but the doctors resuscitated him again, and he falls into a coma. After a few weeks, he leaves the hospital healthy, and with our any permanent damage. An event like this would has seemed impossible 10 years ago, because when the brain stops working, there would be a complete loss of vital bodily functions. But Joe Tiralosi was lucky to have ended up in the hospital he did because it was those exact circumstances and actions that save his life, twice.

In a political climate today that is defined by hyper-partisanship, a confluence of factors have led my political leanings to lean left of center but center around a moderate outlook. As I grew up in a family with a Democratic mother and a Republican father, I often understand the logic of both sides. While many times political parties attempt to claim a moral ideological superiority, I believe that all people have their own experiences and opinions that justify their leanings. For me, a person’s political ideology is not a factor that defines one’s personality or character. Among my friends, I am often hesitant to initiate political discussion unless I have known the person for a long period of time. While politics

This letter of support is concerning my wife, Shantei Hinton, in my mother-in-law obtaining her US citizenship. I really enjoyed the happiness of my wife when her mother visited our home during ESTA Travel Visa. My mother-in-law was very helpful during her stay and took care of my children. My wife was relieved as she does not have any immediate family here in Virginia.

I was waiting for my father to finish surgery when I heard a woman screaming for help. Peering outside, I saw a man collapsed on a bench. Despite shouts for help, the hallway remained empty and still. It was only when I looked at the clock that I realized that most of the doctors and nurses would have already left for lunch. I did the only thing I could think of, I grabbed the pager on my dad’s desk and repeatedly paged the Operating Room. After what felt like an eternity, my father and several nurses raced down the hallway. I watched as they expertly insert an IV and used a defibrillator. Within minutes, the gentleman had regained consciousness and was breathing again. When I saw him next morning, for someone who was close to death the day

Tim sat on my bed with just his boxers on later that night. His chest looked delicate, pale and his collarbone thicker than usual. “You're not doing this vegetarian thing for me, right?”

How am I a survivor? Throughout my life there has been a cycle of challenges and obstacle that I thought I couldn’t overcome. With the help of family and friends, I was able to gain confidence and the strength needed to face every tough situation that came my way. On December 4, 2014, I was involved in a life threatening car accident with my little sister that could have taken our lives. I guess someone was watching over us because I only suffered with a broken ankle and fibula. I had burn marks that were across my thighs, arms, and on my chest that came from the seat belt tightening upon impact. My little sister left with a few scrapes and bruises. I was hospitalized for almost a week and throughout my recovery process I had to have three surgeries. The first two surgeries

My parents saved their money for all my life, with the goal to pay for one year of my college tuition. I came into my freshman year without having to worry about applying for student loans or having to worry about a lot of FAFSA aid, because my parents could help me out. After the year actually started however, I began to reconsider my approach to the options of paying for tuition and housing. Right at the beginning of my second semester, my family was hit with a terrible situation in that my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. At the time when I was supposed to be preparing for midterms and keeping up with all my other activities, I was stuck in my dorm room worrying about her prognosis. Her doctors could not totally be sure about her prognosis