Personal Narrative: My Life Outside Of School

‘I don’t want to lose her,’ I kept repeating in my head trying to look strong for her. I was trying to not show how scared I was, trying to stop bursting into tears the second I saw her in the state she was. She was so weak and there was nothing I could do to help, except stay out of the doctor’s way. There were nurses and doctors rushing around and giving me a strange look until realization dawned on them. I was at the hospital with my mom around 10 at night, in my pajamas, wondering what was going to happen to her and if she was going to be okay.

I vividly remember that chilly night in March as I walked out of Fifer, the building my father now calls home, for the first time. I had goosebumps, but they were not from the cold I felt hit my skin. Instead, they were from the sickness in my stomach. As I got in the car, I began to cry and had to stop myself from running back inside. My entire world had turned upside-down. How could I go home without my father? How could I leave him in a nursing home, a place where he was too young and mentally fit to be confined? I had to fight the feeling that he didn’t belong. I had to remind myself of why he chose to be there, and I hated it.

“Right this way,” the nurse ahead of me was prompting me to a brightly lit hall that was completely foreign to me. I couldn’t help but be terrified by the sights and sounds around me: people chattering, machines methodically beeping, gurneys rushing past. It was my first time in a hospital and my eyes frantically searched each room looking for any trace of my father. She stopped suddenly and I turned to the bed in front of me but I could not comprehend what I saw. At such a young age, I idolized my father; I had never seen him so vulnerable. Seeing him laying in a hospital bed unconscious, surrounded by wires and tubes was like witnessing Superman encounter kryptonite. My dad’s car accident not only made him a quadriplegic, but also crippled

It was an warm sunny day I was dabbing it ,four boys were strolling down woods street. There four boys names were Mac,dope boy ,devin and Shaddy. Devin was the smartest one out of all of them hood boys,the rest was the same.Devin was ready to start his own business selling shoes.Dope boy,Mac and Shaddy were going on the wrong path selling drugs,robbing and beating up people. Devin would hang around with them often and conversed with them, but he would not do any bad things. Mac has been a dad already, he had to take care of his 2 year old. Dope boy had an older brother, but, he go shoot a couple weeks ago. Dope boy was reckless, everyone was scared of him even his own mother feared for his life .Shaddy was the slickest one out of all of then, he would get away with everything he did.Shaddy was a only child ,no mother, no father living with his grandparents and living in the worst part of town.

My hospital bed was ice cold and the bleak and empty white walls depressed me as the uncomforting thought that I would have to stay here for maybe another week brought tears to my eyes. The usual and oppressive smell of disinfectant lingered in the room as I recalled that night in my head, trying to convince myself it wasn’t my fault, as I had done everyday since the accident. It was the day everything changed and my life was turned upside down. Forever.

The hum of fans, the spinning of the disk in its tray. Sitting on my soccer ball beanbag chair that I got for my 11th birthday with a controller in my hands. As a kid, in Washington state, on school days we were not allowed to play video games during the week. Summer was the break from school and the time for lots and I mean lots of video games.  Before I could hit that power button, I had to do something I despised, hated, and avoided like it was the plague. I… had… to… read.

As we focused on finishing up our English tests, Sarah suddenly had a seizure and would have fallen to the floor if I had not caught her. “Help! Someone please get the nurse!” I shouted while holding Sarah’s body and head. “Sarah, Are you ok? Please wake up. Help is on the way.” I urged. However, Sarah did not respond and was unconscious. I could see the fear and anxiety in her eyes, and involuntarily opened mouth. She continued shivering, her whole body turning cold. I rapidly wrapped my arms around her shoulders to keep her warm. It was my junior year of high school and the first time that I had close contact with a “patient.” Nervous and worried, I did my best to comfort her.

\Mostly, the world went by so, so slowly. It took everyone ages to get even a simple sentence out. They all walked like they had nowhere they could need to be, and every time they ate it was a whole big production. Then they all conked out for eight hours a night-- just had to check out and bid the world a fond farewell. Peter found it much more efficient to take quick naps throughout the day, mostly between people saying "um" and the eternity until the next word. This left him free for a bit of late night sight-seeing. Something about the dark made people believe no one else could possibly be watching.

I will never forget my last day in the hospital after being diagnosed. Finally after nearly a month of bad food and sharing a room with a four year old having just been diagnosed with cancer they were finally letting me leave. I almost felt out of place returning back to my home Pulling up on my driveway I felt scared; I knew my life had changed forever. I distinctly remember clutching at my wrist, the wrist where my hospital identification bracelet was as if I was missing something. I tried holding back my tears; however, the more I tried the more futile it seemed. I kept replaying the doctor’s voice in my head, the voice I overheard from the hall when I was supposed to be sleeping. “Your son is very sick. His life is about to change forever and it will take time for him to adjust “ the doctor said to my mom. Thinking back to this, I can only dream of discovering Emerson then; how much better these last few years would have been if I had. I could

I think we should all have a chance to go to school and be professionals and study what we want to. There is a lot of people that didn’t get a chance to go to college after high school for personal reasons. They should have programs that help kids to finish school. With money living and other things sometimes financial aid it’s not enough so most of them are forced to work and they end up not going to school. Now there parents and they have to work to pay for house and food and other things. Half of my friends didn’t go to college after they graduated high school, and some of them didn’t even finish high school.

As soon as I got to high school, everyone started asking me what I wanted to do after high school and what my goals were. What high school freshman knows what they want to do with their life? Very few, and I wasn’t one of them. I always knew that I would probably do something in the health field, partly because that’s what my dad did, but also because I’ve always had a heart for helping people, especially children. It wasn’t, however, until Junior year when I got my first job that I knew what I wanted to pursue as a career. Now before I go into what that career choice is and why, there is something which the reader must understand. My dad went to college and got his Master’s degree, my mom only had her high school diploma. Both of my parents agreed that all of their children should go to college, so for me the question wasn’t “should I go to college?”, but rather, “where should I go, what should I do, and how will I stay out of debt?”

I watched as my family said goodbye as a I lay in my hospital bed, breathing raspily. I told them that I loved them. I tried to reach out for my mother’s hand, but was stopped by the short slack of all the tubes and wires connected to me. She comes closer so she can hold my hand, so she can comfort me in my last moments.

I wasn’t a healthy child. Some of my earliest memories are of my frequent visits to the doctor for a plethora of reasons, from ear infections to asthma to chickenpox, it seems like I dealt with it all as a little boy. I remember some of my early health problems vividly, but I also remember connecting the doctor with feeling better. At this young age I was also confronted with the threat of the death of my father. Mom picked us up early from school one day, and I could see a look of fear on her face as she sped uncharacteristically fast away. “Mom, where are we going?”, I asked. “Your dad is in the hospital, he’s very sick. We are going to see him.”, she replied, choking on her words speaking to her two young children. “WHAT’S WRONG!?”, my

“Tomás, what school do you want to go to this fall" my mother Martha, said to me. This along with the many “Hey, where are you going this fall? Want to room together at Ole Miss?” forced me to think about my impending future after my high school experience. Being from Mississippi I was not an Aggie from birth, my mother attended the University of Texas makes hissing noises* and my father, Thomas Braly Jr., attended a little school on Mackinac Island that ceased to exist only 4 years after opening. So with little to no major direction or fixed plans for my future I went with what I know and love, the water. All of the schools I applied and got accepted to had a sailing team or had maritime related courses, but Texas A&M here at Galveston just seemed to work

It all started on the third day of sixth grade, I was assigned a new seat next to the new girl, her name was Izzy. We were both really quiet and shy so we didn’t talk to each other. The only time we ever talked was to ask for a pencil, piece of paper, or for partner work. We noticed that we have the exact same schedule except for one class. We started talking more and we started to invite each other to sit by each other at lunch. After the first part of school, we started to be good friends, but we didn’t talk or hang out that much outside of school except for on text meassage.