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Personal Narrative: Pink Sugar Cookies

Decent Essays
“There are many hidden dangers in life, be grateful that one of your hidden dangers is only a pink sugar cookie.” that is what the nurse said to me before saying, “I’m sorry that your Valentine’s Day ended like this, sweetie.” which inspired me as I walked out of the emergency room on February 14, 2008, I was 10 years old at the time.
The day began just like any other day, giggling and biking to Wakanda Elementary School with my friends. It was Valentine’s Day and we were going to walk with our 5th grade class to the nursing home up the hill, Autumn Village. We were going to play bingo with the residents. Of course the 5th grade class was excited because that meant that we didn’t have to do school work, we were going to play games all day
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Along with water and apple juice they brought each of us a cup and a cookie, I can’t remember if the residents or the children were more excited about our treat. We set the games aside as we munch on our juice and cookies, everyone else’s faces showed a pleasure like no other, mine showed terror. As my throat begins to tighten, as if I was being strangled, my tongue begins to swell. As I lean over to the older lady beside me, saliva slipping out of my lips, I say, “I can’t breathe, where is Mrs. Hasse?” My speech was slurred and wasn’t easy to understand, but the lady understood what was going on. As she waves Mrs. Hasse to our table I continued to sip on water, thinking that would solve whatever the problem was. Mrs. Hasse rushes to our table with a nurse, they do the normal routine of feeling my throat and asking me to open my mouth so they can examine my throat. Their facial expresses went from calm to concerned within seconds. As Mrs. Hasse whips out her phone and dials my parent’s phone number the nurse tells me, “It’ll be okay sweetie, you’re having an allergic reaction. What did you eat and drink?” I pointed to the cookie and the water, then she said, “Okay sweetie, we are calling your mom and then she will take you to the hospital so they can give you magical medicine to make you feel better.” As I nodded telling the nurse that I understand I wondered, “Is this how grandpa feels when he eats something he is allergic to?” As I sit there I see Mrs. Hasse collecting my snow gear as I see my mother’s minivan through the window screech to halt in front of Autumn Village. As I walk out to my mom, grasping my throat to show my discomfort, Mrs. Hasse fills my mom in then I wave goodbye as tears begin to stream down my rosy red
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