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Personal Narrative: Pneumonia In High School

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Getting sick is a part of life, but it can also be deadly. Pneumonia is a deadly, if kept untreated, infection that I received while I was in my sophomore year of high school. I remember coming back home at around four o’ clock in the afternoon, on a Tuesday, and feeling very ill. I knew that I was starting to get sick because it was the beginning of winter, and I usually catch a cold during this weather transition. Unfortunately, I hadn’t had an idea of what was to come. Coming back home from school feeling beyond dead was not something I was looking forward too because I already felt horrible while I was at school, but I had to deal with it. All day I had thought about asking my mom to take me to the hospital. I knew how the scenario …show more content…

It was Wednesday morning, 6:30am, and yes I had to go to school. I remember calling and begging, asking if I could take the day off, but mom wasn’t having any of it, so I had to get ready. The pain was gone, which I was fortunate about, but I still felt ill. I hopped into the shower, washed up, and when I got out I collapsed. White light again, but this time it was all I could see. I closed my eyes. I was on the floor, unable to move. After what seemed like an eternity, I finally opened my eyes. I went straight to my bed, and fell asleep. I woke up a mess, and felt worse than before. I looked at my phone, and saw at least six hundred missed called from mom. I called her, fearing for what was to come. “WHERE ARE YOU? WHY DIDN’T YOU GO TO SCHOOL?” She screamed. “I’m at home. I didn’t go to school because I feel worse than before. I really need to go to the hospital.” I whimpered. She told me that we’ll go when she comes back from work, and I agreed. Back to sleep I went. I wake up to my mom rushing into my room. She signaled to get ready by moving her head quickly forty-five degrees to the left. I got ready to leave, and we left at around …show more content…

The stench of death hit my nostrils as I opened the door to go inside, which is why I always hated going to the hospital. We waited the fifteen minute queue, until I heard my name from a nurse. I followed the nurse into a small, beige room. I sat down on the examining table, as my doctor walked in. I told him my symptoms, and he did a quick check up. His cold fingers pressed against my lower back. “Breathe in and out.” He said. I did as told. “Slower.” he exclaimed. At that moment, while I was slowly breathing in and out, I could hear a small click every time I inhaled. The doctor looked up and said, “Ahhh, you seem to have pneumonia.” He explained to my mom and I what that meant because we were clueless. After he finished, he told us that if I waited any longer to go to the hospital, he wouldn’t be speaking to me, which opened my mom’s eyes finally. He told me that I couldn’t go to school for at least another two weeks, gave me a school note and my prescription. We left the hospital. My mom dropped me off, and went to pick up the medication. As I lay in bed, I remember thinking about everything that has happened to me in the past two days, and what the doctor told me. Those thoughts were interrupted by the opening of my bedroom door as my mom walked in. She handed me the medication. I swallowed the pills, and fell asleep. The next morning my mom walks in with a stack of papers. She said, “It’s alright if you’re not able to attend class,

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