eng personal essay 1

eng personal essay 1 - All you could hear were the beeps of...

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All you could hear were the beeps of hospital machines. Crouched under a round table, I sat there. I was afraid, terrified, and even curious as to what would happen next. I was alone. Tears streaming down my face, I was in a panic. It was a Wednesday afternoon, January 21, 2004. I was thirteen and in the eighth grade. Earlier that week, things were going fine. Every day went how it normally went. The same normal routine; wake up, go to school, go to dance class until just about nine or ten o’clock, return home, where I would eat a tepid meal, do some homework, go to bed, and repeat the same steps the following day. My grandmother was visiting, actually spending the week at our house like she typically does since we moved. She lived with us since as long as I can remember. It seemed like she was always there, and for some reason this time when we moved to the next town over, she decided not to come along, but live independently in a senior citizen apartment building. However, it did not make much of a difference because she was always there anyway. So it was not much of a loss in my adolescent mind. My grandmother, or Lela, as we began calling her because my younger, three-year-old sister could not yet pronounce the Spanish term Abuela for grandmother, was quite elderly. She had just turned the ripe age of seventy-four on Friday, January 16, 2004, and was more youthful than ever. She still played with us children, myself and younger sister, and could still make the most amazing dinners and meals for the entire house. Although she slept most of the day, due to medication, when she was awake, she was alive. Lela was up and about when she was awake; smiling, laughing, cooking, reading the bible. In our dysfunctional family of an overworked mother and absent father, it was obvious that the only thing holding the love and warmth in the house was Lela. Lela made our new house into a home.
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Monday, January 19, 2004, was the same ordinary day, nothing different. Everything was quite normal. After dance class, I came home tired and went to my room to find my grandmother asleep in my bed. My entire life I always shared a room. I was never alone. Lela was, for the most part, my roommate. Since we moved and she did not have her own bed in my room, she slept with me in the same bed. I liked it. It did not bother me, being a pre-teen and still never experiencing what it felt like to be alone in my room. I liked her warmth in my bed. I felt secure and loved. It had to be eleven or eleven thirty when I finally crawled into bed, after doing my homework and showering. For some reason, tonight was different. Lela was tossing and turning in the bed. She was moaning of pains and that she could not sleep. My grandmother was diagnosed with cancer ten years earlier, and had been through a series of chemotherapy and drugs to assist with the process of recovery. Along the way she was also diagnosed with diabetes, had a pace-maker placed into her chest to monitor her heart, and a few more other health problems that I am unaware of. Because we were all used to my grandmother being in and out of the hospital and her random
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eng personal essay 1 - All you could hear were the beeps of...

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