My Personal Narrative

Wake up, vomit, sleep, repeat. This was my routine schedule one summer in India. But first a step back and a look into my beautiful culture. My ethnicity is Indian. My parents immigrated to the US before I was born. Despite this, my heritage greatly interests me. Due to this desire along with visiting my extended family, I tend to visit India every summer. While I am there, I get to explore my Indian heritage and converse with my extended family. Despite not being born there, I still happen to have some national Indian pride. I can commonly be seen cheering for India during the cricket world cup. That is enough about me, time to begin the main event. On one particular trip to India, a bug infected me and left with a nasty stomach illness. I could keep nothing down. I vomited up everything I ate. I barely kept gruel and water in my innards. The illness reached a point in which my throat was so heavily inflamed that it hurt to talk. Some nights the world would not stop spinning due to dehydration. I had to be brought to the hospital where I waited 2 hours while IV fluid slowly dripped into my body. I repeated a visit to the doctor

For starters, during my extended stay on my bed, I often times called out for my father who was in the US. “Appa, Appa” I would call but nothing would change. All I wanted at the time was my family. At that moment, I realized just how important family was. Family was not some small aspect of your life that you can shove to the side. Family, especially parents, are the very fruit of vitality. While my father was absent, the rest of my family were there to help. My mother, grandma, sister aunts, and uncles all took turns caring for my physical needs and my emotional needs. My mom would cool my body with a rag while my grandma would sit next to me and give me all the moral support I could ever ask for. Family and love give people the strength to preserver through tough