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Personal Narrative- Dad

My brother and I were standing in a white room where people were franticly running around. I looked at this man being wheeled by lying on a blood soaked bed. His eyes were swelled shut and he was moaning in excruciating pain. I took a closer look and realized his skull was exposed. His scalp was completely off the side of his head. Tears started coming when I thought about this poor man's family. How were the doctors going to tell his wife and kids what he looked like; or even worse, he had died. I looked at my brother in horror and disbelief. He said in a dismayed voice, "Jess, that's Dad!"

I was running around the gym and warming up for a game of "capture the ball." A loud beeping noise sounded through the gym and I heard a sweet voice say, "Please excuse Jessie Jones." My heart pumped as I jumped for joy. No P.E. today! I got my bag and waited at the door for my mom. I was messing around with my friend, when Mrs. Ledger told me that my mom sounded very upset. I thought nothing of it and kept joking around. I walked outside and a woman from my Mom's work was waiting to pick me up. I gave her a perplexed look as she said, "Your Dad got in a wreck." At this point, the significance of the whole event still had not hit me.

I met my Mom at City Market and she was hysterical. Seeing my Mother in her hysteria didn't affect me because, getting worked up easily was her routine. She told me that they had to "Flight for Life" my Dad to St. Mary's Hospital. At that point, I knew the accident was serious. I tried to swallow the apple-sized lump in my throat.

We waited, for what seemed like an eternity, in the waiting room. I was anxious to see my Dad so I kept going in and asking when we could see him. They said when he was cleaned up they would come and get us. They brought out his clothes and his shoes were covered with a crimson color. My chest got heavy and I fought to breathe. My heart skipped a beat and my throat started to hurt. I was sucking back my tears.

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I went back into this white, stale smelling room. I looked around and saw that everything was in its place, and not a spec of dirt was on the floor. In a panic-stricken voice I asked about my father. I saw a man being wheeled by. My heart went out to him and his family because he looked like he attempted a swan dive off the empire state building. I am sure he would have cried if his eyes were not swelled shut. I dug my nails into my brother's arm. His pale white face dropped. He looked at me as tears swelled in his eyes and said, "Jess, it's Dad!"

I immediately started to wail. My brain told me to run away, but my legs felt like they were stuck in a bucket of cement. I told my Mom about how my Dad looked. Her faced turned white as she tried to blink her tears away.

I soon was able to control my wails and turn them into whimpers. The nurse with red, curly hair came out and said that we could see him now. My mind raced as the nurse escorted us through the white room. Would he know who I was? Was he going to live? Silent tears rolled down my face. My lip was quivering and my heart felt like it was letting out an unheard scream. I walked in the room and my Dad started in with his not so funny jokes. My Dad asked, "Hey, do you guys want to see my head?" I tried to blend in with the background so he would not want me to come close.

My brother answered in a confident squeal, "Sure Dad."

The doctor pulled his scalp back and my brother started to pick leaves and sticks off his skull. My legs did not feel that heavy any more; they felt like Jell-O. I left the room with feelings of disgust and fear.

I was sitting in this room feeling like I was going to suffocate. I started thinking that I never tell my Dad that I love him. I asked myself, "If he died, would he know that I loved him?" My answer was, "Of course he would know, but do I show it? I am sure he knew. He just had to."

The rest of the week we all took turns being in the room to take care of my Dad. Every other minute we had to give him shots of Morphine. The doctors said he was lucky to be alive and would be lucky if he continued to live. My heart felt like somebody had strangled it. I thought about the first time I saw my Dad after the wreck, my rock, the man who never cries, in god-awful pain. The man on that blood soaked bed haunted my every thought. I made a vow to always show my Father that I love him. Sure, he knows I love him, but it is a whole different thing to show it.
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