<p>Hi guys, I'm a new member of CC, and I was hoping I could get some feedback on Prompt #2 essay. I'm going to talk about how i had(and still have Arthritis, AS) and how it has changed me. Thanks for reading!</p>
<p>Intense lights glare down, as I slowly open my eyes and find myself overwhelmed by a dense fog that swirls lazily around me. A bitter smell engulfs my nostrils as I gasp for breath. Moments later, I squint my eyes to get ahold of my bearings. </p>
<p>“No. No, not again.”</p>
<p>I find myself in a cage. There are no windows, no door, just white walls that seem to stretch on and on without ending. I am sitting on the ground with my legs splayed out, shackled with rusty chains to the ground. The slightest movement forces me to grimace with pain. I try to pry the chains off my ankles but even the rusted metal is strong enough to remain intact. Frustrated, I howl and slam my legs down in an attempt to destroy my bonds. With a resounding clang, pieces of metal skitter off in all directions. Suddenly, my vision is overwhelmed by darkness. </p>
<p>I wake up in my bed, heart pounding with sweat clinging to my back. I gingerly move my lower limbs up but the familiar bolt of pain speeds up my legs, squeezing a grunt out of me. The hope that flooded through my veins when I felt the shackles weaken and snap was now replaced by fear and apprehension. </p>
<p>Many times I have had this dream, and every time it is the same ending.
It was in 5th grade when I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis: Ankylosing Spondylitis. AS is a very rare ailment that affects about one in 25000 children in America; I was one of the very unlucky few to have been called upon to carry this burden. AS attacks and melts away the tendon that acts as a buffer between two adjacent bones. When certain joints near the site of inflammation are moved, the bones grind together, causing extreme pain. </p>
<p>I spent a good six months under the influence of AS, confined to a wheelchair, but deep inside the depths of my soul, I never let go of the possibility that I would once again be able to walk and run like I had before. I remembered the bliss and freedom that I felt when sprinting through a freshly mown field; giving up was completely out of the question. Despite the sympathetic words that my doctors tried to butter me up with, telling me that there is no possible cure yet, I always held on to the belief that in my lifetime, I will one day cross paths with a medicine that will turn my life around. </p>
<p>That day came when I was starting 6th grade. My dad rushed me over to Lucille Children’s Hospital at Stanford, and they gave us information on this new medicine: Enbrel Etanercept. Although each injection came with a hefty price tag and the possibility of inflicting me with cancer, my loving family agreed to pay whatever it cost and I agreed to risk my life. I could not imagine a life without the use of my legs, so I did not hesitate when my parents asked me if I wanted to put my life on the line. At the time, it seemed like spending $5 on a lotto ticket for a chance at the grand prize of the Mega Millions Lottery, but I guess in the end, my luck had taken a 180 degree turn. </p>
<p>It has been seven years or so since I first unwillingly lowered myself down into a wheelchair, and now in retrospect, I feel that I have become a living reminder to those that are depressed and hopeless. Never give up, because that warm light is always going to be beckoning at the end of the tunnel. </p>
<p>The word count is 614, so I guess Prompt 1 will have to be shorter (unless I can condense some things in this one)</p>
<p>I am going to apply to UC's mainly, preferably UCLA, UCSD, UCB, UCD, UCI</p>