<p>Inhale. Exhale. Beep. Inhale. Exhale. Beep. I had listened to this repetition of sounds in the hospital Intensive Care Unit for nearly an hour. The blank stare on my face embodied the shock that I felt. The chest of the small body in the hospital bed heaved and sank with every breath the respirator pumped into it. The beeping of computers and blinking of monitors enveloped this person in a veil of high tech gadgetry. My ears perked up as my father uttered in a comforting tone, shes doing so much better, Matty, using my nickname since birth. Better? My 42-year-old mother sat motionless, near death, in the bed in front of me.
It had been a whirlwind three weeks. My mom had a mysterious respiratory infection that had intensified from a common cold to a severe hospitalized condition. It was a difficult time. My parents had become legally separated a few months earlier and I was no longer able to live at my mothers house because the doctors were not sure of the cause of her sickness. They originally believed that my pet cockatiel had somehow contracted the Avian Flu and managed to infect my mom. The doctors were perplexed as to the cause of my mothers worsening condition. I stood in the hospital precisely 21 days after my mom was admitted into the Intensive Care Unit. This was the first time that I had seen her since she had been hospitalized. My entire family delayed my visit until they thought that I could mentally and emotionally handle the image of my weak and unconscious mother that now stared at me. I was emotionless. Cold. My family had taken me to the hospital to say goodbye to my parent, my friend. I would not. To say goodbye was admitting defeat. I knew that my mom was not ready to leave my life either she could not. She had three children; a house; a career; friends; a life. Deep down I knew that this was not the end. The next morning I talked with the one person who I knew I could tell anything: my best friend Sam. She was a short, slim brunette who I had known since I was 12 years old. The two of us had bonded over our parents recent divorces. Whereas Sam was quiet and confident, I was loud, though insecure with myself and terrified of others opinions.
Gloom and rain filled the sky, seemingly echoing my clouded emotions. Tomorrow, Sam. They said tomorrow will be her last day. I felt my emotions take control as I said those words. Sam looked deeply into my eyes and said, No. No. No! Youre wrong. The doctors are wrong. Everyone is wrong. Tears glittered in her eyes as her small frame shook with fury. With vindication she exclaimed, Matty, I know that she will be fine. Youre not done until youve lost everything! She hasnt. She has you. Her words ended in a hushed whisper. I wanted to believe her but the promise of a best friend was not enough.
The doctors had failed to diagnose my mother for nearly a month and for this reason had not even the slightest clue as to what was needed to cure her. As the darkness enclosed around me, (both figuratively and literally) in that gloomy art room, I suddenly found strength that I had never felt before. It was an incredible driving force. Sitting there, feeling sorry for myself was helping nothing. My mom would want me to work my hardest and to be happy. For the next few weeks I worked harder than I ever had. I did not miss a single day of school and handed in my assignments on time, all the while keeping the secret of my mothers illness confined to Sam and myself. Even if my mom could not see me I wanted to work as hard as I could. Each day after school, I pictured her sitting at in the chair at the far side of the kitchen table, typing on her laptop and sipping her red wine, smiling, and asking me how my day went.
At the end of the third marking period of school, my mom was still in the hospital. She had made it through the night that the doctors had suspected would be her very last. Incredibly, she had remained in critical, but stable, condition. She had been unconscious for nearly three months. I was still studiously working and Sam was constantly praising me for my positive attitude. That afternoon, upon returning back to my fathers dingy apartment, I received a phone call. Matty, fantastic news, my Dad began. Mom is awake! Last night an experimental drug was tested and she has responded positively. Although she is still very weak, she wants to see you and your brothers. With lightning speed, I slipped on my sneakers and zipped up my jacket awaiting my dads arrival home so that we could go to the hospital. As soon as I arrive and looked into my moms eyes my life changed. In my mind, my mom had already passed away. Yet there she was, fully conscious, right in front of me. Hope, determination, and willpower had paid off. I missed you, she croaked.
Day by day, week by week, my mom began to get better.. By the Spring of 2005 she relearned how to walk and talk, eventually returning to work. My mother has no physical scars to show for the time that she almost died several years ago. I have continued to work my hardest, improving academically year by year. I have evolved from an awkward insecure boy into a confident and composed young man. The lessons Sam taught me continue to guide my daily life. Stay strong when life gets tough. Have hope for a brighter future. It is nto over until you have lost everything. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.</p>
<p>remember that colleges want to see your character shine through, your values, your AHA moment. Also apply the lesson learnt to current things, values and morals. Also its too wordy imho</p>