An Assisted Personal Narrative Written by Mohammed © October 2011

When I got in the doctor’s office with my mom the doctor said,” Hello, how may I help you? ” My mom said,” My son is sick and he’s been feeling weak today. ” The doctor took his stethoscope and started testing my breathing, and then he got one of those sticks –the ones that you hold popsicles with- and I opened my mouth. After that he said “Your son has to sleep in this building.” I was shocked my mom said “Are you fine with sleeping here?” No of course not I thought so then I thought again once I get to the room I need to rest to get out of this prisonlike building or else I’m going to eat not delicious food for two weeks.

But it wasn’t I was so sick I had to sleep in the hospital. When my mom took me to my room I sat in bed immediately. My mom was worried and then she called my aunt and told her to back home with my cousin. My cousin was didn’t get why I had to sleep in the hospital. And I was sweating and wondering what was going to happen to me. My heart was beating fast. I was curious what was going on in me. I could tell the doctor would come in with an injection in his hand and give me a shot. And I was scared of shots I didn’t like them ever since nursery. I wished I wasn’t even sick in the first place. Then my mom told me my dad was coming to see me. I was eager to see him, but it took quite a while and then I started to wonder how big this building was, because he didn’t come early.

My mom took me to the emergency room so the doctor can give me a shot. When the doctor finished my dad finally came but it was late so I had to sleep. I learned to always be careful when I washed my hands.