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  • I find it sort of funny that today I sit here 17 years old writing this assignment and cant remember what happened in class a couple days ago but yet can remember the story I’m about to tell from 11 years ago.

    It was October of my 1st grade year in elementary school a month or so after 9/11 everyone still on edge. I don’t really remember how I got there but I was at the local hospital in the waiting room and my mother stood next to me crying while my brother did his own thing. I knew it had something to do with my father, maybe she told me or I had assumed since he wasn’t with us and we were at a hospital. I just waited there at night not knowing how to feel, wondering if I would have a father the following day. My mother being latino and not speaking English very well, I knew we would go to Venezuela where she is from if he were to pass. We waited and waited. I remember a doctor coming in with his typical lab coat and speaking to my mom not being able to make out what they were saying I observed my mom's emotions and wasn’t sure what my mom's tears meant, I began to get worried. I knew we had something wrong with our hearts in our family but didn’t know what it meant. That night my dad had a quintuple bypass(the highest bypass) at the age of 44.

    He lives with a large scar up the center of his chest and along his left forearm. He’s alive thanks to the doctors who were able to work quickly and save his life. Occasionally I’ll think what would have happened without him, but everyday I am grateful that he is alive.
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