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Personal Narrative: Open Heart Surgery

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Personal Narrative: Open Heart Surgery
My seven-year-old face fell. Was she serious? I blinked my fragile eyelids in disbelief. I wanted to crumple to the ground and bawl my eyes out.
I made my way to the dim basement with anticipation. My petite, frozen, feet rushed down the carpeted stairs. I couldn’t wait to go to my grandma and grandpa’s! I got close to no sleep the night before, tossing and turning at the thought of seeing my grandparents. `` We rarely got to see them anymore, busy with masses of schoolwork. Every day with them was a great one. Whether we baked warm, melting, chocolate chip cookies, or went shopping at the large mall 20 minutes down the road, we always had a good time.
I stopped at the small oak door leading to the basement. My mom was in there,
…show more content…
My heart dropped a thousand stories down my chest. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself down. My grandpa wouldn’t want me to feel bad for him, he always had told me to look on the positive side of things. I gathered myself and patiently awaited my dad's response.
“Yes Cate, Grandpa is having open heart surgery right now.” He looked down on my innocent face with his bright blue eyes.
“Is it serious?” I questioned, my feet sinking into the carpet. He silently debated whether he should tell me the truth or not. After about a 20-second internal debate, he smiled and told me the truth.
“Sadly, it is a very serious surgery. It could go very well or very wrong. It is called a quadruple bypass heart surgery. Do you know what an open heart surgery is?” I nodded. “It’s like that. The surgeons are taking blood vessels from other parts of the body and replacing them in the diseased artery. It’s a quadruple because they have to bypass 4 arteries, which is very serious.”
I frowned, yet I was pleased with his detailed and intelligent
…show more content…
I put on a wide, brave, smile and walked through the hospital door.
The man in the bed was not my grandfather. He was ghostly white, his eyes tightly closed and he had tubes and wires sticking out in all places. He looked awful. For a split second, I wanted to run out of that cramped and sad hospital room and just go home. But I knew I had to be strong. I pushed the negative thoughts out of my brain and painted a happy picture in my mind.
We chatted with the nurses and checked up on his seemingly slow recovery. I just wanted my grandpa back. I started thinking about how many kids around the world don't even have parents and would be considered very lucky to have a grandma or a grandpa. I realized that my family was not going to be here forever and I should not take them for granted. My brain raced with thoughts of regret. I silently wished that I could redo my past, and be more thankful for everything everybody has done for me. I blinked away tears, thinking about how selfish I was and how selfless I needed to be.

That day, in that same melancholic hospital room, I had a mental breakthrough. I realized something very important. I needed to be grateful for every single moment I had with my family and friends because you never know when a moment might be the

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