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My First Experience of Writing and Reading
As all of us know, humans are almost impossible to remember those detail things when they were in childhood period. Commonly, they only remember those memories that make them happy, sad, scared, or anything memorable. Lucky me to remember the first time I was studying to write properly because it was quite funny and the first time I was reading, it's so memorable to me.
I have learned for the first time at the age of 3,I was in playgroup. When I was in playgroup, all i learned was just playing. Then the next year, I entered TKA, and my teacher started to teach me how to read. If you ever watch the television, everyone who haven't be able to read are taught with the sentence "nama saya Budi, Ini Ayah Budi" but it was different to me because I learned how to read not in bahasa but in english. So i was more fluent in english than in indonesian language.
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My teacher gave me a homework at school to write the vocal alphabet (a,i,u,e,o), and my mother helped me to write well at home. When I thought I have already good at writing, in another morning, my brother dropped a big rock to my right hand, then my bones were breaking at that moment. You know, the first thing I did was crying and the next story i want to tell you is I spent my three years after that accident with the "mummy hands". I didn't remember if it was hurt or caused me a pain or not, but all I remember is I couldn't be able to write well. When all of my friends could wrote properly, I just sat down and wondered when would my hand back to the normal condition. I checked up to the doctor at least twice a week, and by the work of the doctor and medicine, my hand was healed. Then, I tried to write again and It was hard because I had to learned from the very first step, but Thanks God that HE gave me an ability to write properly. As I tell you this story, I'm smilling because this story is funny and memorable to
While many events in my life have contributed to growth and development of where I stand today, I understand now that my head injury has been the greatest influence. Due to physical and mental challenges, I have had many life changes. Sometimes daily challenges. Whereas, many of my abilities have been restored by the Grace of God, I still have lost my ability to learn quickly, my meticulous speech, and some mental distortions due to the head injury. I am angry and discouraged yet, my heart tells me, I can learn from this experience and help others who are in similar situations. And, that I can help others grow in the Power of Jesus Christ.
My arm got so swollen and hurt so much that I was rushed into the hospital. The fear of not being able to write tormented me. I wondered if I would ever be able to pass out from the pain. After going to emergency, I came out with a cast in my arm. The doctors gave me some pain medications and I was going to get referred to therapy, I didn’t know what to expect. I wondered what would happen and if I would have to wake up the next day with the same pain or maybe even worse. The pain was a ten and it felt like my arm was burning, it was so unbearable that I couldn’t even move it. All these question came to my mind: "How will I eat?" Will I be able to sleep at night?" "How long will the pain last?" "Will I be sick in bed for days, weeks, months?" I was sick in bed for several months and I couldn’t write or go to school. I was so devasted because I had never been sick in bed for a long time. I started reading books since that was the only thing I could do. When I read books I would get inspired to write poetry but I would record myself. I remember reading catholic books my mom had but they were in spanish. I didn’t really know how to read spanish well but I tried my best. I figured I could learn spanish better by reading spanish books. I remember reading the Bible, and other prayer books that made me feel like I could escape from my sorrow. My love kept growing deeper for reading, and I had more ideas for
Jake thought his freshman year of baseball was over. He went home before the game ended. Then, he finished his homework and went right to bed. The next day he went to the hospital and had it casted. The worst thing was trying to type on the computer and writing paper. The cast just got in the way. Breaking his fingers was one of the worst things that have ever happened to Jake. It interfered with school and his baseball. It took Jake two weeks to adjust to his cast. He had to work twice as hard to complete all of his assignments.
A childhood friend and former dance student, Isabella, was in her first year on a division one-dance team at a university in upstate New York. Her dream was to have the honor of dancing with an international dance troop traveling the world. After one fatal decision and barley making it out alive of a preventable car accident she was forced to give up her dream and never function normal again. Isabella had broken four different bones in her right arm, three upper ribs, her lower back, and her right collarbone. She also suffered from a lacerated liver, a bruised heart, and a duel brain injury. The median nerve, which makes your thumb move, was found in her right temple. And before being pulled from her car, Isabella suffered a massive stroke.
During the first grade, I went to a pool back in Richmond. As soon as I jumped in, I knew something was wrong. When my family got out of the pool, my parents noticed I was limping. I told them that my knee had been bothering me, so we went and got x-rays. After the x-rays, they said thay there was nothing, so we continued our lives normally. My knee was not getting better, but we were moving up to Pennsylvania at the time. Once we fully got moved in to our new house, my mom who was very frusturated took me to Dr. Wells, who was an intelligent, orthopedist that specialized in children's diseases. While going through the entire process I was extremely courageous and fearful of what could hapen. In addition, this time of my life was sad and serious.
I did have my good share of hardships and tribulations that I had to power through since the world did not grant me the fortune of immense amounts of upper body strength. I receive many lacerations on my adorable young hands and legs, but I took my bloody knees and my aching hands and I kept going. Every single day of my fifth summer, I happily rode my bike the whole three blocks to the school. I still remember vividly the wooden playground accented with the tackiest mustard colored plastic. There were eight bars that stood away from me and success. I could seldom keep myself up long, my feeble arms shaking as I struggle to swing them forward. All that didn’t matter though because my skills were steadily growing day by day. My blistered hands ultimately turned into hard calloused skin that mildly resembled a construction worker's hands. Honestly, if my ability as a young child impresses you mildly then imagine how incredibly pertinacious I am
I was in a hospital bed with a broken leg, arm, wrist, ribs, and one ankle. I had stitches too. I looked around and saw that I was with my family. They all started to cry which made me cry. “ You made.
Even though I only had surgery on one tiny little finger, that still made a large impact on what I was capable of doing. I could not do my school work because I could not write. I could not exercise, play sports, or participate in P.E. All those activities are what I enjoyed doing, and not being able to do them for a long period of time made me realize how lucky I am that my injury could be fixed compared to the many illnesses and injuries that
As heartbreaking and world shattering this experience was I like to look at this as the beginning of my journey. I deciding to quit figure skating, it just wasn't the same after my injury, and I wanted to pursue music. While looking for voice lessons I met a lady who had a performing arts group. After joining the group I also decided to enroll in a private school run by the same lady. I began my freshman year of high school at this Mormon private school called Kimber Academy.
Once I eventually returned to school I wasn't able to write because I had broken my right arm and has a cast on it; and to top it
I took a branch off the great oak tree that stood before me and began carving. Suddenly, the knife slipped off the fresh, smooth, moist wood and sliced into my leg for what seemed like an eternity. It hurt for what seemed like a decade, but was only a few seconds. After I realized what happened, I rushed down off the roof to get my mother. As I was climbing down from the roof, it began to pulse and hurt again. The wound was beginning to bleed profusely from the movement. Luckily, my mother was just leaving the house as I got down from the roof.
I started to cry, then a doctor and two nurses rushed to calm me. They told that I had been unconscious for two weeks, and that I had broken my right ankle. They asked me if I knew how I broke it, and I told them that “while I was getting off a tree, my right foot got stuck on a “Y” looking branch, and when I fell of the tree, it twisted and broke.” They told me that this and that broke, and that they had to inserted metal rods into my ankle to make it stabilized, so it won’t move. A week later my parents took me home.
The walk to the car couldn’t have felt any longer, every hop hurt. I was shaking because it was so cold outside, which wasn’t helping my shoulder and chest pains at all. When I had finally gotten to the car I realized that my whole right arm was going numb. They sat me down and my dad was asking me
Somebody help me!” I remember screaming. I will never forget my arm dangling with the bone of my forearm just hanging out of me. After screaming what felt like a thousand years, a nice lady stopped and rushed over to me in a golf cart. She tried everything she could to help me but with her being older we needed more assistance.
Back when I was 9 years old. I was weak in English. I didn't pay attention in the class because I didn't like learning English, and I was scared to learn. My aunt named