I sat and watched a forty-year old woman who could not pick up her own tissue as she sobbed about her condition. She lost her hands and legs to no fault of her own. I was mesmerized as my father skillfully interviewed her with compassion while he was obtaining the information to evaluate the legal basis of her claim. As a child, I would often accompany my father to his office, the courthouse, other law firms, and clients’ businesses, which only increased my curiosity for all of the work behind investigating and developing complex cases. I would especially look forward to the days when I accompanied my father to the Harris County Civil Courthouse to try cases, as well as for depositions and hearings. Additionally, I spent many years attending …show more content…
Over winter break, during my junior year of college, my younger brother unexpectedly passed away and it shocked me beyond belief. I then personally understood the devastation of sudden and unexplainable loss. Returning to school was crucial to me because I did not want to risk graduating late and I was certain that brother would definitely have supported my decision to return to school. Against the advice of my family and friends to take the spring semester to grieve, I went back to college two weeks after my brother passed away. While this decision was difficult, it was the right one. If I did not return, I would not have been able to graduate on time and most likely would not have been able to fulfill my dream of beginning law school upon graduating from …show more content…
Her blood pressure dropped to abnormally low levels after an urgent care center misdiagnosed her and mistakenly overflowed her system with fluids. As a result, she had to be transported to a hospital in shock. The doctors in the cardiovascular intensive care unit had to place her in a medically-induced coma in order to use machines to operate her heart. When my father took breaks after long shifts of watching over my sister, I would step in to relieve him. At those times, I was the only one who was there to advocate for her. While a hospital is designed to be a compassionate place for healing, they are often understaffed. As a result, I further learned the gifts of an effective advocate. I found myself quickly learning about what my sister needed and how to acquire what she needed from various departments in the hospital. I learned that working with the system made a difference for my sister as opposed to complaining about the circumstances. Thankfully, the infection in her body resolved and her heart started working by itself after several days as she slowly started the recovery process, in which I was heavily involved. Although her life-threatening condition was very frightening, this experience provided me an additional real life application of advocating for those in
After visiting my grandparents several times I began to explore the hospital floor. Although shy at first, I began to talk with the patients and better understand their situations and difficulties. Each patient had his or her unique experiences. This diversity sparked an interest to know each patients individualized story. Some transcended the normal capacity to live by surviving the Holocaust. Others lived through the Second World War and the explosive 1960’s. It was at this time I had begun to service the community. Whenever a patient needed a beverage like a soda from the machine or an extra applesauce from the cafeteria, I would retrieve it. If a patient needed a nurse I would go to the reception desk and ask for one. Sometimes I played checkers or chess with them during lunch break. I also helped by mashing their food to make it easier to swallow. Soon, however, I realized that the one thing they devoured most and had an unquenchable thirst for was attention and the desire to express their thoughts and feelings. Through conversing and evoking profoundly emotional memories, I bel...
Growing up as an only child I made out pretty well. You almost can’t help but be spoiled by your parents in some way. And I must admit that I enjoyed it; my own room, T.V., computer, stereo, all the material possessions that I had. But there was one event in my life that would change the way that I looked at these things and realized that you can’t take these things for granted and that’s not what life is about.
Personal Narrative There lay her limp body staring up at us. Her cold eyes were no longer
SWISH! I turn my head to the right with a grin and see my mom cheering as I scored my first points of the season. The last game of the season I scored my first points of my middle school basketball “career.” Now sit back and relax as you read the story of how I got my first points in middle school basketball.
On the Monday October 27th, 2014, for the first time in 4 years I did not wake up at 5:30 in the morning, I was not putting on a green skivvy shirt and shorts. There was no formation, no one that was higher command I had to report to, telling me where I had to go, what time I had to eat breakfast, what was I doing this day or what our platoon plans were for the day. There were no PT (physical training) I had to do this morning. Instead, I woke up grab a regular t-shirt, khaki shorts, and my two sea bags full of clothing and gear that I collected during my time in the Marine Corps. I threw everything in my vehicle and drove from Camp Pendleton, California to Quincy, Illinois. Within two weeks I was accepted to Southern Illinois University Carbondale. For three days, I stayed at the
Melanie woke up with nothing other than research on her mind. She knew that her last name was Easton and so was her mother's. What she didn't know was if that was her mother’s married name, or for that matter, if her mother had ever been married.
“I want to let you know how thankful I am for your assistance, Sam.” Mr. Bushnell said, leading me into an elevator.
I get woken up to my mother grabbing my face, patting my arms, and shaking my shoulders to
This is a personal story to me, to understand this story we will have to start at from beginning. I hope you enjoy this story and it is both entertaining and heartwarming to you as I am sharing a personal event in my life. Join me on this journey of discovery as I unveil one of the darker mysteries in my life.
It was the storytelling part of law that fascinated Sarah. The challenge of finding a way of turning the ‘accused’ into a person, someone real and vulnerable; someone that the judge and jury – if there was a jury - would warm to and empathise with. There was a way of presenting the evidence, the arguments that gave the court a sense of the person beyond the crime, before the crime; storytelling was what made the difference between a good barrister and a mediocre one. The prosecution would produce victim statements from the dead girl’s parents and her sister, the grandparents, the aunts and uncles and friends. These would be sad accounts. Narratives that would fill the courtroom with grief and with anger, that would make no sentence seem long
It was a long and silent night. I couldn’t help but realize that, as the night progressed, my chances of survival were decreasing. I had intentionally come out to the forest to find some crowberry for my pet jackalope, Rufus; it was the time of season the berries were to be at their ripest point, but little had I known that it would arrive. It was a beast with teeth the size of rock, the head of a tiger, the body of a snake, the wings of a great eagle, and green, glowing eyes staring at you as if your death approached with every step it took. I was lucky to have survived, but my friend, Thomas, wasn’t. I had watched as the beast took Thomas away to its lair in the high peaks of Mount Atheodus, while I had to return to Rufus.
When I was a kid, everyday I’d prayed for my dad to come back, and Noodles for lunch everyday.
As I sat in the brightly lit kitchen doing my homework, I suddenly realized that someone was intently watching me through the nearby window. I slowly turned my head around hoping that it was all a dream, but I am disappointed to find out it was real. I could hardly see through the smoggy window, but I could see that it was an adult male. He was about seven-feet tall hunched-back and by the looks of it he was forty five. His grey hair told me his age. As he moved his head closer to the window I could see it is covered with charcoal black dye and his red tips in his hair were like pine’s on a porcupine. The hair was thick and chunky-black but fluffy like cotton candy. As his eyes closed in at my food I knew why. It looked like he hasn't eaten
It is something about the holiday season that I start to reminisce back to my childhood. Most likely because of all the many festivities, I was forced to go to as a kid. I hated attending these gatherings. As a child, you could describe me best as a “home body”. At every Thanksgiving I sat in the back corner of my Aunt Tammy’s house and watched as my cousins played and the adults spoke about their past and present lives. Now that I look back, I wish I would have made the most out of these moments, but all I could do is impatiently waiting to indulge in all the delicious holiday food.
I tilted my head up,my eyes turned wide. When I had looked up, I saw all these new faces and My brain was on overload. I suddenly see a face that I recognize. Our eyes locked immediately. Footsteps clack until they reach me. It's an old elementary friend. We walk around trying to figure out where our classes are. I found my first period. She wishes me luck and walked off. I walk in. I could hear my heart racing in my ear.....