Personal Narrative: My Mission

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It was a typical warm and humid day in central Florida. There was a storm for-cast as usual, there was never a day without one. I sat there in my Mission President’s office waiting for my appointment with him. I had just gotten examined by the mission nurse and things were not looking good for my case of staying on my mission. My diagnosis was a severe case of Psoriasis, the most severe that the Missionary Department in Salt Lake City had ever seen in all the years of operation. Approximately ninety percent of my body was covered in hard, thick, and flakey “scales” of skin. These “scales” would bleed and shed daily, only to already be replaced every day. Eventually, after what seemed like ages, the door to President Berry’s office opened.
As I sat down in the chair and winced as my skin came in contact with the chair, my mission president frowned and gave a look of sorrow for this young missionary. I didn’t fully grasp that by this point, my mission was over. President Berry then looked me straight into the eyes and simply asked “How long have you been feeling this way Elder Hanson?” I explained to him that for about seventy-five
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I was so happy to be able to physically see and hold my family, but there was that nagging though in the back of my head. It kept saying “You’re a failure. You don’t deserve this. You never will.” It was nearly impossible for me to contain the painful emotions that were coursing through my body. I felt sorrow, apologetic, embarrassed, ashamed, and angry to name a few. These emotions boiled over and ended with me sobbing in the Idaho Falls Regional Airport bathroom. I thought to myself “What’s wrong with me? You should be happy! Your home. You can get the help that you need.” Eventually I was found sobbing in the bathroom by my father. He tried all he could to console me, but my emotions were too strong to be

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