In early fourth grade, I moved to North Carolina from Florida with my dad. We moved in with my grandma and grandpa. We lived in a microscopic 2 bedroom apartment in a city called Cary. I was always very close to my grandma; she was like my second mom. I helped her cook and clean and we would occasionally watch Ellen together. Like glue, she was what kept our family together. In February of 2013, 5 months after moving, my grandma was having trouble eating. She would complain of her excruciating pain in her stomach after she ingested anything. We all thought it had something to do with her diabetes since she was a diabetic. After three or so weeks of extreme discomfort, she went to the hospital. Being the nine year old I was, I
