The Importance Of My Life

It is astonishing how your life, or someone else’s life, can change in a blink of an eye, I thought during the car ride to the hospital. A man, my father, who had been an athlete in his adolescent years, full of power and energy, was now lying in a hospital bed. As I watched him lie there, hopeless and powerless, I couldn’t bear the fact that I had no control over the situation; it all lay in the doctor’s hands. The day began the same as usual; I get dressed, eat breakfast, and wait for my mother to get ready, so she can drive me to school. That morning my father left earlier than usual that day; I realized as I was staring into the empty parking space, where he parked his ‘bumblebee’ colored electric scooter. The walk to my English class …show more content…
I didn’t dare speak a word, neither did I dare to shed a tear; I knew that I had to stay strong for her. My head was flooding with thoughts; some were about my father’s condition, others were about how lazy I have been around the house. It was time about time I changed. We arrived at the Hospital’s emergency exit, as soon as the automatic doors slide open; the chill in the air sent goosebumps throughout my back, or it might have been the sight of my father’s watch, it was sitting in a basket with numbers written on it. The watch meant the world to us, my grandfather had given my father that watch when he was little. My grandfather passed away later, but my father always treasured that watch. We approached the front desk, in order to find out where my dad was. I soon realized that I should speak, since my mother didn’t know English or was in no condition to do so. “I would like to know where Pedro Sanchez is located,” I said with a knot going up my throat,” he is my father.” “Just a moment sir,” The nurse, wearing white and blue scrubs, replied with a drawn-out smile, “your father is in room …show more content…
“Mr. Sanchez was involved in an accident,” explained Dr. Calvo, I finally read his badge, “he has a broken hip and femur.” My mother, with a cracking voice, responded “Podra el caminar denuevo, que tratamiento hay para este tipo de fractura?” The words that my mother said just kept repeating in my head, “Will he ever walk again.” My father was still in a coma, he didn’t have to tell me anything, I knew what I had to do, and I had to change. I couldn’t spend my ten to twelve hour days on the computer, even though I used it to make money, it stopped me from doing my chores including; cleaning our apartment’s yard, my bedroom, or the cars. My father worked sixteen to eighteen hour a day, which means that he didn’t have time to do things around the house, I have to step up. I was awaken by the knock on the door, it was the same nurse who was at the front desk. I stood up, “These are your father’s things,” said the nurse as she was handing me my father’s work clothes, or at least what was left of it, and my grandfather’s