The Dark Morning

Essay by raverboopCollege, Undergraduate October 2006

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He laid there in the darkness, sweating and breathing hard. My mom could do everything in her power to help, but it would still not be enough to cure him. I sat in the doorway around the corner and listened to the deep painful breaths of my dad. My mother sat next to him and tried to soothe the pain with her sure and comforting voice. This had now been going on for two days, and he seemed to just be getting worse. Somehow I knew this wasn't an ordinary cold or headache. I was engulfed with feelings of anxiousness, fear, and feelings that something bad was soon to happen. Was it terror I felt, or was it intuition?

The next day early in the morning my mom came in and woke me up. It was still dark out; it was Saturday and we had nothing to do all day, something was not right.

There was terror in her voice, "C'mon Kaila, we have to go to the hospital. Daddy isn't well..." My heart stopped, my throat swelled up, my stomach turned upside-down, and my head started to spin. What's wrong with Daddy? Why can't he just eat some of Mom's special chicken soup, and drink tea to get better? Why is Mom so worried? All of this can mean nothing good...

When we got to the hospital, Dad was sweating profusely and breathing very hard. No one would tell me what was going on. I knew Daddy was sick, but I didn't know why or how serious it was. All we could do now was wait for something to happen. Mom was very quietly focusing on her tissue as we waited in a large white room with twenty identical uncomfortable chairs. It smelled funny in there, like a...