英语 学习 网站My worst nightmare
43中The thought, "She's going to die" kept running through my mind that night.
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The first of December, 1998. I had the day off from school and had gone to the movies with some of my friends. I came home a bit later and relaxed for a while in front of the television with my older sister. At about 10 o'clock, around the time the last sitcom had ended, we heard my Uncle yell out for my sister. Startled, we ran to e what had happened. At that moment, my worst nightmare began.
My mother was sitting mi-conscious on the bathroom floor, unable to speak clearly or to move. When she saw us, she slurred what we interpreted to be, "Go get me some warm water… and socks too…" My sister looked at me as I stood there motionless, unable to draw my attention away from my mother. "Go get the water and socks…加州旅馆中文歌词 and go get a blanket and the sleeping bag too!" She demanded I do it quickly.
清明节英语作文
Meanwhile, two of my other sisters had run upstairs… one of them called Emergency. She cried something along the lines of, "There's something wrong with my mom…all i have to do is dream I don't know!" She sounded not of age twenty, but of an eight year-old child. No one could blame her though. I know I couldn't becau all I was doing was standing there watching her yell into the phone, sobbing loudly.
汉堡包的单词"Why me?" I thought this kind of thing only happened to other people. Both of my grandmothers were there when she made the call, but they don't understand English, and my Chine wasn't good enough to explain to them what was happening. I could tell though that my maternal grandmother could n something was wrong. My sister's boyfriend, the one that had called Emergency, went outside to wait for the Ambulance. I decided to join him, for fresh air was what I desperately needed.
After what emed to be an eternity, but probably only 10-20 minutes, the bright and silent ambulance arrived. As two paramedics arrived on the scene, we impatiently escorte
d them to my mom. They informed us that it was most likely a stroke. A stroke… what's that? They hoisted my mother up onto a stretcher, carried her down the narrow hallway leading from the bathroom where everything had occurred, and out the front door. As we sped the whole way to the hospital, all I could remember was asking millions of questions. When we arrived in the ating area, I noticed a small boy with his arm bandaged in a bloodstained cloth. How I wished that it could have been my mother with that bandaged arm instead of lying mi-conscious on the stretcher.
At that moment, one of my sisters interrupted my thoughts and offered me a piece of advice. "When they take her out of the ambulance, don't look and don't let her e you." Unfortunately, I didn't know any better. I watched as they pulled out the stretcher, and I couldn't help but to turn away. Turn away the thought that something bad had happened to her. Turn away the thought of losing her. As all of my family members, minus my sister in London, entered through the sliding doors one-by-one, I was greeted not with a simple hello, but a hug.
Amidst all the chaos, I remembered to call my friend. It was about 11 o'clock at night… what was I going to tell her? It rang and rang and rang and finally her mother answered. She was asleep, as I expected, so I told her mom that I wouldn't be going to school the next day becau I was sick, therefore, I would be unable to give Melissa a ride. She understood and told me to take care and not to worry. While I was on the phone, my dad arrived and immediately went into the emergency room to be with my mom. I can certainly say that the emergency room was not at all what I expected it to be, nothing like what is shown on television. It was very quiet and peaceful.
Every time the doors to the Emergency swung open I would look in and e her, and then I'd let out a little sob and run to someone for a hug. My brother came out and told everyone that she was going to be transferred to another hospital, so we filed out and piled into our cars as they put her back into the ambulance. "She's going to be okay," was all I heard on the way to the next hospital.
出国中介We had been waiting for a while now, when a nur came into the small family waiting room. "You may e her now, but no more than two at a time plea." My dad and one of my eldest sisters went in first. When it was my turn, the only things I could say to her were, "You're going to get better really soon. Don't worry about me," and one thing that none of us usually say on a daily basis, even though we should… "I love you." I remember repeating that quite a few times. After everyone had gone in to e her, my dad and one of my older sisters said that they would stay the night, so we went back in two-by-two to say our good-byes and to tell her that we'd be back later in the morning. It was already morning though… 3 or 4 o'clock in the morning.
When we got home, we all huddled clo together on my parent's bed. My sisters talked and I listened, and I soaked my tears into the pillow as I tried to fall asleep. We got three, maybe four hours of rest before waking up again. I spent the next two days getting up early, going to the hospital where I spent the day with my mom, and going home late. Afte
r awhile however, I decided to go back to school. I returned to many friends and their hugs of support. My friends were there to help me through it.
After two weeks of getting up at 5:30, going to the hospital, then to school and back to the hospital again, the doctors told us she would be transferred once more, but this time to a physical therapist. Her progress during the two weeks was exceptional… miraculous even. She could walk, talk, and sleep without difficulty. The following two weeks, much like the previous two, pasd slowly. With each passing day, we cried a little bit less and became more hopeful and thankful.
twiggyWhile I was writing this composition, my sister, the one who had called Emergency many months ago, said to me, "I couldn't help crying even though I knew she was going to be fine." Well, I knew exactly how she felt. The doctors had told us that the progress my mother had made in the first two weeks was the equivalent of six months rehabilitation for most people who suffer a stroke. And then on Christmas Eve, I received the greatest pres
ent one could ever ask forbodyguard…
My mother came home that day.
