Could I get advice/suggestions for this essay? Thanks!
Prompt: Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
My parents always referred to me as a "miracle baby". That name always confused me. I was no miracle baby. If anything, having a medical condition for my entire life would disqualify me from such a title.
A month after I was born, I was diagnosed with hydrocephalus, a condition in which an abnormal accumulation of cerebrospinal fluid collects in a person's head and does not properly drain out. As the years passed, my life was woven with seemingly endless periods of headache and nausea, countless visits to the hospital, and several surgeries. Every time my shunt was dislocated or infected, I would cry in pain and question the name "miracle baby".
One day while lying in a hospital bed awaiting the results of a CT scan, I saw a boy who also had hydrocephalus lying in the bed next to mine. When I looked at him, I was astonished by the profound sadness on his face. In my mind he was only a young boy. There was no way he could have been through as much as I have. My curiosity aroused, I made an effort to converse with his mother. What she told me made me speechless. The boy had been through almost three times as many operations as I had. I thought about all of the pain that I endured over the course of my life and tried to imagine what it would be like if I had gone through three times as much.
Suddenly, I felt ashamed at myself. Up until that day I had been only thinking about myself. For some reason, I never bothered to wonder what life would be like through the eyes of a person like that boy. How could I hate my life when I was so blessed? My perspective on the quality of my life was always condescending until that day. I would always compare my life with those that never had to feel the pain that I have felt. Yet after that day, I started examining the lives of those who must have endured much more than I. I thought about the boy and thousands of others like him who have had much more trouble dealing with hydrocephalus. I thought about the millions of people around the world who had to live without a home, parent, or food. Laying in the hospital bed, I realized my selfishness and cried silently to myself.
Ever since that day, I gradually began seeing hydrocephalus as a blessing rather than a curse. Having hydrocephalus has taught me to appreciate the small things in life. At first I assumed that the name "miracle baby" had to do with surviving the initial surgeries as a baby without any major brain damage. Yet after my experience at the hospital, I realized that my parents may have meant it differently. Maybe I was a miracle baby not because I survived through having hydrocephalus, but rather because I live with hydrocephalus. Without hydrocephalus, I would not be the person I am today.
Prompt: Evaluate a significant experience, achievement, risk you have taken, or ethical dilemma you have faced and its impact on you.
My parents always referred to me as a "miracle baby". That name always confused me. I was no miracle baby. If anything, having a medical condition for my entire life would disqualify me from such a title.
A month after I was born, I was diagnosed with hydrocephalus, a condition in which an abnormal accumulation of cerebrospinal fluid collects in a person's head and does not properly drain out. As the years passed, my life was woven with seemingly endless periods of headache and nausea, countless visits to the hospital, and several surgeries. Every time my shunt was dislocated or infected, I would cry in pain and question the name "miracle baby".
One day while lying in a hospital bed awaiting the results of a CT scan, I saw a boy who also had hydrocephalus lying in the bed next to mine. When I looked at him, I was astonished by the profound sadness on his face. In my mind he was only a young boy. There was no way he could have been through as much as I have. My curiosity aroused, I made an effort to converse with his mother. What she told me made me speechless. The boy had been through almost three times as many operations as I had. I thought about all of the pain that I endured over the course of my life and tried to imagine what it would be like if I had gone through three times as much.
Suddenly, I felt ashamed at myself. Up until that day I had been only thinking about myself. For some reason, I never bothered to wonder what life would be like through the eyes of a person like that boy. How could I hate my life when I was so blessed? My perspective on the quality of my life was always condescending until that day. I would always compare my life with those that never had to feel the pain that I have felt. Yet after that day, I started examining the lives of those who must have endured much more than I. I thought about the boy and thousands of others like him who have had much more trouble dealing with hydrocephalus. I thought about the millions of people around the world who had to live without a home, parent, or food. Laying in the hospital bed, I realized my selfishness and cried silently to myself.
Ever since that day, I gradually began seeing hydrocephalus as a blessing rather than a curse. Having hydrocephalus has taught me to appreciate the small things in life. At first I assumed that the name "miracle baby" had to do with surviving the initial surgeries as a baby without any major brain damage. Yet after my experience at the hospital, I realized that my parents may have meant it differently. Maybe I was a miracle baby not because I survived through having hydrocephalus, but rather because I live with hydrocephalus. Without hydrocephalus, I would not be the person I am today.
