Prompt 1
Whenever I walk to the park on Sundays, I see children with their mothers, fathers, siblings, and grandparents. Whenever I see a grandparent playing with their grandchild, I cringe with sadness because I could not experience that same feeling of elation. I had little time to spend with my grandfather not only because he lived thousands of miles away, but also in his late 70's he was diagnosed with psoriasis. Normally, my grandfather was very physically active; the last time he came to visit, his skin became mottled with brown specks and flaked to the ground like snow.
I am not the only one who might have had to take care of his ailing grandfather, but that does not make the experience any more insignificant. When he first arrived he was drastically underweight, weighing a mere 90 pounds. The doctors, treating an incurable disease, prescribed him steroids in order to treat a handful of the symptoms. At first, the therapy seemed successful, with my grandfather becoming more active than he had been before. However, as the months ticked by, the family noticed a change in his behavior. His appetite decreased, his skin became gaunt and extremely sensitive to the sun, and depression set in. There were many days when I would bring food to his room only to find him sitting up in his bed, his blinds drawn, and him staring fixatedly at the wall ahead. It seemed as though the steroids that had seemed to work so well before had lost its potency.
My mother, a nurse, realized that my grandfather had developed a tolerance to the drug, and another prescription was needed. However, the knowledge on psoriasis now was different compared to 8 years ago. Steroids are the most effective form of medication, but there are also many long-term consequences. By the time my grandfather died, the steroids were doing more harm than good.
Since his death, I have been burdened with guilt. When my grandfather lived with us, I tried to avoid him as much as I could. Even thinking about somebody, especially somebody close to me, dying in the room next to mine was too much for me. Now, at the cusp of adulthood, I laugh at myself for being a coward. My culture, as well as myself, has always prized family as a major identity factor. Yet when it came to the point that I had to test myself with how much of my world I actually adhered to, I failed. Still, I am not deterred; these reflections made me realize a truth that I would have never found out by myself. If I can achieve my dream of becoming a pharmacist, I can help others in a way that I did not do for my own family member. Hopefully, that success can lift the burdens in my mind and heart, and hopefully my grandfather, wherever he could be, can smile at me too.
Whenever I walk to the park on Sundays, I see children with their mothers, fathers, siblings, and grandparents. Whenever I see a grandparent playing with their grandchild, I cringe with sadness because I could not experience that same feeling of elation. I had little time to spend with my grandfather not only because he lived thousands of miles away, but also in his late 70's he was diagnosed with psoriasis. Normally, my grandfather was very physically active; the last time he came to visit, his skin became mottled with brown specks and flaked to the ground like snow.
I am not the only one who might have had to take care of his ailing grandfather, but that does not make the experience any more insignificant. When he first arrived he was drastically underweight, weighing a mere 90 pounds. The doctors, treating an incurable disease, prescribed him steroids in order to treat a handful of the symptoms. At first, the therapy seemed successful, with my grandfather becoming more active than he had been before. However, as the months ticked by, the family noticed a change in his behavior. His appetite decreased, his skin became gaunt and extremely sensitive to the sun, and depression set in. There were many days when I would bring food to his room only to find him sitting up in his bed, his blinds drawn, and him staring fixatedly at the wall ahead. It seemed as though the steroids that had seemed to work so well before had lost its potency.
My mother, a nurse, realized that my grandfather had developed a tolerance to the drug, and another prescription was needed. However, the knowledge on psoriasis now was different compared to 8 years ago. Steroids are the most effective form of medication, but there are also many long-term consequences. By the time my grandfather died, the steroids were doing more harm than good.
Since his death, I have been burdened with guilt. When my grandfather lived with us, I tried to avoid him as much as I could. Even thinking about somebody, especially somebody close to me, dying in the room next to mine was too much for me. Now, at the cusp of adulthood, I laugh at myself for being a coward. My culture, as well as myself, has always prized family as a major identity factor. Yet when it came to the point that I had to test myself with how much of my world I actually adhered to, I failed. Still, I am not deterred; these reflections made me realize a truth that I would have never found out by myself. If I can achieve my dream of becoming a pharmacist, I can help others in a way that I did not do for my own family member. Hopefully, that success can lift the burdens in my mind and heart, and hopefully my grandfather, wherever he could be, can smile at me too.
