I think my mom knew. Looking back on it, she already was ten steps ahead of everyone, especially me. She already knew what has coming, but she was holding out hope that maybe, just maybe, this time was different, even if all the obvious signs were there. I wish someone would have prepared me for the disappointment, but ignorance is bliss, right?
Growing up, asthma was a part of my life. Unfortunately, I had to accept and live with this everyday. That meant spending all my time in and out of the doctor’s office making sure I didn't even catch the slightest cold; so of course winter was the time of year I dreaded the most. In elementary school, I got to watch all the kids in my class get all bundled up in their snow gear and spend recess building huge forts and perfect little snowmen on the playground; while I had to spend my recesses inside with my teacher. While I was waiting, I would sit in the school’s main office and pretend to color Christmas pictures of reindeer, read my favorite Junie B. Jones books, or attempt to finish my math homework. Little did they know, I was secretly eavesdropping on the all the teachers that would come through and complain how the printer was jammed, or how their students were misbehaving. It’s funny how easily we pick up habits without even knowing. This was the first time I realized that I was different from my classmates. It was a difficult time for me because I had no one at school that could relate to what I was going through. Looking back now, this would be one of the many challenges I would overcome. Sadly, those were the doctor’s orders. So when I got sick that winter, I don't know why I thought that I could avoid the inevitable.

I remember swinging my legs back and forth on the waiting table, anticipating the news that would determine whether I would be staying in the hospital for awhile. I knew that my cold wasn't getting any better, but couldn't they let me off just this one time if I promised to stay inside and take all my medicine? I remember thinking, even if they tell me I have to go, they can’t make me stay. Although they will never admit it, I think they enjoy sending me to the hospital. Don’t they realize how miserable it is being hooked up to machines and being poked constantly with needles? I wish they could just put themselves in my shoes for once.
“Mom, do you really think they will make me go back?” I asked.
“I don’t want to get your hopes up, so I just won’t say anything.”
“That doesn't mean there isn't a chance though! Maybe they will just give me some more antibiotics and send us home, right?
“Don’t get your hopes up.” she repeated.
Before I knew it the door swung open and I was praying my doctor would just let me go home out of sympathy, but sadly that’s not how things work.
“I've got bad news, you’re leaving tonight.”
Those words broke my heart as my doctor just confirmed my worst fears.
“I don’t feel that bad anymore! I promise!” I said, pleading, trying to make a case on why I shouldn't have to go.
“I know but we need to make sure you don’t get any worse, okay? I’m really sorry.” I was right. I knew they were doing this on purpose the whole time. There I was, sitting with my mom in the doctor’s office, clearly disappointed by the news that we would have to spend two weeks stuck in the hospital. I didn't get much time to process the news before I had to call my dad to tell him the bad news.
“Hi dad. They said I have to leave tonight for the hospital. I really don’t want to go. You can tell them no, right?” I said trying not to cry over the phone.
“It’s going to be alright, I promise. They know you don't want to go, but they are going to make you feel a lot better. Would you please hand the phone to your mom?” I handed the phone over and tried to listen to their conversation and understand what they were saying by the tone of their voices. When my mom hung up the phone I knew I had no choice but to go.
The hospital gave us very little time to go back home and gather up all my clothes and toys that I thought I would need to get me through the next couple weeks. It was bittersweet to go back home and think about how I wouldn't be returning for awhile.  The entire car ride was silent on our way to the hospital. I wonder how long I’ll be here? Will anyone miss me at school? What if I have to share a room? I felt like I was being disconnected from the world and by the time I got out everything would be completely different from how I remembered it. 
Pulling into the hospital was one of the worst feelings I have ever experienced. My nerves got the best of me and I couldn't stop my whole body from shaking. I grabbed my mom’s hand and walked into the hospital by her side.
“You’re going to stay with me right?”
“Of course I will, I am going to stay right next to you, you’re going to do fine.” I just nodded my head, I was numb to everything going on around me. Once, I got my IV in and I was settled into my room, I couldn't help but think about how much I missed being home with all of my family. Knowing I wouldn't be waking up in my own bed, getting ready to go to school to see all my friends, or just spending time with my family, really hit me hard.
My experience of being in and out of the hospital, have changed my life is so many different ways. Every year as I get older, I become more and more thankful that I had to face adversity so early on in my life. I have learned to be thankful for the good, and not dwell on the past. I am a strong believer that everything happens for a reason, and every disappointment brings another reward.