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​​ It was a normal spring day in April; the strong scent of florals could be smelt, and the dewy grass could be felt as the water seeped into my shoes and then into my socks.​ As I went to school that day, I figured the day was going to be like another typical day. I drove home after what felt like an eternity at school. Stomach grumbling, I immediately went to the kitchen to find something to eat and found a variety of prepared foods from home. My mom had cooked a vast selection of Filipino foods for my little siblings and me to eat. I grabbed pancit, a classic Filipino stir-fried rice noodle dish, as well as chicken adobo, and put it on my plate. I chowed down my food in an instant and it was reminiscent of the food I ate as a little boy. However, I felt a food coma coming. So, I headed back to my small bedroom and laid down on my bed. Unknowing of what was to come, I fell asleep due to pure exhaustion. Four hours later, around 10 o’clock, I suddenly woke up, sweating and writhing in immense pain from an illness that would change my life.

I woke up in the middle of the night from what felt like someone was twisting all of my organs. I thought nothing of it at first, just a terrible stomachache. I was also hesitant to call my parents, as my family’s financial situation was tight. After all, my family and I are immigrants from the Philippines. I went to my medicine cabinet and drank Pepto-Bismol and returned to my bed. But before I could fall asleep, the pain had worsened. Now, it felt like my insides were getting ripped apart. I called my parents, who were two hours away from home, to come back immediately and then proceeded to explain what was happening. Unhinged from my pain, my parents thought nothing of it but still agreed to take me to the hospital.

Once I had gotten in my parents’ car, I sat and waited until we reached the hospital. Every time I glanced out the car window, we were maybe a few minutes away from my house, even though it felt like half an hour. I had regurgitated three times throughout the car ride, due to the pain in my stomach. Finally, after what felt like decades, we had reached the hospital. However, my nightmare was far from over.

My parents walked up to the medical receptionist and explained what I was going through. I was then instructed to sit down and wait for someone to call my name in the emergency room. I thought to myself, “Surely it’s not going to be a long wait”. I looked around the waiting lobby as I waited for my name to be called and saw many kids complaining and whining about their flu. Considering the severity of my situation, I imagined the wait would be short. Yet, these children’s names were being called out before mine. The wait was long, and I tried everything I could to distract myself from the war that took place in my body. Thirty minutes passed and I was eventually guided into a large room with many beds. After I was told to lie down on a bed, I was told to wait for a doctor to become available. Yet again I was told to wait.

I fidgeted with my fingers and tapped my feet progressively faster as I heard the clock tick. Again, I scanned the room to find an escape from the pain but to no avail. Every footstep that came toward the door, I prayed would be the doctor coming to ease the pain. Finally, I saw the door swing open, but it was just a nurse and a mysterious man coming in to check up on me and take blood samples. The nurse extended her hand toward me to give me a pill of ibuprofen to reduce my pain and I swiftly took the pill in an attempt to contain the pain. Then, the mysterious man took two large blood samples, which took many attempts. Soon, the nurse and man left around 11 o’clock, and yet again I played the waiting game.

Around midnight, an old man and a young man walk into the room. The old man I identified to be the doctor and the young man was his assistant. The doctor asked me general questions and touched my entire body to locate the source of discomfort. He then explained to me that from my blood samples, he was able to conclude that an infection was present somewhere, as there was a high amount of white blood cells. The doctor then gave me two options: be sent home with many steroids and meds or stay at the hospital and discover what was going on. After going through torture, I thought the choice was clear, to find the root cause of the pain. So, I changed into a hospital gown and then was put through a CT scan. Afterward, I returned to the large room with many beds. Because I was staying at the hospital, the doctor put an IV on my arm, which took many attempts and ended up bruising my left arm. The doctor and assistant ended up leaving after some time and advised me to rest. Before I was able to fall asleep, another nurse and technician came in. This time, the nurse came in to take my vitals and the technician came in to make sure I was properly hooked to the machines. Another medical professional comes in and takes another blood sample from me. They then tell me that they require a blood sample every few hours. However, all of this information went through one ear and out the other. “It’s been a long day. I just want to rest”, I thought to myself. Eventually, everybody left, and I fell asleep instantly.

The day was fresh, and the sun had risen, I was awake. However, I woke up to another nurse trying to take my blood sample. Also, the pain was still apparent but was slightly suppressed due to the medications I was given. I was told by the nurse that I was not allowed to eat or drink anything for the day. The only way I could receive water was through the IV. Later, she left, and I spent the rest of my day watching T.V. and occasionally getting my blood tested. My friends had also called me to check up on me, which made my heart warm. The entire time my abdomen was still aching, and I had trouble breathing. The following day, I was introduced to the friends that had caused me to be so miserable. A gastroenterologist diagnosed me with chronic colitis as well as norovirus. I was told I would be able to eat, but only soft foods for a few days. Upon hearing this, a little grin came onto my face. I was given ice cream, and it was gone in an instant. I was also given laxatives since the doctors required a stool sample. But the rest of the night was spent the same as the second and then I fell asleep.

I woke up on my fourth day at the hospital and I received good news, after what felt like constant misfortunes. Finally, after three horrible nights of absolute suffering, I was discharged from the hospital. I had finally withstood a place where I felt the lowest. Nevertheless, the medical professionals, friends, and family made it bearable. I let out a long sigh as I realized I would finally be able to come home. Then I let out another, realizing I needed to catch up on schoolwork. The hospital bill came out to a costly $25,000, which I still struggle to pay off to this day. Throughout my days spent in the hospital, and even now, the pain persists but is a little more bearable. I also must be cautious of what I eat or else I could end up in the hospital again. It was a terrible experience, but I have learned to live with it and adapt. I now attend college and live a new “normal” day for me.