I walked into the infant’s room and was immediately shaken. I found the little girl lying on her bed motionless, connected to an IV pole and various other devices that were sustaining her. One of the machines created a noise, almost akin to a hiss, followed immediately by an exhalation speaking of relief, as air rhythmically entered and exited the contraption. This machine was, in effect, breathing for the infant, as the child was incapable of doing so herself.
I approached the child hesitantly, but the nurse assured me that there was no reason to be apprehensive. She had an oxygen mask strapped around her head, with lines delivering fluids to and from her limbs. Another volunteer proceeded to sit her up and support her with both hands, while I made my best attempt to entertain the seemingly aloof infant with colorful toys and mobiles. And, to our amazement, the baby began to smile and laugh.
At that moment, I looked into her eyes and tried to comprehend what she was undergoing. She was born with physical limitations and would not be able to live a normal life, as she would be dependent on such machines. But at this moment, she was happy—she could forget about her pain and troubles, and I felt more at ease knowing that I was doing the little I could to support her.
The infant to whom I tended that day at the UCLA hospital was probably born diseased and even if she is to survive, she probably won’t be able to live a normal life. I, on the other hand, am blessed to be healthy and have the resources be able to attend a great university such as UCLA. With these gifts, as well as all the hard work my family and friends have put into supporting me and guiding my through life, I feel as though it is my obligation to make the most of all the opportunities I have to be great and to help those who are not as fortunate.
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