Maria Monica Ana A.

Mendoza
BSEd- ENG 1
That Name
For 8 years, I have been diagnosed with seizure and asthma attacks. It was difficult, I know. My
family was not aware that I was ill from the very beginning of my childhood, until we went to the
hospital. My parents were very protective of me. They managed the dine from morning until evening,
they made sure my food was not mixed with preservatives, they made sure that I don’t go out of the
house, curtains in my room are in dark shade, and regulates my sleeping time. While they are away to go
to school, I am in my bed to sleep. My back hurts for the reason I have nothing to do and just have to go
to sleep. That happened while I was in 6 th grade and 3rd year in junior high school. I was absent for almost
three quarters and always missed the fun in the classroom. When I got back, it seems that I am a stranger
to my classmates. I was lonely. But what discomforts that I really feel is when my parents cry in their
room. They loan big amount of money just to be hospitalized and buy medicines for me. My siblings goes
to school while I stay at home. And sometimes, my memories about them are slowly drifting away and
when it came back, I was unaware that I forgot them. It’s a sore in my heart that I am forgetting them, and
I was scared. My family, relatives, and the school include me in their prayers every morning assembly.
My body has weakened, my face was slimmer, I was taken a lot of blood every hour and every single day,
doctors and nurses came to my room for check-up while I just lie on bed. Once, I prayed and ask God,
“Why? Why me? What did I do wrong?” I questioned Him why was I even born on this earth and just to
be sick. I know it was amiss but I just don’t know what to do to help my family and recover in an instant.
I wanted to be free—free from all protection, medicines, injections, rules and free from this sickness.
I thought about giving up yet part of me still wants to fight. If I could guess, it was my guardian
angel. Reminiscing about it, it was a staunch of despair. I almost lose hope, but then it dawned on me, my
name. I began to think of my name similar to someone of a saint—Saint Monica. That’s right. I was given
that name by a sister and two Christian Living teachers in my previous school. St. Monica was a very
faithful mother who believes that her son, St. Augustine, will be good, obedient, courteous and faithful to
God. I want to believe once more that I could be healed, I want to believe that God is still watching over
me yet again, I want to believe that many are waiting for me to come back at school for a second time,
And I want to believe that my family still believes in me. From that point on, I started believing, I fought
my fears and stopped thinking about losing, and believing that I can do it because I am Monica, that is my
name. I consider this as a challenge to me and my family as to how faithful and strong we are, and the
power of prayer. Until this day, I am still diagnosed with seizure and asthma. But it was different from
before. I started to go out and live with my ambitions, I have friends who supports me and helped me
achieve my dreams, I have family who stays with me along my journey, and I have God who listens to
my happiness, cries and struggles in life. Doctors expressed that in closer years, I would be restored to
health. I am a living example of courage, faith and love. Life is not what it seemed what we imagined—
it’s a struggle to how we live and that’s what makes it beautiful, and so does my name. Eight years was an
agony, misery and suffering but, it was real happiness that I found. I am Monica and I am an inspiration
of bravery, fidelity and the guts to never giving up.