The most freighting moment of my life took place on a typical sunny high school day, when I received a phone call at the front office, that my mother was in the hospital, and on the verge of death from a stoke. I rushed to the office phone, and received information from my Uncle Ronny, that my mother was in the I.C.U. at the nearby Kaiser Permanente. Tears were filling my eyes as I hung up the phone and raced to my car. During this time, the doctors brought in the hospital priest, and informed my father that my mother may not make it. The doctor asked my father to contact all immediate family as soon as possible.
             When I arrived to the hospital, I was the first family member besides my Father to get there. The doctor then asked my Dad to make a decision on which treatment he thought would be the best for my Mother. One of the medication treatments was fairly new, but was known to be extremely strong, and had a good chance of causing massive brain damage. The other was the regular medication treatment, which is generally used. My father went on to choose the regular treatment. The doctors pushed my fragile unconscious mother into a different section of the hospital to treat her. As I sat there across from the hospital chapel outside of the I.C.U, I said to myself, "This morning could have been the last time I spoke with her." I put my head down and prayed to God for my mother to survive. I reflected on all the hell and stress I caused her, and I felt responsible for her situation. A stranger beside me placed a hand on my shoulder, and filled me with enlightenment with his calm steady words. "Everything is going to be alright, your Mom's going to make it!" The man gave me a warm smile and prayed with me before he left.
             Soon after, my Grandparents and sister arrived to the hospital filled with unanswerable questions. My Grandfather has been through six hip operations, as
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