One hot summer day at my grandparent’s lake house when I was eight, I had this really cool idea to have a splash contest with my dad. My plan was to run as fast as I can down the pier, jump as high as I can, and do a splashy canon ball jump. As I ran excitedly, something sharp jabbed into the bottom of my left foot. At that moment, I fell to the ground crying because the pain was unimaginable, and my foot was bleeding profusely. My dad rushed over, picked me up, walked up the hill and brought me inside to my mom and grandma. They had one look at my foot and saw a long piece of wood embedded inside my skin and thought that it would be good idea to take me the emergency room. The word hospital scared me out of my mind, I had never been there before and thought things were really bad. My mom was there every step of the way holding my hand and explaining everything to me so I could understand. The doctor told me that there was only one thing to do, which was the soak my foot four times daily and wait for the wood to come out. Taking out the wood would be contraindicated since the open wound would be prone to infection. I spent the rest of the vacation sitting inside soaking my foot. My grandparents, mom, dad and brother were with me the whole time making sure that I had fun while distracting me from the pain. They made my favorite dinner; hamburgers and let me watch movies over and over again, and most importantly instead of going to the amusement park, Indiana Beach, they all stayed home with me to have a bonfire. The piece of wood finally shot out of my foot a couple of weeks later after a foot soak as my mom read me a story. During this experience, and many others my family has been with me every step of the way. This is why I believe my family is always going to be there for me.
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