For hours and hours we played, but I was arrogant not to take a break. It was a tie game. Three to three. The orange, bouncy balls were swaying through the wind and were hitting the very thin hoop, but not yet going in. My name is Herbert, and I was playing a three on one game with my dad and my friends. Ten seconds on the clock.  My heart is racing, as the adrenaline in my blood rushed through my body. Five seconds on the clock. “Herbert, heads!” The ball gets passed to me. Three seconds on the clock. I get ready to shoot. “Hurry up, time’s almost up!” Two seconds remaining, I shoot. The game ends. The ball, glistening in the sun, finally goes in the basket and my friends and I win the game.
“Yes, we won!” my friends say estatically and my mom gets a towel for my dad, everyone turns around to congratulate me, but all they see is a body, limp on the ground vomiting on the basketball court. My arrogance had finally caught up to me.
“Everyone, stand back!” my dad yells and everyone looks at me in disgust as they see the yellow phlegm come out of my body.
“Oh no!” my mom yells and seeing as there was nothing to do, she calls 911. “ My boy might be dying!” she exclaims. Soon after, the noisy ambulance, going through all the stop lights, finally reaches my house and two medics holding a carrier pick me up and put me in the ambulance.

“Kid, are you okay?” they ask, and a little “no” comes out of my mouth. Two doctors diagnose me with high tech scanners and say that I had the simple but severe case of dehydration. The hospital members carry me into my bed and I go to sleep. Finally, assuming that my dehydration was gone, I get up from my dreadful bed and I decide to eat breakfast, oatmeal and orange juice. However, as I start to eat, I start to feel a little nauseous and I go back to sleep. Anyhow, with lunch, I wake up, I try to eat a bite, and then I throw up. Again it happens with dinner. I go to sleep, but then I vomit at five in the morning, so my dad decides to stay awake with me until breakfast, until he realizes that it is time to take me to the hospital.
A while later, as I walk into the hospital, the doctors say,
“take off your shoes,” Then they start to weigh me, but as I look down onto the weighing machine, it says I weigh thirty pounds! I am immediately taken to the emergency room, and the doctors start examining me on the hospital bed. “How are you feeling?” one of the doctors ask kindly.
“I feel okay,” I say back. They locate one of my veins by feeling around my arm with their hands and give me an injection. At first, I didn’t feel anything, but then I start to get a headache, which made me want to sleep. “I don’t feel good,” I state. “I feel like like I have a huge headache. I just want to go to sleep.”
“It’s probably because we gave you anesthesia.”
“What is anesthesia?”
“Anesthesia is a gas that we give to ou…” I slowly start to fall asleep but just before my eyes close, I noticed on the left side of my hospital bed there was a container on the side with a tube. As my eyes lingered and trailed along the tube, I found out that it went through my body in the
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injection that the doctors had given to me. Abruptly, again I  realize why I was here and I start feeling some pain in my arm. As the pain starts circulating in my body, I started to feel pain in places everywhere around my body. Suddenly, I had an unusual urge to start screaming..
“AHHHHHHHH!” I yell. Many doctors swiftly rush into my room. They asked me impatiently where the pain had started so they could examine it. As I yelled “EVERYWHERE,” they called my dad and asked him if they should take an xray of my hand,
“Hello, Mr. Pitta, your son appears to be screaming in pain, and we want to find out the source of pain!” the doctor rapidly says. “If I could have your permission, could we take an xray of your son’s arm?” “Please answer quickly because there is a possibility that your son might die.”
“Anything to make my son better,” Mr. Pitta replies. They quickly wrapped my arm with some material (Later I find out that the material was there to help protect my skin cells) and scan it. They later see that the needle had gone in too far because and it went even farther because I kept moving. They slowly removed the pin, and for the next half an hour or so, all I felt was relief.
“Ahhhhhhh…” I say with relief, “I feel so much better.”
“Is it okay if we can put another injection in your arm?”
“I guess so…” and the doctors quickly inject another pin in my body. They give me a popsicle and I slowly drift into sleep. As I start to fell asleep, I look at the clock and it says 3:00. I realize that I had a piano class and that my parents had to call my piano teacher and say that I wasn’t coming or else they wouldn’t get their money back, but I didn’t have the energy to tell the doctor. I slowly linger to sleep and hope that I would feel better when I wake up, but when I look at my arm, I see that it is bulging from where the injection was, but the doctors wrapped
my arm with a cast of some sort. Scared, again I try to call the doctor, but I didn’t have the strength, so I close my eyes and go to sleep. As I woke up, I could see my parents leaning over the bed, and
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my brother Harold saying, “Can I have his room if he doesn’t make it?” My mom sees my smile and realizes that I feel better.
“Harold it’s time to talk about manne…” My mom says as she and Harold go into another room. My dad also realizes that I am better and tells the doctor who was with me for the whole night (now catching up on sleep). He tells the doctor and the doctor gives my dad a paper with what to do next time if this ever happens again and how to prevent it. Happily, we head home and discuss about what we were going to do that day.