There was a daily ritual of pain and suffering that interrupted the events of my life with annoying frequency. Every morning, the doctor drew blood from my heel for a test and tubes went in and out of me.
This experience was repeated throughout my life as I had repeated illnesses some of which may be linked to the activities surrounding my birth and subsequent care in the hospital. I was hospitalized throughout kindergarten, and limited to a bed for long a period. I was too weak to do anything. The life of a normal child was not mine; all I had were my dreams to comfort me and give me a sense of hope. Where other children could go outside and play, I could not. Dreams became a necessary escape and provided me with the freedom that was not...
Within me, there was a distinct and powerful desire to contribute to society. No one expected me to survive the signs all pointed to an early demise, but I had faith in myself. In my bed, I closed my eyes and dreamed of living. I dreamed of dancing to my grandmother's music box, of proudly posting my artwork on the refrigerator, of laughing with my family and spending time with my friends. I dreamed of going to school, making new friends, and falling in love. My dreams became the vehicle for experiencing the world and the fuel for my constant hope. Dreams however could
