Some events greatly define our lives and leave a large imprint, regardless of how significant or insignificant they can seem at the time. It is often the unexpected events, though, that change us most as people. What I have learned is that our response to events, no matter how traumatic they are, is what ultimately defines and shapes us as people. My own life was defined by one of these unforeseen events that occurred when I was eight-years old. I skipped home, as I always did, on this beautiful, Friday afternoon. It was a good day until I saw my mother at the front door bawling her eyes out and frantically heading towards her car. She instructed me to go to my neighbor's house until she came back from the hospital where my dad had been admitted. I remember that my heart dropped when I heard the words "hospital" and "dad." Hours passed by, and I could not sleep, wondering how my dad was doing: Was he breathing? Was he unconscious? Was he even alive? Nobody would tell me what was going on and, frankly, I was terrified to find out. The next day came, and my brother and I were finally allowed to go to the hospital to see my dad. The smell of sickness, combined with the helplessness, confusion, fear, uncertainty, and anxiety I felt flooded my senses as I entered. The nurse led my brother and me to a room and told us to take a seat. This was the moment that I have been curious about for the past few hours. The nurse showed us a doll. Not a normal doll, but a doll that was covered in wrappings and band-aids and whose eyes were closed. She told us that before going in to see our dad, we needed to be prepared. She said he would be asleep, and that if we tried talking to him he would not respond. She told us this was called a coma and that he is going to be in it for a while, but she would not say exactly how long. Even though the point of the nurse showing us the doll was to calm us, I was more terrified after hearing her talk.