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Personal Narrative-Sacrifice

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Personal Narrative-Sacrifice
The night grew dark, cold, and lonesome. I took a hot shower and prayed for my health. Midafternoon the next day, I heard a bold knock on my door. “Come in,” I uttered exuberantly. A tall, husky man wearing a white lab coat entered my room, followed by a gust of cold air. My eyes instantly spotted “Surgeon” on his name tag. I uneasily anticipated the doctors’ decision that I was going to need to have surgery.
After introducing himself, using his ice-cold hands, he palpated my abdomen. I perspired as he began to inform me on the function of the gallbladder and two surgical techniques that can remove it. Much to my surprise, he stated, “I have excellent news; your gallstones are not blocking any ducts, nor is there fluid surrounding it; hence,

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