When I was 10 years old, my oldest sister, Alyssa, was diagnosed with ALS, which is a progressive neurodegenerative disease. After her diagnosis, I became the worst version of myself. I had never experienced someone so close to me being so sick. She was someone I looked up to my whole life; she was independent, strong-willed, and brave. It felt like a brutal and unfair death sentence. I became selfish and angry, and I acted out by disobeying my family and the adults around me. As time went on, my sister started to live with us, and along with my family, we learned to be caretakers. At first, I was annoyed by this. I saw her living with us as a burden. My room was taken over by her clothes, machines, and wheelchairs. However, as I got to spend more time with her, I appreciated being able to be around her and be there for her. I assisted by hooking her up to machines at night, dressing her, brushing her teeth, and feeding her through her feeding tube. Not only did I care for her physically, but also emotionally and intellectually. She became non-verbal quickly; however, I learned how to read cues and communicate without talking to her directly, which allowed me to understand what she needed or wanted. This could include rubbing her feet, doing the New York Times crossword puzzles, reading to her, and just spending time with her in whatever way I could. This went on until I was 14, and this experience changed the way I viewed my life. I had to mature for Alyssa so I could help her in her last few years. I changed from being an angry kid to someone almost accepting of the situation. I saw firsthand the importance of care, both physically and emotionally. I began to appreciate the organizations and caretakers who assisted her weekly. Medical professionals, meditation teachers, speech pathologists, and caregivers who were literally her arms and legs. She was a person who needed to move. She'd run marathons, hiked long distances, and skied, so she had a yoga specialist to help her satisfy her urge to move. I quickly realized how much assistance families of ALS patients needed and that not everyone receives the care that they deserve. So when my sister got diagnosed, my family and I started fundraising for the East Bay Walk to Defeat ALS. Being around such amazing professionals made me realize how important it is to help someone not just survive but also live in comfort. Watching my sister be diagnosed with a disease that has no cure, at such a young age, definitely took a toll on her mental health. I am glad I was there to aid her through each day. This changed the way I view the world and my life. Ultimately, this experience made me become a better person. Stepping up for her made me believe that I made her last year of life better, and that is something I would like to do for the rest of my life. I plan to major in public health or a health-related field because I don't just want to care for someone in the last few years of a patient's life, but also extend a life. While I haven't figured out what I want to do exactly, I would use the money to achieve the higher education I need to do what I want to do, to help others

When I was 10 years old, my oldest sister, Alyssa, was diagnosed with ALS, which is a progressive neurodegenerative disease. After her diagnosis, I became the worst version of myself. I had never experienced someone so close to me being so sick. She was someone I looked up to my whole life; she was independent, strong-willed, and brave. It felt like a brutal and unfair death sentence. I became selfish and angry, and I acted out by disobeying my family and the adults around me. Acting out made me appear to be a bad kid, but in reality, my life was changing, and there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening. As time went on, my sister started to live with us, and along with my family, we learned to be caretakers. At first, I was annoyed by this. I saw her living with us as a burden. My room was taken over by her clothes, machines, and wheelchairs. However, as I got to spend more time with her, I appreciated being able to be around her and be there for her. I assisted by hooking her up to machines at night, dressing her, brushing her teeth, and feeding her through her feeding tube. Not only did I care for her physically, but also emotionally and intellectually. She became non-verbal quickly; however, I learned how to read cues and communicate without talking to her directly, which allowed me to understand what she needed or wanted. This could include rubbing her feet, doing the New York Times crossword puzzles, reading to her, and just spending time with her in whatever way I could. This went on until I was 14, and this experience changed the way I viewed my life. I had to mature for Alyssa so I could help her in her last few years. I changed from being an angry kid to someone almost accepting of the situation. I saw firsthand the importance of care, both physically and emotionally. I began to appreciate the organizations and caretakers who assisted her weekly. Medical professionals, meditation teachers, speech pathologists, and caregivers who were literally her arms and legs. She was a person who needed to move. She'd run marathons, hiked long distances, and skied, so she had a yoga specialist to help her satisfy her urge to move. I quickly realized how much assistance families of ALS patients needed and that not everyone receives the care that they deserve. So when my sister got diagnosed, my family and I started fundraising for the East Bay Walk to Defeat ALS. Being around such amazing professionals made me realize how important it is to help someone not just survive but also live in comfort. Watching my sister be diagnosed with a disease that has no cure, at such a young age, definitely took a toll on her mental health. I am glad I was there to aid her through each day. This changed the way I view the world and my life. Ultimately, this experience made me become a better person. Stepping up for her made me believe that I made her last year of life better, and that is something I would like to do for the rest of my life. I plan to major in public health or a health-related field because I don't just want to care for someone in the last few years of a patient's life, but also extend a life. While I haven't figured out what I want to do exactly, I know that I will be treating, assisting, or helping people in need.

When I was 10 years old, my oldest sister, Alyssa, was diagnosed with ALS, which is a progressive neurodegenerative disease. After her diagnosis, I became the worst version of myself. I had never experienced someone so close to me being so sick. She was someone I looked up to my whole life; she was independent, strong-willed, and brave. It felt like a brutal and unfair death sentence. I became selfish and angry, and I acted out by disobeying my family and the adults around me. Acting out made me appear to be a bad kid, but in reality, my life was changing, and there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening. As time went on, my sister started to live with us, and along with my family, we learned to be caretakers. At first, I was annoyed by this. I saw her living with us as a burden. My room was taken over by her clothes, machines, and wheelchairs. However, as I got to spend more time with her, I appreciated being able to be around her and be there for her. I assisted by hooking her up to machines at night, dressing her, brushing her teeth, and feeding her through her feeding tube. Not only did I care for her physically, but also emotionally and intellectually. She became non-verbal quickly; however, I learned how to read cues and communicate without talking to her directly, which allowed me to understand what she needed or wanted. This could include rubbing her feet, doing the New York Times crossword puzzles, reading to her, and just spending time with her in whatever way I could. This went on until I was 14, and this experience changed the way I viewed my life. I had to mature for Alyssa so I could help her in her last few years. I changed from being an angry kid to someone almost accepting of the situation. I saw firsthand the importance of care, both physically and emotionally. I began to appreciate the organizations and caretakers who assisted her weekly. Medical professionals, meditation teachers, speech pathologists, and caregivers who were literally her arms and legs. She was a person who needed to move. She'd run marathons, hiked long distances, and skied, so she had a yoga specialist to help her satisfy her urge to move. I quickly realized how much assistance families of ALS patients needed and that not everyone receives the care that they deserve. So when my sister got diagnosed, my family and I started fundraising for the East Bay Walk to Defeat ALS. Being around such amazing professionals made me realize how important it is to help someone not just survive but also live in comfort. Watching my sister be diagnosed with a disease that has no cure, at such a young age, definitely took a toll on her mental health. I am glad I was there to aid her through each day. This changed the way I view the world and my life. Ultimately, this experience made me become a better person. Stepping up for her made me believe that I made her last year of life better, and that is something I would like to do for the rest of my life. I plan to major in public health or a health-related field because I don't just want to care for someone in the last few years of a patient's life, but also extend a life. I hope to use my degree in public health to go on to graduate school to pursue Occupational Therapy.

When I was 10 years old, my oldest sister, Alyssa, was diagnosed with ALS, which is a progressive neurodegenerative disease. After her diagnosis, I became the worst version of myself. I had never experienced someone so close to me being so sick. She was someone I looked up to my whole life; she was independent, strong-willed, and brave. It felt like a brutal and unfair death sentence. I became selfish and angry, and I acted out by disobeying my family and the adults around me. Acting out made me appear to be a bad kid, but in reality, my life was changing, and there was nothing I could do to stop it from happening. The average life span for someone diagnosed with ALS is 3-5 years. We were lucky enough to be with her for 5. She had to move back in part-time, and we became caretakers for her. This went on until I was 14, and this experience changed the way I viewed my life. I had to mature for Alyssa so I could help her in her last few years. I changed from being an angry kid to someone almost accepting of the situation. I saw firsthand the importance of care, both physically and emotionally. I am glad I was there to aid her through each day. This changed the way I view the world and my life. Ultimately, this experience made me become a better person. Stepping up for her made me believe that I made her last year of life better, and that is something I would like to do for the rest of my life.