【美本申请优秀文书系列】说明一个曾经对你有重要影响的人,并描述他/她对你产生了怎样的影响,美国留学顾问Lilly微信公众号文章

学生背景介绍

人在经历重大困难或者挫折的时候，例如生病，总会给自己带来很深远的影响。Gianna是一个艺术特长生，她曾多次获得高中的艺术奖项，是校报的摄影编辑，音乐学院的钢琴手，歌手和铜管乐器演奏者。

标准化成绩

SAT: 阅读770 数学690

SAT II: 文学770 数学I 750 数学II 650

GPA: 4.44

阿默斯特学院 (候补)

布朗大学 (候补转录取)

卡尔顿学院 (录取)

科尔比学院 (录取)

玛卡莱斯特学院 (录取)

斯基德莫尔学院 (录取)

史密斯学院 (录取)

塔夫斯大学 (录取)

华盛顿圣路易斯大学 (录取)

威尔士利学院 (录取)

威廉姆斯学院 (候补转录取并确认入读)

申请结果

傅老师点评之

美本申请优秀文书分享

Essay Topic: Indicate a person who has had a significant influence on you, and describe that influence.

Within the prison of room 216B, I curled up under a flimsy hospital blanket, flanked by my teary eyed mother and an ever-present nurse. Clenched teeth prevented puddles in my eyes from moistening parched cheeks. How could a body that I’d taken such good care of turn against me so suddenly?

“A classic presentation of insulin dependent diabetes.” My soul flung itself against the bars of the bed, attempting to escape the doctor’s words. Blood boiled through sugar soaked veins as I envisioned a life dominated by injections, schedules, and restrictions. What right did she have to assign a biological label to something that encompassed so much more than a malfunctioning organ? I resisted the urge to rip out my IV and throw it at her. Instead, I threw myself into the daily struggle of maintaining a quasi-normal metabolic state. Despite my efforts, it became increasingly clear that the human brain was never meant to play pancreas. I became convinced that it was no longer a question of “if” I would succumb such diabetic complications as blindness, kidney failure, and limb amputations, but “when.”

Enter Delaine. She had gotten my number through a friend of my mother’s, and suggested that I consider an insulin pump, a device that delivers insulin 24 hours a day through a tiny infusion line. I returned her call intending to disregard the advice. I didn’t want a constant reminder of my disease clipped to my waistband; I wanted people to leave me alone to contemplate my miserable future.

Fortunately, Delaine ignored my wishes. A diabetic for 16 years and a pump user herself, she had nothing but praise for the little machine. No more schedules, shots, or “diabetic diet.” Best of all, the improved control meant a reduced risk for complications. It wasn’t a cure, but I was convinced. Delaine was living proof that my diagnosis wasn’t a death sentence, and for the first time in months I felt hopeful. A week after I began pumping, we met in person over ice cream sundaes.

“How many carbohydrates are in this creation?” she asked, gesturing grandly toward her dish. I paused, wanting desperately to thank her for everything she’s done for me, to explain that the matted fur of my old teddy bear had finally recovered from the endless nights I ‘d spent sobbing into his stomach.

I wanted her to know that she had transformed my perception of diabetes so much that I would no longer give it up. I've watched her use her illness to connect with people and offer them encouragement, and I want to help others the same way. Last week. I overheard a woman mention her newly diagnosed husband. I've never been an extrovert; words don't have a particular flair when escaping from my mouth into the ears of strangers. Yet there I stood, offering support and advice to a person in need. She's taught me to enjoy every moment because there are no guarantees; I refuse to have any regrets if this illness becomes stronger than I am. She is a master weaver, creating a blanket of kindness that will warm me forever.

Perhaps I should give her this essay, because I still haven't figured out how to tell her that. How do you make someone understand that she is responsible for turning your life around? As I was about to make an attempt, the waitress approached.

"Is everything . . . all right?"

I tried to recollect my thoughts, but they had conveniently escaped me. Our server must have wondered what was so intriguing about the ice cream that it warranted such intense scrutiny. As I looked down to program 9.3 units of insulin. I laughed. Another thing that I couldn't explain! Only the owner of a translucent blue back lit, beeping pancreas would analyze the carb content of a double fudge sundae before diving in spoon-first.