It was about one day out of every two weeks. My dad would have to come and visit me in the hospital. I had a bad knee since I was eight and here I was 12 and it would still hurt me. I did not know what to do. I would cry because I did not want my dad to have to leave work because he had to do it so often. I am the oldest of six kids so when my mom would have to take me to the hospital, she would have to call my grandmother who lived next door to us to come and sit with my other sisters while we were gone. Mom and me would go and sit at the hospital; we would wait for dad to come. When dad would get there he would sit with me so mom could go home with the kids and let my grandmother go home. This went on for four years continuously. Finally, I went on without the pain of my knee for about two months. My doctor called my mom to see if I was okay and she told him that I was fine. I had not complained in almost two months. My doctor was very happy to hear that I was doing better. I am just happy that my mom had medical insurance on me because that would have been very expensive.