50 Harvard Essays

Essays are for reference only. Do NOT copy or imitate anything! 
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But I had not been joking. It was my wrist they were going to be working on. I 
thought that entitled me to watch. Anyhow, I had never seen an operation and was 
fascinated by the idea of someone being able to sew a tendon back together. I had 
this image of a doctor pulling out the needle and thread and setting to work, 
whistling. Perhaps subconsciously I wanted to supervise the operation, to make 
sure that all the little pieces were sewn back into the right places (admittedly not a 
very rational thought since I wouldn’t know by sight if they were sewing them 
together or tearing them apart). I understood the doctor’s fear that I would panic 
and mess up the operation. Still, I wanted to watch. I felt it would give me a degree 
of control over this injury that had come to dominate my life without permission. 
Unfortunately, the final decision was not mine to make and the surgery was to go 
unrecorded by my eyes, lost in the memories of doctors who perform these 
operations daily. 
The Door opened and I looked up, tingling with hope and apprehension. In response 
to the nurse’s call a fragile elderly lady in a cashmere sweater and flowered scarf 
was wheeled towards The Door by her son. As she passed me I overheard her say, 
“Let’s rock and roll.” The words echoed in my ears and penetrated my heart. As I 
watched her disappear beyond The Door, I silently thanked her for the sudden dose 
of courage she had unknowingly injected in me. If she could do it, I could do it. I was 
next and before too long I was lying on a gurney in a room filled with doctors. I told 
the anesthesiologist that I did not want to be put to sleep, even though a curtain hid 
the actual operation from my sight. I said “Hi” to Dr. Melone an, as the operation 
began, sang contentedly along with the Blues Brothers. 
ANALYSIS 
Chronicling an intimate moment or other personal experience requires particular 
attention and care in the essay-writing process. An author must be conscious that 
he or she creates an appropriate sense of balance that at once captures the reader 
while allowing for a sense of genuine personal reflection to show through. To be sure, 
the risk of turning the reader off with overly personal details or unnecessarily deep 
conclusions is a constant threat. However, “In the Waiting Room” reflects a 
successful attempt at convincing the reader that the author’s wrist surgery merits 
his or her attention. Although unfocused, this work demonstrates that an essay 
about an otherwise insignificant topic can in fact be insightful and even touching. 
By establishing a strong sense of tension at the beginning of the essay, “In the 
Waiting Room” succeeds where other personal reflection works often falter. The 
author does not begin with a topic sentence or other device that states the essay’s 
point right away. To do so in this sort of essay would be to make the piece too much 
like a “what-I-did-last-summer” narrative. Instead, the reader is kept in suspense 
until the second paragraph of the piece of that which is causing the author’s angst. 
Only then does the author spell out that it is his impending wrist surgery – and not 

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