I worked day shift and came into report that fateful day to hear about a dying patient I was assigned. Apparently, she was brought to the hospital from a nursing home because of uncontrolled pain. The doctor who admitted her was notorious for berating a nurse at a moment’s notice and was the head physician at the hospital and ruled the roost (so to speak) and was impossible to please – reportedly. The off-going nurse was giving me report, and it went something like this: “She is in there crying and squirming in pain.
He would be swollen, hooked up to a lot of machines, and unresponsive. I was even told by family members that I should not go in and should wait until the next day to see him. I did not care to listen to them and I followed my mom up to the room. We followed a short girl who smelled like flowers up the stairs, to the right, and up a fancy elevator with a bunch of buttons that seemed to go on forever.
The inferior lobe, lower part, of my left lung is scar tissue and I don’t get as much as oxygen as the “normal” person does. I spent a large amount of time in the hospital in an oxygen tent during the first few years of my life. The doctors put me on a transplant list, but, my mom argued with the doctors and told them that she didn’t want me to have a transplant. When I was three, I received a diagnosis of asthma. This new diagnosis led to more hospital time, more medications and more doctors informing my mom I needed a transplant, still, she resisted.
I never really fully cried, but I did loose a lot of sleep after my grandparents death. My mother was worried for a while because I would not sleep and my health was beginning to diminish. She ended up taking me to the doctor and they declared that I was suffering from insomnia. There was no explanation, but I knew that I was still grieving my grandparents, it was the only way that I could; since no one would know that I would cry in the middle of the night. About a couple of months later, everything was beginning to go back to normal, I still do not have the courage to speak about my grandmother or grandfather without shedding a tear.
Haunted Blade I never really believed in things being haunted or anything supernatural at all in my life, at least not until a few nights ago. Right now I’m writing this on a piece of toilet paper with my own blood and a needle I stole from one of the nurses here at the mental ward. They’re going to lock me up forever once they find me.
I’m on the ground while right next to me i see a puddle of blood rushing towards my bike, which is now in two pieces. As i reach for my phone to call for help i suddenly black out. Next thing i know I’m awake in a hospital lights all around me and people talking in a serious like tone. And then i black out again and when i awake for the second time i realize I 'm in a hospital bed with an iv bag in my arm and bandages around my waist. As a nurse rushes in and speaks in a calm quiet voice she tells me the news, I 've broken my spine and i will be paralyzed from the waist down and will never ride again..
When he finally made it to an available nurse he barley said in between breaths “Room...134... she...her heart monitor...stopped.” She heard this and immediately ran towards her room. Tony barely could keep up with her and heard her say “Doctors we have a situation in room 134 I need assistance right now!”They finally made it to the room and declared her dead at the spot.
When I opened my eyes, no one was actually there. This was in between sleep, dream and waking up…weird. So, the following day, I still had the severe headache. My mother had decided to take me to the doctor.
On the bright side, I awoke up to smiling faces and having my loved ones gathering around me. Despite all that pain I was in the hospital workers and my family made it just like home to me. As I previously said I was in the hospital for a week due to physical therapy daily and draining the toxic fluids from my body to make sure it wouldn’t affect my health in the near future. Also, I had a very hard time getting up on my own and walking. It was a struggle to even use the bathroom by myself.
Suffering from many injuries, her spinal cord was cracked. Sasha cried when the doctor told her she would never be able to walk again. She open her eyes to a world filled with more struggles then her last one. She worked for weeks to try to see if her legs would ever work. After careful examination she was released from the hospital.
Except it did not go away. Next thing I knew I was at the doctor for stomach pain and chest pain in December. That night I was rushed to Arkansas Children’s Hospital, in fear that I had appendicitis. Once again, I found myself listing off symptoms. “Stomach pain, fatigue, chest pain, nausea dizziness,” I would list off to them.
To whom it may concern: Thomas A Hamilton was unable to attend school on 01/20/16. He was taken to his doctor’s office over the holiday break for chest pain, his doctor did many test to make sure it was not his heart and thank God it was not, the pain Thomas was experiencing was due to Asthma and chest congestion as a result of the changes in the weather, Thomas was experiencing these same pain again yesterday and was unable to attend school.
As I was sitting in the pediatric waiting room in the St. Cloud hospital, I could not have been more terrified. I was a little frustrated that I was the pediatric side of the hospital because the room was filled with children with about 4 other teenagers, at most. I would scan the room just trying to figure out if any of them had the same problem as me, or how bad of conditions that these children could have. It had only taken about thirty minutes for them to call my name, even though there were others that had been waiting much longer than I had. Which looking back it had made sense that none of those other children were going through what I was.
The Crucible, written in 1953 by Arthur miller is a story of those convicted and killed through false accusations in Salem during a time of many who broke laws to protect the ones they love. John proctor, the main character is convicted of witch craft and the story follows his journey to death among many others. In The Crucible, Abigail Williams learns that once you have power, the best way to keep it is to use it. I learned this lesson through a hard part of my life when my uncle was dying of cancer and this urged to go out and help others. Today I still use that to help me make better decisions and help others when I couldn’t help the ones I love the most.