I have to throw away the books I’ve drank, so my dad won’t find them and ask what happened to the words. What would I say “I drank the words cause I’m and ink drinker.” I definitely couldn't tell my dad. My dad is one of those who believe that only God's creatures have the right to roam this earth. If you're not believed to be a creature of god a mob comes a chases you for days trying to kill you. The last one the mob chased out a young girl who her friends claimed that she was a witch. They chased her through 3 different towns trying to find and kill her. Definitely don’t want that happening to me! Tomorrow is the first day of school. I’m scared something bad might happen.
My mother, father, sisters, teachers, and friends have always told me I 'm a bit sensitive when talking about significant topics. This my pertain to racism, stereotypes, the LGBT community, and people with mental illnesses. Having experienced a fair number of mental illnesses myself, I know how people with the same type of situation may struggle to even get up from bed every morning. My sensitivity also magnifies how observant I am, which isn 't always a blessing. Sometimes I 'd be around a group of people and person A would make a racist joke about person B. Person B would give a hint of a frown for one second before covering it with a hefty laugh. I 've met a person who deals with schizophrenia, who loves to laugh and make jokes about even the topics that aren 't so funny. I 'd ask him why he felt the need to make a joke out of everything, and he answered "I 'm just doing what everyone else seems to be doing." That smacked me hard in the face.
Blood was everywhere, mom was screaming, sister was crying it was a disaster. After we left the hospital, nighttime approached, and we went home and everything was fine, except the giant cut in my mouth. Since I was a stubborn young kid, I did not listen to my parents, which made me almost have a speech issue. From this experience I learned to respect my parent, and that they are only trying to help. I had now viewed the world differently, respecting what my parents said, from then on out.
I was going to have to stay at the hospital for a few days until I was better. When I heard this, I got really scared. I had never spent the night in any place besides home before. Living in the hospital for three days wasn’t very fun. My mother stayed by my side day and night, while my other family members came to visit me occasionally.
I had never felt so sick or so scared before. The nurses acted fast, administering an antidote to the Tylenol through an IV in my arm. As soon as my mom heard the news, she dropped everything and made the two-hour drive to the hospital, arriving after midnight. I felt ashamed that she had to see me in that state, and guilty for how much I must have worried her. I spent my first two days there hooked up to machines and too weak to stand up for longer than a couple minutes at a time, and she stayed by my side.
Flu Shot Fright I never liked getting shots before. When I went to the doctors and when had to get one it usually took 3 nurses to hold me down. They usually had to talk to me and tell me to calm down. I’d really freak out. It was probably because of the 1 nurse who told me it’d only hurt a little.
The transition from eighth grade to ninth grade is one of the most difficult but unforgettable things a student must do in his adolescence. For me, it was filled with new opportunities of taking Ap classes and joining clubs. One of these cubs was Youth and Government (Y&G). For as long as I can remember my brother, Riad, has boasted about how amazing Y&G is and how it has changed his life. My brother is three years older then me, so as a freshman he was a senior in Y&G. I was so excited for the year due to the fact that i got to experience Y&G with my brother. Little did I know that senior year changed my brother.
As the day passed my fevers started, they were bad. The best thing that had happened was that they finally brought my Scarlett in the room with me to let her stay with me. My sickness started when my incision opened back up, they took me to the ER. Tests were getting done, they were taking me all over the place all I could do was cry. My family was going through a tough time, all they wanted were answers.
Lani: I was helping for someone’s project for COMM 245; I was in the video lab, in the studio. I was on campus and decided to contact everyone I knew who comes to the school. I remember I sent out a snap saying guys I think there is a shooting, be careful and then I started sending out individual texts to people making sure they were okay, like hey are you good? Stay out of an area. I didn’t know how many people were getting shot. I just knew it’s not good and that we have to be careful. At first, the campus was like we are unsure, just be careful, and then it took some time till I finally got an email that said stay on campus and were held there for about two hours, I just kept recording.
As a child, I often spent my time constantly in and out of my pediatrician’s office and at hospitals getting my blood drawn, checking for jaundice, and making sure that my Hepatitis B remain dormant in my liver. But all of the appointments spent with these people made me view them second to my parents: if my parents couldn’t fix my Hep B, then they would call their “handy-dandy friends” to fix me up. And I always thought it was so amazing that these unbelievable heroes could assuage human pain and disease with their bare hands, whether it was performing a breast biopsy to scribbling a prescription down on paper—I wanted to be just like them.
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.
It was a cold November morning in the valley of Cowan, when I fired my first shot. It was a smooth and clean feeling after I pulled the trigger. I than saw the deer hunker as the slug hit its side, and it began to run away from us. Dad, knowing I had made a good shot, still decided to jump out of the blind window to end the animals suffering. Unfortunately, when his foot caught, it was all over from then. Once, I was inside the blind and the next I was in the cold crisp air. I then saw Dad on the ground cursing himself for jumping through the window.