Abuse In The Outside World-Personal Narrative

Carers in Oban house care home in Croydon were recorded in around 2012 to be ignoring bedridden 98-year-old Yvonne Grant cries for help for2 ½ hours despite her calling for assistance 321 times including 45 requests to be taken to the toilet. When a carer finally acknowledged her cries, she told Yvonne to use incontinence pads which was something that Yvonne wasn’t comfortable with doing. Staff then tried to make her walk to the toilet but when she was unable to; they dropped her roughly back on to the bed. Yvonne had been living in the care home since 2010 and during the last years of her life her family began to worry about the quality of care that she was receiving with staff ignoring any concerns that the family had. The family also stated that there was something incorrect with staffs attitudes and quality of nursing. Yvonne’s granddaughter Vanessa Evans hid a camera in her room on three occasions after concerns about bruising on Yvonne’s hands and making mistakes with medication. When the family revealed that they had been recording the abuse and neglect they stated that she gave up on life two days after. Yvonne died in January 2013 due to the lack of care she received. The family passed the video evidence on to the CQC who then launched an investigation.

Foolishly, I believe that perhaps I can fall asleep again if I try hard enough; and I spend the time trying to convince myself that if I bury my head in my pillow and cocoon myself in the sheets like a scared child, then maybe, just maybe, I can pretend like today never has to happen, and I can find comfort in sleep just a short while longer.

On Thursday January 26, 2017 I was absent due to the fact I had encountered with the stomach flu or also know as gastroenteritis, an infection of the stomach and intestines. The side effects are: nausea, vomiting, diarrhea, stomach pain, cramping, fever, and a headache. That morning I all of those side of effects and I could not get out of the toilet. Consequently, I am a commuter who lives thirty minutes away from school and it was impossible for me to go to even one class that day. I soon realized that I was getting worse throughout the day and needed to get medicine. My cousin Kristen had picked up medicine for me and made me a little better. Thankfully by Saturday I was fully recovered and I will continue to attend this class hopefully

“Teenagers may already know how to dial 911 it’s like we were born with it established into our minds already” said Mark, the speaker at our high school assembly. As he went on pointing out the basics; pick up the phone, hit the nine once and then the one twice and push call, if the line is busy you hang up and try again, Mark said a few things I have never been taught in my life. “Is the person you are calling for suicidal? Is the phone call for domestic violence? What if you are calling for someone you don’t know at all?” I learned when a suicidal person needs medical help you must comfort them and call 911 and keep an eye out to make sure they do not go through with their plan. When dealing with a domestic abuse situation you should always

I think if I was in a situation where I had a friend that was not a relative that was abusing alcohol I would first approach it indirectly. I would bring up someone that was a recovering alcoholic and the steps that they took to overcome the challenge. I would gave their reaction to this topic and see how open they were to talking about alcoholism. Since this person is my friend I would continue to be very delicate with my approach. If the friend seemed open to the idea that they may be struggling with a problem and appeared to want help I would recommend options. These would include limiting places where the consumption of alcohol is an option. Locating meetings, and recommending therapist and sponsors to my friend. I would leave the issue

Growing up, I lived in a small community where poverty was an issue. Within the low-income community, drugs, crime, and education lacked. There were many people unemployed, lacked health coverage, and financially unstable. One of the major issues in the community was the use of illegal drugs. The substances damaged people's lives, due to addiction. The drugs included heroin, marijuana, and cocaine; the list can go on and on. From future football players to basketball players, I watched all these superstars turned their lives upside down. I watched players that had the privilege to play for top universities lose their scholarships because of the use of illegal substances. I even watched one of my own, my uncle.

Betrayed, broken and beaten. Horrified to think how at one moment all in the world was peaceful, but then at the next moment it’s crashing down.

You fell asleep. Everyone everywhere was doing everything. Why couldn’t you keep up? Walls were built up between you and the people that loved you. In this reality, you had forgotten and lost the ability to even feel. The work dragged on and the pace dragged you back into an oblivion you didn’t know existed. You woke.

Residents at these two care homes have learning difficulties and physical disabilities. They were sent to the rooms against their will, as a form of punishment. The rooms were unfurnished with no heating and no toilet facilities. The rooms were known as the “quiet room” or the “garden room” residents were held in these bare rooms for hours or even overnight.

Domestic violence is a serious issue that affects many people. When I was a child I was exposed to it without even realizing the magnitude of the situation. Looking back at my childhood, those memories of the exposure haunt me the most. There is one specific event that comes to my memory when I look back. I remember the day so vividly and intensely.

A year prior I was physically abused by my ex which drove me to torment from Posttraumatic stress disorder. The memories of being physically abused was hard to adjust to. Following a year and I at long last started to see the PTSD signs with my new beau and I were going in Hawaii. He touched me in a way that brought flashbacks of the abuse I encountered. I immediately began crying and panicking. My lover had a go at comforting me, however the intrusive insights proceeding in my mind it wouldn 't allow me to feel comfort. I expected to check my surroundings and exhort myself that I was OK and that there was no indication of my ex here in Hawaii. It 's been a year since I 've been abused and my mind and body keeps on exploding in light of the fact that I neglected the takes note. I used to tell myself that I wasn 't restless or shocking of my ex, nonetheless I have as of late found that it was each of the a lie. I felt helplessness. Sometimes, I have flashbacks and awful dreams of the abuse. Which brings me to a feeling of isolation from my friends and family; sometimes I feel debilitated, peevish and hyperventilate. I used to feel repentant and used to blame myself for being abused. An instance of one of my PTSD symptoms is fondling motivated to keep a cordial relationship with my ex in light of fear of what may happen if I don 't do in that capacity. My relationship today with my new lover is progressing, be that as it may we encountered cruel fixes as a result of the truth

“A fourteen month old girl is arriving. It is a case of child abuse,” my pediatric resident says. My heart begins beating faster as this is my first case of child abuse and I do not know what to expect nor do I know what to do at this point. About an hour later, a girl with carrot-colored hair is rolled into the PICU, sitting quietly on a stretcher and not crying as I expected. As I get closer to her, I realize that I can barely see her eyes because they were raccoon-like, with black ecchymosis surrounding them. Examining her head, it felt as if I were playing with play-doh; I was able to feel my fingers making depressions from a very evident hematoma. As I continued to examine her, she held her arms out, asking to be carried. I started

As I progressed in middle school, teachers noted how distant I was with my peers. They did not see a child was in need, but one who was not engaged in class. They saw me as the problem. The school, in its wisdom, decided in a more clinical fashion, “I did not play well with others”. They sent me to therapy to find out why I, in their view, was not interested in making friends with my classmates. As a child who did not understand the social skills of children, I was put into a place devoid of anyone my age.

So, it is going to be another of those terror filled Saturday nights. I’m nine years old, but can recognize the onset of domestic discord. My cruel father is spoiling for an argument with my mother and we (Danny, my brother, and I) know how this is going to end. As it always happens, there is going to be crying. Mamma, Danny and I will be crying before long. There are other siblings, but they are younger and presumably not as aware of what is happening. At times such as these, Danny, who is fifteen months younger than me, and I stand together. There is no talking, but I believe our physical closeness provided some sort of psychological support for each other. Danny and I will cry without audibly sobbing, wiping away our tears quickly before they’re noticed, for crying would earn us a beating. Crying would mean “that Danny and I are looking for something to cry for”, the rationale of an abusive father and husband.

We often struggle as humans with the saying that, “everything happens for a reason.” It is a saying that has applied to my life for many years. It has given me strength when the darkness of a series of events stole so much from me.