A Hero's Journey

In his book The Hero with a Thousand Faces, first published in 1949, esteemed American mythologist Joseph Campbell outlines the fundamental structure every archetypal hero follows during his or her journey in the "world of mythologies." Campbell coined the term “monomyth" to describe the stories that follow this structure. The monomythic cycle, commonly referred to as "The Hero 's Journey," is divided into three primary sections known as the Departure, Fulfillment, and Return. These sections posses a total of twelve elements that the hero will encounter through his story arc. This basic structure is common amongst many mythologies, but has particular pertinence when discussing the story arc of the Medieval novel

I sat by myself in the second seat behind the bus driver. It had been raining all day and we rambled along slowly, splashing the sides of the bus with dirt and mud, with each puddle we drove through. A large puddle, almost a lake, comes view. We slow down easing toward the pond. “Are we going around?” I shout up at the bus driver. Our driver glances in the mirror at our at anxious faces, and a smile slowly spreads up his face.

Dried grass crunched as a horse wandered through a field, trying to keep its’ rider aloft. The rider wasn’t paying much attention to where, or how his journey was going. He’d been riding for days, going way too long without any rest.

“ HELLO!!! I would like to know what are the recent changes in Rocio leon’s delivery.” My mom had been to the hospital a lot of times and she knew a little more of how the nurses were especially in that hospital.Then the doctor came out and said

"You must be quite confused my friend", said the man, "waking up in a strange room that is filled with strange people". I was unable to find my voice at the time so I answered him with a simple nod. "My granddaughter found you lying in a street not too far from here; you're quite luck that she did, otherwise you would have died there and then if it wasn't for her". My mind was slowly piecing together how I had collapsed in an ally and woken up in a house, but with the mystery solved I smiled and stretched out my hand to thank him for his help. "Thank you", I said with some effort and the old man smiled as I shook his hand. When I looked down at my status I saw that he had done a very good job of healing me, the state of my health bar had greatly improved and all of my other needs had been tended to as well. But as we talked I suddenly felt a sharp pain rip across my abdomen and I removed the bedsheets to see that my torso had been wrapped tight with bandages. At first I was more surprised than in pain, I began to question how it was even possible to be in this state after being supposedly healed. In fact the in-game pain filter should have

The effect of music on postoperative pain and anxiety was studied on an orthopedic unit in a central Florida hospital (Allred, Byers, & Sole, 2010). The authors clearly identified the problem many total knee arthroplasty patients experience after surgery is moderate to severe postoperative pain and increased anxiety. Throughout the introduction of the study, it was stressed the importance and need for this research to be conducted. The authors discussed the effects of inadequately treated pain and how health care professionals, including nursing, should make it a priority in a patient’s treatment plan (Allred et al., 2010). Several references were provided supporting the issue

For this I interviewed an individual who has cancer. He is older than me, different race, cultural background, ethnicity, religious beliefs and socioeconomic status. Un-fortunality, an integral part of his pain experience is the fact he also has a long history narcotics and drug abuse. He spoke with me about his experience, once he is diagnosed with cancer and started to have severe pain. Sadly, a major barrier he has been facing is being labeled with “a drug addict”. He states “ ..doctors, pharmacists, nurses along common people hold this past against me and always are suspicious..”. Moreover, he adds “..I am smart enough to play everyone – like I did in the past - if I want, but believe me I am not trying to I am clean now and just want to have no pain”.

It was late afternoon when we made camp, I found a rock big enough to put the map on and I sat on the ground with the map on the rock. I was trying to see where we were and how close we are to our destination.

On our way up the stairs to our unit, a girl named Jada came up behind me. “So why are you here?” I was thrown off by the personal question she asked so casually. Only an hour prior I had arrived at the facility and was introduced to the other eleven teenagers.

Unexpectedly, my father called and with an unsteady voice explained, “I had to take your mother to the emergency room, and she is now being admitted to the hospital.” At age 13, this phone call began the most dreadful time of my life. Prior to this event, I was exceedingly dependent on my parents and even struggled with separating from them. In the beginning of my mother’s hospital stay, my familymy parents and two, younger sisters were constantly divided. My father stayed in the hospital with my mother, while my sisters and I would switch between caring family members and friends. Eventually I grew tired of different environments and decided that staying home alone was the far better option. As a result, I appreciate independence and know how to solely maintain a home.

Under the rising sun in Grant Park, I bent down into a calf stretch, reminding me once again I’d forgotten to put underwear on. I’d gotten to bed just a few hours earlier after spending a night out with Mia at a new club, Z’s, only to wake up after falling from my bed onto the floor, terror seizing my breath while blood rushed through my ears and my heart galloped out of my chest. It’d taken a few heart-stopping minutes to realize it’d only been a nightmare. I couldn’t remember much other than the primal fear of being chased by a beast with a desire to rip out my throat as I screamed for my life, and then relief at being saved by a man in black. It’d left me unsettled enough I couldn’t go back to sleep, so here I was. At six in the morning. Apparently trying to run off my dream.

This feeling was unusual because as a youngster, I spent most of my childhood going on acting auditions and

‘I don’t want to lose her,’ I kept repeating in my head trying to look strong for her. I was trying to not show how scared I was, trying to stop bursting into tears the second I saw her in the state she was. She was so weak and there was nothing I could do to help, except stay out of the doctor’s way. There were nurses and doctors rushing around and giving me a strange look until realization dawned on them. I was at the hospital with my mom around 10 at night, in my pajamas, wondering what was going to happen to her and if she was going to be okay.

I opened my eyes to see nurses and doctors around my bedside. The bliss and serenity I had felt in the moments before... seemed to be the contentment they felt at the moment I opened my eyes. I had just survived a "Code

When I was about twelve, I self diagnosed myself with anxiety. I was at a river in Austin with my mom and my two aunts. At that age, I was insecure about everything that had to do with my body. “Come on, get in!” I heard my over enthusiastic aunt yell from the dirty, brown water. I wanted to get in, but my mind was telling me, “Everyone is going to think your body is ugly”, and “Don’t get in, just sit and wait for them to come back”, so that’s what I did.