Wounded people surrounded her feeling the hurt within the room as if she didn’t already feel the wounds within herself quietly choking couldn’t speak but asked “who are you waiting for?” shrieking softly but hardly did she feel the touch the touch of someone who cared Too many people have had enough but it’s nothing new she shovelled what remained of her into the waiting earth and responded “my mother” hearing others loudly whisper “aleast she had the decency to do the decent thing” she ran from the pain that she thought wouldn’t find her she shut her eyes held the little breath she held within hoping that the pain would pass right by her little did she know the pain would continue to consume her “pain in short was not her cup of
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The Narrator feels suffering is something we cannot control and is ridiculous to cry over as she
She had not seen him do it, but she knew all the same. It was written all over his face, his flaws inscribed in his freckles, writing a story of guilt. Aurelia suffocated on air that would not reach her lungs. She believed that everything he said was probably half-hearted, half a lie, but she still wanted to believe in the half-truths. She wanted to fall in love for the first time, and she did not care if it was with a boy that did not need her, or want her. He had once told her that he could not bear to think about anyone hurting her, but last night had hurt her beyond any pain anyone had ever caused her, and she believed she had undergone a lot of pain throughout her life. She was ill, tears making her sicker, and she lay down in bed, holding her breath, trying to make herself pass out so that she would not have to deal with being awake with a broken heart. She waited, suffocating on sadness, and she wondered if she would die from a lack of oxygen. She did not know if her heart was still beating. She wanted to be in love, but more than that, she wanted him to love
Angela wasn’t ready for the sight of her baby sister hanging from the joists like a piece of meat on a hook. For a moment, all she could do was tremble and feel the hot tears run down her face. When she screamed, people all down Walsh and Bishop turned on their lights and looked to see what could have cause that sound. It was the sound of pure hurt and
Purple bruises were scattered across her frail wrist like grotesque, swollen beetles. Her knee jutted out awkwardly to her side. Her bleeding, cracked lips were shrunken to a tiny buttonhole. Her tongue stuck out between her teeth like a piece of rubber. Her eyelids fluttered feebly as she lay there - defeated, defenseless, and desolate. Her chest heaved up and down, as her lungs fought for breath – she was barely alive. A caked, muddy trail of shoeprints followed him out the door. He had gotten away again. Tears prickled at the back of my eyes. My throat swelled up as my steely resolve began to dissolve. Grief shook my shoulders like an inner earthquake, the world around me crashing down. A nauseating mixture of relief and horror clenched tightly onto my loins – like when you finally stop an itch, only to realize that you’ve ripped a hole in your
With a paralysed inability to accept its significance, she did not hear the story as many women have heard. Tears began to trickle down her face as she wept in her sister's arm. The storm of grief came as she went away to her room alone, with no one to follow her.
although in a time when appearance was important for women, Pansy exclusively concerned about her interior; women would mold themselves to be reconstructed primarily for the benefit of the man
“She’s ours now.” She croaked out. “That’s what she would’ve…” The woman broke out into a fit of coughing. Her voice was raw from crying the whole night. How could a place that brought such joy, be the cause of so much grief? After all, it
“I… also lost my sister.” I felt shock entering my face, whether it registers on the outside or not. My Aunt Lily and I were both put in the same room. We were both trapped in the same walls of the situation, thoughts, and feelings, yet I had been unknowing of her presence in it until now. Now she was by side, offering comfort, whether I deserved it or not, for she is
Depression is for my society a foolish concept. My artwork is designed to touch depression from the perspective of a person experiencing it, and open up a better understanding of the concept to the audience by indulging them to become that person by experiencing different stages of depression at a glance.
Pain is an unpleasant experience that involves both physical and psychological components. Pain motivates one to remove ourselves from the cause of that injury. (Module 5.4)
She felt as if she was trapped, in an endless void of grief. As if she was trapped in a room, and the door was locked and she had no way out. If only she looked a little harder, walked a little further, she would have found that the walls were open. She could be free, only if she allowed herself to be, only if she let
She never cried for so long. Her heart felt like a crumbled piece of paper, like it could never be fixed again. She would cry and cry like a never ending story. The pain of this situation would hurt her more than anything she thought. She thought that it was the worst thing that could happen to her. What she didn’t know was that it was only the beginning.
The poet suddenly closed her eyes with pain, taking great gasps as her sunken chest rose up and down with effort. She clutched the table, attempting to regain control of her strangled breathing.
Intro: This essay aims to explain the concept of pain and the impact it has on the patient and the nurse. It will discuss the concept of comfort and caring, clinically inflicted pain, the considerations of legal, ethical and cultural norms and the responsibilities of nurses in ensuring the provision of comfort and care. This will be achieved by in depth analysis of peer reviewed nursing literature related to this topic.