Essay on Personal Narrative- The Story Behind a Scar

So, I got lost in the middle of Silverwood in Idaho with my little cousin…

“I’ll never hit you in the face where it will leave a mark...” The words rushed in, taunting. The cold emptiness in the tone, like he was there in the room, whispering in her ear. And all at once, the fear was back. The raw fear that gripped her body like a vice and left her gulping in air. In a panic, she whirled her head around the room. She was alone. Relief flooded her, but the sickening butterflies remained. She gripped the counter until her knuckles turned white; outlining the jagged scar more prominently, and she fought to steady her breathing, blink back the tears, focus on something else.

I believe in having responsibility for my actions for the rest of my life. Responsibility can earn me a ton of things, such as money and treats. If I do an action or sometimes help my mother with an action, I gain a dollar or two or my mom gives me a treat, like Sweet Frog’s. In this case, I wouldn’t mind being responsible because it involves something that I care about dearly.

The darkness consumed my cousin, but not completely. A part of me did not want to believe that she committed a mass murder and maybe, just maybe it was someone else. But the proof that the police needed was all there. We weren’t that close but it pained me to know that someone who i thought to be as a kind and caring person could kill people.

I did not meet with Pt. , I was paged by Lisa Micciulla, front desk in the emergency room to please come to the ED concerning an "urgent" situation regarding this Pt. When I arrived in the ED registration area an MGH Security personnel stopped me to talk with Pt's daughter, Charlene McDonald. Pt's daughter explained she was not being allowed to see her father, who she understands was brought to MGH for surgery after a fall. Explained to Ms. McDonald, I was aware of Pt having a gaurdian, and that there was a court ordered visitation schedule between Ms. McDonald and Pt. She reported this was an extreme situation and she showed me text messages she had sent to Pt's guardian, Attorney Tine Hajjar. I advised I could not allow Ms. McDonald access to Pt. Based on the order from probate court. Ms. McDonald has visits with Pt on Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday 11:00 a.m. -4:00 p.m.

I was eight months old when my chubby little body broke its strongest bone. Being my outgoing, curious self I was beginning to become more and more comfortable with the edges of my parents bed. With my brother not paying attention, I decided to test my knowledge of life. The result of me falling to the ground is captured in photographs, a chubby kid with a groin high blue cast, sitting on top of the same bed.

On March 4th, 2018, I, Officer Albert, was working as a Police Officer for the Wichita State University Police Department. At approximately 0150 hours I was dispatched to Shocker Hall for a suspicious character report. The suspicious character was a white male wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt riding a skateboard. I arrived at approximately 0151 hours on the south side of Shocker Hall and walked down the south steps towards the courtyard. Officer Andrew Abbey was on scene talking with an individual fitting the suspicions character description, see Officer Abbey's report. I spoke with the individual later identified as Tyler Micol Dane Kuhn. Kuhn's eyes were glassy and his pupils were large. Kuhn's hands were shaking and he seemed confused. Kuhn wasn't able to

I am only going to refer to my personal scan rate for the month of December, 2017. The December ER-KBMA -Compliant Form documents three non-scan medicinces

My time in the hospital was such a haze, in what felt like a day or so a total of was 2 weeks had passed. Going home was a strange feeling since I had almost forgot what home was being gone so long from it. When the doctor had removed the wrapping around my head, it was like all the memory of the event had been released at once. The story of how my sister had dug her nail in my eye and subsequent reenactment. I never expected to have my sight be scared by such a close person and fro them to repeat their action twice. I was in my room that Thursday afternoon having just come back from school I was placing my backpack to the side when it happened.

Scarred for life is a saying that is proven to be truthful. I took the fall that scarred my shoulder to look like the inside of a bitten strawberry. It was a hot blazing 90-degree weather at Ponotoc High School Track and Field. Sweat dripped from my face and onto the track as I stretched and prepared for the 4x200 meter relay race. This was the track meet that determined if we made it to state to compete in the championships. Our relay team was number one in 4A District over all the teams in Mississippi therefore, we were anticipated to win. I headed back to the tent to grab my bright red back that I saw from a distance that weighed a ton. I started to move things around swiftly and in a panicked matter searching for my track spikes. I started to open my eyes wider as if I could zoom them in on my bag. I realized I left my track spikes back at school in my

A dull clank of metal armour on fire-hardened brick echoed over the desolate courtyard as a cloaked man laid his back against the wall of the blacksmith’s hut. The sound was easily muffled by the barrier of thick boar’s hide that sheltered his ironclad figure from the faint drizzle that trickled down from the heavens overhead. His hood was up and his face was tilted down as he lounged on the ground, lithe legs sprawled in front of him and back hunched. To a bystander, he looked like any other off-duty knight, one that was most likely napping in the temperate summer rain. However, this knight was very much awake and wary of his surroundings.

Michelle Obama is correct about us students feeling more tired than someone our age should feel. That most of us had to battle to get to where we are today and some had to more than others. Scars are just a reminded that the past is real. I have some scars some more visible than others. Sure some are a reminder of my clumsiness and not much of a story behind them, but some have a permanent scar not just on my body but in my mind.

Ten years ago I was celebrating my 49th birthday and on the verge of a life changing decade. After months of mammograms, tests, and biopsies, I heard the dreaded three words "you have cancer". You know that cliché movie scene where the character is sucked to the ceiling and watches the doctor from above and all she hears is a muted "blah, blah, blah"? That was my reality. I lived in what felt like a dream state for several years after hearing those words. One cannot be and will not ever be the same after a cancer diagnosis, in particular after your two favorite body parts are cut from your body. Fast forward to today, my 59th birthday and after many surgeries and procedures, I am living my "new normal". After my deconstruction and reconstruction, many

Like the Law Office of Cohen & Jaffe, LLP, I believe it is imperative to help others after they have been injured, especially when due to personal injury. * It is unfortunate that many people fail to see the signs that someone is self harming. This saddens me greatly, especially when hearing about an innocent twelve year old girl who committed suicide by hanging and live streamed the entire thing. I watched the entire video, which was about forty-five minutes, and my heart broke for this girl. To see her cry and apologizing for being imperfect and a “disappointment” filled my eyes with tears. For a few seconds, I felt ashamed to be human - to be slightly similar to whoever made this poor child feel so low that she killed herself.

Then the 134 arrived. I got on, showed my pass to the bus driver and