Personal Narrative

I had been cringing about day for so long. I was completely terrified to go into that room. As the door opened I was exposed to a cold draft and I could feel the dense air. The day I was told this needed to be done was horrifying, and now it’s actually happening. They rolled me over to a new bed and I looked around seeing doctors everywhere. There was a table that they rolled next to me and on it was things that I can’t even explain. They put a green mask on me with tubes going through both sides of it. They told me I’d get drowsy and all of the sudden I closed my eyes and it was happening. I was getting knee surgery.

Meanwhile, elsewhere in Habersham County, Tom was feeling slightly nervous as he exited the staff lounge and entered the hustle and bustle of County Hospital’s ER to begin his first shift as an RN. The first few hours of his shift passed slowly as Tom mostly checked vital signs and listened to patients complain about various aches, pains, coughs, and sniffles. He realized that the attending physician, Dr. Greene, who was rather “old school” in general about how he interacted with nursing staff, wanted to start him out slowly. Tom knew, though, that the paramedics could bring in a trauma patient at any time.

I am a second year nursing student in my third week of the practicum placement on a surgical ward with my co-student and the morning shift registered nurses. We had just finished analysing the patients handover report (Levett-Jones & Bourgeois, 2015) and I had been assigned to work with the registered nurse. I was looking after Mrs. Brown (pseudonym) is 82 years old New Zealander was admitted to surgical ward on the 08/06/16 for multiple SCC removals from L) hand and L) foot with skin grafts.

It was almost midnight when I got the call from Dr. Seagraves. She told me to meet her in the physicians lounge at 7 am: we had a case. The next morning began like any other in the operating room. We met with the patient, I received permission to observe and then got suited up for case. The patient was an elderly African American woman, she called me handsome and smiled comfortably. When we made it into the OR I was asked to help lift the patient from bed to table, with a subtle warning of “watch out, it’s gooey.” Dr. Seagraves parted the patient’s gown, exposing a mass of raw tissue that somewhat resembled a leg. The patient had suffered a week’s worth of necrotizing fasciitis, more commonly known as flesh eating bacteria. The wound had a certain odor, a putrid smell you do not forget. Our hearts sank in unison as we realized what we were up against. We had to act fast. Dr. Seagraves began scrubbing the wounded tissue as the Anaestesiologist monitored the patient’s progress. I had observed Dr. Seagraves on multiple occasions and never did she express concern for the outcome. For the first time in our relationship I heard her mutter, “This is not good. This is not good at all.”

“Right this way,” the nurse ahead of me was prompting me to a brightly lit hall that was completely foreign to me. I couldn’t help but be terrified by the sights and sounds around me: people chattering, machines methodically beeping, gurneys rushing past. It was my first time in a hospital and my eyes frantically searched each room looking for any trace of my father. She stopped suddenly and I turned to the bed in front of me but I could not comprehend what I saw. At such a young age, I idolized my father; I had never seen him so vulnerable. Seeing him laying in a hospital bed unconscious, surrounded by wires and tubes was like witnessing Superman encounter kryptonite. My dad’s car accident not only made him a quadriplegic, but also crippled

It's been an interesting year so far, and it looks like it is about to get even more interesting (more about that in a moment). What I wanted to write about in this here journal of mine is a new brand of shoe that I just purchased; they are called Nike running shoes, and I love them. They fit well, are comfortable and seem like they will last quite a while. I just had to have a pair (I think I'm the first one here at school to have them most of the other students have never even heard of them; Neanderthals, I know!). I predict they will be a big hit in the future. Okay, enough about shoes, let's move on to more serious matters, my love life! (just joking journal I have no love life right now). Oh well, I haven't written in here for the past few weeks, I guess I better talk about the events of the month. Let's see, it's October 1962 and a number of events have taken place; some here at the University of Mississippi, some in the United States and some internationally. Many of these events will likely have long-term impact on some very serious matters. Of course, I did not think any event would foreshadow James Meredith being admitted into the University, but, the first Negro being admitted into a higher education institution is an event that has only national implications, while the missile crisis in Cuba, could lead to death to thousands or even hundreds of thousands of citizens in both the United States and in Russia.

In the movies the only hospitals that were like this were the- the- . Mental institutions. And they only took they crazy people there, so I immediately started looking for an escape route. I couldn’t stay here, I didn’t belong here, I’m not crazy. In fact I even got an A on one of my test at Pency Prep. If I were crazy I wouldn’t- “Calm down Mr. Caulfield, your heart rate is quite high” I looked over to see this typical doctor, he had bald hair, thick rimmed circle eyeglasses, and a suit shirt and tie under his long white lab coat. “ There were two other nurses in the room, one of them was tall skinny and really resembled someone off of a movie. The other nurse was short and plump, and had on too much makeup, she reminded me of a blueberry. “why am I here, where am

Sitting in the waiting room at the doctor’s office, 7-year-old me swung my feet back and forth under the generic, time-worn furniture and anxiously wrung my sweaty palms. I’d been to the doctor’s before, but with each returning yearly visit the dread that sunk to the bottom of my gut never shrunk. “Jillianne Carrasco?” The nurse called. My stomach turned. I began to shoot my mother a pleading look, but she wasted no time in grabbing my hand and leading me to the smiling nurse waiting at the door, and we both followed her through the pasty white halls to a customary exam room. The nurse closed the door behind us and asked me to take a seat on the crinkly tissue paper cot. She smiled warmly, likely taking note of my nervous breathing and shaky hands.

I had been instructed to introduce myself to the patients, so I started with the first room and began to work my way down the long and dimly lit hallway. Popping my head into each room, I quickly muttered my name and half of a greeting before rushing over to the next one. Many of the patients in the unit didn’t acknowledge me, and for that, I was grateful. It wasn’t until I had gotten to the last room, in fact, that I was even met with a

Terrified was an understatement. “Surgery….surgery…surgery…” was the only word that I heard echoed through the room , and suddenly images of knifes and flesh being cut invaded my ten years old mind. Peritonitis, was what I had, “unfortunately” I thought then, yet “fortunately” I know now. My calling in life was then discovered and for that I will be forever grateful. Petrified and alone, I was yearning for someone to understand my fear and explain what is about to happen to me; to clarify what the doctors said. That 's when a Physician Assistant walked in and changed my life forever. I will always remember Julie 's smile and reassuring voice which filled me with a sense of calm and genuine comfort. She was carrying a doll and highlighted what my surgery was all about. As I lay in bed recovering after surgery, I decided that one day I will be like Julie and I will help people feel secure and safe in the healthcare setting.

For the first ten years of my life, I had a very normal childhood. I went to a private catholic school in a small town called Westwego. We were about twenty five minutes south of New Orleans. During the summers, friends and family would come over to our house and we would all swim and boil seafood. The summer of 2005 was no different; I was looking forward to entering 5th grade. Fast forward to one week before school is about to start when Hurricane Katrina formed in the Atlantic Ocean. Hurricanes were no strangers to us as we have been through several throughout the years. However, a few days later the storm is upgraded to a Category 3 and is predicted to hit New Orleans dead on. My parents felt it was time for us to leave and we traveled

I will start this off with an introduction. I am Kelly Rose Keschner, an incoming sophomore in Highschool. I would say I get pretty good grades and try so hard in school to prove to myself and my peers that I am a very good student despite what has happened to me.

Racing at night going One-hundred and forty miles an hour on US-27 holding the lead, Shift six gear, speed topped out at two-hundred miles per hour passing by cars smoothly. I chanted I am immortal, I am a god! while I pushed my sports bike to its limit. Suddenly a black car approaches. WHAM! I get Rammed from behind and lose control of my bike slamming into a Semi-truck up ahead. Lights out. When I peeked my eyes, I saw 4 humans around me. Thump after thumb I believe I was in an ambulance rushing down the turnpike. I looked around and the first words that came to my head are “Rick this is just a dream”. This is the story of how I escaped from an illegal laboratory that clones and modifies humans.

I woke up from a loud knock from my front door. I examined the clock and it read 11:00 p.m. " Seriously!? This is the time the deliverer comes?! ". I trudged down stairs weary in my pajamas. I opened the door only to find the kukuri by it's self from the breeder. " And the person left... Wow, welp it's time to get you in.." As I gazed upon my new kukuri I realized I couldn't fit her through the door. Instead, I took her around to the garage and took her inside.. then realizing I still needed to get through the door to my house. Tired and not wanting to deal with this garbage, I broke the entrance to the home a little more so she could fit in. " I can fix this later.. " I said yawning. The kukuri came into my home and went up stairs quickly.

My father and brother are very far out in the deep waters searching for seashells and any aquatic life swimming through the warm, ocean waters. Back on the shore, my mother, my sister, and I are tanning and reading magazines that we grabbed at the hotel. On the cover of the magazine in bold letters it says “SURGERY.” It reminds me of the day Mother got her surgery. She and Father left very early that morning to drive to Apple Hill Surgical center. My parents warned us to behave and that my sister was in charge for the day. My brother and I would have to behave or we