“You could have died if we didn’t find this soon enough.” Swallowing hard, knowing a few weeks later I could have been gone. “You have a diaphragmatic hernia.” While the doctor was explaining to me what happened to my stomach, they were already getting a room set up for me. “You need to have surgery tonight.” Walking into that hospital that morning hoping they would find what was going on, I never thought I would have been having surgery that night. It felt like everything was going so fast. One minute I walked in and the next I was laying in a hospital bed with medicine going into my body, knowing I wouldn’t leave that hospital for at least another week. The first two days had passed, I didn’t remember much from those days. I could not feel
The falchion was conceptualized in the 11th century.it was a derivitve of both the scimitar and the machete.due to its low consumption of resources neccessary for construction,the falchion became a staple weapon of the dark ages and was mass produced by blacksmiths across the region;as there was a large demand for them.the falchion was soon incorporated into military training exercises.two designs of the falchion developed as close combat tactics developed.as new armor and techniques were devied;new weapon designs were created to rebut the strengths of the opposing variable.the first design was known as the cusped falchion.the cusped falchion bore a sharp tip allowing for thrusting techniques to be used as well as slashing.as the point narrowed the blade elongated and narrowed allowing for greater reach and quicker retraction.the cleaver falchion was the original design of the falchion.the cleaver falchion resembled the scimitar and machete in design,likely influenced by these designs.the curvature of the blade allowed greater apportionments of the blade to be concentrated at the en...
I had just finished facing my fears watching the metallic needle slip so seamlessly under my skin into the veins of my nervous, clammy hand. Hugging my Mom like it could have been the last time I saw her, seeing my dad's face stern and worried. I wheeled down the hall into this operating room, white was all I saw, a bed in the middle for the surgery to go down. As I lay on the bed waiting to be put under I remember seeing the blue masks of the people to be operating on me, I had to put all my trust in them, trusting someone you seen for less than 5 seconds with your life. Absolutely terrifying. The nurse slipping the fluid into my IV as I lay on my back looking up at the white ceiling, this cold sensations rushed over me. Then suddenly, I was out.
Compartment syndrome is a condition that can lead to dangerous levels when pressure builds within the muscles, causing the lower leg to be painful. This syndrome develops when bleeding and edema begin within a compartment. The lower leg has four major muscle compartments: anterior, lateral, superior posterior, and deep posterior. Blood flow is disrupted that is going to the muscles and nerve cells and without steady blood supply carrying oxygen, these nerves and muscles can be permanently damaged. Compartment syndrome can either be classified as acute, which is a more severe medical emergency, and chronic, a non-medical emergency. A fracture, bruised muscle, reflowing blood after blocked circulation, crash injuries, and constricting bandages
On ___ [DATE] WBC 13.9, hemoglobin 10.9, platelets 113, INR was 1.4. On ___ [DATE] sodium 130, potassium 3.5, chloride 91, CO2 27, BUN 22, creatinine 0.7, glucose 225.
There is no specific time that hemangioma birthmarks were discovered due to the fact that the term was used to describe all tumor like structures. Hemangioma is caused by an abnormally dense grouping of blood vessels on the skin. These benign masses can also develop on the surfaces of internal organs. Some symptoms include bruises, patches of white color, or a simple scratch. These marks eventually raise out from the skin and become a red, strawberry-like mass. Doctors can diagnose external hemangioma by visually examining them with the naked eye, but medical scans can be necessary to find internal cases. Most patients choose to let the mark fade away over time, but some decide to inject beta blockers and apply ointment to avoid a cosmetic
Purdy had an inguinal hernia, so he need surgery which make it difficult to care for Grandpa until he had recovered. During his recovery, his Grandpa fall in the living room cause cracked his rib. Grandpa sat quietly on the couch for awhile because he was in significant pain. His fall make bedtime hard due to he always laid on his left side that was the side he had injured. He did not fall asleep as he normally was. He absolutely could not lie on his left and right side. The solution was he would probably has felt most comfortable sitting up on the couch. One night Purdy dragged his mattress out and threw it on the living room floor so he could sleep comfortably while Grandpa slept on the couch. Grandpa began to spend more time crawling
I was optimistic for the future and I believed that with some hard training I would be back in shape and winning state in no time. It was a cold Sunday night and my family had just eaten. I walked outside to get some fresh air when my mom ran outside yelling, “The doctor called and your surgery got moved up to this Monday”. I stared at her in shock. I couldn’t believe they had moved it up from three months from now to tomorrow. “We have to be there at 5:00 so we have to get up early” she continued. We woke up the following morning and left immediately. We got there and we were rushed into Pre Op after some tests. I began a long process of poking and prodding as they got me ready. They even made an incision in my back that hurt like heck. They slid in a tube to administer nerve-blocking medicine similar to an epidural. Before long I was in the operating room with a doctor making a stupid joke. I remember him saying, “ What kind of bagel can fly. A plain bagel” I responded by saying, “That's a stupid joke” in a slurred voice as I passed
My life has been a fight ever since I was born, one of the most significant battles of my life happened when I was not even a month old and has stuck with me for the past 17 years of my life and is a motivator to my desire to succeed. September 6, 2000, I was born into this world the 2nd child of Maria and Percy Vela, one typical day there baby boy just like any other newborn, healthy weight and size; but unexpectedly the baby became unordinary. This family went from having a healthy beautiful baby boy to a sick infant who wouldn’t digest anything, and he couldn’t be fed and vomited frequently, a horrible nightmare for my parents. My parents immediately took me to the hospital in Stamford Connecticut, and the doctors diagnosed me with Pyloric
I thought about this under the harsh glare of the fluorescent lights, which have always incited the scrutiny of my own appearance more savagely than anything else. In this moment, I was wrapped in the lavender felt of a hospital gown and sewn to the IV that would fill my veins with anaesthesia. I had gone into the bathroom before my surgery and while washing my hands, realized that, yes, this was the last time I would ever see my face as it was conceived, that the next time I would meet my own eyes they would be bruised.
In December, my father suffered a ruptured abdominal aortic aneurysm. His heart stopped twice during the operation, and he was not expected to survive. He had an intensive recovery period, and I wanted nothing more than to make him better immediately. His trauma had made me impatient and afraid to hope. I was having trouble waiting for things to unfold naturally and wanted to know what would happen in the end. Simple, everyday decisions or occurrences took on great importance.
“What does that mean?” I thought to myself, “How long will it last?” “Am I going to die?” I sat back into the corner that the bed was in, and just sat there with my legs straight out. The doctor was talking to my mom about sending me to the hospital I assumed, but I wasn't paying attention because I was too busy taking in what just happened. I then walked over to the other chair next to my mom’s and sat down. My mom took some tissues out of her purse and started to blow her nose. I tried not to bawl to look tough like getting hit by a pitch in a baseball game, which I was successful in doing. I remembered talking about something like Diabetes in science class, and I remember talking about the pancreas. I also remembered the teacher, Mrs. Klevorn, telling us that there were two kinds of Diabetes, but I couldn't remember the difference between them; my fifth grade mind at the time didn't really care for this. After about three to four minutes of just sitting there, I asked the doctor what that meant. He told us that the pancreas makes a hormone called insulin that keeps blood sugar from getting too high. He said that my pancreas in particular didn't do its job. He explained the pancreas’ work like a hotel hallway with a bunch of doors; when sugar passed through the hallway, the doors would open and the insulin would flow out and lower my blood sugar. The doctor then told us he would call the hospital so we could basically
The rest was a blur. I felt nothing. It was just as if I was asleep. I
I woke up to the pungent smell of hospital disinfect, invading my nostrils. The room was silent apart from my heavy breathing and the beep beep sound you often hear in hospitals that indicates you're alive. I slowly opened my eyes, squinting in attempt to sharpen the blurred images before me. I glanced around and took in the deserted, blue and white colour schemed hospital bedroom. How long have I been here? I shut my eyes, trying to remember what had exactly happened. Then it all hits me with a bang. The memory of it all starts to occupy my thoughts.
My stomach weakens with a thought that something is wrong, what would be the answer I could have never been ready for. I call my best friend late one night, for some reason she is the only person’s voice I wanted to hear, the only person who I wanted to tell me that everything will be okay. She answer’s the phone and tells me she loves me, as I hear the tears leak through, I ask her what is wrong. The flood gates open with only the horrid words “I can’t do this anymore”. My heart races as I tell her that I am on my way, what I was about to see will never leave my thoughts.
After a quick breakfast, I pulled some of my gear together and headed out. The car ride of two hours seemed only a few moments as I struggled to reinstate order in my chaotic consciousness and focus my mind on the day before me. My thoughts drifted to the indistinct shadows of my memory.