WAKE UP!! It was an intermediate response as it seems I was stroked (struck?) by a small ball of molten lava monster. GO, GO, GO, but I really couldn’t. My body wasn’t functioning properly as it felt like just yesterday I learned how to rely solely on myself. I really couldn't do anything… Maybe I was always been a crybaby that the next moment I stood there and cried… I cried a river if that was possible! The lava came crushing down slowly onto me. Blood drizzle down my lower leg.“Oh my poor dear” my aunt stammered and stood there in uneasiness. Oh how my aunt could have been my hero! Oh how everything could have fell its place if my aunt saved me from this, oh how I am still terribly crying! Oh how could this pain go away? Oh how dangerous this event would have been if we were even a teeny tiny bit closer. My aunt who had medium length hair and was wearing a leather jacket picked me up abruptly. It didn’t take her one bit of effort into picking me up even with constant wincing received. …show more content…
I am really awfully sorry, but right now it is not the time for me to be talking, we need to get some help!” I was then carried fourth to that dusty pink house right in front which had an open gate and an elder sitting in the front porch. The elder asked “Oh, what do I have hear? Is there something I could do for you guys as that child of yours is crying?” I had always been mistaken as my aunts child, we looked quite alike and I just inhabit some of her quicks and movements which seems quite identical if you ask me. “I really need to use the bathroom grandma and I promise to clean it up right after. Oh, and could you please get me some band aid and safety aids? That will surely
I looked around at everyone in the room and saw the sorrow in their eyes. My eyes first fell on my grandmother, usually the beacon of strength in our family. My grandmother looked as if she had been crying for a very long period of time. Her face looked more wrinkled than before underneath the wild, white hair atop her head. The face of this once youthful person now looked like a grape that had been dried in the sun to become a raisin. Her hair looked like it had not been brushed since the previous day as if created from high wispy clouds on a bright sunny day.
The 1930-50’s golden era of organized labor is over and has lost the energy it had once had as a unifying factor in the lives of workers in the U.S. There are many factors to this decline, but image is very influential in the creation and influence of unions in two ways: externally and internally. Externally, the union’s ideology and actions attract workers into becoming members of a union and how government responds to a union’s beliefs and actions. Internally, union’s are run democratically, where workers choose who will represent them in negotiations with employers, which should give some benefits to the majority of the workers in the union. Organized crime's infiltration into labor unions has rotted the image of unions who represent workers looking to defend themselves against employers and achieve a stable livelihood. The history of labor and organized crime are undoubtedly linked because at times they would use each other to further their own means: the most famous of these links would have to be on James Hoffa. Organized crime and corrupt union officials influence on unions will still exists and although crackdowns throughout the decades have made some progress I doubt that they will be removed entirely from labor.
"No," everything was coming out in just a groan of pain. I couldn't even move my head. All of a sudden I felt the world move from beneath me, and I felt warmth radiating off someone. I think Soda had given up and just decided to carry me to the car.
Getting ready to walk into Anna’s hospice room, my anxiety level was escalating. Saying a quick prayer, I asked God to help me find the right words to comfort Anna and her family. Upon knocking on her door, a young lady in her middle 20’s answered the door. Opening the door for me, she informed me Anna was her grandmother and she would like me just to sit with her and that she would return after work. And she left. No get to know you introduction here, very formal, matter of fact, serious kind of girl. No one was going to invade her space. Oh well, I thought, I’m here to help Anna, hopefully Julie will open up later.
You would. My inner voice says No I would not, thank you very much. That is what you are doing right now, isn’t it?
But then, the cool autumn wind helped the fire spread itself out and it created a huge fire line across the arena. The spectators looked concerned and some of them cried in the choirs: “Haaaahhhh!” Others also got up to have a better view of what was happening. Meanwhile, the princess calmed herself down and got back to the arena. She was shocked again when she saw what was going on and wanted to help the young man.
Nancy was only four years old when her grandmother died. Her grandmother had a big lump on the lower right hand side of her back. The doctors removed it, but it was too late. The tumor had already spread throughout her body. Instead of having a lump on her back, she had a long stitched up incision there. She couldn’t move around; Nancy’s parents had to help her go to the bathroom and do all the simple things that she use to do all by herself. Nancy would ask her grandmother to get up to take her younger sister, Linh, and herself outside so they could play. She never got up. A couple of months later, an ambulance came by their house and took their grandmother away. That was the last time Nancy ever saw her alive. She was in the hospital for about a week and a half. Nancy’s parents never took them to see her. One day, Nancy saw her parents crying and she have never seen them cry before. They dropped Linh and her off at one of their friend’s house. Nancy got mad because she thought they were going shopping and didn’t take her with them.
I realised what I had just seen and I cried out and stumbled back tripping over a tree root and tumbling down the hill falling into a puddle of blood (that had run downhill from the mutilated girl) and mud, I writhed around for a bit trying to get out of the puddle.
It was June 6, 2011. I remember taking my mother to the County Hospital’s emergency room. She seemed extremely exhausted; her eyes were half-closed and yellow, and she placed her elbow on the armchair, resting her head on her palm. I remember it was crowded and the wait was long, so she wanted to leave. I was the only one there with her, but I did not allow her to convince me to take her home. I told her in Spanish, “Mom, let’s wait so that we can get this over with and know what’s going on with you. You’ll see everything is okay, and we’ll go home later on.” I wish then and now that would have been the case. Unfortunately, she was diagnosed with colon cancer that had spread to many parts of her body including her lungs and kidneys. The doctor said to me not considering that I was a minor and my mother’s daughter, “Her disease is very advanced and we don’t think she will live longer than a year.” With this devastating news, I did not know what to do. I thought to myself that perhaps I should cry, or try to forget and take care of her as best I could and make her laugh to ease her pain.
I took seat. I had my hands over my face, and I couldn’t see anything. I was surrounded by people, like the man next to me. I was sobbing, I tried to stop but I couldn’t. I tired not to make a big a scene or drama.
Blood ran across his face and down his sandy chest."He must have hit a rock when the waves crashed him against the shore?"I began to panic, I hurried to find something to cover his wound. I took a portion of his torn pants and wrapped his forehead up in it. He awoke with a scream of pain and looked around frantically trying to figure out what was going on. "Tom are you OK?" "Umm ya!""We were washed ashore and you probably hit your head on a rock.
OUCH! My leg crippled with pain. I tried to shuffle my way to the window, but it was excruciating. As my senses kicked back in, I felt pains shooting up and down my body. Peering down at my hands I screamed. My hands were covered in cold, congealed blood.
I wake up in this room. My mother is to my left crying with her face in the palms of her hands. My dad, he paces the floor with his hands in his pockets. I am scared I can barely remember what has transpired. As my mother stands and looks at me square in the eyes, the nurse comes and says with a grin on her radiant face “Hello, Mr. Howard. How are you feeling?” I attempt to sit up, but my body is aching. My dad hurries over to help, but it was no use the pain was overbearing. I began to weep and apologize. My dad with a stern look on his face says, “Andra, you are fine now just relax”. How could I relax? I am stuck in this room with no memory of what happened.
... how I had to give up everything to come out here for her, how my mom had to do the same, how my sister could let her boyfriend do something like that, how she could lie for him so easily when he almost killed their daughter. My mind wouldn’t stop, not until I saw her. My baby girl, being rolled back in the room on her bed looked so pitiful. Her cheeks scabbed up so badly, from what they believe to be duck tape, her head shaved almost bald, not only from the surgery, but from her father. She was shaking, and she stuttered when she spoke with her sad voice. She had never had a stutter before, it sounded more like she was scared to say anything, everything was hard to come out. I wanted to do anything and everything I could for her to make her happy. I am her Aunt Bert and she is my Audrey and I will continue to show her love like she’s my own child until the day I die.