Staphylococcus aureus: From a Spot to the Hospital The hospital is silent this morning‚ as the sun breaks through the blinds and casts off all the silver objects in the room. My hospital bed is uncomfortable‚ and it makes me yearn for my 100-year-old mattress and many unnecessary plush-pillows. The smell of bleach and cleanliness lingers in my nose and almost makes me feel sicker. How did I end up here? Well‚ that is not an adrenaline rushed injury or a freak accident‚ but something that started so small‚
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the plane that was being flown at 600 miles per hour‚ the impact of when the plane collided with the building‚ the screams and cries for help‚ along with my fellow passengers calling their loved ones to say they’re not going to make it. Yes‚ I said my fellow passengers. My name Lauren Kriewitz‚ and I am a survivor of the treacherous 9/11 attack. My flight was in route to Los Angeles‚ when all of a sudden we were hijacked and made a sudden turn for New York‚ which I thought I heard our pilot saying
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Ethics _ELDER ABUSE_ Elder abuse is when a caregiver seriously harms an elderly person physically or emotionally‚ or steals or misuses the money or property of an elderly person. Elder abuse can also be self-inflicted if an elderly person living alone doesn’t take care of his or her own basic needs. Anyone age 60 or older is protected by elder abuse laws. Separate laws apply to seniors living at home‚ and to seniors living in nursing homes. There are no income limits for elder protective services
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against the wall. Their eyes‚ cold and merciless‚ pierce through my skin‚ sending shivers down my spine. The strong scent of impending rain hangs in midair as the clouds loom in the sky with every shade of storm grey. Sealing my eyes shut‚ I breathe in deeply diverting the stares to face my rich‚ black complexion. A colour so gloomy should be invisible among the fair‚ but instead it shines so vividly. I begin fidgeting with the hem of my hoodie before jerking it over hoping that it would envelope me
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whistle shook my ear drums‚ numbed my chest‚ and crippled my legs. Prior to this‚ Pine Richland had kicked a field goal that gave them a three point lead with only seconds left. We had one play to win: a kickoff return to hopefully save not only our season‚ but to justify the twelve years I had devoted to this game. As the ball was hopping down the field‚ I stood there trying to stop my hands from frantically shaking. After what felt like an hour‚ I could finally feel the pigskin leather on my fingertips
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violin in my hand was drenched with sweat and my legs were shaking uncontrollably. My only resilience and my Beta-blocker were the fellow companions standing with me. This was my first ever orchestra performance in a grand theater. I sat down facing the conductor with my legs still not under control. One signal from the conductor‚ I let my heart do all the work. The music that we were playing was Tchaikovsky’s Marche Slave. With my violin in hand‚ I became a soldier marching into war. My violin was
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The waves crashed at my legs. The sand stuck to my toes‚ parts of seaweed were stuck on my leg. The sun was burning my face. My arms and legs tingled with the thought of a shark attacking me‚ like on T.V. I shiver involuntarily‚ and bit my chipped nails. The day had started out like any summer day going to the beach. My family was hustling to get our beach bags in order to get in before the rush our. I was ready 30 minutes ago‚ but waited for my family‚ nevertheless. It was a pleasant day‚ the
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Mayan Jungle stores my memories‚ waiting for me to return. Looking out the airplane window‚ I wondered where the aircraft would land; there was no runway in sight‚ just layers of jungle‚ every shade of green. The airplane began to dip down into the earth and eventually landed on a strip of concrete. The hallways of the airport smelt like the Pine Sol my grandma uses to mop her floors; I was reminded of my family back home. I traveled to Mexico with my cousins‚ but I wished my parents were there‚
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swinging with the wind. My dad needed to put gas but I could see he was very skeptical. I rolled my window down getting closer to the gas pump‚ when I smell the most unpleasant scent I have ever smelt. I told my dad we would have to pay for the gas on the inside because the machine was so old that dirt and spider webs built up in the card machine reader. The buttons to the pump were all faded from the sun and there was so much dirt you could see every little grain of it. I told my dad I would go in and
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sight of the sun rising through my blurred safety glass window‚ must be morning. Awakening in the same claustrophobic battle scarred room has been my life for 3 years now. Getting to my feet I peer through the withered cast iron bars of my cell to see the guards carrying out the routine cell checks. This time something was different. I see a guard broadcasting to a fellow officer for assistance a small number of cells down from me. I feel a cold shiver ran down my back. This occurs far too often
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