Infection The U.S government had royally screwed me over. Well they screwed the entire planet over, but I was actually feeling how screwed over I was just now. But to be honest, I had it coming. I should’ve never left the campsite because the infected would have gotten me. But here I am lying on the ground with blood oozing from the horrendous bite mark on my thigh and the disease slowly chisel away what little sanity I had left in this screwed up world. My back is against an old, dowdy, run down Jeep and my revolver lied just an arm's reach away. I looked down at my shoulder to see a knife sticking through it and the car door. You could say it was the only thing keeping me from getting up and walking away but it’s wasn’t. What little sanity I had left was keeping me from walking away. I felt the throbbing of the bite mark on my leg and started to feel the infection racing in my veins. This is what it did to, the infection. It made the rage part brain hyperactive and go on a full rampage, killing anyone that you see because you were just angry and unable to feel any other emotion besides anger. I heard the horrific, billious, calamitous stories of the infected killing families or going into hospitals and shooting up the place. It sounded awful but what could you do? Nothing, all you could is absolutely nothing. No one could, actually. You just had to wait for it to come to you, either death or anger. So you could say that there are two types of people in …show more content…
I was an emotional wreck, one minute I wanted to punch someone in the throat and the next I wanted to cry. I felt a painful lump in my throat and started to cry even harder. I lifted my nearly lifeless hand wiped my bloody tears off my cheeks. I didn’t want to change, I didn’t want to live a life of pure rage, agony and murder innocent people to somehow cure it. I didn’t want to inflict painful torture because I felt like it. I didn’t want any of that, but I had no
The psychological implications that a bacterial plague causes were completely defined in the novel. Without a feasible method of recourse, the tormenting effects of a wide spreading plague drive individuals to the trenches of their own emotions. The fear and constant looming outcome of death test the vary existence of one’s sanity. The miserable and worried, flock to answers they must find but never reach. Religious fervor and seemingly ridiculous forms of enchantment are legitimized for the sake of somehow terminating the impending doom. Days proceed and bodies just continue to fall, pessimistic conclusions are reached. There seemingly is no cure, no way out of the plague’s clutches. This gloom augments the worst fibers of the human spirit. Individuals have lost so much; they must attain some path of hope. Inhibited mental states and hysterical delusion are manifested in deplorable cruelty, such as the murders of those deemed guilty for causing such needless destruction. In Years of Wonder, the village of Eyam breaks into the brinks of craziness. Helpful apothecaries and caregivers are ironically executed for conditions they only hoped to solve. Conditions eventually became so terrible and encompassing, individuals eventually felt some wrathful deity must be punishing them. Villagers started to practice self-flagellation to make amends with God for the possible sins they committed. All of these miserable consequences speak volume
Plague originated in China in the 1330s. At first rats and fleas carried out the plague. In 1347 the plague hits the Europe after the Eurpoean merchants returns from the Black Sea. Hunderds and thousands people died within couple days, in four years Europe’s population almost wiped out by third. Jews and people were blamed for the plague. Europeans believe Jews put the poision on the wells caused the disease.
* * * * * * * * I woke up after a particularly bad session with the torturers. If I was lucky, I’d fall asleep from the pain. I vaguely remembered something to do with hot irons, scalpels, electric shocks, blades, pliers, and lots of blood. At that point, I was literally scared everywhere. Big, red, infected scars.
The cold gleaming edge of the blade, a thin razor. It once was a replacement blade for a shaver, now it is the tool of my own death, a tiny piece of demise. The sharpened edge and cool steel a sharp reminder of what I held. My palm faced upward, a thin morbidly dotted line dashed across my wrist, the blue veins and worn crease lines hidden below the thick permanent black marker. The steel, now warmed from my hesitant and fearful touch pressed a single corner against my flesh, the natural flexibility of my flesh giving in slightly against the unwavering corner, but the natural elasticity pushed back against the steel as well. The edge was so perfectly sharp that as the flesh pushed against it, the flesh spread apart allowing the warm metal to lick its first drops of blood. The corner slowly pushed across the dotted line, splitting the black mark in half on either side of the wrist, for the first moments there wasn't a sense of pain but then as the steel slowly moved the ache started to flow with the blood and a tingle of pain set in. Vibrant trickles of crimson started to flow down my wrist,a rush of life that soon would touch the elbow. The trickle grew, the razor halfway across the wrist. It was almost pleasurable, almost enjoyable, but it wasn't. Now the distress was growing, a pain of panic and fear more than physical discomfort. A gnawing sensation of unrest and worry arousing that primal instinct of self preservation. A thick harsh swallow, my throat felt so dry, so thick. A simple swallow turning into a war. Muscles tensing up in my shoulders, my teeth gritting and grinding as I tried to steady and control my tattered breath and shaking hands. Sweat droplets formed on my palms and numbness called attention to my hands.
I push myself off of the wall when the agony in my leg slaps me across the cheek with the force of a runaway freight train. Looking down, I realize that the handsome man’s blade still cheerfully roosts just millimeters to the right of my sternum. Silly collector, I think to myself as I carelessly draw out the flayed cobalt sheet from my torso, spewing clot and gore onto my hands. The heart is on the LEFT side. I giggle blissfully as I lick my viscera off of the blade. I turn towards my front door and see the other collector staring at me in lamented horror, unsure of whether to finish me off with the assault rifle she held in her shaking hands or to simply run away. “Oh, sorry, did you want some?” I inquire as I hold out the blade towards her. She fixes her gaze on the blade, then back to my face. “N-N…” she attempts, but resorts to just shaking her head. “More for me, then!” I state as I feebly limp past her and out of my destroyed room. I head for the elevator and bulldoze the “up” button with my fist. When the corrugated iron doors lazily shriek apart, an elderly woman and her husband look up at my face, then down to my wounds as I board the trembling
Crying, I recall when I said to myself, “I will die!” I couldn’t think of anything else. I was locked in a small and dark room for two consecutive days, I was starving, and there was no one there to help me. Simply, I was frightened and worried about how I am going to get out of this room alive, although there was a war going around the whole city.
Infectious diseases also called as communicable diseases are caused by pathogenic microorganisms (such as bacteria, viruses, parasites or fungi), can be spread directly or indirectly from one person to another.
Nothing has changed my life more since the realization that I had to make who I was something that I chose, and not something that just happened. Since this revelation nothing seemed the same anymore, as though I could see the world through new eyes. It changed everything from my taste in music, literature, and movies. Things of a dark and pessimistic nature used to hold a strong allure for me, and yet I found much of things I once enjoyed didn't seem to entertain me anymore. I remembered the mental state that I once held and now seeing how I have changed, know that I can never return to the prison I came from.
You didn’t deserve seeing me in chaos. You didn’t deserve to be affected by my negativity and pain. It hurt me even more, knowing what I put you through. How I changed into a cruel monster. I believed I was a good person when I was younger, but sadness and trauma create a new individual unworthy of love. I can’t face the way you looked at me—afraid, helpless, hopeless. The way I stared back into your eyes, broken.
Infectious diseases are the disorders caused by organisms such as bacteria, viruses, fungi or parasite who live both inside and outside our bodies and are normally helpful but can cause infectious diseases to the human (body) system under certain conditions. And for a disease to be infectious, there is what is called ‘’chain of infection’’ that takes place before. And this can be seen in the below diagram:
Reading this short story was very confusing. I could not understand why the narrator was on medication to the point that would be forbidden to work. The narrator states that she does not know what medication she is on. The medication is affecting her mind. I googled “phosphates” and it stated that its main use is for treating urinary tract infections. The narrator also stated that tonics, journeys, air and exercise is forbidden. That does not go along with the symptoms of the infection. What I finally got a better understanding was where the narrator was located. One of my peers helped answer this question. At first, I thought the narrator was just locked up in the mansion forbidden to leave. The narrator is questioning why she is in the mansion
Throughout human history disease has been linked to many facets of life and even the rise and fall of entire civilizations. Biological, social, political and economic forces have all influenced how the outbreak of disease is handled. Epidemics have altered history in how they have developed and the impact that they have had. In turn, epidemic management has been influenced by history and governments as humans have learned to cope with outbreaks and the social and political implications that result from them. Today, biomedical engineers, politicians, historians and social scientists are leading the battle in an attempt to understand and combat infectious diseases. This report will explore epidemic management and its historical relationship with the international political system. Issues will be investigated that range from the societal effects of epidemics, to observing today’s public policy debates regarding outbreaks to the possible reduction or even dissolution of conflict in exchange for food and medical technology between nations. Research has made it abundantly clear that humans must be vigilant in combating epidemics. By drawing on multiple disciplines, it is possible to implement a sound disease management plan that will control and reduce the spreading and mortality of infectious agents across the globe, as well as reduce tension and conflict between the developed and developing worlds.
Blood splattered as I threw a punch to his stomach. His scream is impossible to be heard, for that I had made sure of. As he shakily gets up to his feet, begging me to stop, to stop torturing him without a cause, my attention strikes into his eyes. Within a heartbeat I start to shiver as goose bumps invade my skin for I have seen myself within his innocent eyes, for I have been in this kid’s shoes. This, this kid that I am causing harm to was once me...
the virus also needs a way to get rid of your ability to know right from wrong, have memory and to have any feelings which in your brain is called serotonin,tryptophan,amygdala, and acetylcholine. Now we have a human with no feeling of satisfaction , happiness, sadness, or really anything. The human is essentially brain dead.(http://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/educational-resources/brain-basics/brain-basics.shtml),(http://www.buzzle.com/articles/chemicals-in-the-brain.html,Mehta Suketu,last update:october 1st,2011.).
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.