Personal Narrative It Was March 2017. It was like any other day. Morning dew and clouds. I had just walked out the door with my little brothers Cruz and Marky. Me and my little brothers were just 30 ft away from our house and disaster stuck…. A brown Akita Inu had attacked me. At that moment…. my life was a blur. My mind had gone haywire. So many emotions went through my mind, “am I dead?” “is this how I die?” “lying on the floor and bleeding to death…?” My body had cut my breathing to a sliver as I lied on the soft, wet grass. My body knew what damage was done, but my brain didn’t. I turned to My little brothers and said “Go. Get. Mom.” I used instinct and became limp. I breathed quietly as the dog walked back and stood over me. Its …show more content…
I wanted to cry in help and fear but I knew to keep silent. My mom was a couple feet away from me. “Don’t move Mason”, she said reassuringly. I listened to her as I wanted to stay alive. The dog walked away hurriedly. My mom had helped me and we walked to the house. As she opened the door my little brothers were in tears as they ran to hug me and cried. My mom took off my shirt to see if I had any cuts, scrapes or wounds. Sure enough… there was a gash in my right arm and the underside. I remained calm as my mother went into a hysteric scramble for her phone. She had called a ambulance and the police. The cop had made it before the ambulance. He had checked the damage and took photos for evidence. I took a seat on a bench as I waited for the ambulance. The policeman was talking to my mom as he said “I had maced the dag because it was attacking another man and his dog.” the information was no surprise to me as the dog had gone on a attack spree. The ambulance had arrived 10 to 20 minutes later. 2 men stepped out as 1 looked at my cuts and incisions. The other was preparing the stretcher. The man helped me into the ambulance stretcher. I laid in silence thinking about how this would affect me. Would I be disabled in the right arm?
When I first arrived “Lisa” The girl that I shadowed told me that there was an emergency with one of the animals. It ended up that a one-year-old beagle ate an entire thing of metabolite, and then slowly started to die. The liver had shut down, and the heart rate was up to 300. Lisa told me that taking a thing of metabolite was like taking 50 cups of coffee at once. The owners of the beagle were there and bowling. The beagle’s name was Murry. Murry's body slowly was shutting down one thing after another. The owners made the decision the dog was going to be put to sleep. We got the dog ready to be taken out. They undid all the cords from the dog so they could take it to another room. I said goodbye to the dog, and then they took it into the other room so that the owners could be there when they put him to sleep. After that happened they then had to put a sleep a little hedgehog that had cancer on its mouth. We then did two regular checkups with one cat and with one dog. Those when great. After that we had a dog come in and it ended up having an affection that might end up killing it. I never heard the end result. The last thing that I did there was that a black lab had been bitten by another dog, and that dog ripped a hole in the neck of the black lab. The doctors had to perform surgery on the dog to close up the holes in the neck. They first had to clean it out with qutips. And blood stated to come out right then I was a little dizzy and I thought I was going to faint. But thank god I didn’t. I saw a cat get dental work on it. And a cat get a bath and they had to blow dry it and brush the hair while it was a sleep.
I've always liked Fall. I like the falling leaves and warm spice drinks and chilly air and nice sweaters and the generally spooky vibes. Fall is a good time for me. Nothing beats it, not even the summer. The most important part, though, is Halloween. Halloween cotumes, loads of spooky-themed candy, costume parties, scary movies, everthing about it was something I looked forward to all year.
When I was at school I broke my wrist. My friends and I were playing on the slide and I fell off into the dirt and landed on my wrist. When I heard “crack”, I knew something was wrong and needed to go tell the teacher. Holding my wrist I ran to Mrs.Kathy and told her that something was wrong with my wrist. We ran to the nurse because she thought it was severely damaged based on the way it was dangling. An ice pack was put on my wrist to control the swelling. My dad was given a phone phone call and was told that I had hurt my self on the playground. Rushing from work my dad was to coming get me and on the way he picked up my brother from high school, they later arrived at the elementary school. We hastily went to the emergency room because my wrist was getting sizeably larger. By the time we achieved our destination, my mom was waiting patiently for us.
This is crazy. Why am I afraid? I’m acting as if this is my first funeral. Funerals have become a given, especially with a life like mine, the deaths of my father, my uncle and not my biological mother, you would think I could be somewhat used to them by now. Now I know what you’re thinking, death is all a part of life. But the amount of death that I’ve experienced in my life would make anyone cower away from the thought. This funeral is nothing compared to those unhappy events.
Some thoughts sneak into our mind without our knowledge, and some thoughts are already in our mind without our knowledge. Music either triggers this knowledge, or it draws the already present knowledge to the surface. For example, this morning was like any other morning. I got up, made the bed, fed the dog, and brushed my teeth while she ate. I got dressed and took her potty after putting on the same blue leash I have put on her every morning since she was a puppy three years ago. Standing in the morning sunlight while she sniffed for the perfect spot, my mind was free of thoughts, or so I thought.
Death’s whisper traveled in my ear, wrapping around my mind, “I can take you away from this madness. Beyond this hell, that is life.” “Will it be more peaceful there?” I asked. “As serene as heaven above.” Possessive Depression responded. My heavy heart fluttered at the thought of serenity. No more painful days, or lonely, restless nights. No more of this living death. Anxiety murmured all my insecurities tempting me to make the decision, as every tick-tock from the clock he held, echoed in my brain, putting fear in me of things that will never happen. I thought about the invitation to eternal sleep, “I would finally be able to extract this smiling mask…” Thus, I decided to join the dance of death, done dealing with my dilemmas.
“Could you go get your mom?” I cried, “I can’t handle this anymore, we need to go to the hospital.”
“Lauren! Let’s go!” My mom yelled from the bottom of the stairs, interrupting my thoughts.
At this exact moment, Sandor Guillen, a thirty-nine year old man, was speeding down the highway in his Range Rover, evasive and extremely intoxicated. In less than a millisecond, the two vehicles collided, causing a fatal impact. Kaely’s father and sister were not seriously harmed, but as they turned around to check on Kaely, their hearts crinkled up and writhed in pain.... ... middle of paper ...
The second Sodapop and I went through the front door on Friday evening, I just threw myself at my dad's window chair and closed my eyes without bothering to take off my coat, work shoes, or even the tool belt. My mind was in an overdrive as I sat with my chin in my hand, watching the street through the open curtains. "Then I saw something that made my mind (and heart) stop completely: the blue Corvair stopped at the parking lot at the end of our street, and what looked like a group of Socs was crowded with something that lay on the sidewalk.""Soda ...?" I called through the screen door, I knew that he and Steve saw a Corvair, they were silent and looked down the street ... I hung my tool belt next to Soda's jacket and came out for a better
My father passed away in 1991, two weeks before Christmas. I was 25 at the time but until then I had not grown up. I was still an ignorant youth that only cared about finding the next party. My role model was now gone, forcing me to reevaluate the direction my life was heading. I needed to reexamine some of the lessons he taught me through the years.
When I flip through old photo albums in thirty years, I see the successful and happy life I have lived with my family, friends, neighbors, and classmates. I envision a life filled with hard work, achieved goals, strong relationships, and a deep faith with God. I would consider my life to be successful if I continued to be the hard working student I am as I continue to further my education in a Five-Year Fast Track Physician Assistant program. If I made my dreams reality; one of my dreams being to never regret day I lived and to take every day as a new opportunity to better myself. If I formed strong bonds and relationships with my colleagues, professors, friends, and family.
Too late. I could already hear my mothers graceful footsteps ascend the stairs. She carefully opened the door that entered my kitchen, and I flung myself into her arms. My mother yelped with shock and a hint of exhaustion, “Meggie honey, Mommy is very tired. Please be a little more careful next time.”
The warm summer air brought with it feelings of the past— sneaking out of the compound, running in the courtyard, partying every other night. Never again could Jirou go back to his family in Japan, not after what they had done to him. When he was found, left for dead by his own beloved brother, a woman took him in. Jirou took half a year to wake up after being nursed back to health by the woman— Angelita.
“Mom, can I stay down here, please?” I tried to convince my mom, in fear of something might happen to me. I even used my puppy eyes, but to no avail.