I wake up to the sight flashing blue lights,as my eyes scan around I notice that i’m inside what seemed to be a metal capsule.I see a handle and move my hand towards it but realize I am unable to do so.I then hear the voice of man coming towards the object i was in.A hand then grasps the other side of the handle and the capsule is opened.Two people dressed in blue take me out and lay me in a bed that was hovering in mid air.Unable to understand what was going on I sat there quietly and waited for instructions thinking that this was all a dream.I sat up and standing before me was a nurse around the age of 28.She was smiling as if she already knew me.She then looked back and as the doctor came in,backing of to the side.The doctor came in as
To write a true war story that causes the readers to feel the way the author felt during the war, one must utilize happening-truth as well as story-truth. The chapter “Good Form” begins with Tim O’Brien telling the audience that he’s forty-three years old, and he was once a soldier in the Vietnam War. He continues by informing the readers that everything else within The Things They Carried is made up, but immediately after this declaration he tells the readers that even that statement is false. As the chapter continues O’Brien further describes the difference between happening-truth and story-truth and why he chooses to utilize story-truth throughout the novel. He utilizes logical, ethical, and emotional appeals throughout the novel to demonstrate the importance of each type of truth. By focusing on the use of emotional appeals, O’Brien highlights the differences between story-truth and happening-truth and how story-truth can be more important and truer than the happening-truth.
Canadians are just recently beginning to realize the detrimental aftermath of the years of trauma experienced by Indigenous peoples of Canada, such as the survivors of the residential school system. It is often difficult for these people to overcome the impact that follows. Undoubtedly, it requires help and support from others, but these people must make their personal healing journey themselves. The passages “Rock Bottom” by Steven Keewatin Sanderson and the “Legend of the Sugar Girl” by Joseph Boyden prove that although trauma can significantly undermine groups of people, they can overcome their difficulties. Both authors illustrate how trauma negatively affects characters, causes them to fall victim
Create a list of O'Brien's criteria of how to tell a true war story and give an example of each criteria in outline form.
Cao Xueqin’s Story of the Stone is a classic in Chinese literature, showcasing the life and exploits of the wealthy Jia clan during the feudal era. Through Cao’s depiction, the reader is afforded a glimpse into the customs and lifestyle of the time. Chinese mode of thought is depicted as it occurred in daily life, with the coexisting beliefs of Confucianism and Taoism. While the positive aspects of both ideologies are presented, Cao ultimately depicts Taoism as the paramount, essential system of belief that guides the character Bao-yu to his eventual enlightenment.
The Magnesium Statue Planning The Problem A statue, which is made of an alloy consisting mainly of magnesium, corrodes at different rates, at different times of the year. Background Knowledge = == ==
"Selena Gibson" the nurse called out after opening the closed door. I stood up and quickly moved forward toward the nurse. Stepping through the door I was ask to turn to the right and go down the hallway. Walking down the long stretch dragging my feet along the way I was scared to find out what the doctor was going to say. Turning to the left the room looked impersonal and cold. I was asked to seat in the chair and wait till the doctor came in with the results.
My mom stopped at the hospital shop and got me a pad of paper, crayons, pencils and a pen. For breakfast they brought me eggs, toast and a tea bag with a hot cup of water. I ate the toast and a tiny portion of the eggs. I placed the tea bag in the cup of hot water and watched the color spread. A hospital chaplain came into my room to check on me, I asked if I could have honey for my tea. He said he’d see what he could do before leaving me alone. While waiting for his return , I began to doodle in the pad of paper. A nurse came in and took my blood pressure and then my breakfast tray. I enjoyed the presence of the hospital staff, it meant I was not
On my hospital bed, I sit and stretch out my arms to relieve some nervous tension. My room is nothing but dull grey walls and the smell of disinfectant. My ears perk up as I listen to doctors and nurses conversing outside. Their voices grow louder and louder as I hear their feet coming closer to my door. I crane my neck towards sounds, only to spot the brass knob of my door turning. My heart begins to race and my breathing becomes shallower. I quickly pull out a pocketknife from under my pillow and slip it into my pants pocket. Stealthily, I roll out of bed, forgetting about the various tubes attached to my body. I wince in pain and tears well up in my eyes as they get yanked ou...
My mom was laying down next to me rubbing my head and trying to make me laugh. We were all waiting for my surgeon to come to take me in. At one point, the surgeon came and told me to kiss my parents and say goodbye, I got scared because I thought I wasn’t gonna see them again, I thought they were gonna leave me forever. I started crying and tried to run away. I was kicking, screaming, and making up excuses so that they can let me go. Two nurses hold me down and tried to calm me down. The surgeon put a mask on me and told me to count to ten. The mask smelled like cherries, I couldn’t resist not to smell it. The room was spinning and all of a sudden it was pitch
Gunshots occasionally filled the air and seemed to wake me every time I peacefully fell asleep. This was repeated three times until I looked out my window. There was an ambulance parked outside my window. There was a man on a stretcher with blood on his head being loaded in.
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.
I awake to lukewarm water dripping down my forehead from a damp towel. I feel a thick liquid against my back. I scan the area, Unfamiliar. I find myself lying in a cot in a filthy room. The sight room itself was depressing, not that it was in extremely bad conditions but it was all…brown, the kind of brown that makes you feel depressed. It reeked of fish and motor oil, one of the queerest combinations of scents I have encountered. My ears start to pick up the deep monotones of a man speaking in other room. In my drowsy state I couldn’t make out exactly what he said but I did manage to g...
Cracking my eyes open, I noticed that I was lying in a bed in a hospital room with an IV in each arm. It was about 2:00 in the afternoon and I saw the sunlight streaming through the window in my room. I had just gotten out of almost three hours of surgery. My mom was leaning over me, asking me if I was all right, but my mouth was so swollen and numb that I couldn’t talk. Dr. Keller came in to talk to us and explained that my surgery went very well. After that, I stayed at the hospital for about a week before finally going home.
Suddenly I awake at the noise of sirens and people yelling my name. Where am I? Those words radiate out my thoughts but never touching my lips. Panic engulfs me, but I am restricted to the stretcher. “Are you ok?” said the paramedic. I am dazed, confused, and barely aware of my surroundings. Again “Yes, I am fine” races from my thoughts down to my mouth, but nothing was heard. Then, there was darkness.
The moment we stepped foot into the hospital, I could hear my aunt telling my mother that “he is in a better place now”. At that moment, something had already told me that my dad was deceased; it was like I could feel it or something. I felt the chills that all of a sudden came on my arms. As my mother and grandmother were both holding my hand, they took me into this small room. The walls were white, and it had a table with four tissue boxes sitting on the top. My other grandmother was there, and so were my two aunts, my uncles, and