I woke up in post-op with my mom at my side. “Mom, that laughing gas is some messed up stuff.” I said woozily. My mom smiled and nodded. A nurse came over, “Is she speaking gibberish?” My mom laughed lightly and responded, “She hasn’t stopped talking since 9 months. And now’s no exception.” I went back home with two stitches on either side of my stomach and one in my belly button. My stomach swelled around the stitches and everything hurt. I smelled like antiseptic soap blended with honey and expired milk. I wanted to take a shower, but the residual drowsiness of anesthesia clung to me like a needy boyfriend. I slept all day, only waking up for eating. Even the next morning, some effect of the anesthesia must have still hung on because I woke …show more content…
up exclaiming, “Ground beef!” Weeks passed and the doctors finally called my mom. I remember sitting in my bedroom and hearing her pick up the phone. All of a sudden she started crying loudly. A deep weight settled in the pit of my stomach. Did my fears come true? Am I dying? I rush down the stairs just as she finished her conversation. “What happened?” Between tears, my mom replied, “We need to get your Dad first.” Once my dad and I were both sitting on the couch, she told me the news. “Honey, your body was designed in a way that can’t conceive…” At the time, I responded, “Well, at least I’m not dying.” But the longer I thought about this information, the more it hurt. It was not until a year later at a worship service at Regent University that God began to place healing balm on my heart. The music vibrated the floor and pulsed through my body. “I will love you Lord my shield. And I will love you Lord my rock. Forever all my days. I will love you God…” I grasped the pew in front of me with one hand to steady myself as I started to tremble. I lifted one hand shakily in the air. As I felt my fingers start to tingle, I lifted my other hand, turning both palms out to receive the Lord’s presence. At this point God spoke words of affirmation that washed over me like a monsoon in a desert. Beloved daughter, I am the lover of your soul. I have chosen you. I have redeemed you. You are mine. Trust in me and the plans I have for you, for they are good. My stomach filled with warmth like being enfolded in a tight hug. A smile grew on my face. My eyes filled with warm tears. I did not have to find my identity in my future self. I did not have to find my identity in my inadequacy, feelings of worthlessness, or who I was not. I am beloved by God. This past summer I had the amazing opportunity of working as a camp counselor at a camp for at-risk inner city kids in Pittsburgh.
It was a 24/7 hour job caring for kids ages six through fourteen who were battered and bruised from their past. God broke me so many times this summer, but each time He broke me, He gave me something in return. One night I wearily led the girls back to our Sassafras cabin. “Okay ladies, let’s say a quick prayer before we go to bed.” My body begged me to let it lay down on my bunk bed, no matter how lumpy. The day had been filled with disrespect and I was ready for it to be over. We were nearly through prayers, when one of the girls said shakily, “My grandma died” and wailed uncontrollably. “I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!” Several counselors came in to assist me in calming her down, but after they left, she whimpered, “I’m not going to be able to sleep”. I sat down gently on her fleece blanket and wrapped her up in my arms. “Amira, I will stay up with you all night if you want me to. We can sit on that chair together if you want. I won’t leave you.” As I sat on the woven beach chair in the black stillness of the night God spoke to my heart, This is exactly where I want you to be. A wave of peace settled over me, and at that moment I knew, God would fulfill the desires of my
heart.
For twelve years I’ve tried to hide my pain and fear from you. I’ve been trying to ignore the horror stories, unknowingly blinding myself from the stories of hope. I’m not as bitter as this story may lead you to think. In fact, I am an adamant believer in the statement (overheard three years ago in the Coffee House): “God has never taken anything away from me that he hasn’t replaced with something better.”
I rushed out of the bedroom confused. I began to realize what was going on. I ran to where I last saw her and she was not there. Never before I felt my heart sank. My eyes filled with tears. I dropped to my knees and felt the cold white tile she last swept and mopped for my family. I look up and around seeing picture frames of of her kids, grandchildren, and great grandchildren smiling. I turn my head to the right and see the that little statue of the Virgin Mary, the last gift we gave her. I began to cry and walked to my mother hugging her. My father walked dreadfully inside the house. He had rushed my great grandmother to the hospital but time has not on his side. She had a bad heart and was not taking her medication. Later that morning, many people I have never seen before came by to pray. I wandered why this had to happen to her. So much grief and sadness came upon
She woke up with a severe pain in her side and began to have difficulty walking. Any kind of ailment was unusual for her as she had always been a healthy person. This particular Friday morning took her and everyone around her by surprise. Her daughter immediately took her to the hospital where they immediately began to run tests. Several hours later the grimed faced doctors said, Mrs. Flores you have cancer all over your body and it would be best to call all your family together. Forty-seven year old Billie, the pillar of her family, was going to die. Within hours Billie and her eldest daughter were on a private medical plane being flown to Houston to receive emergency treatment. Billie had no other words to say other than “God you are in control of my life”. After several hours of flight, mother and daughter landed in Houston where an overwhelming sense of peace embraced on them. Surgery was scheduled for Monday but after the x-rays came back doctors immediately took her into surgery. There they found several tumors, one that caused significant damage. This particular tumor had eaten part of her vertebrae and compressed her spinal cord, leaving her paralyzed. After surgery Billie began to ask God if it was her time to leave. His response to her was, her work was not done. That is all Billie needed to hear, it was time to fight. Billie and her daughter prayed day in and day out. Two
Something as simple as taking a walk around the facility can prove to be a battle with patient X. From the day I met patient X it was noticeable that she was lacking her memory. Patient X could no longer tell me her name and everyday it would be different struggle, but for that day it was getting her out of bed to take a walk. From the moment I walked in and introduced myself, patient X could not provide me with her name. Patient X constantly asked if I was her baby, and when dealing with an Alzheimer patient, it’s always best to go along with what that patient is saying. As I got patient X up and out of bed, she started to become violent and resistant. Patient X took forty-five minutes to simply get out of bed and dressed, and that was the very beginning of the battle that would consist all day.
For the duration of this clinical experiences my intentions are to gain experience in leadership and develop those skills by establishing a partnership with R.K. She is currently teaching a leadership development course which I would like to develop a partnership with her and complete a community project.
As a nurse, I feel that at many times I am placed in a situation, where I need to use my leadership skills in order to provide efficient care by managing the limited time. According to CNO guideline, leadership is a process of influencing people to achieve common goals. It requires self-awareness and commitment towards profession, ability to delegate, manage time and to communicate effectively within the health care professionals.
With reading the Do Not Go Gentle section of “Ten Little Indians”, this short story touched me in the most emotional way. As I began to read this section, I began to thank God for the blessings he has showered upon myself as well as my loved ones. I have two stories that have tremendously impacted my life that affected me in a way that it changed my outlook of life. The two experiences are the terrifying fact that I almost lost my backbone, my mother, and the experience of a mother losing her blessings. My fourth-grade year of school was the worse year I ever had. One day after school, I was expecting to see my mother outside waiting to pick me up. Instead, it was my aunt there waiting on me and that automatically began to make me wonder where was my mother. Out of
It amazes me how perfect Gods timing is. For the last month I have stepped into the role of assistant women’s counselor at our women’s shelter. Last night’s session was powerful and ground shaking to say the least. One particular woman reached out to me just this morning with a text that read, “I just want to thank you again for coming last night, I really appreciate you sharing your
...as nothing to do but swim, sight see, and watch TV. It was all worth it on the morning of the fourth day when I came down it to the lobby and saw our bus, triumphantly pulling into the parking lot with the morning sun gleaming off the shiny metal, driven by none other than, our youth pastor. Completely forgetting about breakfast I ran outside and waved to him as he pulled it around back to park. As soon as he came to a stop I ran up to the door, he opened it, and I climbed up in and with a satisfied sigh I inhaled deeply taking in the smell I had grown to miss over the last three days. It was at this moment that I realized something, instead of complaining to myself the morning we left, I should have been grateful that we had a bus at all. And with that thought I smiled, and turned around and me and my youth pastor walked inside to get some breakfast.
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.
I was praying for a miracle, that only God can give, A happening that is so rare, to see in all the days we live, I was praying for a miracle, I surely needed one, I had to face reality, and it seemed all hope was gone, For all miracles, as we do know, do come from heaven above, For God alone has the power, and the strength, of all His love, There is no living mortal, that can make this be all right, Perhaps there will be an answer, to my prayers in the night, There are the saddest moments, and my eyes will fill with tears, I have the feeling of great loss, thru the passing of the years, I gaze up to the sky, where there is heaven’s peaceful shore, And again I’ll pray so silently, for a miracle, once more.
Once the crying commenced, my mother called me, telling me that my last grandma had gone into the hospital. She collapsed in her apartment and was rushed to the emergency center. I had no idea what to do. I felt like God was just condemning me and attacking me for some reason. I went into this deep depression and I didn’t want anyone to talk to me, if they did, I would simply start crying.
Youth Group. One of the trips they partake in every year is a Steubenville Catholic youth retreat. On the trip our group wasn’t allowed to wear tank tops or shorts. We were forced wear clothes over our swimsuits and couldn 't bring hair tools besides brushes and ponytails, and worst of all, no makeup. We were also expected to eat fast food every single day, and were supplied with limited activity. Most of the time we were sitting and kneeling. It was on my knees though that I found my real purpose. On Saturday night Eucharistic adoration when the monstrance appeared I was washed away of all my insecurities. I was fed by the word and my physical and spiritual strength was tested. The tears that streamed down the faces of girls around me turned black from eyeliner, and I was relieved that I wasn 't wearing any myself. For the first time in years, I didn 't care what anyone else thought, just what my savior did. I realized my purpose wasn’t to please others, but please God by loving myself as he had created me. After adoration all the teens were invited to confession. There I told the priest about my inner struggles and he taught me a meditation I still use today. I spent 10 minutes meditating on how I was always “good enough” while the priest prayed over me. Never had a achieved such a deep sense of
December 23, 2004, I went to the post office to check on the ministry mail and we had received some financial gifts. I was so thankful. I was thanking God for all He had done in such a short period of time. I was overwhelmed with how fast He had begun and built the ministry and brought such faithful people along side of me to carry the gospel. I was in amazement. I pulled out from the post office to go to the grocery store. It was two days before Christmas and I needed to get groceries for the big breakfast we do at our house Christmas morning with our family. I was sitting at a red light in the far right lane. In Tennessee, right on red is okay, so I was looking to see if any cars were coming. My neck was twisted as far to the left as it would go. Suddenly, horrid pain rushed through my neck and shoulders all the way down to my hands. I did not know what had happened. I began to cry and instantly I knew to go to the hospital. At that point, a very nice man approached my window and said, “Are you
When I was ten years old, my favorite aunt, Aunt Cindy, died of colon cancer. She was only 42. I knew God had a plan that I would never understand, yet I became angry with Him. I didn’t want to go to, or even talk about, church. I was stripped of my childlike faith. I was going through the motions for years, to the point where service without heart was my