of reference, I realized I needed fraternity. I realized I needed camaraderie. I realized I needed to be a Whiffenpoof.
Early in my college career, I became disenchanted with the difference between what I needed college to be and what college had actually become. Instead of camaraderie, I received mandates from college administrators who directed me to look at the students to the front, back, and both sides of me, and then realize two of those four students would not survive their first semester of college. Instead of harmonious renderings from a place called Mory’s. I received dire warnings from faculty members who predicted a mass exodus of students from the pre-med curriculum and eventual acceptance of only a few students into medical school.
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Upon returning to Wilkes-Barre, my father began to see Dr. Devine for his respiratory disorder.
My father's medical condition gradually became more complicated while I was in elementary and high school, but I never really thought of him as a sick man. By the time I entered college, however, his symptoms occurred more frequently, were more incapacitating, and required longer periods of recovery.
On many occasions, Dr. Devine made emergency house calls, and more often than not, urged my father to consent to hospitalization. With each new episode, my father would characteristically thank Dr. Devine for his help and concern, graciously decline the invitation to be hospitalized, and in some way, manage to be back on his feet and working in the shoe shop by the end of the day.
With each succeeding episode, my father became weaker. It was obvious he was no longer capable of working around the clock in the shoe shop as he had done for so many
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As I completed my latest poem and wondered if anyone else would ever read it, Lori Green quietly entered the back of the classroom and sat down to recover from her own case of self-inflicted heartburn.
Anxious to get her mind off her cooking and curious as to why I was talking to myself, gesticulating, and appearing totally removed from terra firma, Lori approached me. Realizing nothing more serious than poetry was the cause of my aberrant behavior, she introduced herself.
Hearing Lori speak to me was like something from one of my wildest fantasies. Lori was a downright, out-and-out, bona fide vision. She was tall and had long, brown hair. Her dark, wavy hair perfectly accented a pair of deep brown eyes that appeared as magnetic fields from which I knew there would be no escape.
Her voice was as soft as silk, and it seemed to slide through lips that managed to form all the right words in just the right way. She had a body that was perfectly built for comfort, and legs that started somewhere in the stratosphere before subtly working their way back down to
Shortly after he was brought to our house, my grandfather had more health complications and already needed professional medical help. My mother had been very well trained in the medical, but she couldn’t help him very much.
She was a delightful, brave girl with brunette eyes and short hair. Her friends saw her as a fine, kind friend. Once, she had even made a cup of tea for a spotty deaf person. That's the sort of woman he was.
She had long ash brown hair that went down to her ribcage, bags under eyes from the insomnia, acne (She wasn't the best at selfcare.), black eyes that she is often complimented for, and small bows in her hair.
The words slowly processed in my mind, burning their way deep into my brain to snap me out of the dream world I’d locked myself in. I slowly looked up, smiling and letting out a slight laugh. “I’m sorry?” I said politely, giving the woman my gentlest tone. She stood there on the other side of the table, long, dark blonde hair neatly tied back into a fancy bun, stern blue eyes hidden behind her pointed black glasses. She was dressed so smartly in her ironed white button up, dress pants and blazer that seemed to hide her body, setting a barrier between her and I. Her face looked so young but wrinkled from the stress of life, her nose small and her bottom lip bitten in frustration. Those bright blue eyes seemed to stand out against the fair, lightness of her skin, burning deep into my own.
The patient 's birthday is April 5, 1926. The caregiver that was with the patient explained to me that he was having shortness of breaths, dry coughs, weakness in his muscles and joints as he would try and help him move in and out of the bed and wheelchair. So, I realized how breathing actually works and it has to deal with the lungs and moving oxygen throughout the body. The caregiver of the patient has explained the past medical conditions such as Cardiomegaly, Hepatomegaly, and Altered Mental State. He had a couple of surgeries: Pacemaker placed in his chest, and Coronary Artery Bypass Graft (CABG). The caregiver
His father, in the last months of his life, was battling a mysterious illness that only his closest confidants knew.
One of my patients on the med/surg floor was the same patient I cared for in the ICU. I was shocked to see him again after week. When I had left him last week he had gone to surgery to have his second right toe removed. Seeing him today I noticed that they removed all toes from his right foot. He have a wound vac placed on his foot to suck up drainage from his surgical site. Within this one week I could see a huge change in him, which was great. Last week he was confused, on restraints, and had a critically high blood sugar. When I got to talk to him he seemed to be a different person because I was able to have a real conversation with him because he was no longer confused. He could remember things from years ago, and he was oriented to his
my loud voice was echoed throughout the tiny room and i almost felt bad when brunette turned around, her mouth formed into an 'o' and her hazel eyes watering a bit. almost.
She was tan and had golden eyes. Her raven-colored hair hung to the middle of her back and thinned slightly at the bottom. Her bangs went over her left eye. She had round eyes a slightly flattened nose and full lips, her eyebrows were thick and rounded.
In the fall of 2014, my father began experiencing unusual symptoms—rapid weight loss, chronic fatigue, slurred speech. However, it wasn’t until the next spring that we finally received a call that would change our lives--not to mention change me personally--forever. On the other line was one of the doctors, whom my dad had visited. To our disbelief and horror, he said
unsure of his family history of disease processes, however, was able to accurately describe his
From biology and chemistry to anatomy and physics, I have had the opportunity to study a variety of sciences, often a very high levels throughout high school. I find science’s ability to make sense of the world amazing. While I have taken an assortment of science classes, I want to major in biology, particularly microbiology and neurobiology, for two main reasons. First, I want to study biology in college because I find the fundamental questions biology seeks to answer to be fascinating. Second, because I want to become a doctor, understanding biology would serve many practical purposes.
My father taught me commitment, resilience and perseverance to face life challenges. Biggest test of these teachings came right at the moment when my life had finally started to take shape. My father who has been my greatest source of inspiration, strength and virtue suddenly lost all hope and succumbed to despair upon his diagnosis of Hepatitis. Throughout his life, he has been a very hardworking and focused individual juggling between an office job, evening classes at the law school, appearing in the judicial exams and then acing them. The one I looked up to for strength was now in need of encouragement. This well needed help came in the form of my father’s doctor. I saw my father’s spirits lifted and his hopes restored by his doctor who assured him that he would be well again and he can rely on him for care and guidance. This moment etched an everlasting impression of patient care
There was no doubt she was beautiful: full red rose lips, slender waist, and smooth dark hair that cascaded down her bare, white shoulders. But there was something about her demeanor that distracted from her beauty. I couldn 't place it.
She had medium length, light brown hair that looked golden in the right light. She radiated calming energy that put everyone at ease. Her hazel colored eyes were accentuated by dark, wing-tipped eyeliner, but most importantly, she was kind; I needed someone who was kind.