It still amazes me how some of the Columbine victims survived their wounds. Just to name a few: Patrick Ireland was shot twice in the head and still has a bullet lodged in his brain. Nicole Nowlen was under the table with John Tomlin and was hit with nine pieces of buckshot in her abdomen with five pieces still lodged in her stomach. Mark Kintgen was hit in the left side of the neck and head. Mark Taylor was shot five times in the back and two in the chest by Eric, and two bullets just barely missed his aorta. Valeen Schnurr suffered nine gunshot wounds to her arm, chest and abdomen. Lance Kirklin was shot point blank in the face by Dylan among other wounds to the foot, leg, and chest.
Last week in the battered coastal village of Port Salut, we met a 60-year-old fisherman, Gesner Destine, who lost his home in the storm. His skiff and his nets were shredded. He was living in a raggedy tent with his three daughters and four grandchildren. And Destine was lucky: A missionary group had arrived that day to build him a one-room plywood shack where their house once stood.
But when an aid group had handed out bags of food in town a few days earlier, Destine got nothing. “I’m too weak,” he said. “There were too many stronger, younger guys there. They pushed me aside.”
Before leaving we gave him a sack of rice and a bottle of oil. It would last his family three days, tops.
Sometimes food wasn’t what people needed. At a school being used as a homeless shelter for hurricane victims in the blasted city of Jeremie, we found a half-naked woman lying in a corner with a large infected wound on her foot, swarmed by flies.
After speaking with her, Andre, our translator and driver, gave her money to go to the hospital. We worried someone might take it from her, or that she would use the money for something else. But when we returned the next day, she was sitting up, looking better, with a clean bandage on her foot.
That doesn’t make us saints. It was, quite literally, the least we could do. The people who deserve praise and support are the aid workers who remain in such places, and the Haitians truly committed to helping their countrymen. Reporters are usually just passing through.
just to clarify I think “don’t stop believin’” is a bad song for bad people. one time I saw someone trip over a stool and almost break their neck trying to get to the dance floor to listen to one of the most bland and generic songs ever written. another time I was working a wedding and the mother of the bride put her wine on the floor and tried to dance on top of a speaker when the song came on but the DJ yelled at her so she stepped down directly onto the glass, crushing it and wounding her foot. that song is cursed and anyone who plays it out loud does not care about the safety or well-being of their mother.
Rating:T - but please note includes non-graphic description of domestic abuse.
The fire in this is just metaphorical.
“What I need to survive is not Gale’s fire, kindled with rage and hatred.
I have plenty of fire myself.” (Mockingjay Ch27)
Arguing with Gale was like being trapped. He tangled Katniss up in words so that the more she wriggled the more caught up she became. There was no release to be had from a row like this, just endless frustration that ended with Katniss shouting in her need to be heard. She screamed louder, until eventually tears fell hot on her cheeks whilst Gale continued to toy with her, scorning her lack of self-control. The day came when she was so tightly wound that her foot shot out and struck him on the shin. Not a playful tap, this was a fully intended kick. The shock came when he kicked her straight back. But how could she complain when she had started it. Worse still was the rush she got from it. She saw the surprise and anger on his face; at last, she had his full attention. Maybe now he would show her some respect.
She slapped his face; he smacked her back. It was strange, his words could have her in floods of tears, but this just stoked her anger; if anything, she felt empowered.
Typically, he stopped short of giving her the fight she wanted. Dabbing at his lip, he shook his head at her in pity. “You need to calm down,” he opened the door for her and she willingly complied with the suggestion. She longed to be out of there.
When Lee woke up and was greeted with a good morning boner she… he thought about the last time he woke up in a male body.
Hell yes, again.
On a second thought it probably wouldn’t be that bad. Last time it had been awesome, especially with Aaron taking good care of him, and with having the effect disappear within 24 hours.
Lee walked into the kitchen to make a coffee but dropped the cup when he saw his reflexion on one of the glasfronts. To make sure, he ran into the bathroom, cutting himself on one of the broken pieces, but didn’t care about it at first
Aaron. It was definetely Aaron’s face that looked at him from the mirror.
Sitting down on the toilett seat he inspected his foot. The wound didn’t heal. Great. But sure, Aaron didn’t heal, why would his body start with it now?
Taking his smartphone he texted his lover.
[Text]: Hey. Are you missing a body? Well, your body to be specific?
Kelu would do bad in medical school ( yung-rage has all the credit for the uniform )
Some situations we though about her last stream: - “I’m not gonna save him ! It’s gonna ruin his warrior death !” - “Aww, dude is dead, guess he wasn’t strong enough afterall…” - “Okay bro, I made sure you’ll keep some cool scar from this! - Wh..what ? M… MY ARM !!” - “I’m leaving that harpoon in your hips! It’s gonna look soooo cool on the battleground!” - “You call that a wound ? It’s barely a SCRATCH !“ *patient has a foot long wound across the torso*
My baby doll Sirah had to have an ultra fun vet visit today. Found a wound on her foot on Sunday I thought could be scale rot (top picture is Sunday, bottom is two days later). Vet said since it’s so superficial with no surrounding swelling, most likely just a scratch or a scrape. Otherwise, she’s super healthy (and BIG, 638 grams!) and my husbandry is perfect! 😁💕