Poptropica Ghost Rider

Resignation

When, a few days later, I was discharged did not seem real. After exactly one month I could finally leave this place of suffering and death.
That morning, the ambulance arrived, which should have been transported to the rehabilitation center, all gathered to salute him for a few minutes doctors and nurses who had learned to know so well, sometimes in fear, but above all to respect, they stopped and embraced me. I thanked them one by one. There were those who had pointed out as the black man, a nurse, a little grumpy that I had a holy terror and that, in lucubrations gained in the long hours of boredom, I was labeled as unprofessional as well as rude. I was able to convince me to the point that I anguish that I once confided to the doctor and she promised me that he would speak.
From that day he came over to my bed.
Apart from the fact that it was actually a little gruff, there was actually a real reason to be afraid of, was, as the certainty of becoming a drug addict, one of many fixed my mind, empty of other concerns , had given birth.
I could never find the courage to apologize for thinking so ill of him, but hugged him harder than the other, while I was leaving.
The doctor, while the stretcher to take me away, I whispered to the phone number of the department. Call and let us know how it goes, "he said.
And I was so excited to leave this place that I stopped even for a second to think about what I expected.

Deep Red Bridal Dresses

Exiting Resuscitation

The fourth week I spent in ICU, was totally dedicated to the rehabilitation of breath. I had to relearn to breathe through your nose and mouth, if I wanted to remove the tracheostomy. What
easier said than done, because after almost a month and two weeks of tracheostomy breathing, breathing through the hole in his throat that had seemed the most natural thing in the world. So normal that when the nurses try to close the sleeve almost seemed to choke. The tracheostomy cannula was
can be closed using a controcanula practically a plug, preventing air to escape from the hole at the base of the neck allowing the other hand, speech. But the habit of cannulation and, above all, a good dose of anxiety prevented me from enjoying for two achievements: the autonomy in breathing and the ability to talk back.
The fan, after all, was no longer needed: the doctors were absolutely agree deemed suitable for removal and tracheostomy, however, the clinic contacted the rehabilitation hospital she would be accepted only without it. But every attempt that nurses were to close the sleeve, I seemed to have enough air, I missed literally the breath.
I was taught that this reaction is often a form of suggestion that my values \u200b\u200bwere all normal and that when I closed the trachea, the saturation did not suffer any alteration, but I did not want to know. It took four days of trial. Four days in which to approach every time I saw a nurse with trach cap in hand, began in a cold sweat.
Then one day, my favorite nurse, the next day he would leave for the holidays, announcing that came into my room, I wanted it or not, I would close the cannula. He would not even know myself from trachestomizzata.
While proceeding with the transaction, spoke to me and put me questions and I found myself, at some point, to respond, almost without realizing it. As if nothing had happened, I was talking about and above all I was breathing on her own.
The next day, a few minutes to 1500, my department's already out the door waiting to enter, one by one, as they did last month, the nurse instead of settling down the bed, as he had always done immediately before entering the family, asked me if I had not quite wanted to go to them. He helped me stand up, I held her for those few feet that separated me from the door, opened a door first, making me stay behind the closed door e. ..
My father nearly had a stroke, My mother burst into tears in the eyes of Daniel and the last few tears.