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How to Be Alone
“On the other hand, some of the family’s impatience with the public is justified. When I use Federal Express, I accept as a condition of business that its standardized forms must be filled out in printed letters. An e-mail address off by a single character goes nowhere. Transposing two digits in a phone number gets me somebody speaking heatedly in Portuguese. Electronic media tell you instantly when you’ve made an error; with the post office, you have to wait. Haven’t we all at some point tested its humanity? I send mail to friends in Upper Molar, New York (they live in Upper Nyack), and expect a stranger to laugh and deliver it in forty-eight hours. More often than not, the stranger does. With its mission of universal service, the Postal Service is like an urban emergency room contractually obligated to accept every sore throat, pregnancy, and demented parent that comes its way. You may have to wait for hours in a dimly lit corridor. The staff may be short-tempered and dilatory. But eventually you will get treated. In the Central Post Office’s Nixie unit—where mail arrives that has been illegibly or incorrectly addressed—I see street numbers in the seventy thousands; impossible pairings of zip codes and streets; addresses without a name, without a street, without a city; addresses that consist of the description of a building; addresses written in water-based ink that rain has blurred. Skilled Nixie clerks study the orphans one at a time. Either they find a home for them or they apply that most expressive of postal markings, the vermilion finger of accusation that lays the blame squarely on you, the sender.”
Post Office
Emergency Room
“What I have been doing lately from my WIP "In Hiding" is available on my website. *Strong language warning*
Wayne sat in the hygienic emergency room trying to ignore the bitch of a headache that began radiating at the back of his skull. His worn jeans, a blood-stained t-shirt, and his makeshift bandage sat on a nearby chair. The hysteria created by his appearance in the small hospital ward had died down. A local cop greeted him as soon as he was escorted to the examination room. The conversation was brief, once he revealed he was a bail enforcer the topic changed from investigation to shooting the bull. The experienced officer shook his hand before leaving then joked he hoped this would be their only encounter.
The ER doc was a woman about his age. Already the years of long hours, rotating shifts and the rarity of a personal life showed on her face. Her eyelids were pink-rimmed, her complexion sallow; all were earmarks of the effect of long-term exhaustion. Wayne knew it all too well as he rubbed his knuckle against his own grainy eyes. Despite this, she attended to him with an upbeat demeanor and even slid in some ribbing at his expense. He was defenseless, once the adrenaline dropped off Wayne felt drained. He accepted her volleys without a response. All he mustered was a smile and occasional nod as she stitched him up.
Across the room, his cell toned, after the brief display of the number a woman’s image filled the screen.
Under his breath, he mumbled, “Shit.”
He intends for his exclamation to remain ignored, having caught it the doctor glanced his direction with a smile. Without invitation, she retrieved his phone handing it to him without comment. Wayne noted the raised eyebrow she failed to hide. The phone toned again as he glanced at the flat image on the device. The woman’s likeness was smiling brightly, her blue eyes dancing. Just looking at her eased the pain in his head.
He swiped the screen and connected the call as the doctor finished taping his injury. Using his free uninjured arm, he held the phone away from him slightly, utilizing the speaker option.
“Hey Baby.”
“What the hell, Wayne!”
Her voice filled the small area, in his peripheral vision he saw the doc smirk. Turning his head, he addressed the caller.
“Babe, I was getting ready to call.” The excuse sounded lame, even to him.
“Why the hell do I have to hear about this secondhand?”
Wayne placed the phone to his chest, loudly he exclaimed; “F***!”
The ER doc touched his arm, “I will give you privacy.”
Wayne gave her a grateful nod. With a snatch, she grabbed the corner of the thin curtain suspended from the ceiling and pulled it close. Alone again, he refocused on the call. The woman on the other end had continued in her tirade without him. When he rejoined the call mid-rant, she was issuing him a heartfelt ass-chewing.
“...bullshit Wayne that I have to hear about this from my cousin. We’ve talked about this!”
“Honey...”
She interrupts him before he can explain himself. “So what the hell happened?”
Wisely he waited for silence to indicate it was his turn to speak.
“Lou, Honey first I am sorry. You know I never meant to upset you. I am alright; it is just a flesh wound.” As he speaks, a sharp pain radiates across his side. Gritting his teeth, Wayne vows to continue without having the radiating pain affect his voice. “I didn’t want you to worry Honey; you know calling Cooper first is just business.”
Silence.
The woman miles away grits her teeth as she angrily brushes away her tears. Seated at the simple dining table, she takes a napkin from the center and dabs at her eyes. Mentally she reminds herself of her promise that she was done crying over this man. She takes an unsteady breath as she returns her attention to the call.
“Lou, you still there?”
There is something in his voice, the tender desperation he allows only her to see. Furrowing her brow she closes her eyes, an errant tear coursed down her cheek.”
Action
Drama
Wip
Ghetto Bastard: A Memoir
“I ran back into the emergency room crying, yelling, and screaming, “Somebody please help my mother. He is going to kill her!”
God
Success
Rise Above
Bronx
333
A Memior
“If a doctor or nurse had been with him when he'd been injured, she would have made the others carry him more carefully. Doing so would have taken just enough time for them to arrive at the emergency room an hour or so after Tarek's shift had ended, and the name of another doctor would have been at the end of this file....”
Serendipity
Right Place Wrong Time
“I've broken an arm before, but no one wanted to shoot me!' Suzie says. 'I mean, when you go to the emergency room I hope to God the doctors don't decide it might cost too much to care for.' -Suzie Schwab co-owner of East Maui Animal Refuge”
Animals
Pets
Animal Rights
Animal Welfare
Maui
Suzie Schwab
The Courage to Heal: A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse
“Survivors are often good at both resolving and generating crisis. While this capacity to handle crisis can make you a good emergency room worker or ambulance driver, it can also be a way for you to keep yourself from feeling. If you are addicted to intensity and drama...you may be running from yourself.”
Drama
Crisis
Abuse Survivors
Survivors
Emergency
Drama Triangle
Blueprints of the Afterlife
“The thing about Web companies is there's always something severely fucked-up. There is always an outage, always lost data, always compromised customer information, always a server going offline. You work with these clugey internal tools and patch together work-arounds to compensate for the half-assed, rushed development, and after a while the fucked-upness of the whole enterprise becomes the status quo. VPs insecure that they're not as in touch as they need to be with conditions on the ground insert themselves into projects midstream and you get serious scope creep. You present to the world this image that you're a buttoned-down tech company with everything in its right place but once you're on the other side of the firewall it looks like triage time in an emergency room, 24/7. Systems break down, laptops go into the blue screen of death, developers miskey a line of code, error messages appear that mean absolutely nothing. The instantaneousness with which you can fix stuff creates a culture that works by the seat of its pants. I swear the whole Web was built by virtue of developers fixing one mistake after another, constantly forced to compensate for the bugginess of their code.”
Business
Development
Technology
Problems
Web
Internet
Code
World Wide Web
Bugs
Emergencies
Programmers
Coding
Developers
Software Bugs
Tech Companies
Kid Docs
“Fourteen-year-old Connor Hansen raced at full speed through the shiny, sterile emergency room hallways of Westley Hospital. He was excited ... and terrified. He was about to do what he had been training for almost his entire life. But if he failed, someone would die. Paramedics rushed toward him, pushing a bright-yellow gurney that carried a bloodied, lifeless man whose heart had stopped beating. It was Connor's job to get the man's heart started again. Connor was a doctor.”
Young Adult
Young Adult Fiction
Teen Fiction
Middle Grade
Ya Books
Tween Fiction
Tween Books
Tweens
Tween Chapter Books
Middle Grade Reads
The Belief in a Just World: A Fundamental Delusion
“Denial-Withdrawal. This is a primitive devide, but it works. All it requires is an intelligent selection of the information to which one is exposed. And it had the added advantage of requiring no direct distortion of reality. If you have any sense, you arrange not to see what is happening in the ghettoes, in the poverty-stricken areas of the country or the world. You don't make a practice of hanging around emergency rooms, mental hospitals, or homes for the mentally "disadvantages". (...) This mechanism played a central part in a set of experiments that will be discussed later.”
Just World Fallacy
Just World Belief
Hang the Moon
“Annie surveyed the boxes of board games stacked on the table. They had everything from Battleship to Cranium to Settlers of Catan, and even a game called Exploding Kittens. If this was a test, she wanted to pass, but she also didn’t want to risk life and limb, knowing how competitive Darcy and Brendon could get. “How about Scruples?” That sounded low risk. Margot grinned. “I like you.” Darcy shook her head. “We should finish with Scruples. I need more wine before I play that game.” Elle laughed. “Charades first?” “Fine.” Darcy dropped her head back against Elle’s thigh. “But we have to pick new teams.” “Normally Brendon and I partner up,” Margot explained. “It’s not safe to put those two”—she nodded at Darcy and Brendon—“on a team together. They’re ruthless.” “I replaced your coffee table, didn’t I?” Darcy arched a brow. “No harm, no foul.” “Brendon fell through the coffee table. It was scarring.” Margot shivered. “I thought we were going to have to drive him to the emergency room.”
Siblings
Written In The Stars
Alexandria Bellefleur
Brendon Lowell
Darcy Lowell
Game Night
Hang The Moon
Greeting Flannery O'Connor at the Back Door of My Mind
“In the days leading up to the moments when we found ourselves choking on disbelief while watching streamed images of corpses being loaded into freezer trucks, emergency room attendants scrambling to save lives, nurses sobbing frustration over feeling overwhelmed and abandoned, and U.S. citizens on the march to take control of their own fates, Americans witnessed something foreboding. It was the formation of a dominating political culture which would prove fatally lacking when put to a test of ‘unprecedented’ severity.”
Donald Trump
Antiracism
The Year 2020
Coronavirus Pandemic
Authoritarian Culture
Black Lives Matters
Covid 19 In America
Crisis In America
Top Essays Of 2020
Year 2020 In Review
“The cost of housing people and providing then with mental health services is actually lower than cycling them through emergency rooms, homeless shelters, and jails, as numerous studies have shown. The drive to criminalize has more to do with ideology than effectiveness: the mentally ill are seen not as victims of the neoliberal restructuring of public health services but as a dangerous source of disorder to be controlled through intensive and aggressive policing. Any attempt to reduce the negative effects of policing on this population must directly challenge this ideological approach to policing”
Mental Health
Mental Illness
Incarceration
Police Violence
Criminal Justice
Policing
Severe Mental Illness
Letter to a Christian Nation
“Examples of unintelligent design in nature are so numerous that an entire book could be written simply listing them. I will permit myself just one more example. The human respiratory and digestive tracts share a little plumbing at the pharynx. In the United States alone, this intelligent design feature lands tens of thousands of children in the emergency room each year. Some hundreds choke to death. Many others suffer irreparable brain injury. What compassionate purpose does this serve? Of course, we can imagine a compassionate purpose: perhaps the parents of these children needed to be taught a lesson; perhaps God has prepared a special reward in heaven for every child who chokes to death on a bottle cap. The problem, however, is that such imaginings are compatible with any state of the world. What horrendous mishap could not be rationalized in this way? And why would you be inclined to think like this? How is it moral to think like this?”
Religion
Evolution
Atheism
Christianity
Intelligent Design
Dear Friend, from My Life I Write to You in Your Life
“Patient stated that she felt like a burden to loved ones" - much later, when I read the notes from the emergency room, I did not have any recollection of the conversation. 'A burden to loved ones': this language must have been provided to me. I would never use the phrase in my thinking or writing. But my resistance has little to do with avoiding a platitude. To say a burden is to grant oneself weight in other people's lives: to call them loved ones is to fake one's ability to love. One does not always want to subject oneself to self-interrogation imposed by a cliché.”
Loved Ones
Burden
Cliché
Platitude
Insane Clown President: Dispatches from the 2016 Circus
“In the elaborate con that is American electoral politics, the Republican voter has long been the easiest mark in the game, the biggest dope in the room. Everyone inside the Beltway knows this. The Republican voters themselves are the only ones who never saw it. Elections are about a lot of things, but at the highest level, they’re about money. The people who sponsor election campaigns, who pay the hundreds of millions of dollars to fund the candidates’ charter jets and TV ads and 25-piece marching bands, those people have concrete needs. They want tax breaks, federal contracts, regulatory relief, cheap financing, free security for shipping lanes, antitrust waivers and dozens of other things. They mostly don’t care about abortion or gay marriage or school vouchers or any of the social issues the rest of us spend our time arguing about. It’s about money for them, and as far as that goes, the CEO class has had a brilliantly winning electoral strategy for a generation. They donate heavily to both parties, essentially hiring two different sets of politicians to market their needs to the population. The Republicans give them everything that they want, while the Democrats only give them mostly everything. They get everything from the Republicans because you don’t have to make a single concession to a Republican voter. All you have to do to secure a Republican vote is show lots of pictures of gay people kissing or black kids with their pants pulled down or Mexican babies at an emergency room. Then you push forward some dingbat like Michele Bachmann or Sarah Palin to reassure everyone that the Republican Party knows who the real Americans are. Call it the “Rove 1-2.” That’s literally all it’s taken to secure decades of Republican votes, a few patriotic words and a little over-the-pants rubbing. Policywise, a typical Republican voter never even asks a politician to go to second base. While we always got free trade agreements and wars and bailouts and mass deregulation of industry and lots of other stuff the donors definitely wanted, we didn’t get Roe v. Wade overturned or prayer in schools or balanced budgets or censorship of movies and video games or any of a dozen other things Republican voters said they wanted.”
Elections
Republicans
Trump
“You invest a lot in your kids, from the sleepless nights early on and the frightening trips to the emergency room, to homework assignments and a million miles of taxi driving. The great thing is that everything you put in counts, and with a bit of luck, one day they will realize it. Love adds up to something. It's indestructible and immortal and carries long on after your own life is over. Who could ask for more?”
Parenting Children
Infinite Jest
“I will be conveyed to an Emergency Room of some kind, where I will be detained as long as I do not respond to questions, and then, when I do respond to questions, I will be sedated; so it will be an inversion of standard travel, the ambulance and ER: I'll make the journey first, then depart.”
Health
Consciousness
Hospitals
The Singles Table
“Just a kiss." He traced the curve of her jaw, a feather-light touch over soft skin.
"One kiss." She bit her lip, her eyes dark with desire. "No one has ever asked to kiss me. It usually just happens. We're talking on the couch or lying on the bed and then our faces move closer and I know we're going to kiss. My heart starts to pound in anticipation and I hold my breath and..."
"Shhhh." He slid his hand around her neck and pushed himself up so he could clearly see her face.
"Is it now?" she whispered.
"Yes. It's now." He kissed her gently, softly, pressing his lips against the soft bow of her mouth. Everything stilled, the sounds of the emergency room fading away beneath the pounding of his heart and the rush of blood in his ears. With a sigh, she opened to him, stealing his breath with the slow sweep of her tongue. Abandoning himself to the sweetness of her mouth, he pulled her on top of him, palms skimming her lush curves, fingers sinking into the silk of her hair. Her scent, the soft moans and panting breaths, the tremble of her body, the white-hot heat that blazed between them. It was too much and not enough.”
Kissing
Passionate
Momentous
“Work in the emergency room, if you want to live long”
Life
Life And Living
Life Quotes
If I Loved You
“Do you want to have to tell the doctor at the emergency room that the reason your wound opened up was because you couldn't keep your you know what in your pants." "First of all, I don't think I'd have to say you know what in front of the doctor.”
Contemporary Romance
Small Town Romance
The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma
“I cut myself up really badly with the lid of a tin can. They took me to the emergency room, but I couldn’t tell the doctor what I had done to cut myself—I didn’t have any memory of it. The ER doctor was convinced that dissociative identity disorder didn’t exist. . . . A lot of people involved in mental health tell you it doesn’t exist. Not that you don’t have it, but that it doesn’t exist.”
Denial
Mental Health
Mental Health Stigma
Invalidation
Dissociative Identity Disorder
Dissociative Disorders
Dissociative Amnesia
Mental Health Bias
Mental Illness Stigma
Mental Illness Discrimination
Blow Me: Hairy Adventures in the Salon Industry
“Most families around town only had a bottle of aspirin in their medicine cabinets. If you had the flu, you took an aspirin. If you had a toothache, you took an aspirin. If you were bitten by a snake, you took an aspirin. If you developed kidney problems from taking too much aspirin, you took an aspirin. You wouldn't even think of going to the emergency room unless your leg was hanging by a thread. And even then you might wait a while.”
Humor
Poverty
“Toxic relationships are dangerous to your health; they will literally kill you. Stress shortens your lifespan. Even a broken heart can kill you. There is an undeniable mind-body connection. Your arguments and hateful talk can land you in the emergency room or in the morgue. You were not meant to live in a fever of anxiety; screaming yourself hoarse in a frenzy of dreadful, panicked fight-or-flight that leaves you exhausted and numb with grief. You were not meant to live like animals tearing one another to shreds. Don't turn your hair gray. Don't carve a roadmap of pain into the sweet wrinkles on your face. Don't lay in the quiet with your heart pounding like a trapped, frightened creature. For your own precious and beautiful life, and for those around you — seek help or get out before it is too late. This is your wake-up call!”
Healing
Anxiety
Spirit
Recovery
Toxic People
Stress
Abuse Survivors
Healing Insights
Toxic Friends
Toxic Relationships
Mind Body Connection
Trauma and Recovery: The Aftermath of Violence--From Domestic Abuse to Political Terror
“The mental health system is filled with survivors of prolonged, repeated childhood trauma. This is true even though most people who have been abused in childhood never come to psychiatric attention. To the extent that these people recover, they do so on their own.[21] While only a small minority of survivors, usually those with the most severe abuse histories, eventually become psychiatric patients, many or even most psychiatric patients are survivors of childhood abuse.[22] The data on this point are beyond contention. On careful questioning, 50-60 percent of psychiatric inpatients and 40-60 percent of outpatients report childhood histories of physical or sexual abuse or both.[23] In one study of psychiatric emergency room patients, 70 percent had abuse histories.[24] Thus abuse in childhood appears to be one of the main factors that lead a person to seek psychiatric treatment as an adult.[25]”
Psychotherapy
Child Abuse
Mental Health
Childhood Trauma
Psychiatry
Metal Illness
Physical Abuse
Survivors Of Abuse
Survivors
Child Sexual Abuse
Mental Health System
Annie Freeman's Fabulous Traveling Funeral
“Once," Balinda begins softly, "when I was in the emergency room with my mother they brought in a murderer who had been shot and was dying, right there in front of us. I watched as the nurse touched his face and reassured him and I could not believe they were being so nice to him."
"What happened?" Jill asked.
"My mother rose up, took my arm, gripped it as if she was a weight lifter and said, 'he was a beautiful baby once and his mother loved him'.”
Life
Death
Murder
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