Jelly...how come your left big toe is so skinny?!
Game What are you doing right now?
- Thread starter Devildog4590
- Start date
Jelly...how come your left big toe is so skinny?!
Channel surfing and this
L
LilithX
Guest
Don’t worry, they’re both fat
N
nessabbyxo
Guest
Touched up my nail polish lol 
now for my toenails. No one can see my pretty nails but IDC I love my nails done.
now for my toenails. No one can see my pretty nails but IDC I love my nails done.
Lmao well phat is the new cute!
N
nessabbyxo
Guest
If interested here's the color I did for my nails today.
N
nessabbyxo
Guest
Well got done doing a tequila shot and I smoked some weed lol so I'm feeling fabulous haha ❤ night nighttttt
Tough but rewarding day.. maybe 30 tissues.. make-up is a mess, I just looked
However, I am having trouble remembering what’s going on. It’s a series of ceiling lights passing by, bumps as the gurney pushes doors open, machines, ultra-sounds, imaging, MRI and more of the seemingly endless blood-samples. Doctors stand at my bedside and talk seriously and the nurses breezily pass through, doing their rounds and routine chores. Mum and Dad are waiting in my room when I am wheeled back after I am considered pushed, poked, stabbed and prodded sufficiently for one day. Mum instantly bursts into tears and dad holds her tight.
“I don’t know what to say, Dayna.” Father says softly, sorrow giving his voice a tragic monotone. “Are they sure, I mean, really sure?”
I glance at the clock in the nurse’s station. “The doctors will be here soon. You can ask them, Dad. I am so sorry”
“Why are you sorry?” He seems impelled to know.
“For leaving you,” I respond in a raspy voice.
“So, you know?” Dad seems a little stronger after saying that. I can only imagine how awkward it would have been to be here if he knew and I didn’t
“Yes, I know Dad. I’m coping, scared, but coping. You are the best Father a girl ever had and it’s your strength that is guiding me now.” He knows that I mean that it’s going to be Mum who needs his strength now, more than ever.
“Parents aren’t supposed to bury their children, Dayna.” Father adds. “Our job was always to present our children a future then stay long enough to see them away on their journey.”
“I know, Dad.”
“Dayna,” Mother sobs, pulling away from Dad’s embrace and leaning on the bed. “My little girl, my baby,”
I reach up for a hug and Mum frustratingly evades all my plumbing and returns the embrace. She wants to say something, to deny it all; I can see it on her face. Take those tubes out, put her clothes back on, tell her it was all a big mistake and they are very sorry for frightening everyone. Laugh about it in a few years and once you have reached the point of forgiveness. The truth means that there is nothing to forgive and it leaves an empty space that only love can exist in.
Author Note: Every so often you nail a golden sentence, its rare, but when you do, you know it, the last sentence.. nailed it.
Cont'd
The IV stand with the green box on top proved to be an electronic device that will administer a prescribed dose of pain-suppressant on demand to the patient via the small control he or she holds if they can in one hand after a certain interval of time has passed. After staying about a month in the main hospital and the days progressed endlessly, I was given some counselling regarding what to expect before being moved to palliative care. Mum and Dad visit almost every day and even Brian comes with them most times. Sometimes, I’ll wake to see visitors sitting and waiting and other times, when I wake, the visitors I had will be gone. Vincent is a constant visitor if not somewhat erratic in his visiting times which has actually worked well, his arriving after midnight coinciding with me being wide-awake and comfortable at the moment. I have probably missed him a few times as well but he never mentions it if I do. I’m down to half my normal body-weight and two or three times a day, the nurses come in and adjust my position as I have lost the strength to do so. I have urinary catheter in and am wearing an adult diaper. My arms, what’s left of them are mottled and pale, bruises from the numerous catheters and needles.
My mind when I’m awake seems at least to me to be no different but all my senses are diminishing as increasing pain forces higher and higher doses of pain-suppressor to overcome. I want to be aware of my surroundings not trying to make sense of the blurred visions and muted voices. Doctors and nurses aren’t really talking to me, I assume they are updating me but I struggle to comprehend much of it at all. The nurses only get close enough for me to comprehend if they have been directed to get an answer to a specific question or in order to complete their tasks in my room and move to the next patient in need of their devoted care. I remember a choice in a degree, medical practise or medical research and the thought of duty in wards like this or an emergency department were enough to direct my interest into helping those I was unable to join in the front-line; I could achieve better results through research. Sometimes, I know its Vincent’s gentle fingers caressing my temples and hair because he knows to get right up close to my ear and just whisper clearly and I hear him best.
“I’m so sorry it’s been a couple of days since I was here, Dayna.” Vincent sounds grief-stricken that he had done so.
“Have you,” I whisper back. “I can’t tell sometimes.”
“I know darling, I have been here many times, watching you sleep and holding your hand.”
“Vincent, never stop loving me, but you will have to let go. I love you too much to imagine you missing all your dreams just because of me. You will be my last thought.”
“Dayna, I am not letting you go, end of discussion. This fight isn’t over while Vincent Thorn has breath in his body. I’m working on something. That’s why I’ve been erratic and coming so late, no one comes in here at this time of night. I’m going to bring an interface and recording device in tomorrow-night and put a few little sensors on your head. I added some features to a standard one and re-wrote some of its code. You don’t have to do anything, it’s completely passive.”
“That’s wonderful,” I say, not sure why though but it seems to be helping Vincent cope so I guess that’s why.
Sometimes, I’m wide awake with my thoughts and there is no one around and I think those are the hardest of all to bear. I have so little time left, I yearn to share it with those I love, Vincent, all my family and close friends, in fact, anyone I know has been welcomed. Time has become my most treasured possession and has kept my shaky spirits buoyant all through this long process up until quite recently. I’m not sure if anyone has noticed and in fact I am not sure of anything at all. I feel like I’m waiting at a bus-stop and the bus is running late. Apparently, the family lawyer, after three attempts, finally caught me in one of my becoming rarer lucid moments and while both Vincent and Dad were present, I settled my final affairs. I dictated my will, arranged the relevant paperwork for my life insurance and superannuation and even transferred my car to Vincent’s name allowing him to sell it. I gave Dad authority to go to the bank and close all my accounts and settle up any final business there. I’ve requested a cremation and my ashes to be scattered on the funeral homes’ rose garden. All that seems to remain now is to say good bye.
I seem to have lost several days, I know I have because the fresh flowers I saw delivered to the nurse’s station have wilted but although I am barely able to twitch a finger, my thoughts are clear and my mind sharp at this moment in time. A gentle calmness has settled over me. It will be today, I know. I don’t know how I know, but I know. I do know I like knowing but I also realise, this is it for Dayna Milton in this life. I am sad. I wanted to see how far we would advance as a race in my lifetime. I wanted to see disease cured and lives improved. I wanted to marry Vincent and put grandchildren on my Father’s lap. I wanted them to learn from my Mother’s gentle wisdom. I wanted to give them a future as bright as the one my parents gave me. I wanted to be with Vincent for all of his lifetime and I have only been able to be with him for all of mine. I believe I am entitled to one last cry, it is surely a woman’s right to do so. The tears start and flow, they flow for every dream unfulfilled, every hope dashed, every goal evaded and every avenue closed until even with my dulled senses, I can feel my pillow is wet around my neck.
All day, my field of vision has been shrinking until now, it’s a little like the walls of your awareness are closing in and your view is diminishing. A blur of white passes across the awareness at times, light get bright, then dim, voices, vague and distant penetrate at times. Something’s wrong. My lungs aren’t taking the next breath. Breathe, dammit, breathe. The light’s fading again. My heart beats one erratic beat, then one more. Then it beats a good powerful beat and for a brief moment, I think, it will beat again. But it doesn’t. Please, beat again, the light’s fading, its getting dark, I’m scared, please beat – please.
End of Chapter... *sniff*
Ls x
However, I am having trouble remembering what’s going on. It’s a series of ceiling lights passing by, bumps as the gurney pushes doors open, machines, ultra-sounds, imaging, MRI and more of the seemingly endless blood-samples. Doctors stand at my bedside and talk seriously and the nurses breezily pass through, doing their rounds and routine chores. Mum and Dad are waiting in my room when I am wheeled back after I am considered pushed, poked, stabbed and prodded sufficiently for one day. Mum instantly bursts into tears and dad holds her tight.
“I don’t know what to say, Dayna.” Father says softly, sorrow giving his voice a tragic monotone. “Are they sure, I mean, really sure?”
I glance at the clock in the nurse’s station. “The doctors will be here soon. You can ask them, Dad. I am so sorry”
“Why are you sorry?” He seems impelled to know.
“For leaving you,” I respond in a raspy voice.
“So, you know?” Dad seems a little stronger after saying that. I can only imagine how awkward it would have been to be here if he knew and I didn’t
“Yes, I know Dad. I’m coping, scared, but coping. You are the best Father a girl ever had and it’s your strength that is guiding me now.” He knows that I mean that it’s going to be Mum who needs his strength now, more than ever.
“Parents aren’t supposed to bury their children, Dayna.” Father adds. “Our job was always to present our children a future then stay long enough to see them away on their journey.”
“I know, Dad.”
“Dayna,” Mother sobs, pulling away from Dad’s embrace and leaning on the bed. “My little girl, my baby,”
I reach up for a hug and Mum frustratingly evades all my plumbing and returns the embrace. She wants to say something, to deny it all; I can see it on her face. Take those tubes out, put her clothes back on, tell her it was all a big mistake and they are very sorry for frightening everyone. Laugh about it in a few years and once you have reached the point of forgiveness. The truth means that there is nothing to forgive and it leaves an empty space that only love can exist in.
Author Note: Every so often you nail a golden sentence, its rare, but when you do, you know it, the last sentence.. nailed it.
Cont'd
The IV stand with the green box on top proved to be an electronic device that will administer a prescribed dose of pain-suppressant on demand to the patient via the small control he or she holds if they can in one hand after a certain interval of time has passed. After staying about a month in the main hospital and the days progressed endlessly, I was given some counselling regarding what to expect before being moved to palliative care. Mum and Dad visit almost every day and even Brian comes with them most times. Sometimes, I’ll wake to see visitors sitting and waiting and other times, when I wake, the visitors I had will be gone. Vincent is a constant visitor if not somewhat erratic in his visiting times which has actually worked well, his arriving after midnight coinciding with me being wide-awake and comfortable at the moment. I have probably missed him a few times as well but he never mentions it if I do. I’m down to half my normal body-weight and two or three times a day, the nurses come in and adjust my position as I have lost the strength to do so. I have urinary catheter in and am wearing an adult diaper. My arms, what’s left of them are mottled and pale, bruises from the numerous catheters and needles.
My mind when I’m awake seems at least to me to be no different but all my senses are diminishing as increasing pain forces higher and higher doses of pain-suppressor to overcome. I want to be aware of my surroundings not trying to make sense of the blurred visions and muted voices. Doctors and nurses aren’t really talking to me, I assume they are updating me but I struggle to comprehend much of it at all. The nurses only get close enough for me to comprehend if they have been directed to get an answer to a specific question or in order to complete their tasks in my room and move to the next patient in need of their devoted care. I remember a choice in a degree, medical practise or medical research and the thought of duty in wards like this or an emergency department were enough to direct my interest into helping those I was unable to join in the front-line; I could achieve better results through research. Sometimes, I know its Vincent’s gentle fingers caressing my temples and hair because he knows to get right up close to my ear and just whisper clearly and I hear him best.
“I’m so sorry it’s been a couple of days since I was here, Dayna.” Vincent sounds grief-stricken that he had done so.
“Have you,” I whisper back. “I can’t tell sometimes.”
“I know darling, I have been here many times, watching you sleep and holding your hand.”
“Vincent, never stop loving me, but you will have to let go. I love you too much to imagine you missing all your dreams just because of me. You will be my last thought.”
“Dayna, I am not letting you go, end of discussion. This fight isn’t over while Vincent Thorn has breath in his body. I’m working on something. That’s why I’ve been erratic and coming so late, no one comes in here at this time of night. I’m going to bring an interface and recording device in tomorrow-night and put a few little sensors on your head. I added some features to a standard one and re-wrote some of its code. You don’t have to do anything, it’s completely passive.”
“That’s wonderful,” I say, not sure why though but it seems to be helping Vincent cope so I guess that’s why.
Sometimes, I’m wide awake with my thoughts and there is no one around and I think those are the hardest of all to bear. I have so little time left, I yearn to share it with those I love, Vincent, all my family and close friends, in fact, anyone I know has been welcomed. Time has become my most treasured possession and has kept my shaky spirits buoyant all through this long process up until quite recently. I’m not sure if anyone has noticed and in fact I am not sure of anything at all. I feel like I’m waiting at a bus-stop and the bus is running late. Apparently, the family lawyer, after three attempts, finally caught me in one of my becoming rarer lucid moments and while both Vincent and Dad were present, I settled my final affairs. I dictated my will, arranged the relevant paperwork for my life insurance and superannuation and even transferred my car to Vincent’s name allowing him to sell it. I gave Dad authority to go to the bank and close all my accounts and settle up any final business there. I’ve requested a cremation and my ashes to be scattered on the funeral homes’ rose garden. All that seems to remain now is to say good bye.
I seem to have lost several days, I know I have because the fresh flowers I saw delivered to the nurse’s station have wilted but although I am barely able to twitch a finger, my thoughts are clear and my mind sharp at this moment in time. A gentle calmness has settled over me. It will be today, I know. I don’t know how I know, but I know. I do know I like knowing but I also realise, this is it for Dayna Milton in this life. I am sad. I wanted to see how far we would advance as a race in my lifetime. I wanted to see disease cured and lives improved. I wanted to marry Vincent and put grandchildren on my Father’s lap. I wanted them to learn from my Mother’s gentle wisdom. I wanted to give them a future as bright as the one my parents gave me. I wanted to be with Vincent for all of his lifetime and I have only been able to be with him for all of mine. I believe I am entitled to one last cry, it is surely a woman’s right to do so. The tears start and flow, they flow for every dream unfulfilled, every hope dashed, every goal evaded and every avenue closed until even with my dulled senses, I can feel my pillow is wet around my neck.
All day, my field of vision has been shrinking until now, it’s a little like the walls of your awareness are closing in and your view is diminishing. A blur of white passes across the awareness at times, light get bright, then dim, voices, vague and distant penetrate at times. Something’s wrong. My lungs aren’t taking the next breath. Breathe, dammit, breathe. The light’s fading again. My heart beats one erratic beat, then one more. Then it beats a good powerful beat and for a brief moment, I think, it will beat again. But it doesn’t. Please, beat again, the light’s fading, its getting dark, I’m scared, please beat – please.
End of Chapter... *sniff*
Ls x
Last edited:
giving in to the insomnia
That was not easy to write, I kept tearing up and having to stop, screen kept getting blurry.
Like, I like a challenge, but that's the last time I'll do that.. its too damn emotional
Ls x
Hum.. I loved it....I was being a punk
See the last line.. I was saying you named the chapter sniff...
I'm hoping your not offended. I was tired and it seemed a little joke
I love your writing. Please, dont make this the last one because I made a poor joke...
Appologies... OGR
F
FallenFreya
Guest
Trying to meal plan next week.
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