I never had anything serious enough happen to me to warrant an ER trip until I was 14 and put my arm through a window and then again 5 months later when I slipped and embedded a razor blade into the heel of my left hand. Once those happened, it seemed like I was there all the time. The most being between then and the spring before my 16th birthday, I was there every other month for horrific, severe abdominal pains. It took about 6 of these visits for my mother to put her foot down and tell them that we weren’t going home again and either find the problem or be sued. Turns out, it was an ovarian cyst about the size of a cantaloupe that had hemorrhaged and twisted around my f-tube. I got surgery for that one. Since then, its been pretty small potatoes, the dumbest one being when one of the cats scratched my eye while playing. The tetanus shot hurt worse than the scratch, but it bled so badly.
'Get It Done'
Spike's Bitches 44: It's about the rules having changed.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
The most dramatic family injury was when my sister got hit in the
I can finish that sentence by saying
head with a pickaxe, wielded by my brother.
It was an accident. They were with my cousins, who said it would be ok for them to use the axe to clear out some old chicken coop from the empty lot next to my grandmother's house. My mom and grandmother had gone out shopping, so were not home when it happened. To sum up, my mother is fond of saying, "You know it's bad when they greet you at the door, saying, 'Now, Nancy, she's going to be ok....'"
Geez, Aims. I'm glad you finally got some help for that cyst. I can't imagine how badly that must have hurt.
Moving away from the ER stories, I need to come up with a topic for my Romancing the Blog column tomorrow.
I'ma stuck.
When Mary Sue-ing works and when it doesn't.
I'm afraid that wouldn't work so well. Too many of the readers lurrrrrrrrve Twilight and don't get how that's a prime example of Mary Sue-ism at its... worst? finest? I'm not sure, actually.
Writing superstitions? Cause I've always got a new goofy ritual. Not quite like the ballplayer that doesn't change his socks, but...
Changes in power distribution between the hero and heroine?
Traditional: Millionaire/Earl/Doctor vs. Secretary/Governess/Nurse
More recently: Mega-Heiress/Duchess/High-level magician vs. Average wealth/Lower Aristocracy/Computer programmer
I'm still not seeing a lot of Duchesses romancing their friend's children's math tutors, but there do seem to be more books with less dramatic Prince/Cinderella power distributions these days.
With all the black clothing in my closet, you would think it would be easy enough to figure out what to wear to a funeral but nsm.
Turns out, it was an ovarian cyst about the size of a cantaloupe that had hemorrhaged and twisted around my f-tube. I got surgery for that one.
I cannot imagine how you managed not to try to do surgery on yourself. My ruptured ovarian cyst is the standard by which I measure all pain, working under theory that 11 is a ruptured ovarian cyst.