UX Themes – Michael Jordan Chicago Bulls NBA basketball signature shirt

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I think you could say my parents are really laid back, and we aren’t really orthodox. We all don’t have time for praying, because I and all my sibling do like 2 honor programs. My parents have an 8 – 7 job as doctors. Lastly, just the other week in my new job on intensive care, I’m looking after a post-op guy and thought “well he looks crap” but again everything was ok about this man. There was no reason to think anything, and one of my colleagues said: “he’s been that color since he got here”. Well, an hour into my shift there’s blood everywhere, surgeons were up stitching his insides up on the bed where he was instead of theatre and major hemorrhage protocol was activated. We had a typical, two-story rectangular house and my bedroom was right above the living room, with the stairs leading down to the front door. One night in my pre-teens, I was awoken by my parents’ voices coming from the living room. They were arguing. Although I did not clearly remember this growing up, through therapy I was able to articulate that they were fighting about money and how expensive my athletic team and competitions were. I heard that I was the cause of their financial problems. This was devastating for a young girl and debilitated me in terms of buying anything for myself. As a teen, going to the mall was a trauma, trying to find a better price on something I needed, wanting something I wouldn’t buy. My parents would give me their credit card and send me clothes shopping and I’d come home empty-handed and upset. Sometimes they took me shopping but I’d only get angry and act out.

Michael Jordan Chicago Bulls NBA basketball signature shirt

Got her a chest x-ray, and handed over to the ward she was going to over the phone while the doctor finished writing up her examination. Well, the patient’s daughter comes running out of the waiting room and her mum is blue from the waist up and we knew then she had a pulmonary embolism. She arrests, but somehow 30 compressions and some oxygen got her back (though we would be thrombolytic which means 90mins continuous compressions) but we must have moved the clot. Got her diagnosed and treated for a massive PE post-arrest, she was sat up having a cup of tea half an hour after it, and we sent her over to cardiac for telemetry. I had been watching this woman like a hawk because I just knew she wasn’t ok. I wasn’t the only nurse who felt it either. No reasons, we just know. I don’t remember my early childhood and what I do remember consists mostly of vague memories and visual snapshots so I can’t quote word for word the overheard conversation between my parents that traumatized me for decades but… I think you could say my parents are really laid back, and we aren’t really orthodox. We all don’t have time for praying, because I and all my sibling do like 2 honor programs. My parents have an 8 – 7 job as doctors. Lastly, just the other week in my new job on intensive care, I’m looking after a post-op guy and thought “well he looks crap” but again everything was ok about this man. There was no reason to think anything, and one of my colleagues said: “he’s been that color since he got here”. Well, an hour into my shift there’s blood everywhere, surgeons were up stitching his insides up on the bed where he was instead of theatre and major hemorrhage protocol was activated. We had a typical, two-story rectangular house and my bedroom was right above the living room, with the stairs leading down to the front door. One night in my pre-teens, I was awoken by my parents’ voices coming from the living room. They were arguing.

Michael Jordan Chicago Bulls NBA basketball signature Hoodie

Again, KARMA, and I didn’t have to do anything. I did feel sorry for his wife and kid, but she should have left him long before that happened. It’s not like it came out of nowhere. I got revenge in both cases by just waiting for these losers to do themselves in. One day, I’ll write about my former brother in law, but I don’t think anyone will believe me. He’s that big of a POS. In my old job, we had an assessment unit for referrals from the community. This was a waiting room for about 50 people, a few bed spaces, and a triage room which was an old cubicle we converted with a desk and a trolley in it. I triaged a little old lady, she was fine, just a minor chest infection according to the doctor. I didn’t think she was right, but couldn’t prove it, I just felt it. This little lady needed to stay in for a day or two just to have some social problems sorted too, as well as some antibiotics. I settled her back into a big armchair, sorted her paperwork, and bloodwork. Got her a chest x-ray, and handed over to the ward she was going to over the phone while the doctor finished writing up her examination. Well, the patient’s daughter comes running out of the waiting room and her mum is blue from the waist up and we knew then she had a pulmonary embolism. She arrests, but somehow 30 compressions and some oxygen got her back (though we would be thrombolytic which means 90mins continuous compressions) but we must have moved the clot. Got her diagnosed and treated for a massive PE post-arrest, she was sat up having a cup of tea half an hour after it, and we sent her over to cardiac for telemetry. I had been watching this woman like a hawk because I just knew she wasn’t ok. I wasn’t the only nurse who felt it either.

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