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I didn't understand probably three-quarters of the conversations between medical professionals. It reminded me of the times I've traveled abroad and just ultimate culture shock; what are the right behaviors in this environment? I mean—in what country do you meet someone for the first time and ask them about their bowel movements? During our hospital orientation we were confronted with an early reminder of the reality of death: the code blue cart.

If anyone did code, we would be expected to start cardiopulmoney resuscitation CPR. I'd never been around acutely ill people. I had no context to begin to understand. It was terrifying. I remember the first weeks being asked to feed patients—something that you think would not be scary, but these people were at risk for aspiration.

You needed to make sure they were sitting totally upright and were chewing all their food and didn't have trouble swallowing. The once benign act of feeding a patient became terrifying because I could unwittingly harm someone. But I guess that added to my sense of responsibility—I was now operating in a high stakes learning environment: the risks were real, and it was better to know them than ignore them.

At first, I felt like a guest wearing a costume. My scrubs designated me as a nurse, but I did not yet have the confidence to give directions to patients, or to expect that patients would believe in my abilities sufficiently to follow my instructions. Initially I was afraid to even walk into the room alone. But I needed to walk into the room alone.

I just had to suck it up and go in. And at a certain point I perceived a change. I could do more stuff and was making more decisions, coming to conclusions about patient care, taking information that I received from the patient as to what they needed or how they were doing and turning that into action.

I felt more confident and independent. Somehow there was a shift motivated by my direct connection with the patient without the middle person of the staff nurse to interpret what was needed. I was no longer a guest who was intruding on the patient or making illegitimate claims or requests. I felt entitled and responsible to coach and instruct patients, but especially, to perform uncomfortable procedures. Sometimes things like turning the patient or getting the patient out of bed were unwanted by a patient who was already in pain.

This sense of being in charge of the patient's safety heightened my vigilance too. I paid more attention to equipment and to the particular details of care. I asked more questions and then I needed to think through what was wrong with the patient and what could go wrong. If I'm just observing, I may not pay attention to how many lines they have, what's running, or how many liters of oxygen they're hooked up to. But if I'm actually trying to take that patient on, I'd better look at every detail, because I actually have to be responsible.

As a learning experience, it's much better to be the person who has to do it. Now the corollary of that is that it's riskier for patients. When we're actually the ones responsible, it means we can miss things: there's a level of danger in this learning. Without the gravity for me—without feeling like the patient's health is dependent on me, I just don't learn as much.

I need to feel that what I'm doing is making a difference and I just take it more seriously. It's also why I wake up in the middle of the night concerned about something that I forgot. Much of nursing is physical, like re-positioning somebody in bed or putting in an Intravenous IV.

You can watch somebody put in IVs all day, but—if you're just watching someone do it, it seems easy and seamless, and only once you actually do it yourself do you realize what can go wrong, and as a result you have the drive to perfect it. It's me in my body learning from the inside out. Physically performing the work of caring for patients required me to respond to situational demands.

And that's how I learn—by doing the work. Anything that I found I had to follow-up with. It's very different than being a student who just observed but rather to be the one who took action and followed through. Learning when and how to access other members of the health care team were existential skills that I took up to navigate the clinical environment for the sake of my patient. My care became more efficient when treatment decisions were not filtered through the nurse as go-between.

At first it was a little intimidating to reach out to these different parties, but then you do it a few times and it's a lot easier. I see the network of the hospital much more clearly. Whereas [before] I felt like I was kind of floating and not really interacting with these different parties. Now I'm anchored. My sense of responsibility to provide effective care propelled me to communicate with these other folks on the health care team. Becoming at home in the social and physical environment of the hospital entailed using equipment flexibly, navigating the physical environment, dealing with social expectations smoothly and skillfully, and developing my own care routines.

All of that was part of taking on the responsibility for caring for patients, and in doing that I experienced emotions of concern and vigilance. My involvement with the patient, my sense of agency, and responsibility became motivating forces. Feeling the weight has been formative for me; I feel like the responsible nurse. The primary aim of Wertz's phenomenological inquiry Wertz, was to describe how overweight adolescents experience and articulate the meaning of being overweight.

Fifteen adolescent girls with a mean age of Three home visits and parent interviews were also conducted. While it has been noted that obese youth are 5. In this composite first person narrative, the following themes are emphasized: 1 problematizing my body, 2 being under a gaze, 3 distinguishing good food and bad food, and 4 wanting to be like everyone else. My parents brought me to this clinic and, boy, is it weird.

First, I had to get up early and couldn't eat any breakfast. Then the doctor said I was fat—I mean really, that was harsh.

Narratives of a Love-A-Holic

I had been told by my regular doctor that I was putting on too much weight, but I didn't know this was so serious, that I have to see a special doctor. And this doctor says things that I don't want to hear, about how I won't live a normal life span, and I might have diabetes! This is scary stuff. I knew I was getting kinda big, but that's how the women in my family look. I started getting bigger in about 6th grade, but lately I have gotten much bigger. It is hard to be big, in so many ways.

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Other people are really cruel—they're always talking about me, even saying stuff right in front of me. Kids can be so mean—they talk about everybody, if they are too skinny, too fat, too this, or too that. Mostly, I try to ignore it. But sometimes I get angry. I just get fed up with it. Just because someone is different from you is no reason to be insulting! I used to get into fights with people who teased me, but I don't do that much anymore. Even grown-ups will say stuff. I don't mean just my family, sometimes strangers make rude comments. People are always looking at me. I notice it especially when I go out to eat.

People look at me, turn around, craning their necks like they are looking at the scene of an accident. Being a big person attracts attention from other people that I don't want. I have noticed that people give me a look—it makes me feel conspicuous and like I am different or not as good. I have gotten into the habit of checking out the size of other people in a new situation—like starting a new class at school, or going to a party. Another hard thing is that I feel like I am being monitored. My family does it to be helpful, I guess. Sometimes it does help—I will re-think eating it and maybe put it back.

Other times it is annoying and I feel resentful about why I can't eat what everyone else does. Either way it bugs me that other people are paying so much attention to what I eat. My mom tries to help me by having the right kinds of foods for me to eat, but we both get confused about this. The information we get seems to conflict.

Like in school we learned the food pyramid, but the lady in the clinic said to throw out that idea. She taught us how to eat using a divided plate, and said to choose a protein first, and then fill up the plate with mostly fruits and vegetables. She gave us a shopping list.

The foods on the list are too expensive, though, and not easy to find near our house. My parents mainly shop at a warehouse store where they can get more food for the same price. And, my dad and my brothers got upset when mom told them she was not going to buy soda or juice anymore.

She does buy more of the good foods that I can eat now. The rest of my family eats regular food. I asked my mom why she still buys the bad foods—like chips and cookies and other snacks. She said that since the rest of the family won't eat the healthy stuff she ends up throwing a lot of it away, and they also complain to her that there is nothing to eat in the house. They think my food is weird. My brother told me I must be turning into a rabbit because I ate so much lettuce and my cereal looks like straw.

Sometimes I don't feel human anymore. With all the fuss over food our family hardly ever eats together. We all just get our own plates and go to our rooms, or we eat in front of the TV. My favorite way to spend time is hanging out at the mall with my friends. After school or on weekends—we love to shop. I just want something that makes me look good. The main thing about me is that I feel like a skinny girl stuck in a big person's body. I'll just be cruising along one minute, minding my own business, everything is fine—and the next thing I know someone is giving me that look, or saying something mean, or I can't fit into my desk or my clothes and it just reminds me all over again that I am big.

That I'm not like other people. I have to go to a special doctor, eat special food, and shop in special stores. Really, I just want to be like everybody else. The purpose of Marlow's study Marlow, was to understand how male parolees experience the community health care system and how their interactions with that system impact their reintegration efforts. Seventeen chronically ill male parolees 40 to 62 years of age enrolled in a residential substance abuse treatment program participated in this study.

Prison saved my life a lot of times. On the streets, I'm an extremist—lots of drugs and violence. When my parole agent picks me up I go back to the system and I regenerate my health. I get health care, sobriety, confinement—all things I need. It's not perfect, with how they treat you—you feel worthless. But there's lots provided for you in prison, that's not there for you on the streets.

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You get your old job back. You start eating again. I'm not saying I'm institutionalized but prison brainwashes you and takes way serious trains of thought on how to act out in society. Seven years ago, I get out of prison. I am feeling good. I am doing some landscaping work for a friend, and all of the sudden I feel this ripping in my back and it hurt so much that I went to the county hospital emergency room ER. I waited 8 hours to be seen and all they gave me was two shots of morphine and some vicodins. I'm heroin addict! What's two little shots and some vicodins gonna do for me?

They were kind a rude too. The exam was real rough and I felt like they looked down on me for being an addict. Four weeks later, I finally get the appointment for physical therapy. It helped a little but not much. So I started using drugs again and then I got arrested. I can't say it was all the hospital's fault because I did give up and go back to prison.

But I feel that if they had taken my back pain more seriously, if I could I've seen the physical therapist and the doctor more than once a month, I might have made more of an effort, but it just seemed so pointless and like they weren't really interested in me. For now, I am in this drug treatment program and I am glad to be here, but I'm off parole in February so the State's not paying for me no more. From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia. Madman Entertainment. Manga Entertainment. Funimation Channel.

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Del Rey Manga. See also: List of xxxHolic characters. See also: List of xxxHolic chapters. See also: List of xxxHolic episodes. Anime News Network. Retrieved June 27, Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicle, Volume Retrieved November 11, Clamp no Kiseki, Vol. New York Times. Retrieved on April 15, John Phoenix Brown. January 11, Archived from the original on July 15, Retrieved April 21, New York: Del Rey Manga. Mainichi Shimbun. March 5, Retrieved March 9, New York: Del Rey.

Retrieved January 11, Magic as Metaphor in Anime: A critical study. Retrieved September 28, September 13, Retrieved November 26, June 7, May 19, Retrieved November 28, January 7, Retrieved January 7, Archived from the original on February 13, Retrieved February 13, Retrieved November 18, Retrieved March 2, Retrieved March 7, January 9, Retrieved May 21, Random House.

Retrieved November 9, Retrieved November 29, Archived from the original on February 27, December 2, Retrieved December 5, Retrieved February 26, Newtype USA 7 2 pp. February Newtype USA. January Animation Magazine. Archived from the original on June 16, Retrieved November 14, Archived from the original on July 17, Retrieved August 2, August 17, Retrieved December 29, Retrieved November 16, Retrieved December 4, July 1, Archived from the original on February 2, Retrieved December 8, February 10, Retrieved November 22, There is actually a list I keep on Twitter of course it is an encrypted list in which I manage all my crushes.

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