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Katrina Rohr
Thursday, August 31, 2017
Monday, March 18, 2013
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Monday, May 25, 2009
Reflecting
When I first started blogging, I have to say that I really wasn't a fan. I felt it was useless, dumb, pointless, and 400 words was a lot more than what I had to write in my writing notebook so I felt I was getting gipped and it wasn't fair. But now that I've had time to think about it and I've gone a while with blogging, I can see why a teacher would choose to have their students blog.
First of all it lets them write freely. I'm glad we could write about anything we wanted to because that gave me the opportunity to babble if I felt like I wanted to or vent about something if I really wanted, which was nice. Especially since it's easier to write things down when you're frustrated than to talk and it just makes you feel better.
It also gives students and opportunity to see other bloggers and their opinions on things and then you can even write a response to it. If you write in a notebook, you don't really get to do that. You might read a neighbors entry or something if they allow it, but it's just not the same.
Then there's the aspect that anyone can read your writing. Yes, it is kind of scary that anyone can read your writing, but you can also get noticed if you'd like. I didn't personally get any comments from people I didn't know, but my friend was telling me about how he reviewed a book and connected the link to the authors blog, and the author actually commented on his post. That's pretty cool.
It's also an easy way for the teacher to check without the hassle of handling a bagillion different papers. He or she can just jump on the computer and check it out. That seems much more convenient to me than having all the kids turn everything in and then getting them back and all that jazz. It's also easier for the student because they don't have to deal with handing them in and getting them back.
As the year has gone by, I've grown to like blogs more. They're still not my favorite because we're being made to do them, but there are worse things in the world we could have to do.
First of all it lets them write freely. I'm glad we could write about anything we wanted to because that gave me the opportunity to babble if I felt like I wanted to or vent about something if I really wanted, which was nice. Especially since it's easier to write things down when you're frustrated than to talk and it just makes you feel better.
It also gives students and opportunity to see other bloggers and their opinions on things and then you can even write a response to it. If you write in a notebook, you don't really get to do that. You might read a neighbors entry or something if they allow it, but it's just not the same.
Then there's the aspect that anyone can read your writing. Yes, it is kind of scary that anyone can read your writing, but you can also get noticed if you'd like. I didn't personally get any comments from people I didn't know, but my friend was telling me about how he reviewed a book and connected the link to the authors blog, and the author actually commented on his post. That's pretty cool.
It's also an easy way for the teacher to check without the hassle of handling a bagillion different papers. He or she can just jump on the computer and check it out. That seems much more convenient to me than having all the kids turn everything in and then getting them back and all that jazz. It's also easier for the student because they don't have to deal with handing them in and getting them back.
As the year has gone by, I've grown to like blogs more. They're still not my favorite because we're being made to do them, but there are worse things in the world we could have to do.
Doctors
After the nurses were finally done torturing me with needles and swabs and everything else, we were left alone in the room for a while. By that time my dad had gotten to the hospital as well. Despite how uncomfortable that hospital bed was, I managed to fall asleep til the doctor came in. he confirmed that I had mono and told us I didn't have tonsillitis or strep throat. He also told us my blood count was extremely high, but it's still in the realm that he doesn't think I would need to be emitted. He said I wasn't dehydrated but I could be drinking more and that would help. All I could do was take Tylenol and drink and wait it out. We asked him about my tonsils and if I would have to get them taken out because the tissue was dying and he told us that he wasn't sure but if I did, no one would operate on me for another 6 to 8 months because they would want to make sure the mono isn't going to act up.
After all that they finally unhooked me and let me go home where I passed out for the rest of the day. The doctor had told us that he talked to our family doctor and had set up a follow-up appointment to make sure the blood count and everything was going down.
The day came where I had to go back to the doctors office to check everything out. I was finally feeling a little better. Not much, but a little and the fever had gone down significantly. We found out that in a week and a half I had lost 13 pounds. The doctor wasn't really much help. My tonsils were going down and I wasn't really feeling nauseous anymore, but I did still have no appetite. She just told us that would come back and that I had to go to the lab to get blood drawn. My first thought was damn it. Get ready for pain. This is gonna suck and I don't wanna go through all of it again.
Of course when I got back there I was already freaked out. The lady took one look at my arms and asked what the people at the hospital did to me. I told her they tortured me. She couldn't draw blood from a vein if it was burst or collapsed, which is indicated by the bruises, and they did that to all the veins they could get to except one. I was lucky that this lady was a vein wizard because it only took her one try to get to that one vein. I asked if I could get blood drawn there every time. She said of course. And before I knew it, we were out of there and back home where I could sleep again.
After all that they finally unhooked me and let me go home where I passed out for the rest of the day. The doctor had told us that he talked to our family doctor and had set up a follow-up appointment to make sure the blood count and everything was going down.
The day came where I had to go back to the doctors office to check everything out. I was finally feeling a little better. Not much, but a little and the fever had gone down significantly. We found out that in a week and a half I had lost 13 pounds. The doctor wasn't really much help. My tonsils were going down and I wasn't really feeling nauseous anymore, but I did still have no appetite. She just told us that would come back and that I had to go to the lab to get blood drawn. My first thought was damn it. Get ready for pain. This is gonna suck and I don't wanna go through all of it again.
Of course when I got back there I was already freaked out. The lady took one look at my arms and asked what the people at the hospital did to me. I told her they tortured me. She couldn't draw blood from a vein if it was burst or collapsed, which is indicated by the bruises, and they did that to all the veins they could get to except one. I was lucky that this lady was a vein wizard because it only took her one try to get to that one vein. I asked if I could get blood drawn there every time. She said of course. And before I knew it, we were out of there and back home where I could sleep again.
The Torture Continues
I'm fairly certain the girl who was working on my left arm had no idea what she was doing because she was causing a lot of pain and could not get a good poke to save her life. She tried all the tricks. Had me pump my fist, used the rubber band thing on my arm, slapped my arm, nothing worked for her. The guy on my right got more lucky. He struck gold. Because the girl on my left was a little incompetent, The guy had to take about 5 valves of blood from my right arm. This left a HUGE bruise on my arm that didn't fade away til about 2 weeks later. It hurt and was so traumatizing. That little incident caused me about 4 bruises between the 2 arms.
Then came the IV. This was even worse than the two nit wits drawing blood. Once again, I have terrible veins so the lady took about 5 minutes to find a vein she thought she could get at. Apparently I had a vein that was there and was fairly decent but every time she tried to poke it, which was about 16 times, it would move on her. So she dug around a little to try and get it, but believe it or not, that didn't work either. What a shocker. So far, that has hurt the worst. The IVs aren't really needles. They're plastic tubes that has another little plastic tube in that so they're easy to change. And of course this plastic tube they're sticking in me is bigger than a needle. So she decided to try the top of my hand. She found one she thought she could get and was successful, but unfortunately, she collapsed my vein. Another bruise. My favorite. She tried once again on my forearm with no success, so she decided to call in the big guns.
The next nurse who came in to poke me was the roughest of them all. I think I cried the whole time she was in the room. It hurt so bad when she was trying to get to my vein. She was not being gentle at all. It was really scary and my mom kept telling me to calm down so I don't move my arm but it was hard. Thankfully, she finally got it in. Then after they got it in, I was afraid to move my arm because every time I did, I would feel it move in my arm and that is the most disgusting feeling ever.
Then came the IV. This was even worse than the two nit wits drawing blood. Once again, I have terrible veins so the lady took about 5 minutes to find a vein she thought she could get at. Apparently I had a vein that was there and was fairly decent but every time she tried to poke it, which was about 16 times, it would move on her. So she dug around a little to try and get it, but believe it or not, that didn't work either. What a shocker. So far, that has hurt the worst. The IVs aren't really needles. They're plastic tubes that has another little plastic tube in that so they're easy to change. And of course this plastic tube they're sticking in me is bigger than a needle. So she decided to try the top of my hand. She found one she thought she could get and was successful, but unfortunately, she collapsed my vein. Another bruise. My favorite. She tried once again on my forearm with no success, so she decided to call in the big guns.
The next nurse who came in to poke me was the roughest of them all. I think I cried the whole time she was in the room. It hurt so bad when she was trying to get to my vein. She was not being gentle at all. It was really scary and my mom kept telling me to calm down so I don't move my arm but it was hard. Thankfully, she finally got it in. Then after they got it in, I was afraid to move my arm because every time I did, I would feel it move in my arm and that is the most disgusting feeling ever.
The Torture Begins
After talking to the doctor, who was very nice, he decided we needed to draw blood to check my blood count and check for strep throat because I had developed not only white spots on my tonsils, but black spots as well. Which meant the tissue was dying.
After the doctor left and a little bit of waiting, two young people came into my room. They checked my tag to make sure I was the right person and after confirming that, told me they were each going to take and arm and draw blood from it. At the same time. Wait, hold up, stop the train. WHAT?!? I hate needles and getting blood drawn and I'm probably dehydrated so my veins are going to be even worse than normal and I can't hold my mom's hand?!?! You've got to be kidding me. So I took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling and tried to comply to the two people's wishing they were asking of me.
While they poked me about 16 different times and dug around as well, the guy on my left kept trying to talk to me and have me answer his questions. He was asking things like where I went to school and what classes I was taking. First of all, I'm going through a freak out right now and am about to have a bitch fit because the two of them were hurting me and I couldn't look anywhere but the ceiling or I'd see a needle which I didn't want to see, so I had no idea what's going on. Second, I'm not completely coherent due to me having a fever of 104 and being in pain. Third, my tonsils are so big that they throb when I'm not doing anything with them so making me talk is not the way to go. They hurt worse. Plus, I sound like someone who has a mental disability because I can't move my tongue properly to form the words to answer his questions. So I'm laying on that uncomfortable bed, in a gown, trying my hardest to sound normal and completely failing, tonsils hurting worse, still extremely hot from the fever, getting poked a 20 times and digging the needle around, and just in all around pain while this dumb ass is trying to talk to me about school.
After the doctor left and a little bit of waiting, two young people came into my room. They checked my tag to make sure I was the right person and after confirming that, told me they were each going to take and arm and draw blood from it. At the same time. Wait, hold up, stop the train. WHAT?!? I hate needles and getting blood drawn and I'm probably dehydrated so my veins are going to be even worse than normal and I can't hold my mom's hand?!?! You've got to be kidding me. So I took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling and tried to comply to the two people's wishing they were asking of me.
While they poked me about 16 different times and dug around as well, the guy on my left kept trying to talk to me and have me answer his questions. He was asking things like where I went to school and what classes I was taking. First of all, I'm going through a freak out right now and am about to have a bitch fit because the two of them were hurting me and I couldn't look anywhere but the ceiling or I'd see a needle which I didn't want to see, so I had no idea what's going on. Second, I'm not completely coherent due to me having a fever of 104 and being in pain. Third, my tonsils are so big that they throb when I'm not doing anything with them so making me talk is not the way to go. They hurt worse. Plus, I sound like someone who has a mental disability because I can't move my tongue properly to form the words to answer his questions. So I'm laying on that uncomfortable bed, in a gown, trying my hardest to sound normal and completely failing, tonsils hurting worse, still extremely hot from the fever, getting poked a 20 times and digging the needle around, and just in all around pain while this dumb ass is trying to talk to me about school.
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