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Worst Days Ever

Ailes de Velour

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[font=arial][size=1][color=darkorchid]We've all had bad days before. But what was your absolute worst?

August 4, 2005. I started High School. It was kind of exciting, in a strange way, but absolutely NONE of my friends were going to the one I am. I tried thinking positively about it, I tried telling myself that it will be okay.

But it's not. It's not okay at all.

So, August 4. I woke up at 5 AM Eastern US Time, because my mom is a teacher at my school and I have to go with her in the morning. I neglected to eat breakfast, simply because there wasn't anything fast around. I never eat breakfast, anyway. So, at 6:30 we arrived at the school. It wouldn't start for another hour, so I read Harry Potter (HBP) while waiting. My mom brought me some cake and Pepsi to wake me up a little. Then it was time to go to homeroom. I hugged my mom, she wished me luck, and I walked into the hall.

It was the scariest place on earth.

Everyone was so much bigger than me...I didn't know anyone. I got a little nervous, just because of the huge crowd of strangers, but I made it to homeroom okay.

Homeroom was freezin' cold!

At least I can kind of talk to someone in there, now...

But during homeroom, my stomach started to hurt. One of those, "you ate something you shouldn't have!" hurts. That did not bode well at all.

I was praying it would go away, but it was still there in geometry. So, five minutes into the class, I couldn't take it. I asked to be sent to the clinic.

I went downstairs and asked in the Student Affairs Office. But the clinic was closed. No one was there. So, I sat down on a bench and suddenly started to cry.

It wasn't any cry. It was sobbing, hyperventilating. I couldn't stop, I was too upset to go to class. My stomach kept hurting, too. I just wanted to go home. And I did, three hours later, when my mom finally got her conference period. That was the absolute worst day ever.

So, if it doesn't hurt to recount, share. xP;;[/font][/color][/size]
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[COLOR=DarkRed]Aye, Highschool... She's a *****. I remember that on my first day (My first class was French, which is bad because I HATE French) I literally didn't know anyone in my class because all my old friends got put into the other Grade 8 class. It was alright though, not nearly my worst day, ended up making two new friends so it was all good.

My worst day (That I can remember) was two days ago. Now I have a history of terrible, terrible dentel hygien. About a week prior, one of my teeth (Riddled with cavities, because I absolutly hate going to the dentists and broke out of the chair and ran for my life when I was supposed to have them filled) cracked. And I dont mean "Ouch I think my tooth is wiggly" crack. I mean "Omg my tooth just broke in half" crack. That itself didn't hurt, but, 3 days later, lo and behold, here comes the worst day of my life. It was literally the worst experiance since the rectal thermometer. At first it only hurt when I touched it. But by day 2, it was just a constant throbing. I took Atasol to try and stop the pain, which was only a fragment at the time, and it worked for about 5 min. The next day, biting into a sandwhich, I broke it more (Seriously, a giant crack right down the length) and it hurt like bastard, it was the most terrible pain, but it only lasted about 5 min. Than, for about a day, it stopped. Now here comes my "Worst Day."

See, that day it was about 39 C (Well over 120 F) and I tell you what, I hate the heat with every fiber in my body. So, anyway, now my tooth was CONSTANT pain. It was those 5 min of pain every 30 seconds. And, as tooth-ache victims will atest, the worst part about tooth problems is, unlike a headache or a cut, you can't even press againts it (Which is more of a comfort than anything) so I was in literal constant pain for the entire day, not to mention I was sticking to everything, my CSS server had crashed, and my 300-dollar RC car broke up when I launched it off my porch. Now the worst part is when I was trying to sleep. I don't know about you, but when I try to sleep at 40 bloody degrees while in constant pain I get in a TERRIBLE mood. Than here's the kicker. My mom has terrible teeth aswell, so she keeps this numbing cream on hand. Extra strength. So I used it on my gums above the terrible pain. The gel did not freeze the tooth. It dripped down and put my tounge to sleep, so I was basically mute, it froze my lips, so I was terribly discomforted there, and the gel that went down my throat numbed it leading to the most awkward sense that I was choking.

May not sound like a "Worst Day" but I bet you've never experiacned somthing like it.

Oh, and today, the has mysteriously... vanished. The tooth in question seems to have cracked down the center while I was sleeping, for now whenever I touch it all I feel is a soft, tissuey type thing that I assume is the center of the tooth. Either way, the pain is gone, unless I touch it, in which case it does hurt. [/COLOR]
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The first week of High school is scary, but, for me, Freshman Orientation helped me A LOT!!

Anywho, I had a bad [B]week.[/B] It was my first week of school during my foreign exchange year. I was alone, in a strange country, luckily, I spoke the language, but it was SCARY AS HECK! I just followed everyone to the lunch hall (I had NO IDEA where it was!) and tried to survive. The whole rest of the week, I just went to class, practically RAN to the next one, and when lunch came around, I just ate as fast as I could and ran to my next class. I was so stressed that my hands actually started to shake uncontrollably (I could still write and stuff, but they still were shaking pretty bad) and I couldn't sleep at night.

You know what helped? When I started making friends. Then my hands stopped shaking and I could sleep at night.

I'll never forget that week, no sir-ee bob. *shakes head*
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For me my absolute worst day had nothing to do with school. My worst day was when my brother and I got caught in the crossfire of a gang drive by shooting and he was killed by a stray bullet so to speak. We were walking back home one evening from visiting a local gas station. No one thinks that the simple act of walking to the store to buy a soda will end up in your death. What made it horrible is that the person doing the shooting was a former friend of mine. We had been friends until he joined a gang and after that we no longer got along as I did not want to join and he couldn?t understand why I wouldn?t. When I saw him and his new gang drive by the home of a rival gang member and start shooting I lost any respect or feelings of friendship that I had for him.

There were only two people in the car at the time so I am quite sure that the stray bullet that took the life of my brother was from my former friend?s gun. The other person in the car was driving and my former friend was the only one leaning out the window shooting. He did not even care that my brother and I were in the way. I immediately hit the pavement so to speak to avoid being shot, but my brother was not quick enough and he died instantly from a bullet wound to the head. It has been over five years but the event is still quite painful to me. My only comfort is that the killer received a life sentence and the chances of parole are not good as he refuses to admit he did anything wrong. Even though he killed my brother my former friend does not understand why I turned him in to the police and testified to help put him in jail for his crime.

I have had other bad days, but none that were as horrible as this one was.
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I?m sorry to hear about your brother indifference. >_< My brother was run off the road by a drunk driver. As a result the injuries he sustained put him in a coma. Two of the other people in the car with him died instantly. My brother never recovered from the coma and ended up dying three and a half months later due to complications. I?ll never forget the day he died or when they put him in one of those black bags and took his body away. It was one of my worst days ever; when we found out he had been in an accident and the day he actually died.

I?m glad to hear that the guy who killed your brother is behind bars.
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[COLOR=DarkRed]Well, as it turns out, the root in my tooth literally died, or so my Dentist tells me. That is extremely, extremely, EXTREMELY, bad. The pain I was experiancing was bad, but I did not know what to compare it to at the time. My dentist (And he's a really good one to, won a few Provincial Awards) tells me that the pain of having a root die is enough to put most people in a pain-endused-coma, or in the emergency room. Well, I took the pain somhow... So if somone says this hoser can't take pain, you tell them to go suck a prune. That is a bit depressing... But, then again, having the root canal should be nothing, right :D Wishful thinking? Ya probably. That just reinforces the fact that my worst day truely was my worst day.[/COLOR]
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[B][SIZE=3][COLOR=Purple][FONT=Comic Sans MS]Well it wasn't the absolute worst... but It was the most recent. Okay, yesterday, my friend Chris had me and Shana over... well it was late at night and we had just finished watching PeaceMaker... so me and Shana and Eric(Chris's lil bro) decided to sit out on the porch for a little while,since the AC is busted. Well after about 10 minutes of Eric yammering about this girl he likes named Haley and how black people like to look at your shoes (I'm black by the way...), we decided to go back inside.
Well, when we went back in, Chris's mom had woken up and yelled at us, saying that Chris was in trouble and everyone had to go home the next day... She also asked where Chris was. What sucks is she'd left the house---It's like 12:30 midnight, and she's only 16 so she's not supposed to be out. We had to wake up her brother, who had to be to work by 6:30 and have him be lookout while we searched for her. Me and Shana thought she'd gotten mad because we left her in the living room to go outside, so we're looking around, worried that something might have happened to her ( all these nasty old perverts like to try and grab her while she's out walking the dog). We kept getting these horrible images of... horrible things. We got followed by 3 guys on bikes, an old man in a pick-up truck, and 3 more guys walking. After about an hour though, we got a call from Chris's brother saying that she'd come back and that she had been at ECU <(The College), taking a breath of "Fresh Air"
She wasn't mad or anything... until her mom came back sceaming and yelling that she would throw out her precious dog- then Chris screamed and ran into her room, her older brother following screaming "SHUT THE HELL UP!". In the end everyone ended up crying and drinking tea. Yes, even me. It was an eventful night... hope I never have to go through that again.[/FONT][/COLOR][/SIZE][/B] :sweat:

EDIT : [SIZE=2]Wow, did I really use such a huge font?[/SIZE][FONT=Comic Sans MS]undefined[/FONT]

[COLOR=RoyalBlue][FONT=Trebuchet MS]Sorry 2_D but double posting is not allowed. I've merged your comments togher. Please use the "edit" button to add in what you may of forgotten to say-- next time. - Hack Helba[/FONT][/COLOR]
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2-D, double posting isn't allowed, could you delete that extra post and edit it into your first post? Mods will get after you if you don't...xP;;

I know other people have had worse days than me, and reading them makes me feel selfish. I mean, I KNOW I'm selfish, but it makes me feel like the most selfish person alive. x_x;;
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[COLOR=#003aaf][SIZE=1]My worst day ever was probably when I had to move from California to New York after first semester of my 9th grade year. I actually had a similar experience to yours, Ailes, seeing as I had to start at a new high school without any of my friends. Except, in my case, I wouldn't be able to see them probably ever (though I did get to visit Cali this summer, which was sweet xP).

Bu I managed to cope. It was more awkward for me than terrible, in all honesty. I met someone my first day who was very nice and showed me around. In fact, if it wasn't for her, I wouldn't know as many people as I do today. So yeah. It was the actual day I took the flight across the country that sucked *ss, not the school I had to go to. But yeah. I miss my friends. ;-;[/SIZE][/COLOR]
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Imagine great visuals with this; :animeblus :animeangr :animedepr

Day 1: I get two rather large painfull ulcers on my throat
Day 2: Two has become 4 larger than average
Day 6: Insanely large ulcers now consume my mouth and throat
Day 7: Go to doctors, they seems pretty sure its glandular fever gone bad.
Day 13: Still bad, I am now struggling to swallow
Day: 17: Ulcers fade slightly, theres now only 6 or 7
Day 18: I suddenly find my self shitting blood -_-
Day 19: Decide to go back to doctors after passing not only blood but mucus
Day19 - evening: Find myself in hospital
Day 20: decide its probably bechets, but need to do more tests, theres no sure fire tests for certain strains however
Day 21: Decide it may be cancer so i have to have colonoscopy
Day 22: Colonoscopy means me having empty insides, so i cant eat for a day and a half and have to drink 4 litres of vanilla stuff that makes me vomit and defecate.
Day 23: try to have colonoscopy without and painkillers or sedative - I scream like a little girl, gays have got to be nuts!
Day 29: results negative, im ok, ulcers now completely gone, doctors baffelled, seem to suggest probably bechets, but no need to worry at this moment in time.

Very self orientated and selfish i know, but I really felt like death incarnate, Id lost 3 stone and honestly thought i was gonna die, seems so daft looking back.
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[SIZE=1]Interesting, most interesting.

I had a rather similar experience to Ailes de Velour when I changed started in a new secondary school in September last year, it got to the point where I was getting anxiety attacks and I couldn't continue. Changing school seems to be one of those decisions or rather lack of options that most people dread having to make.

As bad as my first two weeks in that secondary school were, it misses out on the "[B]Worst Days[/B]" title by a long shot. The worst days of my life, days I'd give anything to change came over the course of two, three weeks last June. My family and I were getting ready to go on holiday, in fact it was the night before we were due to head off when the call came through that my granduncle Anton had been taken to hospital. Anton is my maternal grandmother's brother and the closest thing I ever had to a grandfather, he was funny, kind and intensely intelligent and I loved him a lot because we shared many things in common that I didn't have with other members of my family.

Anyway the call comes through that he's been taken to hospital and immediately I get this horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, I just know something is terribly wrong. It was Anton's sister Cora who'd been staying with him that had him brought to the hospital, I don't recall the circumstances of how she found him, and she was the one to call my mother and grandmother to tell them. The doctors examined him and right away they knew he had cancer, how bad they couldn't tell yet but they knew it was cancer. I remember feeling so helpless, the one person in the world I truly felt a rapport with was in hospital with cancer and there was nothing I could do for him.

After a lot of emotional debating my mother told my father, my siblings and myself that we should go on holiday without them, that they would go to Limerick and take care of Anton. Against my huge objections I went, I guess I knew even then that the cancer was terminal which is why I didn't want to go, but for the sake of peace I agreed. While on holiday the details of his conditions were imparted, he had terminal cancer of the lungs and brain, and the doctors gave him less than a fortnight, less than the time it would take for the holiday to finish. But Anton had always been a stubborn bastard and he told the doctors that he'd live until he'd seen everyone and then he'd go when he was good and ready.

The holiday passed with only a few minor incidents, he was still alive and the doctors were amazed, we got to Limerick the day we landed to see him, I didn't care about anything else other than seeing him. He was in a hospice and when I say him, it fully hit me how much he had changed in little over three weeks, his skin was pale with a twinge on yellow, he looked tired and aged by about twenty years. My cousins from Australia had moved their visit forward to be there, and I just remember sitting in the bathroom and begging for a miracle.

Unfortunately there was no miracle and he died on the 2nd of July 2004, he'd seen nearly everyone he ever knew throughout his life in that last two weeks, made his peace with everyone and gone over the good times with old friends. He went in his sleep, about four days after we'd arrived back and just when we'd gone home to freshen up and get some new clothing for the weather. He was buried on the 4th of July, in the same family plot as his mother, father and elder brother, I remember feeling at that time that the world had stopped for me, that there was very nothing to keep living for.

But now over a year later I can say I'd be lucky to have such an ending as Anton did, so courageous right to the end, defying doctors predictions so he could say goodbye to his family in proper time and holding the brain cancer at bay for over two years before it finally overcame him. He went in three weeks when some people have to live with terminal cancer for months, in pain and misery, he went quick and died in his sleep the way anyone would want to go.

Those days were without question to worst in my life, but I'm glad I've made my peace with them.[/SIZE]
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I?ll give Gavin credit? few floors in the hospital are more sober than the Oncology (cancer) wing.

My worst day was exactly two weeks ago in the Emergency Department at the hospital I work at as a Tech (ACLS paramedic-level). Working in Emergency, you get used to your first code [i]quickly[/i] (a code is, roughly defined, cardiac arrest rhythms). I remember the first code I set foot in and froze up, seeing the pallid human lying on the cart, watching them defibrillate (yes, they shout ?clear?), and the ET intubation (breathing tube insertion). One quickly becomes driven out of the emotional shock.

Now the overweight fifty-old-rolls in from the ambulance class 1 (aka code blue in the ambulance) and we strip, sticker, shock. Easy push of the epinephrine, bicarbonate, and we?ve got him hooked up to our monitor. The patient is most likely in ventricular tachycardia (v-tach), ventricular fibrillation (v-fib), and very rarely? the ever deadly Asystole (flatline, aka dead). Charge the defib to 200 and the patient hops a couple inches off the bed. Chest compressions, clear, shock. Usually the doc orders respiratory to stand-by and he intubates, charge to 300, and shock. I?m usually running the ECG, working the defib, or performing CPR. Like I said, after the first one, the shock of the moment melts away rapidly and the staff becomes calm, focused, and driven.

Nothing could have prepared me for my Wednesday shift two weeks ago. I walked into a fairly abandoned ER. Now that means one of two things:
-We?re terribly short-staffed and the nurses are tied up in multiple, tedious duties.
-The majority of the nurses/doctors/PAs/techs are in the trauma rooms.
It seemed close to disaster. As I walked down towards rooms 1-5 (our trauma/critical rooms) I could hear the beeping of heart monitors alarming and the high pitched beep of a defib charging. I walked into the nearest room, slapped on gloves, and inquired the charting nurse (usually there?s one nurse tracking every type of statistic, drug, or procedure during the code). The guy looked pale, diaphoretic, and ? well? dead. Apparently I had walked in twenty minutes into the resuscitation. I didn?t even get to lay my hands on the guy before they shocked him the fourteenth (yes, four-*******-teenth) time. Even if he had pulled through, his brain would have been so cooked it?s doubtful he would?ve even woken up. The doctor called time of death and I thought to myself, ?What a great start.?

The MedCom beeped signaling an incoming ambulance. The nurse took the report and the entire station (where doctors and nurses hang out) went DEAD silent. Two-year-old, priority one (a step away from class 1), hit by a truck. We stabilized the kid without shocking him, but few things can prepare you for a pediatric trauma. We were lucky to get any perfusion, by the time the kid arrived we noticed the distended belly. The RRT on staff immediately said to remove the lock on the ET (breathing) tube, he pulled back and we listened. The paramedics, in their haste, intubated the wrong tube? the kid wasn?t getting any oxygen. His oximetry sat was in the low 80?s? not good. So a kid, bleeding from his ears, fixed pupils, obvious closed-head injury wasn?t receiving nearly enough oxygen for close to 10 minutes. After stabilizing him as best we could, the AeroMed was called to ship him off to DeVos Children?s hospital. I didn?t get a chance to see him off before the next ambulance rolled in.

Make that two. One priority one respiratory arrest, and another priority one attempted suicide. The respiratory arrest turned out to be a hemorrhagic stroke, the little old lady was quickly circling the drain. Hemorrhagic strokes, unlike the more common Ischemic, usually have a far higher mortality rate. The little old lady was intubated, ventilated, and we watched and crossed our fingers.

Across the hall, the ambulance crew wheeled in our attempted suicide. Most of the attempted suicides that we encounter are usually the depressed people downing every medication that they have. This case was quite different. This particular teen sliced his wrists with some sort of serrated blade. Blood was saturating every pad we held pressure to, and as we changed dressings it would squirt clear across the floor. Somehow the depressed teen had severed both radial and ulnar arteries. This kid either knew his anatomy, or he had some terrible luck. He was scared too, I could see him shaking, and the tears staining his cheeks. He shook again and said ?I?m scared? as I held his bloody wrist in my hand promising him that he?ll make it. His lips were the color of his face, and his blood pressure was dropping. Finally the hemolytic cream kicked in and the bleeding stopped. Another tech relieved me and I washed the blood off of my hands and arms. I snagged the emergency release from the doctor, ran to blood bank, and picked up two units of O-neg. I decided to check on the little old lady, after the attempted suicide seemed stable.

Gorked. That?s the vulgar expression that the nurse whispered to me. The old lady would make it up to the ICU, but she wasn?t leaving the hospital alive. CT revealed only a matter of time before she went into multi-system failure. The family walked in, and I had to walk out. If there?s one thing that can draw a jaded, machine of a medical professional out of his psyche, it?s the family of said patient.

MedCom beeped again, another MI (myrocardial infarction, aka heart attack). They had already shocked 4 times in the ambulance and were less than two minutes away from the hospital. The patient arrived, I started chest compressions and helped the nurse hook up the ECG. He was infracted, yes, but it wasn?t a shock-able rhythm. Asystole, AV block, left main coronary artery block. There are a few arteries supplying blood to the heart, one of which is the Left Main. We call the Left Main Coronary Artery the ?widow maker? for good reason. It supplies the heart with 2/3 of it?s blood supply. When it is blocked, the heart dies and nothing but emergency cardiothoracic surgery can save someone. That?s if you catch the block before a total occlusion of the artery.

Alarms rang on our attempted suicide, and I ran into the room with a few other staff. The nurse had pushed an angiotensive drug to raise the low blood pressure (obviously due to blood loss), and the patient had a massive allergic reaction. Like the previous four patients, there?s nothing like the continued feeling of hopelessness. His body?s reaction to the drug sent him into arrest. We shocked him, pushed the antihistamines, bicarb, atropine?no pickup. The doctor didn?t even try to muffle his discontent shouting, ?God Dammit? before opening the door and walking out to the now backed-up, emergency room.

A few hours later registration paged, ?Code blue Emergency Registration?. I grabbed a crash cart, and Michelle (the charge nurse) grabbed a bed and followed out to the lobby where a man, nearly 300 pounds lay comatose, and blue on the tile. Shelly, another experienced nurse felt for a carotid pulse, felt it fade, and pulled open the shirt. She charged the defib, and I ?thumped? the guy twice. A precordial ?thump? is used to interrupt a possibly damaging heart rhythm. Basically I strike the sternum [i]very[/i] specifically above the zyphoid process. It?s success rate on it?s own is quite low? then again, so is CPR. We managed to get a decent rhythm, after about three shocks, much to the horror of a packed emergency lobby. We wheeled him back to a trauma bay and stabilized him. Finally, a success story, I thought. The man had little perfusion the doctor decided to do a femoral artery puncture to establish a central line. I peeked over his shoulder to hand him a betadine swab and ?squish?, a femoral spray landed right on my check and I tasted the metallic flavor of blood. I rushed to the sink and cleaned off. Hopefully this guy would be disease free, but one can never be too careful, right? I drew his blood for a routine screen and the doctor (being QUITE nice to me) ordered lab to test for pretty much anything disease-wise.

Meningitis?a lumbar puncture revealed that the 35-year old man had meningitis. Well, time for a spinal tap. Well time for me to get a spinal tap! Hurray! I waited a few days, monitoring my symptoms? and the lucky day came. I was tapped, the fluid sent to lab and it came back negative.

That was icing on the cake of the worst day of my life.

[in fairness, for every unsuccessful case we have fifty successful cases, that day was just one hell of a glitch]
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[font=garamond][color=darkred]I've been having a rather rough day today it seems. Although I'm sure it hasn't been as bad as some of the stories I've been reading above, it still ranks pretty high in my book.

It all started after I left my first year of college. I knew I didn't have the heart or the will to go back, I guess I saw it as a waste of time, especially when I hadn't the ambition to do well. When I left school, I started thinking about joining the service, becomming one of the military.

I gathered a few mixed veiws on what I was planning, but none meant more to me than my parent's thoughts. My mother, while a little worried in my choices still whole-heartedly supports me, is very much not like my father, who found out today of what I was planning.

I had been avoiding the subject for weeks, knowing that he'd be angry that I wasn't returning to college, thus I did the stupid thing of not telling him. After much debate with myself, I finnaly called him today to deliver the news. He was not thrilled to say the least, and a few things that he told me brought me to tears.

My father's words, to sum them up, were to never speak or try to see him again. I was told that I was a stupid girl for giving up an education, and that I'd most likely die over in Iraq. While most of this in my eyes isn't true in the least, it still hurt terribly, comming from a man that I looked up to and loved for many years.

Now it feels like I've lost a loved relative through death. I wouldn't expect my father to agree with what I plan to do, but really, dissown me? It breaks my heart, and really is making this the worst day ever...[/font][/color]
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My worst day ever? EVERY STINKIN' DAY, MAN!!!!!!!!
Nahnah, let us become serious now.
My worst day ever was the day I realized how normal I was. It was my first day of highschool and as I went through each class, I began to notice that I wasn't really that unique. There were a lot of people like me there. I know, that's supposed to make you feel good, feeling normal and such, but not for me! I love being called "weird" and being judged, it makes me feel special.
But now....I'm just another normal teenager and it makes me want to cry...
The only thing I have left now that sets me apart is my pluto-related obsession.
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I actually have several days that are in the running for being my Worst Day Ever. One was the day when I got my finger caught in the gears of some farm equipment and then had to have my finger amputated. But that really isn't as bad as the allergic reaction I had to Penicillin.

When I was 14 I had a major reaction to Penicillin and ended up hospitalized. It was bad enough that I missed 2 months of school and the Pastor for my church even stopped by to visit me to talk about Heaven. :animeblus Nothing gives you a boost of confidence in your recovery like having someone talk to you like you are knocking on Heaven's door. I had some major problems going on and really am surprised I survived.

Chemo right now is a literal pain as well as my Rheumatoid Arthritis but I think my stay in the hospital with the Penicillin problem even beats the weekly Chemo injections and those side effects. So after much thought I think that entire period of my life when I was 14 and laying in a hospital bed wishing the pains would stop would rank as the number one worst time in my life.
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