All of Me

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He had set the lofty goal of becoming one of the top five wealthiest men in the world and reached it at the age of thirty-five.  He bought a castle that once belonged to a Lord.  He had a large staff which took care of everything.  He had his privacy.  He had his own beach and could take long walks along its shore anytime.  The only thing missing was someone to share his life with.

He was tired of going on dates with women he had no interest in.  Most of them were only interested in his wealth.  He was lonely and longed for companionship.  Then, he had the idea of hiring a companion.  He was willing to pay for them.  He preferred that the woman be between the age of thirty and fifty.  She had to be attractive, well read and employed.  He had his secretary place the ad in the local newspaper and screen the calls and do the interviews.  Out of hundreds of applicants, only a handful were chosen for him to interview himself.

The woman he chose was a French university Art professor who moved to Brussels five years ago.  She was very attractive, engaging, shared the same interest in books and a love for the Arts.  She was forty but looked younger.  They got along very well.  She had made it very clear that she wasn’t doing this for money.  Most of her friends were married and her family was in France and like him, she yearned for companionship.  She told him that when she saw the ad, at first she was hesitant to apply but after thinking about it, she decided to do it and was happy she did.

They spent every waking moment together, learning about each other and sharing parts of themselves they had never shared with another living soul.  They swam in the ocean, went for walks, drives, went to the opera, enjoyed classical musics in his private movie theatre and enjoyed intimate dinners in the large dining-room or on the terrace facing the sea.

Then one terrible day, he got a call from her.  She sounded upset.  She informed him that she couldn’t continue seeing him.  Alarmed, he asked her why.  After being evasive, she finally informed that she had been diagnosed with chronic kidney disease.  She didn’t want to burden him with her illness.  “It wouldn’t be fair to you,” she said.  “I’ll be in and out of hospital.” However, he insisted that he wanted to be there for her and after they ended the call, he went over to her place.

He was there for her during the daily dialysis and several hospital stays.  He took her food and helped her to get dressed.  He spoke to the doctors, anxious to find out everything he could.

When he found out that she needed a transplant and after learning that her relatives couldn’t be donors, he asked to be tested.  Despite her protests, he was tested and it turned out that he was a match.  Both of them were tearful when they got the news.  They underwent the kidney transplant and on her forty-first birthday which was a couple of weeks later, he proposed to her.  She happily accepted, knowing in her heart that not only had she met the man who selflessly gave his kidney so that he could save her life but she had met the man of her dreams.  As they sat on the terrace gazing out at the sea one afternoon, she said to him, “I have your kidney and you have my heart.”

He smiled and reached for her hand.  “You have all of me.”

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This story was inspired by one I read today of a man who donated his kidney to save his girlfriend’s life.  If you would like to read their story, click Here.

This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompt for today’s prompt, Lofty.  If you’re interested in participating, click HERE for more information.

Source:  Leicestershire Live

 

The Letter/Choices #writephoto

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Photo by Sue Vincent

As I stand here gazing at the calm waves, I think about my grandmother, Maude.  A lovely woman who was a nurse during the second World War.  She was twenty-three at the time.  I can still remember the sadness in her eyes when she spoke of the young soldiers who died.  There was one particular soldier whom she would never forget.  Every time she talked about him, her voice broke and tears sprang to her eyes.

“I will never forget that boy,” she said.  “He must have been about seventeen years old.  He had a boyish face.  I thought to myself, it’s a pity that someone so young was fighting in this terrible war.  He

“Nurse, could you write a letter to my mother and tell her that I’m in hospital?”

“I told him, ‘I’ll write it when I come back later.’  All he said was, ‘Okay'” and then I left.  When I returned later that evening, he was dead.”  It was at that point that she broke down.  “If I had known that he was going to die, I would have written the letter when he asked me.  If only I had stayed.  That boy never got to say goodbye to his mother because of me.”

For years, she has lived with this regret.  Even after she married my grandfather and they had four wonderful kids, she never seemed completely happy.  There was always a sadness in her countenance and it was years later when I found out the reason for it.  A young soldier whose name she didn’t know who had made a simple request of her because he knew he wasn’t going to make it through the night.  My grandmother thought that the letter could wait but she was wrong.  She made a choice that she had to live with.

Sometimes I think about that soldier whose single thought was of his mother.  I think of her.  As a mother, myself, I can’t imagine how I would feel if my son was away at war and I had no idea where he was–if he was hurt or even still alive.  Did that mother pray for her son–that he was still alive and would return home one day?  I can’t imagine how she must have felt when she found out that he had died in a hospital so many miles away from home.

When I leave here, I will go to the chapel and light three candles–one for my grandmother, one for the young soldier and one for his mother.  War is a terrible thing but I will always be eternally grateful to the brave soldiers, the unsung heroes like the young man, who gave their lives to win the war against the evil Nazi regime and for our freedom.

This story was inspired by a true account of a nurse stillld write it later.  When she returned to the hospital

Today is D-day.  Let us remember all those who sacrificed their lives and those who survived and the dedicated doctors and nurses who cared for the wounded.

 

This was written for the #writephoto Prompt – Choices at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

Source:  Ranker;

Severe Morning Sickness

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When I was pregnant, I didn’t experience any morning sickness.  I have heard of some women who experience it with the one pregnancy but not the other.  Some, like Kate, the Duchess of Cambridge, however, suffer from severe morning sickness known as Hyperemesis Gravidarum.

What is Hyperemesis Gravidarum?  It literally means “excessive vomiting in pregnancy”. Hyperemesis starts early, usually before week five of pregnancy.  

Signs and symptoms of hyperemesis gravidarum:

  • Severe nausea and vomiting
  • Food aversions
  • Weight loss of 5% or more of pre-pregnancy weight
  • Decrease in urination
  • Dehydration
  • Headaches
  • Confusion
  • Fainting
  • Jaundice
  • Extreme fatigue
  • Low blood pressure
  • Rapid heart rate
  • Loss of skin elasticity
  • Secondary anxiety/depression

In some cases it is so severe that the woman has to be hospitalized.  Hospital treatment may include:

  • Intravenous fluids (IV) – to restore hydration, electrolytes, vitamins, and nutrients
  • Tube feeding:
    • Nasogastric – restores nutrients through a tube passing through the nose and into the stomach
    • Percutaneous endoscopic gastrostomy – restores nutrients through a tube passing through the abdomen and into the stomach; requires a surgical procedure
  • Medications – metoclopramide, antihistamines, and antireflux medications*

Some women might require bed rest but not too much.  My cousin’s wife needed bed rest for both of her pregnancies.  Other treatments include herbs such as ginger and peppermint; homeopathic remedies prescribed by your doctor;  hypnosis and Acupressure.  The pressure point where you can reduce nausea is located at the middle of the inner wrist.  It’s three finger lengths from the crease of the wrist between the two tendons.  When you locate it, you press one wrist firmly at a time for three minutes.  Sea bands can also be used and are available at the drugstore.

Before trying anything, always consult your doctor. For more information on hyperemesis gravidarum you check out HER (Hyperemesis Education & Research) Foundation.

Two things you ought to know:  your baby isn’t at risk.  William and Kate are parents of three beautiful, robust children.  In a post, a woman suffering from HG, gained only 12 pounds by 41 weeks pregnant gave birth to a 7.5 boy which is average.   She cautions mothers not to assume that because the Duchess of Cambridge suffered from HG during all three of her pregnancies, it means that you will every time you’re pregnant.

Studies vary, but most find that women have a good chance of experiencing HG in future pregnancies. Statistics suggest over 50% will have it with each pregnancy and those with more than one experience of HG have a greater risk of experiencing HG in future pregnancies. It also seems to occur in similar patterns and severity, though it is not always consistent. Those who have mothers, grandmothers, or sisters who have had HG will often have at least some nausea and vomiting during pregnancy – HER Foundation

Don’t let these studies discourage you, Moms.  Hang in there.

Sources:  American Pregnancy; Baby Center

One of These Days…

I am sitting in front of the mirror.  A bruised face with haunted eyes are looking back at me.  The cut on my temple needed stitches.  I used to be a nurse before I got married.  I pick up the threaded needle and proceed to sew the cut.  I bite down on my lip at the pain but I won’t stop until it’s done.

I examine my handiwork.  It looks a bit crude but it will do.  I didn’t want to go to the hospital because I would have to explain the bruises on my face and hands.  No, it was better to do this myself.

I sit there staring at myself for a while longer, watching the tears, silent and unabated run down my cheeks.  What have I done to make him hate me so?  It has to be hate.  No man would hit a woman he loves.  I have been a good wife to him.  When he wanted me to give up my job at the hospital, I did so without any argument.  I take care of him, our home, do the laundry, cook the meals and everything else.  I don’t complain even though I am bone tired by the end of the day.  I make sure that his food is piping hot and ready when he comes home.  I don’t resist when he wants us to make love even though I’m not in the mood.

Yes, I have been a good wife to him.  Why then, does he hate me?  Why does he get angry for no reason and hit me?  In the past, when he hit me, he used to be sorry right after and beg me to forgive him.  Then, the beatings became more frequent and the apologies were less until they were no longer expressed.

Once he threatened to kill me if I left him.  So, I stay not out of love but out of fear.  How much longer could I live this nightmare?  How many more blows and insults can I take before I decide that leaving him is worth the risk?

I place my finger on my lips to silence the voice screaming inside me.  I am afraid of what would happen if I were to unleash it.  I have been living with an abusive husband and suffering in silence for six years.  I was beaten during pregnancy and suffered a miscarriage as a result.  I can’t have children because of the damage that was done.  My mother knew about it but still she insisted that I stay with Anil.  “A woman’s place is with her husband.  It’s against our religion for you to leave Anil and you will only bring shame to our family.”  She even made me think that it was my fault that Anil was beating me.  “He’s a good man.  You must be doing something to make him so angry that he beats you.”

So, I listened to her and I stayed.  I didn’t want to bring shame to our family.  That was two years ago.  One of these days, though, I am going to leave Anil and I don’t care if that brings shame to my family.  I don’t owe them anything.  They don’t care about me so why should I care about them?

I make a solemn promise to myself now on the eve of my thirtieth birthday, that one of these days, I will walk out of here and never look back.

Leaving an abusive marriage/relationship isn’t as cut and dry as many of us believe.  Women remain in these situations for various reasons–self-blame; damaged self-worth; fear; the desire to change the abuser; the children’s safety; family expectations and experiences; financial limitations and isolation.  Some women eventually leave while, sadly, others don’t.

This was written for the Ragtag Daily Prompt for Monday which is Needle. For more information, click HERE.

 

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Source:  Institute for Family Studies

Simón’s Temptation

And he took the path to her house  In the twilight, in the evening, In the black and dark night. – Proverbs 7:8, 9

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“Man, you have to be crazy to go over there,” Felipe told Simón.

“Her husband’s out of town.”

“So what?  You shouldn’t be going with her.  She’s trouble.”

“No, she’s not!”

“Amigo, she’s married!  You shouldn’t be getting mixed up with her.”

“You’ve seen her, Felipe.  She’s hot.”

“Yes, and you can get burned.”

“Whatever, Man.  You’re just jealous.”

“I’d rather be a living jealous fool than an dead one.”

Simón looked daggers at him.  “Leave me alone, Man.  It’s my life and I’ll do whatever I want.”

“Suit yourself, Bro.”  Felipe turned and walked away.

After he was done, Simón sat down on the steps, mulling over what his friend had said.  Maybe he was right.  He should know better than to be in this mess because he grew up in the church.  His grandmother would be bitterly disappointed because she raised him to do whatever the Bible taught.  He had been doing pretty well until he met Alisa.

They met at the track opposite his school.  After running a couple of laps, he sat down on the bench to take a breather and to drink some water when she joined him.  She was dressed in a long sleeve tee shirt and spandex leggings.  She looked amazing.  “You looked really good out there,” she said.

He flushed.  “Thank you.”

“Do you run here often?”

“Yes.”

“I run here too but I never noticed you before.  I guess until today, we were running at different times or days.  Do you live nearby?”

“No, but I go to that school,” he said, pointing to it.

“Sophomore?”

“No, senior.  I graduate in June.”

“What’s your name?”

“Simón.”

“Pleased to meet you, Simón.  I’m Alisa.”  She held out her hand.

He grasped it in a firm handshake, his eyes meeting hers.  His face felt very warm and he knew it had nothing to do with his running.

“So, have you decided which college or university you want to go to?”

“I have my mind set on Cornell.”

She smiled.  “Good choice.  I know a few people who go there.  I went to New York University.  Do you have a major?”

“Yes, Electrical Engineering.”

She looked impressed.  “Good for you.”

The sun was beginning to set.  He had to get going before his grandmother started wondering where he was.  “I have to go,” he said, apologetically.  He would have rather stayed and continued talking to her.

“Don’t let me keep you, then,” she said.

He put his water bottle in his knapsack.  He stood up and she did as well.  He towered over her.  “It was nice meeting you, Alisa.” He said, his expression serious as he gazed down into her face.

“It was nice meeting you too, Simón.”

He knew he ought to walk away right then and there without a backward glance.  She was married.  His heart had sank when he saw the ring.  He should have known that a woman with her looks would be taken.  Every instinct told him to leave but he couldn’t seem to move.  “When can I see you again?”

She smiled.  “We can meet here tomorrow at the same time.”

“All right.  See you tomorrow.”  He turned and walked away.

The next day when he showed up to the track, she was there.  They met every afternoon after that until one afternoon she invited him back to her place.  He was hesitant.  Being out there in the open with her was one thing but being alone in her apartment was quite another.  “What about your husband?” he asked.

“He’s out of town.”

“I really shouldn’t…” he protested weakly.  She was wearing a summer dress with spaghetti straps and her hair fell in thick waves over her shoulder.  He wanted her so badly.  It was all he could think about these days.  And here was his opportunity.  It was within his grasp.  All he had to do was take hold of it…

“But you want to, don’t you?” she murmured.  “What we both want to do we can’t do out here.  Let’s go back to my place and enjoy each other.  It’s something we’ve both wanted since the day we met.  It’s no use denying it, Simón.  I can see it in your eyes and I know you can see it in mine.”  She took his hand and led him to her parked car.

She and her husband lived in an upscale low-rise building.  Their condo was on the fifth floor.  It was beautiful and spacious.   It was obvious that both of them had a big income.  He barely got time to admire the place before she took him to the spare bedroom where after closing the door, she started unbuttoning his shirt.  And as she dragged the shirt off, she bent her head and pressed her lips against his bare skin.  He stood there, his heart pounding and his chest heaving as he fought for air.  Soon they were both naked and she pushed him onto the bed.  He reached up and pulled her head down so that he could kiss her.

They made love there in the room and afterwards, he took the subway home.  They had other such trysts.  He hang around the library or somewhere until it got dark and then he would go to her place.  She buzzed him in and he took the elevator up.  Most of the time, hardly anyone was around which suited him fine.  No one knew about their affair, except Felipe who warned him that he was playing with trouble.  He sat there now, pondering whether or not he should end this now.  Then, his cell rang.  It was her.  “Are you on your way?” she asked.

He could say no and tell her right then that it was over.  “Yes, I’m on my way.”  He ended the call and got to his feet.  It was no use.  He was hooked.  He was in over his head and didn’t know how to get out of this.  And he wasn’t sure that he even wanted to although he knew that there was no future here.

He took a shortcut to the subway and had his head down so he didn’t notice the two guys approaching him until it was too late.  The first blow sent him flying on the hard sidewalk, knocking the wind out of him.  Then there were more blows and kicks, he tried to fend them off but he couldn’t and then he passed out…

When he regained consciousness, he was lying in a hospital bed.  He had gotten a severe beating but aside from a cracked rib and cuts and bruises, he was going to live.  He was the victim of a random attack by a couple of lowlifes.  Someone witnessed the attack and called the police.  He was lucky to be alive.  His grandmother and Felipe were there.  After she spoke to him, she went to speak to the doctor about when he could be discharged.

Alone with Felipe, he said, “I was on my way to see Alisa when they jumped me.”

“I’m glad that you’re okay, Man.  Sorry about earlier.”

“You were right, Felipe.  I should have listened to you.  I think that this happened to me for a reason.  It opened my eyes to what could have happened if her husband found out about us.  I could be worse off than lying here in a hospital bed.  Once I get out of here, I will call her and tell her that it’s over between us.”

Felipe grinned.  “Good.  Finally, you got some sense knocked into you.”

Simon smiled weakly.  “Somehow, I knew you’d say that.”

What happened to Simon was done out of evil but God used it open his eyes to the truth which set him free.

 

Abandoned and Rescued

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Photo Credit: C.E. Ayr

Retired officer Patrick Miller was sweeping his yard when he thought he heard what sounded like a baby crying.  He stopped and listened.  It was a baby crying and the sound was coming from the green dumpster.  Dropping the broom, he rushed over and threw open the top to peer inside.  The naked infant was inside of a garbage bag.

Patrick called for his wife who ran out to see what the commotion was.  She was shocked to see him inside of the dumpster. “What on earth are you doing in there?” she exclaimed.

“There’s a baby in here.  Bring a blanket to wrap him in.  Then, call 911.”

She raced into the house, got the blanket and when he handed the child to her, she wrapped him snugly.  When he climbed out of the dumpster, she handed the child to him then rushed off to phone 911.

As they waited for the police to get there, she, being a nurse, examined the infant.   “He’s suffering from hypothermia but once he gets to the hospital, he should be fine.  Poor little thing.  Who would abandon a baby?”

“You’d be surprised,” Patrick said.  “It happens more often than you think.”

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This story was inspired by a true story of a baby who was found in a dumpster with his umbilical cord still attached.  His mother had left him there and it turned that the man who found him was his biological father.  He didn’t even know that his girlfriend was pregnant.

This was written for Sunday Photo Fiction hosted by Susan Spaulding. For more details visit Here.  To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

Sources:  CTV News

Orphans

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“I wish we could stay here,” Joey sighed.  He swung his feet as he leaned back on the bench.

“We can’t,” his older brother, Mark told him.  “We have to be careful.  They must be missing us at the foster home.  We have to make sure no one recognizes us and takes us back.”

“I never want to go back there.  It’s horrid and they want to separate us.”

“Don’t worry, Joey.  They won’t find us.  I’ll make sure of it.  And we will always be together.”

Mark kept his promise to Joey, right up to the cold afternoon when Police Constable Harris found him on the grated vent cradling a gravely ill Joey.  He rushed them to hospital where Joey died.  He had tuberculosis.

Mark stood now at his grave.  “One of these days we will be together again.”

Constable Harris joined him and putting his hand on his shoulder, he said, “Come, son, let’s go home.”

Mark looked up at him.  “Could we go to the park first?”

“Sure, Son.”

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This was written in response to the flash fiction challenge.  For more information visit Here.

To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.