Twenty Eight
One more day 'till my birthday.
Unlike previous years when I would look forward to my birthday with about the same excitement as a four year old, I feel decidedly more calm about the event this year. I think I'm getting old - I just can't get myself to even hope that the world will all stop to give me a day to remember. Or, it could be that I'm just pregnant, and every event until the big event in July pales in contrast.
If anything, I'd just be happy to get through tomorrow without any nasty complications from my pregnancy. I don't really expect anything to be significantly different tomorrow (I will have lunch with my parents and then litcrit and then dinner [hopefully] in dampa) and all I can hope for is that everything goes smoothly.
Other Stories
Two stories in the news troubled me. One was about the Jersey Children's Abuse Scandal (read here) and the other about the re-use of syringes in hospitals (read here).
The first, troubled me because it feels so much like the young adult horror stories I've read and watched, only this time, it's all too real. Unlike books and movies where I could comfort myself that its all exaggerated, this proves that such places does exist, and people do suffer in cellars and attics, perhaps even shackled and raped. And the fact that they're children, makes it worse.
As for the other one, it troubled me because I didn't even know that re-use of syringes still existed in modern times. Knowing that i would soon be confined for the delivery of my child (and knowing that I'm terribly frightened of needles and such, can't be trusted to actually look when the nurses supposedly open them up to be used) only magnifies my fears.
Oh well, just goes to show how pregnant women can get extremely morbid with the slightest provocation.
1 comment:
Great rread thanks
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