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Finally a colleague Another development

These days hospitalized, I know for the first time a person who is under the same conditions and with my diagnosis of the disease: It
was a girl of twenty, called Jacqueline that he had emergency surgery overnight. He was a proctocolectomy with iliostomía.
spite of being one month in hospital, could not recover psychologically to be in these terms: I was really devastated.
We both did very well and know that we suffered the same ills.
She was a girl who was still in college, studies had to focus entirely frozen to recover.
Today we communicate and I can still say that after a while and have overcome many complications, it restored his intestine and leads a normal life.
Her boyfriend took her throughout this process and are planning to marry and have families.
was great to meet and learn later that his surgery was a success.

Denisemilani.com Police

No one is quite good ... I even God renegade

(Published in the Daily Reporter on 4/15/2009)

I renegade ... God even

Víctor M. Barranco C.

Every hour the same pain, same nausea, the same disgust ... the same rot. Every second the same betrayal, and his old nightmare for her God-somehow absent. Always the same disguise, the same feeling of disgust, the eternal question, the same ordeal piercing your day, your week, your night, your time around ... that lacerate their unpredictable daily nightmares. Each time this unpleasant sensation in the spirit, the gap in the responses, the war all nesting on your pillow. That whirlwind stir in his mind every day life, misery, shame, fear, revenge ... that things move outside but prefers never cease to be his at all. With every second the same thirst, the same hunger, the go slow and secret shame, that feeling of slowly boiling liquid sometimes gushing through his veins, the rhythmic movement of his story which is swinging torture chamber memories. The torment that burden, the futile struggle between dignity and shame, the painful jolt that shakes, that piece of your body where they taught all miseries. That happened to you and that continues to hurt after seven years. A violent attack. No violation just your body but your integrity. The humiliation of the flesh, mind, filling all spaces without mercy or pause. And he, the author of his misfortunes, who brewed their vices in your body ... free, unpunished. Son of a person of power, has been protected even though it identified. Who knows where you live. Has gone home. In the midst of the despair of that night of sewers and sewage, could record the license plate and gave them to justice at all. I have seen, and felt the mockery of the proceedings in a public place without shame or mercy. Thought take justice into their own hands, but an inner voice that always stops them. No room for love but for fear. In sex, there is a scar without closing it impossible for any approach ... any attempt to mate. She lives alone. Without feeling the satisfaction of being a woman. Workpiece, has turned in his daily tasks all their troubles. He thinks that if justice is not done, and at this point that is a rather remote possibility, it can not recover your life. Or recovered as a person. That night he violated her body, her will, her most intimate ... shame it ended. Rabies solitary lives today and in the midst of those tears that he feels is the only thing that really belongs, continue to die what is left of life ... daily.

-Young, rather shy, I dealt with in a fast-food sales. He greets me, it says reader of this space, and withdraws. Just when I leave I left a piece of paper an e-mail, a phone number and asked me to talk. Invite her to my office and there after three or four games tells me his dream.
- I can hardly BA, tell him what happened to me. I have many weeks trying to make contact with you. I just was not going to do when the months passed, the space does not reappear. When I read that back, I made the purpose of telling you my tragedy. And to see the virgin put me in front of me when least expected. But bear with me. Come living in hell. And while more than 7 years of this, I live every night as if repeated.

- Quiet, I say, take your time ... if not today, it will be another chance.
- No, this is the third time we met and I no longer keep turning

- Well, tell me then
- I went out of classes at the University as at 10 at night, and was Lara Avenue waiting for a route Cabudare take me to where I live. I walked a little farther from the stop to see if I could go first to those who waited on her. Whenever you're at the stop, do not miss these gallants they stop, compliments and even offer to our homes or take a walk. You do not listen to them, and go. That night I was approached by a golden chariot, but asking an address. Where is the CC. El Paseo? ... I set him down many more lights should turn left. The guy got out, showed me a badge and told me. "You must be affectionately called the catira" ... "Give me your card." No, I said, I am confused. I'm not even catira, I just did a Mechita. At that time he drew a pistol and forced me to get in the car ... and I refused, they hit me and pushed me stunned and almost charged I got into the car. It took me via Agua Viva. Driving with one hand and the other pointing at me and hit me in the head with the gun. Forced me to stay with her head down, without looking up. We reached a sort of farm alone or abandoned. They got off the car with me on the side where I was. He gave me a push that fell on the ground ... were pounced on me and tied her hands with a cord carried.

- You What were you doing?
- nothing but mourn and try to defend myself. At one point removed his pants and asked me to go down the mine. I did not want, then hit me in the face and told me ... "go dog, by hook or by crook ... you choose. " I refused and asked him crying Please leave me, I did not denounce him. Then I knelt down by force, he stepped inside and asked me to do oral sex ... which, by the way, I never had. In the midst of such blow to the head, opened my mouth and there quenched all their evil instincts. I thought it would come up there ... but no. He said: "Get ready the party is just beginning." I left there with their hands tied and went to turn off the car ... then I memorized the license plate. When he returned, I said ... if I do something else I'm going to complain, I know by heart the plate in your car. Better not, degree. A man that went all the demons in the body. I dropped my head kicked in by the lower body. I screamed obscenities. Insulted me. He ripped off my clothes. It broke my blouse, bra. I broke the closure of the pants. He gave me a kick that made me lose consciousness momentarily. When I woke up it was half over, panting. I had unleashed. I tried to get rid of him but could not. I think he was drugged and also angry. I was in hell. I do not know how often quenched his aberration in each body part that struck him. I did not care nothing ... just wanted to die. It was painful physically and morally. I said bitch, bitch. What was going through that mind filthy dirty mouth and that the devil gave him and fed his perversion. Not many hours passed. I huddled on the floor, did not stop mourn. He, after all, and sorry I was approached and told me .... "Quiet, not crying. All over. Dress'll take you someplace where you can take a taxi to your home. I'm not like, is that sometimes the devil takes hold of me and I do these things without realizing it. " I did not believe him. I thought that since he knew that he had fixed in my memory the number of registration, was looking for extenuating circumstances. I could, I half dressed ... I rode in the car crying. I asked several times: "are you going to complain?". I did not answer. Until I felt a manotón in the face and again I cry ... "Look bitch, do not ever, for that day if you die for real!". He stopped just outside the entrance of Yacural. That forced me to get off. I stopped a taxi, after many to see the state I was, did not want to take. It was from a Teacher night was helped by little run. When he saw me half naked and bleeding were offered to take me to the hospital or the police ... where I wanted. I asked him to take me home from a cousin, if I looked like walking mom would give him a heart attack. It was. Took me to the premium.

- denounced it later? What did you do?
- bathing .... I was many hours under the shower. I felt disgusting. Dirty. Smeared with all the misery and perversion of that animal. Just came out, I wrote of the number plate ... well, if you do not create, not the complete record. I had such gaps. A sort of jumble in my brain would not let me clearly. I just wanted to mourn and a bath. As if to wash the filth that I had done.

- Did you go to the police?
- Yes, a friend of my cousin took me. And that made me relive the whole ordeal. I think these cases should have qualified personnel. A psychologist. Sometimes you do more damage to one with the questions and some sarcasm in them, which the rapist. What happened to the prosecution and there have been about seven years sleeping in a drawer.

- Nobody did anything?
- Some colleagues began to investigate, and managed to discover that this animal had done some similar things in Santa Elena. Sometimes posing as official, as other uninformed tourist. We were tying ropes, until we come to your location. We there to the police .... but nothing happened. The guy, apparently, is the son of a person with influence, to the point, someone told my cousin's boyfriend: Forget that this case does not come out. That dude is protected.

- And then what did?
- is there, graduate, when you get the crazy one. Caused me to wait. And make it look as much damage as he did to me. But an inner voice stopped me. It's more once I saw him in a skirt in El Roble ... and the world came over me. I was approaching him, but when he realized it was me, mounted on a Jeep loaded and left.

- What your parents say?
- My mom who is with whom I live, has cried with me for 7 years. She had seen me give up everything, it gives me encouragement. She asks me to leave that in God's hands, to redo my life, to turn the page.

- Did you have?
- No. I still do not let no man come near me too. I do not accept anyone touch me. There is no room in me for love. Sex makes me sick. There is no possibility of a relationship. I'm scarred for life. There is a wound that never heals me. Bleeding daily. Maybe if justice had been done without it would not have repaired the damage, would surely life from another angle. He reneged on love, even I have done at some point in God. I can not reach their thirties, and I'm dead. I dropped out of school because I can not concentrate. Mom helped with the sewing at home, until my mind is occupied by the ghosts of the night. I do not know that I have done more damage ... the brutal rape that night. Or know that in this country, the son of a goat heavy ... is a badge of gross impunity.

Her story shook me to the point of rage. In the midst of that impotence giving injustice, there is no apparent exit in his nightmare. It is the pain, the scar that bleeds, the horrible impression of being trampled, worn, violated. A verbena of anguish, a festival of fear, the only regular live tremor. The replacement of the road by a shadow, a pain that intersection where life fucking asked for a truce to sadness. In his eyes there is a permanent goodbye, the doubt about the outcome, the gap where the vertigo makes niche ... the same hospital, no cure for his wounds. The old spell of hope. The fantasy of madness. The loving hands goodbye without smiles. She now lives in despair, deceit, betrayal ... maybe the summary of life itself, paying tribute to the cruelest of nights. That chill, this perverse passion, blindness unfortunate that the worst worshiping of existence. At its heart the same gasp, the old complaint, and reiterated the familiar hum ... the same sting that hurts, when hope dies in the place of love. In it, and no apparent possibility of return, there are now only end items, burnt ... where to live, it is only necessary to have a beginning. Some hope. A dream. Ever, after having lived his own death ... I have to die, what's left of life.

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pains this time to Crohn's disease

was already in position to re-flag and schedule this for the first days of January.
This time would be about six months with the iliostomía and first-line drugs, was supposed to close the fistula.
Recovery from surgery was pretty awkward, I was in a complex situation, the surgeon tells me that this has developed ulcerative colitis, Crohn's disease.
The doctor decides to treat me a gastroenterologist, internist, who specializes in inflammatory diseases.
Personally I am not convinced of this diagnosis. How can you prove scientifically that a disease evolving into another? Recheck
previous biopsies, in all states: Evolution
as inflammatory disease. Ie do not specify anything.
gastroenterologist Dr. visit me in room. From the beginning it generated a good doctor-patient relationship.
Later, he helped me in many disease processes and was always mindful of when I was hospitalized.
was going to see me to see face to face what happened to his patient, satisfying my questions and providing support and companionship. Without haste, without interruption, only a sincere desire to support and make it possible for his patient would still be confident that you could fight to regain health. Or, at least, have a better quality of life ...
This makes me, to testify that a doctor is really calling. Ojala
manages to be a reference to inspire his colleagues to take the path of medicine not only as pure science, but with the aim of serving the patient, making the most of their recovery. Doctors
as his person, do much more bearable our crisis stages of the disease, helping to recover more quickly because it frees us from the additional stress and so worn that it is the patient who lacks a doctor, empathetic and emotional and social intelligence.
This time I receive many visitors each give me words of encouragement.
I feel comforted just thinking that I am not alone in this process.

What Does It Mean If You Get A Bfp Early

Was difficult to understand

(Published in the Daily Reporter on 04/08/2009)

Was difficult to understand her mom
is different

Lic Victor M. Barranco C.

Stay in bed for many days. More than three thousand days, accounts for its mother. Light as the breeze, it can provide the illusion of his small dreams, those are never completely broken. Today is just a face, a grin ... like those joys which never come to full draw. Silent, as the daily anguish. As these beggars away hunger alone with his pain. As the cold inexplicable that, even amid the glare, marks the site of love recklessly. In the bed of his skin, are woven almost imperceptibly, the faults of those who drew on his mind the shadows that continue to make every inch of the road. His smile, which outlines the sometimes invention is incapable of harboring solitary conscious affection. It is there for years in a hospital bed smeared with the same ghosts. There is no longer passenger death, even when, officially, has not reached its destination. Travels with her and not wanting to burden-yet-announced and slopes. Today is just a consequence. A usufruct of error. A minor accident, the consequences of shared only with her mother. With that child to talk and see mourn, unable to know if she perceives her voice, or his touch. With family members, little by little, they have stopped visiting. Nurses and neighboring bed to whom his great tragedy is becoming daily. While she was alone in that unconsciousness is induced pass-indifferent-the minute, white, like the newspaper of the homeless. As the tears of those whose lives are just as pain. As the track marks, but no one is willing to repeat. With its eternal sleepiness as a witness, living the night of his night. Her mother will not stop crying even when you feel alive. However it has not stopped feeling that sometimes gathers flowers for the pain which still carries on his back. As someone repeating a tragedy at the site of the pregnancy, when reminded that bedridden daughter today, playing with her child. Today is a weakness lying. Subject of a loyalty or recognized, can not thank. Who, with ticket required, went one evening to the season of dreams, but not the hope, but of unconsciousness. The vegetative life that makes him so much harm to it, like others of his family. To those who realize their horror. In that hospital room where the silence ... it is a costume to wear every day and every night.

"Someone gave him the book quietly and recommended, not just read it, but contact me to tell you. While living in Caracas, from the time the interviews continued through the website of The Reporter. We exchanged emails and a trip to the capital, visited her.
- I have about ten years, he says, turning to the daily appointment with sorrow. With the inevitable. Going up to this room, where time has stopped during the last decade. My daughter has that time lying in bed without moving. Although sometimes responds to certain external stimuli, do not know if from his confinement in the walls of his skin, is able to warn them ... or it is an unconscious response. Sometimes we feel that responds to our voices, our hugs, to caress the repeat from the depths of love whom we love so much. At that term of endearment with which we address it. A great affection that we always try to convey

- What happened?
- Just a Mother's Day was brought to the maternity labor pains. Joined at about 10 pm. The next day they prepared for a caesarean. Doctors say that by this time his body was unbalanced. The anesthesia was to the brain. When we arrived here, she was unconscious. She was diagnosed with post-anoxic hypoxia. She was just 19 years old.

- What happened after the diagnosis?
- I was told that at any time recovered. To have faith. Waited almost a week to react. Any movement, any sound emitted, as we warned any move as a sign that soon we would come out of this nightmare. But it was not. We fought, in that moment of two lives. Hers, and that beautiful little angel in her womb and that in his lifetime, which are the same as his mother has been in bed has never been heard of it beyond guttural sounds. Days passed, and a doctor came to me and said, "let's wait a couple of days. Then we will desentubar. Hopefully react and live. Let's get her out of therapy because there is no longer anything to do with it, and there are people whose lives depend on that bed. "

- What constitutes post-anoxic hypoxia?
- is the result of a problem with anesthesia or sedation. An accident in the supply of oxygen to the brain that kills cells that are responsible for thinking and memory. Who suffers when it is called vegetative state, without coma. You can even interact with and even eat. Reply to primary stimuli ... but do not understand. However, for you see, when your child visit and takes her hand, he moistened his eyes.

- Do you think he realizes the love that you make?
- I think so. I comb the bathroom, and suddenly under me gives a smile. When I hold her, sometimes I feel, and not my imagination, which benefits from that embrace. When your child is in the room, it's as if he is pleased. As if the maternal instinct is to jump all the medical arguments, and somehow allowed to enjoy the presence of his son. Sometimes I feel sad and a tear is apparent out of control. At that time I speak, I am a convert and that appeased. I can give you calm when anxiety dominates. I talk a lot with it. I tell me, his son, of people visiting the hospital and goes to greet her. I tell my problems. My anxieties. Inform you when I have to go out and buy something, and I think I heard. You do not know the penalty Degree for a mother, seeing his daughter for so long bedridden, trapped in its shadows and unable to reverse the situation.

- The son of What? How do you face?
- Although it has been difficult to understand that his mother is different from the mother of his little friends, do not know any other way. For him, although he understood the problem, your mom has always been. Never breastfed, never bundle up your child, could never make love, or help with homework, or picking up toys. Her mother is the coat of tenderness, mechanical responses of stormy silence, eternal treatment, assisted living that he knows so well and although it feels different, love and strange. You see him, caressing. You see him telling the school. You see him bringing the ballot. Her opening address their Christmas presents. Kicking his birthday cake. Putting the candle, after off under his pillow. You see them both, sharing his silences. Their eyes. This love that I'm sure both manage to convey and feel.

- Who gets the child?
- With the grandfather, my husband. This has been a father, mother, grandfather, grandmother, during this time.

- What about Dad?
- That left a wig Once you knew my daughter was pregnant. We heard from again. Although it was our neighbor, disappeared from the place ... as if the earth had swallowed him. I do not know if the anguish that I believe in my daughter helped set the conditions for no matter what happened.

- you, how you have handled?
- Between the pain of seeing her there in that bed, and hope that it stops. Between the tears to see how his life was extinguished at 19 years, and the joy that at some point I smiled. Among the surprise of not knowing when to leave permanently, and satisfaction every morning a new day I met with her side. Between the penalty for leaving the rest of my family, and the satisfaction of having a husband as I have. Justifying the blessing of marriage, love, friendship, the concept that many have lost father.

- How to spend their days in a hospital without being sick?
- A variety of feelings and experiences are discussed between the discomfort of most reside in the health center where they parade all evil, and that inner satisfaction of knowing that in the midst of their grief, many have time to ask for her. Here I met the dimension of friendship, the human being, of selflessness. This has been a hard school, stormy, horrible, would not repeat ... but the school after all.

- Are you optimistic?
- yet. Here, surrounded by my prints of the Virgin, I hope the miracle. I dream of the day she can throw her son's blessing. Give me a kiss. Back to tell mom. I often imagined the day when she can stop being a prisoner of that sleep for so many years has accompanied. And I think if my little God has brought me here, there must be. When I see his son exchanged silences, I think at some point will be. Of course I'm optimistic. So the arrangement, the pinto, the comb ... for the day you wake up to look like the queen it always was.

- Why talk to me?
- Barquisimeto A friend gave me his book, and I said, read it, to see as the pain from some other learning. Since then, seven months ago as I read their reports through the website of The Reporter. I saw your post and I wrote because I wanted to tell the world through you what was going on in my family. Which looked into my mirror. There are families who have everything, health, resources, and are not happy. Mothers expect their children to be super heroes, intellectuals, doctors .... When I'd settle for that mine just asked me one day blessing. There are children who require gifts, toys, expensive clothes and get very upset when they give them to the point that demand and to chide their parents ... when the son of mine would be happy, just with her to answer some of their affections.

I say goodbye. I leave it as a great teacher of life. Trained at the University of pain ... the pain of a mother. I too, learn a lesson. With it, it's easy to make love all the more reason for life. The left hopeful, but sad. Sensing that her daughter is sentenced to the constant thinking of nothing, as she searches the memory at the cemetery of paper, that experience faded now occupies it. Has discovered the muddy site. But there, next door, has invented a switch that reveals the sun each morning. Know the distance of those isolated without knowing the value of their smiles. She knows her daughter has a body that does not belong. That does not dominate. A love that can not consciously lean, a faith that can not go alone, even accompanying dreams to remember ... even though she feels that at times, at least love, addressing its own way. She continues walking. From his strength and what life-in the last ten years has taught him. Do not feel angry. Yes, the few small prizes that gives life. Appreciates the immense charity of solidarity. Today he understood that, without doubt, the search heat at times ... goes through the fire.

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The effective contribution strength of spirit appears

Carmelite Convent My friends call me and beg to go to rest for a few days with them. The truth is that it was delighted.
They have always been very important in my spiritual life and strengthening the faith ...
Upon arrival at the convent, the nuns came to greet me, all were happy and were not as Caring:
I brought fresh eggs into a cup vegetable soup passed through a sieve, royal jelly, jam, in short, everything they thought I was going to nurture, not let me do anything, just walking in the garden very well maintained since, they have a very nice farm.
shared with her all the prayers, I actually felt stronger and grateful to receive so much affection.
I feel very privileged to have the opportunity to share some days with my friend Lucia and the entire community Eliana Carmelites.

They lead lives of faculty, giving up all material goods, making vows of poverty, leading a very austere life, doing all the work to survive on their hands.
The Carmelite life is a consecration to prayer and contemplation, the study also is a ministry specializing in spirituality.
cloistered life in any way mean no one caring what happens outside the monastery, on the contrary are always informed of events in the world and the church, concerns, sorrows, joys and hopes.
also constantly intercede for people and their families who come to the monastery for spiritual help. Deeply believe that prayer sustains and gives life to the world.
The Carmelites are women happy, creative, love of his vocation.

The Carmelites begin their day at five o'clock in the morning, one of the sisters played softly a bell calling to prayer with his song "Praise be Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary his mother. Sisters praise the Lord. " They meet for prayer every Lute (praise the Lord). Followed by an hour of personal prayer and silent prayer after the Office of Tercia, Breakfast and after the Eucharist.

Then each of the sisters does your work for: agriculture (vegetables, fruit trees, gardening, etc.) Preparation of jam, caramel, candles, candles, textiles, religious objects, the monastery toilet, kitchen, etc. These works are rotating.

meet again at noon.
It reads the Sixth profession. After lunch, then an hour of recreation come together with great joy discussing some experiences, some nice details, etc. Always work on the hands, like knitting, embroidery, sewing, etc., They say there is no time to get bored.
Then comes an hour of meditation, which is responsible for rest. Each has his own cell. At 15.30

meet again to pray the Office of Nona, which is followed by an hour of individual spiritual reading.
At 18.30 hours is time for Vespers, it's time domestic work, then comes the moment of thanksgiving for the day after, followed by a second hour of prayer personal.

After dinner, second time for recreation are always involved all these are the only time of day talk freely. Twenty-one hours past the office of Compline and reading with the day ending at approximately 22 hours.

Thus the life of a Carmelite nun, praying, working, living with a permanent joy, all together for the same ideal.
were twelve unforgettable days, The Sisters have been for me an example in front of the living, feeling the inner strength and resignation to accept life in the toughest times second only to pray for God's will.

returned home, with all the blessings that I delivered the Carmelites, being steeped in my heart the image of each:
The Prioress Sister. Stella of the Holy Trinity, my friend Sister. Eliana Lucia, Sr.. Bernadette, Sister. Carmen, Sister. Ana Rosa, Sr.. Mary Magdalene, Sister. Maria Teresa, Sister. Beatrice, Sister Kelly, Sr. Carmén Trinidad, Sr. Rose, Sr.. Marta and Sister. Jacqueline.
This break I did really well was a healing of body and soul, I came home weighing fifty-two kilos.
sisters in faith God bless you all!

Can You Get Pregnant If You Have Cervical Erosion

just wants a fun

(Published in the Daily Reporter on 3/31/1909)


She just wants a fun relationship

Víctor M. Barranco C.

Each absence, in addition to this ... a scream. With each new start, a new pain. In every darkness, the same fear. In every corner of the house realenga, a sadness. Since his mother was fond of the drink in everyone's life, it rains. Persistent rains, but no blooms. Everything is dry. Even his relationship with the spouse, with children, with the lover. Rains, but nothing gets wet enough to dilute the swamp. Go to the author of his life and sees in it a summer in the eyes, his skin bruised by the punishment, in this strange relationship of a wife that keeps your mind and the lover who lives in your body ... and no doubt : in the depths of his mother be sure it rains. In this relationship the emergence of a third violent, disrespectful ... has established a relationship with her sickly passionately, that curiosity has become the neighborhood and disruptive element of the family unit. Where is the umpire he arrives at midnight to insult her, punching her and disrespect ..., their children, a husband who waits and who still wants to share her bed and nights. The home is crying foul, of silence, fear, cries, that indignity that cuts the site of shame, modesty. But there is no place for him, for treason, to distrust, for daily and turbulence ... and misfortunes come together at such an embarrassing infidelity and unwise, is joined by the alcohol and violence in the ghoulish holiday. But his mother, and she's beyond censorship and the discomfort you feel, want to help. So young yet, it is proposed to stop mourn their fears. Firing every offensive word pronounced. Buried in the hope every cry of sadness drowned. Unsay begin to retrace, to erase. A stormy pass that page that has marked the family as ingratitude. A fill color of the lettering of love, the place where someone killed him at home, hope. Silent stop. Since his daughter's room to judge, sentence, saying that some things are wrong. Well, neither her mother deserves the abuse of the man who wants and who is not her husband, nor her father deserve the rudeness, treachery, heartbreak of that is still his wife ... especially when you share with her, yet, the same bed. Although it has not stopped thinking about whether her mother was at home the required attention, the necessary care, the care and affection that as a woman and wife deserved. It has therefore decided to stop going to nothing. Do not go over to the family table every day and be part of that tournament of lies that there is given, to live more or less smoothly. Rescue your family reason, low intelligence, the most basic of modesty. Stop calling indifference, hormones, passion over the welfare of the family. Take ... to convince her, her mother, who decides. To end this nest of ghosts in the living, and not leave it to study, or glad, or leave the house without shame ... or should live as a girl of just 18.

- Me writes, he tells me part of their tragedy by mail and asked me to listen. He is very young, but has had to live all hell.
- My mom tells me input, is an alcoholic. It also has a lover. Someone who makes her and us as a family, a lot of damage.

- Does your dad know?
- Yes, once saw on the street

- Tell me ...
- Dad and Mom have been married 19 years. She is 42 years old ... the 50. Like 5 years ago went to celebrate the birthday of a cousin in a tavern, where he met Mom. There I believe the relationship began. He began visiting the house. But he did as a family friend ... until after we left my brother and I with her to fire him, and saw how he kissed her mouth.

- When your dad was, how did you react?
- It raised a great controversy at home mom and denied everything. But this time was no worse worst was when the guy came at midnight to the house drunk, and insulted my mother. Assembled a horrible scandal. Dad went to hit him angry ... but I did not let him. I convinced him that this was not the road. That day my mother offered to quit, end with that relationship and to this day denies that this with him ... so we see them together.

- You Have not you talked to her?
- I claim. Advisable. I speak for the good times I've seen, and she argues that it is a coincidence. For her, whenever I see them, is a coincidence.

- How to accept your father that adulterous relationship to his face, as well as disrespectful to him and to all of you?
- My dad is very patient and hold it

- And she, why do not you go with boyfriend?
- I am convinced she does not want him home. That, I have with my dad. What she wants is a funny relationship, but no commitments.

- Fun and upset every time the guy drops a stick?
- Yes, it's a strange relationship. She tells me that my Dad not attending serves as the groom. Not the bag. That does not bear to dance and drink. My brother and I have demanded a whole, but has paid nothing. Moreover, once my brother asked me if I thought sex was what united the guy and I said ... I do not know.

- Do not you ever wondered if you think like children?
- Yes. She thinks that what he does affects us. That does not hurt none of the family.

- drank it before the relationship?
- Yes, but socially. As anyone who goes to a party or a tavern. Now drink to get drunk. Drink with him, and he has a bad drink. When he drinks the physically assault, even after my brother assaulted. A mother has disfigured the face of shocks. Abuse was so severe that time she complained to the authorities ... but soon withdrew the complaint.

- What does your mother's boyfriend?
- Watchful

- not you sitting with her woman to woman
- No. When I propose the subject or altered, or laughs.

always evades - He is back home?
- No. I do not go home

- What was the relationship as husband and wife between your mother and your father?
- do not remember loving, affectionate. I did not. Pleased that maybe Dad ... but it was as she wished.

- your mom's boyfriend is single?
- not married but has children. He lives alone. Relatively close to my house

- Do you think you will leave?
- No. If he did when he struck, it put horrible ... like a monster, if that does not gave ... I really do not think so.

- What would you like to happen?
- That definitely solved, she chooses ... yes or no, but you decide. I wish I could go a long way from home.

- Do you think your mother is sexually dissatisfied in their marriage?
-

do not know - I was very lonely?
- Yes

- Where to drink?
- In places near the house

- Does she have brothers ... are aware?
- have siblings, but are not aware. She does not deal with them often and close. Rather, the family of my dad is who he claims.

- What about the neighbors?
- Sure, because the scandals are at dawn and live in a village where everything is heard.

- Do you have recommended professional assistance?
- Yes, but she did not stop drinking or when you have a medical treatment. She drinks beer bold "because that is where I scratch," he says. She is drinking to get drunk

- What does your father when assembled such trouble?
- As I said before, out of their boxes and I try to calm him.

- How does your mom live?
- My dad gives money to save ...

- Do you think your dad has some guilt?
- In a way yes. I think the neglect and inattention paid the way for that matter what happened and she did what she did

- Has there been any reconciliation in the years between your parents?
- have always shared, but the Lord is always there. I think my dad tries to ignore the situation, to become the crazy

- sleep together even your father and your mother?
- Yes sleep in the same bed

- What do you think of sex?
- is a love relationship. A share of couples.

- Do you believe in sex without love?
- Yes

- What do you think of your mom?
- Do not think of us, but I think we want their own way. Loves us, but even if it hurts and makes us all, not let him. He has sworn many times that's going to end this relationship ... but it is a lie

- Have you had a boyfriend?
- Yes

- Have you ever fallen in love?
- No

- Do you think anyone can fall madly in love?
- They ... they look like two little boys. Sending messages ... my love, I love you and all those things. When he's not drunk he is very gentle with her ... which I must admit it never was my dad.

- Are you happy?
- I am not. Living hell that will not let me calm. Choking me, suffocating me.

- Why do you want to publish your nightmare?
- Because many people read it, and I know it reflects on her interviews every Wednesday. Many people like me, especially young people between 12 and 18 years before we read no newspapers, we are waiting Wednesday eager to share with their interviewees dramas we all know and some of them may be going through something similar. Or because if a mother like mine, an adventure of these you learn how to stop it with your family. I trust that this window has opened you contribute to what cases like mine no longer present, no one like me have to live them, and if they live to be resolved in terms of what can be better for some children as My brother and I, for a husband and father ... because this nightmare is a product of alcohol abuse, that the temptation of desire. They know where to take the habit, and many more lives, as well as the addict, can end if nothing is done on time.

Young. Smart. Determined to help, however it is sometimes overwhelmed by the reality that touches confront. Although he wants to leave, drop everything, fly ... is there with her skin, her warmth. With the unconditional love that shouts its horror at every bump covered. In every thought saved. In every dream violated. Still there despite its weaknesses. With the shock of those not used to doing everyday sorrows. A lack of shoes in its short-haul experiential, had to leave their feet ... but not their footprints in the family embarrassment. He has left his life, but not its presence. Affiliation, this custom that children should accept what their parents do not judge is perhaps the most conviction. Pay part of a fault that has not, just because her mother is the error. This was buried in his mind, which ruffles your skin and scar the mark of indignity that both hurts. There continues to rely on a new dawn. In another dawn. With this uneasiness frosting oblivion, mortifying that image that looks to the ceiling of his room when a new scandal seeps through the window. Remains, calendar in hand. With a clock that does not advance, but ringing. With that clothing provided that you do not take shelter the road. With that known child, only part time. With that pay the bills ... what else has broken.

Keurig Can I Put Milk In Instead Of Water

She never gave us face

(Published in the Daily Reporter on 3/25/2009)

She never gave us face

Víctor M. Barranco C.

need stunned. But feel inside that infernal noise that has sown the official silence. Do not listen to the irresponsibility of others with impunity nestled in the most critical of any ethical conscience. They need to deceive the reason. Expected to be redeemed at fault. Search in the shadows, that sort of argument to explain, though not justified, as it can never grow pain on the morning of others ... and nothing happens. Not even an explanation. So to return. Back. To this day only months ago. When your child lived. When they obeyed not, yet, the public invitation to operations "simple, safe" umbilical hernia under an official Foundation offered. In this place where they discovered their nakedness citizen. Its official checkout. But also how, as a result of any alleged mistake ... your baby died, no one will explain ... or just give them the face. In a trailer, just opposite the Cathedral, guards handled the surgery. All children underwent surgery relentlessly. Released to their parents without their fully awakened from anesthesia, by non-staff nurses ... only with radio and charge. So today, amid the tears that choked him he and his partner, need to stop the lies, absences, omissions. But feel that stupid bell that inside the notes and, as a nightmare, I awake every night. The doctor who operated, never turned his face. Never asked. Never appeared. And when he did, it was the judicial body, but, they say, to lie .... Only the false attempt to justify the unjustifiable. Three years and the world ahead. All tests account for the vitality and child health. That child who left for a cum-peritonitis infection that either did not notice in the operation-what could make-or subject of negligence could have caused some infectious derivative thereof, with the same result. Today they want to go to scrutinize in this strange silence. There, where for some reason your child, partner and him, hoping he unstitched. In this instance of life, where pain is nasty conversation with sadness. Now, he just wants an explanation. The truth ... if you dare. What they call justice and that they do not stop to perceive, to know, can testify that there is. Avoid walking through the place where everything ends. In the which your child should not be. Something that, while not calm nor crying, nor pain, nor the pressure in the chest, drowning ... at least give them some light on what happened. Therefore, in the midst of unexpected and inexplicable loss of their healthy child, just three years, only aspiring to something new can, henceforth, to justify their existence ... and justice.

- I visit in my office, after writing. Samuel and Melissa are two young men who lost their young son inexplicably. His only son. Broken, not who they are not even explain what happened. Any alleged negligence, pose, has been guilty of a pain drowning. Captives of unnecessary grief. Parents of a dead child at the wrong time. Forced witnesses of human injustice. Doomed for life at the same nightmare. Tell me ... I ask
- took the floor and said: My son was suffering from an umbilical hernia. Nothing annoys. A hernia that was undetectable on your health. That we wanted to work only for their appearance. We saw an operation of a Municipal Foundation was to develop a trailer-clinic located opposite the Cathedral and, in response to that was not of any risk, we went there to undergo surgery, and correct the problem that our child for almost three old he was. He had surgery on Friday January 30. About three hours of operation, we handed him over. It was about 10:30 am and was not fully awake. Moreover, never did.

- Do not wait for doctors to fully recover from anesthesia to give it to you?
- That's me all over the world. Even medical friends have told me that the doctor's own controller and anesthesiologist caring for the patient until fully awake. Christian, our child was very weak. He complained ... but never cried. The next day I called the facility and was told that was normal. Were consequences nature of the surgery they had undergone. However, as I felt so bad, I took her up and I took him to Security. Along the way he fainted and vomited. Just asking for water. He complained but did not cry. Hold me tight, like clinging to life. And I helplessly, not knowing what was going on there with him ... living his last minutes without knowing it. Impotent. Feeling that the world is just me. ... When we arrived, the doctors told us they received it had no vital signs. My child was dead!

- What doctors said they received it?
- Guys and a pediatrician told us that was no problem for anesthesia. That was one peritonitis.

- Do you think there was negligence?
- Everything seems to suggest so. We say that probably were not aware of peritonitis, and prospered ... severe infection or infection was a result of surgical contamination. In any case, the facts do assume that with some attention, it need not have presented this picture. A doctor I can not reveal the name said, "if peritonitis, it is his responsibility"

- Did you talk to the doctor who operated?
- No. She wanted us to face. We answer the phone, nor has it gone the times we've tried to see if he could explain. We ponder the reason for this attitude ... and truth that whoever does not should not fear.

- Will is ducking?
- Insurance. Do not you think that if someone has nothing to do with such a serious case, leaves, gives the face, he tells us, comforts us, comforts us. No lies. Such behavior is neither ethical nor humane. Moreover, when called to testify, he lied, I'm told. She said that when the call from the Attorney General, that the mother had given him a meal and it was consecuenciado this state. What food, BA. If all we asked our son, dying without attention, was water. Even the angel cried. I had no energy. Just complaining ... and she should be aware that even gave us his face. Draw your conclusions degree, and you will see that, sure, coincides with ours.

- denounced the case?
- The case is in the Public Ministry. What has the Attorney Alejandra Oliveros guarantee that things will work out. Us personally and professionally treated excellently. His attitude comforts us in the midst of this great pain.

- What does the autopsy?
- We are waiting for the results of a more exhaustive than was realized. For the die on a Saturday and take him to the hospital, but there was no pathologist. At about ten o'clock began a protest by relatives waiting for them to hand over his own ... there were many dead bodies waiting to be autopsied. It was on Sunday afternoon when it appeared a pathologist who has since retired, but decided to do us the favor of taking all he's autopsy.

- Was his only son?
- Yes. Our only child. Note degree I had taken the shift in the morning and Melissa was studying in the evening so that the child never left alone. Indeed, had frozen the semester to join him in the operation and after assist you. Moreover, our parents were also with him forever. It was the blessing of our family. Grandparents are torn. Look lively, "he shows the child's photo on his cell phone," see the medical reports are proof of the excellent state of health who was at the time of elective surgery, not an emergency. And they always said there was no risk whatsoever.

- Do you think having another child?
- I do not think I once said Melisa

- How old are they, I wondered?
- Melisa 21 and I 23, I says Samuel

- How do you feel?
- Rabies ... and a great sadness that I said it, he wept. It's a huge pain. It's something that can not be described.

- What do you want?
- Learn the truth. Certainly know what happened, and enlarge it more our pain. Is that sad, more uncertainty, the silence of the doctor ... we going to go crazy.

- Not even before the operation, you talk about her?
- No. We were told he had been in the morgue while my child is waiting for the autopsy ... but we did not see her, or she sought to speak with us. We've always avoided.

- Your family?
- We are a very close family. And Christian was kind of the center of it. A very smart kid graduate. Very lively. Very affectionate. A child who was easy to love. Full of life. Too big for his age. Note that Samuel had a bad feeling. He had told me three days before the child's death: "We will take care that I feel that something bad is going to happen." But I never thought it would be with the child ... is more what we had in the Insurance and papers were to leave to intervene, but we saw the promotion, and to assure us that there was no risk in the Foundation decided to do ... and we do not have children, or hopes, not explanation. Only this horrible nightmare that punishes us every minute.

- Have they called the Foundation?
- No. No communication. Even for elementary courtesy. NOT even a basic sense of humanity. Not even because it addresses a woman has been the necessary sensitivity against such a serious event. There nobody talks ... Dr. never told us how he had left the child after surgery. They took him out of there without stretchers. Without the necessary equipment. Unprotected. An official with a radio in hand, not a nurse or expertise ... and also, still half asleep. Does it seem to you that responsibility, Graduate?. Is that normal??

- Why did you come?
- First, because we want to know and no one responded. And everyone knows what is your read that section. I do not lose it, but I never thought my son would be dead protagonist of one of his interviews. To be more care and other parents do not have to live with this horrible nightmare from that day with us. For officials to be sensitized, so that physicians are accountable for what they do or not do. To become aware of what it can mean a mistake or an oversight in an operating room. For anyone to cry over the death of a loved one unfairly. Because no one rob you of joy, hope. Because no other child has to leave prematurely their toys, pencils, their goody just because they took all precautions.

Naked Love, body, silence. Naked truth of passion, laughter, hope. Dressed only noise that will not let a moment, questions that jolt the mind accompanying her sadness, truth, betrayal and that any persistent memory ... survive. Naked all, after your child's unexplained death. And does not care about age or experience, or how shocking the breeze. Even the wars, passions, or the verses. The time has stopped, wet, in their eyes. And the belly that you bundle up your child for 9 months, and not to prepare for more, for fear of another unexcused absence. Another inexplicable void. And no one to narrate the stories. Neither the occurrence enjoy intelligent child who joined the family. No how, or what birthday. All is distress. Hungry for love and smelling candle, flowers and incense. Now go naked logic of commitments, and responses morning. Now only have shadows, and colored pencil that draws more on paper ... only silence.