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<title>SagaByte / nikki / All</title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com</link>
<description>SagaByte rss feeds</description>
<pubDate>Sun, 11 May 2008 19:03:20 -0400</pubDate>
<language>en</language>
<item>
<title><![CDATA[Working in a Salon]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/working-in-a-salon/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/working-in-a-salon/</comments>
<pubDate>Sun, 11 May 2008 19:03:20 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>nikki</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/working-in-a-salon/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[There was a time, not too long ago, when I was at a crossroads in my life and had no idea what to do. Somehow, I turned my hand becoming a Beauty Therapist, and as such worked in a small salon to gain some experience.This salon was worlds apart from anything I had ever known before, and thank god have never known since. Owned by a lady rich on daddies money, her staff consisted of myself and another girl from another college - both working for pennies in return for gaining invaluable experience'.This girl, we'll call her Jemma, was the complete opposite to my nervous naivety. I spent my evenings reading quietly at home while she was out getting in trouble with the police for various misdemeanours. To say we didn't get on would be an understatement. We came from very different parts of life and had no intention of getting to know how each other ticked.Now this salons owner had a lot of bad habits in her own right that included, but were not limited to, turning up 2 hours late for work and therefore having at least 4 furious waiting clients, snorting cocaine in the salons bathroom, and bringing back various boyfriends for some quality time' in one of the rooms. I hated every moment I spent there, but couldn't leave until I had worked my mandated hours in order to pass my course.One day I turned up for work and the phone rang. I knew it would be our boss before I'd even picked it up as she was due to be there half an hour before hand. &quot;Oh, Hello.&quot; She simpered down the phone, a mans chuckle behind her, &quot;Would you be a darling and open up the shop for the next couple of weeks I'm just on my way to Portugal!&quot;Before I even had a chance to ask what on earth was happening the phone had been put down. A friend of hers, who had a lot of sympathy for Jemma and I, stopped by and explained the situation. We were to keep the salon running between us, never mind the fact we were both in college.The good thing about all this is that, as we were not yet qualified, we could not carry out most treatments. As such, not many appointments were booked and we spent a lot of time sitting around reading magazines. One day, Jemma broke the silence between us. &quot;How about I give you a facial&quot; she asked, smiling. I readily agreed.I laid back on the couch as she got to work. As she cleansed, exfoliated and scrubbed, she talked. She talked about her childhood, she talked about her life, and about the death of her younger sister at an early age. I learned so much about her, about where she came from and what caused her anger. Not only that, but she asked me questions, encouraged me to open up and tell her about my hopes and dreams. Within a couple of hours, my skin was as refreshed and open as our relationship had become.&quot;I know we're never going to be the kind of people who'd hang out normally, but we've got to put up with a lot of crap here. We're never going to keep going if we can't rely on each other.&quot; She finished. I smiled and held out my hand to her, &quot;In this building, we are friends&quot;. She smiled warmly back, slipped her hand in mine and we shook.Two weeks later on a very rainy afternoon, our boss reappeared just as I was giving Jemma a manicure. She bustled in, and after settling herself down for a while commentated, &quot;You two seem to be getting on well&quot; She studied us for some time before smiling, &quot;Looks like I should go away more often&quot;.Jemma and I didn't stay there much longer after that<br/><br/>2 Vote(s) ]]></description>
</item>

<item>
<title><![CDATA[My Sexual Harassment Story]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/my-sexual-harassment-story/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/my-sexual-harassment-story/</comments>
<pubDate>Sat, 10 May 2008 22:05:48 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>nikki</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/my-sexual-harassment-story/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[Working in the city, you get pretty used to the daily crush of people all desperate to get to where-ever they're going. At first I hated it, then after a while you kind of become numb as soon as you set foot into the packed streets or stand in a crammed train compartment.That's exactly how I'd come to spend each train journey to and from work, and this particular evening was no exception. I had worked a little later to try and avoid the rush hour, but as ever my plan had failed and I ended up squeezed onto the train, feebly gripping the handle with the very tips of my fingers in an attempt not to fall over.I had just shut myself off to the sights and sounds (and smells) and was lost in my own thoughts. I was being pressed further by someone behind me, and managed to step to give a little more space. The person pressed again, and once more I managed to gain some room. When the person pressed against me for the third time, along with a certain part of his anatomy (hence me realizing this person was indeed a He), I not only realized that it was no accident, but realized I had no more space to escape into.I froze shock still, and could sense everything and everyone in the train. Could everybody else tell what was happening Could anyone else see Was it actually happening or was I mistaken He started moving his body against mine.And I decided. It was happening. So what did I doI closed my eyes and bared it. I closed my eyes and wished the train would hurry up to its next stop. I wished something, anything, would happen that would stop it all. But most of all, I wished I was brave enough to do something myself to make it stop. To break his nose, or punch him, or scream, oranything.The time it took to travel that short distance to the next stop seemed like an eternity. Ice ages came and went, civilizations rose and nations fell, and all through this I could feel his breath on my neck. The automatic doors to the carriage had never opened to slowly, and I fell out of the carriage as soon as I could escape. I stumbled to the side and leaned against the wall, refusing to look back into the carriage just in case he was watching - I did not want to know his face. I caught my breath and grit my teeth, trying to bring myself back to normal.Half an hour and a cup of the station cafes weak coffee, I felt more sturdy on my feet. I stood myself up straight, adjusted the bag on my shoulder, and stepped back onto the platform to continue my journey home.4 trains later, I was finally brave enough to step on board one.<br/><br/>4 Vote(s) ]]></description>
</item>

<item>
<title><![CDATA[Dancing In The Theatre]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/dancing-in-the-theatre/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/dancing-in-the-theatre/</comments>
<pubDate>Fri, 09 May 2008 21:44:39 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>nikki</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/dancing-in-the-theatre/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[As I stood on the stage, the bright lights burning my eyes as I tried my hardest not to squint, I squeezed the hand of the guy beside me posing with his hand on my thigh. The music started. We began.I was only a small-time dancer, taking classes in my spare time and doing the odd show or festival here and there. One day during one of my classes our tutor got us older girls together for an exciting announcement, &quot;We've got a chance to dance at the biggest theatre in London!&quot; she exclaimed. We didn't need to hear the details, we were already completely over-excited and agreed to do it.The rehearsals started that same week and the show involved several dance schools from the county. We were to be can-can dancers. The very idea made me feel exhausted!We worked as hard as we could, and got on well with the guys of the cast who were to be part of our set. As our kicks became higher, so did our confidence. The dance was perfected, us girls and the guys gelled completely, and we were ready to go.Our dresses arrived one day and were stunningly beautiful. Made of satin, with layered satin underneath to give a look of several petticoats, it looked amazing. Unfortunately, once we had them on, they lost their appeal. The whole ensemble was incredibly heavy, and when we tried dancing in them, it was appalling. We were too weighed down to do many moves. &quot;You know what this means then girls,&quot; said the choreographer. We waited for the words new dresses' or change choreography'. What did we hear MORE PRACTICE!'For the remaining weeks we panted, sweated, struggled and at one point cried as we tried to dance as lightly as fairies while weighing as much as an elephant (at leastthat's what it felt like!) But, as time went on, our strength grew. By the time show-week had arrived, we barely noticed the weight and could dance as we could before.The opening to our dance involved us all in a pose with one of the guys. My pose involved my guy with a hand on my thigh. During dress rehearsals, we had a whispered conversation. He admitted to me how nervous he was (which I could well understand, seeing as he was only 17 years old, was to be dressed in drag, and had lots of family and friends coming). &quot;We'll change our pose. I'll hold your hand at the beginning and I'll squeeze it to let you know it'll be ok&quot;. It was the only thing I could think of, but he seemed happy with it and smiled with slight relief.Show night, and we stood at the wings watching the performers before us finish their set, waiting to go on. They finished, the house lights dimmed to near blackness. The only thing we could sense was the sound of the applause slowly quietening as we rushed out onto the stage and quickly took our places as the others rushed off. I put my hand over my friends, and gave it a gentle squeeze. He did the same. The houselights rose, and the music started. We began.And everything was ok. Well, in actual fact, it was more than ok. It was absolutely fantastic!<br/><br/>2 Vote(s) ]]></description>
</item>

<item>
<title><![CDATA[Offend Friends]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/offend-friends/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/offend-friends/</comments>
<pubDate>Wed, 07 May 2008 20:36:17 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>nikki</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/offend-friends/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[I woke up that December morning feeling a little tired, but otherwise fine. Despite the night of heavy drinking before, I had no hangover. It was only after thinking of this for a while that I realised I couldn't actually remember anything that happened the night before.A group of us went out for a meal. I remembered that part. I even remembered liking a particular glass of wine despite me not being a wine person. I liked it so much that I ordered a bottle of it. Things get hazy right around the point I ordered my secondI sighed and wandered downstairs and found my mother in the kitchen. She smirked at me, &quot;Good night last night&quot; she chuckled, She knows something I don't' I thought, but played dumb. &quot;Oh, It was OK I suppose.&quot; I shrugged. &quot;Is that why you left all your clothes in the living room&quot; she questioned. Through the laughter, I managed to get the story out of my mother. My parents heard me arrive home. They heard the door open, everything went quiet, then they heard a thud. &quot;Your Stepdad was going to come and see if you were ok. Thank god he didn't, eh! It seems you decided to take your clothes off in the living room, then go upstairs to bed!&quot;. I blushed and decided to go back upstairs.I sat on my bed and my mobile phone went off, a friend who was there last night. &quot;Feeling ok then&quot; she laughed. Will everyone keep laughing I sighed, &quot;Yeah, I suppose so. Don't remember much.&quot;, &quot;You don't remember trying it on with Maries boyfriend then&quot;. I was struck dumb, &quot;I.did what&quot;, &quot;You were a bit tipsy and kept flirting with her boyfriend. I think you'd better ring and apologise.&quot;I was gobsmacked. Marie was a good friend, and so was her boyfriend. Had I lost the friendship of both without even remembering how I quickly dialled her number, and before she even had time to say hello I pleaded for forgiveness, &quot;I can't remember anything that happened last night, but I have just been told what I did to you. I'm so, so sorry&quot;. She was as sweet as she always was, even going so far as to blame herself saying she had been a bit tipsy too and probably got over-jealous. We both cried a little, and she forgave. Everything was ok. But then she had a reminder for me too&quot;Do you remember the cab ride home I think you'd better ring Stacey.&quot;, &quot;Stacey Why, what did I do to her&quot; I panicked. &quot;It's nothing major this time,&quot; she teased, &quot;But you'd better ring her anyway.I put down the phone in a daze. All these things I had done, but still I had no memory of any of them. I picked up the phone again and dialled Staceys' number.&quot;Oh hello you!&quot; she laughed as soon as she realised it was me, &quot;feeling better&quot; How many people were going to ask me that today &quot;UmI just spoke to Marie to apologise for last night and she said I should ring you. I'm sorry, but I really don't remember anything.&quot; After a few minutes more laughing I learned a bit more about my behaviour the night before. She had shared a cab with me, and on the way home I had stuck my head out of the window andvomited.&quot;Oh my god,&quot; I exclaimed, &quot;Then what happened&quot;&quot;Well, it had all gone down the outside and after we'd dropped you off the cab driver was going mad, saying we had to pay a fine. I said it just needed washing off, so when we got to mine I got a kettle of water and rinsed it away. Cab driver was ok after that.&quot;I closed my eyes and wished I had never even known what the word Alcohol was. &quot;I'm soso sorry, Stacey.&quot;, &quot;That's ok. Will give us something to laugh about in the future, eh&quot; I smiled slightly, until the next words wiped the smile away, &quot;But have you spoken to Paul yet&quot; I went white, &quot;Only joking!&quot; she chuckled, and put the phone down.I lay back on my bed and tried to piece together the stories. All the missing pieces were soon put in place by more phone calls and messages I got over the day. I had tried chatting up a DJ but fell over and pulled his earphones off, I had fallen off a stage that I had decided to sit on (which explained the bruises anyway), I had informed a very good friend, and a lovely person, that their dress sense was awful. All in all, I had managed to offend or piss-off every good friend I had.I wrote a list of all the people I had done wrong, and brought several cards. I wrote to each person apologising profusely.The next time I saw them all, they were all fine with me. All forgiving and finding humour in the entire thing. To this day, I still have blank parts of my memory of that night, and am still deeply embarrassed. And I have never touched alcohol sincewell, maybe just a little<br/><br/>3 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<item>
<title><![CDATA[Job Nightmares]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/job-nightmares/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/job-nightmares/</comments>
<pubDate>Mon, 05 May 2008 22:16:28 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>nikki</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/job-nightmares/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[I sat at my desk in the dingiest part of the small building and wished, wished, I wasn't there. I hadn't had this job long, but I regretted taking it with all of my being.The job seemed so perfect. I had been temping for a while and was looking for something permanent, when I found the ad in the back of the local paper. The job seemed just right, the office was virtually around the corner from me, the hours were great, the paywell, the pay was OK. Just think of the travelling expenses I'd save!I turned up at the interview looking my best, and had prepared myself fully. The moment the interview started they more or less said they had already decided I was the person for the job. I sat a few tests, which I passed, and was asked to start in two weeks.Back at my temping job, I let them all know. I loved that job, but it didn't look like it was going to be made permanent anytime soon, and my landlord disapproved of temping work. I said my goodbyes, and two weeks later started at my new job.I should've guessed something was up really when I was handed my job description and making the tea' was the headliner. The exclamation mark at the end made me assume it was a joke. Oh, how wrong I was.I felt like I was working in the 1930's for the aristocracy. I was kept well below stairs and away from the public. Tea had to be punctual and at set times throughout the day, delivered on a silver tray with a plate of biscuits. My supervisor looked like she was certainly born in the 1930's, and was the meanest old cow I had ever had the misfortune to meet, let alone work with. Any attempts at humour were met with icy cold stares. Conversation was frowned upon. All work had to be put through her as she didn't trust me to get it right, yet she complained that I gave her too much work to do. Nothing was ever right. All through this I kept in touch with people I worked with in my old job. I would send them text messages saying how unhappy I was and wished I were back. One day, I got a reply, &quot;Permanent job is going. Boss says get your application in quick. Interviews are tomorrow&quot;.That night after work I went straight round to my old office. The boss had put aside and application for me and I hastily filled it in. &quot;The interview is tomorrow. Will you be able to make it&quot; Would I Of course I did!I had the interview, and things were getting steadily worse at the new job. I hadn't heard if I had definitely got the job or not, but I had had it. I wrote out my resignation, popped it into an envelope, and went to work.They called me into a meeting almost as soon as I got there. The manager was sympathetic, and seemed genuinely sorry to say I had to go. He explained that due to my experience, he thought I'd be excellent for the role. With my bitch of an ancient supervisor seated beside me, I delivered the best line I had the pleasure to say &quot;Well, you have been very kind and understanding, but this job was not what I had hoped it would be, and I have already written my resignation&quot;. I passed him the envelope. He nodded. Old-cow scowled. I sighed and inwardly grinned.The next day whilst I was busy having a panic about not having a job, I received a phone call from my temping job. The interview was successful, and I was to be taken on as permanent staff. Two years on, I'm still there, still happy, and still give the finger to the old office whenever I happen to drive past. Immature, I know. But it gives me a small sense of revenge!<br/><br/>1 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<item>
<title><![CDATA[My Great Uncle]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/my-great-uncle/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/my-great-uncle/</comments>
<pubDate>Thu, 01 May 2008 17:12:44 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>nikki</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/my-great-uncle/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[My Great-Uncle was amazing. I have so many memories of visiting him when I was little. In the summer we would sit around his pond, me spending hours trying to prod the fish with a long stick, or delving around in his shed in delight at all the mysterious things he kept there. In winter, we would stay indoors and sit by his fire where I would play with the stone figure of a dog that sat beside it.He always reminded me a little of Einstein. He was clever, and looked just like him. He always seemed busy with some little project, and even ran for his county in his younger days. He was the figure of health and happiness.That's why when the day I found out he had cancer, I could barely believe it. I refused to believe it. He'd get better fast, I reasoned. Why shouldn't heHe deteriorated more and more as the months went on, not only physically but mentally as well. His pain was constant, and he wasn't the relaxed and happy-go-lucky man I knew who loved nothing more than to see his family playing in his vast, well-tended garden.His skeletal form that finally sat in the hospital chair was horrifying. His sunken eyes showed the anguish he didn't speak about. He barely spoke except to ask for water.In the end, I didn't cry at his death. Part of me feels awful for it, but I just couldn't cry. He wasn't who he was. He was in constant agony and I hated it. I hated whatever would give such a wonderful person such an awful end to their life. I hated me for not being able to get rid of it - to make everything ok again.In his death he was free from all that. The pain was gone, the loss of independence and dignity had disappeared.I was never a religious person, but that day I prayed that where ever he was, he was tending a vast garden once again, smiling as he always smiled, surrounded by the family that had passed on before him.The stone dog sits by my fire now - a constant reminder of one of the greatest men in my life.<br/><br/>1 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<item>
<title><![CDATA[My Uncle Was Unwell]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/my-uncle-was-unwell/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/my-uncle-was-unwell/</comments>
<pubDate>Wed, 30 Apr 2008 14:30:59 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>nikki</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/my-uncle-was-unwell/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[My uncle was always unwell'. That's what the rest of the family would say anyway. Anything was described as his being unwell'. It wasn't until I was in my teens that I realised his illness was his addiction to heroin.I remember a short time when I was smaller when he had his own apartment. He wasdifferent from the rest of the family, even I could tell that, but he was still part of our family. It was after this short time that he moved back in with his mother - my wonderful grandmother who I adore.As I grew up and understood more about what his illness actually was, the more I became suspicious of him. I was always watching for badness, evilness, anything awful. Any movement or sound I was wary of. I didn't trust him at all. I don't know why I didn't trust him, I think it was all the horror stories the teachers at school told us about drugs. Drug takers were evil nasty peopleapparently.When I was older I fell on hard luck myself, and at one stage lived with my grandmother in her spare room. I was incredibly depressed at what I had become - jobless and living with my aging grandmotherand my Uncle, who lived in the room next to mine.I was always nervous of any friends he had over, jumped at any noises I heard in his room. I became terrified and my overactive imagination had conjured up all sorts of scenes that could've been happening in that room. Finally, one day as I sat with my grandmother, I started to cry. I asked her if he had ever threatened her, stole from her, did anything to her. I couldn't bear the thought of her living the way I thought she was.She stroked my back and explained. Yes, he was an addict, but he had never raised his hand to her nor anyone else for that matter. With a smile she explained the worse he ever did was sulk a little if she wouldn't give him any money. She showed me a locked cabinet of hers with methadone inside, and told me how he was on a treatment to rid himself of his habit and was doing very well at it. He would give her his methadone whenever he was given it so that she could lock it away and give him his doses only when he needed them.She then explained about his life, all the things that had led him down his path to near-destruction. I felt pity, but also shame at how I had immediately labelled him without truly knowing why. She also explained how he was changing, and how he would always be welcome to live with her while he went through this transitional period.just like me.Just like me. It was then that it hit me. I was living with my grandmother too. My problems were not as big as his, but she had still taken me in, given me warmth and shelter and food, and anything else I needed. My Uncle and I were in the same boat. We were both learning how to live again. I opened my eyes to the hard work he had done, thought about how he'd changed, listened to his conversations with friends as he offered to do some odd jobs for them to keep him busy. I was so proud.And in the end, we both made it.<br/><br/>4 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<item>
<title><![CDATA[The Day I Became a Grown-up]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/the-day-i-became-a-grown-up/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/the-day-i-became-a-grown-up/</comments>
<pubDate>Mon, 28 Apr 2008 18:37:19 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>nikki</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/the-day-i-became-a-grown-up/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[I will always remember that day when I was 7 for as long as I live. It was the day I became a grown-up.I remember lying in bed, my baby sister asleep in her cot in the next room. I was reading a book by torchlight, hiding it under my covers so that my mother wouldn't see and come and tell to get to sleep. I loved reading, and would stay up all night if I could.I heard her voice, normal at first. She was talking on the phone. I ignored the background noise and fell into my story completely. It took a while for me to realise her voice was raised, her tone had changed, she was yellingscreamingMy sister woke up and started to cry. I rushed into the next room and calmed her back down to sleep, but as her sobs subsided my mothers became louder. I wasn't allowed downstairs once I had been sent to bed for the night, so I sneaked downshuffling down each step on my bottom until I could see into the living room through the banisters. I held onto them and watching. I could see the back of my mother, she was kneeling on the floor with one hand on the phone. She was crying so hard, rocking herself. I had never seen my mother cry before that day.I stood up and tiptoed down the stairs quietly. She was shouting again, shouting to whoever was on the phone. Finally, she slammed it down and her whole body convulsed in sobs. I wanted to reach out to her, but was still scared of getting in trouble for being out of bed. Finally I swallowed hard and reached out - I touched her shoulder, whispered &quot;Mummy&quot;She turned to look at me, her eyes red and swollen, her face looked like pure agony. I put my hand gently on her shoulder and she put her arms around my small skinny frame and sobbed into my stomach. I stood there motionless. I didn't know what to do. I thought about what my mother did whenever I cried, and I stroked her hair with my hand.After a long time my mother lifted up her head and wiped her face with the back of her hand. She stood herself up, wobbling a little as she did so, and took my hand. Quietly, she led me back to bed and tucked me in with a kiss on the forehead. She was the grown-up again.It was never mentioned until quite a few years later when I told my mother I could remember everything. As she took my hand she told me about what had happenedshe had found a letter from my fathers lover in his pocket while she was doing the laundry. He had gone to Ireland, so she rang him to confront him with his behaviour. This wasn't a shock - my father had been long gone and I already knew about his affairs.My mum continued to tell me that after she had put the phone down she felt lost and helpless, that there was nothing to keep her carrying on. All life had lost meaning for her.Then I put my hand on her shoulder, and called her &quot;Mummy&quot;.<br/><br/>7 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<item>
<title><![CDATA[Symptoms Of A Chest Infection]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/symptoms-of-a-chest-infection/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/symptoms-of-a-chest-infection/</comments>
<pubDate>Mon, 28 Apr 2008 12:55:26 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>nikki</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/symptoms-of-a-chest-infection/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[It was only when I was in the back of the Ambulance with my best friend beside me that I finally relaxed and closed my eyes. I'd be OK now, I remember thinking. The calming, no-nonsense attitude of the paramedics lulling me into security.It all started on a long drive in my car. I had a chest infection - nothing major really, and I wasn't going to let it stop my holiday to visit my friends. During the two hour drive, the worsening cough and the constant use of my asthma inhaler told me to go back, but I'm stubborn. I wanted to visit my friend, and I was damn well going to do so!Needless to say by the time I reached my destination I had barely said hello before I managed to tell them to get me to a hospital in between pained gasps for breath. They bundled me into the back of their car, and drove me to their towns small hospital.Unfortunately for us, this small hospital had downsized somewhat since they had last been there, and it was closed. By this time I could barely breathe at all. They took me to a friends house and dialled 999.All through this I wanted to cry but I couldn't. Crying was the worst thing I could do, the sobs alone would cause my breathing to get far worse. I concentrated on my breathing. Long ago, a nurse once told me &quot;If you are awake and conscious, then enough air IS getting in&quot;, I let these words roll around in my head. I wasn't going to die. I couldn't speak or move, but I wasn't dead.After what seemed like an age two paramedics appeared and quickly placed an oxygen mask on me with a medicine that I inhaled through the steam. The sweet, sweet relief was incredible, but short lived. Once it had finished, they took off the oxygen to see if I had improved. The breathing worsened within seconds.I was taken to hospital quickly, my friend by my side and her husband following in his car. As soon as I got there I was surrounded by doctors and nurses. They all seemed so busy and rushed, yet they were talking to me so calmly, telling me I'd be ok.I was ok. After a week in critical care, I was allowed to go home. Once again I made that two hour long journey back home and wept the whole way. I finally cried for how frightened I felt at the beginning, and I cried that I was ok now and going back home. At least I learned the symptoms of a chest infection.<br/><br/>2 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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<title><![CDATA[Best Part Of Breaking Up]]></title>
<link>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/best-part-of-breaking-up/</link>
<comments>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/best-part-of-breaking-up/</comments>
<pubDate>Sun, 27 Apr 2008 15:35:08 -0400</pubDate>
<dc:creator>nikki</dc:creator>
<category>SagaByte</category>
<guid>http://www.sagabyte.com/SagaByte/best-part-of-breaking-up/</guid>
<description><![CDATA[Placing the large glass tank - home to my pet rat Maisy - carefully on the front seat of my car, I drew the seatbelt around it and plugged it in, tightening the strap around the tank to keep it secure during the long journey we were to make together. Maisy poked her nose out and sniffed the air before hiding back in her nest again. I wished I could hide as well, but instead I walked around to the drivers side and got in.The back of the car held a few bags and boxes, packed with my most needed items. I scanned over them and carefully thought about what was packed inside, ticking my mental list to make sure I had everything I'd need until I could get the rest of my possessionswhenever that would be.I started the car and pulled out of the drive and drove away from the home I had shared with my boyfriend. We had been together for four years.I was on a short holiday away at my friends, and it was during a phone call to each other that he said he needed to have a serious talk with me when I got back. I immediately sensed danger in the air. I quickly explained things to my friends, grabbed my bag and drove back home.I only ended up at home for an hour. He said he thought we should split up, and I agreed with him. It was all very easy, but very strange. There was nothing else to say.I snapped back to reality and focused on the here and now. We both felt that we shouldn't be together anymore, but I wantedI needed to be angry at something, to blame someone, but both of us were blameless. Our time together had come to its natural end. We wanted very different things from life. I drove along the road trying to figure out where to go and what to do.It was then I had a kind of epiphany. This break up couldn't have happened at a better time. I had just finished my last job contract and was not tied down to one place any longer. That was when I decided I would go and make a new life for myself. A new life away from the city, with my friends, living my life how and where I wanted. I drove back down to my friends house and pleaded with them to lend me their couch until I could find my own place. They of course agreed and helped in any small way they could. I had a little savings to get me going on my masterplan'.At the time it seemed like forever, but it literally only took two or three weeks to not only get a job but to get my own place to live, then it was just a matter of picking up the rest of my belongings and settling in. That first night in my flat was wonderful. My friends came over to celebrate, help unpack and have a housewarming all in one. Surrounded by the people that were always and will always be in my life, I finally felt like I was where I would never be forced to leave.Since then there have been ups and downs, but it's here that I have stayed. I finally have a place that not only is my home, but feels like home too. And Maisy has settled in quite nicely too!<br/><br/>3 Vote(s) ]]></description>
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