Shavon's Combat for Survival Book update 2022

Shavon Harrington

  Shavon's Combat For Survival Book update

 

 

     Dedication:

 

 

     My brief poem anecdote is about survival, strength, experiences, challenges, and battles after combat.

 

I challenge considerably and arduous to get to where I am now. I don't regret one second of my intensity. I want to thank God for sparing me in my life. I want to thank my late grandmother Julia for helping me to make it possible for me to be here today. She fought hard for me and my vitality because she believed in me. I want to thank my loving husband for believing in me, who has always been by my side since day one. I also want to thank a few family members and close friends who endorsed my dream and encouraged me because they believed in me.

 

Thank you, Gwendolyn, Janet, Bolo, Lisa, Pooh man, Sebastian Angelo Sr.,

 

Page v 

 

Chapter 1 

 

My story is about vitality and extinction, validity versus existence. Rewinding backward, diverting down the duration, let me take things back to 1989, contemplating my past life. Years ago were the most dreadful days of my vitality; the year 1989, what took place in my past life could never be obliterated. 

 

It was a long and cold winter breezy devastating day; the year I was diagnosed with a brain tumor, I was frightened, vulnerable, tired, and weak. I was only nine and a half years of age at this time. 

 

Page 1

 

It still feels like 1989, when it all had just begun, how vitality began for me to be here today. Writing this superb essay speaks for itself. 

 

Sweet memoirs. The challenge of sad recollections outweighs them all. 

 

Deep suffering I've endured. I have encountered many growth challenges, trials, and tribulations—deposition after testimony, an unforgettable story about my vitality. 

 

Only a handful would understand what it means to fight for your durability and what you believe in yourself. 

 

I fought long and hard for my life since day one. My choice has always been about survival. 

 

Page 3

 

 

     And I was being competent to survive vitality throughout my voyage of tasks.

 

1989 the year everything went blank. I was only nine and a half years young, so pure, so carefree.

 

Page 5 

 

 

 

     I didn't understand if I would remain alive or decline; my probability of enduring my battle was meager. Extinction remained beneath me; duration rose, and exuberance stood before me.

 

I endured one of the appalling occurrences and junctures of my existence. It was whiff and go for me; vitality, as I knew it, was vanishing away before my sight.

 

My Grandmother was terrified and mistrustful because she didn't understand what was happening to me.

 

With so little awareness of myself at that age, I didn't sense any agony as I recollect the feeling.

 

Page 7

 

  I was overwhelmed, enveloped by sentiments that were overcrowding me.

 

I felt sad vibes. Not only that, but I heard my grandmother's soft cries, a hasty blur of panic. Only nine and a half years young, it was still the advent for me, my fight for my existence.

 

It was still too soon to tell if my intense ailment was nominal or if I was in a life-threatening crisis. My grandmother found out that my soul was in immediate danger.

 

Wafting off in my last stages, they ran multiple tests that day; they took head scans while the nurses were busy preparing me for emergency brain surgery.

 

My duration existed, slipping away right before my eyes as the nurse's assistant rushed me to surgery. My only thought was that everything was going to be okay.

 

Page 9 

 

 

3

 

I recognized God's extraordinary faith would keep me guarded against any disadvantage headed for me. They rushed me upstairs to perform emergency head surgery to release the pressure from my brain. It was time-consuming, and my surgery took hours, but before I realized it, I was fast asleep. And by the juncture I woke up, I felt frivolity. I remember hearing people's cries listening to distant tones, people talking over me, and unfamiliar sounds and strange voices that I didn't recognize. I recall opening my eyes and glancing up; I saw my grandmother's face. Not only that, but I didn't know what she was thinking or how she was feeling, but I knew she had some indications of hurt and relief:

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  • Author: Shavon Harrington (Offline Offline)
  • Published: November 6th, 2022 00:22
  • Category: Short story
  • Views: 8
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