How to establish the communication Essay Example for Free

How to establish the communication Essay Everyone has different needs and styles in which they communicate. There are also many different ways in which we may establish these communication needs, wishes and preferences. A good way to begin to understand a patient’s needs, wishes and preferences is to read their notes and history’s to see if this contains any relevant information. For example, if I read that a patient has hearing problems, I would then know to make sure that I speak to the patient clearly and slowly and look at them so they can read my lips. Other ways to establish communication needs, wishes and preferences is by interacting with the patient and through conversation I learn how to best communicate with the patient. It is also important to remember to be clear and concise in all forms of communication, especially when working with people with learning disabilities, where they might get confused if I speak too quickly or use too complex language. It may benefit, if this is the case, to use your body language to help explain what you are trying to say and to emphasise the tone of the conversation. Also, pictures can be used to help the patient and myself understand. For example, one of my patients uses cards that display what emotions they are feeling, they will use these to communicate how they are feeling. In the past, I have worked with a patient who is deaf. For me to establish what her needs were, I first spoke to the nurse in charge and they informed me she was deaf, however, could sign or write things down. As I could not sign, our preferred form of communication was writing, which after spending time together worked quite well.

Antigone is a Tragic Hero Essay -- essays papers

Antigone is a Tragic Hero A subject of debate in Sophocles’ play Antigone is which character complies with the characteristics of a tragic hero. The qualities that constitute a tragic hero are, in no particular order, having a high social position, not being overly good or bad, isolation, being tenacious in their actions, arousing pity in the audience, a revelatory manifestation, and having a single flaw that brings about their own demise and the demise of others around them. Creon possesses some of these qualities but, does not completely fulfill them all. Antigone does, however, conform to the persona of a tragic hero. The first qualifying aspect is that Antigone has a high social position. She is the daughter of Jocasta and Oedipus (the former king and queen of Thebes), and the niece of Creon (the present king of Thebes). Because of her stature she is capable of suffering more and losing the fame and regard she holds. Some may argue that because she had no political power she does not qualify to be a tragic hero but, she is still a powerful figure in Thebes. She was to be wed to Creon’s son, Haemon, and it seemed as though the citizens of Thebes knew how tragic her life had become. Both Creon and Antigone show that they are not overly good or bad. Creon shows his negative side when he creates a law against burying Polyneices. His positive side is that he has let Antigone and Ismene live with him and raise them after their father passed on. Antigone expresses her positive side when she insists on burying her brother who has been killed in battle. Antigone isolates herself from others, a quality common among tragic heros. Ismene offers to share the crime of burying their brother but, Antigone denies the re... ...come of her life was due to her own fatal flaw. Antigone clearly captures the audiences pity. Creon’s stubbornness and lack of compassion do not win pity. When Creon’s wife and son die the pity is shifted to them not Creon. All of Thebes sympathizes with Antigone, especially after she has been sentenced to die. Haemon even tells Creon what people have said. â€Å"And I have heard them, muttering and whispering†¦No other woman‘, So they are saying, ‘so undeservedly Has been condemned for such a glorious deed‘† (Lines 693-695). It is obvious that she had the pity of the entire city except for Creon. Only the chorus sympathized with Creon at times. Not having pity disqualifies Creon as being the tragic hero. From her tenacity and personal strength in defying the law to her tragic death, Antigone captures the audience’s pity and sympathy. She is the tragic hero.

Stefan’s Diaries: The Craving Chapter 27

There was nothing to indicate the passage of hours inside the windowless vault – not the barest suggestion of sunlight ever made its way under its doors. Days melted into weeks, maybe months. It felt as if an eternity had passed, and yet another stretched out endlessly before us. Lexi and I had stopped talking. Not out of anger or hopelessness, but just because we couldn't anymore. We didn't have enough strength to force ourselves to scream when we heard someone approach, much less get up and fight the stone that kept us buried. There was no more strength to fight the darkness, no strength to stand up. If I'd still required my heart to survive, I'm not sure I'd have had the strength to keep blood pumping through my veins. We lay silently next to each other. If anyone ever found us, a hundred years from then, we would look pathetic, like a sister and brother in some horrible fairy tale trapped in a witch's basement. Each passing second drained me of my Power. My eyes no longer parsed the darkness. The silence was absolute as sounds from the outside world faded into oblivion. All that I had left was my sense of touch – the feel of Lexi's waxy hand, the rough wood of the battered coffin next to me, the cool metal band of my useless ring. I felt almost human again, in the worst possible way. And as my Power retreated painfully, so with it went my immortality. I had never noticed its continual presence until it began to disappear, leaving meat and bone, brain and fluids, and taking away all that was supernatural about me with it. Except for my hunger. My vampire side reacted to starvation. My teeth ached and burned with need so badly that I would have shed tears if I'd had any. Blood weaseled its way into my every thought. I dreamed of how it had beaded up, jewel-like, on Callie's finger when she'd cut herself. How smoky my childhood crush, Clementine Haverford, had tasted going down. How, as my father lay dying on the floor of his study, his blood had spread out around him like greedy, searching fingers, staining everything in sight a dark, delicious red. In the end, everything comes back to blood. Vampires are nothing but hunger personified, designed expressly for the purpose of stealing blood from our victims. Our eyes compel them to trust us, our fangs rip open their veins, and our mouths drain them of their very life source. Blood†¦ Blood†¦ Blood†¦ Blood†¦ The word whispered to me over and over, like a song caught in one's head, filling every crevice of my brain and coating each memory with its tantalizing scent. And then a very familiar voice began to talk to me. â€Å"Hello, Stefan.† â€Å"Katherine?† I croaked, barely able to get the words out. I managed to turn my head just enough to see her sprawled voluptuously on a set of silk pillow cushions. She looked exactly as she had the night of the massacre, before they took her away and killed her. Beautiful and partially undressed, her pouty lips giving me a knowing smile. â€Å"Are you†¦ alive?† â€Å"Shhhh,† she said, leaning over to stroke my cheek. â€Å"You don't look well.† I closed my eyes as her intoxicating scent of lemon and ginger swept over me, so familiar and so real that I swooned. She must have fed recently because the heat from her skin burned in the cold tomb. â€Å"I wish I could help you,† she whispered, her lips close to mine. â€Å"Your. Fault,† I managed to breathe. â€Å"Oh, Stefan,† she scolded. â€Å"You may not have been as willing as your brother, but you didn't precisely object to my†¦ ministrations.† As if to emphasize her words, she leaned over and pressed her soft lips to my cheek. Again†¦ and again†¦ dragging them down my parched neck. Very, very delicately, she teased me, letting the tips of her fangs just puncture my skin. I moaned. My head spun. â€Å"But. You. Burned,† I rasped. â€Å"I saw the church.† â€Å"Do you wish me dead?† she asked, fire in her eyes. â€Å"Do you want me to burn, to collapse to the ground in a pile of ashes, simply because you can't have me all to yourself?† â€Å"No!† I protested, trying to push her off my neck. â€Å"Because you made me a monster†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Her laugh was light and melodic, like the wind chimes Mother had hung on the front porch of Veritas. â€Å"Monster? Really, Stefan, one day you will remember what you knew to be true back in New Orleans – that what I have given you is a gift, not a curse.† â€Å"You're as mad†¦ as†¦ Klaus†¦.† She sat back, alarm etching lines around her amber eyes. Her lower lip wobbled. â€Å"How do you know about K – ? â€Å" The crypt doors exploded into a thousand shards of stone and wood, as though shot through with a cannon. I covered my face, the light burning my eyes like acid. When I opened them again, Katherine was gone, and a blurry figure garbed in black wavered in the jagged doorway, haloed by the punishing light. â€Å"Klaus?† Lexi whispered in a terrified voice, clutching my hand. â€Å"Sorry to disappoint,† came a wry voice. â€Å"Damon!† I struggled to sit up. â€Å"Stefan, don't you think it's time you stopped just waiting around for your big brother to come and rescue you?† Without ceremony he reached in, grabbed my wrist, and flung me out of the crypt. I flew into the opposite wall and fell down into a heap on the marble floor. Damon was gentler with Lexi, though not by much. Another weightless corpse, she flopped against me, legs askew. Dust and shrapnel floated around us like fog. I blinked at the nondescript walls, trying to get my bearings. â€Å"Here,† Damon said, holding out a silver flask. â€Å"You're going to need it to escape.† I put my lips against the mouth of the vessel. Blood. Sweet, sweet, blood†¦ A voice in the back of my mind shouted that it was human blood, but I silenced it with a splash of heady liquid. I drank deeply, desperately, groaning when Damon grabbed the flask away from me. â€Å"Save some for the lady,† he said. Lexi drank greedily as well. Blood dripped down her chin and around her lips as she sucked hard and silently. Her skin, which had been drawn, pale and wrinkled as an old woman's, filled out and became pink and puffy. â€Å"Thanks, sailor,† she breathed. â€Å"I needed that.† Like a lamp filling a cellar with heat and light, I felt my own Power radiate through my limbs, returning my senses to what they were, imbuing my body with strength that I hadn't experienced since before I started eating only animals. As my vision cleared, I gasped. Behind Damon, a black-haired woman stood with one hand to her temple, the other gripped into a fist at her side. Her eyes were closed and her body shook with the slightest of tremors. It looked like she was in deep pain, being held in place while unknown tortures were applied to her mind and body. Margaret. And she wasn't alone. There was a prone figure in front of her, writhing in pain, and I realized with a jolt that Margaret wasn't being tortured – she was the one inflicting pain in another. In Lucius. In the super-vampire, so Powerful, yet still only a foot soldier of Klaus, the demon directly descended from hell. Lucius had murdered an entire family, captured me with ease, and caught Lexi like a troublesome mouse. The monster had his head in his hands and was screaming, terrible screams that seemed to send reverberations through the very chapel. â€Å"Is that Margaret?† I asked, dumbfounded. Damon pulled me up, propelled me toward the door. â€Å"We can't leave her!† â€Å"She'll be fine!† â€Å"But – â€Å" â€Å"Questions later. Running now.† And so, with one last look at the woman who had brought Hell itself to its knees, I ran away from the site of my imprisonment and out into moonlight.

Comparative Review Of Uruk The First City - 1318 Words

Revital Ben-Haim Social Foundations I Prof. Noel Due Oct. 1st, 2014 Comparative book review Mesopotamia is without doubt one of the world’s greatest ancient civilizations. It has been studied for centuries and provides us with critical knowledge on the origins of writing, architecture and mostly, the city and the state. Uruk, in southern Mesopotamia, dates back to the end of the fourth Millennium BCE and is considered to be the first city. The first book, â€Å"Uruk: the First City† by Mario Liverani, provides a comprehensive study of the development of Uruk from a chiefdom to a state and its role in the ‘urban revolution’ as referred to by prehistoric archeologist V. Gordon Childe. â€Å"The creation of an urban society was a fundamental innovation that has affected the entirety of world history† (Liverani, Translator’s Prefix, x) Liverani recognizes revolutionary changes in various fields, from writing to architecture to agriculture, and combines them to expand on the widely recognized Uruk phenomemon. Throughout the book, Liverani brings in a variety of evidence including textual, archeological and zoo-archeological, to support his arguments. By introducing more contemporary theories, including the Marxist theory, the reader is prompted to consider the very concept of the urban revolution and not merely the history of southern Mesopotamia. Mario Liverani is a lecturer of Ancient Near East History in the University of Rome and has authored a number of books on Near East