Comments by "Widdekuu91" (@Widdekuu91) on "ABC News" channel.

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  13. Same here! I was 19 when I had a severe panic-attack and got nauseous. The teacher refused to open the lock for me, telling me to vomit in the bin. When I did, he laughed; 'Ah, you weren't lying then?' He witnessed me vomiting and then opened the door. I went to the toilets, fell to the floor, unable to move or hear anything, just whooshing noises. The teacher went and followed me, with the whole classroom and then mocked me in front of the class (I don't recall what, because I only heard parts of it, the rest is blurry) but he basically treated it like a circus-show. When I started barfing, he announced it joyfully "Oohhhhh there she goes again! Look!" and yelled at me; 'Make sure to clean that toilet, we're not picking up after you!' After I sat back, dazed and scared, he took my pulse and it was too weak to feel. He replied (similar to the video) 'Oh, well, you must be dead. You have no pulse.' I didn't understand and the class laughed. I just sat there, staring at him, not getting it and thinking it was my hearing again. When he told me to get up, I tried, but my knees didn't work. I pulled himself up on the sink and barfed again. He yelled; 'Not in the sink! That is difficult to clean! To the toilets, NOW!' I crawled towards the toilet, hearing the laughter behind me and the whole classroom in the hallway started talking about me, loudly, saying I was disgusting for vomiting. Near the end, I took his hand and got up again. I pinched his hand slightly when I did this and he said; 'Oh, you are overreacting, dramaqueen.' I stood up, got dizzy, leaned on his hand and he yanked his arm away and said; 'I'm not dealing with this.' He very angrily walked off and I started hyperventilating. It took another hours for me to calm down, laying underneath a desk on the floor, accompanied by a random schoolworker.
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  22. +NataschaO (Warning, slightly related story, turning into ex-hate-story as it goes, haha) I was 15 kilo's underweight (52 kilos) when I met my ex. It was due to my job that required me to walk upstairs all day long, carry things around and I biked in the weekends. I can assure you I ate enough, sometimes more than 8 sandwiches + two full plates of dinner. I am very tall, I had a superflat stomach and I was 19 when we got together. When I got fired from my very-demanding job I sat at home for about 3 months and gained the 10 kilo's back. My stomach was still flat, just not as flat as before.  My ex was twice my (new) weight at that moment, heavily obese. He kept saying; 'It doesn't matter hun, I love you the way you are' and I'd go; 'I never said I was unhappy with gaining the weight back, I can finally wear my pants without a belt.'  So thats when he started slowly losing weight, going from extremely obese to just very very obese. His doctors were worried and something near his stomach even ripped due to the pressure of the weight. Thats when I graduated and started practicing living on my own. So I gained 2 kilo's. Only 2. You'd think that it wouldn't make a difference, but he kept on touching my stomach and sighing. And saying; Youknow. I love you the way you are.' and a few seconds after; Remember that flat tummy you had before? That was cute. I'm not asking you to get it flat though. But if you want me to help you with a schedule or something...' One time he even had the balls to criticize me for eating a banana, while hé was eating a big sandwich with liver and onions. He said; 'My sandwich is my lunch. You already had lunch, you're just adding calories now, bananas are weightgainers.'  I can't believe I was with that guy for so long. Anyway, I felt the story was kindof related.
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  37. Wait a second, the fact that she threatened with lawsuits (which is just words btw, you can't take that personal, she had to wait 2 weeks for her hernia-treatment, she was clearly just aggravated, professionals can handle that) does not condone the fact that they were judging her naked body and calling her fat. Do you realize what happens once someone does that? If you, Sheena, are wrapping a gift for my aunt. You're taking care, despite the fact you don't know her. Then I whisper to you that I actually hate my aunt, but I have to give her the gift anyway. I then tell you my aunt is ugly and lazy and has cheated on my uncle many times. (All untrue bytheway) Then what would you do with the gift that you're wrapping? Can you seriously claim that the gift will still look good? Or will you accidently rip the paper a bit more and not care to fix it, 'forget' to put the bow on it, put it down rougly, hoping it'll break? Because thát is what will happen. Now imagine your body instead of the gift. With every word the co-worker says, he/she risks her collegues being irresponsible/distracted and making mistakes. YOU cánt have that in a hospital! It should not matter what you do! Even if you come in, whining and screaming that you hate doctors and you don't want to go into surgery, they have to be adults, examine the situation, respond to it correctly and by which I mean, feel sorry for you & try to help you. I've had different kids to deal with at my work. Special needs, kids with all kinds of problems at home. If I took every time they screamed at me, personal, I'd hate them. But I don't. I am an adult and I understand when something is meant to hurt me, or when they are scared/sad and are reacting to that. And I know how to comfort them and make them apologize for it afterwards, without using my 'status' as a teacher or complaining about them to my collegues. Because that's for immature d*ckheads. I rest my case.
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  125. THIS IS THE OATH THEY SWORE WHEN THEY STARTED THEIR JOB: I swear to fulfill, to the best of my ability and judgment, this covenant:... I will respect the hard-won scientific gains of those physicians in whose steps I walk, and gladly share such knowledge as is mine with those who are to follow. I will apply, for the benefit of the sick, all measures which are required, avoiding those twin traps of overtreatment and therapeutic nihilism. I will remember that there is art to medicine as well as science, and that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon's knife or the chemist's drug. I will not be ashamed to say "I know not," nor will I fail to call in my colleagues when the skills of another are needed for a patient's recovery. I will respect the privacy of my patients, for their problems are not disclosed to me that the world may know. Most especially must I tread with care in matters of life and death. Above all, I must not play at God. I will remember that I do not treat a fever chart, a cancerous growth, but a sick human being, whose illness may affect the person's family and economic stability. My responsibility includes these related problems, if I am to care adequately for the sick. I will prevent disease whenever I can, for prevention is preferable to cure. I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body as well as the infirm. If I do not violate this oath, may I enjoy life and art, respected while I live and remembered with affection thereafter. May I always act so as to preserve the finest traditions of my calling and may I long experience the joy of healing those who seek my help.
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  170.  @stevemyopinion423  I know what you mean, but this "weapon" was a stick with a clip on the end, to pick up trash. The cop was trying to see if he could intimidate him into putting down his item, by calling it a weapon and enforcing his power over him. If you behave submissively to that, they think they can get away with it. The guy did the right thing. I once had a collegue that had to 'help me' after they fired me for money-reasons. She was the 2nd manager and had power-issues as well. She managed to drag me into a barely-lit room and started searching my entire bag, taking out tampons and pads and questioning pens and pencils; 'Are those ours? They look like ours...these are our pens!' Because she wanted to upset me. And see how far she could humiliate me. I refused to give the pen back and waited patiently untill she realised the brand of the pen said ADHD and Autism Centre after which I politely reminded her that I was the one with autism and not her. She was furious, took my company-toiletbag and yanked the keyring off with my name, screaming; 'We'll make sure to find a second person named Emma, because you're not going to take that keyring home!!!' I shrugged my shoulders and said; 'Fine.' She took the toiletbag and emptied it on the table, saying I wasn't allowed to keep the gifted bag either. I didn't care. She then put the keyring ín the bag and grabbed my pen, saying; 'Well, I guess we're done' and I said; 'No, we're not. You have my pen. Give it back please.' and the whole thing started over again. In the end, she was angry, exhausted and frustrated and I refused to leave untill I got my pen back. She had to give it back to me and after that she quite literally kicked me out of the door. But that wasn't the power-tripping enjoyable moment she'd imagined. She'd made things very difficult for herself by insisting on keeping the pen. This moment taught her that she shouldn't have done that. That was an important lesson that the cop very well may have learned also.
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  172.  @stevemyopinion423  1. If anything you can break or hit someone with is a weapon, how come the police aren't too afraid to go outside in the first place? If everything's a weapon...come on. That means the grocerie-store is a boobytrap. And that anyone on a bike is a danger to your life. 2. Ok. 3. Sure. But why would he be cleaning other people's property? It doesn't make sense to feel threathened by it. 4. I've watched enough American documentaries to know that the fírst thing they do is an internal investiation, by the collegues. If théy decide it needs to go to the Civil Court or Review board (which does not happen often, because the last time an officer decided to do so, his collegues shunned him and called him a dirty rat and bullied him away from the group), it could've already been purged from their files. Gypsy-cops are too common, so even if he gets charged with abusing his power, he can just start working somewhere else. It's a bit naive to think that cops don't back each other up. What, you think you can just 'professionally' tell your collegues that you feel mr. Collegueman needs to resign? And that they'll be fine with that? Also, "I have a black friend' is a stupid detail in this conversation. I have no friends, but I know two black dudes that live nearby, does that make my story more legit? No. What makes my story legit is that I live in another country and therefore, I know a life without this kindof BS is possible. Some of the Americans I speak to, are convinced that we're being raped left and right by refugees or being muslimized while we're typing. What if I told you that our country is fine? Your country is not dealing with this shit the right way.
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