Writing Prompt!

This is a two part writing prompt (you can do one or the other or both!) This are in honor of my puppy we just put down and a kid I know that has been fighting cancer since he was 14. He’s now 16 going on 17 and very ill again.

Writing Prompt #1:

Write about a character having a pet. Either from the pets point of view or the characters. You can go in any direction with this. 😀 Be as detailed as possible about the animal and about the interactions between the character and pet. Writing about animals is always fun!

Writing Prompt #2:

Write either about a character having a terminal illness or someone the character knows having an illness. It can be at any point (anything from just finding out to surviving to whatever!) Detail how the people involved feel, whats going on. Whatever is your hearts desire!

I know both seem like really sad topics. You can make them as depressing/happy as you want really. It’s a good practice to write about some things like this as they can be plot movers/twists. I know I’m going to be developing a backstory for one of my short stories for this writing prompt!


About svaria

-25 -Work with children -Have depression/anxiety/ADHD -Have a pretty good life if a bit stressful
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4 Responses to Writing Prompt!

  1. Reblogged this on RocNaNo and commented:

    I walked into the white, sterile room. By routine, I quickly slapped on the elastic rubber gloves and a brand new rubber face mask. I could hear my patient panting behind me. I already knew all of his records–it was imperative that I did before any type of surgery. This wasn’t the first time I had seen the boy. I knew him since his puppy days.

    He was my best friend’s Great Dane, Ross. The boy was laying on his side just as my two assistant–Jon and Andy–placed him. He was entirely black, 33.7 inches tall, and weighed 148 pounds as of this morning. That was typical of any male Dane.

    I turned from the counter to look at the old pal. He was four, so I figured he, unfortunately, had another few years before my best friend would have to let him go for good. Danes typically only lived until they were eight. Ross was panting, staring at me, his tongue flat out and sticking to the examination table. He had to have surgery today. He was already shaved, cleaned off, and a blanket put down on top of him. Jon and Andy were busy preparing him for his anesthesia. I gave the dog a warm smile, petting him gently and murmuring smooth words to him to comfort him. If I had the time, I did this with any dog or cat just before they went under.

    Ross had gastric dilatation volvulus. He some how managed to flip his stomach over, and now he was bloating, his stomach increasing with gas like it was a balloon. My objective was to get into him, open his stomach with a small hole to release the excess gas without rupturing his stomach and then flip it over and make sure that his entire digestive tract was back to normal. Ross won’t be the first dog that I do this with. I doubt he’ll be the last, but it’s still disheartening to see him close his eyes and retain steady breathing under the anesthesia. Yet I see this practically every day from other animals.

    “Ready?” I ask rhetorically to my assistants.

    “No, I’ve still got to hook him up so that the waste doesn’t back up or explode all over us,” Andy stated.

    I nodded, picking up the first of my instruments to make the incision in his skin. Andy gave me an okay and I proceeded to check Ross’s IVs and hetastarch balance and flow through his digestive tract. The fluid would help to eliminate or reduce extreme effects of the excess gas.

    “All right, first trocar,” I murmured as I set it into the skin and then through to the stomach.

    In total, and in about ten minutes, I managed to put in four trocars that would release more toxic gas. Once I knew it was at a safe level, I proceed to make an incision into the stomach.

    As I was just beginning to dig my fingers in for the stomach and the knots at each end, Ross woke up with a whine. I watched him, his eyes wincing as the numbness from the anesthesia receded and the open from the intentional wound burned him with pain. Once he came to, his panting exponentially increased, his eyes widened with panic and he struggled against the restraints Andy managed to strap him in as he tried to defend himself from what he believed to be an odd attack on his life, all the while whining and twisting.

    “Jon!” I shouted, straining to keep the giant dog still before he ruptured something and made his insides even worse. He could’ve ripped one of his veins open or ruptured another organ, or something.

    Soon enough, everything had some semblance of control even though Jon hadn’t administered a second moderate dose of anesthesia. Staring down dumbly at the dog, I placed my utensils back on their proper tray. I waved Jon out of the examination room. Andy was completely still and silent, no doubt trying to control himself. This was the first time they’d ever seen an animal stop breathing under any dose of anesthesia. No doubt Ross had felt a slight numbness from the first dose even as he was struggling.

    Soon enough, Jon came back with a vial of liquid, handing it to me. It normally pained me on the inside to ever have to do this, but Ross was struggling and he was in a lot of pain without even being able to breathe. At this point, I had no choice. Robotically, I administered the euthanasia to the Great Dane that I had known for so long.

    I didn’t want to have to be the one to tell him that his favorite dog was dead, because I knew that every time he looked at me for the rest of our lives, he would remember the good friend we both had. Yet it was best that he heard it from me than having known that I didn’t have the face to say it to him. So as soon as Andy and Jon cleaned up from the unfinished surgery, I brought my best friend into the examination room to see the last of the dead dog before the carcass was handled out of the building.

    “He stopped breathing under anesthesia, Dave. Ross was in a lot of pain and the likeliness of him living through the surgery without being able to breathe was impossible. I am so sorry,” I said, patting his back.

    “Thank you, for at least letting him go without pain,” he murmured, tears forming and falling from his eyes.

    A man and his best friend. This was the one thing I disliked about my job.

    • svaria says:

      Wow I loved that! That was a great way to take the writing prompt and make it different. 😀 I really liked how in the beginning I wasn’t sure if it was story about a doctor seeing a patient or a vet seeing an animal. Great job!

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