At The Justice Now, our mission is to champion your right to justice by connecting you with premier attorneys across the USA. We understand that navigating legal battles can be overwhelming, which is why we are dedicated to pairing you with the most skilled and effective lawyers who don't just handle cases—they win them. Whether you're dealing with a complex lawsuit or seeking compensation, we ensure you are supported by top-notch legal professionals who are committed to achieving the best possible outcome for your case. Our Range of Legal Lawsuits and Lawyers At The Justice Now, we recognize that each legal situation is unique, and we tailor our services to meet your specific needs. We offer expert consultancy for a diverse array of lawsuits, including: Hail Damage Lawsuit: For property damage caused by severe weather. Roundup Cancer Lawsuit: Addressing health issues related to exposure to glyphosate-based herbicides. Uber or Lyft Rideshare Assault Lawsuit : Representing victims of assaults occurring during rideshare services. NEC Lawsuit: For claims related to neonatal complications caused by certain infant formulas. Social Media Addiction Lawsuit: Addressing legal claims related to excessive use of social media platforms. Talcum Lawsuit: Focusing on health issues linked to talcum powder use. Paraquat Lawsuit: Handling cases related to health problems caused by exposure to the herbicide Paraquat. AFFF Lawsuit: Representing individuals affected by the toxic effects of Aqueous Film-Forming Foam. Bard PowerPort Lawsuit: For complications related to Bard PowerPort medical devices. Camp Lejeune Lawsuit: Addressing health issues linked to exposure to contaminated water at Camp Lejeune. Hair Relaxer Lawsuit: For legal claims related to health problems caused by hair relaxers. Tylenol Autism Lawsuit: Representing families affected by autism linked to acetaminophen use during pregnancy. Zantac Cancer Lawsuit: Addressing cancer claims related to the use of Zantac medication. Worker Compensation Lawsuit: Handling claims for workplace injuries and related compensation. Cartiva Implant Lawsuit: Representing individuals with issues stemming from Cartiva implant devices. Ozempic Lawsuit: For health concerns linked to the use of Ozempic medication. Car Accident Lawsuit: Representing victims of automobile accidents. Truck Accident Lawsuit: Handling cases involving large truck accidents. Black Farmers Discrimination Lawsuit: Addressing racial discrimination faced by Black farmers. Slip & Fall Lawsuit: Representing victims of falls on hazardous properties. No matter your legal needs, our extensive network of lawyers, attorneys, and law firms is here to offer expert guidance and representation. Why Choose The Justice Now? Legal Expertise: Our team consists of highly experienced legal professionals who understand the complexities of the legal landscape. We carefully analyze your case and connect you with lawyers who are best equipped to fight for your rights. Specialized Lawyers: We provide access to the top legal minds in the USA, ensuring that you receive specialized attention tailored to the specifics of your lawsuit, claim, or legal concern. Assurance of Results: Partnering with The Justice Now means you are engaging with a trusted platform dedicated to delivering fast and effective results. Our experts use their deep knowledge and resources to guide you towards the best possible outcome. Ethical Practices: We uphold the highest standards of ethical conduct. Our process is designed to ensure that you receive honest, reliable guidance and are matched with the right lawyers for your case. At The Justice Now, your case is our priority. We are committed to providing legal services with unparalleled care and precision to secure the justice you deserve.

Dark clouds roll in on a warm sunny day. All life goes quiet. The light that once was is suffocated. The atmosphere changes into a heavy and cold one. A flash of light and loud cracks take the place of peace. One drop, a few, and then millions of heavy raindrops puncture the earth below. Soon an aggressive wind pulls in dark clouds. A siren screams on an old T.V. and everyone escapes to shelter. A summer evening like this one struck when I was a kid. Despite all this chaos, I still snuck away unnoticed. I found myself in an open field, stunned and terrified. All alone and yet very surrounded. This is one of the few ways I can almost describe what it felt like to be diagnosed with cancer. The mood changed in an instant. Snapping from a sunny, warm, and sweet day to a cold, heavy, and bitterly salty storm of one. Out of what seemed like nowhere this diagnosis showed its ugly self. At the time I was seventeen and healthy with no family history of cancer. yet there I stood. Once all the noise dissipated, I could see all the signs that were showing me what was to come. The day's I was excessively tired and countless nights I felt brittle and paper-thin. The abundance of missed school days due to being sick. Even a large lump showed up on my neck. It choked me and gave me multiple medical tests with the word “inconclusive”. Despite it all, I graduated and was excited to live. Independence and freedom were in my view and life felt like it was just beginning. This feeling didn't last long. One summer day I came home from work full of life, but something felt wrong. Like staring into dark woods and all the birds go quiet. Something is there and looming over you, but it's unclear what it is. My parents had a look on their faces I hope to never see again. My last test finally had results, even if no one wanted to hear them. I don't remember much after hearing “you have cancer” but I do remember the rain. I remember feeling like a scared kid stuck in a storm followed by a cold shock and loud thunderous anger. The first day of chemotherapy was surreal yet normal. Like a sci-fi indie film. A 5-hour drive to the hospital, blood tests, scans, injections, and then treatment. They sat me in a private room for my first treatment. There was a point I was left completely alone, just waiting. Waiting for that first sting. For that first chemical drip into my bloodstream. Not knowing what to expect, the silence of it all was suffocating. When I was freed from this silence, I was greeted with a large needle stuck into a heavy and hard plastic bump called a port placed under my skin and on my chest. One of the oddest things was the smell and the taste of chemo. As an injection, that's not what people expect. Yet it's a flavor I will never forget and never fully describe. Anything I had eaten before, during, or after became stained with a horrible, bitter taste with an unnatural, nauseating smell that still haunts me. Although these side effects were miserable they were not the worst of it. Nothing could compare to the pain engulfing my body. Bone-breaking, skin burning, stomach-wrenching sensations got worse with every injection. If you can imagine what it's like to rot and decay, that is how it felt to be alive. Living became a challenge and all the things people said to me became overwhelming. Judgment came from all corners. Harassed for being bald and everything else under the sun my mind began to melt. I became paranoid with the words being said and the chemicals in my body. I cut myself off from everything. I was furious at people, cancer, and life. Anger and determination motivated me. I decided to push. And push I did. I worked for as long as I could, looked into colleges, and even worked out. Making myself appear as fine as possible. I was running as fast as I could, but it was a race no one wins. I grew more and more fatigued and weaker by the day. Soon my immune system really started to fail. I had to slow down. I had to finally give myself a break. Let my body rest and breathe. In learning to be ok with rest, I also had to let myself feel miserable, but allow myself to stay there. Time crawled and yet flew by. My last day of treatment finally arrived. Relief swept over me releasing many tears. Months passed and my port was removed. A weight had been lifted and I could breathe again. Years have now passed. I am still recovering, mentally, and physically. I have come to accept that I may never get back to where I was. That's typical with any storm. Just like how the land is left with marks of cracked trees and muddy rivers, I now too have scars that decorate me. Some scars are on the surface and some are hidden below many layers. They show me. They show what I have lived through and symbolize the strength I have. The scars I show are like the flowers that grow in after a storm or the new tree that grows in place of the broken one. They show that even after the heaviest of storms we can always grow back.

The tumble of the school bus swayed her body back and forth. It dipped and bumped but nothing mattered because she was on her way home. After hours of grueling school work, the day was finally over and she could go and relax. As a matter of fact, the girl with the blue hair had just got off. A marker of the remaining three stops left the journey. As Drake blasted through her ears, she thought of her group project due at the end of the week. How am I going to tell Daniel that he needs to pick up the pace on the introduction slide? Will Abby make the flashcards to read off of or will I have to complete that as well. A nearby shout caused her to lose her train of thought. The boy with the blue backpack stepped off the bus and walked down the street. The next stop was the final destination. She had all of her belongings gathered, ready to leave the bus as soon as possible. A backpack was all she had today. Tennis wasn't until tomorrow. She stood from her seat and walked down the aisle. Waving goodbye to the bus driver she stepped onto the sidewalk. The pavement carried her all the way to the corner of the street. A turn right and a few ways down was her house. As she unlocked the door, the warmth of the house surrounded her. It wrapped around her like a welcoming embrace. Dropping her school bags on the floor she turned on the fireplace and proceeded to call her mother. The dialing tone rang out and her mother finally picked up. “Hi Beta,” her mother's voice cracked. Sadness dripped from her voice and hurt the girl's heart. “Mom what's wrong what happened.” “It's your grandma.” “What! What happened?” “She has breast cancer,” At that moment the tender warmth of the house felt as if it were strangling her. She didn't say anything. Not one word came out of her. “I don't know what to do baby. I don't know what to say beta. I'm coming home. I'm on my way.” With her rushed response the line went dead. Her life had turned to fog. Memories of her grandmother feeding her as a child rushed through her head. Her first day of kindergarten was shared with her grandmother. Her first word, first tooth, first crawl. It was all with her grandmother. She adored her grandmother and looked up to her with all her heart. You could even call her a second mother. The girl's grandmother was number one. Tears flowed down her cheeks just as her sadness billowed out of her. She laughed. How cynical could God be? To poison a wonderful thing in her life. First her father, now her grandmother. Soon He would take everyone and leave her with nothing. The girl sobbed. She prayed it would be better. She prayed that God would heal her grandmother. Even though she blamed him, she knew He had the power to heal her grandmother and even that sliver of hope had her on her knees. She resented everyone and everything on planet earth. Why must her life be this way. She felt ill. Like the whole world had turned into a fever dream. She was there but far away. The girl gasped her chair and sobbed. Her anguish could be heard from the gates of heaven. God's resting place. She cried because she didn't want it to happen to her. She cried because she didn't know what else to do. She cried because a normal day had turned into such a mess. But just as how good things happen at random, bad things happen as well. Many months had passed on. Rounds of chemotherapy were given to the girl's grandmother, but there was still no hope. Her grandmother died on the 28th of July, 2019. Her spirit would drift into heaven and lay in the hearts of many. With a legacy of love, care and nothing but good. The girl learned to cherish every moment you have because one day, it will all go away.

Helping my little brother getting ready for school on a Monday morning, you wouldn't think anything was wrong. He chatters about something on telly, whilst we look for gloves and then we have a lively debate about when his spelling test is. We look through the mounds of paper in his bookbag, it's in two days. My brother isn't too fussed and goes back to watching his YouTube show. Typical school day morning, right? This morning, as the little guy woke up, bushy hair and bleary eyed, he notices his mum rushing around grabbing bags and toys. ‘Are you going?' he asks, his voice cracking. ‘Yes, sweetie.' Immediately, his face crumples and a cry build up, tears already brimming. She grabs him in for a hug, tells him she loves him and that he must brave just like his brother. This is the routine, this is our normal. I hope to God it is not yours. Our youngest brother has cancer, lymphoblastic leukaemia, this is the second time he's gotten it. This time round, the treatment is more aggressive, requiring more lethal drugs and a stem cell transplant. We just found out last week that the little dude is a perfect stem cell match for him. This filled us with both relief and dread. Relief – a stem cell transplant is the best way to treat him and should be most effective, it means there is less chemo and probably no radiotherapy for him and it could've taken us months to find a match from a stranger. On the other hand, the little dude, who is 5 years old, will have to be put under for surgery – which is not without risks – to help his little (3yo) brother. That's a lot of pressure to put on someone who's main concern now is learning the phonic: ‘i_e.' Can you imagine the guilt? Taking your perfectly healthy little boy and intentionally cause him harm to help the other. He wants to help his brother, but it was still his parent's choice in the end to say yes. No parent should have to go make that decision. But then, they've had to face a lot of decisions a parent should never have to. My dad and my step-mum are good parents, they try their best and they fail sometimes too. They take it in turns to stay with J at the hospital when he's going through chemo. Living half your life in a hospital is not ideal. For obvious reasons. You are surrounded by sick and dying children for one, plus the WIFI is crap. J had been home for the past week, to rest up since the last bout of chemo had given him severe illness – he stopped eating and had to be transferred to the high dependency unit for a few days as his nutrient levels dropped dangerously low, there were lots of problems with his guts and there was a suspected infection. Once he's home, he's a little happier, but it can be an edgy time for my parents, especially my step-mum. In hospital you're surrounded by nurses who can help if things go wrong and can tell IF something is wrong, at home, it's your own judgment. Despite this, home makes a nice change, we can all be together like a family should. The little dude, P, can be picked up by a parent from school, instead of a sister or nan or a friend's mum, so it's more stable for him. We can all sit together and talk or play, most importantly, the two brothers can play together, not always nicely, but together at least. Whilst J was home, he still had to go in one day this week, so the Doctor and nurses can check his observations (weight, heart rate etc), to give my parents some home supplies – feed for his NG (nasal-gastric) tube and some various drugs to be given at home (a lot of anti-sickness/laxatives) and finally a big dose of steroids. Have you ever heard of ‘roid-rage? Try working with a chubby three-year-old with a Smeagol-hairdo shouting at you, whilst you're making him macaroni cheese, about his EXACT specifications (which change constantly). Gordon Ramsey eat your heart out. However, that was the middle of the week, I come home at the weekend, and within half an hour upon my entrance, a cheeky chappy emerges from the grizzle. I like to think its my cheery disposition that's perked him up, but I can smell for the fact he's just removed a load of concentrated anger. For the whole weekend he's like a dream, yes occasionally his bottom hurts as he feels the chemo-poo brewing (there is nothing like it, I can never eat korma again!), but he's laughing, making jokes, (why did the banana cross the road? To get squished!). On Sunday we all make biscuits, blue and sprinkle flavoured, we've visited Nanny in our very special blue car and played with their puppy, sweet eh? Sunday night, his mummy explains that they are going to hospital together tomorrow. J says he doesn't want to, he doesn't want any ouchies. Mummy promises no ouchies, but they have to go in to hospital. J thinks for a second or two, then says: ‘I want cuddles all night long and forever.' Wow. Heart wrenching huh? They hug and continue a jigsaw puzzle with some accompanied inane toddler chatter about Blaze and the Monster Machines….