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The delicate fusion of art and science that is Rhinoplasty, or nose job, is accomplished. This surgical procedure attempts to restore facial harmony while also achieving cosmetic and functional goals by altering the nose. Artistic precision A rhinoplasty operation requires a surgeon's artistic eye in order to create a nose that highlights a patient's unique facial features. Each nose is custom-shaped to match the wearer's overall appearance. Scientific expertise Beyond just its appearance, this surgery requires a deep understanding of the anatomy and functionality of the nose. Surgeons must ensure proper breathing and prevent any postoperative problems. This delicate balance of art and science in this procedure allows patients to not only achieve a more attractive appearance but also breathe easier, exemplifying the transformative potential of this procedure. If you are seeking a nose transformation, then you can reach the Best Plastic Surgery in Ludhiana at Union Super Specialty Hospital. Union Superspeciality Hospital | Best Surgical and Trauma Centre | Cosmetic Plastic Surgeon Ludhiana Address - modern tower, Basant Ave, near bcm school, Basant Avenue, Janta Enclave, Urban Estate Dugri, Ludhiana, Punjab 141001 Phone No - 06280083300 Website - https://unionsuperspecialityhospital.com/ Map - https://maps.app.goo.gl/wAC3y2roC9d1ZSa79

Problems with the brain, spine, or nerves' proper function are referred to as neurological problems. Stroke is one of the most common neurological conditions. Other Symptoms include epilepsy, loss of sense and Alzheimer's disease. It generally occurs when high blood flows to the brain. Sometimes it occurs due to blockage in the artery. When something goes wrong with the brain, nerves can cause neurological problems. In that case, getting help from a well-known Neuro Hospital in Punjab is crucial. Some tips to keep the nervous system healthy:- *Get proper sleep *A healthy diet *Stay mentally active *Keep blood vessels healthy By implementing these tips, you can keep your nervous system healthy. Or you can also seek help from a skilled Neurologist in Ludhiana at Neurociti Hospital. Neurociti Hospital and Diagnostics Centre Address: B-XX/2034, near HOTEL ONN, Gobind Nagar, Ludhiana, Punjab 141001 Phone: 01614679001 Website: https://neurocitihospital.com/ Map: https://goo.gl/maps/R4HHrV3Gv5yMstf9A

A good existence is built on a healthy heart. Deepak Heart Institute is here to help you on your path to heart health. Our skilled cardiologists emphasize the value of early identification, preventative care, and prompt treatment. We are dedicated to protecting the health of your heart with our comprehensive cardiology services, which include sophisticated tests and personalized treatment regimens. Our professionals deliver the finest quality treatment, from basic check-ups to sophisticated operations. Prioritize your heart health today. Trust the best heart hospital in Ludhiana to be your partner in maintaining a healthy heart and enjoying a fulfilling life. Let's take charge of your heart health and embrace a brighter future together. Deepak Heart Institute Gate Number 1 Rd, adjacent to Rotary Club Road, Sarabha Nagar, Ludhiana, Punjab 141001 Contact:- 08360999851 Website:- https://www.deepakheartinstitute.com/ Map: https://goo.gl/maps/r4gyUyFP4uaR82QE9

If you are noticing the symptom of inflammation in joints along with the pain, then it may be the cause of osteoarthritis. If you don't like to bring out the pain and harshness of this concern, you must seek a cure from Best Ortho Hospital in Ludhiana for more promising results. Most bone ailments can evolve in the joints of the bone. Like other bone problems, osteoarthritis is also the same. This is also a joint disease. This problem is chronic, and with time, it will increase its severity and pain. To resolve this problem properly, you need to go to Kalyan Hospital, the best Bone Hospital in Punjab. Address: Division Number 3, Samrala Rd, near Fire Brigade, Ludhiana, Punjab 141008 Phone: 09814748877 Website: https://kalyanhospital.com/ Map: https://goo.gl/maps/BKxta5HuZeZ2yzAW6

Hunjan Hospital is a renowned Ortho center in Punjab where you can attain the treatment service for different orthopedic problems. We have a team of professional doctors to provide successful treatment to our patients. If you are suffering any kind of orthopedic problem such as joint pain, back pain, cervical then you can make contact with us. For more information, you can reach our official site. Neurologist In Ludhiana - Dr Sukhdeep Singh Jhawar Neurosurgeon Brain Tumor Deep Hospital Address: Deep Hospital, 481, Model Town, Ludhiana, Punjab 141002 Phone: +919872940237 E-mail: drssjhawar@gmail.com Web: https://jhawarneuro.com/

Find the Orthopaedic Hospital in Ludhiana, Hunjan Hospital is the most trusted and reputed ortho centre that is offering the best treatment facility for different orthopedic problems. A facility of fully equipped ICU, professional doctors, and a hygienic environment has listed us in the list of the best ortho hospital in Ludhiana. You can visit our official site and can get more detail about us. Hunjan Hospital Address: 111, Kochar Market Rd, Sampooran Colony, South Model Gram, Ludhiana, Punjab 141002 Phone: +919217592178 E-mail: info@hunjanhospital.com Web: https://www.hunjanhospital.com/

Gomti Thapar Hospital is known as the best IVF centre in Punjab among all as it has state-of-the-art facilities, well-trained faculty, expert doctors, and a comfortable environment to optimize the best results of infertility treatments. We specialize in IUI, IVF, ICSI, TESA, PESA, PCOS, and blocked fallopian treatments. Moreover, there is a department of urological treatments. Consult us for the best outcomes of infertility and gain the happiness of parenthood. Gomti Thapar Hospital Address: GT Rd, opp. New Grain Market, near Nestle, Main Bazaar, Kothe Baggu, Moga, Punjab 142001, India Phone Number: +919417278732 Website: https://gomtithaparhospital.com/in-vitro-fertilization/

Thank you COVID19 I want to shout and say with joy ,Covid 19 ,thank you. You gave me freedom. You ask yourself , can Covid 19 , a dangerous virus that has endangered the lives of thousands of people around the world , be released? Years ago , as a child , I witnessed a horrific scene of my father committing suicide. When my mother and I came home , we saw his body handing from the ceiling of the room. It was a very empowering scene for an 8 – year – old girl. After seeing this scene , my father's bruised and swollen face was constantly in front of my eyes and I was afraid of being alone. Less that two years after this horrific incident , my mother married a man who never wanted me to live at his house and with my mother. And I had to go to my grandparent's house and live with those who were old and sick. In the same year that I was in shock at my mother's marriage to my unkind stepfather , my grandfather suffered a heart attack in front of my eyes and died , and again I witnessed the horrifying scene of another death. These unfortunate eventa and upset my soul and I was constantly anxious and I was afraid of being alone at home and I felt that my death would come soon. I was suffering from severe depression , I was constantly thinking a bout death, every day when I worke up I thought it was the last day of my life. Most of the time , I was anxious and my heart was pounding and my hands were shaking and my mouth was dry , and they had to call the emergency room right away. When I was taken to the hospital in that mental , and physical condition , I was injected with a sedative a the hospital and I felt calm. I was happy to feel calm in the hospital and the hospital gradually became a safe and saving place for me , I thought I would be saved from death by going to the hospital. Years passed and my childhood and adolescence were spent with fear , anxiety and worry about death. And the only way I was comfortable was going to the hospital , the doctor , taking psychiatric medication and sometimes going to coffee shops and gyms with my friends. Until afew months ago it was announced on social media that a deadly virus called Covid 19 had entered the country and that it was very deadly and dangerous to catch it. Hearing the newa of the deaths of thousands of people around the world due to Covid 19 and home quarantine and , most importantly , the concerns about the polluted environment of hospitals,intensified my anxiety. As I could not easily go to the hospital and the doctor for treatment , or to go to restaurants and gyms with my friends, my stress and fear of being alone increased day by day. Finally,after four months of home quarantine travel restrictions and being away from friends,I thought to myself one night,when trips were canceled and educational centers,cinemas,theaters and concerts were closed,and not having empty ICU beds in the hospital and being away from friends and all kinds of fun,is like living on a deserted island far away from the rest of the world. But still on this deserted island away from the world,with a healthy mind and hope for life,you can continue to live. I regretted that for years I quarantined myself at home for fear of death and depression, and did not enjoy shopping and traveling on the weekends and thousands of other pleasures and entertainment in life. Many people,like me or other depressed patients,did not think about the fear of death day and night,but died of the Covid 19 virus,like apple blossoms falling from a tree. So no one and nothing can stop the death of human being,and death has nothing to do with ago,geography of life,or religion. Thinking and fearing death has no result other than depression and daily life,and depression can turn a strong and capable person into a weak and cowardly person. I decided to clear my mind of annoying thoughts and save myself from depression and get out of the quarantine in which my soul has been trapped for years. I no longer want to think about death. I want to enjoy every second of my life. Without anxiety and negative thoughts,you can live a beautiful and healthy life and fight Covid 19 and other diseases. Now my step are stronger,I feel calm and tasle deep in my heart. A smile on my face, even under the mask. Covid 19 made me open my eyes to the facts of life. Written by Marziyeh Farahbakhsh from Iran July 2020

Chapter 1 I open my eyes and…I'm not at home. I'm in a different room with beige short walls. The first thing to grab my attention, however, is the dark green watch on the left wall. The colour reminds me of an oak, the symbol of…There is a small silver metal-framed bed, a bedside table with a glass of water on it, a brown wooden chair, a TV that is switched on, but it doesn't work. I'm hearing some sounds produced by the TV. They're killing me. My head is exploding; there are echoes inside my head. I take my head in my hands and scream․ «What's happening? What the fuck is going on? Is this real? Stoop! Stop it! I'm not able to keep myself under control…» -No, no, no. This isn't right. Where am I? Why I hear these sounds? I'm standing in the middle of the room struggling and someone enters. It's the nurse and I no longer feel any pain. She grins to from ear to ear and asks how I feel myself. «MY GOD, I'm in an asylum, I'm in an asylum. I'm mad; no I can't be mad, no!» -I'm fine, I'm great. May I ask you why I'm here? -My dear girl, you were almost dead when you were brought you to the hospital. I look at my hands: they are bandaged. -I don't understand anything or maybe I confuse something. What happened to me? -You tried to terminate your life. You cut your veins and have lost much blood. -What day is it? -It's May 22. -What? It should be May 21. It was my birthday yesterday and the 1st anniversary of our relationship. The nurse looks at me astonished. -Yeah, the 1st anniversary. We celebrated it together. I remember it vividly: we were in a wonderful restaurant but soon he got a call and after some minutes he told me he had to leave the country as soon as possible. He didn't tell me why he just went. And I came home. -I'm sorry, honey. However, it's still May 22 and I'm still worried about you as you attempted to commit suicide on your birthday! -I didn't, okay? I adore my life and I'm fond of myself. I'm a lecturer at the university at the age of 28, I'm about to publish my first book, I have the perfect partner in the world and I… -What about children? -None. I can't have children. -Infertility? Are you sure Miss… -Miss Black. Yes, I'm sure. When I was 17, I got into a car accident and was deprived of the ability to have my children. -Then this will surprise you: you lost your child, Miss Black. I'm sorry. -You're kidding, right? That can't be true. I…no, I can't have children, I can't become a mother and I don't want to be one either. -This means you can, dear. But don't worry, you will still have children. As for now, please, take these pills in an hour. I will come back later. The nurse hands me 3 and leaves. «What the hell? This proportion of information is too much for me». I run to the bathroom, throw the pills in the toilet and look in the mirror. -I may be nuts?! Shit, this should be an outrageous joke, someone got to be kidding me, maybe they wanna scare me or teach me a lesson. Ah, anyway this isn't true. I don't believe these theories, no, no, no, no, noooo․ I drank some water and sat down on the bed. -I…I should go back in time to understand how I appeared here. When I got back home yesterday I was so nervous I drank a little red wine, then I watched TV and finally decided to sleep. But I wasn't able to shut my eyes immediately. I was rolling over in the bed, having a weird feeling inside my stomach and belly. It was neither the butterflies, nor my periods starting. I had the impression of being punctured. I was moving all the time. At last, I got up, went to the bathroom to wash my face to refresh me. I stared at me in the mirror and noticed that my skin colour was brighter than ever. While examining my face skin, suddenly I began to cough. It continued for two or three minutes and when I spat, there appeared some blood in the washbasin. I spat much more blood, but hopefully it ceased soon. I gazed at my face again and this time I saw a corpse. I was horrified. I cleaned the washbasin and washed my face. The cold water refreshed me a little so the pain in the stomach and belly didn't bother me anymore. Besides, my mind almost resumed working properly. I went to bed again and didn't think of anything else. I simply dropped off. -I'm curious about what happened then. I opened my eyes here. I'm in total confusion. My emotional state is gradually deteriorating and I'm almost going insane…ah, I think I'm already insane. -Someone, look at me. How miserable I am. I can't even remember how and why the fuck I hurt myself. Why on the earth should I have done that? Somebody, tell me. I need help! And indeed someone speaks in my head telling me that I have cut my veins for him. But that's way too primitive for me! I wouldn't do that because of what happened. It wasn't that big of a deal. My life is more precious․ “Let yourself get some rest and go to bed”, my inner voice whispers and I obey it.

I never thought I would ever need a suicide hotline in my life. I was always the glue of my friends, the ideas of my team and the head of my family. In fact, I was the last person anyone would imagine ending up in a mental ward for an entire weekend, and yet, 1-800-273-8255 saved my life. Sabila, specifically. It had been a hard year. My sister became ill but I thought I had been handling it well. Until one day I had a panic attack that wouldn't stop. I called a hotline and told them I didn't want to do anything, any more, ever again. They helped me get to an ER where I was admitted to a wonderful place where there was art therapy, group sessions and surprisingly normal people. I remember going straight to my room and wanting to go to sleep forever, but I met a girl there who seemed so happy. I didn't understand why she was there but she was my angle. She made sure I ate food, attended classes and even showered. I was scared and thought it was over for me but I realized that this was a place for people to get back on their feet. That breaking doesn't mean it's over. Now I know that it was a new beginning and I will survive.

It is 4.00pm in dapchi, a small town in the northeastern part of Nigeria, the blaring heat of the sun would not make anyone suspect that the day is far spent, neither would the rigorous and delightful sporting activities performed by these young girls make them aware of the looming danger even if they could gaze into the future. Mother earth in her benevolence would try to avert the looming calamity and had employed her siblings the elements to cause a shower and a hazy sky, but this would not dissuade these deadly predators from continuing their heinous task. At about 5:30 pm, all hell broke loose, ‘boom, boom, boom' the sound of gunshots could be heard all over the place. By the wake of dawn the dust has settled down, but the havoc wrecked will remain one to be unforgotten for many decades to come: about one hundred and ten (110) schoolgirls aged 11–19 years old have been kidnapped by the Boko Haram terrorist group from the Government Girls Science and Technical College Dapchi on February 19, 2018. Approximately four years ago about 276 schoolgirls were abducted from Chibok a small town in northern Nigeria with many of them still missing today. The previous year, dozens of student were killed at a secondary school in Yobe State, Nigeria. Who is responsible for all these mayhem? And what is the possible reason for targeting the young ones? Abubakar Shekau, the ringleader and spearheader of this insurgent group responsible for all these disasters, would never have turned out to be a dispenser of sorrow if this was not done: if everyone had not shot the bowels of mercy if everyone had not turned deaf ears to the somber suffering of the lad. Entering into orphanhood from an early stage in life, Shekau took to the street to join the countless number of “Alimajari” (street beggars) to get his daily bread. Rising early in the morning and not resting till sunset— Shekau's only duty was to roam the street begging for alms. It is 7:30 in the morning; Shekau could be seen standing dutifully at the corner of the street, with a bowl in outstretched arm waiting for blessings from passers-by. Vroom, vroom; the cars kept on passing, spilling on dust to his face— every one hastening to drop their children in school, they dare not look on the poor kid, let alone offer him something because he is some contagious disease that no one should behold. No one bothered of where he slept when last he took his bath or what he ate; not even his torn and tattered clothes or his young age would arouse their side of pity— he was a god-forsaken scumbag. By the afternoon time, he would have traversed the city to the other part, where the less classy ones stay, hoping to get the remnant of the kids lunch basket, but it would never happen, every parent have warned their children not to talk or give those ugly shit begging for alms anything; they better throw away their remnant than move closer to them. With time, things began to change; the young lad always gazing at the school kids hoping for help is no longer doing such, the helpless look on his face has now being replaced by disdain and anger: no doubt, the seed of hatred had already been sown and would soon reveal itself in the coming years. Days turn to month, and months to years; so did the small kid advance into his youth. Probably if the bowels of mercy were still opened then, the soul of the young boy could have been redeemed— unfortunately, it was not so, the young boy soon graduated from alms begging into stealing and other anti-social vices and soon became a hardened criminal. Along the line came the war profiteers, angels of darkness transforming into angels of light, people who needed cheap labor to perpetuate their evil, and of course the young man matched their profile well and was enlisted into the evil workforce. A very popular adage says “an idle hand is the devil workshop”, so also is an empty mind void of knowledge. Abubakar Sheakau lacking knowledge and education easily gave in to all manner of corrupted knowledge and belief and joined the Boko-haram terrorist group. Advancing quickly through the rank, he became the leader of the dangerous sect in 2009. Since then, there has been a drastic change in the operation of the group; over 3 million lives have been affected, thousands of children turned into orphans and many homes left desolate. The beast in him has been unleashed and the fire of evil has gotten out of hand. This is, therefore, a clarion call to us all: brighten the corner where you are, show a little bit of love and kindness, and help an erring soul. Shut the bowels of mercy and expect the rains of terror.

I consider it an ordeal to travel in Africa. My parents traveled a lot when I was younger and I have always wanted to travel too. The way they talked about living in Northern Nigeria, it feels like a different world from now. They never felt like strangers whenever they left home, but Africa is changing. It's meant to be the height of experiences; for young people to pack a bag and travel to see the continent but present day Africa could be as hostile as it is beautiful. Being a stranger is not just about changing GPS location, it's about being where you are not expected to be. I am Nigerian and I am skinny. One would think identity and body size are just what they are but along with identity comes the burden of stereotypes. After a few months of arriving South Africa from Nigeria, I visited an Indian Doctor in Hatfield, Pretoria. The first thing he said was "You are Nigerian, so you gonna pay me with drugs? Ahh! I am joking!" Very inconvenient joke I must say, but that was my reward for being Nigerian in South Africa. In moments like those you almost feel as if you are not welcome, that you are a stranger. South Africa is a good place but when it comes to making jokes, it sucks some times. Some locals tell you how they actually think about you -probably something bad- and then they add that it's just a joke. What better way to peddle stereotypes than to make jokes about them? Now every Nigerian who leaves home is a drug peddler? The moment we step out of our borders we are labelled. I have also heard that Indians are rapists and drug abusers too. Should I have said so to that doctor and probably added "I am joking?" The student medical aid is compulsory for all foreign students including Nigerians who are just a little different from South Africans. The medical aid is crap from what I hear and I am sure they also know I am Nigerian and think "probably he is a drug peddler." What happens when I need to use this aid? What if someone does not attend to me just because they think I am a criminal. The day I visited the GP at Hatfield, I had to pay the Indian Doctor with cash that I don't have and he told me it might take another century to get my claim back. It actually took a century to get the claims department and they never paid. *sigh* That day after telling me what was wrong with me, the Doctor gave me some drugs and warned that I must eat before taking the drugs. He said "You look skinny, either because you don't have food or you are just skinny." After worrying about my citizenship, now I had to worry about my body size. There are fat humans, average sized humans, skinny humans and so on and so forth. How long would it take for us to accept these differences? The whole idea of racism and apartheid thrived on the idea that skin colour is a definitive element of your humanity. Skin colour, body type, hair or any other body feature are things no one chooses. Yet a lot of us are made to feel like we don't fit in, just because of these things. People avoid you for as little as the fact that how you look or talk or walk is strange or new to them. I am skinny not by a fault of my own, my body structure is far from perfect for those who have seen me. I limp slightly, and it's not from an accident. I was born with a birthmark on my forehead and for years I felt different. There are so many funny things that are not "right" about my looks but everyone has their own weird features. If you looked around you, there are at least a hundred people who don't look exactly like you just because they eat different or live in a different environment. But these people are just as human as you are. Holding a Nigerian passport or walking with a limp doesn't make one human better than another. The value of life is one and the same all over the world. Being a stranger in Africa stems from the dying culture of inclusiveness, community and hospitality that Africans used to be known for. There is a hate culture eating deep into the fabric of our lives, we have been hunted, haunted and broken by strangers. Understandably, suspicion and fear becomes a defence but must we lose the beauty of Africa to fear and hate? We need to embrace universal citizenship, to travel, to love, to eat with and walk with people who seem different from us. There's no need for us to be strangers in our own world.

My life is so weird. It's always been weird. That's probably because I was born in 1949, the 3rd child of a family that wanted to stop at two. I was constantly told that I was worthless and was always costing my family money. In those days, children had no social security numbers and if somebody had the right connections they could sell an unwanted child in a black market adoption or even worse, sexual slavery. I think I was three at the time but my parents left me with the baby-sitter on Christmas. The baby-sitter, I found out later from my older sister was also the contact for back-street abortions and black-market adoptions. The babysitter who was an older woman, left me alone with a book filled with Christmas stickers. In those days, there was no self-stick stickers. You had to lick them glued back to make them work. This was the first time I was away from my parents and I was scared. My anxiety increased as I stuck stickers everywhere, hoping my parents would return soon and be proud of my handiwork. Instead a young couple arrived. I remember the woman had long blonde hair and a red dress under her fur coat. My babysitter picked me up so she could hold me when all that anxiety and glue backed up on me and I threw up all over her red dress. She yelled something like "How dare you give me a sick baby!" and pushed me back into the babysitter's arms. I was put into a crib in a dark room after a lot of angry talk and I stayed there until my parents picked me up. I don't remember much of what happened next, but I was very sick because the next thing I knew was that I was in a hospital, being stuck with needles by angry nurses. The story I heard later in life was that my parents left me with the baby-sitter so they could attend my sister's Christmas pagent and was sick with something that was called "glandular fever." My mother said I spent eight days in the hospital. The first seven days I was given sulfa drugs that had little effect on my sickness. The end of that week, the doctor told my parents that he could give me a new drug that was still largely experimental, but my father would have to sign a permission slip because the new drug could cure me or kill me. My father signed the paper and they gave me another giant needle of the new drug. That night I flew. I flew around the hospital. I saw what looked like a woman having an operation. I saw lines of cars and trucks on the roads outside. Finally, I was back in my crib I was coloring in a coloring book and throwing crayons back and forth over the tops of our cribs which lay head to head with a kid named Mikey. The next day, I stood up in my crib and tried to see over the huge wooden top, but I was too short. When the nurses came in, I asked where Mikey was. The younger nurse burst into tears and said "Mikey's dead!" I went home that day. When my mother told that part of the story to my sister and me, she asked "Guess what that medicine was?" We shook our heads. "Penicillin." Our life was rough after that. My father had a successful machine shop but he drank all his profits. My mother took in ironing. Later, I found out she was also turning tricks. When she wanted to insult me, she'd tell me I was "just like my father." For a long time I wondered what she meant by that because weren't we supposed to be like our parents? It wasn't until much later that I found out about the visiting "insurance men." We had dogs but the one assigned to me suddenly disappeared. My mother said it was all my fault because I didn't take care of her and she ran away. Years later my sister told me that she wasn't going to keep a female dog that wasn't spayed. The male dog was never the same. He always kept to himself and never wanted to play. My mother did some darker things to try to "turn me out" but I was too defensive and would say I'd jump out into traffic before I'd go along with that scheme. And I said it while in a moving car going down the Long Island Expressway. My parents bad habits were backing up on them. I got into constant fights at school. Nobody wanted to be my friend. My mother kept trying to get into the local social scene by joining a church but the gossip got about and she was shunned. I was shunned too. Finally, my father lost his temper one last time and decided to move from New York to Florida. In Florida, he bought a bar and had my mother help him run it. I had always wondered why they stayed together for so long. She said it was because he was the only man who offered to marry her. I always wondered why a man would stay with a woman who fooled around. I found out later, he fooled around, too--with other men. The whole marriage thing was one big made-for-social-acceptance sham. My mother liked playing the diva at the bar and my father spent a lot of his spare time fishing. My brother only stayed for the first month when he turned 21 and flew back to New York to stay with friends until he got a place of his own.