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Rae stood on the threshold, peering down into the eyes of her beloved dog, the dog she had adopted one year ago and promised to love forever. His eyes broke her heart. He knew she was hurting. He knew she was leaving - and that almost tempted her to stay - again. She wished she could make him understand why. “Why does this feel like you're leaving for good?” her fiancé asked her. Because it is, she didn't answer out loud. She offered a weak smile through her tears and kissed him one last time. “I'll see you in a week,” she lied, and closed the door behind her. With her head held high and fists clenched, she silently got in her car and backed out of the driveway. It wasn't until she was around the corner that she let the sobs escape. Once released, they came forth in violent waves – months and months of heartache, frustration, anger, despair, anxiety, depression, confusion, fear, grief. She cried so hard she gasped for breath and her tears blurred her vision, but she couldn't stop - not this time. She had to keep going. She had turned around so many times before. It had to be for real this time. Episodes from their 14 years together replayed in her mind – scenes she'd replayed over and over again, analyzing every harsh word exchanged, wondering for the millionth time if she had over-reacted. But even if she had, did his words and actions have to make her feel so horrible? She'd let it slide for 14 years. She'd made up excuses for him – he'd been neglected by his father and bullied by peers, so it made sense that he always had to be right, that he was constantly trying to prove himself. She could forgive that. She could forgive his bossiness, his need to be in control, his double standards. She could forgive that he sucked at romance and thoughtful gifts. She could forgive a lot of things, and she had, for a long, long time. But then they bought a house, and got a dog, and they both had careers they loved, and she'd asked him (again) if they could get married…and he said no. That's when she finally started to realize that there would always be excuses, because he was a controlling, emotionally abusive, narcissistic asshole. That's when Rae had come to the incredibly painful realization that she had to leave. She had to somehow let go of the last 14 years of her life and find a way to move forward on her own, no matter how terrifying it might be. An hour later she arrived at her cousin's, who greeted her with a kind hug and showed her to the spare bedroom. A twin air mattress and small table had been set up in between the closet and the rabbit cage. This was going to be her living space for the next several months. Deciding to embrace it, Rae set down her luggage and drove across the street to the Walmart to pick out some bedding. Standing there in the aisle, viewing all the options, she couldn't help but smile. Is this what freedom felt like? She couldn't remember the last time she'd gone to the store by herself, let alone picked out something she wanted, without his opinions and insults of her tastes, and his disgusting misuse of the word “compromise". There had never been any compromising with him – it had just been him convincing her why his idea was better. Nothing had ever been good enough for him if he wasn't the one to make the decision. Selecting a blue and purple sheet set and a small lamp, Rae made her way to the check out with a little skip in her step. Back at her cousin's apartment, she reflected on how amazing it felt to actually have a space to call her own - just hers. She realized that this feeling she was experiencing - this feeling of inner peace and safety, of self-expression - was what she had been missing for so long. Was it the absence of this feeling that had driven her to therapy and antidepressants? Was it really as simple as just having your own space? Rae didn't sleep that night. She was too anxious; excited for the new sense of freedom and positive experiences that lay before her, but also dreading the grief and despair she knew she would have to endure in order to heal and move on. A few days later, she drove two hours to the airport. She parked her car in the long-term parking lot and boarded a shuttle. She checked in for her flight, received her ticket, and found her way to her gate. All by herself. After boarding the plane and finding her window seat, she sent a selfie to a friend. They responded, “You look happy.” Gazing out the window, Rae realized that she was, in fact, happy. Deeply, authentically happy. More than that, she knew that this was the first of many amazing adventures she was going to take herself on. She was a strong, amazing, independent woman, and she was going to be okay.

What is Workers Compensation? Workers' compensation is a state-mandated program that provides benefits to employees who suffer job-related injuries or illnesses. It also protects employers by limiting their liability and preventing employees from suing them over workplace injuries. History of Workers Compensation Law in New York The origins of workers compensation law New York date back to the early 20th century. The state passed its first law in 1914, following a series of industrial accidents that highlighted the need for better worker protection. Over the years, the law has evolved to address changing workplace conditions and to incorporate new safety standards. Types of Benefits Provided Workers' compensation benefits in New York include several types of support: Wage Replacement: Compensation for a portion of lost wages due to the inability to work. Permanent Disability Benefits: For workers who suffer permanent impairments. Death Benefits: Payments to dependents of workers who die from job-related injuries. Filing a Workers Compensation Claim The process for filing a workers' compensation claim in New York involves several steps: Report the Injury: Employees must notify their employer about the injury as soon as possible, ideally within 30 days. Seek Medical Attention: Immediate medical care is essential. Ensure the healthcare provider is authorized by the New York Workers' Compensation Board. Employer Responsibilities Insurance: Maintain workers' compensation insurance or be authorized to self-insure. Posting Requirements: Display information about workers' compensation coverage in a conspicuous location. Accurate Reporting: Report all workplace injuries and illnesses to the Workers' Compensation Board promptly. Common Challenges in Workers' Compensation Claims Despite the protections offered, there are common challenges in the workers' compensation process: Delays in Benefits: Workers may experience delays in receiving their benefits. Disputes: Disagreements between employers and employees about the severity of the injury or the necessity of medical treatment. Legal Requirements for Employers Employers must adhere to specific legal requirements to comply with New York workers' compensation law: Coverage: Ensure all eligible employees are covered by workers' compensation insurance. Training: Provide training to employees about their rights and responsibilities under the workers' compensation system. Request a Hearing: File a request for a hearing with the Workers' Compensation Board. Legal Representation: Consider hiring an attorney who specializes in cases. MLaw Firm's Role in Workers' Compensation Cases MLaw Firm specializes in handling workers compensation cases in New York. With extensive experience, they help injured workers navigate the complexities of the workers' compensation system, ensuring they receive the benefits they deserve. From filing claims to appealing denials, MLaw Firm provides comprehensive legal support.

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I only remember that dark, windy night. The accident. I was having a dreadful headache. I hit the wrong pedal, I accelerated. From there on, I can't remember anything, just me waking up in an ambulance. I couldn't hear anything, just my own breath hyperventilating. Immediately, I arrived at the hospital and the nurses took me to a private room to be checked. It was bizarre that they checked me constantly, which led me to believe I was very injured. I was trying to sleep when I heard a doctor entering the room. When I opened my eyes, I saw a tall man with a white coat. He said that I needed to be transferred to another hospital where I could be monitored by specialized equipment. They took me to a black van where I couldn't see anything through the windows. They started talking. I couldn't hear any words from the stress I was experiencing. Abruptly, I started feeling very dizzy. —Do you know where you are?— That was the first thing I heard after waking up. I was sitting in a chair looking at the wall, zoned out. I just got transferred or at least that was what they told me. Apparently, there was an accident; I can't remember anything. —Pass patient 16 to a room, he is not answering— No, no, no. What room? Get me out of here. I got to the room. I want to get out of this place, yet I don't even remember my name. I just want to get out. —Get me out of here— I repeated to myself while the people in white coats were connecting stuff to my body. I don't want this, make it stop! —Get me out of here— I yelled, but apparently, no one heard me. —Get me out of here— I cried out for help, again no one heard. I was trembling. I couldn't feel my body, which to be honest, I didn't even recognize as mine anymore. My heartbeat quickened. Tick tock I heard a clock. —Get me out of here!— Tick tock. —Get me out— Tick tock. —Get me— Abruptly, everything went dark. Silence. I wasn't dead, I couldn't be. —Patient 16– then everything was bright again. —You blacked out— said the man in a white coat. Then everything went back to normal, if normal is the word to define this whole situation. The past days, the doctor said I've made improvement both physically and mentally. I don't know how I made progress if I never felt off. However, I do experience nightmares, and I don't like the looks I am getting from the people in white coats. They seem as if they are hiding something. The doctor said fresh air would be good for me and that I needed to go for a walk. I don't like going for walks, it scares me. The voices in the halls scare me; nevertheless, I'll go later. I don't know where I could end up. I evaded the halls; I couldn't help myself. They're too scary, so I made my way through the garden. I ended up in a forest with yellowish-leaves. I lost track of time. There were stones on the ground with names of people, also there was a big hole that looked as if it was going to be filled up soon. I panicked; I don't like to panic because of the voices, the voices that come from nowhere. They talked about death. I refuse to think I'm going insane because if there is one thing I am is sane. Rain poured down, it felt like acid. As the rain showered on my shoulders, I ran. ——— My phone rang; I picked it up wondering what could've happened so late at night. —Dr. Collins here— I answered. —Yeah Collins, I've got a patient here; he's outside. He's at the yard, you know, the yard— he emphasized, it was obvious he was at the graveyard, but why? —Also this patient doesn't match any of the files I have here, Is he a…— —Patient of mine?— I interrupted, anyone could be hearing. —Yes, yes he is. I'm on my way— then I hung up. Before I left I checked on our latest operating procedures on our “volunteers”; most of them were still in progress. I went quickly to the main lobby. Once the door opened, the cold wind of late autumn night flew through my coat, down the hall Dr. Bailey spotted me. —Collins!— she called my attention. —Bailey— I responded. —Our procedure with 66 was a succes, yet there is a patient outside, patient 16– she stated. It couldn't be 16 he was… —I'll hurry, thank you— I interrupted my thoughts and arrived at the CCTV room. —Stephan?— —Hello sir, you see the patient, he's been staring at that stone for at least ten minutes— I then saw him turn around. When he saw the camera, he ran into the woods. I had to go. —Sir, there's a gate, after our last escape we reinforced it— I left without answering. ——— I felt scared, the eye on the wall, it looked at me. I ran into the woods. The voices kept screaming, sounds of pain. Someone screamed. I felt whimpering, the voices were no longer there, no more screams. There was a thunderstorm. A shower of lighting hit the ground. As the last strike hit, so did my body, and everything went cold.

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When I was a kid, my father had to work hard to make ends meet. He loved to travel, and he looked for opportunities without spending a lot of money, usually by working while traveling for the job. Sometimes we traveled for months, unlike other people who had maybe 15 days per year of vacation. Dad and I were close; he often took me with him, especially to the sea. We loved the sea and fishing. Each time I went with Dad, it was an adventure because he taught me a lot about life, and respect, especially towards animals. He taught me to observe and appreciate how animals and people share the space and how we should live together. The summer of 1974, I was six years old, and Dad took the whole family to Colmuyao, a small town on the central coast of Chile. It is a humble and beautiful town, with very affectionate people, most of whom are farmers and fishermen. The streets are stone and earth, and the houses are adobe. Surrounded by trees and a beautiful river that flows into the ocean, the area is dreamlike. The weather there is usually cold and windy; however, I found it very pleasant. The beach is huge, with coarse gray sand that feels like a foot massage. Colmuyao was our paradise and whenever we could, we went there to spend some time. However, this first adventure in Colmuyao was burned into my memory, for a very special reason. When we arrived at the beach that day, we saw birds lying on the sand. My dad said, "Look! Those are penguins!" It can't be, I thought; they live in Antarctica. We approached very carefully, and there they were, calm and close to each other. As we got closer, they noticed our presence and began to alert each other. Imagine a hundred penguins rhythmically singing a song that is a cross between a trill and a squawk. Dad asked us to sit in the sand and move forward very slowly without making a sound. We were so close that we could almost touch them. They were beautiful birds; their black and white feathers were bright and delicate, and they seemed dressed for an exceptional occasion in their “tuxedos.” I didn't hold back my desire and I tried to touch one of them, which caused a colossal stampede of well-dressed birds rushing into the sea. It was a lot of fun to watch them run with their wings spread and taking small leaps. They are very brave, I thought; the sea was raging and very cold, yet they jumped in with energy and decisiveness. I impulsively wanted to go after them, but my dad stopped my madness. I was astonished. It was like being in the middle of a dream or with my own Jacques Cousteu filming a documentary. I would never have dreamed of being so close to such beautiful and rare birds. My eyes were filled with their deep colors. Every detail was amazing, and watching them walk with difficulty and then, watching them ride the waves and fly in the water at an impressive speed, grabbed my attention completely. I felt like I could stay there forever without ceasing to marvel. Every day, we revisited the penguin colony. My family and I learned to tiptoe among them, and we often sat very close to them. We never touched or hugged them; although we really wanted to, we didn't want to scare them and make them flee again. On another day, my dad and some of my brothers fished from the shore of the beach while my youngest brother and I played with the penguins. I can't remember exactly how it happened, but we found one with a wound on one of his wings. Dad took it carefully to the house where we were staying. The poor penguin was very scared. My dad cleaned his wound and bandaged his wing. For many days, the penguin was with us; my dad fed him fish while his wound healed. I spent a lot of time staying with him and many times my dad allowed me to feed him fish or other seafood. The first time that I fed him, he approached me very carefully, and with a quick big peck he snatched the fish out of my hand. That was amazing. After more attempts, he trusted me, and received the food with more confidence. Finally, after a few weeks, the penguin recovered his health, and my dad returned him to the colony. For a few days, we saw him walking among the other penguins, completely healthy. My dad had named him “Muñeco,” which means “doll,” in Spanish. I learned a lot about the penguins; actually, they've been one of my favorite birds since then. Seeing my father walk through the colony made me feel so proud of him and the time we spent that summer with Muñeco is one of my family's most treasured memories. Each time that I feel bad or wounded, for any reason, I close my eyes and take a trip in my mind to that beautiful beach. Surrounded by penguins, with my parents and brothers walking around that marvelous scenario under the cold summer sun, I always feel better. Colmuyao is my inner paradise, a place in my mind where I can run away when I need to find peace and gain balance again in my life.

The Coronavirus outbreak that swept the planet showed me humanity's true colors. I saw the news stories of doctors and nurses living in their garages to protect their families. I watched interviews and live feeds across social media praising teachers for finding ways to continue teaching. I watched communities come together to take care of each other with free mini libraries and food pantries. I saw neighbors put up signs thanking frontline workers, while others put out drinks and snacks for their delivery drivers. And yet, despite all that bravery and love, I became bombarded with what can only be described as my breaking point. Videos of frontline workers being assaulted filled social media feeds. Heartbreaking stories emerged of people attacking hospital staff in parking lots. Customers fighting in shops for “necessities”. Infamous Karen videos became the norm. The world had become a violent terrifying place. Not only were we fighting an invisible virus; we were trying to survive against the losing battle of self-importance and entitlement. My parents instilled in me the belief that every single life matters and thus deserves nothing less than the utmost respect. The janitor mopping the floors deserves to be treated the same as the CEO, as one without the other could not succeed. I always held this belief in my heart, and it crushed me to see that this was not a universal belief. Being a retail worker myself at the time, I was afraid. Every time I left my house my body was preparing for fight or flight. In my head I would come up with ways I could defend myself physically if someone came at me; my go to was a pen in my hand at all times. I had only a mask at the time to keep me safe from a virus coming for me… It would do little against a fist. Taking the TTC; the Toronto public transit system, I had to keep a close eye on those around me. Backing away from those who refused to social distance, and biting my tongue until it bled under my mask when people would take theirs off. Sometimes I would speak up, but I always knew the risk I took doing so. Someday someone would come at me, and I wouldn't be able to physically defend myself. I reached a point where I no longer cared. I was tired of fighting an uphill battle. All I could think of was my family and of families like mine; who were doing everything in their power to make things safe; taking care of each other in such trying times. I would stare at the mask less, proudly smirking because no one could tell them what to do, as they would yell out in victory, “We won't be controlled.” and “I'm not wearing a muzzle!” My hatred for them grew every day; the more bare faces I saw the more frustration built. Why were they more important than my mother? My father? My sister? Why couldn't they get that this wasn't a political issue? No one was trying to silence them. They were free to believe whatever they wanted. Policies were made to prevent the spread. You don't want to wear a mask? Then don't. But then you can't complain online, or scream at employees when you're denied entry. You can't scream that your freedoms and rights are being violated when stores have the right to refuse service, while police remove you from private property. They wanted others to follow the rules so that they could be safe, but then turned around and refused to do the same for others. Time and time again I was baffled by their selfishness. Why is your comfort more important than someone's life? How can anyone be so cruel? Did they have hearts of stone? How could you see the footage of bodies being pulled out of long term care homes and pretend it's normal? How could you watch videos of exhausted nurses barely able to take off their PPE gear while tears rolled down their cheeks, from hours of calling codes? How could it not crush your soul to hear the cries of families mourning their children. We were losing mothers, fathers, sisters, daughters, aunts, uncles, grandparents, best friends, and yet they still didn't care, because it wasn't them. My family should have been safe, protected by you and yours, just as we did for you. But in your eyes, we weren't worth the inconvenience. Our lives didn't matter. The pandemic not only taught me I can't trust others to do the right thing, but it stole a future from me. I lost my faith in humanity, and with it, my dreams of ever becoming a mother. There is no sense to bring another life into this world just to witness this exact scenario in the next pandemic. For them to feel the fear, disgust, hopelessness and rage I felt. That so many of us felt. This isn't a world I want to make another suffer through.. So in a weird way, I have a pandemic to thank for showing me humanity's true colors. It took so much from us; years, resources, loved ones, but, it confirmed that we will always be creatures of habit. And even in the most dire of circumstances, people won't ever change.

Television was the only source of the sound echoing all over the house. The channels were being kept changing between classical Indian music, sports and news by Rumi's father Ramesh. And on the other side, Rumi was sitting beside the window sipping the chai and enjoying her new storybook. 'The breakfast is ready!' exclaimed Brinda with ecstasy. Then, Rumi and her father went to the basin to perform the perfect five steps of washing their hands properly to protect themselves and the others from the prominent virus all over the world taking lives - the covid 19. After that, their faces were equally bored by eating the same recipe of poha for three days regularly. The storage of food had decreased due to the scarcity in the corona time. Minutes proceeded with only the sound of ticking clocks and then they heard footsteps coming from the stairs. 'Good morning !' Ananda said. Ananda had come to travel all over Kolkata but he was stuck because of the lockdown all over the world. Suddenly seeing her uncle, Rumi's innocent face turned dull. Her fingers were shaking, and the spoon in her hand clunked loudly onto the floor. She took it hastily and left the room to the kitchen by running. Rumi was staring at the fan circling above her head making whirring sounds. She was listening to music and wanted to delete all the noises in all the world and her screams in her head. The sweet girl was spending her abundant time thinking about death. Her eyes were watering and seemingly nobody knew the reason. She was clasping her thighs and pushed her nails into it, there became prominent red marks when she heard a knock on her door and as a reflex, she covered herself up, covered the strikes with her ladybugs printed pants, wiped out her tears, paused the playlist and went to open the door. Brinda came with a plate of freshly cut mangoes from their garden and gave it to the hands of Rumi. Mom: 'Is there anything you want to tell me?' Rumi was awestruck for a moment. Although she tried to tell everything but converted the discussion to her studies. 'I am fine ma. I am a bit late in my studies but I will cope up. Mom: ' Yeah, I noticed that too. This is the first online test where you got a b grade in maths, you have always got a grade in all your subjects' Me: 'Ma, I said Nah! I will improve ' Mom: ' Ok, I told this to your uncle and he said he will help you with mathematics from today .' Rumi was petrified, panic-stricken. The hair stood on end, her heart was in her mouth. She was standing there without motions and shaking like a leaf. She broke into a cold sweat, and she could not open her mouth to speak a word also. In the crisis going on the whole world because of the pandemic, all people were facing different troubles in their lives. There were fewer oxygen tanks for patients suffering from the disease and for Rumi - there was less oxygen in her lungs as well, in her house, in her home. She could not breathe. In the evening, she sat stiffly by her uncle to learn maths. The scary sight was being nearer to Rumi in disguise of Ananda's hand. He was pointing one hand to algebra and with the other hand, he was brushing little Rumi's shoulder with his thumb. His hands were going up, stroking the little neck of Rumi. He snatched one strand of her hair and was twirling it. His evil fingers were being circled onto the girl's face. Then the hands were reaching for down. Ananda was scratching Rumi's soft neck with his claws, and then the hand was crawling inside her turtleneck top, towards her bra strap. Rumi's legs ceased, her voice fell silent, she could not make a sound also. All was numb from her head to the nails of her legs, the fingers were cold, and she was sitting with a closed door behind. Wearing the turtleneck top on this hot summer day and full leggings also not protected her, she thought to herself. She felt that her uncle was not stuck in her house in the lockdown, she was - she was stuck in the lockdown in her own home. She tumbled, fell and fled to the bathroom and shouted hard. Rumi was moaning, screaming and sobbing. She was slapping herself and was trying to rip down her full clothes. Brinda and Ramesh came down horrifically and was banging the door. Rumi finally found the courage, she came out unhurriedly, pointed her tiny fingers to her uncle Ananda and let out all the pain ' He harassed me, he tried to rape me, he had touched my thighs before and now he is trying to touch all parts of the mine. ' After some prominent calmness, the storm came. Rumi's father's rage was coming out, his eyes became red with trickling water. Ramesh took Rumi in his arms and caressed her hair. Brinda's eyes were flowing with water, she squeezed Rumi and took her into her core. Ramesh just uttered some words which were so straight and severe to not her uncle but her rapist; ' You will get the place you deserve. A police station or better death. Now take all and leave at this instant only. '

Introduction The corona virus has influenced everyone, and this is the story of how I took on the virus head on and won. I am an essential grocery store worker, and I have been working just about everyday since the pandemic bean. People must eat to survive and keep the economy going so I must constantly work. This is the full story of how I conquered my fear of death and the corona virus. The Miracle That Saved My Life By the Grace of God, a miracle has changed my life from certain death, to a life of victory and courage. Some truly miraculous stories have emerged from the pandemic, and this is my story. I am a cashier at the Wilkes-Barre Pennsylvania Price Chopper Supermarket and I am living through a miracle at the store. When the pandemic hit in March 2020. our sales volume and my work hours skyrocketed. As a senior citizen, I was sure the pandemic would kill me as hundreds of customers were breathing on me and in the beginning, there were no masks or protection. It is a miracle that after all this time, I have not been infected with the corona virus, and my teammates and customers are experiencing the same miracle. Only one of my teammates got the corona virus and he got it at home from his family. I do not believe any of our thousands of customers got the virus at the store. We have experienced maximum exposure and risk and yet miraculously no one has been infected with the corona virus while in the store! Price Chopper never closed up and we never had an outbreak or even a single store relate infection! Essential Workers Grocery store workers were classified as essential workers during the pandemic. The U. S. Department of Homeland Security categorized the protection and continued operation of the food and agricultural industry and related transportation activities as "Critical Infrastructure" under the COVID-19 emergence conditions. In the President's Corona Virus Guidelines for America, the White House emphasizes that food industry sector workers should continue to work and stated: "If you work in a critical infrastructure industry, as defined by the Department of Homeland Security, such as food supply, you have a special responsibility to maintain your normal work schedule." Price Chopper provided a letter so I could travel during the economic shut down. The letter stated that I work in the supermarket industry and must travel to and from work, regardless of the time of day. It is essential to the nation's food supply that I be permitted to travel to and from my job and be exempt from local restrictions, such as shelter-in-place orders, when reporting to, returning from, or performing any of my work functions. My Decision To Keep Working As a senior citizen I could have refused to work because of the obvious health risks. I decided to keep working, and I learned to overcome my fear of death during the Corona Virus Pandemic. When the pandemic hit, I came face to face with my fear of death, and I had some important decisions to make. I trust in Jesus Christ for my Salvation, so it was logical that I would keep working. In the beginning, it was very dangerous, as there were no protections and hundreds of customers were breathing on me. I was sure that I would get the virus and it would kill me. The supermarket I work for was determined to serve its customers and community. I shared my employers objectives and decided to continue working on the Front Lines. It was the right decision, as I have not been infected with the virus and none of my teammates or customers got the virus at the store! While so many institutions have suffered through outbreaks of the pandemic, we have not. As a senior citizen, I believe I should take the risks before my younger teammates, those with health issues or children, and those who are victims of discrimination. Moreover, I wanted to serve my customers, and I was willing to die for a legacy and a testimony of serving my customers, the people I love. I was really surprised that when I made this decision, I was free from my natural fear of death and willing to accept the consequences of my decision. I am taking the same risks even today. Cautious But Not Fearful I am amazed at my teammates courage in facing the pandemic, as they proceed cautiously but without fear. My teammates continued commitment to safety guidelines is the best defense against the corona virus. Conclusion A miracle is a surprising and welcome event that is not explicable and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency. There is no scientific explanation for Price Chopper's success while staying open for business during the pandemic. The store served its customers and community, and by the Grace Of God, its teammates were given the miracle of good health while working in dangerous circumstances environment. For the latest on fighting COVID 19, please watch the following video. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p1I_cCsaomU