Hospital Admission Letter PDF 2007-2025 Form

Recently I have come across a possible scam about counterfeit/fake products in India. Counterfeit/fake products are nothing new to Indian Society. These products are easily available in markets like Pallika Bazar (Delhi), Fashion street (Mumbai) etc. You can get first copy products of many branded companies included Puma, Nike, Adidas, Reebok (shoes, t-shirts etc), Micheal Kors, Guess (hand bags, Purse). There are markets where you can easily get copies of branded wrist watches and even perfumes. But people who buy products from these markets are aware of the fact that these are duplicate products.No, No… This is not the scam I am talking about. The scam starts from next level. It involves giant e-commerce websites including Snapdeal. The people who lives in India are pretty much aware of this e-commerce website and the discounts which it offers on multiple products including clothing, electronics and many other things.Recently, I was surfing on Facebook, then there was an advertisement regarding sales on Nike Shoes. It obviously got my attraction. I was amazed to see the discounts on shoes. Some discounts were close to 60% of the market value. It was a great deal. I thought of giving it a try because I did not want to miss the deal. And I am sure many people like me might have got attracted to same deals and bought the shoes from the website. I received the product within 3 days. When I opened the package, I was shocked to see that the shoes were duplicate (I am a regular user). I showed it to one of my friends, he told that “Shi to hai yaar, tujhe aise hi lag rha h” - (It is good bro, you are having false doubts). But still I wanted to get it tested from official Nike store to confirm. I visited the Nike store and they confirmed my doubt. The shoes were fake. I contacted Snapdeal regarding this problem. They told me that I can return the product and they would be refunding my money. But then I asked, what are you going to do to seller who is sending fake products using your website. He replied with standard answer - “We will look into this matter. We take extreme care before onboarding any seller. Blah Blah…..!!!” He even told me that the seller was Authorised Nike Dealer.Then, I understood the whole concept behind the huge discounts on branded materials. These websites are full of such kind of sellers. The sellers provide huge discounts on branded products (though they are cheap fake products which are easily available in market at no more than Rs. 500–700). They sell these products at Rs. 2000–3000 by showing the original price equivalent to Rs. 6000–10000 (Equivalent to original prices in showrooms). This is how these sellers are looting people by selling them fake products. It it hard to notice if the products received are fake or original for new users as they look exactly the same in every manner. Since they are coming from a trusted channel (like Snapdeal), nobody sheds a doubt and may take them as original.Now, you must be thinking why these website allow such sellers on their websites. The reason is simple, it increases the number of sales on their websites and WHO DOES NOT WANT THAT. After all, the investors are looking for these sales figures.I hope you understood the scam. Beware when you buy such items from e-commerce websites. You might be their next victim.Here are few tricks to avoid buying fake products:When you are buying from these website, look at the original price on which discount is being applied and the visit the official website of that brand. If the price is same, then it may or may not be original but if the price is different, I would suggest you to stay away from that product.Whenever you buy expensive branded products, just get it confirmed from an official store (if you can). It is completely useless to throw away your money on fake products unknowingly.Here some photographs related to this incident:Link to the product on Website: Nike Air Max 2017 Running ShoesLink to the Product on Nike Website: Look what I found at Nike online.

Hospitals attach those matching bracelets on mom and baby. However, I was still given the wrong baby!This was 2001 in a reputable hospital near Philadelphia. It was my second child so I knew the drill. A few hours after birth they took my son for tests and whatnot. I slept a little and woke to the nurse bringing him into my room. She told me he was doing well but was still spitting up a lot of mucus. Then she left. I thought, still? he hadn’t been mucusy when he left. He was wrapped completely in blankets with only his gorgeous little face visible. He started to whimper so I picked him up and thought I would try to nurse him a little. The whimper turned to a cough and then he began to choke on that mucus. I was alarmed. I turned him over, gently tapping on his back. Pressed the nurse button. A prickly feeling that something wasn’t right began to grow. As I patted the baby I quickly scanned the card on the bassinet. It said Andrew. I hadn’t named the baby yet, but Andrew had been a contender. I wondered if it was possible my husband had told them his name was Andrew without speaking to me? Decided it wasn’t likely. Andrew is still choking, I press the nurse button again. Then turn him slightly to see his ears. They were both perfect. My baby had had a strange fold in one ear. Now I know definitively that I am holding someone else’s baby, and this someone else’s baby is choking in my arms. All this takes places in seconds. As I’m about to go into the hallway on my rickety post-delivery legs to find help, the nurse rushes back in. She says she realized what she had done. She takes the baby. Resolves the choking (I don’t remember how). Apologizes. Apologizes again. I ask her if my baby is with Andrew’s mom? She says, no, no. But I can’t tell if she’s lying. She leaves and comes back a few moments later with my unnamed, ear-deformed, but otherwise perfectly healthy baby. I don’t tell anyone about the mix-up except my husband, but we don’t let baby leave my room without us after that. We decide not to name him Andrew.Baby Not-Andrew and his strange ear

My favorite hotel service experience was the one where the hotel staff actually turned a negative experience into an incredible positive.I was staying 2 nights at the Aloft Downtown Chicago on business. On the first morning, I went to iron a dress for my meetings. The minute I put the iron on the dress, I realized the protective coating on the iron was melting and it immediately put a sticky stain on a beautiful silk Theory dress.I brought the dress to the front desk and told them what happened. They apologized and told me they’d have it cleaned while I was at work that day.When I returned to the hotel, they had indeed had it cleaned but sadly the iron had left burn marks that couldn’t be removed. The staff had checked the dress on return and, realizing this, had found already found an identical replacement. To take it a step further, Theory was no longer selling the dress, but they had found one online in my size and color at a department store. It was not in the Chicago so they had it express delivered to my apartment in New York City - it was waiting for me when I got home from my trip.That dress cost more than my 2 night stay at that hotel.Perhaps the iron WAS the hotel’s fault and they WERE liable, but they went out of their way without so much as a complaint from me and it absolutely made my day. I’ve told so many people this story and recommend that Aloft every time someone tells me they are headed to Chicago. Doesn’t hurt that it is also home to my all-time favorite hotel cafe and restaurant (Beatrix).

Let me tell ya a little story.When my husband was in the hospital, he woke up one day to see a priest looming over him, giving him last rites.This was the ONLY time he was frightened, because in his mind, last rites was what you’d do right before someone died. Then he realized that I was not in the room, and that if he was actually that close to death, I would have been there with him.After he got out of the hospital, he told his mother about this, and the first words out of her mouth were, “I didn’t send him!” She tried to say that maybe the hospital arranged it, or maybe it was one of the priests from one of the churches she belong to (three, of different denominations of which only one does last rites) who stopped by to say hello. Or maybe it was some other priest that stopped by.Suspicious, that.When my husband arrived at the hospital, he filled out the intake form and said he didn’t want any religious folks visiting him, and he did not want last rites. That would have stopped the hospital-affiliated clergy from visiting him, but it’s not like they would have stopped a priest that my MIL specifically sent there, particularly if he showed up stealthily, with a scarf covering his collar.Later, two of my MILs step children made comments to me about how sick my husband must have been to have been given last rites. Hmmm … how did they hear that?It’s pretty obvious to me that she sent a priest to give him last rites, behind my back, and behind my husband’s (mostly unconscious) back.But here’s the thing. If she had come to me and said that it was important to her, I would have said yes. I know she’s deep into all three of her religions, and if last rites would have comforted one of her multiple souls, I might have asked her to wait until his condition was more dire, but I wouldn’t have said absolutely no. The ritual wouldn’t have meant anything to my husband, as I would have made sure he wasn’t conscious (and thus not frightened) and it wouldn’t have meant any more to me than if someone came in and waved feathers around to banish demons. But if she wanted that, too, I would have been fine with it, as long as it didn’t affect his health or mental well-being.I was annoyed at first that she did this behind my back, but that’s how she is. She’s happier when she’s sneaking around and manipulating and thinking that she’s getting away with something. She has only a glancing association with honesty, so she felt better lying to us than admitting what she did.She is what she is. In the end, it didn’t harm anyone.

Those women who break the stereotypes and carve their way to success in these unconventional fields capture everyone’s heart and give courage to those who are dreaming of similar careers. Here are few of them who dared to live their life by own way. If anyone has already mentioned some of them, then pardon me.1) App developing.Photo credits: Yawar KabliMehvish Mushtaq is one such girl who broke the stereotype and became a successful app designer at the young age of 23. The girl from Kashmir became the first Kashmiri woman to design an android app. Read more about her and her interesting app “Dial Kashmir”-  Young Kashmiri girl makes an app to bring Kashmir on the fingertips - The Better India 2) Boxing Mary Kom doesn’t need any introduction. Five times world boxing champion, Kom is the only woman boxer to have won a medal in each one of the six world championships. This 31 year old lady from Manipur has surely made the whole nation proud and opened gates for many other girls who want to opt for a career in boxing.3) Disco Jokey (DJ)DJ Arlene Gomez is one who chose her profession out of her passion. She started her career when she was 18 and soon became Bangalore’s first female DJ. Later on, she became one of India’s most popular female disco jockeys, having played in various countries and almost every major city of India.4) Sports MediaMayanti Langer is one such person who has redefined the role of women in sports media. A sports journalist with ESPN, Langer has a great interest in football. She  hosted the FIFA World Cup 2010 on ESPN. She also hosted the 2010 Commonwealth Games in Delhi and the 2011 Cricket World Cup. 5) SurfingIshita Malaviya from Mumbai created headlines for her exceptional surfing skills along with a tag of being India’s first surfer girl. The country’s obsession with fair skin, going against the flow and choosing an unconventional career – Malaviya has broken many such stereotypes and inspired many women.6. BartenderShatbhi Basu is one such person who took the plunge and established herself as a successful bartender across three decades. This 53-year old woman started bartending when it wasn’t even a common choice for men. She also heads STIR, a professional bartending institute.7. PoliceChhaya Sharma, DCP of Delhi is an inspiration to many.  She has handled many renowned cases like baby Falak case, arrest of Namdhari and the unfortunate 16 December Delhi gang rape case. “Each moment of pain and pleasure is cherished, close to my heart, as all my work was done passionately,” she says.8) Stand up comedianBharti Singh is one such lady who changed the image of the Indian stand up comedy scenario. In this male governed field, Bharti found her way and became one of India’s most popular comedians. She became a runner up of a standup comedy reality TV series and later on went ahead and participated in many such events and shows.9) Private DetectiveRajni Pandit went ahead and broke the stereotype of this male dominated industry by becoming Maharashtra’s first woman private investigator. She solved her first case when she was in college and with the family’s support she found her career path. She started Rajni Pandit Detective Services in 1991. She has worked with 30 detectives and solves around 20 cases every month.10) Bus Drivers. Prema Ramappa Nadapatti is one lady who is making her way in this male-dominated career option. She is the only female BMTC bus driver-cum-conductor in Bangalore. When her husband died 10 years ago, she didn’t have a choice and had a family to support. Always wanting to do something different she chose to become a bus driver. She is often called “daredevil” by her colleagues.11) Security GuardsSafe Hands is an organization that trains rural women to become security guards. Started by Shravani Pawar, the organization has trained over 400 rural women so far. Read more about them.12)  Mountaineering(a)Bachendri Pal from Uttarakhand became the first woman to climb Mount Everest and inspired many such women to follow her individualistic path. Apart from Pal, Premlata Agarwal became the first Indian woman mountaineer to scale the seven summits of the world. Following their footsteps, Poorna Malavath, a 13-year old girl made a record by becoming the youngest girl to climb Mount Everest.  (b) Arunima SinhaI would like to thank Amit Bhandari for mentioning of her.Arunima Sinha (born 1986) is the first female amputee to climb Mt. Everest. She is also the first Indian amputee to climb Mount Everest.She was a national level volleyball player who was pushed from a running train by thieves in 2011 while she was resisting them. As a result, one of her legs had to be amputated below the knee.Her aim was to climb all the continents' highest peaks and put the national flag of India. She has already done four peaks: 1. Everest in Asia, 2. Kilimanjaro in Africa, 3. Elbrus in Europe, and 4. Kosizko, Australia, as the world's four highest peaks.13) ArchaeologyShereen Ratnagar is one such person, who has focused on the Indus Valley Civilization. Having worked as a professor of Archaeology at the Jawaharlal Nehru University, Delhi, Ratnagar currently works as an independent researcher in Mumbai. 14) Wine tasters Some women take their love for food beyond their own houses and make a big contribution to this male-dominated industry. Sovna Puri is one such person, who became passionate about wine at a very young age and acquired a degree in this field. She worked with Sula, one of the popular wine brands in India.15) BikingThe Bikerni group is one such association of female bikers.  This group of amazing ladies spreads the message of women empowerment and encourages other girls to take up biking as well and break the stereotype of it being a “guy thing”. We can surely learn a lesson or two from these achievers and path breakers.Source:  http://www.thebetterindia.com/12...Images source: Some are taken from the link above, while some are from google.

Before going deep in the story let me tell you little background of the story.I spend my 3 years in Kota 12th class (2013–2014) then one more year (2014–2015) then one more year (2015–2016) . I took admission for JEE main in ALLEN institute.(2013–2014)I was never good in my academics but in hope to change myself I went to Kota “the hub of coaching” . So there I met one teacher he used to taught us mathematics let's name him XYZ he was very supportive he supported me in my studies and always helped me but that year I couldn't perform very well.(2014–2015)Now since I was having little hope that I could perform well in my second attempt I again went Kota ( I know it's funny a guy like me dreaming for NITs). To my coincidence I again got same teacher XYZ for mathematics he again supported me in my studies he was very helpful. He was even ready to give extra time (which teacher usually don't do in these kind of coaching and that too for a week student). That year also I couldn't do anything good for myself and end up getting 4 lakh rank.(2015–2016)It was frustrating for me as I was not having rank to get admission in any decent college. So I thought to take my last chance as it was my last attempt for JEE mains and I again went there (it was month of July) but this time I started performing very well in coaching I always used to score more than 150 it was good for me and some where I started dream about NITs. Other students used to clear their doubt with me it was good I finally felt good about myself.But it all went down in month of December 2015 I started getting frustrated I started feeling sick from that place I started skipping classes. One day I went to my teachers office to clear my doubts in mathematics there was only one teacher and he was XYZ I saw him and just gave him a fake smile and went straight towards him to clear doubt and it went like thisME: sir I'm having doubt in this question.XYZ: which batch ?ME: sir “D” phaseXYZ: Then ask your teacher (in a rude way ,and he left the office)That day I got really sad and i straight away went to my hostel room inside washroom, I looked at the mirror and started thinking what have I done to myself , where am I , what I'm gonna do and after a few minutes of thinking I suddenly bursted into tears I was crying like a little boy and I took my mobile called my dad told him that I can't do this JEE mains. My dad got pretty scared and ask me to come back.I tried again and again to get my studies on the track but it was all waste so finally I left that place on 27th February 2016. That year I managed to score rank about 1 lakh and now I'm in a decent government college.Well now I want to tell few points about myself I know most of the people must be thinking that i must have wasted my time in cyber cafe and in mall or behind girls. But I never did these things in Kota I only tried to study I tried my Ass off to get in NITs but i couldn't make it.It sometimes feels like i have changed a lot now I'm very introvert and my self-esteem got very low.

The first ambulance ride I took was when my father got into a minor fender bender and my brother bit his lip. We were little kids back then. They let me ride up front and I made siren noises because they wouldn't turn it on for a non-emergency. It made me feel important.The second time I rode in an ambulance, I was the passenger in a car accident and my seat belt failed. My head hit the windshield, my leg was busted up and my sternum was separated on impact by the dashboard. I was on an afternoon outing with my girlfriend to pick up my dress for the high school homecoming dance. The dress survived the wreck unscathed. Not so much me.Emergency personnel arrived on the scene and secured my whiplashed neck in a brace. It was much too large for my tiny frame, with my mouth slightly underneath the lip of the collar, and my jaw being held so tightly it made answering the questions they asked me nearly impossible.When they asked me my name, what day it was, and if I knew where I was, all I could answer was “mmmmpffth” like Kenny from Southpark.They taped my glass-inlaid forehead down to a board before strapping me to the gurney and loading me into the ambulance. I was left completely immobilized.Blood was rushing down my face and I could taste it. This, combined with the shock from my injuries and the twisting, winding mountain road, left me feeling carsick. I worried I would vomit and wouldn't be able to explain to the attendant that I was going to barf. I was going to asphixiate on my own vomit and nobody would know I was drowning in time to save me.I was left feeling panicked, frightened and worried about my mental health. For some strange reason, that scene from the movie This Is Spinal Tap (the scene where the band explains the drummer asphixiated on someone's vomit) kept replaying in my twisted mind:I started laughing. I couldn't stop. This was the most inappropriate time to get the giggles. It worried the EMT'S, who called in a head trauma, when, in fact it was just me relieving the tension. I was hurting, bleeding, young and terrified. I guess laughter is the best medicine, after all.The last time I rode in an ambulance was when I was nineteen years old. It was Christmas day. Something inside my body had burst, and I found myself doubled over, in pain, on a bed in a small hospital emergency room in the mountains, which oddly seemed ill-equipped to handle such emergencies. My leg hadn't healed properly from the previous year's automobile accident, and I was still wearing the hardware on my leg from the surgery I'd had just a month prior. The doctors suspected my leg had something to do with the chest burster trying to claw its way out of my abdominal cavity.The doctors didn't know what was wrong with me, and so ordered an ambulance to transport me the 85 miles down the mountain, to the city, where there was a larger facility better suited to treat people with aliens inside them.That was a slow, precarious, scary 85-mile ride down icy, winding mountain passes with sheer drop-offs. At some point during the journey, we were only going 10 MPH. I might have walked there faster, even with my gimpy leg. It took five hours to drive there. It started snowing halfway down the mountain and the ambulance wasn't equipped with chains.The I.V. drips were running full-open, and the bags were being changed out as soon as they emptied. I had to pee. Badly. I asked the driver to pull over, but he wouldn't. They stuck a metal bedpan underneath me and said to go. The guy sat there, right beside me, staring at me. It made me nervous.I have a shy bladder, and it was about to burst. I held out as long as I could before I couldn't hold on any longer. I'd never used a bedpan before. Remember how I mentioned the roads were twisting and icy? The ride was smooth, albeit slow, but everything was going smoothly until the very moment I had that bedpan beneath me and started to tinkle.Murphy's Law.The instant I started urinating, the ambulance hit a curve and skidded on a patch of ice, just as my pee was filling the pan. It sloshed all over my backside and wet my behind. I was left feeling disgusted, embarrassed and ashamed.The guy reassured me it was okay. He removed the filled pan and it sloshed all over his uniform when he pulled it from beneath me. The ambulance veered around another curve as he braced himself against the wall, holding on for dear life, trying to balance the pee in one hand and himself with the other. I was certain that pan was going to be dumped on my head.Luckily, he gained control of that precariously perched pee pan, holding it from beneath as if he was serving a pizza pie before it spilled on me. Nice save, man.I wondered where he emptied my pee out. Do ambulances have bathrooms? Where do the EMT's go to the restroom if they really need to go? Will they pull over then, or would they share my bedpan? Where would they dump out their pee? Strange thoughts occupied the rest of my quiet ride. I tried to concentrate on anything but the pain. It would be another twelve hours before I got my first shot of pain relieving medicine. Those are the kind of things I think of when I'm in pain. That ride felt like torture.The man gave me a towel to clean up. I wondered why he had to watch my every move. Couldn't he have read a book or something? I felt humiliated, in pain and tried to think of something funny to say to break the tension, but couldn't. That ambulance ride made me feel really sad.I felt sorry for wrecking everyone's Christmas.

As many of you know, I was homeless when I was younger. Life on the streets is hard, harder than you can possibly imagine.The first night was terrifying. I knew I was going to die. I knew I was going to get stabbed by other homeless people for my boots and sleeping bag, and God forbid they discover I had £38 in cash, they would probably slit my throat for that. I was going to get AIDS and I was going to die. It was a certainty.The first time I came across a group of homeless people that night was when I tried to find a place to sleep in an abandoned building. One happened to see me trying to climb through a broken window and told me it was a bad idea. That's where the prostitutes took their punters, and where the local heroin dealers plied their trade. I had no idea about any of this stuff, so I was glad of the advice.The person who told me to stay away from that building told me he and a few other homeless guys had a place in the park nearby and I could come along if I wanted. I knew the park and knew it was open on all sides, so I could get away if anything went sideways, so figured I had nothing to lose.Those guys asked me what happened to make me homeless. I told them exactly what my landlord did. I think they took pity on me as they could see I was scared, and let me know what to expect. I discovered how to apply for council housing, where the nearest soup van was and how often it turned up. They told me where I could find food and some of the things they found useful to survive. They were really nice people, and that surprised me. I didn't feel threatened in their presence, but wasn't ready to stay with them.Let me tell you, that first night was petrifying. Every noise was a threat. Every shadow a murderer. It was the start of the coldest winter on UK record at that time and believe me, I felt every bit of it. I was alone in the world. I was cold and I was scared. I'm not ashamed to admit I cried my eyes out that night and didn't sleep a single second. It was the longest night of my life.Early the next morning I got out of my sleeping bag and packed it away. I had a steely determination to sort everything out. I had been told what to do, I was intelligent and I could figure this out. I wasn't going to to spend another night on the riverbank.Number one on my list was to get a council flat. All I had to do was visit the housing office, declare myself homeless and sign some forms. Surely they could understand that I was young, naïve and desperately vulnerable. It should be enough to get me to the top of the list, or at least into emergency accommodation. Well first I had to find the housing office. I never needed to go there before so I had no idea where it was. Luckily there is a council advice centre in the local shopping centre. I went there, made a quick enquiry and walked to the next town to start the process of getting myself somewhere else to live.I decided on my way there I was going to speak to the police after I had finished at the housing office. I knew they couldn't do anything about the illegal eviction as it was a civil matter, but they would be able to punish my landlord and his mate for threatening me with extreme violence if I didn't leave immediately.I got to the housing office around mid afternoon. It took me a while to find it as I hadn't really been to the next town over much before. Walking in, I took a ticket from the machine on the front desk and waited my turn. I was called up to a private booth within a few hours. I didn't mind the wait as I knew I would get some keys at the end of it.The housing officer asked me loads of questions and gave me stacks of forms to fill out. It took ages. Eventually I was called back to a booth where a different officer looked over everything. He asked me why I left my previous home. I gave him all the details. All he was interested in was that I had left voluntarily. If you make yourself intentionally homeless, regardless of the circumstance, you go straight to the bottom of the list. I tried to plead with him and told him exactly what my landlord said, and how he acted. This guy was huge. Six foot four of bad tempered agressive muscle. I was a 9.5 stone weakling. I am not exaggerating when I say that one punch from this man could easily have killed me. The housing officer didn't care about that. All he kept telling me was that what I was alleging to have happened was illegal and landlords can't evict people without notice, so obviously I had done something wrong to warrant it. I hadn't. I rarely ever spoke to my landlord, and had been paying my rent in full, on time every month. I had never been so much as a day late.I asked to speak to another housing officer as I knew I wasn't getting anywhere with this one. A woman came and sat in front of me and asked me all the same questions, but seemed more willing to listen to me. She said there were other criteria for immediate assistance I might meet so reeled off a few more questions. Was I a drug addict seeking rehab? No. Was I dependent on alcohol? No. Was I disabled or mentally ill? No. Was I an ex offender? No. I didn't fit any profile which mattered. The council had discharged their duty of care by adding me to the waiting list and there was nothing else I could do.Dejected, but more determined than ever to get revenge on my landlord for what he did, I went to the police station next. I told a constable what has transpired and that I wanted to press charges. He didn't care either. The threats, whilst illegal, came down to his word against mine. He was a successful landlord who had evicted me for some reason, I was a homeless guy with a grudge. It was obvious the police were not taking my side and I was wasting my time.I went back to the riverbank.The next morning I met up with the guys from the park. I told them what had happened and they said they weren't surprised. I asked for some more advice. I don't remember what they told me, but I do remember it didn't help.I picked up a free newspaper from one of the stands in the town on my way back from the park to the riverbank. It mentioned that the winter shelter was reopening soon and gave it's address. I was there the day it opened but was already too late, all the rooms were gone. I went there every day for 2 weeks trying to get a room, and eventually got lucky. They had a zero tolerance policy towards drugs and one of the residents had been caught with syringes. He was being kicked out as I arrived. I took his room and stayed there for a week before I was evicted for some made up reason I don't remember.I went back to my friends in the park, but none of them believed I had gotten a room there as they were so difficult to get.A few weeks later, one of the big hospitals in my town closed down for a complete refurbishment. I saw it as a way to move off of the riverbank to somewhere inside. I scoped out the hospital and decided against trying to to sleep inside the main building as I could be found by the workmen and thrown off site. I looked at the external lab buildings but they were either being demolished or had big alarm boxes on the outside. Eventually, at the very far end of the site, I saw what was to become my home for the next several months. It was an abandoned brick shed. It was full to the ceiling with empty cardboard boxes, but best of all, the door could be secured from the inside. I had a roof over my head, it was dry and it was lockable. I made a tunnel through the boxes to the wall furthest from the door and made a little den. There was just enough room for me to sit up in one direction, and lie flat in another. If I was quiet, no one would know I was there.I needed to make it comfortable. I used several thick cardboard boxes to insulate me from the bare concrete base, and took a load of hospital bedding out of a skip on site one evening when the workers had gone home. Piled on top of the cardboard, it was quite comfortable. I already had a sleeping bag, so I slept on top of the sheets in that.That shed probably saved my life.I mentioned the soup kitchen van which came once or twice a week. Well sometimes it didn't come at all. I was already eating out of bins, but I needed that soup as it was the only warm food I could get. Eventually it's funding must have dried up as it stopped coming to altogether. I had also been careless in allowing myself to be seen taking food out of a bin at the back of a bakery, and the bin was locked away. That was the end of the food. I didn't eat for nearly 2 weeks.Something people don't tell you about real hunger is the pain. Being hungry hurts. Being hungry can make you hallucinate. You can die of hunger with a full meal in front of you as you are too weak to eat it. I came very close to starving to death.Someone told me the salvation army give out food, all you have to do is ask. I made my way to the nearest Sally army church and waited until the service was over before asking to see the vicar. He took me to the kitchen and filled a carrier bag with food. I was too dilerious to notice he had given me a frozen loaf of bread and a load of tins I couldn't open as I didn't have a can opener. What it did have was some fruit, a few slices of ham and some biscuits. That carrier bag of food lasted 3 weeks.I was having a conversation with one of the other homeless guys I knew and he told me that the council didn't just offer their own properties, they offered a service to private landlords too. This was later confirmed in a story in one of the free local newspapers, which also mentioned that the council didn't take all the properties offered, despite having a deficit, as they didn't consider some of the accomodation to be suitable. I suddenly had a new mission.I started waking up early, so I could make my way to the housing office and be first in line every day. I stayed there all day,every day for several weeks until I had a lucky break. A middle aged lady came in and I heard her say to the person on the front desk she had some bedsits to offer. They ended up not being suitable, but while she was waiting I struck up a conversation with her. I told her why I was there and what happened to make me homeless. I persuaded her to give me a chance and we filled out the housing benefit forms there and then. She gave me a lift to her bedsits and showed me inside.As I now had an address, on the way to the bedsits we stopped at the benefits agency so I could register for income support. It would be a few days until I received my first payment.As I had not taken off my clothes in many months, I was desperate for a bath. I had to wait a few days as there was no way I was putting my dirty clothes on again. I slept on the floor as I didn't want to get the bed dirty.Once my first payment arrived, I went shopping. I bought fresh socks and pants, a new pair of jeans and a new t-shirt. I also bought the cheapest shampoo and toothpaste they had. I went home, sat in that bath for hours and fell asleep in a warm, comfortable bed for the first time in months. The next morning I put on my fresh clothes and haven't looked back since.

Usually there is a one or maybe a two-page form. I don't think they are that difficult to fill out. They copy my insurance card and that's it. Generally they include a brief list of history questions and current symptom questions. If it is a current doctor, only the current symptom questions. As I am not the one with the medical degree, I hope they use those answers to put two and two together in case my sore throat, indigestion, headache or fever is part of a bigger picture of something more seriously wrong. The HIPAA form is long to read, but you only need to do that once (although you'll be expected to sign the release each time you see a new doctor or visit a new clinic or hospital).

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