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He felt exhilarated as he skipped down the logging road, excited to return to his shanty. As he strolled down the beaten path he heard a cry of pain from the side of the road. As he peered out into the forest he saw a dear, bleeding heavily. The dear moved its neck, seemingly motioning him to help it. He took out his jackknife and approached the dear. As he gazed into the pool of blood he tried to find its source. Then he saw it, a small hole in the dears’ abdomen. It had been shot. He dug his jackknife into the wound to extract the bullet. As he did the dear cried out in pain, he wished he had some anesthetic. Despite his best efforts the dear unfortunately passed away due to blood loss.

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We followed the logging road to the shanty. The women motioned for us to come forward. They were exhilarated and guided us into the shanty. Inside lay a man sleeping in the postoperative state, knocked out by anesthetics. The doctor smiled and packed away his jack knife. All was good.

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I stood up abruptly, exhilarated.The anaesthetic wasn’t working, and my last defense was my jackknife. I started walking on my injured leg, and at the end of the logging road I saw a shanty. The soldier motioned me closer. I couldn’t wait until this was a post-operative.

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Two men were walking down the logging road. One was carrying a jackknife. He tripped over a log and fell on top of the knife. There was blood. He motioned to his friend to help. He took him to a shanty, gave him anesthetics. He got postoperative exhilaration.

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They walked along the logging road and came to a shanty. The man motioned to his friend and they barged into the house. They approached the victim and the friend numbed him with the anaesthetic while the other stabbed him with a jackknife. The murder filled them with postoperative exhilaration.

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It was Monday when I walked down the logging road to the shanty. I where feeling exhilarated, but the doctors said that was normal in the postoperative period. I had cut myself with my jackknife, and the doctors performed the operation under anaesthetic. I tried to motion to the doctor.

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I’m exhilarated. I’ve been drugged with anaesthetic, so I’m acting like a postoperative weirdo. I have to find a shanty, so now I’m just walking here on the logging road. I hear a noise. It seems like I am being motioned. It frightens me, so I pull out my jackknife.

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Jack was stabbed by a jack-knife in his postoperative period. He lived in a small and dank shanty. He was high on anaesthetics and dreamt of driving down a logging road. He was exhilarated. He motioned a lot as he dreamt.

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He was walking down the logging road, when he saw the woman with a jackknife and the exhilaration in her eyes. He motioned to her that he would not do anything to her. He gave her some anaesthetic, and postoperative he took her to his shanty.

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This is the postoperative fase. The student took notes and were quite exhilarated. Especially one, who got to give the patient some anesthetics. The doctor motioned the students to look. The doctor brought a jackknife and cut the patient free. Now the patient went home to his shanty.

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I was so exhilarated! I was going to my granny’s shanty in the woods. My granny always invites me, when it’s May. In the start she picked me up on the train station, but now I’m old enough to walk to her by my own. I follow the logging road.

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Thera was laying in her shanty, wearing her best wool sweater. When Neel motioned to Seh Ghee that she was ready to have her anaestetic injection. While walking on the logging road Thera had been attacked by Seh Ghee. By mistake he had hit her with his jack knife because he was exhilarated. Postoperative Seh Ghee was regretful and apologized many times to both Thera and Neel.

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There was a shanty along the logging road. The shanty was in the way of the Lumberjacks.
There was exhilaration in the group of lumberjacks when the leader motioned to destroy the shanty. I didn't go that well because of the lady who lived inside.
High on postoperative anesthetic she stabbed the nearest lumberjack with her jackknife

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I was walking down the logging road, walking towards the shanty, holding the jack knife in my hand. I was exhilarated, high on anesthetics. It’s been a long time I’ve felt this way. The last time I experienced this feeling, was when I postoperatively was cleaning my hands filled with blood. I knocked, motioned the others to hide.

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The ambulance is accelerating. The postoperative patient is dying. The driver gives a motion to the nurse that they are going to arrive in 2 minutes. The nurse comes with an antistatic bag to cover the machine and gets ready for the arrival. The patient lives in a shanty town. He was thrusted by a Jack-knife on the logging-road to the free market.

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An exhilarated girl ran across the logging road into the forest. She fell and the jackknife in her front left pocket made a deep cut into a stomach. She were later found and carried back to the closest shanty-town. The doctors drugged her with anesthetics, to put her to sleep. In the midst of the operation, the assistance checked her pulse, and gave the motion to the surgeon that she was dead. The postoperative cleanup were a mess.

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Jane was on her way home down the logging road. She was exhilarated that the postoperative anaesthetics she had received were finally wearing off. The dark and muddy shanty she called home was no place for a child, but it would have to do. She looked inside, and her husband was motioning her to come closer. "Did you bring dinner?" , he asked as he pulled a jackknife from his coat and approached them.

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I was still postoperatively exhilarated after the fight. He was lying dead beside me with the Jackknife in his throat. It was the same knife he had used to stab my leg with, and I was bleeding heavily. I needed some anaesthetic to numb the pain. I followed the nearby logging road to a little shanty. I motioned towards the hut but didn't get a response. Inside there were only the remains of whoever the guy who attacked me got to first.

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Tiny dewdrops were forming on the grass strands on the sides of the logging road. She had walked through the woods for hours trying to find her way back to the shantytown. She had run away terrified the night before when earthquake hit. Her mother filled with anesthetics, had motioned her to leave when the cicadas went silent. With tears in her eyes and a jackknife in her hand, she ran into the forest.

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Jacky sped down the road. She could feel Eagle under her, his energy, the rythm at which both horse and rider where thundering down the muddy loggingroad. Jackie could feel Eagle's exhilaration, his need for speed, plowing through the soft earth of the road. Then in his eagerness to gallop, the otherwise cautious Eagle tripped. The damned root catching his hoof and fetlock. Jackie felt the fall, and lost conciousness.

Back at the shanty, the doctor was called at out to the camp at such a late hour, he was forced to leave without packing his things properly. In his haste to leave, he had forgotten the anaesthetic and some vital tools. "I'm sorry, I am lost without my tools… I.."  the old woman motioned for him to come into the corner of the cabin, where she was sitting on a stool. "This is the difference between my grandaughters life or death. Do it. I know she has a future." The young doctor looked down at his hands, then up into the weathered face, and nodded. The postoperative was brief. The doctor had done his job with a borrowed jackknife, boiled linnen, and a wooden spoon for the girl to bite on, but her life was saved.