#and i’m gonna schedule a consultation for top surgery >:3

[iwannawritelots]

Personal stuff about top surgery consultation under the cut lol

Finally eating today omg! The dentist is always a nightmare for me (and apparentlyyyy i need to have my wisdom teeth removed) but the top surgery consultation was pretty good! I didn’t like having my chest touched dbskdhdkd but I was able to focus on what the surgeon was saying instead of the dysphoria :3 though it’ll be frickin months from now because of staffing issues and how many patients they have. I’m just super excited shskdbdk, i should be able to schedule the actual surgery when my insurance stuff is settled and I’m super happy it’s gonna happen! I was very afraid the surgeon would turn me away for some reason lmfao

[purple-dahlias]

“What’s the point?” for recovering!au?

thank you for the request! sorry this has taken such a long time to get out,  but it’s here now! 

trigger warning for eating disorders, relapse and hospitals  

“You heading for the OR?” Connor asks, falling into step beside Ava as they exit the lifts together.

“Yep,” confirms Ava. “Got another CABG scheduled. Been almost practically back to back all afternoon. How about you?”

“Surprisingly, I’m free now. Patient cancellation.”

“Lucky you,” Ava grins as her phone pings in her pocket.

Taking it out, her eyes scan the notification, smile dying on her lips.

“Ava?” Connor asks, concern filling his voice as he eyes the expression on Ava’s face.

“It’s Sarah,” she manages, the words heavy in her mouth. “She collapsed in the ED.”

“Again?” Connor remembers the last time this happened, a little over four months ago.

Ava nods, knowing exactly what Connor is thinking. “I have to go,” she says finally. “Could you—“

Connor doesn’t let her finish her sentence.

“Go,” he says, placing a hand over her shoulder. “I’ll take your surgery.”

“Thank you,” Ava whispers, gratitude in her eyes as Connor waves her thanks away, nudging her gently back in the direction of the lifts.

“Let me know how she’s doing, yeah?” She hears him call as she steps into the lift, anxiety filling every inch of her.

The last three or so weeks had been insanely busy, for both Ava and Sarah, what with the way their shifts had worked out. It had meant in the end the two had always ended up missing each other, with one leaving as the other arrived, or one returning when the other was preparing to go. And with that, there had been little communication, other than perhaps a passing hello in the corridor, a kiss goodbye, or a hug before having to get out of bed at some ungodly hour. So having this knowledge, and with what she had just learnt, Ava knew this was a red flag. She knows almost exactly why Sarah had collapsed, and it’s hard for her not to blame herself.

Maybe, she thinks, if she had made more of an effort to ask, had paid more attention, had passed over some of her surgeries or post-ops to Connor, anything so that she could have been there more, she might have seen the signs.

She hopes, oh how she hopes she is wrong, and that this is completely unrelated, and that she is blowing this out of proportion, that there is some other, alternative reason.

But she just can’t shake the sick feeling that pools in her stomach as she exits the lifts beyond the Emergency Department.

She’s wracking her brain, trying to think of any rhyme or reason why this could have happened, if indeed it is what she thinks it is: the thought she just can’t seem to rid her mind of, the one that she keeps coming back to.

“Where is she, Maggie?” Ava asks, on seeing the charge nurse.

“Treatment four,” she hears, and doesn’t stick around for any more, heading straight there, heart beating at what she knows is well beyond the normal rate.

Ava pulls back the curtain to find April adjusting an IV line, while Natalie scrolls through what must be Sarah’s test results on her iPad, concern written across her face.

But her eyes fall on Sarah, lying there, looking so small and frail in her hospital gown.

“What happened?” Ava demands, and April leads her outside, just beyond the curtain, with Natalie following.

“Natalie called her down for a consult. Things were okay until she collapsed right there in front of the patient. Scared us all half to death,” April informs her softly.

“You might want to see these,” Natalie says, and Ava doesn’t miss the sadness in her tone as Natalie hands her the tablet.

It’s just what she had thought they would show, and Ava shakes her head, blinking back tears as she sees how much damage had been done, how much progress had been reversed in just 3 short weeks.

“According to her charts it looks like she’s missed her last two appointments with Dr Richardson. Did you know things were bad with her?” Natalie asks, a hand to Ava’s shoulder, and Ava feels like the worst person in the world.

“No,” she hears herself say, though it doesn’t sound at all like her voice.

This is all your fault. If you had paid more attention, this wouldn’t have happened.

“Ava,” she hears Natalie, noting how the doctor had switched to the voice she often heard her use with paediatric patients. “None of this is your fault.”

It’s as though she can read her mind.

“But it is. Sarah is supposed to be my responsibility,” Ava hates the way her voice sounds, broken, as she runs a hand through her hair.

“Some things you can’t control,” April says beside her. Ava knows she means well, but it’s all just wrong and backwards. Because for Sarah, this was all about control. Ironic, really.

“For now,” Natalie begins, that coaxing voice back, “you should just be with her.”

Ava just nods, letting the curtain fall behind her as April and Natalie take their leave.

She takes a shuddering breath and drags the stool to Sarah’s bedside, where she sits, taking hold of the thin, limp hand of her girlfriend.

“Ava?” Comes a voice, weak beside her, and Ava swears that if she wasn’t a cardiothoracic surgeon, she would have thought her heart had stopped.

“I’m right here, Sarah,” Ava tells her, squeezing her hand gently.

“Where am I?” Sarah asks, a little groggily.

“In the ED. April said you fainted.”

“Oh,” returns Sarah, her voice small, panic filling her face as she notices the IV line in her hand.

“Hey, hey, relax,” Ava croons, taking hold of both Sarah’s hands when she sees how distressed she is. “It’s just some fluids to help give you your strength back. You need them, okay bokkie,” Ava continues, using the pet name.

“No, I don’t! What’s the point?” Sarah cries out, every word punctuated with an agony that pierces Ava’s very soul.

“Nothing I do will work and I’m just so tired. I’m a psychiatrist. I know this is bad! I shouldn’t be having this problem. Ava you know I try, but…” Sarah trails off, and Ava can’t help but notice the way Sarah runs a finger over her clavicle, a subconscious habit she had.

“Sarah, I can’t even begin to imagine how hard this must be for you,” Ava begins after a pause. “But—“

“Then don’t,” Sarah grits out, harshly, cutting Ava off. “Please, Ava, just go,” Sarah practically begs, bunching up the thin bed sheets and turning to face away from her.

Ava sits there, a few moments longer, until it becomes clear that this won’t be going anywhere, that Sarah isn’t ready to talk.

Twisting her hands, she lets out a sigh she hopes is mostly silent.

“Okay,” she says, willing the heaviness in her voice not to be too pronounced. Ava stands and moves to adjust Sarah’s pillow just how she likes it, the only way she can think of right now to give Sarah a little more comfort. “But Sarah,” Ava gently tells her, “I’m here for you, okay. No matter what. Please know that.”

There’s no response. Not even a shift in the bedsheets. And if the machine monitoring Sarah’s vitals wasn’t still beeping quietly in the background, well, Ava doesn’t want to give much rise to that particular thought.

With a final kiss to the top of Sarah’s head, a last attempt to let her know she is here, Ava turns to leave, drawing the curtains back around Sarah.

“Well?” Natalie asks her from her position at the nursing station, breaking away from a conversation with Maggie.

Ava just shakes her head. She doesn’t know quite what to say. What does one say? Besides, Ava really doesn’t wan to have to talk right now. With anyone. All she can think about is how much she had let Sarah down. How she should have been paying attention. And now she couldn’t even get Sarah to talk, much less get to the bottom of what triggered this.

-

It’s windy up on the balcony, and the evening is drawing in as Ava stares out onto the city of Chicago, a hundred thousand lights twinkling below. There’s still no more word from Sarah herself. Only that Ava can gather loud and clear she wants to be left alone. Which is especially hard to know.

“Hey,” a voice says beside her, making Ava jump. The fact she didn’t even hear him coming is a telltale sign something is wrong. Ava normally never misses anything.

“Your CABG went off without a hitch,” he begins lightly, trying to gauge Ava’s mood.

“Wish I could say the same about other things,” Ava deadpans, staring off into the distance, her focus on nothing in particular.

“How’s Sarah?” Connor frowns, leaning against the railing.

“Nat messaged to say she’s being transferred up to a bed to stay overnight for observation. She still doesn’t want to see me.” It comes out a little cold, detached. And honestly, Ava’s just feeling more than a little numb right now, so that assessment it’s about right.

“She’ll come ‘round,” Connor assures, putting an arm around Ava, who leans into him.

“Ooh my ears are burning,” comes a familiar voice from behind.

“Oh, hey Nat,” Ava manages a weak, sort of washed-out smile.

“How are you holding up?”

How was she? How did one answer that? How was someone dealing with all of this supposed to be?

Connor’s phone buzzes, breaking the silence.

“It’s Latham,” he says, checking.

“You’d better go,” Ava tells him, grateful for the diversion.

“It’s gonna be okay, Aves. You’re gonna get through this. You both are.”

“Thanks,” Ava sniffs as Connor pulls her into a tight hug, wanting desperately to believe his every word.

And then he’s gone.

“How’s Sarah,” Ava asks, eyes trained on the spot Connor had just vacated. She’s almost afraid to hear the answer.

“Pretty much the same. I’ve paged Dr Charles though. I hope you don’t mind?”

Ava shakes her head sadly. “Maybe he’ll have better luck than me.”

“Oh, Ava,” Natalie hums, holding her close, up there on the balcony. She doesn’t even care that Nat is probably using some of the tactics she uses on kids down in the ED. Because all Ava wants to do is believe things will be okay.

“How about I drive you back to yours so we can grab some things for Sarah?” Natalie suggests, filling the silence, smoothing Ava’s hair.

Ava agrees with a small nod. That seems like a logical suggestion. And in any case, she’s not sure she should be driving herself anywhere right now.

“Great,” Natalie says softly, her arms still safely around Ava. “And Ava, I promise you: everything will work out. It may not seem like it right now, but it will.”

There’s a fierceness in her voice, and Ava just clings to her. She wants to believe her. Wants it to be true with her whole heart. Because it has to be.

#recovering!au #my aus #sarah reese #ava bekker #they're both going through it #connor rhodes #natalie manning #april sexton #chicago med #reesker #asks #buiscitsandbooks #mutuals #eating disorder tw #hospitals tw #tw ed #my writing

[andrevasims]

cw: talking about transitioning (kinda? non-binary transitioning lol)

I finally got the courage to ask my primary care doctor if I could pursue top surgery!! At first I was scared they’d make me go through a bunch of other steps or “prove” I had dysphoria or idk something other than just letting me do it - But they said I could talk to a consultant about it, then I got scheduled a bunch of different appointments for a health checkup and other consultation things idk exactly but it’s all within the span of September so I was like woahhh lol

Anyway since the appointments all happen during my normal work hours, I had to tell my supervisor about them. I basically never go to the doctor or have any issues, so they got freaked out since I was just randomly like “Oh hey I have 4 doctor’s appointments in the span of 3 weeks” lol so they were like “Are you okay?? You’re not gonna die of cancer or anything??” and I was like no it’s just... Checkups. Normal checkups. lol

But if/when I actually do get top surgery, I’ll need time off work to recover then not do heavy lifting which my job does pretty often, so I’d also need work modifications. Which means I have to figure out how to explain top surgery to this person who doesn’t seem to know much at all outside of cishet norms, not that I think they’d be hateful about it but if they don’t understand it I don’t feel like explaining it lol. Unless I’m fine with them thinking I have a secret disease I’m hiding or something, which doesn’t feel right either because I don’t? blahh idk lol

#not sims #nonsims

[rkived]

drabble #3: pediatricsurgeon!jk knows generalsurgeon!reader has a friendship leaderboard and he’s rightfully earned his place in it, but neurosurgeon!taehyung seems to have taken his spot. 

or, in which the hypothetical becomes true. (hospitalplaylist!au)

↩ previous | 📍drabbles masterlist | next ↪️

Jungkook has always had the theory that you have a friendship leaderboard. 

Not like you’ve ever admitted to it out loud, not even hinted to it at any given point on the ten plus years you’ve known your group of friends. 

He has no proof of it either, but he trusts his gut and his gut tells him that he’s never been number one on said leaderboard. 

Damn Namjoon, he’s like one of those record breaking artists that never seems to leave the top of the charts. 

Right now, Jungkook’s in a solid third place and only because Yoongi just came back from the vacations the hospital had forced him to take. 

‘‘So, how was the beach?’’ 

Yoongi looks at Jungkook with an unreadable expression, he’s asking himself in what tone he should respond to his younger friend. 

Sarcastic? Passive? Neutral?

‘‘I was in the Bahamas,’’ Yoongi informs him ‘‘refer to it as the Bahamas and not as if I travelled two hours to the nearest beach.’’ 

Patronizing it is. 

The pediatrician smiles anyway ‘‘It’s good to have you back!’’ and the cardiothoracic surgeon huffs, shaking his head slightly. 

Jungkook still hasn’t figured out how is it that you measure the positions in the leaderboard, but he knows that gifts are the way to your heart. He can tell because you had a big smile on your face when you looked at the key chain Yoongi brought you from the caribbean. 

Jungkook could’ve gotten you one from the gas station and told you he brought it from somewhere exotic and you would’ve bought it. 

Alas, Jungkook is slow and that’s why he’s in third place. 

Taehyung is busy on his phone to notice his friend deep in thought, Yoonah is sending him pictures of the photoshoot she had just done and his attention is reserved for his girlfriend. 

His neurosurgeon friend has always been in fifth place, doesn’t even care that he’s at the bottom of the board. Jungkook can’t blame you either, Taehyung is an okay friend at best. 

The pediatrician clears his throat, trying to get his friend’s attention, but to no avail. He does it louder this time and Taehyung only shifts to the side, thinking Jungkook wanted more space in the elevator. 

Jungkook peeks into his friend’s screen, only to notice the way Taehyung quickly types an ‘you’re slaying baby!!!’ and chuckles at the way the older friend tries to sound hip and cool for Yoonah.

Taehyung glares at him with a side eye and shoves his phone into his pocket ‘‘What do you want?’’ he asks.

Jungkook smiles, satisfied with getting attention again ‘‘Are we still going out for BBQ tonight?’’ 

‘‘No,’’ Taehyung replies, eyes coming to stare at the elevator’s floor indicator slowly coming closer to the floor he was headed towards ‘‘Y/N cancelled, she has plans.’’

Jungkook’s brows furrow at the news. He was not aware. 

‘‘Y/N cancelled?’’ he asks and Taehyung nods ‘‘When? She didn’t say anything on the group chat.’’ 

The group chat was the only way of communication the group of friends had nowadays. Even though you all worked on the same hospital, had similar shifts, it was hard to get everyone on the same room at the same time. 

Jungkook wonders if he had missed your message on the group chat where you explain why you’re cancelling on going out that night, because he had planned the outing earlier on the week and everyone─even Yoongi who was still at the Bahamas by then─had agreed on the outing. 

But Jungkook never misses your texts, especially the ones you send at the groupchat because you seem to always answer over there instead of the private conversations. 

He is still waiting for you to answer his text where he wrote an analysis over why Sharpay isn’t the villain in High School Musical. 

And after a quick once-over at the group chat, he’s asking Taehyung once again when did you say you’d cancel for tonight. 

‘‘She told me,’’ he replies nonchalantly and Jungkook’s eyes are peeled open ‘‘she’s going on a date tonight.’’

First of all, how could a fifth placer get these sort of news over a third placer?

And second, what the fuck? You’re going on a date? With who? And when did this happen? And where are you going? Is this date more important than going out for BBQ with your friends? Why didn’t you tell him? Why─?

‘‘I can tell your brain’s malfunctioning right now,’’ Taehyung teases ‘‘sadly I am all booked up for the month.’’ 

The elevator dings and the doors open, making the neurosurgeon step out and head to his consultation office. 

Jungkook’s already forgotten where he’s supposed to be right now. 

---

You don’t expect to see him when you step out of your office, you thought he would’ve left the hospital by now. 

‘‘Oh!’’ you exclaim with surprise ‘‘What are you─’’

‘‘Did I fall a position on the leaderboard? Be honest.’’ Jungkook interjects and you’re rolling your eyes, the damn leaderboard talk again. 

You sigh, shaking your head slightly ‘‘Jungkook, for the upteenth time, I have no leaderboard,’’ you say slowly ‘‘I don’t measure my friendships.’’ 

He’s always been like this. The leaderboard he had made up trailed all the way back to Med School, you thought that by this point he would’ve forgotten about it. 

But it’s Jungkook and he rarely lets things go. 

‘‘You do!’’ he argues ‘‘Taehyung is in fifth place, because, let’s be honest─he’s not that great.’’ The pediatrician continues ‘‘Then Jin is in fourth place because ever since he started doing celebrity surgeries he thinks he’s better than us or something.’’

‘‘Oh, please! Jin is the most humble─’’

Jungkook interrupts you ‘‘Third place has been iffy, but I’m pretty sure I’m there right now because Yoongi brought you a tacky keychain from the Bahamas and that’s why he’s in second place now.’’ 

You frown, because you don’t think the keychain’s tacky at all. Sure, it’s a basic tourist gift and you don’t expect anything less from Yoongi. 

‘‘And Namjoon’s always been in the top spot, but it’s alright because he’d be my first place too.’’

You sigh, eyes closed as you massage the side of your head ‘‘Are you done?’’ you ask and he hums, wondering if he missed anything else, but after covering all the bases, he nods. ‘‘Jungkook, there’s seriously no leaderboard, now why don’t you go home and rest? You need it.’’

You start to move and make your way down the hallway, there’s someone waiting for you on the basement parking and this discourse is only making you late.

‘‘Then why does Taehyung know about your date and not me?’’

Your legs come to a halt, turning around to face him again.

‘‘What? How do you─? How does─?’’ Your questions come out unfinished and Jungkook knows he’s caught you red handed. 

Normally he’d boast about being right and rub it in your face, but this time, he doesn’t feel good about it. If anything, he wishes he was wrong. 

Jungkook puts those thoughts aside, not wanting you to notice the slight hurt that’s on his face ‘‘You always tell me stuff, because I’m a second-third placer,’’ he explains ‘‘so just tell me, did Taehyung take my spot?’’.

You want to roll your eyes at your friend and tell him he’s being a big baby, but it does tug at your heartstrings seeing the look on his face. He’s disappointed that you didn’t share this news with him and you more than anyone know how much he hates being left out. 

He really is disappointed, but for other reasons. 

‘‘Okay, there are no places, alright?’’ you get closer to him and Jungkook nods ‘‘And I’m sorry, I was gonna tell you after to let you know how it went.’’ you assure and he’s forced to believe you ‘‘Now let’s go, it’s late and you need to sleep because you have a surgery scheduled early tomorrow.’’ the reminder comes with a smile and the corners of his mouth turn up at the action.

As you both make your way down, Jungkook clears his throat ‘‘So, uhm─are you driving over there?’’ he asks, trying to get you to spill more information about your date.

You shake your head ‘‘I didn’t bring my car today.’’ 

‘‘Oh, do you need a ride? I can take you.’’ he offers quickly and you giggle.

‘‘It’s fine, he’ll take me there.’’

Jungkook nods, eyes stuck on the ground and he doesn’t realize you’re both on the basement already. It doesn’t hit him until later the way you worded your answer.

‘‘He’s not picking you up?’’ he asks and you shake your head again ‘‘Wait─who’re you going on a date with?’’

It’s the first question Jungkook should’ve asked, but hadn’t because he didn’t want to seem nosy. 

You’re not able to answer because a car stops in front of you two and the passenger’s seat window lowers down, revealing OBGYN Park Jimin with a big smile on his face, directing it straight towards you. 

‘‘You ready?’’ he asks you, making you nod with a smile as well. 

Jungkook doesn’t hear the way you say goodbye to him and how you tell him to get a good night’s sleep in preparation for tomorrow morning. The only thing he hears is the way you giggle by a comment Jimin makes once you hop inside his car, taking up the free space next to him. 

The car leaves, leaving Jungkook standing alone in the basement parking as he looks at where the vehicle left. 

It’s not Taehyung or Yoongi snatching his spot from the leaderboard, but Park Jimin instead. 

a/n: me: don’t do the love triangle thing again!! also me: but what if i did the love triangle thing again?? o n thank u for the sweet comments on these drabbles they r rlly fun to write <3 

#jungkook au #jungkook scenario #jungkook angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook au #jeon jungkook scenario #jeon jungkook drabble #jeon jungkook smut #i listened to aventura's 'la boda' as i wrote this lmao thank u romeo santos #releasing this now bc u just wanna put it out tbh like who cares abt schedules amirite

[dog-teeth]

oh my god!!! im planning to get top surgery in just a few years and ive always maintained that i need to know exactly who the surgeon is first and have talked to someone who went to them and see for myself a result and i consulted one of my mutuals whose chest looked PERFECT like exactly how i envisioned and they had it done in oregon so i was planning to go to oregon but i live in colorado & now i can just ask you depending on your experience hell yeah are we allowed to ask who is gonna do it

thats awesome i love how prepared for the process you are! yes, i’m getting it from dr micheal bateman in denver! (heres his before & after top surgery pics) i really like his energy and the environment of the office, him & his staff have been really great for scheduling and consultations, he seems to have a really good approach and understanding of the aesthetic considerations for this surgery. the only negative thing i have to say is that i had to get scheduled 3 months out for surgery which is longer than i’d prefer, but that’s a longer than normal scheduling time because they had to push a bunch of surgeries out due to the pandemic, which is totally understandable, just a bummer for me personally lol. if you would like to dm me for more info please feel free to, and after my surgery id be more than happy to answer any questions you have. id also be curious to know who your friend went to / what their results look like :o ive looked at. so many. pictures. so many

#ez answers #top surgery #Anonymous

[lestatdefender]

i was tagged by @celesticadream <3

Are you staying home from work/school?

yup! online school sucks tho. most of my classes are advanced placement and for some reason those teachers decided that now is the perfect time to stack on assignments :/

If you’re staying home, who is with you?

five other family members lmao

Who would be your ideal quarantine mate?

Either a bunch of my friends of my bf @nintendofriendo

Are you a homebody?

Normally i am but now i’m going insane not being able to see anybody ngl.

An event you were looking forward to that got cancelled?

i had my top surgery consultation scheduled for next month that’s cancelled now :(. also missing out on doing fun stuff with my senior friends that i’m not gonna see next year so that sucks.

What movies have you watched recently?

I actually haven’t watched movies recently unless documentaries count. Then I’m watching The Confession Killer and The Vietnam War on Netflix

What shows are you watching?

I’m re-watching Mindhunter, The Office, catching up on Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, and watching a shit ton of Law & Order svu

What music are you listening to?

Listening to more Last Podcast on the Left than music tbh. but a mix of My Chemical Romance, Machine Gun Kelly, and some musicals (idk man)

What are you reading?

Helter Skelter and Les Mis

What are you doing for self-care?

Keeping up with my skincare routine and working out if that counts

I’m tagging @nintendofriendo @solstice-snakes @feelinfunny @accio-sawyer @notcoybutcryptic and anyone else who wants to :)

#tagged #shut up james #i'm bored so this is what i be doing

[artificialqueens]

nobody knows where we might end up, chapter five (branjie) - holtzmanns

(read on ao3) | (tumblr)

“Hey Brooke?”

“Yeah?” Her answer is muffled slightly by her yawn as she puts her phone away, after showing Vanessa pictures of Henry and Apollo that her mom had sent earlier in the day.

“I…” Vanessa bites her lip and scoots closer to until she’s right in front of her, and Brooke can see every freckle on her nose and how long her eyelashes are.

AN: chapter five! some exciting things happen both then and now. thank you writ for betaing <3

(then)

“If I have to read the word ‘t-cell’ one more time, I’m gonna lose my damn mind.”

Brooke giggles at Vanessa’s declaration, the girl having dropped her head onto her arms on top of her textbook. She looks so cute buried in her oversized jacket, the sleeves rolled up to allow for her hands to stick out.

“You okay there?”

“No.” The groan is muffled by the way Vanessa’s face is hidden. “Immunology sucks. Who needs it anyway?”

“We all need an immune system to keep us from getting sick.” Brooke pokes her arm, and Vanessa’s head pops up almost comically.

“Fuck that. I don’t wanna study anymore. We’re gonna be fine for this midterm, anyway.”

Brooke bites her lip. Sure, they know the information inside and out, having gone over all of the units that will be on the midterm multiple times, but what if there’s more to learn? More stuff that they can commit to memory?

Vanessa interrupts her train of thought by closing her textbook, ignoring her ensuing protest. “C’mon. We can study tomorrow. It’s already almost midnight.”

Brooke checks her watch. “Shoot, you’re right.” She turns her head, peeking her head past one of the bookshelves. The top floor of the library remains as empty as ever, save for the two of them. It’s a space that has quickly become hers and Vanessa’s, one that they’ve staked their claim over with piles of textbooks and snacks nearly every evening. Their study sessions have become more and more frequent, the two of them getting together in what is now their spot to review, even for the classes that they don’t have together.

It makes her happier than it should, this time with Vanessa. Seeing the way that she pouts sometimes when she studies and the little whoops that she lets out when she finally understands a concept. The way her hair always falls in her face, waves dropping onto her textbooks. Brooke constantly has to resist the urge to braid it back for her.

She needs to get a grip and stop practically mooning over this girl, who she doesn’t even know if she feels the same way. But it’s too damn hard.

Brooke keeps turning over their little dinner from last week in her head. She had really, really wanted to kiss her, to go and ruin their friendship and change everything. She had been close, real close to doing so. Because Vanessa had been on the couch so close to her and smiling so bright and Brooke could have sworn that in that moment, Vanessa had felt it too. Before her roommate came in and Brooke had left shortly after, wanting to kick herself for missing the opportunity.

They haven’t had a non-study session since then - too busy, what with midterms for other classes. But Brooke wants to take the chance and ask her. Maybe to grab some food after their midterm together. It’s worth a shot.

“Does b-cell stand for ‘Brooke-cell?”

“Huh?” Brooke looks at Vanessa with a confused expression, who has apparently reopened her textbook.

“Well, there’s t-cells and b-cells. Maybe b-cells are named after you.” Vanessa points to the picture of b-cells in the book.

Brooke reaches out to ruffle Vanessa’s hair, making her yelp. “They should change the name to v-cells. For Vanessa.”

“I wouldn’t just be a cell, baby. I’d be a multicelled organism.” Vanessa tosses her hair over her shoulder.  

“Technically, you already are a multicelled organism.”

Vanessa sticks her tongue out at her. “Shush. Don’t ruin my moment.”

Brooke snorts. “Y’know what, I think you’re right. We’ve both hit our studying limit and are going a little loopy.”

Vanessa scoots her chair around the table, closer to Brooke. She leans back, looking up at the ceiling. Many of the lights have dimmed, with only the area that they’re sitting under actually lit up. “Do you think people ever stay overnight here?”

“Sure they do.” Brooke nods. “It’s open 24 hours. There’s that guy on the second floor who’s always in pyjamas, I bet he does.”

“I bet you could rock his style.” Vanessa grins at her. “Pyjama couture.”

Brooke doesn’t miss a beat. “Wouldn’t you like to see it?”

It’s Vanessa’s turn to turn pink, cheeks flushing and mouth dropping open as Brooke snickers. “You wish.”

Their books are long forgotten by the time Brooke’s watch starts to tick closer and closer to one a.m. She hasn’t made any move to leave and neither has Vanessa, which must be a good sign - of what exactly, Brooke doesn’t know.

All she knows is that the sight of Vanessa curled up in her chair is absolutely adorable.

“Hey Brooke?”

“Yeah?” Her answer is muffled slightly by her yawn as she puts her phone away, after showing Vanessa pictures of Henry and Apollo that her mom had sent earlier in the day.

“I…” Vanessa bites her lip and scoots closer to until she’s right in front of her, and Brooke can see every freckle on her nose and how long her eyelashes are.

Vanessa’s searching her face for something and Brooke can’t tell what she’s looking for, but she wants to give it to her. Make the worry lines on her face go away.

“What is it, V?” Her heart is beating faster because she’s never seen Vanessa look like this before - all tentative and nervous and wide eyed. Maybe when she made dinner with her but that time was so short, felt like a dream.

Brooke’s not sure if she’s dreaming now too but if she is, she doesn’t want to wake up from it. Not in the least.

Brooke brings her hand up to Vanessa’s face because it feels like the right thing to do, to trace her thumb on her cheek and it’s just as soft as she thought it would be. Vanessa leans into her touch and covers her hand with her own and Brooke’s never lived through an earthquake, but her heart feels like it’s beating hard enough to cause one in her soul.

Vanessa looks up at her from under her long lashes, her eyes flitting down to Brooke’s lips before coming back up to meet her eyes.

“I want to try something.”

Brooke moves herself closer, imperceptibly closer. Not enough to close the gap, but enough so that Vanessa notices.

“Then try it.”

But then Vanessa closes the gap first, her face is right there and her lips are so soft that Brooke can’t help but gasp into the kiss. Vanessa takes full advantage of it, deepening the kiss and bringing her arms up around Brooke’s neck.

Brooke tugs Vanessa closer, pulls her on top of her in her lap because any distance between them is too far, and the thought of being far by any means from Vanessa again is too much to fathom, now that she has her right here. Her mind isn’t sure if it’s really happening, because she’s thought about it so much and wanted it so bad, wanted to be able to run her fingers through Vanessa’s hair. Now that she’s doing it, now that she can feel the way it makes Vanessa lean into her touch, is it even real?

Then Vanessa pulls back and looks at her, eyes bright and tentative and face flushed and Brooke’s never seen anyone more beautiful in the world. She looks down at their hands, intertwines their fingers, marvels at how well they fit together. Thinks about how she never wants to let go.

She tugs Vanessa back down, to kiss her again because she has to know that this is real, everything is real, not a sleep deprivation induced fever dream. From the way that Vanessa smiles into the kiss, squeezes her hand, Brooke starts to think that maybe, perhaps, they are  here. Actually here.

(now)

Brooke is methodical.

Her daily schedule sits on her desk with all of her surgeries, meetings, and consults colour coded and organized. It makes her feel on top of things, more in control. More prepared for the day ahead of her.

She starts her days early too, getting everything that she needs for her procedures ready in advance rather than leaving a nurse or aide to do it. Being in control of every last aspect ensures that the day unfolds just the way she likes it.

Is she rigid? Maybe. Does it work for her? Absolutely.

Brooke heads to the supply closet on the general surgery floor, suppressing a yawn before taking a sip of her coffee. It’s too damn early to not to be able to find any of the polyester sutures that she’ll need later in the day. Sure, she could use prolene ones, but they never feel quite right. Polyester is an easier material to work with.

Besides, no one else on the neuro team uses polyester sutures for their surgeries, so she has no problem finding them for the most part. Except that this morning, the neuro supply closet seemed to be free of them, leading her onto a wild goose chase to look for more.

The general surgery supply closet seems to be empty, making sense with the early hour. Brooke thumbs through the supplies, past the gauze and the tubes and the tools and - oh.

“What are you doing here?” Of course Dr. Mateo is in here too. Her luck, really.

Whatever. She’ll grab the polyester sutures and leave.

“What? Oh, it’s you.” Dr. Mateo’s voice goes from curious to dismissive as soon as she sees Brooke, turning back to whatever it is she’s holding in her hands and hey.

Dr. Mateo has the last pack of polyester sutures from the shelf in her hands. What the hell is she doing with them?

“I need those.” If her voice comes out sounding like a petulant five year old, she ignores it.

“So? Find your own.” Dr. Mateo scoffs at her. Fucking rude.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do. They’re not in any of the other supply closets.” Brooke has to keep herself from narrowing her eyes because Dr. Mateo has grabbed the entire stock from the closet. Of course.

“I fucking know that. Why do you think I came in here too?” Dr. Mateo is looking at her with an expression that is too smug, and Brooke can’t resist rolling her eyes.

“Anyway.” Dr. Mateo shrugs. “You snooze, you lose. Come earlier next time.”

Brooke feels her hands ball into fists, her cheeks getting hot. Dr. Mateo has some nerve, she really does. “The hell is your problem? Since when do you even use polyester sutures? No one else around here uses them except for me.”

“Since I was a resident. Breaking news, Dr. Hytes, the world doesn’t revolve around you. Shocking, I know.” Dr. Mateo steps closer to her, crossing her arms.

Unbelievable.

“How dare you.” She hisses it as she takes a step closer to Dr. Mateo. “You’ve done nothing but be a fucking nuisance since you got here. This is my terrain.”

It is. This hospital is hers. Of course Dr. Mateo has come and disrupted everything.

Dr. Mateo looks up at her, jaw set as she puts the sutures down on a nearby shelf. “Not anymore, it isn’t. Looks like you’ll have to move over.”

It’s then that she notices how close they are. Dr. Mateo’s hair still in waves, though half up. Out of the way. The same freckles dotting her face that used to do so back in undergrad. Her eyes staring up at Brooke, hardened and narrowed and smug. Her lips curling up in a way that Brooke knows that it means that she thinks she’s won, expecting Brooke to leave with her tail between her legs.

It’s then that Brooke realizes the perfect way to shut her up.

Is it stupid? Sure. Will it work? Absolutely.

Brooke closes the gap between them with a single step, grabbing Dr. Mateo’s face with both of her hands and tilting it up, pressing her lips to hers. The gasp that leaves Dr. Mateo’s lips is satisfying because fucking finally, except then Dr. Mateo is on her tiptoes, kissing back harder and nearly making Brooke step back from the force. One of Dr. Mateo’s hands is fisting in her hair, and Brooke has to suppress a growl because it feels too good and she’s the one in control right now, damn it.

Brooke nips at Dr. Mateo’s bottom lip, and oh, it makes her gasp in the same way that it used to all those years ago. Brooke walks them back until Dr. Mateo’s back hits the wall, and she has her right where she wants her.

She’s breathing heavily, looking up at Brooke with hooded eyes and swollen lips and mussed hair and it’s maybe one of the hottest fucking sights that Brooke’s ever seen in her life. Not that it’s relevant in the least.

Brooke leans down and kisses up the column of her neck, feeling the way that she shudders underneath her. She remembers that Dr. Mateo’s jaw is sensitive, and is glad that her memory is right when she hears a moan leave her lips when she nips at the skin.

Dr. Mateo’s hands are uselessly fisting in her shirt, and Brooke has to fight to stay focused, in control of things. She tugs on Dr. Mateo’s hair, exposing her neck even more, pressing her lips right above her collarbone and fuck, she’s missed this. Missed the way that Dr. Mateo is trying to pull her closer, practically melting in her hands.

“You like this, huh?” She pushes a knee in between Dr. Mateo’s legs, feeling a wave of heat run through her when Dr. Mateo whines and grinds herself down, gasping. “Still the same. So worked up.”

“Fuck, Brooke, Jesus, I-” Brooke pauses for a second when hearing her name from Dr. Mateo’s lips because it feels too familiar, too much like old times and for a second they could be back in undergrad. But then Dr. Mateo’s hands are raking up her sides, underneath her scrub shirt and no, she’s here, they’re here. It’s different now.

She pulls her knee back, tuts at the resulting whine from Dr. Mateo from the loss of contact. “So needy.”

“Fuck you.” Dr. Mateo’s voice is a growl, and Brooke feels a wetness growing between her own legs because of it.

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” Brooke pushes on Dr. Mateo’s shoulders, spins her around so that her hands hit the wall. Brooke is behind her, pressing her up against it, and moves her hair to one side to expose her neck. She feels the way it makes Dr. Mateo shudder when she nips there harder than she should, not caring what her neck is going to look like the next day.

It’s none of her business, really. Dr. Mateo’s problem to deal with, not hers.

Dr. Mateo pushes back against her, trying to close any distance between them and ofcourse she’s trying to grind her ass against her.

“You always this fucking impatient, Dr. Mateo?”

“You always this fucking slow, Dr. Hytes?”

“Shut up.” Brooke mutters it into her ear, and she can practically feel the smirk on Dr. Mateo’s face.

“Make me.”

If that’s what Dr. Mateo wants, it’s what she’ll get. Brooke doesn’t waste time teasing her fingers along Dr. Mateo’s waistband to get her worked up because she’s already there, so wet and canting into her hand after Brooke pushes her underwear to the side. Brooke has to hold back a moan because it’s fucking hot, she’s hot and whining in front of her and who even cares if they get caught at this point? She never wants these sounds to stop leaving Dr. Mateo’s lips, especially if she’s the one to elicit them.

Brooke wants to draw it out, tease a little before giving in but her self-resolve is already all but gone. Brooke brushes her fingers at Dr. Mateo’s clit, revelling in the way Dr. Mateo has to brace herself against the wall to keep herself up. Dr. Mateo ruts her hips forward so that she moves against her hand, and so Brooke nips at her ear in warning, making her gasp.

Brooke moves her fingers to just outside her entrance, pushes two in when she meets no resistance.

“So wet. All for me, huh? This too much for you?” Brooke maneuvers her hand so that the heel of her palm brushes against her clit, and the moan that Dr. Mateo lets out when she does is definitely loud enough to be heard in the hallway.

“Just like that-” Dr. Mateo gasps it out as she meets Brooke’s movements, spurring her on further because there’s no way she’s going to stop now.

“C’mon Ness, you’re almost there.” The old nickname slips from Brooke’s lips before she can stop it and she doesn’t even care, not when Dr. Mateo - Vanessa - is so close, falling apart underneath her just like she used to. No, even better.

Brooke dots kisses along the column of Vanessa’s neck as she comes (‘fuck, fuck’) , her walls tightening around Brooke’s fingers and her wetness dripping onto her palm. Brooke doesn’t stop her movements until Vanessa’s shaky hand drags down the wall to push hers away, gasping as she does.

Vanessa turns back around, leaning against the wall and oh, she’s wasting no time despite her shaky breaths because she’s pulling Brooke down to kiss her, bite at her bottom lip.

Brooke pulls back and Vanessa’s eyes are wide, her chest rising and falling in uneven pants.

“Fuck you, you’re good at that.”

“Yeah?” Brooke can’t help the surge of pride that flows through her. Sure, she can make girls fall apart underneath her whenever she takes them to bed, but Vanessa?

She’s in a league of her own.

Brooke nearly yelps when Vanessa pushes her shoulders back, flips their positions. Brooke’s glad for it, glad that she’s leaning against the wall for support because Vanessa’s getting on her knees and fuck.

She’s nearly going to come from the sight of Vanessa kneeling in front of her, staring up at her with hungry eyes and her trembling hands tugging on Brooke’s scrub pants and then her underwear and pulling them down, down, getting her to step out of them before pushing her legs apart and coming to rest in between them.

Vanessa doesn’t break eye contact as she presses kisses up her inner thighs, holding her legs in place so that Brooke can’t move.

“Fuck, Ness.” Her hands go to Vanessa’s hair because she needs to grab something and it’s already too much and Vanessa hasn’t even done anything yet.

But then Vanessa stops. Looks up at her with a smirk. “Nuh-uh. Not going to happen. Hands on the wall.”

Oh, so that’s the kind of game she wants to play.

“Oh, fuck off.” Brooke mutters it under her breath because of course Vanessa wants to tease her like this, draw it out.

“You heard me.”

Brooke grabs her hair tighter, relishes in the little gasp that leaves Vanessa’s lips, but Vanessa doesn’t move. “You want me to leave you like this? All wet and dripping just for me, at the beginning of the day, no less? All unable to take care of yourself or focus ‘cause all you can think about is me, right here?”

Brooke can’t help the groan that she lets out because Vanessa would, and how are her words leaving her even more wet?

Fine. The stubborn bitch can win. Brooke needs her mouth on her more than anything she’s ever needed in her life.

“Good girl.” Vanessa practically purrs it when Brooke moves her hands to the wall, winking at her before burying her face between her legs and fuck.

Vanessa’s tongue teases at her folds and the action alone nearly makes Brooke’s knees give out beneath her. Her hands fist uselessly against the wall, unable to grab anything and when Vanessa moves her tongue around her clit, she feels like she’s already going to fall apart.

Vanessa’s gotten better. Way better. Sure, she was good when they dated, but eleven years of practice later? Brooke’s going to embarrass herself and probably come in less than five minutes.

One of Vanessa’s hand moves around to cup her ass, squeezing it and Brooke can’t help but roll her hips forward, lift a leg up and rest it on Vanessa’s shoulder. The angle makes it even more intense, especially when Vanessa goes and sucks at her clit, just the way that Brooke likes it.

Brooke’s definitely going to have to fix her hair and makeup and make herself look presentable again and if anyone comes into this supply closet they’re screwed, but it doesn’t even matter because she’s so fucking close, Vanessa’s hands squeezing tight enough to leave bruises on her skin.

She comes with Vanessa’s name on her lips, something she hasn’t done in years but it feels so right, feels so natural as it leaves her. As if it hasn’t been more than a decade since they last did this.

Then Vanessa’s getting Brooke to step back into her underwear and scrubs, tying the drawstrings of the latter at her waist. She then climbs back up, wiping her face with her sleeve and Brooke can’t resist but pulling her in to kiss her, a deep kiss that still makes her knees buckle.

When Brooke pulls back Vanessa’s eyes search hers, as if she’s looking for something to say and Brooke gets it because what do they even do now?

But then Vanessa smirks, tilts her head. Grabs for the pack of sutures that she had haphazardly dropped earlier back onto the shelf.

“These polyester sutures are still mine, though. Good luck finding your own.”

Then she’s gone, door swinging shut behind her and Brooke’s not sure whether to laugh or roll her eyes as she tries to catch her breath, because she can’t even be mad about it right now, not when she’s left her thoroughly fucked out. Bitch.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #smut #hospital au #lesbian au #holtzmanns #nobody knows where we might end up

[crayonwriting]

Irreplaceable You: 3 (Bucky Barnes)

Summary: Unexpectedly diagnosed with a terminal disease, you embark on a mission to find a new love for your fiancé and childhood best friend, Bucky Barnes.

Disclaimer: This story is a rewrite of the movie of the same title on Netflix. Directed by Stephanie Laing and written by  Bess Wohl. Go check it out!

A/N: I know this is kinda going slow. I hope y’all don’t get too bored. 

Enjoy folks!

—

You sat quietly in the kitchen, stirring your bowl of oatmeal absentmindedly. Bucky stared at you, eating his own breakfast. Today was the day you would know your test results. You were scheduled for an appointment at the hospital and you couldn’t decide whether you should go or not.

“Y/N.” Bucky called.

You stopped stirring and glanced at Bucky. He smiled at you and pointed his spoon towards your bowl.

“Eat up. You need food.” He said, a little bit sternly.

You slowly spooned some oatmeal into your mouth and chewed slowly. Bucky bit his lip lightly, adjusting his glasses. He knew you were dreading this day and all he wanted to do was to make it easier for you.

“You know,” he started, “Come to think of it, a tangerine is better than a orange.”

You stared at him not knowing what he was talking about. He raised his eyebrow and gave you a look, flashing you a small smirk. It took you a few seconds to recall how Dr. Michaelson called the mass in your uterus a tangerine.

Bucky was waiting for you to respond, cautiously. You stared at him for a while, letting it all sink in. You knew how Bucky looked on the brighter side of things and he just wanted to make you feel better. You smiled a little.

"Or a grapefruit." You mumbled. Bucky couldn't help but grin widely.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're right." He ate a spoonful of oatmeal before asking, "Or a...uhm… What's bigger than a grapefruit?"

You both thought about it before simultaneously blurting out,

"A watermelon!"

You giggled a little, looking fondly at Bucky. He smiled back at you. He stood up and walked to your side of the table. He knelt beside you, taking your hand in his and kissed your knuckles.

"It's gonna be okay, Y/N. I'm with you."

—

It was almost like déjà vu: you and Bucky were sitting once again at the doctor's office, only this time you were with a different doctor and for a whole different reason. Dr. Kessler was already waiting for you when you came in and he had a bunch of papers on his desk which only made you weaker in the knees and your gut drop.

"It's two tangerines and a grapefruit." He showed you your scan with three highlighted blobs in it, indicating the, now, three masses in your uterus.

Your felt your whole body stiffen. Your anxiety was at its highest as you know that what comes after won't be good. Your palms started to get sweaty and you held them together tightly.

"T-that's a lot of fruit…" Bucky joked, chuckling nervously at the end. He tried to make the mood lighter but you didn't respond; how could you? Bucky looked at you and gulped down before straightening his back and waited for the doctor to continue.

Dr. Kessler looked nervously between you and Bucky. He cleared his throat and continued.

"The tests have shown that it is cancer."

There's this moment when everything changes. You look back, and there was the moment before. The person you were a few days ago, was a positive one. Just a young woman thinking about whether she's hoping for a boy or a girl, and tiny fingers and toes, and then it was ripped out of you when they said you had a mass.

And now, that mass has evolved into cancer.

"I know that this must be hard to hear. It's incredibly rare in someone your age. It's just…,” he paused, trying to look for better words—as if there were. “It's just terrible luck.” He put the scan down on the table, picking up what looked like pamphlets and held them out to you. “Now we can talk about options whenever you're ready.”

Frozen in your seat, with your eyes blurry with tears, you gripped the end of your dress tightly. You looked to your balled fists and, with determination, stared straight into Dr. Kessler’s eyes.

“I-is there one that doesn't involve dying?” You said, shakily.

“Uh, I-I've already consulted with a colleague, and after the initial surgery, there's a clinical trial I'd like to enrol you in—”

“You didn't answer my question.” You cut him off. You bit your lip trying to stop yourself from going off on him. You turned your head slightly towards Bucky. “Did he answer my question?”

Bucky knew what was happening. His eyebrows curved into worry. He put a hand on your shoulder but you shrugged him off.

“We don't like to make predictions. But in addition to your treatment, I want to talk to you about your quality of life. Uh, we can help with pain management and some palliative care. And also some people have found great solace from support groups…”

His voice sounded far and distorted to your ears. It was like you were underwater and you can’t see, hear or feel anything. You hastily stood up and put on your coat and hat, almost missing the buttons as your tears further blurred your vision.

“Y/N.” Bucky called out. He reached out for your hand but you were already walking towards the door and out of the office. You didn’t hear him shout for your name, speed walking out of the hospital exit, hugging yourself in comfort.

You had cancer. You were dying. You haven’t had children yet. Hell, you haven’t even been married! And now fate is ready to take it all away from you, then and there.

You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself. Tears fell down your face as you broke down in the middle of the street. Your whole body shook violently and you felt your knees get weaker by the minute.

“Hey Y/N!” Bucky caught up behind you, pulling on your arm to make you face him. “Hey, why’d you lea—” He stopped himself seeing you in that state. Not able to take it anymore, you let yourself crash into his chest and you sobbed hard. Bucky’s face was contorted in worry and sorrow as he buried you deeper in his arms.

"Woah, woah. Easy there." He rubbed his hands up and down your back.

"I-it's just… not fair…" You whispered. Bucky kissed the side of your head and leaned down to kiss your shoulder. He tucked his head in between your neck and shoulder and held you tight.

"We're gonna be okay, Y/N. You're gonna be okay."

You just held him tighter.

—

“Mom?...Mom!...Mom, stop crying and listen to me!” You cried into the phone.

“Well, I’m sorry if it makes me sad to know that my baby girl is…” Your mother sobbed once again and cried. You sighed heavily. Telling her over the phone that you had cancer and was dying wasn’t really the best of ideas.

“Mom…,” you tried once again, “I know it’s a lot to take in, just… just get here as soon as you can, okay? We’ll talk better.”

“I’ll be there by Monday, next week. Oh god, Y/N maybe I shouldn’t have used the microwave. All that radiation must’ve gotten to you.” You rolled your eyes at her statement, smiling a little bit at how ridiculous she was being.

“Mom, it’s not the microwave. Okay? You did great with me. It’s just that…” You stopped, thinking of what to say. “It’s just fate, I guess?”It was quiet between the both of you. You shifted your position on the couch. You sat up and tucked your legs underneath you, pulling the blanket you had under your chin.

“So, see you soon?” You asked, almost quietly.

“Yes, I will. I love you baby. I love you so much.” She sniffed in between her words.

“I love you too, mom. Take care now. I’ll see you next week.” You cut the call immediately because if you didn’t you both would’ve just cried into the phone for hours.

You scrolled through your phonebook, checking your contacts to see who you needed to call. You pressed on a number and waited for them to answer.

“Hi! I'd like to cancel my membership to Crunch.”

“That's so sad. Why?” The woman on the other end asked. You didn’t really know how to tell her but since she was just a stranger, might as well wing it.

“Well, because I'm officially dying, so I kind of feel like, ‘Why work out?’”

“You don't love Crunch?”

“No. No, I'm perfectly satisfied with Crunch.” You closed your eyes in frustration.

“Have you tried our classes?”

“Yes, I've tried the classes.”

“Have you tried Booty Kickin' Step?”

“No, I haven't tried Booty Kickin' Step.” You bit your lip, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“I'm gonna need to put you on hold.”

“Wait I—” Instrumental rock music blasted through your phone and you had to pull it away from your ear. You ended the call. There was no point to talking to them really. You scrolled through your phone again before dialing another number. The phone rang before going into voice mail.

“Hi, this is Y/N Y/L/N from the Y/L/N-Barnes wedding. Yeah, uhm, so we had booked your venue for our wedding, but, uh… unfortunately, it turns out I'll be…“ You could feel your tears start to burn your eyes for the umpteenth time this week so you squeezed them shut.

“Unavailable. Um… So we were hoping we could still get the deposit back. Yeah, that’s it. So, if you could call me back and let me know, that'd be great. Thanks.” You rushed out the end and ended the call. You threw your phone beside you on the couch. Your tears started falling and you choked out a sob. You furiously wiped away at your face, frustrated and just angry at the world.

—

When Bucky came home, he noticed the odd quietness of the apartment. He took off his shoes and coat and set them by the front door.

"Y/N?" He called out, padding to the living room. "Babe? Where are you?" He didn't receive an answer. He went to the kitchen next and saw a glass of water beside Ruby on the table. You couldn’t have gone that far in the small apartment. If you went out, you would’ve sent him a text—you knew how much of a worry wart he could be.

He headed to the bedroom and there he saw you sitting on the fire escape next to the window. You were curled up into a ball, knees pressed against your chest with your arms wrapped around them and your chin resting on top. You watched the city below you.

Bucky smiled, albeit a bit sadly as he approached you. He on your right and put an arm around you. You didn’t flinch at his touch; only humming in response. He leaned closer, placing a small, soft kiss to your shoulder.

“How you feelin?” He asked, quietly. You shrugged. He placed his lips back on your shoulders and let them stay there. A moment of silence passed, only the honking of the cars below, the distant voices of the crowd and the soft breeze could be heard.

“I’m scared, Buck.” You whispered. Bucky lifted his head up and kissed your temple.

“I-it’s gonna be okay.” He stuttered. He had to be strong, for your sake. He knew you needed him.

“What if I die, Bucky?” You turned your head towards him, worry pooling in your eyes. “I mean,” you lifted your hands in defeat, “I know I am gonna die but what if I die during the surgery?”

Bucky brushed your hair away from your face, letting his palm rest against your cheek. He rubbed his thumbs on your cheekbones and smiled softly.

“We’re gonna get through this.”

—

feedback?

—

Tag List: @justanothergirlwithdemons /  @butteryoptimisticpeanut 

#b writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #irreplaceable you series

[languidangel]

Pre Top Surgery 9/16/19

First off cw: breasts, T, top surgery, this may cause dysphoria, some tmi, weight, ed, death, surgery complications

Preamble: Okay so I made an update on this blog with all my T events (and I'm going to make one for my two years as well but that's in a few weeks) so I thought, hey, since I'm super excited that I'm getting top surgery this December, I should probably post about that as well. So here goes and since it's real late this is gonna be rambly. Also while you're reading this wondering what the point is, it's mostly to capture all my feelings and also have some background to what I'll be talking about later:

1a) I'm getting too surgery with Dr. Dulin in Plano, Texas. If you don't know who he is, he's with the American Institute for Plastic Surgery which is a group of four?? plastic surgeons who specialize in trans surgeries (but mostly Raphael and Dulin do top surgeries I couldn't say for the other two). Also I was pretty certain I would go with Raphael but he doesn't take insurance sadly :( and I can't pay out of pocket. (I also like Mosser and Medalie but I was out of luck for similar reasons).

1b) My experience with Dulin so far has been great. Quick timeline: I got an in person consultation for free last December. All of his nurses and office ladies were super super nice. I did not have any issues with scheduling or anything. I forgot her name but basically they have to take pictures of your chest and that lady made me feel super comfortable even though I was naked. Also they don't make you stand naked for that long. Like they look at your chest and take measurements but that's it. No comments, nothing. And dulin reminds me of a warm dad. He was super chill. I would recommend him based off his manner alone. Fast forward to this August/September. I did have issues when calling Dulin's office. Since they are really busy it's hard to get a hold of the person you need especially when you have time restraints and can only take calls at certain times. The front desk staff also seemed confused about who to direct you to sometimes. I got sent to people I didn't need to talk to more than a few times (I called them a lot because I was having therapist letter issues but that wasn't their fault, it was mine). Also if you're paying out of pocket, Cecilia is not very friendly most of the time. She isn't bad (and I don't have to deal with her because I'm going through insurance so idk she might be worse) but she was very abrupt and quick to transfer you to someone else, she wouldn't answer questions and she always sounded like she'd rather be doing anything else but talk to you. Tracy, who handles people paying with insurance, on the other hand was super patient with me when I was having trouble, I was very thankful for her to clear up any issues I was having. Again this isn't to talk down on Cecilia, I just didn't have as good of an experience with her.

2) No clue what type I'm getting yet. I think I'm small enough for Peri or keyhole but I'm not sure if I like the look of it for me personally, and I'm afraid I'd have extra skin, or bunching around my nipples from extra skin. Advice would be appreciated.

3) I haven't actually scheduled it yet but I will once they get back to me after talking to my insurance (which is why I'm posting this today because I finally got all the papers I needed, it was rough). But I'm planning on getting it somewhere from Dec 20-Dec 26. Ideally it would be the 22 but ideals never usually happen. I'll update next when I do get it scheduled (so like in a month probably). So yeah. Generally pretty positive so far, pre top surgery.

4) Controversial but I have been taping to bind (not super often like three times a month probably at the most) because I have asthma and costochondritis which makes me unable to bind with a binder for longer than like 8 hours a week so taping is honestly way better for me. (Tmi) But I've had trouble in the past with small tears and dry skin on my nipples from the adhesive and tearing off the tape too fast so I'm going to stop using tape at all in October like as soon as October starts because I don't want any bad results come top surgery.

5) Unfortunately I don't have the luxury to skip any of next semester for healing reasons so I have to go back to school on the 13th of January so I'm hoping that will give me enough time to be semi-mobile. Like I won't carry a backpack but I need to be able to walk to classes.

6) I'm very scared of weight gain because of a history (and current struggle) with eating disorders so I'm scared I will gain weight after top surgery then relapse really bad. This is the only negative of top surgery I can really think of (besides like really negative stuff like death or my nipples falling off or something).

7) I'm also looking for healing tips because I'm a planner (duh have you seen this post) and I want to plan what I need for surgery. If anyone has some good posts or personal tips, I'm all ears.

8) Apart from negatives (because why would I be getting this surgery if it was all negative) I'm really looking forward to wear white, light colors, tight shirts, tank tops, nothing on top in public, going swimming, freedom. Man, I am looking forward to freedom. Having to cover up so much in a room with three cis guys sucks ass. I've been wanting this procedure since middle school and I'm really glad I can finally get it.

9) Lastly, the next posts won't be as long (unless they are immediately prior to or after surgery) this is just my background so far and what I'm looking forward to/not looking forward to. So yeah bye. Next update probably around early October.

#top surgery #pre top surgery #top surgery update #ramble #rant #excitement #long post #my post #mine

[notgoodwithviolence]

sorry, I just need to rant for a bit. I am about ready to smack my father upside the head so hard he sees stars. My mom had foot surgery yesterday, for a bone spur. Surgery went great. But my dad is being a self absorbed jerk. I took yesterday off of work because I know he wouldn’t do jack shit to help her. She’s on full bed rest for the rest of the week, so she needs help with meals, water, meds, etc. Below is the list of selfish shit my dad pulled. 

1. Instead of going straight to the pharmacy to get her pain meds, so she could keep on top of the pain, he dicked around at home. Then, finally left, and wasted over a half hour at the store instead of picking up the meds and coming right back home. The doc was clear, stay on top of the pain. If you wait until you start to feel pain, it’s too late for the meds and the cycle will be off. My mom was visibly starting to feel pain when my dad finally went to get the meds, then he wasted over a half hour. A half hour plus of leaving my mom in pain, without meds.

2. My mom asked for about 3 things from the store, right when they got home. 2 things her doc recommended to help with post-anesthesia  symptoms and pudding, because she was craving it. Mind you, my mom NEVER asks for anything like that, so it was so rare that she’d even ask. What time does my dad go to the store? 11pm. She couldn’t have her pudding, didn’t have the 2 things her doc recommended. And on top of that?? MY DAD DIDN’T BRING HOME THE 2 THINGS FROM THE STORE. Got everything else on the list, except for those 2 things and the 1 thing I asked for. 

3. I’m working in the office today and I have a meeting in the evening, won’t be home until 8:30pm at the earliest. I reminded my dad last night that he needs to take care of my mom AND the dog. Do not forget to feed the dog or take him outside!! And he starts making all these excuses, saying well, he’ll be gone in the afternoon, he’s got a doctor’s appointment. Great, don’t care, dad. I. Will. Not. Be. Home. You need to figure it out yourself. Take care of your wife. Make sure she’s got food, proper meals, enough water and meds, ice packs for her foot. Check on her at least once every 1-2 hours. Do your job as a husband, jerk. 

4. My mom has a post op appointment next week. It’s been on the calendar since July. And she cannot drive herself there, because the foot surgery was on her right foot, her driving foot. So someone needs to take her, likely my dad. But what does he do?? He schedules a colonoscopy for the same fucking date, so now my mom has no way to get to her appointment. And he has the NERVE to ask me to take him to his appointment after looking baffled when I said mom can’t take him (SHE CAN’T DRIVE, IDIOT). Well, dad. I’m already scheduled to be in the office for work that day. I can’t take you. His response? “Well can’t you just change your work schedule?” NO DAD, I CAN’T. HOW ABOUT YOU ASK IN ADVANCE, NOT A WEEK BEFORE HAND. HOW ABOUT YOU CONSULT OTHERS ON SHIT, INSTEAD OF JUST ASSUMING ONE OF US CAN DROP EVERYTHING FOR YOU. He was so mad I wouldn’t change my whole schedule around for him. If anything, I’d change it for my mom, because he left her high and dry. Luckily, my aunt volunteered to take my mom. But my aunt is PISSED at my dad. He finally called to reschedule, putting up a fuss and being all huffy the whole time. 

I am just. so incredibly frustrated with my dad. The only thing he’s done to help without me prodding and prompting him and pushing is...well, no, nothing, actually. I was the one that had to push him to set an alarm to take her to her surgery on time in the morning. And I set an alarm for myself as well, in case he didn’t get up (he’s done that before to my mom on other things). I pushed him to go get the meds finally. I took care of my mom all day, made her food, got her water, made her ginger tea when the pain meds made her nauseous. He hasn’t done ONE THING without someone prompting or pushing him. And I’m fucking sick of it. If I didn’t have my meeting tonight, I would have taken today off of work too, because lord knows my dad can’t be trusted to do anything. 

Sorry for the long rant. I just. Needed to vent or I felt like I was gonna explode. 

#|| out of power : ooc || #arggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg

[karanan]

personal update on stuff

I went to the plastic surgery clinic in Helsinki for a top surgery consultation yesterday with my friend. Ended up going in an hour after my scheduled appointment time because snow hell and a long wait. That said, the meeting itself was like 10 minutes. The surgeon asked me some stuff and had a poke at my chest, then she drew a lil titty sketch explaining possible incisions and scarring and stuff. I might get away with like two smol cuts sort of across the nip nop area because I’m not huge in the titty department. Also they’ve already started shrinking with T.  So what I got out of this was that they won’t do top surgery until after I’ve been on T for one year, for best possible results since the chesty danglebags tend to shrink a fair amount over that time, and some people won’t need surgery at all if they’re small enough. This surgeon said I’ll probably need surgery though and I’m inclined to agree. The good news is that I can get this surgery done in Turku where I live! The wait time shouldn’t be more than 6 months (legally) and I also said that the most important to me is good results, to which she responded that they should be equally competent at it in Turku. So I’m happy with that, of course I’m gonna ask later next year when they call me in. I need to know that I get a very competent and experienced surgeon and that’s well within my rights.  Also once I’ve had surgery, I only need to stay in the hospital over one night, then it’ll be 3-4 weeks of sick leave.  But yeah that’s all in the future, like I’d wager this time next year I’ll be busy with that. So I just gotta put up with binders and the extra front weight for one more year.

In unrelated news: I’m unhappy with my psychologist. She misgendered me and seemed bewildered when I corrected her. She also questioned why I’m even there and said I’m perfectly normal for my age (I actually got so stunned by her confused “why are you here?” that I forgot why myself. I forgot that my goal was to get put on sick leave or idk something that proves I’m unfit for full time jobs because my energy levels are constantly at like 40% max capacity). I spent our first appointment crying the whole fucking hour and told her about my crippling social anxiety but ok. I guess being a depressed crybaby and having gender dysphoria is totally normal for a 25 year old. She clearly has zero understanding of my identity or queer or trans people. She said my depression was just “depressive thoughts” and honestly I feel fucking gaslit by my own psychologist. I guess I’m just lazy and stupid then??? My problems aren’t real? Did I ever even have problems? I don’t know specifically what’s up, that’s why I’m here in the first place omfgkfkgkf. You know when you’re having an easier time in your life and it feels like you just made up all your problems from before and you’re not REALLY depressed or whathaveyou. Yeah. Anyway, she’s quitting soon so I get 1 more session with her. Our last meeting was really useless, she just zooms in super in depth on shit that isn’t relevant, while ignoring where I’m coming from and my identity and who I am as a person. I don’t need to talk for one hour about what motivates me or whatever. I need to talk about why my emotional drive is so fucked and why I’m so anxious like all of the time etc. Maybe we can start with me being trans in a garbage country that violates my human rights?? That said, I’m gonna go to that last meeting and fill out this paper she gave me of a timeline of my life. I’m supposed to write down all the events and stuff that changed my life significantly in some way. Prepare urself for all my daddy issues and the domestic abuse and the bullying. Also my brother was just diagnosed with ADHD and there’s a very big chance I have it too. Tell me I’m “normal” for my age, then.  I’m going to contact the youth health organisation for help instead because the government sure did an awful job.

This is getting long but I’m gonna dump my shit on here anyway. More ugh news: FPA haven’t responded to my message yet and it’s been 4 weeks. They pulled my rent benefits and requested I pay 1000 euros back to them out of nowhere and despite the fact that I did nothing wrong. I followed all their instructions and stuff so far. There were some news about the government rolling back the rent benefit changes but I have no word on how and if this remedies my situation. There’s just a giant question mark on that entire thing and it sucks because we’re talking a significant chunk of my income here. And the holidays are coming up. It’s Treat-Yourself (and your friends)-Season and I’m caught up in this financial garbage. Thankfully tax returns are coming next week so I’ll be ok but still, being left swinging in the wind is awful.

To end on a good note: We’ve got some snow right in time for December 1st and also Little Yule which is today on Saturday! I fucking love the holidays and I got myself a chocolate advent calendar and I’m gonna drink some hot glögg tonight to start the jolly season. Happy Little Yule to everyone (yes it’s a thing)!

#an update #old Nan yells at cloud #gender bs #there's always at least one hassle or hurdle to deal with I swear to god #but all in all I'm doing p good rn #I think? #personal

[trans-guy-positive-blog]

what's it like getting top surgery?

It's really weird tbh. There is so much excitement and so much anxiety. It really was a super overwhelming process. You have to get a consultation and then wait for insurance to approve it (if you go through insurance you usually need a letter from a therapist) and the schedule it and plan for everything post op. The actual surgery itself isn't bad. When you wake up is does hurt but they'll give you pain medication for that. Your mobility is restricted because it hurts to move, but it's not as bad as you might think. I also got my drains out the morning after because I wasn't draining anything so my mobility was better because of that. The healing process is difficult. There are so many emotions and you really need to be prepared for that. Be sure you have a good support system to help you out (both physically and emotionally). Also if at all possible sleep on a recliner or comfy chair for a few weeks post op if you don't normally sleep on your back. I literally moved back into my room last night and it was still hard to do, and I'm 3 weeks post op (I did double incision with nipple grafts). It's been a hard process but I have zero regrets about it. I love the way my chest looks so far and it's only gonna look better as it heals. I had an amazing surgeon and a great support system to help me through it all too. -Emmett

[robbinsarizonas]

Rupture

So I saw this from an anon on @omeliafics and as she knows, I am always up for drama, the prompt was ‘Amelia is pregnant, and gets appendicitis. I'd love to read this 🤗’ there may be continuity issues because it’s midnight and I’m tired and I’ve written a looooot of fics, but my head imagined this fitting in when Amelia is pregnant with the twins, so you know, I haaaad to xD

This pregnancy was kicking her ass. It wasn’t anything like the last one, apart from the fact that she was pregnant. That was the only thing that seemed to be the same. She had been feeling like the crap at the bottom of the trash can for the whole day, but she had surgeries scheduled and patients to check on and consults, and charts, and everything so it wasn’t like she even had a minute to slow down and take a minute, even though she felt like she needed several.

“Sit down.” Owen said, appearing suddenly behind Amelia and making her almost jump out of her skin.

“What the hell Owen?” She said, putting a hand on her chest and taking in a deep breath to calm herself down. “Where did you come from?” She asked, starting to feel a little bit dizzy, which was never a good sign.

“Sit down, you look like hell.” Owen said, putting his arm around Amelia’s shoulders and leading her over to a nearby gurney pushed up against the hallway wall.

“I’m fine, and I don’t have time.” Amelia said, not even sitting down for a second. She was okay, she was fine. She was pregnant, she wasn’t dying.

“You know it’s not good for you to keep pushing yourself.” Owen said, because they had had just that conversation with the OB the week before, who had stated plainly and simply that it wasn’t good for Amelia, or for the babies, considering what she had been experiencing.

“I-I know.” Amelia said reluctantly, giving in and perching on the edge of the gurney, feeling slightly less dizzy now she wasn’t standing up.

“Delegate.” Owen said, noticing how flushed Amelia actually was and becoming considerably more worried.

“Owen.” Amelia groaned, feeling like she was being underestimated.

Owen reached out and placed a hand on Amelia’s forehead, pulling it away almost immediately and furrowing his brow, concerned and now confused.

“You’re burning up?” He said, it wasn’t supposed to be a question, it didn’t need an answer because he already knew she was, but for some reason it came out like he was asking.

“No?” Amelia said, the exact same way. She wasn’t burning up, she didn’t have a fever. She was pregnant, she felt like crap because she had two lives growing inside of her. Two. She didn’t have a fever. She wasn’t sick. There wasn’t a chance.

“Yes.” Owen answered, checking one more time just to be sure.

“I feel fine.” Amelia protested, closing her eyes just for a second in an attempt to feel a little better. She knew for sure she wasn’t fine.

“You are a bad liar.” Owen pointed out, putting a hand on her knee and giving it a little rub.

As if on some kind of cue, Amelia’s insides decided they had an urgent need to meet the outside world, and within less than a second she had thrown up all over the patch of floor directly below where she was sitting, and subsequently on both her and Owen’s shoes.

“Okay, bathroom.” Owen said, making an executive decision and gesturing over someone to come and deal with the floor.

It took them longer than it should have to get to the bathroom. Amelia had to stop 3 times to throw up into three separate trash cans, getting Owen more and more worried each time.

He wasn’t sure if the symptoms were pregnancy related, or possible mystery illness related. There wasn’t anything going around, because when there was you /knew/. Illness was the one thing that spread faster than gossip. When there was an illness going around, /everyone/ had it.

“Sit down, I’m gonna call the OB.” Owen said as soon as the arrived at the nearest bathroom, pointing towards a toilet in the very likely event that Amelia would have to throw up again.

Owen reached for his phone from his big lab coat pocket and started to dial the number for their OB, hoping that everything would just resolve itself. Before the dial tone had even finished sounding though, he could hear the very gross sounds of someone throwing up, more than once, like they couldn’t stop. He slipped the phone back into his pocket, just for a second, and raced over to the closet stall.

“Owen, what are you-?” Amelia asked, getting get off by Owen before she could finish her question.

“I’m holding your hair.” He said, making sure she didn’t get any nasty chunks in it and moving a hand down her back, starting to rub small circles gently, around and around. “Symptoms.” He asked, since it wasn’t like she didn’t know, they were both doctors after all.

“Besides the obvious.” She said, leaning over the toilet for another round. “Dizziness, uh, there’s pain... Oh crap...” She continued, putting two and two together.

“Pain where?” Owen asked, since that wasn’t really any help at all.

“Here.” Amelia said, putting her hand right over it before leaning over the toilet, once again.

Owen lifted up her scrub top by enough to be able to feel the area, and as soon as he had he felt exactly the same about the situation as she clearly had. Oh crap.

“I thought I just felt like crap because I’m pregnant.” She sighed, unable to actually get out words properly, it felt like something was trying to get out more and more every second that went by.

“You have been having a hard time.” Owen agreed, she hadn’t been at all wrong to think like that, not even slightly.

Amelia reached out for Owen’s hand and latched her fingers onto his, squeezing it so tight she could have easily cut off blood flow.

“That’s okay.” Owen said, nodding and squeezing her hand right back, only not even half as tight.

He reached into his pocket and sent out a page for someone in general and set it as a 911, starting to rub Amelia’s back again even though he wasn’t sure if it was helping in the least.

“Owen? A consult in a bathroom?” Came the voice of Meredith Grey, who had been nearby when the page was sent out.

Then she saw Amelia on the floor with her head over the toilet seat, and Owen knelt down beside her, and she understood.

“Appendicitis.” Owen said. “We need a gurney.” He added, the concern still spread across his whole face like that was it’s permanent home now.

“How do you-?” Meredith asked, just wanting to make sure he was actually right before leaping into action.

“Gurney.” He said, not even answering the question.

“Okay.” Meredith nodded, heading back out into the hallway and coming back a few moments later, pushing a gurney in front of her as there wasn’t too much room to work with.

“Owen...” Amelia whimpered once she was lying down, squeezing her hands into fists.

“30, 45 minutes, an hour max.” He said, reminding her of how long the surgery took. “We’ll take you up, in, out, done.” He continued, running a hand through her hair which was now just a little bit sweaty.

“What about the girls...” Amelia spat out, her out right and well known refusal at any time for any kind of pain medication really biting her in the ass this time around.

“We’ll be watching them.” He assured her. He wasn’t going to let anything happen to their little ones, whatever that meant.

And he was right. 45 minutes, in, out, done. No complications, no disasters, nothing hard at all. In no time Amelia was set up in a recovery room, and Owen was sitting in one of the chairs at her bedside, his hand on top of hers, watching as she lay there so peacefully.

Amelia blinked an eye open, the other eye followed shortly after. The world seemed kind of hazy, she couldn’t quite get her brain to cooperate like it usually did. She moved her head in her pillow, alerting Owen to the fact she was awake.

“Hey....” He said softly.

“Mmmhmm.” She said, rolling her head slightly to one side so she could see him better.

“No complications, nothing out of the ordinary.” He said, moving his hand from the bed to the chair as Amelia moved hers.

“You have patients.” She muttered, wondering what he was still doing here.

“You could say I’m with one right now. She’s doing just fine. A little groggy, but not anything we wouldn’t expect.” Owen said, putting his hands together on his lap.

“Then she doesn’t need you does she.” Amelia said, still feeling pretty heavy and sleepy.

“I think she might need me to stay for a while longer, observation.” Owen said in a mock serious tone.

“Nice try Dr. Hunt.” Amelia closed her eyes before she had even finished speaking, and before Owen could say anything else she had drifted back off to sleep.

Owen took off his lab coat and draped it over the back of the chair, getting himself slightly more comfortable. He was going to be there for a while, Derek was with his grandma hopefully behaving, so he didn’t intend on going anywhere.

#omelia #amen #omelia family #or the creation of #fanfic #* #amelia shepherd #owen hunt

[100demons]

SO just to be consistent and update..... I got an email back from my surgeons office this morning. Which told me that they are still waiting for the approval, they don’t have hardly any more info about this committee than I do (they only have an email to submit cases through, no other contact info or anything), and will be in contact when they finally hear from them. BUT ALSO that they are scheduling surgeries out for Sept/Oct (when at my consult in early june they ABSOLUTELY made it seem this could happen by possibly july and for sure august). 

SOOOO theoretically I could schedule for sept/oct EXCEPT thats when I’m back in school, will be tackling the hardest term of my education ever and writing my fucking thesis. SO like I just can’t, I can’t be out for 3 weeks, I can’t be recovering and trying to stay on top of all that. Which means that I have to wait til winter break, which doesnt start till Dec 22 (FAR LATER THAN MOST YEARS) soo with more RELIGIOUS bullshit (holidays) I probably cant get surgery till the very very beginning of next year. Will spend my whole break recovery (when I had planned to use break to find a better apartment and move). 

ALSO that means I don’t have surgery as part of my out for quitting my job which is making me miserable. SO I decided I’m gonna give my two weeks notice at the end of next week. only 3 more weeks! but NOT looking forward to quitting it will be really awkward and hard and I’ll feel guilty for sure. 

Thankfully had made a therapy appt for this morning anyway, so when I got the news and was processing all this and all the ramifications of it I was already getting ready to go to therapy. My therapist is actually great, maybe the best I’ve had ever. So VERY glad for that! Also I’ve had a truly beautiful amount of friends/aquaintances/community folks check in with me and let me vent, offer kind words, and just like let me know they are there for me. Which really means a LOT! (esp since my mom’s response to this was lackluster and mildly hurtful). So like yeah, I’m not doing great rn, I’m crushed that my plans are being ruined/delayed for literally the worst reason! But I’m glad I’m going through it with the friends and therapist I have in my life rn. And I’m so glad there is an end in sight for work cause it sucks!

#life #updates #long #rambles #a lot of feelings today!

[elistransblahg]

Some updates!

1) it's snowing fml

2) My testosterone dose is getting raised to three pumps daily because my levels have suddenly dropped below 200

3) My doctor wants me to try estrodim, but since I physically cannot swallow a pill she says it's not that important

4) Been looking at top surgeons again and found @realdrseattle, and I've changed my mind on who I want my top surgery from lol. Not only are his results great, but everything I've seen tells me he's super positive and just a lovely person in general. Plus he takes insurance, which is always a plus haha

5) Relating to 4, I still can't afford it so I'm not even gonna schedule a consultation yet lmao. Someday... * ^*

#ftm #transgender #transition update

[braindamageforbeginners]

Hangovers

Cycle 3, Day 9

Two things learned in the last 24 hours:

1. I really need to shut up whenever discussing how things aren’t too bad, that’s just begging for a smiting.

2. I should probably not write about infusion days on infusion days, because the weird stuff tends to happen right before bed (largely because of my new, “Go to bed immediately if something weird happens policy.”

I had another odd, brief hallucination last night, to go with the crippling pain and limp. I was on Facebook, and the icons suddenly became sand castles, and, in a weird way I was suddenly at the beach, sort of (I can’t really describe it; if that makes any sense to you, kudos). And it is kind of frighteningly amazing how quickly these side-effects can set in. However, if you’re sober at the time (I realize that’s an extremely odd, almost self-negating concept when you’re being pumped full of experimental toxins), it’s not frightening. And my bedtime policy paid off; I didn’t become Timothy Leary.I woke up this morning with an unbelievable hangover. I realize I’m prone to hyperbole and exaggeration, but the one this morning had teeth. Which is one of those sorts of good-news/bad news things - I’ve noticed the faster and harder the serum side-effects hit me, the sooner they go. Also, you know how, when you had to get up early to go to school when you were a child, and Mom, in an act of breathtaking cruelty ripped off your covers off and lied, “I know you’re tired and cold now, but it’ll get better if you get moving.” Which, again, feels like a betrayal of sorts if you finally make it out the door and find out it’s 40 degrees. Well, dear reader, mom may been lying to get you out of the house, but I assure you - based on my own experience - once you get out of bed and a-movin’  (and, more importantly, eating and drinking)(make sure you take your zofran or any other appropriate medications), you’ll start feeling like your old self. Don’t rush that “getting out of bed part,” though, take time as needed (this morning, it felt like I actually had go through several stages of evolution)(side-note; you’re gonna feel much less human and more like a jumbled-together set of human cells at the start of activitiies). I went for an ultra-high fiber and coffee breakfast, which seemed to help - or at least reduce my physical description from “possible 90-year-old amnesia patient” to “nasty but manageable back and shoulder pain.” If all this seems meaninglessly detailed, well, yes, it is. I wish I’d known four months ago that switching to a largely coffee-and-raw-fruit-based diet could save me some pain. Definitely I’m feeling immeasurably better and less-mentally foggy (I successfully recovered my Spotify username and hassled the DMV about my ongoing bureaucratic feud), although I’m still definitely showing signs of sleep deprivation and exhaustion, I’m not too bad. Except for some back pain, which probably isn’t that bad, except it is a novelty for me (sort of, it’s happened to me frequently enough that I know to just grab the Tylenol salt-lick).

So, bad news for you guys, mentally-capable yet too physically sore to anything terribly ambitious is the horrible sweet spot of “might as well sit down and write. Something a friend mentioned on Facebook got me thinking; if I’d been told I’d have to heavily modify my diet (sort of; after six pm I believe I’ve done due diligence), schedule (again, Temodar is very weird, and I’m glad I’ve finished it for this cycle), religiously take lots of various pills, get a lot more cardio exercise, sleep a lot more than I’m used to etc. a year ago, like most of you, my first thought would be, “Oh,God, I’m gonna die.” And, to be fair, the night is young (and I still have that new blip on the MRI); but you’d amazed at what you can adapt to. And after a while, even though you still hate all those things, your body will help keep you on the straight and narrow (mostly because your own body will start actively punishing you if you don’t keep up)  Don’t get me wrong, I’m still grumpy and irritable and not going all Tuesday’s with Morrie, but there is a sense that, denied a lot of other of life’s options, I’d double down on the Warlocks, see how far that took me, and leave the black flight box behind for the next folks in line. And now I’m having hallucinations, which, while I can’t claim is something I’m happy about, but it’s definitely not boring,.

Speaking of strange developments, I had some time to think about Ronny Jackson (as it turns out, television news is the perfect thing to watch when you’ve just been pumped full of various suspicious chemicals - there’s no plot, there are no characters, everything lasts 45 seconds, and you don’t lose much of he information) and my constant harping on about finding top-grade professionals when you’re in my situation. Firsoff, I require that level of competence not because of my personal preferences, but because I have a rare, amazingly dangerous disease that’s already behaved unpredictably. If this was standard colo-rectal cancer, I’d probably go to the Local Health Mart. Not to slam anyone, just that different diseases require different levels of management and training (diabetics are allowed to live in society and actually have their own insulin). The common thing you want - from your GP to your neurosurgeon (okay, especially your neurosurgeon) is to be 50th case like yours they’ve seen, not the first (as Dad described it when choosing his orthopedic surgeon)(that’s not the only indicator, but we’ll come to that point briefly).  And that doesn’t happen unless the doctor (or nurse) is out there practicing (oddly enough, younger doctors make better doctors because they don’t have the professional pride/investment that would discourage them from getting a consult)(that was in a study I read).  Which means that the current physician to the president has had two patients in ten years, one of whom was, by all accounts, quite physically healthy except for a history of smoking (I’ll discuss that some other time), and another who’s not completely healthy, but that would require a neurologist and nutritionist. One middle aged man and an elderly-but-previously healthy man. Most practitioners could get out some folding chairs, grab a six-pack, and let the situation play out until someone had a noticeable complaint (TWISTED SIDE NOTE: I just realized that all of my complaints/symptoms have, so far, not come from any disease process, but from side effects of treatment)(my apologies if any of my doctors or nurses are reading this, you’ve all been great, but that Zen Koan is true . Unless they had some sort of horrific, undisclosed disease. That’s barely qualified and experienced enough to lance a boil. And he got his job through Yelp, basically - Obama liked him and wrote a letter of recommendation, and so did Trump. And, in total honesty, now that I have artificial middle-age aches and pains, I’d like anyone who offered me Percocet, too. Mine are mostly-manageable with Tylenol, but infusion days are vicious, and if that was a daily occurrence, I’d make out with anyone with Percocet,

This isn’t actually about Ronny (it’s about widening the scope of this essay so it’s not another gripe-fest of me neurotically keeping track of symptoms), it’s about finding good clinicians. I’m still trying to figure that out for everyone, and I’m only beginning to sort through that data (also, there’s a good chance I’ll die during he attempt, but that’s also not the point of this piece). Ronny is obviously not a good doctor (he might be a fun one, though), but he does provide some lessons.

First, you don’t have to like your doctor. Yelp doesn’t have to like them. You have to trust them. I realize that’s not always easy to sum up, but all of my physicians (and probably nurses and other folks I’m ignoring or forgetting because there isn’t any data available that I can find) have been driven to be better doctors than they are now - that sometimes takes a bit of research (Mad Scientist has an impressive number of papers on PubMed) to figure out, sometimes a neurosurgeon will discuss some new drillbit he helped design to get through the skull (okay, I’m getting the details of that incident wrong, but it happened)(It’s a little off-putting to hear that described in the same glowing tone as developing a new, experimental bratwurst for the.county fair BBQ. But he’s been my neurosurgeon for two extremely successful surgeries. And I might need to revisit him before the year’s out (I hope not, obviously)

Which also brings up a teachable moment; for years - a few solid decades - the medical industry recruited and adhered to the standard that as long as you were competent, you could be an utter sociopath. Which, according to some sources, Ronny is. It’s not even some medical secret, it’s a common stereotype in the media. I suspect that the medical industry is trying to combat this more actively, but, in my first semester, I met a guy (you go to as many study groups as you possibly can when possible) who probably had a favorite hooker buryin’ spot. I listened for ten minutes (and I don’t know how I lasted that long; I should’ve just conspicuously glanced at the clock and fled, as my smarter classmates did. It was 10 minutes of narcissism and genocide (not exactly, he felt that poor people got plenty of insurance, and put-upon hospitals should be able to kick them out on the street)(which actually happened to me at one hospital, thanks to the insurance companies using an obscure legal loophole) I think that was the point I left Mr. Wonderful’s company (If I die and end up the traditional Judeo Christian afterlife and am made to atone for my sins, I’m sure St. Peter will want to know why I didn’t follow that motherfucker back to his apartment and kill him with a shovel, I know it a dark thought, but no darker than the probability that he got his MD, passed all his boards, and was set loose upon an unsuspecting public. But that’s just one guy amongst thousands of potential doctors, Ronny’s been accused by a few sources of sociopathy, As a patient, it’s almost not even worth worying about them - you will know them when you see them. Or, rather, when you talk to them

Another checklist item: if your doctor enjoys where they live.

I’ll continue this thought tomorrow (or technically today)

Author’s note: I spent 12 hours on this thing (sort of; after starting it in the morning (obviously), there were various distractions and errands and infernal family members demanding my time, So the last hour or two was mostly desperately typing before exhaustion took me. So I edited this thing a bit.