#blood and urine tests have yet to come back

[gendervapor14]

my old lady kitty says hello and thank you 🥰

#this photo is a bit of a catfish forgive me #currently she is sleeping on the kitchen floor next to a bag of potatoes #not looking particularly photogenic #but i appreciate all the support so much #blood and urine tests have yet to come back #but the vet seems pretty positive the results will be good! #she’s just got some major arthritis issues #but i think that can be managed!! as long as she isn’t in pain i’m happy #she's helped me write SO many stories #she's practically responsible for 01746 #sat on my lap during 90% of the creation process #but anyway!! THANK YOU!! #not op sorry

[skyloftian-nutcase]

(I realized on the second or third read that this is quite heavy on the angst so fair warning)

"Am I heartless?"

The words echoed in Legend's mind as he stood in the bathroom staring at himself in the mirror. Sky's voice screamed in his head, loud and soft, accusatory and questioning, hurt and resigned.

The person staring back at Legend wasn't really someone he seemed to know anymore. Tired eyes, skinny face (when had he lost so much weight? Had he always been this thin?), dry hair. He'd finished an eight night work stretch and it showed. He wasn't hungry, but he knew he hadn't eaten in twenty-four hours. He'd only had an energy drink as his entire sustenance at work last night. He'd worked a code, magically healed someone's stubbed toe, dealt with a family member snapping at him for taking too long to get test results that he couldn't even control, cleaned up someone's excrement four times, treated someone's migraine, told a creep that he could hold use the urinal just fine without Legend's help, saved another nurse from getting hit on by yet another creep, taken care of two teenagers who were coming from an MVC, and told someone that she'd miscarried.

And then he'd gotten off shift, driven to Sky's place since his friend had offered him a quiet place to decompress, slept, woken up, and read a book like it was a normal day. And then that evening Sky had the gall to ask if he was heartless. As if Legend hadn't just spent the night grumbling and laughing and making jokes with Warriors, teasing Hyrule whenever he saw him, and making dark comments about the entire situation.

Legend had long since accepted he was an ass. He'd accepted he was bitter and hurt, he'd accepted that he coped through keeping everyone at arm's length and laughing at the darkness around him. It's how they all coped.

He'd accepted that he was heartless. He had to be.

Sky's insistence on that being untrue healed something in his heart he hadn't even known was broken. He wondered if his other coworkers felt similarly. It was hard to tell - emergency personnel often didn't talk about what bothered them. They just laughed at it.

Why did it matter, whether he could feel things or not? Why did it matter that work bothered him but didn't? Why did it matter that he could watch someone die and crack a joke that would make people's heads snap towards him within the same minute?

Just how broken was he? Was it worth fixing? Why could he be having a good day and then all it took was one idiot to sour his entire opinion on humanity? Why did he get so angry, so hurt, so bitter? Why did the mistakes, the idiocy of one person make him distrust all people? Why were people just awful?

Why was he like this?

Legend reached up to his face, his fingers finding his earlobe and messing with the little hole where an earring would usually sit. He remembered the small, delicate hands that pierced them, the smell of the sea and laughter in the wind, the music and the fun nights, and the times when he did actually have some joy in his life.

He remembered the sand mixed with blood, the taste of bitterness and regret, the heavy decisions made in a single day.

He remembered all the emergency departments he'd finished, the poor management, the overworked staff, the entitlement of some patients, the desperation of other patients, the fear over being able to afford getting basic life saving care, the anger at how broken the system was, the frustration that could only be taken out on healthcare staff. He remembered the cases of abuse he'd reported, the anger in Hyrule's eyes when he brought in a drunk woman who survived a crash that she'd caused while the young mother she'd hit had been killed, the assault victims he'd treated, the frequent flyers who would just come for a sandwich but would cause a scene if they had to sit in the waiting room while actually sick people were taken back, the anger and hurt and bitterness and why were people like this?!

But it wasn't always bad. It wasn't. So he shouldn't just focus on the bad. He shouldn't just remember the bad. Why was that all he fixated on?

"What's wrong with me?" he muttered, leaning his head against the cool mirror on the wall.

"Am I heartless?"

No. No, Sky wasn't heartless. Sky had gone through a war, had seen things he refused to talk about, and he still had a warmth to him that Legend couldn't even fathom. Legend hadn't fought in a war, and yet here he was, being bitter about life.

You've fought in a war and you damn well know it, he reminded himself. As if the emergency department wasn't a war zone in its own right, as if he hadn't seen things that people weren't meant to see.

Ravio's words echoed in his mind next, insisting in how he was a hero, how all healthcare workers were heroes. It wasn't a new sentiment - many said it. But it didn't sink in. He didn't feel much like a hero. He just felt broken.

Maybe Sky was right. Maybe Legend wasn't actually heartless. Maybe he was just heartbroken.

#lu in healthcare #writing #lu legend #don't worry he gets therapy eventually #this got a lot angstier than I intended lol but oh well

[flock-talk]

Transparency With Parrot Food Manufacturers

There's been a significant rise in the expectation of transparency between pet food manufacturers and the general public. Dog food manufacturers, for example; have AAFCO, feeding trials, and an array of nutrient digestibility charts, base nutrient expectations, and sanitary guidelines to follow which a lot of brands then openly share with the public. These standards help pet parents make more active choices in what they feed their pets, tailor their pets diet to meet their individual needs, trust that their food meets a base line of nutrition, and that the food was produced in a sanitary manner. The dog food industry is far from perfect and even these regulations have their flaws and the tests aren't without fault but it is a good base for us to compare to when we're trying to sort out what we want from other pet food manufacturers. In this case I'm focusing on parrot pellet manufacturers.

I had a few different goals heading in to this.

I wanted to see how transparent pellet manufacturers would be with sharing information that is common to ask dog food manufacturers (information is not confidential, revealing formulas, secrets, etc.)

The availability of nutrient analysis charts (breakdowns of how much of each nutrient is in their pellets)

What standards parrot food manufacturers held themselves to

If any feeding trials were performed on their pellets

And to preface this with my own bias, I am pro-pellet, I currently feed pellets.

Before we get too deep in to this let's break things down a bit.

As it stands there really aren't any regulating bodies above parrot food manufacturers as far as I could find. There doesn't seem to be much of any standards when it comes to their sanitization or product quality, the best you get is the FDA/ CFIA which basically just make sure a food isn't outright toxic. As it stands there haven't been enough studies done on parrot nutrition for there to be a governing body stating what the minimum nutrient requirements are for parrot food, we simply do not actually know what those requirements are yet so there cannot be a set standard for it. This unfortunately leaves us open to a lot of problems, if there's no nutritional requirements and no standardized testing then we're really just putting a lot of trust in to a company that wants to turn a profit. We're hoping that the food that says it's nutritionally complete is what it says with no evidence to show for it, and no science to confirm it.

So with that said no parrot food can actually claim to be "100% nutritionally complete", we do not know what nutritionally complete looks like for parrots, there is no science to back up those claims.

So I set out and emailed every parrot pellet manufacturer I could think of and asked them the some questions.

"Does your company do feeding trials? If so, is that data available to the public anywhere?"

"Do you have a nutrient profile available?"

Feeding trials are very simply a test where you feed a set of animals exclusively one diet and then monitor them to see if the food is capable of providing the base essential nutrients needed to live. Usually they do blood work, urine and fecal alongside regular physical exams to monitor things like nutritional deficiency, ailments, and nutrient digestibility. This helps show that a food is capable of providing what the target animal needs to survive without causing health problems and provides vital information on what amount of vitamins/ minerals in the produced food are actually being digested and absorbed. These tests are common among well-known dog food companies and most are more than willing to share that data to give their consumers peace of mind with easy transparency.

And let me tell you I am beyond disappointed at what happened when I asked parrot food manufacturers the exact same thing.

TOPs: No nutrient profile listed on the website, does have a detailed breakdown of why every single ingredient was added though. Happily discloses that parrot nutritional science doesn't have all the data to claim any food as 100% nutritionally complete and advises for the feeding of fresh foods in addition to their food, didn't specify exactly how much of each to maintain optimal nutrition.

I emailed them three times and never got a response back from any of them.

Harrisons: Does say you can feed 20% vegetables by weight while the pellet should be 75%, has an easily available nutrient analysis on their website.

also emailed three times with no response back.

Caitec: no nutritional analysis listed on their main website, website did not state how they want their product to be fed, product packaging states that veggies should be a treat/ addition and lists the pellet as a "complete diet".

emailed three times with no response back.

Lafeber: Primarily promotes mixed seed and pellet formulas, doesn't state any risks of parrot's selective consumption (study on that problem), does promote the feeding of fresh produce in conjunction with their formulas at 20% of the diet, no nutrient analysis on their website.

emailed three times with no response back.

Zupreem (Compana Pet Brands): did respond back but they phrased their response in a way to dance around the subject, after some pushing they confirmed they do not do feeding trials. Encourages use of fresh foods with their formula, at least 60% pelleted diet recommended. Had an extremely small nutrient profile that just skipped over the important nutrient requirements like the Ca:Ph. I asked for a nutrient profile which they did not want to provide but were able to tell me that the naturals pellets have 0.59% calcium

Roudybush: Says fresh foods can be fed but "as a minor part of the diet", does say that science doesn't have enough information to make a product tailored to each species of bird, did make changes to their formula recently to remove menadione in favour of alfalfa due to it's potential toxicity. does seem to be evolving as science progresses. Ingredients list wasn't listed on the website, nor was a nutrient profile.

did not reply to any emails.

Tropican (HARI): I was hopeful for this one by the way their website boasts about their feeding trials and research. So so hopeful.

Talks about doing feeding trials openly on their website, recommends 70% pellet to 30% fresh foods (by caloric content not weight) but mentioned that their birds eat 100% pellets. Easily accessible albeit basic nutrient profile but it covers the main things.

After my email Mr. Hagen actually ended up calling me and what I was hoping would be a motivating call ended up being very hostile. Whenever I asked questions about data or results of a feeding trial I was immediately shut down, the topic was changed, I was interrupted mid-sentence over and over again. I was able to get small tidbits of info that were as vague as "we've fed multiple generations of birds on this food" and "we do annual weigh-ins". He would casually mention data from a study he had done but then dart away if I asked for the name of the study so I could read it later. It was an extremely off-putting phone call. Completely unwilling to say how many birds were in a trial, how many years the trial went on for, if there was bloodwork or nutrient digestibility charts, nothing at all. He also casually mentioned that once the birds are old enough they get sold to stores which was very unnerving to me.

So I guess they maybe do legitimate feeding trials but they will under no circumstances offer that data to the public? I don't know. They wouldn’t provide any published articles or data to actually prove that the trials exist and I will definitely not be contacting them again to find out. They suggested I was trying to steal their formula and lying about my identity. I'm not going to try to get a simple answer out of them again.

Mazuri: recommends 20% fresh foods 75% pellets, nutrient profile available on the website.

did not reply to any emails.

Pretty Bird: Does not do feeding trials, prompt to reply, at least knew what a feeding trial was. Couldn't find feeding recommendations on the website, no nutrient profile aside from the generic guaranteed analysis having a few add-ons but still skipping on the important nutrients you'd want to know about.

Kaytee: Did not know what a Feeding Trial was. Thought I wanted samples and offered me a coupon. I had to explain to this animal food manufacturer what a feeding trial was. Unsurprisingly they do not do feeding trials. Website had no listing of a nutrient analysis. Recommended 70-90% pellets to some fresh foods. In their own published article they went over how damaging seed diets are for parrots but then they also sell seed-only diets with the ingredients they were specifically bashing in their own article. When I asked for a nutrient profile this is what I was given:

"Nutrient levels are calculated based on ingredient data, feed compendium tables and direct diet analysis. Actual levels may vary slightly due to ingredient and analytical variation."

Kaytee exact naturals cockatiel pellet:

"0.4% Calcium 0.2% Available Phosphorus (non-phytate P) 0.1% Magnesium 120 ppm Zinc 140 ppm Iron 700 IU/kg Vitamin D3"

and that's just extremely limited information. I'm glad they were willing to provide something but in comparison to some of the others it's just not a lot of data.

Psittacus: advises for the use of grit in parrots, recommends 100% pellets but says you can feed a minimum of 70% to make room for fresh foods. Their response to feeding trails was really vague: "our products have been evaluated and tested in our centre as well as collaborating centres. This information is for internal use and it is not published anywhere". Wouldn't say what tests were done or elaborate further than that in any way. I then inquired for a detailed nutrient analysis chart saying that Mia's calcium has been a bit of a struggle (since it has been), curious if their brand may have more calcium than the ones Im using now to help her out to which they replied with "our food contains the calcium levels appropriate for him/her". (you literally cannot say that, you haven't run tests on my bird, you haven't worked with my vet regarding my bird, you cannot guarantee a blanket statement like that.). They did offer me a link to this catalogue which has more detailed info on their pellets production and a more thorough nutrient analysis chart.

I am shocked by the responses I received. I am disappointed in parrot food manufacturers. I am frustrated with parrot food regulations.

I knew I wouldn't get much out of these emails since the standards for parrot food are so low but the amount of companies that just pretended not to get my emails or didn't even know what a feeding trial was is ridiculous. The amount of companies that were making claims that science can't back up, or making claims that science actually disagrees with is astounding.

The complete lack of transparency is terrifying.

#I am never doing this again #don’t ask questions to pet food companies they will try to throw you in jail #dude straight up was like WHAT WILL YOU DO WI THE THAT INFO YOURE NOT A VET??? #HUH????? #feed my birds a diet that’s confirmed to be healthy for them…….. #bring the data tm my vet and ask if this looks like a good option for my pets…… #I will now be rethinking their diets entirely #thank you for coming to my ted talk #pellets #science

[chronicallyuniconic]

No purpose, just pain.

Do you remember your first obsession? Your first love? The first event that filled you with so much excitement? Your first holiday? That time your favourite game you've been waiting years for, is here next week? The hobby you took on like it was your purpose in life? maybe you got married?

That 'thing' where it was alllllll you could think about. You'd spend hours trawling the Internet or even books for anything to do with your new 'thing.'

Your stomach would flutter with excitement, your heart would race with anticipation. The closer you got, the bubbling anxiety would build to the back of your throat & you pace around your home opening and closing the fridge until the day arrives.

*throws 🔧🔧🔧*

My "first thing" is my illnesses & their many many varying symptoms. All I can think about is how awful I feel, every minute of every day and somehow I'm not(?) dying. [How/Why?]

It occupies my every thought. I spend and have spent countless hours scouring the Internet, medical journals, buying books written by doctors, finding actual doctors, to find answers, help, guidance, a drug maybe.

I've found an online community that has helped me feel less alone but none of us have rarely found answers. When we are given answers we are told to just deal with it, usually with OTC meds because there is no help for what we have, apparently.

We are a community on the slowest moving boat you've ever seen, rocked by our pain, our cries, our wait, our hope, that one day we are seen and our illnesses are given the recognition, research and funding they desperately need.

My stomach does not flutter with excitement anymore, it's a string of stomach and bladder problems that are ignored*. I'm not dancing with excitement, I'm jolting with nerve pain that is ignored*. I'm not searching up anything anymore because the 10kg weights on my eyelids & the sedative that seems-to-occupy-my-blood, send me to sleep.

*{When symptoms are ignored that means they are never addressed, studied, tested, looked at, are put under an umbrella term for your chronic illness and that is where you will remain}*

I can't "pace" my way through the pain-filled days because I am too weak & exhausted, filled with heavy lead bones & lead blood. When I try to go back to my 'thing' I am distracted by the pains & fatigue & the fact that no help is coming, even from myself.

"How can I paint a flower when I'm being struck by lightening with every breath & stroke of the brush?"

I've put my all into finding ways to make the best of my symptoms, to manage them, understand them, come to terms with them, accept my new body and what it wants or needs. Yet I've failed to nail any real reason, finding, bodily requirement or pattern that makes it manageable or predictable.

Pain diaries, food diaries, bathroom diaries, sleep diaries, how many diaries over these years will/does it take for a result? A conclusion? Blood tests, urine tests, tests tests tests that provide the same information but no further action. How many needles does it take for further assistance?

All of this & I'm told to be happy, be grateful. I'm told to just take each day at a time when each day is the same, breathing, pain filled void, achieving nothing, trapped behind 4 walls. I'm told I'm not trying hard enough or that I can't give up.*

[apparently being sad about your symptoms means you have given up]*

How does one go on when they have nothing left of energy, no path to turn, no doctor to just "get it," when there is no way out of this trap.

How does one carry on with no purpose but pain?

If you got this far, thank you. This has taken me some days to write up💜✨

#chronic life #chronic pain #chronically ill #chronic illness #chronic fatigue #fibromyalgia #myalgic encephalomyelitis #spoonie problems #sorry for being depressing #i'm not okay #spoonie life #tired af #reality #i'm just so tired #pain relief what a liar #spoonie #pain just pain #How many #no purpose

[thefrontofmymind]

Proof Positive 3

a/n: wtf??? i'm updating something 2 days in a row?? this is so unlike me

series masterlist

The morning after, you got out of bed around the time you always did and you got ready for work. With a gentle whisper to a half-awake Ross that you were leaving, you were out the door. 

You tried not to think about it, you hid it in a cupboard in your mind but that didn’t mean it was banging on the locked door. It must’ve been expectant mothers day on the tube because you counted no less than five pregnant women sitting in your carriage. Well, six, actually.

You kept laser focus on your work all day, even through the nausea and exhaustion. It wasn’t until you looked at your schedule did you realise that the tour that you’d been painstakingly organising every little detail of would begin in a mere two weeks. Ross would be leaving in two weeks. Twelve days to be exact. It gave you a jolt; you needed to act, and quickly. You booked an appointment with your GP for the day after tomorrow. You googled what to do, what to say to her, what she’ll say to you. You wanted as much control as you could get.

She would probably ask for either a blood test or a urine sample and she would test you herself. And then she would explain all the options you had. You knew it was early days, it was still an embryo, it didn’t even have a heart, it’d barely grown a brain. It had no thoughts and no pain receptors, it made you feel a little better. It wasn’t a baby yet.

You got a text from Ross at around 4 PM, ‘had to go back to mine to get some clothes, youre free to come over?’. You typed out a quick reply, ‘sounds good. see you soon xx’.

You placed your phone onto your desk and finished writing an email to some venue manager who had questions about the band’s rider. Another ping erupted from your phone, you took a quick glance at the new message from Ross; ‘how are you feeling?’, you didn’t know how you felt, so you didn’t answer.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

As you entered Ross’ flat, using the key he gave you a year ago when he moved in, you heard…talking. More than one person. In the living room was Ross, along with Adam and Carly. Like a switch that flipped, you were bright and happy–you couldn’t let them know what was happening.

A chorus of surprised greetings, questions on why you’ve shown up at Ross’ flat.

“She just can’t resist my cooking…” Ross joked. You didn’t fail to notice the inflection he had, you just prayed that Carly and Adam missed it.

There was some chatter between the boys–something technical with a song they were in the process of recording–and between you and Carly. You were telling her all about the tour, you could pretty much whip up any detail for the next ten months from the top of your head. And she had many questions about where her fiance was going, and when. You got to thinking…There was very well the possibility that things regarding the tour would have to change. In about eight months or so yours and Ross’ lives could change drastically. 

Ross slowly made his way to the kitchen, prepping ingredients for a stir fry. The couple got the hint, making a polite exit and telling you both to enjoy yourselves–whatever that meant.

You silently watched Ross cooking, sipping on the glass of squash you made yourself. He kept stealing glances at you, you pretended to be oblivious.

It felt like your bubble burst. The bliss you felt, this honeymoon stage, it was all over. Everything had been so natural before–the kisses, the casual touches, the pillowtalk–but now it was all just so forced. 

You picked at the food on your plate, you didn’t want to tell him the smell of it made you nauseous. You told him about your day at work, how the final plans for the tour were going.

“So we’re just not talking about it?” He asked after yet another story from you about a rude venue manager or a misunderstanding with your travel agent over the band and crew’s visas.

“I made a doctor’s appointment for Friday…she’ll tell me if it’s…real,” you answered.

“You wanna go alone?”

“You wanna come with me?” It was a genuine question.

“I told you I’m here for you,” he said. “However you want me, I’ll be there.”

You were looking right into his eyes, and he was looking in yours. At the unwavering eye contact you were comforted, you knew there was a shred of falsehood in his words.

“It’s at three in the afternoon…” You told him. “You could meet me there?”

“I’ll pick you up from the office.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The waiting room smelled like bleach. Like the linoleum floors had been scrubbed recently. The loudest sound was emitting from the small TV anchored to the wall in front of you and Ross–some daytime soap opera with characters you couldn’t understand the relations of, no matter how hard you tried.

Sitting across from you was a young guy, probably around 25 or so, cradling a little girl who was drifting in and out of sleep. She was tiny, a toddler still with the chunky limbs of a baby, and a mess atop her head of golden ringlets that probably hadn’t been brushed that day.

As the doctor called your name, you immediately jumped up. You didn’t see the large form next to you rise with you.

“Do you want me…” Ross trailed off from his seat, gesturing towards the corridor you were about to walk down.

“Please.”

Once you and Ross sat down in her office and got comfortable, she began to speak in a light and friendly tone. “So what brings you in?”

“Well…” you started. “I…my period was late so I took one of those early detection tests and it was positive.”

“A pregnancy test?”

You nodded.

“Okay.” She began to type out some notes on her computer. “Is your cycle regular?”

“To a tee, I’ve never been even a day late before.”

“So how many days?”

“Four.”

“And how long has it been since your last period?”

You thought for a second. “About a month?”

“Right.” She finished typing and turned back towards you. “I’ll get you to do a test here if that’s alright. I’m guessing this is the…father?”

“Yes, right, this is Ross,” you said. They exchanged a polite greeting.

The doctor handed you a small plastic jar. “Bathroom is just down to the left, you can’t miss it.”

About 10 minutes later the results were ready. Instinctively you grabbed Ross’ hand as your doctor looked at the much more clinical looking test. 

“Two lines…which means it’s positive,” she said. Your brain began to tick into overtime, it was like time slowed almost to a stop.

In that moment, knowing it was real, you felt a sense of comfort. You didn’t know how, but somehow you got the sense that you could do it, and it would all be alright, you could make it work. A warmth spread through your abdomen–though that was just your mind. You became aware of the hand you were holding in a vice-like grip. Ross was with you, you wouldn’t be alone, you could very well have a family with the man next to you. You could be there for each other through all this, you were a team.

“Oh my god…” was all you could say, a soft smile spreading across your face. You looked at Ross, mirroring your smile.

“I should talk to you about options,” your doctor said after a minute of letting you bask in the happiness.

“I want to keep it,” you said instantly.

You smiled at Ross again, he raised his eyebrows–silently asking “really?”–you nodded.

“Well then,” she laughed. “I’ll give you the name of a good OB, he’s the one who delivered my two girls…” She was messily writing on a notepad. “And this is a good brand of prenatal vitamins.” She opened a drawer of her desk and retrieved a pamphlet. “And here’s just some guidelines for the early stages, what not to eat, symptoms you might have, all that.”

“Thanks,” you said after she handed you the bundle of information.

“I’d suggest booking within the next week, you might just be far enough along for a proper ultrasound.”

You didn’t say another word until you were out of the building and walking to the closest tube station, to the line that would take you right to Ross’. “A baby…”

“I know,” he chuckled.

“Are you okay with this all? Sorry…I didn’t know what my answer would be in there…”

“Listen to me.” He stopped walking, taking your hand in both of his and fiddling with your fingers. “There is no one else I would rather do this with.”

“Out of everyone in the entire world?” You laughed.

“No one else.”

“Not even Waugh?”

“Don’t tell him that I pick you…” He said in a hushed tone, to which you couldn’t help burst out laughing.

You couldn’t describe the joy you were feeling. The bubble of bliss was back for you both.

That night you slept easy, in the arms of the father of your baby, the three of you together–at least for now.

#ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald fic

[muffinsin]

Cassie’s part! ;) NSFW alphabet!!

Let’s get started!!

Masterlist

A- Aftercare

She makes sure to tend to any wounds left on her and her partner’s body and likes to relax her muscles and mind in a nice (blood-) bath. That is, if her partner is fortunate enough to mean something to her and not end up as a snack or to fill her bloodbath ;)

B- Body part

Favorite body part of hers: Cassandra has a thick, round ass and a large chest, which she knows how to use. She especially likes using the latter to fluster the maidens.

Favorite body part of others: their necks and asses

C- Cum

It’s rare for her to swallow cum, let alone be the one covered in it. If she feels safe and horny enough to submit to her partner however, she will gladly have both happen to her. She’s a creamer

D- Dirty secret

She has a secret kink for uniforms which is tested daily by the maidens working at the castle. As she takes one of them to her bedroom, she is sure to only remove their uniform when necessary.

Bonus- she can, at times, be quite the pillow princess, something she is embarrassed about due to the Playgirl reputation she attempts to uphold

E- Experience

Oh, she has plenty experience being the dominant one, but lacks it on the submissive side. With the right partner, she is more than eager to learn

F- Favorite position

The doggy style; a relatively simple one, yet proper for someone like her, as it gives her either the view of her partner’s bruised body as she’s at the back, or allows her to feel them deep in her

G- Goofy

She’s hardly goofy at all and very strict with her partners, especially so when she’s dominant, but can be very bratty if she is on the receiving end of things

H- Hair

She alternatives between having her privates clean shaven or leaving a small, trimmed stripe leading to her clit at times

I- Intimacy

She hardly used to care about her partners as they more often than not ended up dead after she finished with them. In a relationship she enjoys the tenderness following after the rough lovemaking and likes to drag her nails across her lover’s torso as they recover from their activities

J- Jack off

Yes. She gets turned on by things nearly every day and has made it a small routine to get herself off, or find her lover to do so for her, at least twice a day for a quickie or full on session

K- Kink

She has many kinks, although pain is a major one on both ends. The masochist and sadist likes to watch her partner’s reaction to it and feel it be inflicted on herself

L- Location

Very contrary to other people’s usual sex locations, Cassandra loves having sex in the dungeons of the castle, among the crying and weeping, tortured and soon to be dead victims. Their pain never fails to arouse her, and the dark and familiar setting of the place she spends the majority of her day at makes it her ideal sex location

M- Motivation

Dirty talk or teasing. Whether dominant or submissive, she responds to dirty talk and teasing, especially if scent is involved. It’s a treat the huntress cannot refuse

N- No

Anything regarding feet, scat and urine is a safe no to her. She dislikes having other people included either and is therefore not a fan of threesomes and more, whether on the dominant, or- especially- the submissive side

O- Oral

Prefers receiving it, but when she does give it, be prepared to be teased and made to beg for it

P- Pace

Very fast paced and impatient. She has never been good at taking her time (unless perhaps with her victims), and it displays here too. This Dimitrescu sister likes it rough and fast and will not settle for less

Q- Quickie

A big fan of them, although they often turn into something longer

R- Risk

She is an extreme risk taker, varying from exhibitionism and voyeurism to her sadistic and masochistic nature that has often nearly gotten her (non-important, to her at the very least) partners killed, to her enthusiasm as it comes to overstimulation

S- Stamina

A lot. She has the most stamina out of her sisters and it definitely shows. She will not settle for less than 3 rounds and has a very high sex drive that has her get in the mood multiple times a day, often

T- Toys

She loves sex toys and has a ton. Dildos and straps, nipple clamps and leashes, vibrators and rope, Bondage and cuffs, whips and gags, you name it. She loves not only using them on others, but also herself and likes to experiment with them, as well as use them to draw reactions from her partner

U- Unfair

The sadist is the most unfair out of her sisters for sure when she is taking charge. She will often not allow an orgasm without proper begging and edging and relishes in the sounds of her partner’s whimpers and begs

V- Volume

When alone she manages to reduce her noise to almost nothing, although she ranges from quiet whimpers to loud screaming if with someone else ;)

W- Wild card

She has a raging Mommy/Daddy kink when on the submissive side

X- X-Ray

Strong but smooth muscles, tall and strongly built, a skilled huntress with a few scars here and there, yet strong thighs and rough, pale skin

Y- Yearning

Very high ;)

Z- zzz

She naturally isn’t tired after sex, but enjoys it very much if her partner manages to wear her out enough to cause this, albeit rare

#cassandra dimitrescu #resident evil #bela dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu

[callsignspark]

holding hands during a stressful situation for the intimacy prompts with Mary and Bradley!!

hi anon! thanks for sending this one!! I got the best idea for this and I loved the way it turned out!

surprise?

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, mentions of cancer, pregnancy, alluding to abortion, this is set once they’re already together, so many goddamn pet names, also you don’t need to read Mar[r]y Me to read and understand this but you should anyway

word count: 1.6k

note: I'm wandering somewhere around Boston at the moment, but please enjoy this! I'll be lurking when I can so please send stuff! I’ll see you on Monday!

“Honey, please sit down.” Mary is trying her best to be comforting, even as she feels the annoyance creeping up in her chest.

I know you’re scared, but I’m fucking terrified. Is what she wants to yell at him; it’s been a tense week, and his pacing is not helping her anxiety.

But she doesn’t.

She knows how stressed Bradley has been, how stressed he is. He’s kept a brave face on for the girls, but now that it’s just the two of them, she can feel his emotions bouncing off the walls.

“Okay, so based on what you’ve told me, I think our best course of action is to run some tests and see what’s going on.”

“Could it be cancer?”

“Mr. Bradshaw, I won’t speculate on what it could be, there are several things that-”

“I’m just asking if it’s a possibility. Her family doesn’t have a history of cancer, but they’re also not the best at going to the doctor, so who knows.”

Doctor Hong leans back on the stool, crossing her arms over her chest. She must see the terrified look in his eyes because she softens. “Mr. Bradshaw, like I said. It could be several different things that are causing these symptoms. I won’t lie to you; there is a possibility that it could be cancer. But we don’t want to worry about that until we officially have a diagnosis. Other than her recent problems, Mary is very healthy, and I’m confident that we’ll be able to handle whatever is going on.”

Her words during Monday’s appointment had done little to comfort Bradley. He had spent the entire week with his eyebrows creased. It’s Friday, and Mary is starting to worry that it’s going to be a permanent expression on his face.

They both took the day off, leaving the girls in the care of Grandma and Grandpa Mitchell before heading to the healthcare complex. Mary had spent most of the morning going through the tests Dr. Hong had ordered.

Blood pressure.

Urine test.

Blood work.

Pap smear.

Abdomen ultrasound.

Then, she was released and informed that the doctor would review her results that afternoon and call them if anything urgent showed up.

Her phone rang halfway to the house.

Bradley made the first u-turn he could legally make, tires squealing, and now they’re waiting in an office. Mary’s leg bouncing as Bradley paces up and down, across the carpet and back, tenser than she had ever seen him.

“Please come sit with me.” The shake in her voice finally getting him to stop.

“I’m sorry.” He mummers, grabbing her hand and squeezing. “I’m just scared.”

“Me too, Bradley. But it’ll be okay.”

“You can’t promise-”

“Honey, we’ve handled a lot. We’ll get through whatever this is, okay? Because it’s us. We made vows to each other, and I’m not done with you yet.” Her voice cracks on the last part, tears springing to both of their eyes.

“Fuck, I’m supposed to be comforting you, baby doll. I’m sorry I’ve been such a bad husband this week.”

“I get it, honey, it’s okay. It’s a bit too similar to your mom for comfort.”

“But that doesn’t make it okay! Shit. I wish I could talk to my parents about this. Dad wasn’t there, but I know he would have been so much better about this than me!”

Mary pulls him in, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Breathe, handsome. We don’t know what’s going on yet.”

“Baby doll, I don’t want to sound like a paranoid asshole, but them calling us less than twenty minutes after we left can’t be good.”

Dr. Hong enters the room, cutting off any further worrying. “Hi guys, thanks for coming back in so quickly. Just let me get your file pulled up, and we’ll go through the results.”

It’s a tense few minutes, the clacking of the keyboard grating on the couple’s nerves, before the practitioner turns to them and folds her hands on the big oak desk.

“I reviewed your test results, and everything came back normal. We did find something on the ultrasound.” Bradley’s hand starts to crush Mary’s. “But it’s nothing to worry about. If you could just look at the screen right here.”

All three heads swivel to the monitor on the wall, a grainy black-and-white image showing up. “So everything looks healthy in here, Mary. The only thing we found was a baby. Congratulations, mom and dad! It looks like you’re about-”

Dr. Hong keeps talking, explaining how far along Mary is and what the baby's due date will be, but it’s white noise to the Bradshaws, blood rushing in their ears.

“I’m sorry, wait.” Bradley croaks. “She’s pregnant?”

“Yes, it looks like you’re about 13 weeks along. And everything is very healthy.”

“I don’t- I- I don’t…” Mary trails off, her heart racing at the news. “A baby?”

“Yes. If my interpretation of the scans is correct, you’re thirteen weeks pregnant.” Dr. Hong talks slower, used to patients’ shock at unexpected news.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Bradley can hardly catch his breath. “I had a vasectomy last year. I did all the follow-ups and was cleared. How is she pregnant? I mean, we’ve been having a lot of sex, but I’m shooting blanks.”

She’s heard a lot of things in her time as a healthcare professional, but for the first time in her career, Stacey Hong is unsure how to proceed. Mainly because if she opens her mouth, she’s afraid she’ll start laughing at the horrified look on her patient’s face. She has to bite her tongue when Mary slaps her husband’s arm, hissing his name as her face turns red.

Breathe. Don’t laugh. These are some of your nicest patients. Don’t laugh at them. Breathe.

She pushes through, ignoring the last part of his question and addressing the real issue. “Vasectomies are a very effective form of birth control, but unfortunately, they aren’t 100% effective. About 1 in every 1,000 vasectomies fail, and that failure usually reveals itself within the first year following the procedure. So you’re right in that timeframe.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Bradley bends over his knees, running his fingers through his hair before bouncing up like a Jack in the Box. “Mary? How are you feeling? You okay, honey?”

“I’m- I… I don’t know. So, all my symptoms were pregnancy-related? This is not how I was with the twins.”

“Every pregnancy is unique, so it’s not unusual that this time would be different than it was with your girls. We’ll have to wait for the results of your pap smear to be completely sure, but I’m fairly confident that we can attribute everything - including the exhaustion - to your pregnancy.” Dr. Hong stands up. “I’m sorry to rush you, but I do have another appointment to get to. I’ll have Ashley set up a follow-up appointment and get you set up in the system for this pregnancy. They can print off some ultrasound photos at the front if you'd like them. I’ll see you soon; congratulations again, you guys!”

They move at a snail’s pace, slowly making their way to the front desk in a daze. Mary stuffs the informational folder in her purse and grabs Bradley’s hand as they walk to the Bronco. They sit there staring at each other for a few minutes before Bradley pulls the ultrasound photos out of the folder.

“Another baby…” He stares in awe at the low-quality screenshots. “How are you feeling? I know we decided we were done after the girls, but this obviously changes things.”

“Are we too old to have another kid? We were already older when we had the girls, but we’re really gonna be old when this one comes.”

“So we had kids a bit later in life.” He shrugs, shuffling over the bench seat towards his favorite person. “We’re still the cool parents in our forties.”

The laugh she lets out is wet, tears streaming down her face. “Hey, are you okay? If this isn’t what you want, we don’t have to do this, Mary. I’m happy with either way.”

“No, it’s not that, Bradley. I know it’s not what we planned, but now that we’re here, I absolutely want this.” She squeezes his hand. “It’s just hitting me again that I never thought I’d get this life. A wonderful husband who supports me so much. A little group of kids.”

“Still no dog, though.” He mummers, kissing her tears away. “You think Lily will accept a baby brother instead of a puppy?”

“You think it’s a boy?”

“Yeah, I just have a feeling. Do we still have that list of baby names? We’re gonna need it again.”

“Mav is gonna cry again, huh?”

“Give me a minute, and I will be too.”

The kisses they exchange are tender, identical to the ones they shared after they found out she was pregnant with the twins. Happiness radiates through the car.

“There is just one thing I need you to do.” Mary pulls back, smiling as Bradley presses kisses against her face, excitedly whispering about how they’re going to be parents again.

“Anything for you. Whatever you need, mama.”

“You have to call Dr. Lewis on Monday and schedule another vasectomy. This has to be the last one, or we’ll be 60 and still popping out kids.”

“You’d be so sexy as a pregnant 60-year-old.”

“Bradley…”

“I’ll call first thing, baby doll. I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She kisses him with all the love she has. “Let’s go tell our family we have a new member coming to join us in February.”

@gretagerwigsmuse | @bobfloyds | @hangmanbrainrot | @notroosterbradshaw | @princessphilly | @roleycoleyreccenter | @thesewordsareallihavetogive | @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby | @katieshook02 | @hellojameshowyadoin | @aristotles-butthole | @atarmychick007 | @whatislovevavy | @kmc1989 | @sometimesanalice

fic tag | Mar[r]y Me masterlist | credit for dividers here

#top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick au #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fic #top gun au #top gun imagine #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw x oc #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster imagine #DSS universe #MM fic #ask game #asks answered #anon <3 #elle writes #mar[r]y me fic

[xxlovelynovaxx]

I am so fucking enraged right now.

Everything I have ever learned about MCAS has been from other people with MCAS. Triggers, treatment protocol, secondary symptoms (and even sometimes primary ones), everything.

I am going on four years since I first started seeing allergists for this specific symptom set.

Not ONE has done more than a basic scratch and blood test and then told me to come back in six months if I'm "still experiencing symptoms". I got LUCKY that my pcp at the time was willing to do a urine tryptase test and also knew that a negative result wouldn't disprove MCAS. But she still completely didn't understand exactly how ignorant and lazy allergists in the area are and seems to think it's my fault I haven't gotten a diagnosis yet (I know I delay scheduling appointments because of my trauma, but that's also a fucking disability, Laura.)

They've prescribed me albuterol inhalers for my asthma, which I just found out TODAY is a major trigger.

I've had to rely mainly on the SIGHI food lost plus gauging my own reactions for what's safe to eat, and between that and sensory issues and being too disabled to make food I have to live in a constant state of reaction anyway and just manage it to try and go at least a month or two between ER visits for IV prednisone because I react to the inactive ingredients in the pills - and I've started reacting to something in the IV form too.

I'm sick ALL THE TIME and the worst part is statistically I'm not even halfway through the average time it takes to receive a diagnosis, let alone start treatment. I live in an area with two allergist practices that take Medicaid, and neither knows the first thing about MCAS.

One told me the only treatment was albuterol inhaler, flonase, and h1 and h2 blockers - never mentioning cromolyn sodium, montelukast, xolair, quercetin, or any of the other options past the first line that was already not working for me. I rely on quercetin and DAO enzyme from amazon (the DAO enzyme they don't have a ton of scientific proof of efficacy yet, but it seems to be working and even if that's placebo effect it doesn't seem to be HURTING).

They tell me to avoid my triggers but don't even themselves know what those triggers even LIKELY are (what foods are high in histamine, that exercise and heat are triggers, etc).

I am doing all the work of researching what tests have to be ordered, what the results would be to prove MCAS, what treatments are most effective and in what order you try them, all while having to pander to and tiptoe around a fancy signature in a lab coat's ego while they prescribe me things that are actively making me sick to the point they are effectively poisoning me.

I have to bend over backwards while also dealing with my severe (and ongoing!) medical trauma just to get doctors to not do what is allegedly the OPPOSITE of their jobs. I'm trying to get the lifesavers to actively not kill me through their own negligence and ignorance.

Doctors are lifesavers like the police are here to fucking protect and serve. If I ever hear another person refer to a medical professional as an "angel" I'll assume they mean "angel of death".

This isn't just one doctor, either. Every primary care provider I've ever seen, every specialist... I had my latest pcp FLIPPANTLY tell me "oh western medicine isn't really good at dealing with chronic issues. If you have strep or a perfed bowel, we know how to fix that, but otherwise you're basically SOL."

I'm only paraphrasing the last fucking acronym. The rest of it is word for word, I just can't remember the exact phrasing for that last acronym but it was the exact same meaning in slightly more "professional" wording.

On a related note, I fought doctors to get a wheelchair for my POTS until I gave up and only happened to luck into a charity that provided me one I could at least be pushed in, though I can't self-propel it. They kept trying to send me to physical therapy - which with how sensitive I am MCAS-wise to ANY exercise, could very well have made me worse.

Actually scratch that it would have bc just getting to the car and back two blocks away (city living) without doing anything else is enough to flare me for days. Doctors are apparently allergic to taking accessibility into account when treating disabled people. /bitter

I just... truly want to burn doctors as a profession and as people to the ground. It's a profession so deeply hostile to disabled and chronically ill people as the standard while purporting and being celebrated and being paid big bucks for at best doing jack shit and at worst actively killing us. I'd say "I could avoid crawling under the bar which is fucking UNDERGROUND if I were a doctor" but the fucked up thing is the system is literally set up to not just disincentivize doing so, but to actively prevent it and weed it out.

There are no good doctors like there are no good cops, because the good ones are either forced to quit or leave.

This is why I call myself anti-phys. Because I'm so pro-ACTUAL MEDICINE like you wouldn't believe. With human bias as removed as possible from the actual science, with disabled and chronically ill people being the first and foremost priority of every aspect of every medical and medical-adjacent profession - yeah, I ADORE good, accurate medical science. I want to fucking do medical research as a fucking career! I'm not against (consensual) treatment methods involving anything from medication to physical therapy to any other methodologies we know!

It's doctors serving only to gatekeep care and medical knowledge as a profession, who have absolute life and death power over disabled people and wield diagnoses like weapons as tools to discredit us and cover up their own neglect and abuse of us. It's the way the science is so incredibly biased and that this is in part because medical professions are designed to be inaccessible and hostile to disabled people as an integral part of the whole system. It's that the medical profession serves to uphold structural ableism and is built with that rot at its very core.

I have these fucking hellish chronic illnesses that continue to be fucking degenerative as a result of information purposely being kept from being disseminated and treatment being withheld, and if doctors were what their image portrays, I would have them minimally well-managed, if not some of them in remission.

These diseases are stealing years of my life away from me that I will NEVER get back, and doctors are in all actuality basically aiding and abetting them in doing so more effectively. It's beyond the cruelest of satire. It's beyond inhumane. It's eugenicist and more than borderline genocidal.

How much do I have to say: I'm terrified. I can't do this. I can't keep returning to people essentially mass-produced on a fucked up assembly line to oppress and harm people like me to beg them to this time not try to kill me and to instead do what is supposed to be their jobs. I don't have any fight left in me to do so.

I can't keep returning to the people responsible for upholding a system which strips me of my single most fundamental rights - to life and health - along with every right needed to guarantee those; and prostrating myself before them to the point my nose and forehead leaves a gouge in the floor, just to desperately plead for my life and find it weighed unworthy against their egos.

I can't advocate for myself against my very literal abusers anymore. I've been beaten down one too many times. At least this way, it's only lack of treatment that's making me sicker, and not active abuse and trauma which is retriggered and all those lovely things (/sarcasm on the word lovely). At least this way, I'm not getting my hopes up like a damn fool that maybe this time they won't hurt me, maybe this time they'll treat me the way they promised, maybe this time the same exact mass-produced abuser wearing a hundred thousand faces will treat me right.

(And don't even get me started on how the very literal definitional gaslighting of traumatized people and especially people traumatized by oppression and marginalization, the assigning of the labels of "crazy" and "irrational" and not reliable narrators on the harm and abuse they've experienced factors into all of this.

If you decide that trauma means people aren't actually capable of reliably determining an actual threat and that they're all jumping at shadows you can ironically use the label of traumatized to argue that victims are never experiencing any actual further trauma, and even honestly in a bizarre contradictory twist of logic that they never experienced any in the first place and it's ALL just a nebulous abstract sickness of the mind.)

I mean this purely in a metaphorical sense, but it feels easier to just lay down and let these illnesses take the rest of my life from me slowly. It doesn't hurt as much to bleed to death from a million tiny papercuts as it does to be repeatedly STABBED and then the worst of the wounds cauterized so I only bleed as much as a papercut from most of them, all while the papercuts continue and some of the stabs are left a leaking faucet to both drag me to death quicker and to steal my time by driving me out of my mind with sickness and agony.

I feel hopeless. I'm in a constant state of re-grieving, and being helplessly angry and impotent in part by virtue of both the physical illness and the trauma, and being triggered and retriggered and retriggered, and feeling hopelessness and despair, and holding on to a thinning thread of hope that is little more than fading light slipping through my fingers, and you know?

Of it all, the hope hurts worst. It keeps driving me to dash myself against the same fucking rocks as if anything will change. Chronically ill people are so often labeled insane, but isn't the definition of insanity doing the same visits to a god complex with a stethoscope over and over again and expecting different results?

Then I remember the entire communities of medical professionals fakeclaiming people with specifically my illnesses and calling us attention-seekers and drug-seekers and making fun of us for "thinking" we might have anything other than a "psychiatric" ailment (read: "crazy") while our bodies crumble around us. I remember that this is normal and even encouraged. And I think that it really is easier just to take comfort in despair, and stop torturing myself with this imaginary ideal of my illnesses actually being treated by doctors.

I think it's probably not possible to ever be healthy, because it's doctors job to stand at the gates of health and not let anyone in from our side.

Can't have us challenging what it means to be healthy, after all.

#ableism #sanism #discourse #anti phys

[ghoulangerlee]

my heart decided to beat super fast without my consent lmao. its already fast anyway but this was Faster Than Normal and not getting better. Email doctor about it, the medical assistant called me today and advised me I needed to speak with a nurse and possibly be seen.

so yeah, i spent like 5 and a half hours at the emergency department at my doctor's office hooked up to numerous machines and an IV.

they tested a bunch of stuff; the enzymes in my heart to rule out a silent heart attack because my blood pressure was easily 15x/1xx every time they checked it. tested to see if i had a blood clot anywhere.

the cause of all this? a UTI/bladder/kidney infection (i don't know the specifics just yet because I'm waiting on a urine culture to come back).

so yeah.

i have to see a cardiologist again to get my heart rate under control though so. that'll be fun.

finally got to eat at almost 6pm today. i was so hungry.

but now im just tired. so tired. i don't wanna go to work tomorrow but i have to. i'd like to still take a vacation or at least a few days off work.

we'll see what the future holds.

#personal.exe #medical stuff

[kangals]

long post with lots of discussion about dog urine for ppl interested in vetmed or who need time to kill this morning:

so the reason boone had a Vet Day yesterday is that about a week ago, seemingly without warning, he suddenly developed urinary incontinence. specifically if it’s been more than ~5-6 hours and he has a full bladder, he just kind of starts… overflowing. it’s not just a little trickle but he also doesn’t seem to be aware that it’s happening, and it’s happened at least once while he was sleeping/lying down. so for the past week almost every morning he’s just been trailing urine all over my house on the way to the yard. this did happen last year for 2-3 days but then spontaneously resolved, so when it seemed like it wasn’t fixing itself this time I brought him in for a workup.

good findings: no bladder tumors, no blood in urine, no drinking more than normal, no UTI (culture is still pending but no growth yet), prostate is normal, blood values are within range

bad findings: urine is low concentration - not “holy shit this is just water” level, but at the very low end of the acceptable range, even when water has been withheld. conversely, his kidney values on blood work are at the high end of normal, and compared to previous tests have been slowly increasing over time. appetite hasn’t been great lately. he’s also showing progressive neurological deficits in his hind legs/lumbar area

so right now the potential problems are:

UTI: would be the easiest solution, but is unlikely to be the case. will know for certain next week once the culture is finished.

early kidney disease: more likely given the urine dilution and increasing blood values. not curable, but can be managed with a rx diet (expensive, but he doesn’t like his current food anyway so not a huge hardship).

nerve damage: possible due to his long history of neuro problems and current degradation in his hind legs. only definitively diagnosable via MRI which is a big hassle and very expensive. the treatment for that would likely be steroids which have the unfortunate side effect of making you pee fucking everywhere, which is the same problem we’re trying to fix in the first place.

so assuming the culture comes back clear, which seems likely, it’s down to either kidneys or neuro (or possibly both). im trying to take things one step at a time and not get too overwhelmed, which I’m having varying levels of success with. I put him in a belly band last night and woke up early to take him out which did at least save my house from getting covered in pee, so hopefully we get some answers soon and can trial some things to get him feeling better.

#trial and error my beloathed #anyway boone seems to otherwise be acting normal so I’m trying not to stress #fingers crossed we can get a solution and get the Endless PeePee under control

[genuinehc]

Day 4: Pain

Challenge: @mediwhumpmay 2023 Fandom: Deus Ex Prompt: Day 4: Pain Tags/Warnings: hurt/comfort, medical whump, amputation, cybernetics, ableism

Adam tells people he doesn’t remember waking up. In many ways, that’s true.

He doesn’t remember the very first waking… or perhaps he does, but it is buried among the dozens of others, where he woke confused and afraid, unable to remember where he was or what had happened. Blissfully, the memories run together, creating a single ur-memory, from which he can trace the specific triggers of his trauma. 

Those memories, dreamlike in their haziness, start shortly after the first cybernetics were installed - the ones that genuinely saved his life. The lungs, breathing according to their own programming, not yet entirely under his control; a heart augmented and protected; a gut that was as synthetic as it was not. It was all connected to a spine and implants in his brain to keep autonomic functions working. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t hear, he could barely move, and what little moving he did - manipulated by unseen people, rolled and lifted and poked and prodded - was accompanied by tremendous pain. For some value of the word, though, he seemed to be alive.

If this was living, he wasn’t convinced he wanted to keep doing it.

Someone eventually took pity on him and gave him some of his senses back: a cochlear implant that finally allowed him to hear the movements of nursing staff, who sometimes told him they would touch him before they did, but just as often didn’t bother. One gave a running commentary of everything he was about to do, asking diffidently if his touches and movements were all right, as if Adam could do a damn thing about them. But knowing was better than not, and someone telling him they wanted to check the various tubes and bags that carried nutrients into his body and escorted them out again made his tiny, painful world that much more bearable. 

Cybernetic eyes took longer to adjust to, with electrical signals his brain still struggled to interpret. A woman came every day to work with him. His augmentations, she told him, were very advanced, bleeding edge, really, and she was delighted to be working with them- him, she quickly corrected herself. With him.

If he’d had a hand, he would have tested his spatial cognition and motor control with a hurled cup. As it was, he obediently named every item illustrated in the children’s books she brought and every item in the room he could remotely identify. He would learn to use these eyes in record time if it meant he stopped having to see her with them. 

Eventually, whatever visual acuity he was supposed to have achieved was reached and she stopped coming. Small relief, but relief nonetheless. 

The worst part of functioning eyes was that he could now see what remained of his body. He knew from the nurse who talked him through his care that there were tubes and bags, but he hadn’t been prepared for the sheer depth and breadth of them, how many types there could be. Drains carried blood and lymph from amputations; a bag for his feces, a tube for his urine, another for food. His chest carried more drains, ports for the augment that would eventually help him carry arms too heavy for a frail human body alone. What little skin he had that wasn’t bandaged or an open wound was wired to a computer, either through his skin, a port, a data jack, or good old fashioned electrodes. His tiny, painful world expanded to include a constant stream of data, communicated through electrical impulses he had yet to understand and incessant beeping he could understand well enough. 

A sergeant in Detroit had once told him that pain was how you knew you were alive. 

Adam thought he might go find that man and strangle him if he ever got the hands to do so. 

-=-=-=-

Limbs would come later, they told him. He asked and everyone told him the same thing: when you’re better. When you’re ready. Don’t worry, Sarif is taking care of it. Sarif is taking care of you. Aren’t you lucky that David Sarif is taking such incredible care of you? He wouldn’t do this for just anyone. 

The surgeries were extensive and felt neverending. Just as soon as he had half healed from one, he was being wheeled to another, and another, and another. In the early days, after he was conscious, but deaf and blind and sedated so heavily that he could barely speak; no one was making an effort to communicate with him about what was happening to him. After, a care team so extensive it made his head spin made a point of carefully explaining the procedures in agonizing detail until he prayed they’d stop telling him. 

It all would have been easier if he had just been machinery. Instead, they took meticulous care to ensure that his nerves worked, his augmented spine carried signals to his augmented brain, which told him that his body was on fire; that his arms and legs, left behind in the bombing, were somehow simultaneously numb and tingling. 

New incisions were nothing compared to the experience of having his skin lifted and separated from muscle, fascia fileted, and dermal armor inserted under. New nerves had to be grown, tested, modified, tested again. When he screamed, a technician calmly nodded and jotted down notes.

No torture had yet been invented that was more exquisitely terrible than this hell of existing in a body that could barely be called that. He stopped trying to look forward to a future where he could walk out. He would never be free of this. If he could even find a way to end his own suffering, they would cheerfully resuscitate him and proceed without a break in their stride. 

The scientists and doctors and nurses and technicians all seemed uniform in their assessment: he was fortunate to be alive. He was fortunate that David Sarif cared so much. He was fortunate to be used as a guinea pig in experiments for which he was the only possible candidate, because where else would they find someone who had so miraculously and opportunely been dismembered? Under their own roof! How convenient. 

After all, isn’t he lucky?

#deus ex #adam jensen #hurt/comfort #medical whump #amputation #cybernetics #ableism #mediwhumpmay #mediwhumpmay2023

[no-passaran]

Johnnie Jae and Courtney Lane talk about being asexual in the American for-profit healthcare system, pregnancy tests and husband's permission.

Clips from Disabled BIPOC Aces Panel held on Disabled Ace Day in Ace Awareness Week 2023.

Transcription under the cut.

Johnnie Jae: One of the things I find with disability and being Ace is the fact that it’s, more often than not, deemed a symptom of our disability, and not really seen as just the way that we are. [laughs] And, like, every time I go for healthcare, I find that there’s a lot of things that get disregarded. Like, you know, we can tell them that we are Asexual, that we’re not sexually active, and yet I still get a pregnancy test. The last medical procedure that I had, I had two pregnancy tests. [laughs] And I was cracking up, because I was like, “Seriously?” [laughs] Because they did a rapid pregnancy test and then they did a blood urine test. So I was just like, “That seems a little extreme for somebody who’s Asexual.” [laughs]

But also, it’s not just in, like, getting our physical health care. It’s in our mental health care. When we disclose that we are Ace, oftentimes, they try to uncover a reason for it. And oftentimes, you know, it’s like, they start questioning you about whether you were abused as a child or what kind of trauma you experienced, and you’re just like, “Yeah, that doesn’t really fit into how this is,” you know?

Courtney Lane: So to go back, actually, to Johnnie Jae’s previous answer talking about the pregnancy tests. That’s the thing where also, in a country where we do not have universal health care, you’re often paying out of pocket for that. And if you have to take a lot of them, it can get very expensive, and it can add up on top of already expensive medical bills.

Johnnie Jae: Yeah, I find the medical stuff to be the most — like, where I find more roadblocks, especially if somebody has lupus. So, lupus is a mimic. And there are so many other diseases that lupus kind of mirrors, right? So, whenever I go in for treatment, there’s a lot of diagnostics that are needed. And in order to access those diagnostic tests, you have to wait for your pregnancy test. You have to wait. And there were often times, especially when I was married, where, you know, there was a potential health issue where I may have needed to have, like, an emergency hysterectomy. And the first thing they want to do is get your husband’s permission. They want to speak to him first and see what his opinions are. And we’re like, “We’re not sexually active. You know, we’re not looking at having children.” But yet, that’s still the issue that has to be overcome first. It’s almost like even if you’re… It’s just like, as a woman, you’re just not given agency over your own body.

But also with lupus, you know, a lot of the treatments are very harsh. Or, for me, one of my treatments, one I really needed — like, at the last resort treatment for me — is cytoxan, which is a chemotherapy. And every single time that it comes to me needing this treatment, you know, I’m in dire straits at that point. And it’s, you know, literally a life-saving measure for me to start that medication and that treatment, but yet, I will have to wait for pregnancy tests. I will have to wait for them to talk to my partner to see what his thoughts are on the fact that, you know, it may inhibit my ability to carry a baby. And it’s just ridiculous that you have to wait to be treated, when clearly you know your own body, when clearly you know where you stand on whether or not you want children. But yeah, you’re always having to go through having somebody else’s permission to get that treatment even though your life is at risk.

And, you know, when you say that you’re Asexual, like Courtney was saying, they were like, “Says no, but haha.” It’s the thing that you constantly have to come up with, because they just can’t fathom that, you know, relationships are very complex. They’re very different.

#asexuality #asexual #lgbt #queer #lgbtqia #asexual awareness week #disability #disabled #disability rights #intersectionality #ace #💬

[trashlie]

ILY FP 236

I'm working backwards because it's late and I think I need more energy to get 235 out so I'm going to jump on this one, first lol I hope you guys don't mind! I'd like to get 235 out tomorrow before the ep goes out for those who like to come and check after the free post drops lol also I just REALLY want to catch up on these because I like having all my thoughts in one place and I didn't manage to hit up reddit for 236 last week - I was sick and I could not pull myself together for it ;~; So I'm flying by the seat of my pants! Also I just really want to get this one up before tomorrow, too, because I want to put down my thoughts/predictions/wants and see what actually comes out of it LMAO

KOUSUKE KNOWS KOUSUKE KNOWS KOUSUKE KNOWS KOUSUKE KNOWS!

Kousuke's arc continues to blow me away because I was SO certain we wouldn't get a lot of this until much, much later, in season 2 or something, so having this established before we move into our timeskip feels INSANE but it also makes me feel insane wondering where it's going to leave him, what it's going to do to him to learn this, reeling from this truth.

It's hard enough to digest that you've been roofied, much less IN A HOSPITAL by your own mother. That it was a dosage of benzos and oxy HIGH ENOUGH that it would knock a man out (AND DID as evidenced by the poor man who received Kousuke's leftover breakfast) and that it demonstrates how high his tolerance must be that he merely felt hung over.

That he was already wary of the medication Yui tried to give him at the restaurant was insane. That he was already wary of her even though he couldn't understand quite why. That he knew, definitively, something is so wrong with him he didn't care that Hansuke stole his blood vials and tested against Yui's wishes showed just how uncomfortable he is. But his response to the lack of answer!!!! To test him again! Blood AND urine! GOD I was screaming over THAT alone!

Also I have to say it but Kousuke in his Santa hat is so cute. I know I'm patronizing him, I know it's infantilization because he looks so uncertain and so very unlike himself with his discomfort and worry and unease that it makes him look so small and childlike but what can ya do? I like it when we get to see the haughty, confident characters knocked down a few pegs. Or a whole ladder lmao

Also also REALLY living for the Hansuke, Kousuke, Yujing dynamic. It is FUN! It is GOOD, it's what Kousuke needs lmao though I worry that Yui will do everything she can to box out Hansuke, depending on how Kousuke uses what he knows. But for now I'm going to enjoy it. There was something SO FUNNY about Yujing calling Hansuke "babe" and Kou's head popping out from between their seats going "BABE?!" ALKJFKAJFKJAFJKAFKJ SIR PLS CALM YOURSELF!!!!!

But MAN he's getting to THE realization. He's connecting the dots that Hansuke, bless his heart, is unwilling to connect, despite the very good points Yujing is bringing up. Being someone's mom does not mean you are going to make good choices for your child. We've seen fandom run with this thought before, too - that Yui can't possibly be manipulating Kousuke, that she just has alternative parenting. Hansuke, too, falls for the image, for the idea that a mother only wants what's best, that she has his best interests in mind. But like Yujing pointed out - it's so very clear that Kousuke is NOT okay, so why did they clear him? Why did she order him not to run the tests? Any doctor can see Kousuke shouldn't have been released, but a doctor in the hospital run by their FAMILY....?

Kousuke may not be voicing it yet but he knows. GOD, he knows. And the most interesting part is that when he's falling back into that spiral, when he's going back into that unresponsive state, not paying attention to what's going on, he sees Nol's bloodied phone - Nol's phone covered in the bloodshed caused by KOUSUKE'S doing - he uses THAT to anchor himself to the present. He picks up the phone and remembers holding Nol. I've been wondering how much he remembers about that, because he was SO RESOLUTE that Nol didn't harm him, that HE was the one who was hurt, that something was wrong. For that memory to resurface and be what grounds him when the realization that his own mother has drugged him with a lethal combination of drugs that should have done far more than made him feel like he has a hangover.... GOD.

Where does he go with this? He has to start suspecting, right? Because for him to have that tolerance, the obvious conclusion to jump to is that this is not the first time. The times that sweets did the trick and made him feel better - and the time he made them himself and they didn't. The times tea comforted him after particularly stressful experiences - and the brother who has such a strong aversion to it. Will he recall any of the conversation between Rand and Yui when he was passed out? I think, perhaps over the course of some time, we're going to watch that paranoia and fear grow. All this time he feared Nol, he worried about Nol - but Yui was the one to fear, right under his nose, orchestrating everything so that he would be left dependent on her.

UGH.

He knows he can't trust her, but who can he trust? The chef who prepares food for him that always does the trick? The thing about Yui is that Kousuke knows she has people everywhere, and that's the very horrifying thing about his situation. How many pockets is she lining? How many people does she have at her beck and call, to administer whatever she needs of them? Who do you trust when the one person you've relied on - because his own father is so absent and unavailable, also boxed out by his mother - is the very person who you can't trust, who has taken advantage of you?

And where will Meg and Rand's gift come into this? Before, Kousuke jumped on Meg as the only likely option he could think of - Meg who stalked and harrassed him, Meg who brought him the only food/drink outside of the parties. Meg who he acknowledged wasn't like that. It's not the first time Meg would have brought him something that he didn't want to be true - first telling him that Shinae had been drugged. Would he ignore this, too, a gift she says she found in the trash? A gift clearly from his father, disposed of by who else but his mother? Surely those are dots he could connect. And again, what do you DO with that? With the knowledge that she's drugging you, that she replaced the gifts with something so tacky and lacking of familiarity with who he is, especially compared to the actual gift that was thrown out. Will it make him wonder what else Yui has disposed of, traded in, how many other times he'll recall his father admitting that he didn't know this event was on this date that she didn't tell him?

There are SO MANY fissure cracks forming under Kousuke's feet and at the end of the day HOW is he supposed to deal with it, when you can't trust your mom, the people she hires, maybe your family? When you realize that she's been drugging you, that she's been driving that wedge between yourself and your father, that she's ensured you are dependent and reliant upon her, that she has access to all aspects of his life there is nowhere he can evade her he has nowhere to escape to.

GOD IT'S ALL JUST SO INSAAAAAAAAAAANE!!!!!

I still can't get over him using Nol's phone - the concept of NOL - to anchor himself, to ground him as he's reeling from a horrifying realization too big to digest, too overwhelming to handle. It's Nol who he tethers himself to, Nol he uses as a distraction, to pull himself out of these thoughts.

THE TRAGEDY OF THESE BROTHERS WILL NEVER CEASE TO GET TO MEEEEEEEEEEE I'M HOWLING

And then on the flip side we know aaaahhhhhh the long-awaited Dieter and Nol talk is COMING. I just knew it, when Dieter said he'd just go back home and they'll go visit Nol together tomorrow that he was lying and he absolutely was going to see Nol on his own, duh, we all saw that coming but I AM STILL LOOKING FORWARD TO IT! But I'd like to actually acknowledge WHY I am and what I look forward to, since it's not solely about the romance at play.

What Dieter saw when Shinae and Nol thought he was asleep wasn't just that his fears, the things he suspected, had been right all along. It wasn't just that he saw the girl he likes and his best friend flirting. It was all the things he realized he didn't know.

Dieter already made a comment about it - that they didn't realize how bad things were between the brothers and "some friends we are". Because on some level, Dieter has acknowledged it's true - there were so many things about Yeonggi worth questioning that they just didn't, whether it was because Nol isn't forthcoming about the answers, or because he was afraid of pushing him away. We even saw Shinae play with this concept, when she wanted to press him about his family but stopped herself because she was worried he'd run away again. That moment when Nol and Shinae's dance ends, when they have that little spat, was not Yeonggi. It was someone Dieter had never really met, because out of their group, Dieter is the one who knows the least about Nol. About his life, about his relationships. He only knows Yeonggi.

Think about this. Dieter sees Nol on tv, pleading guilty to something he didn't even KNOW about, with a name he didn't know, finding out he's the illegitimate son of Rand. That Yui isn't his mom! Nol blocks all of them, won't take their calls, won't receive them at their home. He finds Shinae in the rain crying, watches as she falls apart in his bed. Nol tells them not to contact him again and basically that he's peacing out.

And then suddenly there he is at Minhyuk's party. He didn't even arrive through the front door!

And there he is, bleeding out on the snow!

Dieter knows NOTHING. Not why Nol left. Not why he came back. Not why he hides himself from them. Not why he pushes away Shinae like he does the rest of them. Not why he cares so much about them but won't let himself have them.

Of course Dieter is hurt. His friend is a lie. His BEST friend, the first friend he made in Korea, the friend who has done everything to be a good friend to him. The friend who tried to play Cupid for him and the girl he likes. He's a LIE what about him is real? He doesn't know him! And not only that but he doesn't TELL him anything.

Dieter has no way to know that Nol has only just realized his feelings for Shiane. In fact, Dieter has been watching those feelings develop between Nol and Shinae for a while, taking note of that chemistry, the ways they veer towards each other, the different relationship that they have. And what hurts is probably not that they like the same girl (or rather, not only that, because I'm sure that hurts) but that Nol couldn't TELL him that. That he couldn't say Hey man I think we gotta talk about this I gotta get something off my chest.

Dieter probably feels like Nol can't trust him. Or maybe he feels like Nol thought so little of his feelings. Maybe he thinks he could have just hid it forever and then left and it wouldn't matter, like Dieter wouldn't have been left picking up the pieces of Shinae, yearning for a girl yearning for someone else.

It's that Nol didn't tell him anything. Nothing about his family, or who he is, or what was happening in his life. Did Dieter know that Nol was going to trial? I'm sure he had NO idea. Does Dieter even know what happened that night? That they were at the formal together? That Shinae got hurt? I don't think he does! There's SO MUCH he doesn't know.

But also.... he doesn't ask. I think he's afraid of scaring Nol off, of pushing him away, but he also knows that that makes him a bad friend, too. Nol put everyone's needs first all the time, deflects when it comes to himself and they let him. They took him at his word, even when they know better.

I want Dieter to call Nol out.

"Aren't we friends? Why can't you tell me things? Why do you keep pushing us away? Do we mean that little to you?"

And I want him to acknowledge that he, too, should have reached out more.

"I'm sorry I didn't pry more. I'm sorry I was so complacent. I'm sorry for being afraid of scaring you off by caring too much."

It's about SO MUCH MORE than just that they like the same girl. That may be an elephant in the room, but it's more about the way they've been friends. Obviously Dieter cares about Nol, but Dieter is also resigned to people walking away, to people leaving. He's so used to moving around and losing touch that perhaps he felt this was all only natural. I want him to fight for his friendship just like Shinae! I want him to call out Nol on boxing them out! We're friends so let us be there for you! We're friends so lean on us! We're friends so please share yourself with us!

Can you be okay if he left, Dieter, and just became yet another former friend?

Fight for him, damnit! ;A;

But also yes I do want him to call out Nol on how he's treating Shinae. That yeah, he's treating them all pretty awfully considering how much they love each other, but he knows what he saw and "if you're pushing her away for my sake, don't. I'm not a little child, I can handle it." I want him to remind Nol that these are not his decisions alone to make, that yEAH it impacts Shinae. What good is it if they like each other but "sorry Dieter likes you so I'm going to push my feelings away we can't do this" because if she doesn't like Dieter - and she doesn't - what does it matter? And would Dieter want to be the one standing in their way? Please. I'm begging this kid to stand up for himself, he's not going to pull a gross, possessive man treating a girl like an object to be claimed move.

Something that I must remind people again is that Dieter knew what he was doing. He knew Shinae doesn't like him like that. He knew that she and Nol have something he doesn't. He was still hopeful, he still tried - and good for him, I'm glad he did! He gave it his best and it didn't work out but at least he can't regret not trying. He hoped that maybe, over time, what exists with Nol and Shinae could develop between them but it's clear to him now that's not how it works.

Shinae didn't betray Dieter.

Nol didn't betray Dieter.

Dieter knew and he hoped anyway because sometimes all you have is hope, but he's not someone to hold that against people.

#I Love Yoo #ILY Brainrot #ILY Spoilers #ILY FP #Kousuke Hirahara #Hansuke Hirahara #Yujing #Yui Hirarhara #Nolan Oliver T. Lochlainn #Dieter Becker-Wulff #I'M SO EXCITED FOR TOMORROW'S EPISODE AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH #this is one of the few times this week has actually went decently fast for me wowie! #tomorrow I tackle The Big One #wish me luck guys i'm gonna need it LMAO

[harmonyhealinghub]

Navigating the Uncharted Territory: My Journey with Chronic Illness and Uncertainty Shaina Tranquilino January 18, 2024 At the age of 18, my life took an unexpected turn, plunging me into a world of constant illness and uncertainty. The symptoms I endure are overwhelming - from debilitating nausea and stomach cramps to the frustrating inability to keep food down. Endless trips to the bathroom, sleepless nights plagued by insomnia, sudden hot flashes, sweating, and excruciating pain in sensitive areas have become my everyday reality. To make matters worse, my body seems to be betraying me with the absence of a menstrual cycle, persistent fatigue, weakness throughout, and inexplicable pain all over. Hair loss, mouth sores, rashes, and high blood pressure further compound my struggles. Seeking answers has been a long and arduous journey that has taken me through countless doctor's offices and hospitals. Specialists have subjected me to numerous tests - from blood work and urine samples to stool examinations, heart assessments, MRI scans, CT scans, ultrasounds, EKGs, endoscopies, colonoscopies - you name it. Yet frustratingly enough, every test comes back normal or inconclusive. It feels like an endless uphill battle where hope for a clear diagnosis seems elusive. The medical professionals suspect that I may be grappling with one or multiple autoimmune diseases or perhaps something incredibly rare. Sadly though, these conditions rarely present themselves on tests until they reach life-threatening levels – a disheartening fact that makes obtaining a definitive answer even more challenging. This uncertain future has pushed me to seize each day as if it were a precious gift because there is no telling how much longer I will be able to stand strong. In light of this unpredictability looming over my existence, I strive to serve others as best I can while I still have the strength. Every task completed becomes an accomplishment knowing that time is fleeting. Each day brings with it gratitude for being alive despite the unknown that lies ahead.

Today, I am humbly asking for your help. I am 30 years old, so it has been 12 years of dealing with this mysterious illness, and it is soon going to be 13 years for me. If you or someone you know has experienced similar symptoms, if you have any knowledge or expertise in rare diseases or autoimmune disorders, or if you simply have suggestions on where to turn next, I would be eternally grateful for your guidance. Perhaps there is a specialist, a research study, or an alternative therapy that could shed light on my situation.

I firmly believe that together we can find answers and solutions. By opening up this plea to the public, I hope to tap into the collective knowledge and compassion of our community. Your support, advice, and connections may hold the key to unravelling this medical mystery and restoring hope to my life.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to read my story. Please feel free to reach out with any insights or recommendations you may have. Together, let us strive towards uncovering the truth and finding a path towards healing.

With deep gratitude, Shaina

#navigating the unknown #chronic illness #mysterious illness #chronic illness journey #uncertainty exploration #health adventures #finding strength #beyond boundaries #navigating challenges #living with uncertainty #chronicles of illness #journey through uncharted #health and hope #navigating unknown paths #autoimmune #diagnosis #asking for help

[109moons]

Here are my days.

5:30am: Lab comes to take blood. All of my bird veins are black, blue, mustard, indigo. If I am still sedated enough, I cry without realizing tears are rolling down my face. The exhaustion is too much to bother acknowledging crying.

7am: Shift change. My night nurse updates daytime of how low my oxygen is and to be careful with my blood pressure. She reminds them that I need plasma at an incredibly specific time to try to influence my INR numbers for the day. Adriana says goodbye for the morning and says she hopes she doesn’t see me later, but we both know I will still be here.

7:30am: Meds. Magnesium drip. Platelets. Potassium. Steroids. Anxiety medication. Muscle relaxers. Blood pressure medication. Nausea medication for the blood pressure medication. Iodine up the nose. Propanol shot down the hatch.

8:30am-ish: Breakfast. Eggs taste like plastic and I cannot have salt. My eyes are dry from my oxygen cannula blowing up in my face.

8:35am then every 15 minutes: Random person from respiratory pops their head in and encourages me to take deep breaths. I contemplate creative forms of murder. My liver hurts. I force myself to pee in a bed pan and act like my kidneys are not shriveled and my back feels like a vacuum trying to strain to urinate.

8:40am: I really do not want dialysis.

9am: Rounds. Pulmonary wants a chest tube. Respiratory wants me to “just breathe”. Hepatology is here and avoiding giving answers about my transplant. My Mom is crying. I am stoic. Nephrology gives themselves more gray hairs and stresses out over my kidneys. Cardiology says things about “shunts” and bubble tests.

I just think about inhaling and exhaling and how badly it hurts with one lung.

10am-ish: Internal medicine comes by and apologizes profusely for the disagreement between teams and why I have not been given a chest tube yet. I usually cry again here. This is the definition of being in between a rock and a hard place, but I’m circling the drain between these places.

11am: Probably lunch. Probably also gross. Probably fighting with my Mom and regretting asking for her support. I would rather be alone.

Twilight zone: This is usually the hours between doctors where I let my respiration get really low and rest. I sip on my protein shake. I nest with my squishmallows and blankets. I journal. I think about the man I truly loved and how when I die, if I die, I have to be sure to not take it to my grave how I feel. The bed feels warmer, pretending he’s here under my fall blankets and surrounded with flowers and creature comforts.

People visit after this usually. I laugh until I can’t because it hurts too badly. I feel self conscious in my pajamas with my dirty hair. I feel like I have to entertain, even though I don’t. I insist it does not make me tired, but it does - but it makes me happy.

5pm: Labs. Time to find another vein to stab. Usually a chest X-ray here too. It feels great laying on a hard board for an X-ray everyday on a ribcage that has been punctured five times in ten days. But please, I know your ribs hurt so bad. Meds. More diuretics. Have to pee every ten minutes. Hope visitors are not here, because I feel less than human peeing in a bed pan with friends here.

Somewhere through the rest of the night, my Mother will decide to remind me that I deserve to be dying. That I am ungrateful, or unappreciative, or I removed the joy from her life. I am humbled and reminded of how small I am. My nurse usually kicks her out then and brings me a cup of vanilla and chocolate ice cream, because who wants to pick?

I’ll slowly chew up my grisly dinner, take my sleeping medication, and get ready for my oxygen to plummet overnight. The bed is exploding with comforts and I know if I go in my sleep, I will be as soft as I was coming in to this world.

Then it will be September 25th, 2023, and I’ll do it all again.

[pandorkful]

So, cat update time. Took Gar and Simon to the Vet on Tuesday, Gar's condition hadn't improved and Simon was getting dehydrated and showing signs of a pancreatitus flare up.

Got Simon hydrated up with a saline injection, and he got an anti-nausea shot to help his appetite as well as blood drawn so they can check his kidney levels--they had to send out for testing, haven't heard the results yet but I've been giving him liquid steroid twice a day and he's basically back to his normal self already.

Gar stayed at the vet for more intensive treatment, the vet said his bladder felt rock hard. :( They said they were able to do catheterization without having to sedate him, which was good. His urine is looking good today, but they're going to do surgery to remove any remaining crystals. We should be able to bring him home tomorrow, if everything goes OK.

So. This is going to be a whopper of a veterinary bill... my guesstimate based on the "high" estimates they showed us on Tuesday is around $1200. I'm gonna need some help paying that. :-/ ahahaha and here I was feeling good these past couple months about not having to beg for food or rent money for awhile.

With the new online payment tax rules, I'm not entirely sure how to go about fundraising for bill payments anymore... I imagine PayPal payments sent as "to friends and family" automatically don't count as income, but third-party donations thru places like ko-fi always come marked as if they were a purchase... even though they're not.

Gahh, I mean, at this rate I might as well go ahead and set up a ko-fi fundraising goal for paying this bill. I've already received over the $600 non-reporting limit this year, and eventually I'm gonna need to figure out how to report that it was all donations to pay for emergency expenses, anyway. If that even makes a difference in the eyes of the IRS.

I'm just... :-/ real anxious.

Trying to not beat myself up about this, but I can't help feeling like I failed my cats. I think it was the temperature drop last week plus our grocery stores running our of the regular catfood that triggered Gar's issues... but I've also been having difficulty getting their water bowls washed out everyday, and that's on me and my fluctuating energy levels. :(

I need to get a water fountain or two that actually filter fur and gunk and not just water, and is easy to clean out so the pump doesn't break after a month. :-/