#i always forget she's actually a qualified surgeon

[talesofstyles]

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain. 

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder. 

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment. 

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car. 

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.” 

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later. 

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald. 

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.” 

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later. 

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks. 

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off. 

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.” 

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors. 

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve. 

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING. 

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head. 

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her. 

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals. 

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom. 

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife. 

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process. 

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop. 

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache. 

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink. 

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers. 

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest. 

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room. 

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward. 

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket. 

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages. 

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side. 

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket. 

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door. 

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.” 

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going. 

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him. 

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear. 

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le g��teau au chocolat. 

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes. 

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt. 

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige. 

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down. 

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.” 

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching. 

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

#harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #harry styles one shot #harry styles fics #harry styles ff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles au #dad!harry #husband!harry #doctor!harry #surgeon!harry

[nanachingu]

Drama Review: Mouse

I’ve been active lately because I have another drama worth-reviewing for the 2nd quarter of 2021. This drama one of the most complicated story I’ve ever watched. Tips for watching this drama: keep focus and pay attention to all scenes because the details really help you understanding the drama. This story really not as simple as you think, like other drama we find who the villain and protagonist is the main lead, but this drama is not just about that. We’ll be given another plot twist in every episode and suspicious to every character.

*this post will contain spoiler to the story, please keep it mind*

The poster describe our main lead in this drama. I’ve been following all SeungGi drama since My Girlfriend Is A Gumiho. Actually he was the man that introduce and lead me to K-drama. My first drama was My Girlfriend Is A Gumiho and I love Lee Seung Gi. I think he always took a good drama and when announced that he’ll take a role in this drama, I’m really excited. As for the other three I knew them but not quite follow their acting career but it turns out they really good portray their character especially the one who played as Go Moo Chi. This drama will center on Jung Ba Reum (Lee Seung Gi) life.

Jung Ba-Reum (Lee Seung-Gi) is a rookie police officer, working at a police substation. He is an honest person and tries to attain justice. He faces a psychopath murderer, who places the entire nation in fear. Jung Ba-Reum’s life is totally changed afterwards.

Source: AsianWiki

This picture above show us how our main lead meet each other. When Bareum trying to save injured bird, Go Moo Chi car is blocked by them. They’re police and trying to catch psycopath that killed their important people. We got police as our main leads, television producer, highschool student that will become the main story and also a doctor as a candidate of psychopath and another doctor that proved as a psychopath.

Welcome, this is Han Seo Jun. One of the psychopath that shocked the public because he’s a great surgeon and has a nice reputation before a child revealed him as a psychopath and murder his parents. He’s the cause that this drama exist haha because he was succeed gave his psychopath gene to his child. You can’t say that his child will inherited his father gene 100%, but this is spoiler that Han Seo Jun really succeed. His child really have no emotion and smart, qualified to become the next psychopath.

SPOILER *(I know if you treated better, you didn’t have to become like your father *cries*)*

This is the first candidate as Han Seo Jun child or the new psychopath. Sung Yo Han. If you see his face and expression, he’s really suited to become the next psychopath. And he’s a doctor. Han Seo Jun also a doctor. And it turned out that his mom is Han Seo Jun ex’s wife. Automatically become the 1st and most likely candidate of the next psychopath. I just can say that Yohan was one of the most tragic character in this drama. You deserves better. I’m sorry that people really harsh on you, but believe me I’m always sure that you’re more than psychopath like others said ㅋㅋㅋㅋ.

Meet our main lead, Jung Ba Reum. He’s really kind police officer. But somehow we can’t take out him as the next candidate of psychopath. Jan Seo Jun also known as a kind and humble doctor but it turned out he has no emotion and all of it just an acting. Who knows that Ba Reum actually like that? *(I know I already watched itㅋㅋ)*. But after few episodes, something big happen and it’ll really change Ba Reum life. His life is not the same anymore and will lead the drama to a next level.

The last candidate, but I’m kinda sorry to write this but it’s one of my opinion. This is Detective Shin. I know that it’s not just me who accused him as one of the psychopath because of his father!!! The three of them I think born on the same year, so they were born when Han Seo Jun case was discussed and psychopath test on unborn child was questioned. Detective Shin’s father was one of the important people in government and has a vote to agree or disagree to psychopath test and he chose no because he’s expecting a child after a long time. He didn’t want to let go his baby if it turned out that from the test he has psychopath gene. Eventhough it’s just our speculation but I accused that his child has psychopath gene because of some scenes in the drama. Sorry… In the current timeline Detective Shin’s father also become president candidate while Detective Shin help Moochi and Bareum investigate the predator.

So who’s the real predator here?

We can see that tvN update the new poster after several episodes to show where the story will go. Like I said, something big will change Bareum’s life and it shows in the picture. Kind and innocent image Bareum change to more mysterius and dark Bareum. After watching Bareum’s changes, hm we’ll realized that this drama is more complicated than we think. It’s not just about finding the psychopath, but how we can put all the details that we get into another one story that will blow your mind. Lee Seung Gi as Jung Ba Reum wow he really potrays the character really well, even I the one who always follow Lee Seung Gi’s movie and drama still amazed with his skill in this drama. It applied to Lee Hee Joon that play Go Moo Chi character. Many applause to his acting. He describing sad, sorrow, and losing someone important while angry to situation, he really can describe it well. Argh I really wanna share my opinion about all the details but it’s too much spoiler for the story and I’m sure when you already know too much spoiler, the drama isn’t as good as before anymore.

It was more painful than another psychopath drama because….. we’ll see the story from another point of view that drama usually will show, and I don’t know how the writer-nim can think and make this plot. Because of this, I’m interested to watch this writer-nim another drama. Just a TMI, I heard that Mouse already shows as a cameo in writer-nim previous drama called Black. People said that we can see a few scenes about Mouse drama there but no one realized until the drama really airedㅋㅋㅋ Unfortunately I didn’t watch Black drama so I just knew from other people. Watching this drama feels like we’ll get another perspective about psychopath and I think actually society really made a big impact to create someone’s life. As a parents, you’ll have a big responsibilty of your children. How you raise them, and if you really think about society and peoples judgement but didn’t gave your best to your child then what’s the use??? I kinda hate the mom here. I know she’s scared, but it’s her choice but she can’t take a responsibility for her action. If she believe to her action, I know…. this drama will not be exist 😂😂

So last but not least, don’t forget our child actor Kang Hoon that really portray his character as Jae Hoon really well. I always admire his acting since his acting in When The Camellia Blossom. I’m sure that he’ll be a great actor in the future. His range of acting is really wide considering his age and his experiences. From the start until the end, he give us excellent acting for his character and I hope you will get better and better in the future. Fighting Kang Hoon!

One of my favorite quote but also most heartbreaking scene in this drama:

"In the next life, let’s meet each other when I’m born again as a normal person."

Okay! So I write this like after the night this drama ends and overall I really like the ending with all the plot and genre it’s perfect. Eventhough this drama is really complicated, but they wrap up the ending well. All clear and all scenes are explained well. I can’t ask for more. My rating for this drama is 5 out of 5 star ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️. Please if you really have time and wanna watch this drama, please watch it. It’s really worth it!

See you in another review!!! (hope there are more good drama that worth to review in the future!!)

“God heard our prayers… We’re no longer monsters..”

#Mouse #tvn mouse #lee seung gi #lee hee joon #jung bareum #sung yohan #park ju hyun #kwon hwa woon #kyung soo jin #kim kang hoon #psychopath #predator #review

[mayabishopapologist]

station 19 - season 4, etc

this is long but i want to put down my thoughts before thursday comes and i guess i have A Lot To Say.

honestly didn’t pay much attention to this show until halfway through season two—  always liked maya and was glad that they gave her more to do. going into season 3, i was excited for more character development &stronger storylines. however, by the end of  301 the dip in quality was glaringly obvious. a quick google search revealed that there was a new showrunner and, well, it showed. 

while the show had been going in a really good direction with balancing the screen time between andy and the other regulars, this season, the plot was all over the place. it was uber dramatic and just. so much happened just to happen? seemed like every other episode had a major event(deaths alone; ryan,rigo,pruitt?!!?). they were so frequent, it was hard to process. it was also hard to get invested as the characters themselves moved on(or were shown to have moved on, extremely quickly!) 

i enjoy the show for what it is and i have no delusions about broadcast tv shows (or shondaland productions, for that matter)but the suspension of disbelief.... i mean: a stabbing, a robbery, a shooting and a car crash? all in one episode? please! lmaooooo. drama for dramas sake is always boring and weakens the story.  

& as for the characters... .

everyone felt like a hollow version of themselves this season and it was hard to watch sometimes, actually. characters switched motivations /personalities for the sake of the current episode and i know this show is very ‘monster/emergency of the week’ but. some consistency! please! like—

maya: she’s always been determined and focused but they went so far with it this season, it was almost cartoonish. her competitiveness was hinted at in season 2 but she was always portrayed as self aware. ‘the beast,’ as she dubbed it to andy, was something she knew of and tried to contain, because she knew it could get out of hand. 

yet, in season 3 she suddenly forgets this and just. becomes the most power hungry/singularly focused person, ever. she goes after the captain position behind andy’s back, (citing andy’s emotional state, because of the death of her best friend as a reason she shouldn’t get the job?? huh. since when is maya this purely callous??!) she just doesn’t give af, suddenly, about andy at all, and goes for a job that she is hardly qualified for(she was lieutenant for like, a few months?)

and then after she gets the position, she just. loses all sense of reality? literally she was so unhinged(fun to watch but so much) and it was like. um?? maya has never been the uptight one (they've mentioned and depicted andy as being the one like this, multiple times!) and we know she knows how to have fun, so, for her to all of a sudden just. not know how to read the room? yeah okay. to make her so intense and severe, especially w the drills and training was, a choice. a bad one, on the writers part. like, i get that they needed her start as captain to be dramatic or whatever,  but there were ways to do that. and even the animosity with the team and her went so far, i just think that whole storyline was amazingly lazy, honestly.  

and the friendships!! andy and maya’s friendship is just, a mess. at this point they've spent more time at odds, and the idea that they're supposed to be best friends with this super close bond? yeah, i just... i dont buy it tbh. if they'd spent more time building up their connections and making us understand why they would be friends and showing them being there for each other past a few scattered scenes her and there? maybe. but so far, that hasn't been the case.  making that bond real, solidifying that friendship, would have made this conflict have more of an emotional impact. but doing it now? making maya ‘turn’ on andy, this soon and this drastically just. it made her seem like she was extremely jealous and had been waiting to pull the rug out from under andy all along. and also, why would they stay friends when, so far, maya has showed, time and time again, that she’s willing to let her wants/ambitions leech on her loyalty to andy? (jack thing, job thing, etc). although, it’s not like andy’s a good friend to maya either, she’s selfish and seems to like it when maya is in her corner but isnt always there for her. they went so far with the idea that maya was this coldly calculating asshole that she was almost a villain?? it was so silly to me.

and the traumatic home life plot they gave to maya was clearly their attempt at some adding nuance to her character and trying to explain why she would act the way she did, but to me? it fell flat. it was rushed, and they went from zero to 100(why did her mother come to talk about her divorce/abuse at maya’s job? like she was literally working? idgi. no boundaries lmaoo) 

and i actually relate and sympathize w maya a lot. and while i liked that they were exploring the many ways abuse can present itself, it was very... hm, ham-fisted. just super rushed and then wrapped up so quickly. they have, i think, written themselves into this dark place i fear they have no intention of exploring. 

and while i understand it, i hated how far they let maya go, especially because i don't feel they’ll adequately address it. they move on so quickly( maya was deaf for like half a season and then. she just. wasn't) and i hate the idea of her just being ‘fixed’. a relationship and an apology doesn't undo years of abuse, idc. also will they ever address maya’s um, thoughts about death??? because that was super heavy and not just something someone gets over? going to need for her to get actual professional help. that isn’t her girlfriend, like. asap. 

speaking of carina, i do like her and maya together a lot. big part of why i watch, ngl. but i need their relationship to be a lot more reciprocal. like, lets dial it back on the codependency, maybe. carina cant (and shouldn't have to) hold her up so much ! that’s not love. also maya needs to start being a good girlfriend. they started off that way, i know they can get back there. but like, we hardly got to see them settle into it, we got those cute 30sec clips of sweetness then maya was lashing out and cheating and it was like. wait a minute! what??? 

for s4, i want to see them working at reconciling—im talking, groveling, awkward in-between moments where carina isnt sure she can trust her. okay, tough conversations, hell, even jealousy because let's be real. maya working with jack is a lot for carina to just. take? i know i absolutely would not be happy about that, but i also wouldnt take maya back so... anyway! brushing over that would not just be a missed storytelling opportunity, but it would also be super unfair to carina and do a huge disservice to their relationship as a whole. as cute as they are, having cute moments with no real depth would get very old, very quickly.

carina: what can i say but-perfect, amazing, fantastic, WOW

seriously, carina is almost unrealistically perfect. she takes a lot and has been through the most (can they be nice 2 her this season? like just for fun) going forward, im going to need her to be more than a plot device to calm and soothe maya. i get that she was introduced as a love interest, but in season 4(as a season!!regular!!) that cant be all she is.

speaking of, it was really weird to me that she was promoted to station 19 and not greys because... what is a gynecologist going to do at a fire station? the general consensus seems to be that she’ll join warren’s PRT but like. she’s not a general surgeon so that’s a reach but, i want her around so ill buy it. i just want better and more for her tbh. not just screen-time, but also character development and depth! also friends! tired of carina being isolated, they did it on greys which. a waste! i meaaan, amelia was RIGHT. THERE. just look at the material! for s19, i want her, vic and travis to be friends or even just her and vic, like yesplease! i also want to know more about her and im tired of her being treated badly. like, i think society had progressed past carina being shitted on, thanks!

vic: my fave!!! they did so lazy by her this season ugh. she’s so charismatic and charming and just so good!! yet, her storyline was all over the place. we hardly got to see her sit with her grief  (spontaneous crying aside; barrett doss is so good!) she was just kind of... around. and that relationship w jackson. lol. it was so obviously for crossover potential and well. i didnt hate it or like it. actually, i was mostly indifferent. bored, even when they were onscreen together. i just didn't care and wanted more of vic, not vic and whoever. i know they're up in the air rn but i wouldn’t be torn up if he doesn’t come back. 

i want more for vic past just romantic entanglements. i know we’ve gotten a bit of her past, but i would like to see more! also, what about employment accomplishments? her artsy theatre friends? her family? just. more vic, please!!

she’s so fun and cool and when they let her, she shines. they need to let her! 

jack: my boy! so dumb, but i love him sm. he def needs like. major help, though lmao. and maybe it’s just me but im tired of his sex addict plot. like, we get it, but can we move on now? kthanks. they need to let him work on himself especially, the constant self sabotage. it's getting old. for ALL of them, actually, seriously, how many times can they all get in their own way.

andy: don’t really think about her. the mom storyline seems like it would be wonderfully dramatic, im intrigued. she and sullivan are cute, i guess. hope they make it.

ben: no major issues w his storyline, hardly remember it honestly. i liked the rapport he was building w vic and want them to explore that relationship more, its cute. 

travis: so funny and adorable, let him do more.

dean: loved him in all his entitled first born African son glory. i didnt so much love the baby plot but that always bores me. his sudden love for vic though. lol. since when? it def, came out of no where and while i really enjoy their friendship, to me, there is zero romantic chemistry there so i would prefer it if they just. stopped. lmao. also. the way he treated her because he could get a handle on his emotions? ridiculous. has humanity not like, gotten past the ‘he’s mean bc he likes you’ thing?? like grow up maybe?

and this isnt just about dean but like. are there not more single young people in seattle? why do they all have to sleep with the same 5 people. ik for the sake of plot, workplace relationships are easier but still. i think they should branch out. really. 

overall, i want better for all of them, and i think if the writers would just. take a moment and stop trying to tell so many stories in such little time, they could do better! also, whoever’s out there. please, enough w the crossovers! dont want to be forced to watch greys just to know what’s happening on 19. i get that they're in the same universe. it’s only mentioned every other episode. we. get, it. i liked what they did with private practice, it was like once every few seasons. and i know they won’t do that, but maybe, two a season. 

this is so much. but this how does have a ton of potential and i just really want it . like, get there.

#either way #im still watching lmao #h8 it here lol #station 19 #maya bishop #vic hughes #andy herrera #dean miller #jack gibson #ben warren #travis montgomery #s19 #mtxt #if u see spelling mistakes #no u didnt xx #me writing dissertations to justify why im stuck here lmaoo

[telltalebatman]

oc facts: charlie

no one tagged me i just love her a lot

PLACE IN SOCIETY

✖ FINANCIAL – wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty

like all of my oc/canon girls, charlie is filthy rich - and all of it came from her parents, a politician/university professor and a med school lecturer/a highly respected surgeon. some of those money her parents got from their families; but the point is - charlie never had to worry about money. (until she met her soon-to-be husband who robbed her blind.) charlie has no problems with sharing her wealth with those in need - she frequently donates to various fundraising campaigns.

✖ MEDICAL – fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged

she’s bit of a couch potato, and a bit clumsy too; she certainly wouldn’t run in a marathon, and finds herself out of breath after a short, intense jog - but it’s nothing too severe. what she lacks in shape, she makes up with agility - she practices yoga, which renders her a tad more agile than an average person. she still can’t do a lot of things though.

✖ CLASS OR CASTE – upper / lower / middle / working / unsure

charlie is, whether she likes it or not, a member of the social elite. her father spent two terms as a mayor of metropolis when she was a kid, and is an active politician, and a college professor. her mother is a globally renowned as a surgeon and comes from european nobility. charlie grew up with children of ceos, leaders, celebrities - and even after the untimely demise of her parents at the hands of her husband and moving to metropolis, she still finds herself amount the elite, quickly befriending bruce wayne himself, as well as getting cautious attention of the maroni crime family, one of gotham’s assistant district attorneys and thomas elliot - one of gotham’s golden boys, a highly esteemed surgeon and her mother’s pet student. and whether all of this is good... that is a different matter entirely.

✖ EDUCATION – qualified / unqualified / studying

charlie has a master’s degree in english literature - nothing more, and nothing less.

FAMILY

✖ MARITAL STATUS – married, happily / married, unhappily / engaged  / partnered / divorced / widow or widower / separated / single / it’s complicated

she’s a widow - because she killed her husband. it was an ugly mess of a situation - he killed her parents, stole her fortune (in the canon verse - in various aus this changes, depending on what I have in mind) and ran away, prompting her to go on a wild goose chase across the globe, culminating in her finally tracking him down and stabbing him to death with an ice pick. one thing she hadn’t expected though was ending up in a long-term, happy, loving relationship with oz: gotham’s prodigal son, a failed revolutionary and a loyal friend to his (at times unwilling) loved ones.

✖ CHILDREN – has children / no children / wants children / adopted children

the idea of motherhood is kinda scary to her - she’s not opposed to being a cool aunt to someone else’s kid though. (in chasing echoes oswald is eventually going to pull jason todd to his side, and charlie’s gonna develop a fun, unexpectedly satisfying relationship with bruce’s troubled ex-errand boy.)

✖ FAMILY – close with sibling / not close with siblings / has no siblings / siblings are deceased / it’s complicated

✖ AFFILIATION – orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by both parents / it’s complicated

even though charlie - painfully aware of her own personal mediocrity - sometimes felt like she doesn’t quite fit in with her social, accomplished parents - they still made a happy family. for various reasons, her relationship with her mother - eleanor - was always just a bit strained and tense; but it was still, above everything else, loving.

TRAITS & TENDENCIES

✖ disorganized / organised / in between

if left to her own devices, charlie’s going to inevitably scatter her belongings everywhere, forget about doing the dishes and start getting late to things. due to unfortunate depression - time simply flows differently for her.

✖ close-minded / open-minded / in between

charlie is very open-minded, thanks to her father being an outspoken leftist - perhaps even a bit too open-minded. after the split-second of initial confusion, she’d be willing to accept everything - even a violent “revolution”. even an unjust revenge. some may call it open-mindedness; others - naivete.

✖ cautious / reckless / in between

in general, she’s rather cautious - mostly thanks to overwhelming depression and anxiety that make her doubt her every move.

✖ patient / impatient / in between

most of the time, she’s patient - but then come those times when she’s waiting for oz to hurry up and pay attention to her. then, suddenly, she’s the most impatient, almost nagging person you’ve ever met. it has a lot of charm though, because she’s well-aware of being a pain in the ass.

✖ outspoken / reserved / in between

this is something her parents taught her - have your opinion, but know a time and place for it. don’t reveal too much to people you don’t trust, or to people you want to see gone. after all, her mother did come from a noble family, and her father did have a political career. even if he kept challenging his rivals to fistfights.

✖ leader / follower / in between

charlie has absolutely NO desire to lead, or to be in the spotlight - and to be honest... she kind of doesn’t understand people who do. it’s just too responsible, too difficult, too stressful.

✖ sympathetic / unsympathetic / in between

charlie has a lot of sympathy for other people - and that’s why her short-lived marriage with a con artist struggling to pay off his debt to the mafia was so tragic: she would’ve helped him if he asked, no questions asked.

✖ optimistic / pessimistic / in between

though she might appear to be an optimistic ray of sunshine - she’s actually very, very pessimistic. she actually did go through her fair share of feeling deeply let down by people in her life; so she tends to look at every relationship - and every possible scenario - without a glimmer of hope.

✖ hardworking / lazy / in between

you know how i said she inherited a fortune from her parents? 

yeah.

(to be fair, she did work hard for her degree, so it’s not like she doesn’t know how to put effort into things. she simply never really had to put that effort into anything, thanks to her financial stability.)

✖ cultured / uncultured / in between

despite appearing as a ditzy socialite only interested in fashion and gossip - charlie is actually very cultured. she knows quite a lot about many topics, from french cuisine to religious traditions of indigenous cultures; her parents made sure she knows as much about the world as possible.

the problem is - she’s painfully disinterested in most of those topics, instead pretending to stick to things she’s actually into: fashion, games, literature.

✖ loyal / disloyal / in between

all it takes to earn her loyalty is to give her affection and attention; and she’ll be yours forever. she’s also not above being loyal to two people whose causes clash; she can be loyal to her lover, who wishes to kill harvey dent - but also to her friend, who wants to see dent flourish.

✖ faithful / unfaithful / in between

she’s faithful, she’s monogamous, she’s not afraid to wrap herself around her partner in public to make sure everyone sees how much in a relationship they are with each other.

(she might sometimes fantasize about doing the deed with someone other than her partner though. like fish mooney, because have you SEEN fish mooney? charlie had.)

SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION

✖ SEXUALITY – heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual / asexual / pansexual / omnisexual / demisexual

charlie is bi, without any actual preference for her partner’s gender. fate (me, it was me, it wasn’t fate) caused her to mostly end up getting intimate with guys - but her first partner was a girl, she’s very into fish mooney and selina kyle and she did once have a massive crush on lex luthor’s sister.

✖ SEX – sex repulsed / sex neutral /sex favorable

charlie LOVES sex - but only with the right person. she’s definitely not against talking about it with people she’s only platonically involved with, and has nothing against having others go at it in appropriate semi-public spaces, assuming it doesn’t go too far.

but yeah. she likes sex. it makes her feel good, plain and simple - and she likes the sense of connection between her and her partner, as well as feeling comfortably vulnerable and excited.

✖ ROMANCE – romance repulsed / romance neutral / romance favorable

charlie really craves romance. she wants - needs - to both feel the butterflies in her stomach, and to be a source of someone else’s butterflies. she craves the casual intimacy, tender words, affectionate gestures... it’s all like water to her: an absolute necessity.

✖ SEXUALLY – sexually adventurous / sex experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious / uninterested

while she’s not actually very experienced - she has a lot of fantasies and ideas she’d love to try out one day. she’s also not averse to toys and porn; even if she tends to not watch a lot of porn, for various reasons.

(such as: various fundamental problems rooted in modern-day porn industry, like incessant violence, name-calling and really bad camera work.)

ABILITIES

✖ COMBAT SKILLS – excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

to be honest, she only knows Woman’s Self Defense 101: the heel-stomp, the deadly elbow, the nails.

oh, and she also knows how to stab people. and oz taught her to shoot.

✖ LITERACY SKILLS – excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

she has a master’s degree in english literature.

except we all know this doesn’t mean SHIT, since there are people with actual degrees claiming kylo ren is queer and femme coded out there, so: she’s actually damn good at reading and understanding things and picking up subtexts and nuanced aspects. her father was a college professor, remember? he was a good teacher, and she was a good student.

✖ ARTISTIC SKILLS – excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

she has, and i can’t emphasize this enough, negative artistic skills, both verbal and visual.

(”but she has a master’s degr-” have you ever read anyone’s master’s thesis? because i did.)

this is one of the core roots of her depressive thoughts also.

✖ TECHNICAL SKILLS – excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

give this girl a piece of paper and tell her to fold it in half and moments later the paper’s gonna be torn and on fire and she’s gonna be having a depressive meltdown.

she is... not very good at using her hands to make things happen. this is actually one of those few things her parents did wrong; they kind of overlooked this part of their kid’s development, and as a result - charlie is a clumsy mess.

and, by the gods, don’t give her a hammer. unless you really hate all of your kitchenware, that is.

#4.txt #charlie

[isitgintimeyet]

Letting Go

AO3

Previous

Happy Thursday! Thanks for reading and all your support, two more to go after this. Hope you enjoy!

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta

And @happytoobserve for the encouragement

Chapter 14: Hello Again

Hello, again, hello Just called to say hello I couldn't sleep at all tonight And I know it's late I couldn't wait

Neil Diamond, Alan Lindgren

A sense of déjà vu crept over Claire as she scrambled around on the office floor, searching through the piles of papers emptied from her filing cabinet. The one certificate -- her medical degree from Glasgow University -- that she needed for her job applications and she couldn’t find it. Although she now knew exactly where it must be… back in the safe in the loft… at Uncle Lamb’s house.

********

Jocasta opened the front door and welcomed Claire warmly into the house. She led the familiar way into the kitchen.

“Ye’ll have a brew afore ye go and find yer certificate, will ye no’? Murtagh will be in shortly. He’s just planting up some tubs fer the garden.”

Claire gazed out of the window and watched as Murtagh carefully placed a large terracotta pot, full of a riot of brightly coloured pansies, on the ground next to the swing. Instinctively, she gave a slight smile and turned to Jocasta.

“You know, when I came to live here after my parents died, that swing was the first thing that Uncle Lamb gave to me.”

“Ah, I ken it must hold many memories fer ye. Murtagh’s godson, Jamie, reckoned it must be important… tae leave it in the garden, even though it’s no’ been used fer years.” Jocasta glanced across at Claire, who was  again turned towards the window.

**********

Eight years ago

“Ye ken, at Lallybroch, I’ll build a swing fer our bairns. Weel, more than one swing. We dinna want them tae be fighting over it. Swings and a seesaw and a wee climbing frame… mebbe a treehouse. There’s an old tree…”

“Wow, Jamie, you have this all planned, don’t you?”

“Aye. Do ye no’ think about these things, about the future?”

“Well, yes, but more generally. I want us to be together, I want to be a qualified surgeon. More than that I hadn’t planned. Who knows what will happen?”

“I ken. We’ll be together at Lallybroch. I’ll always want ye with me.”

**********

Murtagh joined them at the kitchen table as Jocasta poured three mugs of tea and placed the biscuit tin on the table. Murtagh opened it, and after offering it to Claire, helped himself to a couple of chocolate digestives.

He sighed contentedly. “Ah, there’s nothing better in the afternoon than a cup of hot tea and a chocolate biscuit. And nowadays we seem tae have more biscuits in the tin than we used tae, Jocasta?”

“Aye, weel, that’ll be because Jamie’s no’ been here as much as he was. He’s a devil fer all the wee snacks. He can go through ma pantry like a swarm of locusts.”

“Ye’re not wrong. Jamie, he’s ma godson, ye ken,” Murtagh explained to Claire. “He’s been visiting with us a lot, up until fairly recently.”

Claire tried to focus on her mug of tea, desperate not to let any emotion show on her face.

Murtagh continued between mouthfuls of biscuit. “Aye, he was here regular a while back. And I kent there must have been a lass involved tae be driving from Lallybroch so much. But nae more, apparently.”

He paused, brushing a couple of stray biscuit crumbs from his beard and took a swig of tea. “He admitted it last time he was here, that there had been a lass he had his eye on, wanted it tae go further but it wasna any use. She was with someone else and now it’s too late.”

Claire tried to relax and keep her breathing steady. Jocasta watched her out of the corner of her eye.

“And…” Jocasta prompted. “Did Jamie no’ have anything more tae say about it?”

“Weel, here’s the thing. He kent her a long time ago, afore he went tae America. And now he’s back but she’s moving away with a new job. It’s a shame, it’s time he settled down. He needs a good woman...”

“Are ye ok, dear? Ye’ve gone awfa pale.” Jocasta laid a hand gently on Claire’s arm.

“Er, yes… I’ve just… it’s my blood sugar.”

“Aye, of course, that must be it. Have a biscuit, dear, and we can go and get that certificate.”

***********

With the certificate safely in her bag, Claire made her way into the kitchen to say goodbye. Jocasta was still in there, now busy peeling potatoes. Murtagh had returned to the garden to continue the planting.

“Thanks for this. Sorry I had to disturb you. So, goodbye.”

Jocasta wiped her hands on her bright floral apron. “Will ye no’ sit down a minute? I wonder if we could have a wee chat.”

Claire sat down at the table. “Oh, is there a problem with the house?”

“Och no, the house is fine. We love living here. It’s, weel, I hope ye dinna mind me asking, but ye said on the phone ye needed the certificate fer a job. Are ye moving away tae a new hospital?”

“Possibly… er… there may be opportunities elsewhere for me… nothing’s been decided yet… I’m just exploring… you know…” Claire’s voice tailed off as she looked down at her hands, unwilling to let Jocasta see the truth on her face.

“And ye’re no’ planning on leavin’ because of a man?”

Claire shook her head, fighting back tears.

“Claire dear, I’m sure this is none of ma business, but I canna help but ask… is it ye Jamie was talking about? Did ye know each other years ago?”

Claire thought for a moment before answering truthfully. “I did know Jamie before he went to America, but we sort of lost touch. What made you ask?”

“I dinna ken… I suppose it was a few things. The way Jamie reacted when I spoke about moving that swing, the way he somehow kent his way around this house without being shown, the shocked way ye reacted when I mentioned Jamie’s Da. But I’m guessing ye were more than friends?”

Jocasta walked over to the fridge and poured a glass of water. Sitting down, she pushed the glass in front of Claire. “Here ye go. Do ye ken how Jamie feels about ye? Is that why ye’re planning on moving?”

“I thought… I thought… when we met -- by chance -- he was so cold to me. We hadn’t parted on good terms eight years ago. He has become friendlier to me.” She blushed remembering their night together. “But I thought he was keen on our friend Anna and that’s why he wasn’t around so much now that Anna has a boyfriend.”

“Oh, Claire, I dinna think that's the reason at all. Now, if ye are sure ye want tae move away, or if ye have a new man, that’s fine. I only wanted to let ye know what I think… Did I do wrong?”

“No, Jocasta.” Claire now made no attempt to stop the tears from flowing. “You didn’t do wrong.”

************

Claire’s patience was beginning to wear thin. So far she had rung John’s mobile half a dozen times. Each time it had gone straight to voicemail. She had left three messages (John, it’s Claire, can you give me a call please… John, call me as soon as you get this… John, I need to talk to you urgently) and left similar messages on text, WhatsApp and Messenger. Finally she had bypassed technology and run downstairs to stick a handwritten message on his front door.

Claire knew that Jocasta would have willingly given her Jamie’s phone number, or that she could simply Google a phone number for the Lallybroch stables. But she wanted to know exactly what John had said to Jamie. Plus, she did not think that she wanted to talk to Jamie over the phone.

She wandered into the kitchen, randomly opening cupboards, not quite sure what she was looking for. Finally, she decided to occupy herself while waiting for John by baking scones from a recipe she knew by heart. Indeed, the recipe was one of the first Claire had used when trying to forget her broken heart eight years ago.

The scones were baking in the oven, their comforting smell filling the flat as she heard a knock at the door. Claire rushed to answer it, almost tripping over a pair of discarded shoes in her haste.

John stood in the doorway, his face etched with worry. “Claire, what’s the matter? I came as soon as I got your note. Did you ring me? I’m sorry, my phone needs charging.”

Claire led him into the living room, suddenly feeling slightly foolish and incredibly over dramatic. This wasn’t a matter of life and death. Or maybe it was… the final death of any lingering dream she may have, forcing her into a new life away from Glasgow.

She indicated for John to sit while she perched on the arm of a chair, too tense to relax.

“I didn’t mean to alarm you, John. It’s just something I need to know. Have you mentioned to anybody my plans to move away?”

“No, why? Has the hospital found out? Are they making it awkward for you? It wouldn’t have come from me. I haven’t told anybody… oh…” John stopped.

“Well, something did slip, but there’s no way it could have got back to the hospital. I was chatting to Jamie a couple of weeks ago, and he was joking about the English emigrating to Scotland and accidentally I may… actually I did… mention that there would be one less English immigrant in this city as, chances are, you are moving away for a new job. But that was it, I swear, I’m sorry. Somebody else must have said something to your bosses, it that’s what this is about.”

A kaleidoscope of butterflies started in Claire’s stomach at John’s confirmation that Jamie knew about her plans. “No, that’s fine,” she reassured John. “I know you haven’t told anyone at the hospital.”

Whilst this was the absolute truth, Claire decided not to elaborate on the real reason for her question and to let John think her issue was with the hospital.

John stood up. “If there’s nothing else, and you’re ok, I need to go. I’ve got loads of reading... work stuff to do.”

Claire pulled nervously at her lip with her fingers. “I would like to ask a favour… but you can say no if you want.” She hesitated before making the decision. “Could I borrow your car today, please? I’ll pay the extra insurance and fill up with petrol. There’s just something I need to do, somewhere I need to go. I’ll bring it back late tonight.”

“Hmm, a Friday evening assignation, hey? Sounds intriguing.”

“John, I promise I will tell you all about it tomorrow. So, what do you say?”

John sighed exaggeratedly and smiled. “You’re on, Claire. Call in on your way out for the keys. I’ll ring the insurance and make the arrangements.”

**********

Claire had set the sat-nav with the address for Lallybroch, but, in reality, that was unnecessary. The route up to the Highlands was as familiar as it ever had been. Some sort of muscle memory took over, her brain automatically recognising where to turn, where to brake, where to give way. This left her free to consider her actions.

Claire prided herself on never making rash decisions, always weighing up all options, and considering all outcomes before taking action. There had been one notable exception, of course, when all rational thought had been discarded as quickly and carelessly as her underwear.

But now, as she drove closer and closer to Lallybroch, she wondered what exactly she was doing. She hadn’t weighed up all options, considered all outcomes. What if Jocasta was wrong? What if it wasn’t her he had been avoiding? What if he wasn’t even at Lallybroch? Claire had been so intent on this grand, dramatic gesture, nothing else had been considered. There was no safety net.

Claire turned off the road and drove slowly along the drive. She passed the turning for the stables and offices and decided to go to the house first. Pulling into a parking space in front of the house, she was relieved to see Jamie’s sports car there. No other cars were around.

She clambered out of the mini and stood clutching her Tupperware box of scones, unsure where to go first. The house looked unchanged, the solid grey stone softened by the purple flowering wisteria climbing up the walls. Her feet crunched on the gravel as she moved closer, but... front door or back door… visitor or family?

She started for the front door as, from the side of the house, she heard footsteps. Suddenly, Jamie came round the corner. He didn’t see her at first, being occupied with his phone. He was not dressed for company -- his black jodhpurs and riding boots were splattered with mud, the pocket of his gilet was torn and his polo shirt was faded with age. Claire thought she had never seen him look so handsome.

Jamie looked up and saw her. There was a moment of silence.

Finally, Claire spoke. “Hello, Jamie.”

Jamie gave a small smile. “Hello.”

#outlander fanfic #outlander fan fiction #Letting Go #Jamie Fraser #Claire Beauchamp #chapter 14

[thatwritingho]

Momento Mori

Chapter 1

Charles Foster Offdensen was a man who was devoted to his work. His main job was to keep the members of Dethklok safe and healthy, which is why he had called this meeting today.

Yes, his job was to keep them safe and healthy, whether they liked it or not.

And he was sure they were not going to like this.

Taking a deep breath, he cast a glance to each member, all in various states of distraction, with little regard for whatever it was he had to say, as per usual. He cleared his throat and prepared himself for the push back he was going to get. But it was for the best, for their safety and prolonged health, so he would grit his teeth and argue his point until they agreed.

"Alright, gentleman, given the, ah, recent events," his eyes flashed over to Nathan, who had only recently recovered from his liver transplant, "I think it would be prudent to, ah, be more aware and prepared as far as each of your health is concerned."

"So you, uh.. want us to to like, get more checkups and stuff?"

"Well, yes, Nathan, but ah, I was thinking something a bit more drastic than that is necessary."

He took another deep breath, bracing himself for their complaints.

"It would be in all of your best interests if we were to have a, ah, doctor with you. At all times."

Five pair of eyes shot to him in disbelief, mouths dropping and brows furrowing in confusion and growing anger.

"A doctor! For fucksh shakesch"

"Followin us all deh time? Like a damn babysitter or somthin?"

"We donts needs that!"

"Ja, we donts needs no babysitters like some small tiny babies what's cant takes care of himselves!"

Charles closed his eyes, taking another breath.

"Look, I know you guys don't think its necessary, but what if something were to happen to one of you, like what happened to Nathan, and you were somewhere where you couldn't see a doctor immediately? What if one of you were to suffer serious bodily damage and end up unable to play? It's best for us to play on the safe side of things."

They were all giving him skeptical looks, and seemed ready to burst into more protests.

"I'll let you pick who it is, and you won't even know they're there. You'll be free to continue doing whatever you want, I'll make sure they just stay on the sidelines and monitor, only interfering if its absolute necessary. Can you all at least agree to try it for a while?"

He was met with various grunts and groans, until Nathan spoke up.

"Fine, but it can't be some regular jack off like our other doctors. Someone really badass. Like uh, what are those people called? The ones who cut open dead people? And like pull out all their organs and stuff?"

Charles sighed.

"You mean a mortician? You want someone who works on corpses to be your primary care doctor?"

"Yeh, that'd be preetty sweet" Pickles chimed in. "Someone that's not gonna be a douche bag aboot, ya know, drinking and drugs and stuff too. They gotta be cool."

"Ya, can we gets a pretties ladys doctor whats cans take cares of us?" Toki stared off dreamily at the thought.

"Yeah! If we have to have schomeone around all the time, it can at leascht be a hot babe!" Murderface exclaimed, and the rest of the group piped in their approval. "And schesch gotta have a good schensche of humor too!"

"Ja, someone whats cans makes us laughs and whos cans pals around withs us," Skwisgaar agreed, fingers never ceasing gliding over his guitar.

"Alright, let me get this straight," Charles couldn't let the conversation diverge any further into the land of ridiculous requests, "you want me to find a, ah, attractive, funny, cool, female mortician? One who is qualified and capable of taking care of all five of you and your medical needs at all times? You do realize how unlikely it is that a person like that exists?"

"Well, you heard us. That's, uh.. that's what we want. If you can't find us someone who meets our, uh, requirements, you can forget about this whole stupid thing."

Nathan's words were said with a sense of finality, and Charles knew there was no way around it. If this is what it took, he would do his damndest to make it happen, to make Dethklok happy.

"Very well. I'll look into it."

He'd find a way. He always did.

.

"Well I'll be damned."

Charles took a sip of his bourbon, eyes scanning the monitor in front of him, nearly in disbelief at his discovery. There actually did exist a person who met Dethklok's ridiculous qualifications for a personal doctor, at least on paper. She looked promising, very promising, and he read over her file once more.

Born as a twin to a Mexican mother and Korean father, the first few years of her life seemed to be normal, until tragedy had struck in the form of a terrible house fire, leaving only her and her sister as survivors. They spent the next two years bouncing around to different foster homes, and had eventually been adopted by the illustrious billionaire Alastair Axworthy, the very Alastair Axworthy who's breakthroughs in the field of robotic prosthetics and androids had made possible Dick Knubbler's eye replacements and Dr. Twinkletits' new arms.

Charles had never met the man, but had heard he was eccentric to a fault, and it was rumored he adopted only the most intelligent children he could find, almost as more of a collection than out of a sense of philanthropy. From the looks of the rest of her file, she was no exception. Winner of the World Junior Chess Championship at only 11 years old, perfect scores across the board on all standardized tests, valedictorian of her graduating class of which she was the youngest at only 16, fluent in Spanish, Korean, Japanese, French, and German, holder of a Mensa card.

She had attended Columbia University's Vagelos College of Physicians and Surgeons, and speed tracked her courses there, graduating with full honors in half the time of a typical student. After that, there was little information on her until she began working in the morgue at a rather unremarkable hospital in New York City. It was intriguing, that drop in ambition, and Charles hoped to capitalize on that, knowing anyone would jump at the chance to work for Dethklok, but especially if there was as sizable a pay difference as there would be for her.

Scrolling further down, he glanced over her criminal record; underage drinking, a couple DUIs, a marijuana charge. Normally these would turn him off to a potential employee, but in this case, it was a bonus. Hopefully this meant she could better handle the parties and excessive drug use and drinking episodes the band would no doubt drag her along on.

And lastly, her picture. She was young still, at least by doctor standards, at only 27 years old, and fairly pretty. Tan skin, round face, dark eyes, pouty lips, multiple piercings in her visible ear, and hair styled into a long, curly, pastel pink mohawk.

"Olive Axworthy..." Charles took another sip of his bourbon, "I can't wait to meet you."

.

I actually started and finished a chapter! Unbelievable, I know. Next one will probably(hopefully) be up tomorrow. Also uploading on AO3 and ff.net

#yall already know this is gonna be a pickles/oc fic #metalocalypse #dethklok #pickles the drummer #charles foster offdensen #nathan explosion #toki wartooth #skwisgaar skwigelf #william murderface #oc #original character #momento mori

[fissart]

Old art done back in December/January, but still Valid.

Some drawings of my babiesssss!!!

I apologise I've been off for a while, a mixture because my computer was bust for a long while and because I keep forgetting to upload here on Tumblr!

But hello I'm back *dramatic gestures* and these are my ugly, troubled children. They're from some books I've been writing for the past three years, called "The Thorvendor Chronicles" (or just TTC).

On every other social media I have, I'm none stop talking about them, but I've realised I left my lovely Tumblr folk in the dark about my babes.

So here they are, I'll give a general view of who my babes are and talk about them more in later posts (because BOY HAVE I PAINTED A LOT SINCE Y'ALL LAST SAW, IM SORRY IF I SPAM!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So what is TTC about you ask? Well it's a gothic, fantasy, period drama, in which my band of misfits get themselves into all sorts of trouble, in the world Andium.

Introductions! (This is spoiler free, so if I'm talking about some characters back stories and not others, its because I don't want to spoil anything). ^^ enjoy.

Fabian, he's 35 year old Henvro (a species of my design, I'll ramble about them later) and my main character in TTC, he is the head of the royal guards in the human capital city of Novian, which means he controls majority of the human empires military. He is a kind and reserved man, who works hard and is polite to everyone he meets. He's a bit of a lonely fellow, on account of his slightly awkward demeanor when in social situations, annnndddd the fact that his appearance, being a Henvro, is off putting to them racist humans and other species that reside in the city. So, as a result he lives alone in his humble town house near the city centre.

Arwen, at 28 years old, he is second in command of the royal guards and partner to Fabian in the military, unlike Fabian, he is an actual celebrity, an icon for fashion, and freedom of speech, and considered far ahead of his time. He is a celebrity of questionable origin, however, rumoured to have got his first fame "performing" in night clubs as an entertainer, the loud, confident and an intelligent individual is always the centre of attention, and if he isn't? Well, he will do anything in his power to make sure it is!

Phoebe, is 26 years old and is currently in training to be a field nurse in the army, she's a obnoxious, hyperactive, selfish young women who thinks little of others feelings. Close friends with Fabian and Arwen the three spend a lot of time together off duty, both boys becoming well acquainted with her eccentric lifestyle and spoilt brat behaviour.

Kayla, a stern and cold women, with a very masculine presence, also of the age of 26, is both Phoebe's boss and soon to be, sister in law. Kayla is an incredibly intelligent and logical individual, who waltzed her way to the top of the medical field and became the first female doctor in Novian at the age of 20, being stationed as assistant to Sir Welth, a Doctor who ran the royal academy of science and magicology, her thirst to learn about the field of medicine, surgery and alchemy was all quenched by his side. But upon Doctor Welths death, he requested for the young Kayla to take his position as head of the Royal academy and hospital. Followed by some uproar and discourse about it, everyone eventually approved of her being stationed as the head of the academy and hospital. Few years on, through the struggle, she had earned the respect and recognition she deserves, through her professional and reserved attitude, her workaholic life style finally payed off, but at the unfortunate price of her social life and lack of any kind of companionship.

Kayrus, he is 28 years old, older brother to Kayla and Phoebe's fiancé, he works as a barber surgeon in the slums of the capital city, unlike his qualified and knowledgeable little sister, Kayrus is a self taught surgeon (and Barber) who owns a practice with his assistant, Neo. Kayrus is a large, generally quiet man, who naturally has an intimidating presence. Cursed with terrifying, unpredictable mood swings, it's left him the nasty reputation of being "unstable" and said to be a perfect candidate for the mad house, but anybody who actually knows him, knows that's not the case, he's a caring, sickly, man with a passionate heart for both his fiancé and for the love of the arts. He takes his work seriously and lives frugally with Neo, away from the glitz and glamour of the centre of the capital.

Neo, a frail human who's 24 years old, living with their master Kayrus. Neo tends to say very little and enjoys to just observe others, very emotional and what they lack with intelligence they make up for in their streetwise behaviour. Working as Kayrus sister is the practice, their job is to clean the instruments and tools, dispose of any limbs that are amputated (or a body if a surgery goes wrong) and or keep everything as orderly as possible for Kayrus if not being his delivery and errand runner.

Raymond, at 39 years old, a doctor and assistant to Kayla, he is a very friendly man by nature. He tends to get on Kayla's nerves a lot as he finds himself rather attached to her... Some might say that he takes romantic interest in her (but believe me, she ain't having it and makes sure things are ALWAYS professional between the two of them and nothing more).

Ava, a cocky young Henvro women at the age of 33, she has no time for anybody and won't hesitate to sass you if she pleases. With a vulgar sense of humour and crude euphemisms, she equals Arwen with inappropriate conversations. With a lively sense of adventure she tends to hang around Fabian when she can, encouraging and teasing him to rebel and have more fun rather than act his usual, mature, self. (He never listens... Sometimes >:3).

Clara, is a sweet young Lady who is only 20 years old, a true image of a Victorian upper class women, well mannered, smartly dressed and obedient.... Sometimes! Her instinct to investigate and explore new environments often gets her into trouble, she struggles to stay put and itches for obscure forms of entertainment, namely with Arwen. Her favourite past time is digging up the deepest and darkest secrets of everyone she encounters, not out of malicious intentions, I assure you, but to simply quench her own curiosity!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There's a little introduction to my main babies, I draw them a lot and I'm sorry I haven't introduced you all to them properly yet! Considering Ive had Tumblr for about 5 or 6 years, and had these babies for 3 years now, I'm surprised I've never really shared them. But there you have it!

My asks are always open if you have questions about them!!

#ocs #art #illustration #sketch #fantasy #ttc #the thorvendor chronicles #fabian #arwen #phoebe #kayla #kayrus #neo #raymond #ava #clara #victorian #gothic

[kyreniacommentator]

By Tina King ….

For those of you who may remember my previous article regarding health care here in the TRNC, I have been on quite a journey since writing about general health screening to try and help provide some clarity of what do we really need to be tested for and why we should take time to research hospitals here.

Health screening – GET INFORMED, GET TESTED, LIVE HEALTHY

Tina King

My partner in crime who has helped me on this road to discover more about health screening is an ex paramedic from Australia, and the UK, having worked in London for the past 10 years. I guess I should also explain that I worked in the Cancer Research sector for many years and for the last 10 years worked in Cancer Services in Cambridge. (Special mention to my hubby who was a Rapid Response Paramedic and a Jet2 GP in the UK who has helped us as well)

I was delighted that quite a few readers of CyprusScene gave some really good feedback for me on my previous article and gave me the encouragement to find out more information where possible.  This was also supported by comments on recent experiences in and around some of the hospitals based here in Kyrenia.  Some obviously were very good and unfortunately some bad. I would like to just emphasize I am not a specialist, I am just curious as to why we don’t investigate health care more for ourselves here in the TRNC, this is just an account of my findings and my own opinions.

There is a lot of good and bad across the board, but what I have noticed here in the TRNC in particular is that many people here research a symptom and self diagnose themselves.  Get into a panic then go and get unnecessary and sometimes expensive tests. 

Which led me to ask why do so many people go and have loads of blood tests?  Unless you know what you are looking for, a blood test may be completely irrelevant, or for example one test could be elevated through an infection how would you know.  Doctors take years to learn every possible cause and diagnosis, so why do we think we can do it all ourselves in 20 minutes off YouTube?

On researching hospitals we are faced with a barrage of private health checks all in beautiful glossy brochures and have results in less than 3 hours.  They all come with differing options and in particular the staggering varied costs from 200TL to over 1800TL plus, needless to say I got completely bamboozled myself. 

With this all in mind, I thought why on earth are people having blood cancer tests in Wellness clinics especially as over here they happen to be very expensive.  These tests are usually completed in conjunction with a biopsy, imaging and diagnosis of a suspected, recurrent or cancer spread? So on asking a very senior consultant specialist here in the TRNC he said with a smile ”it’s just what we Turkish do”.  I rest my case.

So why do we practice self diagnosis here? In the UK the first thing we did was contact a GP; discuss the symptoms with them directly.  Any tests were jointly arranged, bloods, imaging all to aid a diagnosis, then a treatment plan, if referral to a specialist was required, and further investigations and tests were necessary our GP would organise this for us. 

When I started to research hospitals here I found that we can arrange to attend a general medical health clinic, but that does appear again to have varying costs attached.  So where do you start…

On my travels I found the Kolan GP Medical Centre where there is a GP/ Paramedic on duty 24 hours, and support nursing staff, and an A&E Ambulance.  I went to visit and try to find out why we don’t appear to be utilising them more, especially as a GP can pre diagnose a symptom, provide diagnostics, treat  and/or if applicable refer you to a specialist directly (again you could do your research and seek your own specialist). 

Gűncha Dervış GP – Kolan Medical Centre Girne

The practice Manager of the Kolan GP Medical Centre is Dr Gűnçha Dervış, and she is supported by a great team that speak English. The clinic has the capacity to deal with any minor ailment and has its own small 2 bed day ward.  The clinic has an A&E assessment room run by a paramedic team and nursing staff with an ambulance on 24 hour standby in the event a more serious condition is diagnosed. There is also a resident phlebotomist / Anti-coag laboratory and X-ray department.  Several specialist outpatient clinics are also supported here including Radiology, Podiatry, and Orthopaedics.

Interestingly the GP, the Podiatrist (Who is English and fully qualified ex NHS) and the Physiotherapist all work in the community as well as run clinics in both the GP Medical Centre in Girne and the Kolan British Hospital in Lefkoşa.  So if you are unwell, or have difficulty getting to Girne give them a call and they can arrange to make a home visit.  I also understand from Dr Gűncha they can provide transport if needed.

Following on from my visit to Girne I met with the Medical Director of the Kolan British Hospital, Harun Gűlmez, Cardiovascular Surgeon in Lefkoşa and subsequently met the extensive team of specialist consultants, who I have to say have been very supportive of my desire to get the Wellness Clinics revised. 

They were very honest about some of the comments I had received from readers stating that language was an issue not just for English patients, but Russian, French, German all of whom speak English but the majority of staff and consultants in the Kolan don’t, which is rather ironic when it’s called the Kolan British Hospital.  However, they are on the case with a tutor who will be providing English lessons twice a week for all the staff.

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Dr. Zehra Onar ŞEKERCİ Gynaecologist, Obstetrics & IVF Specialist

Harun Gülmez Medical Director of Kolan British Hospital

Ufuk Özbaş International Patient Coordinator

Having made several visits now and with the full support of Gynaecology and Urology I am pleased to say we are now just waiting for the clinical investigations to be costed.  I am very excited that we are nearly there and will be launching these wellness clinics for both men and women of all ages within the next couple of weeks. 

In order to help you assess wellness clinics I have put a small explanation together regarding all the individual tests and why they are necessary, so if you would like a copy of this please contact me on the details below and I will send it out to you along with details of the wellness clinics on completion.

In addition to the wellness clinics, the Kolan’s Dermatologist Aysel Őzenergűn Bittaci suggested that a Skin Cancer Screening clinic would commence on Friday 20th September at the Girne Medical Centre. Depending on the popularity of this clinic it will run every two weeks or once per month.  The actual skin examination only takes about 10 minutes of your time to be screened but ultimately it really can be life saving. I thought this was a great idea as now on researching I cannot find any such clinic being run here in TRNC.

If you would like to attend a skin screen clinic, I have also prepared a self examination form where using a map you can list any moles that you have concerns with or have noticed any recent changes.  Bring this along to the clinic with you and the Dermatologist can take a closer look for you.  So again if you would like a copy of this form please contact me. It just helps you to be a bit more thorough when looking at your skin, perhaps in some places you hadn’t thought of.

Hopefully, the information and forms I have put together will help you make more informed choices or at least help you ask more questions, something I don’t think that a lot of us are very good at.

Please take some time to go and register with a clinic or hospital, and make sure you ask questions. Look at what the hospital specialises in, for example the Kolan British Hospital has Assc. Prof Murat Uğraş, Urologist who I would consider to be an extremely qualified and experienced consultant.  Ask for a tour around the hospitals, go and see an inpatient room, what is the food like? you wouldn’t buy a car without looking under the bonnet!  Don’t accept that just because someone recommends you to a consultant because they are so nice and speak good English that they are competent, you don’t want nice you want that person to be an accredited, experienced consultant.

It’s your life! In their hands….Get informed !!!

Get Tested, Live Healthy

So thank you to everyone who has supported me on this journey (you know who you are) and I look forward to hearing from you with any comments or information. Don’t forget to email me should you want the skin mapping form or list of diagnostic tests and reasons, or just more information on some of the other clinics such as Podiatry.

Finally, Stay Active

(You can always come to try a dive with me at Cyprus Underwater Explorers!………? just a thought)

Best regards

Tina

Email: [email protected]

Health screening in the TRNC, guidance you have been looking for By Tina King .... For those of you who may remember my previous article regarding health care here in the TRNC, I have been on quite a journey since writing about general health screening to try and help provide some clarity of what do we really need to be tested for and why we should take time to research hospitals here.

#Girne #Health screening #Kolan British Hospital #Kolan GP Medical Centre #Lefkosa #Northern Cyprus

[braindamageforbeginners]

Self-assessment

For those keeping track, today is Week 3, Day 27 (of chemo), and I have 17 radiation treatments under my belt. However, because today is a holiday, I have a brief respite from radiation. I’m almost at the four-week mark, by any measure, and, as the philosopher Bueller once noted, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” Admittedly, life is moving much, much faster for me than the average person, but that’s all the more reason to pause and take one’s pulse.

So. I’m still daisy-side of the dirt (obviously). I’m capable of writing (sort of), and I’m mostly-coherent. Mostly. One thing I’ve noticed, browsing through the archives is a recent spate of typos (which isn’t terribly concerning, since I have monster-truck-sized hands and tend to type with the reckless abandon of a four-year-old playing on a typewriter*), half-thoughts, and repeated thoughts. Those last two are cause for concern. Both of them rely on short-term memory - namely, remembering if you’ve already made your point, and finished it. Of course, it could also be indicative of the severe stress and sleep-deprivation that goes with my current lifestyle. It could also be due to the fact that I frequently write these in 5-minute segments scattered throughout the day, and wind up finishing them after all the frail mortals of the house have retreated to their chambers. Of course, I also know from personal experience that brain damage is virtually impossible to detect, and you make up all kinds of excuses and ways to avoid dealing with the issue, until it becomes unavoidable. On the other hand, I did successfully remember the name of an old friend of my father’s, based on some vocabulary/idiomatic cues, and I haven’t seen her in at least thirty years, so, long-term memory’s intact.

And there’s just always the horrible, nihilistic fact that we live in a society ruled by sociopaths who seem hell-bent on keeping the sick from ever getting better. Case in point; I spent today refilling, rechecking, and fetching prescriptions. That’s not a half-finished thought; it took a while on the phone trying to coordinate the various chemicals that keep me alive and/or kill me (yes, I am taking both simultaneously, that’s how cancer meds work)(and, no, I’m not going to let up on that fact until science develops something a little less horrifying). I wasn’t terribly successful in that; I managed to get one drug (after a week of skeevy phone-calls with insurance), and, although I’m down to my last week of anti-seizure pills (sort of, I have a few of them; one of my doctors actually told me she would double-dose a prescription; which I thought sounded good, then I got a letter the next day from the insurance company saying that they had made a temporary exemption for me, but that drug was not covered under my plan, and they wouldn’t do it again; so, really, it was a clever doctor taking advantage of the health insurance industry to give me a few more weeks on this planet)(these are the types of people you want looking after you when the rubber hits the road), I have enough to last until Friday, and I am seeing the mad scientist oncologists tomorrow, who have a helluva lot of juice in the system (these are the guys who literally got me a radiation oncology consultation within two hours of seeing them, and got me a same-day anti-depressant refill, which, in California, qualifies as witchcraft), so I’m planning on siccing them on it. Again, for all readers who want to know one of the hallmarks of someone who will help keep you alive (because this did come up in conversation with my undergrad friend the other day), a strong indicator that you’re in good hands is when, whenever you bring up a problem, the response isn’t to shunt you to some other department or give you another phone number, it’s, “You ain’t got no problem, Jules. I’m on the motherfucker.” Even if that means they get back to you in a day or two after doing some research, as frequently happens when you’re a one-of-a-kind medical specimen.

So, with another horrible experimental injection tomorrow (there is absolutely nothing enjoyable about it, and I have to chug loads of Gatorade the night before, which is just kicking me when I’m already down), the potential for medical complications from an unfulfilled keppra prescription on the horizon (although I still have a card or two I can play on that one, if the witch doctors are a bust)(if you’re getting the impression that it is taking every single screed of energy, luck, and cunning I possess merely to stay alive; well, that’s completely accurate), I did what anyone else would do: I went to the gym. It’s what Martin Luther King, Jr would’ve wanted.

Holy shit, did the law of averages catch up with me. Folks, I believe I mentioned that Radiation Oncologist started microdosing me with hateful, vile decadron. This is a general steroid, which means it keeps inflammation down (namely, it keeps pain and swelling down at the joints, which, thanks to my butcher surgeon, I now have where I should not have them, and they hurt)(again, I suspect Radiation Oncologist prescribed this not only to play down the deleterious effects her nuclear weapon medicine is having on my surgical healing processes, but to prevent my brain from swelling)(which would, presumably, burst out of my skull, like Mojo Jojo and/or Jeremy Irons in Time Machine)(if you don’t get those references, well, I’m not writing for you). So, yeah; low-level steroids of the decidedly not-androgen variety are in my system. Which means most low-level immunological reactions no longer happen with me. What you don’t know is, most of the pain and/or inefficiencies you experience with disease or work-outs (physiologically, the two are similar; I’ll go into more detail upon request, but most people tend to get glassy-eyed and move toward the door) is due to accumulations of all those white blood cells (which are responsible for inflammation, let’s not forget). Well, not anymore. I am now doing more intense work-outs than I ever have, in perfect form, and in half the time. I am not making that up, and I am not exaggerating any of it. Now, it’s extremely possible I’ll wake up paralyzed or die in the night (the one good thing about experimental injections and having to drink 132 gallons of Gatorade is that you no longer fear death)(as long as it’s not a Gatorade-related death), but, focusing on the positive, this just lends more credence to my hope - just a fool’s hope, admittedly - that I will become Captain America (and, although there is always the horrifying and distinct possibility that I’ll die a horrible death and/or be lobotomized; I haven’t even begun to discuss neuroplasticity, and why another mad scientist** is probably in the process of writing a paper on neuroregeneration based on me)(again, this is true, albeit slightly-exaggerated).

So, yeah, we close on what is undoubtedly a discombobulating set of half-thoughts, unfinished themes, and/or unknowingly repeated ideas. Have fun with it, future-me; I’ve got to be up early tomorrow for another fun set of science experiments wherein I am the experiment, and I’m exhausted after a long day at the gym and lying to various pharmacy technicians and office clerks. *I know this because I actually did this when I was four. Shut up. **Yes, I collect mad scientists; everyone needs a hobby. Shut up.