#work is very stressful rn so this was a nice reprieve | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

palbabor-writes · 4 years

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ugh. school is literally so discouraging and it’s taking sm out of me. I read on here when I’m not studying, so do you think I could have a oneshot of tomura being the readers support system when she doesn’t score well on a test she studied hard for and she’s being really hard on herself and feels kinda momentarily hopeless?? Not cause that’s how I’m feeling rn or anything, just a completely random request that has absolutely nothing to do with my current situation 😅 (no but rlly send help pls)

My dear, dear anon. I am so sorry school is making you stressed. At the end of the day, take a deep breath, drink some water and remember to eat a good meal, at least once a day. You’ve got this. It may not feel like it when you’re in the weeds and you can’t see anything but a massive to-do list, but you’re almost there & it will be so, so worth it. Bush off that test and try, try again.

And, even if you feel like they may not care, reach out to your professors. At the least, it gives you a paper trail, that way, if you feel like you’re being smothered under too much work, they have to justify that to the university, and at the most, they might grant you a reprieve.

ANYWAY. Of course I can get you a one-shot! Best of luck & keep your chin up!

warnings: none. just a nice Tomura who wants you do do your best

You don’t want to talk about it, thank you very much.

Toga has come and gone, Twice, on the other hand, has kept pushing, but you’re ignoring him, and Spinner, bless him, grabbed you some take out and pressed it into your cold hands, saying you need to eat.

You haven’t even told them that you failed the exam.

They just know you’re quiet, and you’re never quiet. No, usually you’re the glue that keeps the ragtag bunch of them together, the one that is pushing them to talk, to get along, to take care of themselves. You’re touched, really. It’s always nice to see that care, that you’ve insisted upon and rained down on them, passed forward and tonight is no exception.

But, you are dreading seeing him.

Tomura, unlike the others, will know, the moment he sees you, that you’re frustrated with yourself, disappointed in yourself, defeated and shattered. He’ll likely give you a stern look and tell you to wait for him in his room, or he’ll drag you up there himself, his strong arms wrapping around your waist and tugging, lifting and pressing, until you’re away from the others and free for his unvarnished attentions.

No, he’ll know before the words even leave your lips. And you both adore and hate that about him. Sometimes it’s nice to have a little bit of mystery, you know?

So, you eat your procured dinner and meander to his dark bedroom, closing the door behind you and curling up in his crumpled sheets, waiting.

He comes in, a few hours later, his eyes bright in the low gloom, searching for you. He studies your hunched form and lets out a low sigh, dragging off his dark shirt and kicking off his red shoes. Seconds later, he’s nestling beside you, fingers carefully balled as he yanks you against him, resting his chin over your bowed head.

“What happened?” he asks, as if he hasn’t already guessed.

You’re quiet, letting his question hover, a heavy weight that threatens to squash you under its implications, its chilling reality. Tomura waits for your answer, his breathing steady and deep, stirring some strands of your hair, tickling them against your forehead. While he’ll give you his patience, you know he won’t let you wiggle free of his queries. No, he’ll worm it out of you, one way or another.

“I failed,” you finally sigh, ducking your head, your lips trailing along his upper arms, forming the words against his skin.

Tomura intakes a long inhale, tucking you closer as he considers his response.

“Is it your last opportunity?” his asks, his voice low, rasping with that gentle lull that he holds in reserve, a tone that you know is yours, and yours alone.

“Not…not really…I can try again. But, it was twenty percent of my grade. It means...no matter what I do, I’m locked into a lower grade. It means it will take me longer, it means I might need to drop it…to…to retake…ugh...I don’t want to do this again. How can I even face…it’s money, Tomura…it’s time…and I failed…”

“You didn’t fail,” Tomura reminds you, lacing his legs with yours, wrapping himself closer, his solid weight a distant comfort.

“I did—“

“You just said it’s twenty percent. That’s not failing.”

“That doesn’t...It’s not the score I wanted,” you huff, squirming from his tightening grip, not wanting to hear his pity. You failed. He’s just being nice and it’s not right. This means you’ll be set back…again. It’s annoying and if it’s annoying to you, it’s bound to be worse for him. God, this is the second time you’ve had something like this happen. He shouldn’t humor you, he shouldn’t…

“Try again. You can always try again,” Tomura reassures you, slotting you against his lean chest, stilling your disgruntled shifts with a firm nip to your neck.

You unconsciously lean into his sharp caress, trailing your fingers along his upper arms, enjoying the tiny tremor he shakes against your palms. He’s still being too nice.

This isn’t like him.

Not that he’s not nice to you. Oh, he’s very, very nice. Just the thought of that rough touch, that desperate gasping he can urge from you makes you melt, your back losing a piece of that tension.

But, it’s not like him to not be frank.

He’s not one to butter you up, to lie, to paint the rosy colors over the picture. No. This isn’t like him.

“Don’t tell me what I want to hear,” you scold, yanking your neck from his lips, ignoring the grunt he gives you.

His fingers curl around your jaw, the four digits dipping into your soft neck, pulling you back.

“Tch,” he grumbles, tucking his other arm to your waist and digging your plush softness to his trim hips. “Don’t be so fucking defeatist, (Y/N).”

“I’m not!” you cry out, flinging his arms away and propping yourself above him, glaring down at his vermillion eyes. “I fucked up and there’s no way to fix it. I’m not going to get the grade I want and it could put me back a year, maybe more. Do you really want to deal with this for another year? Do you…hey! Tomura, don’t—“

His fingers have dipped into your hair and he’s urging you to his lips, the rough skin gliding over yours, silencing your distraught declarations. He’s soft, so soft that you can’t help but collapse against him and he growls at the weighty press. Finally, once he’s sure you’re distracted enough to reason with, he leans your head back, those red orbs searching for yours.

“Now you know, right? You know what you need to work on. Now, you won’t make the same mistakes. Not saying it’s not gonna be hard, but if anyone can do it, you can (Y/N).”

#asks #answered asks #pal muses #on grades #you got this nonnie #always always always #reach out to your teachers #we don't know what's going on if you don't tell us #no shame in asking for help #or more time #either way #keep your chin up #ty for the ask ily #finish strong

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tara-l-blackmore · 7 years

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Why I haven’t talked about my surgery

Recently, I was called out on my rather acerbic, furious response on this post, and I’d like to respond in public about it, with even further reasons as to why I still feel the way I do.

Buckle up.

So over a month ago now I had my gallbladder removed as a day surgery. I was told it would be quick, recovery would be swift, and I should be back and recovered in less than a month. So I signed on, and went in.

I waited a longer time than I expected for a surgery that was scheduled, and I was given insufficient pain medication to cope with the wait. I was not allowed to take any pain medicine of my own, due to the anesthesia, so I mentioned to one of the nurses that I was still in a great deal of pain.

“Just wait for your surgery and it will be fine,” I was told.

Now, I wouldn’t of mentioned this if I wasn’t in a significant amount of pain, so this was, needless to say, an agonising wait. I yearned to be knocked out, that’s how bad it was.

Now, once I was prepped and ready to go, I was treated really well. My nervousness was greeted with confidence and reassurance, and before I knew it, I was out.

That was the last reprieve I got for the rest of the day.

When I woke up, I was in AGONY. It made the pre-op pain look like a paper-cut. No nurse was around, so I had to lie there, cold and in pain and scared, waiting for almost a half-hour for someone to come to me.

When someone finally did, I got a POW.

Now, listen. My mother is an RN, and has been for all of my life. I know how stressful the job can be, how painful and frustrating it is. But she also knows that YOU DON’T TAKE IT OUT ON THE PATIENT.

This POW didn’t get that training, apparently.

When I told her I was in a great deal of pain, she said, “Yeah, probably, but you gotta wait, so calm down.” I was still pretty bleh from the anesthesia, so suggesting I wasn’t calm was confusing. So I asked for some water, instead.

“Yeah, whatever, hold on.” The POW vanished, and left me alone for another half-hour. Luckily, another RN took pity on me and got me some water. I told her that I was in a great deal of pain, and she said she would look into it (nothing came of that).

I distracted myself with the water for a while until it was gone, but it wasn’t enough. I coughed and coughed like they told me to but the pain wouldn’t go away.

The POW finally came back, but to take my vitals. Okay, fine. Except she grabbed my arm, pulled me to her, and then strapped the bloodpressure cuff and heart monitor on. It fucking HURT, and I started to cry. She noticed and rolled her eyes, and said it would only take a second, so “just calm down already.”

“I’m sorry,” I answered, “Everything hurts and I’m scared.”

“We’re already looking into that.”

“Okay. Can I see my husband, please?”

“No.” No reasons. No explanation. Just denial.

Now, I know this is bullshit, because when I had my appendectomy, the second I asked for my mom, they went and got her. So I know she was just being a lazy bitch by this point. But I said nothing, because my health was literally in this POW’s hands.

“Okay,” I muttered. “What do I do about the pain?”

“Like I said, we’ll get to that. You have to wait. We need to move beds and make room. We have a lot of people to help.” She ripped the cuff off and vanished again.

I was crying in earnest, now, wishing for both my husband and perhaps death. I was so low, so despondent, that I just wanted to go home or die. I felt like I was dying, already, anyway.

Another fifteen minutes pass and she came back with pain medicine. It was one that was too low to work, and I asked her about it, but she didn’t answer me. Instead she said, “Let it drip and I’ll come back in twenty minutes.”

I let it drip. Nothing changed.

She came back forty-five minutes later, and I told her. She rolled her eyes and left again, then came back with another useless medicine pouch. She hooked it up again and left before I could say a word.

Now I was sobbing. I honestly just wanted my husband, now.

FINALLY, someone else came: an actual fucking real nurse. She saw my tears, comforted me with soft words, and went to the doctor right away when I told her my woes. Immediately, she came back with the right medication, and when it started working I was so happy I cried again and thanked her til I choked.

Once stable, the real nurse took me to a room and FINALLY I could see my FUCKING HUSBAND. I hugged him and cried (and accidentally opened one of my sutures, but the nice nurse patched me up).

It was possibly the very worst hospital experience - save the end - that I’ve ever had to deal with.

And the problem is, for me, that’s common. As someone with chronic pain, I’m treated as a disease, a mysterious pest that has invisible pain and only wants drugs. I’m never taken seriously. I’m never treated as a human. I’m treated as a problem.

I had to go back to the ER twice following the surgery, as I got bogged down badly with complications. And here’s where the second experience comes in.

I was helped for a little bit, but when the (wrong) medication they gave me (surprise) didn’t work, they just... abandoned me for hours. For almost four hours, they abandoned me. My bags dripped dry, I was sobbing and - at one point, I’m ashamed to say - screamed. They then realised they had forgotten me, and maybe to make up for it, sent me to quiet care and gave me my own room, while the proper medicine finally given worked and I could finally (after almost three days without it) sleep. They apologised, of course, but they still did it. And we all know why.

They also didn’t tell me my lung had partially collapsed. Nor did they give me any advice on how to reverse it.

I also caught a horrible cold from that visit.

The second time was almost as bad. I was constantly given the wrong medicine, and when I told them it wouldn’t work, I was told I was wrong and that it would. Surprise, fuckheads, it didn’t.

Only when the shift changed over and a new doctor saw me did I get the help I needed. I cried when I couldn’t feel pain, I was so happy.

While I was stabilising, the doctor came to see me and quietly told me that my pain was unusual and he would prescribe me stronger, proper medicine. I cried and thanked him, too.

It ended well, yes, but it wasn’t worth the price.

Since then, however, I’ve been suffering. I can’t eat or sleep well, I vomit bile a lot, and the less said about my toilet habits, the better.

What is the point of all of this?

It’s my follow-up to that post, added evidence that I, and people in the same situation as I, get treated like shit because of our conditions. We are treated as leeches and venom, to be tossed back outside as soon as possible. We’re given the worst staff, the worst care, and the worst experience.

And no one cares. And no one changes anything.

And yet this makes me an overblown windbag that doesn’t understand hospitals.

Well, this is my proof. I’m sorry you had to read it, but it’s the truth. You can’t understand things like this unless you’re willing to learn. I hope you learnt something.

#health #omoni gets personal #response #hospital #surgery #treatment in hospital #pain #chronic pain

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