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sweetlikemxndy · 5 years

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October 2018

Amanda was the kind of person that was always in tune with her body, her chosen career path demanded that. Ignoring symptoms was something she never did, because the moment she started would be the moment something earth shattering would happen. However, she never realized that her being over cautious could yield the same result.

She'd felt off for what seemed like weeks, flu like body aches plaguing her to the point that she couldn't hardly get out of bed. No matter how much she slept, she never felt refreshed. The raven haired woman was in a seemingly permanent state of exhaustion. This prompted her to visit her doctor, and her hands clenched tightly to the arms of the rock hard waiting room chair. Her mind was racing a million miles a minute, and she almost didn't hear her name being called out. "Leon, Amanda?" A perky young blonde called out, her eyes scanning the waiting patients as Mandy stood up. Mandy followed the young woman behind a pass coded door, behind it where many small rooms with exam tables and air that smelled heavily of disinfectant. She took vitals, and parked Mandy in one of the empty rooms. The smile never left her face as she keyed some things into a computer to the side of the small room, while Mandy sat down on the dreaded table."Doctor Gotcher will be with you in a few minutes, you hang tight okay?"

"Got it." The New Yorker said, forcing a smile in return. She couldn't fault the woman for having a good bedside manner, but anxiety was getting the better of her. The simple act of sitting down had her joints screaming, and her muscles already felt weak from the intensive workouts and training she'd been putting in. Never, in the years since she set foot in a wrestling ring had her body felt as bad as it had recently. The doctor came in to ask a whole bunch of questions, drilling her up and down about her symptoms, medical history and work. He exhausted all topics, typing away on the computer as he did. After checking her lymph nodes, bending her limbs at the joints, and testing her range of movement he sat down and looked Mandy in her eyes.

"You seem healthy so far as I can tell, physically anyway. So, our next course of action is going to be lab work. I don't think its the flu, because you're not exhibiting any of the grossness that entails." He paused, clearing his throat and pushing his glasses back up his nose. "We'll run a flu test, just to be on the safe side... but I'm going to put you in for a full blood panel as well. Check antinuclear antibodies with an ANA, check white and red blood cell counts, just to be on the safe side. The lab will get back to you within a couple days, and they'll call you if it's something we need to get you back in for." Doctor Gotcher smiled, the middle aged brunette man sending her on her way with a referral to the lab, and what would hopefully be a resolution to her problems.

The lab had called just two days later, and she was then sent on her way with more referrals, and more questions that needed to be answered.

Present day

It was rapidly approaching a year since that fated day, the day that would change Mandy's life forever. Her ANA had come back positive, which meant she had an auto immune disease of some kind. She had been bounced from specialist to specialist, each of them analyzing her symptoms trying to determine what label to slap on her ailment. Fibromyalgia and chronic fatigue syndrome where thrown out there, but the final prognosis was something that Mandy feared from the moment the she started researching.

Systemic lupus erythematosus (Lupus for short)

Her Rheumatologist, Doctor Halsey sat in front of her now, and very bitter man that was surely close to retirement. His thinning grey hair was always immaculate, and seemed to accentuate the permanent scowl he sported. Mandy despised him, but he knew his stuff and was the one that finally cracked the code. "It's safe to assume that so far, the disease is only affecting your joints and muscles. However," he paused, looking over some of his notes from previous visits. "...I'm concerned that it may eventually move on to your other organs, as things progress. Since you've started seeing me, we've seen you develop the butterfly rash and sensitivity to sunlight. Are the steroid treatments still working well?" He questioned, looking up at her over the rim of his thin, wire framed glasses.

"For the most part." Mandy stated, clearing her throat and pulling her fingers through the ends of her hair. "They probably would be helping even more, if it wasn't for all the training I've been doing recent-" She was cut off by a scoff, Doctor Halsey shaking his head. His tone was sharp and almost venomous as he spoke, like an angry person engaged in a heated argument. "You're not still wrestling, are you Amanda? We have this conversation every time we're here... you'll never be out of pain, you'll probably end up having to take many more prescriptions than you already are if you continue this. Not to mention, your muscles and joints are already compromised, making you more susceptible to injury. What if your cells start attacking your organs, and your kidneys become damaged? Or worse yet, your lungs... your heart." He started to speak again, but this time Mandy stood up and put her hand up in an effort to silence him. Her smile was as sweet as candy when she saw his eyes get wider, though her tone implied that she was over taking his bullshit lecture.

"Let me tell you something, Doc. Not everyone gets the chance to do what they love in life. Not everyone gets the chance to live their dreams. You sitting here, trying to tell me that this disease should dictate whether or not I make my goals reality is disgustin’!" Her words where sharp, almost cutting like a knife. "So what if I'm more prone to injuries? That just means I have to be more careful! So what if I'm so tired, and in so much pain that I can't get out of bed? Tomorrow's another fuckin’ day!" She was heated at this point, shoving her purse strap up onto her shoulder and inching towards the door. She could hear voices on the other side, and instantly knew she had gotten loud enough to make a scene. " If my career is half the length of everyone else's, and I end up an immobile fifty year old that can no longer walk... then so be it. At least I'll look back on my life and be glad I fuckin' did something with it. It's totally cool if you're not goin' to support me in that, and refuse to treat me. That's okay. I'll find somebody who will. " With that, the New Yorker yanked the door open and pushed through the gaggle of nurses and other staff members that had gathered outside. This was just another obstacle on her way to success, and she'd be damned if she let the fact that her body was essentially attacking itself keep her from reaching the pinnacle. She'd busted her ass for too long to let anything stand in her way now, and lupus was no different. She'd have to fight ten times harder than anyone else, and she wouldn't stop until she reached the top... if for no other reason than to shut the naysayers up.

#{ Working On My Auto Biography }#TW: Chronic Illness #tw: doctors

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apptowonder · 5 years

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Eco-Martyrdom & Christian Activism: A Brief Hot Take

As I look at the projections about how much time we have to reverse catastrophic climate change (the number circulating around is roughly 12 years), I find I am often moved to despair. The ongoing slogan is “let this radicalize you rather than lead to despair”. While that’s an admirable sentiment and probably helpful for a lot of people, I’ve been wondering about how people can participate in/be motivated to activism when they, like me, are overwhelmed and in a state of despair/helplessness at the magnitude of the task before us to try and save the planet.

Paradoxically, I find what’s giving me comfort is the idea that maybe I can’t save the planet. Maybe we can’t save the planet, though we sure as hell ought to try. I often find a way for me to deal with despair and anxiety is to go through the worst case scenario in my head, and come up with some kind of contingency plan for that. I figure that way, I’m prepared for all possibilities, and if things go better than the worst case, so much the better for me/everyone. As I confront the possibility that we as humans may not be able to save the planet/ourselves, I am moved to consider what mindset will help me to take action.

And more and more I am moved by the early martyrs of the Church. Contrary to popular opinion, most of them (with the possible exception of St. Ignatius of Antioch) did not want to die. They held on to life for as long as possible, and served in the Church as leaders, teachers, priests/shepherds, theologians, etc. But when they came under pressure from the Roman authorities, they did some soul searching and determined that they would rather stand up for their beliefs and way of life, and be remembered as people who did what was right, rather than capitulate to Rome and possibly save their physical lives (βιος), but lose the vitality and wholeness that gave them true life (ζοη).

With the world possibly literally ending (at least for human flourishing), now seems as good a time as any for me and perhaps others to switch from a metaphor of conquest by the success of our efforts to victory by the character and faithfulness of our efforts. I’ve heard various people I know rightly complain that “the brunt of the damage is being done by a handful of companies, and since they won’t change, how much good can I do?”. While this is true, it reveals a bigger problem with activism for some of us: our energy to engage is sometimes tied to whether we can reasonably expect success. I want to consider other ways to move people to righteous action, particularly in this sphere where the prognosis is grim.

I recall often that the Greek word “Martyr” (Μαρτυρια) means “witness”, someone who proclaims the Truth of Christ by their actions, words and character. Sometimes martyrs die, and sometimes they survive, but what matters most is that they do everything they can to be on the right side of history and (for those of religious faith) spirituality. I find much more hope and resolve to engage with climate change activism if I think of myself as an eco-martyr, someone who is called to witness to the harm that has been done to God’s creation that They called “good”, and to do whatever I can to heal it. I may die in the attempt, but in the end I feel that even if we as a species fail to save the planet/humanity, I would rather know myself as a martyr, someone who witnessed to the Truth of his God and his world, until my last breath.

#personal #ok to reblog #hot take #creation care #spirituality #eco-theology #climate change #activism #martyrdom #early Church #St. Ignatius of Antioch

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ettie1-blog · 5 years

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The big bad wolf still strikes

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“I thought AIDS was a gay disease,” said a man interviewed by USA Today in October 1985, “but if Rock Hudson died, it could kill anyone.”

On July 25, 1985, Rock Hudson - this mythical American actor, idolized by women and admired by his peers, as a Second World War hero - announced that he was affected by AIDS. Rock Hudson was a handsome man. He was the symbol of manhood and strength, consistent with the image of the ideal American, Hollywood conveyed. He was a sex symbol. But Rock had to sacrifice his personal life to reach the top. He had even been married unwillingly, to an obscure secretary, for three years. Yet, Rock Hudson was homosexual. After being a sacred monster, disease finally allowed him to be a man. Courageously, Rock decided on confessing his penchant for men and pronounced the word AIDS, which was to become the scourge of the next centuries, definitely associated with the gay male community, henceforth and forever.

That was 34 years ago. Rock was to die in October of the same year, relieved anyway, for he wanted to draw everyone’s attention to a disaster. He wanted to warn humanity that it should fight a battle that was not won in advance. Because AIDS is not only a mass killer, it is also the shame killer. Talking about it was already a victory over it, he thought, should he dare confess his sexual preferences, as if it were a crime.

HIV/AIDS was a taboo in the early 80s. But, it is clear that it still is. The very mention of its name scares us. That’s probably why there is not much about it in the media. We mainly hear of it, when the international community marks World AIDS Day. Then we think about it a little bit and then quickly forget. It is no more than a news item. However, HIV/AIDS still strikes us, aggressive and insidious, always in search for new victims. It often kills, but the press closes its eyes (and mouth). There are topics which sell much more, so HIV/AIDS is not on the front page of the magazines. Yet, associations are mobilizing, trying to involve us in their struggle. They inform the public and spread a strong message on the major catastrophe in the world.

AIDS - Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome - what is it?

AIDS is the most advanced stage of HIV - human immunodeficiency virus - it attacks the human immune system. It’s a virus, just like herpes, but it kills. An individual has AIDS, when his (or her) immune system no longer protects him (or her) from any opportunistic infection, because AIDS gradually destroys antibodies. From wart to toxoplasmosis, any damage to the immune system becomes a scourge for the patient. There are three modes of contamination: blood, maternal and sexual contamination. Despite diagnostic tests achieve on blood donors and the provision of free syringes in pharmacies, direct blood transmission remains tangible. Drug addicts represent a high-risk population, although in 2017 the number of patients dropped to 4% of the population, when it stood at 27% in 1995. Medical workers may still be infected when they are in contact with AIDS patients, but the rate of infected patients has significantly declined over the past twenty years. On the contrary unprotected sexuality has the highest rates of new HIV infections.

The most prolific serial killer in the past 36 years has its best days ahead!

According to a study conducted by Prevagay (a medical research institute unit in France) and funded by the Health Watch Institute, in 2015, HIV/AIDS contaminated more than 5,500 people a year, worldwide. 44% were gay or bisexual men and 15% of them were young people aged 15 to 24. For 27% of them, the diagnosis was too late: they were strongly infected and except the discovery of a new medicine (or a miracle) their vital prognosis was engaged. The gay men were its “favourite victims”. Even more alarmingly, in 2016, vih.org reported 6,000 new HIV-positive cases per year. France and Dom Tom were the most affected, while London and San Francisco showed a decrease in contamination.

France has seen its rate of HIV-positive, increase since 2003. Regarding the Republic of Ireland, it reached a record number of diagnosed patients last year, and in China, the number of people living with HIV/AIDS strongly increased in the last decade. AIDS mainly spreads among the poor. Approximately 37 million people lived with HIV/AIDS in 2017 and almost one million died the same year. 40 million have died since 1983.

Living with HIV/AIDS is not living, it is surviving.

In 1996, after years of study, triple therapy became the formal drugs for HIV/AIDS. Originally, used to treat cancer, the antiretroviral therapy interferes with the infection process and increases the survival time of infected individuals. That is the reason why many seropositive persons do not develop AIDS today. But, triple therapy generates heavy side effects such as nausea, tiredness, diarrhoea etc. and a great deal of ill persons think that they do not live, they survive. Nevertheless, thanks to triple therapy, their life expectancy increased by ten years. It is a very significant progress, but a drop in the bucket compared to the million of people dying in the whole world. Since 1983, when it was reported in Europe, no effective treatment to wipe out the virus has been found out. It becomes therefore urgent for us to take off our blinkers and act. The enemy is invisible, we cannot face it; hence we cannot defeat it either.

Today, the most affected by HIV/AIDS remain the gay men community. But the disease targets heterosexual people and causes casualties among them as well. As stated above, the higher percentage of individuals diagnosed from HIV are sexually active. Despite a better illness management and a real change in behaviours in terms of discrimination, prevention campaigns struggle to be heard. Our youth is carefree and unaware of the danger.

I personally helped in an association and saw many destroyed lives. Some of the boys and girls who sought help were only 15. Most of them dared not tell their parents and were enclosed in their fear and distress. I had a question for them and it was always the same one: “did not you know about AIDS?” Most of the time, the answer was identical “AIDS, I thought it no longer existed! It is an old chestnut”. And when I was “lucky” enough to meet some parents, they told me about their efforts to put the spectre of AIDS in their teenagers’ head. But teenagers are hard-headed and they ignored the warnings. A dad related that he used to put condoms in a desk drawer, in his son’s bedroom. For privacy. He never heard about the condoms; the boy did not say a word about them. He never asked any questions. However, condoms are the best means to prevent HIV/AIDS (and other sexually transmitted diseases) for sexually active people.

“A stitch in time saves nine”.

Let’s go back to 1855, when the American inventor and chemist, Charles Goodyear – who gave his name to the famous tyres – spearheaded the rubber condom, which was produced the same year. At that time, men were told that condoms could be used several times… in a life. They could be washed and re-used until they were unusable. Condoms were already economic and practical. Whereas condoms were considered as obscene material in the USA – a law forbid their use in 1873 – Germany became the first army distributing them to its soldiers during First World War. But it was only in 1919, that the first civilised condom, the latex condom, appeared. Since then, the small cap has considerably evolved.

When I question young boys and girls about protection and security, I’m often confronted to misleading arguments for not using a condom, such as: “They do not fit me, they are not comfortable, they are too thick I don’t feel anything, I don’t have enough pocket money to buy them, is it really secure? I’m ashamed to ask my parents, etc.” These are only excuses!

In France, the family planning is open without restrictions. Colleges, secondary schools, universities make condoms available through their healthcare divisions. And it is all free. Some health mutuals even reimburse them upon presentation of invoice. For the shyest teenagers (and grown-ups) condoms are secure and effective and may fit to any penis size. Moreover, they are easy to buy on the Internet; for the gourmands, some shops sell different tastes such as strawberry, mint and chocolate. And today, who would wash his condoms? there are biodegradable varieties and their price is not significantly more expensive than the ordinary ones. Condoms have only advantages. Why should you do without them?

Then, for Fun without complexes, for the Right to choose your partner;

For LIFE, take it out, covered!

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davidbuddbg · 5 years

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Chapter 5: What if it’s worth it?

In the hospital, it seemed like I wasn’t there, like it was unreal or just a dream. More like a nightmare. The ambulance had rushed through the streets but now everything seemed to slow down. As soon as the ambulance came to screeching stop, Dave was hurried to surgery. I asked to be there, but they told me that wouldn’t be possible.

I watched him being rolled away in that stretcher, through some doors that immediately closed behind them and I wasn’t allowed to follow.

And then an ER nurse came and started asking me questions but I couldn’t hear him so he had to write it down; his medical antecedents, if he had any allergies, any chronic diseases and I realized I knew nothing about him. When I asked if he would be okay, the only reply I got was “vital prognosis engaged”.

And I remained there, in the middle of the ER waiting room, all alone and I realized that it didn’t matter if he was spying on Julia, on me, if he was involved in a Coup d’Etat. I was in love with him, no matter what.

It felt like ages had passed until a nurse went to get me and brought me to the same otorhinolaryngologist as last time. He seemed surprised to see me again so soon, but he didn’t ask questions. Because of the perforation of the tympanic membrane, dirt had entered my middle ear and that was why I was almost deaf at the moment. I stayed put until he cleaned out my ears and I slowly regained my hearing even though the ringing was still there.

Afterwards, I was brought to do a general check-up: Apart from my elevated heart rate, everything seemed to be fine. I finally dared checking the clock, it was 3 o’clock in the afternoon and the blast had happened at around 11am. Dave had been in there for over three hours.

They let me stay in the room that had ‘temporarily’ been assigned to him, aka if he survived. I texted my parents to let them I know was fine, I knew they would have heard of it by now and would be worried sick. “I’m not hurt, I’m okay. I’ll call you later.”

Dave’s cell phone kept ringing. ‘Vicky’ showing brightly on the screen. I couldn’t pick up, what would I even say? I was fidgeting, impatient, looking at the clock and then at the door which led to the ORs every few seconds. Time was drawing on. No was coming out and I texted Sara, asking her to grab me some clothes from my flat and bring them here.

And then finally, after more than four hours, someone came out. “He’s pulled through,” the nurse announced and I started crying with relief. Apparently, there were some complications with the wound on his legs. A nerve had been touched. They had repaired it the best they could but they couldn’t guarantee it’d be as before. I didn’t care. Not when he could have died altogether. Thirty minutes after that, they rolled him into the room. He was still unconscious but at least I knew he would okay now.

Sara came by with a duffel bag. She didn’t say anything, just hugging me before leaving again when I asked to be alone. I stood there watching Dave a few more minutes until I convinced myself that he was okay now and I could go to the bathroom to take a shower and change into fresh clothes.

Just when I re-entered the room, Dave’s phone rang again and this time I could pick up.

“Dave? Dave!” Vicky screamed into my ear and I had to pull the cell phone away a few inches. “Are you okay?” She was hysterical. Who could blame her? After all, he was still her husband and the father of her kids.

“Hi Vicky, this Alma, a colleague of Dave’s” I spoke reassuringly, introducing myself. “He’s fine now. They just brought him up from surgery, he’s going to be okay.”

Vicky asked me for more details but I didn’t know a lot myself. She told me she would come by in one hour when her shift ended at another hospital. Because of the attack, her hospital was hectic too. She made me promise to stay with him until she arrived, and I did.

Sighing, I group-videochatted my parents, trying not to make much noise. As far as I knew, mom was in Cascais (Portugal) and father somewhere in Asia, I didn’t where exactly. “Alma,” they blurted out in unison, picking up after the very first ring. “Are you okay?” Mom asked immediately.

“I’m fine,” I replied. Physically it was true, mentally not so much. “I was there, but far from the stage.” They didn’t need to know the whole truth.

“I’m booking you on the first flight to Lisbon,” mom declared, furiously shaking her head.

“No, mom, wait!” I blurted out, before glancing to the bed to make sure I hadn’t woken him up. “I can’t leave. Not now.” She didn’t want to hear any of my arguments. For her it was out of question for me to stay.

“Graça, calm down,” dad told mom over the phone. “Stay there if you want, Alma, but I’m sending some private security officers since the Police is obviously incompetent.” I didn’t want that either but I agreed, knowing full well I wouldn’t get out of this without a compromise.

Vicky arrived soon after I hung up. Our greetings were short and she immediately rushed to his side to see how he was. He still hadn’t woken up.

“Thank you for staying here with him, Alma,” Vicky finally breathed out, sitting down on a chair next to his bed.

“Don’t worry about that.” I would have remained there even if she hadn’t asked me to on the phone.

“What happened?” She eventually inquired, her eyes not leaving Dave. I answered, telling her everything I knew which truth be told, wasn’t a whole lot. I hesitated telling her about Dave putting his life on the line for mine, but I figured I should. After all, she knew what his job was. I just hoped she wouldn’t hate me.

After over an hour, she kept staring at the clock. “Look Vicky, I will stay here until he wakes up. If you need to go check on the kids, do it,” I offered and she accepted although it was obvious she didn’t want to leave.

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I was finally falling asleep on the chair when Dave started waking up, squirming under the covers. I stood up at once, walking over to his side and taking his hand in mine.

“You’re okay, Dave,” I whispered pressingly. “I’m here.” He didn’t say anything and I figured he must be thirsty after all those hours, so I helped him drink some water.

“Thank you, love,” he murmured, his voice still raw. I called a nurse in to check up and she gave him more painkillers through the intravenous. “What happened?” He asked after a while.

I shook my head softly next to his. “An explosion,” I confessed. “But don’t worry about that now.” I kissed his forehead and lied down on the hospital bed to him, cuddling with him. Dave told me about barely being able to feel his leg and I promised we would talk it out with the doctor in the morning. I didn’t want to be the one telling him about the complication. Besides, he needed to rest.

He fell asleep again and didn’t wake up for the rest of the night. I was restless. I only realized I hadn’t thought about Julia since the attack when news of her death appeared on my smartphone. First I felt guilty; guilty at having met and worked with a powerful woman I looked up to, and yet having entirely forgotten about her the moment the man I was in love with was in danger. Then I felt horrified, even scared, knowing someone like her, someone so confident, brave and powerful remained mortal.

The morning came and I hadn’t slept. Careful as not to wake up David, I slowly made my way to the bathroom and freshened up. I knew I had so much to take of today and I didn’t even know what exactly. Still in the bathroom, I heard voices and immediately rushed out, thinking it were some nurses or doctors.

“Who are you?” I inquired accusingly when I realized they were indeed wearing uniforms but not the ones I expected. I closed the door to the bathroom behind myself before walking up to them, arms crossed.

“I’m DCI Sharma,” the man introduced himself, before pointing at the female next to him. “And this is DS Rayburn.” He even showed me his badge. Alright, so they were Police and I couldn’t kick them out. “You are Alma Guinness, right?” The man asked, looking suspicious.

“Yes,” I nodded without bothering to uncross my arms. I should have expected the police to turn up at some point but this felt too soon. “Why?”

“We’ve trying to find you,” DS Rayburn explained. “The hospital staff said you’d been discharged but you never showed up at the hotel or at your flat.” Somehow her turn managed to go from concern to suspicion to accusation in the same sentence, and admittedly, I was quite impressed.

“I’ve been here with Dave, I mean PS Budd since the attack.” I replied simply but inside I was trying to figure out whether they considered me a suspect. They turned to each other at my answer, almost imperceptibly raising their eyebrows.

“Alright, at least we finally found you,” DCI Sharma quickly changed subjects. “Would you be able to meet us for some questions this afternoon? Say at two?” It might have been formulated as a question but I knew I couldn’t just say no.

“Of course.”

“In the meantime, could you hand us your electronics?” Rayburn requested with authority which in turn made me raise my eyebrows with surprise. “It’s part of the investigation, we’ll give them back as soon as we’ve gone through them.”

I gave her a quick nod before making my way to the chair where all my belongings were. Mentally, I was checking one last time that I had deleted the texts exchanged with Dave. “Okay, I’m clear,” I thought before coming across the laptop and the tablet in my handbag, hidden beneath the jacket. I cursed internally, before composing myself and returning to them.

“So, here’s my phone,” I said, handing it to Rayburn. “Password’s 1938 but I can’t give you my laptop, it was destroyed in the explosion.” I lied to them, but honestly, there was no way I couldn’t explain their contents without getting myself, Dave or even Julia posthumously in trouble.

However, DCI Sharma didn’t appear convinced. “How is that your cell phone survived but your laptop, didn’t? Both were in the same distance from the explosion.” He did have a good point and I had to run my hand through my head to gain a few precious seconds and think.

“The cell phone was in my pocket,” I began, making up the lie as I spoke. “It survived because Dave’s body protected it. The laptop was in my bag.” Somehow, I must have convinced them because they let me go.

Dave started to stir at that moment. I wanted to stay with him, but there was no way I could pull that off without giving away our relationship, whatever that was. I just hoped he had also remembered to delete the text messages.

Now, outside his bedroom, I found the bodyguards my father had hired, waiting for me. “Ma’am,” the three men said in unison as I approached them. This was exactly what I needed: Being followed by three men as I tried to find a way to hide evidence.

The only upside to this situation turned out to be that I didn’t need to drive which gave me more time to think. Part of my dad’s deal for me to be allowed to stay here were the bodyguards. The other part, was moving into my parents’ flat.

First, we stopped at my old flat so I could pack. Then, we stopped at the Blackwood Hotel so I could do the same again but I was informed my previous bedroom was out of bounds as part of the investigation. This was a blow because some of my personal stuff was in there but I was so relieved at having taken my laptop and the tablet with me the other day.

Now, at my parents flat, I was finally alone. At least to some extent: The guards stayed outside after having secured the perimeter which meant I had some privacy. I had to find a quick place to hide the electronics before I could either destroy them or find a more secure hiding spot. For now, I decided to hide the tablet inside one of the cushions of the kitchen chairs and the laptop inside the turned off heater. Not perfect but this would have to do for now.

When I was finally done with unpacking, there was no time left to take a nap at it was already half past one.

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Rayburn turned on the audio recorder and the questioning began. First, they informed me of my rights and then asked whether I wanted a lawyer. I refused. What was even the point of studying law if you weren’t able to defend yourself?

“Witnesses say that before the attack, Julia Montague and yourself spend about half an hour alone in the Green room.” Rayburn read off some written notes before looking at me. “Is that true?”

“It is,” I admitted, short and sweet.

“Did she share any personal feelings with you?” Rayburn inquired and I wondered whether I should tell them about her firing me because she wanted to protect me, but I decided against it. “Did she talk you about being scared anything would happen?”

“No, she only wanted to go over some parts of her speech before the big audience.”

“Julia Montague and yourself seemed to get along well and were rather close, according to our sources. Do you confirm?” Sharma was the one asking this time and his voice was less kind than Rayburn’s.

“Yes. Julia Montague was always nice and respectful with me, and the feeling was mutual.”

“We have been able to get some images and videos from a CCTV camera at the event,” Rayburn drawled as she sorted through the papers in front of her before displaying three pictures in front of me. “These photographs were taken, respectively, one, five and ten minutes after the attack,” Rayburn went on pointing at me on the photograph. “Throughout our recording, we can see that you never left PS Budd’s side until the medics arrived.”

I was about to say something, when Sharma interrupted Rayburn and at the same time, stopped me from talking. “The first one we understand. You had just managed to push his body off yourself and were still taking in what was happening. But you need to explain the other two.”

I looked down at the pictures in front of me even though I already knew what they showed: Me crying over and tending to David. “When I pulled him off me, I noticed he was bleeding. My instinct was to do a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. I stayed with him because the wound on his shoulder didn’t allow for that technique and needed pressure to manage the bleeding.” Rayburn nodded at my explanation, after all, it was the truth. Sharma, on the other hand, looked much less convinced.

“So, you couldn’t look around while applying pressure? Search for Julia Montague?” Was he trying to accuse me of her assassination? I was truly offended.

“Julia and I were close. But the explosion was a situation I was not prepared for and I didn’t act rationally.” This would have to do. Both Police officers now nodded and it seemed that topic was settled.

“How would you describe your relationship with PS Budd?” Rayburn now asked. Honestly, I had been expecting this question from the very beginning. Finding me in his hospital room at the wee hours of the morning was bound to raise questions that I couldn’t answer truthfully without jeopardizing his career.

“PS Budd has always been very polite and professional with me, both when he was Julia’s PPO and then mine.” I replied, simply repeating out loud the words I had memorized earlier.

“Other witnesses have testified that two nights before the explosion at St Matthew’s, PS Budd and yourself left the Blackwood Hotel, and only returned four hours later.” Rayburn stated, before asking me the expected question. “Where did you go?”

“I went to meet some friends, Sara Defair and Cedric Murton. We had dinner and then a few drinks. PS Budd accompanied me as my bodyguard.” Technically speaking, this was true.

“You stand by your previous statement that your relationship with PS Budd has never been anything but professional?” Sharma inquired, his eyes looking right into mine which made me quite uncomfortable.

“Yes, I do.” Honestly, what should I do? If I say no, then I’d be admitted I lied to them. If say yes, then I’m deeply fucked if Dave’s forgotten to delete the text messages.

Rayburn took over, looking at me condescendingly. “We found used condoms in the trashcans, both in your bedroom and in PS Budd’s.” I immediately went red. I tried not to, but I was too embarrassed to control the blood flow in my cheeks. Most of all, this issue had completely escaped my mind and I didn’t know how to get out of it. “Naturally, we will run DNA tests but it would be a lot faster if you confirmed that the condoms we found contain both your and PS Budd’s DNA.”

In the end, I confessed. There was no way I could deny this in the 21stcentury with our modern DNA tests. At least, that seemed to shut the topic but I now feared Dave would be sanctioned.

“Is there anything of interest you’d like to add, Miss Alma Guinness?” Sharma asked, the tip of his finger almost on the off button of the recorder.

“Yes, there is.” I announced solemnly and the way they both remained frozen would have been comical if I hadn’t just gone through the biggest embarrassment in my life just seconds ago. “The morning of the attack, at the House of Commons, I saw Rob MacDonald and Tahir Mahmood talk, alone, which in itself was bizarre since they hate each other. And then, Rob handed Tahir the briefcase.”

“The one briefcase Tahir brought to the stage just before the explosion?” Sharma asked for more details, now leaning forward.

“Yes, the very same one.”

------

While things exactly didn’t go as planned, it seemed the last piece of information had at least redeemed me partially in the eyes of Rayburn and Sharma. At the end of the interview, Rayburn even offered me her phone number in case I remembered anything else.

Now that this had been taken care of, I returned to the hospital. The positive point was that since the Police now knew about our nocturnal activities, there was no point in hiding. When I arrived in his bedroom, Dave seemed much more alert although he was still lying in bed.

“Hi there,” I cooed before approaching him, not caring about how I might sound. “Are you feeling better?”

David nodded. “Yes, love.” It was obvious he was now in less pain than yesterday. I wanted to tell him about the interview but he continued before I could say anything. “I’ve been discharged actually.”

“First, the Police know that you and I reallygot to know each other,” I informed him, stressing out the ‘really’ and wiggling my brows so he would understand what I was saying. “Second, that’s not possible. You cannot be discharged. I mean, you’re doing better, but not hospital-leavingbetter.”

Dave chuckled at my antics but it was then followed by an almost unnoticeable grimace. His shoulder still hurt. “I signed the discharge papers, so I’m leaving.”

I tried to convince him to stay, but in the end, he was an adult and it was his decision. Hell, I wasn’t even family so my opinion had no value. I helped him get dressed in some fresh clothes Vicky had dropped by before work. She had come by with Ella and Charlie so they could see their father.

Dave appeared self-conscious and uneasy at needing help for such a simple thing like getting dressed. “Look Dave, you only have two options: Stay here and have nurses care for you. Leave and have me care for you.” Begrudgingly, he complied.

The bodyguards also came in handy when I wasn’t able to help Dave into and out the car on my own. Dave was silent the entire drive, most likely uncomfortable at having bodyguards when he was a bodyguard. I guess he felt the way I would have felt I had gotten a lawyer.

The car came to a stop in front of the building of my parents’ flat and David insisted on using the crutches instead of the wheelchair. I sighed but knew better than to argue. The guards did a quick scan of the flat before letting us in, finally alone.

“So, this is where my parents’ stay when they come to London,” I explained, as I showed Dave through the flat. I hated this flat: Everything was white and modern and I preferred things dark and old. We finally reached the corridor serving the bedrooms. “So, on the left is my parents’ room and on the right side is my bedroom,” I indicated, before entering my room and setting down David’s duffel bag on a chair.

“I thought your parents’ were divorced,” Dave finally spoke, his brows furrowed before he let himself rest his arms and sit down on the bed.

“Yeah, they’re not. They just don’t spend a whole lot of time together,” I drawled, opening the drawers I had left empty in the morning for his clothes. I was glad he didn’t comment. We had never really spoken about where he was to go after being discharged, but after all this, it would feel weird to leave him in his apartment. “There’s actually a lot of stuff we don’t about each other,” I chuckled, remembering something. “Like, are you allergic to any meds?”

We spent the rest of the evening tucked into bed. Dave didn’t want to admit it, but even standing up hurt. Besides, eating Chinese take-out in bed with Netflix on the background was my kind of evening. “What’s your favourite colour, love?” Dave asked with food still in his mouth, during his turn of the 20-questions game.

“Green,” I exclaimed without thinking. “But not apple green. More like emerald, Slytherin green.” Turned out, David thought of himself as a Gryffindor, just like I expected.

“Favourite subject in school?” After all we had gone through together, it was crazy that we still had to ask each other those questions. Perhaps, I should’ve asked why he had been spying on Julia? But whatever the answer, it wouldn’t change my feelings towards him so there was no point in asking it now and ruining the evening.

“English.” I raised my eyebrows, a tad surprised but he didn’t budge. “Why? Is my English not good enough for you, Miss Alma Guinness?” Dave asked mockingly but deep inside he was actually insecure at our difference in upbringing.

“No, I just expected you to say P.E. like just about every guy I’ve ever met,” I confided and we both laughed.

We called it an early night at 9pm since we were both exhausted. Back in bed with our teeth brushed, Dave and I stared at each other in silence as we realized that we had never slept in the same bed without having sex first. “Alright, I’ve always wanted to be the big spoon at least once in my life so roll on to your good side and let me cuddle you,” I blurted out, trying to dissipate the uneasiness. It seemed to work although I soon realized being the big spoon was much less comfortable than the little.

“Do you want to switch, love?” Dave offered, trying to hide a chuckle.

“Just shut up Dave,” I mumbled with amusement. The room went silent for a few minutes and I tried falling asleep, without success.

“Love,” Dave whispered out of the blue. I squeezed his hand to let him know I was listening. “I forgot to delete the text messages on my phone so DCI Sharma and DS Rayburn already knew about us when they interviewed you,” he confessed, almost sheepishly.

“So, you’re telling me I went through that embarrassment for nothing?” I blurted out accusingly, but then we both had to agree that it was funny and would have been even more so if we hadn’t been the victims of the embarrassment.

I finally managed to fall asleep even though I knew that my arm, which was under Dave’s body, would hurt like hell in the morning. For a split second, I worried he’d have nightmares, his PTSD being worsened by the attack but I was confident the painkillers probably impeded that.

I woke up three hours later with a loud noise and some cursing. Eyes still closed, I brushed my arm over the mattress next to me. David wasn’t here. Panicked, I turned on the light and left the bed, searching for him.

“Shit David!” I cursed immediately when I found him. He was lying on the bathroom floor, his hand squeezing his thigh in agony, the crutches on the ground next to him. I hurried my way to him, helping him up again. At least the stitches hadn’t ripped but that was little consolation considering the pain David now was in. “What were you thinking?” I blurted out, anger covering my worry. “I told you to wake me if you needed to use the bathroom.”

“I’m not an invalid,” Dave spat out, escaping eye-contact with me. His knuckles were white around the crutches and I figured out that the emotional pain of being injured was as bad, if not worse, than the physical pain for him.

He kept on refusing my help, protesting each time I went to help him but when I reminded him that he could either let me help him or I would call one of the bodyguards to do it, he complied. I sat him down and then waited for him outside, before walking him back to the bedroom.

--------

I was wide awake again. Dave had managed to get back to sleep but I wasn’t so lucky. Sighing, I left the bed, making as little noise as possible. I walked to the living room and got my laptop from the heater.

Turning it on, I noticed I had new email message, from a masked address. “Meet me, tonight at 2am. 13 Holly Road, Hounslow.” The email had been sent to the one email address, out of the four that I owned, that wasn’t linked to my phone, which meant they knew the Police had it.

A smart person would have ignored the email and joined Dave in bed. I was too tired to be smart. I was exhausted, annoyed and quite frankly, I just wanted to put an end to all this madness in my life. Feeling numb, I walked to the kitchen and stepped on a chair to reach the high cupboards. I had hidden it in there long ago, never thinking there’d be a time where I’d need it. But that time had just come, I thought drily and I grabbed a gun from inside a cookie box and the bullets from the empty cereal bag.

I checked in on David one last time, before going back to the living room, out to the balcony and then climbing up to the rooftop. The door was open just as always, and I managed to get inside the elevator without the guards noticed I had left the flat.

#davidbudd #David Budd #RichardMadden #richard madden #davebudd #dave budd #bodyguard #bbc bodyguard #BodyguardBBC #netflix bodyguard #bodyguardnetflix #got #robb stark #robbstark #cinderella #fanfiction

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lachryphage · 6 years

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some personal stuff about having the sads lately

This past year has been so very strange. In a lot of ways I feel like I’m working towards some sort of breakthrough with my mental health -- I have more motivation and direction and independence -- but I’ve also been saddled with an overabundance of grief.

It’s been little over a year now since I moved out of my childhood home -- a place turned sour by my parents divorce. I was running away from my father. The negative (dare I say abusive?) behaviors he once exhibited to my mother were suddenly turned on me. It was a betrayal I don’t know if I’ll ever be over. I trusted him and loved him as any child should and I still can’t believe his blatant disregard for both my mental and physical well-being.

Moving out was so difficult. I still have many boxes I haven’t unpacked. But I’m getting there, I finally have a sense of home again.

This summer I wanted to get to know my body again: give it a second chance. I went off my birth control. Doctors always told me that my horrific periods were something I would grow out of and I wanted to see if that was true. It’s been over a decade now since I started puberty; I really believe that if it were going to get better it would have by now. It didn’t. I forgot how intense the pain was and -- even worse -- the fear. I was taken to the emergency room against my will. Unable to move, barely able to speak, I had warned my mother and boyfriend that they could do nothing for me there. Doctors don’t care. They didn’t care.

My GP offered an IUD as a solution. I probably have endometriosis, but she didn’t think it was important to confirm what’s really wrong with me. I have no official diagnosis. Whatever is wrong, she insisted, it will be fixed by hormonal birth control.

I said yes to the IUD.

I don’t know if I truly regret it, but the procedure was one of the most physically and emotionally traumatic events of my life. It would leave me with pain levels barely below what I experienced on my periods and constant bleeding for two months. I was taken to the emergency room again at one point, terrified the IUD had perforated my uterus. Once again I was manhandled (actually the only kind and gentle doctor I met that day was a man, the mean ones were women) and told to deal with it.

I haven’t had a period since that endless bout of bleeding. I get minor cramps now and then, but no period. I guess that means it was worth it.

In the meantime, my joints are hurting, aching, making physical activity increasingly difficult with each passing week. My joints have apparently always sublexed but now it was hurting when they did and it was more frequent than before. Joints that I never had trouble with are now bothering me daily. My doctor cannot possibly deal with more than one symptom at a time. I had to wait for my IUD troubles to clear up before asking for help. I have a referral to genetics to see if it’s EDS but they may not accept my case. If they don’t, my doctor will have no idea what to do and will give up.

Physically, I am in pain and exhausted. But I know how to handle those. But grief? I know how to deal with depression, a feeling that comes from within, but grief, external to myself?

My Aunt Jan died. I was more similar to her than anyone else in my family, closer to her than anyone else but my mother. I knew she was dying, I told everyone and they didn’t believe me but I knew her. In the past few years, during her bouts of insanity I could understand what she was trying to say when no one else could. And she is gone. I can’t help but wish I spent more time with her and hadn’t been so obsessed with school. Because of school, I haven’t had the time to properly mourn her. So many of her things have made their way into my house.

I can still smell her. Sometimes it’s a comfort but sometimes it takes me back to that room on that night and the death rattle that I breathed in rhythm to until her very last breath.

When I was very little, I picked out a cat for my Aunt Jan from the shelter. She was older than most adoptable cats, tiny, mean, and black. She was perfect. Jan named her Little Bits.

When Jan had to move into a care facility, Little Bits Was effectively abandoned for over a year until Jan’s old house was sold. We tried to bring her into our home, but at the time we had four other cats and she hated any animal but herself. She was constantly stressed, angry, and lonely. When my mother left my father, she took Little Bits with her. Finally, those two old women found solace in one another. A month after Jan died, Little Bits died to.

My mom was out of town, we knew Little Bits was declining but my mom thought she would last another week or so. I knew she was dying. But we got test results back from the vet, pinpointing the problem, we got a prescription for her and I rushed to the vet before they closed to pick it up. I tried so hard to give it to Little Bit but she refused it. When I finally got her mouth open her breath had the Death Smell. The smell that Jan had.

Alone, in the quiet of the night, Little Bits died in my arms. I felt her body go limp, saw the light leave her eyes, heard her last tiny meows. I held her for a long time.

They were hard months. I barely even showered, I didn’t have clean clothes, and worst of all I forgot to take care of my animals. My betta’s fin rot was suddenly worse. I tried everything I knew to medicate him. He died. Was it a month ago already?

Depressed and disgustingly unhygienic, I got a UTI. I’ve had them before. Easy fix if you figure out what’s wrong before you go crazy, and I did figure it out. I took my antibiotics, I got better. But then I was so much worse. It developed into a kidney infection. Again, at the doctor, frightened and in pain. But I got better.

Last week my mom told me she has breast cancer. But the prognosis was good, it was small and they caught it early. It was still scary. I went with her to her doctor appointment this week. Turns out it’s actually further along and is very large. She has to have chemo and probably a mastectomy. My mother was crying; her hair and her breasts so vital to her sense of self. The family consensus is that I will be her primary caretaker.

My mother was layed off from her job on her birthday, only a few months after she left my father. Since then, she’s been unemployed. She’s run out of unemployment. She makes barely enough money to get by. She can’t afford the cancer treatment, but she has to have it anyway. To help ease the burden she’ll be selling the house my boyfriend and I are living in. My new home, my only sense of safety and security that I’ve had in years. We can’t afford to live anywhere else.

I am graduating in two months. I should be happy -- I think parts of me am, somewhere. I was planning on taking a BREAK. No school, no work, no responsibilities, just time to get to know myself again. Everything that brings me joy, things I define as myself, have fallen by the wayside in favor of school. Maybe finally some time to breathe, and rest, and be.

But now I must take care of my mother, I must move, and the only way to survive will be to work. Even working a low-key job that I enjoy has been too much for me, I’m sick of being to tired to think every single day! I cannot just survive anymore. What’s the fucking point if I’m just surviving? When do I get to be a person?? When do I get to live???

I am READY to create and engage with the world! Let me sew and paint and smile and read and collect and care! And I was so close! Just graduate and then I can be there. But maybe it never ends. No I must be a caretaker and a survivor.

There’s just no fucking hope anymore.

#i have been having a really really horrible time #this is very long #personal shit #if i'm out of the house for more than five hours i cannot do anything the rest of the day i'm too tired #and if i'm out of the house for even just five hours a day every weekday i do not have any energy left for the weekend #it's my maximum capacity but it still may not be enough for boyfriend and i to rent anywhere but here

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socialattractionuk · 5 years

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One of the youngest people to be diagnosed with motor neurone disease is engaged

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One of the youngest people to be diagnosed with motor neurone disease has just got engaged – to the man she fell for when he fundraised for a cure.

25-year-old Lucy Lintott is the youngest person in Scotland with MND. She was diagnosed in 2013 at the age of 19.

Doctors told her she might have just four years to live.

Lucy threw herself into fundraising for the charity MND Scotland, so far raising more than £200,000 to help find a cure for the disease.

She reconnected with her now-fiance Tommy Smith, 23, last year, when he did a sponsored head shave for the cause.

The pair – who admit they fancied each other at school – hit it off and earlier this month, Tommy got down on one knee to propose at the charity dinner and auction.

An emotional video of the proposal shows Tommy trick Lucy into posing for photos, before he gets down on one knee.

Lucy and Tommy, who only started dating around six months ago, now plan to wed in 2020 and are already busy looking for their dream venue.

Lucy, from Garmouth, Scotland, said: ‘I feel so much better when he is with me, he is ridiculously caring.

‘He makes me forget I have MND and he means the world to me.

‘I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with him.’

Tommy added: ‘Our life has been perfect ever since we met. We couldn’t be more similar.

The couple are very happy together (Picture: Lucy Lintott / SWNS)

‘I could never see myself with anyone else. What’s the point in waiting when you just know.

‘I asked her dad for permission an hour before I actually did it.

‘She told me if she ever got married she wants to have the most sparkly ring possible and I’ve made sure she gets one.

‘I see past her condition. To me it is just Lucy.

‘When you love someone as much as I love Lucy you just want to ensure they have a happy life.

‘I see her for the person she is. She’s amazing and is an inspiration.’

Lucy, who is the youngest of three children to mum, Lydia, 56, and dad, Robert, 55, started to feel symptoms of her disease in 2013.

She struggled to grip things with her hand and dropped a plate full of food in front of customers while waitressing.

After a visit to the doctors in August 2013, Lucy was referred to see a neurologist, who arranged for an MRI scan and blood test.

Specialists at Glasgow’s Queen Elizabeth University Hospital diagnosed Lucy with MND on November 19 2013.

MND is a rare disease, most common in people aged over 40, and develops when nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord progressively and spontaneously lose their function.

It gradually makes gripping, walking, talking and swallowing extremely difficult and eventually impossible.

The disease causes muscles to weaken, stiffen and waste, and will result in Lucy’s vital organs failing.

Lucy couldn’t believe the proposal (Picture: Lucy Lintott / SWNS)

Lucy said: ‘My body stopped letting me doing what I wanted it to.

‘I felt mentally able but I just stopped being able to do some things.

‘I sat in a room with my consultant and just explained my symptoms. I was diagnosed a week later.

‘They came into a room where I was with my parents. They said they’d ruled everything else out and knew what it was.

‘They said it was incurable. I burst into tears and zoned everything else out.

‘I was told I might only have three to four years but the doctor said they just don’t know.’

Since the diagnosis Lucy has raised more than £200,000 to help find a cure, and Tommy heard about her efforts and decided to run Tough Mudder for MND Scotland.

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One of the youngest people to be diagnosed with motor neurone disease is engaged

To raise more cash for the upcoming run, he organised a head shave and asked Lucy to do the honours with the clippers.

The pair grew closer in the weeks that followed, before eventually getting together late last year.

Lucy said: ‘I knew Tommy from school. We were friends for a while.

‘We started talking again at a charity head shave. Tommy and his friend were having their heads shaved to raise money for me.

‘It felt amazing to know he wanted to help me and we started talking after that. It just went on from there really.’

Tommy asked Lucy to marry him at another fundraising event in Stirling, Scotland, on 17 May.

They’re so loved up! (Picture: Lucy Lintott / SWNS)

She announced the news on Twitter and the post has gained thousands of retweets and likes.

‘We were attending a charity event raising money for MND Scotland. I knew he wanted to propose but had no idea when he would do it’, said Lucy. ‘He said we should go outside to pose for photos but I had no idea we were being filmed.

‘He said “I’ve got a question for you, will you do me the pleasure of becoming my wife?”.

‘I said “no you’re not?” I was speechless, I couldn’t believe it and found it so surreal.

‘I nodded because I couldn’t talk. I felt happy, nervous and a bit sick.

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‘I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with Tommy. My life would be unbearable without him.

‘Life without him is just unimaginable.

‘It crossed my mind that I may never get married when I was diagnosed.

‘He is my best friend and he just has to walk through the door to make me smile.’

People with the condition live with it for varying amounts of time after diagnosis and the speed of the disease’s progression varies between patients.

Lucy believes that like Stephen Hawking, she may go on to live a happy and fulfilled life for many years to come.

Lucy has outlived the initial prognosis of her doctors but since 2013, has developed slurred speech and can’t walk unaided.

‘My disease is progressing extremely slowly,’ she said.

‘I do now have weakness in all four of my joints and I use a wheelchair most of the time.

‘I feel extremely lucky in that sense. I felt like my world was crashing down when I first got the news.’

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chestnutpost · 5 years

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8 Ways You Can Help Someone Who’s Dealing With Cancer

This post was originally published on this site

A cancer diagnosis can be devastating, regardless of the outlook. The news can also be hard on friends and family, as they struggle to figure out what they can do to help a loved one after the diagnosis.

Beth Pauvlinch, who wrote about caring for her mother who lived with cancer in her book Two Women 1Disease, said various gestures, no matter how small, can go a long way for someone dealing with the illness. Small actions and encouraging words can mean more than you think.

Curious about what they are or how you can help? Here are a few tips from experts and those who dealt with cancer firsthand on ways you can support a loved one living with illness:

Celebrate the wins along the way

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Cancer can be an emotional rollercoaster that includes waiting for test results, extensive side effects from particular treatments and possibly going through a multitude of surgeries. Erika Hauer, a breast cancer survivor based in New Jersey and brand ambassador for the cancer support website Humanly, said that celebrating little victories can make the process more bearable.

“When I was going through treatment, my friends and family rallied behind me by making everything a celebration. We celebrated my chemotherapy, we celebrated by when I got my breasts removed, and so many other milestones,” she said. “Instead of being alone and be sad about what I was going through, I look back on my time during treatment as a party and celebration of life.”

Volunteer for specific tasks

Jann Fujimoto, a speech-language pathologist in Oconomowoc, Wisconsin, who is undergoing breast cancer treatment, said having friends and family step up to tackle various tasks for her helped keep her mind at ease.

Make specific overtures, “such as offering to drive to chemo (or other medical appointments), take over family carpool responsibilities, organize meals coming to the house, host extra playdates/sleepovers for children,” she said.

And if you offer assistance, make sure of your the availability to follow through without undue effort. It’s important that the person you’re helping “doesn’t feel as if they are inconveniencing you,” said Danielle T. Calvano, a breast program clinical navigator at White Plains Hospital Center for Cancer Care in New York.

Don’t walk on eggshells

The last thing most people living with cancer want to deal with is someone treating them like they should be kept in a bubble. Therefore, it’s vital to continue to engage with them as you did before their diagnosis.

“Try to keep our relationship as normal as possible,” said Roberta Luna, a 16-year-old pancreatic cancer survivor who advocates for the Pancreatic Cancer Action Network (PANCAN).

She said that when going through her treatment, she appreciated when friends and family continued to joke with and even challenge her at times. “It’s okay to get mad at me for something not cancer-related. Be honest with me. Share how you feel. It’s important to me to have as normal a life as possible. I don’t want to think about cancer 24/7,” she said.

Jules Cohen, a medical oncologist at the Stony Brook University Cancer Center in New York and a clinical associate professor of medicine at the school, said to continue to do normal, fun, everyday things with patients “because life goes on even with a cancer diagnosis or during chemotherapy or after a grim prognosis.”

So have your weekly coffee meeting at Starbucks, head to the movies to see a new film you’ve been eying or try out a restaurant you haven’t eaten at before.

Don’t underestimate a comforting gesture

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A little hug can really lift someone’s spirits and your loved one will likely welcome an endearing physical embrace.

“Look me in the eye, hold my hand, give me a hug. Cancer is not contagious, you won’t ‘catch it’ if you look at me or touch me. Hugs, handholding can be very comforting,” Luna said.

Encourage healthy habits

Many people living with cancer may feel the need to avoid food or drink due to nausea or other side effects from chemotherapy, said Raanan Berger, director of the oncology division at the Sheba Medical Center in Israel and a cancer expert with Belong.life, a social network for cancer patients, caregivers and health care professionals.

“Help them out by making sure that they have easily accessible favorite foods and gently remind them to keep sipping fluids even when they’re feeling nauseous,” Berger said.

Melissa Berry, founder of the lifestyle site Cancer Fashionista, suggested offering to make someone a warm, soothing meal such as a hearty soup or stew. “There is nothing better than a home cooked meal,” she said.

And if you are bringing meals to a person with cancer, be sure to take the food in containers that do not have to be returned, Fujimoto said. “It is a great support to receive meals but it can be a little stressful trying to figure out how the dishes will be returned to the giver of the food.”

Accompany them to their appointments

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It’s not uncommon for those living with cancer to only remember 50 percent of what their doctor has relayed to them during an oncology appointment. Therefore, accompanying them to a medical office and being their eyes and ears in the meeting can go a long way in helping to make sure that they fully understand what their doctor is telling them.

“For newly diagnosed or those who are going to an appointment after a scan, ask them if they need someone to go with them,” said Marlon Saria, an advanced practice nurse researcher and assistant professor at the John Wayne Cancer Institute at Providence Saint John’s Health Center in Santa Monica, California. “You can not only help absorb the information being conveyed by the providers, you can also retain information about support services that are available to address their needs.”

Saria added that it can be helpful for a significant other, family member, friend or colleague to take the lead on organizing any pamphlets, brochures, business cards and phone numbers that a doctor hands out during an appointment. “You can help [the patient] to sort it out after the fog settles,” Saria said.

Don’t be afraid to bring a little humor

As the saying goes, laughter really is the best medicine. A fun way to relieve someone from the stressors of treatments and doctors’ appointments is to find some new movies to screen for them, said Heidi Floyd, a breast cancer survivor and an awareness ambassador for Wacoal, a lingerie company that has a current campaign to raise money for the Susan G. Komen breast cancer foundation. “And make them funny!” she added, noting that it’s a nice escape for an hour or two.

Don’t be a know it all

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Cohen said it’s important to refrain from sharing “all you ‘know’ about cancer and cancer treatments, how pharmaceutical companies are trying to rip you off, how doctors don’t know anything, how you’re better off getting herbal, alternative medicines than chemotherapy, which damages the good cells as well as bad.”

Cohen stressed that it’s hard enough for patients to deal with a diagnosis and come to grips with the treatment they might need to go through without such input. “They don’t need their friend, relative, coworker to muddy the waters by giving them their two cents, no matter how well-intentioned,” he said.

Instead, offer to be a listening ear to what they’re thinking, feeling and going through. And do so without judgment and on the person’s own terms, said Sandy Southerland, a clinical nurse navigator at Hoag Family Cancer Institute in Newport Beach, California.

“Everyone processes the news of a cancer diagnosis differently,” Southerland said. “Some people want to be treated the same ― talk about the same old things, and not focus on how they are sick. Others may want to talk about all the new developments and types of treatment they are receiving every step of the way. And some people will also transition from being open to private at various times. You just go with the flow and support how they feel in that moment.”

“Living With” is a guide to navigating conditions that affect your mind and body. Each month, HuffPost Life will tackle very real issues people live with by offering different stories, advice and ways to connect with others who understand what it’s like. In March, we’re covering cancer. Got an experience you’d like to share? Email [email protected].

The post 8 Ways You Can Help Someone Who’s Dealing With Cancer appeared first on The Chestnut Post.

from The Chestnut Post https://thechestnutpost.com/news/8-ways-you-can-help-someone-whos-dealing-with-cancer/

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callmemoprah · 6 years

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Remarks on Essay Proposal File format on an Simple to follow Invest in

Anything They Told You About Essay Proposal Format Is Gone Entirely wrong…And Here’s Why

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Source: http://mobimatic.io/2018/10/03/remarks-on-essay-proposal-file-format-on-an-simple-to-follow-invest-in/

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ibloggingkits-blog · 7 years

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New Post has been published on Blogging kits

New Post has been published on https://bloggingkits.org/blogger-with-ms-shares-story-to-help-others-with-ailment/

BLOGGER WITH MS Shares Story TO Help OTHERS WITH Ailment

Heaps will % Soldier Area this Sunday for Stroll MS, raising cash and cognizance to create a global free of multiple sclerosis.

Angie Randall, of Wicker Park, has raised almost $80,000 during the last three years due to the fact being recognized with the Disorder. Randall changed into simply 29 years antique and newly married when she determined out she had multiple sclerosis.

“It was devastating to be sincere. Once I heard the news I dropped to the ground and commenced crying. It wasn’t what you want to pay attention, particularly 3 months upon getting married and wondering your lifestyles had just begun,” Randall said.

“It felt like the global became ending. There was confusion, we had been scared and we didn’t pretty recognize what to anticipate,” stated husband Bill Randall.

After her prognosis, Randall made it her assignment to alternate what human beings think about MS by means of starting a weblog called Properly and Robust with MS.

“I commenced the weblog approximately a year ago because I actually wanted to alternate the negative notion human beings had approximately MS. in particular folks that are newly recognized, they suppose the worst, and that I thought the worst. So it was without a doubt vital for me to expose you can nonetheless live an active and full existence with the Ailment,” she stated.

Documenting her private adventure with the Ailment and speak on topics of the today’s research on MS to motherhood and health, nothing is off limits for Randall’s blog.

“The comments is the cause I maintain to do the weblog — it is the exceptional a part of it. I can not let you know what number of people I’ve talked with, I’ve met with, strangers seemingly, however, they aren’t strangers because they’re in my identical function,” she said.

Randall additionally connects with others through Walk MS. She has held more than one fundraising activities and participated inside the Stroll for the beyond three years.

The way to Be An Earnings Producing Mother Blogger

I would like to share my Mom blogger Story with you and the way I went from doing it as a hobby to sincerely turning it into an Earnings Producing pastime.

There are a ton of Mom bloggers accessible however only some are honestly making a residing from it. The distinction between making a living with a weblog and wasting time running a blog is moderate. but there are only a few tweaks and tricks, that in case you realize them, can converting your ‘mommy blogger’ revel in significantly.

Once I was given started as a Mom blogger, I had this concept that I simply needed to write articles and insert some affiliate links and some hyperlinks to my community advertising and marketing products and, I’d start to earn commissions and construct a crew at the net. but blogging for earnings is not quite that cut and dry.

My first Mom weblog becomes started out as a healthy green Mom form of a blog and I wrote things about healthy living and children’s stuff that inspired me. I advocated natural splendor products and matters that would enchantment to the healthy green Mother marketplace with associate hyperlinks, however hardly ever did each person buy through the one’s links. I didn’t comprehend on the time that earning money with a weblog relies upon on how a good deal site visitors you have become on your blog, as well as the pleasant of that site visitors, and my visitors changed into absolutely only some buddies and own family who have been coming over to go to me, now not a marketplace who was searching to buy anything or make cash online.

Getting visitors to a blog is much like getting site visitors to a brick and mortar commercial enterprise. It depends on how Nicely your market for your particular market. If someone seeking out cheese walks into an automobile frame store, the probabilities of a sale are narrow to none. If you may get targeted visitors for your weblog who are searching mainly for what you offer, you are in the commercial enterprise as a Mother blogger.

My 2nd Mother blog becomes created in order that I ought to ‘logo’ myself as a Mom blogger and net entrepreneur. I wrote articles, however nonetheless failed to recognize the basics of How to make cash with a weblog. Branding yourself and earning money are a bit of a capture 22.

You need to be successful before you may brand your self, however, most people are looking to logo themselves first so one can be successful.

My first on line achievement got here from something I marketed that changed into completely outdoor my blog. I had a capture page to an attractive provide and I advertised to those who had been searching out what I presented especially. I made approximately $500/month doing that and my call became nowhere on the income page. but running a blog is specific… As a Mother blogger, your blog is your seize web page. You need a suggestion in your blog that appeals to your readers.

There are definitely 3 belongings you need in case you need to make money as a Mother blogger.

First, you want a weblog. Glaringly. And you need to add valuable content material to that blog regularly or nobody will loaf around to study your stuff or come again.

2nd, you want an offer that converts. Regardless of what you’re writing about, you want a form in which humans placed their electronic mail address in so which could get something you provide or can analyze some thing they want. it’s how you build a listing and as you know, the cash is inside the listing.

So now, I exploit a shared blogging platform this is optimized for the engines like google, and I will blog approximately my passions and merchandise and in reality get site visitors. Plus, I now have an offer that converts on my blog and a way to build a list.

The information I have won over the last few years is especially releasing. it is surely pretty simple stuff however until you determine it out or have someone inform you about it, you risk be an ‘interest’ Mother blogger forever.

Top 5 Steps For Bloggers To Get Written approximately In Newspapers And Magazines while conventional media like newspapers, magazines, Television, and on line portals write about or point out a particular blog or a blogger definitely in their testimonies, it’s far a massive profile-booster for the blogger. Moreover, the blog can experience accelerated jumps in visitors in a single day from the readers or visitors of those media channels.

For bloggers who are engaged in blogging as a profession or are aiming to build on a high profile via running a blog, getting included within the traditional media may be the subsequent huge fulfillment after creating a presence inside the blogosphere and the various blogger’s community.

But some of these are simpler said than completed. Producing publicity for people is a big mandate and often calls for services of professional PR companies. Today across the globe, PR specialists are sweating it out spherical the clock for his or her clients along with writers, critics, speakers, God-guys, businessmen, style designers, actors, sports people, and so forth.

it is tough however no longer not possible to acquire. With a knowledge of how the media work, bloggers can do their personal PR and chart out a plan for his or her very own media-photograph building exercise.

Right here are the Pinnacle five steps that bloggers want to take. Even though those steps can be taken sequentially in the order supplied, there aren’t any watertight booths between them. it’s far about your private creativity and networking and locating proper opportunities tailored to your needs and surroundings.

1. Do the homework

The first step in starting an amazing self PR campaign is to invite yourself some questions and attempt to answer them honestly – What is it which you searching for from this media publicity? How do you want to position yourself within the media e.G. As an expert inside the difficulty you blog on? What might be the interesting stuff you need to mention to the media? Could these things that you are going to say advantage the readers and visitors of the media channels?

Having long gone via this exercising, it will likely be a great concept to analyze the media Well and the people who write on them i.E. The reporters. What’s the newspaper that you get inside the morning at your house? Is that the newspaper you want to be featured in? Are there any specific places for blogs in that newspaper – a weblog review, a reprint from a weblog publish, a point out of a blog, etc.?

Open an MS excel report in your Laptop and make a list of the newspapers and magazines that you need to target. inside the next column against each media, add any unique page, region, the name of a column, and many others. in which there are opportunities of tales on blogs or associated items can appear.

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