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naturalwellnesssolutions · 8 months

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Rosacea of the Nose: Causes, Symptoms and Treatment

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What is Rosacea of the Nose and Why You Should Care?

A curious characteristic of rosacea of the nose (medically known as Rhinophyma) is the emergence of minuscule blood vessels that weave a web-like pattern. This peculiar characteristic arises as a result of inflammation and expansion in response to stimuli such as heat, piquant cuisine, or certain drinks. The term rhinophyma can be used loosely to describe the condition of rosacea affecting the nose, even in early or milder stages. Some physicians and references use rhinophyma to describe any rosacea of the nose, while others reserve the term only for the most advanced stage.

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Rhinophyma: Advanced Stage

Severe rosacea of the nose can develop where disfiguring tissue proliferation and enlargement of the nose can occur. Even though the tissue changes are permanent, this advanced condition can be treated by laser. Laser resurfacing procedures using a CO2 laser or an erbium laser can reduce the size of the nose, remove abnormal tissue overgrowth, and reshape the nose by smoothing its surface.

Rosacea of the nose - pre and post-op photos

Rosacea in General

Rosacea in general is a chronic skin condition that causes redness, visible blood vessels, and sometimes small, red, pus-filled bumps on the nose, cheeks, forehead, and chin (which can resemble acne). Although the exact cause is unknown, rosacea often worsens over time if left untreated but don't be too disheartened because treatment can help. Learning the causes, triggers, and symptoms of rosacea can help prevent flare-ups and allow for early treatment. Controlling rosacea is crucial for reducing redness, swelling, and irritation of the facial skin.

Symptoms and Causes of Rosacea: What to Look For

What are the symptoms of rosacea in general? Common symptoms of rosacea affecting the nose include: - Redness, flushing, and visible broken blood vessels on the nose - Swelling of the nose - Acne-like breakouts with small red bumps or pustules - Thick, bumpy skin on the nose - Oily skin - Sensitive or burning skin - Watery, irritated eyes (ocular rosacea) What causes rosacea? While the exact cause of rosacea is unknown, various factors can trigger flare-ups. Potential causes and things that may make rosacea worse include: - Blood vessel abnormalities - Chronic inflammation - Demodex mites in facial skin - Genetics - Spicy foods - Hot beverages - Alcohol - Sun exposure - Stress - Hot weather - Strenuous exercise - Certain skincare products Rosacea in general tends to affect people with fair skin between ages 30-60 and is more common in women. People with a family history are also more susceptible.

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Rosacea of the Nose Compared to General Rosacea

There are differences between rosacea of the nose and general rosacea: - Rhinophyma primarily affects the nose, while regular rosacea can affect the cheeks, forehead, chin, and nose. Rhinophyma specifically causes thickening of the skin on the nose. - Rhinophyma is more common in men, while regular rosacea affects both genders. - Rhinophyma typically occurs in the later stages of rosacea and may develop years after the initial rosacea symptoms. Regular rosacea usually begins with flushing and redness. - Nose swelling in rhinophyma is caused by excess tissue growth, including the sebaceous glands. The redness in regular rosacea is due to blood vessel dilation. - Treatments may differ. Rhinophyma often requires surgery (like dermabrasion or laser resurfacing) to reduce the excess tissue. People with regular rosacea use various medications, make lifestyle changes, and use laser treatment to improve their symptoms. So in summary, rhinophyma is a subtype of rosacea that specifically causes thickening and enlargement of the skin on your nose. While both types of rosacea share the underlying disease process, rhinophyma is considered an advanced stage with some distinct characteristics compared to generalized rosacea.

Rhinophyma Prevalence

StatisticValueSource LinksPrevalence of rosacea5.46%, range 0.092% to 2.41%Gether et al 2018Male to female ratio for rhinophyma5:1 to 30:1Rohrich et al 2002Mean age of rhinophyma patients5th to 7th decadeSadick et al 2008Incidence of *BCC with rhinophyma3-10%Rebora 1987*Basal Cell Carcinoma

Complications of Rosacea of the Nose

There are potentially some serious complications of rosacea of the nose: - Rhinophyma can lead to a disfigured, bulbous appearance of the nose over time if left untreated. - Nasal obstruction - Rosacea inflammation in the nose can cause swelling of the nasal tissues, leading to nasal congestion, sinusitis, or nasal airway obstruction. This may require surgery to correct in severe cases. - Ocular rosacea - Some people with rosacea of the nose may also develop inflammation of the eyes (known as ocular rosacea). This can cause dryness, burning, itching or vision problems if left untreated. - Phymatous changes - With chronic rosacea, the nose can develop thickened skin and irregular surface bumps or nodules called phymatous changes. This is disfiguring if extensive. - Bacterial infection - The inflamed tissues may become more prone to secondary bacterial infection by bacteria like staph or strep. This would require antibiotic treatment. - Cataracts - Rosacea in the nose may increase the risk of developing cataracts of the eyes earlier than normal. So in summary, complications like rhinophyma, nasal obstruction, ocular issues, and phymatous changes may occur. Seeing a medical professional to get your rosacea treated can help prevent progression and limit complications of rosacea affecting your nose.

Reducing Rosacea Flare-Ups: Treatment Options

How is rosacea of the nose treated? As there is no cure for rosacea, treatment focuses on managing symptoms. Options may include: - Avoiding triggers: Keep a rosacea diary to identify personal triggers to help avoid them. - Gentle skincare: Use mild cleansers, moisturizers, and sunscreen specially formulated for sensitive skin. - Medications: Antibiotics, anti-inflammatories, and retinoids can treat bumps, pimples, swelling, and redness caused by rosacea. - Laser and light therapy: Can reduce visible blood vessels and redness. - Surgery: Used for severe bumps on your face or for misshapen tissue on your face; surgery can remove excess tissue. Catching rosacea early and sticking to your treatment plan can help prevent permanent disfigurement of your nose as well as inflamed, painful facial skin. See a dermatologist at the first signs of symptoms.

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Key Takeaways

Here are important points to remember about rosacea of the nose: - Rosacea often appears as redness, bumps, and visible blood vessels on the nose and cheeks. - Triggers like sun, stress, spicy food, and alcohol can make your symptoms worse. - Treatment includes avoiding triggers, gentle skincare, medications, and light therapy. - Managing rosacea is crucial to reduce symptoms and prevent permanent facial disfigurement. - Treatment for rosacea should be sought early should symptoms appear. See a dermatologist right away if you notice redness, swelling, or acne-like breakouts on your nose (rosacea can sometimes look similar to acne).

YouTube Videos Demonstrating Treatment for Rosacea of the Nose Using a Laser

Dr David Lim | How To Treat Rhinophyma Rosacea You must sign in to YouTube to view this particular video. Click on the 'Watch on YouTube' link below. https://youtu.be/PqwgGuOh4_I?si=r5MGFj8tJaqsg0PM Reducing Rhinophyma | Contour Dermatology Warning - graphic content. https://youtu.be/3e012qvV5pk?feature=shared

Frequently Asked Questions

What is rosacea?

Rosacea is a chronic skin condition that causes redness, typically on the face. It can also cause other symptoms such as red bumps.

What are the symptoms of rosacea?

The symptoms of rosacea can vary, but they usually include redness, flushing, and visible small blood vessels on the face. Some individuals may also experience ocular rosacea, which affects the eyelids and eyes.

What causes rosacea?

The exact cause of rosacea is unknown, but it is believed to be a combination of genetic and environmental factors. Certain triggers such as sun exposure, spicy foods, and alcohol may worsen the symptoms.

Is there a cure for rosacea?

Currently, there is no known cure for rosacea. However, there are various treatment options available to manage the symptoms and reduce the frequency and severity of flare-ups.

How does rosacea differ from acne?

Rosacea can look like acne but rosacea and acne are two different conditions, although they can share some similarities. While whiteheads and blackheads primarily characterize acne, rosacea causes redness and flushing. Additionally, the treatment approaches for each condition may also differ.

Who can get rosacea?

Rosacea can affect people with rosacea of various ages, genders, and ethnicities. However, it is more commonly seen in fair-skinned individuals over the age of 30.

Can rosacea get worse over time?

Yes, rosacea can get worse over time if left untreated. Without proper management and lifestyle adjustments, your symptoms may become more severe and occur more frequently. Therefore it is very important to manage your symptoms.

What are the treatment options for rosacea?

There are several treatment options available for rosacea, including topical creams, oral medications, laser therapy, and lifestyle changes. The choice of treatment depends on the severity of the symptoms and your individual preferences. Links Natural Wellness Solutions Skin With Rosacea Best Essential Oils for Skin Best Essential Oil for Skin

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gsgroupofficial · 1 year

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Do you know the causes of a Stroke?

Introduction

Stroke is a common cause of disability and, even worse, death, killing over 400,000 people each year around the world.

What do you know about stroke?

When a person's brain stops functioning, it is a stroke caused by a sudden disturbance in the blood flow to the brain. Anyone can fall prey to it, but it's more common in older people.

A cerebrovascular accident (CVA) happens when an artery supplying blood to your head or neck is blocked or partially blocked by a blood clot, restricting the usual blood flow to your brain tissue. This can lead to the following:

feeling weak or dizzy

pain in your arms and legs

slurred speech

If you have symptoms like these after having CVA, call 112 immediately!

Causes of stroke

The causes of a stroke may vary, but they often cluster into four major categories: atherosclerosis, diabetes, hypertension (high blood pressure), and smoking. Atherosclerosis is the build-up of fatty plaque inside your arteries. High cholesterol and high triglycerides can also cause the narrowing of blood vessels, leading to stroke if not treated properly. Smoking causes inflammation in the brain, which may lead to a greater risk for stroke and other types of dementia, like Alzheimer's disease. All the Best Neuro Hospital in UP also link high blood sugar levels with increased risk for vascular diseases such as atherosclerosis; Type II diabetes tends to increase these risks because it promotes too much insulin production, which leads directly to an increase in blood glucose levels over time!

This article will help you gain in-depth knowledge not only about the cause of a stroke but also educate its types, symptoms, related risk, and essential factors that will aid in preventing a stroke- well... That's because we want you to be aware before something happens!

Its types

Strokes are classified into four main types:

Cerebral infarction (Cerebrovascular accident)- Cerebral infarction is when the blood supply to your brain becomes blocked. While the reason for this condition may vary, it is commonly caused due to atherosclerosis and hypertension. Some of the best neurologist in UP run transcendental meditation and relaxation programs to manage hypertension and high blood pressure effectively.

Subcortical arterial ischemia- Occurs when blood flow to specific brain parts becomes restricted due to the narrowing of arteries or damaged valves in large vessels such as those leading from your heart. A combination of changes in blood pressure and cholesterol levels is often responsible for this type of stroke.

Embolic stroke (Thromboembolism)- An embolus composed primarily of fat globules or clots can travel through arteries and block them, causing a thrombosis which causes damage inside your brain tissue; this condition may be accompanied by inflammation, which causes further complications later on down the road if left untreated appropriately!

Risk factors for stroke

The research carried out in GS Hospital shows that there are several risk factors for stroke, including high blood pressure and diabetes. Other factors that can increase your chances of stroke include family history, smoking, and rising age.

High blood pressure: It's estimated that one in three adults have some form of hypertension—a condition characterized by abnormal increases in blood pressure over time. Still, only one-third of those people are being treated for it.

High cholesterol: This condition puts you at risk for cardiovascular disease (CVD) when it's left untreated.

Smoking: Tobacco products contain thousands of chemicals that may increase your risk for heart disease.

Diabetes mellitus type 2: Having diabetes can make you more likely to develop CVD later in life due to reduced circulation throughout the body.

Family history: Your personal history is essential in determining how susceptible you are to developing certain diseases and how well they will respond when they occur.

Symptoms of a stroke

Stroke symptoms include:

Facial droop- This is the most common stroke symptom, and it can affect both or just one side of your face at once. The records from one of the Best Hospital in Hapur show patients may also have difficulty speaking, swallowing, and chewing food properly.

Difficulty walking or being able to move around at all (unable to put on shoes).

One side of your body will feel immense weakness that will gradually affect muscle control (for example, weakness in one leg or arm). This could be mild or severe depending on how long after the stroke occurred, it occurred.

How is a stroke diagnosed?

When a stroke occurs, many people can help, but the first person to notice that something is wrong will be your family or loved one. The family members must treat this as an emergency and take the patient to the nearest hospital, where an ER physician, nurse practitioner, neurologist, or other medical professionals specially trained in treating strokes will examine them. A state circular forwarded by the 10 Best Neurology Hospitals in Uttar Pradesh stated, "If you think someone has had a stroke and they aren't talking clearly or walking correctly after receiving treatment, this could mean that they haven't been properly diagnosed yet!"

Knowing your risk factors is essential

Knowing your risk factors is vital to managing your health. The more you know about your stroke risk, the better you can handle it. Knowing your risk factors can help you avoid stroke, other health problems, and even death by preventing or controlling high blood pressure and cholesterol levels (a significant risk factor for heart disease) as well as diabetes mellitus (which is associated with cardiovascular disease).

Knowing how likely someone is to have a heart attack or stroke based on age alone isn't enough; it's also essential to understand what lifestyle changes might be able to lower this probability even further. For example: Do they smoke cigarettes? How much do they weigh?

Are they physically active regularly? How often do they eat healthy foods—or not eat at all before bedtime? These questions should be asked periodically so everyone has access when needed!

Conclusion

Stroke is a scary word for some people. It's important to know why you have risks and what you can do about them. Knowing your risk factors is the most effective prevention. Following up with your family or medical history will help you better understand what happens to your body in case of a stroke or heart attack.

#strokeawareness #healthcare #healthissues #gshospital #delhincr #uttarpradesh #india

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spineclinicafrika1 · 2 years

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Everything You Need To Know About Spinal Stenosis

Spinal stenosis is a condition that is caused due to the narrowing of the spinal canal. The spinal canal is responsible for carrying the spinal cord, which connects all of the nerves in your body. It also helps in supplying blood and nourishment to the vertebrae. Consult nairobi spine and orthopaedic centre Nairobi if you notice any spine issues.

Spinal stenosis causes compression of the spinal cord, which results in pain and stiffness in your back.

What is actually Spinal Stenosis?

Spinal stenosis is a condition that occurs when the spine narrows and puts pressure on the spinal cord or nerves. It can cause pain, weakness or numbness in the legs and arms. Have a visit to nairobi spine and orthopaedic centre Nairobi before it gets worse.

If you’re suffering from spinal stenosis, it may help to know that there are many treatment options available at our spine and orthopaedic centre.

Experts offer state-of-the-art diagnostic tests as well as a full range of medical treatments – including corrective surgery – for people with this condition.

What are the symptoms of spinal stenosis?

You may have pain in your lower back, neck, or legs.

The pain is usually worse when you sit for long periods of time and improve when you stand up or walk around.

Your symptoms get worse when bending over or lifting something heavy.

The pain worsens as you become more active, such as during exercise or walking a long way.

Your symptoms get worse when lying down flat on your belly (supine position).

Can there be any complications from spinal stenosis surgery?

There are a number of possible complications that may occur after spinal stenosis surgery. These include:

Nerve damage. The nerves that supply your legs and feet may be damaged during surgery, which can lead to problems such as numbness or pain in the affected area.

Infection is a very rare complication of spinal stenosis surgery but it can cause serious health problems if not treated quickly and properly by medical staff, including kidney failure and sepsis (blood poisoning).

Blood clots in the legs or pelvis. Because your leg veins are narrower than the ones in your upper body, there is a higher risk that they will develop blood clots during or after surgery on your spine than with other types of surgical procedures on different parts of the body.

If you develop deep vein thrombosis (DVT) as a result, it could travel through your bloodstream until it reaches one of your lungs where it becomes pulmonary embolism - a potentially fatal condition where part of an artery collapses due to obstruction caused by blood clots blocking its passage through arteries leading from major organs such as lungs back towards heart chambers – which often leads death within minutes if left untreated!

Conclusion

There is no doubt that spinal stenosis is a real problem, but it can be treated with surgery by consulting nairobi spine and orthopaedic centre Nairobi. Although the surgery may not be 100 percent successful in treating this condition, there are still many reasons why you should get treated before it becomes worse than expected.

#nairobi spine and orthopaedic centre Nairobi

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whattriggersocdinateenager · 2 years

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What Triggers OCD In A Teenager?

If you've noticed a change in your child's behavior, it's important to talk about it with them. Therapists and psychiatrists can help your child manage their anxiety and make sure they Obsessive Compulsive Disorder treatment have the tools they need to cope with day-to-day life.

OCD is caused by a combination of biological, psychological and environmental factors.

OCD is a mental health disorder that causes anxiety, stress and often depression. It's not caused by stressful life events or someone else's thoughts, but rather by a combination of biological, psychological and environmental factors.

You can't get OCD from stressful life events or from someone else's thoughts.

The causes of OCD are complex, but research suggests it's likely that a combination of factors comes into play. These include:

Your genes: If you have a parent, brother or sister with OCD, you're more likely to develop the disorder yourself.

Stressful life events: Problems at school or home can trigger symptoms in some people with OCD.

Brain chemistry: Researchers are looking at differences in the brains of people with OCD compared to those who don't have the condition.

It's important to remember that if your child does develop symptoms of this anxiety disorder, it doesn't mean he or she will always suffer from them; many people do recover completely after treatment for their symptoms and go on to lead happy and productive lives!

OCD doesn't go away on its own, so the sooner you can discuss your concerns with a trusted adult, the sooner you can get help.

OCD is a chronic condition, which means it doesn't go away on its own. The sooner you can discuss your concerns with a trusted adult, the sooner you can get help. As we've already mentioned, there are many treatments available for OCD and some are very effective.

OCD treatment can affect your life in many ways—from anxiety about leaving home to avoiding school altogether—so it's important to start talking about treatment as soon as possible.

It's important for your parent or guardian to know about any major changes in your thoughts, emotions or behaviors because they're worried about you and will want to help.

They may be able to help you figure out what is causing these changes and how best to deal with them. If you don't talk about it, the problem could get worse.

The sooner you can talk to an adult about what's going on, the sooner you can get help.

The sooner you can talk to an adult about what's going on, the sooner you can get help. It's important for you to know that it's not your fault and it's not your parents' fault. OCD is a medical condition and something that’s happening inside your body and brain.

Talk to a school counselor or trusted teacher: Your school counselor is there to help students navigate the challenges of growing up, so they might be able to help with your questions about teen OCD treatment or give advice on finding resources in your community.

Talk with a family member or friend: If you don't feel comfortable talking with someone at school, reach out to friends or other family members who support each other when things get tough — but make sure they're trustworthy! If they have experience dealing with mental illnesses themselves (or even if they don't), this person could be helpful as well.

OCD is a serious condition that needs to be taken seriously. The symptoms can be very distressing, but they don't go away on their own and they get worse if left untreated. If you feel like you might have OCD treatment , it's important that you tell someone right away. Your parent or guardian will want to help and there are many treatment options available that can make a big difference in how you feel about yourself.

#Obsessive Compulsive Disorder treatment #teen OCD treatment #OCD treatment

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thecpdiary · 2 years

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Trauma and Mental Health

Experiencing any kind of trauma doesn't just get better on its own. It's something we should start to address and continually work on. The longer trauma persists, the more difficult it is to treat.

Trauma if left untreated can develop into panic attacks, mental illness and into post-traumatic stress disorder. Early treatment of mental health issues can lead to better outcomes. (Source: https://wwwhighfocuscenters)

Dealing with Mental Illness

I hope that we kick start into deciding it is time to deal with our mental health. An issue (whether it’s one or many) can turn into mental health illness. It’s not the issue itself that hurts us, it’s our feelings, interpretation and perception of the issues we deal with that hurt us.

I was aware from an early age that I had mental health issues. I have and continue to grapple with anxiety and bad thoughts since I was a small child. Looking back, I can’t believe how long I struggled with issues that continued to pile up.

'Talk out' your issues

Unless you 'talk out' your issues, other interventions can leave you in a worse place. For example, prescribed medication can have undesired side effects. Other reasons can be the stigma we carry with us, the stigma that is associated with dealing with mental health issues, or the embarrassment of having mental health issues.

Mental illness is isolating

Mental illness brought about through trauma can be isolating and as a result those feeling isolated may give up without finding the right treatment. Many treatments are based on the individual’s ability to pay for their medication.

Although it’s not always easy to know or understand why someone would say or do something to upset or hurt us, if you can understand why what has happened, you can decide to see the experience differently.

Although some things are harder to deal with, particularly if those things have been allowed to continue, but with work on ourselves we can turn those things around.

For more inspirational, life-changing blogs, please check out my site https://www.thecpdiary.com

#thecpdiary #blog #Trauma #and #MentalHealth #abuse #abandonment #neglect #mentalhealthawareness #takingresponsibility #ispartof #thehealingprocess #Spirituality #Healing #andMe #@RedDoorBooks

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

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love drunk, waiting on a miracle

Summary: an average case of the flu develops into pneumonia and Spencer is left alone, suffering and afraid he’s going to die. Aaron’s on a case in Wyoming when Spencer stops replying: when he finally gets back home to him, his entire world flips on its head.

Tags: pneumonia, whump, serious illness, hurt/comfort, hurt!spencer, est.rel., hospitals, worried!aaron, fluff, crying, protective!aaron

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 3.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

In the haze of his fever, confusion worms its way into Spencer’s mind. He should really be getting better by now, right? It had only been the flu: a surprisingly cruel DC winter had sparked a much more severe flu season than usual and Spencer, with his terrible luck, had managed to contract it. Not surprising, really, when he considers the poor ventilation on the Metro. Flu season had probably turned the handrails into a petri dish, and there was that day two weeks ago when he’d been in such a rush he hadn’t time to use his hand sanitizer.

The flu, logically, made sense.

Except he thinks he’s probably been sick for at least a week and a half by now and flu symptoms are meant to improve after 8 days. He’s only getting worse. His chest pain is intensifying and he’s coughing up bloody phlegm every couple of minutes, but through his fever-induced haze he can’t think. He knows somewhere in the back of his head that something’s wrong, that he needs to get help, but he can’t even get up out of bed to do anything about it.

His heart is racing and he’s freezing cold, although his thermometer reads a number so high he wonders whether it’s broken, and the last thing he ate was two days ago. As the light in the window opposite his bed slowly fades and night approaches, his coughing turns to gasping and he’s struggling for breath.

Distantly, he wishes Aaron was here. He’d know what to do, he’d figure out how to help him, but he’s… somewhere else. A case maybe? He can’t quite remember. Wherever his boyfriend is, he's not here and that means Spencer has to lay awake, dazed and confused, gasping for air in the lonely darkness of his bedroom, terrified he’s about to die.

⭐️

Aaron doesn’t waste any time racing to his SUV as soon as the jet lands, vaguely acknowledging the rest of the team yelling after him to text them as soon as he gets to Spencer, before climbing into his car and speeding over to his boyfriend’s place. He has his sirens on — technically this is an emergency — but he’s still shouting at the traffic when lazy and distracted drivers don’t get out of his way fast enough.

Spencer had called into work sick last week with the flu. It wasn’t really anything to worry about: with enough rest and fluids he’d be back to work in no time. He’d stayed at Spencer’s apartment through the first four days as he attempted to play nurse much to both of their amusements, but they’d been called out on a case in Wyoming that had lasted for far too long. Spencer had sent him updates the first couple of days he was away, but then he’d fallen silent. The team had all attempted to contact him, and they’d all gone unanswered.

Sick anxiety swirls in his stomach as he presses his foot harder against the accelerator, pushing the limits of his SUV as he bolts across the border into DC, wishing desperately that Spencer lived closer to Quantico.

He hopes to God he’s wrong; that Spencer’s phone had run out of battery and his phone was broken or his texts just weren’t getting through for some reason, that he’d let himself into his apartment and he’d be sat on the couch, still not 100% but on the road to recovery, but he can feel deep in his gut that he’s right. Something is seriously wrong.

He abandons his car as safely as possible outside Spencer’s apartment complex before punching in the code for the front door and running up the stairs, taking two at a time until he’s on the right floor, sprinting down the corridor and hastily shoving his key into the lock.

The apartment is dark and the living room and kitchen are both deserted, so Aaron rushes to the bedroom, opening the door to find Spencer wheezing on the bed, clearly fighting for breath. He’d entered 911 into his phone on his way up, intuition telling him he’d need it, and he hits the dial button as he rushes to Spencer’s bedside.

“Hello, 911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hi, yes, I’ve just come home from a work trip and my boyfriend is gasping for air and struggling to breathe,” he replies, panicked as Spencer looks around, not seeming to recognise his surroundings. He leans down to press a kiss to his sweaty forehead and recoils at how hot his skin is. “He’s burning up… I— please. We thought it was just the flu.”

“Okay, sir, an ambulance is on its way. Is your boyfriend conscious?”

“Yes,” Aaron breathes, panic rising as he watches Spencer wheeze and gasp, “but I think he’s delirious. I’m not even sure if he knows I’m here.”

“Alright, it’s good news that he’s conscious. What’s your name, sir?”

“Aaron Hotchner.”

“And your boyfriend’s?”

“Spencer Reid.”

“Okay, Aaron. Stay with me. An ambulance is only a few minutes out. I need you to do a couple of things for me, okay? Do you know how to check Spencer’s pulse?”

“Yes. I’m first-aid trained.” Aaron places two fingers against his jugular. “It’s fast. Definitely over 100.” Spencer did not need tachycardia added to his plate right now, but here they are.

“You’re doing great, Aaron. Now I need you to remove any pillows under Spencer’s head and keep monitoring his heart rate and breathing for me until the paramedics get there. If he stops wheezing or gasping you need to tell me, okay? Same with his heart rate. Any change, you let me know.”

“Okay.” Tears are rolling down his face as he pulls the pillow out from under Spencer’s head and keeps two fingers pressed against his neck. “It’s gonna be okay, baby. Help is on the way. I’m here, I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.” He leans in to kiss his forehead again, before brushing his fingers through Spencer’s tangled, greasy hair.

“Aaron?” Spencer manages in between gasps.

“Yeah, baby, I’m here. You don’t need to talk, okay?”

“What’s— what’s happening? I can’t breathe.”

“I know,” Aaron says, voice strangled by a sob, “an ambulance is on it’s way. You’re gonna be alright.”

Spencer’s small moment of clarity passes and he slips back into his disoriented state, mumbling nonsense about chores he forgot to do in between his gasps for air.

“Has anything changed, Aaron?” the 911 operator asks.

“He talked to me for a second but now he’s confused again.”

“Okay. It’s good that he’s able to speak. The ambulance is less than a minute out, okay? I need you to leave Spencer on his own for just a second to let the paramedics into the building and lead them up to his flat. I promise you that this is the best and quickest way to get Spencer help.”

Aaron winces as his stomach clenches in anxiety at leaving his boyfriend alone, but he knows he needs to listen to the voice of reason right now. Emotion is only going to be a detriment to Spencer.

“Yeah, I’m heading down now.” He kisses Spencer’s forehead once more, whispering that he’ll be right back even though he knows it’s useless before running out of the apartment and down the stairs, sobbing with relief at the sight of flashing lights and sirens pulling up outside the complex. “The ambulance is here.”

“Okay, Aaron. I’ll leave you in their hands, now, alright? They’ll help you and Spencer.”

He barely hears the 911 operator hang up before he’s running down the couple of steps leading up to the front door to greet the EMTs.

“Are you Aaron Hotchner?” one of them, a blonde woman, asks.

“Yes, I— please, Spencer’s up here.”

He remembers leading them up the stairs but standing at the foot of his boyfriend’s bed and watching the paramedics attach an oxygen mask to his face before sliding him onto the stretcher is a blur of noise and light, snapped out of it only by the male EMT shouting at him through his haze, telling him to follow them into the ambulance.

This is the absolute worst day of his life.

⭐️

“Pneumonia?” Aaron repeats after the doctor standing in front of him in the sterile hospital hallway, still feeling out of it, consumed by shock. “We thought it was just the flu.”

“It’s likely that that is how it started,” the doctor explains gently. “Pneumonia is an unfortunate, and fairly uncommon, complication of the influenza virus, and with Spencer’s temperature so high he wasn’t able to take any kind of emergency action. The pneumonia going untreated caused an exudative pleural effusion which was why Spencer was finding it so difficult and painful to breathe. He’s incredibly lucky that you got there in time, Mr Hotchner.”

Tears well up in Aaron’s eyes for at least the fourth time tonight, but he’s powerless to stop them. Just the thought of losing Spencer cuts deep in his gut. “So, what now?” he asks, voice choked with emotion.

“Well, we’re draining the pleural effusion with a chest tube, aided by a diuretic,” she replies, “and he’ll need to stay in hospital for the next couple of days in order for us to monitor the progression of his pneumonia and to ensure that we don’t see any other complications. But Spencer is already improving, Mr Hotchner, so we have every reason to expect a complete recovery. Pneumonia tends to linger, but generally we see temperatures clearing by the end of the first week, chest pain and mucus production gone after four weeks, and all other symptoms except fatigue disappeared by the three month mark. In almost all cases, patients are back to normal by six months.”

“Six months?” Aaron asks incredulously, his mind going a million miles an hour as he tries to comprehend what this means for them both.

“Pneumonia is a fairly serious illness, Mr Hotchner. It will take some time to get over completely, but he should be able to go back to work by the end of the month, even if he doesn’t feel 100% yet. It’s a slow but steady journey.”

He nods in understanding as he drags a hand down his face. He can’t help but feel responsible for Spencer being in this mess: if he’d been home, he would’ve noticed the change in his health and rushed him to hospital to make sure he got promptly diagnosed and treated instead of suffering a fucking pleural effusion scared and alone.

“Okay,” he sighs. “Thank you. Could you— can I be the one to tell him?” If he has to hear this news, he should hear it from Aaron, not some impersonal, impatient doctor who doesn’t care about Spencer beyond the performance of his lungs.

The doctor nods. “We’ll be along to make sure he understands the medical side of things,” she clarifies, “but there’s no reason you can’t speak to him first.”

With that, she walks off down the corridor, leaving him standing outside a sleeping Spencer’s room. Taking a deep breath, trying to steady his pounding, racing, bleeding heart, he opens the door and slips inside, settling into the seat next to his bed.

He’d had to be sedated once they arrived at the hospital, his delirium spiralling into terrified anxiety, making it difficult for the doctors to assess him. It had made the chest tube insertion easier anyway, and allowed him to sleep through the worst of the pain before the non-narcotic medication he’d been prescribed kicked in.

Almost as soon as he sits down and takes in Spencer’s pale, sleeping form, his phone pings with a text from Derek. He’d texted them with updates in the waiting room, as much as he could through the haze of shocked anxiety anyway, and the last one had been a quick text saying Spencer was sedated and in for tests. How’s it going? Any updates?

Influenza that developed into pneumonia. Went untreated which caused a pleural effusion. Doctors say the worst will pass in the next few weeks, but full recovery could be up to six months.

It had felt exhausting enough when the doctor had told him, but typing those words out means facing the reality properly, and all of a sudden he’s heaving violent sobs as he bends over Spencer’s bed, clutching his hand tightly in his own. It’s nearing 4am, and after an exhausting case Aaron still hasn’t slept. Exhaustion mixes with relief mixes with stress into a heady cocktail of emotion. He allows himself to fall apart, but it takes almost twenty minutes for his tears to dry up and his body to stop heaving.

He leans back in the chair and stares tiredly at Spencer’s rising and falling chest, eyes dry and swollen, using the reassuring motion of his boyfriend’s breathing as a sort of meditative exercise. The early signs of dawn are visible outside the window when he’s roused from his miserable trance by the door opening.

A small amount of surprise flashes through his mind at the sight of Penelope closing the door behind her and walking over to sit in the spare chair next to him before he realises that this makes complete and total sense for her character. Spencer is her best friend, and she’s hardly one for boundaries or waiting for an invitation. Aaron’s never been more thankful for that aspect of her personality than right in this moment.

“Penelope,” he sighs, and he doesn’t even care that the relief in his voice is painfully evident.

“You look awful,” she says sadly. “You need to eat and drink something. I bought you some water and an energy bar.”

He hadn’t realised how hungry he is until he’s unwrapping the bar like he hasn’t eaten in days. “What are you doing here?”

“I was with Derek when you texted him.” That explains her lack of makeup and colourful dress, he supposes. “I made him drive us over immediately, but he stayed in the waiting room because he didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

Well, Aaron can be grateful for that, at least. He doesn’t mind Penelope seeing him like this but it might be a little too much to have Derek around him in his most broken state.

“Spencer’s going to be okay, Hotch,” she says softly, uncapping the water bottle and insisting he drink some. “You need to take care of yourself in order to take care of him. Why don’t you sit in the high-backed chair over there and try and close your eyes until Spencer wakes up.”

“No, I need to stay awake, what if he—”

“Hotch,” Penelope interrupts, “I’ll wake you up if he so much as twitches. But I doubt you’ll need it. You’ll know; your subconscious will wake you, I promise.”

He can’t exactly argue with that, and Penelope is nothing if not tenacious so even if he tries, he knows it would be a futile battle. He’s out even before she’s finished draping her scarf over him.

She ends up being right, to the surprise of absolutely nobody, and he’s jolted out of his doze as soon as Spencer stirs. He leaps up and immediately rushes to the side of the bed, ignoring his headrush in favour of leaning over and placing a hand on the top of his head, threading his hand through the tangled curls again. “Hey,” he murmurs as Spencer blinks his eyes open blearily. “You’re in the hospital, but you’re going to be okay. I’m right here, baby.”

Penelope is nowhere to be seen, but he guesses that she’s probably just nipped to the toilet or out to talk to Derek.

“Aaron,” he rasps, trying to move the oxygen mask from his face.

“No, you need to keep the mask on, sweetheart,” he explains, placing his hand gently over Spencer’s and moving it away. “You can talk through it, okay?”

“What happened?”

Aaron breathes in shakily and sighs it out before meeting Spencer’s eyes again. “The flu you had developed into pneumonia which gave you a pleural effusion, which is why you have that chest tube in.” He watches as Spencer moves his head to the right to look at the clear tube draining fluid from his lungs into the collection device at the side of his bed. “You’re on painkillers to help you breathe more easily, antivirals to ease the initial infection and a diuretic to help reduce your pleural effusion.”

He watches helplessly as Spencer’s eyes fill with tears at his words, and he presses closer, moving his hand to his cheek.

“I was so scared,” he cries, nestling into Aaron’s hand.

Me too. “I know, baby,” he murmurs, running his thumb gently across the small line of exposed skin above his oxygen mask. “You’re safe now, I’m here. We’ll get through this together, okay?”

It’s a few seconds before Spencer speaks up again, meeting Aaron’s eyes as tears spill down his cheeks. “Six months.”

Of course Spencer knows the average pneumonia recovery time. Of course he’d take the hardest job off Aaron’s plate. All he can do is nod sadly as tears spring to his own eyes and lean down to kiss his forehead. “Yeah,” he whispers. “Six months.”

Penelope comes back into the hospital room to find Aaron lying next to Spencer on the hospital bed. It had taken a decent amount of convincing but every bone of his body aches and longs to protect Spencer, so resisting those teary requests had been a losing game from the very beginning. He’s dozing tiredly on Aaron’s chest as his fingers caress his head gently, soothing him against the pain he’s feeling.

“Oh,” she gasps as she hurriedly closes the door and rushes over to Spencer, whose eyes flutter open at the sound of his best friend’s voice.

“Penny,” he says quietly, not moving his head but reaching out his hand to Penelope, who immediately clasps it gently in hers.

“Oh, baby genius, I’m so glad you’re okay.” She tears up as well and it almost makes Aaron laugh: this hospital room will be drowned in their emotions by the time they’re heading home. “Do you want me to get Derek?”

At Spencer’s tired nod, she smiles, squeezes his hand and rushes to get Spencer’s other best friend.

Derek, thankfully, doesn’t add to the pool of tears already collecting on the linoleum, instead walking confidently over to the bed and leaning over to hug Spencer as well as he can when he’s obstructed by both the hospital bed and Aaron’s arms wrapped around his boyfriend.

“We’re gonna get you through this, Spencer,” Derek says, looking deep into his eyes with that intense, earnest expression on his face that tends to make an appearance at times like these. “You’re not doing this alone, you hear me?”

God, Aaron tears up at that, he can’t blame Spencer even a little bit when he immediately bursts into tears.

“Shh, baby,” he murmurs, holding him impossibly closer. “You’re okay, you’re so loved. Why don’t you try and get some sleep before the doctors do their rounds in a few hours yeah?”

“We won’t go anywhere, Spence,” Penelope reassures him. “Derek and I will stay right here.”

⭐️

It’s a long six days of sleeping in uncomfortable high back chairs and holding Spencer as he tries desperately to get rest despite his disruptive, painful cough and irritating chest tube. The entire team visits as much as possible, but with both Aaron and Spencer both away, the caseload is much more difficult. He’d feel guilty if he wasn’t absolutely sure he’s where he needs to be.

With the pleural effusion completely drained and Spencer’s lungs healing well, they’re eventually discharged, and they don’t even have to talk about where they’re going. Aaron drives them back to his own apartment, which is helpfully on the ground floor, so he doesn’t have to carry Spencer up three flights of stairs.

As soon as he’s settled comfortably in bed with everything he could possibly need close to hand — tissues, water, dry crackers, the remote for the TV, and a stack of books he’d requested, alongside the home oxygen supply he’d carefully set up — he sits down next to him.

“I’ve taken three weeks of compassionate leave,” he says softly, brushing a lock of curly hair from Spencer’s face. It’s washed and brushed out, not a hint of the gel he usually slicks it back with, and Aaron’s always loved him like this, soft and natural.

“You didn’t need to do that.” Spencer’s voice is still a little croaky, but muchm clearer as his lungs have healed up and his words aren’t obstructed by a clunky oxygen mask. The nasal cannula also means it’s much easier for Aaron to finally kiss his boyfriend again.

“I know, but I wanted to. You’re more important than a job: I need to be here, and I will be. I’d move heaven and earth for you, how many times have I told you that?”

Spencer smiles bashfully at that, a pink flush colouring his cheeks — it’s so good to see his pale skin come to life again. “Two hundred and thirty-six.”

He laughs warmly at that. “God, I love you.”

“You’ve told me that five thousand, six hundred and forty-two times,” Spencer murmurs, lacing his fingers with Aaron’s. He pauses for a moment, staring at their intertwined hands before looking up again. “Come and lay with me?”

“Anything for you, baby,” Aaron coalesces, toeing off his shoes and slipping under the covers. He can’t help the smile that crosses his face as Spencer immediately curls into him, nestling his face into Aaron’s neck.

“Love you,” Spencer murmurs, warm breath brushing Aaron’s collarbone.

“I love you more, sweetheart.” He’s fairly sure it’s true; he can’t imagine anyone loving someone more than he loves Spencer.

“Five thousand, six-hundred and forty-three,” he whispers sleepily before his breath evens out and he falls asleep.

The road ahead isn’t going to be easy, Aaron is under no delusion, but right now, his life seems pretty damn perfect. He came so close to losing Spencer, but here he is, pressed tightly against him in a fierce cuddle so emblematic of his boyfriend’s character, with the promise of a full recovery — however long that will take — and he’s not oblivious to how unbelievably lucky that makes him.

It’s hard not to smile as he presses a gentle kiss to Spencer’s curls.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamalystark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau (taglist form)

#criminal minds #criminal minds writing #criminal minds fic #hotchreid #hotchreid fic #spencer reid whump #hurt spencer reid #hotchreid whump #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #hotchreid angst #hotchreid fluff #aaron hotchner/spencer reid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #spencer reid/aaron hotchner #spencer reid x aaron hotchner #my writing

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jennana501 · 3 years

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Attachment and the Jedi Way

SPOILERS FOR THE MANDALORIAN AND STAR WARS REBELS

I always know a story is quality when what I want to say about it to my mother and sisters is too difficult to text, and I have to drive over and talk with them in person. Such was the case when I watched the Mandalorian Chapter 13. There were so many juicy details, plot developments, and general excitement about the long awaited appearance of one of our favorite Star Wars characters that I couldn’t stand being restricted by phone when I wanted to gush a million things. We were all so stunned with the emotion of her appearance. Truly a moment I will remember for the rest of my life.

But after all the sweet outer frosting on the Chapter 13 cake had been licked clean, I dove into the center of this delectable episode and began to savor in its indulgent but substantial core. I have many thoughts about Thrawn, where Rex can be (is he dead or alive?) and where the season is going to go from there. What has interested me the most is Ahsoka’s reaction to our newly named green baby friend, Grogu.

First I must say how much I love Rosario Dawson’s performance. I feel she knows who Ahsoka is and what she has gone through. I am reminded of little ‘Soka in her very first appearance in the Clone Wars animated movie when she takes care of the way less loveable baby Hutt. Seeing that she is charmed by Grogu and that she clearly thinks he is cute makes me feel all sorts of warm fuzzies. Their very mythical and silent conversation in the moonlight shows how in tune with the force Ahsoka has become and that Grogu himself is much more than meets the eye.

And yet when it comes to it, Ahsoka says she cannot train Grogu. The reason: his attachment to Din. I was surprised at first. Ahsoka does not see herself as a Jedi, at least as far as her association with the order that raised and trained her. I didn’t think I’d hear about attachment from someone who has forgone the Jedi way, especially since Ahsoka appears to have indulged in an attachment or two.

I immediately realized she was on to something. I recall Grogu’s moments of using the force: saving Din from the mudhorn; using the Force to save everyone from a giant fireball; Force healing Greef Karga; and Force choking Cara Dune. The latter example stands out to me as being the most violent use of the Force we see from little Grogu. He perceives that Din is in danger and acts against what we now know is his training to hurt someone in a manner that is often consistent with the dark side.

Sure he is innocent and adorable. But he is also dangerous. And Ahsoka is right. It’s his attachment to Din that turns him from benevolent force using baby, to emotionally fueled deadly force bomb.

But I’ve seen Star Wars Rebels. I know that a Jedi can have relationships with other people and not turn to the dark side. You can love and still listen to the will of the Force. The Jedi were wrong. So I’m here to look into what attachment is, how you can love and not have attachment, and how Grogu might still become a Jedi, or at least the new wave sort of Jedi.

First we must look at the poster child for attachment issues: Anakin Skywalker. The Clone Wars TV show could be renamed- Star Wars: Attachment and How it Disrupts Nearly Every Mission the Republic Assigns Anakin. He prioritizes Padme, Ahsoka, R2, and even Obi-wan over everything else. He is constantly defying the orders of his commanders and putting the mission in danger.

This all comes down to what happened to Anakin’s mother.

When Anakin is taken from Tatooine, he has to leave his mother behind, with whom he shares a strong bond and attachment. When he is brought before the council and they say “he is too old”, what it really means is “he has already attached himself to something other than the Force.” Why else would being “too old” matter? The Jedi prefer blank slates for a good reason. Very small children have not developed strong attachments.

Anakin does turn into Darth Vader, after all.

It would appear the Jedi are very right to say that Anakin should not be trained. He is ripped away from his mother; the man who believes in him is killed; and he is forced to be trained by someone who treated him with bitter indifference. After losing his mother he has no help, no advice, no direction other than to stifle his negative emotions.

So instead of processing his grief and finding peace, he latches onto Padme. This attachment he will never abandon. He trains harder and becomes more powerful to always be able to keep Padme alive. The guilt Anakin feels for not being able to save his mother gives fire and passion to his obsession with Padme. And this obsession slowly erodes their relationship.

Anakin says things like “There’s nothing more important than the way I feel about you.” (Hostage Crisis) During the Mortis Arc when he sees a vision of his mother, they have this conversation:

“The only love I feel in my heart is haunted by what would happen should I let go.”

“Then it is not love. It is a prison.”

“But I have a wife…she’s everything to me.”

“She’s not your destiny.”

“But I love her.”

We see the very ugly side of Anakin’s obsession and jealousy in the arcs that involve Clovis. Anakin's insecurities are valid, but they simply drive home the point that his attachment to Padme will eventually unravel him and lead to violence.

Anakin and Obi-wan have a very interesting conversation during the episode “The Rise of Clovis” that reveals that Obi-wan is worried for Anakin and senses Anakin’s anger pitted towards the man he perceives as his rival.

Obi-wan: Master Yoda is feels that your judgements concerning Rush Clovis are clouded.

Anakin: I believe he can’t be trusted.

Obi-wan: Yes, but there is more isn’t there? I sense a deep anger in your by my simply saying his name.

Anakin: He almost got Senator Amidala killed and I would have been responsible.

Obi-wan: The Senator has risked her life many times. She’s quite capable of taking care of herself.

Anakin: They had a relationship...once. I simply feel she is vulnerable to her emotions.

Obi-wan: She is, or you?

Obi-wan then empathizes with Anakin, telling him that he knows what it’s like to harbor feelings for someone. He tells Anakin to not be ashamed of these feelings, but that he must make the rights choice “for the order”. The conversation ends with Anakin becoming very angry, asserting he knows what his responsibilities are and Obi-wan leaves the room, leaving Anakin to deal with his distress alone.

And since Anakin is denied the support he needs, he resorts to controlling, intimidating behavior. He commands Padme to stay away from Clovis, is cruel to him, and chooses to punish Padme emotionally for Anakin's own insecurities. When tensions reach their peak, he attacks Clovis. This fully expresses Anakin's own fear and rage at the idea of losing Padme to another man.

Anakin’s unchecked and untreated attachment to Padme, as we all know, results in the ultimate ruination of the both of them, the Jedi Order, and the Republic. He will never out anything about her. She is his center. Nothing else matters.

This is not Anakin’s fault. This is the fault of the Jedi. Their teachings about attachment are unhelpful at best, and this stems from their crippling confusion over the difference between “attachment” and “love”.

It makes me wonder if they even know what they are talking about at all. Their advice about attachment involves regurgitating confusing platitudes.

In “The Revenge of the Sith"; Anakin goes to Yoda to seek his counsel. Anakin is told that “attachment leads to jealousy. The shadow of greed that is.” When Anakin asks what he must do to overcome attachment, Yoda tells him simply to “train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose”.

Thanks Yoda, I’ll get right on that.

Anakin needs to “let go”, apparently, and if he is holding onto something dangerous, what should he be holding onto instead? No one ever explains. The Jedi simply tell him to “let it go”.

It’s no wonder that Anakin can’t ever consider letting go of Padme. For all he knows, that means cutting her out of his life and never speaking to her again. Or worse, does that mean letting her die the next time her life is in danger? Does it mean he should replace love with indifference? He has no idea. As he is given no tools, Anakin fixes nothing and plummets to his unavoidable demise.

Divorce papers and deleting Padme’s number isn’t how Anakin is to overcome “attachment”, and it was never going to be. Obi-wan tried this method with Satine, and though he didn’t fall to the dark side, he never recovers from the bitterness and regret he feels.

In “Voyage of Temptation”, Anakin and Obi-wan discuss his and Satine’s relationship. Obi-wan explains his Jedi duties forced him to leave Satine after forming a strong bond and love with her over the year they were together on Mandalore. The Jedi teachings dictate that he let Satine go. So, obedient Padiwan that he was, Obi-wan cuts off his relationship with Satine. The results show that this was not the way. If the goal of the Jedi is to avoid negative emotion, then this technique fails and perhaps cripples Obi-wan forever.

Anakin: “As Master Yoda says: ‘A Jedi must not form attachments.’”

Obi-wan: “Yes, but he usually leaves out the undercurrent of remorse.”

I’m here to tell you today that Obi-wan perhaps gets screwed over by the Jedi Code more than any other Jedi. Obi-wan does not have an attachment to Satine. Sure he says “Had you said the word, I would have left the Jedi Order” but that’s only because that is what he has been taught. He is taught you only have two options: love someone or be a Jedi.

Obi-wan loves Satine. He has a relationship with her. Some even think, myself included, that he is physically intimate with her. Qui-gon no doubt encouraged this relationship. He probably carefully nurtured Obi-wan during this time, helping him be able to love without forming an attachment. But Obi-wan is not able to see that he could love Satine and still be a Jedi. Leaving the order means that his Jedi journey would be over. If he had realized love and attachment are separate things, he could have been a Jedi and could have had Satine's love, too .

Qui-Gon nearly convinces Obi-wan to be different: Obi-wan could have been a Jedi with feelings and love. Satine is a person who values duty above all, just as Obi-wan does. She respects that he answers to the Force. They would have been able to perfectly rule together with that mutual understanding. He could have been her force wielding husband without being attached to Satine and falling to the Dark side.

True attachment is so dangerous to a Jedi because if they attach to a person, an idea, or a cause then they are not attached to the will of the Force.

This is the missing detail Anakin and Obi-wan needed. Obi-wan could have been completely attached to the Force, even while loving Satine and even becoming her husband. Anakin needs to know that he could attach his center to the Force, and that this would not interfere with a deep and meaningful relationship with Padme. While centered in the Force, Anakin could be Padme’s husband loving and living with her, but ultimately his duty is to the Force, just as her duty is ultimately to the Republic.

We know all of this is possible because of two characters from Star Wars: Rebels. Kanan Jarrus and Hera Syndulla share what is essentially a marital bond. They love, live, and lead together. They are physically intimate, but they do not have each other as their centers. We see evidence of this in the episode “Call to Action”, when Hera leaves Kanan in the hands of the Empire. She knows that if she risks saving Kanan then everyone else will be killed.

If Hera had an attachment to Kanan like Anakin had to Padme, she would have risked everything to get Kanan back. Since Hera is not one of the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy, she would have failed and the rebel cell would have been stopped dead in its tracks.

We also see evidence that Kanan is not attached to Hera. At the very end of their journey, after Kanan and Hera have fully expressed their feelings to each other, Kanan sacrifices himself for Hera and the others by using the Force to hold back an explosion. Though it appears as Kanan is doing this because of his love for Hera, that is not the true motivation. If Kanan has an attachment to Hera, things would have gone differently.

It is heavily implied leading up to this event that Kanan knows it is the will of the Force that he is to die. He knows this because the Force is his center and not Hera. If his center is attached to Hera, I believe two things would have happened. Kanan would have tried and failed to save himself along with Hera and the others. His actions would have been motivated by selfishness and desperation to extend his time with Hera. If Kanan tries to save himself, the conflagration consumed them all. The only way Kanan can prevent this is to draw upon the dark side of the Force. This would have thrown Kanan out of balance with the Force, and put him in very real danger of falling to the dark side.

Instead, Kanan allows the will of the Force be done: he dies and his time with Hera comes to an end. Hera knows this about Kanan, and has always accepted the possibility he would choose the Rebel cause over their time together. Kanan knows the same of Hera. This mutual respect is the foundation of their love for each other. A Jedi can have a love and a bond with someone as long as they understand that ultimately, if the Force wills them to do something they must do it, regardless of how that affects their lives together.

So, can Grogu live like Kanan? The issue with Grogu, however, is that he already has attachment. His center is his adopted father, Din. Grogu is currently like Anakin, and if Din hands Grogu over to Ahsoka, they will have very Anakin-like troubles. From whom is Grogu going to learn? Ahsoka is unable to teach Grogu how to let go of deep attachment and center on the Force. Ezra Bridger can.

In the second part of this post, I will discuss how Ezra Bridger is one of the most important Jedi who has ever lived, because he will be able to Grogu learn to let go, attach to the force, love and live, and yet do what needs to be done.

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glorious-blackout · 3 years

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Junior Doctor Shenanigans - Obstetrics and Gynaecology Edition:

A major part of my job now consists of assisting in C-sections, with one of the most important steps being the application of ‘fundal pressure’ to allow the obstetrician to deliver the baby. This can be surprisingly exhausting, especially when you’re sweating in a surgical gown under bright lights, but it’s also incredibly rewarding when the baby is finally free and lets out their first startled cry. It also means I can claim to have pushed out far more babies than I ever intended to…

On my first Saturday on-call shift, I met a lovely lady on the antenatal ward who had been admitted with mild pre-eclampsia (a condition which causes raised blood pressure in pregnancy and can develop into seizures if left untreated). She was generally well and just needed an antibiotic for a urinary tract infection, so we were able to chat away about the plans for her delivery and her excitement to meet her little boy. Neither of us knew when she was going to be induced, only that it would hopefully be soon. Fast-forward to Sunday, where I met her again on the postnatal ward with her adorable son, both safe and well after a surprise overnight C-section. Not only did she laugh when I reminded her of our earlier conversation, but she also let me have a sneaky cuddle of her baby while I was doing her routine postnatal review 🥰

As if labouring women aren’t suffering enough, they often need grey cannulas (one of the largest and therefore sorest to insert) before they go to Labour Ward on the off-chance that they go on to have a major haemorrhage. Most mums cope perfectly well when we insert them, however I did meet one dad who looked like he was about to faint when I inserted a cannula into his wife’s hand. I can only wonder how he coped with the actual birth…

All babies are cute, but you can always tell which ones are especially cute by how obsessively the surgeons/midwives/anaesthetists/paediatricians fawn over them. Our favourites tend to be babies born with full heads of hair and/or chubby cheeks.

Ovarian cysts are something I barely thought about before this job, but now genuinely terrify me. Thankfully the vast majority of them are benign, though that feels like an inaccurate term when you see a CT image of an ovarian mass so large it stretches to the diaphragm and squashes all the organs around it. On one of my night-shifts, one such cyst resulted in an ovarian torsion (where the ovary twists in on itself, resulting in horrendous pain) and the poor patient had to be taken to theatre for a cystectomy. Not only did the cyst look huge, but it turned out to be a dermoid cyst - something which, when burst open, looks like it contains a disgusting mixture of cottage cheese and human hair. You know something’s gross when even the consultant is gagging.

Obstetrics is easily my favourite surgical specialty and there’s a lot about working there that I love, but it’s also an organisational nightmare that relies on using junior doctors as its punching bag more often than not. Between constant last-minute rota changes, forcing doctors to cross-cover multiple busy wards, asking someone to cover a night-shift when they’ve already worked six hours that day, and several occasions where nobody was allocated to do the incredibly important on-call shifts, the running of the department feels fundamentally broken and has put several of my colleagues off from ever specialising in Obs and Gyn.

My ‘favourite’ instance of departmental fuckery was when I was urgently called away to another hospital on the opposite side of the city because they needed someone to assist in Gynaecology Day Surgery. I was somehow picked despite my senior knowing that I didn’t have a car, and thus had to get a bus into the city centre, only to complete the journey in a taxi because my usual connecting bus had been diverted. As well as leaving me a tenner out of pocket, this mad rush meant I arrived barely on time and had to stand in an operating theatre for three hours having not had lunch. What was so important that I needed to be dragged across the city for it? The consultant needed someone to hold a woman’s uterus out of the way during a laparoscopy.

Obstetrics is one of those specialties where even the major emergencies tend to have a happy outcome, which only makes it more devastating when the worst happens. On one of my recent night-shifts, a young woman was brought into the maternity unit having broken her waters at 26 weeks (around 6 months gestation), and to make matters worse she started bleeding heavily during her review. We were able to stabilise her initially, however it was strongly suspected that she had had a placental abruption - a condition where the placenta starts to separate from the uterine wall, resulting in major blood loss for mum and reduced or absent blood flow to baby. If this were the case, the only way to potentially save both of them and ensure mum’s safety would be to deliver her very premature baby. Not long after this was explained to her and her partner, she started bleeding heavily again, so much so that she had to be rushed into theatre for a caesarean section under general anaesthetic as there was no time to perform a spinal. Thankfully she remained stable during the surgery, and her baby girl was born very pale and tiny but alive. We spent the rest of the surgery controlling mum’s blood loss and were thankfully able to close the abdomen without any significant complications. Unfortunately however, while we were working on mum, her daughter had developed a significant bradycardia and low oxygen saturations despite intubation, and wasn’t responding to any of the paediatric team’s resuscitation efforts. After twenty minutes of compressions, adrenaline and blood transfusions, she passed away at only forty minutes of age. I can still remember leaving the theatre in a daze while my seniors and the consultant neonatologist went to break the news to the dad, and despite my best efforts, I ended up crying after the charge midwife asked if I needed a hug. Most of us completed our shift that night in a state of numb exhaustion, only comforted by the knowledge that the mum was okay.

In situations like this, all staff involved should have the option to attend a debrief where our seniors discuss what happened and give us space to express how we feel and cry if we need to. Rather typically, I missed the debrief in this case as barely twenty minutes after leaving the theatre, I had to scrub in and assist with another emergency C-section.

I feel I should end on a high note, because for all it’s (many) faults, I’ve genuinely enjoyed this job. Having assisted in so many deliveries, you might be forgiven for thinking the significance of each one is now lost on me, but there is truly nothing more lovely than seeing the pure joy on the faces of parents meeting their baby for the first time. Obstetrics is probably the only specialty where happy tears are more common than the alternative, and seeing new mums and dads melt over their newborn child still feels like an enormous privilege 💖

#junior doctor shenanigans #medicine #long post #I honestly can't believe I only have two weeks left of being a Foundation (junior) Doctor #on the upside - only two weeks until I become a locum doctor for a year and get to pick and choose which shifts I do :D #tw: death

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prof-peach · 4 years

Note

What even is Pokérus?

Pokérus is a virus based illness Pokemon can contract once in their life.

The virus will boost a Pokemon’s rate of growth and increase their abilities, at an exchange of energy, siphoned from their lifespan. Usually it only takes a year or two from them, but sever cases have been recorded where the Pokemon didn’t last more than a few years after the virus passed through their system. It depends entierly on the individual, and of course a cure has been developed.

The virus attacks soft tissue mass, and if there’s none of that they tend to just throw themselves at the immune system, in hopes to take it down and consume the Pokemon’s energy. Most species have a good strong system and can combat it in their own time, without much help, but sometimes the virus becomes very aggressive and can wear your Pokemon down very quickly.

Symptoms include a hightend need to be active, a fever, and of course increase red blood cell activity, along with dizziness, bursts of energy, followed by heavy sleep. Some become more irritable too, feeling the stress in their bodies from the illness.

Take your Pokemon to any good centre or Professor and they can patch them up pretty fast, and moderate the virus’ effects to lessen its impact on the Pokemon. If left untreated, the virus will pass, leaving your Pokemon far stronger, with a buffered immune system, that can handle far worse conditions afterwards. Some professors are in the process of developing a strand of this virus that is utilisable in training Pokemon, without its negative effects, kind of how like us humans use measles and mumps to vaccinate, the experts seem to think they can vaccinate for Pokerus too, boosting the Pokemons defences against other viral infections. It’s an interesting prospect seeing as bug and grass types are especially susceptible to viral based health issues. I do look forward to seeing if they manage to develop something to help them that perhaps isn’t so damaging to the Pokemon itself.

If you don’t catch the virus in time and your Pokemon goes through it, there’s not much to worry about, other than the reduced lifespan, which could or could not be a huge issue depending on the species. They are actually stronger coming out the other side of it. It’s very rare that the virus will become aggressive enough to kill a Pokemon, i can count on my hands how many recorded cases of this happening I’ve come across, it’s a very small bracket. We find the unfortunate Pokemon who did pass from it had heavily compromised immune systems before contracting it, leaving themselves vulnerable.

It’s contact spread, not airborne, so you don’t have to worry too much about it getting to your Pokemon unless they do a lot of battling, or are very social with the wildlife near your home. If they are just make sure to get them seen by a nurse whenever possible, a general health check will see if they have it or not, and things can be done to help. Unfortunately antibiotics can’t help this infection, and on average it’s best to let the Pokemon rest during its time with it, to lessen the strain on its body.

Hope you feel a bit more informed, it’s a very rare thing, I’d not worry too much.

#pokemon #prof.peach #peach talks

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fefipranon · 3 years

Text

Let’s talk about depression

In my latest book ‘The Power of Death’ I talk about this topic in depth. I will post the links to it at the end of this post if you are interested in reading it. If there is one part of the book that resumes the message that I wanted to transmit, it’s Mikasa’s (The main character) press conference at the end of the last chapter.

It’s okay if you don’t read the whole book, but at least, read the following extract from the book (some stuff removed to avoid spoilers):

Standing behind the podium Mikasa started the conference by saying,

"Paradis island doesn't have studies about the topic we are about to discuss, but other countries do. In the United States, in 2019, a total of 47,511 Americans died by suicide and an estimated 1.38 million attempted it. [2] What about other countries? you may ask, well, overall, suicide was in the top 10 leading causes of death across Eastern Europe, Central Europe, high-income countries within the Asia Pacific, and Australasia. Within regions and countries, though, suicide rates soared among people with lower social and economic status. [3] This data comes from research made by the Institute for Health Metrics and Evaluation in Washington, Seattle. [4] This goes without mentioning that for every suicide, it is estimated that there are seven to ten people intimately affected."[8]

Mikasa stopped to take a sip of water and looked back at the audience to continue her speech,

"Untreated depression can, and possibly will lead to suicide, death. In biology, homeostasis is the state of steady internal, physical, and chemical conditions maintained by living systems. [5] Depression does have an impact on this. Research shows that the hippocampus is smaller in some depressed people. For example, in one fMRI study published in The Journal of Neuroscience, investigators studied 24 women who had a history of depression. On average, the hippocampus was 9% to 13% smaller in depressed women compared with those who were not depressed. The more bouts of depression a woman had, the smaller the hippocampus. [6] The hippocampus is not the only area of the brain affected by depression, the Amygdala, and Thalamus are also affected.[6] Depression is, and should be treated as, an illness that, if left untreated, can be lethal. Just remember the statistics I gave you about suicide at the beginning of my speech. With that data as the base of my argument, it is safe for me to say that depression is one of the top life-threatening illnesses having, in some countries, the top mortality rate overall."

A woman from the public raised her hand and when allowed to talk she said,

"How can you call an illness to something that can be 'cured' by just talking to a so-called doctor about your issues?"

Mikasa gave the woman a serious look and said, "Therapy, is not just talking. Psychotherapy stands over years of research and development going as back as the 19th century. There is extensive evidence of its effectiveness. Also, most cases of depression treatments include medication."

Then a man shouted, "So now doctors will give our kids a bunch of pills just because the child is feeling a little sad?!"

"Several tests are usually performed before a psychiatrist gives a diagnosis of depression. Tests like: physical exams, lab tests, psychiatric evaluation, and the country's manual of mental health like for example the DSM-5 which is the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders from the American Psychiatric Association, is applied. After that, the psychiatrist might do more testing to see if medication is an option. Because they are physicians, psychiatrists can order or perform a full range of medical laboratory and psychological tests which, combined with discussions with patients, help provide a picture of a patient's physical and mental state. Their education and clinical training equip them to understand the complex relationship between emotional and other medical illnesses and the relationships with genetics and family history, to evaluate medical and psychological data, to make a diagnosis, and to work with patients to develop treatment plans.[7] In other words, for a doctor to prescribe medication to your child, it has to first do an extensive evaluation on the kid before even start to consider medication in the first place. If in the end, medication is needed, then it would mean that your kid is not only 'feeling a little sad', it means that there is a deeper problem that needs to be addressed and the physician will have a lot of evidence to back up his claim.", Mikasa said.

She stopped talking and pinched the bridge of her nose out of frustration, then she looked seriously at the same man she was addressing before, and said, "Would you rather lose your child to suicide or seek valid, scientific-based help to save the kid's life?"

The man was frozen in place. He was not expecting to be put in the spotlight this way. Mikasa noticed the teenage kid who was seated next to him with his head bowed to the floor. Before he could answer Mikasa said,

"Do you even know how depression feels like? To have your own mind to conspire against you? To illogically feel worthless, alone, like nobody can understand you, or at least, nobody that hasn't been through the same darkness as you. Do you know how it feels when people tell you worthless crap like, 'get over it', or 'just stop being sad' like being sad is just an option you chose because apparently, you like to torture yourself? Have you ever contemplated to end your life out of desperation to get an out, a break, from your own mind?"

By this point, the kid was looking straight at Mikasa with tears pouring down his eyes. Mikasa knew she was getting through him. She grabbed the microphone and started to walk while resuming her speech,

"To feel like you are constantly drowning. To feel like an ungrateful ass because logically, you should be happy because you have everything. But you aren't... Thinking that there must be something really wrong with you for you to feel this way without an apparent reason. To feel lost, alone with this feeling that is eating you inside slowly until it gets to the point where you desperately want to rip your soul out of your body. When it gets so bad that causing physical pain to your body is an option since, at least, for a brief moment, your mind focuses on the physical pain which is better for you because the emotional pain is so much greater than a little cut on your forearm."

The man realized that she was no longer addressing him but the person seated next to him, his own son. Mikasa stood right in front of his son and looked at him in the eyes. She lowered the microphone and while brushing her fingers through the kid's scars on his forearm she said to him,

"You are not alone."

Then, she showed him her own scars and the kid stood up pulling her in for a hug while repeatedly saying, "Thank you"

Reporters were recording the whole encounter. It was real. Depression was real, and it was being recorded. The father of the kid sat back down while looking at his son in shock. Trying to find the words to say he just pulled him in for a hug while saying,

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"You never really asked.", the boy replied.

"I'm sorry. I will do better. You deserve better.", his dad replied with a broken voice.

Mikasa lifted the microphone again to talk and said, "Depression is a silent killer. It could be your child, partner, parent... it could be closer to you than what you think. So before you speak about the topic remember that. Your words could be hurting one of your own for your lack of empathy."

She walked towards the podium again to start answering reporter's questions,

"What would you say to someone who is going through this?"

Mikasa lowered her head lost in thought and said, "You don't need to have a traumatic event in your life to have depression. Depression is not just sadness and is not only caused by personality type or environmental factors. Genetics and biochemistry are also a big part of it, and those two have nothing to do with how much crap you've been dealt in life. What I am trying to say it's that, it's okay to not be okay, you don't need a reason to, and you don't need to feel worse about it for not having a reason. Being sad is not a right you earn after a certain amount of societally accepted shit has happened to you. Just seek help, see the situation logically, and not let people bring you down. If possible, educate others on the topic. Be the change you want to see in the world."

She paused, thinking of her own struggles with depression, and the stability and peace she finally felt once the pills started to work on her. Sure, dark thoughts still lingered at the back of her head, but, it was no longer unbearable, now, it was manageable. With time and therapy, she had managed to live with it, minimizing their negative effect on her. With this in mind, she said,

"Do not get frustrated if anti-depressants don't work at first, sometimes it takes a couple of tries with different types of medications to get the one that works for you. Researchers are exploring possible links between the sluggish production of new neurons in the hippocampus and low moods. An interesting fact about antidepressants supports this theory. These medications immediately boost the concentration of chemical messengers in the brain (neurotransmitters). Yet people typically don't begin to feel better for several weeks or longer. Experts have long wondered why, if depression were primarily the result of low levels of neurotransmitters, people don't feel better as soon as levels of neurotransmitters increase. The answer may be that mood only improves as nerves grow and form new connections, a process that takes weeks." [6]

She paused and looked at the crowd. Then, she said,

"In the meantime, stay alive, even if it feels against your will. Do not give a permanent solution to a temporary problem, because trust me, it DOES get better."

Stay Alive

Feel free to share this to raise awareness. This book has all the things I wish someone had told me in my darkest moments, and I hope, it can help someone out there who is going through the same painful path in life. Remember, it's not your fault, you are not alone.

Resources used in this part:

[1] Oswego City School District Regents Exam Prep Center. Archived from on 25 October 2012. Retrieved 12 November 2012. URL: homeostasis

[2] American Foundation for Suicide Prevention: suicide-statistics

[3] global-suicide-rates-study

[4] Global, regional, and national burden of suicide mortality 1990 to 2016: a systematic analysis for the Global Burden of Disease Study 2016: content

[5] Gordon., Betts, J. Anatomy and physiology. DeSaix, Peter., Johnson, Eddie., Johnson, Jody E., Korol, Oksana., Kruse, Dean H., Poe, Brandon. Houston, Texas. p. 9. ISBN 9781947172043. OCLC 1001472383.

[6] What causes depression? Harvard Medical School: what-causes-depression

[7] What Is Psychiatry? from the American Psychiatric Association. URL: what-is-psychiatry

[8] Lukas, Christopher; Henry M. Seiden (1997) [1987]. Silent Grief: Living in the Wake of Suicide. Northvale, New Jersey: Jaron Aronson. p. 5. ISBN 0-7657-0056-5.

Book Summary:

Mikasa is a woman suffering from clinical depression. There is one thing that she is sure of: she wants to die. But when she received some unexpected news that makes her death wish a reality, she starts to wonder if that was really what she wanted. She starts a journey to discover the truth about her biological parents that gave her up for adoption when she was a baby. This journey will guide her to cross paths with someone as broken as her, someone that hates her to death for what her biological family did to him. Will she have the courage to, for once, fight to live? or will she let him drag her to hell with him?

The book is tagged as an ‘Attack on Titan’ Alternate universe fanfic but honestly you don’t need to know anything about the anime to read it. The story has nothing to do with it so feel free to read if you haven’t seen it.

You can find the story in the following links:

Archive of our own:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30452145/chapters/75087657

Wattpad:

https://www.wattpad.com/story/264598251-the-power-of-death

#depression #Suicide #suicide awareness #hope #sad #sad thoughts #mind #psychotherapy #psychology #science

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infinites-chaser · 4 years

Text

watch the universe expand | mlqc | lucien/mc | a character study disguised as fic

spoilers for ch.13 and random stuff from following chapters

warning for non-graphic discussion of violence and some themes that may be disturbing/triggering re:human experimentation

The call comes as it always does, not quite like clockwork, in the small hours of the night, when he imagines the stars have reached their zenith in the sky, done with their rise, ready for their coming fall.

"Lucien?"

"What is it? Can't sleep?"

"Can you tell me a story?"

"Lucien?"

He chuckles, colors only she can bring out of him warming his tone.

(He thinks her voice at this time of night is what violet would look like, at least as the poets describe it, a light in the dark, the first soft edge of dawn as night gives way to day.)

"What is it? Can't sleep?"

(He wonders sometimes what color his voice is to her. Black, perhaps. Possibly grey.

He can't imagine his voice having any real color, not even to her.

He'd be surprised at the truth. To her, he's more than color, he's light.)

"Lucien?" she repeats instead of a straight answer. "Can you tell me a story?"

It's a routine they've fallen into ever since the first unfinished one, what he'd told her about the artist and the butterfly that felt too true to be called a bedtime story but he'd been loath to admit to himself that it was more.

Every sleepless night, she asks for another story and manages to fall asleep before the finish.

Every night they spend on opposite sides of a shared wall, he questions a little more of his soul, the feelings that lie within, and finds he doesn't have any answers.

Perhaps he doesn't want to find them.

Eventually her reactions— quiet oohs and ahhs and gasps and the occasional question— always fade into nothing but quiet, even breathing, and it's like he's been let off the hook but he never hangs up, or at least, not for a long moment more.

"Lucien," she'd mumbled once, when the first rays of light had just cleared the horizon. "Is the story over?"

Somewhere between exams and sips of white tea, lulled into a temporary peace by the gentle rhythm to her breaths, he'd nearly forgotten she'd been on the line.

Still, he'd managed to keep the surprise from his reply.

"You just missed the ending."

There'd been a long silence, nearly long enough that he'd thought she'd fallen asleep again, and he could hang up, off the hook, but—

"Was it a happy ending? It's okay if I missed it, just as long as it was happy."

"...It was."

She'd made a noise of satisfied incoherence in response, and he'd taken the opportunity to wish her a good morning, prescribe her a few hours more of sleep, apologize, then hang up.

(He still wonders about that fuzzy morning, that long night.

If she would've questioned him more if she weren't so tired. About the story’s ending. About the length of the call.

If he would've answered. If he would've lied.)

"A story?" He repeats now, settling in the corner of his living room he knows will be closest to her.

Scientifically, he knows it isn't possible, humans simply don't have the body temperature— but he fancies he can feel her warmth, even through the wall.

Perhaps it's a trait of the Queen's gene, previously unexplored. And, well, he wouldn't be opposed to testing that hypothesis, but we digress.

It's clear as day, or, at least, as clear as a monochrome day can ever be: there's something more.

Something that catches on a corner of his heart when she makes a quiet 'un' of assent and clears her throat, the sound, tinny as it is through the phone speaker, vivid enough for him to picture. Her hand pressed to her mouth. Her smile, after. The crescent moons of her eyes.

"Not any story, though. Tell me about Evol again?"

Then, at his silence: "Please?"

(Irrational thoughts rise, unbidden. He'd do anything for that word from her lips. Fight an army. Raze a city.

He'd live by it,

die by it,

and at the end of the day, he still wouldn't deserve it.)

"What do you want to know?" He asks, but to his ears, it sounds like I'd tell you anything.

She hums in thought, a butterfly floating light in the breeze.

"Why do people have the Evol they have? I don't want the science, not really."

Her voice trails off, comes back stronger,

"I want your honest opinion, Lucien. Tell me why?"

and it sounds less like a question, but not quite yet a command.

He chuckles, then obliges.

Time crawls by, soft and slow, a steady seamstress stitching together unexpected, lingering thoughts. At his words, quiet intense musings picking at open seams and pulling at loose threads, the universe between them unspools.

Why do people have particular Evols? To answer that question, we have to first understand why people have any form of differing traits.

Biology says, at first glance, chance. A freak gene mutation on a chromosome of interest: deep within relevant coils of DNA, an A-T pairing shifts to an A-G. Maybe it’s deleted altogether.

('That's not very romantic,' she comments with a barely stifled yawn.

He chuckles, soft, indulgent.

'You're right. I'm sorry. You did ask for a story, after all.'

He continues.)

But. That’s not all, not when evolution’s taken into account. The idea of natural selection has been radically transformed by its representation in popular media to be some strange justification for the hierarchy of society (in a quite underhanded fashion, he thinks, keeping the poor down and beaten as if it were their natural place, allowing the rich to get only richer as if nature and not trust funds had secured their positions on the top of the pyramid of life. Only life isn’t a pyramid. Not a tree, either. Not quite. More like a story, perhaps. But he digresses.) In reality, in biology and in nature, it's much less simple.

The theory of natural selection, at its most bare bones, is, yes, survival of the fittest. Just that ‘fittest’ doesn’t mean strongest, most cruel or most cunning, doesn’t even mean kindest or most caring. It means nothing, really, outside of context.

Very biologically speaking, ‘fittest’ implies the organism reproduces with the most success when compared to others in its given environment. Traits caused by random mutations that help an organism survive in a particular environment long enough for it to have offspring are passed on. And if the environment stays the same, the same traits will be favored and passed on, over and over again across and through generations, coming to define a species and the role that species plays in the world.

Clearly, it doesn’t mean much in that sense for humans anymore. What is our ‘fit’? Perhaps we've broken free of the chain of evolution, and now lounge atop the dogpile, above the fray. Triumphant. Stagnant.

Because even though maybe we've been running as fast as we can, evolution's never more than one step behind. What's a generation of progress in a millennium? No more than the barest breath caught in the endless march of time.

No, evolution still very much has us in its clutches and these days, he wonders what it would take for humanity to realize it, as complacent as we are— there are certain traits favored, personality and looks, but beyond that, beyond the biology, even, isn't there more? Something we want most in the world we live in, our given environment. What a person needs most, forever strives for, what'll allow them to flourish in their environment enough to have a legacy and know some part of them continues to live on.

To meet that need would be to finally surpass evolution, unlock a new humanity, create a new world. The Red Queen, running rampant, running free.

(But first, Evol. The key.)

There are three theories on the nature of Evol. This is the first.

The Theory of Superhumans had been put forward by a scientist over a century ago, through a series of research studies, his articles full of academic terms like intensive accelerated artificial selection, induced heritable genetic variation, changes in gene expression in an adverse environment, followed by the thesis, spelt out in plain words: under the right conditions, a human can develop superhuman abilities.

It had been heralded as a theory for the ages, for the books, sure to stay with and shape the course of humanity's advancement for centuries to come— only, we know the rest.

Each term, carefully clinical, couched the horror of the truth: the scientist, name now scrubbed from history, willfully lost in time, had thought to try to create superhumans— the Evolved, he'd dubbed them— by gathering unsuspecting participants, then putting them through several trials meant to push the limits of humankind, to unlock some secret extra ability, to finish our ode to survival of the fittest, its beginnings scrawled in the letters of our genes.

'The right conditions' had meant mortal peril. The trials had been worse than torture. Almost all the participants had died.

The surviving four (out of over nine hundred, making the success rate of the experiment less than half of a tenth of a percent) had been sworn to secrecy while the scientist (the madman) had been sentenced to an execution, his underlings thrown in jail, his research condemned, labelled a crime against humanity and a failure, his papers all burned.

Only, if the research had been a failure, one might wonder, why the burning of the papers? A message? Don't try this again. It was a failure. Why, then the secrecy?

The rumors, the whispers, the festering that spreads under the bandage of a wound left otherwise untreated—the experiment hadn't been a failure, it was a success.

(And maybe a young woman who survived put her hand up to the sky and let it fade. Maybe a young man who survived let his emotions spill out and take physical form. Maybe one of the survivors had placed a hand on a lost love's chest and willed their heart alive again. But they all kept their silence, true to their vows.)

His voice trails off. Some part of him wonders if he's bored her, the rest concerned with if he's said too much.

Words he's said to her come to mind now, flashing bright and blinding in the darkest hours of the night.

'Trust your instincts.’

‘Don’t you ever think maybe I’m the danger?’

‘Run away while you still can.’

He can't think of a time where they all apply as fittingly as now.

Perhaps, from afar, they'd seemed like fireworks, dark, mysterious, alluring in a world with no other light. But this close, they're a warning, perhaps even a lure— he's tempting her to come closer despite the danger, he the ravenous firefly cloaked in a bright, warm glow.

Surely she can see the truth of him, as close to him as she is. Surely, and yet, she stays, takes another step closer.

"You said there were three theories," she says, still awake, still listening. Still seeking out more. "What's the next?"

"I've told you this one before," he replies, and he means to meet her, to challenge her to press up against the other side of their wall. "Do you remember?'

There are three theories on the nature of Evol. This is the next. (familiar ground)

(Once, humanity built a tower and would've reached the heavens—

Once, Icarus flew too close to the sun—

It fell. He fell.

The world goes on.)

Twenty-five years ago, a British PhD student found a book. (Let's call it The Black Swan.)

He read it cover-to-cover, then read it twice. Three times. A fourth. Again and again, until the book's story, half legend, half truth, took seed in his mind, where it grew anew.

Twenty-four years ago, he tracked down the experiment's remaining survivor, the woman who could bend light and shadow and fade into the palest streaks of day.

('Have you come to kill me?' She asked, wry smile twisting over her age-lined face. She saw his lab coat, his notes, his eager, hungry smile. She knew them all.

He opened his mouth. She stopped him.

'Apologies. I misspoke. You came here to learn.'

He nodded, too-quickly, still eager. Still young.

'For science,' he said, the same tired argument, old words, old justifications and cover-ups reflected in new eyes. She shook her head.

'Don't say that,' she said, weary amusement lighting her distant gaze. 'It's for humanity. For a new world.'

She held out her hand. He took it.

No one ever saw her again.)

Twenty-two years ago, a hypothesis, not quite yet a theory, was formed. In it, the newly minted scientist put forth a potential genetic basis for superpowers in humans: one gene with the power to transcend human ability, once activated and expressed. The gene was Evol, the individuals possessing it Evolvers.

In his notes he attributed the name Evolver to the term Evolved used in a decades-old unpublished paper— a single pile of ashes left of rumors and whispers and burned research papers, given new life, reformed.

(The reality is this: the woman and her body on the verge of vanishing on her deathbed, her wrinkled hands thin, wan, shades of grey, beckoning the watching scientist over.

'Let me tell you a story,' she'd said, her voice carrying and strong. 'Once Icarus flew too close to the sun. He fell. But what don't we remember? Daedalus— he flew.'

'Is this another one of your lessons?' The scientist had asked and he was still every inch as greedy, but he'd lost his eager tone. 'I assume I'm Icarus, aren't I, experimenting on and dissecting Evolvers, flying too close to God, growing too arrogant for the unforgiving sun?'

'No.' she'd said. 'Listen.'

But he didn't.

He heard only half a story. But now, the rest of the tale. The truth.

'Let me tell you about Daedalus. Let me tell you about a man like you who thought he was special. Who thought he had what it took to change the world.'

Icarus fell, but Daedalus flew. Human progress, but at the cost of what? At the cost of who?

Hundreds of thousands of participants of failed experiments and twisted studies greet her when she goes beyond death's door.

'It's never been for science,' she'd have said if he'd cared to listen, words burning one last time, vibrant and alive, on her tongue. 'This is for our humanity. Our dignity. Not in spite of humanity's love but because of it.'

And love is evol backwards, isn't it? Two sides of the same coin.)

Twenty years ago, the scientist published his research. The study had been innovative, the findings thorough: each Evolver had in them a sequence of DNA, a bare few codons that transcended evolution, pairs of A-Ts and C-Gs he dubbed the Evol gene. Its expression varied from person to person, just as one might have brown eyes, and another blue, though he'd noted there were cases of similarity in awakened Evol in family lines, within communities, between lovers and sometimes close friends.

These findings suggest a correlation between Evol expression and environment, he wrote. Shared experiences shape an Evol's final awakened form as much as genetics, if not more.

The only question is, what makes an Evolver, if not just genetics? Who gets the gene? Who awakens it?

Then, messier, more frenzied writing. More bold. What if we could create Evolvers?

The reading between the lines: what if we took apart Evolvers so that we could build one of our own?

Six months later, and he'd been stripped of all his accolades and funding, the remaining Evolvers he'd taken in released when they were found.

Crimes against humanity, they'd called it. He'd laughed, said it was for science. For humanity. For humanity's progress. (despite our humanity. for anything but our love.)

"Lucien," she says, soft but insistent— she's been trying to get his attention for a while now, bringing him back out of his reverie. "You've been silent for a long time now. Are you still there?"

He blinks. Attempts a closed-eye smile, then remembers she can't see him, and covers it with another gentle laugh.

"Just thinking," he replies. "It was a good story. You told it well— better than I would've. I'm impressed."

"I just added on the ending with whatever felt right in the moment!" She protests, making the smallest noise of embarrassment. Then, even softer:

"I liked it when you first told it to me. Just, it didn't sound complete. It didn't have a lesson, really, or any sort of answer."

(Implicit in her words: Your stories never do.)

Silence. Again, she speaks, reaching across their shared void.

"I just wanted to understand it better— the story, I mean." She pauses, and he can feel his heart pound, just a beat faster than normal. At her next words, he can practically feel her blush.

"I want to understand you better."

He laughs again, quiet and gentle. With his heart loud in his ears, it's all he can manage to do.

"I don't know if you should."

Another warning. Another barrier, another wall thrown up. Still, she presses on.

"Tell me the last theory," she says instead of answering. "Tell me the theory that's yours."

(He does.)

There are three theories on Evol. Two official, as official as they could be, and the last is his— a pet theory, really, the kind full of conjecture and personal accounts that’d never make it off the drawing board, much less to the first peer review.

Awakening his Evol had been easy. What came after was what had been hard. They hadn’t told him what they’d done to him, what monstrous power they’d given, what he’d gotten— but maybe it hadn’t ever been theirs to give, it’d only ever been his to have.

A thought experiment:

You think your ability is super speed. You take the hand of someone— say, an old lady, crossing the street— and suddenly that ability is gone. You're shocked. Terrified, even. Maybe all your life you'd thought you were special, and didn't think specialness vanished, it was your trait, your birthright, not a thing as fleeting as an amusement park ride. Later, you pat a friend on the back, and their thoughts come to your mind, loud and clear. You're shocked again. Almost terrified again. But then you realize: your ability was never one thing. It was everything. (It was nothing.)

But what does specialness reliant on the existence of other special people mean in terms of you and your existence? Logically, nothing. Your genes are random. There's nothing like fate written into them, you have this ability by sheer chance. Still. You are everything and nothing. (You’re different from all the others. There’s no one else like you.)

You're a reflection of others, but in the end, what are you? What's a genius, what’s being special or different or extraordinary, if at the end of the day, it’s all just a single breath (a pained eternity) away from normal?

Copycat, echo, mirror. Imposter.

(You paradox, you.)

He tries to embrace the power of his Evol. Push it, examine it, test its limits, its potential.

He learns he can copy multiple Evols at the same time. He collapses the first time he tries invisibility and telepathy together, experimenting with invisibility's time limit, telepathy's reach, ending up in a sweaty, trembling heap on his apartment floor. For a blinding moment, a moment of stupidity (helpless humanity), he wants to share his results— but it's just him in his apartment, him and the sound of his racing pulse.

He strains. He trains. He learns to manage three.

When he feels the pressure in his head build to a point beyond mere discomfort, he releases the one— a forcefield he's grown fond of, the silent glow surrounding him fading to pale unadorned apartment wall. This time, his breaths are even, measured, controlled. He does not turn to share his accomplishment with anyone who might be there. He knows nobody's beside him. He knows he's all alone.

Instead, he stares down at his open palms, then closes them, the second Evol, x-ray vision, vanishing. Then follows the last, a simple heightened perception, and the rest of his senses bleed back into grey.

(There's one power he tries to copy, one simple talent even his genius can never master. A want more desperate than any other—

He searches. He use any excuse to be around strangers, meet new people, see new faces, shake others' hands.

(Somewhere in the sea of introductions and small talk and conversation, a new personality— the beginnings of what would become ‘Professor Lucien’, polished, calm, smooth— emerges.)

He never finds it. Instead, he finds he can copy countless others, craft dreams, weave miracles, do anything and everything— all except for this one mundane ability, taken forcibly from him.

Seeing color.

He doesn't know if he just hasn't yet found the Evol or if he has, unknowingly, and passed it without a second thought, the Evol itself incapable of being replicated, echoed, or worn like a glove.

He isn't sure which one's worse. He isn't sure which one's true.)

They come back to him in this purgatory— his demons, his saviors, those monsters. Black Swan.

They tell him he's special (he's learned long ago the word means worse than nothing) that they're like him, together they'll make a better world.

He accepts their lie. (It feels better, after all, to be somebody's weapon than nobody's anything at all.)

He plays being a killer. Dons the name Ares. Throws coldness up between him and all the others like one of his forcefields, like a wall.

They speak of the potential of human evolution. They speak of a new race of superhuman Evolvers taking charge of and ruling the world. All in impassioned, hateful, dangerous words— they color his world black and he embraces it.

Anything is better than grey, he thinks early on, perhaps foolishly, over yet another still-warm mangled body.

'Normie,' one of the other men on the mission spits, aiming a kick at the body, low and vicious, his voice like a bloody oath. He turns to Ares with a grin. 'We did good. Wanna grab a drink?'

Ares doesn't smile. He thinks, 'What's one more corpse?'

He returns to headquarters alone.

(They don't send him out on team missions, after.)

And now—

her.

His color. His reckoning. His proof.

(In her eyes— her strong righteous savior's gaze— he imagines the artist's jar shattering, the butterfly soaring high, soaring free.)

"Lucien," she says, calling out to him, voice hovering, trembling on the edge of a sob. His heart clenches, and he clutches it, wondering how he should respond.

"Lucien."

He takes a breath, then another.

"I'm sorry— what is it? I'm still here."

Lines like "Are you okay?" or "Talk to me, please." go unspoken. Instead, she says, soft and gentle:

"Have you seen the stars tonight? They're beautiful."

"I haven't."

"Then...come to the balcony with me?"

An almost-eternity passes. But then, he agrees.

(first, a brief tangent.)

There are four men. He's one of them. But what about the other three?

The boy trapped in his past by the memory of the one he couldn't protect, his Evol and him both frozen in time.

The boy who wanted freedom from the rumors, the fighting, most of all, from his dad, who grew wings to escape them and become one with the breeze.

The boy who'd never been loved unconditionally and now surrounded himself with it, a part of him rearing its head to demand it.

(all other stories. for other times, other worlds.)

"You know, sometimes I think the stars must be lonely," she says, and though he doesn't dare look at her, he hears her both in real life and through the phone speaker cradled close to his ear. He feels rather than sees her move closer to his side of the balcony, closing the distance, coming to the edge.

"They're thousands of light years away from each other," she continues. "Maybe they wonder if they're all alone, sometimes, if they're the only light for miles in an empty, endless dark sea."

"It makes me sad, to think about it. We spend our lives looking up at the stars and casting lines, drawing constellations between them, but in reality, they're just as lonely as we are. Maybe even more."

"I'm rambling, aren't I? Sorry— it's been a long day, and it's just this time of night, it always makes me melancholy for some reason. I can't remember why."

She laughs a little, self-deprecating. In the night's stillness, he hears the shuddering in her next breath. It takes hold deep within him, her fisherman's hook, line, and sinker, gone straight to his heart.

"Don't say that," he says, the words freed from that same place deep within him, and what he means is 'You're not alone.'

"MC."

He's at his edge of the balcony before he knows it— for the first time, it's him reaching back across the ocean between them, it's his question, his unspoken plea.

His eyes seek hers in the darkness.

She finds him.

(His color.

Her light.)

There's a knock from the doorway, echoed over the phone. He laughs softly into the speaker, then moves in from the balcony and crosses his room to open the door. It's her.

“Lucien,” she says, and his name on her lips holds all the secrets of the universe, stars and galaxies swirling in the space between each of her breaths.

She holds her hands out to him, she, his lifeline, his compass, the one bright color of his life.

He hesitates for a moment, then takes then, gets pulled by them into her, into the warmest embrace.

(he can hear her heartbeats, echoes of songs of legend of stories, intertwined with his)

"Lucien," she murmurs into his chest. "Tell me a story? Tell me yours."

This time, he hears her as he's meant to, the words were never a command, they were a question. A plea. Another step in his direction, just like the knock on his door.

(he lets her in.

she stays awake for the rest of the story, stays on the line for the rest of the call.

together, they create their own ending.)

#mlqc #mlqc lucien #val writes #mr love queen's choice #mlqc xu mo #im v proud of this one akljfdskl *hides*#listEN listen listen lucien is an enneagram five that's it (am i projecting? possibly)#but i know ppl hc him as infj/intj and that's me so. im allowed. maybe #to project #also so much of this is just random non-canonical bs lkesjfdkl

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zoryany · 4 years

Text

Whumptober Day 13

BREATHE IN BREATHE OUT

Delayed drowning | Chemical pneumonia | Oxygen mask

Panic flared within him.

Why was it that every time he went on a mission that was supposed to be simple it went sideways in the worst possible way? Missions that could be classed as “overly complicated” seemed to go off without a hitch, especially when they went in with the most far-fetched of plans. Did the Force just enjoy toying with the universe, flipping the expectations of all beings it affected just for the fun of it?

Luke was running, legs pumping as fast as they could, and his lungs began to burn. Just breathe, in, out, in, out… no. That didn’t help. It reminded him far too much of another unsettlingly familiar sound that insisted on haunting his dreams – and his waking hours, a sound that emanated from a being who was, in fact, here, as well.

Against all odds, defying all of their intel, Darth Vader was close – on planet, definitely, in the same locale, almost certainly, in the same facility, far too likely. Darth Vader was here, pursuing Luke, relentless to bring him in after claiming to be his father. (Even though Luke very well knew the truth of their relation, he chose to deny it, no matter how strong the Force sung in confirmation.)

Alarms had been blaring for several minutes now. Somebody, either on their side or the Empire’s, had hit something within the labs, and now it did not matter what side anyone was on, they all just needed to get the kriff out of this place. Poison was flooding into the air, some chemical gas under development in this facility, and it wouldn’t be long before the corridors were saturated with its potency. Many had been close to the exits, the majority of people already outside the building, but Luke had been deep within, extracting data. Artoo needed just a couple more minutes to get what they needed, minutes Luke was certain he could endure and be treated back at base for any damage he sustained, but then that blasted man had to show up.

Of course Vader could stand to take his time pursuing Luke. That respirator of his had to filter out toxins like this. So Luke took a much more circuitous route than he would have normally to escape the building in hopes of eluding his hunter. Naturally, this meant more exposure to the toxin, and he could feel his lungs struggling to keep up with his frantic movements.

Finally, he reached an exit, but it was not an ideal one. Nowhere near the landing pad or anywhere he could slip into the nearby forest, Luke was nearly cornered, his only real escape the river adjacent to the facility. Maybe he could move quickly enough to evade Vader and meet up with anyone else from the Alliance. The growing pain in his chest was suggesting otherwise, though.

And all hope was indeed lost when Vader appeared in the doorway, looming over him and looking out at the limited terrain for Luke to slip away into.

“There is nowhere else for you to run, Luke.” He seemed far more satisfied than he had any right to be. “You would do best to come with me and allow yourself to be looked at aboard my ship. Your exposure to this facility’s work will only cause you complications down the line if left untreated.”

“I won’t join you,” he spat, glaring fiercely into the death mask. “I can’t join you! Even if you – ” His words caught in his throat, and he could not bear to finish that thought. Even if you are my father. Luke couldn’t just give up on everything he believed in, even if he… even if he wanted nothing more than to know the only family he had left.

His desires were strong, his need for family even more so, but he knew loyalty. His aunt and uncle had taught it to him, the Alliance had reinforced it in him, and his friends – especially Leia and Han – kept it true in him. As much as he wanted to know his father, to be close to the man he’d grown up idolizing, Vader had done nothing to earn his loyalty as of yet. Something within Luke whispered of the possibility, somewhere, some ways down the line, but right now…

“I’m sorry.” Right now, he had to do what he knew was right in his heart. “My place is not with the Empire.”

And he threw himself into the water.

Several sensations crashed over him all at once, all of them leaving him breathless. The river was cold, far more frigid than he’d been expecting, and Luke gasped loudly against the icy waves. That same gasp forced water into his lungs – water that had been filling his mouth anyways, due to his lack of swimming prowess. Fear, shock, and additional panic gripped his chest, and Luke began to flail against the current, using any movement he could to try and keep his face above the water and control his swift movement through the water. He’d always considered that he’d choose death over the dark side, and he’d even faced the reality of that decision once before, but this…

Something about this felt different. It was less abrupt than throwing himself into the abyss. There was a process involved, a chill that permeated his bones, a fear that swept through his being. Luke had not realized it until now, but water could pose a true and genuine threat. So much of his life had been spent scrounging for it, savouring what few droplets one could extract from the atmosphere and treating it as a nearly sacred substance, he never once considered there could be such a thing as too much. Facing that now forced a genuine terror to ripple through him, compounded by the repeated bombardment of waves crashing into his face.

As he struggled to take in more oxygen than water, Luke could feel his head growing light and his mind fuzzy. His thrashing had already grown weaker, and he was exhausted enough that he did not even realize how he called out for his father through the Force. before unconsciousness overtook him.

***

Foolish boy. Foolish, reckless, idiotic boy.

Vader did not know it for a fact, but he was nearly certain that his son did not possess the ability to swim, least of all to combat the current of the raging river running alongside the laboratory. The sting in his chest felt like Bespin all over again, his son choosing death over him once again. It was clear the boy did not know what he was turning down, nor did he recognize the danger he was getting himself into with his continued defiance.

But no more. While Vader could not dive in after him directly, he could make an effort to stop the boy from facing the most permanent of consequences for his actions. The echoing cry that rippled through the Force only served to further his conviction of this.

With a sweeping gesture, Vader summoned a large piece of driftwood, fairly flat and wide enough to support his weight, and leapt towards the raging waters below. Balancing atop the wood, he propelled himself onwards towards the dim presence of his son, momentum guided by the Force.

The boy was below the surface, skin pale from lack of air, but he was still conscious, if only just.

His prosthetics did not register much sensation, but it was clear how frigid the raging waters were by what little he could feel and the way his son was trembling. With far too little effort, he pulled the boy up onto the piece of driftwood with him, and guided their trajectory towards the bank. Tumbling onto the shore, Vader was quick to remove his cape and wrap it around the frail form in his arms. Through bleary eyes and soaked lashes, the boy looked up at him, pale eyes dull as he fought to stay awake.

“F – Father?” The word was weak, croaked out and nearly lost to the wind, but Vader heard it, crisp and clear as a bell.

“Yes, Luke,” he replied, gathering his son close to his chest. “I am here. You will be alright. Simply allow yourself to rest, now, lest you make your state worse.”

“I – I won’t… I don’t want to…” The protests were weak, his struggles even moreso, and nearly half-hearted. The boy still wished to escape, but he was succumbing to his sorry state, and the feeling of comfort provided by the very man he sought to elude.

Luke would come around to his point of view yet. Of this, Vader was certain. It would only take time.

***

He was stable.

The boy was stable.

Luke would live.

He just had to continue saying this to himself in order to stave off the restlessness that had already taken hold of him. Pacing outside the hyperbaric chamber – not his, but designed to be just as effective – Vader repeated these words over and over and over again in his mind, fearing what may become of his son.

Luke would live. He knew this. Countless med droids and even organic medics had assured him of this fact. What remained to be seen, however, was the state of his lungs following his recovery.

That facility had been developing a particularly potent chemical, a gas that would ravage the respiratory system from the inside out, meant to be deployed as a weapon. Its premature release could very well have had devastating effects on allies and enemies alike, and Luke had been exposed longer than most. With the toxin weakening his lungs and the water that had filled them following his escape…

The Son may reflect the Father even further than had initially been expected.

Should the bacta prove insufficient, Luke may be forced to live out the rest of his days on a respirator. Certainly he would require an oxygen supply when he awoke, for a limited time at the minimum. Vader felt pride at seeing certain reflections of himself and his past in his offspring, but for the boy to suffer in ways reflecting his own anguish was nigh unthinkable.

While Luke’s lungs had not immediately filled completely with river water, preventing him from an acute case of drowning, there was still fluid that persisted within, working in tandem with the chemicals insisting on breaking down his functions.

“You will pull through, child,” Vader rumbled outside the tank, staring at the pale, frail form within. “You must be stronger than I, in order to face the Emperor. I will not allow this incident to be your undoing.”

And if it was?

The hell he would bring down upon those who placed his son in this state would be unmatched by anything the galaxy had ever seen in all of its existence.

***

The first thing Luke noticed as his eyes fluttered open was the sterility bombarding every one of his senses. All he saw was a bright white backdrop, all he heard was a steady background buzz, all he could smell and taste was a pure, overly clean flow of air, all he could feel was an overly purified covering draped over him. None of this felt right, especially considering his last memories of plunging into icy currents and flailing about wildly in an attempt at self-preservation. This was far too comfortable for where he should have been.

A gentle pressure set itself against Luke’s face, covering his nose and mouth, reaching down nearly to his chin. Instinctively, he brought his hand to whatever it was and attempted to pull it away, but stopped short when a vise-like grip caught his wrist.

“Leave it be, Luke.” That voice was far too familiar, and if he was more lucid than he was now, he might have begun to thrash or resist. “It is there for a reason. Resistance will only cause you further harm.”

“Harm?” His eyes took a moment to focus, but when they did, they met the dark, angular features that had haunted his nightmares for years. “Vader. What did you – what did you do… to me…” He couldn’t hold back the wheezing and coughing that wracked his frame, causing his lungs to burn and the device on his face to feel even more present than before.

Vader’s fists clenched in the seconds that passed before he answered. “Believe what you will, but it was not my actions that led to your current state.” Was he imagining the subtle rage burbling below the surface of his voice? “Thoughtless science and your own… recklessness have placed your respiratory system in a state of intensive recovery. Speaking will only serve to worsen your condition.”

Luke’s eyes blew wide, terror threatening to overtake him. He opened his mouth to shout in protest, but an astonishingly warm presence wrapped around his vocal cords and silenced any sound he’d hoped to utter.

Vader’s stance shifted, his helmet dipping downwards and his shoulders hunching somewhat. He appeared almost… mournful. “I cannot speak to the permanence of your condition.” That… held far more regret than he’d ever expected from someone like Vader. “You have received the best treatment possible. However, your future remains unclear. Please, son, for your sake… listen to me, and allow yourself the opportunity to recover.”

A strange sensation was building within Luke. He’d always hoped to feel something like this, but he’d given up on it long ago. Now… the impossible felt somewhat within reach. Nodding slowly, he felt something lock itself into place, sealing his fate. He would remain with his father, no matter the state of his wellbeing. And, somehow, that did not seem the death sentence it once had.

So much of the future remained unclear. Perhaps he would need a respirator to live out the rest of his life. Perhaps his father would cause him nothing but pain, as they moved forwards. Perhaps he had doomed himself for all eternity.

But… perhaps… things might just work out…

#luke skywalker #darth vader #luke and vader #whump #whumptober #whumptober2020 #my writing #star wars fic #drowning cw #another super unedited whumptober ficlet #this did NOT go how I wanted #it involves uhhh #vader surfing (sorta) treated seriously ??#but anyways um #here's a thing lol

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howdoyoureverse-gum-loss · 3 years

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How Do You Reverse Gum Loss?

If you've had gum problems before then you know how frustrating it can be once they progress to the stage of receding gums. This is one of the biggest concerns of people who have begun to experience issues together with their teeth and gums. It's really a very uncomfortable condition to get, and there's not anything more embarrassing than being forced to visit the dentist for treatment. If left untreated, it could advance into something much worse such as periodontitis. Therefore what are some signs that indicate that you might be experiencing gingivitis? Today read more about How Do You Reverse Receding Gum Line? visit here http://teethdiseases.net/reverse-receding-gums-naturally/

One of the most obvious signs of oral hygiene and also a sign of developing gum disease are in case the gums recede, or just do not appear to become regrowing back at all. Naturally, there are many different symptoms and signs of oral hygiene, but the very first two recorded above are the very worrisome ones in regards to how they might affect you. If you're going through anything apart from those 2 signs then you definitely are going to want to pay close attention. They are a very clear indication of acute problems including bacteria and tartar which are contributors to the growth of gingivitis.

Is There A Way To Reverse Receding Gum Lines?

The very first symptom of gingivitis that most people see is a loss of the glistening look of the teeth. The majority of people will respond to the by brushing more usually, flossing and using mouthwash. As these are good practices, they often conceal the underlying problem. What you need to do is wash your mouth thoroughly with a good antibacterial mouthwash, and maybe even use some of those antibacterial mouthwashes which can be intended to kill bacteria.

If your gums have begun to recede, or begin looking white in color, you should also begin searching for any changes within the sting. Once you begin to develop periodontal disease, you are going to start to experience tooth decay at an young age. This is why you will need to start looking for any signs of tooth decay whenever possible. Once you start to see signs of tooth decay, your dentist may be able to help you treat your gingivitis before it gets worse.

The next sign you want to look out for is the gums becoming sensitive when brushing. Sensitivity to brushing can lead to gum disease, as the toothbrush can be irritating your own gums and causing discomfort. This inflammation can lead to bleeding during brushing, in addition to soreness in the region of the moutharea. If you are noticing one of these problems and you're still brushing regularly, then you should think about switching with an all natural toothpaste. Natural toothpaste is also known to possess strong antibacterial properties.

Whenever you begin to see signs of tooth sensitivity, then you may have a bigger problem in your hand compared to simply gums that are sensitive. Your gums could possibly be infected and could readily be infected with harmful bacteria. When you own a cavity in the tooth, then you also have bacteria from your tooth that's gotten into your esophagus and into your stomach. Which means that if you do not get it cured, you could develop heartburn, that goes untreated and might lead to more serious health difficulties. Therefore, you want to tackle tooth decay, periodontal disease and any other problems which you might have along with your teeth and oral cavity very quickly.

Reverse A Receding Gum Line

The last indication of receding gums which we're going to talk about is tooth loss. This will be more apparent to you in the event you're using antibiotics for an protracted time period. Antibiotics kill all bacteria in our bodies, and sometimes the ones which are good, like the very good bacteria that help in keeping your gums healthy, are killed off too. This is the reason you should quit taking antibiotics when you've been suffering from gum disease.

Do not forget that there is far more to a tooth compared to merely its physical appearance. If you want to prevent these other states, you need to visit your dentist regularly. Not only could your dentist cure the gum diseases, but they can also keep them from occurring in the future. Speak to your dentist now and make certain to catch any signs of receding gums before they develop into something much worse.

Certainly one of the most obvious signs of bad oral health and one of the earliest to manifest itself in more complex stages of the condition is when the gums slowly recede from your teeth, or just do not seem to be recovering in any way. Needless to say, additional indications and symptoms of gum disease are also rather remarkable, however, the first two really are the principal ones in regards to the way they could impact you. For the large part, that is usually what is known as a Gum Fall. What goes on is a part of this gum that's been deadened by tartar or plaque starts to rise up, creating what's called a pit or collapse on your teeth. This is normally caused by the accumulation of bacteria and accumulation of tartar on the teeth.

Quite a few different procedures are utilised to deal with this condition, including laser surgery, Blepharoplasty or pocket reduction, and endodontic or root canal treatment. As mentioned before, laser surgery can be used for the the pocket reduction and the removal of diseased gum tissue. Other procedures include using the tissue grafting technique, where live tissue is in fact removed from another area of your body to rebuild the bone and gum tissue of the affected by periodontitis.

Can You Reverse A Receding Gum Line?

Typically, periodontal disease does occur after long periods of poor oral hygiene with the use of improper flossing and brushing techniques. Over time, the accumulation of plaque and bacteria causes the location enclosing one's teeth to become inflamed and irritated. As the infection progresses, pockets of tissue known as gum recession and periodontitis grow, creating a root source for their discomfort and lack in bone equilibrium.

The maturation of plaque buildup in the mouth is exactly what initially causes many people to have an unpleasant taste and odor. This is usually referred to as halitosis or bad breath. In actuality, approximately 90% of adults suffer with some form of bad breath in some point in their lives. This is due to the bacteria that naturally reside in the mouth multiplying and producing volatile sulfur compounds (VSC), which might be the odor causing agents.

When you experience the symptoms of periodontitis, the bacteria may grow to an alarming degree and cause additional bone loss. Since the bone is vital to maintain healthy teeth, when this bone is lost, it is possible for one's teeth to fall and fallout, and hence leading to receding gums. In the event the teeth begin to deteriorate and the pocket gets wider, the total amount of saliva remaining from the mouth begins to drop, which then stimulates the growth of periodontal bacteria. When this occurs, periodontitis can progress into a serious condition called periodontitis-which can be fatal.

People who have sensitive teeth or individuals suffering from gingivitis are especially prone to developing periodontitis. In addition to the risk of developing this more severe form of periodontal disease, people who have sensitive teeth might well not have the ability to experience some symptoms at all, as the symptoms are not frequently felt before pockets of tooth enamel begin to weaken. That is because the sensitive teeth have difficulties in blocking the bacteria from hitting the bacteria, which then causes a mild taste or odor. As the enamel weakening grows, the person will experience pain out of brushing and flossing, and they might well not observe any significant shift within their mouth in any way, before pockets of tooth enamel begin to recede and fall.

Can You Reverse Receding Gum Line?

If you think you are suffering from periodontitis or gingivitis, it is essential that you see your dentist for a test first. Once your dentist has diagnosed both states, he or she are able to decide which treatment would best benefit your particular case. Depending on what stage of periodontal disease you're at present in, you may be able to take to simple homemade treatments to prevent additional gingivitis or periodontal surgery. You might also wish to consult with your dentist regarding the prospect of using a highquality antibiotic to help fight off any infection that can grow.

If you discover that your periodontal pockets already are starting to weaken and fall out, then periodontal surgery might be an option for you. During periodontal surgery, the tooth is clearly removed so as to eliminate each the bacteria from the pockets. Once that is performed, your dentist will have the ability to find what needs to be done about the remainder of your mouth. If your gums continue to recede and also you do not wish to experience any kind of surgical procedure, then there's a possibility you can remedy the situation with non-surgical methods. Examples of those non-surgical treatments include having a unique dental adhesive or gum recession filler.

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highwaytosickfics · 4 years

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Sick!Geralt tries and fails to push through an illness

Witchers, despite what the stories around them may imply, do in fact have limits; they can be affected by and even die from poison, untreated wounds, and illness just like anyone else. The difference, of course, was in the severity of damage they could endure. The trials that create witchers improve their body's natural immune system, allowing them to heal faster from things that might leave an ordinary man down for days. Those trials also left witchers a memory of excruciating pain that allowed them to shrug off a certain amount of injury. Because whatever they were experiencing was definitely bad and hurt terribly, but it could never compare to what they experienced in their trials.

These memories were currently being brought back to Geralt, as his head pounded something fierce in the summer heat. He'd been feeling a little under the weather a few days before when traveling through the woods with Jaskier, but had shrugged it off thinking his healing factor would take care of it. Now they were in a rather large town, bustling with noise and smells that overwhelmed his senses and gave him some pretty severe nausea. The harsh sunlight wasn't helping matters, practically blinding his sensitive eyes and making his headache feel even worse.

When they'd first entered the town, Geralt had wanted nothing more than to stay at the local inn for a few days to silence Jaskier's constant whining (though he mainly just wanted to ride out whatever bug he'd caught, the bard's complaints were actually pretty minimal this time around). Unfortunately, he'd had a job to take care of first; a bruxa (of course it'd had to be a fucking bruxa) was luring people to the woods and draining them dry of blood. It had killed three already, almost four before Geralt was able to decapitate it with a silver sword. The fight had been unintentionally long, the witcher's waves of nausea, pounding skull, and aching joints were slowing down his reaction time quite a bit. He was lucky he hadn't gotten himself (or Jaskier) killed. The bruxa's constant and powerful screaming didn't exactly help matters either, especially when they broke through a Quen and slammed him against a few different trees. The number of potions he'd had to take for that fight certainly wasn't low, and now that the White Honey was starting to kick in his body was screaming at him for it.

Still, Geralt had refused to gripe about his predicament and was trying to push through. They just needed to get back to the inn, then he could sneak upstairs while Jaskier played for the drunkards and just sleep whatever this was off. He was fine, he'd suffered much worse in the trials. The dizziness spinning his world around and pitching black spots in his vision couldn't compare to when he was too disoriented to get out of bed; the nausea threatening to make itself known was far softer than the weeks of constant vomiting and dehydration he'd gone through; the sensory overload that was distracting him was barely noticeable versus the ones he'd had when he first got his senses, when a speck of light blinded him for a full day and the sounds of wind rustling scraped painfully at his sensitive ears. He was a witcher and he could make it to the inn…

After he paused for a bit, he needed to make sure those spots weren't actually sprites. They didn't seem to be going away; in fact they only seemed to multiply as he got more lightheaded. Maybe this was actually an enemy he could fight-

"Geralt…" The witcher found himself surprisingly startled at Jaskier's low murmur. He'd forgotten the bard was with him, sending alarm bells through his brain. He was so shocked at this development that he almost didn't hear Jaskier continue. "Geralt, I need you to get on Roach, alright? She'll be able to carry you back to the inn."

Geralt focused suddenly and the bard was correct; Roach was sitting, waiting for him to mount. He'd trained her to do that in emergency scenarios, though, was this an emergency? Surely he was fine. Maybe she was sitting for the bard. Had Jaskier gotten hurt? Was he dying? What if he died already and he hadn't saved him-

"Geralt!" Jaskier's (thankfully alive) voice snapped him back to attention, and he automatically mounted Roach. He was surprised when the bard slipped in behind him, though somehow he didn't find it to be unpleasant. "I need you to get Roach moving, alright? I'll guide her back to the inn after that."

He felt his leg swing over the saddle, and suddenly they were moving. Jaskier was behind him, and while normally that wasn't allowed, Geralt didn't complain; the bard was unintentionally (or maybe intentionally?) keeping the witcher steady as they went onward. The scenery kept changing faster than Geralt could process it, and even when he closed his eyes the dizziness kept his head spinning. His energy was draining fast now that he didn't have to walk, and he wanted nothing more than to fall asleep right then and there. He tried to keep himself awake though, and the bard's constant babbling assisted in his efforts. His voice was soft, so as to not bother the witcher's sensitive ears, but it was just loud enough to keep Geralt aware.

The ride came to a stop rather suddenly in his opinion, and it took all of his willpower to move from the saddle. Jaskier seemed eager to help him up (as though he knew something was wrong), and he kept close to Geralt's side as they walked back to the inn. Those twenty steps had been the most difficult challenge he'd had so far that day; the noises and smells alone were enough to make him want to run, and when he mistakenly opened his eyes, he could only see a sea of white with dancing colored spots before he snapped them shut again.

He focused on keeping himself moving, walking side by side Jaskier without leaning into him (the bard wouldn't have been able to hold his weight). Thankfully Jaskier was taking the lead, guiding Geralt without prompting into the inn and up the stairs to their room. When he opened his eyes next, it was thankfully dark and quiet. The witcher then remembered, with pushed down disappointment, that there was only one bed; it was big enough for the both of them, certainly, but he wasn't sure if Jaskier would be interested in such an idea. He decided to leave the bed for the bard and tried to find a good spot on the floor to rest.

"Geralt, what are you doing?!" Okay, so Jaskier was against the floor plan. Should he try to sleep outside? He didn't want to go back out but if that was what the bard wanted-

Oh wait no, Jaskier was removing his armor for him. It felt nice to have that extra weight lifted off. The bard's touch lingered longer it should've, but the witcher found it to be grounding and didn't instinctively push him off. Jaskier helped Geralt lay down on the bed, cutting him off before he could protest.

"The bed's big enough for the both of us, Geralt. Besides, you look like you need it more than I do." A warm hand brushed hair back from his forehead, and he leaned into the touch before he could stop himself. "You don't have a fever, thankfully, but I know you've been hurting all day."

"'m fine." He mumbled weakly.

"Try to stand up then." He shot up from the bed to prove his health...and all the nausea he'd been feeling suddenly rushed from his gut to his throat. A bucket found its way under his chin at just the right moment.

"Okay maybe that was a bad idea." He heard beside him, a hand tracing down his back as he threw up what hopefully wasn't the White Honey he'd taken earlier. When his heaves turned to shudders, the bucket moved away and Geralt found himself pushed back down onto the bed. He was knocked out as soon as his head touched the pillow.

#sick witcher #witcher sickfic #sick geralt #sickfic #illumivomi #my post

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