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kingmanoncology · 1 month

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Understanding Colorectal Cancer in detail: warning signs and symptoms

Cancer is a disease that has become a concern for medical practitioners globally. Well! Thanks to the recent development in the sphere if identified and diagnosed in early stages it is curable to a large extent. Out of different types of cancer colorectal cancer is widening and spreading, recent researches point out the rise in the case of colorectal cancer. To treat and identify colorectal cancer—a potentially fatal condition—as soon as possible, it is imperative to recognize its warning signs and symptoms. Cancer of the colorectal tract, which comprises tumors of the colon and the rectum, usually starts as benign growths called polyps and advances gradually over several years. Early warning sign identification increases the chance of successful treatment and long-term survival by enabling prompt medical evaluation and intervention. In-depth information about colorectal cancer warning signs and symptoms will be provided in this guide, allowing readers to recognize potential warning signals and seek timely medical assistance. By raising awareness of the illness and appreciating its nuances, we can work together to combat colorectal cancer and improve the prognosis for those who are affected by it.

For early detection and timely medical intervention, a complete grasp of the warning signs and symptoms of colorectal cancer is crucial. Colon or rectal colorectal cancer frequently starts as tiny, noncancerous growths known as polyps. If treatment is not received, these polyps may eventually grow into malignant tumors. Individuals can seek an immediate medical examination and potentially life-saving treatment by recognizing the warning signs and symptoms. The following is a thorough summary of the main indicators and symptoms of colorectal cancer:

Bowel Habits: Constipation, diarrhea, and narrow or pencil-thin stools are just a few examples of unexpected but constant changes in bowel habits that can reveal a lot about any significant illness or changes in the body. These changes may be an indication of colon cancer. These changes may occur for unknown reasons and may persist for a considerable amount of time. A doctor or other provider should be consulted if you observe any of the aforementioned changes or if you have doubts about any physical change. After completing the test, seek clarification. Prompt identification or diagnosis facilitates prompt access to medical treatments.

Blood in the Stool: Changes in the stool may include the blood in stool, if you notice any stains of blood in the stool, also known as rectal bleeding, is a typical sign of colorectal cancer. Vibrant crimson blood might show up on toilet paper, in the toilet bowl, or together with feces. You must not ignore any of these symptoms faced by you, Additionally, bleeding originating higher up in the digestive tract may be indicated by dark, tarry stools (melena).

Pain or discomfort in the abdomen: Your stomach tells a lot about your digestion and general health. If you experience digestive issues, this could be a sign of a medical condition. You may have colon cancer if you have stomach pain that does not go away with gas or bowel movement, as well as bloating, gas, cramps, or discomfort.

stomach pain or discomfort that does not go away with gas or a bowel movement, as well as cramps, bloating, or gas. Colorectal cancer may be indicated by these symptoms. This pain could be coming from the pelvic or lower abdomen.

Abrupt Loss of Weight: if you feel any changes in your body or confront unexpected weight loss then you must not ignore them. If there are no dietary or exercise modifications, an inadvertent loss of weight may indicate the presence of colorectal cancer. Weight loss can happen quickly and naturally. It is pertinent to visit the healthcare provider and seek medical consultation on a timely basis.

Fatigue and Weakness: Constant weakness, constipation, or a generalized feeling of un-wellness that does not go away when you rest could be signs of colon cancer. Although there is no precise diagnosis needed, if this symptom continues or gets worse over time, it should be checked out.

Iron Deficiency Anaemia: Fatigue, palpitations, weakness, shortness of breath, and pale complexion are some of the symptoms of iron deficiency anaemia, which can be brought on by chronic bleeding from colon cancer.

A tumor that has grown large enough to obstruct the intestine can cause symptoms in people with advanced colorectal cancer, including severe stomach discomfort, cramping, bloating, nausea, vomiting, constipation, and trouble passing gas or stool.

The fact that similar symptoms may also arise from less serious conditions is notable. If you notice any of these warning signs, however, you should consult a healthcare professional at once, particularly if they persist or worsen over time. Additional testing and examination may be necessary, such as a stool test or colonoscopy. If colorectal cancer is detected and treated early, the chances of a full recovery increase, and the quality of life is significantly enhanced. Before treatment, detect and avoid colorectal cancer. When symptoms start to show up, those at average risk should start having routine screening tests, like colonoscopies, around age 45.

LAB Tests for Confirmation of Colorectal Cancer

If you confront any of the above symptoms your physician may advise you to undergo certain tests to ascertain and get confirmation of the same. You can also visit a clinic that provides you with Onsite Lab services.

Test for Hidden Blood in Stool (FOBT): Looks for blood clots in stool that may be signs of colorectal cancer.

Using antibodies specific to human haemoglobin, the fecal immunochemical Test (FIT), which is frequently more sensitive than FOBT, finds blood in the stool.

The complete blood count, or CBC, measures haemoglobin levels and red blood cell count; low results may indicate anaemia linked to colorectal cancer.

Abnormal results from liver function tests (LFTs) may point to colorectal cancer metastases in the liver.

Carcinoembryonic antigen (CEA) test: This test measures blood levels of the antigen; increased levels can be used to assess treatment response or detect colorectal cancer.

Genetic testing: Finds genetic abnormalities such as Lynch syndrome or FAP that are linked to an elevated risk of colorectal cancer.

Colonoscopy: It is possible to detect and biopsy colorectal cancer by directly visualising the colon with a flexible tube equipped with a camera.

Your physician will show you the exact picture of your physical condition after the physical tests are conducted. And your treatment will be started according to that.

In summary, it is critical to recognize the warning signs and symptoms of colorectal cancer to facilitate early detection and timely treatment. Often beginning as benign polyps before developing into malignant tumors, colorectal cancer can proceed slowly over time. Early detection can result in urgent medical examinations and potentially life-saving interventions. Early indications include changes in bowel habits, blood in the stool, stomach discomfort, unexplained weight loss, exhaustion, and anemia. For colorectal cancer to be detected in its early stages, when treatment is most successful, routine screening tests are necessary. These procedures include colonoscopies, fecal occult blood tests, and genetic testing for high-risk individuals. We can enable people to take proactive measures toward prevention, early detection, and better outcomes by increasing knowledge and helping them comprehend the subtleties of colorectal cancer symptoms. For seeking any confirmation or advice you can take consultation from Kingman Oncology an institute for any blood-related problems or concerns. Kingman is an established and renowned medical oncology clinic devoted to providing you with satisfactory services.

#kingman oncology institute #bone marrow biopsy #chemo treatment process #blood cancer treatment #bone marrow biopsy procedure #outpatient infusion therapy

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luminousbeings-crudematter · 10 months

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where Simon grapples with futility

PAIRING: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Chef F!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only. angst, smut, more angst. on the menu we have mutual pining (main) and the kind of ex sex we all wish we were having (side), bon appétit, the chef needs a long nap!

LENGTH: 3.5k

When you ask him to leave, he does. The whole thing reminds him of the time he’d crawled out of a grave.

< Prev Part || Next Part >

_____

Being a ghost is easy.

Being Ghost is easy.

Disappearing into the job, planning an op, the mindless bureaucracy in his role as Lt Riley—easy. Too easy. It’s second nature to him, so much so that he can do it almost mindlessly. After all, it has the welcome effect of taking his mind off other things.

Being Ghost allows him to be himself for once. The version of him that he’s spent a decade carving and chiselling into perfection. The version of him that is lethal and feared, has a reputation amongst his enemies.

The antithesis of the version that fell in love with a woman, broke her heart and then ran.

The pen in his hand snaps, and Simon flings the pieces across the room. But even that doesn’t feel satisfying, coming off instead like he’s putting on an act—as though rage should be the primary emotion inside him at that moment.

But it’s not.

The complete silence from you is claustrophobic, so much so that it taints the hope in his chest—making it feel heavy and stifling. It keeps him waiting for a text or a call that never comes, and he wonders if there’s a chance of losing his mind from just waiting when he doesn’t even know what he’s waiting for.

You’ve left him to his devices—just like you’d implied you would when you asked him to leave. But it’s quiet in a way he’s never experienced before—like having a heavy weight on his chest, getting used to it, liking it even, and then coming apart at the seams when it’s gone.

Though, of course, Simon knows exactly what’s been taken from him. He’s no Atlas, and the burden he carries is nothing noble. No, what Simon carried, carries, makes him feel the most weightless he’s ever felt—what he carries is as painfully inevitable as it is as effortless as breathing. What he feels for you seeps into his bones, infusing his marrow, but Simon’s still just left not knowing what to do with it.

And somewhere inside his chest where his heart should be, he feels a dull ache, though he struggles to understand why. When all was said and done, he’d known all along that the outcome was unavoidable. Finding someone like you was outside the realm of possibility for someone like him, but he had. He’d found you.

And fuck. He’d had you.

He’d found you and he’d had you for two years—your kindness and your patience, your compassion, and the fire inside you that even someone as cold as him couldn’t extinguish. And even though having someone like you should have been impossible, it had turned out to be this extraordinary, invaluable thing to him. But even Simon would not deny that he’d known all along that the way it had ended was unavoidable.

He tries to shake the thought of you from his head as though you’re a physical object that resides there. As though he isn’t made painfully, acutely aware of how much he resents your absence every time his heart beats. As though you don’t haunt him in every act of kindness he witnesses around him—in the doctors that stitch him up on base time after time, paying little regard to both his catatonic demeanour and recklessness in the field. In Soap when the antsy Scot lingers around him like a dog guarding its wounded master, and even in Price when Simon is scrutinised over plumes of smoke with hard eyes that know too much.

All he has left of you now is a photo and a void in his chest where your touch should be.

Sometimes he imagines free falling without a parachute—seeing the ground fly closer up to him, the awareness that both the speed of descent and the force of the impact will compete to break his body. He imagines why, then, all that time ago, with the full knowledge of what it would do to him, he chose to fall anyway.

He feels like he should have a thousand things to think about, a thousand things he should ask himself, be haunted by a thousand scenarios in his mind from how that day should have gone. Instead, his mind rebels against everything to do with you, everything to do with that day and chooses to turn it inwards—what was he expecting? With everything he knew about himself, what was he expecting was going to happen?

At the end of it all, it’s neither the speed of descent nor the force of impact that breaks you, Simon learns. It’s the tragedy of feeling helpless, even in the face of something completely preventable; it’s the knowledge that you’re going to fling yourself off a great height even while your feet stay planted firmly on the ground.

____

Surrender feels miasmic.

If he’d thought his death would be easy, if he’d thought surrendering to the inevitable would feel like coming home, he was sorely mistaken.

It blows noxious fumes into the back of his throat and makes him choke, leaving behind the bitter taste of burning metal and his failures. For even one with his pseudonym, the reputation he had and the life he’d lived, impending death felt like his nostrils were being razed by bleach, blood and sweat. Impending death sounded like Soap MacTavish shouting hoarsely, desperately in his ear.

Simon Riley’s last thought is of your hair.

He thinks of a particular Sunday you’d spent together—you’d cooked for him and he’d been the most relaxed he’d ever allowed himself to be in your company. And when you’d stepped out of the shower that afternoon, he’d stopped breathing.

With the steam escaping the bathroom at your back and in the stream of afternoon sunshine from the open window of your bedroom, you’d glowed. Clad in nothing but a towel, your shoulders still wet from the shower and your hair? Fuck, your hair looked like a halo around your face and you were laughing at something on your phone and looking up at him with eyes full of lo—

____

His eyes open with the rising sun, and you’re there.

You’re holding his hand securely between both of yours, and your head rests on the bed next to them. You’re sitting beside his bed in a wooden chair that looks rickety and uncomfortable and your neck bends at an unnatural angle with your hair obstructing your face entirely, but it’s you. It’s you.

He doesn’t even bother wondering why you’re here—he knows, of course. It’s the very reason he knows he’d drop whatever he was doing, no matter what it was and even if he was on the other side of the world, if anything ever happened to you. He knows.

He finds the strength to stroke your hair with the hand not currently trapped underneath yours, feels the strands of your hair underneath his fingertips. Allows the familiar sensation to ground him, savours something he’d thought he’d never have again. Allows himself to get carried away by what he feels for you, usually hidden deep in his chest. A love that has always felt stifled and weary, that now feels wide awake and alert, allowed to take a deep breath in the crisp morning air. Finally, finally.

You jerk awake with a start.

____

Pneumothorax, the doctors tell him. His broken rib had punctured his lung. Contusion. Countless injuries that marr his body, a broken finger and a brand new wound extending from his shoulder to the middle of his back, but these are nothing new.

They also tell him that all of them got out alive. He didn’t lose a single one of his men, but if not for Soap MacTavish, Lt Riley would’ve been the one they lost.

And he has to smile at that, because Simon Riley really lives far away from all of it—from the war and the smell of gunpowder and smoke and sulphur, and the ever present threat of a bullet in his chest. No, Simon Riley lives in a small flat in grey, wet London where he watches movies and rubs feet and brings coffee in bed to the woman he loves. Simon Riley is already lost to them, has been lost for a long time (two years, he concedes in his mind), they just don’t know it.

And more importantly, you don’t know it.

____

It’s days before he sees you again. He’s been home for a month when you turn up at his door with two cups of coffee and eyes full of fury.

Simon watches with his heart in his throat as you pointedly sit on the far side of his couch, the corner that is the furthest away from him, and you look down at your coffee as though it holds all the answers.

For a long time you don’t speak, but Simon doesn’t mind. His eyes drink you in and he tries to memorise all the little details about you he can’t believe he could have forgotten. But he doesn’t notice the tears running down your face in a constant stream until you open your mouth to speak.

“I can’t stop thinking about how you could’ve died.”

He murmurs your name, softly, trying to remind you that you didn’t have to agonise over something that hadn’t happened, but the sound of his voice makes you sob. It’s only when you look up at him that he really sees you.

You’re…different. You look tired and your face is drawn, looking almost gaunt. You aren’t sleeping or eating or both, he realises in horror. You look weary—the kind of bone tired that can only be inflicted by heartache.

“You’re so…you’re everything. And they kept telling me that you’d be okay, that you’d been through worse—worse!—and Johnny said that you’d never quit fighting, but your heart went into arrhythmia, Simon, you could’ve died! And I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Simon decides that the distance between you is just not acceptable any more. A couple of strides and he’s by you, dropping to his knees by your feet and holding your hands tight in his. “I’m okay, love, m’right here,” he murmurs, because what else is there to say?

“Yeah.” Your whisper is harsh and biting. “You’re okay, now. But when I saw you…” You shake your head as if to physically clear whatever image your mind’s eye had conjured up. “How are you feeling?”

“I…didn’t expect to see you here,” he whispers back.

Simon feels the exact instant that you register the meaning behind his words, because you glare up at him with a rage he’s never seen in your eyes before.

“What? What is that supposed to—you listed me as your next of kin, Simon! YOU did that. They called me!”

“Sweetheart–”

“No! All those months ago, when I asked you, you freaked out and left me when you could have just told me the truth!”

“N-not officially, not on any record. Only a few people know, I swear I wouldn’t—”

“You wouldn’t what, Simon? All of that palaver for my supposed safety, pretending that people knowing about me would be too dangerous, and after all this time I get contacted by your boss as your only living family? I just don’t understand—why did you lie to me?” He watches as you sob quietly, one hand flying up to your chest as if to self-soothe, and Simon doesn’t think he’s ever felt the kind of hurt he does in that moment.

“Didn’t think you’d find out this way. Didn’t think you’d ever find out.”

You nod slowly and he watches you wipe your tears and harden your eyes. Despite the situation, despite all of it, there is a sense of pride in his chest. You may look tired and furious and maybe a bit beaten down but you’re strong. The strongest person he knows.

“I waited for you. I waited for months and months and you never came. You never called, you never bothered to even—”

Simon’s shaking his head before you’re even done talking. “You said y’were done. S’what you wanted. You wanted me to leave.”

You look at him with wounded eyes that make him wince and look away. “And why was that, Simon? Why do you think I said I was done? Have you considered that it’s maybe because you told me that you didn’t want this? Or maybe because being with you was torture, never knowing what you really felt?”

“I still feel—”

“Or maybe, Simon. Maybe it’s because there’s no place in your life for someone like me, because you expect me to put my life on hold while you take what you need from me, and meanwhile I’m just supposed to…what? Wait for you forever? Or wait for you to decide I’m worth your effort?”

“Stop,” Simon begs. “This…I’d never done this before—”

But you’re done with his excuses, done letting him lead this fucked-up narrative. “Neither have I, Simon. I’ve never done this before either. I’ve never felt what I felt for you. All this time, I—” You cut yourself off and he watches as you squeeze your eyes shut. “I came here to talk to you today. Because there are some things I need to get off my chest, but there are also some things you need to hear, Simon.”

Simon’s heart drops to his feet as he watches you take a few deep breaths to calm yourself. This is it, he thinks. The real beginning of the end.

“I thought I would be with you and support you and be there for you, no matter what. And I realise now how naive that sentiment is, when I didn’t even know the “what” I was willing to be there for was. I don’t know anything about you, and that’s on me. Because I never asked—”

“Wouldn’t ‘ave told you, dove,” Simon interjects.

“Regardless. I never asked.”

“How does it matter if the end result is the same?”

You sigh and your eyes drift to the ceiling in frustration, but the cadence of your voice, soft, even, but full of conviction, never changes. “It matters to me, Simon. I was planning a future with you, when I don’t even know who you are. And that’s on me,” you repeat, firmly. “All you did was pull me in and push me away. You did this for two years because of your reasons, but I’m to blame too. I let you do this to me. I allowed it.”

Against all reason, Simon suddenly feels the need to defend himself. “I never promised—”

“Agreed. You never promised me anything. You never said the words, Simon, but I know what I felt. And you know what you projected.” A beat of silence. “I’m not blaming you. I find myself wanting to but then I just feel…tired. I’m tired, Simon. Of all of it.”

You sigh, seemingly having run out of steam. “I want this. I never stopped wanting this. But, I can’t do this the way we have been. The lies and the secrecy and the hot and cold thing, I can’t do it. I can’t keep going on like this.”

If Simon could describe what he felt, if there was someone he could talk to about this—if he was capable of talking about this—he’d say that it felt like what’d he’d been put through by Roba. He’d say it was like when he’d had to crawl out of a grave. He’d had the same feeling of hopelessness and claustrophobia back then, the knowledge that he had a finite amount of breaths left but they were nowhere near enough.

“I know I can live without you. I have been living without you…but you should know that it’s not what I want. I want more. And this time, I want it all the way. Or not at all.”

Your words sting him. You don’t know it—you couldn’t—but Simon was trying. Simon was giving you everything he could, making himself vulnerable in a way he never had before, not even before Roba. He’d given you his name, his face, his body, his heart, and somewhere along the line, he’d given you a version of himself that only belonged to you now.

He could ask for more time, more of your unconditional love, more of your patient understanding, but it just felt like asking for more and more and more, and Simon wasn’t willing to ask you for anything any more.

Lie, a particularly ghastly part of him whispers in his ear. Lie and promise her whatever she wants and worry about it later!

With his fading integrity on the line, he swallows his selfishness and says as much, watching as his words drain the hope from your face and your eyes become bright with unshed tears. But he has to close his own eyes when you speak.

“All this time, I thought, maybe now he’ll want this. Maybe…maybe the space would make him realise that we’re better together. I had all these, I could call them hopes, but really, they were just delusions. I had delusions about a future for us where you realise that we can work things out, no matter how impossible they may seem.”

“It’s not…fuck!” Simon feels a sudden fury at himself in his chest that makes him push away from you and get on his feet. “You're right. You don’t know who the fuck I am! You don’t know what I’m capable of, or the things I’ve done! You don’t know anything. And I don’t know how to keep you alive and be with you.”

There’s a defeated smile on your lips, almost like, despite your words, you were expecting this from him. “You’re not responsible for keeping me alive, Simon and you’ve—”

“Like fuck m’not! I see you once every few months and we fuck, and that’s it. S’all I can do for you. I won’t give you more.”

“You won’t give me more?”

“No, love. Because I’d rather y’were alive. Much much more than how much we both want this.”

He watches as you sigh, and stand up too. There is nothing further to be said, it seems, but you walk to him anyway. A gentle hand comes up to palm his cheek and your eyes shimmer with tears, but none drop. “I love you so much, Simon. It’s…a privilege to know you and love you the way I do. But I won’t live for you.” A sad smile tugs at your lips. “I-I used to think that mask you wear? It was like a crutch that you needed.”

“N’ now?”

“And now I know that it’s not. The mask isn’t the crutch.” You lean up to kiss his cheek and run a loving hand through his hair. “I’ll go.”

You’re almost at the door when he opens his mouth to speak. “Will you stay? For tonight?”

Your answering sigh is more resignation than relief.

____

He doesn’t bother undressing himself. He doesn’t think he could, he’s as exposed to you as he can be in that moment, but when he strips you, he does so carefully, and with a reverence he’s never shown anyone or anything in his life before. He’s not immune to your tears when you kiss him—his own eyes burn—but Simon’s determined to make the most of this last time. And he knows that this is the last time he’ll have this— the feeling of your skin underneath his fingertips, the soft caress of your sighs against his mouth, how it feels when he’s buried inside you.

When you lie on your back in his bed, all he can think about is how you look like you belong there, like this is where you always ought to be. When he’s in between your legs, he thinks of the familiarity of it all, the comfort, the ie feeling of everything in his world being right in that moment.

And when he’s finally buried to the hilt inside you, you cry out and clutch at him, your eyes streaming. He wipes them away and murmurs at you softly to soothe you, but it’s futile. When you wrap your legs around his waist and hold his face in your hands, he can’t help but feel like the universe must have stalled its motion.

How could the same universe that birthed you continue to entropy, continue to expand into nothingness? You’re right here, infusing life and light and reason into a living corpse. There is no way that you’ve changed his life so fundamentally—changed him in the way that you have—and the kindness of it, the love in your actions hasn’t permanently frozen the universe in its tracks.

When you come, it’s with a broken cry of his name, your back arching and your head thrown back, but Simon can’t yet bear to stop touching you so he moves his lips from yours to your jaw, kisses your face, murmurs to you.

Fresh tears fall when you hear what he says.

When Simon comes, he tries to keep his eyes open and on you through it, because this is it. He knows that when you leave, you’ll take the heat inside him with you. You’ll take all the light and love and all the softness you gave him with you. He fails.

And when his eyes open with the rising sun, he’s alone.

____

A/N: Yes, this was a bonus Simon Riley POV chapter. No, this will never happen again.

Almost at the end folks. Hang in there!

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #situationship simon #cod mw2 ghost #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #mw2 #simon riley smut #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #lumi writes

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reasonsforhope · 1 year

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"The “Düsseldorf Patient”, a man now aged 53, is just the third person worldwide to have been completely cured of HIV via stem cell transplantation.

As in the case of the other two patients, the so-called “Berlin Patient” and “London Patient,” the transplantation was undertaken to treat an acute blood disease, which had developed in addition to the HIV infection.

The Düsseldorf Patient received a stem cell transplant used to treat leukemia in 2013 and has shown persistent suppression of HIV-1 ever since, including during the last 4 years after the patient stopped taking anti-retroviral medication.

“I still remember very well the sentence from my family doctor: ‘don’t take it so hard,'” the Düsseldorf Patient, who had leukemia as well as HIV-1, said in a statement. “‘We will experience together that HIV can be cured!’ At the time, I dismissed the statement.”

Allogeneic hematopoietic stem cell transplantation (HSCT) is a procedure used to treat certain cancers, such as leukemia, by transferring immature blood cells from a donor to repopulate the bone marrow of the recipient.

Scientists now understand that individuals with two copies of the Δ32 mutation in the gene for the HIV-1 co-receptor CCR5; are resistant to HIV-1 infection. The two previous cases of both the London patient and the Berlin patient involved receiving a stem cell transplant from a donor with these unique mutations.

Björn-Erik Jensen, a specialist in infectious diseases at Düsseldorf University Hospital, lead the treatment and subsequent research, revealed today in a peer-reviewed study in Nature.

The patient was diagnosed as having acute myeloid leukemia and proceeded to undergo transplantation of stem cells from a female donor in 2013, followed by chemotherapy and infusions of donor lymphocytes.

After the transplantation, anti-retroviral therapy was continued, but HIV was undetectable in the patient’s blood cells. Anti-retroviral therapy was suspended in November 2018 with the patient’s informed consent, almost 6 years after the stem cell transplantation, to determine whether the virus persisted in the patient.

“I very much hope that these doctors will now get even more attention for their work,” said the patient. “I have now decided to give up some of my private life to support research fundraising. And of course, it will also stay very important for me to fight the stigmatization of HIV with my story.”

The authors conclude that although HSCT remains a high-risk procedure that is at present an option only for some people living with both HIV-1 and hematological cancers, these results may inform future strategies for achieving long-term remission of HIV-1."

-via Good News Network, 2/20/23

VERIFIED 10 YEARS ON, PROOF THAT HIV IS CURABLE

#hiv #health care #hiv aids #aids epidemic #aids crisis #lgbtq #lgbtq history #queer #queer history #hiv treatment #sex ed #medical news #medical research #good news #hope #I know he's not the first person we found cured of hiv #but as they say #three is a pattern #ANY increase in sample size at this stage is absolutely historical

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levikra · 1 year

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I have Acute Lymphoblastic Leukosis aka Blood Cancer

buckle up :D

This post should've been here for sometime now cuz I prefer keeping everyone updated across all the platforms that I use as an artist.

So - Hi! My name is Evein, on 1st of May 2023 I turned 21 and since then, from 5th of May my health decided to pull a quick one on me, propelling the events that currently make me reside at the hospital with an oncology.

It all started with a tonsillitis-like fever, accompanied by furunclosis in three places on my body, a high fever that lasted for 5 days in the first half of May itself and other unpleasant symptoms. It felt weird, I've never had such an intense streak of sicknesses kick my ass like that, but of course - I went to doctors to get checked, the classic blood testings and general examinations and stuff.

That's when on 10th of May my blood test was checked by a dermatologist regarding my furuncle problem and - after some brief moments of her talking with the main doctor at the clinic - I was rushed to the governmential hospital due to the fact that my blood results had... no white blood cells. Literally 1.83 at the accepted range being much higher than that.

Needless to say I was fucking shocked, I've never dealt with the severity of the situation and let alone while being completely on my own as a human person (working, living, providing for myself, you call it).

At the hospital, after several examinations and another blood test came the recommendation paper that doctors signed with urgency, first and foremost I needed to get to an appointment at the hematologist's. That I did on 14th of May and since that point of time, till 19th, I'd been monitored, given antibiotics for my tonsillitis-like symptoms, along with my furunclosis and after 19th we ruled out the condition to be leukosis, became my white blood cells started coming back to normal with the antibiotics aiding my immunity, but despite that - thr condition still seemed as something more reminiscent of mononucleosis (which, however, in another blood test was disproven).

After exactly a week of feeling better, albeit dealing with leftover anemia, I started developing the same symptoms back and even worse, to the point of losing consciousness and thrwoing up in an elevator on 29th of May after going out for the second pack of antibiotics my hematologist had then already approved of to use to help out.

That's when I was rushed to the hospital again and - the next day - my hematologist arranged an appointment at the big clinic that has an oncology ward specifically for my situation. On 1st of June I was officially admitted with Acute Leukosis (the diagnosis doc attached is in Russian).

Since 1st of June the treatment has been ongoing, I've received three rounds of chemo along with supporting hormonal abd antibiotic therapy. Me is balding too, ofc. :D

And thus, this story leads to a logical question - what's now?

It's day 24 of my treatment, out of 4-6 weeks of inital induction period of leukosis' treatment (the overall chemotherapy to destroy tumor cells down to <5% in my bone marrow). After the induction period, if it's proven to lead to remissions - I'm then admitted out to certain periods of time in between infusions + need to take supporting medicine by myself (hence buying it too).

As an independent freelance artist who's existence is tied to being able to do creative work out of, well, any circumstances, I was sadly forced into situation of asking for monetary support, simply because it's stupid to expect to break your own back trying to work harder when you're body is collapsing on itself.

I have a goal on Boosty open for donations and I deeply appreciate ANY and I mean ANY traction of this post. I made a similar thread on Twitter covering the situation and have recieved a lotnof incredible support that has helped me a LOT so far, but my treatment is ongoing, or to be precise - will last in its entirety for 2-3 years. With the momentary help I was able to secure my living situation and get my pet cat to live for the current time period at my friend's, but you understand how that is just a temporary measure and, of course, I don't plan on stall myself - I simply just can't afford that even while hospitalised.

BOOSTY is very sus when it comes to singular donations higher than 120$ but if you happen to donate below that or in several different ones to bypass their antifraud system (only if you wish to) - the link to a goal is here -

#levikra draws stuff #dragon age #digital art #dragon age fanart #fanart #dragon age 2 #da2 #dragon age inquisition #blood cancer #acute lymphoblastic leukosis #donations #support the artists #artists helping artists

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jadedloverart · 11 months

Text

The night is chilly, but the fire is warm. It's warm, and it stands alone, a single flickering pinprick of light, burning like a lonely star against the endless expanse of grassy plains.

With a somber sort of peacefulness, Kara traces the airborne embers as they spiral towards the heavens, winking out of sight like fading dreams, and all the while, she counts the slow muted thuds as they gently percuss the air.

Most nights she finds herself aimlessly watching the stars, listening to the workings of her own heart as she once did in the vast reaches of space. This time, however, her eyes remain fixed on the distant constellation of Orion for fear that if her gaze were to drop, she might find Lena staring back at her.

Even now, Kara feels the weight of that stare- almost fears it. Yet avoidance has ever been a futility that ends in the inevitable, simple act of eyes jumping from one point to another- from the sky to Lena's eyes, soft and alight with flame.

And she's so beautiful Kara can't breathe.

It has become almost second nature for Kara to force air into her lungs; to center her attention on the scents that accompany each breath in an attempt to clear her head.

This lungful brings the sweetness of grass, the moisture of the earth, and…

Lena turns her head, the black silk of her hair spilling over one shoulder as though from a broken bottle of night, and it looks like the softest thing Kara has ever wanted to touch.

The dancing light sends deep shadows to waver and jump along the column of Lena's throat, and transfixed, Kara watches the play of it as the dull ache within her chest sharpens with every passing second. It's a familiar pain by now, and indeed it's become a nearly pleasant sensation, yet it remains no less unbearable; no less irresistible.

When Kara finds the precious flutter of Lena's pulse, she is sure that something within her breaks over every beat. Her resolve, maybe, or some tedious standard of self-control that once promised her protection. Now amid the rubble of it, she feels only a brazen vulnerability.

And then, Lena looks at her again, the green of her eyes clear and warm. Lena looks at her, and this time, Kara holds her gaze. She understands in a manner akin to a subconscious acknowledgement, or rather, a recognition of something familiar- some ancient truth that she could trace to the marrow of her bones.

Lightning has only ever struck Kara twice, and both times it infused her with a vibrating, chaotic sort of energy, reminiscent of the sun yet different- as though every atom in her body was attempting to shake apart with the overload of it. She feels it again, now, as the world suddenly presents itself to her with perfect clarity. The shock of it could make her cry; the rightness of it nearly does.

Mouth opening and closing, Kara tries to speak, her voice stubbornly refusing to come out, and in an act of resignation, she rises, feeling almost as though she is moving through a dream. The grass folds mutely beneath her feet as she circles the fire with quiet, careful steps, listening with curious wonder as Lena's heartbeat quickens.

There is a softness to Lena's expression that rarely shows itself to the world, and in that softness, Kara knows her soul could easily drown without leaving a single trace behind.

And suddenly, jarringly, Kara finds herself standing before Lena.

Some undeniable instinct spurs her to sink to her knees, and distantly, she registers the falter of Lena's breath and the startled look of awe upon her face. For a moment, Kara wonders if Lena knows.

But then, how could she not?

As if in response to Kara's silent query, Lena tilts her head slightly, that same awed look in her eye, even as an odd smile twists the corner of her mouth. That little quirk draws Kara's gaze like a fly to honey, and she aches to trace the curve of Lena's lip, her fingers lifting slowly from the safety of her side.

Without another thought, Kara is brushing the hair back from Lena's face, the tips of her fingers lingering in the warmth that radiates from the smooth skin of Lena's cheek. She savors it- feels it like it's the sun, though the sensation borders one hotter than any fire she has ever had to walk through.

The air begins to thrum in a series of rapid little waves only Kara can ride, and the tremor of it settles easily within her chest, overriding every rhythm of her flesh. The dark centers of Lena's eyes have grown like the expansion of a black hole, drawing every helpless thing in with gravitational force, and into that beckoning, Kara feels as though she could fall forever and still name it flight.

She doesn't realize how close she is until Lena tilts her face up ever so slightly, eyes bright with a longing so intense any flimsy pretenses Kara has ever held before her fall away like old cobwebs.

A beat passes, muted and thundering, and as it lulls, Kara moves as if through honey. Some vague, unimportant strain of caution whispers that there is no going back after this, and in the face of it, she takes hold of a boldness within herself whose voice she has called upon thousands of times, yet has always feared. With that boldness clutched firmly to her, Kara forges ahead, her hand moving to cradle Lena's cheek.

And then she kisses her, and the world fades to nothing around them, twisting reality and dream together. She knows without a doubt that any man made of softer stuff would break against the wildness that rises within her heart, and there, beneath Earth's distant stars, Kara begins to understand the final lesson of courage.

#a #supercorp #ficlet #supergirl #i just wanted to try my hand at writing a scene #no plot #and if youve ever read my stuff on ao3 #you already know there's no dialogue #:')#my work

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thebluespacecow · 3 months

Text

Just-just listen, okay? This is nothing, nothing at all. It’s not in character, or driven, or anything, but it still is. So, have it. Have my Izuku Midoriya (kind of)xReader blurb. (It was written in a car.) -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You belong in seaside castles with wast, silent ballrooms. Sounds of the shore spilling into large, open windows. Your skin adorned with silvers and pearls, draped in linens.

Not here. Not in plain smothering meeting rooms with people who'll never see beyond your surface. Not with your elbows scraped raw, knees bloody and aching, having witnessed and done things you will never speak of outside of low murmurs in debriefings.

Fuck. Izuku thinks.

He doesn’t belong with you ether. Not in his office or on rooftops sharing little bits of yourselves over sweats and coffees he insisted you try. Not in his glass house, not quite a home, not in the one you speak about having back in your country. He shouldn't get to see it, not it's ancient doors and dented stone steps, not the soft and tender parts of yourself you must hold and leave there.

Then why did you let him witness and handle some little, aching bit of your soul in the palms of his hands? Why did you wrap your fingers along his as they trembled, as if your eyes hadn't gone red and glassy by simply doing so? Why is he the one splayed along the arm of your couch, laughing with you into the quiet of night, something warm and fluttering filling his gut?

You are greatness and grace, an electrifying power hidden along the marrow in your bones. All wrapped in the wonder of knowing you, how your eyes feel tracing the non-existent pattern of his freckles. Eternally busy, at least he wishes you were. Maybe then you couldn't turn him stupid with a quirk of the corner of your lips, amused or questioning, it doesn’t matter.

You blur at the edges, in the morning sun, between his fingers. Some part of you feels uncharted and yet still like something intimately known, like a sea of winking starts.

He imagines your water's warm, soft like milk, on his calves, staining his pants. He imagines you're warm and soft too, as is, not draped in linens and silks or infused with the sun. But just as you are, blood and bones, and greatness, held at your seams together with skin.

Would you let him? Hold, touch you. He thinks. Would you let him learn your softness? Burrow some bit of himself next to the parts of you that hurt, ache in their tenderness, the same as him. Press his forehead to yours like a bunny saying sorry, apologizing for simply being someone you know, at your feet, in your home, staring up at you as if compelled to by your sky’s.

Somehow, you've come to occupy the little cracks and spaces of himself he wasn't even aware were empty.

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beesmygod · 11 months

Text

BLOODBORNE LORE Q+A PART 1: SETTING

*BLOCK "long post/" or "bloodborne" to banish these from your dash!!

my friend shawn has finished his run of bloodborne recently which i was SOOOO excited for and throughout the process he indulged whatever is wrong with me by asking me lore questions. he has now finished his quest and i can answer all his remaining questions in this post, which is also peppered with his commentary on his experience (good, funny). as always i write these posts to try to be entertaining to ppl familiar with bloodborne and ppl who are fandom rubberneckers. i understand you. i long to cater to you as one of you. come with me on this bloodborne adventure...[holds out a hand covered in some kind of weird grey shit]

he has many good questions and i have too many words so this must be broken up into so, so many posts. even then these are going to be so long and make me look totally insane. dont like it? keep scrolling bitch im reloading my flintlock pistol. your ass is grass in 1-3 minutes.

ALL OF THIS IS MY PERSONAL INTERPRETATION AND NOT!!! FACT!!!! I ENCOURAGE YOU TO COME UP WITH YOUR OWN READING OF THE TEXT BASED ON YOUR OWN EVIDENCE AND WHATNOT

---

THE HUNTER ASKS:

[sooooo smartly] i dont know.

the moon in bloodborne is one of the weirdest seemingly deliberate inconsistencies throughout the game. it has a bunch of bizarre qualities including the fact that it's a physical object that gets loaded in and its not part of a skybox that just gets switched during cutscenes. despite the inherent terror of the blood moon taking up so much space in our collective brains, it only appears in yharnam, the cathedral ward and yahar'gul. ive seen a lot of theories about why cainhurst or byrgenwerth have regular moons, but i think the more likely answer is that the blood moon is only affecting yharnam. these are also the only places where the tentacled amygdalas or, as they're known internally, "false gods" can be found.

these things

THE HUNTER ASKS:

eileen knows too! she knows about dreaming ("No more dreams for me. This is my last chance.") AND the doll. ("You still have dreams? Tell the little doll I said hello"). both were kicked out of the dream because they no longer hunt beasts, thus breaking their contracts. djura protects them and eileen hunts hunters.

at the start of the game you "sign a contract" with the blood minister and get a yummy yharnam blood infusion that gives you access to the dream. presumably, all hunters do or did this to join the hunt and the doll's dialog ("Over time, countless hunters have visited this dream.") reveals that the hunter's dream was once host to many hunters. they likely all dreamed before going mad.

THE HUNTER ASKS:

yeah check this out: if you line your brain with eyes, you have insight. get it. eh? ehhhh??

the witch of hemwick is PROBABLY not wearing eyeballs...fresh ones at least. pebbles are calcified eyes that have hardened due to whatever force causes blood to calcify in bloodborne world (leading to blood shards, blood gems, etc). VERY RARELY will they drop an actual eye, which the item description reveals was taken "quickly" before death or immediately after.

eyes are used exclusively to access the hintertomb chalice, which is of interest to the church because it appears to be where they get their church slaves from (more on this later). BUT the women of hemwick do more than eyeballs. they create bone marrow ash by burning corpses and. hmm. well.

you're right. there's no beasts here. there's no beasts where there's incense in the game, like the parts of the labyrinth that the church has explored (evidenced by the architecture and censures that resemble those in the cathedral ward) or entrances to upper cathedral ward/forbidden woods. a few characters mention that they're running out of it or that it's masking scents. its the reason why the suspicious beggar has to stand outside oedon chapel lol. he cant deal with the stinky anti-wolf smoke

you know where else there's no beasts? yahar'gul. and the only incense is found in the cells where they keep their meat for experiments. but there is an unexplained burning corpse or two in the middle of town.

if you break incense pots, they're full of bones. O_O oh shit i just noticed something lol: eileen's mask says "The beak contains incense to mask scents of blood and beast." YUCK!

the witches are not really educated and do not seem to partake in blood ministration as they are missing any bestial traits. it seems like they are "for hire" and work for both byrgenwerth and the healing church supplying parts from the graves they "maintain".

THE HUNTER ASKS:

it seems like they did once at some point in history and had to give up due to a combination of no more room to bury people and something going wrong with the corpses of yharnamites (more later!).

we know a little bit about yharnam funeral customs by way of eileen's crowfeather set which states that yharnam's treatment of burying the dead is considered a taboo and shameful act by outside cultures which leave their dead to "sky burials", a type of funeral ritual where the corpse is left for birds (like the fat ass crows in this game) to pick clean. those birds are eating so good lately.

perhaps the reason why underground burial is considered distasteful is due to the fact that the great ones were once buried underground by the pthumerians. the graves in the forbidden woods (including the forbidden grave) are, according to the art book, tombstones for great ones.

here are some ways we know yharnamites deal with corpses:

cremate them for profit

bury them

exhuming them for profit

just leave 'em there

lock them in caskets and run before they come back

experiment on them

chuck them in a hole and forget about 'em

fake iosefka does the last one. someone (her?) exhumed a grave near her clinic that was absolutely packed with corpses and they dug deep enough to find an entrance to the hintertomb. the player must enter the hintertomb through a chalice ritual, but this locations is either THE or one of the ways that the hintertomb was discovered.

the hintertomb is described as an auxiliary wing of the pthumerian labyrinth filled with "unceremonious" tombs. hemwick witches can be found here, likely looking for some fresh product to move. its where various people and organizations dump their trash. you can find piles of dead pigs, fake iosefka's failed experiments, some church giants left to die (presumably, they did not originate from there as they are already belled), and some other crap.

how do we know this is the entrance to the hintertomb? first, there's the amount of tomb mold blooming here. it explicitly grows only in the old labyrinth

second, they both share an environmental hazard unique only to them (and the nightmare frontier, whatever. IN THE REAL WORLD): POISON SWAMPS as a consequence of the decaying great one corpses.

i forgot the question. i think my point was that there are now so many bodies they're running out of things to do with them and its starting to be a problem. they are both taking things out of the labyrinth and throwing things in. yharnamites have a general disrespect for cultures and customs and it's really biting them in the ass

oh wait i remember. i was tying this back into the part about where the church gets their slaves from. all the church attendants and giants are pthumerians. the primary difference between them and their labyrinth counterparts are the lack of open slack jaw. and the fact the church pthumerians drop blue elixir.

Dubious liquid medicine used in strange experiments conducted by high ministers of the Healing Church. A type of anesthetic that numbs the brain.

---

the next part will also be...MORE ABOUT THE SETTING. until next time (later today)

#bloodborne #god its so much longer than i thought and im not even close to being done please tell me if i sound totally deranged #long post/#lore

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tachyon-omlette · 6 months

Text

can't sleep. posting updated Eda physiology diagram

more in-depth descriptions under the cut (feat. a rethinking of how dark energon/angolmois exists)

I use the term "cell-spawned" as a reference to how Armada Sideways was "grown from Unicron's own cells", implying there may be a difference between Unicronians that were once Cybertronians (ex. Galvatron) & those that were fully created by Unicron, like Sideways. or Eda.

cell-spawned Unicronians have 2 sets of major systems: molten metal & angolmois (dark energon)

the molten metal system is a vascular system equivalent, but a little different. ingested metals r smelted down until they're more liquid than solid (& as a consequence a Unicronian's internal temperature is extremely high), then passed through a network of arteries that deposit new metal around the antispark chamber & beneath external plating. this allows the antispark chamber to be reinforced even as its cargo slowly strips away the inner layer, & allows external weathering/surface-level injuries to be sheared off in favor of allowing new metal to grow underneath (which means neither Eda nor any cell-spawned Unicronian bears scars save for what they willfully upkeep). the metal is also infused with heat-resistant nanites once it enters the "bloodstream"; these nanites are what implant proximity sensors on exterior-facing plating & direct the flow of new metals to any pierced-armor injuries (the result of which leaves a scar that appears like a large weld, which can be sanded down or otherwise weathers away on its own). surface-level pierced-armor injuries are usually somewhat painless in the injured area, but release trapped heat & reduce mobility until that heat can be restored.

the dark energon aka angolmois system is, however, very different - where most things have interpreted angolmois as energon but Scary, in my mind it's more accurately an opposite: less fluid & more viscous like tar, a pitch-black that opalesces with deep purples & glitters like the night sky, and cold like the void of space. angolmois systems are more heavily-guarded than a Cybertronian's energon system; it is circulated usually where it is needed to cancel out or counterbalance the excessive heat generated by the molten metal systems (ex. the cpu/brain module & other finely-tuned systems), thus preventing a Unicronian from simply melting themselves down on accident. it also runs through major support structures like bone marrow, emitting a natural cooling that makes excessive heat integral to the use of limbs and digits, lest they grow frost - the rupture of an angolmois line is, thereby, equivalent in pain to a broken bone, & for a cell-spawned Unicronian who feels barely any or even no pain with more common & superficial scrapes, it is often a crippling injury. angolmois leaks are harder for the molten metal system to repair & often create systemic injuries by virtue of the extreme cold structurally compromising most metal it touches, & the damaged structures often require direct patching in order to aid the molten metal repair systems & prevent a total freeze-down. for cell-spawned Unicronians like Eda, angolmois can be naturally replenished by tapping into the entropy of the universe, whether that be through simply waiting (either lucid or in stasis) or artificially increasing localized entropy (i.e. causing problems & destruction & chaos wherever they are currently); for more severe cases the latter route is often necessary.

angolmois is still the most direct route to corruption, as it freezes & kills whatever it touches & often is difficult to recover from (ex. if some lands on a field of wildflowers, the wildflowers it lands on will die, along with the microorganisms living in that patch of soil. if it is removed, then only that place will have a dead area & over time will naturally repopulate; if it seeps into the ground, the entire field may die & will become hard or even impossible to repopulate a la the Prime Kindergarten from Steven Universe). for Cybertronians, coming in direct contact causes freezing injuries & in severe cases requires amputation. ingestion causes internal damage & generates and/or exacerbates inner turmoil(s).

any questions ?

#tachyon-art #transformers #maccadam #transformers oc #oc: eda of unicron #sleep deprivation got me acting unwise #using the term angolmois in place of dark energon bc it's easier to mention normal energon without getting the two mixed up #it may seem like a pretentiousness thing but it's a convenience thing #most of the expanded notes r copypasted discord rambles so apolocheese if they seem disjointed or lacking in depth #i dont have the brainpower to proofread rn my sleep schedule is fucked six ways from sunday & its becoming a problem #anyways. edaposting

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alliwanttodoiscollectpoetry · 9 months

Text

To the spider,

the shadowed creature in the corner of the room

i hate you.

You scared me just as your brothers and sisters did before you,

and i will tell you what i told them,

You are a trespasser that does not belong here.

You entered without knocking.

Roamed freely like this is your home and decorated my walls with unwanted, silk webs without asking.

You may not be the only killer here, but only one of us is innocent,

and it's not you.

The spider says to me, it's brittle body squashed and dying,

It's not you, either.

There is venom infused in my fang-shaped maws,

but i was born this way.

What's your excuse?

If you could count your murders, how long would you be counting?

Am i really this threatening?

I thought human hearts were bigger that mine, but you have killed with malice instead of marrow of your bones and poison bubbling behind your scowl

And i'm sorry for scaring you,

but i didn't know being seen would cost me my life.

Maybe

If you didn't fabricate the prickly feeling of my legs creeping upon your skin while I crawled across the living room floor,

If the webs I weaved were made of cotton candy and captured clementines, cherries, and sweet peas rather than struggling wings and blood;

If i had a pink tongue, plush fur, a wagging tail, and four legs instead of eight

If i had only two eyes, and they were glittering stars and not supermassive block holes;

If i was the same but looked different;

maybe you wouldn't hate me.

Maybe you wouldn't have loved me, either, and maybe you still wouldn't have let me stay,

but maybe you would've shown me the door or a window.

Maybe you would've shown me mercy.

(But you are still standing, and I am still sorry).

I think

maybe,

no matter how reluctant,

mercy would've been enough

10 legs, 8 broken

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evenmoreofadisaster · 10 months

Note

I’ve been wondering about ones blue blood, if he was say bleeding out/lost a lot of blood would like two in theory be able to give him a blood transfusion?

That's a very good question

I had to do some quick googling to figure this out but here's what I have determined:

It apparently doesn't take long for your blood to regenerate enough red blood cells to fill the body, so, logically (and according to my admittedly brief research), One's blood would have been turned back red ages ago. But it's not, it's blue. I think our original, vague idea was that maybe the empyrean IS his blood. But now that I've actually thought about it he can't NOT have blood or else he would die. I think it makes more sense to say that his blood has been permanently infused with empyrean, but that still implies a displacement of actual blood, which isn't feasible. So here's what I'm thinking,

It is likely that when the empyrean compound originally infected One's system it mutated his blood cells and bone marrow (??) while it flowed through his cardiovascular system, damaging the organic tissue and killing the heart. I think I had planned for the compound to have done some damage to blood vessels as well, likely the arteries in particular, need some reconstruction closer to the heart and likely some sort of treatment for the rest of the body. Why the compound didn't completely destroy all his blood vessels is beyond me, but right now I'm rationalizing something about the distribution of blood in the vessels vs the concentrated central station role that the heart takes idk. Anyway, eventually the compound was flushed from One's body, and with his natural enhanced healing and Draxum and Two's help speeding up the process, One's cardiovasc. system adapted to the mutated blood. The mutation is why his blood is blue, I'm not sure what else it would have changed but that's what I've got so far.

Okay, now I will answer your question

If you're asking if Two could do a transfusion and possibly replace the mutated blood with normal blood, I want to say yes! However, I think it would be too easy of a fix if Two just slowly replaced the blue blood with normal red blood so. Instead I think it'd be interesting if One's blood sort of 'attacked' normal red blood cells and mutated them kind of like a virus or something to keep everything consistent and safe for the body. Which I think would actually make blood transfusions abnormally safe for him, if I'm understanding the process right.

If you're asking if Two could give One his blood, I'm not sure. I think so? I could argue that Two would actually be a better candidate for a blood transfusion since he already has traces of empyrean in his system, which would react better with One's mutated blood and speed up the transformation. However, there's still the whole risk of One's body attacking the new cells, and I'm not sure if the mutation from One's blood could help stop that reaction. I'm not sure though. I'm a little confused on how that works with blood donations but that's what I've got

#emd lore #<- for me bc i need to keep track of this stuff lol #emd au asks

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spirit-amplified · 5 months

Text

The Significance of Breath: Uniting Generations through Ancestral Connection

During the Winter Season, I usually focus my studying on working with the air element. Yesterday, I conducted the funeral for my mother-in-law, who was like a second Mother to me. Today, I placed her picture on my Ancestor altar alongside those of my Gran and Mother. And as I lit incense for them, I reflected on how I could integrate the air element into my practice of honoring my ancestors.

--------------------------------------------------------

In every breath we take, we carry the essence of our ancestors – a timeless connection that transcends generations. Our breath, the life force that sustains us, holds within it the memories, prayers, and chants of those who came before us. As it passes through the blood within our lungs, it becomes a conduit to our ancestral lineage, connecting us to the very marrow of our bone memory.

The profound significance of breath as the carrier of ancestral heritage is undeniable. In the act of speech, we invoke the memories of our forebears, drawing from the deep reservoir of wisdom and experience that they imparted. Our breath becomes the vessel through which we honor and perpetuate the legacy of our ancestors, weaving their stories and traditions into the fabric of our lives.

Furthermore, our breath serves as a medium for the transmission of ancestral prayers and chants, resonating with the spiritual resonance of those who have gone before us. Through this sacred exchange, we express gratitude, seek guidance, and pay homage to the timeless wisdom encapsulated in the collective consciousness of our lineage.

At a physiological level, the intimate connection between breath and blood underscores the inseparable bond between our present existence and the ancient wisdom encoded within our very being. The breath that passes through our lungs infuses our blood with the essence of our ancestry, fostering a profound and enduring link to the origins of our existence.

By recognizing the ancestral significance of breath, we acknowledge that we are not merely solitary beings but inheritors of a rich tapestry of cultural, spiritual, and historical heritage. Our breath becomes a bridge that allows the wisdom, resilience, and spirit of our ancestors to rise within us, empowering us to draw strength from their legacy and to navigate the complexities of modern life with a profound sense of rootedness and purpose.

In essence, the breath is the conduit through which we commune with our ancestors, perpetuating their legacy and embodying the timeless wisdom that resides within the marrow of our bone memory. As we inhale and exhale, we embrace the profound interconnectedness of past, present, and future, honoring the enduring legacy of those who have paved the way for our existence.

In conclusion, the recognition of breath as the life force that unites us with our ancestors is a testament to the enduring legacy that transcends time and space. Through the sacred exchange of breath, we honor and perpetuate the wisdom, resilience, and spirit of those who came before us, forging an unbreakable bond that transcends generations. It is through our breath that we immerse ourselves in the essence of our ancestry, embodying the timeless connection that defines our collective identity and shapes our shared destiny.

#pagan #pagan witch #paganblr #paganism #spirituality #traditional witchcraft #witchcraft #paganlife #pagan community #ancestors #ancestor veneration #ancestor altar #air element

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zoobelle · 7 months

Text

10 legs, 8 broken

"To the spider, the shadowed creature in the corner of the room i hate you. You scared me just as your brothers and sisters did before you, and i will tell you what i told them, You are a trespasser that does not belong here. You entered without knocking. Roamed freely like this is your home and decorated my walls with unwanted, silk webs without asking. You may not be the only killer here, but only one of us is innocent, and it's not you. The spider says to me, it's brittle body squashed and dying, It's not you, either. There is venom infused in my fang-shaped maws, but i was born this way. What's your excuse? If you could count your murders, how long would you be counting? Am i really this threatening? I thought human hearts were bigger that mine, but you have killed with malice instead of marrow of your bones and poison bubbling behind your scowl And i'm sorry for scaring you, but i didn't know being seen would cost me my life. Maybe If you didn't fabricate the prickly feeling of my legs creeping upon your skin while I crawled across the living room floor, If the webs I weaved were made of cotton candy and captured clementines, cherries, and sweet peas rather than struggling wings and blood; If i had a pink tongue, plush fur, a wagging tail, and four legs instead of eight If i had only two eyes, and they were glittering stars and not supermassive black holes; If i was the same but looked different; maybe you wouldn't hate me. Maybe you wouldn't have loved me, either, and maybe you still wouldn't have let me stay, but maybe you would've shown me the door or a window. Maybe you would've shown me mercy. (But you are still standing, and I am still sorry). I think maybe, no matter how reluctant, mercy would've been enough."

By tiktok user @user68519586

#entomology #nature #spiders #arachnophobia #arachnid #poem #poetry

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ovur · 11 months

Note

To the spider,

the shadowed creature in the corner of the room

i hate you.

You scared me just as your brothers and sisters did before you,

and i will tell you what i told them,

You are a trespasser that does not belong here.

You entered without knocking.

Roamed freely like this is your home and decorated my walls with unwanted, silk webs without asking.

You may not be the only killer here, but only one of us is innocent,

and it's not you.

The spider says to me, it's brittle body squashed and dying,

It's not you, either.

There is venom infused in my fang-shaped maws,

but i was born this way.

What's your excuse?

If you could count your murders, how long would you be counting?

Am i really this threatening?

I thought human hearts were bigger that mine, but you have killed with malice instead of marrow of your bones and poison bubbling behind your scowl

And i'm sorry for scaring you,

but i didn't know being seen would cost me my life.

Maybe

If you didn't fabricate the prickly feeling of my legs creeping upon your skin while I crawed across the living room floor,

If the webs I weaved were made of cotton candy and captured clementines, cherries, and sweet peas rather than struggling wings and blood;

If i had a pink tongue, push fur, a wagging tail, and fur legs instead of eight

If i had only two eyes, and they were glittering stars and not supermassive block holes;

If i was the same but looked diffeent;

maybe you wouldn't hate me.

Maybe you wouldn't have loved me, either, and maybe you still wouldn't have let me stay,

but maybe you would've shown me the door or a window.

Maybe you would've shown me mercy.

(But you are still standing, and I am still sorry).

I think

maybe,

no matter how reluctant,

mercy would've been enough.

#long

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madamemachikonew · 1 year

Text

More thoughts on Baizhu's story quest #4 - the poison is the cure

My other Baizhu story quest thoughts:

1 - Changsheng the Corruptor

2 - Baizhu's Lack of Self

3 - The Adepti

↓ ↓ Story quest spoilers below↓ ↓

I thought some of you might be interested in the perspective of A Sick Person (which of course is only my own - I don't speak for all...).

One of the things that really resonated with me was the age-old pharmacological principle that potentially anything is poison in the wrong quantity. But equally, some things which are technically toxic can in fact bring you a cure.

It is a principle with which I am intimately familiar. And Jialiang's dilemma was very easy for me to understand and empathise with. I have been going through cycles of chemotherapy to stabilise my multiple sclerosis. I played Baizhu's quest while recovering from being infused with highly toxic drugs normally used for leukaemia patients. They help MS by killing my immune cells en masse in the hope that they will repopulate as healthy cells instead of faulty ones that attack my brain and spine. However, the treatment was not an easy one to choose. The list of side effects is long and terrifying, not just immediate side effects during the infusion period itself, but long lasting ones; I am at risk of acquiring a whole plethora of new, additional and incurable health conditions. I had to do a balancing exercise when choosing my treatment. Was I prepared to trade my thyroid for a few more years of getting to use my hands and legs and being able to live independently? If not, I'd have to opt for one of the less effective treatments.

I'm getting to how this relates to Baizhu, I promise.

I don't even know if the gamble will pay off. While I have high hopes it will succeed, and has stabilised things so far, it is not guaranteed. This treatment is not 100% effective and fails for many people, even after a few years of their symptoms having been stabilised. And similarly, a day may come several years in the future when it is time for me to pay the piper and hand over an organ or two; thyroidectomies are extremely common. I'll also be immunocompromised for around a year or so, which comes with its own risks.

I don't raise any of this for sympathy - it simply got me thinking about the green man, in that we've both made a similar decision and almost embrace the opportunity to poison ourselves as a strange sort of gift (fun fact: the German word for poison is 'gift').

In a perverse way, I understand Baizhu's choice under the contract. For me, destroying my body is literally what will give me a second chance at life. Baizhu too chooses to barter away and destroy parts of his body and acquire new illnesses for what he classifies as a greater overall benefit - except in his case it's scientific discovery and the altruistic potential to save more lives rather than improving or maintaining his own quality of life. He has a weird solidarity with his patients in this regard; while he's confident he will succeed in his endeavour to achieve immortality, it is not guaranteed, and may one day bring a devil's price with it. What sets him apart, however, is that - unlike his patients - his choice is voluntary. It is the voluntary aspect that breaks my mind a little bit. I genuinely needed this treatment and even I was hesitant. Jialiang's choice was no choice at all. He wanted to cling to as many good days as possible, because the alternative was death. Yet Baizhu just takes on the mantle without any reservation. This feeds back in to how he conceives his sense of self. Such acts run so contrary to natural instinct that it takes great fortitude of spirit and intellect to overcome our hard-wired self-preservation mechanism. His sacrifice is ironically the greatest assertion of self. One of my friends is a long-standing blood and bone marrow donor. He was also a volunteer for the covid vaccination trials. Some people are just like that.

I had to consider which illnesses I was prepared to accept in the future as a consequence of my treatment, which made me wonder whether Baizhu has a line that he draws in terms of which illnesses or toxins he's prepared to absorb. I would like to understand how he calculates risk -v- reward. Presumably he does not take on anything that will be terminal. Nothing that can't be managed or put into remission through medication (or is at least tolerable and non-fatal without it). Nothing that would wreck his immune system too much. Nothing neurologically degenerative that would cause his intellect or limbs to irreparably deteriorate or fail, as that would impair his ability to conduct research. I imagine he'd also have to consider potential interactions, given the cocktail of medications he is on - some remedies will undermine others and he may have to abstain or moderate them. And some remedies will cause additional side effects or health conditions in their own right after prolonged use.

My treatment also made me wonder how much toxicity Baizhu himself potentially leeches out to the people around him. My chemo drug literally seeps out of my pores, salivary glands, tear ducts and so on for a week or two. I have to use a separate toilet/bathroom and any clothes or bedsheets have to be washed separately. I can't be intimate with anyone for a while because my bodily fluids are literally toxic. It made me wonder if Baizhu avoids intimate emotional or physical attachments not just because of the emotional damage to someone who'd fall in love with him and because he will always put his duties as a healer first (I think he'd care less about his own pain of foregoing a chance at love given his sacrificial nature), but because he might be physically toxic to be intimate with on account of the poisons, illnesses and medications he had in his system. He jokes with Traveller in his voicelines that he can test strong concoctions on them. But I think he's deflecting here; presumably he will take a liberty to dose himself more strongly than he might a patient if there is a potential research benefit behind it, such as learning how to dose properly and potential side effects. Or simply, to manage his condition with a harsher regime because he knows he's prepared to tolerate it.

#baizhu #genshin baizhu #genshin impact baizhu #baizhu story quest #baizhu thoughts #degenerative illness

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