#Medical Treatment

[ghostonly]

This is so fucked up. This article is from 2017 but afaik is still accurate. Let me know if anything has been done about this since then - possibly during the early pandemic?

TL;DR most medications seem to be stable for leagues longer than their expiration dates say, and their expiration dates have been extended federally after doing periodic potency testing with the drugs hoarded by the US government, but the FDA refuses to extend the official expiration dates. It's illegal for medical professionals to dispense expired drugs, so perfectly good medications are being thrown out constantly.

#health #medication #disability #medical treatment #fda #chronic illness #chronic pain #actually disabled #pots #fibro #fibromyalgia #eds #tagging all my things #cfs

[curiosityistheleastofmyproblems]

Skull with jaw affected by phosphorus poisoning.

J. Bartholomew

Wellcome Collection

#biology #curiosity #anatomy #history #medicine #skullart #human skull #history of medicine #medical art #medical treatment #jaw bone #phosphorous #biology illustration #anatomical illustration #scientific illustration #disease #poison

[whumpygifs]

#my demon #episode 8 #whump #jeong guwon #stabbed #bleeding out #unconscious #medical treatment #concern #my gifs

[whumpacabra]

18. Again

Disorientation, blood loss, field medicine, medical treatment, needle use [IV], fear for others safety, anticipated violence, nonconsensual drugging, brief suicidal ideation, referenced stitches, referenced gunshot wound, implied head injury, implied past noncon

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

The Wolf wasn’t sure how he got on his back, or where his shirt went, but he didn’t like it. The air kissing his skin was cold - not the ice he was familiar with but enough to make his skin prick to gooseflesh. People were speaking, the voices garbled.

The familiar sting of an IV bit the inside of his elbow, heavy exhaustion reminding him of his injuries more than their pain. The right side of his face and head were bound in dry, fresh gauze, skin taught with stitches. His right arm burned, every twitch igniting the spot where the bullet had torn through his flesh.

The Wolf could smell antiseptic and the rubbery scent of examination gloves. The hard cold surface below him was probably a table in the medical wing. He wasn’t sure if he was crying, but he certainly wanted to.

Had they gotten caught? They probably got caught. Then where was Harrison? He hoped Harrison wasn’t here.

The gloved hands were quick, not lingering as they smeared antiseptic over scrapes or applied butterfly stitches to deeper cuts. How long would he be given to heal? Or would they put him in the Box to fester and rot? That wouldn’t make sense - they were tending to his wounds. They needed him alive.

He had a good guess for what.

(“A bitch like you’s only good for two things: fighting and fucking. And you’ve got no fighting days left.”)

The sound that gargled in his throat wasn’t enough to stop the hands from turning him over, the rough texture under his stomach cold. They started working at the burns on his shoulders, and the Wolf felt fire simmer in his gut.

He’d kill whoever touched him again. He’d rip them apart. No more. Not again. Never again.

His hearing implants whined, the distant tap tap tap of military standard boots rang in his skull. No. His handler wasn’t here. The Wolf killed him. Hadn’t he? Maybe he hadn’t - maybe his handler and the overseers were here at medical. Maybe they were waiting for the okay from the staff before they tore him apart again.

Would he be given time to rest and heal? He needed a day - at least a few hours of sleep - he knew in his gut he would simply die of exhaustion if they had him again. The words around him were clearing, still a slurry of unfamiliar voices in his blood starved brain.

Unfamiliar, save for one.

Harrison.

Oh god Harrison was here in medical and his handler was nearby and Harrison was going to die badly and the Wolf would have to watch and he was helpless to stop it -

Except he wasn’t helpless. Save for the IV wrapped around his arm, his hands and feet were free. Unbound. His handler always prided his Wolf on how well behaved he was for the staff. Didn’t even need a muzzle like other, poorly trained dogs.

The Wolf could take advantage of that.

He couldn’t help but flinch as a gloved hand prodded at the cut that wrapped from his spine to his hip, his poorly placed butterfly stitches pried away with intense focus. Now or never.

His elbow struck true, catching the staff member’s jaw as the Wolf reared up on his knees. The IV line in his arm ripped free, blood spattering across the blue tarp.

Tarp? It didn’t matter, the momentum was too strong and the fear in his blood at the sound of those rapidly approaching boots was too great. The Wolf turned, following through after his elbow with a hand around the medic’s throat. He couldn’t use his right hand; that arm was already bleeding and burning from the torn IV and strained stitches. His momentum carried the medic to his back, the Wolf’s knee pressing down on his stomach.

“Wolf, no!”

Harrison. Harrison’s voice.

The Wolf’s blurry vision swam as he looked up from the masked medic below him. Harrison’s worried face drifted in and out of focus, lips moving but sound buffered by the whine of his hearing implants.

He yelped as strong hands pried into his bruised shoulder, wrenching him off of the medic. His back hit the ground, a pair of military standard boots in his face. His handler. Oh god. He was dead. He hoped he was going to die. He hoped those boots would slam down on his windpipe and let him suffocate before those hands touched anything else -

“Wolf, hey, Wolfie, easy - they’re - they’re trying to help.” Harrison’s face drifted back into view, and the Wolf was dimly aware his face was cradled in those bony hands. He whimpered, pressing the uninjured left side of his face deeper into Harrison’s hold. His hands were warm. “Yeah - yeah there you go, it’s just me. You’re alright. We’re alright.”

His breathing was calming, but his vision was still swimming and sparked with stars. This wasn’t the sterile white medical lab. This was a dusty garage that smelled like motor oil and blood. The medic behind the mask was being helped up by a woman in a sweater - definitely against regulation for its vibrant pink and superfluous tassels.

He lifted his eyes beyond Harrison, looking up at the man above the military boots. He was young, half panicked eyes looking between the medic and Harrison. The Wolf wished he could hear what he was saying, lips moving faster than his sluggish brain could hope to read.

He was dimly aware of a keening whine in his throat as Harrison helped the medic move him back into the tarp, on his stomach where he couldn’t see -

The world went dark faster than he could contemplate that fear.

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

(An AU of my Freelancers series)

#whump #disorientation #blood loss #field medicine #medical treatment #needle use #fear for others safety #anticipated violence #nonconsensual drugging #suicidal ideation #referenced stitches #referenced gunshot wound #implied head injury #implied noncon #past noncon #freelancers au #*gently holds wolf* I bet on losing dogs #:] I’ve been awake since 2 AM yall it’s been a morning™ #ashen if you’re reading this: as you can see giving wolf a hug is probably not the best idea if you want to comfort him #give that man a room w a door he can lock from the inside. and a really soft blanket. he’d probably appreciate that.

[foundfamilywhump]

if we’re sharing favorite tropes:

I’m a sucker for “Whumpee’s first check up.”

A recently rescued whumpee, injured and exhausted, visiting a medical professional for the first time. Expecting to be hurt, to be ignored, to be talked around and belittled. They’re absolutely terrified.

But that doesn’t happen. People ask their permission before they touch. It’s not all supper comfortable, but they are addressed directly. They get proper pain management and good treatment.

it’s supper interesting form a character perspective. How do they react to gentleness? Crying? Avoidance? Lashing out? How do they react when their expectations are challenged? Doubling down? Acceptance? Nervous about how they will pay for it?

it’s delicious and I love it!

(thanks for listening to me rant lol)

YESSSS we are ABSOLUTELY sharing favourite tropes and this one. this one is so good. YOU GET ME I ALSO love these things.

this is why aftermath/recovery is THEE thing for me. the pain and trauma from what they suffered is still so loud and present, clouding their expectations. the only safe assumption is more pain, more trauma, because expecting anything else is setting up to be unprepared when the worst happens.

and then it doesn’t. care. kindness. respect. whumpee having their boundaries listened to, their wishes cared for. it MATTERS if they don’t want to be touched, if they want time alone. if they need to wait a minute to calm down before a necessary procedure. it’s not comfortable, and it’s scary, and unfamiliar, but it’s safe. it’s good. people care.

and HOW do they react!!! YES. that’s everything to me. when the character used to being hurt and ignored and degraded is treated with care and then has to adjust to that. ugh it’s just the best. because the inevitable breakdown….. y e s.

(ranting in my inbox is welcome ANY time!!)

#gav gab #gav answers #whump #whump tropes #aftermath #recovery #medical treatment #trauma #i-eat-worlds

[pluralprompts]

Prompt #1,195

Write about a system starting HRT!

#plural system #pluralgang #pluralprompt #plurality #prompt blog #prompt #health #medical treatment #lgbtq+ #trans #fluff

[oh-dear-so-queer]

Elizabeth Forbes-Sempill (1912-91) was registered as the youngest daughter of John, Lord Sempill, and was unhappy as a girl, taking a course of medical treatments in Germany and registering as a man, Ewan Forbes-Sempill, in 1952 and marrying a woman. His new identity was challenged by his cousin who was disappointed at the loss of his inheritance to a large estate and loss of title of the 11th Baronet on the arrival of Ewan Forbes-Sempill – a new male heir. The legal challenge took place in secret over three years until the home secretary ruled that Forbes-Sempill was 'intersex' and entitled to inherit as a male heir.

"Normal Women: 900 Years of Making History" - Philippa Gregory

#book quote #normal women #philippa gregory #nonfiction #elizabeth forbes sempill #ewan forbes sempill #lord sempill #medical treatment #germany #trans #transgender #ftm #50s #1950s #20th century #cousins #inheritance #baronet #legal challenge #home secretary #intersex

[nateoldrin]

i will likely be having major surgery on my 30th birthday next month and i don't know if i'll survive it, and i wanted to leave this message for anyone younger (or my age or older!) who struggles with this. if you suspect that you have PTSD or C-PTSD from medical treatment, please read below. if you don't suspect this but have told someone they're not valid for that, read below.

ok and encouraged to reblog.

i wanted to use this vent drawing for this for extra impact, as this is one of numerous (hundreds) of vent pieces i have pertaining to this issue. tw for types of trauma, abuse and medical trauma.

PTSD, and likewise C-PTSD (and DID, though that is not the topic today as interlinked as they are for me) can be caused by an unintended trauma too. people think that all trauma has to happen because harm befell you on purpose or due to a gruesome accident - sexual assault, domestic abuse, repeated beatings, car accident, war, and so on. PTSD usually comes about from a single event (though not always!), while C-PTSD, or Complex PTSD, "by contrast, is more likely to occur when a person experiences multiple or ongoing traumas or when a single trauma lasts for a long time and leads to feelings of captivity."

the examples most often used are to do with purposeful harm, such as abuse or repeated assault, but did you know that doesn't have to always be the case?

PTSD, and C-PTSD, can be developed from prolonged FEELING of being trapped or harmed regardless of the intent of the people who are inflicting the harm, ie

prolonged medical treatment at a young age.

this is a complicated topic, but to put is in very simple ways: a baby doesn't know that it's being cut into (surgeries), harmed (pain), taken away from its parents (observation, life risk, etc) and so on for its own good. a newborn can't tell. you can't explain that to a baby's brain. so to a small brain, this is all perceived as intended and severe harm akin to sexual assault. i have a similar type of response to certain stimuli as people who have trauma that comes from SA. i have been told, numerous times, that my trauma doesn't count because:

1. i don't remember it; my flashbacks are emotional and consist of deep breakdowns with total loss of cognition but no memory of what's harming me so sometimes i can have a sense of doom, or have a flashback without knowing what's going on

2. it wasn't caused by intended harm (such as SA)

i have even thought in the past that i was sexually assaulted due to how similarly i react to SA and medical treatment (i have been groomed and assaulted as well, though not as a baby, so my trauma doesn't stem from there). after years of therapy, my doctor told me that it's because to a child, especially one who can't yet understand complex situations, such as a newborn or baby, an invasion of the body's boundaries and the bodily autonomy is invaded horrifically in both a surgery and a SA, so my body just reacts to it as it is: my bodily autonomy was invaded, i was harmed, i was horrifically "abused", i was never "safe" and my parents "didn't save me". whether those concepts are rooted in reality doesn't ultimately matter, because that's what my brain THINKS. it's a trauma so deep, it can't be uprooted with remembering, understanding, forgiving, etc.

it's a very complex healing process because speaking strictly logically, i have no one to be mad at, no one to blame, and no memories to process - all of my trauma is stored in my body, in my subconscious, in my muscles, in my bones, in my fractured mind. i developed psychosis due to this. people were trying to help me, and though i know that now, my child self never did. it's not something i can go back to explain to him.

when i first started therapy at 18, i didn't even believe my therapist that i was traumatized by my numerous medical treatments. i don't remember this, but allegedly i even got enraged the first few times she suggested it. i have since accepted it and tried to work on it in numerous ways. i'm also not comfortable disclosing what my exact medical condition/medical situation is, but i will say that when you have a chronic health condition, having C-PTSD by it is horrific, because you can never really "escape". i will never be free. if i no longer seek medical treatment for my disability/problem, my condition is terminal, but if i keep seeking treatment then i get re-traumatized each and every time i have to get checked up (or hospitalized). additionally, this has made me mentally incapable of really being independent - i also suffer from other things that this has simply made worse.

i can't really heal because i don't have the time, and growing up i was never given the tools or ability to be angry at my circumstances ("be grateful" "your life was saved" "this was a miracle" "good people helped us" "your surgeon was a genius") so it built up. i could not healthily express anger until my early 20s.

so, if you think that you may have PTSD/C-PTSD from prolonged medical treatment since a young age (in my case, literally since the day i was born until now - 30 years), try and talk about it with a therapist if you can, and know you aren't fake.

trauma doesn't have to be caused by purposeful harm to be trauma.

stay strong. i don't know if there is light at the end of the tunnel for us, but don't give up hope, and know you are real.

#cptsd #ptsd #c ptsd #complex trauma #medical treatment #theres a lot more i can say but this was v draining feel free to send asks if youd like

[josiwonderland]

Help Maggie: Medical Treatment Fund

I'm reposting here cause twt is full of spam (well, maybe here too idk)..

So our cat stopped eating normally and she has some troubles with the litter box. We went to the vet and she got diagnosed with renal failure and cardiac arrhythmia.

The cost for the treatments were quite expensive so.. I made this gfm. All the details are on the description. It would mean a lot to both of us if you could just share. xxx

#Cat #cute #Help #medical treatment

[whumpygifs]

#till the end of the moon #episode 2 #tantai jin #whump #unconscious #unresponsive #fever #feverish #concern #caring #medical treatment #feeding medicine #taking temperature #caretaking #mopping brow #my gifs

[whumpacabra]

21. Verstaan

Medical treatment, scars, anesthesia, fear for others safety, referenced nonsexual nudity, vaguely implied past noncon

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

Merrill had seen worse. Not much worse - but worse. It was always worse when they fought back. And based on his scars, any fight had been beaten out of him long ago.

She worked quickly even though he was well under anesthesia. It felt like a betrayal to continue violating this stranger’s privacy and autonomy, but letting his injuries fester would only be worse in the long run.

She had seen worse. Or so she told herself.

Merrill swallowed her disgust and pity and rage and worked with cold, clinical precision. Dan knocked at the door to the guest bedroom, and she didn’t need to acknowledge him as he hovered at the opposite edge of the bed.

He had seen worse.

Probably.

“I haven’t wanted to kill someone this badly in a damn long time.” His voice held no malice, only exhausted grief. Merrill didn’t look up from her work, treating abrasions and bone deep bruises.

“How long did you put him out for?”

“Hour at most. Maybe more - his blood pressure is still pretty shit.” Dan busied himself prepping a fresh blood bag. “Really burning through my O-supply.”

Merrill hummed, not deigning his half-hearted complaint worthy of a response. At least their patient’s breathing had steadied, deep breaths at an even rhythm while she worked.

“Mind swinging by my place? I have some numbing gel he’d probably appreciate.”

“Where’s it at?”

“Nightstand by the bed. You can just ask Lucy - she should be home today.”

“Can do.” Dan paused before he left the room, and she could feel his weary eyes roaming the scene. Something like a memory. “Harrison’s probably gonna want to stick close to him. There’s a cot in the garage you can set up with some blankets.”

“Thanks.” She glanced up, nodding as he turned away. Dan hadn’t changed much from the spry, hard eyed soldier she met in Korea. Still a medic before a man. A man before a soldier.

Merrill was glad to have done all she could for the man on the bed, leaving him comfortably prone. The injuries carved into his back were far worse than those on his chest, and so long as he could breathe, it was for the best.

She sat back in a rocking chair at the corner of the room, only a few feet from the head of the bed. She wasn’t keen to catch an elbow to the face if she was too close when he started to come to. Not that she hadn’t taken her fair share of scrapes from frantic, frightened patients before.

She still had a scar that cut below her right ear from a panicked Soviet soldier bleeding out in Iran. The 80s were an exciting time to be a field journalist.

The man on the bed shifted slightly, rousing from the anesthesia. He was starting to shake, hands grasping at the bedsheet below him. Dan had apparently overestimated his dosage. Merrill sighed as she stood, hovering nearby but out of reach.

He was muttering something, voice soft but fearful.

“Please…don’t…I’m…no, please…”

German. Now that itched at her memories - the giddy swell as crowds tore at the old wall, laughter and shrieks of joy. So different from this man’s sad, whimpering pleas.

“It’s alright. You’re safe.” The language felt rusty on her tongue, but the way his shoulders relaxed proved she was still fluent enough to be understood. “Are you awake?”

“Yes.” His head turned, a bleary eye blinking up at her as she dared to crouch beside the bed. “Am I dead?”

“No. Let’s try to keep it that way, alright?” She smiled, voice light as she held out a hand. “Can I touch your wrist to check your vitals?”

The eye staring up at her was glassy with pain, unfocused as tears sprang anew.

“You can say no.”

“No. Not - not now. Please.”

“Alright.” She stood slowly, backing into the rocking chair once more. He winced, trying to push himself up. “It’s best if you lie still a bit longer. Some of that wound glue isn’t quite dry yet.”

He huffed, relaxing back down onto the pillows below his head. His fingers twitched, hands working at the fabric below.

“Where is he?” There was a shiver in his voice, between fear and grief. She didn’t know if he was asking about Dan, Harrison, or the monster who had torn him apart like an animal.

“Who?”

“H - Harrison.” The name was awkward on his tongue. Merrill smiled reassuringly, unsure if he could actually see her face at this distance.

“He’s fine. Dan’s treated his injuries and he’ll be here soon.” She glanced at the door. “Tom was just going to ask a few questions - ”

She winced sympathetically as he shot up, panic and pain written on his face as he tried to scramble from the bed. He froze, suddenly aware of his nakedness and his hands pulled the bedsheet over his shoulders tight.

Merrill approached with her hands out, as if calming a cornered cat. She was strong, but he could certainly overpower someone as old as her if he wanted to.

“No - no. He’s not - please, he doesn’t - just let him go.” He sounded so small, looking up at her with unabashed desperation. Hyperventilating was not helping his fresh stitches.

“He’s fine; Tom is just asking about who hurt you boys. No one’s hurting him or you. Not anymore, alright?” Merrill telegraphed her movements, bringing a hand to hold the uninjured side of his face. The man flinched, freezing before he leaned into the contact, a whine in his throat. “You lie back down and rest. Harrison will be in any minute now. You’re alright. You’re safe.”

She stroked a thumb over his cheek, easing him back down onto the pillows. His breathing calmed, but his voice was still strangled as a shaking hand weakly covered her own.

“Don’t hurt him, please.”

Merrill hushed his sobs, heart aching not with pity but with rage. She hadn’t seen men this broken outside of war zones. Where the hell had these two come from?

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

(An AU of my Freelancers series)

Taglist: @i-eat-worlds

#whump #medical treatment #scars #anesthesia #fear for others safety #nonsexual nudity #past noncon #freelancers au #help girl i forgor my mouse and the new one i got is weird #if had known yalld like dan so much idve written more scenes for him lol #dont worry youll see more of him later :]

[maybellinelanglands1973blog]

#digitalart #ai #plague doctor #art #aiart #middle ages #medieval #medical treatment #crowded street #patients

[victorzhuzhakin]

I am very tired

Long time no see, right? Sorry I disappeared so suddenly. I was again faced with serious problems in my life. Unfortunately, this time it is my physical illnesses.

Due to severe depression, I had not been to the dentist for years, had not brushed my teeth or taken other dental care methods for months. Now it has made itself felt. One day I woke up with a swollen side of my face and for several days now I have been plagued by an endless toothache. It either subsides or explodes with sharp impulses. It is unbearable. And it's my fault.

Because of my panicky fear of dentists, I cannot go to a regular or even a private clinic. I need treatment under full anesthesia, in other words, surgery. I think not the only one.

There is no such clinic in my small town, so I will have to go to a neighboring town, which is about three hours away. Dentistry has always been an expensive branch of medicine and I have no money. I can only pay for an operation that I will have in the near future, but about ten teeth are bad. I am an unemployed student who also needs to pay for my studies. I hate myself for being in this situation.

Therefore, now more than ever I need money and a large number of orders. That's why my commissions are open. I will make a post with my price list above. If you liked my content, if you are willing to help me, I will be very happy if you place an order. Any amount is very important to me now. Although my ability to work depends on how bad my toothache is, I will try to fulfill your orders as quickly as possible. I am ready to order any difficulty, from sketches to large full rendered pieces of art or comics. Whatever you want to realize.

Even though I don't know the exact date of my first surgery, I hope it will happen as soon as possible. Painkillers barely help me cope, I wake up in the middle of the night with unbearable pain and want to tear my hair out.

It's always hard for me to show my weakness in front of people, I tried to be strong in every situation, but I'm on the edge. My family consists of me, my mother and grandmother, they earn the minimum wage in my country and this barely covers one operation. I don't want to bother them since I live with them.

If you want to help me by ordering a drawing, write me a private message so we can go to discord. Or immediately write to me on Discord. zhuzhakin#3947

Thank you.

#vent #vent post #chronic illness #illness #medical treatment #need money #commissions open #art commission