#but she could also do outpatient at the same time so

[we-will-all-be-stories]

omg look 

okay so we’ve all seen this image from the owl house: 

but i was rewatching the amphibia epilogue and i saw this: 

i have now decided that in my mind the owl house takes place ten years after amphibia (during the same time as the epilogue), and therefore Sasha is going to be very busy when she takes on the Hexside gang as patients 

#this contradicts my other handcanon that sasha works in an inpatient facility #but she could also do outpatient at the same time so #the owl house #amphibia #sasha waybright #camila noceda #The Hardest Thing #kings tide

[maximumkillshot]

I Can't Lose You-Part 12

Warnings: Tooth Rotting Fluff, mentions of doctors appointments, that's it!

Pairing: BangChan x Reader

Characters: All the boys except Chan, although Chan is mentioned, Reader

A/N: The reader needs a break!!! So here we are. This one is fluffy, it feels good to me. I hope you guys like it! Also, I am pretty sure I had two seizures in the last two days (At least). Thank you to everyone for being so patient. I will try to resume my Friday schedule. Thank you so much for your understanding and well wishes!!

ALL WORK IS UNDER ME AND MY BLOG. DO NOT TRY TO REPUBLISH OR STEAL MY WORK, AS THAT IS COPYRIGHTED UNDER ME AND IS CONSIDERED COPYRIGHT INFRINGEMENT WHICH IS A PUNISHABLE OFFENSE. 

ANY WORK THAT YOU SEE ON OTHER SITES THAT ARE MY WORKS PLEASE NOTIFY ME IMMEDIATELY.

I Can't Lose You Masterlist-CLICK HERE

Stray Kids Masterlist-CLICK HERE

Bin POV:

“Everyone ready to go?” I asked. Early in the morning the psychiatrist came in to talk to Y/N. They asked me to come in for a few seconds with Han. They let us know that they really didn’t want her anywhere near the house and to stay with at least Han and I, but it was preferable for most if not all of us to be there for at least the first week. The trauma tied to the 3 Racha house is just too much at this point, the doctors were also worried about Chan making the recovery even worse than it already is. Y/N agreed wholeheartedly and with that she was given follow up appointments. Finally the latest blood tests came just before lunch and she was given a clean bill of health and an outpatient appointment for her OBGYN. Felix, Minho, I.N., and Hyunjin all went to the DanceRacha house to start prepping for us to head there. Felix texted me that he had a few surprises for her which made me smile, she needs a good surprise right about now. 

I’m still worried about Y/N. The DanceRacha dorms are a good option, but I know that for me, I still have memories tied to Chris there. I’m wondering if that is exactly what she is thinking. I can’t help but worry about it. “Remember the deal with the doctors is for you to be away from that house and with your support system. Are you sure you don’t want a place of your own? I want you to be comfortable as you heal.” 

“I don’t have the money for that,” Y/N smiled at me. It was a reassuring one, as if she could read my mind. She and I always had this connection. Whenever I was feeling down she would pop in to see how I was doing. 

I remember one time, it was maybe 3am and I was working on lyrics. They were risky, going double the speed of the song's beat, the technique is called ‘double time’ in rapping. Fast spitting rappers do it all the time, think Eminem and Busta Rhymes. It was my first time attempting it and I contemplated each and every syllable like a landmine. Writing it wasn't the issue, it was being able to deliver it while dancing. Those syllables take up a lot of air, not to mention the brutality that comes with dancing and singing at the same time. Our steps aren't insanely difficult, but they definitely take up oxygen like no one's business. So I'd get up, do push ups, jumping jacks, burpees, anything to get my heart rate up to about what it would be when performing, then I'd try to deliver the lines. Doing this is always painful, your body is screaming at you to stop talking, hunch over, and gasp for air. Obviously, we can't do that, so we try our hardest to build endurance. Some are like Chan, who sing while doing cardio (which is insane, by the way, I felt like I was dying when I tried it), some are like LeeKnow, packing on layer after layer of heavy clothing before and during dance practice, forcing the body to exert itself so much that when all of those layers are off, each movement and breath is a breeze (also insanity to do. It feels like working out in a sauna with a weighted, heated blanket on you). Me? I brute forced it. 

Anyway, Y/N noticed that I was really getting obsessed with these lyrics and doing them so that I was as close to the line of unhuman speed crossed with physical activity as possible. I'm the fastest rapper in the 4th generation and I wanted to show why I was. Y/N came into my room and said,“Binnie, you need to trust yourself. You know what's best, you have the best instincts I've ever seen. Remember, if you're about to dive in a pool, don't think about the height of the diving board, clear your mind, and jump in. Don't think, just do.” 

Even now, through all of this, you would think that a bond like that would be weakened, seeing her like that would make some pull away. It just brought me closer. I am in awe of her. The sheer will to live. The tenacity. The beauty in her broken parts know no bounds. It reminds me of ruins from ancient civilizations. Seeing the beauty in what was, and marveling at what is left. Only the strongest parts are left, the essence of that civilization. She is beyond anyone I've ever seen. Her capacity to love is beyond comprehension. 

That's why I am so happy to know her. To really know her. To be the person she reaches for, to ground herself. She trusts me to be there. And I will be. Simply because it’s an honor to love her. Money isn't an object for her. 

“Money isn’t a problem, would you like to be in a place of your own?” I asked again. I would spend my whole paycheck on her if I had the chance. She deserves to be spoiled.

“I still want to be at the other dorm, it’s familiar. For some reason I feel safe there. Is that okay?” She asked, looking at Seungmin. Little did she know that we had been talking about this for a bit before she woke up. We knew that pushing this topic on her would be too much, but at the same time, from what Seungmin told me, the doctors were never going to release her to the same house that Chris is in.

Seungmin chuckled, “Birdie, it’s not a problem, you have never not been welcome at my dorm, you know this,” he deadpanned. It is true…all of the boys over that house would get so excited as soon as they heard Y/N was coming over. They’d want to spend the entirety of the visit with her, a lot of the time they would start to pout if they felt she wasn't spending enough time with them. So when the idea came up their eyes lit up. Anywhere she goes, I'm not going anywhere. 

“Okay then it’s settled.” I smiled at her, combing a stray strand out of her face. I’m happy that she’s finally getting out of here. She has been through so much in such a short amount of time. She needs to be left alone. I am scared for her. I want her to be safe, and worries keep on popping in my head. How do I protect her? What if saesangs get a whiff that something is wrong? What if the company tried to force her to stay with Chris? What if she takes him back? That part hurt. Seeing how badly she was hurt simply because he was being an asshole. Simply because he treated a diamond like sand on a decrepit shore. The thought made me shake with rage as I looked at the woman in front of me, she looked at me with furrowed brows, that brought me back to her.

Y/N looked into my eyes at that moment, like she was tapped into my brain. She gave my hand a squeeze as she said, “Binnie? What's wrong, talk to me…” she shyly played with my fingers. Her touch was feather light given the bruises that formed on my knuckles. I wanted to tell her the truth about them. My impulse to be honest, making the words bubble in my throat. Right behind the truth of what I'm feeling.

I wanted to tell her I love you, I wanted to tell you for so long. The minute I met you I fell for you, your soft voice, your booming laugh, your corny jokes. All of it. Not just the you before but the you now. I know life is going to be hard for you, I want to be there. I want to stand next to you and catch you whenever you need to collapse. I will give you everything I have. You deserve to know what real love is. I know Chris isn't good for you. You don't need this pain, this heartache, you don't deserve to be treated like an option. You are the one and only person I ever loved and will continue to love for the rest of my life. I want you to be happy, and if it's not with me that's okay. I just want you to know that he isn't the only option. I am just one person, I am sure thousands of men would line up and down city blocks just to see you, let alone have a chance with you. Instead I said “ just thinking.”

There is a time and a place for everything. Telling her right now could confuse her more, make her feel like I just want something from her. That couldn't be farther from the truth. The only thing I want is for her to be happy. The fact that she has been used like this and thrown to the side, expected to all of a sudden tolerate the people that did that to her. 

I saw the opportunity to draw attention away and I took it as I said “Seungmin, you have everything?” “Yeah, we should be ready to go soon,” he said as he kept packing all of the random hoodies that were used as pillows when we stood overnight with her. It's been years since most of us slept in the same room as the others. Every few hours a nurse would come in to check on Y/N, sometimes startling her. Everytime that happened Seungmin and I would wake up. We aren't light sleepers in particular, but it was more reflexive than anything. The nurse would quietly remind her that she's safe and all of her boys are with her. No one is going to hurt or sneak up on her. It'd still take a little time for her to go back to bed. Seungmin and I would refuse to even close our eyes until her heart rate went back to resting and her body would be completely relaxed and limp. 

Now that things are starting to simmer down I am wondering why Seungmin had this reaction. He's been very strong through it all and he is even going against his nature of just observing. I am wondering what it is that I don't know. I just want to be filled in. Seungmin isn't known for physical affection, instead opting for annoying people he loves until they inevitably get closer to the edge of insanity. It's an odd way to show love, but Seungmin has never been known for traditional methods. 

So why is it that he’s calling her pet names and smiling at her that way? Did he always smile at her like that? It’s so comforting, almost endearing. More than anything she is sharing the look. Something definitely happened but I have no clue what. 

“Angel, you have all the appointments and all of that?” I looked back to her and she smiled at me saying, “Yup, I just want out of here. It’s been crazy. I just want to cuddle with my boys and watch a movie.” I could feel the sincerity in her words. 

It wasn’t too long after that when Han came with the wheelchair saying, “You’re chariot awaits.” I am still really worried about her. She still says the cramps are no joke. Her cravings are still everywhere too. When she asked the attending about it they explained that her body is still going to have those pregnancy cravings for at least a few more weeks. I could see the hint of sadness in her features when hearing that. The only thing I could imagine herself feeling is that it’s another reminder. A reminder of what could’ve been. 

On our way to the house I could feel her excitement ramp up. I could hear her giggles as she listened to the radio. She waited and bounced at the redlights. I looked behind me and I saw everyone else in the car smiling lopsidedly as she giggled. Y/N wasn’t known for very big displays of excitement unless it was for something that she really really wanted or missed having. 

I could see the color in her face, knowing that if Hannie and I didn’t do what we needed to do, this would not have been the case. Instead, I get to see her smile, feel her laugh a little more, and be thankful for every moment, I always was but now? It’s like I have a deeper love for her. She was already a part of me, but now she is like a vital organ, as odd as it sounds. 

As I was in my own thoughts I heard a song play, it was one that I knew she loved. Immediately I felt her hand grab mine, which was on the shared arm rest. Usually if she wanted the armrest she would just nudge me until I relented and shared, but this was different. She laid her arm on top of mine, her hand interlocking with mine as she sang along to the song. I couldn’t help but think it belonged there. Touches are a part of her expression of comfortability. It’s how she communicates, which I happen to know all too well. This had more weight to it somehow. She felt like she knew that no matter what she’d be safe. Which was and still is true.

When we pulled around the corner we were met with balloons in her favorite color on the doorstep. Her eyes lit up as she said, “What’s this?” I just shrugged as I said, “I don’t know, Lix told me that he was up to something but I didn’t really know what.” As soon as we parked Y/N bounced as she waited for one of us to come around and help her. 

I think that she was surprised at the fact that we had done anything, period. I know that she has a complex. She tends to feel like she isn’t worth the time. That was something that she told me in confidence one night. Every night she would cry herself to sleep for the better part of 2 and a half years. Hannie and I did not catch it until we started spending weekends with her. 

One night I heard whimpering from their room, when I knocked I heard sniffles. I gently pushed the door open, I found her curled in a ball, crying looking at her phone. When I asked her what was wrong she just handed me the phone. On it was a text thread. 

Y/N: hey are you coming home? It’s Friday and I wanted to watch a movie with you. Channie❤️: Not this again, Y/N. I’m working, I don’t have time for this. Y/N: You promised you’d take some days off every week, so you don’t burn out. You even said that those days are our days.  Channie❤️: Y/N the more you talk to me the longer I have to be in the studio. So you are causing me to be away longer because you can’t be patient.  Y/N: I haven’t seen you in weeks, Channie. You are always gone, I miss you and I feel alone… like you don’t care.  Channie❤️: bingo! You are right. I don’t care. My phone is getting turned off. Maybe then you’ll get the message that I don’t have time for you. Get some sleep, trust me, don’t wait up. 

I held her all night that night, I dried her tears as she clung onto me for dear life. Like I said before, her love language is touch, so to literally be starved of that for weeks from her husband made me feel enraged. More than anything, I wanted to make her comfortable. 

I wrapped her in a fluffy blanket of which I called ‘the Y/N burrito’. Then I picked her up while she giggled and placed her on the couch. We watched whatever she wanted. Early into the morning she started craving her favorite snack so we went out in pajamas, got the snacks, and had a movie marathon. It’s one of my favorite memories with her. She started off that night crying and ended it safe in my arms, snacks surrounding her as credits rolled on the T.V. 

I brushed her hair back as I stared at her sleeping so peacefully on the couch. The credits created a dim and timid light as I wiped the chocolate from the corners of her mouth. It was about 6am when Chris walked in. He looked annoyed and just walked past us as if we were ghosts. 

I recounted this as I saw the balloons, thinking that whatever is inside, she is going to love it. 

Han was first to grab her. When Seungmin unlocked the door with the overnight bags slung over his shoulder we could hear a little gasp and some talking. Han held her hand as we walked. 

“This is so sweet you guys didn’t have to,” she stopped at the balloons, looking at them as if they were the most precious diamonds she has ever seen. Then when we walked in she started sniffling. 

Sitting on the couches were 6 pillow sized plushies, and one giant plushie. Y/N loves plushies, their textures calm her. What got her to cry though, was what each of them represented. The one giant plushie was an angel. The other 6 were a lioness, a crown, a bird, a sunflower , Anya, and the National flower of Korea, the mugunghwa, the symbol of eternal beauty, that one has to be Minho’s. 

I have no clue where he even found some of these. Especially the lioness, that one represented I.N.’s nickname for her. Whenever anyone tried to mess with us he always said, “if you think the wolf is bad wait until the lioness hears about this.”

She started crying, “they…. They’re all my nicknames. The ones you gave me.” She immediately went to the angel and grabbed it, hugging it tightly as she cried. 

My heart broke and swelled at the same time. She should never have to feel like anyone is going to abandon her. It makes me so sad to know that she was so scared of losing us. All because of one foolish and egotistical man. He deserves nothing, especially not her love. Yet she loved him anyway. That is the type of person that she is. 

Felix came up to her and said, “I figured if one of us had to go out and you missed us, now you’ll have a piece of us with you. You won’t be alone, and we’ll always come back to you. So when we leave, you can hold on to them really tight and know that soon we’ll be there.” I could see the tears about to leave his eyes.

If anyone was able to do something this sweet for Y/N, it would be Felix. The way that he cares for her, comforts her, it’s like they share one mind. He knows that she loves plushies. Ones that are so soft she can just sink into them. Chris never really liked too many things in his room. So he always discouraged her from decorating with plushies. He also felt that, although they were cute, they had no place in an adult’s bedroom. Especially not a leader’s bedroom. Most of her plushies found residence in my room. 

I had no problem holding onto them for her and sometimes she would even decorate my room with them. Every movie night, before Hannie and I came home, she would grab the plushies and throw them on Han’s bed. She’d decorate with them, with Hannie’s favorite holding a bag of Hannie’s snacks. She’d also have her favorite, she named it Ollie, and Gyu on the bed, with popcorn in the middle. 

That always made me smile. That wherever Ollie went, so did Gyu. Whenever I would sleep in the same bed with her, I would grab Ollie and Gyu. One night she asked if she could hold Gyu for a bit. Usually I don’t let anyone touch him, but she isn’t anyone. Without hesitation I handed her Gyu and she handed me Ollie. I remember hearing her sigh with comfort as she talked to Gyu about me. How lucky Gyu must be to fall asleep next to me every night. She thanked him for comforting me and for allowing me to sleep soundly. Even on every tour, she would pack Ollie and Gyu for me to sleep with. The first time she did it, she wrote a note with it. ‘I’m going to miss you, but so is Ollie. I may not be able to go with you but Ollie can! Sleep well, have a great tour, I’ll see you soon Binnie!-Angel.’

She looked up at Felix, released the angel, and hugged him as she whimpered a bunch of tiny little “thank you’s” into his chest. I think she realized that all of us know that she is scared. We may not say it but we do. We know and we all love her so much. We are here for her. Even if we may not be there in person, there is no place we would rather be than being with her. 

Felix held her and pulled back after a few minutes. He wiped her tears and he said, “come on sit, take a load off. The brownie batter is almost done… unless you want to help?” He smirked at her. 

She practically dragged Felix to the kitchen and Minho yelled, “Yah, I’m not done in here!” She giggled and asked what he was doing. I came into the kitchen to see Minho tying tenderloin together. She was watching curiously as he worked. He said, “it is your first day home and we should celebrate that. I’m making beef wellington, and don’t worry I left out the mushrooms, replaced it with onions and carrots for you.”

“Really? Thank you Minho! This is going to be the best dinner, thank you!!” She bounced and kissed him on the cheek. His ears turned red as he said, “okokok go over there with Lix’ you guys can have the oven first since this needs to chill,” he kissed her forehead right before she bolted to help Lix. I couldn’t help but giggle at her as she breathed life into the room. 

I could see that she was really touched that he said, ‘your first day home’. Those words meant that now she is home. This is her space as well as theirs, that will never change. I could see her trying to hold back tears as she baked. Once things were baking Lix’ plugged in the switch and we had a blast playing games while we waited for dinner to come around. After everything was baked and made, we all sat down for a nice dinner, like we used to in the shared dorms.

Right before we all sat down Y/N smiled and said, “thank you. To all of you. This experience was hard. It was the hardest thing that I have ever been through to date. It’s because of all of you that I made it. All of you mean so much to me. The thing that really scared me after all of this was what would happen if I lost you guys? My boys. I cherish every single memory with each of you. I love you boys so damn much, you are all my family. Seeing what you did,” she looked at me and Hannie, “Being so strong. Crying with me, holding me through it all.” I grabbed her hand and kissed it. Resisting the urge to nudge into it like I always do.

She looked at everyone else, “The fear that each of you must have felt. I know I wasn’t the only one mourning and coming to terms with things.” I saw her look directly at Seungmin for a split second and went back to scanning the table, “I want to thank all of you so much. This experience was horrific. Because of all of you, I made it out. I love you boys so much. Thank you for welcoming me home.” With that, she sat down and leaned into me, I could tell she was either too nervous or embarrassed.

As we were eating and laughing she looked around the table. I sat down right to her left and Hannie was on her other side. I could tell she was doing her best not to cry. I think it was the same for the boys. Two days ago that wasn’t the case. She was fighting for her life around this time. To think that we would all be here, together, a family. It made me want to cry. This is the family that she deserves. Everyone she loves, at home, on time, together. She was so happy and before dessert came out Hyunjin said, “Yongbok-ah phase 2.” Then Felix went running to his room. He came out with a giant comforter and plopped on the living room floor. He then ran to Minho’s room, grabbed his comforter and plopped it down as well. At that point I.N. said, “Movie time! Everyone on the floor!”

Immediately everyone moved to the living room and got a spot except for me. I was helping wash dishes with Minho. When I walked in I could see Minho tearing up as we heard her giggle. I patted his back as I said, “what can I do to help, hyung?” He just shook his head a bit and asked me to help him with the drying. By the time we were almost done with that I heard Y/N calling my name and asking me to sit. I told her that I had to change into my pajamas first and I could hear her ask Lix if she could change in his room quickly. He of course obliged. 

Slowly but surely everyone started changing and pretty soon everyone was sitting on the comfy comforters. I didn’t really know where to sit and Y/N looked at me saying, “I know you aren’t thinking about sitting away from me.” I didn’t want to make it seem like she needed to be next to me all of the time, thinking that I would come off as clingy but it’s nice to know that she craves my touch as well. 

I sat down right next to her and everyone’s faces had giant smiles. I looked at her and she smirked as she held onto my bicep curling into me. This is one of my favorite places to be. Just next to her as she clings onto me like a Koala. 

She was giggling as Felix handed out the brownie sundaes and everyone got comfy. Y/N decided on a comedy for the first movie and out of nowhere she asked me, “You guys were never going to leave me, were you?” 

I just smiled at her and said, “Not in a million years. We love you, we always will. Nothing and no one will get in the way of that.” She gave me an indication that she wanted to be closer so I lifted my arm up, that way she could scooch closer to me. I could feel the tears through my sleep shirt as I held her. 

“Thank you for not leaving me.” She said as quietly as she could. The truth is, she is someone that I need, someone that we all need. She is a unique type of person. After about two movies most had abandoned the comforter pile. By the early morning it was just me and Y/N. We were laying down on her new plushies. She took her place on my chest. Much like that night from years ago, I wiped the chocolate from her face and watched her form as she slept, credits rolling on the T.V. I smiled as she slept. I kissed her forehead and she intertwined her leg with mine. A few minutes later we fell asleep, with the promise of better days ahead.

#stray kids x female reader #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #stray kids #stray kids angst #stray kids imagines #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x reader #bangchan #bang chan #changbin x reader #seo changbin #changbin #lee know #lee felix #spn #felix #skz angst #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz #han jisung #Aftermath of a miscarriage #skz fluff #stray kids fluff

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings. This chapter is also quite a bit shorter than the rest, the fic begins picking up speed once more after this chapter!

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock

Chapter 11

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About one month passed since you were referred to the outpatient surgical center for your diagnostic laparoscopy, and you were just now starting to realize the extent of your husband’s vast reputation in the medical world.  Especially in your city where every doctor’s office, clinic, and hospital was owned by the same conglomerate.  As you sat on a gurney in a private waiting room, an IV fluid drip attached to your wrist, Law sat in a chair beside you with his head in his hands.

“If I have one more person ask me for my autograph, I swear…” he muttered.  Four nurses, two medical students, the receptionist, and the attending surgeon who would be overseeing your procedure today had taken the time to grace Law with their presences and ask for his autograph.

You were laughing, much to your brooding husband’s displeasure.  “It’s like you’re some kind of sports superstar!  An Olympic athlete in cardiothoracic surgery.”  You reached your hand off of the bed to ruffle his wispy black hair.

“It’s embarrassing,” he griped.

“Well I think it’s adorable, and I’m your wife, so you can’t disagree with me,” you retorted swiftly, puffing out your chest.  Law tossed a glance upward at you, but smirked when he saw your prideful expression.

Who was he to deny you?  Especially on such a big day.

The door to the small waiting room opened and in stepped one of the attending nurses of your procedure who, thankfully, had no idea who Law was.  He was finally able to relax in his seat as he surveyed the young woman putting on your blood pressure cuff, your blood-oxygen monitor, and checking your IV fluid bag.

“Alright, Mrs. Trafalgar, you’re ready to go in!” she stated with an unmatched enthusiasm.  “The operation should be no longer than 30 minutes and you’ll be under general anesthesia.  Is your husband going to be your ride home?”

You nodded.  “Yes he is.”

The nurse clapped her hands and removed the blood pressure cuff from your arm.  “Perfect, then we’ll get you wheeled into the OR shortly!”  She turned her attention to Law, who was now sitting upright in his chair.  “Mr. Trafalgar, I’m going to have to ask you to wait in the larger waiting room.”

Law finally stood, wiping his sweaty hands on his jeans.  Before he left, he turned to place a kiss to your forehead, squeezing your hand and whispering something out of earshot from the nurse.

“You’re gonna do great, I’ll be waiting for you.”

—

Around 60 minutes had passed when Law got the call that you were in recovery and were being woken up from anesthesia, which was much longer than the timeline he expected.  He rushed to the outpatient recovery unit, anxious for both the results of your exploratory surgery and just to see you.  When he rounded the corner into your sectioned off area, he found you already sitting up in bed, a little less coherent than you usually were, but conscious nonetheless.  He smiled, beyond relieved.  He immediately took his spot at your side, placing his hand on your head and pressing a smattering of kisses across your cheeks and forehead.  (He needed to get his affection in quickly before anyone could bear witness to his softer side.)

You were giggling, easily a byproduct of the sedatives.  “Lawww~ your hair keeps itching meeee~” you moaned.

“I’m sorry, my love.”  He pressed one more kiss to your temple before sitting in the chair situated off to the side, scooting it closer to the bed so he could hold your hand in his.  “How are you feeling?”

You closed your eyes, your pupils still adjusting to the bright LED lights in the ceiling.  “Tired, but I feel fine.”  You smiled.  “The doctors kept talking about you in the OR.”

Now it was Law’s turn to grumble, dropping his head in embarrassment.  “Great,” he muttered, heavy sarcasm coating his tongue.

The curtain surrounding your sectioned-off portion of the small recovery ward was parted slightly as your attending surgeon popped his head in.  “Hey, hey, hey, can I come in?”

Law immediately swapped his discontented attitude with one of professional optimism as he returned the surgeon’s smile.  “Of course, doc.”

The bubbly man entered the room with a clipboard filled with notes and charts, mostly printed out from a computer.  He shuffled through the mismatched papers before finally turning his attention to your husband, who sat as still as a statue, though his eyes exuded impatience as he waited for the surgeon to speak.

“Well, firstly I must apologize for the longer timeframe than what was initially discussed,” he began.  “Fortunately, your wife’s suspected endometriosis appeared to be only around what we call ‘Stage 2,’ which is to say, on the milder side.  We managed to remove a decent amount of accumulated tissue from the outside of her uterus, however she did have a few cysts on her left ovary which we took samples of for biopsy.  Ovarian cysts are common with endometriosis patients, but we like to be on the safe side and check them in the lab just in case.”

From your bed, you made a small cooing sound, as if you were cheering in a library.  “Yaayyy for no cancer!”

Your surgeon laughed, but Law kept his expression pointed and focused.  Obviously it was amazing that your case wasn’t as severe as you feared, but Law was thinking about the long term.  He gazed at the surgeon, internally scrutinizing his up-beat attitude.  “Do ovarian cysts pose a fertility risk?”

The surgeon shook his head.  “Some do, some don’t, it really depends on the type.  Just from a visual standpoint, your wife’s cysts didn’t look like endometriomas, nor does she have any signs of PCOS, so my assumption is that her fertility should remain the same.”  He shuffled a few more papers around on his clipboard before procuring what appeared to be your patient chart and handing it to Law.  “As always, though, check with her gyno to be on the safe side.  You should expect to hear a call about the biopsy results within two or three days, and until then, make sure your wife stays at home to recover for at least four days.  Her next few bowel movements might be strange, but other than that her recovery should be quick.  The phone number for this facility is on her patient chart though, should you have any questions.”

Law finally had to swallow his pride and admit that, despite the surgeon’s… bubbly persona, he was incredibly thorough and educated.  The black-haired man stood from his chair and offered a tattooed hand to his distant colleague, which the latter man took with enthusiasm in a firm, cordial shake.

“I truly appreciate it, thank you,” Law uttered quietly.  “Are we expected to be discharged today?”

The surgeon nodded.  “A nurse will come by with her discharge paperwork in another hour or so once your wife has woken up a bit more.  She has directions on what to do for recovery and all that.  I imagine you already know a decent bit about post-op recovery, though,” he responded with a cheeky smile.

Law grimaced.  “I suppose I do.”

#fem reader #reader insert #x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law x reader #one piece x reader #op x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #i'm losing you

[radjoy]

Idk where I’m going with this, but:

Women generally live longer than men.

When you get married, you should love someone enough to care for them in their old age.

Because of 1, though, 95% of the time, it’s the husband whose health leaves first, and the wife spends her last years of decent health taking care of him - unable to go on vacations because he needs her, keeping track of his meds/drs appointments/meals, waiting on him hand and foot.

He dies. Then her health goes. And it’s no more lifetime-marriage-partner caring, it’s whatever home health aid the kids could hire. Nobody is making sure she gets to water aerobics and making her appointments for her, nobody is preparing her favorite dish just the way she likes it,

I volunteer at a senior center that has both “outpatient” style water aerobics/chair yoga/bridge clubs/social shit that local seniors still living on their own can attend, plus an assisted living community.

I constantly see the same progression: ailing husband is dragged to the classes and social hours, complaining the whole time. They meet with the assisted living groups. Wife talks about how nice it would be to live here, how hard it is keeping up their house, wouldn’t it be nice to have someone bring you your meds and drive you to the grocery store. Husband insists they don’t need it, but he also seems to need his wife to get up and get everything for him. Wife mentions that she wanted to fly out and see their grandchildren, but her husband needs her, and hiring a temporary aid won’t work because he has to have everything just so. Rinse and repeat, until:

Husband dies, wife gets maybe a year before she moves into retirement home.

I used to think this was just by happenstance, but then we got this older couple. From what the nurses said, they were both pretty big boozehounds, and their health had never really been a priority, so they had to move in earlier than we usually get patients.

I was eavesdropping on their adult kids, who were moving them in, and I heard them complaining that they had to do this. The couple was selling their house, and their son had wanted it, and their daughter was annoyed at how much this was going to cost. No big, we hear a lot of people who get annoyed watching their inheritance dwindle. But then the son goes: “You know, mom is five years younger than him. If she had taken care of herself, she would’ve been able to take care of him.”

And I was like, oh! So mom has to spend her life abstaining from alcohol and getting in 30 minutes of exercise per day, not so that she can take better care of herself and live longer for her, but because you were counting on her to play nursemaid for dad! And suddenly, this seemed a lot less like happenstance that occurred because women live longer than men. It seemed to be a deliberate part of patriarchy.

There’s one couple that moved in when they first started needing help around the house - most people move in as late as they possibly can. But the wife used to work as a home health aid, and she saw how it becomes more and more of the wife’s responsibility, and she didn’t want to put up with it. And her husband is kind of crotchety and grumpy, but they seem to have the best relationship I’ve seen - maybe if only because she can turn off her hearing aids and let us deal with him.

#what I’m saying is budget for help #radical feminism #radfem

[coochiequeens]

That poor girl saw a guy that gave off creepy vibes and walked away just to be proven that she was right to avoid him. It had nothing to do with transphobia it was about a teen girl encountering a fully grown man who later smashed her car and soiled the inside with human waste

ByReduxx Team

September 9, 2023

A trans-identified male in Portland, Oregon was placed under arrest after reportedly defecating in a teen girl’s vehicle in retaliation for “transphobia.” Vivian Ginger-Rain Shemansky, 44, is facing four counts including criminal mischief in the first degree.

The incident, which occurred on August 27, began after the 17-year-old victim parked near Shemansky’s tent while on a shopping trip. From his tent, Shemansky threw a stick at the girl and called her “transphobic.”

According to a now-deleted GoFundMe campaign for the victim set up by her mother, the teen “was a little confused on what just happened, so she picked up her pace” and continued walking to her destination, a nearby pizza shop she had been to before.

Upon leaving the restaurant 10-15 minutes later, the girl could see from a distance that her front windshield had been shattered. She didn’t approach her car at first, immediately calling 911 from the top of the street before ringing her mother.

“By the time I got there, the full picture of the incident had been exposed,” the girl’s mother wrote in the GoFundMe campaign. “Her car was smashed at all four sides. Every piece of glass was shattered. There was human waste through out the entire car. The police were there and the suspect was cuffed and being arrested.”

According to The Post Millennial, the interior of the 2005 Ford Escape was “smeared all over with feces and urine,” and the vehicle had to be towed as it was deemed a “biohazard.”

Upon being questioned by Police, Shemansky reportedly told officers that the girl had been “transphobic.”

Shemansky was booked as a “female” at the Multnomah County Jail on four counts including criminal mischief in the first degree, unauthorized use of a vehicle, criminal mischief in the second degree, and disorderly conduct in the second degree.

But despite also having existing outstanding warrants, Shemansky was released the same day he was booked. A hearing scheduled for the next day resulted in a failure to appear, and the case is still logged as open in the Oregon Judicial Department’s system.

On his social media, Shemansky’s speaks extensively of “transphobia” and “misgendering,” and appears to take particular exception to being labeled a homosexual.

In one Instagram post from July of 2020, Shemansky wrote that “gender and sex are two different things.” In January of that year, he also uploaded a photo of a Multnomah County name and sex change form he had filled out, as well as a photo of his stash of estrogen hormones.

This is not the first time a trans-identified male vagrant in Portland has been charged after running amok in the city, seemingly with no meaningful intervention from police.

As previously reported by Reduxx, Matthew Clayton Stark, 42, was arrested in May after violating the conditions of his zero-bail release ahead of standing trial on charges of kidnapping, coercion, and interfering with public transportation. The charges stem from a terrifying incident in January of 2022 when Stark reportedly kidnapped a vulnerable minor from a MAX Train. Stark is male, but identifies as a transgender woman named “Tru.”

Despite Stark being well-known to police and having an extensive criminal record, no bail was set after he kidnapped the child and he was released from custody in April of 2022 under the condition he attend outpatient treatment for substance abuse.

#USA #Oregon #Portland #Vivian Ginger-Rain Shemansky is a violent gross man #He was arrested and released the same day #He turned a car into a bio hazard

[elliesbelle]

belle what the fuck happened??? are you okay???

long story short (prob won’t be short, knowing me oops):

tw: drug overdose, suicide, hospitalization mentions

work has been one of the biggest stressors in my life lately. i’ve been getting relentlessly harassed and bullied by a coworker (and my boss has done very little in regards to it), and something happened the other day with an extremely cruel parent of one of my kids, and it triggered something in me.

i was already having a difficult time the night before in regards to my ex (had a late night arguing with him and there were many countless unkind words said about me and the kind of person i am), and i was already in an incredibly bad place, so the work thing just pushed me to the edge. so i left work early, purchased a lot of cold medicine, went home, and took it all on top of sleeping pills and other stuff i can’t remember. said goodbye to my loved ones before i eventually went to sleep.

after that, a lot of it was a blur, so what i’m relaying right now is either from the few times i was lucid or from what other people have recalled to me.

live-in ex had been driving around trying to find me after my friends at work alerted her that i’d left suddenly, but she eventually made her way back to our apartment where she found me cold in our bed, and so she called 911. she tried rousing me but she was unsuccessful. paramedics eventually came and they kept trying to wake me up and eventually brought me to the emergency room.

i’m not sure what they tried to do to me in there, but obviously they tried to flush all the drugs out or whatever. i remember very little during this time, just that they had to cut my clothes off of me and i couldn’t stay awake for long. live-in ex was there the whole time, but they didn’t let her in the room until my mom got there and declared her as family (they wouldn’t let her past the waiting area bc we’re not related, so my mom had them list her as my spouse so she could be with me).

eventually, they placed me in the ICU where i was placed on bed rest (literally was not allowed to get off my bed because there were at least like, five or six wires attached to me) the whole time. a nurse has to be in the same room as me at all times, so they rotate these different nurses in 12 hour shifts, apart from the regular lead nurse who does hourly rounds to check on me. thankfully, they allowed visitors, so live-in ex stayed with me for most of it (so did my mom and my dad briefly, but they’re not as important). when they deemed me “healthy” enough (basically they wanted to make sure i didn’t lose my liver or something), they moved me into a regular hospital room.

been in here for the past day or so now. i can still have visitors, so live-in ex, both my parents, and my baby sister have all visited me. one of my coworkers who i’m close to also surprised me with a visit (which was so sweet, i was trying not to cry). they’re thankfully allowing me to have my phone and all (i’d be going insane if not), but i’ve been mostly sleeping honestly.

i tried asking them to not admit me into the psych ward cause i hate being in the looney bin, but i don’t have much of a choice because of the “severity” of my attempt. tried to opt for outpatient, but gonna be put in inpatient whether i like it or not, so i’ll be spending christmas here in the hospital alone unfortunately. oh well.

oops, yeah, not long story short lmao. anyway, sorry for worrying y’all. i really was not as lucid as i believed i was at the time that i’d made all those cryptic posts. i wanted to spend some time writing while i’m in here, but my emotional state has been so raw recently and the past few days being in here has caused me to be a lot more blocked in regards to that. my writing is tied to my emotions, so i won’t be able to write for y’all until i can process my emotions better again.

i don’t necessarily plan to abandon y’all, but if i’m slightly less active on here than usual, please understand why.

love you all.

#2023 has been one of the hardest years of my life #anon #belle answers #drug overdose mention #suicide mention #hospitalization mention #v

[wawawawawawawawawawawawawa]

hiiiiiiii we havent sent you any asks for some time. mostly because kanra didnt front much

[idk if you can recognize us after all the url changes]

ereyesterday our their of pissed suggested getting into an outpatient psychward and told us to think about it. and silver[headmate] made a post on the tumbler saying that this could be a bad idea because somewhat recently i made a hole in a wall and less than a week ago Lyra messed up a cupboard. as if we're the only ones who on occasion damage stuff when angered. this is literally so mean for no reason.

also. a few months ago shinra had an accident with a knife. and we got a fun new 1 inch long scar and possibly a little bit of nerve damage or something. and we were supposed to get some reminder tetanus shot around a month after that since i had no idea when was my previous tetanus shot. and i uhhhhhhh didn't get it since i'm scared of doctors, and it would probably seem quite weird if i went to a doctor about this now

also im sorta balding but. scared of doctors so cant do anything about that

last sunday i was in some social studies class or some other shit. and the teacher said something about how lgbt people were never oppressed in this country. which is a very bold thing to say as someone living in a country in which like a quarter of the area declared itself a "lgbt free zone" and only calmed down a little when the european onion told them that that's probably illegal. and i decided to argue with the teacher a bit. one of the things she said was that sometimes there's dudes in pup masks on pride parades, which invokes disgust and thus should be banned, and. idk why but i kinda expected teachers to have a bit more common sense than 14 year old twitter users. also i came to school wearing a spiked dog collar on a regular basis. [for reasons unrelated to kink.]

well. good thing i'm failing every single one of my classes lmao. at least i won't be invoking disgust in fragile old ladies

also. i just met a doggy and he was very niceys. very soft and friendly. and polite also.

- toby

HOW COULD I NOT RECOGNIZE U MY BESTIE IN CHRIST <3 u changed ur url a binch of times but ur icon remained the same sdlfndnfkjsnsdf so i was able to keep track!

i however do not understand a single word of that first paragraph. if u want my advice, DO NOT. FUCKING GO. TO A PSYCH WARD!!!!! idfc Who it helped, it hurts a lot more than it helps, theres NO WAY to tell which psych wards are good and which are shit. no really let me go thru them all rn:

REFERRALS: most professionals that work in different offices do not know each other on a personal level and may never hear of their bad stories. a doctor that was the chillest coolest doctor id ever met referred me to a psychiatrist that sucked fucking ass shit. there is no way to know for sure

GOOGLE REVIEWS: im gonna b real i dont trust some of those mfs. you seen the guys that go into psych wards? a lot of mentally ill people r internalizers and just accept whatever happens to them, and even if they arent, society looks down on the mentally ill SO MUCH that they could b told "you deserve this bc ur crazy" and due to all this societal gaslighting, theyd agree

REVIEWS ON OTHER WEBSITES: same thing lol

why is this so important? because you cannot Fucking leave a psych ward. an outpatient ward yeah you can leave, but ive been to both in and outpatient and they excert the same level of bullshit control over their patients. in outpatient, one of the therapist told me "you are not mentally ill" and made me cry lol. she MEANT to mean it in a "you're not mentally ill, you're ~suffering from a mental illness~ uwu dont let ur disorder define you" kinda way, but that concept was introduced in therapy..... two days after she told me this. like hello? and then she tried to spin it as like, it was a problem with Me i.e. My PTSD Was Triggered and not She Is Dog Shit At Timing The Explaining Of Concepts.

this place also invited my abuser into group therapy even after me incessantly telling them "this is my abuser, she will use all this against me" and yeah guess what she did immidiatley after lol

dont go to wards.

WRT THE KNIFE: damn :0 thats insane dude, hopefully the nerve damage will heal but from experience its gonna take like, a few years at minimum lmao. i had a Knife Incident involving my pinky and the nerve damage was so bad that i couldnt hold scissors w my pinky in the scissor loop thing but evenchually it got better but it took like 4 years. if the knife was clean and not rusty ur risk of tetanus is pretty low i THINK, do not quote me on this. if ur scared of doctors, look into if ur pharmacy offers tetanus shots! some pharmacies have vaccinations other than flu and covid (which i need 2 get lol rip) so u might be able to get one THERE and not see A Doctor about it!

u dont need a doctor for the balding. minoxidil my dear boy, its at walmart, its the stuff thats in rogaine. you want "minoxidil 5%" thats whats in rogaine, theres "minoxidil 3%" thats For Girls but idk ive never heard of anyone having a problem w it. IT IS TOXIC TO CATS THOUGH IT IS VERY VERY TOXIC TO CATS IF YOU HAVE A CAT DO NOT LET THEM FUCKING TOUCH YOU OR RUB ON YOU UNTIL IT DRIES ok? :) id google more if i were u but boom. problem solved. i am the doctor now

"dog masks invoke disgust and should be banned" babygirl disgust is subjective and like, someone could use that logic to ban whatever YOU like, or Are. maybe someone is really disgusted by lil old ladies bc the wrinkles look gross as fuck to them. should we quarrantine the grandmas?

also lol at the dig against 14 year old internet puritans and then surprise surprise guess what happened on This Very Blog while this ask was sitting n collecting dust!! i gotta b on my best behavior bc theres a nonzero chance that The Feds will be looking at this blog (did u know u dont report cybercrime to local police and instead theres a form on the fbi's website? Well Now You Know!) and that goes 4 all of u too. bart please be good..... for the love of GOD please be good....... please tell me yall know that simpsons scene

also also yay doggy!! was it a regular dog or a dude in a pup mask? either way very fun n cool!!!

#wasks #4 everyone else: im gonna turn asks back on but no anons for a lil while <3 #kanranon #missed u bestie!!!!! i was wondering when ud send another ask #tho ig ur not kanra ur toby sdjnksjdsndf but either way!! a message !!!

[killed-by-choice]

Angela Belinda Scott and Delores Jean Smith, 19 and 15 (USA 1979)

Normally I would do a separate profile for each of these girls, but the cases of 19-year-old Angela and 15-year-old Delores are tightly connected. The same abortion facility lethally injured two teenagers in less than an hour, killing them both.

The date was June 2, 1979. Angela and Delores were taken to Atlanta Women's Pavillion, a member of the National Abortion Federation. The co-owners of the facility were Jacob Adams, Otis Hammonds and Olly C. Duckett.

The first to go under the knife was Angela. Adams carried out the abortion while Angela was under general anesthesia. She was sent to the recovery room and Delores was brought in for her abortion. Nurse Teresa Stearns administered anesthesia to 15-year-old Delores even though she was not certified or trained to do that.

While she was in the recovery room, Angela went into cardio-respiratory arrest. Stearns ran to check on Angela, leaving Delores unconscious and unsupervised with an IV anesthesia drip still running.

Angela had no heartbeat and was not breathing, but the facility didn’t report the problem as an emergency, leading to a 15-minute delay in the arrival of the ambulance.

Angela was resuscitated and loaded into the ambulance, but at this point Delores was also in cardio-respiratory arrest. She had been left alone the entire time with the anesthesia drip still going. Now she was dying from a lethal overdose while abortionist Jacob Adams rode in the ambulance to the hospital where Angela would spend her last few days of life in a coma.

The ambulance could have taken both teenagers to the hospital immediately, but the facility refused to release 15-year-old Delores until Adams came back from the hospital, which meant it took an extra half an hour before the dying girl was taken by an ambulance.

Both teenagers spent the rest of their lives in comas. 19-year-old Angela died on June 9 at the hospital. Her mother sued the facility, the three owners and the nurse for $12.3 million, calling Atlanta's 10 or so outpatient abortion clinics "unregulated assembly-line abortion mills." (She or her lawyer may have been the one to coin the term “abortion mill”, but this is not confirmed.) At the time, the only regulation for Georgia abortion facilities was a requirement that they had to be overseen by a licensed physician. They really were almost entirely unregulated.

As for Delores, she was comatose in the ICU until she was transferred to a nursing home where she died that October. Her mother also sued the facility for $12.3 million when she found out that the pregnancy test done by the facility was actually negative. Not only was Delores dead, but she had been scheduled and charged for an abortion even though she was not pregnant to begin with.

#tw murder #tw death #tw ab*rtion #tw abortion #pro life #pro choice #abortion #abortion debate #unsafe yet legal #black lives matter

[janitorjuliann]

hospital worker reacts! a self-indulgent list of the funniest thing from every episode of season 1 of House MD

for context im an admin worker specifically in outpatients, so my knowledge of american inpatient wards is minimal at best

LETS GO

s1e01: this is bc i work in australian public health, but the idea of tenure as something a doctor can achieve

s1e02: the sheer concept of consultants searching for an absconded patient. where are your wardies and security officers??

s1e03: these people are highly qualified specialists and theyre... running their own pathology tests. do they literally have not a single patient on the ward they could be seeing??

s1e04: this one is funny bc its true but cuddy making all the med students swab rooms for infection because "its not like theyre doing anything else"

s1e05: dr wilson is MARRIED? to a WOMAN??

s1e06: literally sooooo funny when they break into a house to investigate a patient's history. i cant even get my registrars to check their emails.

s1e07: patients will tell anyone their personal fucking business. like they tell me, the person literally just trying to book their appointment, about their parents dying or their domestic violence incidents. doctors returning those details with some deep meaningful life lesson? HAHAHAHA.

s1e08: this isnt funny but the woman getting snippy and aggressive about her sons treatment literally gave me anxiety palpitations its too accurate

s1e09: in this episode, chase schedules non-emergency neuro/vasc surgery for. later the same day. i am DYING to know what the theatre schedules and e-board look like at this hospital.

s1e10: this was just a good episode i guess nothing to say here. go rabies!

s1e11: genuinely cant believe its taken eleven episodes for someone to deck house. a nurse probably wouldve done it by now if nurses existed in this hospital for longer than 10 seconds at a time.

s1e12: wilson realising he cant go to the monster truck rally with house is genuinely the most heartwrenching acting of the show so far

s1e14: the way these people act about transplant lists is SO funny. i have minimal interaction with this so im gonna go ahead and assume every one of my dialysis kidney transplant patients went through something exactly this dramatic

s1e15: THEY BROUGHT A PIG ONTO THE WARD HHDNDMSMMFFMG

s1e16: the woman refusing surgery for her 30 pound tumour because. she doesn't want a cosmetic scar. ive had this exact conversation i think.

s1e17: house full on tortures a patients in this one. i once had a complaint filed against me because i told an inpatient her ultrasound had been rescheduled.

s1e18: looming spectre of privatised healthcare vs my personal dislike of house's actions FIGHT

s1e19: this is my favourite episode so far bc it has a bed manager as a character. "if she dies at least we'll have a bed free" is also something ive heard multiple times.

s1e20: nothing to say abt the plot but house and wilsons little freak relationship is giving me life tbqh

s1e21: the patients writing "not this leg" before a possible amputation made me v happy!! a case of truth being funny enough for television

s1e22: aaaand one last patient assault to round out the season! i just dont understand how he isnt physically in jail!

final verdict im obsessed with this show im gonna watch all three hundred seasons

#the full list now that ive finished s1 in. four days hjfkfkskmf #house watch

[dustteller]

Oh no, not bad healthcare for the rich people! I just feel soooo bad you know, its always such a tragedy when colonizers move here to exploit our island and puertorricans don't bend over backwards to make their lives easier! Its so waful when the sufferings of the mangey poor unwashed masses also happen to affect the wealthy and privileged!

It's already bad enough that they had to go through a power outage! I mean, they were fine, they weren't like those disgusting gross people that dared to not have enough resources to survive a sudden deadly freeze and the subsequent government mismanagement. But it was just so cold! How can their delicate rich people skin EVER survive being a bit chilly!

Of course, the solution is to move to an island with a better history with natural disasters and a much more functional power grid! Plus, its got such a storied history with piracy! I know it does, because its in the caribbean and I watched Pirates of the Caribbean once! I bet the island is perfect for my pirate adventure, just like Sir Francis Drake!

And you don't even have to interact with the locals! You get to hang out with other proper rich people, as the lord intended! God forbid you move somewhere and actually have to suffer living amongst the dregs of society, can you imagine how terrible it must be to interact with the people you're colonizing?

But like, when we moved to a poor country, we didn't think the poverty would affect US??? We're rich! It's so awful that we don't get special treatment just because we turn into a (very) expensive lobster once we're out in the sun for longer than five minutes! Its such a fucking hassle when the poors don't know their place serving us! If we have any healthcare problems, we have to waste time getting a flight somewhere with PROPER healthcare! Its so rude to treat such important guests like that, the island rabble should be ashamed of themselves for letting us be mildly inconvenienced!

Ok, sarcasm aside, I HATE these articles with a burning passion. Its always rich americans that have enough money that they can just drop everything and relocate somewhere on a whim, and they always get upset that the poor countries they're taking advantage of are, in fact, poor countries with structural issues. Its so clear they never do any research, ever, and they're always upset that they have to deal with the same issues the rest of us do. And the thing is, they're rich. They have a support system somewhere else in a better area. They can literally just move back at any time with minor worries. None of these issues are actually more than a mild inconvenience to them, because if they were, THEY WOULDN'T BE HERE. Meanwhile, us puertorricans? We actually have to live here. I have family members that have died due to the healthcare crisis on the island. So do most of my friends. We struggle to find doctors with the space to see us, and god forbid we actually need a specialist. It took my grandma with cancer weeks to be able to see a doctor that specialized in cancer treatment so she could start chemo. To recieve basic mental health care, I had to do an outpatient hospitalization because there just aren't enough therapists on the island. And that's for us, who are lucky enough to be able to afford it. Not everybody can. In fact, most people can't. I and my family are amongst the luckiest here, and even we couldn't even come close to reaching the level of americans like these. My uncle's son is severely disabled, and hes lucky that he lives in New York, so he has access to services for himself and his family. He can't even visit Puerto Rico with his family because there just aren't enough services for his son to be safe here. Him and his wife take turns visiting family every few years, usually for family emergencies. His son will probably never step foot on the island. And, again, we are the lucky ones, and we struggle a lot with the situation here.

All that is without getting into other issues here. LUMA, our power company, is incompetent. We have constant power outages. A few days ago I spent a whole day without water because the water treatment plant didn't have electricity. We were prepared, because this occurs often enough that we have so many of containers of water stored away for when it happens. It was only for a few hours, so it didn't bother us. We're used to it. During summers, its common for there to be water rationing. Basically, the government shuts down water access for one to three days, and then you get a day of water. Repeat this for weeks if not months at a time. After Maria, I didn't have power from September 20th to January 11th. Luckily, the water was only gone for a week. Do you know what the Act 20's (americans who are here for tax benefits) do when this happens? They leave. They just pack their bags and head back to whatever layer of hell they came from, and they get to have a nice time visiting their family for a bit, and then they come back and can pretend it never happened because to them it didn't. They don't have to go through this. When our issues turn from a mild inconvenience into something they don't feel like dealing with, they get to take themselves out of the situation.

We can't do that. Do you know what happens when we cant take it anymore? We have to deal with it. Or, alternatively, we get to consider the posibility of leaving our whole lives behind, not because we want to, but because we need to. To leave our friends, our parents, our homes, our whole support systems, to venture into the unknown alone. When my uncle left for New York, he did not think he was going on a pirate adventure. He was thinking about how he was going to afford rent on his own. He was thinking about how New York was where the good jobs were, and if he and his wife wanted to live a stable life, they had to make that decision. He was thinking about how he didn't know how to dress for the New York winters, and there was no one there to teach him. He was thinking about how, for those first six months, he was completely alone amongst strangers that didn't want him there. The only reason he and his wife were able to make it was because of other hispanic immigrants that took them under their wing and taught them how to do what they needed to to survive this new, unfamiliar, unflinchingly hostile place. For them, moving away from home wasn't an adventure at all. It was a shared tragedy.

I think often about leaving. I love my island so much. I don't want to leave. I've spent a few years in New York for college, and it is so difficult. I love New York, I really do, but every second I spend there I can feel the wrongness resonating down to my bones. My home is etched there in the white stone inside me, and being away from it hurts. But I did it because I know an US degree is worth more than a PR one back home. I did it because there are resources there that I can't match in Puerto Rico. I did it because I thought that if I paid my dues now, there might not come the day that I have to pay penance there forever and be buried somewhere where there will be snow on my grave.

I'm looking for a job now in Puerto Rico. One of the jobs I applied to had 850 other applicants alone. Most others are also flooded with applications. I know I'm not going to find anything above minimum wage here. Im hoping that I'm smart enough, talented enough, lucky enough to be able to claw my way up and find a way to be able to stay. I'm terrified that I will have to leave anyways, that all my best efforts will not be enough, because hard work has never saved us from having to leave.

So no, Mrs. Sarah Lindsey and Mr. Sean Flynn, I don't feel bad for you. I don't feel bad that a couple of colonizers had enough privilege to be able to describe uprooting their entire lives as "wanting a change of scenery" or "looking for adventure of some sort, a pirate adventure." The struggles you can so easily just leave when cosplaying as poor island people no longer suits you are the ones we bear for the price of being able to live in our home. And, additionally, I would like you to know that Puerto Rico is quite the ironic place to live out your little fantasy. You want to be Sir Francis Drake?

Twice the forces of Sir Francis Drake and the full weight of the English crown sailed on our capital of San Juan with the intention of turning it into another colonial holsing for the British. Twice we held him at bay. Twice we forced him to retreat, once by cannon fire, and once by attacking until his entire fleet was sieged by an outbreak of dysintery. The English would never manage to find their footing in the Spanish Americas after this. Sir Francis Drake died shitting his guts out two months later off the coast of Panama after a string of defeats, his reputation in tatters.

So yes, go ahead and live out your pirate fantasy to its fullest extent! I'm sure you'll do great!

#puerto rico #my thoughts #i hate hate hate act 20s #colonialism

[cbk1000]

Ok, I am going slightly feral.

I have this co-worker. I like this co-worker. But I had to train her on some charging that I was handling because my boss wanted her to take that over so I could be freed up to work on other projects. Training started in November. The first week, I sat with her at her desk and talked her through the processes for a couple, few hours each day. When she felt comfortable doing some of it on her own, and then just coming and getting me when she had questions, I stopped sitting with her because I can’t take three hours out of my day unto infinity for training, because, you know, I’ve got shit to do.

It’s been well over a month of her doing this workflow, and she still asks me several questions, almost every single day, on charges that she should be familiar with. She was also supposed to have taken over the whole workflow, but only did that for about a week because she’s very slow and was struggling not to fall behind/did not have time for any other work, so I took some of it back. (I don’t mind still being involved in that workflow to some degree, but the fact that it’s taking her almost her entire workday to finish this stuff is kind of a problem, because it shouldn’t take that long.) Every day, I get pretty much the same questions I’ve already got and answered multiple times. I’m still having to talk her through stuff that she should already know. I took two extra days of vacation for Christmas, and she had to call our boss with questions + she emailed me on one of the days I was gone asking me to help her with something when I got back the next day. (What are you going to do if I’m gone on vacation for two weeks, lady??)

The other day, she calls me, and asks me what she’s supposed to do with this Excel document that we send to our boss on Fridays. I am totally baffled, because it’s literally just a matter of copying and pasting over some information from our charge report. Then she asks me what she does after that. You attach it to an email and send it to our boss?? THEN we finally get around to what is apparently the actual issue, which is that she DID copy and paste the material over, then saved the document to her computer--but she doesn’t know where she saved it. If you don’t know where you saved it on your own computer, how the fuck am I supposed to know?? (Yes, this coworker is a Boomer; how did you know?)

She will not do any amount of troubleshooting whatsoever. If there’s the tiniest little glitch or issue, she immediately asks me what she should do. Mind, most of the solutions are ones I know not because I learnt them from someone, but because I figured them out myself by doing the bare minimum of trouble shooting. This is kind of an issue because the whole purpose of our team is to troubleshoot issues within the revenue cycle. That’s what you signed up for when you took this position. Not to hold my hand every time you can’t figure out which button to click. 

I’m not yet at a point of bringing this up with my boss and probably won’t unless I’m starting to see a lot of errors that indicate she’s fucking up on the regular, but I have some obvious concerns here. She really seems in over her head. What concerns me is that she honestly still doesn’t seem to understand these charge processes; she knows to charge certain pharmaceuticals a certain way because I told her to, not because she’s looking at the dosing instructions and pricing and actually understands how to charge it. She’ll ask me how to charge one drug (this is for injections given at our outpatient clinics) that’s very similar to another type of drug that she charges regularly, like she can’t transfer that knowledge over and figure it out herself. It’s annoying, obviously, to keep answering the same questions over and over again, but I legitimately worry for her. How is she going to take on any other work or projects in future? This is a pretty fast-paced role with lots of changes; you can’t struggle that long with one thing that you’ve had quite a lot of training on.

#personal #anyway whinge of the day #inspired by her asking me another couple of questions that she should have been able to answer for herself

[teaandcartography]

March 18th, 2024 - What am I doing?

Many times I’ve attempted to write a blog like this, and every time I gave up because it genuinely felt like I was essentially just talking to a wall. I don’t have a lot of friends, never have. My social circles have always been so small and I’ve always felt so lonely, so occasionally I think about just venting online in the hopes that someone will hear me. I really wonder how so many people are okay with being alone, spending time with themselves and never getting bored. If I don’t reach out to a friend for over an hour, I feel like I might go insane.

We sometimes associate “being alone” with “being lonely,” and it is important to realize that there is a difference between those two. Being “alone” is a physical state where you are physically by yourself. Being “lonely” is an emotional state where you are feeling alone or disconnected from others – even when they’re right next to you. Sometimes we are happy to be by ourselves, and sometimes we wish for the company of others. –Sharon Melin, MA, Outpatient Therapist.

Hell, I like being alone sometimes. To just be able to listen to my music and do whatever I feel like doing. But soon enough I get bored of my own company and need someone to bounce off of in a conversation, or to simply have another presence in the room with me. So I tend to reach out to a friend in the hopes for a nice, entertaining, and active conversation about whatever. But being an adult with adult friends, not everyone has time to immediately respond. That’s when loneliness kicks in.

I never blamed my friends for prioritising their life, in fact, I want them to prioritise their own life the same way I want to prioritise mine. But what I struggle with the most is that in loneliness, my priority is to find a connection with someone close to me. I’ve never been close to my family, so sitting down in the living room and telling my parents about what triggered my depression, or my opinions on a TV-show I recently watched, is a genuine struggle. They don’t understand, it’s simply a matter of being born and raised in a different generation. I’ve yet to fully accept that.

So naturally, I try to reach out to my best friends, or one of the three. And then more struggles arise:

N says, “Sorry, I’m already hanging out with my boyfriend,” which has turned into her standard reply for everything. It’s gotten to a point where I feel like asking her to hang out is pointless, so I stopped doing it. And it genuinely upsets me that she prioritises her boyfriend over her best friend whom she has known since 2012.

T has recently been broken up with. I never liked his girlfriend anyway, but I want him to take the time and space he needs to recover from that. But even before the breakup, he and I struggled to spend time together because his now ex-girlfriend was always jealous of me. (It’s a long story.)

J lives on the other side of the globe and works night shifts. Plus, he’s very active in helping his family with running errands, and he’s studying to chase his dream career. A good person all-in-all, but always busy and preoccupied. Besides, it doesn’t help that I am madly in love with him and I feel like if I double-texted him, I’ll come across as clingy and annoying. (Though he has always told me to reach out to him if I need him, I can’t shake this fear of abandonment if I text him one time too often.)

Of course, I have other connections who you could consider to be in the realm of “friends” as well, but spending time with them often feels emotionally draining (unlike the people mentioned above.) Rarely I have the energy to just hop into a Discord voice chat and deal with the chaos of 4-5 other people joining and talking over one another. Can you tell that I’m the wallflower at parties?

Also, I should probably mention that while writing these paragraphs, I am also doing my research on these topics and maybe I can come to a realisation or find a solution to my problems.

For example, while reading a piece on Nystrom Associates/Nystrom Counseling, I am learning that loneliness is, more often than not, simply the result of a bad relationship with myself. I am very critical of myself, I am a perfectionist, I substitute the lack of social connections with listening to a podcast or having Supernatural play idly on my second monitor, while I stare at my wallpaper on my primary monitor and overthink about whether or not J only keeps me around for his own benefit, or if N just stopped caring about me.

And what about professional help?

Well, considering I am a 26-year-old college student with no steady income, and my health insurance not covering psychological help, I find myself at a fork in the road. Either I go into debt to speak to a psychologist to try and rekindle the love for myself, or I do my own research and spend all of my free time trying to figure it out all by my little self.

Both sound incredibly exhausting, right? Like, nobody is excited about owing anyone money, and if my attempts at self-care fail, how will I ever find time to have fun before I go to sleep?

One of the things that Hannah Hippe on Nystrom mentions is that I need to recognize my internal critic, and replace those negative thoughts with a positive alternative. Easier said than done, of course, but it’s something that gets easier the more you do it.

For example, since two weeks ago I have been feeling like my lack of focus for my internship only means that I am nothing but dead weight to the company. I felt immense guilt for even sitting there, at my desk, trying so hard to work on a project but not being able to get where I want to be by the end of the day. And asking for help suddenly became so incredibly difficult. I felt like if I tapped my boss on the shoulder one more time, he’d scold me for not being at the level of proactivity I should be.

But in reality, only five minutes earlier, my boss told me that after my two-week sick leave (arranged by my college because of how stressed and depressed I was,) he was incredibly happy to have me back. And confirming that I am good at what I do. My other colleagues expressed something similar, by waving and smiling really excitedly to see me back at my desk.

So the thoughts I had two weeks ago, “I’m only in the way of this company moving forward. I’m not doing my job right. I’m not experienced enough for this,” are far from the truth.

Keeping what Hannah wrote in mind, I can also apply this to my doubts about friendship with J. (Ignoring the fact that I am head over heels for him just for this theory.) J is a genuine person, he has shown me on and on that he values honesty, respect, and effort. If those are out of balance, he does not hesitate to address it, and if necessary, he cuts off connections if the other party doesn’t want to fix it with him.

So if I really were a burden to J, would he have bothered spending time with me at all? Would he send me TikToks and say, “This is us,” or would he even ask what’s on my mind when he notices I sound a little upset?

The answer is no, if I was a burden to him, he wouldn’t even talk to me at all. And I may not be religious, but thank God or whatever deity sent this man to me because I honestly don’t know where I would be without him making me laugh more in the past 3 months, than I have in 2023.

I need to get better at catching myself thinking negatively. I need to be able to be like, “Hey, stop that. It’s not true. You’re doing okay,” whenever I feel myself spiral. I know I can do it, it’s just a matter of practice. And even if I fail keeping myself afloat, at least I can say that I’ve tried and that tomorrow is another opportunity to try again.

So, why am I writing this? Why am I here when I’ve mentioned before that I give up on writing blogs like this very easily? Maybe Tumblr isn’t even the right place to be, but it’s a platform I’m familiar with, and maybe my inner teenager still dreams of owning a frequently visited blog by hundreds of people. (Though my chances are small, a girl can still dream, right?)

Honestly, I’m just writing this to once again reach out. Maybe someone I can connect with, maybe not on a daily basis, but someone to check up on every other day or week with, “Hey, how have you been? Did you pass your exam? Or did you get that promotion? And how’s it going with that art project?”

And perhaps this blog can help someone else. Someone who is dealing with the same existential dread I wake up with every day, for them to see that they’re not alone and that there’s someone willing to listen.

I’m terrible at giving advice, therefore, I won’t. Besides, sometimes all we need is someone to listen and acknowledge, without trying to help and fix the problem. I sure as hell can’t stand it when all I want is to be heard, and instead I get a huge list of things to try to feel better. (I know their intentions are good, but sometimes you just gotta let me figure it out on my own.)

My inbox is open (anonymously as well) for you to vent to me and pretend for a couple of minutes that I am that friend you need. You know, a friend who won’t sugarcoat anything and won’t just agree with every idea or plan you have, but still have a hand reached out in case you’ve fallen. I mean, if you want to get back together with your ex, I’ll say it’s a bad idea, but the decision is up to you in the end.

#☆•° a diary of some sorts °•☆ #Mental Health #Therapy #Coping #Friendships #Relationships #Self-help #Self-love #Self-care #Family #Vent #Rant #Personal #Life Update #Life Lessons #Life #Thought #Thoughts #Reality #Meaning

[kodiescove]

Hey, are you okay?

I have no idea who, but you should go to someone about this. Maybe someone, anyone at the hospital.

Is there someone you can go to for help?

Thank you for checking in on me

Sooooo I'm on a waiting list with my normal hospital.

If my ex psychiatrist doesn't write me one last script, I'm going to be going to a different hospital to see if they can help me. That's what my dad (who fortunately/unfortunately has more experience with this than I do) said to do.

This is just the worst timing that she could have dropped me as a patient. Like. A week before my script is due. Idk where you're from but at least in my city getting in with a prescriber within the same week you call to ask for services is like.... not a thing, and my refill is for Tuesday. She only writes the scripts for a month at a time. So. Yknow. Not really the best timing for her to do this.

I will be filing a formal compliant against her, especially because according to two of my friends she did the same thing* to them.

*if you missed it, what has happened is:

I needed/need hospitalization. I'm at the beginning of a depressive episode, and got knocked off my ECT(electroconvulsive therapy aka electric shock therapy) schedule due to life circumstances and need a round of initial treatment ECT(which is at least one week of 3 treatments given on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday) which is not accessible for me to do in outpatient right now. Plus, I would just feel better being in the hospital. Don't ask me how or why but the hospital just makes me feel better.

I have also been looking into long term hospitalization but THAT is a different/longer conversation.

Through this entire time Dr Weinstein has said she would support me through all of this.

All of a sudden after being hospitalized the first time in 2 years, I get a letter from her stating she will no longer be treating me.

She states I need "higher care" than she can give me. But then lists places all similar to each other, one of them being the practice /I left to start seeing her *because they were terrible at treating me with medication*/

All of this is happening a week before my script is due.

This apparently happened to two of my friends as well. They needed to go into inpatient, and then she dropped them as patients.

[ledenews]

Today’s Bob Ney – Part 2 – ‘I Needed to Survive”

(Publisher’s Note: This article is the second of a two-part series written by new contributing writer Dimitri Vassilaros. Vassilaros hosts “Dimitri - Live & Dangerously Local!” on River Talk – Ohio Valley 100.1/100.9FM and AM1290/1430 each week Monday through Wednesday from 7-9 a.m.) Mom was in a Wheeling hospital. Perforated colon. Might not make it. That was the news delivered by Bob Ney’s sister the same evening he left a Cleveland alcohol rehab center after just three days. His mother, though, somehow survived. After visiting her in the hospital, Ney headed back home that night from West Virginia when he saw a familiar interstate exit in Ohio that was the shortest route to his favorite bar in Cambridge. It was well before midnight. He was alone in the bar’s parking lot. Ney said that he was planning to go in to drink because “Mom lived.” He knew he would have done the same had she died. “I’m three days sober, whoop-de-do,” Ney said to himself. He calls that the start of his “bright-light moment.” “I’m like, oh my God, I’m insane. What the hell’s wrong with me? There is something horribly, horribly wrong with me. I’m about to go in there. I know what I’m about to do,” Ney said. Ney joined President George W. Bush for the signing of the Help Americans Vote Act. But he didn’t take that first step toward the bar. Instead, Ney started calling other recovery centers and found an affordable one that would accept him as an outpatient. Ney started going to recovery meetings about that time. In the first 90 days of his journey to find sobriety, Ney said that he attended at least 360 recovery meetings. When he wasn’t at a meeting, he was stuffing 693 boxes with his worldly possessions to take them out of the home that the mortgage company soon would repossess. Even though he had stopped drinking and had begun to address the underlying causes and conditions that triggered his desire for alcohol, life started to become more challenging. Ney had lost most of his material possessions. And now, being homeless, he couch-surfed in the homes of family and friends for about two months before heading to Morgantown. But there was one issue that was more embarrassing to Ney than all the other trials he’d endured. And it was announced at that very public pre-trial hearing; Ney was insolvent. Humiliations continued to pile on during his incarceration, long after the initial body-cavity search. The head counselor of the prison’s drug-and-alcohol recovery program was stern with a biting sense of humor. She told her celebrity inmate “You ran the House, but you couldn’t run your own house.” One of the inmates blamed his imprisonment on Ney. “Hey! You that congressman? You put me in here.” he said to Ney. Sponsoring even one anti-drug bill that can be a tool for law enforcement to arrest and convict users and sellers does not make former congressmen popular in federal prisons. At least, not at the Morgantown facility. “I was dejected, broke and nervous,” Ney said. But he didn’t drink or drugs, even though almost any prisoner there could get just about any illegal substance if he wanted it badly enough, he said. This recovery coin was given to Ney a few days after he stopped drinking back in 2006. Ney also was committed to attending the prison drug and alcohol recovery program, which included grueling group therapy, and raw rigorous honesty in front of a captive audience of 59 other addicts. Ney said he had had so many resentments that they could be computerized. He had much to say at those meetings. And his cellmates freely offered scathing tough-love feedback after he spoke. Ney decided that the first step to solving his prison problem was the same one that he was using for his drinking problem; “I needed to survive, one day at a time,” he said. Ney also embraced the prison philosophy of “be friends with everybody, but don’t be friends with anybody.” Ney completed his sentence, but he hasn’t stopped working on his daily reprieve from alcoholism. He now believes that there’s no such thing as a “functional alcoholic,” even though Ney thought he was one before the scandal. “It’s beyond stopping,” Ney said. “You need behavioral change. Alcoholics are not bad people, just sick ones. Recovery is medicine.” Ney stopped drinking on September 13, 2006. He knows he could start tomorrow. The 24-hour recovery coin that he accepted a few days after he stopped remains tucked safely in his wallet. It reads “… this road is a long one, but together, all of us as one, will win back our self-respect and begin walking our new road to this beautiful thing called life.” That coin gradually embossed itself on one side of Ney’s bi-fold wallet. It’s stark relief for anyone who feels that serenity is priceless. Ney offers to help other alcoholics, including being a sponsor - a type of guide or mentor to help steer a newcomer away from his current mindset and towards a sober one. Ney co-sponsored the Help Americans Vote Act, and he received a "Thank You" phone call from President Jimmy Carter after its passage. The lessons that Ney learned in the prison recovery program still are useful. He tells those who he sponsors not to play him if they don’t want recovery. Be honest. Develop a sense of gratitude for what they have. When Ney is having a bad day, he thinks about the juice and the raisins at that hospital in Afghanistan that his congressional delegation had visited. The unit included 10 severely malnourished Afghan children who drank from juice bottles and ate raisins to help them stay alive. As a gesture of profound gratitude for the aid that America had given that tortured pile of rocks in South Central Asia, the mothers of those near-starving kids offered Ney and their other foreign guests some of their children’s juice bottles and raisins. After Ney translated what the moms were saying, everyone in his group wept. When there is a temptation to drink, Ney said to think of the worst thing you’ve ever seen in order to be grateful, juice bottles and raisins, for instance. “Stay in the moment,” he said. An attitude of gratitude, in program-speak. Mere fender-benders also can be life collisions. Ney said that in order for him to stay alive, to survive, and to thrive, he still makes many meetings. If there’s one key to his survival, it is this: “Meeting makers make it.” Now, leading by example is how he’s going to show them, and how he’s going to teach them. “I think it is the right thing to do,” Ney said. https://ledenews.com/todays-bob-ney-part-1-things-collide-in-life/ Read the full article

[fredbsmith]

Did Jesus really advocate self-mutilation?

Matthew 5:29 King James Version

29 And if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish, and not that thy whole body should be cast into hell.

Dear Pastor _______

 May I share a story from my younger days?

 When I was in the first weeks of my third year of medical school, the very beginning of the clinical training phase, I served as a clerk in the Ophthalmology Outpatient Unit.

 One of the first patients that was assigned to me, to take a history from and examine, was a pretty, soft-spoken young woman in her late twenties, about my age.  She was quick to inform me that she was in our clinic to obtain a second opinion, not for us to treat her.  The previous week she had been given a devastating diagnosis, along with the recommendation that her left eye be removed.  She wanted to see if our doctors agreed with this.  The diagnosis she had been given was malignant melanoma of the retina.

 When I examined her eyes with the ophthalmoscope, the right eye appeared normal, but the entire vitreous compartment of the left was obscured by a dark object the size of a marble. It was a shocking sight for a beginner expecting the changes of all eye diseases to be subtle.  Not surprisingly, she had no vision in that eye.

 I felt emotionally on edge when I went back to present and summarize my findings to the Attending Ophthalmologist.  Perhaps our being the same age had something to do with the way my heart went out to this poor young soul.  At the back of my mind was the question of whether more deliberation and testing should be done before the recommended surgery.  Should there be biopsy confirmation of the diagnosis before removing the eye?

 The Attending Ophthalmologist and I returned to the examining room, where he repeated the examination and asked a few questions.  He told the young woman that we would leave to confer about her case and return shortly to give our recommendations.

 Back in his office, I shared my misgivings with him regarding the need for additional testing. Instead of addressing these directly, he simply turned to me and asked, “When is her surgery scheduled?”  She had told me that it was for Wednesday the following week.  He nodded and, after a moment’s contemplation, said “Wednesday.  If that were my eye, I would want it out on Wednesday.”

 That last sentence, and the quiet resignation with which the older doctor intoned the words, has resonated in my memory over the years.  It always comes into my mind when I hear Jesus portrayed as saying “If your right eye causes you to sin, tear it out and throw it away…” in Matthew 5:29.

 When, over the next few weeks in my training, I read up on ocular melanomas, I learned that it was one of several eye diseases that present such a distinctive ophthalmoscopic appearance that biopsies are not necessary for diagnosis.  It was also nice to learn that the prognosis in this case was favorable.  A melanoma primary in the skin or almost any other body site would have spread systemically by the time it had grown to the size of a marble; the interior of the eye, however, is biologically very isolated from other body structures, so it was probable that our patient did not have extraocular extension or metastases and that removal of the eye would have been curative.  But it's a fast-growing tumor and prompt surgery was indicated.

 I’ve found it helpful to think about this medical story when I reflect on Jesus’s words in Matthew.  I reframe it in terms of surgically removing an eye, under anesthesia, and with skilled surgical dissection, rather than with the violent words the scripture uses, which just simply seem to be describing a horrible act of self-mutilation that would, or could, be performed only by an insane person.  The parallel then is between a malignant tumor, formed when our bodily tissue processes go wrong, and the sins we commit, when we go wrong in the living of our lives.

 It also has struck me that the first of Jesus’s words, in Matthew 5:29, the premise that “If your right eye causes you to sin …” are patently absurd.  How could only one of your two eyes be responsible for any of your actions, and the other (presumably) be innocent, when our vision always involve both eyes?  And anyway, how could a sense organ, which just provides us with information, be in any way responsible for an intended action on our part?  Without our cognitive processing and deliberation?

 I believe that Jesus is deliberately using this absurd premise to signal that what he is about to propose is a thought experiment, not something that he expects anyone to literally act upon.  Like a physicist employing the image of a frictionless pool table (which could not exist in reality) to analyze collisions of billiard balls, it provides a framework for our thinking that makes the problem simpler.  It would in some way be easier if we could isolate our sin to one part of our body and then remove that part and be free of sin forever. Instead, we must know that we are always at risk of straying from the path God intends for us, and be prepared to deal with this through the entire course of our lives.  (I think this interpretation is consistent with the other verses in this chapter, where Jesus extends the boundaries of what constitutes a particular sin, and leads us to see how we must have been guilty of many such transgressions as we’ve gone through life.)

 Two characters from literature come to mind, characters who intentionally blind themselves in the course of their narratives, Oedipus and Hazel Motes of Flannery O’Connor’s Wise Blood.  It’s interesting that while these two men were not insane (at least not Oedipus), their intentional self-blinding acts are committed in a state of deep emotional agony, arising from recognition of the depth of their own sinfulness.

 I found the words of your sermon today, dealing with this difficult text, to be very thoughtful and comforting, and I hope you don’t mind hearing my take on this one particularly problematic verse from the same source.  The life experiences of someone in my profession are not always suitable for the squeamish, but then neither are some Bible verses.

#Sermon #jesus #self-harm #mutilation

[kissmetrytofixme-blog]

I never know what to write about...

I always want to write but I just never know what to write about. You’d think after all of the things that have happened to me words would just flow out of me somehow but I guess that would require access to memories that I absolutely don’t have access to.

It’s a weird thing desperately wanting answers, knowing that their in your head, but having absolutely no control over when you get access to them. 

For example, last night I all of the sudden remembered when I fell down the stairs. It’s not like I had completely forgotten, but also somehow I had. And I can’t lie the more I think about it, the more messed up it seems. I definitely could see it happening, I did have a terrible habit of sliding down the stairs in my socks, and the stairs at that house were steep. I just don’t really remember it.

I know what I have been told. And that story goes like this. I was sliding down the stairs in my socks (or tights) right before a choir concert and I slipped and fell. The male rental said that when he tried to catch me (he was sitting on the second or third step from the bottom putting his shoes on) his ring had somehow gotten stuck behind my ear and ripped it open. But I desperately wanted to go to this choir concert and in all of their “first responder/nurse” wisdom the rentals decided some super glue and a few butterfly Band-Aids was just as good as any doctor, (despite initial remarks being that it looked like it needed stitches) besides I wouldn’t let them take me to the doctor because I wasn’t going to miss the choir concert. And then we went to the concert and everything was fine. And we never looked at it or accessed it again. At least until I had to have two outpatient procedures to remove cysts in the exact same spot behind my ear as an adult.  

But here’s the thing.... I buy that I slipped down the stairs, I even buy that I desperately wanted to go to the concert. I can imagine myself saying just fix it enough so I can go. What I don’t buy is everything else. 

I mean just logically it doesn’t make sense. If I was sliding down the stairs I would have fallen on my butt which means that I would have sort of tumbled at the beginning but by the time I reached the bottom I should have been fine. I would have put my feet on the floor at the end. It’s like I have slipped down the stairs in this exact way for this exact reason before (oh wait I had). 

Even so let’s say that he was trying to help me... how? Because the stairs got wider at the end, and he was sitting directly in front of me on the stairs. Did he move over? No. Did he make any attempt to get out of my way? No. And how on Earth did he cut the back of the ear closest to him with his flat wedding ring? 

Interesting isn’t it how I would have been better off even in a bad situation without their help. That tracks. 

So to recap I have somehow now fallen onto my butt slid past him and gotten the back of my ear split open. 

Now let’s think about parenting... is it really smart to allow your daughter to make medical decisions on an injury she can’t see just because she really wants to go to a choir concert? No. Does it make sense to allow your daughter to go to the concert because you don’t want anyone to ask any questions? Yup. 

And that’s what I am saying, the only memories I tangibly have of this event are slipping initially and then standing at the concert with my ear absolutely throbbing. I distinctly remember that I wasn’t singing at the concert memory which tells me I was in a lot of pain or shock because I basically have to be dying to not be singing.

I just can’t make any sense of it (I mean I can rarely make sense of what the rentals were doing most of the time). Why didn’t we go to the doctor after the concert? OR why didn’t we go to the doctor the next day? Also why is there absolutely no memory whatsoever of someone actually changing the bandaids and keeping it clean. Why was I allowed to shower and wash my hair the next morning? 

I also can’t help but wonder where was the female rental, because let's be honest do I think she pushed my down the stairs...? I mean I honestly have no idea but it just seems suspicious that I can’t place where she was. 

It’s also worth noting that I wasn’t late for the choir concert, which is interesting if you think about the fact that we put our shoes on right before leaving the house because shoes weren’t allowed on the carpet. So it was somehow already time to leave but we did this whole ear thing and I still wasn’t late? 

Perhaps most perplexing is how on Earth did I forget? How did it never come up when I repeatedly showed the rentals the cysts growing behind my ear? Did they ever say hmm this is from when you slipped or take me to a doctor or do anything to help the situation? Nope they just continued to pop it with needles or their fingers and then would tell me “well if you would stop touching it and just leave it alone this would stop happening.” How did I have two outpatient procedures to remove said Cyst and then chop my hair off because it seemed the most reasonable answer was that I wore my thick hair wet a lot and maybe the moisture was causing the issue. That might be true... but that wasn’t what was causing the Cyst in this case.

And you know if the rentals ever saw this they would just absolutely lose it. They are blocked now from all aspects of my life, but I can already hear them screaming in my head. Calling my a liar, telling me I made it up, asking me why I think it’s fun to ruin their lives. Which is comical you know? Well now that I am not living it and don’t have to be absolutely terrified. Because they could solve this whole thing, the entire saga of my whole tragic life, by just telling the truth. But they can’t. Because they’ve made it incredibly clear that it’s me that ruined their life, so to agree with anything I say would negate that. 

Honestly, I suppose some of it could be in my head or exaggerated or I have events criss crossed, but again all of those things could be so easily fixed. 

I just can’t get over how fucked it is in my own head. I LIVED IT! I LIVED THROUGH IT! I experienced the pain, it was my concert, it’s my ear... but somehow the rentals really got me to believe that it was my fault for touching my ears too much and not blow drying my hair everyday.

And that my friends really sums up my childhood. Just me living a life, desperately trying to cling to memories that I know had to be real while constantly being told over and over that there is no way that ever happened and I am just making it up to hurt them.