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ninnodesu · 3 years

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“Can I See You?” ch 2 || Modern!Thomas

Well. People apprently wanted more of modern!Thomas, so naturally, my brain conjured up a continuation. GUESS WE HAVE TWO LONG STORIES NOW, FRIENDOS

I AM GOING TO TAG EVERY CHAPTER OF THIS FIC AS CICU IN CASE YOU WANT TO BLOCK OR FOLLOW!

TWs: - Mentions of rape - Broken bone - Mentions of cannibalism - Mentions of murder - Murder

He could see in your eyes, how the tears welled up and streamed down your face that you’d recognize him and he left. He couldn’t look at you at this point, couldn’t look at you cry because of him. He heard you cry behind him as he turned to go into his basement bedroom, his heart stung in his chest as he heard you beg and scream in fear. Closing the bedroom door, he proceeds to lean up against it, back pressed hard to it, eyes shut closed. Some kind of desperate way to make your panicked begging go away.

I can't, I can't, I can't, his inner voice chant like a mantra. His anxiety gets the better of him and he starts pacing, the wood under his feet already marked with a worn-out pattern left by his heavy boots after years and years of anxious pacing. A fierce battle erupts in his mind.

- I can't kill her - You have to, and you know it - No, I won't - Come up with one good reason to fistfight the old man about this - He would die and I wouldn't have to do this fucking thing anymore - And what? You'll live happily ever after with this woman? - I… - She would never accept the truth

Returning to his original place with his back to the door, he slowly sinks down to sit on the floor, one leg sprawled in front of him, the other resting under it. He's lost, he doesn’t know what to do. If he lets you go, you'll go straight to the police. If he kills you, he'll never hear from you again, he'll never see your face again, a sudden wave of intense nausea hits him at the thought of keeping the skin of your face to make a new mask. No, no he can't do that.

This is the first time since he had to butcher his first human that he feels genuinely lost.

He's mad at his uncle for wasting the low amount of money they do have on ugly hookers and booze, having Thomas resort to this way of living. He never truly did want this. The first time Charlie, or Hoyt as he wants to be called now - although Thomas never really did care about his apparent name change and still called him by Charlie to piss on his ego - talked to him about this, he threw up minutes after being left alone.

He still remembers the first time he got forced into butchering a person, just like it was yesterday, even though it’s nearly four years ago.

That day, he was on his way home from work, ending the day with bashing his old boss’s head in with a sledgehammer. The old man had disrespected his family, something Thomas wouldn’t stand for. Knowing that the security cameras were already turned off, he swung the hammer out of anger. He was mad that they were closing the slaughterhouse and he was hurt by the words that had been spoken. No one disrespects his family and gets away with it. Killing his boss didn’t wake any regrets. He believed the old man deserved it. The afternoon sun was still blazing down at his already sweaty form, propping his headphones on his head, he turned the music on full blast and lumbered home with no care in the world.

His right hand carried a memento of his old work, the slaughterhouse’s chainsaw.

As he had come out from a few trees up on the gravel road, a police car was parked by the side of it, the harsh blue and red light blinking to get his attention. Figuring he was caught, he took the headphones off, letting them rest around his neck and stopped in the middle of the road. His hair blew in front of his face as he took heaving breaths, waiting for the piercing pain of a bullet.

Bang! Thud.

What greeted him instead of searing pain, was Charlie standing behind him, brandishing a shotgun and looking down at a police officer with the head blown off. Everything after that is a blur. Vague memories of Charlie talking to him about the plan, the body was laid out on an old table in the basement. He’d never seen this side of his uncle before, so he tuned out. Words like “ do it”, “no money left”, “can’t afford”, “ butcher him ”, “don’t tell mama” and the worst sentence he’d heard in his life; “ you have to do this, Tommy. For the family. We need meat to survive, boy.” echoed in his mind.

A loud bang coming from outside woke him from his memories. When he just seconds later heard your voice in a shrill pitch, he almost jumped off the floor and hurried out only to see you laying on the floor with half the table over you, the other half leaning against the metallic sink.

Jesus christ…

Being left alone again, your thoughts start racing and your heart along with it.

Where did he go? Why is he here? Does he live here? Is he going to kill you? Rape you? Keep you as a hostage? Was that his family? What? Why? Where?

It’s quiet, but you hear a faint shuffling coming from somewhere close to you. All you can do is lay there and look up at the ceiling, and to your left or right.

On your left you see what looks like a workbench, an apron rests on a hook next to it. It looks well used, stained with a dark and muddy hue of red. There's a sink and dirty towels hanging off the edge of said sink. The sight to your right, however, makes your stomach flip and turn on itself. There’s cleavers, knives, hooks. Huge bins stained with the same red hue as the apron. Putting all the puzzle pieces together, your breathing increases, teetering on the edge of hyperventilating. Thomas, your Thomas. The Thomas you’ve gotten to know, the one you’ve missed for these two weeks, the one who made you all giggly when he sent you the first full-face selfie of himself… a murderer.

As the adrenaline starts shooting through your body, you try wiggling a bit to see how bolted down you are. Your fastenings are tight and they burn as you try pulling your hands out. The metal just digs into your skin resulting in nasty burns.

Fuck…

That’s when an idea - or rather a small glimpse of hope - blooms in your head. Hopefully, the table is not bolted down. It’s a stupid idea, and you know that if Thomas doesn’t kill you, the table most likely will. But rather the table, than the man you’ve slowly started to fall in love with during the months you’ve talked. Getting killed by Thomas’ hands would haunt you more in the afterlife than anything else.

Gathering all the remaining strength, you throw the entirety of your body not bolted down to the side, doing your best to ignore the burning in your wrists and ankles. The first attempt yielded nothing major, the table moved, yes, but not to the extent you wanted. So you do it again, this time, the table goes down, and you with it. You feel the bone in your leg crack before you feel the brutal pain that explodes through it.

Your scream is high to the point where you feel your vocal cords strain and your voice slowly becoming lower, raspier. The pain is enormous, the throbbing pain in your leg thrumming together with your rapid heart. But - thankfully - your scream summons movement, footsteps, and voices. The most prominent footsteps, heavy ones, belong to Thomas as he’s the first one to your side. Even if you can’t see him, you see his clunky boots and grayish jeans, at least you hope that’s Thomas and no one else. All you do is sob onto the floor, your tears pooling under your chin at the pain radiating from your leg… and the burns around your wrists. It takes a full minute before you see big fingers curling around the edge of the table, a grunt coming from above you before your vision starts flying. He was lifting the table up. A loud, hoarse cry escapes your dry throat as the table thuds back into place, jolting your broken leg.

You're about to scream again when your brain catches up to the cleavers and knives hanging to your right but quickly after the first raspy pitch leaves your throat, a hand clamps over your mouth. The rasping sound is muffled under the big hand and you can feel it moisten due to your breath, but all he does is put a finger to his lips in a shushing motion and plead with his eyes for you to stay quiet. Which you don’t, you rasp out a hoarse scream against his palm and keeps shooting daggers at him. My god, are you pissed right now.

Who the fuck are you, and what have done to the Thomas I know, you fucking animal!

You don’t quiet down until you hear that sliding door slide open again and an angry voice rings out. "Thomas! What the fuck is that racket?!"

Thomas jerks his head up as he hears Charlie's voice. He's not sure what to do, his uncle’s footsteps thud down the stairs and soon enough, Thomas sees him in full and exchanges eye contact. "This bitch is still alive? Why haven't you taken care of'er yet, ya idiot?".

Shit uh…

He glances down at your dagger filled eyes while trying to figure how to keep you quiet and talk to his uncle at the same time, needing both hands to do so. He can't sign to Charlie if his hand is clamped over your mouth. Letting out an annoyed grunt, he grabs the nearest towel and shoves it into your mouth as quickly and deep down he can without choking you, making sure you can’t spit it back out. Seeing you so shocked, and angry and… some other kind of emotion he couldn’t place, he got the urge to show you some kind of affection. Resulting in him patting your cheek, his huge hand basically engulfing half your face before walking over to the stairs.

"Well?", Charlie spits out his venomous words. Thomas' hands fidget a bit, nervousness taking a hold of him.

'I know her' The same signs that he kept on repeating earlier, annoyance building inside him knowing that his asshole of an uncle refuses to learn more. Making it almost impossible to have a normal conversation with him. "Listen, Tommy, I. Don’t. Care.", the looks between the men are like venom. "You were 'sposed to get to work on'er before mama gets home. You know damn well how much she hates when the cattle scream." Thomas really can’t help the smirk hiding beneath his mask when he hears that. He glances up the stairs before checking the time on his wristwatch before shrugging, pointing to it, and slowly signing two words he knows Charlie can decipher.

'Fifteen minutes'

That's when Charlie grabs the neck of Thomas' shirt and yanks him forward, the only reason he's able to is that he manages to catch him off guard. His breath reeks of alcohol. A clear cut sign that he’s drunk. "Listen here, you bastard. I've had enough of your defiance today. If you ", he stabs a finger in Thomas' chest at the last word, "don't take care of that girl, I will . And you know damn well I ain't going easy on'er." Charlie releases Thomas with a shove, making him stumble backward slightly. The final words from Charlie’s mouth before leaving the basement stings in Thomas’ heart. "I don't want to see your ugly ass upstairs until she's done for."

Thomas watches him leave and turn towards you, who’s still crying silently on the table.

His heart stings more and more the closer he shuffles to you. Sure, he had had nights where he dreamt that he would meet you. But not like this. Never like this, never here. He did not want to see you on his butcher's block. At the same time, he moves to remove the towel he makes the same shushing motion towards you, with the same pleading eyes as earlier. This time, she nods. And Thomas lets out a sigh of relief. As he removes it, you’re panting, breathing sounding almost more like wheezing squeaks. He goes to rinse the towel under some lukewarm water to pat clean the bloody gash over the eyebrow that got hit to knock you out before getting here. All the time, he feels a burning gaze on him, from eyes that are seemingly watching his every move.

You wince when the damped towel touches your eyebrow, a wound you didn't know you had greeted you with a sting, a small hiss leaving you. Your eyes are glued to the giant man, making sure you see his hands at all times. You want to speak, but your throat is dry and hoarse, figuring out that your earlier screaming has annoyed your vocal cords to a great extent. So all you do is watch him. He, on the other hand, is doing his best to avoid making eye contact with you. And it pisses you off, but at the same time, it relaxes you and makes your heart hurt.

Why the fuck are you avoiding me?!

The thought makes your eyebrows furrow. He’s seen you naked, yet can’t fucking look you in the eyes? You try thrashing a bit with your shoulders to try and get his eyes to yours, but to no avail. His tender way to clean your wound surprises you. This huge killer, this murderer, and straight-up deranged man are making sure not to hurt you, and you can't help but breathe out a laugh.

That's when he - apparently - seems happy with his cleaning and turns his back to you, he turns the water on and it sounds like he's rinsing something. Shutting the water off he moves out of your line of sight. A slight panic arises in your chest at the thought that he might have gone off to fetch whatever tool he seems fit to end your life. You hear a rummaging sound close by, and then he's back above you, looking down at you. This time, you feel a large hand on your head as he slowly and carefully tilts your head back, your eyes are met with harsh light and you shut them. That overwhelming want and need for him to look into your own eyes die down. Now, you don't want to look at him when he slits your throat.

But he doesn't.

You hear what sounds like a paper wrapping open. Two fingers press on either side of the gash over your eyebrow, a small whimper escapes you at the pinching pain, and then something sticky is attached to you. A band-aid. He had put a bandaid on the cut of your eyebrow. It isn't until you feel his hand leave your head that you open your eyes. And at that moment, your eyes are met with his blue ones. The way he's looking at you makes a tiny bit of your anger and hurt, and fear goes away. His blue eyes are filled to the brim with hurt, and sadness, and confusion. It almost looks like he’s about to burst into tears. He looks broken down.

Thomas fiddles a bit with the paper wrapper of the bandaid after making sure it's secured on your eyebrow and proceeds to look down into your beautiful eyes, your eye color popping in the harsh light. Something in them reflects his own emotions. He doesn’t want this, he punishes himself for not responding to your text messages the past weeks, or that he didn’t reach out to you. What he’s looking at is clear cut torture for him. He wants to cry.

I'm so sorry…

He hears the familiar clacking of his mother's shoes above the both of you, a sigh of relief escapes him. Patting the pockets of his jeans, he makes sure he has his phone and the keys to the basement before he heads over to the stairs. But he stops right before ascending them and looks over to you.

He pulls his phone up, unlocks it swiftly, and goes to his text-to-speech app, making sure the volume is put on high before typing out two words and hitting the speech button. A male voice rings out through the basement.

"I'm sorry"

#thomas hewitt #thomas leatherface hewitt #modern!thomas #modern au #thomas hewitt fanfiction #CICU #can i see you

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candy-skullz · 3 years

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F/NAF AU locations:

Fredbears Family Diner: little country diner on the outskirts of Hurricane Utah, features Fredbear, Spring Bonnie, Golden Foxy, and the Daydreams.

Freddy's Rollar Rink: A rollar skating rink, but with animatronics that will literally skate with you if they want, features the pre-withereds and ITP Spring Bonnie

Tedd's Sweet Shoppe: a sweet shoppe with a resteraunt built off of it, you have to pay extra to get in tho, features the Toys, Withereds, Deedee, Candy Cadet, and Frostbear.

Freddy Fazbear's Pizza, one of the few places I kept the same because I didn't know what else to do with it-

Fazbear's Haunted Theater: a horror themed theater, there are human actors that put on a little mini play in the beginning, but when the power goes out, the guests have to try to solve puzzles to get it back on without "dying"(aka being tagged out by the animatronics). Features Springtrap, the Phantoms, the Shadows, and Dreadbear.

Arlo's Wild West Rodeo: a Western Themed resteraunt, features the Pre-Phantoms and ITP Spring Bonnie

The Aftons House: just the Aftons house after getting taken over by the Nightmares, it's on the list of "Most haunted places in the US" :]

Freddy's Rockin Pizzaria: also still a pizzaria, but the Rockstars will play Rock music very loudly, so be prepared for that, features the Rockstars, Mediocre Melodies, Scraps, El Chip, and Music Man.

Cicus Babys Big Top: a big ass Carnival/Circus and is still run by William, features the Funtimes, Funtime Chica and Bonnie, Paperpals, Dark Circus, and characters from the Pinwheel Circus(they have their own tent still called Pinwheel Circus).

Blitz's Arcade: yea it's just an arcade with animatronics, so basically Chuck-E-Cheese lol, features Glitchtrap, Lolbit(Lolbit is able to go between the Carnival and Arcade, so he's at both), and other characters I can't think of right now.

Freddy's Pizzaplex: also the same cuz I like the mall idea, features the Glamrocks Funrocks, and occasional Fazbear Frights characters that break in.

That's all I can think of for now, but I tried to be creative with them

#fnaf #fnaf au #au info #I'm still trying to come up with a good name for my AU

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punksarahreese · 3 years

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Separation | A Chance Meeting (Twice Over)

Nosdecember day 19 | @neworleansspecial

Teen!AU; Years after Sarah had to cut off contact with Ava

CW: brief narcissistic abuse mention

***

“So,” April started as Sarah came up to the nurse’s station. Sarah rolled her eyes playfully; she knew that look all too well. Nurses loved their gossip and her friends in the ED were no exception. If Sarah wanted to know about someone or something, April or Maggie would be the person to ask.

“So?”

“There’s a new CT fellow,” April nodded in the direction of the doors that led to the hallway, “And someone is pissed.”

Sarah followed her gaze, watching Connor speaking to Will with a rather annoyed look on his face. He was ranting, or so it seemed, and he looked even more disheveled than he had before. Of course, new competition would be a big hit to Doctor Rhodes’ ego, even Sarah knew that. Plus everything that was going on with Robin at the moment, she could imagine he was feeling overwhelmed to say the least.

“Poor Connor,” Sarah sighed, “He was Doctor Downey’s protégé. He’s used to being the only CT fellow, right?”

“Yeah. He’s mostly pissed because Latham doesn’t treat him like a prince, I think. Also this new fellow? She was his first choice so I think he feels threatened.”

“She?” Sarah smiled a little at that, it was nice to know there were more female doctors around. Surgery staff especially were lacking in gender equality at Gaffney, so it was always pleasing when new, talented female doctors stepped up in the ranks.

“Mhm,” April was typing away at the computer but still kept up the conversation, “She’s from somewhere pretty far apparently; really pretty accent.”

“Oh, interesting.”

Maybe April was going to say more but before she could, Natalie tapped on Sarah’s shoulder. She apologized lightly when that made the resident jump, forgetting how easily startled she could be.

“Hey, just wanted to check in. How is Robin doing?”

“I was just about to go check up on her,” Sarah replied once she regained her composure, “If you wanted to talk to her yourself.”

***

Sarah was just leaving Robin’s patient room in the CICU, thoughts focused on going home for some rest. The day had been long and hard for everyone, though she knew Doctor Charles and Connor had the worst of it. She wasn’t too close with Robin, obviously as her doctor that wouldn’t be recommended, but she cared about her. This whole situation was tough and scary, while she was glad to see a physical explanation for her psychosis she was still worried about her prognosis. The episodes could still come back and Sarah wasn’t sure how much more Robin could handle psychologically.

She mustn’t have been paying enough attention because one second she was walking down the hall and then next she was on her ass. She heard annoyed muttering before a hand was held out to her, tugging her to her feet before quickly letting go.

“What is it with residents in this hospital not watching what they’re doing?”

That made Sarah a bit peeved, smoothing down her coat before looking up at whoever this woman was. She was looking at Sarah with an unreadable expression and the psychiatrist couldn’t figure out if she was expecting an apology or a thank you. Her dark blonde hair was pulled back from her face and she was clad in the black scrubs indicative of a CT staff member. Paired with her low and admittedly beautiful accent, Sarah realized this must be the new fellow that April had told her about.

“Maybe we should both pay more attention, Doctor…”

“Bekker,” the hand was held out again, this time for a shake, “Ava Bekker.”

That had Sarah stopping in her tracks, not letting go of her hand but unable to properly shake it. It couldn’t be her; not here, not now. This had to be some kind of joke. How did she not recognize her? Staring at her now, Sarah realized how obvious it was. She still had that confident posture and unwavering smug smile. Her voice hadn’t changed, still alluring and music to Sarah’s ears. Not to mention she still wore the same perfume, a familiar lilac scent that Sarah hadn’t realized she missed so much.

“You are?” She was watching Sarah in confusion, trying to prompt her to reply. She didn’t recognize her; of course she didn’t, it had been ten years. Ava probably moved on and would want nothing to do with her. Not after Sarah cut off contact so suddenly.

“Um, Doctor Reese… Sarah.”

The realization must have hit Ava because she pulled her hand back, shock crossing her sharp features. She searched Sarah’s face silently for any indication of a lie but found nothing. The resident didn’t know how to reply, what could she even say in this situation?

Before she could even think of how to continue, Ava had grabbed her hand and dragged her across the hall to the CT lounge. She was confused and maybe a bit anxious; actually more anxious than she had been for years. The girl she used to love more than anyone was here and was holding her hand again, ten years later and in a whole new city.

“Ava, I-”

Once again Sarah didn’t get a chance to speak. This time it was because she was suddenly yanked into a hug, something she hadn’t properly had in ages. The way Ava wrapped an arm around her shoulder and the other hand came up to protectively cradle her head made Sarah want to sob. This was what she needed so badly a decade prior, the comforting promise that Ava wouldn’t let go of her. Even now, when they might as well be strangers, something felt so right about being in her arms.

“I thought…” The way her voice wavered surprised Sarah, “I thought I lost you.”

The simultaneous pain and relief in those words had Sarah almost crying for real; the last thing she had wanted was to hurt Ava. She couldn’t respond right away, instead just tightening her arms around her waist and holding her even closer. In that moment it didn’t even feel like months had even passed, let alone ten years. Everything felt right again, like the world had finally continued turning after it stopped back with her mother’s manipulation and abuse.

“I… I’m s-sorry,” Sarah’s words were muffled by Ava’s white coat but the older woman heard her just fine. She shushed her gently, promising it wasn’t her fault. She wanted to believe Ava, she really did, but Sarah had yet to be able to heal from the years of gaslighting. Everything was her fault, it had to be, her mother never let her believe otherwise.

“It was,” Sarah shook her head, “I was careless and mom found my letters. She burned them, I didn’t- I couldn’t read your last one.”

That answered the one question that had plagued Ava for ages and the amount of relief she felt was overwhelming. She had been terrified that she had scared Sarah off or upset her in some way. That last letter she sent had taken so much courage to even seal shut, much less send it. They had spoken about feelings before but that was the first time Ava officially asked Sarah to be her girlfriend. When no reply came after two weeks, she began to worry. When it reached two months of silence, Ava was convinced Sarah hated her. She never did get an answer and it left her distraught for years. She hated knowing Sarah was most likely punished for their letters but knowing she didn’t ghost her on purpose was the most reassuring thing Ava had ever heard.

“Sarah, it wasn’t your fault,” she promised, “I’m so sorry you had to live with her. I should have figured out how to get you back to me when I had the chance.”

“You couldn’t have known,” Sarah reasoned with her, “Besides, we were both young. It was a messy situation.”

“I couldn’t protect you. I should have, I hate that couldn’t be there.”

“I know, but I’m okay now,” Ava couldn’t help but melt into the hand that rested reassuringly on her cheek, “I’m out of there and it’s okay.”

Ava nodded, though Sarah could tell she wanted to apologize regardless. They fell into silence, still standing in a half hug in the middle of the cardio lounge. They both knew someone could walk in and be utterly confused at any moment but they didn’t care. This was what both women had wished for for over a decade, just one more hug and a promise that things would be okay.

“Has it really been ten years?”

“Yeah, too long.” Sarah sighed, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” the shyness that crept into Ava’s voice was unlike her and it brought a smile to the other woman’s face. Oh how Ava had missed that smile, so unlike the sad, angsty teen Sarah had been when they met that first day on the beach. She hoped Sarah was happy now, at least, safe from her mother and well on a path to a good life.

“You work here now?” Sarah knew she must be the new fellow but some part of her brain was insisting this was still a dream.

“Yes,” Ava nodded, “Doctor Latham invited me. I’m finishing my fellowship here.”

“This can’t be happening,” Sarah breathed, still shocked that any of this could be real. It felt like the universe had been against them since day one. They shouldn’t be together, Sarah had thought back then; she was only toxic for Ava. Yet here they were, grown adults in a new place, colleagues. This must be a chance to restart, to be close to each other again. Had the universe finally stopped working against Sarah? Did she have a chance at happiness again?

“It doesn’t feel real,” the blonde agreed, “But I promise I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not… mad at me?”

“Sarah, don’t be daft,” the words made her smile despite herself because they sounded so Ava, “None of this was your fault.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you…”

“I know.”

Sarah sighed again, feeling like her head was spinning with everything that had just happened. She let Ava pull her close again, knowing they both needed the quiet comfort and reassurance that the other was really there. She relaxed into the hug, hearing how rapidly Ava’s heart was beating when she leaned against her shoulder.

“Can we go somewhere to talk? Unless you’re still working but I just… We should talk, I think.”

“Yeah,” Ava’s hand smoothed down her unruly curls as she spoke, “That’s a good idea.”

“You could come over, if you wanted.”

Sarah wasn’t expecting the teasing look she received but the low laugh that accompanied it was enough to make her think she fell in love all over again. God how she had missed that laughter; the borderline giggle contrasting Doctor Bekker’s seemingly no-nonsense attitude.

Ava pulled back a little, nodding, “Well I certainly can’t turn down a pretty girl inviting me to spend the evening with her, now can I?”

#yes this is a day late <3 #ava bekker #sarah reese #reesker #teen!au #a chance meeting (twice over)#my aus #my-writing #nosdecember #mutuals #neworleansspecial #userglow

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whump-town · 4 years

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Shattered Hearts, Fractured Lungs

(Chapter Fifth; Warnings for: school shooting, violence, language, and heart failure; you can find the first chapter here, the second here, the third here, and the fourth here)

Emily Prentiss just wants to do her job but a messy case sends her sprawling into the arms of a dying man with a toddler and his weird, broken family.

“We don’t even ask for happiness, just a little less pain.” --Charles Bukowski

Aaron places his tea in the microwave knowing that it’s going to put him behind schedule for the morning. He still needs to get ready for the day but he can afford just a moment to make himself a cup of tea. Anything to soothe his raw throat. Besides, knowing his ragtag group of students he’s going to need his voice today. He’s going to have to be able to keep up with them.

The thought makes him smile, a light warmth spreading along his chest. He settles his hips back against the counter and settles his gaze along the room. He can’t remember cleaning up but the dishes are actually clean, resting in the sink waiting to be put away.

He never washes the dishes. It’s a fatal flaw but he hates washing the dishes and… where’s the dishwasher? It had been a pity gift from Dave. No point in washing dishes by hand when you’re---

When you’re… he can’t remember where he was going with that line of thought. It’s just blank. The sentence just--- the microwave beeps behind him and dejectedly, he turns and opens the microwave except the beeping doesn’t stop. He shuts the door and the fact that the beeping just keeps getting louder and louder and it’s overwhelming causing the soft edges of pain to start blooming across his chest.

And he remembers, there are no kids to go to. No school. No family. No fucking heart---

“Easy,” thick, rough fingers wrap around his bicep. A tight squeeze that grounds him to the moment and away from the microwave still beeping frantically from somewhere to his right. But he’s not at home. He’s not at home because everything is white and it stinks. It smells like bleach and he hates it.

He doesn’t know where he is and everything hurts. He can’t breathe. It hurts so bad. Tears sting his eyes as they fall but all he can do is limply lay in this bed, in this place he doesn't know. He’s not sure what he did wrong but he's sorry and he promises he won’t do it again.

He’s sorry… please just make it stop.

“Family of Aaron Hotchner?”

Five and a half hours of waiting--- fuck, she’d read somewhere it was only supposed to take four. Reid, anxiously pacing, had reminded them all of this fact. It’s taking too long but that has to mean some fraction of hope for them, right? As long as it’s not too short he hasn’t just coded on the table and left them reeling with his loss. Without a fight. With a gaping hole where he once was, wheezing but here.

He’d been here and now…

Standing from her chair, she’s not sure what to expect. How can she? The last time she was here for this kind of news, Anderson was dead. Anderson was dead and she was about to be gifted to another office-- sent away. What is the likelihood of that happening again? This time there’s more at stake. There’s Jack and Reid and Penelope and she’s quickly realized that in this look group, this misfit family, Aaron is the glue.

What’s going to happen if he doesn’t make it out of this?

“He’s in CICU,” the doctor informs them with a nod. “He’ll be there for the rest of the night until he’s breathing on his own.” The doctor’s had warned them of this very likely outcome. His lungs have been working double time for months and they’ll want this reprieve.

Dave, jogging Jack up his farther in his arms, nods his head. He’s really the only one wrapping his head around this information past the point of--- he’s alive. “Can I go back,” he asks, voice thickening with the release of stress now overcoming his body.

The doctor frowns as he considers it. The Cardiovascular Intensive Care Unit doesn’t have much room for patients and visitor’s to be moving around. However, it’s pretty understandable that his patient and his family might benefit from a small visit. That is, as long as they can stand the sight of the bandages.

“Briefly,” the doctor caves. “He’s not going to be up for too much.”

Alive. Not up for much but alive.

“I’ll take it.”

Dave has to leave Jack in the waiting room. He’s still half asleep when he climbs into Reid’s lap without complaint. It seems to calm the genius nerves, being able to wrap his arms around the small boy. And alone Dave follows the doctor down the hall.

It’s eerie and the only sound down the long, winding hall is the heart monitors. To his untrained ears they all sound steady and he wonders if the doctor hears the same steady rhythms.

“It’s for his safety--”

Dave is practically covered in scrubs and plastic. They place gloves on his hands after they instruct him to thoroughly wash. Taking his temperature and handing him a mask to place over his face. He starts to sincerely doubt if he should be back here. If Aaron’s health is so dependent on all this, Dave doesn’t want to place him in unnecessary danger.

Stepping into the room, Dave’s taken aback by all of the wires and the machine. The ventilator pulls in each of Aaron’s breathes and releases them with hiss and beep. He’s awake though, light brown eyes pinched in pain as he slowly answers the nurses question.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart.” The nurse commends. “One last question,” she promises, squeezing Aaron’s hand. “1 to 10, how much pain are you in?”

Hotch’s entire chest feels like there’s a herd of baby elephants sitting atop it. It’s worse than anything he’s ever felt. Hell, bleeding out on his classroom floor wasn’t as bad as this. Still, he raises only seven fingers. The nurse has to lean over his hips to see his trembling left hand hardly raised from the bed and fingers hardly uncurled. Still, seven.

“Honey,” she says, gently and so understanding. “I need you to be honest with me, otherwise, I can’t give you any pain medication. Okay?’

He nods and this time he raises a more honest answer. Nine.

The nurse squeezes his knee as she stands, smiling. “See,” she says, “that I can work with.” When she looks up, she finds Dave and to him her smile softens significantly. “Looks like you’ve got a visitor, sweetheart.”

Aaron moves his head, feeling the uncomfortable pull at his mouth as the tubes remain still. Dave.

“Don’t cry,” Dave whispers, feeling his own tears sting his eyes at the sight of the ones pooling over in Aaron. “Oh my boy,” Dave walks up to the side of the bed. He takes one of Aaron’s hands and the other moves to his hair, gently soothing down the sweat soaked locks.

Dave smiles sadly as he wipes away one of Aarons’ stray tears. He can see just how tired Aaron is. The dark bags under his eyes look more like bruises but all of that can be excused. Aaron’s alive and he’s got a new heart and a chance at life.

Of course… his future is built solidly on a hand-ful of medications he’s going to have to take daily. He’ll have to be careful each flu season and fight from here on out to keep living. To eat healthy and get enough sleep and--

“You did so good,” Dave praises, softly. He keeps his hand in Aaron’s head, luring him back to sleep. Not that Aaron has very much fight left in him right now. “Get some rest, son.”

Where Emily had expected leniency or maybe even some rule-bending she finds only hard schedules and a very weak, recently cracked open Aaron Hotchner. He gets two days to rest. In those days Dave is the only person they allow back and just as he’s starting to get restless they bring him down to a different floor. They pass through so many floors she stops bothering to learn which intensive care unit it is.

What’s important is that he’s on his feet and making slow progress down the hall.

He’s leaning a little bit more on Dave than he should be but gone is the tube in his throat. Pulled behind him is the oxygen tank that the doctor has already decided he no longer needs. But for today he pulls in deep breathes through his nose and tries to make it down the hall without incident.

“Emily,” he greets breathless, stopping and shaking in place while he looks her up and down. He’s not checking her out, there is no baited heat that should make her cheeks flush. Instead, she feels the familiar warmth of his presence wash over her. Nothing but at ease familiarity.

She presses a kiss to his cheek, smiling when he chuckles breathlessly. “You look---”

His chest moves a little too much when he pulls in a breath and he winces, face pulling back in a tight grimace. “--like shit?” he offers, not even fighting when the nurse that had been trailing them pushes the wheelchair behind his knees.

She smiles softly but it’s Dave to confirm, “just rest a moment.” He rests a hand on Aaron’s shoulder, gently rubbing, “you can try again in a moment.”

Once he’s settled, his eyes moving back up to Emily she shakes her head. “Are you kidding,” she asks. “You look hot enough to pick up anybody in this place you wanted.”

He pulls his arm against his chest as he groans, the smile on his lips all she needs to know that he’s laughing through the pain. “Don’t lie to me,” he chides without any heat. It’s him that blushes first and it makes her smile that much harder.

She rolls her eyes and reaches down to mess his hair up even more.

He wonders if this new heart is really going to be able to deal with all the beats she made the old one skip.

“So, hot stuff,” she looks over her shoulder to the rest of the hall. “You supposed to be walking down this hall?’

He nods, throat impossibly tight at the way she says hot stuff so casually.

He really does look worse for wear. His dark hair is perpetually swept in every direction, no brush or amount of gel and water seems to tame it. Normally, his neatly trimmed facial hair never sees the light of much more than a light shadow. Unable to lift his arms and unwavering on his decision to not let a nurse shave him, he’s grown a nice beard.

He’s scraggly and well past just windswept.

He’s lacking nearly all of what makes him so much the Aaron Hotchner the world gets to see. His shoulders aren’t squared, he can’t even stand up all the way. But Emily Prentiss finds that she’s never loved just a ragged thing as much as she does this man.

As teenage girls love the abhorrent idea of a straw too mangled to go loved by another soul. As a child might choose the smallest, most beaten down stuffed animal. Emily Prentiss loves this man who looks up at her with heavy, beaten down eyes. Not because he’s broken but because he gets back up.

And Aaron Hotchner might just love her back.

#criminal minds #shattered hearts fractured lungs #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #david rossi #jack hotchner #hotchniss

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boaws · 4 years

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Fat Tracks for Fulci - Show 184

Bobbi Humphrey - Virtue - Dig This! - 1972 (Blue Note) John Martyn - Go Down Easy - Solid Air - 1973 (Island) Tan Cologne - Alien - Cave Vaults on the Moon in New Mexico - 2020 (Labrador) Shirl Milete - Big Country Blues - Shirl Milete - 1969 (Poppy) OZO - Nuclear Fuel - Saturn - 2020 (Riot Season) Dave Burrell - Peace (excerpt) - Echo - 1969 (BYG) FACS - Void Walker - Void Moments - 2020 (Trouble in Mind) Handle - Lifes Work - In Threes - 2020 (Maternal Voice) Shrinkwrap Killers - Merch Killer - Stolen Electronics to Shove up Your Ass 7" - 2020 (Iron Lung) X - Blue Spark - Under the Big Black Sun - 1982 (Elektra) The Cowboy - From the Grave - WiFi on the Prairie - 2020 (Feel It) Hank Wood and the Hammerheads - Look at You - Use Me 7" - 2020 (Toxic State) Faucet - Crawl - Bitter Insane Melting - 2020 (Self-Released) Jorge Elbrecht - Finale Voices (excerpt) - Gloss Coma 002 - 2019 (Self-Released) Neinzer - Deff - Whities 025 - 2020 (Whities) Dark the Super & Steel Tipped Dove - The News - The Devil Defeated - 2020 (Already Dead) Breathless - Sense of Purpose - The Glass Bead Game - 1986 (Tenor Vossa) Nexda - Yellow 4 - Nexda - 1983 (Studio 12) Mr. Master - A Dog in the Night - A Dog in the Night (single) - 1983 (House of Music) Randy Holden - Blue My Mind - Population II - 1970 (Hobbit) Human Impact - Consequences - Human Impact - 2020 (Ipecac) Cicus Mort - Children Remember - Circus Mort - 1981 (Labor) Poor Girls - Downtown - Poor Girls - 1985 (Self-Released) Goslings - Golden Stair (excerpt) - Grandeur of Hair - 2006 (aRCHIVE) Positive No - Get In, Get Out, Don't Linger On - Kyanite - 2020 (Little Black Cloud) Shell of a Shell - Fill in the Blank - Away Team - 2020 (Exploding in Sound) Ringo Deathstarr - Once Upon a Freak - Ringo Deathstar - 2020 (Vinyl Junkie) Pia Fraus - Paper Flower Projects - Empty Parks - 2020 (Seksound) Tony Williams Lifetime - Sangria for Three - Emergency! - 1969 (Polydor)

#mix #rock #indie #post-punk #noise-rock #jazz #jazz funk #electronic #classic rock #experimental #noise #house #punk #noise-punk #free jazz #shoegaze #psych #jazz fusion #hip hop #no-wave

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anniesroleplay · 6 years

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[ MASON ALEXANDER HIGGS ] » 28. cicu nurse by day dog dad + real dad by night. still figuring out adulting tbh.

aesthetics: early morning runs. soft flannels. crisp autumn air. lazy afternoons. backwards baseball caps. dogeared books. the taste of mint. gooey brownies. frayed hoodies. watching the sunrise. the smell of sunshine on old leather.

needs: 2-3 more siblings to round out the higgs family -- open faces, genders, and ages with a preference for dark haired characters. currently has a twin sister (adelaide kane) and a younger brother (noah centenio). healthcare workers -- nurse for a work wife, doctors, respiratory therapists, occupational therapists, physical therapists, the list is endless. fellow dog lovers -- let him pet your dog!

#bftrp #c: mason higgs #contest

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cirillameow · 3 years

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Ciri nagyon rejtélyes 🐈😸 Vajon mit figyel a sötétségből?😸 #kitty #catscatscats #kitten #kittens #kedi #katze #แมว #猫 #ねこ #ネコ #貓 #고양이 #Кот #котэ #котик #кошка #neko #gato #gatto #meow #kawaii #cica #macska #cicus #instacat #instapet #mycat #catlover #catstagram #catsofinstagram (helyszín: Darkness) https://www.instagram.com/p/CIfudOspW6t/?igshid=791ubygnv5mu

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vsplusonline · 4 years

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‘Covid-19 the last nail in the coffin, this is the gloomiest time ever,’ say MSMEs

New Post has been published on https://apzweb.com/covid-19-the-last-nail-in-the-coffin-this-is-the-gloomiest-time-ever-say-msmes-2/

‘Covid-19 the last nail in the coffin, this is the gloomiest time ever,’ say MSMEs

Jayanth Mutha, a Bengaluru-based second generation entrepreneur running a business of manufacturing agri-electrical products, is in a contemplative mode these days.

The whys and hows of joining his family business constantly nudge him at a time when small businesses are especially struggling to survive in the midst of the Coronavirus outbreak. His company, Himlite Products, is his family business of agri-electricals for the farmers and the farming community.

Mutha has reasons aplenty to second guess his choice of profession.

Locked units, dead stock, no sales, demanding vendors, uncollected payments and mounting expenses – Covid-19 has been the last nail in the coffin for a host of MSMEs, post demonetisation and GST. Not surprising then, Mutha feels highly disillusioned at this point. “MSMEs are India’s second favourite poster boy sectors (after agriculture) and are always credited for the highest employment, great contributions and what not. But, for all the hype, this has not translated to anything concrete on the ground,” he says, evidently disgruntled with the state of affairs.

As per estimates, India is home to 69 million MSMEs with micro enterprises accounting for the majority presence in the country. The virus pandemic has clearly rattled the sector that operates on limited cash resources and huge fixed costs, which make their ability to withstand such shocks extremely difficult. Across the various domains of auto, apparel, F&B, agriculture and the like – the story remains uncannily the same for such enterprises.

Work From Home – what’s that? While a plethora of industries shifted their work practices to ��Work from Home’ during the 21 day lockdown, it has not been as simple for MSMEs for whom such a concept stands redundant and unheard of. Mutha’s typical 14-15 hour work hour day in the factory has now dropped to just one hour from home where he calls vendors and finishes off the pending paperwork.

Amit Kothari, Joint MD at Ludhiana-based Kay Jay Forgings, an auto component firm, says that since all of their processes have to be done on machines in the plants, there is virtually no work that is happening at present. “There are around 2300 people working with us, spread out in the three plants at Ludhiana and Hosur. We are paying salaries irrespective of the situation playing out right now with no sales, work or payments coming in from customers. This is the worst nightmare that the auto industry can go through right now,” he says.

The crisis has hit the auto industry hard. Dwindling sale numbers, production at a standstill and lack of supply coming in have altogether accelerated the brakes on any momentum in the sector. Moreover, the Chinese city of Wuhan, where the virus is said to have originated, is a major manufacturing base of auto components and India’s import dependence on China for key parts only implies that the supply chain will majorly be affected going forward.

Kothari doesn’t mince his words when he says that a lot of challenges are in store ahead. “The impact will go on for two quarters. It is not as if things will be completely normal when the lockdown is lifted. No one knows anything about the future,” he adds.

Kay Jay Forging plant in Ludhiana during normal operations.

In the light of the ongoing challenges, industry body Chamber of Industrial and Commercial Undertakings (CICU) has requested the Government to pay 10% lumpsum compensation to the industry based on turnover as per the GST return. “Even last year was a bad year for the auto sector. Everyone was banking on this year and invested thinking that things will look up. But now this crisis happened. The government should give some relief from the current situation. The industry is very depressed,” Upkar Singh Ahuja, President, CICU says.

Worse situation than any other Textile players too have seen the sudden shift in demand as the focus quickly moved to essentials, an area where textile items did not quite fit in. Nitesh Jagota, Joint MD of Youngman Woollen Mills, which manufactures and supplies a variety of blankets, talks about the various fixed charges that continue for their industry and is burdening them at this time. “We have about 1500 people employed in our three manufacturing units. We have paid advances, salaries and electricity charges. The industry would like to see that at least the minimum charges should be set off for now. We can survive this way for the next 1.5 months or so. However, after that, some booster from the government will be needed for us to stay afloat,” he asserts.

With all the time at hand, Jagota busies himself these days with reading biopics to keep the positivity and inspirational quotient alive. Currently, he is engrossed in reading about the life of Steve Jobs. He recalls the previous instances of demonetisation, GST and recession when the economy was also going through a slump, but is convinced that this is the gloomiest time that has ever been seen.

“Yes, there was panic during demonetisation and GST as well. But atleast things were moving at some pace. We could manage something by talking to suppliers and things were getting restored in some way. Here, we are absolutely stuck and confined to our homes. How can you do any work from home when it is all manufacturing centric?” he questions.

Better preparedness for eventualities Needless to say, it is a tough time for the several small businesses that run on stringent budgets and resources. However, it has also been a learning lesson for many of them to deal better with such unforeseen shocks that may come their way. The MSMEs that ET Digital reached out to say that though their capacity to absorb such economic upheavals will still be limited, some aspects can be thought of for better preparedness in the future.

Mutha, for instance, says that contracts should include certain safeguard clauses in the case of unavoidable circumstances. “A lot of export orders will get cancelled now as the contract never took something like this into account. We need to be more prepared for the unseen and the liability for that cannot be on the seller. Secondly, every MSME should take out atleast a year’s wages and invest the same in a contingency fund, which could either be a land or a safety investment,” he adds.

Adding to Mutha’s views, Ahuja of CICU highlights that keeping a war chest or a cash bank for such situations will come in handy. “It is necessary to keep some funds aside. Another good practice would be to keep businesses lean,” he says.

Experts also suggest that since the availability of skilled labour will be an issue post such migration, MSMEs need to invest in low cost automation to tide over skilled labour issues. Low cost insurance to cover special situations for business losses was another idea mooted.

For now, however, MSMEs are in for a long haul where the road to recovery is bound to be slow. Expectations soar high around a bailout package by the government which can offer relief to the sector in such pressing times and — more importantly — make them survive.

As Kothari of Kay Jay Forgings puts it, “Whoever survives these dark times will have a bright future.”

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gentlemenofthehumanrace · 7 years

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Okay so I’m being punished for loving my wife :P But fair is fair here you go although you probs know this already XD I’m not gonna tag anyone but if you wanna do it then go for it

Peach: do you have any piercings or tattoos? Just my ears but I do want my eyebrow pierced Raspberry: favourite flower? Roses I think Lemon: do you have any pets? what are their names? I have two cats called Sherbert and Luna and they are my children Mango: what is your trademark? Idk man personality wise maybe my amazing pun based sense of humour Passion fruit: how would you describe you style? Just whatever I like, sort of 50% emo kid and 50% 50s housewife Pineapple: sexual orientation? I am lesbean Strawberry: favourite desserts? Eton mess

Cherry: can you play any musical instruments or can you sing? I can’t sing although I like to and I can play the ukulele very badly

Grape: if you could take a vacation anywhere in the world where would you go? Disney deffo with the squad

Banana: favourite horror movies? I don’t like horror but I’m really interested in social science fiction like the purge Blackberry: is your life an action film, a comedy, a romantic comedy, or a drama? I hope a comedy bc someone has to find this shit hysterical Pomegranate: when do you feel the most confident? When I psychology Cantaloupe: what are your parents’ names? My dad’s Paddy and my mum’s Barbara Guava: dark and dramatic makeup or natural makeup? Natural everyday, dark when I need to be intimidating Tangelo: if you could be any mythical creature, what would you be? I’d be a mermaid, I’ve already got the hair for it Plum: favourite clothing brands? Probs new look Coconut: favourite perfume? Daisy Dream Lychee: satin or lace? Deffo lace Blueberry: what do you want to dress up as for halloween? Cicus ring master, I was gonna do it last year but ended up not going anywhere Apple: what do you use more tumblr or twitter? Tumblr Kiwi: what’s something that fascinates you? People, I think I’ve always been bad at understanding other people which was probs why I decided to do psychology Watermelon: do you have a job? if so what is your title? Nah mate Papaya: what song describes your aesthetic? Revolution Radio by Green Day Cranberry: favourite time of the day? 12-2am

Nectarine: would you consider yourself an emotional person? Definitely I cry so much Orange: do you have long eyelashes? They’re decent Apricot: what do you do when you’re sad? Either vent and cry or watch something funny Star fruit: favorite sea creature? Otters (they count) Dragonfruit: do you drink alcohol? A bit but I wouldn’t miss it if I could never drink again

#woah you werent kidding theres so many #but there you go wifey #love you bae

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fictionkinfessionsarchived · 6 years

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i just kinfirmed a character form an au i made,,,,and its a dark cicus au which makes it worse because my character was part of the 'freakshow' so thats fun

#fictionkinfessions #fictionkin #aukin #ableism cw #canoning issue #mod party cat!

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spontaneoushiccups-blog · 6 years

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On the other side but still in the middle.

I have sat down to write a blog post several times and stared at the white screen and then, minutes later, closed the tab and went back to whatever. It’s so hard to write about because in part I feel like it’s just sad. What’s the point in sharing sadness or struggle. I don’t want sympathy- or I don’t know, maybe I want a little sympathy? The support has been imperative. I don’t want people to feel sorry for us, or for me to come off like I’m complaining, or just disseminating darkness for no reason. My Mom says the story is hopeful. I hope so. Yesterday I was reminded how comforting it is to read about or hear about other people’s stories and struggles, particularly with sick children. We aren’t alone, and we feel so alone a lot of the time, so I guess that’s why it’s good to share. Maybe we can help other people feel less alone in whatever they are dealing with. So quick recap from birth to today: Moments after birth, Iris was taken to the NICU at the University of Utah where they immediately plugged her into machines to track her heart rate and vitals. A few hours later she was escorted by her Dad and the medical flight team (because they are trained to medically assist in transit) across the hospital bridge to Primary Children’s where she was admitted to the CICU (Cardiac Intensive Care Unit.) 3 days later she went in for the Norwood. The doctor had to come in the day before her surgery to do the equivalent of the fast-talk-warnings at the end of pharmaceutical commercials and break down everything that could go wrong during surgery. From having a stroke that could kill her or never recover from, to her body not responding well and going into cardiac arrest and everything in between. I remember crying pretty hard as he was explaining everything to us and he stopped and said, “Are you ok?” And I looked back at him like, “Are you fucking kidding me?” He finished by saying, “So hold onto her tight today.” We spent the rest of that day taking turns holding her and sobbing. The next morning we met with the anesthesiologist who explained how they would be medicating her and it just sounded like grown ups in Charlie Brown, garbled radio static. Then they wheeled her down the hall and gave me a pager for updates. I opted not to stay at the hospital and instead go to my Dad's house nearby. I got an update when she went on the by-pass machine. Got an update when they succesfully dropped her core temperature to 30 degrees. Got an update when they started the arch reconstruction. We set up an alter for her and sent out the word to my lady tribe to light their candles for her, and I sat on the floor and prayed. I prayed to my Grandmothers, my aunts, to everyone who I have loved who has died, who is on the other side. Then I took 2 Xanax and fell asleep. I woke up hours later to Ryan saying, “It’s over. She’s ok.” That night we threw an impromptu party. It was the best and the worst day of my life so far. She stayed in the CICU for 2 weeks until we were admitted/downgraded to “the floor” where she stayed for 2 more weeks. A lot happened in that time, but all that matters is that we finally got out and got to go home again. This time with our baby. Since we got home from SLC and the hospital, Iris has been doing really well for the most part- but is struggling with oral feeds. This is super common for "heart babies" because the GI system requires a lot of blood flow, and her oxygen levels sit so low right now (between 75 and 85- you or I are at around 98) and her body prioritizes sending blood to the lungs and the brain to keep her alive, instead of to her stomach. She still has an NG tube, this sad thing taped to her face that reminds me and her Dad and anyone that looks at her that she is not well, that she is not just our “normal” baby. I think we hate the damn thing so much because of that. Like if we can just get that fucking NG out then maybe everything will be ok. But we are reminded daily that she is simply not strong enough to eat her full calorie intake on her own. She needs the help of the tube. She isn’t well, and that is simply the truth. Of course she isn’t- she is between 2 major heart surgeries (what they call “interstage”) and she is barely 10 weeks old. Some days we feel great and everything is almost normal. Every morning we have to take her blood oxygen levels and her heart rate, weigh her, give her her medication through her tube. She isn’t “allowed” to cry for long periods of time, so when she gets upset (as newborns do) the pressure is on to soothe her as quickly as possible. It’s a constant game of “is she doing this because she is a newborn baby and she has gas? Or because her sternum is wired closed and maybe she’s in pain?” She can’t take tylenol very often because it could mask a fever- which we need to be aware of as she cannot get sick during interstage because the risk of death is much higher because of her weak heart. That also means we can’t really go out, and our sanitization game has to be strong. Everyone that enters our house must wash, and sanitize, before even breathing near the baby.No one who is sick, has been sick recently, or might be sick is allowed. It’s an interesting game when you have a four year old who goes to pre-school (what we refer to as “The Plague Pit”) We have gotten into a routine so it’s not so bad. We have a cover for her carseat, so sometimes we’ll pack up the anti-bacterial wipes, the sani-spray, and the hand gel and sneak away somewhere we know will be mostly empty for lunch. Sometimes the longing I feel for normalcy is overwhelming. I am pulled out of the lull of stressful haze that has become my day-to-day life to be reminded of what we don’t have. It seems like everyone around me is having healthy babies, and sometimes the grief of not having that completely takes over and I feel broken. This has been such a challenge to my “maternal instinct.” The whole time we were in the hospital my instinct was nagging so heavily to just get the baby out of there- let me take her home and just nurse her and everything will be ok. Of course that wasn’t the case- and I had no choice but to trust the doctors, despite daily- stupid fuck ups that would cost us days of progress. I was warned going into this to be prepared to advocate advocate advocate for our child, and it’s true. You have to keep your eye on every doctor, every nurse, every decision made, every medication thrown at her, every procedure, everything- and you have to understand it (I feel like in the last 3 months I went to cardiology school- the terminology of everything alone is a lot.) And it’s not like we can “ask the doctor” when we are unsure or scared. This experience has taught me that the medical system is a convoluted web of specialists that don’t necessarily talk to each other. It’s an elaborate corporate bureaucracy and the worst day of your life is just another day at work for them. Iris currently has a team of specialists, and it’s not always clear who is in charge or who we should call or refer to for action. She has her PCP (Primary Care Provider) who knows nothing of DILV or cardiology, but is just our family practitioner. He’s the one that basically gives her “regular check ups” gives her immunizations and measures her against normal standards like a baby would. She has her cardiologist- he’s the one that originally diagnosed her (which is something we still marvel at- that he could diagnose such a specific condition on a baby that was the size of a peach with a heart barely the size of a blueberry) He’s the one that performs her echocardiograms monthly, and checks in on the performance of her heart and BT Shunt. She has a speech pathologist- who determines how well she swallows and her technical oral capacities. She has a nutritionist who advises her daily calorie intake and “feeding plan” and she also has her pediatric cardiology surgeon, who will perform her next surgery in August. We don’t know who this person is yet. If we need anything from the tangential doctors it all has to go through the PCP. I remember when her surgeon in Salt Lake came in to check on us the day they closed up her chest (they keep the chest open for a few days after the surgery because of swelling.) “You guys look like completely different people from the ones I saw the other day,” he said “I don’t know how you parents do it. If it were me, I wouldn’t have done it.” Our jaws hit the floor. WTFF does that mean?? I think about it often. Of course this is the greatest trial of my life so far- but I look at my Iris with her strawberry hair and her chubby cheeks, as she smiles and coos at me while I check her sats or change her diaper and the tight electric heat of the stress of it all just melts away and I am so grateful she is here, and I would do it all again. Which is good- cause we are going to have to in just a few short months...

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keeplivingon · 7 years

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I AM SO SORRY I HAVE BEEN MIA.

-I have two exams this week. As soon as this week starts, the semester is essentially over.

-I am currently doing a pediatric rotation in a FUCKING FANTASTIC hospital in the middle of a city. It’s spectacular. I MUST find work here. The population that one sees in these types of hospital is astounding. The diversity is overwhelming. I LOVE IT.

-Future pediatric cicu nurse?!?!?! LET’S FUCKING HOPE SO. (ugh man, i do love my geriatrics tho....)

-I’m honestly open to being a medical icu. Kidneys and livers and still fucking cool.

-Okay, I don’t even think I have ranted about my decisions to only apply to critical care units. BUT this little tiny baby nurse knows she has the brains to be one. HOWEVER, her confidence is literally in the trash. So many days I just wanna cry, as my anxiety crushes me into a deep dark hole.

-I still need to work on my resume, so when the times come (t minus like ~3 months?!?!?!?!?!?) I can get a KICK ASS JOB, with a kick ass new grad residency program.

-honesty hour: I have barely had ANY exposure to higher acuity nursing, but honestly, this is what I want to do. This is fucking it.

-I’ve had wonderful professors that have truly made me feel empowered to actually dream of taking this risk. And I’m going to run all the way home with it.

#baby nurse in training #sorry its been so long #future critical care nurse

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vsplusonline · 4 years

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‘Covid-19 the last nail in the coffin, this is the gloomiest time ever,’ say MSMEs

New Post has been published on https://apzweb.com/covid-19-the-last-nail-in-the-coffin-this-is-the-gloomiest-time-ever-say-msmes/

‘Covid-19 the last nail in the coffin, this is the gloomiest time ever,’ say MSMEs

Jayanth Mutha, a Bengaluru-based second generation entrepreneur, running a business of manufacturing agri-electrical products is in a contemplative mode these days.

The whys and hows of joining his family business constantly nudge at him at a time when small businesses are especially struggling to survive in the midst of the Coronavirus outbreak. His company, Himlite Products, is his family business of agri electricals for the farmers and the farming community.

Mutha has reasons aplenty to second guess his choice of profession.

Work From Home – what’s that? While a plethora of industries shifted their work practices to ‘Work from Home’ during the 21 day lockdown, it has not been as simple for MSMEs for whom such a concept stands redundant and unheard of. Mutha’s typical 14-15 hour work hour day in the factory has now dropped to just one hour from home where he calls vendors and finishes off the pending paperwork.

Kay Jay Forging plant in Ludhiana during normal operations.

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