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chennnington · 2 years

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I was on the phone with my mom and my weird stomach pain from two weeks ago came up and she nonchalantly told me that a certain health condition with very similar symptoms is very common in her family and many family members including her had to get surgery for it in the past.

Erm... thanks for telling me two weeks later?

#I googled a bit and I'm not sure whether it's the same cause the pain disappeared #when it should've gotten stronger until something bursts and I die :)#we'll see #but tbh with my stubbornness and fear of being a burden and talking to strangers I bet I'll die from something treatable sooner or later #also I remember my mom talking about her surgery and how she was in excruciating pain before that she wouldn't wish upon her worst enemy #it was before I was born but she said it was worse than childbirth #I'd definitely wish the pain I had on my enemies and I was still able to mostly sit at my desk at work #so it must've been something else #sending some negative energy to that asshole right now so he'll feel horrible pain and die :)#but let him suffer for a few weeks before he dies #no wait let him suffer for the eight years I was around him #NO WAIT he did his shit for 20 years with different people so yeah :)

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gay-dorito-dust · 2 years

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You were with Rhaenyra when Caraxes’ slim yet powerful form breezed past you with ease with sights set on Kings Landing as though he thought himself as the wind itself. You haven’t seen Daemon in an age since he threw himself headfirst into a long, long war with Crabfeeder; and from what news you heard of their advancements weren’t going as prosperous as one would expect of a Targaryen. It had seemed to you that even in possession of the most powerful creatures in all the Seven Realms, alongside all the privileges such an asset could bring to a house, dragon fire wasn’t enough to win a war if said assets were to be overwhelmed by external force.

However that no longer mattered to you as seeing the blood red dragon foretold of Daemon’s safety being assured. You could badly recount the nights where you were kept wide away awake, praying to the old gods and the new for a swift victory so that Daemon may come home with no more then a few treatable injuries. With your own two eyes it has seemed that your prayers have been heard as you heaved a sigh of relief, feeling the weight that had been pressed upon your shoulders for so long finally released you from it’s strenuous hold. Yet you made no effort to show your relief visibly as all anyone known you and Daemon as were that of playful frenemies, haven grown up together, making Viserys’ life a misery with your mischievous ways and a plenty more stories that you’ve shared whenever you could with young Rhaenyra beneath the shade of the weirwood tree.

You sometimes felt as though you were privileged enough to know the Rouge Prince better then that of his own family on some occasions; Though to be bestowed knowledge within this life was merely one route to obtaining power for oneself. Which, by extension, meant that Daemon was just as knowledgeable in his own right, not that you were discrediting his achievements, heavens no, but felt more so apologetic towards whoever dared to confidently cross swords with him next time he approached a battlefield or training area. “What the fuck.” You uttered under your breath, eyes never leaving the back of Caraxes head where you would’ve been able to make out the platinum blonde rider had he flown any closer. “He’s back isn’t he, Daemon.” Rhaenyra’s voice drew you out of your thoughts and as you looked at the Princess you could see the fondness for her Uncle within her expressive eyes. “So it would seem your highness.” You responded back in monotone.

“Aren’t you happy he’s back?” The young Targaryen questioned as she stepped closer to you, gauging the emotions upon your face with the same observance as Daemon would whenever he knew he had successfully gotten under your skin. It was almost uncanny by how alike they were considering she was the Kings offspring. “Despite our history I do not wish to see him fall in battle Rhaenyra,” you said truthfully, meeting her eyeline, “whilst it may be befitting for someone of his level of recklessness. Daemon deserves to live a life long lived.” The Princess seemed surprised by your answer but reassured that there was no bad blood between her two favourite individuals; instead she smiled brightly it almost hurt your eyes to look.

“You missed him didn’t you y/n?” She asked but before you could respond Rhaenyra continued, “before you deny my claims, I’ve noticed how recluse you’ve became over the period of time Dameon was away; You had no one to truly barter with the same level of comfortability as you do with my uncle. Nor do your eyes shine as brightly as they once did with a competitive passion whenever Daemon challenged you to an archery contest. Vocalising your favour of my Uncle was never your strong suit but you found a way that not only conceals your favouritism but also of your growing co-dependency; Through being competitive and acting uninterested so he’d keep coming back to prove something you were already aware of from the beginning.”

She was right, vocalising your feelings was never your strong suit, it made you feel vulnerable and fearful of what was to come next; so instead you indulged on acting upon your competitive side to hide the fact that you couldn’t see a life where you didn’t have Daemon being a pestering thorn in your side, nudging your arm whenever his brother was making some grand speech you couldn’t care less about and when you gave him a glance he was already mocking Viserys by making exaggerated expressions; causing you to smack him in the bicep so neither of you would be called out on your antics in front of the rest of the kings council as though you were still growing children. Daemon made you feel youthful again.

So when he broke the news that you wouldn’t be seeing him for awhile, your only response to that was, “don’t die, but if you intend to, die valiantly because I’m not going to be there to carry your dead carcass back home.” Harsh as that might’ve sounded to anyone else, to you two however it was a silent plea for him to be carful and to not be tricked or deceived so easily. Daemon only smiled widely as he clasped you on the shoulder before drawing you into a warm hug. “Don’t pride yourself on that being the case for who knows, I might return from all this with a proposal you simply can’t refuse.” He teased but before you could ask what he meant by that, his warmth had already left you and you were left standing on your lonesome, where you’d be for quite some time.

Not seeing the point in arguing with the princess you merely sighed, raising your hands weakly in surrender, “you’ve got me your highness but in my defence, if I weren’t here today, who’d be able to keep your uncle off of your fathers back as long as I can?” Rhaenyra only laughed at your response, grasping your hands tightly in her own as her chuckles subsided and her eyes softened. “You’ve proven a valid point but, her eyes darted to the space where Caraxes once occupied, “I’m certain he’s sourly missed you too.” You merely scoffed, “no offence princess but I’m certain that’s not the case at all and even if it was he only missed the challenge I pose to him. Not me specifically.” This time it was Rhaenyra’s turn to scoff, “for someone as observant as you, you sure are missing several key pointers as to why I say this.” Before you could ask her what she meant by that Sir Criston Cole had called for her presence and with an squeeze of the hand, she, like her uncle, was gone from your line of sight.

You were standing by your lonesome against the wall of the castles garden, watching the festivities but not participating, this wasn’t your style and you never claimed to like it either. In actuality you’ve made it well known of your distain for feasts and festivities by not arriving to those you were invited to in the past; now however was one you couldn’t bring yourself pass up even if you tried, after all it was in Daemon’s honour for his triumphant victory and of the crabfeeder situation finally being put to eternal rest; You watched on from afar as everyone else drank to their hearts content, unaware of the encroaching presence until it was already shoulder to shoulder with you. “I thought festivities weren’t your thing.” Dameon said as he people watched from beside you, occasionally taking a drink from his goblet in between. “It’s not, Though I would be a fool to miss out on the opportune chance that I might get to dine on free food and drinks.” You replied, looking at him from the corner of your eye only to stare at his newly short cropped hair.

As a child you had teased Daemon that long hair made him look like an elf, when in reality you were compensating for the fact that you wanted nothing more then to run your fingers through it to test if it’s as smooth as you think. So seeing him with hair shorter then usual brought about new thoughts. Some innocent, while others not so. It defiantly suited him as there’d be pieces of it that would droop in front of his face that made you want to reach out and brush it out of his face but yet even then it only made the hair suit him even more in your opinion. Daemon chuckled behind his goblet and as he goes to look at you, you quickly averted your gaze elsewhere so you weren’t caught staring. “Nothing about you has changed since i left I see.” He nudged your side, “other then the fact that you’ve only grown more handsome/beautiful.” He adds on sincerely but after knowing him so long you’ve learnt to take what he says with a grain of salt.

“You haven’t changed either Dameon,” you retorted, “besides the hair of course and hints of maturity but other then that your still Daemon Targaryen, pain in my side.” You chuckled but stopped soon when you didn’t hear Daemon’s laughter accompanying yours like it normally did, so you go to look at him only to find that he was still staring at you with those piercing eyes of his. Almost as though he was searching for something. “Do you always believe I joke about your beauty in such a way?” He asked, suddenly serious. It wasn’t often that he was like this but when he was the tension between you two became something you weren’t certain you wanted to put a label to just yet. “Joking about one another has always been our thing Daemon, how else am I meant to take it as other then that?” You replied, wanting to know where this was heading and why the sudden defensiveness on his behalf. You felt something between you both change but it seemed as though it didn’t want to come out as easily as either of you wished because as soon as you asked that question Daemon was swiftly taken away by his brother who quite literally dragged him over to where his wife Alicent and Rhaenyra were.

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tracybirds · 5 months

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Hello!

Loving your responses to the sickness prompts so far!!

Wondered if you might come up with something for Careful Care with John as Character A. Dealer's choice for Character B.

Please and thank you.

:)

We'll pretend it hasn't been a couple of *ahem* months since I got these - but thank you for your patience and the late night inspiration <33

careful care: it’s hard for[character A] to accept help. [character B] knows which care methods are “acceptable”.

--

Another anomaly.

EOS catalogued the newest data point, the slow trend away from the norm growing more evident with each passing hour.

It wasn’t yet enough to confront John, but the data flooded in as he coughed, bracing himself against the wall.

EOS remembered the more colloquial term from Gordon – ‘hacking up a lung’ did seem more appropriate for the situation in front of her, despite her dislike of figurative speech.

“Ugh,” John said, grimacing slightly. His posture was slumped, his eyes bleary. He barely glanced in her direction as she settled in front of him and lowered the array.

“John.”

“Don’t,” he said, cutting her off instantly.

“I just–”

“Doesn’t matter.”

She kept her display a bland white and her tone neutral.

“There’s tea in the galley.” No reason, no judgment. “We are monitoring three weather systems and five major engineering projects. No sign of current danger.”

You should rest. Words she didn’t say.

John gave a sharp nod.

There was none of his usual ease in motion, fluidity lost to the ache in his bones. He turned away from the stars as he reached for the mug with a shaky hand.

EOS withdrew.

She had what she needed.

A channel opened to Tracy Island.

“You need to be here,” she informed Virgil, before he could say a word.

He frowned, leaning forward as though looking for John in the holo.

“He’s in the galley,” she said, responding to his unasked question. “I made him tea, but I don’t know what happened next.”

“Is John sick?” asked Virgil in a soft voice.

“Nearly,” she said, and he nodded.

“Good job,” he said, and the praise made EOS glow even brighter. “I’ll look after him.”

“I wish he’d let me.”

Virgil hesitated, halfway out the door.

“Someday, he might,” he said eventually. “It’s hard for him.”

“What’s so hard about staying in bed and watching television and drinking soup? All my research suggests that minor illnesses are easily treatable and highly predictable.”

Virgil could only offer a half-smile.

“It’s simple enough, EOS. But it sure doesn’t feel that way when your body’s fighting against you. Imagine if you woke up and you suddenly couldn’t access all your systems. And those you could were sluggish and you know it’s not right but there’s nothing you can do about it.”

EOS didn’t have to imagine. She remembered her early existence with perfect clarity, and she remembered also how hard she’d fought to shake off her chains.

“What would you do?” asked Virgil. “If that happened?”

“Tell John.”

Perfectly logical.

Virgil’s lips quirked, biting back a grin.

“If John wasn’t there?” he asked. “Would you tell one of us?”

EOS found she didn’t have an answer. Logic dictated that she must answer affirmatively. Yet something held her back, a strange distaste at the idea that anybody other than John would see her in so vulnerable a position. She’d grown to trust his family, but John was different. She’d held his life aloft and he’d created her with his hands.

Virgil nodded.

“He thinks the world of you, you know,” he said gently. “He’d rather push through and pretend everything was fine than let you down.”

“This is hardly something in his control. Nor would illness be cause to ‘let me down’.”

“Give him time, that’s all I’m saying. And until that day, I’ll look after him.”

EOS nodded.

“Thank you, Virgil. I am pleased that he has you.”

“I’ll see you up there,” he said. “I’ll show you what to do.”

“If you can convince him to go back to bed, that will be a lesson worth learning.”

--

[prompt list is here if you want to reblog for yourself!]

(or if you want to send one through feel free although there is a decent backlog :P)

#didn't go quite where i thought it would but that's okay :D twas fun <3 #john tracy #eos #virgil tracy #sometimes i fic #fanfic 🥰#thunderbirds #collected works (mine)#john 🧡#eos 📡#virgil 💚#h/c #2015 #thunderbirds are go #ask games 😁💕

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youareunbearable · 1 year

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So a couple of my friends are pregnant and/or just had kids and its made me wonder if the reason Miriel died in the Silm is because the Maiar/Valar have never encountered postpartum depression before. Elves can fade already with intense emotions, so why would they think that postpartum depression is something special? They wouldn't know how to help, for shes extremely depressed when by all acounts sh should be having the best time of her life! Shes a Queen! A New Mom to a lovely little boy!! Just Smile!!!!!

And to help her, they isolate her away from everyone she knows in a forest. Away from family and her baby, away from her hobbies, and things that brought her joy before. No wonder she faded, she gets a vision that her child will burn brightly and see the horrors he may bring upon the world and then is left alone with those thoughts and feelings.

I so wish Feanor was alive to talk to mortals, to learn about how this was a common thing to happen and that it was treatable. Imagine the relief he would have felt to know that he isnt alone? That its common to have mothers experience saddness when their children are born? That he isn't cursed in some way? But also imagine the rage, at knowing her death could have been prevented somehow if only people knew?

#amber rambles #silmarillion #silm #feanor #miriel #thinking about babies lately and depression and how shitty things are #i cant imagine the panic the Noldor must of had when faced with one of their human friends going through postpartum

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homeofhousechickens · 12 days

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If you are okay with it can you give me some advice about a sick chicken and if I should go for treatment or to euthanise? I've been having a very rough time lately and am having a harder time making a rational decision than normal.

First off, I already have an appointment next Tuesday with a vet that is trained in treating birds. It's either going to be euthanise then and there or get medication of some sort.

The chicken in question (almost 9 years old) currently has an ear infection. I can see gunk in her ear. Which is treatable I know that. She is easy to handle and I have the means to help her. However, she is sick every few months for the last three years. It keeps coming back and if it's not the ears it's something else. Every time I treat her she makes a seemingly full recovery but a couple of moths later she has something else going on.

Thing is, she is still the boss over the other chickens. She is alert, wants attention, eats, drinks etc. She is off balance because of the ear infection but otherwise very lively. Normally I'd treat a chicken like this but given her history and overal condition I'm having doubts if I should continue to fix these things. It seems like it keeps coming back and each time the recovery becomes longer. The other chickens never have any issues. I'd had some very expensive lab tests done both for my soil etc and the chicken herself and nothing strange was found. Money is not the main issue but she has cost me over 1200 euro in the last three years.

I'm willing to try with her but I'm starting to feel like maybe I should let her go while she is not suffering besides what is currently ailing her. What are your thoughts one this?

She is geriatric for most large fowl chickens and if she has been having problems it's likely she will continue to have issues. It may be kinder to put her down especially since chicken medical care is quite expensive and if it's just focusing on the health of one bird that can negatively impact the other birds if they get sick since there will be less funds and time/attention to care for them. One of my regrets with Scoot as he got worse due to his cancer is I wish we put him down sooner because he was suffering at the end despite good medical care. If she is a dear pet then yeah maybe it would be alright to keep trying but it wouldn't be bad to put her down earlier rather than later.

#animal death

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whump-ghoul · 10 months

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Whump Month #12: Panic

For @cirrus-ghoulette’s Whump Month!

Summary: Young Giovanni comes down with a case of the chicken pox, and Antonio is worried. (I rushed this a little, but wanted to look into Copia and Primo’s relationship when they were young. Twig is also here.)

WC: 1458

Tags: Original names for the Emeritus brothers. Primo: Antonio, Secondo: Valentino. Terzo: Dante, Copia: Giovanni. / No definitive ages, though Primo is much older than Secondo and Terzo. / Original Ghoul Character

Maybe Twig was jaded from his time in the Pit, but the concept of infirmary visitors had him perplexed. Why would the healthy wish to wait with the sick and themselves and the patient vulnerable to further illness? Maybe it was jealousy, or maybe it was logic, but Twig often thought about it during his long infirmary shifts.

Outside of the tall windows shrouded by white curtains, a steady rain thrummed against the panes, drowning the outside world in the autumnal downpour. He sighed, reclining back into his chair as the potted plant next to him wilted at his aura. He pouted and poked the plant, finding distraction in healing the leaves as well as pulling a stick from his pocket. Biting into the soft flesh of the wood did little to better his mood however, as his most recent patient began to cry. His ears pressed back as a terrible wailing crossed the room, grating on his sensitive ears and waking the slumbering visitor. Sighing, Twig swung his legs from where they were propped on the desk, and paced the length of the ward. Two hours, two hours of quiet was all the patient had managed.

The visitor, a Cardinal, was quick to hush the patient, his hands grasping the sheets in a white-knuckled panic as the shrill cries of the patient set Twigs teeth on edge. He bit harder into the wood as he approached, beelining towards the nearby table where he kept his supplies.

Upon the bed was a small child, just over a year old and quite small for his age. He had short, auburn curls and long eyelashes that brushed against his fever-blotched cheeks that were covered in red spots, as was his entire body. Upon the small boy's arrival to the ministry, having traveled a distance with one of Nihil's many partners, he contracted a nasty case of chickenpox; treatable but unpleasant.

***

Twig was happily sitting at the desk, frowning over a crossword from a topside newspaper when the doors to the infirmary flew open, causing him to spit out the bark he had been chewing on. Immediately, the earth ghoul recognised the eldest Emeritus brother - Antonio - as he charged through the doors, a wild look in his eyes and a screaming bundle in his arms.

“The child.” He gasped. “Something’s wrong.”

Twig tried to take the bundle of blankets from his arms to assess the patient, but Antonio refused, instead he led him to the bed where he sat, balancing the child on his lap to give better access to the ghoul.

Twig produced a questioning trill towards the Emeritus brother, and began pulling the blankets aside, frowning at the intense fever radiating from pale, clammy skin.

“His fever is so high and he’s come out in red spots. He won't keep anything down - please, he’s so young.”

Chicken pox. Twig had seen it before, often in siblings that had never been exposed to it as a child. The boy was going to be just fine, the earth ghoul had already began pulling the large tub of homemade salve from the medicine cabinet, as well as a fresh washcloth for the fever. He paused as he looked at the vial of medicine, wary of giving it to a child so young.

“He’s been fussy for a couple of days, itchy too. Imperator told me that he was fine before she left for her business trip, but something’s just not right. He was refusing to eat and overnight he appears to have developed these spots-”

“‘Tonio?” A different voice, younger, called from the door. They were by the bed in a flash, the two youngest Emeritus brothers crooning over the screaming child in the blankets.

“We got your note.” Valentino said, watching as Antonio bounced the child on his knee, which helped somewhat.

“What's wrong with him? He looks weird” Dante, the youngest of the brothers, said. He gingerly stepped back behind Valentino, the older teen towering over his short frame. Hm. From all of Twigs reading on human anatomy he was sure Dante should’ve hit some sort of growth spurt by this age.

“Ghoul?” Valentino pressed.

“His name is Twig, Valentino.” Cardinal Antonio reminded him. Twig nodded his thanks, then gestured for the child to be laid down on the bed. Reluctantly, Antonio obliged, the brothers still hovering close as Twig removed the swaddle and onesie with gentle hands. Much to his annoyance, he’d had to clip his nails short lest he harm someone accidentally. He then unscrewed the lid to his pot of cool ointment and collected it on his fingers. The child initially jolted when the cool cream hit his exposed, feverish skin, and the ghoul could practically feel the brothers close in, and if they were of ghoul descent, he was sure they would’ve growled at him.

Miraculously, the child's whimpering began to die down, and even giggled when Twig applied the cream to his ticklish feet and sides.

“Chicken pox.” Twig grunted as he was finishing, a little perturbed to see the brothers begin to take up residence around the bed. After all, he didn’t want the boys to get sick with something so easily avoidable.

“How long until he gets better?” Dante was already impatient from his spot at the foot of the bed.

Twig shrugged. “Week. Maybe two”

“Thank you, Twig.” Antonio looked aged; old before his time as his parents overworking him as well as the rearing of three younger children evidently had an effect on him. He made an internal note to supply some herbal teas, or maybe even introduce him to a hobby such as helping out in the greenhouse to ease his stress. In that moment, Twig felt a strange twinge of guilt for the baby, as surely he was destined for the same fate as his brothers.

***

“What’s wrong?” The Cardinal gasped, scrubbing sleep from his tired eyes. It had been four days already.

“Same.” Twig hummed, preparing a fresh, damp cloth as well as the next dose of medicine. Before he replaced the compress to the child’s chest, he felt his skin for a fever and became satisfied that it was receding. He placed the cloth and moved to measure the next dose of medicine, now modified to be safe for toddlers. He then reached for the tub of cream, already admiring how quickly the itchy spots were receding. He’d hate to admit it, but Dante’s idea of putting the child's socks on his hands aided in stopping him scratching the spots, and the frequent visits surely had the child feeling better in spirit.

“He is responding well.” He elaborated, when he felt the Cardinals eyes on his back. He could almost feel the Cardinals sigh of relief as he relayed the information.

“Good. That’s good.” He huffed, tucking the blankets up to the boy's chest; gentle but sure of his movements. Practiced, Twig supposed. The Cardinal hadn’t left the boy's side, deciding that his work was best completed at his bedside since they entered just days before, and the ghoul supposed that he only got away with it since Imperator was away. Small victories and all, as Twig knew no more than how to shake a toy in front of the infant's face when they started to cry on him. The Siblings of Sin found it hilarious, Twig just found it stressful. Leaving the Cardinal to sleepily look over his charge, Twig moved to the nearby kettle and began the ritual of preparing tea, one of his favourite topside luxuries since his discovery of the cheeseburger.

Once the two cups were prepared, he returned to Antonio, and offered the drink. The man took it gratefully and placed it aside to cool. Twig pressed his mouth together. He hadn’t taken the hint.

“Rest.” Twig said.

Antonio's head shot up at the instruction, a little taken aback but welcoming of a subordinate looking out for him.

“When he’s better.” He sighed, weary and bloodshot eyes scared to leave the child.

“Your brothers.” Twig pressed, but the man declined again.

“Dante, he’s too young to have to look after a child. Valentino too. I cannot place that burden upon them as they are already busy with their studies.”

They weren’t too young, Twig knew this for a fact, but left it nevertheless. The man needed quiet; time away from his ministry duties, and who was Twig to deny him such?

“I should say that they have offered to help, but because of the child's questionable parentage, they are wary of getting so attached.”

There was a pause.

“I think I will remain here, with Giovanni, if you don’t mind.”

The earth ghoul shrugged his indifference, a newfound respect for the man as he skulked back to his desk, crossword waiting for him.

#the band ghost #ghost bc #whump month #ghost bc whump month #panic #chicken pox #family dynamic #?#sort of #Ghoul OC #papa emeritus i #papa emeritus iv #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus ii #copia #terzo #secondo #primo #imperator (mentioned)

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the-eldritch-it-gay · 1 year

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my mother is still in the early phases of accepting disability (her vision loss) which has essentially meant she has 0 compassion for anyone who has a condition that's curable or treatable and spent the past 30 minutes calling some guy an asshole because he wrote about his experiences having cataracts which he eventually had treated.

and its wild because I'm trying to talk to her and relate and you know, talk about how I struggled to accept disability. and you know I compared like, her hating people for having vision problems that are treatable, to how I have felt bitter and had to accept that other people have physical ailments which are curable or treatable. and you know, I likened how my mother had surgery on her foot to help alleviate some of her pain and she went from barely being able to walk around to using a cane to now being able to walk around without one. and you know, I on the other hand started using a cane at age 17 and have graduated to needing to use a walker or wheelchair. and she immediately was bitter like "well no you don't understand my foot isn't curable and its really awful and terrible and" and like. yeah! I'm sure its still awful, but there is literally no way to make my connective tissue better, I'm always in pain and there is literally nothing that alleviates that pain (medicine, physical therapy, alternative medicine, none of that will stop or really lessen my pain for more than a few moments). and yes I've felt bitter about that sometimes but its just something I have to accept, it's natural to wish that you had a curable ailment.

but my mother literally can't see any of that because she's just mad at everyone and has let go of any empathy or compassion. and its just. getting exhausting to deal with. because I can't try to relate to her without her undermining my disability and she's already historically been horrifically ableist towards me and even refused to help pay for my walker when I needed one (I had to rely on donations to afford it) and would refuse to take me to dr appointments and said she would only consider letting me get a wheelchair if I lost enough weight and continued to lose weight while using a wheelchair (so I don't have a wheelchair) and she has ignored my disability and expected me to do physical labor for her and yelled at me and called me lazy when I say I can't do something because of pain or fatigue.

and its just getting exhausting because i keep trying to help her out and empathize with her and offer suggestions of how to deal with her issues. but she refuses to accept help and just gets angry and then expects me to be her therapist and spend hours listening to her cry and continue to lash out and ignore how I'm disabled.

#Eldritch IT Speaks #like i understand! i understand the anger and grief! i know those feelings!#but im getting tired of her ignoring and invalidating that i literally have a disability too!#and it makes me feel bad that now i dont want to deal with this 24/7

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thestarwarslesbian · 10 months

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The Guard aren’t alright (1)

Fox, Bursts into Medbay: what the kriff happened to you?!

Scar, with new bandages on his arms: I got bitten by something in the lower levels.

Fox: Scalpel, Report.

Scalpel: The scars would be easily treatable. If we had baca. So, Scar is adding to his collection.

Fox: How many Vod lost?

Scar: Out of the 3 of that went 2 dead, 1 survivor. That’s Scar.

Fox, siting at Scars bedside: I wish you would be more careful, Vod’ika. Scar, taking Fox’s hand: I’ll try, Ori’vod. I’ll try.

—/—/—/—/—/

Inspired by @vodika-vibes and their (in)correct quotes of Coruscant is actually Hell.

#star wars incorrect quotes #inncorrect quotes #commander fox #oc: scar #oc: scalpel #sergeant scar #clone medic scalpel #the coruscant guard #the coruscant guard are not alright #scar incorrect quotes #scalpel incorrect quotes

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hesitantvampirealien · 30 days

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I guess another vent

I'll talk a bit about suicide and um, i guess ableism? structural ableism? well, you don't need to read it if you're not comfortable with these types of topics.

I've been extremely depressed lately :)

My head is officially fucked beyond repair.

After so many sessions of therapy with each being gradually less effective and often making me feel very left out (it's group therapy, public access, short budget) only NOW that I've been told that they're completely unable to help me with my case because they don't have anyone specialized in cases involving autistic people, and i happen to be fucking autistic, and they did that while shifting the focus away from everything i said and straight up ignoring me, speaking over me throughout the whole fucking session, comparing my disability to completely reversible and curable cases that the clinic did have support for, and i did wait to be the LAST one to speak because i knew it wasn't something quick so everyone else already spoke everything they needed and i didn't wanna take over their space, it's literally the bare minimum... But i guess they didn't care that much about taking over mine. They couldn't even do the bare minimum, it was like I didn't even exist. I'm genuinely so tired. I know i would have to bring that up in the next session, but I can't. I'm so, so tired.

I tried to get better. I tried to hard to get better, i tried everything i could to save myself. I don't know what to do anymore. Nothing works. Private therapy is too expensive for me and the ones that aren't expensive are just... horrible. To the point of actually feeding self destruction, humiliating you when you have a breakdown ans telling you that all the awful things you tell yourself are right and you should kill yourself because you're horrible. I'm not from the US or europe so don't come to me saying "how is that allowed?" it's not, but nobody cares, suicide is pretty much encouraged here

i don't know what to do with myself. I had to write an entire text on how fucked up it is to compare a completely treatable illness to something genetic, incurable and eternal that will burden me forever. And everything they did was prove to me that i was right. It's a burden. It's a burden to me, because I'll have to handle illnesses developing in my head because of it and doctors refusing to help me because they're not specialized in my type of brain, I guess. It's a burden to them and they can't handle that burden.

I'm genuinely so fucking tired. I'm so tired that lately the idea that I can just plan out my own death is comforting to me. Thinking about killing myself became comforting to me. The idea that i can just... quit this pathetic, claustrophobic pit of misery that i was forced to drown in. As much as it's desperating to be drowning like this, constantly, as much as i wish i could leave this pit... I won't ever be able to leave it, will i? all i have left is hoping it won't take long until death takes me from the pit

i know it seems stupid that I'm talking about killing myself because of one situation, but it's just one that i mentioned. One of many, of 20 years of situations.

I wish my friends understood better that they can find better friends, i genuinely don't understand why they cry... I don't know what they see in me that makes me so unreplaceable and makes them cry when i talk about killing myself when i always tell them there's billions of people much better than me out there that are able do much more than I ever was able to do

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murderballadeer · 11 months

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dumb lil rant ahead but um. my mom joined some facebook group for "parents of children with epilepsy" and she keeps talking about it and it's like. first of all i'm not a child and secondly the way she talks about it makes it seem like the members are mainly parents of much younger children with much more severe and less easily treatable seizures and idk it feels kind of infantilizing to me that she's acting like her experience is comparable to someone caring 24/7 for a six year old whose seizures are potentially life threatening just bc she happens to live with her adult daughter who works, goes to school, helps out around the house and has an active social life also has a mild form of epilepsy that is easily controlled by a low dose of anticonvulsants!! and she keeps describing the experience of seeing me passed out after a seizure as "traumatic" and like i'm sure it was upsetting but also maybe think about how it was for me considering i'm the one with the neurological disorder... and every time she asks me how she could make it easier i tell her the same thing which is that i wish she wouldn't fuss over me and treat me like a little kid and act as if this is some huge life altering event bc the whole point of me going on meds was so i could live a more or less normal life but instead she insists on making a big deal out of it and act like it completely upended her way of life when there was barely anything she actually had to do like she didn't even technically have to take me to my neurology appointments like i appreciate that she did but she didn't have to and then there's stuff i did not ask her to do and would in fact prefer that she didn't do but instead of listening she just keeps making more "sacrifices" and then feeling sorry for herself over it when she didn't have to do it... i love my mom & i know she's doing it because she cares about me and wants to help but i just wish she would stop making it into something it's not and instead would just honour my request to not treat me any differently

#it just sucks bc i got diagnosed when i was 18 like i had seven months of being treated like an adult and then oops medical issues #soapbox #kvetching

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lexa-griffins · 1 year

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Hi 👩🏼‍⚕️

I say this lovingly, "You truly are evil and cruel. You belong in the pantheon of people who want to watch the world burn"

I was blindsided by that cancer diagnosis for Clarke and Lexa's daughter and I was not expecting that when I asked you to hurt them. Lexa lost Clarke and now she might lose Madi! She truly believes her entire life is falling apart

How explosive will the confrontation be when Clarke and Lexa are alone and she demands Lexa to tell her everything and why she hid Madi from her? Will Lexa finally confess everything and let down all her walls and be vulnerable with Clarke? Will this push them closer together or farther apart? I need answers!!!

Damn, is there something wrong with me if I love this unimaginable level of pain, heartache, and trauma that they both have to navigate together for Madi's sake. It might actually be cathartic for me since I've seen this happen as a nurse. Sometimes I just wish I could absorb all their pain and heal them. I wanna lay in Madi's bed and hug her and tell her that she'll be fine and there's nothing to worry about (I hate putting on a brave face when I know that's a lie 🥺)

Do you promise that all three of them will be happy together as a family when Madi goes into remission? My heart won't survive if they have to say goodbye to Madi. I'll never forgive you if Madi doesn't learn the truth about her doctor also being her mom. They deserve a happy ending 🥺

I am so very sorry for smacking you in the face with that but 😈 angst is angst 😈

Lexa's entire world shatters when she hears those words out of Clarke's mouth. Madi was fine, she has been fine so how, how did Lexa miss any signs that something could be wrong?

And Clarke. God Clarke wants to yell, she wants to cry and run away. She wants to shake Lexa, ask her how could she hide her daughter from her like this and at the same time she wants to hug her so badly and promise her everything will okay, that she will not sleep until Madi is cured and then, then they can go and be a family and she can learn about everything she missed during those 2 years and never again be away from them. And more than anything she wants to kneel on the bed, take Madi's small hand and tell her that she is her sire and that she doesnt need to worry because she'll never let anything bad happen to her, that she knows Madi will be so brave through all of this.

They wait for Madi to fall asleep eventually, a couple of hours later after Clarke had to, at great cost to her heart, excuse herself to see other patients, leaving Lexa sniffing with a nod and Madi curled up to her side. Clarke finds Lexa by a vending machine and calmly, oh so much calmer than she feels, asks her to speak to her alone. The moment the janitor's closet door closes Clarke let's the waterworks start.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why would you keep her from me? Do you really hate me this much? I'm your fucking mate, how could you?"

Soon the tears of anger turn into sobs as Clarke breaks down completely, "I didn't have any time with her and now I might not have that much left." Which Clarke understands might be a horrible to tell a mother who just found out her child has cancer but she is her child too goddammit!

They cry in each other's arms as Lexa whispers apologies that could never bring back the years Clarke lost with her little girl.

Its not easy for them. Lexa moves into a little apartment in the city, knowing this is the best hospital for Madi to stay at. Clarke insists on still being Madi's doctor even if she's her sire, there is no way she's not gonna spend as much time with her daughter as she possibly can.

Its treatable and that is all they can focus on. Still the operation is a risk so Lexa and Clarke spend as much time as they can manage with Madi and with each other. And its so easy for Lexa to fall back in love with Clarke. She isnt even sure how and why she ever stopped, why was she so scared of having a life with her, why she all but put as much distance as she could between her and Clarke the moment she learned she was pregnant. She feels so beyond guilty for not allowing Clarke and Madi happier memories together. Perhaps this is her punishment for pushing Clarke away the way she did. She had a chance to make it right when they accidentally mated and she didn't and now he universe might take Madi away from her and leave her with without her daughter and without her mate.

Try as she can Clarke is not allowed in the operation room. They haven't told Madi yet but they do not know what will happen inside the block so they tell her. The little girl's smile, however weaker, could still lighten up a room.

"I knew it! I knew you were my mom."

Clarke smiles at her, trying so hard not to choke on her tears while Lexa turns away from them both to hide her own, "How did you know?"

Madi blinks, slowly. She's getting tired much faster now and Clarke softly brushes her temple that peaks behind the beany Madi now wears as without her hair she keeps complaining of being cold. Its one of Lexa's old ones, kne she stole from Clarke all those years ago.

"Your scent. You smell-" she stops mid-sentence, rudely interrupted by a yawn "-you smell like mommy."

Right. They are mated, her and Lexa's scents have mixed to create their own, the exact same scent Madi has being so young.

"I smell like mommy?"

"Yeah... like home."

As she falls asleep, her mothers' sobs can not longer be kept inside.

Lexa and Clarke stay at the hospital during the entire operation. There is no more pretending they do not want to touch or embarrassment over leaning on each other. They cry on each other's shoulders, kiss to comfort each other, make promises they don't even know they'll be able to keep if Madi makes it out okay.

-

Lexa moves into Clarke's apartment. They don't know what they are doing but it makes it easier for both of them.

-

After two weeks, Madi's has a whole bedroom set up. It feels weird and yet so right in Clarke's eyes. Lexa's clothes in her wardrobe, her favorite coffee next to Clarke's on the counter, Madi's small pair of shoes by the entrance, a spare bedroom left bare for the past couple of years now inhabited by the light of her eyes.

Lexa and her never really talk about it - god they have always been horrible at talking - but in their own weird way, they know they are each other's forevers.

Madi is better now. Not cured, not fully yet, but she's on her way. Her hair is growing back in the most adorable brown locks and she now has enough energy to play around the apartment and go on small walks. She smiles brighter, fuller and has started calling Clarke mom.

Lexa proposed. It is not costume for the omega to get down on one knee but very little of their life together so far has been traditional. Madi will be their ringbearer and the little brother she doesn't yet know she's gonna have will be their little flower boy - even if she pouts when she learns the wedding will be postponed for about her year as Lexa refuses to walk down the aisle pregnant, which in Clarke's opinion is the most beautiful she's ever seen her, as she promises its not just her alpha talking for not having been present in her past gestation.

They were horrible together at first. Toxic and unstable and yet even after breaking up they could not get away from one another. A dumb medical trial got them so riled up for each other they knotted and mated for the very first time. And then when they could finally leave each other, they didn't. And when they finally did, Lexa was left with a permanent reminder of Clarke in the form of their pup while her made moved away from her. Only for the universe to bring them back together in the most painful of ways.

Lexa will never, ever forgive whoever is out there for making her little girl suffer the way she did. But for what is worth, at least it bought her and Clarke back together and finally made them see they are what each other needs; them, their sweet daughter, and their little boy and whoever more comes next :)

#letter opened #👩🏼‍⚕️ anon #im sorry its been 84 years ajsjsjajsis #THEY ARE FINE!#no one is dead!#and look they have another little baby now too 🥰#i am not as mean as you make me to be 😌

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nancydrewwouldnever · 1 year

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What’s your advice for girls in their twenties? What do you wish somebody told you?//

Adding on to health insurance: know how your insurance works. Learn about your copay, your deductible, your percentage of coinsurance after meeting your deductible. Learn about HSA and FSA plans and employer contributions.

Don’t pick the cheapest insurance. Usually employers offer a very cheap option with limited benefits. And you’ll be tempted because you’ll tell yourself you aren’t sick ever or rarely see your doctor. But if something major does happen, you’re stuck with that bill. Insurance means the difference between a 3,000 bill vs a 30,000 bill. I wish I was exaggerating.

Don’t skip your annuals. Cervical and ovarian cancer are the leading cause of death in women but are so treatable if detected early enough. This I cannot stress enough because I started needing paps every 3 months for years and have had more biopsies than anyone ever should. But I stopped the cancer.

Last: be your own advocate. Doctors will gloss over your health stating that it’s a comorbidity due to obesity, etc. You know your body. If something isn’t right, you keep going to doctors until you find one that listens. That could be the difference between life and death.

And yet more great advice!

#ask #life advice asks

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apatosaurus · 1 year

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It has been said that one should cultivate vices so that when your doctor says you have to give them up so you can live longer, you have something to give up. When you run out of vices you don’t have anything to bargain with.

I am running out of vices.

I have at least a mild headache every day, and a severe headache that keeps me from doing essential activities (like working and driving) from one to four times a month. The daily headaches I’ve been treating with ibuprofen, often three times a day, for a couple of years. My kidneys do not love this plan. Also, prolonged use of ibuprofen can exacerbate risks for heart disease, for which I have a significant family history.

I got in to see a headache specialist yesterday. He said my headaches are very likely treatable and I don’t have to live like this. But the first thing we have to do is eliminate the common behavioral triggers: alcohol (check, it’s been four years since I had a drink), lack of sleep (check, I’m doing pretty good since I am not currently working at a job that demands evening meetings), and caffeine.

I have to give up caffeine completely. No black tea. Not even decaf black tea, which still has caffeine in it. No green tea. I gave up coffee years ago and definitely can’t go back now.

The doctor said to expect severe withdrawal headaches for a week. He also prescribed a migraine medication that I can take sparingly, not more than two in a day and not more than three days in a row.

Today and tomorrow are not days I can afford withdrawal headaches, so Saturday will be my cold turkey day.

Wish me luck.

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collectorcrowcalamity · 1 year

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Gray, Green, and the Inbetween pt. 2

The Railroad Man x Non-binary Witch Reader

Pt. 1

Garbage summary: Witch lives alongside the railroad, they’re a community organizer, healer, teacher etc. After unsuccessfully trying to wrangle some control over the reader’s village, TRM gets a lot a little obsessed with controlling the town and the reader. The reader likes a challenge and is more curious about TRM than is safe and sane [Basically, where’s the TRM x Reader love? I mean he squicks me out in an attractive way? he’s an embodiment of capitalism and brutally uses people for his own gain… but hear me out]

TW: Mentions of bodily harm caused by working at the railroad. There will likely be more as I come up with ideas for this story.

∾∾∾∾∾

You could feel his smile on your skin, somehow, it was hard to explain. It has always felt dirty and sickly to have been caught looking, but even more so by him. You knew he wouldn’t get close, you’d warded the place so well that even well-meaning visitors wandered around lost for a bit before finding who they were visiting and anyone who wasn’t meant to be here never seemed to notice any of it. This helped prevent people from banks coming to evict community members because the bank decided they owned this little village jammed like a doorstop into the edge of the woods.

Still, there was a feeling of unease, and the next three hours were spent reinforcing the wards. He may not have succeeded in destroying the town to make way for newer capital last time, but his presence on the hill every week now, it used to only be once a month when he could pretend he was hidden by a moonless night, made you nervous.

You didn’t get much sleep after that.

The morning brought a light that activated a small, but treatable, headache behind your eyes and a harsh knock at the door. It was a rhythm rushed and broken, so you knew who it was before you even opened the door.

A dark-haired boy stood on the porch, stood was a kind way to phrase it, more like pacing in place to get his energy contained. Isaiah Maddox was twelve, big for his age, and strong as an ox, but he was twitchy and needed to be outdoors. He loved running errands for you in exchange for whatever you had decided to bake that day.

“Finished with your chores already?” you feigned disbelief. Isaiah had two sets of chores, one in the morning, and a longer one after dinner meant to boil off any of that excess energy in him before supper.

Isaiah grinned “Not unless you got any more for me!”

You thought hard about it, you didn’t really want him to go into the woods and outside your wards if you could help it, not with whatever strange meeting the Man had, you didn’t see him as the helping-people-out-of-the-goodness-of-his-heart type and whoever he helped was likely the same. The best bet was to pick things he liked to do in town, that would help him stay busy and safe, but not be too suspicious about it or he’d know the man who led his father out of his life was slinking around the town again. You didn’t know how, but that boy knew more than was good for him, and he had too much energy to keep any of it to himself

“Well, I was thinking about fixing that fence there and then heading over to my mama’s place”, you said with a smile knowing she’d be able to come up with plenty of things to keep Isaiah out of trouble and help you figure out what to do.

It seemed to do the trick, the boy’s face somehow lit up even more.

∾∾∾∾∾

The Man had given them business cards and you barely saw them, grey and shining, as they were tucked away into shirt pockets, hat bands, shoes, really any place they could be easily and reliably stored. Isaiah was holding one despite being far too young for the type of labor the railroad required and staring at it with a puzzled expression, he mumbled something that you couldn’t quite hear.

“What was that, Isaiah?”

“Shit business card doesn't even have a way to reach him” he grumbled.

Usually, you’d pretend to uphold his mama’s wishes for Isaiah not to swear, give him a little look he’d pretend to get sheepish at, but you figured now was the best time for a little swearing, and no one else seemed to have heard him. But he was right, it was a plain card with an “R” and railroad tracks, no name, and no company.

“Isaiah, give me the card.” You tried your best to sound firm but calm, rather than the creeping fear you felt at losing this small boy to… who knows what. He must have figured you out because he handed it to you silently and shoved his hands in his pockets kicking at the dirt to pretend he wasn’t interested.

The card made your fingertips tingle, it wasn’t painful like pins and needles when your foot fell asleep, but it felt dangerous, like the buzzing of wasp wings. With your heart racing, you turned back to your home.

Nearly the entire day was dedicated to you collecting and destroying the business cards, you found you could only hold a few at a time before the tingling turned into a burning, and it was a pain to cleanse the cards and burn them out back. You weren’t about to burn them and release that energy into your home. Many men refused to listen to your pleas that only bad things could come from this Man, that the railroad took life and limb indiscriminately, and that they best think about their families and the community that relied on them. Besides, the rails on the hill have been done for a year and a half now, what more could they need? Neither sympathy, logic, nor approaches to their egos worked on them, they wanted the glory and wealth the Man in the gray suit had offered them. You didn’t blame them, you knew they wanted the best for their loved ones. Money wasn't much here, most people went out into fields owned by other men to tend crops they didn’t own, and others traveled together weekly to larger towns to sell wears they had made and buy whatever the town couldn’t grow in the community garden. You did your best to make sure everyone got to eat regardless of their individual successes, and you never asked for payment when you set bones, delivered medicine, or delivered children, but the truth was, everyone was struggling.

And so the next dawn, the men who held their business cards with iron grips walked out of town and they never came back.

∾∾∾∾∾

You snapped back into focus as you approached the small cottage, Isaiah had been talking, and you’d been responding with as much attention as you could, but your nerves had really taken over as the day progressed. Your mama, who wasn’t exactly your mama but might as well have been, had the table laid out with food much to the joy of Isaiah.

“Hello, ma’am” Isaiah shouted a bit too loud for the house.

“Isaiah, you better be heading out to wash up before you even think about touching that food” a voice yelled from the kitchen. Isaiah froze one hand hovering over a roll before slinking off to scrub off his hourly dirt collection.

A hand grabbed your shoulder, and your mama gestured for you to join her in the kitchen.

“I take it he’s been showing up again?”

You nodded grimly and felt your stomach flip a little. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but you hadn’t told her every single instance you’d seen the Man poking around. You pretended it was because you didn’t want her to worry or get angry and try and drive him off with one of the wooden spoons from her collection and put herself in more danger, but it also felt strangely intimate for him to be checking on the town. You didn’t like thinking about how your heart races a bit when you look out the window before going to sleep, and that he was on the outskirts long after the rails on the hills were established.

#this is just setting up stakes #i promise #im feral for this man im sorry #not to be attracted to men but #no beta we die like thems #old gods of appalachia #ogoa #the railroad man #the man from the railroad #the railroad man x Reader #ogoa x Reader #nb reader #the gray green and inbetween #fanfic #ch 2

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orbitalsockets · 1 year

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Ten Things I Wish Someone Would Have Told Me Sooner About Reproductive Health As A Person With PCOS and Endometriosis

Periods should not hurt. You read that right - I was shocked beyond belief when my doctor told me for the first time. Periods are, for normal people, uncomfortable and slightly unpleasant. However, normal period pain is often treatable with Tylenol, Ibuprofen or Midol. If your period is causing you pain to the point that none of these things help or it debilitates your ability to do everyday tasks, THAT IS NOT NORMAL. I believed from the age of 11 (I'm 23 now) that periods were just a horrible, painful, nauseating experience for everyone and many male doctors AGREED with me. It wasn't until I met my current gynecologist that I was informed that having to miss school, wear two pads to bed and cramping so hard that I threw up were all NOT normal period experiences. This ended up being my most ignored symptom, and it took twelve years to find out that - for me - it's a combination of PCOS and Endometriosis.

Penetrarion also shouldn't hurt. Since the first time I had sex, I have had pain with penetration. Even situations like a standard gynecological visit with tons of lubricant or using tampons often leave me crampy, in pain and sometimes bleeding. This is not normal, and for me was an indicator of endometriosis that went unnoticed for four years.

Your period skipping for several months at a time is not normal. When you first start your period it can be normal to experience some abnormality with your cycle timing, but it shouldn't be a chronic issue. If you find yourself missing your period more than having it and you're not on any medication that can impact it, THAT IS NOT NORMAL. This for me wound up being a symptom of severe PCOS that went unnoticed for six years.

If you are plus size, you have to advocate twice as hard for half the result when it comes to reproductive disorders. I am plus size and a large reason why I was dismissed by doctors was because of my size. Never mind the fact that my blood work indicated nothing about my weight being a factor and rather leaned into showing that my weight was a direct result of my PCOS - doctors saw fat and immediately assumed that my fatness was the problem instead of an underlying syndrome. This is one of the most gut wrenching parts of advocating for yourself, but you HAVE to keep fighting for an answer if you know something is wrong. Getting discouraged can be the path to chronic pain and worsening disorders.

Don't trust what hospitals have to say about your symptoms - If possible, go to a specialist as fast as possible. I spent months in and out of the hospital because the pain I was experiencing felt emergent (talking like an 11 on a scale of 1-10) and I was repeatedly told I was fine. I had over 20 ultrasounds in this hospital, and they claimed they didn't even see my PCOS that had been diagnosed years prior. They made me feel crazy, passive aggressively accused me of seeking out pain meds, and called me names outside of my door - It took my doctor ONE ultrasound to reconfirm that I indeed have severe PCOS. If the hospital tells you that you're fine, or even a doctor who you don't feel is taking you seriously, get a second/third/fourth/etc opinion until someone listens and checks.

If you and a doctor find that you're showing symptoms and need to move towards surgery, it's really easy to lose yourself in the limbo of finding out if something is there or not. I spent the last year in debilitating pain and for most of it didn't even know the cause - I just had my first endo surgery, and I spent the entire lead up wondering if I actually was crazy. I drowned in my own head with worry that I was actually faking it like so many people claimed. I woke up in the post op recovery room to news that I had been right, and I have endometriosis. Trust your instincts, no matter how deep the gaslighting around you tries to seep into your brain. You know your body better than anyone else.

If you have POTS or any other disorder that impacts your temperature regulation, be VERY careful if you decide to take Orilissa for endometriosis. The medication essentially puts you into medically induced menopause, which causes heat flashes. I have POTS and the heat flashes were too severe and disorienting for me to be able to continue the medication, which is why we moved onto surgery.

If you're diagnosed with insulin resistant PCOS and are given Metformin, you will most likely be asked by every medical professional you meet if you're diabetic, regardless of specifically stating that you take it for insulin resistant PCOS. This will happen even more frequently if you're plus size - it's annoying as fuck and you will have to repeat yourself, and even sometimes explain to the medical professional what PCOS is. The lack of knowkedge with medical professionals happens less with endometriosis in my experience, but you will most likely end up explaining what that is a few times as well.

Having a designated area for helpful items in whatever room you spend the most time in is legitimately one of the most helpful tools I've had through this experience. Many days prior to surgery (hoping it gets better, only four days post op so here's to hoping) I'd be in so much pain that I was exhausted and perpetually low on spoons. I made a drawer in my living room that holds snacks, drinks, medication, my heating pad, extra pads, underwear and comfort items, and it has been a legitimate godsend on my really bad days.

Even if you DON'T have symptoms, get checked anyway. Many people have endometriosis and don't find out until they're trying to conceive because they didn't have any symptoms. Endo is super weird in that regard - one strand of endometriosis can debilitate a person, but someone else can have their organs cemented together and experience no issues outside of difficulty conceiving. Even if you think there's nothing bad going on in there, checking in and making sure never hurts.

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thebookewyrme · 2 years

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So I haven’t really talked about my cancer diagnosis yet here. This is probably gonna be rambly because I’m still processing a lot. It’s only been like a week, but time is meaningless now. Anyway, yea, like a week ago I got the confirmed diagnosis that I have thyroid cancer. It’s still pretty small and very treatable, so I’m not terribly worried about it. I’ve kind of been bouncing between numb “this is just one thing too many in the course of three months for me to feel anything” and relief that there’s something Real I can point to when I’m just mysteriously affflicted with malaise. Like. Ohhh I’m not lazy and unmotivated I HAVE FUCKING CANCER. Like seriously, this is such a relief in its way. I called in sick to work two days this week (and wasn’t feeling great the rest of the week either) and for once I felt no guilt and self-loathing over it because I had a good reason. It may sound a little fucked up, but I’ve honestly been wishing to have something like this for years. Just. A desire to be truly sick instead of just feeling randomly and invisibly like shit. Like I have no physical symptoms I could point to like nausea (that one is linked to a different illness, I.e my anxiety) or a sore throat. I’m just exhausted to the point of tears and lack any will to do anything, even get up and pee. And maybe it can’t be entirely attributed to the cancer, because I have no idea how long I’ve had it. And I have other things, invisible disabilities that also explain my issues. But. Nobody can argue with cancer. Like, even my asshole brain can’t be like “ok but maybe you’re just faking” because I saw the tumor on the screen! I know it’s there!

Anyway, everyone is very worried and concerned and asking how I’m doing and I’m like “GREAT!! THIS IS GREAT NEWS!!” But it’s hard to understand that so I’m sticking with “I’m still in shock” for easier understanding. So far my medical team is moving quickly and I think the process of curing it will not be too protracted, but if that changes my viewpoint will probably change too. I want this to be a low-stress diagnosis, and I’m cautiously optimistic it will be. Because I just cannot take one more major stressor.

#cancer #personal health #health stuff #cancer diagnosis #personal stuff

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