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oureuphoria · 4 years

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Worst of You - JJK 08

You meet him under horrible circumstances but everything feels perfect when you’re with him. Too bad you have a bitch of a best friend, anxiety and an inability to learn from your mistakes which cripples your chances to be with the man of your literal dreams. He, however, is a police officer with years worth of built-up turmoil and an inability to make attachments. Or “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” “Cool, I’ll let everyone know you’re moving in then.”

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy

Pairing: officer!jungkook X collegestudent!reader

Word count: 2,304

Note: Things get sad in this chapter and :(

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 |

Jungkook was confused. He was confused about how you had gotten in, who you were with and more importantly, why you were here when this seemed to be the last place you’d want to be. In spite of his confusion Jungkook knew that to his knowledge you were still 20 and definitely underage, so it was his legal obligation to check up on you. It was definitely not because he wanted to talk to you, just following procedure.

“What are you doing here?” You hadn’t noticed Jungkook sit next to you until he spoke but you refused to spare him a glance. You were worried that was all it would take, one look at his wide brown eyes that seemingly held the universe and you’d be putty in his hands. “None of your business.“ “When you’re underage it is.” “It’s my birthday, officer.” You threw your ID card to him which he checked meticulously. You snatched the card out of his hands after he’d had a good look and hopped off the stool.

“If you don’t mind, I have to go back to Jimin.” Just as you are about to walk away from him, Jungkook lightly grabs your hand. “Wait.” You turned back around to face him but expertly avoided his eyes. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t much but it was all Jungkook could fathom and yet both of you knew, it wasn’t enough. You gave him a small smile before you replied, one that seemed more sad than polite. “Yeah, me too.” And with that, you walked away, shoving Jungkook and his ridiculously beautiful face to the back of your mind.

“Jimin!” You had finally found your friend who hadn’t been even half as happy to see you as you were him. “Y/N, I know it’s your birthday and I promised I’d be with you but the most gorgeous boy is here and I really need a hook-up. If you’re not okay with it I understand but-” “Go! At least one of us has to get lucky tonight.” You waved him off and he retaliated with a bone-crushing hug. “I love you so much. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Whether that promise was empty or not, you were going to hold him to it because letting him abandon you in this club all alone is definitely a sizeable sacrifice.

You walked back to the bar where you were relieved to see that Jungkook had left. Against your better judgement, your eyes subconsciously scanned around for him and when you saw him, dancing and having the time of his life while you were there following in self-pity, you realised you definitely needed another drink.

Perhaps it was your lack of experience or your Jungkook-induced sadness or even your empty stomach but you were drunk. Only 2 drinks in and you had completely lost all sense of rationality. Unfortunately, the bartender was unaware of just how much of a lightweight you were and proceeded to provide you with the tequila shots you weren’t sure why you asked for.

They tasted horrible and after downing two, you realised you never wanted to drink one again but for the first time in a long time, you had felt entirely carefree. It was nice, for the blissful moment it lasted but when your eyes had landed on Jungkook again, this time sitting at a bar next to some girl who was definitely prettier than you, carefree had turned into careless and you were making your way over there before you could process it.

“Hi, I’m sorry but I really need to speak to him.” Giving the poor girl no time to reply, you had dragged Jungkook towards the end of the bar where there were far less people and the music was softer. “You, sir, are an asshole.” In between your words, you had made the honourable decision to jab Jungkook in the chest continuously. Drunk you believed you were emphasising your point, sober you would’ve cowered at the mere mention of such an action.

“Are you drunk, Y/N? Where’s your friend?” “He left me for someone prettier, everyone keeps doing that to me these days…” You pouted as you strayed completely off topic and tears began welling in your eyes. You were an emotional drunk, you found that out the hard way. “I’m taking you home.” “No! I still haven’t finished.” Jungkook sighed in frustration and motioned for you to continue, the girl at the bar was long forgotten and Jungkook didn’t even care.

“Why are you such a liar?” The waterworks had begun and while it was obvious you weren’t entirely competent, Jungkook felt the sting in his heart all the same. “Please, baby don’t cry.” “Don’t call me that. Stop making me think you care when you clearly don’t and next time grow the balls to say you don’t like me you jerk!” Your words were slurred and your delivery was a little off but Jungkook heard you loud and clear. He wanted to explain, he wanted to wipe your tears away and reassure you that he was enamoured by you, he adored you and wanted nothing more than to be by your side. But you were probably too drunk to remember and it was too late to try.

“I’m sorry, just stop crying, please.” You tried and you weren’t sure why. The pain in Jungkook’s voice had hurt you and even while drunk, you’d do anything to make that pain go away. So you stifled your tears to the best of your ability, the only thing left behind were tear stains and your quiet hiccups. “Good job, now let me take you home.”

Jungkook didn’t expect you to fall asleep in his car, but then again he also didn’t expect you to berate him at a club. “Y/N, baby, wake up.” You were a light sleeper, he knew that much, which was why he was shaking you softly. You fidgeted in his seat a little before opening your eyes ever so slightly. “I’m sleeping, go away.” Drunk, sleepy Y/N was a challenge Jungkook didn’t know how to face. He also didn’t know how he was going to get you inside or whether or not you had your keys and going through your bag felt like a violation of your privacy so Jungkook decided to take you to his apartment instead.

When you woke up the next morning, something felt off. Your bed was never silk and you never remembered it being this big. You flailed your hand around for your plushie and when you had opened your eyes, you jolted upright in shock. That action was instantly regretful because of the pounding headache you had suddenly gotten and your wincing had captured Jungkook’s attention.

He was dressed in grey sweatpants and a tight grey t-shirt that left scarcely anything to the imagination. If you weren’t dying from a migraine you might’ve appreciated the view but all you could think about was this numbing pain. “There’s aspirin on the table and a glass of water.” You nodded, reaching for your knight in shining armour as you consumed the medication.

“Do you remember anything?” You remembered everything but you wanted to spare yourself the shame so you kept silent. “I tried to take you to your apartment but you fell asleep so I-” “I understand. Thank you, I hope I didn’t cause too much of an inconvenience.” You had began wandering around the room, collecting your belongings so you could leave as quickly as possible but Jungkook didn’t want that. “Y/N, slow down. I’ll give you something to change into, that dress can’t be comfortable.” He was right, it wasn’t. But neither was this predicament and every second you spent there was a second spent remembering the night you’d rather forget. You never drinking, ever again.

Jungkook had come back from raiding his closet with a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. “You can change in the bathroom. Come down and eat breakfast and then I promise I’ll take you home.” “I don’t need to eat.” You shook your head, even tried rejecting the clothing but Jungkook had dropped it into your arms. “Unless you want to puke for 3 hours I suggest you get changed and come down to eat.” You rolled your eyes but complied nonetheless.

You looked up at your reflection and you were a mess, your makeup was inconsistent, you were assuming it was because of the tears. Luckily, you didn’t wear mascara and after washing your face and tying up your hair, you started to look like yourself again. Jungkook’s clothing, which seemed to engulf your figure, had smelt nice and felt soft. You didn’t want to get used to it so you pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind and left the room.

You could see the stairs clearly from where you were standing so finding the kitchen was straightforward enough. Jungkook was seated on the island, phone in hand with two plates of what looked like omelettes. Jungkook had looked up at the soft patter of your feet and smiled. “You look good in my clothes.” You mumbled a quiet thank you and hopped onto the high chair that was surprisingly comfortable. “You want coffee?” You shook your head and poked around your omelette, you were never a big fan of eggs but you’d never complain.

“Fuck Y/N, I can’t take this, please talk to me.” You wanted to but you’d already said all you wanted to say yesterday (rather harshly) and you didn’t feel like repeating yourself. “There’s nothing to talk about.” He sighed and got up to pour himself a cup of coffee, when he had returned, you had already eaten a third of your omelette. “Can we go now?” “Can you listen to my explanation first?” You nodded timidly, you wanted an explanation desperately but you were also scared of the truth. That he didn’t like you and never did.

“My first ever love was in high school. She was my senior, I was a year younger and infinitely less experienced, but that didn’t stop me.” You both laughed, knowing that Jungkook was stubborn when he wanted to be. “She was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that took time to truly process, she was smart, book smart at least and she was kind to everyone, even when they didn’t deserve it. We dated for just over a year, it was nearing my graduation when she passed away. Car accident, drunk driver. Instead of getting the justice she deserved, her parents who barely had a dollar to their name were forced to settle for the equivalent of a used Toyota. The girl who hit her was old money rich, her family had connections with the best defence attorneys in the world. The lawyers she hired, put a price on a person I loved, they tried to tell me how much her life was worth and it wasn’t generous.”

Jungkook wasn’t crying, but you were. You knew the world was cruel but growing up in a middle-income family in a peaceful neighbourhood truly shielded you from a lot of life’s challenging aspects and knowing this had happened to a girl, just like you, really shattered your heart. You felt even worse trying to imagine how Jungkook had felt and how horrible the situation was in general. “I pursued law enforcement for her. She’s the reason I’m where I am today. I’m not asking for your pity, or excusing my actions but I want you to understand. Every time I start falling in love with someone, I pull away because no matter how tough I look, I can’t deal with loss.”

“I thought pushing you away would protect myself and that was incredibly selfish, and I’m sorry. I thought that I could do this, that’s why I confessed but the moment I was alone with my thoughts again, I realised I couldn’t. But for you, I’m willing to try. I’ll put everything I have into this, all I ask is that you forgive me for the colossal asshole I’ve been lately.” Jungkook held your hands in his and you giggled through the tears after he’d insulted himself and Jungkook felt his heart swell at you.

“Alright but from now on, just give me the worst of you and we’ll deal with it together.” “Deal.” Jungkook inched closer to you, his hands cupped your face as he wiped the remnants of your tears. With your faces barely a centimetre apart, you could really see the pain in his eyes and all you wanted to do was kiss it away. So you did. Dragging his head down by his neck, you gave Jungkook a soft kiss on the lip that barely lasted a second but he needed more.

Jungkook had opted to rest one of his hands on the back of your stool, the other on your cheek as he kissed you deeper. “I’m sorry I ruined your birthday.” Jungkook whispered out in-between kisses. “Nap with me and I’ll forgive you.” Jungkook chuckled before placing one last peck on your lips. He wrapped your legs around his torso and lifted you up smoothly. You squealed in shock but Jungkook ignored it, his mind solely on getting you back in his bed. You really did nap, and you enjoyed it quite a bit, after all his arms were the comfiest pillow.

#jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jungkook x you #bts #bts fic #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts smut

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anonsally · 4 years

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Days 79-82 of COVID-19 shelter-in-place

These have been four very intense days both globally and personally. This admittedly long post will focus more (but not exclusively) on the personal side of that.

Day 79 was Wednesday. I hadn’t had enough sleep, but I got up at a reasonable hour because I needed a ballet class. Before class started, I got a call from the medical center for scheduling a procedure I need to have done. That will be in 2 weeks, contingent on me testing negative for COVID-19 four days beforehand. I’m anxious about the procedure but will be glad to get it over with after several months of worry. Anyway, ballet class was good for calming me down.

It was hot out. I did my parents’ grocery shopping (and bought a few things for us) and then had a nice conversation with my dad when I dropped off his groceries. We talked about the state of the world. He told me about a city that had literally fired its entire police department and started over... which is what we probably need on a national level, with very few exceptions.

I refueled the car on the way home and got a predictably late start on my work day. Wife got two more job interviews scheduled at very different companies. I took a walk, spotting another Steller’s jay at the bird feeders. The jays are so much larger than the little birds who frequent the feeders!

I then went to try to buy milk, but the tiny independent market had closed early to enable the employees to get home before curfew. So I had to go to Trader Joe’s instead. By the time I got home I was somewhat demotivated about food prep, but luckily Wife pulled herself together and scrambled me an egg. I didn’t manage to get to bed till 1am, which was at least an hour later than I’d intended, but Wife was still up at 4am!

Day 80. I forced myself to get up at 8:30 since I knew I would need to go to bed early that night. I arranged to (video-)meet with my boss at 12:30. I started work around 11am or so and got a few thing done. The meeting with my boss was good--partly social, discussing how we were coping with the situation and working from home, what we missed about the office, and such, but we also talked about what I’ve been working on. She reminded me that the study section reviewing my grant application will be meeting this month, so I will have to remember to check my scores.

Afterwards we had a meeting with a few other coworkers, which was fairly productive. I had a short “coffee break” video call with a colleague, too. The county-wide curfew was lifted a day early.

After work, I took a walk in a direction I hadn’t gone in a while. Was heartened to see Black Lives Matter signs even in cul-de-sacs in a wealthy, mainly white neighborhood. I picked up takeout for dinner, and did a bunch of Adulting in the early evening, including preparing for the next morning. I was in bed by 10:45pm.

Day 81. My alarm got me up at 5am, and we left at 6am. We got to the medical center on time at 7am and I went in (Wife was not allowed to accompany me, but had to be there to drive me home; there was a separate room across the street for visitors to wait in, which was good because it was suddenly very cold outside). Initially, there was a lot of waiting, during which I did a little bit of yoga and dancing as I knew I would not be able to move much for the rest of the day. I was there for a diagnostic procedure involving a needle (for data privacy reasons I won’t get more specific here; it’s unrelated to the procedure I’m having in 2 weeks), which required me to remain horizontal for 4 hours afterwards, at least according to the information they’d given me beforehand. I had to be fasting from midnight the night before: no food or drink, including water.

Eventually I was wheeled down to the ultrasound department, where the doctor who planned to do the procedure met me and the radiologists. However, when they looked at the images, there were a lot of vessels around. The doctor did not feel confident that she could do the procedure based on a mark on my skin without accidentally hitting a blood vessel. So she asked the radiologists to do it as an ultrasound-guided procedure, which would be safer since they would be able to see what they were doing on the ultrasound. This procedure was done with only local anaesthetic. Mostly I couldn’t feel what was going on, and it was supposed to be very quick, but unfortunately, the resident had a lot of trouble--the senior radiologist was trying to guide him through doing, but he couldn’t get the needle positioned quite right, and in the end the senior radiologist had to do it herself. It was pretty uncomfortable and there were some moments where it was quite painful. I tried to breathe deeply and stay relaxed, but it was hard. When they finally got it to work, it was over pretty quickly. I was relieved. It was about 11am by then.

However, I had to spend an hour in a large recovery room with many other patients, while my blood pressure and pulse were monitored. I had expected to have the procedure done upstairs in the room where I’d started, where I had left all my stuff. They very kindly sent someone up to retrieve my phone for me so I could at least text Wife and my parents so they would know the worst of it was over.

After an hour I was wheeled upstairs and transferred from the gurney to a bed (this took 3 people as I was not allowed to stand up yet) for more monitoring. They drew my blood to test my blood counts; I was going to be allowed to leave after only 2 hours of bed rest if the counts were stable. After the 2 hours, I was allowed to get up and use the bathroom (and grab the crossword puzzles from my backpack to work on), and then I continued resting while waiting first for the blood counts, which finally came back fine, and then for the discharge papers, which took an unreasonably long time. Around 2pm the nurse finally allowed me to have some ice--hoorah! (I was parched. I normally drink at least 2 liters of water per day.) At 2:40pm I was cleared to leave; I texted Wife, who went to get the car and picked me up at the entrance to the hospital at about 3pm.

Literally every single person on the hospital staff was kind and friendly. They all introduced themselves to me by name, including the people whose job it was to simply wheel me from one place to another, and they all seemed to be invested in my well-being. When I was being wheeled through the hallway, whenever we passed anyone else who worked there they smiled and said hello both to me and to the person in charge of transporting me. It seemed like everyone working really considered themselves a team, with respect for everyone regardless of place in the hospital hierarchy. Since, like all patients during this pandemic, I was there alone and a bit anxious, it made the experience much less unpleasant than it could have been.

I spent 8 hours in the hospital, so I really hope I didn’t catch COVID-19, but the procedures seemed pretty good. I was wearing a mask almost all the time (except in the room where I was waiting at the beginning and end, which was essentially private), as were all the employees, and everyone was sanitising their hands every time they entered or exited a room or touched any equipment. I also didn’t spend the whole time with any one person. So, hopefully it was safe.

I spent the rest of the afternoon vedging out at home, rehydrating, and finally eating, and I went to bed earlier than usual though later than I expected, around 12:15am.

Day 82. I wanted to try to get a lot of sleep so my body could heal from yesterday’s ordeal, so today I slept till about 10am. The wound from the procedure is tender to the touch and there’s a small bruise near it, but otherwise I’m not in pain from it. Except my ankle is in more pain than it’s been in for ages, and I have no idea why. Maybe I slept on it funny? Or maybe it’s an aftereffect of the weird position I had to hold during the procedure.

I think my joy at getting to eat cereal this morning was perhaps a bit over-the-top!

Wife had a bad headache today, likely caused by neck tension from all the driving yesterday. I am still pretty tired today, despite all the sleep, but I suppose that’s to be expected.

We went to the farmers’ market and stumbled upon a socially-distanced, family-friendly protest. A friend of mine was there with her kids, but I didn’t see her. We bought our produce--though I had to make an extra trip back to the car to drop off my purchases, as I am not supposed to lift anything heavy today. The stand with the curried fish had run out, but they still had some uncooked prepped fish, so we bought that and they explained how to steam it at home. We came home and cooked the fish and ate it for lunch; it was just as good as it would’ve been if they’d cooked it. Phew! Other than that we’ve been relaxing at home, though Wife did gather her energy and go for a run, which has helped to relieve her headache a little (as has the bath she took afterwards, and the painkillers she took).

I’m hoping to feel up to taking a dance class (online) tomorrow.

#personal #dance #birdwatching #Health Care #food #even though there is no picture of food here #black lives matter #epidemiology #activism #tl;dr

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malafight · 4 years

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Long-Ass Life Update (I’m not dead!)

Finally a life update now that I’m back home. It’s been a painful and tiring couple of weeks :’) And actually some of the days/times might be off because I was like super fucking out of it for most of that time period.

Anyhow, I went to the ER on Friday the 1st after 3 days of severe stomach pain, and the local hospital is like notoriously shitty but I was in horrible pain ok

They actually took me seriously for once, took me back immediately, ekg, ultrasound, blood and piss tests, and told me from the start not to eat or drink anything.

They told me they found gallstones and one or more might be stuck in the bile duct, but they made it sound like it wasnt inflamed and there werent many, so I wasnt super worried? They sent me for an MRI and then told me that they didnt have the capability to get out any stones, so they sent my ass an hour away via ambulance to a much better hospital so they could do the probe thing they needed to. It took until Saturday night to get a room there, though, and they didnt know when I’d get there and since they figured theyd want to do the probe ASAP, I was kept completely without eating or drinking for all of Friday night and Saturday, after not eating more than a few bites of muffin on Friday and next to nothing Thursday either because Everything Hurt.

Also, Fentanyl is fucking magic. Thats the only thing that even vaguely touched the pain.

So anyhow, I get to the other hospital at fuck o’clock at night and God Damn Staved because, like I said, bitches gave me No Fucking Food for an entire day (I’m not kidding that hospital is horrible and has a horrible reputation for ending up with killing people or making situations worse but the next nearest hospitals are an hour away in different directions and I don’t often have anyone willing to drive me that far and I often don’t feel up to driving myself that far if I’m already at “need to go to the ER, fuck the money I don’t have” point, and Saer has only just gotten into the USA and the last time they came with me to the ER they ended up with a virus for like three weeks and I wasn’t gonna do that to them again!!) and finally when I got to that hospital they were like “yeah we won’t be able to do the probe until Monday so eat something and then tomorrow you’re on a liquid diet and then nothing by mouth after midnight” so they scrounged me up some chicken broth and orange juice at like ten o’clock at night and gave me Those Good Good Meds and I slept in a decent hospital bed instead of on a fucking ER bed like Friday night (since they were transferring me at the local hospital they didn’t admit me and I slept in the ER. yeah. i hurt too badly to sleep on my side even with pain meds, and I slept on an ER bed. I had to sleep all day Saturday on and off just to get vaguely rested, but honestly? this whole ordeal has been an adventure in sleep deprivation despite heavy sedatives)

Monday rolls around and they take me for the ERCP (iirc thats what it was) where they put a thing down my throat and cut the bile duct wider so the stone could pass, get that bitch cleared up, all is well. I was heavily sedated and remember none of it, just waking up with different pain in my stomach and the world’s worst sore throat.

I was on a liquid diet from that and until the extraction on Wednesday. I have drank my weight in broth and orange juice.

Wednesday they take me in to remove my gallbladder. It was supposed to be a simple laparoscopic procedure, nip it out, pull it, I go home in a couple days with a couple small cuts on my belly. My dad (and several other people) reassured me that it was routine and quick, and is an easy procedure that should take 2 hours at most. I told him, “Listen, with me, literally nothing is ever easy and you know that”

Fast forward to me waking up and my first thought is “is that a catheter? guess it didnt go so easy after all.” I’m pretty sure the first words I said as I woke up were “told you it wouldnt be easy” lmao

Remember how hospital #1 told me that my gallbladder wasn’t inflamed and there were only a couple gallstones?

It was chock goddamn full of gallstones and so inflamed that when they tried to get it out laparoscopically, it tore. He spent an hour trying to get it out that way safely before realizing that his only recourse is to cut me open and get it out that way. The procedure took closer to 5 hours.

I have at least 20 staples in my belly now and I hope I get a cool fuckin scar but shit hurts still. I was in the hospital slowly ramping up to eating solid food again until Friday when I was allowed to go home to Saer. I can’t lift anything more than 20 pounds for another like month, and my range of motion is a fraction of what it was before. I’m so easily exhausted now and i can barely do anything and it’s really fucking pathetic??? and every time I bring that up Saer is like “they TOOK your ORGAN” so

(its really sad that i’m so conditioned that If I’m Not Doing Everything I Can All The Time Then I’m Not Trying Hard Enough that even after having full surgery to remove an organ I’m like NO I CAN DO THE THING and then end up hurting myself s-sobs)

(we watched the episode of b99 today where gina comes back after getting hit by a bus and when she tried to dance while still in the halo saer pointed at her and was like “it u” and i was like “exCUSE” but like, tru)

anyhow, im home, and i have my wife with me, and saer is such a blessing right now because i cannot do SHIT and they need to help me off the couch sometimes if my dumb ass gets in a position with no leverage, and also ive already fallen off the couch like twice because i was like NO I GOT IT and saer was across the room like BEB NO U DONT and yeah im stubborn and stupid ok saer is saving me from myself for the most part

also also the app i drive for is shutting down in my city at the start of december hhhhh so now i also have to fuckin... find a job like this and uGH do not WANT ffff

but yeah thats something even my parents have okayed me holding off on until I’m better so if even my fuckin parents are like “pls chill???” yall know im fucked up

however i’m mostly weaned off opiod pain meds now and am only using them at night when it’s worse and hard to sleep, tylenol tends to take care of it well enough now. my range of motion is improving, too, but i am just still so easily tired that its frustrating. we went grocery shopping yesterday and even in the little motor scooter i was completely worn out by the end of it.

but im alive! all is well! i will continue improving! sorry for being so quiet during this but like I said, i’ve been some level of sedated for most of this event. not fully sedated except for the two procedures, but fentanyl and dilautin (ok i have no idea what it actually is and google isnt helping but i had a button for it) and then morphine and hydrocodone on top of not getting restful sleep At All due to pain, discomfort, and people coming in every hour for vitals checks... I was fuckin Gone i got fuckall done rip

however once my pain-induced blood pressure spike was lowered (i saw them take it at the ER and it was fuckin RED) everyone was like “...you have really good blood pressure??” like i’m pretty sure i have low blood pressure naturally and my size/genetics gives me high blood pressure and they kinda cancel each other out, but yeah. pretty cool.

my family kept swinging between “IF YOURE IN THAT MUCH PAIN FOR 24 HOURS YOU GO TO THE ER. YOU DO NOT WAIT THREE DAYS.” and “...jesus christ you have a high pain tolerance”

//throws the horns thats what chronic pain does to ya baybee

my mom especially was impressed because she was just like “you’re so calm talking to them about how much it hurts how are you doing that” and im just like “its literally wasted energy to freak out and i hurt too badly to move so im just gonna sit here and tell them im a ten and hope they take pity on me because i have no other options”

anyhow fun new experience and im pretty sure ive broken my brother’s hospitalization record and also pretty sure i’ve got enough medical debt on me now that i can literally file for bankruptcy so

also i can feel a void near my ribs and it is so bizarre yall fuckin organs need to close the gap asap bc this shit weird as hell

#life update #drugs tw #body horror tw #surgery

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blackdragon-sama · 5 years

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my breast reduction experience

i'm back home from the hospital after my reduction and i'd like to share my experience for those interestedalso to vent a bit about my nice-but-also-hella-annoying bed neighbour.

i went in on thursday morning, to get prepped, see the doc and settle into my room i was given the choice to either stay overnight before the surgery, or come in at 7 on friday morningi chose to stay overnight, since i knew it'd be much easier if i could just stay in bed until they wheeled me in for surgery. rather than having to haul my stuff and myself to the hospital with the bus, high on adrenaline and panicwas the right decision, too early in the morning, a nurse woke me and i went to change into the very sexy piece of fishnet they use as panties and the butt-free gown thingi swear, those mesh panties are the worst.but, i got a dose of lorazepam to make up for it, and was wheeled downstairs and into the wake-up room, from which i was wheeled in for the anaesthesia prep.a very nice lady (i don't know if she was an anaesthesiologist or assistant or nurse....) helped me put on the hair net and put an IV into my hand, chatting a little with me, which helped with the anxiety. at this point i was glad for the lorazepam, because i was nervous as fuck, even with it. they didn't make me count or anything, just told me to breathe in all that nice oxygen, and then they told me when they inected the good stuff and - like with the two general anaesthesias i had before - i went under complaining about the pain XDit's like, the last two seconds before you go under, your face, or in one case, arms, get really bad pins-and-needles, and it's one of the grossest feelings ever, but it's literally just a second or two and then you're out. the first thing i remember after coming to, is people coming to my bed and telling me to take breaths, or to breathe in deeper.i had a little trouble with my oxygen levels for a while, but they put an oxygen tube thingie into my nose, with a piece of sponge around it to keep it in place, i also remember telling someone i was feeling nauseous, and i think they gave me some medication for that. i was in no pain at all, just super woozy and confused why it was already around 3 in the afternoon. surgery must've taken WAY longer than 2-4 hours, since they put me under at 7:30, and i came to enough to ask the time at 3 in the afternoon.back in my room i asked for my phone and sent a few typo-heavy drunk texts to my mom and my girlfriend to let them know i was still alivestill no pain, dizziness, overall "just trying to sleep"-iness. a nurse came in some time later, to help me get up and pee. i didn't think i needed to, but she told me they put five liters of whatever (saline, probably) into me during the surgery and after, and i do know that getting up is important after surgeryso, she hooks me under and butt-naked me (surgical bra and mesh panties only. sexy. comfortable. not basically literally ass-naked) shuffles over to the bathroom, nurse carrying the big drainage bottles.i could feel my ears rushing and hearing static the moment i stood, but i managed to sit down and do the deed. on the way back to the bed, i nearly passed out, but nurse and another nurse got me back safely and i could sleep some moreduring the night, i am woken up a few times, by a male nurse who comes to open my bra and check the bandages and palpate my new tiny tiddies for anything bad.it's a bit disorienting to be subjected to someone messing with your boobs when you're more asleep than anything, but the whole staff was super nice and gentle with me, on saturday, post-op day 1, i managed to somehow pull at my right-side drainage and the bitch gave me trouble for the entirety of its stay in my boob, and it's still the more sensitive side >_>my new boobs looked soooo teeny tiny! to be honest, while i was excited, i was also a little scared that they'd become too small, but that feeling came and went, and looking back, i know it was simply the shock of the /difference/. day one was mostly spent entirely in bed, since my circulation was still pretty bad, and getting up gave me big troublesluckily, the nurses all were very very nice and refilled my water bottle for me and helped me get to the bathroom and back, and iirc, in the afternoon, i managed to put on some real panties and a shirt. MUCH better!also, on saturday, my girlfriend came to visit and it was really nice <3as for pain, i wasn't in any mentionable pain, other than that bitch of a drainage tube. that shit hurt like hell, while my boobs themselves almost didn't hurt at alli was, and still am, quite surprised they weren't painful. (given, i was taking ibuprofen 600 3x a day) sore, of course, and tender, and feeling about ready to pop with how taut they were, but not painful, i didn't and don't feel the incisions or the sutures/stitchesi stopped taking any pain meds yesterday, which was post-op day 5, and i only needed one ibu on tuesday) sleeping on my back is lame. and waking up on sunday, i had a major headache, that even the ibuprofen didn't manage to helpi think it was a mix of my neck being overly tense, plus leftover surgery and anesthesia meds that messed with my head (i read that having migraines puts you at a higher risk of post-op headaches) sunday was the day where i started to get lots better. i could get up on my own for the bathroom, and even the little trip down the hall to the water fountain dispenser thingie, and in the afternoon/early evening, i even managed to take the elevator to the ground floor and grab some well-earned sweets from the little shop there. the headache was the biggest discomfort, other than the drainage tube pulling occasionally, and my petty room mate... boy... by that point she was getting SO annoying. she had had surgery the day before me, a procedure to put an expander under the skin of her face, to grow skin to remove a mark from her face (i don't know what it's called, in german, it's a fire's mark, basically a large, deep red/purple mark that's puffy and you're usually born with it)i think she's russian? she had a heavy accent, and the first pieces of conversations i remember clearly were of her complaining about refugees and how they have so many kids only to cash in on social child support money (which is a thing in germany, but, well, for citizens, not for refugees...) i tried half-heartedly explaining that refugees aren't here for shits and giggles, and no, they don't get child support money from the state. they get, if at all, a bare minimum to feed and clothe themselves.... i didn't want to antagonize her, because in my drugged-up, post-surgery state, i was having paranoia she would try suffocating me in my sleep. (which i was aware of was purely my anxiety talking, but, y'know, i didn't want to pick fights either way, and delicate topics are best discussed if you have the opportunity to leave.)next thing i very clearly remember her doing was antagonizing the nurse that wanted to put a new something into her iv. the thing was, the nurse sneezed. into her shoulder. before moving to continue with the tubes. roomie gives her shit about that. how it's unacceptable that she'd sneeze onto the needle and get her germs all over the place, and how that's unprofessional and why she wasn't getting new needles and all that the nurse calmly explained she wasn't sick, it was just a little sneeze and she didn't get anything onto the stuff. discussions ensue. nurse sents me an "is this really happening?!" look, and i just give a helpless grin-shrug, because, yeah, it was happening. nurse was clearly heavily annoyed, but managed to finish putting the iv thing into her before leaving a little louder than necessary.i can understand voicing your concerns about hygiene and your worries. that's good. not good is picking fights with the people taking care of you. like... i caught myself thinking, every single time lady next to me went to complain or whine about something (which she did... /quite/ a lot) that, if i am in a hospital, dependent on the care of the staff, that the LAST thing i want to do is being a bitch to them?i'll do my damndest to be polite at least, friendly whenever i can, so they know i appreciate the help. being nice to your nurse means your nurse will do their best to care for you, and maybe put in a little more effort than absolutely necessary (like offering to fill my water bottle for me) and if someone has to sit me onto the toilet becauce i can't pee by myself, the least they deserve is me not bitching. seriously, the lady was nice enough, overall, but man... she also was entitled and just that special little snowflake kind of person. complaining about her boyfriend not taking the day off work so he'd be available all day to pick her up whenever she was discharged... i understand the thought behind it, but i also understand you can't just leave work just like that. and she was better off than me, mobility-wise, she could've taken a taxi or even public transport (given, i wouldn't have, either) or just waited for him until he could leave work)aaaaaanyway, on monday, headache was getting better, and my surgeon came in to check up on his work, he finally told me how much he removed, and it was WAY more than i expected or he estimated before,he'd told me, he'd remove about a kilo of tissue per side, which seemed a good weight, (i'd weighted them before, and they were about 2 kilos each, according to my kitchen scale XD )and it ended up being 1,4 kilos per side... that's almost 3 kilos! that's, like, two whole chickens! i was pretty shocked, but also excited, because, for the first time i really understood how HUGE my boobs had been. and how reasonable and right my decision was. i have no regrets and even in between never had any, but i had my doubts about the necessity of this whole thing, a lot of the time, i felt like it was a mood, or a phase, something i wanted out of a whim, rather than that i really needed it. it was my idea, and i wanted it, and as such, as a non-essential surgery, i was scared that i was doing something wrong. that it'd end up turning out bad, simply because of my paranoia-driven fear of karmic punishment for wanting something like that without it being unavoidable (like my gallbladder surgery) but hearing how much he'd removed, and given how much is still left, and how i now have an average pair of breasts for a woman of my stature, it took some guilt off me. also, by monday, i was starting to feel the first effects of the weightloss. i could sit up without using my arms (which was still being a bitch, because it'd pull on the damn drainage), like doing a situp, and it was sooo easy!even right now, i'm still too overall sore/tender to really notice a direct difference, but indirectly, it's already so amazing! i'm sitting up straighter without even noticing, i can breathe freely, which is odd, but i keep noticing how free my chest feels, like i'm expecting it to feel tight or heavy, but it isn't,on monday, the drainage tubes were FINALLY removed and it was glorious!i could stay until tuesday, and it was good i got to stay another day, because walking around was, and is, still somewhat tedious.on wednesday, i had a bit of an emotional crash. i guess it's the physical shock of surgery/injury and the medication wearing off, coupled with the relief of being at home and knowing you can relax now, i was dissociating a little, on and off through the day, feeling weepy and alone and all thatbuuuut that went away, too, and today, post-op day 6, i'm still a little tender and weak, but overall, i'm doing pretty fine!i can wash myself on my own, even my hair, and i am in SO much less pain than i expected. like... i was preparing to be out of commission completely for the entirety of the three weeks vacation i took off of work, but if things continue like this, going back in two and a half weeks will be absolutely possible. i catch myself being a little too enthusiastic sometimes, like trying to reach up to open/close my skylight window and getting a little reminder NOT to stretch up my arms all the way. or having to take a break from walking up the stairs and having to sit a couple minutes in the house's staircase on the way up to my appartment (we don't have an elevator)the most uncomfortable thing right now is the itching. the medical bra rubs against the edge of the steri-strips, where my skin is taut and dry and it's leaving mild imprints and it ITCHES and it's driving me insane, but it doesn't hurt, and it doesn't seem to mess with the stitches, so i'm trying not to complain too hard. all things considered, and with how weak and sore i was, right now, as i'm typing this, i'd do it all over again. i don't want to jinx anything, so i won't jubilate, but overall, i'm pleasantly surprised by how well things have been so far. i like my tiny new boobs, and i hate the itching, i love how much longer my torso looks, and i'm looking forward so much to buying beautiful bras and all the pretty swimwear i couldn't before, because it would never fit my boobs....aah <3next week i'll go in to have my stitches removed (they're not the dissolving kind) and i'm a little worried how the scars will hold, but i'm also eager to start using lotions and all the good stuff to help the skin recover i will recommend this procedure to anyone that's considering it, and i'm so happy that the surgery went well and my new boobs look perfect! (if still a little crinkly around the scars XD )

#breast reduction #experience #just me any my last week

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infinitydoublevenus · 5 years

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I need help. Does anyone know what this most likely and/or certainly is?

I had a really bad breakdown the other day... Not the emotional kind, physical. I don’t know what was going on.

I had asked my mom to make me some coffee so I could stay awake since I spent half the night binge watching Kulipari: An Army of Frogs in one sitting. This is normal for me to ask because I’ve drank coffee before and never had any problems. I asked for peppermint flavoring, a peppermint stick and cereal marshmellows in it so she put them in the drink. I drank it rather fast, but I do that with literally every drink that I like. It was warm when I drank it if that information is needed.

I was halfway through my coffee, laying down sideways on the comfy soft couch in the living room when I started coughing and hacking really hard. This has happened before, particularly in the winter. But here’s the thing: this was worse than any time it had ever happened before.

I was coughing and hacking and it sounded like a barking cough, my breathing was rapid and I felt like I was going to suffocate because I was struggling to inhale and exhale. The left side of my chest tightened and felt as if there were a great pressure on it.

This went on for several hours until the coughing died down. Then I started coughing and hacking again and I started hacking up a whiteish-clearish mucuous. I know that sounds gross but that’s what happened. It was more than I usually ever cough up, like a mini waterfall of the stuff. It had been stuck in my throat and was what had been blocking my breathing.

The thing is, I don’t know how I could have possibly produced that much mucuous. The breakdown just came out of nowhere, it was sudden onset. I hadn’t been coughing much earlier in the day so this was very surprising to me. The prime suspect at first was my coffee, but I don’t know of any ingredient that could cause that. I’ve been staying up at night a lot but I’ve done that for years and nothing like this has ever happened. I had a blanket on me that was warm, so it couldn’t have been the cold and I don’t think it was the humidity. I stayed in the cold van later for about an hour and my cough went away instead of getting worse so I doubt it’s the winter chills.

The coughing was dry and rough and it was painful on the throat. My throat became dry and hurt like hell while the breakdown was happening. I tried to tell my mom what was going on but I had lost my voice. It was so hoarse that it was squeaky. I struggled to even get a word out. I think it might have even been temporary laryngitis. It took several hours for my voice to come back after the mucuous had been cleared. My breathing was whistly the whole time.

Does anyone know what could have caused this? I have a dog, but I’m not allergic to most animals, especially not beagles. My dog has lived with us for several years and nothing like this ever happened, so it couldn’t be an allergy to her dander. My family has a history of shitty conditions but I don’t know about any respiratory stuff being passed down, it’s mostly heart-related things. Or brain related. I haven’t been exercising but I rarely do too much of that and again this has never happened before. Like I said, it came out of nowhere. I recall having what was probably bronchitis at least once last year, but this was twenty times worse than that. I haven’t been around cigarette smoke at all recently so it couldn’t have been caused by nicotine. My immune system isn’t particularly weak as I rarely get sick as far as I’m aware so I don’t think it has to do with that. I am vaccinated against influenza but last I checked it’s still flu season and my state, Virginia, was at Widespread level, with multiple outbreaks in different areas. My dog isn’t sick so I couldn’t have picked it up from her and my parents show no symptoms whatsoever.

I looked up conditions that can cause said symptoms. The closest matches seemed to be either a URI, asthma or bronchitis. URI’s are more common in older people. I’m only 19, it’s more common among my age than children, but much less common in those under the age of 40. At least according to Google anyways. I’ve looked at everything I can. I doubt it’s bronchiolitis but it could be bronchitis.

I’ve asked my mom to take me to a doctor but she just told me to drink more water even though I repeatedly told her this is worse than usual for me. She thought I was just dehydrated. I severely doubt that is the actual case. If it was asthma, then I feel I’m lucky to be alive right now. An inhaler or even just medicine would have been useful in that case.

I don’t want to have to have an expensive procedure either. My parents are still paying off the mortgage on the house and paying to take care of the dog (and me, since I’m unemployed and don’t have an apartment/house of my own yet nor am I confident enough to move right now). They also probably have high electricity/Internet bills since I use the computer/phone both during the day and late at night. I do take breaks and I’m working on using a screen less at night so I can get more sleep. We’re middle-class, we’re not so poor we can’t afford treatment, but we’re not rich or upper-class either. My dog had to have surgery on her neck a few years ago and if treatment for this is too expensive we won’t be able to afford something like that again if anything ever happens to her. My dad also has to pay for his diabetes medication & my medicine for my heart and my 20-gram serotonin reuptake inhibitors that I take for my OCD and spiraling anxiety. I can’t give away how much my dad earns nor do I even know. It’s probably enough for treatment but preferably nothing above $800.00. I can’t have any treatment that involves strong magnets or way-too-much pressure on my stomach due to the presence of my pacemaker. If it helps, the reason I have a pacemaker is complete fetal heart block. I might be able to have an X-Ray though.

I’ve heard asthma can cause red itchy skin sometimes. When I scratch an itch it leaves red sometimes bumpy marks that burn and itch. But since they follow my finger’s tracing of the skin it makes me think it’s probably dermatographia. Given how understudied said condition is, it could be common to be accompanied by asthma as well, maybe? I don’t know, I’m not a doctor.

Can anyone help me figure this out? I’d love to know just exactly what the actual fuck is happening to me. I’ve heard certain respiratory situations can be lethal if not treated.My throat is still all mucous-y and dry but I’m only ocassionally coughing now and it’s not nearly as bad. I panicked so much yesterday I thought I was going to die and nearly fainted out of sheer terror. That’s probably just my anxiety, but if it helps it helps.

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diyunho · 6 years

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The Joker x Reader - “Mommy” Part 3

It was a well known fact The Joker’s girlfriend left him with four young children and disappeared. It was also known that his ex stepped up and took care of them even if she didn’t have to. The King of Gotham might have lost his woman, but he never lost his Queen.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

After 2 months

The Joker is alone in the VIP room, enjoying his solitude; he ordered everyone to clear the premises and wait outside since his business meeting ended earlier than expected. Out of the blue, the cell alerts of a new message. J slides the screen and a picture with you and Mia laughing pops up: you are both wearing matching headbands with yellow flowers, identical pearl necklaces and PJ’s made from the same fabric.

He barely smiles, when a new picture with you and now all the boys added in the frame pops up, apparently ready for bed. The Joker’s smile gets a little bit wider, then after a few seconds it disappears under the usual frown. He starts texting something back but changes his mind and erases the words, staring at the images one more time before placing the phone inside his pocket.

At the penthouse, you didn’t even wait for a reply since J never comments when you send him pics with the children; you get notifications they were seen and I guess that’s the best you’ll ever get.

“Kase honey, stop jumping on the bed, it’s time to sleep, ok?”

The four years old is still energetic so he keeps on jumping, chanting your name:

“Mo-mmy! Mo-mmy!!! Mo-mmyyy!!!”

“Kasey, be good and listen to me!” you try to make him behave while exiting his room with a clear purpose: taking Mia to her crib. The baby girl fell asleep in your arms, resting her head on your good shoulder. You are really not supposed to hold the kids or lift them up since it will take a while to completely heal from the injury you sustained, yet sometimes you can’t help it.

You carefully place her in the cradle, sneaking up into the room next door to make sure the twins are still dozing off. Thank goodness they are and you close the door to their bedroom, immediately rushing to Kase’s room when you hear the thud followed by crying.

The boy was hopping up and down when he accidentally moved too much towards the edge of the bed and landed on the floor right on his face. The carpet is soft but the impact scared him nevertheless.

“My poor little man,” you pick him up, worried he might have broken something.

Kase whimpers and hugs you, searching for comfort. You kiss the child’s head and caress his back, soothing the pain.

“Are you ok?” you wipe his tears, making him sit on the bed while you analyze him.

“Y-yes…” he stutters, sniffling.

“Then why are you crying honey?” you ask, cupping his face and the answer makes you hold in the laugh.

“Don’t know, mommy…”

“You’re silly,” you kiss his cheek, happy nothing bad happened. “You want me to read you a bedtime story?”

“U-hum, “ he nods, distracted by the offer. You get Kase under the covers and snuggle with him, reading until he falls asleep. And the busy day you had catches up with you, making you snooze in there before you have a chance to go to your own bedroom.

*************

“Y/N…Y/N, wake up!” The Joker shakes you and finally gets a reaction; he’s been calling your name and you didn’t even hear his first attempts.

“What time is it?” you turn towards him and Kase instinctively moves closer, searching for the warmth of your body.

“It’s 2 in the morning. Come on, hurry up, we have to go: it smells like gas downstairs, I think we have a gas leak!”

“Jesus!” you wake up in an instant, pulling Kase in your arms and struggling to get up; your shoulder hurts since you carried Mia around yesterday. “I’ll take him, go to the car!” he wraps his son in the blanket, not fazed by the protesting moans.

“Dadddddyyyyy,” the boy yawns, closing his eyes, upset with the ruckus.

“You’re fine, brat !” J lifts him higher in his arms and follows you. You want to get the other kids, but some of the henchmen are already helping, having them in blankets and heading towards the elevator. The gas detector is beeping in a frenzy but you were so exhausted you had no clue.

“Yuck, the smell,” you cover your nose, waiting for J to catch up with you. “Are we going to my house until this is taken care of?”

“I suppose so,” he growls and you know why: The Joker hates your house, always complains it’s too small.

Situated on the property you use as the children’s playground – 3 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, a large living room and a spacious kitchen- the one level home is more than enough when needed. Since you live mostly at the penthouse, you never feel the need to upgrade. Usually the boys sleep in one bedroom and you sleep with Mia, this way J has his own room. If he’s not coming to stay when you take the kids there, you move Aiden and Zane to their father’s bedroom. Simple and easy.

Not for The King of Gotham though. “Simple and easy” are not his thing.

***************

“It’s cold in this stupid house!” J complains as soon as he enters the master bedroom where you gathered all the kids in the same bed, waiting for the central heating to warm up the house.

“You know I don’t have the heat on when we’re not here; it’s not safe. Be patient, it will get hot soon,” the reply attempts to explain the obvious situation.

“Gimme 2 kids, I need to warm up. I’ll take them to my bedroom!” he gestures towards the twins.

The two year olds are not excited about their dad’s strategy: they are cranky and whiney because they got woken up in the middle of the night and transported to another location. They hold on to you, burying their faces in the pillows.

“Hugging all the kids, hm?” J snarls, irritated. No other choice but to crawl in the big bed also.

You choose not to comment: how is this your fault?!

The Joker snatches Mia that is sleeping in your arms and places her on top of him, moving Kase to his left, this way he has some bodies around to warm up with.

“That’s better,” he grumbles, covering everyone with an extra blanket. Kase reaches for you, wanting to go back to the spot next to his mother but J won’t have any of it:

“Stop wiggling and sleep!”

“I want my mommy,” his son complains and The Joker gets mad:

“What am I, decoration?! She’s literally a few inches away!”

“Kase, go to sleep honey, ok?” you plead, touched by how much the children love you. “Mommy’s here.”

In about 30 minutes the house reaches a comfortable temperature and J tiptoes out of crowded bed, wanting the privacy of his own room.

You keep on tossing and turning; your shoulder aches and you’ll definitely need some pain killers if you want to be able to rest. You slowly move away from the kids, not wanting to startle them. It’s so sweet to see the four innocent souls peacefully dreaming, curled up under the cozy fleece blankets.

“J, are you still awake?” you knock at his door.

“Yes, come in,” he turns on the lamp, curious on why you’re still up. You open the door and step inside.

“My shoulder hurts and I forgot the painkillers at the penthouse. Can we send…”

“I have your med,” he shows you his coat on the chair. “Upper pocket.”

“Oh, that’s awesome!” you sigh, digging in there and retrieving the much needed remedy. ”Thank you.”

“Here,” he dismisses your gratitude, handing over the bottle of water kept on the nightstand.

You swallow 2 tablets, taking a deep breath when the sharp pain pokes at the surgery site.

“Get in,” The Joker slides on the sheets, making space for you.

You almost choke on the water and he rolls his eyes.

“Are you afraid I’m gonna take advantage of you?”

“No,” you hesitantly debate on his proposition, confused about it.

“Then get in,” he reinforces his will. “Don’t look at me like that!” J glares in your direction, not a big fan of that intrigued expression on your face.

You listen to him though and comply.

“What did the doctor say? Do you need more blood transfusions?” he starts the conversation as soon as you are next to him. You bite on your lip, nodding a no. “Well, if you do let me know, alright?”

“OK…” you agree, perfectly aware on why he’s interested: after all the blood loss you sustained with the stabbing, you needed more to replenish what was depleted. They had you hooked up to the IV ready to go, when J had a fit because the doctor didn’t notify him of the procedure. The Clown Prince of Crime was furious he wasn’t asked to donate blood: he’s a universal donor, a match for all blood types. Of course the medical team had to apologize and be thankful they weren’t killed on the spot.

They also had to listen to his rant about how generously rewarded they were for being allowed to take care of the mother of his children and how they couldn’t even keep him updated on your condition. That was the first time you heard him talk like that and it was hard to hold in the tears: it made you aware he did appreciate the sacrifices his ex-girlfriend made over the years while taking care of his babies. The Joker just never showed it; he’s not that kind of person.

Needless to say you do have his blood running through your veins now. And you could have more if necessary.

You stare at each other in silence: you have a feeling there’s a purpose to his behavior.

“Why did you remove the tattoo?” J unexpectedly blurs out.

Ahhh, there we go: that’s why you were cordially invited to stay; he wants to talk about stuff bothering him. Might as well since you want to take a few things off your chest also.

You answer with a question:

“Why would I want my ex boyfriend’s name on my skin?!”

“I worked on that tattoo for weeks! It was perfect, my best one !” J cuts you off.

It’s always about him, of course.

“We weren’t together anymore, no point in keeping it…”

“I worked on it !!!”

This is not going well.

“The lack of a tattoo doesn’t…”

“I spent weeks on that ink!” he interrupts again.

But you can’t hold in your own escalating anger:

“Why did you always bring Anya back?! Why did you tolerate her behavior?! Why did you keep on getting her pregnant?! She was horrible! And you didn’t want to have any children with me when we were together ! I would have been a great mother!!”

You lick you lips, running out of breath after the valid outburst. The Joker’s eyes have a sudden threatening sparkle, not expecting you’ll turn the tables on him.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you !” he grumbles, annoyed. “But I have to?!” you fight back, more and more upset. “Why…” and your voice breaks…”Why did you like her so much?…”

“I don’t like anybody!” he mutters through his silver teeth.

“You did like her a lot, it’s obvious…” you sadly smile. “And she neglected the kids, almost killed her own daughter… She never cared about you either…So…why did you like her so much?” you persist, unwilling to quit. At this point there’s no use: you are both fired up.

“Get out of here!” his menacing voice shrieks. “Get out before I might do something I can’t take back !” he pushes you away, struggling to contain his temper. “OUT!”

You don’t budge and J continues to violently shove you towards the end of the bed.

“Get out I said !” he pants, provoked by your rebellious behavior.

You don’t even feel the shoulder pain anymore or anything else for the matter.

“Why did you like her so much?” you repeat and he covers your mouth, rolling on top of you. The Joker realizes you’re not attempting to escape his grip; you just gaze at him without squirming.

“Get out of my sight!” J hisses, annoyed at your apathy; you’ve been in charge of his security for years, he knows you can defend yourself.

Why don’t you?

He lifts himself up a bit in order to give you one last nudge that will make you fall off the bed, when your arms tightly wrap around his neck, pulling him back on top of you.

“Why did you like her so much?” you forcefully hold him close when J wants to escape the embrace. “Why did you like her more than me?” you whisper in his ear and start crying, unable to suppress the burning question you wanted to ask for years. “I was loyal, I really loved you and never cheated,” your shaky voice makes him pay attention. “And you still broke up with me. And I didn’t object continuing to work for you when you asked. And I took care of your children when you asked,” you start sobbing and his face is buried in your neck, still mad yet listening. “You told me you trust me and that I never stopped being the Queen…Queen of what?” you lift his head up so you can look at him.“Queen of nothing?” and the tears keep on uncontrollably stream down your cheeks, your heart aching a hundred times more than the stabbing wound.

The Joker doesn’t bother to react or protest when you finally slide from under him, catching your breath while sitting at the edge of the bed. You wipe your eyes and prepare to go back to the kids just as his words barely make it out:

“You’re my children’s Queen and The Queen of this city. And…and my Queen since I can’t find a better one I can trust…”

Instead of making you happy, the sentences deepen your gloomy mood. J gets under the covers, turning his back on you, done with it all. He senses you scooting over closer to him until your steady breath lingers on his neck.

“Why are you still here?” he grouchily mutters and he feels your lips pressing on his shoulder.

“You want me to go?” you sigh. “Or…can I stay?”

“Suit yourself,” he reaches for the lamp and turns it off, not opposing to your left hand finding its way around his waist.

You’re almost napping when The Joker reopens the discussion:

“If by some miracle one of these days you manage to keep a man and get married, you still have to take care of the children; that’s an order !” he spits out with a hateful tone.

“ I really love your children; I couldn’t abandon them,” you cling to him more, somehow comforted when your hand is being moved from around his waist and kissed after a few seconds.

***************

The next day he avoids you.

You spend a lot of time outside on the porch, watching the kids play in the snow: even if is mid-February, there is plenty left for them to enjoy.

“Mommy… for you,” Zane gives you a snow ball, excited it made you smile. Mia is chewing one of her toys, cozy on the thick blanket she’s placed on at your feet.

“Thank you baby,” you kiss his nose, making sure to button up his jacket one more time. He likes to unbutton it; surely takes after his father, can’t keep stuff buttoned up. The thought gives you a sudden boost of positivity while watching him run back to his brothers. Aiden trips him and they both fall to the ground laughing, Kase trying to squeeze in between them because he wants to join in the fun.

“Don’t hurt yourselves !” you shout, the maternal instinct surfacing for the millionth time today and you help Mia up, the cute Princess standing without too much help; pretty soon she’ll be able to walk on her own.

You peak behind you through the huge glass windows, seeing The Joker talking to Frost. The King of Gotham is fast to throw something in the trash can, visibly irritated.

“Mommy, look !” Aiden yells, showing you the wall of snow he’s starting to build with his siblings.

“Good job honey!” you praise, waving at the boys and J steps outside, crabby disposition noticeable from a mile away. “Hey, did Frost tell you how long it will be until we can return to the penthouse?” you’re curious to find out since you hardly spoke to him since this morning.

“At least one week,” he growls, displeased at the news. “The pipes need to be replaced at the lower level. Only one duct was leaking, but they want to change all of them for safety.”

“That makes sense,” you grunt and lift Mia up, The Joker scolding:

“You’re not supposed to do that !”

“I know, I know,” you agree and he gestures for her. After finding herself in his arms, the little girl starts munching on his coat’s collar, babbling words that almost resemble “mama” and “dada”.

“Greeeat, another one to chew my ears off,” he frowns and it doesn’t go well with you.

“Why do you have to take the joy out of everything? Aren’t you happy Mia will walk and talk soon?” you sulk, not understanding why he can’t appreciate the little things.

Sarcasm follows:

“Sure, why wouldn’t I be? It’s something a kid never did before, right? Pfft,” he scoffs, ”you’re the one that got emotional when each kid learned to walk and speak; I don’t get the hype.”

“Of course you don’t,” you grumble, concluding the children must be hungry after playing for so long. “Darlings, come inside; it’s time to eat!”

************

You stop drinking your tea and elbow J, making him pay attention to the touching scene taking place at the kids’ table: the boys are eating and feeding their little sister also. Kase is actually standing, holding her hand and she nibbles on the chicken nugget offered by Aiden. As soon as Mia starts chewing, the boys eat some more too, waiting for her to finish what she has in her mouth.

Your eyes get teary; even if they did it before, you find it irresistibly adorable.

“That’s very cute,” you gulp, getting ready to help. The boys can mostly feed themselves, yet their mom’s intervention is more than welcomed.

J smirks, quietly adding more salad to his dish.

You head over to the counter, wanting to dump leftovers from your plate in the garbage can before helping the kids. The small box resting on top of the trash is discretely taking out by a curious Y/N. Is this what he threw in there earlier?!

You open it and hold your breath: it’s a gold bracelet; a simple circle beaded with a few diamonds, engraved with plain, meaningful words:

To: Mommy

From: Kase, Aiden, Zane and Mia

J hears you sniffling behind him and turns his head to see what’s going on. You hold the bracelet in the palm of your hand, speechless.

“Why is this in the garbage?!” you bite your cheek. “Help me put in on please.”

He doesn’t seem willing to fulfill your demand.

“I had no clue you dig in the trash now! Is it a part time job?” he mocks, cranky you found the customized gift he ordered eight days ago and decided to dispose of.

“Help me put it on,” you disregard his bitterness and J nags:

“It’s a gold hoop, easy to use, no clasp or nothing.”

“I want you to help me… please…”

That’s the point: you want him to do it.

“You’re annoying !” he yanks at you wrist, gliding the bracelet against the soft skin.

“Daaadddy, I’m thirsty,” Zane whines, coming over with his empty cup.

“Oh goody, someone finally needs me!” The Joker’s sassiness escalates for no reason.

***************

You creep inside his bedroom without knocking and lean your back against the closed door, waiting.

“Can I sleep here?” you utter, not looking his way.

“It’s your house, isn’t it?” the indirect invitation follows and you crawl in the bed by him, keeping a safe distance. “We can fit the twins between us; why aren’t you coming closer? Or are you scared you won’t be able to behave?”

You actually giggle, surprised you feel nervous.

“I think I’m alright, ” and you bring your body near his, cuddling like you used to years ago when you were together.

“Here’s the thing Y/N,” The Joker lifts your chin up. “If you sense any activity bellow my waist, don’t flatter yourself. It’s just a natural reaction due to the closeness. Are you…are you fucking blushing when I’m just messing with you?!” he teases and you feel your cheeks burning.

“I’m not blushing,” you whisper, embarrassed at your stupid vulnerability.

“You totally are,” J grins and you are aware it’s true. You wiggle in his arms, cautiously considering your next words. The smile perishes on his lips when you ask:

“J…Can you make love to me?”

He looks surprised and you feel awkward.

“That was dumb to say,” you patch your mistake with a fake, clumsy laugh.

“Of course I can,” The Joker’s face comes really close to yours. “The question is if I want to.”

“Well,” you gulp, “do you want to?…”

“Maybe…” he gropes you, thinking. Or is he just pretending?

“Moommyyyyyy,” is heard from the next bedroom, Aiden starting to cry because he probably had a nightmare.

“Such a missed opportunity,” J chuckles and you get out of bed in a hurry, but he grabs your hand, squeezing it before releasing the hold: “Come back afterwards.”

***************

The children weren’t used to find their mommy sleeping in the same room with their father, but that changed two years ago. They don’t know what it means, but one thing’s for sure: they love coming in the master bedroom at the penthouse and jump on the bed, waking up both parents and horsing around all morning until The Joker hides under the pillows, displeased with the noise.

Mommy never complains though; she always shows her affection and lets them touch her growing belly, telling them their new sister is in there. So fascinating for the kids! And they are getting more and more impatient, especially the little girl: she was told she will be the big sister and it sounds like an important task.

*************

“Baby?” the three years old Mia’s squeaky voice inquires, excited and curious to see such a tiny doll in your arms.

“Yes honey, this is your sister Emma,” you smile, pecking her forehead. You are sitting on the floor with the kids around you and they are seeing their sister for the first time.

“Waahhhh, she’s so cute,” Kase caresses the small head, mesmerized.

“Can I kiss her?” Zane claps his hands, puckering his lips.

“Sure,” you agree and Aiden wants to do the same.

“Me too!” the oldest kisses her also and Mia pushes him away, pouting:

“She’s my sissy!”

“Hey, hey, no fighting! Emma is everybody’s, ok?” you try to alleviate the quarrel, amused it’s already starting. It took like…40 seconds for the rivalry to surface.

“Look daaa’yy, baby!” Mia snickers, presenting Emma to her father like some kind of treasure. He’s been sitting at his desk, watching their reactions. You smile, softly rocking the new born when it fusses from the commotion.

“I know, I made her,” he sneers, winking and the kids are completely absorbed by the new addition to the family.

“Can I hold her?” Zane extends his arms and you carefully place Emma in his grip, holding both of them so he won’t drop her.

You notice the Joker is the proud possessor of a very arrogant aura and you know why: he’s been bragging all afternoon that he makes very cute babies and no matter how the mom looks like, he compensates for the deficit. Such nonsense!

But the annoying truth is that he does make beautiful babies.

“Mommy, can I hold her too?” Aiden begs, getting you out of daze.

“Sure can,” you nod, wondering when the jealousy will actually kick in.

You are definitely prepared for the challenge: this might have been your first pregnancy, but it’s actually your fifth child. It shouldn’t be too hard since…

Once a mother always a mother.

Also read: MASTERLIST

http://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

#the joker x reader #the joker fanfiction #the joker imagine #the joker jared leto #the joker #jared leto #joker #joker fanfiction #joker x reader #mister j #mistah j #mr. j #puddin #dc #the suicide squad #dc comics

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kiss-my-kitty · 6 years

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I need help.

(I am posting here on Tumblr because my domain name expired, and my hosting account is suspended due to non-payment.)

This is, without a doubt, the hardest blog entry I’ve ever written. In this post I will reveal just how bad things are, and the depth of my failings, humiliation, shame, and despair. But I have truly hit rock bottom, and I am in desperate need of help, as well as an outlet so that I am not internalizing everything - because it has become too much to bear. The summary is: we have lost our home and just about everything we own, Alyssa and Ryan are in foster care, Daniel had a mental health breakdown and hit me (he punched me in the face, giving me a black eye swollen cheek), and we have nothing left and no money, with our only resource being our 12 year old vehicle with a nearly-empty gas tank. We need help, desperately. PLEASE HELP: my PayPal address is [email protected]. * * * * *

Six years ago Daniel had to resign from his restaurant management position due to debilitating and worsening anxiety, depression, and physical fatigue, pain, and sleep disturbances.

Five years ago I lost my very well-paying job due to the company I worked for going under.

Around this time (2012) I began suffering from significant medical problems myself - multiple emergency and planned surgeries to correct a variety of life-threatening gastric issues, including twisting/strangulating intestines, perforated ulcers, strangulated hernias, and twisted ovaries due to PCOS and endometriosis. I became very ill and septic twice, nearly died, have dealt with various painful procedures as well as feeding tubes and drainage tubes, and needless to say, have spent a lot of time in the hospital.

As if all of the gastric issues and surgeries weren't enough, three years ago my lower back suddenly gave out - I deal with constant severe and unrelenting lumbar pain due to arthritis, degenerative disc disease, a torn, leaking, and bulging disc at L4, a completely degenerated disc at L5, and healed fractures at L5 and S1.

In January of 2017 I suffered a medical emergency that led to a large vertical abdominal incision, a 6-day hospital stay, and over a month during which I needed assistance just to get out of bed and go to the bathroom. I was very, very sick and weak from this surgery; and I was still weak and underweight from surgical complications that caused sepsis and organ damage in May-June 2016.

Around this time I was also taking a prescribed SSRI, Amitriptyline (also known as Elavil), to help me sleep. While it did not help with sleep, as the pain in my lower back and random bouts of abdominal pain from all of the surgeries and consequent scar tissue and adhesions woke and continues to wake me up almost every night, it ended up causing SEVERE short-term memory loss. The best way I can describe it is like this: every two to three days my short-term memories were completely wiped from my memory. On a Monday I might go grocery shopping. By Wednesday of that week I would have no recollection of shopping on Monday, or of doing anything else that day.

Our ongoing financial issues because of Daniel's health problems and mine snowballed. The short-term memory loss complicated and worsened everything.

In June of 2017, we lost our home of 10 years. We were able to put everything into storage, and we moved in temporarily with my mother and 19 year old brother in their 2-bedroom apartment while we figured out what to do next.

In August of 2017 we were accepted into a transitional living program. This entailed the five of us -- Daniel, myself, Alyssa, Ryan, as well as my 19 year old brother, who had nowhere to go because my mother was evicted from her apartment due to non-payment of rent -- living in a hotel room in a large hotel that had been converted into a transitional living program. The program was very supportive, and entailed us living there, abiding by curfew and other building rules, and working with counselors to rebuild our life. While Alyssa and Ryan went to school and various after-school programs, Daniel and I helped my brother get re-established with high school, his SSI payments, getting a state ID, etc. - all of the things that my mother should have done for him but didn't. She, meanwhile, had been hospitalized since late July due to infected and gangrenous diabetic ulcers on her feet, and blood infections stemming from those infected ulcers.

By September of 2017 Daniel and I told my mother that we were done helping her. We could barely help ourselves; but worse, she did nothing to help herself with her own financial and medical difficulties. Instead, she was dragging us down because she would create numerous disasters for herself, take no responsibility for them, and do nothing to try to improve her circumstances. She expected everyone else to do this for her - namely, Daniel and I.

Writing my mother off caused a lot of conflict and drama between her and us. In her rage and fury, she went so far as to create a lot of drama based on outrageous lies and accusations. While we tried to stay ahead of this mess by informing the staff at the transitional living program of our problems with her, her allegations and pot-stirring ended up causing us to be abruptly evicted from the program - while my brother went to stay with my mother at the hospital/long-term care facility she was in, the four of us (Daniel, myself, Alyssa, and Ryan), were literally thrown onto the streets.

We were evicted on October 2, 2017. For the next six weeks we bounced around between a friend's home, a pastor's cabin, a retreat camp, and motel rooms.

On November 20, 2017, a false allegation about us staying in a cabin with no electricity or water was made against us, and Alyssa and Ryan were removed from our custody. Currently they are staying with the family of a friend of Alyssa's. Fortunately they are with people they know, and they are still attending the same school and are still active in the same extra-curricular STEM programs as they were before.

Because of having to spend so much money to keep ourselves afloat after being evicted from the transitional living program, we fell behind on our storage unit payments. We were unable to save our belongings - we have lost everything we own, with the exception of the belongings we had with us (about a large duffel bag worth of clothing, toiletries, and personal items for each of us; along with my laptop and cameras, and most of the kids' small electronics).

Through all of this Daniel and I have done our best to try and tackle one problem at a time, to see and talk to Alyssa and Ryan as much as possible, and to desperately explore all of our options to try to rebuild. His Social Security Disability Insurance (SSDI/SSI) application, which was started in April of 2014, is still at the highest level of adjudication - we are awaiting a hearing date. Meanwhile, Daniel has had several more sleep disturbances and diagnoses added, and it looks like he has a very rare disease called Neuromyotonia - basically, all of the nerves in all of his muscles are constantly firing. It's comparable to a seizure, because of the nerve overactivity. But instead of seizures, Daniel endures constant and severe muscle pain and fatigue, due to his muscles constantly spasming and mis-firing.

I am working on my own SSDI/SSI application - with the memory issues, but more significantly all of the gastric surgeries and complications, and my severe back issues, I qualify five times over for both SSDI/SSI, and because of the constant pain I am in and the resulting fatigue I deal with, there is no way I am capable of working a "traditional" job - or even work online/remotely as much as I did before. I am ashamed to admit this, but it is true.

The final blow, which is a poor choice of words, came to us on December 29th, 2017: after abruptly and inexplicably cold-turkeying his anxiety and depression medications in mid-December, after days of escalating irritation and verbal clashing between Daniel and I, he snapped and lashed out at me - literally. We were having a relatively calm verbal argument, and out of nowhere he punched me in the face. He has never laid a hand on me before. He punched me, full strength, in the face - his fist hit my right cheekbone. I had, and still have, terrible bruising and swelling. Even with layers of makeup the injury is still visible, and obvious. It has been hard to go out in public and deal with the stares and silent as well as not-silence questions and judgment, on top of everything else I am dealing with. But while I make no excuses for what Daniel did, I do understand that the severe stress he has been under (that we have both been under), combined with the mental instability caused by the sudden lack of and withdrawal from his SSRI medications, definitely played a role in him losing control.

Immediately after Daniel hit me I exited the vehicle where we had been sitting. He took off. Not knowing what to do, and afraid Daniel might do something to himself out of guilt, I called the police to report what happened, and to ask them to please find him because I was afraid for his mental well-being.

That same evening, Daniel overdosed on three medications. He researched what medications to take in order to overdose and die, and wrote a suicide note. He was barely conscious when he messaged me an apology and goodbye via Facebook Messenger. But he did answer when I called him, and after pleading from both me and my friend's husband, he gave us his location, I called 911, and he was found and taken to an emergency room. He was given charcoal to drink as well as Narcan and other medications via IV. After he was medically stabilized, he was involuntarily committed to the hospital's psychiatric ward.

This past Monday, January 8, he was discharged from the psychiatric ward, and taken directly to jail because of the domestic violence charge against him from when I called the police on December 29th.

Yesterday was the domestic violence court hearing. Because I have been in touch with Daniel since December 29th, visited him daily at the psychiatric ward, and most importantly because I have truly forgiven him for what he did and I am not angry, and he himself is guilty, remorseful, and determined to make things right for himself and more importantly for both of us, I spoke with both the domestic violence advocate assigned to him and the district attorney who brought the charges against him, and it was agreed that Daniel would plead guilty to a harassment charge. This is a lesser charge that means he will not serve jail time; but he will have to take both domestic violence and anger management classes. And, his check-ins with a psychiatrist and a psychologist will also be mandated.

Daniel and I need to rent a room somewhere in the county, at the cost of anywhere from $75 to $100 per week, in order to have something to call "ours". From there we can rebuild:I can continue to do the bit of online work I have been able to find, he can focus on his mental health recovery and working with a local retained lawyer (free, due to our limited income) to get his SSDI/SSI case pushed through, and I can also focus on finishing up my SSDI/SSI application. While Daniel has more diagnoses than I do, I have a consistent trail of doctor visits, specialist visits, hospital visits, tests, surgeries, and diagnoses going all the way back to 2009 to prove my case several times over. Daniel's medical trail is more inconsistent due to all of my emergency surgeries and hospitalizations.

* * * * *

This is my plea: we need financial help, desperately. At this point we have nothing except our vehicle, a gas tank on empty despite me using the last $4.00 I had to put one and a half gallons in it, Alyssa and Ryan in foster care, and only several duffel bags and a laptop bag of belongings.

I am begging anyone who reads this: please help us get back on our feet. Any and all PayPal donations will be used to pay as many weekly/monthly rental fees as we can to ensure a room we rent remains ours. We'll also use any donated money to fill our gas tank, and to buy as little food as possible to keep us going. PLEASE HELP: my PayPal address is [email protected].

Please know that Daniel and I have been doing everything we can to rebuild ever since we lost our home last June, but we have been hit with one financial and/or medical crisis after another - in fact, in the midst of all of this, I was hospitalized for two days in October and then had an urgent surgery to remove my remaining ovary, because it was twisting and torsing due to the presence of cysts as well as many adhesions. I know that I have asked a lot of my friends both offline and online, but please know we are desperate, without any resources, and are truly trying the best we can. At this point I don’t know what else to do. I have nowhere to go, and I can’t stay much longer where I am now. In a matter of days we will be living in our car, but with no money even for gas, let alone food or shelter. I am putting all of this out here, online, in the hope of not just asking for help, but to clear up the vagueness and silence that has taken over my social media accounts. I’m so sorry to anyone I’ve offended or upset and I promise that once we are finally back on our feet, however long that takes, I will right the wrongs I’ve committed in inadvertently with any of my friends. PLEASE HELP: my PayPal address is [email protected].

#homeless #homelessness #cys #cps #foster care #fostercare #medical #emergency #mentalhealth #domesticviolence #money #help

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imsarahcate · 7 years

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I’ve had a difficult history with doctors. A few here and there that seemed to at least care about what I was dealing with, but for the most part, I’ve been shuttled around, disbelieved and disrespected. I’ve been treated like an idiot and an oddity because of my weight. I’ve been ignored and disregarded. While my oncologist and her staff are all amazing, and I *like* my existing PCP (her staff is NOT amazing), most of the doctors I’ve dealt with in my adult years have been super inadequate... to put it nicely. Particularly my neurologist who flat out lied about having ideas about how to try and find something to help with my pain.

Most recently, the nurse in my PCP’s office created a bunch of roadblocks for me when I tried to get my metformin re-upped. Difficult enough that I gave up trying to get it and have been without it since June of last year.

So, after hearing rave review about this doctor in Plano both from a friend and then from online reviews, I called to make an appointment. I called on a Thursday, there’s was an appointment open the very next Monday (yesterday). And I have to take the time to talk about that appointment. I have a lot of trouble getting around these days. My pain is constant and if anything, getting worse as time goes on. Getting around the UTSW hospital system can be exhausting and difficult and stressful. Getting to my PCP’s office there is a nightmare for me. It wipes me out for like 2 days.

Getting in and out of Dr. Duhaney’s (my NEW PCP) is a breeze. Parking is good, the elevator is right inside the door and his office is down the very first hallway on the 2nd floor. It’s easy to get in and out and around. The staff was kind and genuine and caring. It’s a very small waiting room, but comfortable and calm. At no time was my weight a discussion. Aside from getting on the scale to begin with (and being shocked to find I’m back down to my post-chemo weight... holy shit) it simply was not an issue. At all.

And when the blood pressure cuff came out I started my usual disclaimer- “it’s gonna be super high. I’m really anxious, I live in constant pain, and I have doctor anxiety too. When I test it at home, when I’m calm and comfortable, I am almost always normal or high-normal.” The nurse waved a hand dismissively, “Oh, I always figure it’s gonna be high when I take it here. People get nervous.”

It’s the least judged I’ve EVER felt when having my blood pressure taken. It was amazing. (spoiler alert, it WAS high, but I’ve had higher!) I gave him the chart I’d created at home (I basically laid out my major medical issues past and present, my meds, my surgeries/procedures and some notes on specific events). His eyes got wide, he grinned and asked to make a copy. He (and Dr. Duhaney LOVED it.)

Dr. Duhaney was absolutely a phenomenal physician. In a way that was almost... dreamlike. You know when you’re a little kid and you get this idea that doctors are amazing, kind, caring people... who just want to genuinely help people? Dr. Duhaney IS that doctor. He’s a modern day Marcus Welby. He listened attentively as I discussed and explained aspects of my medical history and timeline. He asked questions that proved he’d been paying attention, asked questions that MATTERED. He believed me, and treated me with an immense amount of respect.

He listened and paid attention to me when I talked about medications I’d been on. And when we’d kind of exhausted the medical history portion he asked, “What specifically brings you here today?”

I said my visit was essentially 3 fold (aside from just needing a new PCP).

-I fucked up my wrist -I want back on my metformin -I want to talk about options for my pain

By the time the appointment was over he’d had blood drawn and requested a urine sample. I had scrips for my metformin (YES!), Naproxin for my wrist, and tramadol to help me sleep through pain flares. I had an order for an xray of my wrist (did that today), and a follow up appointment scheduled in one month.

I should get a call about the labs before the end of the week, probably the wrist too.

And for me, one of the most important takeaways was that when I brought up my pain he looked back at my little chart and listed off all the many meds I’ve tried through other physicians to treat my pain- to no avail. And while we’re saving the full discussion for my follow up visit in February- he too seemed willing to discuss possibly shifting from anti-neuropathic meds to actual narcotic pain medications. Something I’ve been denied either approval or access (or both) to for far too long at this stage. Not only CAN he prescribe them, but he is willing to look into it. To really finally help me find something that will actually HELP my pain in a way that is meaningful.

At no point did I feel rushed or hurried. He spent almost an hour with me (on a 30min appointment to be honest). And unlike seeing my PCP at UTSW, I didn’t feel like whoever was in the next exam room was getting an earful of my medical history. And throughout it all, it was clear that he really genuinely CARED and wants to help me tackle my health issues in a way that will be most meaningful and have the greatest positive impact on my day to day life.

I walked away sort of in a daze to be honest. It should be noted that he treats his staff with tremendous regard as well. At one point (I have TERRIBLE veins, Thanks chemo) a 3rd nurse had come in to try and find a line for blood and he kind of chuckled and said, “I’m going to duck out and let him do his thing, there’s always more pressure when the boss is in the room and he can definitely do this without me looking over his shoulder.” But it was said in a way that really sounded... so respectful and trusting of the nurse’s skill and ability, It wasn’t “oh ho ho I’m a scary boss,” it was just... this acknowledgment that sometimes the best way to do what you do- is not to be watched while you do it.

It was just overall a really remarkable experience. And then I went to the desk to collect my license and my medicare card. I said, “and I probably owe you money too..”

The nurse smiled and handed back my ids and said, “Nope. We send it all to medicare and they pay us.”

I won’t lie... I... teared up. For someone as poor as I am, who struggles as much as I do financially (even WITH help), that was... just incredible. I walked out to the hall and then tears did spill over. I almost cried again today when I walked out of the xray... again... with no money due. Even at a location that was covered by my old insurance, my copay could have sunk me for that xray. Hell, depending on if my doc. was covered or not, the copay for THAT could have sunk me.

But thanks to my medicare because I’m on disability... I can still pay my phone bill this month. Something that, 3 days ago, I wasn’t sure would be the case.

So now I have a new Primary Care Doctor. One I can actually get an appointment with. One who wants and has the actual POWER to help me. And for the first time in literally YEARS, I am daring to feel hopeful again. Daring to think maybe, even if he can’t... fix it... I might at least be able to sleep again, or even... spend time with loved ones, have the energy to get back to designing and creating and crafting.

Because I finally have a doctor who actually genuinely cares. And has the power to do something about it.

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lesbianrewrites · 7 years

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The Martian Chapter 2

*disclaimer* This is a project done for fun, and none of these characters/works belong to me. I do not claim to own any of the material on this page.

This is a Lesbian edit of The Martian by Andy Weir.

Chapters will be posted every day at 2pm EST.

Google doc version can be found here. The chapter can also be found under the cut. Enjoy!

LOG ENTRY: SOL 7

CHAPTER II

Ok, I’ve had a good night’s sleep, and things don’t seem as hopeless as they did yesterday.

Today I took stock of supplies, and did a quick EVA to check up on the external equipment. Here’s my situation:

The surface mission was supposed to be 31 days. For redundancy, the supply probes had enough food to last the whole crew 56 days. That way if one or two probes had problems, we'd still have enough food to complete the mission.

We were six days in when all hell broke loose, so that leaves enough food to feed six people for 50 days. I’m just one girl, so it’ll last me 300 days. And that’s if I don’t ration it. So I’ve got a fair bit of time.

The Hab stood up to the storm without any problems. Outside, things aren’t so rosy. I can’t find the satellite dish; it probably got blown kilometers away.

The MAV is gone, of course. My crewmates took it up to Hermes. Though the bottom half (the landing stage) is still there. No reason to take that back up when weight is the enemy. It includes the landing gear, the fuel plant, and anything else NASA figured it wouldn’t need for the trip back up to orbit.

The MDV is on its side and there’s a breach in the hull. Looks like the storm ripped the cowling off the reserve chute (which we didn’t have to use on landing). Once the chute was exposed it dragged the MDV all over the place, smashing it against every rock in the area. Not that the MDV would be much use to me. Its thrusters can’t even lift its own weight. But it might have been valuable for parts. Might still be.

Both rovers are half-buried in sand, but they’re in good shape otherwise. Their pressure seals are in-tact. Makes sense. Operating procedure if a storm hits is to stop motion and wait for the storm to pass. They’re made to stand up to punishment. I’ll be able to dig them out with a day or so of work.

I’ve lost communication with the weather stations, placed a kilometer away from the Hab in 4 directions. They might be in perfect working order for all I know. The Hab’s communications are so weak right now it probably can’t even reach a kilometer.

The solar cell array was covered it in sand, rendering it useless (hint: solar cells need sunlight to make electricity). But once I swept them off, they returned to full efficiency. Whatever I end up doing, I’ll have plenty of power for it. 200 square meters of solar cells, with hydrogen fuel cells to store plenty of reserve. All I need to do is sweep them off every few days.

Things indoors are great, thanks to the Hab’s sturdy design.

I ran a full diagnostic on the Oxygenator. Twice. It’s perfect. If anything goes wrong with it, there is a short-term spare I can use. But it’s solely for emergency use while repairing the main one. The spare doesn’t actually pull CO2 apart and recapture the oxygen. It just absorbs the CO2 the same way the spacesuits do. It’s intended to last 5 days before it saturates the filters, which means 30 days for me (just one person breathing, instead of six). So there’s some insurance there.

The Water Reclaimer is working fine, too. The bad news is there’s no backup. If it stops working, I’ll be drinking reserve water while I rig up a primitive distillery to boil piss. Also, I’ll lose half a liter of water per day to breathing until the humidity in the Hab reaches its maximum and water starts condensing on every surface. Then I’ll be licking the walls. Yay. Anyway, for now, no problems with the Water Reclaimer.

So yeah. Food, water, shelter all taken care of. I’m going to start rationing food right now. Meals are pretty minimal already, but I think I can eat a 3/4 portion per meal and still be all right. That should turn my 300 days of food in to 400. Foraging around the medical area, I found the main bottle of vitamins. There’s enough multivitamins there to last years. So I won’t have any nutritional problems (though I’ll still starve to death when I’m out of food, no matter how many vitamins I take).

The medical area has morphine for emergencies. And there’s enough there for a lethal dose. I’m not going to slowly starve to death, I’ll tell you that. If I get to that point, I’ll take an easier way out.

Everyone on the mission had two specialties. I’m a botanist and mechanical engineer. Basically, I was the mission’s fix-it man who played with plants. The mechanical engineering might save my life if something breaks.

I’ve been thinking about how to survive this. It’s not completely hopeless. There’ll be humans back on Mars in about four years when Ares 4 arrives (assuming they didn’t cancel the program in the wake of my “death”).

Ares 4 will be landing at the Schiaparelli Crater, which is about 3,200km away from my location here in the Acidalia Planitia. No way for me to get there on my own. But if I could communicate, I might be able to get a rescue. Not sure how they’d manage that with the resources on hand, but NASA has a lot of smart people.

So that’s my mission now. Find a way to communicate with Earth. If I can’t manage that, find a way to communicate with Hermes when it returns in 4 years with the Ares 4 crew.

Of course, I don’t have any plan for surviving 4 years on 1 year of food. But one thing at a time here. For now, I’m well fed and have a purpose: “Fix the damn radio”.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 10

Well, I’ve done three EVAs and haven’t found any hint of the communication dish

I dug out one of the rovers and had a good drive around, but after days of wandering I think it’s time to give up. The storm probably blew the dish far away and then erased any drag-marks or scuffs that might have led to a trail. Probably buried it, too.

I spent most of today out at what’s left of the communication array. It’s really a sorry sight. I may as well yell toward Earth for all the good that damned thing will do me.

I could throw together a rudimentary dish out of metal I find around the base, but this isn’t some walkie-talkie I’m working with here. Communicating from Mars to Earth is a pretty big deal, and requires extremely specialized equipment. I won’t be able to whip something up with tinfoil and gum.

I need to ration my EVAs as well as food. The CO2 filters are not cleanable. Once they’re saturated, they’re done. The mission accounted for a 4-hour EVA per crewmember per day. Fortunately, CO2 filters are light and small so NASA had the luxury of sending more than we needed. All told, I have about 1500 hours worth of CO2 filters. After that, any EVAs I do will have to be managed with bloodletting the air.

1500 hours may sound like a lot, but I’m faced with spending at least 4 years here if I’m going to have any hope of rescue, with a minimum of several hours per week dedicated to sweeping off the solar array. Anyway. No needless EVAs.

In other news, I’m starting to come up with an idea for food. My botany background may come in useful after all.

Why bring a botanist to Mars? After all, it’s famous for not having anything growing here. Well, the idea was to figure out how well things grow in Martian gravity, and see what, if anything, we can do with Martian soil. The short answer is: quite a lot… almost. Martian soil has the basic building blocks needed for plant growth, but there’s a lot of stuff going on in Earth soil that Mars soil doesn’t have, even when it’s placed in an Earth-atmosphere and given plenty of water. Bacterial activity, certain nutrients provided by animal life, etc. None of that is happening on Mars. One of my tasks for the mission was to see how plants grow here, in various combinations of Earth or Mars soil and atmosphere.

That’s why I have a small amount of Earth soil and a bunch of plant seeds with me.

I can’t get too excited, however. It’s about the amount of soil you’d put in a window planter-box, and the only seeds I have are a few species of grass and ferns. They’re the most rugged and easily grown plants on earth, so NASA picked them as the test subjects.

So I have two problems: not enough dirt, and nothing edible to plant in it.

But I’m a botanist, damn it. I should be able to find a way to make this happen. If I don’t, I’ll be a really hungry botanist in about a year.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 11

I wonder how the Cubs are doing.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 14

I got my undergrad degree at the University of Chicago. Half the people who studied botany were hippies who thought they could return to some natural world system. Somehow feeding 7 billion people through pure gathering. They spent most of their time working out better ways to grow pot. I didn’t like them. I’ve always been in it for the science, not for any New World Order bullshit.

When they made compost heaps and tried to conserve every little ounce of living matter, I laughed at them. “Look at the silly hippies!” I would scoff. “Look at their pathetic attempts to simulate a complex global ecosystem in their back yard.”

Of course now I’m doing exactly that. I’m saving every scrap of biomatter I can find. Every time I finish a meal, the leftovers go to the compost bucket. As for other biological material…

The Hab has sophisticated toilets. Shit is usually vaccum-dried, then accumulated in sealed bags to be discarded on the surface.

Not any more!

In fact, I even did an EVA to recover the previous bags of shit from before the crew left. Being completely desiccated, this particular shit didn’t have bacteria in it anymore, but it still had complex proteins and would serve as useful manure. Adding it to water and active bacteria would quickly get it inundated, replacing any population killed by the Toilet Of Doom.

I found a big container and filled it with a bit of water, then added the dried shit. Since then, I’ve added my own shit to it as well. The worse it smells, the more successful things are going. That’s the bacteria at work!

Once I get some Martian soil in here, I can mix in the shit and spread it out. Then I can sprinkle the Earth soil on top. You might not think that would be an important step, but it is. There are dozens of species of bacteria living in Earth soil, and they're critical to plant growth. They'll spread out and breed like... well, like a bacterial infection..

Within a week, the Martian soil will be ready for plants to germinate in. But I won’t plant yet. I’ll spread it out over a doubled area. It’ll “infect” the new Martian soil. After another week, I’ll double it again. And so on. Of course, all the while, I’ll be adding all new manure to the effort.

My asshole is doing as much to keep me alive as my brain.

This isn’t a new concept I just came up with. People have speculated on how to make crop soil out of Martian dirt for decades. I’ll just be putting it to the test for the first time.

I searched through the food supplies and found all sorts of things that I can plant. Peas, for instance. Plenty of beans, too. I also found several potatoes. If *any* of them can still germinate after their ordeal, that’ll be great. With a nearly infinite supply of vitamins, all I need are calories of any kind to survive.

The total floor-space of the Hab is about 92 square meters. I plan to dedicate all of it to this endeavor. I don’t mind walking on dirt. It’ll be a lot of work, but I’m going to need to cover the entire floor to a depth of 10 cm. That means I’ll have to transport 9.2 cubic meters of Martian soil in to the Hab. I can get maybe 1/10th of a cubic meter in through the airlock at a time, and it’ll be backbreaking work to collect it. But in the end, if everything goes to plan, I’ll have 92 square meters of croppable soil.

Hell yeah I’m a botanist! Fear my botany powers!

LOG ENTRY: SOL 14

Ugh! This is backbreaking work!

I spent 12 hours today on EVAs to bring dirt in to the Hab. I only managed to cover a small corner of the base, maybe 5 square meters. At this rate it’ll take me weeks to get all the soil in. But hey, time is one thing I’ve got.

The first few EVAs were pretty inefficient; me filling small containers and bringing them in through the airlock. Then I got wise and just put one big container in the airlock itself and filled that with small containers till it was full. That sped things up a lot because the airlock takes about 10 minutes to get through.

I ache all over. And the shovels I have are made for taking samples, not heavy digging. My back is killing me. I foraged in the medical supplies and found some Vicodin. I took it about 10 minutes ago. Should be kicking in soon.

Anyway, it’s nice to see progress. Time to start getting the bacteria to work on these minerals. After lunch. No 3/4 ration today. I’ve earned a full meal

LOG ENTRY: SOL 16

One complication I hadn’t though of: Water.

Turns out being on the surface of Mars for a few million years eliminates all the water in the soil. My master’s degree in botany makes me pretty sure plants need wet dirt to grow in. Not to mention the bacteria that has to live in it first.

Fortunately, I have water. But not as much as I want. To be viable, soil needs 40 liters of water per cubic meter. My overall plan calls for 9.2 cubic meters of soil. So I’ll eventually need 368 liters of water to feed it.

The Hab has an excellent Water Reclaimer. Best technology available on Earth. So NASA figured “why send a lot of water up there? Just send enough for an emergency.” Humans need 3 liters of water per day to be comfortable. They gave us 50 liters each. There are 300 liters total in the Hab.

Looks like I won’t be able to cover the whole surface of the Hab with fertile soil. I’m willing to dedicate all but an emergency 50 liters to the cause. That means I can feed 62.5 square meters at a depth of 10cm. About 2/3 of the Hab’s floor. It’ll have to do. Anyway, I’ve only got a paltry 5 square meters covered at the moment.

After that, things got disgusting. I spent three hours spreading shit on Martian sand. I didn’t have to do it with my hands, at least.

I spread the sand out in a corner of the Hab, about 10cm thick. I wadded up a few blankets and uniforms from my departed crewmates to serve as one edge of a planter box (with the curved walls of the Hab being the rest of the perimeter). Then I sacrificed 20 liters of precious water to the dirt gods.

5 square meters was about right for the amount of manure I had handy. I dumped my big container o’ shit on to the soil and nearly puked from the smell.

That smell’s going to stick around for a while, too. It’s not like I can open a window. Still, you get used to it. I mixed this soil and shit together with a shovel, and spread it out evenly again. Then I sprinkled the Earth soil on top. Get to work, bacteria. I’m counting on you.

In other news, today is Thanksgiving. My family will be gathering in Chicago for the usual feast at my parent's house. My guess is it won't be much fun, what with me having died 11 days ago. Hell, they probably just got done gathering for my funeral.

I wonder if they'll ever find out what really happened.

Wow. Things really came along.

I got all the sand in and ready to go. 2/3 of the base is now dirt. And today I executed my first dirt-doubling. It's been a week, and the former Martian soil was rich and lovely. Two more doublings and I will have covered the whole field.

All that work was great for my morale. It gave me something to do. But after things settled down a bit, and I had dinner while listening to Johanssen’s Beatles music collection, I got depressed again.

Doing the math, this won’t keep me from starving.

My best bet for making calories is potatoes. They grow prolifically and have a reasonable caloric content (770 calories per kg). I’m pretty sure the ones I have will germinate. Problem is I can’t grow enough of them. In 62 square meters, I could grow maybe 150kg of potatoes in 400 days (the time I have before running out of food). That’s a grand total of 115,500 calories, a sustainable average of 288 calories per day. With my height and weight, if I’m willing to starve a little, I need 1500 calories per day.

Not even close.

So I can’t just live off the land for ever. But I can extend my life. The potatoes will last me 76 days.

Potatoes grow continually, so in those 76 days, I can grow another 22,000 calories of potatoes, which will tide me over for another 15 days. After that, it’s kind of pointless to continue the trend. All told it buys me about 90 days.

So now I’ll start starving to death on Sol 490 instead of Sol 400. It’s progress, but any hope of survival rests on me surviving until Sol 1412, when Ares 4 will land.

There’s about a thousand days of food I don’t have. And I don’t have a plan for how to get it.

LOG ENTRY: SOL 22

Shit.

#the martian #the martian andy weir #lesbian rewrites #lesbiansafe #lgbt

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