#she said she needed to heal from her surgery to start her other treatment

[cinemaocd]

#as a cancer survivor myself I wish her well and a speedy recovery #she said she needed to heal from her surgery to start her other treatment #this is what I experienced as well #all together it was about three months from diagnosis to the end of my therapy and that's the timeline of her being 'missing' #anyway the speculation is over not a fan of the royals but I'm glad she wasn't dead or in a coma #kate middleton

[capybaracorn]

‘Mama we’re dying’: Only able to hear her kids in Gaza in their final days

Hanan and Mazen were stuck in the West Bank. Their kids were in Gaza, where they were killed by Israeli bombs.

Hann and Mazen at Fadi's bedside [Mosab Shawer/Al Jazeera]

(April 16th 2024)

Bethlehem, occupied West Bank – Hanan al-Qeeq sits next to a hospital bed in Beit Jala Hospital, her sad, pale face seconds away from tears at all times, even when she tries to muster up a smile of greeting.

Sitting beside the exhausted woman is her husband, Mazen, 56, a Gaza Ministry of Education employee who left his work to come to the occupied West Bank, where their son Fadi is being treated.

Fifty-year-old Hanan says she carries a heavy burden. As she and Mazen kept their vigil by Fadi’s bedside, praying for his healing, Israel’s war on Gaza took four of their other children from them.

“What can I say beyond what happened?” said Mazen, who did not want to, or perhaps could not, speak more.

The couple had seven children.

Four daughters: Iman, 31, who is married and lives in Canada, Malaka, 24, Nuran, 23, and Tala, 15.

Three sons: Fayez, 33, who is married and lives in the United States, Fadi, 30, and Muhammad Awad, 17.

Now they have three children: Fadi, Fayez, and Iman.

Because Malaka, Nuran, Muhammad Awad and Tala had to stay behind when Hanan and Mazen left Gaza for Fadi’s medical care and they were killed when Israel bombed the shelter they were hiding in.

Remembrance of those lost

Hanan scrolls through photos of her children on her phone, something she does with a sad familiarity as she talks about them.

Hanan shows a photo of Nuran on her phone [Mosab Shawer/Al Jazeera]

“Malaka was sweet and generous, always ready to help out. Nuran loved everyone, loved life, and was loved in return, especially by her fiance in Morocco … they were going to get married after Eid al-Adha.”

As for Tala, their mother said, “I likened her to the Virgin Mary, so calm and soft, a real princess. And Muhammad Awad, he worked so hard. He had a note up by his desk reminding himself: ‘I want to get 97 percent in the high school exams so my dad is happy and I can study engineering overseas.’”

Their bustling, content family life came to a screeching halt last April when Fadi plunged five storeys while at work plastering the exterior of a building. He became quadriplegic.

Mazen initially accompanied Fadi to Haifa for treatment. He has since been moved from hospital to hospital.

It took months before Hanan was able to join them; by then the treatment was taking place at Tel Aviv’s Reuth Hospital. Hanan was meant to stay with Fadi while Mazen returned to Gaza, but she was worried about Fadi and intimidated by dealing with the Israeli hospital system, so she asked him to stay.

Little did she know, she said, that by asking him to stay, she would save his life.

The war begins

When Israel’s war on Gaza began in October, the distraught parents were still trying to find the treatment Fadi needed. He had been transferred from Haifa to Tel HaShomer Hospital in Tel Aviv, where he received some surgeries, but they were thrown out because they could not afford to complete the treatment there.

Hanan spoke to her children as often as she could, listening to them as they trembled on the phone in fear, and listening to their screams whenever a projectile landed nearby.

“They would cry on the phone: ‘Mama, we’re dying,’” she said.

“I would try to reassure them to tell that it would be over in a few days, like the wars before it did. ‘No harm or danger will befall you,’ I told them,” she said, scrubbing tears away from her eyes.

A week after the war started, Hanan’s fear for her children grew and she emailed her sisters to ask them to take care of them, writing: “My daughters’ lives are in your hands. Take care of them.”

Her older sister, who goes by Umm Fadi, sent a car to take the children from Remal in north Gaza to her house in Tal al-Hawa in the southwest.

Hanan wheels Fadi into his hospital room [Mosab Shawer/Al Jazeera]

By then, Hanan’s appeals to Palestinian officials and the community were working and she managed to get the Palestinian Authority to take on Fadi’s treatment expenses and got him admitted to a hospital in Bethlehem by October 20.

The children stayed at their aunt’s house for nearly a month, till the Israeli army stormed the neighbourhood and they fled to az-Zawayda with everyone who was in the house: their aunt, her sons with their wives, her daughters with their husbands, and all their children.

On December 13, Fadi underwent surgery at the Istishari Hospital in Ramallah before being transferred to Beit Jala Hospital in Bethlehem, where he is still being treated.

Throughout, Hanan and Mazen were sleeping in hospital wards and eating whatever the hospital gave them until the people of Bethlehem learned of their plight.

A community member gave them a furnished house, the couple recounted, and told them that the house was theirs for the duration of Fadi’s treatment. “We found safety among our people,” Hanan said.

While Hanan in Bethlehem worried about her children left behind in Gaza, they worried about their parents and asked about their brother Fadi’s health every time they spoke.

Hanan’s sister and the 29 people she was with – including Hanan’s children – were heading back to her home in Tal al-Hawa after hearing the Israeli army had withdrawn. So extensive was the damage they left behind that the group had a hard time finding their way back to the house, the children told her on the phone.

Hanan holds up a photo of Fadi before his accident to compare with how he looks now [Mosab Shawer/Al Jazeera]

Just weeks later, the Israeli army pounced again, sending the family fleeing to Jalaa, then Remal, and back to Jalaa, where they ended up sheltering with 200 people in a school building. But the group continued to move from place to place as they sought safety, until one day Hanan heard that 16 relatives had been killed in an Israeli attack in Jalaa.

Hanan hung on to the other end of the phone, sick with worry. She nearly lost her mind when the children’s phones were off, but she heard from her niece Sahar that all was well and eventually the surviving family was able to leave once again to Tal al-Hawa.

“Imagine what it was like,” Hanan said, scrolling sadly through the photos, “to have Malaka tell me: ‘Mama, we will be martyred. Don’t cry if that happens. I would rather that than us be paralysed or lose our limbs.’”

Then she lost touch with them for days, maybe a week. Hanan lost count as she desperately tried to get through to anyone who might know what was happening. On the last night of her search, she did not sleep, up all night sending message after message to Malaka.

Hanan and Mazen had reached out to the ICRC and the Palestine Red Crescent Society, begging them to go to the house and check on the children. But Hanan did not realise that they had an answer until she walked into Fadi’s hospital room one day and saw a group of doctors and staff waiting for her.

One of the women in the group started gently asking her questions, but something told her there was another reason for their presence.

“I asked: ‘Have you received anything? My children, has something happened to them? Were they martyred?’

“I saw tears in their eyes, and one of them answered, she was wearing a Red Crescent uniform: ‘I would have loved to tell you that they weren’t martyred, but this is God’s will.’

The emergency services had finally gotten to the house on December 21, 2023, to find that everyone there had been killed about three days prior.

“I stood there in the middle of the room, begging them: ‘OK, tell me, who was martyred? Who’s still alive? Malaka? Tutu [Tala]? Muhammad?’

“She replied that everyone had been martyred, that they had been found under the rubble.

“I started screaming, just screaming, until I collapsed in their midst.”

Hanan had been working on getting the family out of Gaza before Fadi’s accident. Painstakingly, she got the children’s passports and was waiting for the war to stop so they could travel, but it was all in vain now.

“My children … my children! They were waiting for their brother Fadi to recover and for us to return,” she wept.

Now, she does not want to return to Gaza at all.

“No, I have neither people nor stones left there. The house has collapsed and my children have been martyred. To whom will I return?

“Everyone has gone and my children [and] my sister have been martyred, so many of my relatives.”

#palestine #free palestine #save palestine #gaza #free gaza #save gaza #world news #current events #israel #israel palestine conflict #israeli apartheid #boycott israel #gaza genocide #war on gaza #gaza strip #gazaunderattack #ceasfire now #ceasefire #palestinian genocide #stop the genocide #genocide #west bank

[futureslaps]

The Captive - Chapter 27

Chapter 26     Chapter 28

Not too much in this chapter, but still some angst!

Enjoy💙

“Norm? This is Jake. Do you copy?”

Jake held his breath as he stared down at the radio in his hand. It was late in the night, but he had to get Norm and Max to them as soon as possible. Spider needed human medicine if he was going to heal properly.

After a few seconds, he pressed the talk button on the radio again.

“Norm? Come in. Are you there?”

This time, after a few seconds, a voice crackled from the other end.

“Jake? Is that you? What’s going on? Did something happen with Neteyam?”

“Norm. It’s Spider…”

Jake’s worlds failed him for a moment. He felt so guilty with what had happened. And now, he had to tell Norm everything. The thought somehow made everything feel more real, more…

“Jake? What happened? Is Spider okay?”

The voice shook Jake out of his thoughts.

“Spider…he…he got shot.” Jake finally got the words out, his ears drooping despite knowing the human on the other end couldn’t see him.

“What?! Where’d the bullet hit him? What’s his condition?” The panic was evident in Norm’s voice, even over the radio’s poor quality. Jake grimaced.

“He’s…stable for now…but he needs treatment. Human treatment. He got hit in the right shoulder really bad.”

Jake paused for a moment before adding a key detail.

“And it wasn’t a bullet…it was an arrow.”

A loaded silence passed after the revelation. Thankfully, when Norm spoke again, he didn’t press Jake on it.

“What got hit? Any arteries?”

“The Tsahik says no…” Jake explained. “But it went through his shoulder, bone and all. He needs medicine, he needs blood, probably some surgery, and…”

He didn’t want to bring up the possibility of what else might be needed.

“Just bring everything you can think of, okay?”

“Copy that. You said it was the right shoulder, correct?”

“Right shoulder, arrowhead right through the joint. Entry and exit.” Jake confirmed the details almost robotically.

“Alright, Jake. We’ll be airborne as soon as we can. See you soon.”

When the radio went quiet again, Jake let out a long sigh. He knew Norm and Max were glad to help, but it still felt painful having to bring them in again. Less than two weeks ago, he’d made an eerily similar call for Neteyam. Yet another child he was supposed to protect.

All he could do now was try to mend his mistakes.

After taking a moment to calm himself, Jake started making his way back to the infirmary. It was a quiet, peaceful night, aside from the faintly audible commotion from his destination. It almost felt inappropriate, given what had just happened.

As he walked through the night, he caught sight of Kiri. She was in Spider’s usual sleeping spot, slumped over and peacefully sleeping, clutching a blanket.

She’d nodded off waiting for Spider, and apparently her distance from the beach meant she hadn’t woken from the fight.

Jake stood still, watching for a moment. Should he wake her? She’d take the news hard…

He decided against it. She’d be better off with a full night of sleep.

He took another glance, before continuing his walk to the infirmary, taking deep breathes to steel himself.

Finally, he reached the large Marui and stepped inside.

Ronal was knelt over Spider’s pale figure, carefully inspecting the affected area, the same as she’d been when Jake had left. He slowly, almost hesitantly walked up next to the Tsahik.

“I called my sky-person friends. They’re on the way with medicine for him.” He explained quickly. Ronal hummed in acknowledgment, but remained fixated on Spider, gently feeling his right shoulder, making sure to avoid the bandaged areas. The way the bones were moving…

Jake felt slightly sick.

“How…is he?”

Ronal kept feeling the bones for a moment, then finally leaned back slightly, her expression unreadable.

“The impact has shattered his shoulder.”

“How bad is it?”

For the first time since she’d started treating Spider, Ronal let an emotion besides pure focus creep onto her face.

“For a Na’vi, perhaps there would be a way. But he is a sky-person. His arms are small, and…fragile.”

She hesitated for a moment.

“I…cannot save the arm. The damage is too great.”

Jake felt his heart drop all over again.

No.

That couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t…

He turned back to Ronal.

“There has to be some way.”

The Tsahik looked back at him, her eyes filled with regret.

“I am sorry, Toruk Makto. It…would be best if we amputated before…”

“No!” Jake blurt out. He wouldn’t accept this.

“Norm and Max…they’ll find a way!” He was trying to convince himself as much as Ronal. “They can figure something out. They’ll know what to do…”

Ronal looked down, clearly conflicted.

“The more we wait, the risks will grow…”

“Just…give it a chance. Please.” Jake pleaded.

In truth, he had no idea if the scientists could do what Ronal couldn’t, but the thought of amputating Spider’s arm, and having to tell him when he woke…

“Let them see him at least. Maybe they could figure something out. If not…then…we’ll do what has to be done.”

Ronal pursed her lips. She looked down for a moment, then nodded.

“You have much faith in your sky-person friends.”

“If anyone could figure this out, Norm could.” Jake spoke quietly.

Ronal considered the possibility.

“I do not understand the sky-people’s medicines. But I hope you are right, for the child’s sake.”

Jake nodded back. Slowly, he made his way to Spider’s side.

The boy was still completely unconscious, his breathing slowed. But he was pale, and the various bandages, ointments, and splint on his arm and shoulder spoke for themselves.

Jake gingerly placed a hand on his chest, feeling the human’s heart beating. He looked up to Neteyam, also unconscious a few yards away.

Two people Jake was supposed to protect.

The avatar closed his eyes. He thought a silent prayer.

Forgive me, Eywa. I have failed…twice to protect those I should. Please, do not make either of them pay the price I owe.

Jake thought for a moment.

I know I can be better. Help me see. Help me help them.

He took in a shaky breath.

Help me help my family. I don’t know what to do.

It hurt to admit, even to himself, but he didn’t. He didn’t know how he’d ever explain what just happened to Lo’ak, to Tuk, especially to Kiri. He didn’t know what he’d tell Spider when he woke up.

And everything with Quaritch…

And Neytiri…

It was all so much to process. So much to deal with. Jake was surprised his head didn’t just explode right there…

As he kept his hand on Spider, he heard movement by the entrance.

“Toruk Makto.”

Jake opened his eyes, turning to face a Metkayina warrior.

“What is it?”

“The Olo’eyktan wishes to speak with you. We are with the Demon.”

Jake nodded.

“I’ll be there in a moment.”

He turned and gave Spider and Neteyam one more look as he braced himself.

Eywa, help me.

He took a deep breath, then walked back out of the infirmary, slower than before. Exhaustion was starting to get to him. Only a few steps away, on a patch of sand, knelt Quaritch.

When they had moved Spider off the beach, the Colonel had still been behaving strangely, insisting that he should come with. Jake had balked at the idea, but, strangely, Ronal accepted. She wasn’t naïve, though, and a strong escort of warriors had ensured that Quaritch couldn’t try anything. The same escort now surrounded him, with a spearpoint levied at the Recom from eight different directions. Several other warriors were alert nearby, as if Quaritch could somehow still break free from his current situation.

Tonowari stood among the warriors, taller than all of them. He greeted Jake as he approached.

“Toruk Makto, I see you.”

“I see you, Olo’eyktan.” Jake responded back, almost sighing the words in a mix of exhaustion and stress.

“Before anything, I would like to offer my sincerest apology.” Tonowari began. “However the Demon escaped; it should not have been possible. The  guards that were on-duty have been reprimanded, but I shall take ultimate responsibility.”

Jake thought about how to reply. He didn’t know how Quaritch had escaped. He’d been too…in the moment to think up possibilities. For now, he settled on nodding in acknowledgment.

Now, it was time for the big question.

“What do we do with him?” Jake asked, gesturing to the defeated Colonel.

“You have captured him twice now. Under my watch, he escaped. I have no right to say. The choice is yours, Toruk Makto.”

Jake paused.

The choice.

What choices did he have?

Jake took a few steps closer to Quaritch and knelt down to look at the man’s face. The Recom was a wreck. He’d already come out of the prison looking unkempt and haggard. Now, his blue skin was a tapestry of light and deep cuts, bruises, bloodstains, dirt, and sand. Dried blood was pooled under his nose, and around a quite deep cut in his lip. One eye was practically swollen shut, compliments of a hit from the butt of a Metkayina spear.

More than one of the warriors had tried to goad the Colonel into attacking during their march to the infirmary, but the man had been unresponsive to the attempts. Walking at an even pace as various insults, then attacks, were thrown at him. A look of quiet contempt, the same one he was wearing now, had been his only reaction. He had remained silent since they’d left the beach.

His one good eye stared back at Jake, the look in it unreadable. Maybe from the various wounds.

“What do I do with you…?” Jake repeated the question out loud in English.

He could end this all right now. By escaping, and attacking Jake, Quaritch had effectively renounced his protection under the laws of Eywa. Jake had the full right to execute the Colonel on the spot. He squeezed his knife in it’s sheath…

A day ago, Jake would have jumped at the opportunity. He’d practically dreamed of a moment like this.

So why was he hesitating now?

The events of the night replayed in his mind.

Finding Spider with the Colonel.

The way the kid had talked about Quaritch after Jake had saved him.

The fact that Quaritch had come after Spider, trying to convince Jake to hand the boy over.

The way Quaritch had behaved after Spider had been shot.

Jake could remember it clearly. The worry, the care, it had seemed genuine, despite the man it was apparently coming from. It almost seemed like an illusion. But it had happened.

Jake looked a little closer at Quaritch, trying to see if there was something else beneath the expression of hatred. But, aside from the typical signs of exhaustion, there was nothing. Whatever had overcome the Colonel had apparently subsided. But Jake couldn’t forget.

Who was Spider to Quaritch, really?

Who was Quaritch to Spider?

Jake frowned.

Somehow, in some way, it didn’t feel right to kill the Recom right now. Not while these questions lingered. Not while Jake was still trying to process the events of the night. Not while…something. There was something else Jake couldn’t quite name, but it was there.

Whatever the case, Jake had made up his mind. Whether he was making the right choice, time would tell.

“He will not die tonight.” He finally announced to Tonowari and the gathered warriors. “The Demon will still have his trial.”

Tonowari nodded sternly.

“You are strong to be able show such mercy, even to a being like him. Your wish will be respected. No further harm will come to him until the trial.”

“Where should he…go?” Jake asked. He presumed the previous arrangement was a no-go. Tonowari had the same sense.

“He will not escape again. In the five days until his trial, he will be kept tied in a Marui in the center of the village, in the open, under constant guard, and, under all our watchful gazes.”

Jake nodded.

Tonowari nodded to the warriors, and they quickly moved to relocate the Colonel, standing him up and prodding him forward. Yet again, he offered no resistance, but Jake didn’t miss the quick glance he gave the infirmary before he was marched off.

There had been something more in that gaze.

As Jake watched the group depart, he heard Tonowari approach him.

“Toruk Makto, I had hoped to speak with you alone. Now is a good time, if you are willing.”

“What is it?”

Tonowari looked away for a moment, before explaining.

“I spoke with the warriors about the events on the beach. I trust you are aware of the arrow that struck the boy Spider.”

Jake nodded, closing his eyes. He had a feeling he knew where this was going.

“And you are aware of who shot it?”

Jake nodded again, unable to meet Tonowari’s gaze.

“You understand the implications? You told me this child was in your family’s care.”

Jake sighed.

“I’ll…I’ll handle this.” He finally managed to muster a reply.

“See that you do. Otherwise I will have to...step in.” Tonowari spoke sternly, before softening his tone. “If you need help during this…troubling time, do not hesitate to ask.”

“I’ll take care of it but thank you.” Jake left out that he did need help, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell Tonowari he felt like he was running blind with his own family. He couldn’t bring himself to unload all his family’s…baggage on the man.

Tonowari gave him a nod back, and left. However, he turned back around after a few steps.

“If you do not mind me asking…what is the Demon’s relation to Spider? My mate told me he claimed the child as his son and was…soft with him.”

Jake pursed his lips, almost smirking slightly.

“It’s…complicated. I’m asking myself the same question.”

Tonowari looked at Jake curiously, but said nothing more, finally leaving.

Jake sighed as he sat on the woven bridge, finally alone. He turned to face the ocean, watching with bleary eyes as the horizon slowly began to brighten with Alpha Centauri’s rise. He was utterly exhausted by the last few hours. Broken, even. But the brightening sky was a reminder that this hard day had only just begun.

Poor Kiri doesn’t even know yet...

Hope you liked the chapter! Like I said, there isn’t too much going on in this one, mostly just setting up what’s coming next. Hope I sill managed to deliver on angst though (with some small bits of hope sprinkled in...)

As always, TYSM for reading 💙 

Taglist: @yesthisismycurrenthyperfixation @onlyreadz @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @buzzing-honeybee

#Spider is hurt bad 😭 #avatar #avatar 2 #atwow #avatar the way of water #Jake sully #spider socorro #miles quaritch #recom quaritch #avatar spider #avatar jake #avatar quaritch #avatar kiri

[desdinonniying]

US Pain management sexism bullshit

Background: My wife is trans. AMAB. That shouldn't matter, but it matters in certain medical stuff.

This rant will talk about sexism and maybe some transphobia, or at least people not being informed about trans stuff. And medical stupid stuff. And frustration.

I have a lot of issues with my time in this specific hospital and my treatment with kidney stones, but this rant is specifically about the sexism within pain management.

I have a history of kidney stones, between 2021 and 2022. Three stones. 2mm, 4mm, 2mm.

The first time I went to the ER, I didn't know if it was a stone or bowel blockage. I just knew I was in pain. Wife took me to the ER. Doc said it could be a kidney stone or diverticulitis. Thought diverticulitis was more likely because if it was a stone, I'd be "rolling on the bed in agony." I was still in pain, and they gave me IV morphine, took me for imaging. Morphine started wearing off, pain started coming back, and the nurse came in and declared it was a kidney stone and I'd be receiving pain meds that would be more effective for the condition - what I call extreme ibuprofen. Takes down the inflammation. Makes sense. They gave me some IV of that and eventually sent me home with more extreme ibuprofen and what was basically flomax - all to reduce inflammation and open up the ureters to make the stone pass easier.

I do have issues with that first visit, but pain-wise I think they took care of me.

Second stone was the following summer. I knew it was a stone because it was the same symptoms. I went to the ER and told them this. The only pain management they gave me was the IV ibuprofen. Ok, made sense. Sent home with the same stuff as last time, and followed up some days later with a urologist, who set me up to have an ultrasound in a few weeks to check stone progress.

Few weeks later, the pain again. Opposite side. Go to the ER. Explain the symptoms. They put me in a bed in the hall because no beds are available. Sucks, but whatever. It took over an hour for them to get me the IV ibuprofen and fluids. I get that they were busy, but I was in pain. I get scanned, they tell me that not only do I have a small stone on the side I was feeling pain, but the stone on the other side hadn't moved much, so I was to have surgery the next day.

I only had IV ibuprofen overnight. Had the surgery the next morning. Stents from urethra to ureter, bloody burning hellfire piss and kidney spasms for days. They gave me oxy, but it didn't touch the pain.

I found out via my mother that there's a specific medication that they have for this kind of surgery, specifically to relieve pain the the urethra for UTIs and post-surgery. I wasn't given this. I asked for it, but was told that I'm allowed to take over-the-counter Azo. I don't think it helped much, but it felt more effective than the oxy, which just made me dizzy for like fifteen minutes.

So that all happened summer 2022. I still talk about the experience in therapy, because healing isn't linear, but I'm okay.

Fast forward to early this morning. My wife starts experiencing the same symptoms I experienced. We go to the ER.

Now, my wife has been to this ER before for other issues. She's been there back when she identified as nonbinary, and after she started identifying as a woman. So she's had the F marker on her wrist band. She's "passed" enough that doctors have given her pregnancy tests "just in case" even though I've been there as the wife - we looked like a cis lesbian couple. (I understand that doing pregnancy tests with cis lesbian couples is done, because cheating and other stuff happens - they gave me pregnancy tests while assuming my wife was a cis woman as well. Covering medical basis with a simple piss test is not something I'll argue against.) But (I thiiiink?) it is in her notes that she's trans, and since she needed imaging done and this was regarding the urinary tract (also the receptionist said stuff about period/uterus involvement and questions), which is different in AMAB biology than AFAB, they needed to put an M marker on her wrist band.

Which I was pissed at - could they at least put some sort of "trans" marker on these bands so they know that while she has AMAB anatomy that she's she/her?

But whatever. She got a room and got treated relatively quickly - probably due to the time of day. They gave her fluids and IV ibuprofen. They determined she had a small kidney stone, around 2mm, and that she had an infection from it. The pain meds started wearing off.

They gave her an antibiotic and oxy in the hospital. Ok, fair. I had morphine during my first stone.

They sent her home with antibiotics, flomax, and oxy.

For the same condition, same size stone, they sent an AMAB person home with hella pain meds, and only gave me, and AFAB person, a script for hella pain meds after a surgery.

Which, honestly? That tracks.

Now, my wife is not a man. So don't you radfems or terfs come after me. And trans friends, don't come after me for sharing my wife's gender assigned at birth. But she had the M on her wrist band, so she was interpreted as male by some medical staff. And because most medical professionals are barely informed on trans stuff, they likely saw her as a man.

And you know what's common? Medical professionals giving more/better pain management medication to men (or people they interpret as men) than women (or people they interpret as women.) For the same conditions.

My wife, who they interpreted as male, was sent home with a script for an opioid for a 2mm kidney stone. I, an AFAB person who is interpreted as a cis woman, was sent home with high-dose ibuprofen for a 2mm kidney stone. And for a 4mm kidney stone.

How is this fair?

Now, I'm not asking for pain meds - I'm not in pain now. I'm not a drug seeker. When I was given an opioid after my surgery, I had two doses and flushed the rest because they did nothing for me. That's due to my system being weird - I have no idea why I metabolize drugs like this. Happens when I consume cannabis (legal in my state) as well.

I'm not asking for justice. I don't want my wife's meds to be taken away. I just want her feeling better. I'm not upset at her either - she's not the one who asked for specific meds. She just has a kidney stone and is in pain and asked for treatment.

I'm just saying that there's sexism in how medical professionals give out pain medication. And this should be changed.

AFAB people feel pain just as much as AMAB people.

And kidney stone pain is comparable to pain from childbirth. And people who give birth deserve to have pain meds too.

So yeah.

#ooc #kidney stone #medical stuff #pain management #sexism

[taroet]

notes for my portrayal of jessica riley:

jess is extremely traumatized after being dragged through the snow by a wendigo and having to survive half naked down in the mines. these events have given her severe ptsd.

jess has very little clue about what happened. she never saw what attacked her and when matt helped her escape the mines she only saw a dark shape. every time someone tries to tell her what happened she either gets very confused or she gets a panic attack. people have stopped telling her things.

that being said, she does Know about the wendigos and josh, but only because people have told her and she finds it difficult to reconcile with these things. she mostly tries to ignore what happened.

she really tries to cling onto normalcy by still pretending to be confident and above everyone else but she's gotten worse at keeping up this facade. she's very easily triggered or set off and all her attempts at trying to be careless are halfhearted.

while college was never something she really wanted, always thinking she would pursue modeling, she still struggles a lot when her parents don't allow her to attend with all her friends because of her therapy treatment and her frequent mental break downs.

her parents are Extremely protective over her since everything that happened on the mountain and have put a tracker on her phone and she needs to check in every day and share a meal with them. it's suffocating to jessica.

everything scares her. loud noises, the dark, fast movements, etcetera. the smallest things can cause her to get hysteric. half the time she feels like she's going crazy.

jess only really feels safe with two people at this point in time: mike and matt.

she feels intense adoration for mike for coming after her and trying to save her. she becomes kind of clingy after everything and she is even more insecure in their relationship now than she was before, being very aware of how much of a mess she is. still, she thinks she's fallen in real love with him and tries to hold on as tight as she can.

matt was there for her after she woke up cold and alone in the mines and he was the first to offer her an inkling of safety. she can't shake feeling safe with him and has grown a lot closer with him in the process.

jess has a lot of scarring all over her body because of what happened to her. it's something that she struggles with a lot and most days she tries to avoid looking at herself. she always edits her pictures to smoothen her skin and she keeps up this façade of overconfidence.

her scars have kind of ruined her dreams of becoming a model but she refuses to acknowledge this to others and just doesn't talk about it... but every time she looks in a mirror, she needs to keep herself from bursting into tears. it's a very private suffering.

jess also suffered internal bleeding from the fall. it was a slow bleed, which is why jess was able to walk around for a little bit in the mines, but even then it was clear something was very wrong with her body by the way she walked and hunched over. she was still interrogated at the police station because they weren't aware of the scope of her injuries until she quite literally collapsed in front of their eyes. she was then rushed to the hospital and had to undergo surgery.

her recovery took about two weeks in hospital and was extended to a psych ward stay because she frequently had to be sedated. mostly whenever they brought up the events, when she got triggered, or after she had a nightmare. this was for her safety as well as others. after about a month in the hospital / the psych ward she was allowed to go home. she still had to be gentle with herself and her body was still healing. that's also when the mandatory weekly therapy sessions started and when she started taking heavy anxiety meds.

on a more fun note, jess loves cheesy romance novels. especially westerns and historic ones. she's also known to have enjoyed a steamy vampire book once or twice. she also used to read quite a bit of young adult when she was younger.

jess loves cars and driving. she prefers to be behind the wheel herself and she has quite an extensive knowledge about cars. even though she enjoys cars a lot, don't ask her to fix something for you because she will just Stare at the engine and frown.

she used to do ballet until she was about fourteen. the rigorous training was cutting into her social life and she preferred spending time with her friends.

jess can draw pretty well, but she doesn't really consider it a talent. it's mostly something she likes to do in her spare time and if someone compliments her work she gets all shy and blushy.

#jessica riley. #trauma mention tw / #scarring mention tw / #mental health tw / #bodily harm mention tw / #hospital mention tw / #i feel like i'm forgetting tags pls alert me if i need to tag anything else!! #i have all these notes on jess but nowhere to put them rn #so have them here <33 #i'll link them on my carrd too #i did the same for bella ages ago so

[monster42069]

“You won’t be saying that you hate doctors when you need life saving surgery”. Sure, I will.

For starters, similar to “man-haters” and their experiences with men, I have PTSD from repetitive medical and psychiatric abuse and mistreatment. No shit, logically it doesn’t add up to generalize all doctors as horrible. I’m venting from a place that hasn’t been healed and rage at injustices still happening, using my own language that it’s fine if you don’t understand or know what I’m referencing, but I’m aware of this.

I hate the healthcare system, and doctors are their mascots. Man haters usually hate the patriarchy for the trauma it’s allowed men to give them. They hate men by extension of the patriarchy as if to say, “Men are what the patriarchy is based around and who are held free of consequences and responsibility because of it. Men are the mascots of the patriarchy”. Unless they’re sexist on top of the PTSD, they’ll recognize that it’s a social issue that they’re being harsh on from trauma and rage and that anyone born male isn’t inherently dangerous. The misogynistic men were raised in a patriarchal society, but that doesn’t excuse or justify rape, abuse, femicide, and kicking women down to climb higher.

The same for doctors. They’re a product of a fucked up healthcare system and the light of that system shines mostly onto them. So, yeah. I have medical/psychiatric PTSD. I’m not going to trust them even if I’m aware that good doctors, just like good men, exist. I’m going to be on edge because the knowledge of good doctors existing doesn’t work in the present when you don’t have any around you and have only met dangerous ones.

Secondly, but most importantly, life-saving surgeries and treatments were incorrectly used on people in my family, killed my sister, and dangerous mistakes were made with me that there’s almost no excuse to have made while in ER rooms, and those workers had zero excuse— which was maybe why I wasn’t told about it and found out after I was released. Unless they’re so bad at being ER workers that they simply forgot 🤪😋 to tell a 22 year old that I started to have a heart attack and showed signs of organ failure! Silly mistake on their end.

Nurses either are exceptionally bold or don’t realize that patients can hear them gossiping at the reception desk. I have heard 2 nurses/techs say that I was better off dead when I was a teenager because they thought I was still drugged in the room they were leaning against for their little conversation on how they’d disown their child if they harmed themselves so selfishly like I had(My mother snapped from stress and told me to kill myself. That’s why she did not answer her phone nor show up at the hospital when I was being transferred, but sure since y’all know-it-all).

It’s like how my father scoffs and says, “Who would you call if you were raped?”(🤡 he’s gotta be in denial about how much of a pig he is) when I make a comment about not trusting the sherif. I wouldn’t call them because the times that law enforcement were involved were traumatizing with no positive outcome.

The doctors in hospitals who asked about it did nothing about it either besides write it in my files that I have a history of sexual abuse— ignoring that it was ongoing and probably needed some legal or social work support. The only focus brought towards that was using it to say why I must be LGBT+/GNC. Just like with the law enforcement, it was weaponized against a child and used to further focus on sexualizing said gay child.

No. I wouldn’t have my trust in a doctor to save my life because my experiences with healthcare workers are eerily similar to law enforcement. And many of them are cruel and petty alike law enforcement while on the clock.

I’d have to hope and pray that I survive whatever they’re doing to me and that it doesn’t permanently harm me because they got distracted by other orders or didn’t want to use expensive equipment or didn’t want to admit they have no experience with something a diff specialist needs to be called in for or don’t think someone like me should exist in an ideal society,…

Or their version of what sounds exactly like the “Poor me, forced into insanity and murder because I had no choice but to look after this failure of a burdensome human everyday or kill them!” caregiver burnout murder case defenses, as if caregiver burnout itself by caregivers of highest level needs disabled people justifies abuse or murder. It does not! You can quit being a carer before you decide to abuse or kill the disabled human you’re caring for! Just like you can divorce your wife instead of abusing and killing her! Seriously, what the fuck? 😀 Ahaha. I understand pride is a problem, but what the fuck? Just like these cases, you can and should quit being a healthcare worker or put it on hold indefinitely if you start acting abusive or selfish on the job.

I was in hospitals more than school growing up. People used to argue with my parents about how they were letting strangers raise me. It’s not like I became physically disabled a few years ago and entered the world of doctors to see a few new horrors. I was raised in that system.

You think they did a good job? This is how the end result of people educated in child psychology and pediatrics talking to a child more than any other demographic should be? It’s a bit off base imo to come at me for what’s seen as hysteric and insane takes on doctors when they told me who to be. They and my mother chose what I ate, what pills I took, what I was allowed to say, what I was allowed to believe, who I could be friends with if I dared speak to anyone, how much time outside I was allowed to get,…

Do people think I was born a snakey and insensitive bastard? I spent my life so far metaphorically figuring out puzzles to locks on doors that kept getting more difficult every time I managed to open them in rooms without windows. Then I saw that I was just in a damn hallway with my mother that lead me right into an identical room owned by doctors. Over and over again. That’s been my growing up. None of my doctors gave a single damn about my health or the abuse I had been through.

I won’t trust a doctor. I’d have no other options of who to turn to. Letting someone die is illegal, so as soon as you lose consciousness, doctors can legally treat you even if you said no— but it’s like making a deal with someone who could be the Devil and not knowing what will happen.

I love doctors. I respect their work, and the concept of healthcare is important to me. Doctors are usually my favorite characters in anything. They were my only idea of who I felt OK looking up to and basing my ideals on.

I don’t trust them nor their workers and connections and tools anymore at the same time, and I think that’s fair to say, especially right now, as an adult trying to heal out of everything they’ve told me about myself. I don’t think it contradicts to say that the concept of working-healthcare practices in place is admirable to me while the real, corrupt industry it’s turned into is Hell.

When I hear the word, “mother”. My first thought is my biological mother. Then memories of psychologists and therapists come to mind all the same. If you say “father”, my first thought is my biological father. Then memories of psychiatrists and techs. I think, for myself, I at least have a better idea than anyone else on my experiences with healthcare workers.

Healthcare workers traumatizing me and killing people in my family doesn’t mean they didn’t save or majorly better the QOL of someone else. Personal bias or better treatment of who they like. State regulations. Cultural differences. The existence of doctors who are doing everything in their power to hold the pillar up while their coworkers long let it go in defeatism, propaganda and erasure in education, socioeconomic stress, stress from higher-ups in control of funding, or whom never really cared and prioritized lives in the first place.

“That’s just how it is”/“Theres nothing in my power to do” is something both my parents and therapists have said to me while looking downcast and defeated when I’ve questioned why they hurt me, themselves, others, or let it happen with others.

A lot of people have heard that from adults as children and were pissed or hurt every time. “Life is unfair, get over it”. That mindset. That language and standby on violence that goes with it. The refusal to stand up for a child asking for Justice.

Full offense at every person who has said that while on the job or to a child when I say this….How much of a fucking coward do you have to be to look at someone smaller than you and injured from people on equal footing with you and say that? If you really think you aren’t being a POS coward, say it louder while looking the kid in the eyes, and don’t apologize or sound apologetic along with it. Do you give a fuck or not? Does it bother you or not? Do you have issue being associated with that or not?

Just like my parents, the same with doctors. Nothing is more frightening than someone in power over you who is unpredictable and goes back and forth between what they say and how they act. Especially when they hold unhealthy attitudes or are outright abusive.

#… #drs rlly will tell themselves that there’s a huge boom in paranoid and difficult disrespectful patients and be like ‘nothing to do w/ us’ #as if healthcare stability isn’t like. the pillar of society doing ok #nah everyone is hysteric and junkies who wanna make their lives and work sooooo much harder and annoying and gross 🤮 #***long ptsd posting u know how it is ahahaha Dr appt days med days ooooh man #but LOL how people think I wouldn’t have any idea of how doctors think and feel….do you know who my ‘friends’ were growing up? fuck off. #idk how many therapy sessions meant for me were spent on drs tangenting about their job like ok but I’m 15 and idk why I want to die so

[pandaspwnz]

so.

we might have to put down my youngest dog Lily. She just turned 5 but a few months ago she started limping so we took her to the vet and found out she has arthritis. No big deal, she's on daily painkillers, seems fine. Then she starts limping again and wouldn't really stand or walk very far, and we take her to the vet wednesday and get a shot of a painkiller that should work better over time, since her regular painkillers weren't doing enough to manage it. Thursday she seemed to be doing better again but then suddenly friday evening something happened and it. got. bad. she limps constantly, legs shaking badly, hind legs won't support her weight, won't take more than 4 shaky steps without sitting down again. We were in contact with a vet over the phone saturday and sunday to figure out if it was urgent or something that could wait til monday (since in the weekend just stepping a foot in the door would be 2200 dkk (around $320). We had given her her regular pain meds, even though we were supposed to cut down on half of it after the shot, but clearly she needed it. The vet over the phone says we can give her some regular strength paracetamol and if that manages her pain well enough, we can wait. So we get her more painkillers, she takes them, it seems to help a little. Meanwhile my mom was willing to be carrying Lily to where she needs to go, but I dug out a cart we had in the basement so Lily could ride on that and spare my moms back and Lily's own little legs.

So today, monday, we got an emergency visit at the vet and the vet says it is. bad. they're overbooked and busy but she said she wanted to see Lily right away and went and made sure they could squeeze Lily in for an x-ray and bloodtest.

So we leave her at the vet to get the x-ray and go home and a few hours later we get a call and it turns out Lily has completely torn her cruciate ligaments in BOTH hind legs. We don't know if they went at the same time because somehow?? this little fucking terminator has said. NOTHING. No howls, whines, screams, anything. Nothing.

Only option is surgery. But it is SO expensive. Getting one leg fixed is 24000 dkk ($3.5k), but since it's both they can do it for 38000 dkk ($5.5k). And that's not touching the 6000+ dkk ($875) diagnosis fee we paid today, or any medicine for treatment post surgery. We thankfully have insurance which will cover a total of 29700 dkk ($4.3k) UNLESS we/the vet can say there's a chance she tore her ligaments in two separate incidents, in which case they'll give us that amount twice, once for each leg. I don't know how it works, don't ask me. It's fucking stupid.

Thing is, we live paycheck to paycheck. At a push we can scrape together 15700 dkk ($2247) which we already spent some money on today for the diagnosis fee on, and we have 3 other pets we need to take care of. If we spend all the money we have and then some on Lily and something happens to the others, we wouldn't be able to do anything. So basically my dog's fucking life is depending on if the vet can somehow tell us, either truthfully or by sticking their necks out for us, that the ligaments tore in two separate occasions. Otherwise we just can't afford it.

Which fucking sucks and makes me so angry because she can get the surgery and there's a really good prognosis!! It's like an 85-90% chance she'd be completely normal once she's all healed (it would only slightly increase the risk of getting arthritis, which she already has a little of anyway). And it has to come down to fucking money.

And we are not. at all. willing to do surgery on one leg at a time. Absolutely not. We are not going to have her suffer for so long just because it would make it easier for us to somehow pay for.

Anyway, we have a surgery booked for monday (which is in a whole fucking week!! that's so long from now!) but we don't even know yet if she can have it. We're expecting a call from the vet who saw us initially so we can find out if we can say it was two incidents or not. We'll know at the latest on wednesday and if not, then we just. have to put her down. because of money. we don't want her to be in pain. but man this just fucking sucks. she's my little baby and I don't want to lose her.

this was taken on the way home from the vet. (yes she's fat we know, she's on a diet and already lost 1.5kg)

please send good vibes

#i don't know what to doooooo #she's an absolute nightmare in so many ways but i don't want to lose her. like she's a little demon but i love her so much #where's weratedogs or whatever to make a fundraiser for us #why is it so expensive. why does the life of my dog have to come down to FUCKING CAPITALISM #AAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!! #i cried so much and i'm so exhausted #i'm so mad #my post #tw: dog injury

[contentment-of-cats]

Medical reality check

Sometimes I feel as if the time since February 2022 has been a long, strange bad dream. Mom's decline into severe dementia came at the same time I was diagnosed with cancer, with her coming off the rails at the same time I was hospitalized and given the nephrostomy. I met with my oncologist yesterday, and I got a big check.

"I'm sorry that she's gone, but maybe now you can fully focus on your own health."

Having my focus all for myself. There's a concept.

85 percent of the people diagnosed with my type of CRC at stage T4a die. I am one of fifteen percent who survived treatment and surgery and achieved remission. Roughly half of those who start treatment at that stage do not make it to surgery, the stats are worse for those who have to have the resection before chemo and radiation. It is also very likely that this cancer will recur and/or metastasize. As a friend said, I am on the measured mile. It's terrifying, but also freeing.

Doc also said that when I talk about not bouncing back, not getting better as fast as I want, that they treated me with the most aggressive radiochemotherapy and a second round of 5-FU or FOLFOX-5 (called by chemo buddies 'the five fuck yous'). He reminded me that most people could not survive the treatment. He reminded me that I have time and to cherish it. To think about whether I am trying to heal for myself, or to please others. To internalize that I am on pain meds to ease the pain from damage left by my treatment, and that the pressure to get off them and 'be better' is a medical decision - not one that needs to be decided by people who think I shouldn't take oxycodone for pain that can hit a seven or eight on a bad day.

10 is the pain I woke up with after the big surgery in November 22. I woke up screaming. I was on 10mg of oxycodone every four hours for six weeks.I am now on 5mg every eight-twelve hours. I may be taking these along with robaxin and gabapentin for the rest of my life.

For my test results, my white cells are all normal or low normals. I may not rebound since these levels have been steady since the end of December, and will have to take greater care to avoid getting sick. I will get sicker, and stay sick longer. My Carcinoembryonic Antigen test shows me to be under the value that would indicate something starting up. My Natera test ought to be back by mid-next week.

Focusing on my health for the measured mile.

#reality check: cashed #cancer #remission #so tired

[ameliagiovanna0]

Cancer update :)

I had my second surgery, and everything went really well. It did, however, take me 24 phone calls to my insurance (I counted) to make sure it was covered because they kept making mistakes. Anyway, the surgeon went through the same incision as last time, so it looks a little gnarly. Overall, I can't complain. I have a great surgeon. I am now thyroid free

I got the pathology results back today, and lo and behold, the other side of my thyroid was cancerous too, which is fairly uncommon. But, on the bright side, this side hadn't metastasized like the other side, and it's all still stage one. The metastasis on the right side wasn't too bad. It had spread to six out of the eight lymph nodes, but thyroid cancer very, very rarely metastasizes out of the neck, which is good news for me

Because I no longer have a thyroid and my body, therefore, can't make thyroid hormone, I have to take medication for the rest of my life. Right now, my biggest complaint it that it's making me ridiculously tired. After my last surgery, I was driving after three days. But I still don't feel comfortable getting behind the wheel six days post-op this time around. My doctor said to give it time, which is what I'm trying to do, but it is frustrating

I have a follow up appointment next week, and from there, my doctor will send me to a regular endocrinologist and nuclear medicine to start the plan for radioactive iodine. I'm still not totally sure what that entails yet, I just know that I do have to wait about eight weeks after surgery before we can do it.

I did decide to take the semester off. I knew that recovery from having all of my thyroid removed would be harder than just having half removed. I also knew that I would have to isolate after the radioactive iodine treatment, and taking that much time off during the semester would have been almost impossible to catch up on. It's kind of killing me, not going to lie. I hate not being in school and continuing my education, but I do know it's for the best. If I had tried to go through with the semester, I would have stressed myself out too much and delayed healing even more. And that's the last thing I need right now. I'm cranky about it, but it was the best decision for the time being

Between the family history of thyroid cancer, my other chronic illnesses, and already having a rare type of cancer and having said rare type of cancer do the rare thing and be in both lobes of my thyroid, I'm trying not to think about it too much. Because now I feel like I have to worry about what upcoming scans are going to show and the fact that now that I've had cancer (along with one of my other chronic illnesses), it makes me more susceptible of other types of cancer.

And my poor mother. She was taking everything way better than I had expected. I could tell she was stressed the hell out, but she wasn't hovering like she normally does when she's stressed. I was organizing all of my medications on the kitchen table-- and I had a lot before this surgery, but now I have even more-- and I was telling her it was kind of overwhelming, and she finally broke down. She said, "But the bright side of all those meds is that my kid is cancer free." That's going to stick with me for a while. My mom isn't one to cry very often, so of course, her crying made me cry. She's always been my rock and I just hate seeing her so stressed. She already has so much on her plate. While I don't actually know if I'm fully cancer free right now, it's a really good start

I think that about covers it. Right now, my biggest emotions are frustration and annoyance. I'm so fortunate to have an amazing doctor and that the cancer was caught in stage one. I just hate that I'm out of work and school and putting my life on hold even more than my six other chronic illnesses had forced me to do

#amelia gets personal #cancer #thyroid cancer

[tastydregs]

A Woman Barely Feels Pain and Heals Rapidly. Scientists Are Unraveling Her Weird Genetics

Scientists are starting to crack the mystery behind one woman’s pain-free life. In new research, a team in the UK dove deep into the genetic make-up of Jo Cameron, a woman in Scotland with a rare mutation that leaves her practically incapable of experiencing physical and emotional pain. Among other things, the team found that her mutation seems to turn on and off a variety of other genes, including those linked to wound healing and mood.

A Mononykus Hunts In ‘Prehistoric Planet’

Researchers at University College London detailed Cameron’s story in 2019, though they had first started studying her in 2013. At the age of 66, the woman had undergone hand surgery but remarkably needed no postoperative anesthesia afterward. A year earlier, she was diagnosed with severe joint degeneration in her hip but had none of the expected pain as a result. Throughout her life, she also reportedly felt little anxiety or fear and seemed to heal especially quickly from cuts and bruises.

When UCL researchers studied her extensively, they discovered two genetic mutations that appeared to explain her resilience, both connected to a pain-related enzyme known as fatty acid amide hydrolase, or FAAH. One was a deletion in a pseudogene (a region of DNA that resembles a gene but doesn’t code for a protein) that the team would go on to name FAAH-OUT; the other was in a gene nearby to the one that actually regulates FAAH.

Other studies have found that FAAH plays an important role in controlling our sensation of pain by breaking down a neurotransmitter that binds to our cannabinoid receptors. Studies of mice bred without the FAAH gene have shown that they experience less pain, for instance. But the woman’s unique condition—and the mutations that caused it—indicated that there are other ways that pain sensitivity can be influenced by our genetics.

Now, in a study published Tuesday in the journal Brain, the same UCL team is closer to understanding the underlying mechanisms behind the woman’s mutant powers.

The researchers used a variety of methods, including the gene editing technology CRISPR, to study the effects of the woman’s mutations on human biology. As expected, they found evidence that FAAH-OUT regulates the expression of FAAH itself. Her FAAH-OUT mutation seems to directly reduce levels of the enzyme, for instance. But they also found that the mutation appears to turn off and on hundreds of other genes. Some of these genes influence how fast we heal from wounds, while others affect our mood or levels of the body’s natural opioids. The findings also are the latest to show that so-called junk DNA has plenty of importance.

“The FAAH-OUT gene is just one small corner of a vast continent, which this study has begun to map. As well as the molecular basis for painlessness, these explorations have identified molecular pathways affecting wound healing and mood, all influenced by the FAAH-OUT mutation,” said senior study author and UCL researcher Andrei Okorokov in a statement from the university.

Related story: We Spoke With the Italian Woman Who Can’t Feel Pain

Like any novel discovery, these findings will have to be validated by others. And even a pain-free life doesn’t come without struggles. People with these conditions have to be especially careful to avoid ignoring or missing serious injuries, for example. But the lessons learned from Cameron’s genetics could very well pay off in the future. Despite some early promise, pain treatments based on affecting FAAH directly haven’t panned out. But this research suggests that there are other avenues to try, and the UCL team is already planning to do so.

“As scientists it is our duty to explore and I think these findings will have important implications for areas of research such as wound healing, depression and more,” said Okorokov.

[vikspage]

This is an update I didn’t want to be writing about, especially this time of the year. However, before going into the new year, now that Christmas has past, I think this is the right time to share my update.

It’s with a very heavy heart I write to say my primary treatment with the NHS hasn’t been working and my cancer has spread to other areas of my bones, including my spine and unfortunately my liver.

I’m obviously devastated to receive this news, especially just before Christmas, again 💔, but I am still very positive and have had in depth conversations with my medical teams to discuss my next options. The good news is there are other treatments and I am still perfectly able to care for and look after my children 👩‍👧‍👦❤️

In the medical world they say my cancer can’t be cured, but is treatable. In my world it’s 100% curable and I still have all the will in me to make sure that happens. However, I need help again and I’m hoping everyone can believe in me, even thou this news seems discouraging.

Last year I was so fortunate to have so many supporters fundraise and donate to my justgiving page and I will be forever thankful for that as the money raised has helped enormously. With the funds I have been able to be supported by a functional doctor (my life saviour!) for the last year. What I love about her the most is her focus and determination to support my body whilst it heals through my primary care treatment. She has given me advice no doctor or consultant has been able to give me. She doesn’t generalise me, I’m individual and have a protocol specific to my blood work in order for my body to work as it needs to. She has my bloods sent to Germany to get specific details on my cancer tumour cells and cancer stem cells. She gives me the highest grade supplements and herbal tinctures and a nutritional plan formulated for me. She advises me where to go for alternative treatments and tells me which products are right for me. She’s taught me so much about environmental factors and how it all contributes to my health and well-being. Unfortunately, all these wonderful things can’t stop my cancer spreading. That’s down to the primary treatment I get with the NHS which hasn’t been working. What the alternative treatments do is ensure my healthy cells keep fighting and keep me as strong as I can be, especially as I’m stage 4. I have also been able to have a private physio who was worth her weight in gold. I couldn’t have progressed as well as I did with my mobility without her. I’ve also had alternative treatments such as hyperbaric oxygen therapy, frequency specific micro current treatment, reflexology, red light therapy, sound healing and crystal healing. All of these things have helped me progress quicker than any medical professional expected. My orthopaedic surgeon called me a “miracle” as he had never seen someone heal as quickly as I have after such major surgery and the best news was that the cancer had gone from the operated side of the pelvis, which he wasn’t able to remove during surgery. Something the medical teams said would not be possible!! I have you to thank you for helping me get there!

I know I can beat this, I know I’ve had cancer and it’s gone. However, I need your help again as things are serious and the fundraising left from last year is not enough to continue to support me through this new obstacle. I now need to up my protocol and alternative treatments. Rather than going for weekly or monthly appointments that are based in London, there are treatments and machines I need in my home and they come with a high price tag. I’m also looking into treatments in other countries that are far more ahead with cancer treatments than England is. Everything is so slow in this country 😩

The next steps for me are to have an MRI scan on my neck to see if I need radiotherapy in that area. I’m waiting for my biopsy results from my liver. This is to see if the cancer has mutated. I need to start a new primary NHS treatment which I’ll need to do a sensitivity test for. This will be sent to Germany to check the treatment will work. This alone costs £500 and is not available on the NHS. I have to make sure my next primary treatment will work as chemo destroys every cell in the body, not just cancerous ones. If I continue to take a treatment that is attacking my health cells I’m going to get more and more unwell, which will allow the cancer to progress (hence why I’m in this situation now). Unfortunately, the only way to monitor the disease in this country is by comparing scans, which you’re not able to have every month. That means I could be on a treatment that’s not working for 3 months. This isn’t an option for me as I can’t have my cancer progress further.. I’ve already gone 6 weeks without any treatment 🥺

I’ll be posting fundraising events soon. Please support me as much as possible 🙏🏽 my children need me in their lives and I’ll do anything to make sure I can live for them.

Please, if my children are friends with your children, or go to the same school, please help make sure they don’t hear about my cancer as I’ve chosen not to tell them. I want to protect them as they already have so much going on in their little lives.

Lots of love,

V x

[californiafacts]

Paula Abdul Facelift: Why I Love FACEtite!

Paula Abdul Facelift: Some famous people make an activity out of dodging the paparazzi and keeping their plastic surgery procedures a secret, while others are not ashamed to talk about why and what procedures they've done. For example, Paula Abdul has been a vocal fan of Facetite since at least the summer of 2019. Paula is a Hollywood legend, and fans have long wondered what her secret is to eternal youth and beauty. She signed on to represent InMode, the company behind the BODYtite and FACEtite minimally invasive body contouring procedures that target sagging skin, wrinkles, and other signs of aging, by promoting the benefits of these treatments. You need just to take a quick look at Paula's Instagram to see that she is completely obsessed with FACEtite.

What is FACEtite?

FACEtite is a radiofrequency energy wave treatment that can be used to tighten saggy skin, reduce the appearance of wrinkles, and otherwise improve facial contours. As a result, it can help you achieve the sculpted cheekbones and narrow jawline that will make you the envy of your Instagram followers. When compared to many current surgical methods, FACEtite is much less intrusive. Paula mentioned this as a selling point for FACEtite; being a minimally invasive process, it requires less time for recuperation and produces visible results in just a few days. It's applied with metal probes that skim along the skin of the face from the inside and the outside at the same time. By transmitting radiofrequency energy through the skin, these probes tighten the skin and destroy fat cells. Next, the doctor will implant a small metal cannula, which will suction out any excess liquefied fat, thereby eliminating those stubborn fat deposits that seem hard to shift. Local anesthesia is all that's needed to do FACEtite, and the healing process takes about two weeks.

Paula Abdul Facelift

Paula Spills the Tea on Why She Loves FACEtite!

During an interview conducted just before Abdul made the public announcement that she would be representing FACEtite, she discussed the treatments she had had and her motivations for pursuing FACEtite. Paula said that she was ready to have work done on her face to combat the effects of gravity and skin laxity, but that she was afraid to get a typical facelift because of the incisions it would involve. As a result, she decided to investigate the under-explored avenue, which ultimately led to the discovery of FACEtite. She had envisioned herself with a more tapered jawline and streamlined physique. In discussing her FACEtite operation and recuperation, she revealed that she had only required a sedative throughout the one-hour procedure. She reported feeling only temporarily "loopy" after the operation but otherwise recovering quickly. I want to wish you all happy holidays and if you’re still looking for a last minute gift, my Smart Audio Glasses make a great gift for everyone! Available at https://t.co/Tumk4OfdkJ in paid partnership with 1 of 1 Customs — Paula Abdul (@PaulaAbdul) December 15, 2022 my journey with you all! Stay tuned because we're just getting started! #inmode #ambassador — Paula Abdul (@PaulaAbdul) August 15, 2019

A Refreshing Take on Plastic Surgery

The honesty with which Paula Abdul has discussed her plastic surgery is much appreciated, and she is not alone. The stigma associated with plastic surgery is gradually being dismantled as more and more celebrities open up about their cosmetic procedures. You are in pretty good company if you are thinking about FACEtite.

Steal the Spotlight With FACEtite!

FACEtite is the best solution if you want to revitalize your face and restore your features' natural definition and radiance. Get in touch with a reputable plastic surgeon who is qualified by the American Board of Plastic Surgery now to set up a preliminary appointment to discuss the FACEtite process. Don't forget to mention that Paula sent you to the clinic!

How is Paula's Professional and Personal Life?

Paula embarked on her career at the tender age of eighteen. She got her start in the industry as a choreographer and then made the transition to singing. She demonstrated her talent in both singing and dancing. As a result of her stellar credentials, she has served as a judge on numerous television programs, including "American Idol" and "X-Factor." She has accomplished a lot professionally, but her personal life is a mess. It isn't that she's single and looking for love. She has been married twice, although her marriages to both men ended in divorce. Even she doesn't have any offspring. Read the full article

[kallmaker]

The Short Life and Excellent Death of Darth Lumpius

    Back in August I knew I would be writing this post and that this would be the title.

Darth Lumpius had visions of immortality. Its evilness was about the size of two Cheerios. A routine mammogram screening discovered the nasty little bugger. Three weeks later Darth Lumpius was no more, aspirations of takeover all for nothing, thanks to a crack team of Resistance fighters: one surgeon, one radiologist, one radiation oncologist, one therapeutic oncologist, and a platoon of technicians and nurses. They each had their own light saber and the Force was with them.

All Star Wars references aside, I found out I had breast cancer in August. By the beginning of September, I no longer had breast cancer due to quick outpatient surgery. Radiation treatments followed to discourage any hangers on of trying to attempt their own takeover. I am now cancer free with no greater risk of another case than the general population.

All in all, start to finish, the best possible breast cancer story a person can have.

Less than Three Months

It's hard to believe that the entire sequence from first detection at the routine screening, pre-surgical tests, a trip to nuclear medicine (that sounds so cool, doesn't it?!), surgery, recovery, and radiation took not quite three months

Trust me when I say that this year I am profoundly grateful for a great many things:

Imaging breakthroughs - the machine that detected this tiny tumor is about 1,000 times more sensitive that a machine 10 years ago.

Medical treatment breakthroughs - the only other female in my family I know that has had breast cancer was an aunt decades ago; her treatment option was a double mastectomy. I have a completely healed four-inch scar and a minor amount of residual numbness that is slowly going away.

The Affordable Care Act which mandates annual mammograms as a free and covered screening, and requires health plans to repeatedly remind their patients to have one. I didn't need persuasion, but the reminders were useful to avoid any gaps where Darth Lumpius would continue to grow.

Health care professionals who have been relentlessly vilified and terrorized by science deniers still showing up to the job, and doing it with compassion.

Researchers - from the first measurement to the ultimate biopsy of the lump after surgery, multiple tests now exist that made it possible me to always choose the least invasive option that offered the best long-term outcome. I left my final radiation session knowing my chances of another case are the same as the general population.

Peeps who took on work on short notice with no more info than "I have a schedule crunch, can you help?" are rock stars.

My wife Maria, kids Kelson and Lee, and friends who knew who took the news without drama and gave boundless support, and who fell in with my quirky humor but succeeded in discouraging me from getting a tattoo on my scar that said "Ha ha! Missed me!" because that's a Wile E Coyote move, and I don't need an Acme anvil dropping on my head.

Most of all, since they determine as much as 80% of our body's resistance to cancer, I am thankful for the genes I got from my parents and their ancestors. I have no doubt that Darth Lumpius's plans for evil takeover of my right boob were hampered by the Force that I inherited from them. They're all Skywalkers to me.

  All the News Was Good

There is no question that I'm grateful for this outcome.

From my earliest follow ups, every doctor underscored the continuing good news. Darth Lumpius was small and nowhere near the chest wall or my armpit. After biopsy, they knew it was feeding on estrogen and therefore any undetected remnants could be easily starved. Other than it being malignant, all the news was good.

My surgeon (a delightful thirty-something Resistance leader) said flat out, "This is 100% curable." Just before surgery she asked me to decide if I wanted a more cosmetic final appearance or a potentially shorter surgery and recovery. She nodded in agreement when I said, "Whatever approach is best to kill it, please do that." Though I'm sure she'd heard the joke before, she laughed when I said that my days as a boob model were over anyway.

There's one final score that comes from the sample itself which predicts the likelihood of another cell going over to the Dark Side. On a scale of 1 to 100, the happy place is 25 or less. My oncologist lit up with joy when she told me my score was 12. Darth Lumpius, for all its attempted evil, was pitifully ineffective.

(One caveat - I do have to take estrogen blockers for five years. Yes, I will have even less estrogen floating around than I already do. I'm going to have to write my name on my hand at this rate. Yes, I'm truly looking forward to gaining weight even more easily. However, all of that is better than having breast cancer again.)

  A bowl of Inspiration we keep on the piano.

Certainty and Uncertainty

Knowing that the word "cancer" rightly fills people with dread, I kept the news to myself and the closest of family and friends. There was some uncertainty, of course, but I knew I was going to be mostly okay (and I am better than okay) and I wanted to save everyone needless worry. At some point I may need those healing thoughts and prayers. Should that come to pass I'll ask for them then.

Though I was certain I was going to be fine, I had no way of planning my time in September or October. I presumed surgery, recovery, and radiation treatments would all be the worst possible experience, so I pushed deadlines and projects around in case I was not up to working. The time loss didn't happen so I was able to resume some of those projects much more quickly than I had thought, including finalizing an audiobook and releasing a new series. As I said above, I'm grateful to the people who helped when I couldn't plan ahead more than a few days at times.

Not All Women are This Lucky

I am well aware that my diagnosis and treatment are not what many women experience. Given all the good news, I was calm enough to be fascinated by the science, machines, nuclear medicine dye injection, and the cool glued-shut-zero-post-surgical-wound-care scar. I was assigned a social worker for mental health support that I didn't need, and I was more than happy to yield my time to someone who did need it.

The process was like an assembly line where I moved from specialist to specialist guided by many different techs and nurses in between. I found comfort in always knowing the next step, and that there was nothing about my case that caused any of the professionals intent on saving my life from breaking stride. Everyone was kind, listened, and happy to speed me on my way.

Genetics is the real wild card in how cancer progresses and how successful treatment is. We can't change our genes. But we can get the screenings and use those results to have control over our own destiny. And we lucky breast cancer survivors can continue to insist that early detection and rapid treatment are a universal right.

I know many women who could have had my outcome didn't, or won't, because of where they live, how much money they have, and the color of their skin.

Please research charities before you donate to be sure they are doing the work you want to support. My opinion is that "awareness" campaigns are worthless if an aware person can't get the screening.

All that said, the bottom line in fighting breast cancer is early detection. What you don't know can kill you. Knowledge is power. Early detection may have literally saved my life. At the very least it spared me more invasive and painful treatments that may have proven less effective.

  And Then There Were the Bills . . .

My wife and I are both accountants and both skilled when it comes to the forensic side - following the money. It took us 2 hours working together to understand how billing worked, where copays had been applied, and how to match EOBs (the statement that says what the bill is and what the insurance company will pay of it) to claims numbers (which weren't on the EOBs) to services rendered (with claim numbers but no descriptive relationship to the EOBs except date, and/or the name of the doctor vs the location of the services which was not always correct).

I had to make a color-coded spreadsheet. I may have said more than once, "They shall come to fear my accounting powers."

There were obvious simple fixes that could have made it much easier, like universal use of the claim number. I assume they're not implemented because making it easier is not a goal. I imagine many people give up and just pay. We found multiple errors in both directions, but mostly in theirs. It finally squared up in subsequent months. I do not miss my days of doing reconciliations.

  This is a Happy Ending

During radiation treatments they played various songs that ranged from Motown to cozy 90s. The first song during radiation treatment was "Uptown Girl" by Billy Joel which made the lasers and scanners moving all around me a truly surreal dance of technology. The final one was "Turn, Turn, Turn" by the Byrds.

So I am turn, turn, turning to the new season, this one filled with gratitude for the community I live in, and the love I know is there for me. A lot in the world is broken but this story is not one of them. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday and this year I have much to celebrate.

To everyone reading: You are part of this happy ending. Thank you.

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#CancerStory #FuckCancer #LifeHappens

[movedtodykedvonte]

If you’re not busy how bout a headcanon for how the four lords would react to their s/o, a doctor/field medic, somehow healing them of their cadou parasites and returning them to their normal selves

If you can't afford medical treatment just get your doctor S/O to do a quick surgery. It's legal and fun!!

Here's a cut cause this bad boy is long

Alcina Dimitrescu

You two had discussed it and agreed that it needed to be done. The girls would be in constant danger from BSAA/Blue Umbrella if Alcina was still such a strong bio-weapon.

She had worries; would she be weaker? Would she need to worry about her blood disease again? How would she protect her daughters? You assured her that you two would figure it out, that you would never do this if you thought it would do more harm than good.

The girls protested, saying they could handle whatever was thrown at them but Alcina hushed them, explaining that it was for her sake as well. It was only so long until BSAA stopped letting her get away with literal murder, no matter how necessary.

You had explained the most likely and best outcome, that she'd be cured and all the effects reversed, that she'd need regular infusions of blood and may feel weaker. You tried to treat her like a regular patient, the coldness of being a medic, but the worry loomed over you.

It was a quick procedure, the cadou just as it had smoothly integrated with Alcina, had been slipped out, the changes almost just as quick.

Her skin became humanly pale, no longer a porcelain white, wrinkles showing the age she was when infected, her height dwindling. You didn't account for her to wake up as quick as she did and had to dive to catch her as she wobbled of the operating table, not yet used to her smaller size.

"A mirror" "Are you sure, Alcina? Maybe you should-" "I want a mirror now" She was demanding, but you understood how justified that was. You only had a small one for operating on you but it would have to do.

She pulled at her face, a look of disdain as she inspecting the face of a mortal woman instead of an immortal lord. Seeing this you came up behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist like you were never able to fully do before, and planted a kiss on her cheek, now noticing how warm it was compared to her previous form

"I look horrid" "You look beautiful" The comment drew a smile from her, but you could still sense the doubt in her.

She stayed in her room for a while, you being the only one allowed entrance to tend her: Infusions, getting her used to human food rather than humans for food. Alcina insisted she fully recovers before her girls saw her as to not incite panic.

It was tough on her to be distant with her girls, but tougher on them to not see her after such a harrowing surgery.

When the girls first saw her it was as if they were interacting with a valuable and fragile vase, none of them wanted to get close in fear of hurting her, but they desperately wanted to inspect their mother.

"I'm not made of paper, an embrace won't kill me." It was lovely seeing them perk up at their mother's usual sass and even more relieving when they practically dove into her arms, bombarding her with questions on how she felt.

There were many things to still discuss, but for now, everyone was happy.

Donna Beneviento

Donna surprisingly brought it up to you first. You were having tea having a calm conversation with Angie for once. The mood felt off for that alone but for the whole day it felt off, now you knew why.

She wanted a normal life with you, one free of the mold and her dependence on her dolls. It was all a crutch and she wanted to start to walk without it.

You asked if she was sure, the dolls, especially Angie, meant so much to her, you didn't want to do it unless she was positively certain

"We've made our mind up, Y/N. We want this." Angie's serious response and Donna's nod were a startling confirmation. You set a date and prepared the tools for the procedure

Before all of that, you set up a party for Donna and Angie, placing all the dolls for one last goodbye. "Surprise!" You pop out with all the dolls, you suspect she knew as the dolls came to life to yell as well but she was crying tears of joy either way.

She said goodbye to all the dolls individually, thanking them for being there for her as she shut down her cadou in each of them. Donna told you that Angie didn't want to go until she had to. You understood completely.

On the day of the procedure, you knelt down to Angie and hugged her. She was always a little bit of a pain to you and she found you a bit dull but in the end, you cared and you were going to miss her rambunctiousness. You spared yourself the tears of a verbal goodbye as you placed her on the operating table next to Donna, she feigned unconscious to mimic her sedated friend.

It was slow and grueling to remove the cadou carefully from her face and skull, you wanted to leave as little scarring as possible. Donna had just stopped wearing the veil and you had no desire to be the reason it came back on

The procedure was no less easy as every amount removed, you noticed Angie appearing even more lifeless.

When it was done, she woke up, her working eye blinking under the bright lights of your operating chambers. She did not address you but immediately turned to Angie. You had not an idea of how she knew she was lying next to her

"Angie?" There was no response and you could see the tears forming as she slowly reached for her best friend, caressing the inanimate face. You took her other hand and squeezed it, before lifting it to your lips and planting a kiss.

Recovering was less physical than mental. Occasionally she'd ask her dolls a question, you'd catch her staring sorrowfully at them as they stared back unblinking. It was even worse when you heard her call for Angie, knowing it was impossible for her to respond.

Sometimes you'd find her staring out the window, holding Angie as she took in the horizon.

"It's difficult... She was always there for me." She stared at Angie, brushing the veil from her face as the setting sun leaked in. You sat next to her, leaning in close so you could support Angie's slumped head... Donna smiled at the action. "But, I suppose there's a lot else for me too." Donna rested her head on your shoulder, now looking at the broad horizon before you both.

Salvatore Moreau

It hurt you like nothing else to see Salvatore live in constant pain and suffering. You had done wonders for the hurt of loneliness but physically he was still in agony.

He has insisted not to burden yourself with him and that he was used to it, but the more he assured you the less you actually felt comforted. It came to a head one day that all he was doing was vomiting. You were sure you saw red at some point

"Stop saying you're fine!" "I'm used to it, Y/N" "Well I'm not!" You were a medic, it had become an instinct to stop people from being in pain, and Moreau made it flare up.

He refused to be operated on, making up excuses or insisting it was not a big deal to him after all these years. Clearly, you could tell it was something else, something he wasn't telling you but he refused to let it slip. It became a strain on your relationship. It felt bad but you had to threaten to leave if he was not going to be honest. He owed you that.

You felt even worse when you found out. "I'm scared it would get worse!" You realized that the last time Moreau was likely on an operating table, it turned him into what he was now. It was beyond inconsiderate to try and force him through it again.

For a while, you dropped it, letting the waters calm... until another vomiting fit happened and you thought you might lose him.

Luckily you didn't and unluckily for Moreau he had to see you're tear-ridden face the whole time, unable to assure you he would be fine due to the wretching. A day later he agreed to let you try.

You were relieved but now it went on to how you were exactly going to do this. You were unsure if removing the cadou would be enough to rid him of the tumors or if you would be on that too, you had no intention to make things worse like he feared.

A while passed as you collected the tools and set up an area in the reservoir to operate, everytime you made progress Moreau strayed farther from the area.

You finally finished and Moreau was off lurking in the waters, much like a child hiding from getting a shot. "Are you ready?" "Yes." "Are you lying?" "Yes." You were happy he found humor in the situation but you needed confidence.

You practically held his hand the whole way to the table, both to keep him from escaping to the water and a half for comforting, his grip did not slip until you had fully sedated him.

The procedure was more difficult than ever expected, the tumors were gelatinous and blocked the way to his cadou. You had to be careful not to burst one as well as not to accidentally paralyze him due to the proximity to his spine. It was slow and meticulous but eventually, you got it all.

Nothing happened. He laid unconscious on the table, cadou thoroughly gone, you made sure... but nothing happened. Did you fail? Was there another one? You pondered the possibilities but quickly stood up as the tumors began to swell, becoming enflamed before one burst, an acidic substance barely missing you and melting part of the floor. As more popped you took cover as not to get burned.

The grotesque sounds of bursting meat slowly faded, becoming less frequent until they stopped, but you waited, ensuring you did not accidentally get splashed by a straggler.

"Y/N?" The sound of your name from a familiar deep but the somehow less nauseous voice made you peer from around your cover, a man all too foreign and all too familiar sat dazed-looking on the table.

"Salvatore?" {Insert your own description of Moreau, I don't want to intrude on anyone's interpretation.} "Y/N!" He immediately tried to get off the table to come to you before you quickly stopped him, remnants of acid a very real danger. You covered a path and made your way to him, stopping at the edge of the table. "Did it work?"

Something about the question seemed laughable as you assumed the feeling would be completely different, but you still pulled a mirror close and let him marvel at a face he had long forgotten.

"Did I make it worse?" It was a snarky remark at his previous fears, probably a little insensitive but at the moment he smiled, suddenly pulling you into your first full kiss in your relationship. "Not at all."

Karl Heisenberg

You were helping him in the factory one day, decommissioning the more specialized soldats at the request of BSAA. You being less tech-oriented focused on the less mechanical soldiers while Karl took on the scrap heavy ones.

Having used some Cadou in them, you had to carefully remove that too, to ensure they would not resurrect after the metal was removed. It took no time for Karl to piece together who else that skill could be used on.

"Make space for me on your schedules, Y/N" He lit a cigar after the sentence, not explaining further. "Excuse me?" "You heard me, sweetheart." He ripped a core from another soldat before putting it on the belt to bring it towards you. You stared in disbelief.

"You want me to remove your cadou?" "Yep." "But I thought BSAA was." "I don't want those dick heads snooping in my body like I'm some labrat. You do it." The conversation was quick and honestly, it should have been expected.

Karl had joked with you before that you could take away his cadou. Just snip and a rip and it'd be done. You explained it wasn't that simple and he would chuckle out an agreement, but you could tell that the jokes had an air of seriousness around them. It had been his goal for a while to reverse what had been done to him

Picking a date was the biggest issue. Karl wanted to do it as soon as possible, get it out and be rid of it. You had to explain you needed time to prepare as the place was delicate and a risk. You knew it was out of excitement and anticipation.

When you finally made time, Karl was on the table before you had even put on gloves or disinfected it. "An eager beaver I see?" You tried to bring the humor Karl often did to scenarios like this, but you could see a sense of series on his face, even the glint of his glasses seemed steeled. "I want every trace of that bitch gone."

You nodded, pulling out the syringe to sedate him as you laid him down on the table. Removing his glasses you looked directly in his eyes, there was a trust in his that made you that much more determined. "You ready?" You asked as a medic protocol. "Just stick me doc." You rolled your eyes as he smirked before relishing in the slight scared look he gave the needle when you lifted it before him

The silence of it all unnerved you. Karl was always making wisecracks or jokes to alleviate the dreary mood of the factory. Having him laying silently before you, face still somehow serious while completely relaxed, made it all the more discomforting.

You worked diligently, careful to find all traces of the cadou and to remove them into a jar you had set aside. It was long but you did it with dutiful ease, Karl had waited so long for this and you must do it right

When it was all finished you took the jar, disgusted at the somehow living organism inside. How could she put this in someone she considered her child. Bitch, was too kind a word Karl used for her. You took the jar to a furnace, throwing it in and watching the thing wriggle frantically before burning to a crisp.

Coming back to the table you found Karl stirring awake, groggily holding himself up on his forearms. "So, how'd it go?" "You tell me?"

Karl looked around the room, his hammer resting in the corner. Focusing on it he waited for the item to float toward him, yet it remained still. After a minute of nothing he stopped, a slow chuckle emerging from him, melding into a proud laugh.

"Well, I'll be damned, Y/N. You've outdone yourself." He began patting himself in search of a cigar. You pulled one from the side table and offered it, snatching it away before he could get a grasp on it. "No smoking until you're fully healed."

He shook his head, chuckling a little more before sitting up and pulling you close. Tilting your head up he locked your lips together. Pulling apart he smiled, "Whatever you say, doc."

I completely forgot that Moreau was a doctor and honestly I should've added something about medical knowledge but its super late and I have a job interview to get up for.

#resident evil 8 #resident evil #resident evil village #re8 #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #dimitrescu daughters #dimitrescu sisters #angie the doll #salvatore moreau #moreau #karl heisenberg #donna beneveinto x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #salvatore moreau x reader #moreau x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #ask #anon #I have a salvatore like human headcanon but i'll keep it to myself

[i-cant-sing]

You mentioned (for the platonic yandere todoroki family) theyre not above ..marking the reader what would happen if Rei gave a scar like shotos to them?

Yandere Rei hurting daughter reader

Its like u guys can read my mind💞💞💕

Part 2 is here!

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

Todoroki clan:

Its my fault.

Somehow, all Todorokis were thinking the same thing.

Its my fault. Fuyumi thought, as she remembered the start of the day. I should've just stayed home with her. She looked down the empty hospital halls. We were having so much fun; the school didn't need me today. The kids could've been managed by a substitute.

She looked at Natsuo, who was talking to one of the doctors.

Its my fault. Natsuo thought, as he talks to the doctors about your condition. I should've just given into your puppy eyes and stayed for lunch. I shouldn't have left because I didn't want to face him. Enji was going to leave for work soon anyways.

The doctor finished briefing Natsuo on your condition. He turned back to look at his parents. Rei was sitting in Enji's lap, sobbing into his chest.

Its my fault. Enji thought. This could've been prevented. I could've saved her from this. Enji recalls the day. He should've listened to you when you mentioned Rei wasn't acting normal; how she stared at you with no emotion and how she was often lost in her thoughts. But he only patted your head and dismissed you as he said "you're being rude, princess. Your mother loves you very much."

Enji looked down the hall and wondered where Shotou had gone off to.

Its my fault. Shotou said to himself as he looked at his reflection i the bathroom mirror, water dripping down his face as his hands closed the faucet. He knew he shouldn't have left you alone with his mother. But someone was at the door and he wasn't going to risk you opening it and running out. He left the kitchen while you set the table and Rei cooked lunch. Shotou opened the door to find Dabi there; he liked to join you and Rei for lunch once a week. It suited him, since neither Enji nor his biological siblings were home at this time. Just Rei, him and you. It was nice talking to his mom again, but it was even better to mess with you. Like with the rest of the family, you had slowly started to grow on him too.

While Shotou was asking Dabi why he was there, a sudden scream ripped through the house. They both ran towards the source, the kitchen. And the scene that greeted them there was straight out of a horror movie.

There you stood screaming as Rei gripped your head with one hand while the other poured boiling hot oil on your eyes.

Dabi was the first one to move, quickly running towards his mother and pulling her away from you. He pried her hands off of you and the pot of oil, letting you both fall to the floor. Dabi wanted to throw fire at Shotou to break him from whatever trance he was trapped in, but the oil that was spilled all around would just end in burning the whole house down. So he yelled at him.

"Shotou!"his brother's voice pulled Shotou back to reality. He looked at Dabi's worried face before he snapped his head towards you. He dashed towards you and pulled you into his lap. You were still screaming, the hot oil that had filled your eyes and was now dripping your cheeks, for sure leaving second degree burns. He quickly activated both of his quirk so that he can shower your face with cold water, as best as he could, using his other hand to call for help.

Shotou looked at Dabi through the mirror, who was drying his hands off.

Its my fault. Dabi thought. I shouldn't have kept telling mom to keep a close eye on you. You were being too compliant with your situation, and it made Dabi feel like you were upto something; that you were planning to run away. When in reality, you were just trying to adjust to the new circumstances.

Dabi sighed, before leaving the bathroom with Shotou to check up on their mother.

"Its my fault."Rei said to Enji, who only pulled her further into his chest. "It is my fault, Enji. I- I don't know what happened. I was cooking shrimp for us and she was helping set the table. She looked out the window and smiled and said "its a nice day out, isn't it?" and then I blacked out and then- then all I remember was Touya holding me and yelling at Shotou. And Enji, I- I saw her. She was all red, Enji. Her skin was blistering up and- and oh my god the burning smell and her screams. Enji her screams-"she started sobbing into his chest as Enji ran his fingers through her hair. "Not here, Rei. Not right now." He told her. Although Enji had already paid off the everyone to keep their mouths shut, he still had to be cautious. The entire hospital floor was emptied for you; not a word of this needed to get to the press.

Dabi and Touya came back just as the doctor came out of your room. They all turned to him. "Is she going to be okay?"Fuyumi asked, voice quivering.

He started speaking,"The surgery went alright. We were able to treat most of her burns but the oil was very hot. It penetrated through most of her tissues and caused irreversible damage. Her eyes... we couldn't save them." At this, everyone's eyes widened. Rei started crying harder as her knees went weak, but Enji kept her from falling down. "The nerves are damaged and we can't replace them right now. Fortunately, due to having Miss (Y/n) brought in time, we were able to save the brain and its tissues from damage." He cleared his throat, before continuing. "She's unconscious right now, but you can go in." Natsuo went with the doctor to understand the treatment you would need, while the rest of the Todorokis went in.

The moment they entered the room, they all felt the same emotion. Guilt.

Shotou felt like his world was crashing down. How could he have let this happen? He was supposed to protect you. And now you've lost your sight.

Fuyumi couldn't even bare to look at you like this for more than a second, crying silently to herself as she had done all these years. You wouldn't have been in the kitchen if only she had stayed. She could've helped set the table with Rei, instead of you.

Enji felt like a criminal himself. He could've prevented this. He should've known something like this was bound to happen. He should've listened to you when you mentioned Rei's odd behaviour; he should've been the one to notice it in the first place. If he did, you wouldn't be in this state.

Dabi has seen much violence. He has seen- he has mutilated people. He's seen things far worse than this, things that would make people lose sleep. But somehow, seeing you like this, was far more gut churning than anything he'd ever witnessed.

Rei looked at your unconscious body, your eyes were bandaged and an IV was attached to your arm. The area near your eyes had slightly charred while the rest of your face was blistered and red and blanched; healing ointments were applied on it.

"I hurt her. I hurt our baby, Enji. I- I took away her eyes. I ruined her beautiful face. I did this, Enji. How- how could I do this?"Enji only held his crying wife, his eyes still focused on you and his heart heavy with guilt. "I'm a bad mother." Rei said in a quiet voice.

Everyone looked at her suddenly. "No, you're not." Dabi said, speaking for the first time since they came to the hospital. Fuyumi nodded, "no, you're not. You're a good mother. This- this was just an accident and- and its okay. She'll be okay." Without tearing his eyes off you, Shotou spoke as well. "Yes. This was just an unfortunate accident. You're a good mother. You've showered her, and us with love. You've taken care of her, you'll take care of her again. We'll help you as well. She'll be better in no time."

Rei smiled meekly at her kids. They're so kind. She looked at Enji, who was staring intensely at your unconscious body, worry evident in his eyes. Does he think I'm a bad mother? Rei wondered. As if he could hear her, Enji looked at Rei before smiling. "Its okay, honey. It was...just an accident. Its not your fault." He kissed her forehead before continuing, "like Shotou said, once she is discharged, we can all take care of her and she'll be better in no time. She'll need us now more than ever, don't you think so?" Rei smiled and nodded, placing her head on his chest again. "Yes. We'll be alright again."

Should I do a part 2 where they bring the reader back home?

#yandere endeavor #yandere enji todoroki #yandere dabi #yandere shoto todoroki #shoto todoroki #yandere fuyumi todoroki #natsuo todoroki #yandere natsuo todoroki #enji todoroki #endeavour x reader #yandere todoroki clan #yandere touya todoroki #todoroki clan #yandere bnha #bnha headcanons #yandere mha #bnha imagines #yandere dabi x reader #touya todoroki

[master-sass-blast]

Care and Trust: Chapter One.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four

Summary: "The shockwave hits second.

You’re strolling through Avatar Korra park, out on your lunch break. It’s a beautiful, late winter day; with the sun shining high up in the sky, it’s warm enough that you aren’t shivering like a frightened kitten as you amble along the plaza.

Several people gasp, and you look up in time to see a fireball pluming up over the docks.

And then the shockwave hits.

It hits your chest like an armadillo tiger; the explosion roars through the air, making your ears hurt. You go down, grunting when you hit the snow-covered knoll behind you.

You stand with a groan, brush yourself off, then start booking it to the nearest hospital.

Shit like this always demands all hands on deck."

AKA Plot Finally Happens.

Pairing(s): Lin Beifong x Reader.

Rating: T.

Word count: 2.1k.

The shockwave hits second.

You’re strolling through Avatar Korra park, out on your lunch break. It’s a beautiful, late winter day; with the sun shining high up in the sky, it’s warm enough that you aren’t shivering like a frightened kitten as you amble along the plaza.

(But, as they say, all good things must come to an end.)

Several people gasp, and you look up in time to see a fireball pluming up over the docks.

And then the shockwave hits.

It hits your chest like an armadillo tiger; the explosion roars through the air, making your ears hurt. You go down, grunting when you hit the snow-covered knoll behind you.

Cries pierce the air. Screams of panic, exclamations of disbelief, exhortations to call the police.

Yeah, you think as you eye the thick, black smoke that belches into the air, something tells me they didn’t miss that.

You stand with a groan, brush yourself off, then start booking it to the nearest hospital.

Shit like this always demands all hands on deck.

***

As predicted, the injury count is high.

You run the halls of Yue General, triaging the more serious patients until things slow enough that you can start checking the ones not actively dying. It’s a non-stop frenzy of gauze, saline, and bandage wraps until you can see the blue glow of your healing whenever you close your eyes.

By the end of it, your feet are practically dead and it’s nearly four in the morning.

You drag yourself onto one of the trams and let the teeth-shaking rattle keep you awake until you’re on your block. You count your steps until you make it to the front door, then let out a sigh of relief when you step into the building lobby.

“Elevator Out of Service. Please Use Stairs.”

You stare at the placard in front of the elevator bay in disbelief, then groan. Fuck my life.

***

The climb up to your floor is agony.

You’re huffing and puffing by the time you make it to your apartment door. You lean against it as you slot the key into the lock, then push inside.

Some distant, responsible part of you manages to turn the deadbolt before your brain shuts off entirely. You kick off your shoes, drop your purse on the ground, then shuffle over to the couch and flop down face first on it.

When you lift your head again, sunlight’s streaming through your living room window.

“Fuck.” You wince, then peel yourself gingerly off the couch. You cringe as your body protests, and rub your hand over the back of your aching neck. You glance at the clock, but the gurgle your stomach makes is more than enough to tell you that it’s past lunch time.

You sit up, then frown when you get a whiff of yourself. Antiseptic and B.O. Not a good combination on anyone.

You need a shower. And food. And a good round of stretching.

Nice, long, hot shower. You smile as you shuffle towards the bathroom. And then take out. Narook’s. With extra squid ink noodles. Your stomach rumbles again. And maybe Golden King’s… mmm, extra summer rolls… with sweet and sour dipping sauce. Yum.

***

You feel more human after showering. You change into sweats and a loose shirt, put in delivery orders at Narook’s and Golden King’s, then flip on your radio before dropping down onto your sofa.

It’s too early in the day for mystery shows, but the disc jockey’s still playing music requests. Smooth jazz --something with a rolling beat and brass--pipes out of the speakers, swirling around your apartment until the mental grime of the previous day starts to fade.

You sink back into your couch and hum along. You sigh and stretch, relish in the ache in your legs as tension leeches from your sore muscles.

The radio hums, then crackles. “We interrupt this broadcast for an announcement from the Republic City Police Department.”

You roll your eyes as an announcer rattles off a report about the explosion yesterday --site is secure, no risk of further fire or explosion, the city police are hard work, stay clear of the site, blah blah blah--then relax when your music starts playing again. Thanks for telling us what we already know. You close your eyes and let yourself drift. Why do they always shove that into every single press release? ‘We’re working hard to serve Republic City and ensure the safety of her citizens--’

Lin.

You gasp and bolt upright; she would’ve attended the scene. Hell, for all you know, she was one of the responding officers.

It’s probable, given her propensity for “hands on police work,” for not staying above the grime and grunge her officers have to work on.

Hell, it’s even likely. Given what you know about Lin, you’d be solid money that she’d rather work the explosion site than deal with the panicking politicians.

Is she okay? You chew on your lower lip as the thought circles your mind like water in the bathtub drain, swirling down and down into blackness.

You blink, and then your phone’s in your hand, and there’s hold music in your ear as the operator makes the connection. You gulp and palm your phone once the music stops and the ringing starts. Please don’t let this be a mistake, please don’t let this be a mistake, please don’t let this be a fucking mistake…

“Chief Beifong’s office. This is her assistant, Ryu, speaking. The Chief is not available at this time, but I can take your message and deliver it to her later.”

You blink at the sound of her assistant’s voice. “Uh… hi…” You swallow, then rattle off your name and callback number before Ryu can hang up on you. “I’m a, uh, friend of Lin’s. I was just calling because --y’know--the explosion--”

“I’m sorry, but the Chief cannot comment on an ongoing investigation--”

“I’m not calling about that,” you interject, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I’m her friend; I just want to be sure she’s okay.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and when Ryu speaks again, she almost sounds… pleased? “Chief Beifong’s not in right now --but I’ll have her call you back as soon as she’s available.”

“Is she hurt?” you blurt before she hangs up on you.

Another pause. “As far as I know, no.”

“Okay.” You nod, gulp, then nod again. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Have a nice day.”

You eke out something similar, then put your phone back on the hook when the line goes dead. Your heart thuds uncomfortably hard in your chest, and you have to blink a few times before your brain starts working again.

You head back to your couch and jazz --but long gone is your relaxed, exhaustion induced stupor. Anxiety claws at your chest, threatening to snap your ribs and leave you bleeding. You inhale deeply through your nose, then force yourself to let it out slowly so your body calms down. She’ll be fine. She’s got, what, thirty years on the force? This is old hat for her. She’ll keep herself safe.

Still, if you spend the next couple hours watching your phone, that’s no one’s business but yours.

***

Your phone rings around seven in the evening --right as you’re shovelling leftovers from lunch into your mouth.

Go figure.

You half-scramble, half-try-to-not-choke over to the phone; you pick up the phone, try to swallow, then tuck the food in your cheek like a hamster when it’s apparent you’ve got too much in your mouth to swallow. Mom always said I ate like a pack of polar bear dogs. “Heffo?”

There’s a dry huff of laughter on the other end of the line. “I take it I caught you at a good time.”

“Lin!” You cover your mouth with one hand (even though she can’t see you) and alternate between chewing and swallowing. “I --I was ea’in ‘inner.”

“Sounds like you decided to do it all at once.” She chuckles when you grumble, then moves on. “My secretary said you called?”

“Yeah, around lunch time,” you say as you finally get your mouth clear.

“Where I’m presuming you had your mouth full of that meal, too.”

“Fuck you.” You grin when she laughs, then lean against the wall and cradle the receiver against your shoulder. “I just… wanted to check on you. With the explosion and all.”

“You heard about that.”

“The whole city heard it, Lin.” You sigh. “I worked the triage team at Yue General until four in the morning.”

“Shit.” Lin groans, and you can hear the creak of her leather office chair as she sits. “I thought you only did massage therapy?”

“They call everyone who passed a healing course when stuff like this happens,” you explain. “Besides, I had to pass an intensive injury treatment course to get my rehabilitation certification. I’m licensed to assist surgery teams, if need arises.”

Lin hums. “That’s a nice feather in your cap.”

“It pays the bills.” You manage a smile when she lets out a huff of laughter, but the anxiety that’s been circling your brain descends to your stomach. You swallow, then ask, “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” When you don’t respond right away, her voice softens. “I’m fine. A little banged up, but nothing that won’t heal. I wasn’t there when the explosion went off.”

“Okay,” you murmur. You let out a shaky breath, then mentally kick yourself to stop acting like a worried girlfriend, dammit. “Well, if something doesn’t heal, you know where to find me.”

Lin grunts, then chuckles when you laugh. “Get some rest, kid.”

“Already am. You should do the same.” You roll your eyes when she starts grumbling again --about overtime and press conferences and departmental cooperation with the city’s fire brigade--then say, “Call me when you want to keep me up all night again,” and hang up before she can react.

It’s easy to picture her reaction. Open-mouthed, wide-eyed, with that hint of a grin that she hides by smirking.

You bite your lower lip; something warm and smooth settles in your lower gut. You laugh quietly to yourself, then turn and head back for the sofa. Alright, leftovers. It’s just you and me.

***

You’re in the midst of changing the sheets on your massage table when there’s a knock on the door. “Come in.”

The latch clicks, the door swings open, and the receptionist for the Northern Moon Physical Therapy Facility pokes her head into your “office” (which is really just the room you work out of, but it’s yours, and that’s what counts). “A call came in for you.”

You straighten, frowning. “Me?”

She nods. “A request for on-site treatment.” She looks down at the slip of paper in her hand and recites the information from the call. “Republic City Police Department, at one this afternoon. Long session booking. A woman named Ryu called it in.”

Your heart sinks into your shoes. Fucking dammit. “And my other appointments…”

“We’re redistributing them to the other therapists. It was an urgent request.”

Shit.

You sigh, then nod and grab your carry bag off a nearby office chair. “Let me pack up, and I’ll catch one of the trams.”

“They’re sending a car for you.” The receptionist smiles politely, then steps back and starts making her way back down the hall. “It’ll be here in fifteen minutes!”

You run your tongue over your teeth and do what you can to tamp down the aggravation simmering in your stomach. Well, on the bright side, I don’t have to carry the table the entire way.

***

Ryu meets you in the parking garage attached to the police department. She’s sleek, dressed in an impeccably pressed navy blue suit, and there’s not a hair out of place on her head.

In your loose slacks, pale periwinkle blouse, and slapdash braid, you can’t help but feel a bit… frumpy.

She shakes your hand --she’s got a strong, professional handshake--then escorts you through the garage. “Thank you for coming.” She opens a heavy metal door stamped with the police department’s emblem for you. “I’ll take you up to Chief Beifong’s office.”

Your jaw flexes as you follow her down a hall with an immaculately polished slate tile floor. “How’s she been? What kind of pain has she been in?”

Ryu looks at you over her shoulder for a long moment. Her eyes narrow contemplatively, but she turns back around before you can make anything of her expression. “I’ve been asked to let Chief Beifong explain things to you directly.”

Yeah, that tracks. You shift the strap of your carry bag onto your shoulder, then watch the floor counter as the elevator slowly rattles upwards.

#sass writes #lin beifong x reader #this one got cut into multiple pieces due to length #also we have plot now! #five fics into the series dslfjdlfkjdslfkjdslfj #legend of korra #the hands that heal