#she wants me to get a MRI and that is expensive

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for refusing to reschedule an MRI? A bit of background - I've been dealing with chronic pain for the majority of my life. Over the past 8ish months I've had pretty significant pain in my knee, so I've been seeing a doctor about it, and I've been in physical therapy.

After a few sessions of physical therapy, I went to the same doctor for a follow-up, and he said that he wanted to order an MRI to make sure there wasn't an issue, given how long I'd been having the knee pain for, and that he had wanted to when he first saw me but I was required PT before he could. I scheduled the MRI for the soonest appointment I could get, which is in the middle of the month (two weeks from now at 7pm), and the follow-up to look over the results was also the soonest appointment I could get, in the beginning of next month. (At the time of submitting its the 4th.)

I still live with my family (Apartments are insanely expensive where I live, and I can't afford renting. Broke college student), and when my mom got back from a business trip, I told her when I had scheduled things. She got upset because apparently the day I had picked, we were supposed to have family over for thanksgiving. (The day I picked wasn't thanksgiving.)

She asked me if I could reschedule the MRI, and I told her no, as scheduling was incredibly limited for both the doctor and the place I have to get an MRI at, and there's no guarantee I'd even be seen this month if I tried to reschedule. She asked a few more times, getting upset that I just went ahead and scheduled it, but I was never told that family was supposed to be over that day and I wouldn't have been able to ask anyways since she wasn't at home.

AITA for refusing to reschedule the MRI? I feel like I could be for not putting family first, but I'm also worried about the doctor + MRI place having any appointments open.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[thedisablednaturalist]

If you have mysterious chronic pain and have the means, here's a list of doctors you should see other than your primary and a rheumatologist:

Neurologist and/or sleep specialist

Pain management doctor (also sometimes called pain and spine doctor)

Therapist that specializes in helping physically disabled people (having chronic illness sucks and you need someone to talk to)

Psychiatrist (most people with chronic illness also need psychiatric meds)

Physical therapy or rehabilitation center that specifically has procedures for chronic illnesses. My chiropractor acts as this for me but I'd only recommend that as a last resort. If you have something like fibromyalgia or ehler dahlos syndrome you need to be very careful with how you stretch and how much exercise you do. My chiropractor has special exercise equipment that is very gentle and has a lot of padding to reduce pain.

ENT (Ears, nose, throat doctor)

Nutritionist

A primary care doctor will at most only perform blood tests. Many illnesses do not show up on these blood tests. You want to get checked for rheumatoid arthritis, lyme disease, and lupus. Even if your doctor tells you it's because your vitamin d level or iron is too low, I would still recommend further testing.

They'll most likely refer you to a rheumatologist regardless, but unless you actually have arthritis I wouldn't rely on them too much. Mine charged too much for a 10 minute appointment where all she did was give me meds and would not discuss any other treatment or management options. She also laughed at me when I asked about a mobility device. It might just be I had a bad experience but it seems like those doctors are just given chronic illness patients cause no one else wants them.

You need to get your spine looked at. An MRI is essential. At the very least get an xray of your neck and spine. A neurologist or pain + spine doctor will most likely order one.

Neurologists will check your nerves and brain function. They'll check if your nerves are overly sensitive or unresponsive. You'll get stabbed and shocked a lot.

Pain and spine doctors are the ones who will give you pain medicine. It will not be immediate. They will need to examine you (MRI) and try other medications and treatments first. This is because insurance is not going to pay for stronger drugs until you've exhausted other options. You'll most likely start with something like duloxotine, gabapentin, prescription NSAIDs, and/or muscle relaxers. Once my results came in from the MRI I was given steroid shots in my spine. They will give them in different spots first to see which spot is most effective, so don't worry if it only works one time and not the others. I cannot stress the importance of having this type of doctor on your care team. Being able to have the power to manage my pain has helped so much. This is also the doctor that signed my form for my handicapped parking permit.

Sleep studies are expensive, but sleep is extremely important for your quality of life. So many people have sleep apnea and don't know it. CPAP machines today are really quiet and comfortable. This will be essential for tackling chronic fatigue.

An ENT doctor is only if you end up having sleep apnea or have any issues with your sinuses. I had to go and get my nose fixed because even with my cpap I still wasn't getting enough air.

You need to have some way of moving your body. Only do this after you are already on a treatment plan. It's hard to do things like exercise when you are still dealing with pain and fatigue. Doctors will want you to do physical therapy first but that's not a good idea because you won't stick with it due to pain. You need to deal with the underlying problems before working on stuff like exercise and nutrition. Able bodied young people who don't exercise and don't eat well are not in constant pain, so you shouldn't be either. If they tell you to lose weight drop the doctor, that's a cop out response.

I haven't reached the step to get a nutritionist, but changing what foods you eat and when can really help with pain management. You also may find that something you eat is exacerbating your symptoms.

With my insurance plan I can pretty much call up a doctor and make an appointment without a referral. I know some plans need referrals, so either call your insurance for one or get your primary care doctor to give you one. Idk how this works for medicare but I think you can just make an appointment with anyone who takes medicare.

I have not been able to obtain a script for a mobility device from any of my doctors. If you have a type of doctor you'd recommend for that please chime in. I've heard occupational therapists are the way to go though but still need to look into that myself.

Also do not feel bad if you cannot afford these. It is not your fault. Healthcare especially in the USA fucking sucks. This is mostly only useful for people who are in the investigative stage who have insurance. I'm not saying "oh just do yoga". Your pain is not your fault, and it can take a long time to figure out a plan that's right for you. I didn't know what doctors I was supposed to see when I started out, and was just given to a rheumatologist since there isn't a fibromyalgia doctor. I only had blood tests at that point. Hopefully this helps people save time and make sure they can fully investigate the cause of their pain (or at least how to manage it better)

#chronic disability #chronic pain #spoonie #fibromyalgia #disability #ehlers danlos syndrome #eds #chronic fatigue syndrome #cfs #POTS #pots syndrome #if a doctor mentions your weight within the first 10 minutes of the exam get out if there #especially if they havent even done any testing or looked at you yet

[eschergirls]

It's been 2 weeks so it's time to announce the winners of the November caption contest featuring Avengelyne... captured...?

Each winner will get to choose a prize if they wish (but you don't have to, you can just participate for fun, I just wanted to give a prize because I enjoy the caption contests and entries).

Like last time, I've decided to organize the entries by the way they were submitted, just to make it easier.

Here are the caption entries, I got so many this time and they were all so good it was hard for me to choose winners:

From Mastodon:

Claire: "she looks like she is kind of surprised there was a lady on the other end of that chain" Dollcomics: “Sweep the floors, clean the bathroom, polish the chains AND a $500 cleaning fee? Ugh, AirBNBs are the worst” Socketwench: "Look, I really think you need an MRI, a physical therapist, or a chiropractor." "Just pull, okay? My back hasn't cracked in a f-ing week."

From Disqus and Email:

Imry: "It's company policy that all captured heroes need to be sexily chained up. It's ineffective, time-consuming, expensive, and the the minions hate it more than the heroes... but nobody can complain because they aren't part of a union and don't have collective bargaining powers. Do you want your work uniform to give you a permanent wedgie? No? Then join a union!" Karmazyna: "How many times do I have to tell you: whatever you find in the Home Depot's clearance section is NOT clothing material!" Leak: "Give me a moment, and we'll have you elongated to Liefeld Standard(TM) in no time..." Mel: "Would you stop tugging? The lock isn't on yet! You're so impatient; I'm never doing a kinky photoshoot with you again." P J Evans: "A private party? You didn't say it was a private party!"  

From Tumblr:

@angrybidoof: "When you book a chiropractor off Craigslist" @anna-neko: "and I will keep pulling, until your dumb face finally makes an expression" @atomicmosaic: "she seems miffed: "that all you got? I'm like a centimeter off the floor"" @captainacerbic: "are you positive that this method will make me taller and thinner? If so, don't stop even if I cry" "Got it gurl" @captainlordauditor: "With no access to a BDSM dungeon, the castle's armory proved an acceptable substitute for an impromptu demonstration in the purpose of the time travelers' costumes. " @cenobitic-anchorite: "When I told you we were out of toilet paper, this was NOT the solution I had in mind!" @cirquedereve: "Guess I'm really locked in to this relationship." @differenttriumphdragon: "What do you MEAN your shackles already broke!? How are we supposed to fix it when you used all the electrical tape on your costume!?" @foreversoaring: "According to her, the hottest way to decorate a bdsm dungeon was to give it a ‘museum weapons collection’ theme." @haveievermentioned: "Oh my gosh, why didn't you tell me this was your first time in a BDSM dungeon?" @inukagome15: "You've been a bad girl. Time for some avenging." @megpie71: "Look, I hate it as much as you do, but it's the only way we have to straighten out a rubber spine." @of-another-broken-heart: "Are you SURE this isn't a porn shoot?" "We need the rent money, so does it really matter?" @siklo: "-Harder! Do you want a tip or not!?" "-I don't know anymore. I think I might quit..." @sylvanas-girlkisser: "Me and my girlfriend had thought of very different things when planning our "dungeon date" but we made it work. #the katana was maybe a bit much though" @thevikingfish-nimhrodell: "This is what you get for using up all the duct tape in the house for your costume!! I don't care that it's waterproof!" @vabolo: "You know, I'm starting to think this isn't what that Sia song meant" @whitetyger123: "Stop! Why are you doing this to me?" "I don't know really. Having a wedgie as bad as mine makes people do all sorts of crazy things." @winterrssoldier: "Unconventional chiropractor helps women with scoliosis" @woodsworth: "Gurl let me get a least that posture straight for you" @youlookterrible: "this is this is showgirls innit that's elizabeth berkeley and that's the gersh" @zombiemollusk: "yeah, sorry, i forgot the safeword and this costume is waaaay too itchy." "BUT DID YOU HAVE TO BREAK THE SHACKLES??"  

Because I got so many good submissions, I'm going to pick 2 honorable mentions again and then the 3 winners!

So Honorable Mentions go to: Imry and @thevikingfish-nimhrodell!

If you're an honorable mention and want a prize and somebody in the top 3 passes it, up then I'll contact you. :)

And here are the winners:

3rd place goes to Dollcomics

2nd place goes to @angrybidoof

And finally the winner is... @cirquedereve!

If you won and would like a prize, please message me with which prize you would like.  If you came in 2nd, message me with 2 choices in order of preference, and if you came in 3rd, message me with 3 choices, etc...  I'll give you your top choice that hadn't been taken by the other winners.

The codes I have available are for: Overgrowth, Syberia, Riot: Civil Unrest, Castle Crashers, Hotel Giant 2, Not The Robots, Steel Storm: Burning Retribution, Rage in Peace, Uncertain: The Last Quiet Day, Uncertain: Light At The End, Shattered - Tale of the Forgotten King,  Morbid: The Seven Acolytes, The Swindle, Zengeon, Wayward Souls, and Nigate Tale.

Please stay tuned for another caption contest coming in December, it's going to be a special holiday themed one!

#avengelyne #caption contest #caption contest winners

[sabraeal]

Sic Semper Monstrum, Chapter 9

[Read on AO3]

Written for @sepalina's birthday, who deliberated for two days only to suddenly remember, oh yes right she has a favorite fic 🤣

That Seiran chick might have a princess’s pedigree around here, but there’s nothing dainty about the way she grips the metal bar at the end of each of their cots, twisting her wrists like she’s picturing flesh and bone rather than steel.

“You two have to be the biggest boneheads I have ever seen stuffed into a drive suit.” Her fingers clench, and Obi could swear the mental dints. “A bare knuckle brawl in the dome? At a time like this? Are you two insane?”

“Ah, well…” The Big Guy may have looked tough when Obi took him to the mats, a more solid anti-kaiju wall than anything the PDPC could toss into the Pacific, but he cringes just like any other mortal would when Kiki Seiran looms over him, all her disappointment honed to a point. “It wasn’t really a brawl. Just a…regulated spar, like usual—“

“Usual?” Her arms fold the way steel does into rebar, and oh, the princess is not amused. “Obi’s more bruise than bone.”

“Aw, Princess,” he croons, trying not to wince from the effort. “If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy.”

Her spine straightens, giving her all the extra inches she needs to give that glare of hers momentum, hitting him like a body off the Golden Gate hits the bay. “I can see the other guy. You’re both in the same infirmary, because you’re the same amount of stupid.”

“Actually, I’ve been wondering about the logic on that one.” He tilts his head, trying to go for that doleful dog stare that does wonders on sweet little nurses with hearts of gold. Too bad he’s got Yuzuri, who only wrenches his head back to the side, holding him still enough to swab when the skin’s split over his cheekbone. “Is this our— yikes, careful there, Florence— get along shirt or something? Two guys take some swings and you hope sticking us in a bottle sorts it out?”

“No,” she deadpans, taking a pen light out from the pocket of her scrubs. “I’m trying to quarantine the idiocy. You better be careful, Major” —she casts a long glance princess-side— “it might be catching.”

That regal mouth twitches, somewhere in the realm of amused. “Too late for me. No one ends up in a drive suit unless they’re born with it.”

“Ha, that’s for sure.” A light sears across his line of sight, leaving constellations in its wake. “As for you two, I didn’t see the point in sending you to your corners when you’re so friendly. Saves me space, and you can treat tonight like a sleepover. Braid each other’s hair and talk about cute boys.”

“Er…” How a big man like that can go through basic and still blush as easy as a school girl, Obi will never know, but it’s funny as hell. “I don’t really have opinions on cute boys…”

“Don’t worry, Big Guy,” he grunts, snuggling his shoulders into the pillows at his back. “I’ve got enough for both of us.”

That gets him a real side-eye from GI Joe, one that only ends when he swings those golden retriever eyes onto the real authority in this room. “Is there any way I get to go back to my bunk tonight?”

“Sorry, Major.” No matter what she says, Yuzuri’s shrug doesn’t give a single hint of regret. “Gotta keep you both on observation. SOP for rangers with head injuries. Last thing we need is for you guys to hare off and play hero just because you heard the dinner bell.”

He grimaces, all perfect teeth in a perfect face. Pity this guy fell into the military before someone could get him a magazine cover. Obi would have loved to hang that pin-up over his bunk. “Ah, right. That…makes sense.”

Of course it did. They might all be kaiju-fodder in the end, but they were the expensive, top shelf shit. The kind the PDPC wanted to stretch out as long as possible, not waste on some idiot who went into the drift concussed and had his brain melt right out his ears for the effort. Obi half surprised they haven’t been shoved into an MRI just to make sure.

“Aww, but you don’t really want to leave, do you, bestie? Not when we’re gonna have so much fun.” The target of his grin shifts from bed to bedside. “What do you think, Yuzuri? Think we could borrow some ManGo For It or Red Hot Rio?”

“I dunno,” she deadpans, not even looking up from her notes. “I think he’s more of Rosy Future guy.”

“Really? Still running your mouth?” Her Highness tosses her head, more pony than princess. “Did you not get beat bad enough?”

“What, this little mosquito bite?” Obi gives his jaw a good clench and turn, displaying his medal of honor at its best angle. Hurts like a bitch, but it’s worth it to see even Princess get squeamish. “Lucky shot. I got three hits for his one.”

Her mouth does that thing it does, that twitch, the one he’s starting to figure out is a laugh. “Yeah, and that’s all he needed to make you crumple like a tin can.”

“I already said I felt bad about that,” Big Guy grumbles, all folded in on himself like a teddy bear longing for a good squeeze. “I wasn’t trying to…well…”

“It’s okay, Superman, we all know you’re living in a world of cardboard.” Obi leans over, giving one of those meaty shoulders a good pat. Probably feels like a whisper to a man that stacked. “How can I blame you, when you were only defending milady’s honor—?”

Her weight shifts, no longer balanced parade-style between their cots, but sitting back in her hips, displeasure heavily implied. That man-sized mountain straightens so much it Obi can practically feel the plate tectonics beneath his palm.

“I was not!” Big puppy eyes swing right around to the ticking time bomb at the end of their beds. “I would never do that!”

One elegant eyebrow arches, and ah, now he can see why half the PDPC pisses itself when she punches the bag right off its chain. Most of the rangers the Academy rolls out are brawlers, the kind of guys that get in between a kaiju’s punch and the Pacific coastline, but this girl— her power’s in the application of force, the art of finessing a blow to where the bones can’t bear it. Can’t get into a brawl with a fighter like that and expect an old fashioned beatdown, oh no— when princess steps on the mats, she doesn’t fight, she dismantles.

Ha, and by the way she chucks her chin, all challenge, she knows it.

Now how about that. It’s a whisper in his ear, a hum across the million and one electric impulses in his brain, dangerous and fond. Remind you of anyone you know?

Knew, maybe. Bright blue smears over stark white when he closes his eyes; suits that stood out, even among halls that housed living legends. Eye-catching, the higher ups had called it, but it caught all the wrong eyes when it came to Sonisay. They all learned, of course; even now he hears the sickening crack of bone, sees the sweep of dark hair as she steps out of her spin—

Not just that. That laugh jangles his nerves, too close to his own and yet infinitely different, inimitable. Not just her.

There’s a boy too, too small, too skinny, too…not enough. Might as well be a shadow for how closely he clings to that same dance, to those same stances. Might as well be a monster for how easily the bones crack under his heels too, no remorse, no regrets—

A boy that shouldn’t exist. A boy that no longer does. Obi closes his eyes.

You can’t look away forever. Too many voices to count on that one. Watch me, only his reply.

“Let me make something clear.” Big Guy’s grunt grounds him, dragging him right back down to his bed, to the finger waggling at him. “Kiki doesn’t need me to fight her fights for her. If she wants to kick someone’s ass, she can make her own bodies.”

Ah, great. Got back just in time to witnessing Bloodbath Barbie over there desire Big Guy carnally. Not that he notices; oh no, the Jolly Marine Giant only has eyes for him, serious as a heart attack. Makes him want to mention that these rickety little med cots can’t handle two ranger pilots going at it, let alone three, but of course Yuzuri’s gotta make it a rain out.

“All right, all right, visiting hours are over,” she sighs, and oh, by Princess’s look, this is the first time someone’s tried to shoo Kiki Seiran out of anywhere. “These boys need some rest, not an audience. Just gonna rile ‘em up.”

This guy benches almost twice Obi’s weight, a monster of a man, but the second Yuzuri aims that scold his way, he’s all puppy. “But I wouldn’t—”

“You might behave, but he won’t.” She jerks a thumb back where Obi lounges, pointed. “And if he doesn’t want to play nice, he’ll find some way to drag you along with him.”

Sounds about right, hums a nuisance that has no right to throw stones. Not at this particular glass house, at least.

“Me?” Obi a presses a hand to his chest; harder to see it tremble that way. “Why, I was only going to take a small snooze. A cat nap, really. How could I—?”

“No sleeping!” Yuzuri glares at him, incredulous. “Didn’t I just say you could have a concussion?”

“Aww, come on,” he sighs, hooking his hands behind his head. “First no fighting, now no napping? What else are we supposed to get up to in here?”

Princess hangs in the gap of their curtain coverage, and oh, she may not smile, but that’s one masterclass of a grin. “Strenuous activity.”

“Kiki—!”

“None of that either!” With an officious wave of her hands, Yuzuri succeeds in doing what PDPC has failed to do for years: tell Kiki Seiran where to go. “Now, get. These two don’t need a bad influence.”

“Aww, c’mon, Flo! That’s no reason to shoo Princess out,” Obi whines now that his entertainment has sashayed right out of his evening. “I’m an even worse influence, so—”

“You don’t need to tell me,” she sniffs. “Now give it a rest. Or else I’ll call Shirayuki down here, and she can read you the riot act.”

There’s a time he might have laughed. Might even have let one shoulder and a wry eyebrow do the heavy lifting as he said, I’m sure the Good Doctor has better things to do with her time than worry about little old me.

But a week ago he woke up in one of these cots soaked in his own sweat, ears still ringing from a klaxon that never rang. At least, not in this dome, not that day; his stomach churning from the heady brew of trauma and military grade sedatives. He’d turned, half convinced he’d see either six bodies or and empty room, and instead—

It was her. Tiny ponytail and all, clumps of it making a bid for freedom from that poor excuse of an elastic. A borrowed one,  all stretched out from trying to contain the fallout from Yuzuri’s nuclear-level event that she calls her hair, but it’s serviceable. Enough to bridge the gap between now and whenever Doc finally decides whether she’s gonna bite the bullet and grow it out again, or just chop the whole thing off.

That’s not the sort of stuff he knows about people. Not the sort of stuff he ever gets close enough to find out. But she was sitting right there, head tipped off the back of that chair, breath trembling the little flyaways splayed over her lips, and—

“Fine,” he sighs, settling back into his pillows. “I’ll play nice.”

Yuzuri snorts. “I won’t hold my breath.”

*

It’s when Big Guy lumbers out of their cozy little curtained love cave to go take a piss— or a shit; Obi might be nosy, but even he’s got his limits— that Yuzuri swoops back to his bedside, using his vitals as an excuse to say, “What the hell were you thinking anyway?”

None of her business. There’s a gruffness to that, a texture that implying barbed wire fencing with the prickly bits facing inside. Embarrassment, the kind a boy at the cusp of manhood couldn’t bear with any grace. Not that he had done all that well with other emotions either.

Could never bear being anything but the hero. A taunt, a snipe across the mess hall’s tables. Even in his head those two would never get along.

You can just admit it. Sonisay speaks the way silk would sting, if it could, a smooth stab with no mess left behind. A sliver beneath the fingernail, only noticed when it slips deeper. It’s not as if you were thinking of anything sexual.

Sure. There’s no need for the smile-like stretch over his synapses, too smug. But not from lack of trying.

He appreciates the honesty is the best policy shtick, especially from the girl who always spoke out both sides of her mouth as easy a breathing, but Obi settles on a nice neutral, “What?” instead.

Might earn him the sort of look that begs the question of just what is rattling around between his ears, but it’s better than having to explain that when he closes his eyes he sees red. Not spread out across his pillow or tangled in his fingers, but caught up in plain little hairpins, already slipping free.

“Are you kidding me?” Her gaze darts over the the empty bed beside his, pointed. Oh, so that’s what she’s asking about. “Did you somehow miss how big that man is? He could fit two of you between his shoulders!”

“Aww, Flo, he’s harmless.” Pain shoots up his cheek when he tries to grin, settling somewhere near his temple. Damn, that’s gonna put a real crimp in his game. “Big Guy’s a gentle giant.”

She stares at him. “Half your face is a bruise.”

Obi hasn’t had the pleasure of seeing himself in the mirror lately, but by the way one half of his face feels heavy enough to make him lean like a tower in Pisa, he doubts that’s an exaggeration. “He didn’t mean it though.”

“Doesn’t really make a difference to your capillaries whether he meant it or not.” One finger of hers brushes an eyebrow— yowch— and she scowls. “They’re broken all to shit anyway. God, you’re gonna be lucky if that smile of yours isn’t permanently lopsided from this.”

Already was, but she didn’t ask for his medical history. “I’ll be roguish.”

“You’ll be in PT, that’s what you’ll be.” She pulls back with a cluck of her tongue. “Lucky as hell that he didn’t break your orbital. Ugh, or your nose. That would have been a bitch to set. And your cheekbones—”

A cough, timid for how deep it is, rustles outside the curtain. “Sorry,” Big Guy starts, all doleful hound dog eyes as Yuzuri pulls them back. “I didn’t want to, er, eavesdrop, but…”

He’s smarter than to say, but you told us not to leave. Not to someone like Yuzuri, who’s already ruby red from the collar of her scrubs to her headband, ready to crack out of her shell like a crab left too long in the pot.

“You…I…” She slides out right around him, never once turning her back. “G-go. Lay down. Or something! Ugh!”

Big Guy blinks once at her back before swinging those hound eyes back to him. “Is she—?”

“Embarrassed,” he agrees. Yuzuri’s always happy to share her opinions, up until she get caught. “Big time. She’ll recover. But until then it’ll be your fault.”

“Oh…” He winces, though Obi can hardly tell if it’s from the thought of Yuzuri’s ill-wishes, or the kick he landed on his hip, making what should be an easy walk a bit of a hobble. “I am sorry about that, you know.”

That lantern jaw juts itself toward him, or more specifically, the shiner painted up one side. “This old thing? Don’t worry about it. Got worse from a mosquito.”

If Big Guy is impressed with his bravado, he’s got a funny way of showing it, looking all hangdog like that. “I just…I didn’t really mean to…”

Fuck you up is what the big guy can’t bring himself to say. It’s probably rude to tell him, I’ve had worse.

“No hard feelings, Major.” It’s half a laugh, half a groan as he hauls himself up his pillows, every muscle aching. “I did tell you not to go easy on me.”

A grimace is what he gets in reply, and a pained, “Still…”

The you didn’t know what you were getting into hangs in the air, heavy with implication. Like maybe he’s never fought a guy above his weight class. Like he’s never stood in front of a boy a third again his age, watching his knuckles crack beneath the cloth of his binds.

More like he doesn’t know how much he can mean it, a grim mouth huffs humorlessly. He will though. Give him a few months.

“Didn’t really expect you to try to kill me, though.” For a moment, he’s not quite sure who he’s talking to. He rubs at his jaw, pain scintillating beneath his palm, and, haah, yeah, he knows what fist laid a kiss on this cheek alright. “Damn, no wonder kaiju don’t walk away from you.”

“I wasn’t try to…” It’s funny watching a mountain hunch like that, shoulders riding up again his ears making him a whole range instead a single peak. “With someone who moves like you, there’s only two sure ways to win. I went with the one that relied on power. Wasn’t going to land many hits on you but had to make the ones I did count.”

“And then did too good a job.” That’s the thing with having a body that shares more in common with a jaeger’s chassis than human flesh; the fall back option is to just do everything more and harder. Obi had met more than a few men like that in his time, but none of them so friendly. “I gotta admit though, Big Guy, you got me curious. What’s the other way?”

Big lungs heave big sighs, and oh, this one feels like it could take a few trees with it before he settles back against the headboard. “Tire you out. Quick guys typically don’t have a lot of stamina when things drag on, so—”

“All right, all right, don’t let the ladies hear that one.” Or most of the men while he’s at it, even if Obi’s personal tastes tend more toward the techs tending the tin cans than the bodies they throw in them. “Don’t want anyone to get the idea that I can’t keep up off the mat either.”

That won’t be much of a problem. It’s rare to hear advice from that corner of his mind, but Buma’s habit always was to watch first and speak too late. Not with all the training you’ve done outside—

That’s Need To Know only. Obi casts a long glance over where giant feet nearly hang off the mattress. And I don’t think the Major needs to know.

“Anyways,” he huffs, the sort of quiet career boys get when they’re shy. “Sorry.”

“Aw, c’mon, Big Guy. I asked you to bring me a fight and you did! I’m hardly gonna blame you for that.” He turns his head, grinning at him across the poor excuse for a bedside table. “Besides, now I know what it’s like.”

Those puppy eyes blink, too innocent for a guy who could break him in half by breathing. “Hm? Do you mean—?”

His eyebrows lift —well, one of them tries to— enticingly. The wince probably doesn’t do him any favors. “Kissing your girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend.”

Oh, it’s a real treat to see a lantern jaw drop so hard it nearly shatters. Too bad Princess isn’t here to enjoy it. “What?”

“You know…” His fingers weave through some hazy dips and lazy dives. “I can see what was good between you and High Highness, or whatever. The way you’d could compensate for each other in the drift. But you and me” — his hand flicks between them— “we don’t fit.”

“Oh.” It’s a pleasure to watch his mouth wrap around that noise, to see him really wrangle with the meat of what his meaning. “Yeah. I get it. I think.”

“I mean, for one thing,” Obi says, so casual. “We’re both bottoms.”

“Come again?”

“Kidding, kidding.” Kind of, Sonisay hums, and oh, he could swear he feels that forked tongue flickering where she coils in his mind. I doubt he’d complain if that blonde woman took it into her head to—

Hey. Maybe if he had a mirror, he could give himself a warning look, the kind Doc was always giving him right before he took a joke too far. But instead he had to settle for just thinking louder, like trying to shout over a crowded bar. I still gotta talk to this guy with a straight face for the next twenty-four hours.

Sounds like, that too-familiar voice hums, a real personal problem.

It’s too bad Major Do-Right over there can’t hear the speculation of the peanut gallery; then he might no be so quick to let relief bring those shoulders relax, to settle back into those pillows with a sigh that speaks of a light conscience. What did Yuzuri say? If Obi doesn’t want to behave, he’ll drag you down with him…?

Well, he hates to disappoint.

“Or am I?” The cot nearly cracks down the middle from how fast the Big Guy turns on it, sputtering. Obi just tosses him a wink. “Don’t worry, Big Guy. I’m not the kind of girl who likes to kiss and tell.”

*

For all that their lovely nurse devotedly frets over the potential stupors they could slip into with even the slightest bit of shut eye, or sometimes even something like getting up too fast or breathing too easy, she’s sure eager to encourage them to piss all by their lonesomes one she’s sure they can make the walk.

“What, this doesn’t get you going?” Obi asks, peeking around the door. “I hear some people really get into—”

“I hear some people really don’t get jello at dinner,” she replies, shoving him bodily through the crack. “Wanna see if you’re one of them?”

“What if the stream’s too strong and I get vertigo?” He winces, hearing all those words echo in so small a space, but it’s worth it for the noise she makes outside the door. “What if I crack my head on the floor and get a double concussion?”

“Then at least you’ll be quiet.”

There’s a slam— a door. Not this one, the particle board so paper thin Big Guy could probably sneeze it off its hinges; but the heavier infirmary door, one meant to withstand a mortar shell, maybe even nuclear blast— but Obi doesn’t bother to bite back his grin. Maybe if he’s lucky, she’s run into Suzu on the way to the commissary and give him a full run down of all the ways she could make Obi’s death look like an accident. Some real romantic talk to keep a nerd warm at night.

With shake and a wriggle— how Big Guy managed to move around in here when his elbows keep cracking into the tile, Obi’ll never know— he wraps up his business, sauntering straight out onto the infirmary floor. With no kaiju to keep the place hopping, it’s dark, the only light coming from the lamp angled over Yuzuri’s desk, and from behind their ring of curtains. A nice way to find his way back; or at least it would be if he didn’t already count two shadows there: one hitched up on the bed, shoulder big enough to overflow the outline of the pillows, and the other—

The other’s standing, tall enough to make Big Guy seem normal sized, and radiating authority the same way the sirens do danger.

Ah, fuck. It’s the Marshal. Hide, a cacophony of whispers hiss, which— he’d love to, if there was a single goddamn place to do it.

“I take it this isn’t a social call.” Big Guy doesn’t have a deep voice, not the way the circumference of his chest would suggest, but he’s pitched it low now. Still too much to be contained by a curtain, though.

The Marshal cocks his head, wry. “Would you believe me if I said, ‘yes?’”

There’s a hesitation, a huff that might be something like humor. “No.”

“Then let’s not waste time pretending.” It might be a trick of the acoustics in this room, a little reverb on that tinny echo, but Obi could swear His Majesty sounds amused. “I’ve heard you’ve quite the rapport with our new ranger.”

Oh, hell. As if this isn’t the cherry on top of his shit sundae: not only is he stuck, standing right out in the open as the top brass talks Top Secret, he’s the topic they’re having tea over.

“News travels fast.”

“Danger of living in one of these little warrens.” The Marshal shrugs. “Rats like to chatter.”

Air hisses between Big Guy’s teeth, the way it did right before he threw his haymaker. “Not a lot of people eager to be on the wrong side of the mat from him. Not after the way he and Zen went at it the last time.”

“So you…what?” It’s uncanny how even the Marshal can make his voice; no inflection, no judgment, no answers. “Thought you’d help him keep his edge?”

“He asked.” There’s a rustle, a creak, and even though he can’t see it, he knows mountains are moving to make that shrug. “Not like I’ve got much to be afraid of.”

If one half of his face didn’t feel as ginger as the oldest wicker chair on some grandma’s patio, Obi might take some offense to that. That’s what you get for being so scrawny, a gruff voice scrapes over his ear, everyone underestimates you.

That, hums another, too pleased, is kind of the point.

“Good.” There’s something final in the way the Marshal says it, less like an observation, and more like an assessment. A test passed with much anticipated flying colors. “Keep doing that.”

Obi could cut the consternation in this room with a knife. “Excuse me, sir?”

“Was I not clear?” His Majesty’s tone conveys his confidence that he was. Maybe even too much so. “I’d like you to pursue this…relationship with our new colleague. Foster this tentative trust you have managed to build.”

Ha. Obi’s heart stutter hard enough— loud enough— that even the peanut gallery keeps their opinions to themselves. He should have known something like this would happen; sure, all the paperwork calls Hachimaru a failure, one that should have never flopped its way out of dry dock, but to someone like Izana Wisteria, well—

He’s got a reputation for ruthlessness for a reason. Enough of one that it escaped containment, slipping past the PDPC’s iron curtain of silence to spread around the streets of Sitka. Buildin’ a wall to keep the monsters out, one of the wallmen had chuckled over his pint, but no matter how high we do it, that one will still be in here.

Obi might have called that unfair, once. Sure, His Majesty wasn’t exactly a friendly guy, at least not with the rank and file, though there were magazines enough that showed him being chummy with the higher ups, but, well— pedigree might have put him in a pod, but it wouldn’t have pulled him a position so high above it. No, that only went to the corps' top minds, the ones who knew what it took out there to take your lumps and drag your metal coffin home. The ones who understood what they were asking when they dumped two men out into the Pacific and asked them to stop a natural disaster or die trying.

But if that guy is gonna meddle in his business like this, well, maybe once they finish building that wall, they can dump him over it. Lets the monsters sort it out between themselves. Knowing the Marshal, he’d still find a way to come out on—

“No.”

“No?” The way the Marshal wraps his mouth around the word sends shivers up his arms.

“I can’t do that. I mean, I won’t.” Big Guy snorts, like there’s a stench in the air he can’t quite get rid of. “I’d do a lot for you, sir, I would. Take a bullet. Die for the cause. But I’m not going to…to manipulate that man back into a jaeger for you. Not like this.”

A breath catches in Obi’s throat, nearly choking him. Big Guy’s got a heart of gold, but he can’t possibly be stupid enough to— to—

“Well well.” To his utter surprise, the Marshal laughs. “Good thing that’s not what I’m asking.”

Big Guy grunts. “Isn’t it?”

“If you couldn’t manage to convince my brother into the cockpit, I doubt you’ll have much luck with a man you barely know.” For how casually it’s said, there’s a bite to it, each word honed to sting. “I only meant that he’s not responding to the typically recommended course of therapy.”

Right. Because after that one session with Doc post-drift, all his peanut gallery clamoring to have their turn now that cat had clawed its way out of the bag, he hadn’t been able to drag himself back. And with all the dinners and hallway-run ins they’ve had since, Doc didn’t seem eager to sit him back down on her couch any time soon either.

“But he seems responsive to you, Major Lowen.” Or at least responsive to getting his shit kicked in, whatever that said about him. “Rangers are typically taciturn about their issues. I thought this route might be worth encouraging, since he seems amenable. Sometimes it’s easier for military men to discuss their problems with someone who has gone through the same ones. Especially” —Obi doesn’t need to see his smirk to know it’s there— “if they’re with the same person.”

Obi might not have stuck around under his dome once the dust settled, but he knew all about guys like Lowen. The regulation haircut, the closet full of BDUs, the fondness for field rations and boiled chicken— just a thin veneer of muscle and bravado over a reflex to ‘sir, yes, sir’ his way out of any problem more complex than picking which socks to put on in the morning. He might have stuck his neck out for something that twinged the weather vane that was his moral compass, but now that someone with stars and bars has explained to him that black is white, he’ll—

“That all?” Big Guy’s too nice to spit out the “sir?” but that little hitch before it, that small hesitation— well, sky writing would have been more subtle.

“Yes.” There’s no tone to that one either, no flavor. Just the implacable bite of subzero. “Unless, of course, there’s something you’d like to discuss?”

There shouldn’t be, his tone conveys, clear enough it could be heard in the hangar. Obi could swear he hears Big Guy’s teeth grind from here.

There’s a long stretch of silence, the kind that makes his skin itch.

“Just one thing, actually. Sir.” The bed creaks, and his shadow shifts, pulling straight. “Been noticing there’s a lot of hopefuls hanging around the past few months. Thought they might be clearing out now that all this business with Tyrannis is done.”

The Marshal hums, distant. “There’s hardly any rush, Major. A few sets of extra hands is always welcome.”

“Even when they don’t come with their own ride?”

For once, His Majesty hesitates. “Even then.”

“Even” —Big Guy almost savors his next words— “if they’re Hisame Lugis?”

“Dangerous times makes strange bedfellows.” The Marshal laughs, sour. “Especially ones like Hisame Lugis. Now if you don’t mind” — the curtain pulls aside— “I think our friend might like to use his bed. Isn't that right, Major?”

Ha, a voice tingles in his ear, busted.

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #pacific rim au #my fic #ans #there is something about this arc in this fic where i keep thinking i'll never have enough words #and then I get there and I have to move like at least one or two major scenes to another chapter #and POV! #but this one was less of a surprised because all of the peanut gallery was added in on the second draft #which changed a LOT of Obi's narration #and made him more introspective than I usually keep him #I think next chap is a Shirayuki chap #and is possibly more shippy. BUT WE WILL SEE

[aureutr]

My Mystery Pain in 2022, by Month

I feel trite being like “it’s been a journey!” but it kinda has.

Quick sum up, I have an acute pain roughly in the area of my right ovary. I used to think it was menstrual cramps because mine were horrible, but once I went on bc it persisted even though I wasn’t having periods anymore. So in roughly August 2021 I started trying to figure out wtf it actually is.

Also, all of this has been very expensive despite the fact that I have very good insurance through my husband’s job (I’m not asking for money, just a note).

2021

Thought it might be endometriosis, but OBGYN thought it was an ovarian cyst. Got ultrasounds, including a trans-vaginal ultrasound. It was not a cyst. OBGYN referred me to a GP.

GP thought it might be a hernia. Got a CT scan. Also had an MRI at some point but I honestly forget when in this span it was. The pain was not a hernia. GP referred me to a surgeon.

Surgeon poked at me and went “that’s probably endometriosis” and referred me back to the OBGYN

January

Had an exploratory laparoscopy to check for endo. They found some! ...on the wrong side. Nothing in the area of the pain that would explain it. Referred back to GP

February

GP referred me to a gastro NP (the wait to see the MD was months and months). She ordered a colonoscopy.

March

Colonoscopy comes back squeaky clean (literally, considering what you have to go through the day before 😂).

April

NP puts me on a couple of medications to see if they work (they don’t). At my request, refers me to a specialty clinic. I’m being vague on purpose, but think Mayo Clinic (it was not the Mayo Clinic)

Drive for hours (one way) to get to specialty clinic. They poke at me and go “umm this isn’t gastro related, go to pain clinic I guess?”

They say there’s not a huge difference between their pain clinic and what I’d find locally, so I ask for a referral I can take to a local place. It didn’t make sense to make the drive every time if I didn’t have to.

May

Check back in with GP. I have to say, I really like my GP. Just because she couldn’t find the answer and kept referring me to other doctors doesn’t mean she wasn’t doing her job. We had a lot of possibilities to eliminate!

Anyway, the pain clinic GP is associated with doesn’t have any appointments until September.

So I find another one!

New pain MD thinks it’s a nerve issue. Meralgia Paresthetica, he says. That covers a lot of possible specifics, but

I ask new pain MD about perhaps a TENS unit, because a friend of mine has one and I was curious as to if it would work for me. He literally screams at me about how it’s not a viable treatment. Sets up an appointment for a nerve block.

On my way out he hands me a printout about the condition so I can learn some more. Printout recommends TENS unit for mitigation.

Day of nerve block is weird af. There are a ton of people there, all patients. It’s run like an assembly line, almost. All of the nurses and assistants are great and kind and helpful. Pain MD is still a weird jerk.

I don’t know what he did, but all the nerve block accomplished was making the pain 100x worse (temporarily). When I mention this, he screams again about how he used imaging to find the nerve so what I was feeling wasn’t possible.

Follow-up was a phone call, during which I insisted my husband be present. Once again, Pain MD screamed at me for asking a question. He tells me that I can mitigate with lidocaine patches, but they probably won’t work so I should let him surgically implant an electrode instead.

I don’t want to do that, and even if it was the only answer I no longer trust Pain MD. Go back to GP and ask for a referral to the pain clinic I have to wait for.

In the meantime, start wearing lidocaine patches. It helps a little bit.

June

Waiting. Husband has knee surgery. It goes well and he heals quickly, and if I’m honest I’m relieved I can give some care back to him for a change. He doesn’t like to let people take care of him but I like to do it.

July

Waiting. But y’know, we can’t have socialized medicine in America because the wait times would be too long! 🙃

August

Still waiting! As a note, the pain is so bad that I regularly had to call out of work (generally half days, I always tried to push through until I couldn’t). I napped constantly, had almost no energy. I can’t use my home office because sitting upright in an office chair makes it worse. Nothing really makes it better other than sleep, but I found ways to prevent it from getting to the worst point.

September

After Pain MD, I now always have Husband go with me to initial doctor appointments so I can use his tall, white, cis dude powers to my advantage.

Fortunately, new Pain MD seems like a good guy and is very attentive. Has me do a pelvic X-ray because it was the only “easy” test that hadn’t been done. He didn’t think that it would be the answer, and was up front about that, but felt like it was due diligence. X-ray found nothing

He prescribes gabapentin, orders me a TENS unit, and puts me in physical therapy. He isn’t convinced physical therapy would help, but insurance will cover it and it’s something to try.

Gabapentin gives near-immediate relief. I drop from a daily 6 or 7 to a daily 2 or 3. It’s like I’m a person again.

Also refers me to a neurologist, whose first available appointment is December 30th.

October

Physical therapist is kind and helpful. Go 2x a week. It’s all individual exercises that aren’t hard on their own, but they add up.

I am still wearing lidocaine patches daily (I start cutting the big ones in half because I don’t like the material of the little ones), taking gabapentin, and regularly using the TENS unit. All together they help a lot, but nothing makes it completely go away.

November

Finish “evaluation period” of physical therapy. Pain has gotten worse since (not as bad as pre-mitigations, but still worse). Physical therapist and I agree that this is not a problem that PT can solve.

Have follow-up with new pain MD (actually with his PA). Gapabentin gets increased, no other changes.

December

Check in with pain PA again. She orders two separate nerve block tests, scheduled for January. They had been hesitant to do this because I had one done, but apparently the original pain MD I saw has a bad reputation. They didn’t dump on him, but professionally agreed when I did. There’s a suspicion that the first one was not done correctly.

Meet with neurologist (again, Husband comes to this first meeting). Mentions that this might possibly be a pinched nerve in my back, despite the core of the pain being in the front. Orders a nerve conduction study, not yet scheduled because insurance has to approve it first. Because American healthcare is hell. And I have good insurance!!

I also got laid off at the beginning of this month. Insurance is through my husband’s job, so fortunately that does not immediately affect my care.

Now

Three tests coming up (two nerve blocks, also nerve conduction study), then we’ll see. If it does turn out to be a pinched nerve in my back it might be fixable with surgery. But there’s a very good chance this is just something I live with and mitigate for the rest of my life. I don’t know yet.

Anyway, it’s kind of hard to feel creative on top of all of this so that’s why fics and art have kind of tapered off as the year wore on. I want to get back into it, but I try not to force hobbies. They should always be fun.

I don’t have a thesis statement to conclude. I wrote this out for me, really. I know this blog is mostly shitposts and fandom stuff, but it’s still a blog. Thanks for reading if you did, I hope you didn’t feel obligated to <3

#real life #tmi #this is mostly for me I guess #but wow it's been a lot

[moontheoretist]

“Doctor Strange?” One of receptionists poked her head in. “Oh, good! We got a delivery for you. Flowers.” Stephen blinked when she brought in a single, red orchid, planted in a tasteful, ceramic pot. He took the flower from her and opened the card. ‘Found you.’ - TS “And,” The receptionist continued. “There are more.” Stephen frowned and said, “More? How much more?” “Er, the entrance is full of them. The delivery man didn’t give me a name. He only said that you would know who the sender was.” “What the…what am I supposed to do with that many flowers??” Stephen exclaimed. “That douchebag!” Christine snickered beside him, which he didn’t appreciate. “Look on the bright side: it’s sweet. And expensive.” “He wouldn’t dare send me something cheap—not if he knew what was good for him.” “Of course not.” Stephen could also do without her smug condescension. That was his purview. “We’ll place them in tasteful spots around the ICU. Liven up the place a bit.” “Strange!” Fuller shouted as he entered the room. Stephen blinked. “Whatever it was I probably did do it. But we both know you’re not going to fire me so let’s not dwell on the past.” “God you’re insufferable,” Nic muttered. “Flatterer.” “You are a miracle worker, is what you are! I just arranged the delivery for three brand new, cutting edge MRI machines to completely replace the ones we have,” said Fuller as the rest of the room burst out into applause. “Can we still take a bat to the crappy one?” Someone called from the back. “No, sadly. But if you want to give it a discreet kick before Thursday I can’t stop you.” Fuller turned and beamed at him. It was frightening, to be honest. Fuller had never approved of a thing he did before. “Christine, he’s baring his teeth at me.” “That’s a smile, Stephen,” she sighed. “When I sent you off to that gala I assumed I would spend my Monday morning smoothing ruffled feathers,” Fuller began. “Then why send me?” Stephen asked. “I wanted you to suffer.” “Fair enough. Continue.” “But lo and behold I get a call from Tony Stark himself. He sounded a little hungover, to be honest. Actually he sounded drunk. But who cares? His money is still as green as the forests of the Pacific Northwest. Johnson at Mount Sinai Queens is going to be so jealous. He’s been unbearable since he got that research grant-” Fuller cleared his throat. “In any case. It seems you somehow managed to impress Stark.” “He may be a degenerate, but he’s a genius degenerate. He admired my formidable intellect and commitment to healing the sick.” “…He also asked some odd questions. I think he was trying to see if you were single and interested in men.” “Well, this is awkward.” “Look, Strange. I like to think of myself as progressive. You will find no greater ally than I-” “Oh God-” “Metro-General does not discriminate and the happiness and well-being of our employees is one of our highest priorities. We are a family-” “I hated my family.” “However, I think it would be nice if you could call the man back and give him our sincerest thanks.” Fuller placed a card face down on the table and began to slide it towards Stephen. “Dr. Fuller, it sounds as if you want to use me to get more money out of Stark.” Fuller gasped. “Dr. Strange! I am appalled and hurt you would say such a thing. I would never. HR would be furious! But here is his private number should you want to strike up a conversation. I don’t care about what—it’s none of my business. Although if you want my advice work seems like a good start.” Stephen rolled his eyes. “Work. Hm. Like my patients, my research…or those X-Ray machines you’ve been trying to replace?” “Like I said, it’s none of my business. Now. Let’s get started on rotations.” “Will you call?” Christina whispered. Strange eyed the numbers on the card—jet black against white. He memorized them before tucking it in his breast pocket. He’d shred it later. “Why not? You only live once.”

Have Time — Will Travel by flower-of-el (NibelungVelocity)

#i am losing my mind here #it's absolutely HILARIOUS #ironstrange #my face hurts #mcu fanfiction

[elirecoveryblog]

November 21, 2022 - My incident was unexpected and quite honestly a careless one. In my 31 years alive, I’ve never fainted nor was I aware of what the signs of fainting are. It happened as I woke up from a long nap after a day of dehydration and food poisoning. I was asleep dreaming about water and woke up thirstier than I’ve ever been! As I got up (too quickly), I started losing my vision and walking toward my kitchen for a bottle of water. The rest is just a blur…

Upon awakening, I see my wife and children crying before me asking me to wake up. My heart dropped and I couldn’t feel my arms, hands, fingers. I was confused as to what had occurred. Wife had already called EMS and all I could remember was feeling nothing but tingly sensations on both my arms and tender to the touch with every single movement causing pain.

As I was falling, I was unaware but I had called my sister Angela who got to my house quickly to ensure I was okay. Not sure why I called her but she overheard the entire incident and could hear my wife calling EMS. Angela offered to take me to the ER along with my brother in law Ric. God bless them.

After arriving at the ER and waiting a few hours, I finally see the ED physician Dr. Frantz. He wanted to discharge me saying all I needed was potassium after he checked me out and said my head was alright. When I fainted, I fell forward and hit my head very hard that I started convulsing according to my wife. I believe the ED physicians only concern was that my head and brain were fine and not swollen, which is understandable because I could speak and walk fine at that point but I still couldn’t feel my arms.

I insisted to the ED physician to get me checked out using radiology but he said it was “too expensive” (verbatim) and not worth it since I appear to be fine. He must of assumed I didn’t have the funds or insurance necessary? (Profiling perhaps, I was wearing a haggard clothing and some house slippers, he must have overlooked my yarmulke). I should have worn my Rolex. Even then, healthcare should be accessible for all taxpayers! But I digress…

I kept insisting due to my arms being in pain. CT scan (head) came back negative and as he was offering to discharge me, I still was hesitant. Why couldn’t I feel a normal sensation in my arms and why does it hurt when I move them or touch anything?

An MRI was ordered but they had me waiting in the lobby for (8) hours. After 8 painful hours, the MRI was performed. 40 minutes later, a trauma surgeon comes out with a C-Collar and says “you need to put this on, we will be admitting you for further evaluation and diagnosis”. I should have asked if they had any potassium on the side.

At that point I knew something was going on with me but I hadn’t a clue as to what. The rest is pretty much explanatory. 9AM the next day I speak to a neurosurgeon who has informed me that I have “Central Cord Syndrome” via a herniated disc measuring 4mm penetrating my spinal cord. This results the painful feeling in my arms. The neurosurgeon said he has seen some patients with similar issues unable to even walk. 😧

[wack-ashimself]

Turns out the healthcare system killed my other grandma too when I was in my teens. Found out this from a recent gathering. Supposedly, her doctor claimed one of her organs wasn't working correctly, producing whatever chemical the human body needs to survive (I want to say pancreas or thyroid, but I can't remember so I don't want to say for sure). Tho she felt overall fine. But she takes the pills she was told to take. She got worse. To the point the drug the doctor gave her KILLED said organ it was supposed to help. So she needed a NEW pill* to help fix the problem the first pill caused. And she only went consistently downhill after that till...there was no more hill. This was late 90s. I can't believe our healthcare system killed both of my grandmas. (And I'll bet they didn't help my grandpas...). I just know that we sure as fuck ain't getting healthier, and I've seen more people die in the past 2 years than I have any other point in my entire life....

*I heard a stat that, if true, is WAY worse than even I thought. 1/4 of all drugs approved by the FDA have to be recalled. 25%! 1 in 4! And that's the ones they RECALL; think of all the deadly drugs that they don't. Like the MRI dye that was so cheap, it killed my other grandma's organs. They HAD a safe dye that didn't do that, but it was too expensive and not covered by insurance. The healthcare industry used my grandma's like guinea pigs for profit. They kill for profit. AND THE MONEY IS FUCKING FAKE! SO WHY!? FUCKING WHY?! Sorry just...death isn't what bugs me. especially if they're old. PREVENTABLE death is what bugs me. And they both were preventable....The deadliest drugs on the planet have been legalized and approved by the FDA.

<Can you really believe we let the world get to what it is? The human race is doing absolutely nothing right in any category. WHY? We all want let alone deserve better. I'm ready to do the work. Are you? Cuz it is a LOT.>

#fda #drug #drugs #pill #pills #oxycodone hydrochloride 30mg #mri dye #mri #big pharma #the deadliest drugs have been aproved by the fda

[returntosaturn271995]

Thursday, November 30th: Healthy Girl Era

Being an adult, much like staying hydrated, is never never-ending process. This is kind of nice in that there's no real destination you can be beaten to or end up in, but it's also kind of annoying to wake up and realize: wait? I have to do it again? But I did something mature yesterday!

That's how they get you. No good deed goes unincorporated into the daily schedule.

Today's outfit going into my date: Oversized cream turtleneck, Chanel necklace, light wash jeans, white veja sneakers. Hair in a loose bun, minimal makeup.

Excitement going in: 3/10. He's giving off kind of douchey vibes (used the word prolly), but this is more about my dating strategy than it is about our likelihood of getting along. Considering I'm given to limerance, my only goal is to enter a date to observe the other person as opposed to trying to seem datable.

Review pending. I'm also walking to Costa Brava because I'm trying to beat the little move meter on my phone and am giving my shins a rest from running today.

Little wins:

Homemade delicious bagel with lox, chicken salad sandwich, and epic carrot and spinach smoothie for health reasons. I will destroy my food-ordering habit and it will be O-V-E-R for these hoes.

25 minutes of leg stretching yoga action, I am currently over 30 hours of practice.

Meditated on patience with the recommended straight back, at this point it's just pleasant as opposed to mind-numbingly boring. My breath is actually under control.

Dropped off rent check early for once

Cleaned the kitchen and bedside table

Lookin' fly in my Levi's.

I'm so peaceful and healthy now. Sigh. Boring. Pleasent though, would cancel on this guy and nap if I hadn't promised.

Text out of context:

Erin Burks: I want to get an MRI done again but I do not want to look at the co-pay for it

Hannah Mcpherson: Lmaooo my coworker has the same insurance plan I do and she got one on her knee and it was insanely expensive

Erin Burks: Lol yeah, better to just stroke out. If I pass out make sure to call an Uber and not an ambulance, I’d actually rather lapse in to a coma that wake up in medical debt.

Hannah Mcpherson: Honestly depending on if during a coma feels like 2nd life or not could be fun!

Erin Burks: If they don’t take blue cross/blue shield, so be it! Bring on the next simulation

Hannah Mcpherson: What if that’s what were in rn 😇

Erin Burks: Then I’d like whose controlling mine to give me a roommate who gives me less intrusive thoughts Preferably Jacob Elordi in a white T-shirt and jeans while we’re asking for things

[meningocelemama]

4.5.2023

Today was not a good day. It's interesting how one day, I can feel so sound in my decision. But then suddenly I'm not.

At 1115, I had a telemedicine visit with my OB. We reviewed the result findings, and she reiterated that the fetal MRI might have missed neural tissue (since the fetus is so small and was moving). If I decide to continue on with the pregnancy, then I will need to be comfortable with a spectrum of prognoses. That's exactly when my doubt started kicking in. I called Josh to tell him how I'm feeling and how we need to feel comfortable with an array of outcomes. He still wants to proceed with the pregnancy, since all the tests came back in our favor. But I just can't help thinking about the worst case scenario...

If he really does have a myelomeningocele and there's a lot of neural tissue involved:

Who will be his primary caretaker? If either Josh or I have to stay home to be the primary caretake, how will we live off of one salary?

How will this potentially affect my relationship with Josh? Josh's relationship with me?

Will this hinder my ability to further my career -> get into management, get my DNP, etc.?

Will this hinder Josh's ability to further his career?

Am I able to care of a child for the rest of his life (since he will have to be dependent)?

Will there be a lot of medical expenses? Will I have to go into medical debt?

What about other kids? Will I be too occupied to have other kids?

Talking to Josh did not make me feel better. I then thought talking to my mom about this would help. But boy, I was wrong. She was actively listening and kept reiterating that it's a tough decision, which I appreciated. When I agreed and expressed that I agree and that's why I'm having a difficult time deciding whether to keep the pregnancy or terminate, she questions whether I have been praying, talking to God, or talking to Daddy. I immediately lost it. The moment I knew about this abnormality I've been talking to every Higher Power out there to see if they can offer some guidance. Every birthday candle that I blew out involved a wish for clarity.

[hellokenmaz]

Ew embarrassing

#im gonna rant bc i dont want to annoy any of my friends right now ok #tw negative #im really tired of having chronic pain #like i literally have to plan my life around my chronic pain and its triggers or else i can end up in hospital #i cant go to any fairs or events with my friends now bc my docs have literally told me i cant do long times of walking or i will get worse #at physio today she told me no working out or exercise that will make me run walk or stand too long besides my new stretches #my kneecap keeps shifting and it pops out now if i walk to long #and my back pain gets triggered by me just walking around the mall for an hour #the pain meds are so expensive now and i dont want to rely on them cause then i need to buy more which means more money #but they work so well so i want to reach for them 😭😭😭 #the xray place wants to charge me like 500 bucks for an mri to truly find the issue but i literally cant afford that long term #i cant do anything interesting with my friends 😭😭😭 i cant go out or have fun #this is ew #im going to bed #i really dont want to let my mum or aunt know how much this is all affecting me mentally bc it will cause them to worry extra

[20dollarlolita]

Since I dropped hints at some drama yesterday without actually dishing, I"m going to save everyone who would be going through the blog's backlog to try to figure out what happened some time. IDK if other people do that but I've accidentally gone through someone's blog for hours because they said something I was mildly interested in in passing, so. This is for alternate universe me, if no one else

I had my ankle MRI'd because I've been having problems with it for almost a year. I've gotten the results but I haven't had a sit down with a podiatrist to know what to do about it. But basically the story of the ankle thus far goes Me: I think I sprained my ankle, but, like, on the inside edge. Overworked and uninterested Dr who was the only Dr my old insurance would pay for: No, you can't just sprain your ankle on the inside. Sprains on the inside almost always involve tearing ligaments and tendons. It's not a sprain. Narrator from Spongebob: Eleven months later. My current PCP: So your MRI results were abnormal. You have some chronic tears in your ligaments and tendons on the inside of your foot. You already have an appointment with the podiatrist I referred you to, right?

And scene.

I also have a broken pinky toe but that's not really a big deal AFAIK. I do not know if the broken pinky toe was also broken months ago or if I somehow managed to do it in the past fourish months of wearing various ankle supports/braces/immobilizers and not notice it among all the other chronic pain that goes on down there.

The bit about filing a police report for work sounds way more interesting than it actually is. We file a police report for every theft of serialized merchandise as part of the process of writing it out of inventory (I have a suspicion that this is largely to stop employees from losing/"losing" expensive machines and then marking them as stolen to cover up for it). I was doing the police report instead of my store manager doing it, because it happened close to closing, and the store manager lives far enough away that she wouldn't be able to get there before closing. And I know how to file a police report, so I was qualified. Never learn how to do things, folks, because it makes you come into work on your days off.

But I am going to say that my new life rule is that I don't want to get an MRI and file a police report in the same day ever again. Let's shoot for that as an attainable life goal.

#today at work #i guess? #life update #not remotely lolita

[sea-dukes-assistant]

How many times are we gonna do this shit? An Essay.

Maybe I did miss the memo. Maybe there are rules to running a blog about a royal. I'm long past the point of caring. Also, I'm 'Merican, and for better or worse we just say "fuck it" and do what we want (ain't that right, Britain?!). Either way, I wrote some shit yesterday and I am riding that wave into this morning, despite the fact that *sigh* I am once again repeating myself.

This blog was never a "royal blog." If you go back to summer or 2012 when it was created (a few months before I left for the Navy, as well), nothing has changed much, except that fact that he existed , and people hated me a bit worse back then. After enduring random bullshit for the apparently breaking some Tumblr "royal protocol" (HA! Maybe that's why Rachel was on my dick so much back then), it began to feel like the existence on this blog had to constantly be justified and explained. I've often felt like the strange bug you'd found on the sidewalk, needing to be poked and prodded at as you analyze its threat level. I guess a lot of you just don't have a sense of humor...or perhaps you place him on a higher pedestal than I do, given we have a grand total of zero (0) monarchs in 'Merica (yaaay!).

Anyway I didn't just wake up and decide I wanted to suck his dick, like it seems some of you think, nor do I want to have sex with old men. As I have stated numerous times, it began as "oh cool he was in the Navy," which lead to reading, which led to this blog, which inevitably led to feels that quite frankly I never asked for, struggled with, and still struggle with. Truth be told, it was this scene that finally made it click that yes, I was indeed DTF with young(er) Sea Duke:

For the rest of it, you can blame Danelle specifically. She and some random anon goaded me more and more, until I finally wrote my first ever shit fanfic. Die mad about it.

Also there are various other ways in which I could have used/employ to cope with my own personal trauma, his death, as well as sorting out my feels. If you think my writing is stupid, deranged, or means that I am mentally still hovering slightly above "barely functioning," just tell me you want me to drink myself to death, ok? Don't be a pussy; put your name on it and just tell me. Like that one time someone on my personal told me I should shove my gun up my ass and pull the trigger. Tell me you would rather I quit caring about myself than use a healthy coping mechanism, because "I don't like it" or "it's not correct," or "omg you used the mean words I want sunshine and rainbows fuck ur trauma!"

Which, lol, reminds me of all the times I've been told to "get my head checked." Buddy. I suffered a knock to the head so bad it should have killed me. I have had my head checked more times than I care to remember, from an MRIs to intense psychological testing. There is nothing wrong with me with respect to my ability to function/cognitive abilities (in fact they seem to be in better state that a good chunk of this fandom). Sit down, read your expensive toilet paper, and shut the fuck up.

I'm not sorry for not having the content you expected. I did at one time, but that time has passed. It’s a strange thing, to grieve someone who you never knew, who had no tangible impact on your life, who gave you no “logical” reason to form any sort of attachment whatsoever.  But it happened and here I am, living my (2nd) best life and doing exactly what the fuck I want on my own damn blog that you don't pay me for.

#personal #*sings fuck all the way off to the tune of Let It Go* #I literally shitpost and share photos with not boring captions #oh yes and write unreasonable self-gratification #if you think that's bad you should see the Kpop fandom #my shit tame af compared to REAL fanfic