#there are so many stories of women if color getting sterilized by these same doctors promoting 'prolife' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

momolady · 5 years

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Vampire Clinic: Elvera & Behr

Happy Saturday! Enjoy a brand new story! Huge thanks to everyone who donated to have this happen so fast! Just fair warning, features period sex.

Your friend Tara had directed you to the clinic, she had even made an appointment for you and everything. She only spoke highly of the place, telling you that her periods were unbearable before we started visiting Dr. Leeche’s Menstrual Clinic.

“I’m telling you, you’re going to love it!” Tara told you the day before, right as your cramps were at their peak. “Everyone there is really nice and accommodating. If you aren’t comfortable they work with you until you are. This consultation will match you with the right specialist and once your flow starts they get you in the door as soon as they can.”

You huff and snuggle with the hot water bottle. “Sounds too good to be true. Like some sort of late night infomercial.”

Tara frowns at you. “Look, I’m telling you from experience it is not that!” She pops your arm. “The whole thing was so luxurious, like some sort of spa visit.”

“Yeah but-” you start unsurely. “It’s like...vampires and stuff...down there.” Your eyes flicker to your thighs then back up to Tara’s face.

“It’s amazing,” Tara urges. “Trust me, once you have your consultation tomorrow and get to meet with your specialist you’ll be fine.”

You’re not to sure, but you’re far more curious than anything. The next day Tara takes you to Dr. Leeche’s Menstrual Clinic. It looks like any other steril office building save for the fancy font by the door and the blacked out glass. As you walk up you notice a few women leaving the building, their faces flushed and a look of tranquility in their eyes.

“Go on,” Tara urges me and we walk up the stairs.

Inside the waiting room is comfortable and pretty. The scent of lavender fills the air mingled with a hint of something sweet like vanilla or maraschino cherries. You go up to the front desk where there is a spectacularly good looking man. You feel anxious again, unnerved by how beautiful he is.

His long dark hair is slicked back and put into a bun. He’s wearing glasses over his honey colored eyes and has a complexion as creamy as butter. He glances up at you and gives you a smile that could cause a heart attack.

“Can I help you?” He asks.

“Yes I uhm-” Your mouth flops open like a dying carp. “Well you see-” You clear your throat. “I have an appointment?”

“Consultation or session?” He asks.

You glance to Tara who gives you a thumbs up and you look back at the too beautiful man. “Consultation. I think uhm-” you search your bag for the business card. “I think it said it was with Dr. Behr?”

“Name?” He asks.

You give your name and he types it in. He smiles again then places a clipboard before you. “Sign these documents please. We’ll call you when Dr. Behr is ready.”

“Thank you.” You take the clipboard and sit down on one of the many comfortable chairs. Tara helps you through the sluggish process of signing all the papers.

Your name is then called as you finish the last page. “Follow me,” the too beautiful man says. “Dr. Behr is ready.” He takes the clipboard as you walk back. You go through a narrow hallway before entering an examine room. You sit down on the paper covered table and wait a bit.

The door opens and a hulking figure comes in. The man is tall with dark gray hair and the most well kept beard you’ve ever seen. He has the same creamy complexion as the man out front as well as dark red eyes.

“Welcome,” he grins at you. He reminds you of a lumberjack in doctor’s clothes. He pulls up a stool that seems too small for him. “I’m Dr. Behr,” he shakes your hand. “How is everything today?”

“Ok,” you murmur. “Cramping a lot.”

He scribbles things down on a clipboard. “Has your flow started?”

You shake your head. “Just some brown spotting,” you reply. “Any day now it’ll kick in I’m sure.”

“Do you keep track of your cycle?” Dr. Behr looks at you but it isn’t unnerving. He has a comforting aura around him.

“Kind of?” You shrug. “I have an app but I don’t really use it like I should.”

“I’m going to suggest you start using it more and keep tabs of your symptoms, that way, we can better help you as well as be better prepared for future sessions.” Dr. Behr scribbles down more on his clipboard. He asks you several other questions about your cycle, some more personal than others. He also asks you about things you like, food, drinks, activities. All these things are supposed to help assess you and assign you to a specialist who is best prepared to help you.

“We have female and male specialists,” Dr. Behr takes off his glasses. “We also have some nonbinary members as well. Which would make you feel more comfortable during sessions?”

Your face burns red hot. “Well uh-” you think for a long moment. “It doesn’t matter really. I think I’d be nervous with anyone in that area,” you chuckle anxiously.”

Dr. Behr smiles at you. “Are you sure? No preference whatsoever?”

“No preference in the bedroom,” you say with a shrug. “None here either.”

Dr. Behr chuckles and makes a note of it on his clipboard. He then stands up and walks over to the counter where rows of business cards are lined up. “I have just the specialist in mind for you.” He picks up a card from the dozens. “And don’t feel like you have to be chained to them either. You can switch a specialist at anytime, just schedule a consultation with me again.” He holds out the card to you. “Once your period starts I suggest you give it a full day before you call.”

I look over the card. “Dr. Elvera Keating,” you murmur.

“Trained her myself,” Dr. Behr smirks. “She’s very good. I think you’ll enjoy her quite a bit.” He then opens a large jar filled with suckers and hands you one from inside. “Cherry vanilla, right?”

You take the red and white swirled treat. “Yeah,” you gasp. “How did you-” you then chuckle. “You sure you can’t be the specialist?”

“Only in emergency cases,” he licks at his chops. He leads you back out to the waiting room and shakes your hand again. “We look forward to seeing you again.”

The next day your period starts, and it’s heavier than before, which caused you some concern. You call Dr. Keating to inform her you would need a session the next day.

“Dr. Elvera Keating,” her voice is a husky whisper. “How can I help you?”

You swallow down the lump in your throat. “Yes, uhm, hi. I was just referred to you by Dr. Behr yesterday. Uhm...my flow started today and it’s really heavy. I just wanted to know if I could get in tomorrow.”

“Yes of course,” she purrs. “I can take you at noon on the dot. Is that ok?”

“Perfect,” you nod to yourself.

“I just ask, if possible, you wear a pad in to the session, makes things a bit easier.” She replies. “I also request you shower before hand and wear something comfortable.”

“I can do that,” you reply.

“Great,” she almost purrs. “I look forward to meeting you tomorrow. Take care of yourself until then.”

The next day you do as she requested. You got into the shower and scrubbed up nice, afterwards you picked out a comfy outfit of a t-shirt dress and legging, wearing a pad as she suggested.

You go to the office and the too beautiful man makes a call. Moments later he leads you back through the narrow hallway and into a room that looks more like a massage parlor than a doctor’s office.

The floor is white marble and the walls are painted a marbled green and white. There are paper blinds over the windows and the light inside is dim. Close to the center of the room is a big comfy looking chair and beside it there is a table with stirrups. There is that scent again of lavender with a touch of vanilla. Across the room there is a desk with bookshelves behind it. A woman is sitting at the desk and she looks up as you come in.

“Welcome!” She stands from her desk, removing her glasses and tilted her head to look at you. “Come on in.” She approaches you and puts her hand on your shoulder while she closes and locks the door. “It’s very nice to meet you,” her smoky voice is seductive and lovely. “I’m Dr. Keating, but you can call me Elvera.”

Elvera is tall and curvy with sleek black hair in a trimmed bob. Her skin is the same cream as Dr. Behr’s and the too beautiful man’s. Her nails were painted sapphire blue.

“Which would be more comfortable for you?” She asks you. “The table of the chair?” She takes hold of your hand as she leads you into the room.

“Which do you prefer?” Your voice cracks from nerves.

Elvera smiles at you and her dark eyes shimmer. “This isn’t about me today.” She tucks your hair behind your ear. “This about you and make you feel better.”

“Sorry,” you look down. “I’m nervous.”

Elvera slips her fingers under your chin and lifts your head up. “It’s ok to be nervous. I’ll work with you until you’re comfortable.” She brushes your hair from your eyes. “You have lovely eyelashes,” she coos.

Your cheeks burn as she inches closer. You instinctively close your eyes as her soft, cool lips brush against yours. Is this supposed to happen? You lean in further to the kiss, letting her long tongue slither between your lips.

Elvera giggles. “Very cute.” She steps back. “If you’d like to disrobe I have towels you can wrap around yourself. She dims the lights more as you strip out of your clothes. She takes your dress and leggings and hangs them up.

You wonder if you should take your bra off. You then sit down on the chair and pull away your panties, pad with them.

Elvera unbuttons her shirt and hangs it away as well. She then comes to you and kneels down in front of the chair. “Do you want a towel to wrap around yourself.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m fine.”

Elvera pushes open your legs and kisses you inner thigh. The chair leans back and Elvera scoots your hips closer to the edge. “Just relax, take calming breaths,” she kisses your mound and rubs her long fingers to your vulva. “And enjoy me.”

“I uhm-” you stutter. “What’s going to happen?”

The cool, slick sensation of Elvera’s tongue on your slit makes you lose your breath for a second. You look down, seeing her jaw has hinged slightly and opened. You’ve never seen a vampire this close before.

Elvera’s dark eyes flick up to your as her tongue presses at your folds. You see your blood on her lips and she moans hungrily.

“Everything ok?” She purrs as her strong hands squeeze your thighs. “Is it ok if I go a bit deeper?”

I nod anxiously and lean back more. “Yeah,” you pant.

Elvera giggles and her lips kiss along your lips. Her tongue then slips inside, teasing and rolling around just inside the entrance. It tickles and makes you squirm for a moment. The touch is too light but somehow it feels good.

“Anh-” Elvera moans. “You taste so good,” she licks at her chops. “I’m going to really start the sessions now. If at anytime you want me to stop, just tell me.” She leans back in, cupping her mouth around you as her tongue pushes inside.

You gasp and flinch, her tongue is longer than it seemed. It’s thicker too, pushing inside you and going deep, nearly all the way back inside. Elvera slurps and snarls as he tongue thrashes around inside you. She gulps and groans and your blood smears on her cheeks and lips. Her eyes are closed but the hungry expression still lingers there. Her brows pinch and her fingers dig deeper into your thighs.

You moan and grab onto the arms of the chair, gasping for breath as she pulls from you a deep, dark pleasure. Your legs tremble and your breath heaves for a moment. You gulp down cool breasts and press your palms against your breast.

Elvera pulls back, her long tongue slurrping from you. Her face is covered in blood, making her look like the cherry vanilla lollipop Dr. Behr gave you. “Just a check in,” she growls. “How are you feeling?” She strokes her hands up your chest and kneads her fingers into your breasts.

“I uhm-” you can’t think of anything to say. She’s made you forget how to talk.

“I need confirmation to continue,” Elvera purrs.

You nod. “It’s good. It’s very good.”

Elvera smirks and kneels back down. “Then I’ll continue our session.” She kisses you clit, sucking it before placing her fingers on it. Her tongue pushes back inside you and her gulping and slurrping continues. Her finger rubs to your clit, making you shudder and tremble. You push up your bra to touch your breasts directly. You don’t know why you need this stimulation there now, but it feels so good to squeeze and pinch them as Elvera feasts upon you.

You squeeze around Elvera’s tongue and throw your head back. Her long fingers brush against your neck and you let out a pleasured cry. Elvera moans against you and rubs her hands up and down your thighs and stomach.

“Oh god-” you moan. “Oh god!” You cup your hand around your mouth to keep your voice in check.

Elvera continued to slurp and moan, eventually pulling away from you. You blood is smeared all over her mouth and face, dribbling down her neck and chest and between her soft breasts. She moans as she licks her lips and she grins down at you.

“You look quite happy with your session.” She rubs her thumb across your bottom lip where you have drooled. “You do have quite the heavy flow.” She walks over to her desk and picks up her phone. “I need some help with this one.”

“Help?” You pant.

Elvera smiles at you then turns her head. “Oh yes, Behr, can you come to my office. I’ve got quite the case on my hands.

Dr. Behr? Your head is still swimming in afterglow so it’s hard to process any information coming in.

Moments later, the lumberjack in doctor’s clothes comes into the room. “Oh, yes. I remember you.” He strides over to Elvera and licks her mouth and cheek. “I see what the issue is.” He removes his shirt, showing off the wall of peppered chest hair. “Is it ok if I check you out as well?” He asks as he kneels between your legs.

“I uhm-” you gulps down a breath then nod.

“Excellent!” Dr. Behr grins. “You can call me Kurt if you like.” He spreads your thighs open again and he eases a finger inside of you. You twitch around his knuckle and he kisses your thigh. After a moment he pulls his finger out and sucks it clean. The deep moans that rumbles in his chest makes you excited.

Elvera stands beside you, rubbing your shoulders and kissing your temple. “Just relax. He’s one of the best here.”

Dr. Behr laughs. “I’ve been mainly tending to Dr. Leeche’s business while she’s been away.” His tongue presses at your folds and he moans loudly. He looks up at you as his tongue pushes inside.

Elvera touches your breasts and kisses you. You can taste blood on her tongue as it slips into your mouth. You kiss her back, wanting more. Dr. Behr sounds like his namesake. He sounds and feels like a snarling bear trapped between your thighs. He growls and grunts then pulls away from you, just vampiric jaws unhinged slightly. “I need better access than this. Elvera,” he lays back on the floor as Elvera guides you. She makes you ease down onto Behr’s face. He then grabs hold of your hips, pulling you down like your smothering him.

You gasp and moan, writhing a bit. You then watch as Elvera unzips Behr’s slacks and pulls his cock out from within. Her tongue coils around it and she moans hungrily as she pulls it into her mouth. Behr’s snarls and efforts become more intense under you.

“Oh fuck-” you cry out. You roll your hips, unable to keep still for very long. You focus on Elvera gulping down Behr’s cock. She then pulls back and chuckles at your expression. “Is she ready, Kurt?”

Behr growls, his thick, strong fingers digging hard into your hips and ass. “That’s up to her.”

Elvera kisses you. “Do you want to finish this?” She purrs.

“What?” You mewl. “No I uh-” You then clam up in embarrassment.

Elvera kisses you again as she moves you forward. Behr sits up, pressing his chest against your back as his cock is squished between your thighs. “One last treatment,” he growls into your ear as his big hands cup and squeeze your breasts. “Do you want it?”

You moan as his tongue licks up your neck. “Fuck, yes!”

Behr chuckles and picks you up. Her carries you over to the table and lays you on your stomach across it. You feel his thick cock rub against your ass and then after a moment he slips inside. You squeeze tight around him as he stretches you open.

Behr’s fingers dig into your ass as he growls. “Won’t take long.” His hand pets up your back and grabs your neck. “Unless you want me too.” He starts driving himself deep inside you. You cry out, gasping for breath as his cock pulls something deep from inside.

Elvera and Behr kiss as he ravages you. His fingers knead into your neck and your eyes begin to roll back into your head.

“I’m going-” you voice breaks and strains. “Oh god!” You rip the paper lining the examine bench. “Oh fuck!”

“I feel it,” Behr snarls as he leans over top of you. His hairy chest rubs against your back and his hand cups around your neck. “Cum. Do it.” You feel his teeth on your neck.

You cry out, nearly screaming until Elvera kisses you. Behr ruts and throbs, releasing deep inside of you. Your vision is blurry and your whole body feels like a wet noodle.

“Mmh-” Behr groans as he pulls out of you. “That should help with the heavy flow.” He rubs your thighs and lower back. “I would suggest coming in for a massage every now and then as well. I think your uterus might be tilted, which could explain the cramps and the backache you get.”

“What?” You drool.

Elvera giggles. “I think you may have given her too much, Kurt.”

“I always do,” Behr kisses Elvera. “So, how do you feel?”

You wobble as you sit up, your hair is ragged and your bra is akimbo on your chest. “Is that...normal?” You ask.

Behr smirks at you. He cups your chin in his palm and turns your head one way and then the other. “Usually just what Elvera did before would be enough, but it seems like you needed the extra stimulation to help the flow even out.”

“Do you had to cum in me?” You swoon.

“Vampire cum has some rather interesting effects on a human uterus.” Behr purrs for me as he smooths my hair down. “Sort of like a more enjoyable birth control.” He picks up his pants from the floor. “I suppose from now on we’ll have to do joint sessions with this one.”

“I’ll make sure to add that to her file, Kurt.” Elvera sighs.

Behr comes back over to me. “Lay back again,” he says gently. “One last inspection.”

“Oh uhm...ok.” You lay back on the table and her places your legs in the stirrups. Elvera joins Behr and her fingers rubs against your dripping slit.

“There it is,” Behr purrs. His tongue laps at you as his seed spills out. You grunt and moan, still sensitive and twitchy. Behr moans against you, lapping you up. He then takes a warm, wet cloth and cleans you.

“I suggest from now on, between your sessions, you use a menstural cup. With your heavy flow it will save you money and hassle in the long run.” He walks naked to a cabinet. “What color would you like? Blue, pink, purple, or orange?”

“Uhm-” your head is still swirling. “Blue?”

He takes down a blue box. “Ok good. I also suggest you start coming for massages before and after your cycle for your lower back ache. It’ll make things a lot of bearable.”

Elvera is writing everything down in a file.

You sit up as Behr helps you out of the stirrups. “When should I visit again?” You’re starting to return to your normal senses. “Next month?”

“If you need to, day after tomorrow. Just give Elvera a call and she’ll inform me of your visit.” Behr winks down at you.

“Oh,” You gasp. “Really? So soon?”

“Special cases receive special treatment,” Elvera replies. “So, did you enjoy it?”

You grin as you fetch your clothes. “More than I expected to.”

“It may not be glamorous,” Behr says as he pulls his pants back on. “But anything we can do to help.” You catch one last glance at his cock before he zips his pants up. “If we can use our abilities to make this world feel a bit better, that’s what matters.”

“Is it ok if I go ahead and schedule for the day after tomorrow?” You fidget in place. “I mean, just so I can plan ahead.”

Behr smirks at you. “Elvera, lock her in for noon then too.” He approaches you and kisses your forehead. “Thanks for lunch,” he growls into your ear.

#monster fudger #vampire #monster boyfriend #monster girlfriend #lemon #tw blood #my writing

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thebiasrekkers · 4 years

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Edge of Forever [BTS Space!AU]

BTS Space!AU [ ♧ ✪ ✿ ☆ ❂ ☾✘ ] “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players: they have their exits and their entrances; and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages.” The stage is set and the stars are the guide for the lost souls that have congregated to one point. A fixed constant in the universe for others to discover and fulfill their wishes but will it come to ruin for others?

Pairings: BTS X OC (s) Genre: BTS Space!AU Warnings: Graphic Violence, Heavy Language

AO3

AN: Ah! There’s people who like this?? I’d like to give a shoutout to @pinkpjmin who wanted a tag for this mess of a story! If there’s anyone who wants to be on the shoutout list when I finally post, let us know! I purple all of you!

Chapter 18- From Yesterday

"But it's hard to admit How it ends and begins On his face is a map of the world."

It was a grueling 72 hours since they started to work on Lirael, barely even stopping to take meal breaks. The only reason that they did was because Jin practically shoved food down their mouths, making them choke and pause to chew. He was worried about Namjoon and Hoseok if they kept it up but what bothered him the most was the person that they were working on. He didn’t realize that with her awakening, it would affect him so much. He tried to watch as they worked on her, actually seeing what she was made of--the intricate details that wove together her biological parts with the technological aspect.

Yet, among the blood and wires--he felt a sort of kinship with her and she didn’t even speak one word to him yet. His fingers grazed the outer corners of his eyes, the sharp and unnatural color of them was a constant reminder of what happened to him. The faint scars that he could feel there practically burning as he watched them work on her. Jimin, along with others, had come to the ship about a day ago but his reaction was something similar to Yoongi’s. And it surprised him greatly, on both accounts.

Jimin had burst into tears when he saw what they were doing to her, to which Vairuit steered him away from the area. Nyala joined them in the room, getting looked at while Namjoon was finishing up with what he was doing. She watched over them while everyone else could stand outside and look through the glass into the sickbay. Jin was one of the ones that had been standing there for a while, Yoongi coming and going to check up on everything. He still couldn’t get a good read on the man but one could tell that he was disturbed by what was going on. When he wasn’t there, he would slink back to the cockpit to sit with Jungkook to watch over the area.

Jin dropped his hand from his eyes, the old ache reverberating through his head and face. The faint memory of the incident bothered him from time to time, even more so when he encountered something that would remind him of what happened. Which was why he couldn’t be in the same room as them, nor could Jimin since he had something similar happen. He got along better with Jimin sometimes because of it, the both of them having the scars of repair. It hurt his heart that someone like her would have to have the same ones they had. No matter what she was, she was an innocent in their band of rogues.

“Oh, he’ll be a good one soon.”

The needles and the sterile atmosphere were a constant reminder of where he was. For more than half of his life, he’d been there in those same rooms as fingers and tests were constantly bothering him. That voice, silky and low, was something that haunted his dreams constantly as he had to hear it in his waking moments. They were always doing something to his body, testing it for something that was beyond his scope of understanding. His tears and pain had long dried up, becoming a husk of what he used to be. But that was the way that they liked it, their subjects compliant with everything they said.

Oh, how they praised Samael for his accomplishments, showing off his body and charts to some of the others in his circle. He remembered actually being alarmed with his superiors, fear flooding his veins more than normal when he laid eyes on Samael’s boss. The stare troubling him more than the rest, more than the needles and the procedures. He was to be a prototype for a new army that they were breeding, seeing what all they could get away with. The applications being implanted in their project, the Maiden Program.

He understood snippets of what they were talking about, how close they were to the perfect being and with what they were doing to him--it would all go to it, a being born specifically for their purposes.

He cried, shivering in his corner once he was taken back to his cell. His whole body ached after that meeting, the fear and the understanding that he was nothing more than a canvass for science. It was one time that he couldn’t drive away the pain, humiliation and his whole reality by delving into a dream of a field of warmth. That same golden field where he could sink his hands into the foliage, the warm dirt beneath his feet and the gentle wind that lightly caressed his bare skin. He often saw that scene in his dreams, chasing away the cruel voice and fingers that haunted his waking moments. Often, a girl would join his dreams and would tell him in a soft voice to hold on--to believe in his dream of freedom. A girl with golden hair, just like the field.

“You need to get up!”

He awoke from that sweet dream, the feeling of stiffness from the past tears that had fallen down his face. He rubbed his face as he realized that there was someone else in his cell, someone that was at that meeting. He remembered the cold, blue eyes and instantly shied away from him. The man crouched down, a finger on his lips as he reached around to pull out a black mask. It was something he recognized from a man that frequented the labs, one that always got into arguments with Samael. He put the black mask on himself, the only thing showing was his icy eyes--the whole getup striking him like someone had actually stooped over to slap him.

It was the Demon Sonneillon, the harbinger of death among the top tier Guild. However, he knew the man as someone kind despite what he could do to others. The man would visit, to keep the Mad Doctor in check but would always pity the subjects in his care. While Samael was gone, Sonneillon would give them a sweet treat--the hatred in the man’s eyes would evaporate when dealing with the lab rats.

“Do you want to live here for the rest of your life?” The demon held his hand out to him, getting up from his crouched position. He knew better than to trust a Demon but his offer was one that was sweeter than the sterile life there. After finding some clothes for himself, the pair found their way towards the docking bay. However, they couldn’t just escape quietly as Samael caught them in the act. His dark skin, wicked grin--he was enjoying the mice running around in the maze. Sonneillon roared with anger, killing all that dared to bother him and the ones he freed. It was like a dying beast, getting in the last hunt before succumbing to his weaknesses.

He was scared but her voice urged him on, to hold onto his freedom. He’d had a taste of what it was like, the exhilarating moment that had his soul singing. People dropped all around him but he kept close to the demon that freed him.

Samael caught up to them, smiling like he had found the answer to all of his problems. He held out a hand, inviting him to stay--to become something bigger. But his tone was far from warm and safe, a threat lined underneath the words. It was almost compelling him to stay, a command laced in the undertones. He resisted, the desperation that he was holding onto that kept him from running towards the Doctor.

However, that was the wrong answer as Sonneillon yelled for the Mad Doctor to die. Something ugly twisted his features as he lashed out at the insubordination. He ran in front of the attack, catching the full brunt of it to keep his only friend and savior from being hurt. The attack caught him in the face, rendering him blind and bleeding. He didn’t know what happened next, only darkness and pain that kept him going. He could deal with that, pushing past his body’s limits as he was made to do. The demon helped him into the ship but found that he was locked out from using it. He could hear the frustration in the demon’s voice, ready to die for his own freedom.

But there was something that the demon didn’t know, a way out.

He was able to use the ship, access its systems due to the modifications that had been forced upon him. The synaptic processor that had been implanted into his brain, replacing his parietal lobe--it allowed him to “see” and bypass the locks. After all, the brain is the most complex computer in a species like himself. His reflexes and body enhancements were just enough to escape the Guild, eyes bleeding and brain being strained from the effort. He was going to get them out of there, to chase his wish of freedom.

He awoke to another hospital but one that treated his injuries instead of that hell he was in. Blind and scared, he turned to the Demon that saved him--one that still stayed with him instead of abandoning him to his fate after escaping. He would have to lay in the darkness for a while until something could be done but they were free. A feeling that he only experienced in his dreams, finally a reality.

“Shikoba, what do you want to do now?”

A bloody tear fell from his damaged eyes, one that wasn’t soaked up by the bandages around his face. He didn’t know the answer to that but there was one thing he was certain of. He reached up and started to scratch at the tattoo on his forearm, to the point where it was bleeding. Sonneillon tried to stop him but his strong fingers had dug into the skin, disrupting the tattoo that was there. Pushing the man away, he had mauled his skin until he was satisfied. By the time the nurses got there, the area was a bleeding mess.

“I am dead.” A sob racked his body as they sedated him again, the Demon watching on as his body relaxed again. “But I will live again soon. You should too. I am made to survive so please be free.”

“We both are dead now. So sleep and know that I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Jin?”

He hadn’t realized that he had been crying, an actual feat that his body was barely able to do those days. Because of the implants, it was incredibly hard for him to produce tears but it didn’t matter anyways since he rarely felt the need to cry. The Pilot realized that Yoongi had been talking to him, sensing the turbulence in the man.

“Did you get any supplies wrangled up before we leave this place? I heard you got some more food products I can actually work with.”

Yoongi nodded, deciding not to press the issue. Jin turned, furiously wiped his face before looking back at the scene. Namjoon and Hoseok had just finished what they were doing, covering up her body out of respect. Nyala was talking to them, pointing towards the cockpit as she instructed them on something he couldn’t hear. He furrowed his eyebrows as the both of them watched the pair pick up her body and carry her out. He was going to protest, questioning their decision to move her body but Nyala placed a hand on his shoulder with a small smile.

Namjoon carried her body to the bridge and set her on a peculiar area that he hadn’t really noticed before. It was one that was situated right behind his pilot’s seat, a circle that looked like something should have gone there. As instructed, Namjoon put her body down into the circle and stepped back.

Initiating Maiden Interface.

They all heard Kibeth’s voice call out before the area sunk down deep into the floor. The top closed after enveloping her; a series of mechanical clicks could be heard before a large cylinder shot up, attaching the top to the other half. Suddenly the sides of it slid away showing Lirael in the cylinder like she was floating in that space. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her eyes were still closed.

Lights all across the bridge started to light up, and areas that were dead or barely working were now almost singing to life. An unexpected glow shining in the cylinder lit up her features more. The sides covered up the most important parts of her body. Lirael’s eyes slowly opened, the green color radiating with life. She blinked, looking around at something that they couldn’t see. Her mouth opened a bit like she was about to speak but instead something else happened.

Oh!

A voice, light and soft, could be heard as she smiled. Hoseok cheered suddenly, scaring them all as his mouth grew wide with a smile. Namjoon grunted in satisfaction as he was trying, very obviously, to keep from cheering as well. Jungkook clapped Jin on his shoulder but the man was focused on Yoongi, who had walked up to the tank. Lirael shifted in there to look at him, a happy expression on her face.

I am Lirael, but I do not know your names! Thank you so much for helping me and Nyala! I have just access the ship’s systems and everything is in running order. You are Yoongi, are you not?

Yoongi didn’t answer her but extended his hand to touch the tank. A tear fell down his cheek as he used his abilities to connect to her mind. It was something that was bothering him, whether or not she was more machine than body. He realized that she was just like the rest of them but with a connection that he just couldn’t handle at the moment. It was something that he’d been sensing as well as with Nyala but the pieces just wouldn’t fit together until he joined minds with her.

Suddenly, everything made sense to him and it overwhelmed him.

You are leaking! Are you in need of repair? Do you have damage, Mr. Yoongi?

Yoongi snatched his hand away from the tank and ran out, embarrassed that he caused such a scene. Nyala came up to her and reassured her that everything was fine. Jin watched the exchange, the scene being committed to his memory unit. The success of the endeavor was being saved and he would remember it all for them.

#hyunglinenetwork #btswriterscorner #bangtanidx #ficswithluv #btsbookclub #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #thebiasrekkers presents #Edge of Forever #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #kim namjoon #kim taehyung #park jimin #jeon jungkook #space!au #Admin L

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womenloveanddiscrimination · 3 years

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Abnormal Bodies Within Medicine Manifesto

When you go see a doctor you expect them to help you and to put your health concerns first. For many though, this isn’t the experience that they have when they reach out for help. Women face high levels of scrutiny and an overall lack of options due to the belief that their bodies don’t fully belong to them. I’ve dealt with psoriasis for many years now, even having times where eighty percent of my body was covered with it. I had a lot of options during this time but very few of them worked. I tried lotions from all around the world, Cortisone shots in my butt, and Methotrexate. The Methotrexate worked the best but it made me so groggy and out of it that I wasn’t able to make it through a class without falling asleep, so that wasn’t going to work. I was told about some of the injections that you see all the television advertisements for and they seemed quite reliable but I wasn’t allowed to get them. This came as a shock to me and I didn’t understand why. This is because they don’t give them to women of child bearing ages. At this point I was seventeen. They said you had to wait three years after stopping the medicine for it to leave your body due to the high amounts of Vitamin D it creates and the birth defects it could cause. I’m twenty-two now and still no closer to wanting a child. I couldn’t be healthy or comfortable because my body wasn’t my own. It belonged to a fetus that didn’t even exist yet nor was it planned to exist any time soon. A not yet conceived fetus had more rights than me: a fully grown human in pain. This was extremely upsetting to me and told me just how little I mattered in the eyes of the medical industry. My womb was more valuable than I was. While reading about Henrietta Lacks I was struck with a similar feeling. Of course HeLa went on to be so helpful and lifesaving in so many instances but it still started with the medical professionals feeling that they had more of a claim to Henrietta’s body than she did herself. I understand taking the cells to study them in order to better diagnose a patient but to keep them without consent and say “the cells were taken from a woman named, ‘Helen Lane’”, is a different story (Hassan). This is a blatant claim over Henrietta’s body and mirrors the problems women still face today. I reached out to my mother about complications she’s faced within the medical world based on ‘abnormalities’ of her body and she spoke about the birth of my older sister. After having a c-section with her first child the doctors flippantly said they would simply do another c-section. The issue was my mother had an extremely difficult time healing from the first c-section and wanted to try natural birth this time around. If my mother wasn’t the feisty woman she is then the doctors would’ve pushed this birthing process on her but she fought back and eventually got her way. When I asked how she thinks the medical process for women should be different she mentioned the idea of having advocates for women in hospitals and doctors’ offices that would be able to talk women through their choices and help them make the best decision for them. This reflects the idea of midwives in “Motherhood as Science” as they were extremely skilled in the manner of birthing and worked closely with the families. The “gendering of knowledge” and “the professionalization of childbirth” pushed women out of this profession and replaced them with men (Otovo). This step away from the personal experience of childbirth and the overall separation and sterilization of it left pregnant women in more vulnerable positions and with less options on how they wanted to proceed. This is not the only problem with the standardization of the medical practice into white men with medical degrees though. This move away from women who have been taught through lineage allowed the racism that was already systemic in so many other fields to permeate into the medical one. The same men who would look down on black women in the street were now in charge of their care during extremely dangerous procedures. This results in much higher death rates in women of color during and after childbirth. The “Alyne Case” mentions several factors that lead to higher rates of death within groups of black women including higher rates of pilgrimage, being turned away at hospitals, and being given less anesthesia due to the belief that they feel less pain. Even Serena Williams had a life-threatening experience giving birth because the doctors didn’t believe her. I believe that in order to help more women there has to be many changes made to the way we run our medical system. Some of the ideas that I heard back from friends and family included more check-ins with mental health while on birth control because having pre-existing anxiety and depression can be greatly affected by being on birth control. They would also like to see a shift to including more alternative medicine if traditional ideas aren’t working. Government funded healthcare would also be extremely helpful towards people getting the attention they need and finding the right doctor for them. For me a very important change we need to see is in the demographics that go on to become doctors, for many this is simply impossible due to the exorbitant cost of the education which could be solved by subsidizing their education. We need more people in medical positions that understand their patients and don’t come in with an implicit bias against women and women of color. But, overall, the fundamental understanding that a woman’s body is her own is what needs to shift completely within the medical understanding because until that happens women won’t be fully cared for.

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otheroutlandertales · 5 years

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Anonymous said: Modern day au where Fergus and Marsali are members of opposing biker gangs.

This is the last chapter of this story. Catch up here on Part One and Part Two.

Sadly, it is also my last regular publication on this blog. I have written a longer post elaborating on that on my personal blog, but I want to take a quick moment to say thank you on here as well - trust me to go out with a bang (although, which is unusual, in this instance I say that without innuendo)!

The Borders Between Us

by @wunderlichkind

Three

She’s never been comfortable in hospitals. The harsh lighting and sterile smell, the hushed noises – all of it reminds her of too many motorcycle accidents, too many visits after gang fights, too many of Laoghaire’s diagnostic appointments. Marsali squirms in the uncomfortable chair, staring at her own reflection in the small room’s window, unable to see the dark parking lot beyond it. A ghost stares back – someone she has to work to recognize as herself. Her hair is unruly, her eyes are ringed with dark circles, her expression somber, haunted almost. She hasn’t slept in nearly two days, hasn’t been well-rested ever since she left Fergus’ apartment.

Laoghaire stirs in the bed and Marsali jumps in her seat, but her mother doesn’t wake and she takes a deep breath. Her eyes are still scanning Laoghaire’s body, taking inventory of her broken wrist, her bruised cheek, the tear at her hairline, the swollen left knee – something she’s been doing several times every day since the fall down the stairs, something she can’t seem to shake.

„Miss Fraser, have you thought about exploring other options for your mother? It might be time to find a nursing home for her, for both your sakes,“ the hospital’s social worker told her the day before, her stuffy office filled with the sound of a ticking clock. Marsali only nodded and accepted the bunch of brochures, eager to escape the too small space, the implications of considering such a solution. The words haven’t left her, though, and neither has the feeling of uneasiness.

She sighs and stands, resolving to channel her inner unrest into movement, to temporarily fill the icy hole in her chest with coffee. She takes the long way down to the cafeteria, which is closed at this hour of the day, but has a coin-operated coffee machine much better than any of the hallway vending machines on this floor. She stares at the white walls, the bland hospital art, the petrol green room number signs. She counts the steps as she descends the stairs, but it does nothing to calm her. The strain on her nerves is almost unbearable. Marsali is sure that any minute now she’s going to snap when she rounds the corner opposite the hospital entrance and almost collides with Dr. Taylor.

„Oh, Miss Fraser, you’re still here? Shouldn’t you get some rest?“

Marsali manages a wry smile. „I could ask ye the same thing, Dr. Taylor.“

The doctor laughs, a genuine, friendly laugh that shows her white teeth and the dimples in her dark cheeks. „I’m on my way out, actually. I’m glad I bumped into you before leaving, though. I’ve been meaning to tell you that we’ll have your test results ready by tomorrow and I’d like to see you in my office, say 10 am?“

She waits for the string of her nerves to snap, waits for the impact of the doctor’s kind words to hit, but instead of the violent crash she’s expecting, there’s only a feeling of surreality. For a second, Marsali has the impression that she’s watching herself from a distance, eerily indifferent to her own numbness, her own shock. She has to force herself to nod, to mumble her assent.

Dr. Taylor is already walking away, but she turns again after just a few steps, finding Marsali still rooted to the spot.

„How’s your mother?“ she asks, and there’s real sympathy in her voice, a hint of worry in her dark brown eyes.

„She’s... not great,“ Marsali answers honestly, her voice cracking a little on the last word. Dr. Taylor nods.

„You get some rest, okay? And I’ll see you tomorrow,“ she says and it sounds like an order and a reassurance at the same time, like something her father might say to her. It makes Marsali smile despite herself.

„Aye, I’ll see ye tomorrow.“

The fight with Fergus. Laoghaire’s fall. The possibility of having to place her in a home. Her own test results. Marsali’s mind is a battleground, a tangle of fear and pain and nerves, a virtual hell. It’s why it seems almost cruel, an unlikely twist of fate, when the moment after the door has fallen closed behind Dr. Taylor, it opens again and the quiet of the nightly hospital is broken by loud shouts for help.

Her body reacts before her mind is able to register the whole picture, and she takes in details while already moving; their jackets, identifying them as Hell’s Angels, the strained muscles in their shoulders, evidence of their struggle to hold up the slim figure in their middle. The blood on his face. The pain in his eyes.

She reaches him just when they set him down on a chair, one of them gesturing wildly at the woman behind the welcome desk.

„Marsali?“ he says and it’s a question, his voice quiet, disbelieving.

Her own voice is everything she would have expected it to be in her conversation with Dr. Taylor. There’s despair, terror. There are tears.

„Fergus. What happened?“

___________________________________________________________________

It seems all hospital offices are too small for comfort. Dr. Taylor closes the door behind Marsali and gestures for her to sit, moving to open the small window as if she can sense Marsali feels trapped. A cold breeze wafts in and Marsali is grateful for it; a reminder that the world keeps turning, that the seasons are progressing.

„Before I let you know the results of your blood tests, I want to go over the facts with you one more time,“ Dr. Taylor says as she sits down behind her desk, her calm gaze focused on Marsali, who just nods.

„You’ve decided to have your blood tested because your mother has early onset dementia, which can be hereditary. However, the results of this test will not conclusively tell you if you’ll suffer from the same disease.“

Marsali nods again. She knows all this, she’s had a lot of time to get informed.

„The test identifies certain genetic markers. People with mutations in certain genes are statistically more likely to develop early-onset dementia. We know your mother has tested positive for one of the markers,“ Dr. Taylor pauses and sorts through the papers on her desk.

Marsali grits her teeth together, balls her hands so tightly she feels her nails cutting into the flesh of her palms. She holds her breath. She’s aware that no matter the results of the test, she could always develop the disease. She’s aware how little reassurance a negative result really holds. But she wants it, needs it. She needs to know that she can live her life without the sword of high risk hanging over her neck.

„Miss Fraser.“

Marsali hasn’t realized she closed her eyes until she opens them to meet Dr. Taylor’s smiling gaze.

„You do not have any of the mutations, you tested negative for all the genetic markers.“

And Marsali breathes. She breathes in the cold air wafting through the still open window and Dr. Taylor reminds her again, that the test results provide only an indication of what may or may not happen. And Fergus is lying in a hospital bed, bruised and battered, two floors up, because he deliberately got into a fight with some of her father’s men. And Laoghaire is lying in a hospital bed, bruised and battered, three floors up, because she fell down the stairs to the basement when Marsali hadn’t locked the basement door. And the hospital’s social worker is looking through nursing home brochures with her father five doors down.

But Marsali breathes, and for the first time in days, she feels like the air is reaching her lungs. She feels like there’s a tiny sliver of hope. And where that tiny sliver grows, a plan slowly starts to take shape.

___________________________________________________________________

It’s raining when the procession of bikes reaches the cemetery, the roaring of motors drowning out the splatter of water against stone for just a moment before the bikes stand as still as their riders.

Black is their everyday color, and only their somber expressions hint at the special occasion. The pastor has held gang funerals before, but never one like this, he realizes with worry, when he stares at the mix of Mongols and Angel signs on the jackets of the assembled. They’ve come together, and it seems they’ve come in peace. He hadn’t really believed in it until now.

„Hatred stirs up conflict, but love covers over all wrongs. Proverbs 10:12.“ The pastor’s voice raises over the cries of heaven as the heads of the assembled men and women rise at his words.

„We lay to rest your children,“ he continues, „who, despite their youth, knew the truth of God’s word in their hearts. Marsali Fraser and Fergus St. Germain have loved deeply. Their love crossed borders, and stood safe in the middle of a stormy sea of conflict that finally consumed them. Let us remember that love and let us honor it by calming the conflict between us.“

Jamie Fraser is a wall of stone, a picture of hard edges. Claire softly squeezes Jamie’s hand, her face hidden in his shoulder, and after a moment of hesitation he squeezes back.

„Marsali and Fergus’ love has endured great conflict. It is now, on this day, reason and incentive for us to come together as they have, to cross borders as they did. May you be united in love and grief for your children as they have been united in love for each other.“

Nobody moves when the pastor ends his speech. The rain is too loud in the silence of their shared grief, too warm on their icy skin. It’s a day to be marked – the day they buried Marsali and Fergus, the day they’ve let a semblance of peace enter their hearts.

Jamie and Claire are the last to leave the cemetery. Jamie’s phone rings just when he sits down on the bike’s saddle and he shuts off the motor again before picking it up.

„How did it go?“ she asks and he thinks he must imagine the tinny quality to her voice – modern technology doesn’t bother with distance as much as the heart does, after all.

„All according to plan, a leannan,“ he assures her, and Claire smiles at him. „Ye’re safe?“

„Aye, Da, we’re safe.“ She sounds full of wonder, as if stunned this crazy plan of hers has worked, has somehow spit them out safe and sound on the other side of the border.

„Yer Ma?“

„They say she’s adjusting well. We’re going back to visit her on Sunday. I have a good feeling about this, Da.“

It takes him a moment to answer her, emotions warring in his chest. The pastor was right, he decides for himself. There have been too many wrongs in this story, too many obstacles in his daughter’s path. But however winded the way, however dramatic and unusual the means, love covers all the wrongs.

„Me too, Marsali. Me too.“

#outlander fanfiction #otheroutlandertales #mod wunder #pair: Fergus x Marsali #ch: fergus #ch: marsali #ch: jamie #ch: claire #ch: laoghaire #modern au #category: mf #angst #the borders between us #oot

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stephenmccull · 3 years

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Covid ‘Decimated Our Staff’ as the Pandemic Ravages Health Workers of Color

This story also ran on The Guardian. It can be republished for free.

Last spring, New Jersey emergency room nurse Maritza Beniquez saw “wave after wave” of sick patients, each wearing a look of fear that grew increasingly familiar as the weeks wore on.

Soon, it was her colleagues at Newark’s University Hospital — the nurses, techs and doctors with whom she had been working side by side — who turned up in the ER, themselves struggling to breathe. “So many of our own co-workers got sick, especially toward the beginning; it literally decimated our staff,” she said.

By the end of June, 11 of Beniquez’s colleagues were dead. Like the patients they had been treating, most were Black and Latino.

“We were disproportionately affected because of the way that Blacks and Latinos in this country have been disproportionately affected across every [part of] our lives — from schools to jobs to homes,” she said.

Now Beniquez feels like a vanguard of another kind. On Dec. 14, she became the first person in New Jersey to receive the coronavirus vaccine — and was one of many medical workers of color featured prominently next to headlines heralding the vaccine’s arrival at U.S. hospitals.

It was a joyous occasion, one that kindled the possibility of again seeing her parents and her 96-year-old grandmother, who live in Puerto Rico. But those nationally broadcast images were also a reminder of those for whom the vaccine came too late.

Covid-19 has taken an outsize toll on Black and Hispanic Americans. And those disparities extend to the medical workers who have intubated them, cleaned their bedsheets and held their hands in their final days, a KHN/Guardian investigation has found. People of color account for about 65% of fatalities in cases in which there is race and ethnicity data.

One recent study found health care workers of color were more than twice as likely as their white counterparts to test positive for the virus. They were more likely to treat patients diagnosed with covid, more likely to work in nursing homes — major coronavirus hotbeds — and more likely to cite an inadequate supply of personal protective equipment, according to the report.

In a national sample of 100 cases gathered by KHN/The Guardian in which a health care worker expressed concerns over insufficient PPE before they died of covid, three-quarters of the victims were identified as Black, Hispanic, Native American or Asian.

“Black health care workers are more likely to want to go into public-sector care where they know that they will disproportionately treat communities of color,” said Adia Wingfield, a sociologist at Washington University in St. Louis who has studied racial inequality in the health care industry. “But they also are more likely to be attuned to the particular needs and challenges that communities of color may have,” she said.

Not only do many Black health care staffers work in lower-resourced health centers, she said, they are also more likely to suffer from many of the same co-morbidities found in the general Black population, a legacy of systemic inequities.

And they may fall victim to lower standards of care. Dr. Susan Moore, a 52-year-old Black pediatrician in Indiana, was hospitalized with covid in November and, according to a video posted to her Facebook account, had to ask repeatedly for tests, remdesivir and pain medication. She said her white doctor dismissed her complaints of pain and she was discharged, only to be admitted to another hospital 12 hours later.

Numerous studies have found Black Americans often receive worse medical care than their white counterparts: In March, a Boston biotech firm published an analysis showing physicians were less likely to refer symptomatic Black patients for coronavirus tests than symptomatic whites. Doctors are also less likely to prescribe painkillers to Black patients.

“If I was white, I wouldn’t have to go through that,” Moore said in the video posted from her hospital bed. “This is how Black people get killed, when you send them home, and they don’t know how to fight for themselves.” She died on Dec. 20 of covid complications, her son Henry Muhammad told news outlets.

Along with people of color, immigrant health workers have suffered disproportionate losses to covid-19. More than one-third of health care workers to die of covid in the U.S. were born abroad, from the Philippines to Haiti, Nigeria and Mexico, according to a KHN/Guardian analysis of cases for which there is data. They account for 20% of health care workers in the U.S. overall.

Dr. Ramon Tallaj, a physician and chairman of Somos, a nonprofit network of health care providers in New York, said immigrant doctors and nurses often see patients from their own communities — and many working-class, immigrant communities have been devastated by covid.

“Our community is essential workers. They had to go to work at the beginning of the pandemic, and when they got sick, they would come and see the doctor in the community,” he said. Twelve doctors and nurses in the Somos network have died of covid, he said.

Dr. Eriberto Lozada was an 83-year-old family physician in Long Island, New York. He was still seeing patients out of his practice when cases began to climb last spring. Originally from the Philippines, a country with a history of sending skilled medical workers to the United States, he was proud to be a doctor and “proud to have been an immigrant who made good,” his son James Lozada said.

Lozada’s family members remember him as strict and strong-willed — they affectionately called him “the king.” He instilled in his children the importance of a good education. He died in April.

Two of his four sons, John and James Lozada, are doctors. Both were vaccinated last month. Considering all they had been through, John said, it was a “bittersweet” occasion. But he thought it was important for another reason — to set an example for his patients.

The inequities in covid infections and deaths risk fueling distrust in the vaccine. In a recent Pew study, around 42% of Black respondents said they would “definitely or probably” get the vaccine compared with 60% of the general population.

This makes sense to Patricia Gardner, a Black, Jamaican-born nursing manager at Hackensack University Medical Center in New Jersey who has been infected with the coronavirus along with family members and colleagues. “A lot of what I hear is, ‘How is it that we weren’t the first to get the care, but now we’re the first to get vaccinated?’” she said.

Like Beniquez, the nurse in Newark, she was vaccinated on Dec. 14. “For me to step up to say, ‘I want to be in the first group’ — I’m hoping that sends a message,” she said.

Beniquez said she felt the weight of that responsibility when she signed on to be the first person in her state to receive the vaccine. Many of her patients have expressed skepticism over the vaccine, fueled, she said, by a health system that has failed them for years.

“We remember the Tuskegee trials. We remember the ‘appendectomies’” — reports that women were forcibly sterilized in a U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement detention center in Georgia. “These are things that have happened to this community to the Black and Latino communities over the last century. As a health care worker, I have to recognize that their fears are legitimate and explain ‘This is not that,’” she said.

Beniquez said her joy and relief over receiving the vaccine are tempered by the reality of rising cases in the ER. The adrenaline she and her colleagues felt last spring is gone, replaced by fatigue and wariness of the months ahead.

Her hospital placed 11 trees in the lobby, one for each employee who has died of covid; they have been adorned with remembrances and gifts from their colleagues.

There is one for Kim King-Smith, 53, the friendly EKG technician, who visited friends of friends or family whenever they ended up in the hospital.

One for Danilo Bolima, 54, the nurse from the Philippines who became a professor and was the head of patient care services.

One for Obinna Chibueze Eke, 42, the Nigerian nursing assistant, who asked friends and family to pray for him when he was hospitalized with covid.

“Each day, we remember our fallen colleagues and friends as the heroes who helped keep us going throughout this pandemic and beyond,” hospital president and CEO Dr. Shereef Elnahal said in a statement. “We can never forget their contributions and their collective passion for this community, and each other.”

Just outside the building, stands a 12th tree. “It’s going to be for whoever else we lose in this battle,” Beniquez said.

This story is part of “Lost on the Frontline,” an ongoing project from The Guardian and Kaiser Health News that aims to document the lives of health care workers in the U.S. who die from COVID-19, and to investigate why so many are victims of the disease. If you have a colleague or loved one we should include, please share their story.

Kaiser Health News (KHN) is a national health policy news service. It is an editorially independent program of the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation which is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.

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This story can be republished for free (details).

Covid ‘Decimated Our Staff’ as the Pandemic Ravages Health Workers of Color published first on https://smartdrinkingweb.weebly.com/

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gordonwilliamsweb · 3 years

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Covid ‘Decimated Our Staff’ as the Pandemic Ravages Health Workers of Color in US