#3) wouldn't come to identify his body so that my mom didn't have to look at his mangled corpse

[reinemichele]

Okay I started to type this out on this post but I don't think OP would want to hear about all that (which honestly applies to every story in my family) and I had already decided Not to talk about black lung on their post (but yes a lot of men on my mom's side of the family died of black lung <3)

Anyway . Uhhh I'm not sure how many details I should include, I don't want this to get too long... I can talk more about my dad's parents in a different post later on, but it's not really relevant right now.

So, when my dad was 17 and my mom was 15, they were out walking and saw someone getting mugged. My dad tried to help the guy, who was able to get away, but the mugger stabbed my dad in the spine with a knife <3

My dad was in ICU for over a month and was told he'd never walk again. Neither of his parents came to visit, but when my dad started getting disability paychecks, my dad's dad cashed them <3 "so that this can be your rent" <3 (And then had the nerve to, years later, ask my parents why they didn't tell him that they were having a baby 😀 [Name] if you weren't already fucking dead, when I get you--)

The food at the hospital was awful, so every day my mom would get my dad food from del taco and take it to him. It was a 45 minute drive to the hospital and then several floors up to the ICU.

This is where it gets relevant lol so . my mom, obviously, comes from the same lineage I do, and has also always been terrified of elevators. So she'd walk up several flights of stairs, every day, for over a month. Sometimes hospital staff would ask her if the elevators weren't working, and then she'd have to be like . no but they scare me 😥

Anyway, if you're curious, my dad did end up walking again. Doctors said it was a miracle. He lost sensation in part of one of his legs, so he had to be careful about where it was/what it was touching, like the surface of a really hot car, etc. But he did survive a life-threatening spinal wound and managed to avoid becoming permanently paralyzed.

My mom always says that he used up too many of his 9 lives early in life (IE when he was a baby he had a really high fever that no one thought he'd survive, but all it did was eliminate 80% of his hearing in one ear) and that's why he died at 41 (car accident). But that's really neither here nor there; I just wanted to talk about how... funny, but only funny in the sense of "yeah, I'm mentally ill in that exact same way, too" not "haha what a loser wimp baby", how funny it is that my mom opted to walk up several flights of stairs every single day instead of using the elevator a single time. And how funny (in a sad way) it is that you can trace our fear of tight spaces back to a family of coal miners.

[shion-yu]

Day 30 - Coma

It gets more than Elliot can handle at home (part 3). Part one here and part two here. Whumptober 2023! I’m using the @ailesswhumptober's prompt list. This story is about my OC Cliff - here’s his profile if you’re so inclined: https://toyhou.se/23741453.cliff. This one’s a multiparter, this is the third and final part (I think).

TW/CWs: Major chronic illness, hospitalization

The ICU was much quieter than the emergency room. For some reason that was worse - maybe because it forced Elliot to think about something other than the chaos around him. Cliff lay on bleached white sheets pale as a ghost. Elliot couldn't bring himself to look directly at him. Perhaps the sound of the ventilator pumping in and out should have been comforting because it meant Cliff was still alive, but it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.

Moira called him sobbing. The hospital had notified Cliff’s father, who had then notified her. She was on the first plane there but it wouldn't arrive until later that afternoon. Elliot just told her it was fine. Cliff was stable, at least as stable as someone who couldn't breathe on their own could be. Cliff’s father made a short appearance but said little, focusing his efforts on working with Cliff’s doctors on diagnosis and plan of care. Elliot didn’t even have the energy to glare at him properly.

Upon arriving, Moira hugged Elliot right away. Elliot tried to comfort her but his attempts were half-hearted when he could find little to comfort himself with. He had called his own mom and had a full breakdown on the phone earlier. While she was of course supportive and worried for Elliot, she hadn’t offered to come by the hospital either. Elliot understood, but secretly he wondered if part of that was influenced by resentment, too. He'd been so broken the first time they'd split up and he knew she was still worried Cliff could just be using him as someone to take care of him now that he was sick. It wasn't true, but it was a fact that ate away at Elliot's consciousness. It was similar with Milo - he could call his best friend, but the guy would only be there for Elliot’s sake, not Cliff’s. His followers online definitely weren’t the right place for this. Ultimately, he felt alone.

Several differential diagnoses were thrown around over the next few days, but none of them stuck. The doctor explained that they'd taken several samples of blood, CSF, lung tissue and sputum to test and they were waiting to see what grew. However they were sure that at the least it was a very bad infection, most likely an opportunistic one from long term steroid use; Cliff's immune system was destroyed by the very medication that had been keeping him alive. There was talk about brain surgery too if nothing grew on the cultures which sounded beyond terrifying, but thankfully on the fourth day after arriving Dr. Barrows told Elliot and Moira they'd identified a bacteria - nocardia. It was something that was usually harmless in most people, but in this case it was severe and Cliff's chances of survival were extremely poor considering it had already reached his brain. The most intensive of antibiotics were all they could hope for. Elliot googled nocardia and then quickly wished he didn't, because it said the chances of survival for disseminated nocardiosis in immune suppressed people was only about 15%. That number throbbed in his mind. 15% sounded painfully low.

Despite this number, Cliff did respond to the antibiotics. His numbers were apparently getting better, even though to someone like Elliot he seemed the same. A week in, the ventilator was removed and sedation weaned. Cliff was breathing on his own with just oxygen, but he wasn’t waking up. There was nothing else to do but wait at that point and hope that Cliff’s body allowed him to wake up again. There was a possibility that there would be lasting brain damage. There was a possibility that he’d never wake up at all. The idea of either thing happening was almost too much for Elliot to handle. The stress caused him to feel the tug of old habits, but he ignored them for Cliff’s sake and Cliff’s sake only.

Elliot couldn’t help but blame himself though. Cliff had been getting progressively weaker for a while, but they’d assumed it was just part of his flare up. The doctor said that there was no way of knowing - Cliff’s immune system was so poor that he likely hadn’t been showing signs of the growing infection until it was so severe. Still, Elliot kept thinking, maybe if he had just paid a bit more attention...

It had been ten days since they’d come to the hospital. Elliot had rarely left the building this entire time and he was exhausted. This evening, Moira had convinced him to go home to shower and to take a nap; Elliot had resisted, but once he’d given in he didn’t even remember getting home before he passed out for the entire night, dead to the world. He was woken up the next morning by Milo knocking on his door - apparently zombie-Elliot from last night had texted him to come wake him up in the morning if he didn’t wake up himself. He hadn’t, after twelve long hours of sleep.

Milo gave Elliot a tight hug before coming in and immediately providing Elliot with much needed coffee and breakfast that he’d brought. “You look terrible,” Milo pointed out. “Have you eaten anything at all?”

“Thanks a lot... And yes. Cliff’s sister force feeds me every so often,” Elliot mumbled around a hot cup of coffee. He closed his eyes and felt like if he let himself, he’d sleep for another twelve hours. He was so tired, so worried. “What if he never wakes up, Milo?”

“He’ll wake up. He’s pretty stubborn,” Milo pointed out. It was a testament to how serious things were that he didn’t take the opportunity to tell Elliot he’d be better off without Cliff. “But he needs you alive, too. You need to take care of yourself.”

“I’m trying. I’m here, aren’t I?” Elliot snapped. Then he sighed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean...”

Milo nodded. “It’s okay, I know. You love him.” 

Elliot looked up at Milo in surprise. “Really?” His best friend had always disapproved of his relationship with Cliff, something that had pulled them apart before. 

“Yeah,” Milo said. “You need him too. So he’s going to wake up.” 

They fell quiet, Elliot nursing his coffee and willing himself the energy to go back to the hospital. He showered and was convincing himself to return to that painful waiting game when his phone began to ring on full volume. Immediately panicked, Elliot grabbed it and saw that it was Moira. Please don’t be bad news. “Hello?!”

“He’s waking up,” Cliff’s sister answered. She sounded like she was crying. “Come back, okay?”

She didn’t have to tell him twice. Milo drove Elliot back to the hospital in record time and Elliot sprinted up to Cliff’s room. He couldn’t believe it until he saw for himself, but there Cliff was, eyes half lidded but open. The head of the bed was elevated and Moira was there holding his hand, talking softly to him. When Elliot showed up she smiled and pointed at him. “There he is,” she said.

Elliot burst into tears. He hugged Cliff as tight as he dared what with how fragile Cliff surely was, trying not to get caught in all the wires. When he pulled back, Cliff’s eyes were looking at him. Elliot let out a relieved sob. “You’re awake.”

“He’s not talking yet,” Moira informed Elliot gently. “I don’t think he really knows what’s going on.”

"That’s okay. That’s okay, baby, you’re awake, that’s what matters,” Elliot said. Cliff’s lips trembled slightly as if he were trying to say something, but nothing came out. Elliot wondered just how extensive that possible brain damage could be. But then he felt Cliff’s fingers twitch in his hand and he felt it form a very loose shape. He looked down and recognized it: sign language for I love you. And Elliot knew Cliff was going to be alright. Maybe not right away, but eventually, and that was what mattered.

[maniacallydepressedpsychopath]

Self hatred, confusion, sexuality and mental illness

I've never liked myself. Seriously, I hate how I look. Not just my body, but everything about me. I have had period of time where I was bodyshaming myself until I almost got ED (actually I had ED, but I cat identify what ED I have; Bulimia, Anorexia, etc.. This week has been the worst week of my life. I have been thinking of self - harm. I eat a lot lesser than before,, even lesser then when I have my eating problem. Right now, there is another problem where I am current questioning my sexuality. I identify as Demi - Pan and I am pretty sure about what my sexual orientation is, but about my apperance and gender expression. I have always been confusing about whether I want to be masculine or femenine. Sometimes, I feel like one of them or both of them at the same time. I have no idea what I am. I looked it up online and what seems to be the closest to what I am is non - binary. I thought about getting a breasts surgery to smaller my chests. I don't like them and they make me feel uncomfortable every time I walk, run, jump or move. I wish I have those muscle arms and legs. I hope I have the genes if gaining muscles quickly. Now that I'm thinking of it, I really wish I was born as a boy. A boy would suits me a lot better (in my opinion). I told my parents (mom and dad) about being demi - pan (My mom doesn't fully understand it yet, but I know she will soon), but not the part where I want to be a boy. I'm scared they would just disagree with me. And if you ask about my relatives (even though you didn't ask, I'm just gonna tell you anyway), almost of of my relatives, grandma, grandpa, aunt and maybe my uncle, are all homophobics. Since I was a kid, my family always told me that being gay or lesbian is weird and nobody would accept you in the society. They even once beg me not to be come one myself. You know what, I didn't do their request. I am not dating anyone yet, have never dated and probably not sooner. I used to hate love, because all my male family memebers (not include my uncle and stepdad) they are all shits. My grandpa and dad, they are the worst. I am not going to be telling any details, but just know that they are they worst kind of men alive and that is why I have never seen my dad, not even his picture because he cheated on my mom while she was pregnant with me. So dad, go fuck yourself. That also one of the reason why I hate myself. After my mom gave birth to me, she needed to find a job that makes her enough money to survive for both of us. But because of how hard it was at the time to find a job, she gave me to my grandparents to take care. I do agree with her in this fact. Living with my grandparents is a much better solution. They have big house and stable economy. But also I feel like I am unwanted or a problem. If I wasn't born in the start, my mom wouldn't have to work this hard. When I was about 3 - 4 years old my mom was dianosed with SLE a.k.a. lupus. The cause can be anything, but mostly because of poor health combinds with stress and some other complications. I always think that this is my faulth. My mom was stress to find job to take care of me and she got thet illness. I shouldn't have been here. I should just die. I am a piece of shit. Fuck me. The thought grows bigger and bigger every day. I am scared that one day I would do something terrible to myself. Idk, maybe. This is so funny. I am a gen Z with a lot of problems about myself. What a typical gen Z. I am an attention seeker. Let me know. I write blogs because I have nowhere else to write my frustrations down. But if Iam being to annoying tell me and I'm sorry.

Love you,

Andrej S.

[jdmainman123]

So let me guess black hair white son's genius idea or the stupidest idea was to build a facility for me to be captured and pay off the misstatement of all the killings that went on all the people who got away with murder JUST BY STOCKPILING BLACK BOYS READY TO GO HERE

Wow and they call me stupid

FOUND IT

And again life after yacht fish has a great translation for me how far you guys falling into giving up 5/3 and rendered yourself to building another 3/4 facility to hang out with babies WHERE ARE WE REALLY COMES INTO PLAY the line of questioning BRING IT BACK UP MY BROTHER and I already told you guys do not have a family with yacht you will never have a family with yacht

But the line of questioning is after it's all said and done in the trials in on tours the subjects and matters that we covered you guys meet me back here to a to a facility that never left and that will never leave to ask me these specific questions THAT I CAN'T REMEMBER BECAUSE THE SATELLITE WANTS ME TO CONTINUE TO USE THIS LANGUAGE AND FIND SAME WORD OR WORD

And we we can call our black mass Justice because of a 1000 sounds and you guys continuing to POINT OUT THAT YOUR YOUR BABIES NEVER BREATHE THEY WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND A THOUSAND SOUNDS AND ONLY USE THAT 1 WORD OR THOSE 2 WORDS

Because you guys don't like outside and you guys try to trap the entire world inside a building EXAMPLED ... OUTSIDE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD .... And if you people didn't have such a problem with fresh air and exercise

BUT THE STATEMENT WAS VERY SPECIFIC WE WILL NOT TAKE ANY MORE BLACK BODIES FOR YACHT WE WILL NOT TAKE ANY MORE BLACK BODIES FOR AIRPLANE and and to say someone I'll give allowance to these blacks to build their own City in Philadelphia boys and black skin girls WITH NOTHING TO PAY FOR IT WITH NO CURRENCY NO ADVANTAGES it all makes sense I think I would be your only underlining act to cover and break satellite laws and to blame a no name AS WE SAID WE'VE RUN OUT OF STATE NAMES NOW WE'RE JUST IDENTIFYING ROADS THAT LOOK LIKE TENNESSEE OR ROADS THAT LOOK LIKE PHOENIX and with no buildings and just a bunch of open windows in tiny houses WE BELIEVE YOU GUYS TOOK A PUNCH AT POWER AND MISSED and then you wanted all your kids to die next to you AND WE DON'T THINK THAT'S FAIR TO THEM and because I wouldn't want to die next to you forcing people to die next to you is like Mom requesting not to be buried next to Dad

BUT THE SCIENCES ARE POINTING AT THESE FACILITIES FOR THE BLACK SKIN BOYS AND I DON'T THINK THEY SHOULD PAY BECAUSE satellite make you can't throw bodies at a satellite maker AND A SATELLITE MAKER MAKES HIS OWN ARMY OF MEN IN HIS OWN CITY TO CARRY OUT ACTIONS AND THERE'S NEVER BEEN A FORM OF CURRENCY ON THE OTHER SIDE OF AN AIRPLANE SENDING PEOPLE TO BE MURDERED so we don't see any reasoning in it

AND AGAIN FOR THEM TO HAVE TAKING ME HERE TO GO BACK TO HOW ARE THEY BLACK is a step backward and a waste of my time it seems like I'm just trying to hurt little white skin boys in handcuffs and Minnesota called it JUST TELL THE BOYS YACHT DOESN'T NEED THEM AND THEY'LL LET GO AND THEY'LL BECOME SUICIDAL was Black's dream in fantasy of having a tool and he used it on the girls who used it on the girls and it worked pretty well pretty good

SHE DOESN'T NEED YOU BOYS

I'm about to take me back in 24/7 or talking about how are they black 24/7 talking about how are they black AND AS I INDICATED WHATEVER WHITE SKIN MAN ALLOWED YOU GUYS TO BUILD THE FACILITY TRULY AND HONESTLY HATES BLACK PEOPLE

And coronavirus was called because it was a black skin satellite maker that hated black skin people THAT'S WHY THIS REPORT WAS WRITTEN IN THE WORD N*****and we believe we would be so far off so far better if this report was written in cracker SO NEXT TIME WE WOULD REQUEST YOU GUYS WRITE THE ENTIRE REPORT USING THE WORD CRACKER AND THEN WE WOULD INSIST AS LAX BEFORE DISPLAYED YOU KNOW THE ONE THE ONLY ONE LAX 3/4 THAT IS IN CHARGE OF THIS WHOLE MONKEY CIRCUS I promise I did my math I SOMETIMES CALL MY BLACK SKIN FRIENDS CRACKER and crackers seem to have been the solution when writing this report BUT WHOEVER WROTE IT USE A LOT OF HATE AND UNFORTUNATELY REALLY HATED BLACKS

And we've been to far too many cities to blame Mississippi as in the notion we should have blamed Phoenix or Kansas or even Dallas YOU GUYS JUST BROUGHT ME HERE TO PROLONG AND CONTINUE THESE EXERCISES and even I don't think it would be fair and thankfully this city is abandoned and in ruins FOR THESE PEOPLE LEFT OVER WHICH I ANTICIPATE A REBUILDING CYCLE WHICH IS GREAT new car new house new everything AND AGAIN THE BLACK HATE IS TOO EASY FOR YOU GUYS TO SEND ME YOUR FOR THE SATELLITE OPERATORS I FIND USELESS AND POINTLESS

How did the woke boys end up with satellites?