#How to be a Person in the Age of Autoimmunity

[luxe-pauvre]

“You are too young to live like this!” became my well­intentioned doctors’ refrain. “What a shame! We can get you back to work! You should be out living your life!” And so, they perpetuated the supposed narrative of health and death: illness is something which comes late in life, right before the end. They acted as if I was experiencing an inconvenience. As if I wasn’t living my life anyway. They didn’t understand that this experience had stripped and shed a light on me, making it simply impossible to carry on as before. There was no return to “normal.”

Carolyn Lazard, How to be a Person in the Age of Autoimmunity

[clhampir]

my puppy has a stage 3 luxating patella and the cat i’ve had for almost 16 years has a tumor on her thyroid. my computer is broken and i can’t use the only escape i’ve had for years. our account is overdrawn $250 bc we had to pay for gigi’s vet bills. my rent is due, my light bill is due, my credit card bill is due, my foodstamps ran out, i’m just. life cannot stop kicking me in the balls rn

[mrs-snape5984]

“I was held in chains but now I’m free…”

“Hey, little train! Wait for me! I once was blind but now I see. Have you left a seat for me? Is that such a stretch of the imagination?” (“O Children” by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds)

I feel obligated to set up a trigger warning on this post, since I’m mentioning thoughts of suicidal ideation in my text. If you’re feeling uncomfortable with this topic, please feel free to ignore the following four paragraphs and skip right to my praise for the incredibly talented artist of this comic strip.

As already mentioned in some of my latest posts, I’ve commissioned some of my favourite artists here on tumblr for a special project of mine: My afterlife project.

I’m suffering from multiple autoimmune disorders, which probably have paved the way for this bitch of a disease, ME/CFS (myalgic encephalomyelitis/chronic fatigue syndrome), two years ago. Sure, my life already wasn’t the easiest before, but since then, it came to a standstill. More and more, I lost my abilities, my social life, my place in the society…and surely even my participation in my own family. My days are mostly spent in bed all day and night, surrounded only by darkness and solitude.

Patients with severe ME/CFS might die earlier than expected, due to multiple organ failure and - yes, I have to admit, that this reason is, indeed, undeniably relatable (and alluring) to me - suicide. With each passing day, that I’m doomed to “live” with these confines of my personal hell… imprisoned within myself without any chance to escape… death appears to be a welcoming friend, who’s only awaiting to pull me into a tight embrace. For me, it’s like it’s written in the following poem (“Joy in Death”) of Emily Dickinson…it will be good news and maybe even a relief…not just for me.

I know, I can’t leave, yet… and that I have to stay as long as endurable - at least for my children’s sake - but… yeah, BUT… but, damn, I’m tired. My personal limits are set… my lines are drawn… my responsibilities are cleared and both of my closest friends are informed about my pathetic little wishes (please, play that goddamn song for me!). I’m prepared. But for now, I have to stay…. to fight a little longer… to be a mom, even though my kids only see me for a few minutes each day… a mere shadow of the mother, they used to know. It’s a fucking shame!

For this particular part of my afterlife project, I’ve commissioned my sweet friend @sleepybradipo, who will always be my first choice to draw my vision of the young Severus in his own uniquely tender art style, which I’m so weak for.

In my imagination, I will be able to choose, how my eternal life will look like. Finally, I’ll be with Severus! We’ll meet at the age of 11 years and eventually spend the rest of our lives side by side...growing old together. Severus and Jukes will finally get the life, they’ve always deserved to have. I’ve started to show sections of this existence by Severus’ side in some of my other posts, which belong to this project. It may sound strange and pathetic (obviously), but this is all, that I'm wishing for. I want to come home to him.

For this artwork, I asked @sleepybradipo to make the process of “renewing” visible…almost like some kind of resurrection! Jules is stripping off her old, exhausted self, only to be 11 years old again…happily running towards the 11 years old Severus, who’s waiting for her.

Ivano, at first, I felt guilty for my request for this commission. I’m constantly afraid of becoming a burden to others with my ridiculously morbid thoughts and ideas. But you, my dear friend, made me feel seen with your kindness and compassion. Your understanding of my fantasy and the way, you’ve realised it in this mesmerising piece of art, are absolutely breathtaking! I don’t know, how I could possibly show enough gratitude to express, what your art is doing to my black little heart. It’s like a bandage…a soothing balm… a comforting embrace. Thank you for everything, Ivano.

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

PS: I have to apologise for my repetive use of terms in my writing this time. The lack of coherence might be caused by my current “crashing” condition and a weird cocktail of different medications. I’ll try better next time, but it was important for me, to show this heart-wrenching composition of art as soon as possible. Your work needs to be seen, Ivano!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA if i abandoned my current house, without warning my landlord at all?

🐌 🎉 (to find my post)

I (22, m) am a university student, currently studying medicine in a big city. I've struggled for a long time to find an apartment to live in, and the only seemingly decent place i could find was an arrangement where id have to live with my landlord (71, f) lets call her Alex. She is a middle aged woman and she is disabled, suffering from various conditions (including an autoimmune disease), resulting in her almost never leaving the house.

At first, Alex seemed like a standard middle aged lady. But my god, living with her has been a fucking nightmare.

There are a whole sleuth of issues, but the main one is her extreme anger. She told me stories about how she was from a very wealthy family, but then "something happened" and now her and her family are full of debt (from what i could understand they have to pay about a million euros in legal fees).

Any time she receives a phone call from a lawyer/attorney/whatever else (something that happens at least once every 2 days), she completely loses her mind, screaming about how she wishes everyone would die because life is meaningless.

One particularly nasty episode was when i was minding my business, cooking dinner, when she burst into the kitchen, clearly very upset, screaming and shouting about how she wished more people would die in horrible ways, getting mad at me when i said that wishing death on random people wasnt very nice. She even lashed out at me the day of my birthday.

I would consider myself a pretty adaptive person, but i cant keep on going like this. So i have come up with a plan. Since I haven't signed any contract and since i already have another place to stay, i have decided that one night, at the end of the month, i will simply pack my bags and leave, without any warning. I will block her on all platforms and pretend she never existed.

This will put her in quite a bit of financial trouble. She told me most of my rent goes into paying her legal fees and, without me around, im not sure how she will get things done.

WIBTA? Is leaving a selfish choice? I understand living with an autoimmune disease can be really tough, but i dont think i can deal with her violent outbursts anymore.

What are these acronyms?

[fizzyapplecandy]

The Friendly Ghost Girl

Genre: fluff, angst, strangers to lovers, happy ending (different from each person's perspective)

warnings: character death, heavy themes

4.9k words

Summary:

Is there life after death? After meeting a stranger on his deathbed, a friendly ghost decides to stick around to help him find his peace.

Sometimes, things don't turn out the way you want them to.

You imagine what your life will look like two, five, ten years from now.

A house in the suburbs, a cozy fireplace where you tell Christmas stories, a fluffy dog sitting in the corner...

You get the gist.

Unfortunately for me, this will never be the case.

As I stand over my lifeless body, limbs sprawled on the pavement, paramedics rushing around the scene, I can't help but wonder one thing.

Is death truly the end?

I was an honour student in high school. The best grades, the most accomplishments, medals in every competition there were. College came naturally to someone like me. With a major in business, I was on the way to becoming a success. I could feel it in my veins.

The only thing I feel now is the light breeze coursing through my body as I sit on the edge of a bridge.

In theory, if you fall from this height, you'll probably end up dead. In practise, I am already dead, so this doesn't apply to me.

I don't know what went wrong. One minute I was laughing with my friends, stumbling around after one too many tequila shots, and the next...

I shake my head as the image of running cars passes before my eyes. I feel bad about the people who were with me that night. The sight was not pretty.

I was about to leap from my spot and disappear into the night when I heard whimpering from my right. There are many people crossing over this bridge, but mostly with their cars. I turned my head around and there he was.

Standing a couple of feet beside me, a handsome man leaned down to look into the flowing water under the high bridge. He had a solemn expression on his face. His eyes were red, nose runny, fingers almost blue in colour.

What caught my attention the most were his blood stained lips, and his bare feet.

He looked like he was on the brink of death.

He gripped the railing, and sniffled. I almost felt bad for him, but then I remembered he was the one with a beating heart.

I scoffed.

"Pathetic."

His eyes widened and he turned towards me.

Our eyes met.

Wait?

He could see me?

"Hey there. Isn't it dangerous to be sitting on a ledge so high up?"

"Almost as dangerous as going barefoot in this cold weather. On a non-pedestrian bridge."

A tight lipped smile stretched across his face.

"Fair enough."

I jumped back down and came to a stop before him. He was even prettier up close. With his high nose, foxy eyes and the cutest little mole underneath one of them.

That didn't change the fact that he looked too ill to be standing.

"Is there a reason you chose to come here like this?"

He nodded.

"You see, you are a complete stranger. Which makes it good, because you aren't biased to me personally. Which further means you can give out your honest opinion."

Weird, but hey, he's the first person I've talked to in... Well, I don't know how long.

I crossed my arms in front of me and gestured for him to continue.

"You see... I'm dying. Like, for real. I have had this autoimmune disease and it's been a pain in my ass for ages now. The doctors don't know what to do anymore. They say I'm not going to be able to walk for much longer, or talk. And everything else that comes with being alive. So, to retaliate, I'm going to jump off of this bridge while I'm still myself. I don't want to die tied to bed."

He took a deep breath after finishing his rambling, and it's to say I'm surprised is an understatement.

I took it all in before looking into his eyes. I could tell he was struggling.

"Listen up good buddy, because you aren't going to believe me. I, for one, can say that death is boring, but bearable. If I was in your shoes, I'd do the same. However, seeing as I'm already dead, I can't really help you. I get the point, but it's a stupid one."

He let out a barking laugh. God, was it annoying.

"Okay, I'm probably already far gone. Or you are just a seriously crazy lady. There is no way you are dead."

Was he calling me a liar?

"I'll have you know I am as dead as it can be. Buried six feet under, white casket and all that jazz." I did like my white casket.

He started shaking his head. "Cut it out, I'm supposed to be the neurotic one."

Before he could move, I went right through his body.

He froze. Slowly, he turned around. His face became even paler than before.

I smirked.

"Told you I was dead."

He stood there, looking at me, mouth wide open.

"But... How? I see you! I know I see you!"

With his finger pointing at me, he couldn't stop fidgeting.

"I know that. I don't have a single clue either. However, you are the first person who's talked to me in months, so I don't want to question it."

"Fair point. Does this mean..."

"There you are!"

I turned around and saw a tall man running towards us. Well, my new friend to be exact.

"We've been worried sick Wooyoung! You can't just leave like that! The nurses are going around the hospital like lunatics. Your mom is in shambles. And you're barefoot, again! Are you insane?"

The boy, Wooyoung, put his hands up in defence.

"Okay, okay. Calm down Mingi. I know it all too well."

Tall man, Mingi, ran straight through me and grabbed Wooyoung by his shoulders. Rude much?

"I'm sorry about the yelling. I'm just glad I found you. Come on, we have to go back, it's freezing out here."

Wooyoung nodded and glanced at me.

"We're going to the Seoul Medical Center, the one across from the main shopping mall?"

Mingi furrowed his eyebrows.

"Why are you being so specific? You know where we're going."

By the look in Wooyoung's eyes I knew that information was for me.

I nodded and waved him off.

"I'll come find you later buddy, go now. You've made a mess out of your friends and family."

Mingi ushered him inside his car and I watched them drive away into the night. Wooyoung turned around and watched me as they disappeared along the road.

"Seems like this isn't going to be so boring after all."

.

.

It's been a few days since my encounter with Wooyoung. The only living person who knows of my existence. I've yet to go visit him in the hospital. I have to admit I'm afraid.

Afraid that all of it was just a moment, and if I appear again, I'll be invisible.

It's also fun to keep men on their toes.

It all came to an end when I found myself in front of his hospital room. It's easy to get the information you need when you are invisible.

I looked into the little window and saw him sitting on his bed, a tray of untouched food beside him. He was gazing at the sunset with a small smile on his face. I took one step inside and cleared my throat.

"Well, here I am. You probably can't hear me anymore. So bye now, it was nice meeting you."

I turned on my heel when he interrupted me.

"Wait."

Shoot. Here we go.

"I hear you. I see you. Don't worry, I'm just spaced out at the moment. This new medication is a pain in my ass."

I nodded and slowly moved towards him.

"Hey I get it. We're not in a normal situation anyway. How have you been? Still thinking about jumping from bridges?"

He snorted a laugh.

"You wish. They've been keeping an eye on me since that night. Security had been notified of my escape plans. Now I have guards surrounding my door at night." He turned to look at me.

"You know, I'm jealous of you."

What? Of me?

I pointed to myself. "You're jealous of a dead girl?"

He nodded. "Yep. You get to do what you want without any consequences. Like, really, you can go anywhere you want, see the world, scare people..."

I put my hands up to stop him.

"Okay. Hold on. You think this is fun? I'm literally a ghost. No one can see me, my family put me into the ground, and I'm constantly levitating. You know how lonely I get?"

He was silent so I continued my rant.

"I've been contemplating for days about visiting you. You are the only thing that made me feel human again. You see me. You hear me. You annoy me as well."

Wooyoung chuckled. "I get that a lot."

"You probably deserve it."

"Put yourself in my shoes for a second. I'm living every day thinking it's my last. My friends keep crying, my family's already planned out my funeral. They are asking me about floral arrangements! They want me to be a part of it, even when I'm dead and cold. I just want to go on my own terms, without this whole ordeal."

"My mom put red roses on my casket even when she knew I liked pink ones better."

He shut his mouth and looked at me in confusion.

"What?"

"What I'm trying to say is, those things don't matter. They want you included because they think it's the only way to make you feel more comfortable about the fact that you are dying."

"I get that. I do. But they are suffocating me."

"Too bad for you then. I'd kill to have conversations like these. Wanna know something funny? More like morbid. They couldn't let my parents see me until they put my head back onto my shoulders. A truck came out of nowhere carrying glass plates. And what do you know? One fell, started an avalanche, I was too drunk and carless and here I am!"

I gestured around me as I stood up.

"You have to get that through your head. Not everyone has a support system like you do."

He looked down at his bare feet.

"I'm sorry you died."

"Yeah, me too."

I sat next to him again. I knew he was at a crossroad. Not a single person in the world would like to be in his shoes now. Death is a tricky bastard. I tried putting my hand on his shoulder, but it went right through.

He shivered. "Woah, that felt weird."

"I guess. Sorry, I don't know why I did that." I gazed out the window while he searched my face with his curious eyes.

"You know, for a ghost, you're really pretty."

I scoffed.

"Yeah, thanks."

I couldn't help but wonder if my cheeks would have flared up at the compliment if I was alive. They probably would. He wasn't so bad to look at, but I can't make myself tell him that.

It felt comfortable, sitting next to him in the silence that followed. It was almost... Normal.

Like he was a guy, I was a girl, we were in the moment, that was it.

"You know you never told me your name?" I turned my head towards him and hummed.

"Yeah, I guess. I'm Y/N. Renowned ghost girl."

I put my hand out for him to shake, even though I knew it was impossible. Still, he reached over and our palms were inches away, doing a make believe handshake.

"Nice to meet you Y/N. You already know who I am. Tell me Y/N, how is ghost life treating you?"

"Well it was rough at first, because I didn't have a clue what happened. After a while it becomes... Boring I suppose. I do have fun going around different places, but I never seem to find any..." I trailed off and looked at my hands.

"I never seem to find peace. It's what I want the most."

Wooyoung sighed. "I guess peace is the one thing everybody's looking for."

"You know, I've met some other ghosts, but only briefly. They all moved on from this in between space faster than me. I don't know what I'm doing here. I've made my piece with the fact that I'm dead. I've said my goodbyes. So I don't know why I'm still here."

"Maybe there is something you haven't done? Think about it. There has to be a thing you didn't do, never had the chance, and now you can't settle."

I blinked at him. Then it came.

"I've never been in love." Wooyoung choked.

"What?"

"I've never loved someone. Sure, I liked the guys I've been with, but there was never a person I've fallen in love with. I didn't think that would set me back so much."

"That kind of makes sense."

"If this is what's holding me back I'm going to be here forever."

"And why is that?"

I looked at him and sighed.

"If you haven't noticed already, I'm dead. No one is going to fall in love with a ghost. But, hey, at least I will get to witness flying cars in the future."

Wooyoung chuckled. "I like your sense of humor. Don't worry about being alone though. Once I'm gone, I'll be at your side looking at the flying cars."

"You want to tell me you've never been in love as well?"

"Never, not once. It's difficult to date people when you are bound to your bed most of the time. They can't handle it."

"Well then, my friend, we are going to have a blast."

Our eyes met and I couldn't quite place the feeling in my chest. It kind of tingles? Wooyoung is a handsome boy, even with the obvious signs of his illness showing. He is also quirky, but in a good way.

He cleared his throat.

"My mom's going to be here soon. She always comes in the late afternoon, says it's the calmest time in the hospital. I want you to stay, but I might feel awkward."

I stood up and went to the door.

"No, no. I get it. I've got places to be anyways. Listen, Wooyoung. Try not to make this time miserable for your parents and friends. This is all they have left with you. Be more positive, okay? I'll be by your side in the meantime. It doesn't hurt to have a friend who knows the ropes, if you get what I mean." I smiled as I gestured around myself. He nodded and watched as I disappeared through the wall.

The cavity in my chest was getting a lot tighter lately, and now it seemed like it was going to suffocate me. Jokes on you, I'm already dead.

.

.

Two days later I went to see him again. I wish I didn't.

He was hooked up on various machines, his face even paler than before. And here I thought I was the ghost.

A nurse was checking his vitals before letting out a sigh and walking outside. I was careful to approach his bed, afraid of disturbing the peace in the room. Once I got closer, I could see just how much worse he looked than the last time I was here.

I carefully sat in the bed and cleared my throat.

"Hey there... You look rough buddy." I shook my head. "Sorry, that was rude. What happened in the last couple of days Wooyoung?"

It was difficult to look at him. I couldn't quite place the feeling in my hollow chest, but it wasn't good.

I knew it was a shot in the dark, but I had the sudden urge to hold his hand. I reached over and lightly placed my fingers in his cold hand.

Wait?

Cold?

I furrowed my eyebrows and squeezed his hand.

I could feel him? I could actually feel his skin?

"Oh my... Wooyoung! It's a miracle, look! I can touch you! Hey, buddy, you've got to wake up. I can't be the only one excited about this."

He was as still as a statue.

"Come on Woo. Wake up and look at me."

He still wasn't giving any signs of waking up, but the beeping of his heart monitor became louder. Soon enough the machine started going loud and crazy. Nurses rushed in and I quickly moved away. As soon as I let go, his heartbeat became normal.

We all looked at him in confusion. Was he actually able to feel me in his unconscious state? The nurses went around, double-checking everything. My eyes were focused on his face. I could see his eyelids fluttering.

Soon enough, he slowly opened his eyes and looked directly at me. The nurse shot a light at his pupils, but he tried moving her away without breaking our gaze.

They fussed around some more while I stood waiting patiently. He never moved his eyes from me.

As soon as the door closed, he let out a tired chuckle.

"So, touching me in my sleep? Very naughty of you Y/N."

I wasn't sure if ghosts could blush, but I sure felt a bit warm.

"Hey, it wasn't like that and you know it."

I came closer and sat on the edge of the bed again.

"Wooyoung. You felt it, didn't you?" He nodded.

"I don't know how this is possible Woo."

He smiled. "I like it when you call me that."

He let out a sigh. "I suppose this is a sign. I am about to die, you know? Maybe the spirit forces and gods want me to get used to it."

His ramblings were far fetched, but kind of made sense.

"Well, I mean... I don't know. But, it's nice to finally feel something real." Without hesitation, I placed my hand on his again. He interlaced our fingers and moved his thumb to caress my hand. I felt slight tingles running through my palm. It felt... Nice. Warm, comforting, everything I've missed since my untimely death.

"You're really cold Y/N. I should get used to that."

I laughed. "Yeah, that's one thing you won't be able to escape. But it's okay, you won't notice it. Or you'll get used to it."

He nodded.

"You know, I'm glad I met you Y/N. At least now I know I won't be so alone once I pass. I think about you when you're not here. It makes me happy I suppose. Now, I do have one request from you."

I could hear his voice getting weaker. I knew he was tired, so I nodded for him to continue.

"Will you wait for me? I know you have the whole world to explore, and maybe you want to move on quicker, but please... Wait for me to come. I don't want to be without you."

He squeezed my hand with the little strength he had, his pleasing gaze almost piercing me.

He wanted me? I've never had someone so desperate for me, since I knew I was nothing special. But Wooyoung thought I was, and that should count for something.

I placed my other hand on his cheek. His eyes widened, but he didn't move away. He almost leaned into my touch.

"I'll wait for you Woo. I can't leave my only friend hanging."

His mouth stretched into a wide smile and he grabbed the hand that was on his cheek, caressing it lightly.

"Thank you, Y/N."

I nodded and untangled myself from him before standing up. I went towards the door and turned around to look at him.

"I'll leave you now, but I'll come back. Rest for now buddy, you've had a rough day." He nodded and waved.

"Bye angel, see you soon."

.

.

Life doesn't care if you are happy. It always finds a way to mess with you. Once you get too comfortable, it slaps you so hard you get whiplash. I don't know if people can die from heartbreak, and I'll never find out as I'm already dead. I suppose it could be possible.

I wasn't happy about the fact that Wooyoung was dying. That's absurd. I was happy that we found each other in our darkest moments, finding comfort in one another. I was imagining what life on the other side would be like once he joined me.

I came to the realisation that I've fallen for him in a way. Being inexperienced in love, and then seeing how good it could feel gave me a wave of happiness.

About three days have passed since I've seen him. I promised I would come back once he got a bit more stable, but I was prepared for the worst.

What I wasn't prepared for is seeing him almost jumping around his room in glee. His cheeks were rosy, his feet no longer bare, and his laugh filled out the room. He looked healthy.

There was a pang of anxiety running through me.

The worst part, he didn't even notice me. The room was full of his friends. I remember the talk one from the night on the bridge. Mingi, was it? The others were called Seonghwa and San. I gathered as much sitting in the corner of the room, watching them interact.

He usually gave me a sign if he knew I was there, but now there was nothing.

It brought me joy to see him so happy, but I had an internal conflict. Didn't we agree to be with each other? Was it so impossible for me to be happy, after everything? I knew my happiness would cost Wooyoung his life, but I was desperate at this point. I couldn't help but accept the fact that he was better, and he no longer stood on death's door.

His friends left after a while and we were alone. He sat on his bed and gazed out the window. He sighed, his smile going down.

"Hey Y/N. I don't know if you're here right now. I don't know if I can see you anymore. Wanna hear something funny? The doctors said my test all came back really positive. After the other night when we held hands, I only got better. I think you helped me in a way. You know, I was actually excited to be with you. I... I think I fell in love with you. Maybe you were a fragment of my imagination? My body isn't exactly in its best condition. Who knows... Thank you Y/N. I want you to find peace." He took a deep breath and shook his head.

"No, wait... I know I might sound insane and selfish, but... I don't want you to go. I want you here. I want you to be here. Why is it so hard for us to be happy? We could've been happy! My God Y/N I can't... I miss you..."

Tears slowly made their way down his face. My eyes stung, but I knew I wasn't able to cry. It broke my non-beating heart to see him like this. He was in complete shambles over me, a ghost. Someone who isn't real anymore.

I slowly approached his side and sat next to him. I made sure we didn't accidentally touch.

"Hey Woo... It's okay buddy. We knew it was impossible from the start. Everything we had was impossible. But it's going to be okay baby. You're going to get even better in time. You'll find a nice, pretty girlfriend. She would have to get used to your sarcasm, but with the amount of charm you possess it won't be difficult. I'm going to miss you, though. You've made me happy these past few weeks. Thank you for that. I might be able to move on finally. I did the thing I've never done before. I fell in love."

I knew he couldn't hear me anymore, but it felt comforting to confess to him.

He was wiping away his tears and smiling. His wanted to place his hand on the bed, but he accidentally put it on my outstretched palm.

Wait.

I quickly moved away and stood up. He shot up as well.

"Y/N? You felt that, didn't you? I knew you were here! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Y/N! Please don't go away, stay with me. Just for a moment longer. Please..."

He crouched down and leaned his back against the wall, sobbing again. It was hard seeing him so distraught.

I sat next to him and slowly leaned my head against his shoulder.

He let out a cry.

"Thank you Y/N... Just for a moment. Be here for just a moment longer."

And so we sat there. The room was quiet, aside from his desperate sobbing. It was as bittersweet as it gets.

He calmed down after some time and I felt his breathing get even. He fell asleep with his head against mine.

I slowly stood up and made him comfortable on the floor. I didn't have the strength to move him to the bed, so this would have to do.

I moved his hair out of his eyes, caressing his cheek and that cute little mole he had. I slowly leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

"I wish you all the best Woo. I'll see you, someday. Goodbye."

With that, I disappeared into the night.

.

.

The view from the bridge was the same as that fateful night. The flowing water from bellow was calming my mind though. It brought me a sense of tranquility. It's been a week since I've said my goodbyes to Wooyoung in the hospital. It's been difficult to say the least. I can't stop thinking about him, our late night conversations in his hospital bed, the promises we've made.

I knew it was selfish of me, but I was sad, so I allowed myself to be selfish for a moment.

I couldn't bring myself to visit him anymore. It would be too difficult. I knew he had enough of a support system beside him.

I couldn't help but wonder if he missed me as much as I missed him. I'm a smart girl. I know he will find someone to fill up the space in his heart again. He will have a big family house, Christmas morning in front of the fireplace, with a fluffy dog sitting in the corner.

I want my dream to become his because I know he can make it true. That's all I needed to make peace with the situation.

There was a light ahead of me. Somewhere down the river, shining so bright it could hurt your eyes. I knew what it was as well, but I couldn't bring myself to cross over.

The universe thought I was ready, but I wanted a couple more minutes to take everything in.

"Sitting on the bridge, again? You know if you jump you won't die, so what exactly is the point?"

I froze. Not only am I a ghost, I am an insane ghost.

"What? You won't look at me anymore? I know we had some bumps in the road Y/N, but I thought we had a connection, you know?"

I slowly turned to my left, and there he was.

Standing in all his glory, dressed to perfection, with his eyes no longer tired but mischievous.

"Wooyoung?"

He smiled. "Hey there. Long time no see."

I jumped down and took a couple of steps towards him.

"How in God's name is this happening? Woo? Are you... Dead?"

He nodded.

"Burried six feet under and all that jazz."

My eyes widened.

"But how? You were better! Wooyoung! You didn't do anything stupid, right?"

He put his hands on his hips in a sassy manner.

"Hey, that was one time. Do you have that little faith in me? I died completely naturally, I'll have you know. The doctors told my parents I had a jump before the big fall. That usually happens to patients who are on their deathbed. Had me fooled though, I thought I was going to be miserable for the rest of my life."

In a second his hands were around my waist, squeezing me in a hug.

"But I can't say that I mind now. I knew my time was done, and I've made my peace. What I couldn't make peace with was not seeing you for the rest of my life."

My arms went around his shoulders and you couldn't tell who's grip was tighter.

"Wooyoung, I'm so sorry..."

He took my face into his hands and put our foreheads together.

"Hey now, don't be sad. I told you, I've made my peace. I'm okay. I've said my goodbyes. I've made floral arrangements with my mom. All is well."

I chuckled and nodded.

"So now what?" He smirked.

"Now I kiss the shit out of you."

With that, he crashed his lips onto mine. We didn't know where to hold onto anymore, moving our hands around, feeling every inch of each other. The kiss was desperate, full of unspoken emotions that were begging to be let out.

It's a good thing we don't need to come up for air, because we couldn't stop ourselves.

After what felt like ages, our lips disconnected and our eyes met. He smiled.

"I love you Y/N. I hope you know how much you mean to me."

I smiled as well. "I love you to Woo."

A bright light appeared before us. He looked at me before grabbing my hand.

"I think this is our sign Y/N. Are you ready to spend eternity with me?"

I nodded. We turned towards the light and started walking.

"Thank you Wooyoung. I'm at peace now as well."

[covid-safer-hotties]

I loved my teaching career. COVID normalization stole it from me - Published Aug 23, 2024

It might not have been the most favourable, but one of the most memorable comments I ever received on a student evaluation was that I could be “a bit hard to follow, but that was more an example of [my] passion for this subject over anything.” That subject was creative writing. And yes, sometimes, I had difficulty tempering my excitement throughout a teaching career that has now been cut short.

I have – or had – been teaching as a contract or “sessional” creative-writing instructor. Given the competitiveness of the academic job market and my age (I was nearly 40 when I earned the requisite degree, though I had already published four books), I had come to accept that it was unlikely that I would ever have a faculty position. But I could live with that because I still had the rare privilege of making a (barely) livable wage doing something I was very passionate about.

The COVID-19 pandemic took that from me. Actually, that’s not quite right. It was the perceived “end” of the pandemic that really ruined my teaching career.

I am immunocompromised and rely on medication to manage an autoimmune disease. This means vaccine protection from the virus is probably less effective for me than for most people. Also, my particular illness – Crohn’s, an inflammatory bowel disease – has been shown to put me at significantly greater risk than most for long COVID: a potentially chronic condition that can be very debilitating. And despite how it may seem, COVID circulates widely much of the year: We are still in a pandemic.

When universities returned to in-person learning in early 2022, a brief letter from my specialist was all I needed – because of my medical condition – to continue teaching online. But all that changed about a year ago.

Ironically, it is now harder for me to receive accommodation to teach online even though there is less protection in the classroom against COVID. I cannot require masking, which is perhaps our best tool against transmission (particularly respirator-style masks such as N95s), in the classroom. Nor does one-way masking offer as much protection as universal masking. Also, current air filtration in classrooms is generally insufficient. In other words, classrooms are not safe and accessible workplaces for medically vulnerable people. But that’s certainly not how university administrators, and even those who were supposed to represent employees’ interests, perceive things these days.

Last year, trying to discourage me from requesting to teach online, a union rep told me that he “believed in in-person learning.” The most frustrating thing about this comment, and the widely held opinion it represents, is that I too very much miss teaching in person and would, if it were safe to do so. (That said, I believe I am every bit as effective a teacher online.)

On another occasion, a university administrator, after I had submitted my medical documentation, thought “the solution” was for me to co-teach the class so it could include an in-person component and, consequently, less pay for me. After a struggle that went on for months, I taught the class entirely online, but the accommodation agreement I had to sign stated I had “a medical condition that needs limited exposure to as many people as possible.” I nearly refused to put my name to this bizarre description of what is a prevalent disease, but it was too late to apply elsewhere.

It is clear it will only become increasingly difficult for me to teach online as time goes on. The back-and-forth with administrators, department heads and union reps, waiting to find out if I will or won’t be accommodated, and/or what new obstacles will be thrown at me – it has all caused me significant anxiety, which in turn has made it more difficult, ironically, to manage the symptoms of my illness.

I know that the people I have been sparring with are, for the most part, decent folks: They are just ill informed. But I can’t keep trying to do the job of a public-health official to ensure my own health. It’s quite literally making me sick. I’m done. I quit. I have to.

Disability activists have fought long and hard for workplace accessibility to be a right. But the culture has not caught up to understanding the particular accessibility needs of the immunocompromised.

I do not know how to go forward from here. Online courses, especially creative writing, are few and far between. I am looking for online work that utilizes my skills and education and/or that pays more than minimum wage. I have yet to find even an opening for anything like that. For now, I’m grieving: In many ways, it’s a full-time job.

The last time I taught in person was the year I graduated from my MFA program – just months before the pandemic began. After the semester had ended, a student asked if we could have a coffee together so that I could offer further guidance on revising a piece of writing that I had told him was of near-publishable quality. And I only say that to students when it’s true. He also, to my surprise, wanted to share a bit of his own constructive criticism for me – about how I could facilitate workshop discussion a little better. I chuckled at his audacity, though later, upon reflection, took his suggestion. But mostly we focused on his creative work.

As we were getting ready to go our separate ways, he mentioned, in passing, that he had a long drive home: 2½ hours. It has always stayed with me that a student was willing to spend five hours driving for a relatively brief chat over a coffee. Clearly, he thought I was a good teacher, but with more practice and experience, I could become – like a talented, but novice, student writer – an excellent one. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like I will get that chance.

[eleventhhourfactor]

So, uh, turns out I have more thoughts for that trailer for Sonic 3. Specifically, about Maria.

Does anyone else think they're subbing out NIDS (the game canon illness) for something else autoimmune and detrimental to the whole body like, say, Ehlers Danlos Syndrome?

Ehlers Danlos Syndrome is a term for 13 heritable connective tissue disorders. Each type has its own symptoms, but they all share the following:

Joint hypermobility (unusually large range of movement)

Skin hyperextensibility (able to stretch skin beyond normal range)

Tissue fragility (organs and such are more easily injured)

I have a few good reasons for landing on this, of all the things the writers could go with. Besides the fact that there's no way Paramount's going to permit the most obvious switch (AIDS), let's take a look at this shot from the trailer.

Maria's introduced in a sling. Considering that she lives in the top-secret ARK, there aren't exactly a lot of things there for children. No bikes to ride without a helmet, no trees to fall out of, no tap water right out of the hose—should be safe, right?

Not so much if you're able to dislocate our joints by just going about your day.

So what, you might say? How does this justify a whole research project to make her well again?

That's because, aside from the easy bruising (which she can cover up with sleeves and such) and her joints being more susceptible to injury, there's also the fact that every tissue in her body is much more likely to get hurt. Along with comorbidities that vary depending on the variant someone has, all of this is bound to tax the body, causing chronic pain and a suppressed immune system if Maria has something beyond hEDS. If her organs are affected, especially her heart, that could do her in at a very young age.

(That or the military storming her home and blowing it to smithereens)

Am I thinking way too hard about this? Oh yeah. Is it partly because one of my good friends has a completely useless arm because she was never properly diagnosed with EDS? Oh, definitely. This wouldn't have been on my radar otherwise.

To see that this might be a possible in-movie explanation for keeping her sheltered like that...that would be very interesting, to say the least. Maybe it would make this more visible to the wider world. Maybe one less person could have what happened to my friend.

[emmaridley]

NAME: Emma Elizabeth Ridley AGE: 34 BIRTHDATE: December 27, 1989 STAR SIGN: ☼ Capricorn ☾ Capricorn ⬆ Aries HOMETOWN: Asbury Park, NJ NEIGHBORHOOD: Pine Street JOB: Lawyer

her mom and dad met as young adults in nyc and sparked a mutually beneficial relationship with one another

her mom was a broke waitress was a broke waitress who had dreams of becoming a famous broadway actress in the same vain as ethel merman or patti lupone, while her dad was a college student studying finance

but oh uh the condom broke and emma's mom was unexpectedly pregnant with her

her dad was aware of the pregnancy but continued to pursue his own career ambitions, figuring it would be best to become financially stable and make up for lost time later down the line

he was still a moderate presence in her life, mostly in the form of phone calls, birthday cards with guilt money, and spending every summer vacation together

her mom moved back in with her parents in new jersey before giving birth, essentially giving up on her own dreams for the sake of her child

watching her mom struggle to make bill payments and work her ass off to keep a roof over their heads only made emma work twice as hard by throwing herself into her academics and extracurricular activities, anything to get her into college

when it was time for high school, her parents mutually decided that it would be best that she live with her dad, step-mom, and half-sister out in california where she would have better access to resources that would help her get into a prestigious college

it sucked leaving all her friends and her mom behind, but she still kept in touch via aol instant messenger and myspace (truly showing my age with this one) and made sure to visit every summer with all the other tourists that invaded the boardwalk

while it was a big change, and incredibly awkward at first, it allowed her to learn how to adapt

she half-expected it to be a cliché cinderella story, but she was surprised by how kind and welcoming her step-mom was while also being a stark contrast from her people-pleasing mother

she eventually went to stanford for undergrad and moved back east to attend columbia for law school

the beginning of her career was spent climbing the ladder of corporate law in nyc, thinking she wanted to one day become a partner, but it was ultimately unfulfilling and more of an old boys network

she had several failed relationships, including a failed engagement, mostly due to the fact that her work always came first

she moved back to asbury park about 2 years ago to take care of her mom after she was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease, got licensed to practice law in the state of new jersey, and has been here ever since

but she's made the change from corporate law to being a public defender, which was laughable to many of her former colleagues

she loves to bake when she's stressed, so don't be too surprised if she shows up to your place unannounced with a plate of cookies

her closest companion is her cat ruth bader ginsburg

PERSONALITY: + intelligent, independent, confident, practical - impatient, tactless, abrasive, perfectionist

[1863-project]

I feel pretty today.

I don't look any different than I normally do, and I'm still wearing a pair of overalls the way I usually am when I'm working, but something feels different.

I spent my childhood being told I was ugly by my male peers, so I felt unattractive for most of that time, even as I grew up and saw I was more or less a societally average person. I wasn't a model turning heads, but I wasn't what people would call "ugly," either, and really, beauty is such a subjective thing that we can't really define it on a linear spectrum like that.

I realized the other day that it wasn't my looks they were shaming. They were calling the person I was ugly, because I couldn't be like the neurotypical kids and clearly didn't want to be. I couldn't conform to what they thought a girl should be. My hobbies and interests were weird to them. They didn't know how else to phrase their derisiveness, and so they used the words 'ugly' (to describe me) and 'stupid' (to describe anything I was enjoying at the time).

Events in my life have more or less left me feeling like 'pretty' isn't a word I can call myself. 'Cute,' maybe, since I'm only 5'2", but 'pretty' has always felt out of reach because due to the 'ugly' bullying I got really good at making myself invisible. I've never really drawn attention the way friends of mine I'd describe as prettier have, although they've told me that it's attention they don't want, which is understandable. Nobody wants harassment because of what they look like of any sort, whether it's bullies calling you ugly or creepy people trying to hit on you at work or when you're just trying to exist because they think you're hot. Additionally, I have an autoimmune thyroid disorder that has drastically changed my body starting around age 22 or so back in 2011, and that's dropped a hefty dose of body dysmorphia on my head.

Turns out none of that makes me not pretty. I see people who look like me on the internet and the comments sections are full of people who find them attractive. Today I saw a comment on a clip of Yukina from Kotetsujou no Kabaneri where someone outright said they thought women operating steam locomotives was hot and it rewrote something in my brain because I never really thought about myself that way, but I can operate steam locomotives. (Well, I did it once and I'm looking to volunteer on a heritage railway to get properly qualified to do it more, but it's something that I'd be able to do if it was required of me on short notice because I've studied.)

And knowing that people can be attracted to me doing something that I have such a deep passion and visible enjoyment for? That changes everything.

[justkidneying]

Okay so magic as something the body sees as a threat/danger to the body...

And this ask may return in varying levels as I refine it and get a better understanding of the subject

What if the body had a low-level immune response to using magic--like it isn't at an autoimmune disorder (yet, possibly)? Would there be a fever to try and purge whatever it is (that the body can't find)? Or would it immediately start escalating to an auto-immune response?

Okay, I love this question. So to answer it, I'm gonna have to 1) explain the immune system and how autoimmune disprders work, and 2) figure out how magic can be physical in a way for the immune system to respond to it.

So first off, your immune system has two main parts: innate (you're born with this) and adaptive (you develop this). Adaptive is the important one here. It deals with B cells, T cells, antibodies, stuff like that. It is specific, regulated, and has a memory. It also has to have tolerance. Tolerance is when these immune cells recognize the self and don't attack. Autoimmune disorders are the failure of this ability. Cells can't distinguish the self from the non-self, so they develop an immune response to your own cells. So to answer the first part, any attack on the self is an autoimmune disorder. There's not really an in-between.

The reason behind autoimmunity is largely unknown and too grand for this tumblr post (it's a lot of genetics stuff, as well as environment), so we're gonna fast foward a bit to what happens when your immune system attacks you. I will note though, that autoimmune disorders are most common in young adult females (probably something to do with hormones at that age, like estrogen).

ANYWAYS, so...what's going to happen is that the immune cells start attacking your cells and killing them. If the beta cells of the pancreas are killed, thats Type 1 Diabetes. If the joints are attacked, that's Rheumatoid Arthritis. There's also Lupus, Scleroderma, Sjögren, etc. I'm not going to get into all of this here, but you get the point: DISEASE.

What are some symptoms related to autoimmune disorders? That's complicated because there are so many and they act on so many types of cells, that the symptoms are specific to each disease. But, I like Systemic Lupus Erthematosus because it has a lot of systemic symptoms due to the body attacking your DNA. These include: a rash on the cheeks (malar rash), arthritis, inflammation of serosal surfaces (like oral mucosa), kidney injury, psychosis, seizures, oral ulcers, and a decrease in cell types (like RBCs and WBCs). This can cause a low grade fever, photosensitivity, fatigue, muscle aches, loss of appetite, inflammation of the heart and lungs, and poor circulation to the fingers and toes.

Now onto the next part: magic autoimmune disorder. So we're going to assume that using magic goes along with having a certain type of cell. We'll call this a magicyte. We can say this cell type is increased in the blood when the user is doing magic stuff.

In our hypothetical, the immune system can no longer recognize magicytes as self and begins to attack and kill these cells. This will probably lead to a decreased ability or even an inability to do magic (like how people with DM1 can't make insulin). We can also say that there may be a low-grade fever due to immune system activation. Remember how I said adaptive immunity is specific? Well, that's good because it probably won't do much else. Lupus is really bad because DNA is attacked, so that fucks with a lot of cells. As long as magicytes are the only targets of this response, the person will probably only lose their ability to do magic. Systemic stuff like fever will probably appear after they attempt to use magic (thus increasing the number of those cells and increasing immune response).

I hope this answered your question, and thanks for the ask :))

[sidewalkchemistry]

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[luxe-pauvre]

If we explore the alternative to the medical community’s elusive explanation, we are left with a disease that is the result of unchecked capitalist production and its runoff. Just as autoimmune disorders have the confused body attacking itself, capitalism has humans attacking the natural world. Capitalism delineates a boundary between human society and the natural world; by separating them, it becomes easier to exploit the latter. What we are left with is bodies that are confused: incapable, on molecular level, of maintaining the basic boundaries that are constitutive of self. Mimicking, on a molecular level, the degrees of alienation and commodification that happen to the body on a social and economic level. There are currently no known cures for most autoimmune diseases. They are discussed as chronic conditions that must be in a lifelong process of mitigation through biomedical means. […] My doctors’ assurance was that I would get well. I would be able to get a job with benefits that would allow me to pay for insurance. Biomedical treatment operates on a capitalist understanding of time. Rather than embracing the regenerative powers of the body, the idea is to get back to work as quickly as possible. It is the body’s radical autonomy that resists commodification. To spite our optimal productivity, it gets sick. Sickness can be masked and treated but the body responds nonetheless. It reacts. It may take longer to recover than is convenient to your boss. We do not have time to get you better. We have time to make you functional.

Carolyn Lazard, How to be a Person in the Age of Autoimmunity

[doctorguilty]

horror ask game: 2, 3, 22

2. most recent horror movie you watched and hated

This was some months ago lol but Halloween Ends. That movie was SO BAD, in the middle of it I took out my phone and posted like "what the fuck am I watching" on tumblr (you may have been there for that sjfdkgs). I don't even know what they were thinking. It made Halloween Kills look like a masterpiece (which wasn't GREAT, but I did enjoy it, as a fun romp). Why was Michael Myers barely in the movie. the hell was all that.

already did 3

22. a horror character that actually creeps you out/scares you

I had this sitting in my drafts and forgot about it b/c I couldn't think of an answer at the time but I do have one now, it's just that it's kind of depressing and involves IRL death (as in, the fictional character's relationship to a person who died in real life makes me very unsettled when seeing/hearing the character on screen)

so cw for reference to irl death continue at your own risk

so the answer is The Unknown from dbd, and not b/c of the body horror or lore or anything like that

The Unknown was released on March 12th, 2024. It's voiced by talented trans voice actress Zoey Alexandria, who I wasn't familiar with prior to the character's release, but I did look at one of her social medias at some point and saw her talking about how much she loved voicing Unknown. Zoey passed away at age 29 from a rare autoimmune disorder on April 30th, 2024.. less than 2 months after the character's release.

If you're not familiar, Unknown is essentially some kind of ambiguous entity that kills victims and wears their skin in a visually grotesque way. It has voice lines in game that are one of the creepier aspects of it imo. Sometimes the voice is male, sometimes female, they're always varying degrees of garbled, and sometimes they're random nonsense like "have you seen my dog?" and other times they're distressed cries for help like "I need someone.. anyone.. help, please"

They're definitely chilling on their own and, most definitely an awesome case of "she has the range!" re: the transgender actress.

But I have a thing, in general, where I can sometimes feel really disturbed when watching movies/shows/etc that feature a person who I know is now deceased. It's probably a mental illness thing, I don't know, but hearing the voice of/seeing the face of a person doing normal things while they're no longer alive in reality just.. freaks me out. I don't cope well with death in general. I don't like to think too much about or dwell on death irl, even people I don't know or even care about, like celebrities. I start to have some kind of existential dread.

SO the case here with the Unknown... is that its voice actress tragically passed away young so shortly after its debut, which is already an objectively upsetting thing for me to think about, and I can try not to, but ............. whenever I play against the Unknown, and I hear those garbled voices pleading for help, all the hair on my body stands up and my skin crawls

though I don't mean to present this as an objectively bad and scary thing, like, I don't want other people to be upset when they interact with the character. this is my OWN disordered brain stuff, and I try to just remind myself when I'm feeling distraught, that the actress truly loved working on the project and, if anything, it's nice that she got to complete it before her passing, so that she sort of lives on in it (rather than say, needing to be replaced early or something...). and the words themselves are fictional.

but it's probably the most "creeped out" I've ever considered myself about a horror character because ultimately, something stabbing real deep into my psyche like that just by sheer coincidence is undeniably scary, I guess? that's just the way I feel!

[lorei-writes]

OC Chart: Esther

(on the left: pre-king selection; on the right: around a year after the selection)

Name: Esther Age: mid 20s (start of Viva!Seeks Revenge) Universe: Ikemen Prince

Her illness has been born from grief, Prince Chevalier.

Family Members: father (deceased); mother (alive); Viva (identical twin; alive)

Occupation: would-be Belle

I have an offer to make.

Born to a maid and a stable master, Esther spent the early years of her life at the Dompteurs' estate. However, her life was shaken when her father decided to divorce her mother without as much as a word of explanation. They had to leave, although she wasn't sure why.

Grief struck her when they received the word about her father's sudden passing. It never fully left, and so it became evident: Esther was ill. Always ill.

They could not afford the medicine.

A tale a day. One that has not been written in any of your books [...]

She could hardly move when the palace guards arrived at their cottage.

Esther did not understand, but somebody else did in her place, and they happened to share a face. Viva knew too much. Viva wanted revenge.

It was up to her to save her sister. She'd do whatever it'd take.

I'm as good as dead either way.

More details below the cut.

Family History & Details:

Father: Rhodolitian Mother: Amberian (refugee)

Esther and Viva's father was the stable master at the Dompteurs' estate. He was disposed of alongside other inconvenient staff members; he became aware of the possibility ahead of time, and thus, divorced their mother. He forced them to leave the estate, and provided them with financial aid until his death.

Esther and Viva's mother originally came from the kingdom of Amber. She was in her 20s when Obsidian invaded her home. Little is known about how exactly she managed to arrive in Rhodolite, as she had never been too fond of talking on the matter. She married there while in her 30s, and gave birth to the twins in her early 40s. They were not planned; nevertheless, she strove to provide for them.

Esther's sister, Viva, was the younger twin. The girls were inseparable from the young age: the smart Esther, and the brave Viva. They devised an inconspicuous communication system only they can understand.

Nobody understood Viva better than Esther. Nobody loved Esther more than Viva.

About Esther's Illness: [Warning: description of illness]

The first symptoms of Esther's disease appeared soon after the divorce of her parents. However, the condition remained mostly dormant until the death of her father, when Esther entered her first major flare-up period.

Her condition would be now qualified as some kind of autoimmune inflammatory bowel disease. The frequent symptoms she experienced included diarrhoea, vomiting, bleeding within the digestive tract, abdominal pains, and weight loss (among others).

Personal Trivia:

Esther was an extremely fast reader.

She was an avid knitter.

The first nickname Chevalier provided her with was "Duplicate". It later changed to "Rag doll".

She considered herself to be native in both Rhodolitian and Amberian. She personally enjoyed singing lullabies in the latter.

Her nickname of choice for her sister was Vivi.

Esther was generally rather reserved. However, when drunk or otherwise only partially aware of her actions, she would become bold. For that reason, Esther avoided alcohol.

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

I am absolutely certain this is Dermatomyositis at this point. Including the skin coming off my eyelids.

I think it's actually been happening at least a little for years and it just wasn't bad enough for me to notice.

There are 3 potential causes:

Corona set it off and repeated corona exposure is triggering it

It's because I was stupid enough to take a multi vitamin for a month and empower my immune system to destroy

It is common for adults to develop this reaction when they have undiagnosed cancer

The first two are at least as likely as anything else though, and on the bright side, if it is cancer, I haven't have another reason to otherwise suspect it [just my usual question of whether any of my autoimmune shit could be getting worse for cancer reasons now that I am almost 40 and those swollen lymph nodes my doctor wouldn't check]... And as is pretty obvious, my immune system is GREAT at destroying my own tissue at high speed, so the likelihood of me going into permanent remission, like my mother did twice is, high.

And maybe now whatever doctor I speak to will let me speak to an oncologist without "finding a lump" so I can clarify with them what is normal ANA and autoimmune results and how I would distinguish a concern about cancer, now that I am at the age my mom started getting it. My family doctor wouldn't let me speak to an oncologist about my symptoms unless she personally thought I already had confirmed cancer, and I think that's kind of bullshit.

[crippleprophet]

homegrown health literacy part 1.1: WTF is ESR?

hello and welcome to the first post in my series about knowing when your doctors are full of shit! part 1 will be about interpreting bloodwork results.

disclaimer: i’m Just Some Guy

ESR is a blood test that measures inflammation. it’s a general test, so it can’t say what chronic or acute condition is causing the inflammation, just that it’s there.

ESR stands for erythrocyte sedimentation rate. it may also be listed on bloodwork reports as a Westergren test, and may be referred to as “sed rate.” the test essentially measures how quickly your red blood cells settle to the bottom of a container; sinking faster means you’re more inflamed.

normal results for ESR are classified by “sex.” current medical science is not transparent about what factors obscured under the label of “sex” actually affect test results – hormones? organs? body size? social factors? – so it’s unclear what variables are at play here. most likely, the average higher results in people classified as “female” are due to a combination of body size, hormones, and menstruation. however, many autoimmune conditions that cause inflammation are more common in people considered “female” by mainstream medicine, so i maintain some skepticism about whether the people considered healthy when constructing these averages actually were.

personally, as a tall, fat person who takes testosterone and does not menstruate, i compare my results to the “male” category. use your best judgement when evaluating your own results.

results considered “normal” for an ESR would be as follows, measured in mm/hr:

children before puberty: less than 10

“females” age puberty through 50: less than 20

“males” age puberty through 50: less than 15

“females” over 50: less than 30

“males” over 50: less than 20

results on the high end of normal would often merit redoing the test a few weeks or months later, or conducting other tests for inflammation such as CRP. as a point of reference, my ESR was 40 when it was used to help diagnose me with ankylosing spondylitis at age 22.

ESR increases with age, so a thirteen-year-old cisgender perisex girl who’s going through puberty would be expected to have a lower ESR than a 49-year-old cisgender perisex woman, even though their results are classified within the same category. it is also common for ESR to be elevated during pregnancy.

keep in mind:

averages are just that; ideally, comparing results from the same person over time gives the best clinical picture.

similarly, age 50 is not a magic number; an ESR of 30 in a cisgender perisex woman at age 49 might not indicate an underlying condition, and an ESR of 30 in a different cisgender perisex woman at age 51 might.

no one blood test can rule most conditions in or out; a negative/normal ESR does not mean you don’t have an autoimmune disease.