#I don’t even have a copay for them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

clonerightsagenda · 1 year

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Sick

We're most of the way through disability pride month and I'm not sure if I'll ever finish this WIP because I'm stuck over how literal to make some of the elements. So, I am posting it because I am curious if any of the weirdness resonates with other people. Enjoy my magical disability cure codependent haunting thing, and also I am going to post a rambling author's note about it.

The morning after the surgery, your Sick is sitting at the kitchen table. It looks good, for a corpse. It’s wearing the ‘I love dying and being dead’ t-shirt you joked about buying two diagnoses ago, pulled over a laced-shut hospital gown.

“What?” it asks. “You had more of a sense of humor when you were sick.”

The doctors warned you that your neurochemistry might be out of balance. You’re adjusting to the sudden lifting of brain fog after moving through the world in a protective cocoon of pharmaceuticals. They didn’t mention hallucinations.

“Think of me like a phantom limb.” Your Sick sips one of those awful plant-based protein drinks that still lurk in the back of your pantry. “Why did you do it?”

Talking to hallucinations probably makes them worse. You do it anyway. “You were killing me.”

“This world is killing you. But you finished yourself off first.”

You sit down across from it in one effortless motion. “That’s not what happened.”

“Right. I’m the enemy. So it doesn’t matter if I’m rotting at the bottom of a biohazard bin.” It considers you. “What’s it like not to hurt?”

What is it like? You’d woken up and lain there for a while, waiting. “Like holding my breath.”

“You’re in charge of all that now.” It nods, the motion referencing the length of your body. “Need to stay on top of it.”

“Like I need advice from you,” you say, but you blink, and the phantom’s gone.

60,000 pieces of microplastic. 7.2 micrograms per liter of per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances. 1:640 antinuclear antibody titer.

That's what they peel you out of. A second nervous system of petroleum products and misfiring T cells, the stuff that's been running your life via mob rule for a decade. They tell you that you weigh five grams less now.

They tell you, don't be surprised if at first it feels like something is missing.

I thought that was just for rich people, your friend says. She messaged you to remind you to take your meds, and you told her that you would never have to take your meds again. Celebrities and politicians.

Work decided it was cheaper to fix me than replace me, you message back. Score one for being essential.

Perks of your top-secret job.

I promise it's boring. Critical infrastructure usually is.

Did you look?

Some people share post-op pictures. They’re usually underwhelming if you don’t know what to look for - the subtle swelling over an aggravated nerve, hints of boniness in the knuckles. Shadows of bruises that never go away. No. I should’ve, though. I asked for hospital socks when they were prepping me but then obviously after I didn’t have them anymore. Who knows if I’ll get another chance.

You might be finished with surgeries forever and you’re disappointed because you can’t get any more grippy socks.

I'll miss the warm blankets too.

Your Sick crawled inside you when you were nineteen years old. It wouldn’t let you get out of bed.

“Help,” it croaked.

Your roommate (only your roommate then) came the second time it called. She was in her pajamas, her hair a dark tangle. You never asked for her help, even when your hands got so sore you couldn’t open jars without five minutes of struggle. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel right,” it said.

Her face softened. “I thought you looked rough yesterday. I don’t have class this morning; do you want me to make something? Call anybody?”

No, you tried to say. I can handle it.

“I think I need to go to the doctor,” your Sick said instead.

You had been putting it off. The doctor meant admitting something was wrong, meant – most importantly – a $30 copay. But healthy people never understand when you try to tell them. At a certain point, your body stops being yours.

Your Sick turned up its nose at greasy slices of campus pizza. It politely but firmly refused invitations for a night out. It sanded the branching tree of your life into a wooden sphere it could cup in the palm of its hand.

“You’re ruining my life,” you told the mirror.

It tilted your head. You read your own confusion. “I’m protecting you.”

“Mask,” your Sick says from behind you. It looks worse today – skin gone gray and patchy, with a shimmer of microplastic shards risen to the surface like body glitter. The shine complements the sequined mask secured over its own face.

You scowl, bag swung over one shoulder. You haven’t gone out since the surgery – you can work from home, you haven’t canceled grocery delivery yet – and now that you’re venturing through your front door, the phantom is back. You had reached for one of the masks on the table by the door before dropping it back into the bowl. “I don’t need it now.”

“So respiratory diseases don’t exist anymore? Dumbass.”

The objection reminds you of your own aggrieved complaints: why don’t people plan events with us in mind, don’t they know how many people there are with immune systems one shove away from collapsing, the world’s not getting any safer.

That was your Sick talking. You don’t have to worry anymore.

“You weren’t doing a good job taking care of me before, and you’re not doing a good job of it now.”

Its eyebrows rise. Black liquid has seeped through the cloth of its mask. “And fuck everyone else like you?”

“Like you,” you say, and slam the door in its face.

Outside, the breeze brushes your cheeks. You don’t have to sit down because you miscalculated the balance of meds and breakfast. You start to scan your surroundings for bathrooms, just in case, and then dismiss the impulse because you’re fine.

You’re better than that.

Three hours in, you realize you’ve been curling your fingers into a fist and then opening them again. You only notice because the joints start to ache. It feels familiar.

Nothing else does.

A notification flashes in the corner of your screen. There’s new activity in one of the forum conversations you’ve been following.

It’s rich people doing what they always do. Wreck the planet? It’s fine, we can get a new one! Wreck your body? It’s fine, we can get a new one of that too. There’s no incentive to improve the situation if you can buy your way out of the problem.

I’d buy my way out too, but there’s no way I could afford it

Then you’d eat your first plastic salad and get sick again. See what I mean?

The new ones are supposed to be more resilient

But it’s not yours

Remember any theological debates go in the quarantine thread

I don’t mean it like that. I just think you’re interfering with your relationship with your body, and that’s a fundamental part of who you are, right? Whether or not a s*ul exists

There’s not a bot monitoring this thread. You don’t have to censor it.

Sorry, habit

Mod is human, asterisks don’t stop me. But they are a screenreader issue, so please edit your post.

You used to frequent disability forums. They had useful resources. Jokes, too, like the t-shirt your Sick wears over its hospital gown. But you can’t understand the people who embrace their disfunction. You took a time-honored approach to your medical misfortune. Cancer. Pregnancy. Demonic possession. Petrochemicals. There is something inside me, and I want it out.

These people helped you, but you don’t need them anymore. So instead of saying anything, you log off the forum for the last time.

You do tell your coworkers, who are excited for you. They pester you with questions over Slack: How long did it take? Did you look? Does it hurt?

Your boss messages you, When can you come back to the office?

You frown at the screen. The work you’ve been doing from home is good – better than what you’ve produced for years now that your head is clear. But your boss has always been old fashioned. Remote work was a concession that there’s no justification for now.

Monday, if you want, you type back.

That gets you an immediate thumbs up reaction, followed by, We’re all so glad you’re ok.

That chafes you in a spot rubbed raw. Everyone assumes once the problem they know about has been addressed, everything else must be resolved too. You must be ok.

Which you are, this time.

Your best friend comes to visit. She brings beers you couldn’t drink with your meds and a greasy pizza that settles in your stomach like a snake planning to strike later. It tastes amazing – you run your tongue over your teeth to capture the last traces of salty richness and tell yourself next time your body will recognize good food.

She’s spent the whole visit on your sofa. You have an air mattress from when she used to sleep on your floor while you were recovering from surgeries. She hasn’t asked you to bring it out, and you’re not sure how to ask if she’s staying. Instead you keep stealing glances at her, the curve of her cheek that’s the first thing you’d see when you looked over the side of your bed in the middle of the night, the hands that have held your hair back from the toilet bowl and now rest on her lap.

She keeps looking at you too. You wonder if she sees a difference.

After the silence and sidelong glances build into an itchy layer on your skin, you lean over, clutch the front of her shirt, and kiss her. She freezes and then kisses you back, gingerly, the way you'd investigate an unexpected bruise. There’s pizza grease on both your lips. Rich and unfamiliar.

You’re the one who pulls away. "I'm sorry," you say. "That's not what I want."

She’s stiff under her softness, like an examination table. "I didn’t think so. I didn't think you did that kind of thing."

You don’t. It’s the silence. Your empty floor. Her hands, resting on her lap. "I just thought…” you try. “That kind of closeness is enough for everyone else."

Your fingers are still clenched in her shirt. She looks at them until you untangle them, one by one. The knuckles don’t ache.

She shakes her head. "It's like you don't want to be better."

“That went well,” your Sick says after the door swings shut.

“It’s your fault.”

It tilts its head on a neck that’s looser than it should be. “I didn’t do anything.”

It’s right. When you were sick you could request a shoulder rub to loosen tight muscles or hike up your shirt, no seduction, no bullshit, to ask if that rash looked bad. You could open your mouth and let the truth of your predicament outweigh prudishness or shame.

You don’t know how to ask people to touch you anymore.

It leans in close. “You need me,” it says. Oil bubbles over its lips and slicks its chin. “I was always your excuse.”

That weekend you watch your phone sit silent on the table, no pings from forum posts or medication reminders. Your Sick drifts over. It’s no longer a rotting corpse leaking garbage. It looks dead in the way you used to whenever you looked in the mirror.

Wherever it is in the real world, it doesn’t look like that anymore. From what you remember from the booklets they gave you, it’s already gone.

“Not going to explain yourself, huh?” asks your hallucination. Your haunting.

You shrug. What would you say to her? I took away the foundation of my life and don’t know what’s underneath. You only started being my friend when I needed help, so what’s left for us? There was always another medication or appointment or symptom but now everything’s fine and I’m still holding my breath.

You’ve gotten used to letting someone else talk for you.

“I was killing you,” it says.

That’s what you said. You look at the lines around its eyes and imagine a billion tiny swords raised against invaders that poured in every time you took a breath to light your joints up with friendly fire. “You were protecting me.”

“I was the worst part of you.”

“You were.” You flex your perfect, painless fingers. “Do I miss it?”

It grins and leans against the back of your chair, wrapping chilly arms around your waist. “I just wanted to make you say it.”

The grip around your belly aches in a way you recognize. Dull pain that makes its home in you. Cozy as curling up in bed with a headache. You look back at your silent phone. “Which one of us did she come here for?”

“Only one way to find out.”

You could reach out, but you don’t move. You have never known how to ask for help.

Your Sick sighs. It loosens its grip and reaches over your shoulder to lace corpse-cool fingers between yours. Then it lifts your combined hands in a swoop like the first dose of anesthesia, when the orderlies wheel you away and everything is out of your control. “Come on,” she says. Her breath is a puff of disinfectant on your cheek. “Let’s do it like we used to.”

After you came out of the anesthesia, the surgeons asked if you wanted to see your old body. You said no. You’d spent long enough inside it – it was something you wanted to leave behind. Besides, even after all the pamphlets and counseling sessions, you worried seeing your vacant face would jar something loose. Convince you like those cranks on the disability forums that you’d severed a connection that was irrevocable.

If you could do it again, you’d say yes. Step inside the morgue – no, they wouldn’t have moved it to the morgue yet, they’d want you to have a better venue to say goodbye – and catalogue the subtle changes only you could see. The swollen knuckles, flushed cheeks. All the other differences locked inside.

You imagine bending down and lifting the body the way it lifted you once, cradling its head in the crook of your arm. Imagine kissing your Sick and feeling poisonous tendrils creep down your throat to coat your insides with grime.

You imagine saying, welcome home.

(Author's note)

#kat writes

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pascalitaaa · 2 years

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Happy Birthday --- EP. 1

Black reader in mind

CW: the chapters are not going to be the entire episode, i just though it sounded cool, soft Joel, profanity, angst, gore ( TLOU type shit ), nice and happy in the beginning, then just fucking depressing, i cried while writing this, eventual NSFW

Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!

“Mhmmmph,” you groaned, squirming in your boyfriend’s arms.

Mindlessly, you patted your nightstand behind you, knocking over your earrings and a water bottle before remembering the alarm clock was on Joel’s side.

Fuck.

“Hon, the alarm,” you hummed, sleepily snuggling deeper into his chest.

He groaned, slamming his fist on the alarm and shutting it up, probably adding to the various dents the poor clock already had.

Without even opening his eyes, he threaded his arm back around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, a lazy smile playing on your lips.

“Good mornin’, baby. Happy birthday,” you yawned, placing a slow flurry of kisses on his jaw.

“Thank you,” Joel responded in a groggy rumble, him leaning down a little to grant you better access.

You take the opportunity to try and steal a kiss while he wass still sleepy, but an aggressive bang on the door snaps you out of it, and sobers up Joel instantly.

“(y/n)! We gotta make breakfast!” Sarah called from the other side, the sound of her running down the steps following soon after.

You follow through with the kiss anyway, cupping his cheek in your hand as you lean forward, him resting his hands on your waist to keep you sturdy.

“Shoot. It should be my birthday more often,” he cracked a smile, giving your hips a little squeeze.

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” you smirked, giving his ear a quick nip as you pulled away.

“After we’re done watchin’ movies with Sarah, I’m gettin’ Tommy to take her out and drive her around for a little bit. We’ll have the house all to ourselves.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, woman,” he smiled, giving you another kiss.

You were Joel’s wife of four years. Four wonderful and love-filled years.

And it all started in a doctor’s office.

You were a nurse and he had come into the clinic with a very bad and very large splinter in his hand.

A bit of flirting and a copay later, and the rest is history.

“Hopefully not. You still gotta get your present,” you cheesed, crawling off of him and standing up, giddily.

“Present? I told you not to get me nothin’,” Joel sighed, sitting up at the edge of the bed.

He made you promise, actually.

“I know, I know. But I remembered you talkin’ about how much you needed new work boots and saw them in the window and it just...happened,” you explained, pulling the brand new construction boots out from under the bed, holding them out for him to take.

He did, and examined them with a guilty look on his face.

“Baby, these must’ve cost a fortune. I’ll...I’ll pay you back once I get this job done an--.” “Joel Miller, you will do no such thing,” you quickly and curtly dismissed, poking your finger into his chest.

“This is your birthday gift and you will accept it whether you want to or not. You work too hard not to get something nice every once and a while.”

The man in front of you stood up from the bed, stepping forward and giving you a feather-light kiss on he forehead.

“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled.

...

“Hey, (y/n)? Where’s the pancake mix?” Sarah asked, staring at the empty spot in the cabinet where the pancake mix usually stood.

“I think Joel was ‘sposed to get it,” you answer, finishing up on the eggs. “Don’t worry about it. We can make him pancakes another time.”

She sighed, walking over to the pan with the bacon on it and turning off the burner.

“Then I think that’s everything,” she sighed.

“Perfect. Let’s start plating it up,” you smile, making Joel’s plate.

Sarah chuckled, taking a plate out the cabinet. “You make it sound like we’re a restaurant.”

“Shoot. Might as well be with how much we cook for these knuckleheads,” you joked, plopping some eggs and a few strips of bacon on a plate for Tommy.

“Who’s the knucklehead?” Joel asked as he came clomping down the steps, striding into the kitchen.

He threw an arm around your waist and pulled you close, placing a quick kiss on your cheek.

“No one, hon. Happy birthday,” you smiled, turning and giving him a fat kiss on the lips.

“We were gonna make you birthday pancakes but we don’t have any pancake mix,” Sarah chimed, smoothly taking her plate and plopping herself down at the table.

“Shit. I was ‘sposed to--. I’ll get some on the way back,” he sighed, grabbing a the coffee pot and pouring himself a mug.

“Ah, ah. Nope,” you dismissed, taking the mug out his hand and exchanging it for a glass of orange juice.

“Vitamin C. You need it if you’re gonna be working outside all day.”

Joel sighed, giving you a tired look before taking a swig of the juice.

You smiled and turned back to the stove, making your own plate now.

“You get your homework done?” Joel asked Sarah, discreetly switching the juice for coffee.

Sarah looked up from her plate with a deadpan.

“Fractions?”

She broke her serious face with a laugh, making the faintest trace of a smile draw at the corner of Joel’s lips.

“Go sit down and eat before you’re food gets cold,” you smiled, playfully shoving your husband towards his seat, one hand holding your plate.

The both of you walked over to the table and plopped down, Joel already starting to inhale his food.

“So, how old are you now?” Sarah asked, taking a sip of her juice.

“Thirty-six,” he answers.

“Gonna have to wear diapers soon,” she joked.

“Who says I don’t already?”

He paused his eating when he felt a crunch in his mouth, and pulled out a good sized piece of eggshell.

“Shell,” he cocked a brow, turning to Sarah.

She always beats the eggs, so it had to be her doing.

“Calcium,” you came to her defense, pushing the egg through your teeth with a smile.

Just then, Tommy came sauntering through the door.

“Hey!” he walked over to Joel and gave him a rough pat on the back. “You’re still alive, you old fucker.”

“Aw. He loves you,” Sarah teased.

“He’s dependent on me. Not the same,” Joel corrected.

“Sounds the same.”

“It’s definitely the same,” Tommy chimed from the kitchen, looking through the cabinets.

“You’re plate’s in the microwave, Tommy,” you chirped, taking a bite of your bacon.

“I thought we were having pancakes,” he frowned.

“We’ll pick you something up on the road. Concrete guys gonna be there?” Joel asked.

“Yeah, they said maybe,” he shrugged, stuffing his face with egg.

“Maybe? We can’t frame until we pour. We’re not getting paid until we frame,” Joel furrowed his brow, his Joel Line, as you so lovingly call it, creasing between his eyebrows.

“Well, we could bring someone else on and get the job done faster,” Tommy suggested.

“No, no. I’m not splittin’ this job. I barely wanna split it with you,” Joel dismissed, scooping up the last bit of his eggs. “We could do a double.”

“Literally? Today?” Sarah sighed, defeated.

“I know. I’d be done by nine. By nine, right?” he assured, turning to Tommy.

“...Yeah,” his brother, unconvincingly, nodded.

“I’ll bring back a cake. I promise,” Joel added.

“I got a half day today so we can hang out ‘til they get back. I think I got enough cash so we can order takeout. Chinese?” you chimed as you stood up, taking yours and Joel’s now empty plates.

“Totally!” Her eyes lit up.

Joel turned to you, concerned.

“Hon, you don’t gotta do that. I know you still got some debt you gotta pay of with your school and I don’t want you to--.” You cut off him with a quick peck on the lips.

“Relax. My debt can wait a day,” you smiled, walking over to place your dishes in the sink.

“...continued disturbances in Jakarta, but are advising U.S citizens--.” “Jakarta. Where is that? Middle East?” Joel interrupted the radio.

“Doesn’t ring a bell. It’s definitely a country. Or maybe part of Asia,” Tommy shrugged.

“Jakarta isn’t a country. Being part of Asia isn’t mutually exclusive with being a country, and in fact, it’s the capital of Indonesia,” Sarah corrected.

All the adults looked at each other, pleasantly surprised.

“Hope for us yet,” you winked at her, finishing washing the dishes.

“All right,” Joel sighed, checking the time on his phone. “Finish up quick and we’ll drop you off.”

“I’m still eating my eggshells,” Sarah chimed.

“You got seven minutes,” he stayed firm, standing up and walking his empty coffee mug to the sink.

That’s when you noticed.

“Hon, your shirt’s inside out,” you snickered, tugging at the tag that was sticking out.

He looked down at himself and realized the same thing, his arms deflating in annoyance.

“Shit,” he hissed, walking towards the bathroom.

Tommy chuckled, turning to you and Sarah. “He’s losin’ it.”

“Alright, I gotta get my scrubs on for work,” you sighed, checking the time on your watch as you walked over to Sarah.

“I’ll see you after school, alright?”

“Mhmm,” she nodded, mouth muffled with eggs.

“And here,” you added, discreetly handing her twenty dollars.

“Use that to get your dad something nice, alright? Don’t go too far and be careful.”

“I will,” she nodded, tucking the cash in her pocket.

"And don’t tell no one I gave you that,” you smiled, placing a quick peck on her cheek before running over to the stairs, nearly tripping trying to get up them.

...

“Jesus,” you sighed as you walked back into the house, plopping your purse on the coffee table.

Today had been beyond odd at the clinic.

Nearly every patient had come in with complaints about uncontrollable spasms. You asked each one what they had to eat in the last 48 hours, and every single one of them had at least one food that was flour based.

Even some of the doctors were being affected.

A good friend of yours got into a huge altercation with one of the patients, her rage seemingly coming out of nowhere.

Maybe there’s ‘sposed to be a recall for something.

But you knew that wasn’t right. You had never seen anything like this before.

Hell, when you left work, later than you were supposed to because of the sudden surge, there were still people pouring in with the same story.

You could feel it in your gut, like a heavy, sinking pit, that something was terribly wrong.

“Hey, (y/n),” Sarah smiled from the couch, closing her book.

“Hey, kiddo. Sorry I’m late. The clinic had to hold me back for a couple of patients,” you cheesed, walking over and giving her forehead a kiss.

You would have to save the thoughts for later.

“How was school?”

“Odd. There were a bunch of kids that kept twitching. And everyone was just kinda......out of it. Even some of the teachers,” she answered truthfully, placing her book down on the table.

“Yeah,” you nodded, peaking out the window curtain to see three fighter jets fly over the house.

“The same with me, too.”

Shit. That can’t be good.

The sound of the news in the background was making you even more anxious, so you quickly grabbed the remote and muted it.

Sarah turned to you with a surprised look, startled.

“Sorry. Guess I’m a little on edge. The stuff at the clinic’s got me jumpy,” you apologized, plopping down on the couch.

“D’ya know where your dad is?”

And almost on que, Joel walked through the door, him being home safe bringing a smile to your face.

Well....that and the thud of new construction boots being put to work.

“You locked the door for once. Good job,” he commended, tossing his keys into the bowl on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” Sarah looked down, deflated as she turned off the TV.

Joel plopped himself down between the two of you, laying his head back as he covered his eyes with a sigh.

“It’s 10,” Sarah reminded.

“I know. They gave us the wrong size for the headers,” he apologetically groaned.

Uncovering his eyes, he turned to both of you to see that you two of you were completely lost.

“That doesn’t mean anything to ya. I’m sorry.”

“Where’s the cake?” she added, Joel slumping at the mention of the word.

“Shit,” he hissed.

“C’mon, man,” Sarah groaned.

“I’ll get you a cake tomorrow,” he assured, leaning down to take off his boots.

“Swear, or you don’t get your present,” she smirked, making Joel’s head perk up.

“You got me a present?”

“Swear.”

“On my life.”

With the promise, Sarah smiled, pulling out a silver box from under one of the couch pillows.

“Wow,” Joel approved as she handed it to him, giving it a quick once over before opening.

Inside was Joel’s watch, but it was ticking.

It had been broken for as long as you’ve known him.

“I got it fixed,” she said proudly.

“Did you?” Joel teased, holding it up to his ear.

“What? I could’ve sworn he--.” The second she heard the tick, she pushed him away, the man bursting into laughter.

“That was lame. You’re lame.”

“I know,” he smiled, fastening it around his wrist. “Where’d you get the money for this?”

“Drugs. I sell hardcore drugs,” she shrugged.

“’S better than what I do,” he scoffed.

“It was only $20, which (y/n) gave to me.”

“Sarah!” you whisper-yelled, dropping your face in your hands.

“Oops. My bad,” she went wide eyed, covering her mouth.

Joel cocked his head over to you with a glare, like a parent scolding their child.

“Now before you get mad, technically she was the one who got the gift,” you smiled, putting your hands up in surrender.

“With the cash you gave her. I oughta take your wallet away right now,” he waved off.

“Never heard of someone taking a wallet to keep another fro spending money,” you playfully scoffed.

“Well you’re ‘bout to hear it today,” he smiled, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you into his lap, pretend patting you down.

“Jesus, Joel! That tickles!” you laughed, hating that your boyfriend knew all of your tickle spots.

“Wait, wait, wait! Before you guys get all lovey, I have one more present,” Sarah cheesed, digging behind the pillow again.

Joel turned to you, his scolding face back on.

“Don’t look at me,” you surrendered.

You didn’t know anything about this second present, and you didn’t give her any more cash than what you already did.

Out from behind the cushion, she pulled a DVD of the movie Curtis and Viper 2.

“Aw, shit,” you groaned, slumping back into Joel’s chest.

“Oh, shit! This is the one with the deleted scenes,” he beamed, snatching the case from her to give it a good look.

Joel has made you watch that movie countless times, with deleted scenes and without. You knew the entire script like the back of your hand.

“C’mon. Pop it in while it’s still your birthday,” Sarah rushed, Joel standing up to put the movie in the DVD player.

“Sarah, I am gonna haunt you for this for the rest of your days,” you playfully glared, chucking a pillow at the girl.

“So dramatic,” Joel teased, plopping back down on the couch.

“You love it,” you smirked, giving him a kiss as you nuzzled into his chest.

“It’s starting,” Sarah shushed, the movie intro music playing.

Joel turned to you with a devilish smirk, leaning down so his mouth was right outside your ear.

“Don’t forget what you told me this morning,” he whispered huskily, making a tinge of blush appear on your cheeks and a shiver run down your spine.

“How could I forget?” you whispered back.

“Shhhhhh!” Sarah roughly hushed

...

“Fuckin’ idiot,” Joel hissed under his breath, hanging up his phone.

You and Sarah had fallen asleep on him while watching the movie, but now he seemed upset.

“Hmmm? Whasa matter?” you groggily asked, lifting your head from his chest as you rubbed the sleep out your eye.

“I gotta bail Tommy out again,” he sighed, carefully moving Sarah’s head off his leg, as not to wake her.

“You’re kidding,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Wish I was,” he grumbled, standing up and putting his boots on.

“I’ll be right back. You think you can watch Sarah for me ‘til I do?”

“Of course,” you waved off, sitting up the right way against the couch.

Your mind suddenly transported you back to earlier today, with the crazed doctors, the spasming patients, the fighter jets.

Shit.

“Just be careful for me. Please. Somethin’ hasn’t been right with today.”

Joel turned to you, his angry face softening.

“Of course, darlin’,” he assured, leaning down to give you a quick forehead kiss.

“I’ll be back before you know it.”

You nodded, begrudgingly, and he grabbed his keys, quickly walking out the door and locking it behind.

Looking down, you noticed Sarah had curled into you in her sleep, her head resting on your lap now.

And you decided to do the same thing.

Maybe some shut-eye’ll get me right.

...

You were awoken, yet again, by a loud boom, and the sound of Mercy, the neighbor’s dog, barking.

Your head shot up quick as a whistle, and you could feel Sarah starting to stir as well.

What the fuck was that?!

The sound of a helicopter zoomed overhead, and another explosion boomed in the distance, both shaking the house violently.

“What was that?!” Sarah fearfully asked, quickly sitting up.

“I don’t know,” you answered, standing up from the couch.

This couldn’t be good.

Explosions means bombs. And bombs mean shrapnel. And shrapnel in your kind of house means death.

We gotta get out of here now.

“Honey, you put on your shoes, okay? Your Converses,” you quickly ordered, speed walking over to the front door to throw on your Doc Martens.

They were the closest thing you had to combat boots.

“(y/n), where’s dad? What’s happening?” She panicked, following you to the shoe rack and starting to put on her purple Converses.

“You dad went to go bail your uncle out of jail,” you answered, looking down at your watch.

2:20

“They should’ve been back by now. But we gotta worry ‘bout ourselves for the time being, okay?”

She quickly nodded, and you grabbed your steel baseball bat from under the couch, gripping it tight as another helicopter whirred overhead.

Suddenly, Mercy banged on the sliding glass door, making Sarah scream.

You quickly turned, bat at the ready, only to see him simply scratching to get inside.

Sarah turned to the door, opening it and walking outside, much to your dismay.

“Sarah!” you exclaimed, running after her.

When you got out with her, a military grade helicopter flew overhead, it’s propellers almost deafening

“We gotta take Mercy back to the Adlers,” Sarah stated, the dog nuzzling between her legs.

You groaned, quickly weighing the options in your head.

The quicker we get the dog back, the quicker we get out of here.

“Fuck. Alright. We take him to the door, that’s it,” you rushed, pushing her by her back as she grabbed Mercy’s collar.

You only managed to make it two steps away from the door when the dog refused to get any closer.

“C’mon, boy. Go inside. It’s not safe out here,” Sarah pleaded, trying to pull the dog along.

But he whimpered and clawed at the ground, managing to wriggle his way out his collar and run off somewhere.

That’s when you noticed the noise.

It wasn’t a groaning or a moaning sound, but something hoarse.

And pained.

And non-human.

You looked inside the doorway, only to see the silhouette of Nana Adler standing deep inside the house.

Standing.

“OH, SHIT!”

Just then, Joel’s truck pulled up on the curb, Joel and Tommy jumping out the car.

“YOU TWO, GET IN THE TRUCK! RIGHT NOW!” he shouted, panicked as he grabbed Sarah’s arm, a large monkey wrench in his other hand.

That’s when Nana Adler loudly hissed, running out the house like a bat out of hell.

Heading straight for you.

“What do we do Joel?!” Tommy demanded, aiming his sniper rifle.

Everything began to slow down, and no matter how much you wanted to, you couldn’t move a muscle.

You were frozen in fear, and the same thoughts kept running through your mind over and over.

Why was this happening? How was this happening? What in the actual fuck did that old woman turn into?

Without hesitation, Joel hit Nana upside the head with his wrench, killing her with a sickening crack.

You watched, completely shocked, as your husband stood over the dead woman, bloody wrench in hand.

This couldn’t be happening.

“Tommy, get her in the car now!” he ordered, pointing to Sarah, who stood there glassy eyed, just as, if not more, shocked.

Tommy nodded and rushed his niece into the car, the poor girl still too traumatized to speak.

“(y/n), we have got to go now!” Joel hurried running over to you and cupping your face in his hands.

“Joel, what’s happening?” you asked, tearfully, your voice hoarse and broken.

“I don’t know, baby, but it’s not just the Adlers. You’ve gotta stay strong for me. We’re gonna get you and our girl out of this,” he pleaded, giving you a couple frantic kisses on the head.

Suddenly, the lampposts began to explode, and you could hear Sarah’s scream of fright from the car.

This was no time to negotiate.

You nodded and quickly wiped your nose, turning around and running straight for the car.

Practically diving into the backseat.

“Joel! (y/n)! What’s going on?” Denise, your neighbor from across the street asked, walking outside with a flashlight.

She was a good friend, and you went over to her house often to chat.

“Denise, you get back inside the house! You lock your doors! Now!” Joel shouted.

“C’mon, c’mon, get in!” Tommy rushed, Joel quickly plopping himself in the passenger.

He slammed the door shut and Tommy took off, turning in the roundabout only to be met with Danny and Connie Adler running straight for the car.

“Put your seat belts on,” Tommy ordered as he rammed through the two, rolling over Connie with a disgusting thud.

“Jesus Christ, Joel!” Denise screamed.

You and Sarah turned around, watching Denise run to her aid before Danny jumped and attacked her.

“Denise!” you screamed, hand on the glass and tears in your eyes.

She had three kids. And a husband, too.

All of which are inside her house, waiting to face the same fate.

“You take 70--.” “71, I know,” Joel and Tommy conversated in the front, trying to find the best way to get out of dodge.

“Daddy--.” “We don’t know,” Joel answered, already knowing what she was going to ask.

“They’re saying it’s a virus. Some kind of parasite,” Tommy chimed.

“There is no parasite or virus known to man that can do shit like that,” you dismissed, holding onto Sarah tightly, the girl doing the same thing.

“Is it from terrorists?” she asked.

“We don’t--.” Joel stopped himself, not wanting to sound angry at his daughter.

He was just scared shitless.

He has to protect his family from some shit he doesn’t even know.

“We don’t know.”

“Are we sick?” she asked.

“Of course not,” Joel assured.

“Then why did things blow up?”

“No cellphone, no radio. Minute ago, newsman wouldn’t shut up,” Tommy hissed, clicking every radio station.

“How do you know?” Sarah chimed.

“What?”

“How do you know we’re not sick?”

“They’re saying it’s mostly people in the city. That’s why they got the highway blocked off,” Tommy answered, making the turn and driving past a house that was completely on fire.

“God. It’s Jimmy’s place.”

“The Adlers would take Nana into the city. To the hospital for stuff,” Sarah stated, looking down at the ground.

“That’s right. They would. That’s probably why,” Joel agreed.

Up ahead, a man, a woman, and a baby, were stuck on the side of the road, trying to flag you down.

And Tommy started to slow.

“What’re you doing?” Joel turned to Tommy, eyebrows furrowed.

“They got a kid, Joel,” Tommy sighed.

“So do we. Keep driving,” he spat, Tommy begrudgingly picking up speed.

“We could put them in the back,” Sarah sadly suggested, watching out the window as they drove past, the man screaming for help.

“We don’t know if they’re infected or not, honey,” you sniffled, quickly wiping your nose.

This was going against your oath and everything you ever stood for.

But all that good samaritan shit went out the window the moment your family was put in danger.

“Someone else’ll come along,” Joel assured.

You guys turned into the side entrance of the highway, only to see it bumper to bumper for as far as you could see.

“Shit! Everyone had the same fuckin’ idea,” Tommy hissed.

“Take the field. Cut across and pick up on the west side,” you said quickly.

“Across the field, got it,” Tommy nodded. “Hold on tight.”

He made a screeching turn, driving you four into the marshy field and cutting past the traffic.

And everything looked sweet for a moment, until the army could be spotted up ahead, blocking the other highway.

“Shit. It’s the fuckin’ army.”

“Isn’t that good?” Sarah asked.

“Good for them. They’re where we’re tryin’ to go,” you sighed.

“Just keep goin’. Head north,” Joel dismissed.

“Could be a lotta people,” Tommy winced.

“We can’t go south, we can’t go east, we can’t go west. Hell else are we ‘sposed ta go?” Joel asked sarcastically.

Just as they were talking out their escape route, an extremely low flying plane passed overhead, the sound of the engine practically making your ears bleed.

You quickly covered Sarah’s ears, not wanting her hearing to be affected, and Tommy drove you all into town, only to be cut off by the cops and forced down an alleyway.

People were screaming bloody murder, and running in all directions, frantically.

“Alright, keep goin’, keep goin’. We can--SHIT, TOMMY!” Joel shouted, a car on your left nearly T-boning you.

You quickly pulled Sarah into you to brace the impact, but Tommy sped up just in time, turning onto Main Street.

People were fighting, running, being eaten, all right before your eyes.

“Don’t look, honey,” you held Sarah’s head, pulling her into your chest to shield her eyes.

Suddenly, a horde of sick people burst from the movie theater, everyone screaming and running for their lives.

“TOMMY GO BACK!” you and Joel shouted.

Tommy threw the truck in reverse and began driving back the way you came, trying to avoid the sick in the middle of the road.

You turned around to look out the window, only to see a plane heading straight for the ground.

“Joel!” you exclaimed, eyes going wide.

“Holy shit! Move! MOVE!” Joel shouted.

“JOEL!” you screamed, clutching Sarah as tight as you could as the plane collided with the ground, causing a massive explosion and tipping over the truck.

...

You opened your eyes to an unspeakable pain in your left shoulder, turning to see the an incredibly large shard of glass lodged in it, your blood staining your blue scrubs red.

“AGGGGH!” you painfully groaned, desperately breathing yourself through it.

You turned to your right, only to see Sarah laying down on the ground, eyes wide and hyperventilating.

“Sarah, honey. I need you to stay calm and don’t move, okay?” you asked her calmly, using your good arm to rub her leg.

She turned her head to a man right outside the broken window, devouring a dead body.

“Don’t look, honey, okay? Look at me,” you smiled, continuing to rub her leg.

“(y/n). Shit. Baby, your shoulder,” Joel crawled over, about to help you.

“Joel Miller, don’t you dare help me. Get Sarah. Her ankle’s broken,” you ordered, noticing the bone bulging as you were rubbing her leg.

He nodded and grabbed her out first, you following behind by crawling, cutting your hands and arms on glass, metal, and everything in between.

By the time you stood up, your arms looked like tomatoes.

And not in a good way.

You grabbed the glass in your shoulder, cutting your hand even more as you pulled it out, muffling your scream of pain on your lip.

“(y/n)! Shit! Are you alright?” Joel looked at you painfully.

“I’ll be fine,” you gulped, tearing off the flare of your pant leg and making a makeshift bandage for your shoulder.

“We gotta get off the street!” Tommy shouted from the other side of the car.

Suddenly, a cop car rammed into the truck, separating the three of you and Tommy.

“Tommy! Tommy! TOMMY!” Joel called for his brother, finding a break in the fire to see him on the other side.

“Head to the river! I’ll find a way! Get them outta here!” he answered back.

Joel nodded, fixing his grip on Sarah. “You keep your eyes on me, ya hear? Don’t look no where else.”

She nodded, and he turned to you. “Baby, stay close, okay?”

You nodded, too.

And with that, the three of you ran like hell down the alley.

Only to be met with a bunch of writhing sick people on the ground.

That is, until one perked up its head, its eyes trained on you three.

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath.

Joel quickly turned around and you followed, the both of you running towards the door to a building.

He kicked it down and you sprinted through it, coming out the back room and into the dining area, where the sick man tried to jump on you, but missed and crashed into a cart.

Joel kicked open the front door, too, which led to the beach. But the sick man was still close behind.

He was just a hair away from you went the sound of a gunshot rang through the air, bringing the growls and snarls to a stop.

You quickly turned around, looked down to see the sick man on the ground, dead as a doorknob.

Headshot.

You grabbed onto Joel’s shirt for dear life, shaking in fear.

You nearly died for the third time tonight.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re safe,” Joel panted.

“Don’t move!” a random soldier shouted, the light of his gun flashing in your eyes.

“My daughter’s hurt. Her ankle. My wife, too,” Joel stated, taking a small step forward.

“Stop right there!” the soldier shouted, holding his gun at the ready.

“Okay,” he nodded, freeing up one of his hands to push you behind him.

“Easy now. We’re not sick!”

The soldier lowered his weapon, grabbing the comm on his shoulder and holding it down. “I got three civilians by the river, two of ‘em injured.”

He paused for a moment.

“One’s an ankle and one looks to be a shoulder.”

“What about Uncle Tommy?” Sarah asked, breathless.

“We’re gonna get you somewhere safe first. Then we’ll go back for him, okay?” Joel assured.

“I’m sorry, repeat,” the soldier asked.

The silence was loud, and your heart beat faster than it already was when he raised his gun again.

“Yes, sir.” ... “Yes, sir.”

“We’re not sick,” Joel said helplessly, confused.

The soldier got closer, and you gripped onto Joel tighter.

“Sir, we are not--!” The gunshots went off, and you and Sarah screamed as the three of you rolled down the grassy hill.

You cut your head on a rock you rolled over, and fell right on top of your shoulder.

“ARRGGGH!” you screamed in pain, shaking as you held your shoulder.

You vision was becoming blurry, and you could feel the hot sting of blood rolling down the side of your head.

But the sound of Sarah’s whimpers of pain cut through clearly.

SARAH!

You sat up quickly, sending a wave of pain through your head, and turned to see the girl not too far away from you.

You crawled over to her, the sound of the gunshot in the background being no never mind to you as you realized Sarah had been shot in the stomach.

“Oh, God! Sarah!” you wailed, tears beginning to pour as you saw her frightened state.

She was clutching her stomach for dear life, and hyperventilating like crazy.

“It’s okay, baby! Everything’s gonna be okay!” You cried, placing your hands on her wound to keep pressure, her freaking out and clutching onto you.

“Mommy!” she gasped in pure agony, her nails digging into your arm.

“I know, baby, I’m so sorry!” you hiccuped. “Oh, God, Joel!”

“No, no. No,” Joel repeated to himself frantically as he crawled over, kneeling down next to his bleeding daughter.

“Okay, you’re okay. Everything’s alright, baby,” he tried to say as calmly as he could, trying to pick her up.

But she practically screamed and tried to push his arms away.

“I know, baby. I know. But I gotta get you up, okay? I gotta get you up,” Joel kept repeated, hooking his arms under her again and carefully easing her up, much to her dismay.

Her breathing was becoming more erratic, and her attempts to stop him weaker and weaker.

“Honey, it’s gonna be okay! We’re gonna get you help. We’re gonna get you help,” you tried to assure her, tucking a tuft of her hair behind her ear.

“Tommy, help me!” Joel shouted, turning to his brother.

But Tommy didn’t move an inch, tears in his eyes.

“Joel,” he said sadly, barely below a whisper.

“C’mon, babygirl, I gotta get you up,” Joel repeated, trying to pick her up again.

But you realized she was limp.

She stopped struggling. She stopped breathing.

She just...stopped.

“No. No, no, no. SARAH!” you screamed, stroking her hair again to try and see if that would get her back.

But it didn’t.

She was gone.

You sobbed, falling into Joel’s shoulder as he rocked her back and forth, tears streaming down his cheeks.

You loved Sarah like a daughter, and considered her as such, too.

The love you had grown for her was something that held a large space in your heart.

And now she was gone.

Your partner in crime.

Your confidant.

Your best friend.

Your daughter.

Gone.

...

#tlou #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #tlou x reader #tlou x y/n #the last of us #joel miller smut

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cherienymphe · 8 months

Note

I hope you’re prepared for an absolute thesis of a review…

I have never read nearly 10K words faster in my life. I wanna start out by saying that I went into this blind. I didn’t want to know anything, I wanted his identity and looks to be a surprise. That’s how much I trust you. And you delivered, no shocker there! The fic was actually so interesting from beginning to end. I love when stories start almost mundane, so unassuming and it really made me feel like I was actually that girl. I moved to Rhode Island and somehow found trouble immediately, and I don’t mean my car breaking down😭 But I just loved the premise so much. He does her a favor and the reader feels indebted. So she allows him solace, not knowing that he definitely was feeling more than friendly towards her, probably from the start. But I think his desire for her was cemented by her caring for him and letting him escape to her house. Her final nail in the sexy coffin was her cleaning his cuts. Even though she was reluctant, she showed great care towards him and is clearly comfortable around him, despite his occupation.

I always notice and enjoy how much you change the dialogue and sentence structure to match your stories. This one reminds me of your Killmonger fics a little bit because the writing style came off as casual and laidback. But then when you’re writing a period piece, the style matches the time period. I hope this comes off as the compliment that it is. I just mean that you make the reader feel like they’re in each story because the tone and wording always match the setting.

But back to the good stuff. I just knew he was fighting over the reader as soon as he got cagey about the answer. And that’s almost his fault because he shouldn’t have made his claim so obvious hehe. I love it though. She really was the last to know because all the other men around surely did. Especially when his friend hopped out the car like, “this the gf?” I died because she was oblivious but everyone else was in on the gag. If she didn’t have her blockers up to him in that way then it would’ve been clear to her too. No man is buying you a car just to be nice. And he came immediately to her rescue when her car gave out. That man is into her! But she didn’t want to be involved that way so she brushed a lot off. Him laughing at me all the time would’ve pissed me off a bit because what’s so funny? I wanna be in on the joke too! Little did she know, the joke was her not knowing that was her man.

You can tell that she was always feeling him though. She was always going over where he had touched her and thinking way too hard about it. And the way you wrote him was so sexy. He stayed looming over her head and staring her down. Him and Rafe would probably be buds with the way they stalk their prey and hunt them down. And waiting! He waited a freaking year for her to come to her own realizations and then lost his patience. But I love when a man is committed enough to wait, because he knew he had a claim on her, there was no rush. Everything was so hot, especially him breaking her handle off just to get in. That man is all in her life.

Him proving that she’s his was just golden. The way his thrusts were rough but his kisses were soft just made me melt. And his dang laughing again when he was just reminiscing over the reader not knowing her place was funny. He said oh babe, you’re about eleven months behind.

In conclusion, definitely worth the copay and you edging us for so long about this man. So if you all like debauchery and are a little morally grey when it comes to the law, run don’t walk to read this fic!

It's actually so funny bc he for sure showed up to her house that night with the sole desire to see how she could handle that life. He was testing her and she passed the test and her fate was kind of sealed then and yes about the dialogue! I like to transport y'all to the world/setting so I like to make the conversations and language authentic as possible.

"What's so funny" is sending me bc no literally...what's so funny 😭 everyone knew but her and I suspect that even if she'd clocked him earlier and tried to stop it before it started, her fate would've stayed the same. Reader was definitely into him but her whole thing was that she can't get involved with all of that but 🤷🏾‍♀️

I'm glad you enjoyed it so much!

#asks

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bumblebeerror · 2 months

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data entry seems like it has to do with computers and i am pretty much akin to a boomer when it comes to that stuff. it's embarrassing, but even excel is enough to leave me stumped. so yeah idk about working with computers a lot.

i can walk around for hours no problem, but i cannot stand still in one position for longer than a minute or two. my legs will literally give out on me and start shaking like rubber. so i can walk and sit, but not stand.

working a shift? you mean like a security guard shift? i don't think i'm physically strong enough to be a security guard, unfortunately. i would not be able to fend off intruders and trespassers.

idk about me being employable because you have to pass a job interview in order to get employed in the first place. i'm telling you now, i would not be able to pass a job interview. i don't have the people skills or conversational skills. i see stories online of people who are much more put together than me failing their job interviews, so if they couldn't make it, i doubt i will.

i can't work physical labour because i'm too weak. i can't work with computers because i don't understand that. i am very good at languages and would work as an english instructor because i know that very well, but because of my terrible social skills i would almost definitely be a bad instructor. so idk.

i really want to learn how to take care of myself, but it's so painfully difficult for me. i'm so bad at it. yesterday, my horrible fear of bugs halted me from making progress. i wanted to cook myself something in the kitchen at 2AM when everybody was asleep, but there was a giant spider on the wall above the microwave, and i was terrified that it would jump on me and start crawling all over me. and a few days ago, there was a centipede crawling on my bed and i literally ran and locked myself in the bathroom for an entire hour because i was so disturbed. i barely managed to trap it with a bowl and i was shaking the entire time. i can't even handle a tiny bug, how am i gonna take care of myself or handle other humans?

and it's fine, it wasn't that long of a wait anyway, take your time with responding. i'm sorry about your car btw :( i hope everything turns out okay for you.

Eh, everything can be learned. Trawl a few Reddit posts about excel and practice a little bit, you’ll be alright. And nah I just mean like any work shift. Most of them that don’t want you to sit down also don’t want you to stand still either, so you’re probably good there.

Hell, you might like something like what I do now, I’m an after-hours janitor for an office. There’s rarely anyone else in the office while I’m there.

Interviews, eh. They suck, and you get denied a bunch, it unfortunately comes with the territory. Necessary evil sort of thing, doesn’t mean you can’t be hired somewhere else. There’s loads of tips for what questions to ask to improve your chances tho.

Everyone’s got phobias, man. I haven’t met a single person who isn’t irrationally terrified of something. Mine’s mostly spiders. I know they’re more scared of me, and I know they’re just doing their job in the ecosystem - doesn’t matter. The idea of them near me makes my skin absolutely crawl. Typically I’m okay so long as I can’t actually see them at least for a little while, but eventually even just cleaning away their webs becomes A Lot. Typically people will understand if you’re nice about it.

Idk if you live in the US, but if you do, you could look into state healthcare - I forgot to mention it before but a lot of them now do over the phone therapy and I think my highest copay is 20$ for dental, the rest are like 1-3$ and most places don’t bother collecting it.

Gotta stop putting limits on stuff you haven’t tried doing a few times man, you’re 20 - barring like, severe disability, you’re at the age where you can turn around a lot of shit you don’t like about yourself if you commit to it.

It ain’t easy or anything - none of this shit is fair, man, I’ll tell you that for nothin. But unfortunately, nobody else is gonna magically fix it for ya either. Comes down to like, you deciding you’d like to enjoy some things even if it’ll be work to get there. I really hope you do find a way.

Unfortunately the car’s too expensive to fix, and insurance won’t pay for it. Double unfortunately, I also can’t afford a new loan payment because I’m only getting about 240$ a month, so my mom and I will have to find one cheap enough that she can cover the loan on it, because my car is backup for when my brothers or my mom’s car breaks down. I just got home from cleaning out all my stuff from it so we could hand it over to the salvage yard. Tbh, I’m mostly sad that I have been slowly outfitting it so that I could camp in it, and the last two summers money’s been so thin I only ever got to take it camping once. Hopefully we’re lucky and find something halfway decent. In the meantime, I’m looking into remote jobs, since it’s getting really clear that I can’t keep doing my physical one.

#the bell tolls for you #it’s been so busy 😵‍💫

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vr-trakowski · 3 months

Text

What bugs me the most is that they made it so hard to do the right thing

I got sick this week.

High fever, fatigue, chills, shortness of breath, loss of appetite. Some kind of virus. A lot, in fact, like the time I got COVID a couple of years ago.^

My OTC test popped negative. But - it took two days to go positive the last time. And I know the OTC tests aren’t always accurate with the newer strains anyway.

So I thought I’d better get a PCR test. Where to start? Why, with my state’s testing centers, of course. My wealthy, blue state.

Found the page. Link to the search is dead. The phone number’s disconnected.

Okayyyyy…on the county.

County site says “call this number”. Which is the CDC.

CDC at least gives me a live person. Why aren’t you asking your primary care physician? she says. Well, for starters, because I don’t want to walk into a room full of people most likely not wearing masks and potentially give them what I’ve got, even though they’re idiots for not wearing masks in public and particularly at a doctor’s office?

All right then, here’s a site where you can search for places offering the test.

They’re all pharmacies and the like. Apparently there are no testing sites left, at least in my area. Oh well, one of them is my pharmacy. Nice and convenient, even if it presents the same risk to others as the doctor’s office. Not like I have a choice at this point.

I go online and make the appointment. I’m very clear that I want the PCR test, not the OTC one. At least I can get an appointment later the same day.

Arrive for appointment. Breathless walking in from the very small parking lot, even with cane. Took ibuprofen to break my (almost 104) fever because an hour and a half of shivering with chills is ridiculously tedious, so I’m now soggy with sweat. Check in; have to wait about ten minutes but at least there’s an unoccupied corner.

Medical professional takes me into the appointment room and opens up the test…which is the OTC version.

No, I say, I wanted the PCR version.

Oh, you have to make an appointment for that.

I did make an appointment. I said so when I checked in. I specifically wanted the PCR version.

We go around this circle a few times and get no forreder. Finally I tell her I’ll take this test, in part because it apparently checks for a couple of varieties of ‘flu as well and I’ve already paid for it, but I want the PCR test.

Test done, she sends me out to wait for a bit, then calls me up to the counter. Spends about seven minutes on the computer (not her fault that I can barely stand at this point - standing is always harder than walking) and finally confesses that she can’t make me an appointment, there’s something wrong. Here’s a corporate number I can call, they should be able to help.

(This test comes up negative too, on all counts.)

Next day: I call the number. It’s one of those artificial person phone systems that’s designed to make it nearly impossible to reach an actual human, but eventually I do. I explain the whole mess, she’s sympathetic but I’ve ended up in the wrong area, she’ll transfer me to the correct one.

Which turns out, of course, to be where I’d originally gone in. This time I get to a point that tells me the only way to make a testing appointment…is online, or in person at the pharmacy. Not over the phone.

Somehow I resist throwing my poor phone at the wall.

The sites have failed me, the pharmacy has failed me. I call my primary care doctor. Sorry, they don’t do COVID tests.

The only other thing I can think of is urgent care. I call the one near me. Yes, they do PCR tests. I can even get a same-day appointment. Of course, my insurance hates this brand of urgent care, so I’ll have a copay and then a stiff bill later, but what choice do I have?

I manage to clean myself up a bit, and go. Traffic’s appalling (about two miles out of my way due to mismarked detours), my blood sugar’s in my socks, and the online check-in (on my phone, whose stupid idea was that, typing on the phone is slow and miserable) is absurdly repetitive. Certain information has to be entered at least three times and the choice of “have you been exposed to COVID-19” is limited to “Yes” or “No”, no option for “I have no fucking idea because people are stupid”.

At least they don’t make me switch out of my Flo Mask, which I appreciate deeply.

Finally, finally, a PCR test. They tuck me in another room to wait for the results, and while the TV in there (why does it need a TV?) is playing “Zillow Gone Wild” (gag)* it is at least doing so at minimal volume (I do look for a remote but I can’t spot one).** I can ignore it in favor of my phone, or drowsing.

PCR test…is negative.

I don’t need Paxlovid, I don’t need to worry about taking more brain damage from that wretched virus. I don’t need to isolate at home for a week, trying to WFH with a truly terrible Internet connection (it took two minutes for an email to send this morning).

I don’t need to worry about infecting my elderly, frail parents, or my immunocompromised friend, or my idiotic (affectionate) colleagues who don’t wear masks. I mean, sure, I won’t go near the first three until I’m recovered, but. But.

However.

It shouldn’t be this hard.

It took me two days to get this test. While dealing with the illness itself. A little bit sicker, a slightly higher fever, and I wouldn’t have had the stamina to keep trying.

I know. The cruelty is the point.

But still.

^Fever dreams are wild. I particularly liked the one with the bunnies.

*The commercials were interesting, though. Decent mix of ethnicities, and I kept seeing things like laundry detergent or ovens being advertised using men as well as women. I stopped watching commercial TV years ago so maybe that’s standard now, but it wasn’t what I was expecting.

**I really, really hate the modern trend of TVs that can only be used with a remote. At least put on/off and volume buttons on the device itself! And while we’re at it, any computer monitor that requires more than a blind button push to shut off is unnecessary. One of mine at work requires three separate moves to power down.

#COVID #COVID-19 #health #illness #medical #bureaucratic stupidity #commercial futility #white privilege #educational privilege #financial privilege

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wistfulcynic · 2 years

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in December 2008 i moved permanently from the USA to the UK and promptly got an ear infection. It was intensely painful, like an ice pick through my skull. i took some OTC painkiller and lay in bed, moaning and miserable.

my (English) husband looked at me like i’d grown a third head.

“if it’s that bad why don’t you just go to the doctor?” he said.

“i--i can go to the doctor in this country!” was my reply.

at that time, it had probably been 5-6 years since i’d seen a doctor. Not since i stopped being on my dad’s insurance. Even when i’d had my own insurance (via my grad school institution as part of my teaching assistantship compensation, the same insurance as the professors had. Probably pretty good. Still too confusing and scary for me) i never felt like i had the spare cash to cover a copay, was always afraid that what i needed wouldn’t be covered by the insurance. i ignored an abscess in my mouth for weeks until it finally burst in a geyser of pus you definitely don’t want me to go into further detail about, because i was worried that would count as dental and i didn’t have dental coverage.

you get the picture. Health care in the US sucks hard.

when my ear was infected, my husband phoned his local GP surgery (with which i was not registered, i was an immigrant on a spouse visa, only arrived the previous week), got me an appointment later that day. They saw me, diagnosed me, gave me a prescription for antibiotics for which i paid (i think, at the time) roughly £7. Cleared up in a few days.

all i paid for was the prescription.

some years later my husband made me go to the doctor again. i was having random symptoms i wasn’t even sure were symptoms, a weird laundry list of stuff that could be connected or could be nothing. i went to the GP with this list, worried that they’d take one look at a heavyset woman and immediately go “lose weight fatty!” or “diabetes!” They did not. The doctor was a young-ish woman who listened carefully to everything i told her, looked at my list of symptoms, and said “we’ll test for other things, but I’m 99% sure this is a problem with your thyroid. i’m going to start you on some medicine while we wait for the test results.”

prescriptions were by then something in the neighbourhood of £8.

a few days later i got a call from the lab that had run my blood tests. They told me that my thyroid levels were through the roof, so high they were actively dangerous. Cardiac arrest was a likely outcome if it was left untreated. They advised me to get a prescription immediately, and were audibly relieved when i told them i already had one.

if i’d not been living in a country with free-at-the-point-of-service health care, i would not have seen a doctor. The NHS saved my life.

why am i going on about this? Well. It’s because NHS workers have planned a strike for later this month, and the press are already on the attack. Fearmongering about how this will throw the system into chaos, patients will go untreated, etc etc blah blah all with the very unsubtle spin of “blame the workers. Blame the strikers. They’re putting your lives in danger.”

zero mention of how dire the situation is in many hospitals. Not enough nurses (because Brexit among other reasons) and the ones we do have are overworked and underpaid. Too many patients not enough beds. Old buildings, old equipment.

none of which is a problem with the system. The system’s great. The system works. The problem is the predatory Tory government who would love nothing more than a privatised, US-style insurance-based healthcare system off of which they and their cronies can profit. The problem is how the government has been starving the NHS of funds for over a decade, under the guise of “austerity” and how we all need to muck in together. Except them, obviously. They’re different.

the problem is absolutely not the people striking because they, like nearly all of us in this country, are shamefully underpaid. Because they deserve compensation for their hard and dangerous work. Compensation they are not being given, despite their attempts at negotiation.

whenever collective action happens there are always people eager to blame the workers. Greedy nurses, refusing to treat us when we need them because they think their pay is more important. How dare they? They have a responsibility to do their jobs! i am urging all my UK mutuals and anyone who reads this not to be taken in by these spurious arguments or any spin doctoring from the news rags. Side with the workers! Side with the nurses. Side with the people who want the NHS well-funded and thriving. A robust national health service is a universal good. Ours is creaky and wobbling but that is from mistreatment, not because the principle is unsound. i promise you, however frustrating you find the NHS, an American-style system is far, far worse.

#national health service #britain #strikes #collective action #political #NHS #saira has Thoughts

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yourflowersfirst · 5 months

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day 1,403

pages 117-124

my whole body was shaking, trembling, like an animal left to freeze outside. i couldn’t remember this last time i was this mad, this vehemently angry.

“i fucking hate this. i want them to pay for what they did to me,” my voice rose an octave every few words. “why? why me? why did i have to endure all that? that goddamn..?”

my on and off therapist of 8 years just looked at me sadly. “i wish i had an answer for you. i am so, so sorry. all i can help you do is get through this, the now."

the response was this: i picked up some of the throw pillows, amazon brand, off the couch, and i threw them angrily across the room. “i don’t want pity. i want… i don’t know what i want. jesus. shit. retribution.” i was shouting now. so loud i was sure the people in the other office buildings next door could hear the shake in my cadence.

i was angry, of course, but all the anger was directed at myself. how i could let this happen. i was still pillow soft and honey sweet, but do you know the violence it took for me to get that gentle?

my therapist got up and got me a cup of water. she brought it over to me, also putting the pillows back, a tentative gesture. it did nothing. the water spilled to the floor, tears streaming down my face. my voice was still loud, but shakier now. “i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry. tell me what to do to stop feeling this way, please, just tell me. i’ll do anything.”

she said nothing. she simply got paper towels to dab up my mess.

i walked out of her office in a sweaty panic, right after i coughed up my whopping $50 copay. shoutout to shitty american health insurance. i knew i was in no state to drive though, so i sat in my car, the midday sun warming every bone in my body, as i took deep shuddering breaths the way rashel instructed me to. in through my nose. hold for 10 seconds. slow exhale through my mouth. repeat. try to ignore the tears still making their way down my face. grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn snow white. do not vomit. do not vomit.

the focused breathing helped a little bit. i sat in my car for… i don’t even know how long. 20 seconds or 20 minutes, it all felt like a haze. i eventually checked my phone: 13 messages i still hadn’t replied to. apple maps told me it was a 16 minute drive home, and i opted to drive home rather than text a bunch of people back. a conversation took too much effort and i really did not want to start crying again, or worse, get angry and lash out. i’d already done that enough in my life.

the drive back to my childhood home passed in a dissociative blur. i didn’t get into an accident, so- silver linings, i guess. once home, i replied to as many texts i could stomach, and i laid down. my anger from earlier finally cooled off, the hatred and need for justice coming down from a hot boil. a relief, truly, because when you get in such a state, you sometimes fear you will feel that way forever. time stretches on long, reality distorted. you start to feel as though everyone is out to hurt you and tear you apart, especially men. your skin will turn to steel, and one wrong look from someone, especially men, will make you spew out venom, strong enough to kill.

later that night, at dinner, once my parents were home- the conversation had stilled a bit. my sister was out with izzy and halee, so it was just me, mamascookies, and my dad. my mother had made butter noodles and pork chops, food i was picking at with my fork. i was still terrified of calories, of imaginary numbers.

“how are your summer classes going?” my mother prompted in between bites.

i shrugged, deciding to omit the fact that i’d dropped my session B summer classes. these actions would have consequences later. “good. i finished my essay. i hate excel, though.” at least that last bit wasn’t a lie on its own.

“it’s good to learn,” my father said, finally speaking to me for the first time in 2 days. “we need to go over your taxes soon, i’ll show you how to make a table for it.”

i groaned. “why do you hate me?” causing my mother to laugh a little, and my father to roll his eyes. i mimicked him, rolling mine as well. even though i knew my taxes were an issue i needed to address. i had no professional work scheduled and i’d owe close to $8,000 come april 15, meanwhile i had maybe $300 in savings. i hated myself.

once i sufficiently avoided most of my dinner (“you hardly ate!” “i’m not hungry- it’s my meds, plus i ate a snack earlier.”) i headed upstairs to watch succession and try to ignore my thoughts. still rattling around my brain like heavy rocks.

my days that summer were often boring, even if i had random outbursts of emotion, and mood swings so intense i’d get physically dizzy. staying in ohio for 2 months had definitely become like a prison to me, surrounded by memories that brought on flashbacks and night terrors whenever i tried to sleep. i’d wake up at 4 am, my dog concerned because i’d been screaming quietly, the total darkness of my room suffocating. i’d go downstairs to get water, try to settle my racing heart, and i’d often accidentally wake up my mother, ever a light sleeper. “what are you doing up?” she’d inevitably ask. “couldn’t sleep,” i’d always reply, my hands trembling, the nightmares still vivid and clear in my half awake brain. my mom would always sigh and tell me to just go to bed. despite it being 3 years ago, i still had bad dreams about kyle at least twice a week.

that night was no different. i don’t always have night terrors, especially when i’m living in arizona, but i felt haunted that week in particular. therapy was good for me, i knew, but i hadn’t gone to therapy since 2019. a lot happened in 4 years, a lot i didn’t want to unpack for this reason. healing often feels like reopening wounds and pouring salt into them. being aware of this did not help me, especially when i was awake at 4:27 in the morning, my bangs sticking to my forehead and nausea creeping its way through my nervous system. i wanted to take dramamine and hydroxyzine until i passed out, but i was out of both.

i eventually did fall back asleep after distracting myself with music. music helped more than people did anymore. i woke up the next day at around ten, a zombie, ready to start over. at least my sister seemed okay. she’d gotten in around midnight, also slept late, and had more plans with izzy and halee later that day. i tried very hard not to be jealous at all.

i’m probably not even a person. i'm a bug. ask anyone who has ever loved me, if they even exist. i never text, i never call, i hardly think about myself at all. i lay in a swamp of my misery, the water turned to sludge over my poor heart years ago, thick and impossible to remove. my exhaustion will consume me and i’m too tired of the truth.

sometimes i pray so hard for god to materialize at the foot of my bed that it starts to happen; then i beg it to stop, and it does. it scares me so bad that i think i’m going to die soon, the back and forth never ending, any human interaction i have is close to god damn meaningless.

it’s your privilege to find me incomprehensible and unwanted. i gave you a few minutes, you can keep them long after i’m gone. i’m full of suicides, of rotting corpses, of brittle skeleton, of huge pieces of flesh, infecting the remaining parts of me. maybe i am already dead and i don’t know it yet.

#day1403

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lucysweatslove · 1 year

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Updates regarding ADHD diagnosis and treatment!

The neuropsychologist finally billed me. By this, I mean I guess I was technically billed over a week ago, but I never received an email or any communication about said bill. I decided to log in to the portal yesterday to check, and I saw the invoice was just sitting there. It’s still ridiculous that the whole thing cost me $360, more ridiculous that thousands was billed to insurance, and also annoying that I could’ve had my report this last week if I had received communication that I was invoiced and had a balance to pay. But, at least it’s done, and I should hopefully have the full report sometime this upcoming week.

My insurance apparently did have an issue with the Strattera and did require a PA. I thought it needed that, then they filled it but my Wellbutrin was delayed which took another week… I ended up picking them both up at the start of June, and the pharmacy tech was all “oh it looks like insurance still needs a prior authorization for the atomoxetine.” She pressed some buttons and then it went through, only a $10 copay which is fine, but I got a mail letter for insurance recently basically stating that my medication had required a preauth and oh yeah a 30 day supply retails for over $1000?? But then it’s on the formulary and the “discount price” is only $68.30. It’s just weird to me that the pharmacy / pharmaceutical companies can say it’s basically $34.50/day (that’s $17.25 for ONE single capsule) if you don’t have insurance. Random rant- while I think insurance is great in general I wish routine healthcare was much more affordable without it and insurance could be used for the “oh shit” moments. Like car insurance- it doesn’t pay for gas or routine maintenance or new tires or whatever but will if you get into an accident (although I will say, gas is expensive but at least it’s not $34.50/day expensive). Yeah programs like goodrx exist and are great, but if anybody can use those, why the exorbitant pricing up front? Why not just… make things accessible? The people who need the lower prices the most are those who can’t afford insurance, may not have access to goodrx / maybe wouldn’t even know about it… idk.

Anyway I started the Strattera last week- maybe Wednesday? I can’t remember the exact day now. I’m only taking 18mg which is a pretty low dose but I am getting annoying side effects already. Hypersomnulence during the daytime (literally like 2hr long naps that I can’t fight off midday), but then sleep maintenance insomnia at night where I wake up at like 4AM, still tired, but I can’t fall back asleep easily. Also an increase in general aches (ironic to me as duloxetine, which also has norepi function, is often used for some chronic pain), headaches, and horrible tummy troubles (feels like the food poisoning all over again). Those could be related to my period though- it’s just worse than what I normally experience in my cycle. Thankfully I haven’t noticed any real effect on my heart- I don’t feel weird or fluttery which was a concern I had. But alsoX I don’t notice any effect yet on my executive functioning, which makes sense since it isn’t an instant medication and the normal starting dose for adults is 40mg (so I’m taking literally less than half of that). I am still trying it out, holding out hope that side effects will stop enough that I can increase the dose and try 36mg for a week or so before I see the psych NP next, but I’m not optimistic it’s going to be a good, effective medication for me.

#personal #adult adhd #adhd #medication #adhd diagnosis #why does healthcare suck so much here #and why is my body so stupidly sensitive to all kinds of medication

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thecandywrites · 1 year

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Monster March 2023 Day 27- Doppelganger

Dr. Vitanova

So, I know Deoppelganger is supposed to be an evil version of yourself that trades places with you in a mirror and takes over your life.

However, with someone who has issues with dissociation, and someone who wishes they could just walk out of my reality and into ANY OTHER ONE if it means I'm not Murphy's Law incarnate because I'm just sick and tired of my life being this gif

So, when I was having one particularly bad day with wanting to reject my reality and substituting my own- I wrote this. And then when I saw this prompt. It was time to make it for everyone else who wishes they could change things about themselves or their families or their childhoods or their lives that are usually out of their control. And for those who feel they were born in the wrong body, or decade or century or on the wrong continent or whatever, here is your chance to change it how you would want it to be. So think of this as a reverse doppelganger or the good kind maybe.

Thanks to @borealwrites for their Monster March 2023 Prompt list. Even though it's freaking MAY and I'm two months late. But I only have 4 left. Come on, i can do this, I can do this.

Monster March 2023 Day 27- Doppelganger

Dr. Vitanova

You drove up to the local medical center, having had an appointment you could not, for the life of you, remember making. But it was in your Google Calendar, you got text and email reminders about the appointment. And, honestly, with as many doctors, specialists and whatnot that you went to, they all seemed to blend together. So, the nearest you could figure was that you got referred to this specialist by another.

It was in the section that doctors who had multiple offices usually rented out a single office space to see patients in your area. And you had passed this suite many times before, never giving it a second thought. But now, it almost felt…weird, that you’d be seeing one of them. But you couldn’t remember what these doctors specialized in.

“Hi, I have a 10am appointment with Dr. Vitanova…?” You tried to say to the receptionist as you stared at the name of the doctor which- to your mouth, you feared trying to wrap your tongue around such a name- for fear you’d butcher it.

“Oh yes, it’s ok, she has a very long name, we just call her Dr.Vita for short. You’re actually a bit early.” She noted as she had you simply sign in on the sign in sheet.

“Well, Fashionably Late has a sister, and her name is Anxiously Early.” You tried to joke which got the receptionist to laugh.

“That’s a good one. I like that.” She smiled.

“So…is there any paperwork I need to fill out?” You asked.

“Nope, she already has your medical file. You’ve signed in, you’re all set.” She reassured you.

“But what about a copay?” You asked.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. There is no co-pay with Dr. Vita. Your insurance will cover all of it.” She smiled sweetly which was a great relief to you, because money was tight as it was.

“Well that’s a first.” You muttered under your breath.

“It’s ok. Just have a seat and Dr. Vita will see you shortly.” She encouraged you before you nodded and sat down and pulled out your phone to scroll through your social media feeds while you waited.

But within a few minutes, a nurse came and got you before you got up and followed her back, appreciating the downright beautiful scrubs she was wearing.

“How are you doing today?” She asked you as she walked you back to the room.

“Oh, I’m…hanging in there.” You tried to smile politely.

“Well that’s why you’re here, so that you’re no longer just “hanging in there” but actually doing much better where life isn’t something you have to survive, but something to enjoy.” She smiled warmly before she showed you into a room that looked like any other doctor’s examination room you supposed.

You expected the whole- being weighed and blood pressure and explaining the myriad of symptoms that caused your daily life to be more painful than pleasurable and filled you with dread that every time you woke up, that this was your reality, and that it was another day you had to try to fight your way through before you could escape into the sweet relief of sleep once more. And how you wished there was a way to just go to sleep…forever. Just stay in the wonderful escape fantasies of your dreams where you could do anything and everything and nothing ever hurt, nothing bad ever happened, no one ever died before they were meant to, or no one ever hurt you, or that you didn’t fear anyone or anything, let alone the horrible consequences of you defying the laws of physics or gravity or otherwise.

But on the contrary, she simply signed into the computer. And typed something in real quick.

“Ok, Dr. Vita will be right with you. I hope you feel better soon.” She offered sweetly before she left.

Ok. Dr. Vita must have been some kind of pain specialist then.

Only a few moments later, Dr. Vita came in. She was an elderly doctor. But while she had aged very gracefully, you could sense that while her body was older, her spirit was younger than you, she just exuded bright vitality. And she had your health file. It was practically it’s own large encyclopedia volume.

“Hello, thank you so much for coming. You have…quite a bit going on don’t you?” She asked in a gentle sympathetic tone before your shoulders sagged.

“You have no idea.” You murmured in response.

“But this is the hand that life has dealt me and I’m just…trying to play the hand I was dealt the best way I can.” You admitted as she hummed and nodded before she pulled up her chair and ignored the computer entirely and simply opened your file to flip through it.

This file might as well have been that “permanent record” everyone always thought existed about themselves. It had everything about you and your family history and your entire life in that thing, which she listed off rather casually as if she was summing up your years of life in mere sentences. All of your health problems, all of your medications, all of your signs and symptoms and junk. Even all the trauma you had experienced, your mental health, your relationships, your family problems. This thing had- literally everything. And with each new thing, you felt more damned and more irredeemable. And that all every medical professional would ever see or think of you as. And then, she turned a page and it had stuff you didn’t even know you had or things that you would be diagnosed with in the future, which she actually listed off before there were dates when your loved ones would get diagnosed with various illnesses, when they would die, when you would die!

“How do you know that?” You asked.

“I’m Dr. Vita, specifically, Dr. Vitanova. Do you know what Vita Nova means in Latin?” She asked.

“Life? Vita is life I think?” You answered.

“It is. It means “New Life.” You said that you had been dealt a hand in life and that you were trying to play that hand the best way you could. So, this is that hand. This is how that hand, will play out and how you will have no choice but to play these cards from this deck. So, I have a question for you, do you want it?” She asked as she held up the file.

“Do I want what?” You asked.

“This is your life. These are all the cards you will ever be dealt. Do you want to play this hand the way it will be played? Or- would you rather get a whole new hand and play a different game all together?” She asked.

“I don’t understand.” You shook your head with a frown and the corner of her mouth quirked up in a crooked grin before she went over to a drawer of the cabinets in the room and pulled out a thick clip board and a pen and then presented you with both of them.

“Old hand, old deck.” She said as she held up your file.

“New hand, new deck. Do you want the old or do you want to see if the new one will be a much better hand? And instead of being at the mercy of the hand being dealt to you. You control the deck and you can stack this deck in your absolute favor?” She asked as she held up the clipboard.

You didn’t need to think it over. You just grabbed the clipboard and she smiled happily.

“I’m so proud of you. Well, we won’t be needing this will we?” She asked as she held up the file and simply put it on the counter and otherwise ignored it.

You didn’t care if Dr. Vita was the devil incarnate here to make you an offer you couldn’t refuse and you’d be giving away your soul for this.

But she seemed to have read your mind before she started laughing.

“No. I’m not the devil. And I’m not here to take your soul. I’m just here to make sure you get dealt the hand you were always meant to have. You have so much potential to make a difference and really help the people you love while also finding the strength to really change your life for the better. Here’s your chance. Make it a good one. You’ll notice that some of the paperwork is already filled in so you don’t have to spend all day filling out every tiny little thing.” She smiled sweetly before she went over to the computer and put in what you were filling out in the paperwork- as you filled it out.

As if she could see it with her own eyes, seeing it through yours and looking into your mind and imagination and seeing all your fantasies and putting those in as if they were real memories instead of the fantasies you wished you could escape into.

She made suggestions here and there for certain specifics, which you took her advice and for the first time, could finally be generous to yourself. No guilt for being selfish or making yourself your own version of a “Mary Sue”, but rewarding you for a lifetime of suffering. Finally giving yourself that happy life and happy ending all those fairy tales promised you as a child.

You could even go back and actually make changes to your family so that they too were healed from their lifetimes of issues and traumas. You gave your parents a happy, healthy, loving relationship. You gave your siblings and yourself the childhoods you all should have had. Where constraints like money and time were no object and no hindrance. You made sure to leave out your stupid mistakes made in youth. You added fun and exciting things in your life and lives of your friends and family. Your friend’s mom who died of breast cancer when she was a kid? Not anymore. Your mother having postpartum depression after a misscarraige? Never happened. Nope, instead she got to keep that pregnancy she had wanted and it was the sibling to really bring your family together and closer than ever. Your parents failed ventures? Successes. Your own failures? Successes. Your faults? Your strengths. Annoying or self destructive habits or detrimental coping mechanisms? Gone. Gifts that you wish you had? Were now yours. Everything you hated about yourself or wished you could change about yourself, you did. Your height, your weight, your freaking eye color, your hair, length, thickness, color and texture? Perfect for you. Your body size and shape so you could eat whatever the fuck you wanted and never had to worry about going on another damn diet for as long as you lived, or avoid certain foods because they caused you intestinal distress or didn’t agree with you. But the ultimate goal was to have the ability to feel at home and at peace in your own skin. And that your chance to dream wasn’t an escape from your life. But a chance to renew your life so that you could really live and thrive and enjoy your life in the here and now. You could change your name to whatever you wanted it to be. Even all the way back, beyond your parents and their siblings but also to your grandparents. Make their lives better. And all the generational trauma that followed- never happened in the first place. That they could have made different choices, the right ones so that your own parents weren’t as messed up as they were. And then after that, then it came to occupations and you paused.

“So, my advice, sometimes, there is a saying that says ‘more money, more problems’. It’s hard to wrap your head around that when you never had much money in the first place. So my advice? Give yourself and your family and friends enough wealth to satisfy all their needs and wants. And enough to be generous with others. But not enough that any of you come into the trap of hoarding wealth, or that any of you become targets for gold diggers. There is a saying that “money talks, but wealth whispers”. Do the same. Don’t give yourself shameless and embarrassing amounts of money, but discrete wealth. Enough to live under the radar so to speak. Give yourself discrete lavishness, give yourself enough that you don’t have to worry about living paycheck to paycheck, but rather, enough that the paychecks aren’t the center of your life. And that the panic you feel in your life when there’s not enough money to take you through to the next payday, where you feel like you can’t breathe. That- that feeling never comes back. Now granted, if you want fame and fortune, by all means, give that to yourself. But know that there will be certain catches to that lifestyle. Like invasion of privacy. And being recognized and having paparazzi and all that.” She gently warned before that page suddenly had several options to choose from under it before you cherry picked your favorite parts of each one and really made something…spectacular on the page you filled out.

“Smart.” She grinned before she put that in too.

You had no idea how long this took. You felt like at any moment your hand was going to cramp, or that the pen was going to run out of ink. But far from. Suddenly, you could completely focus, and really put in every aspect of life you wish was different and made for the better.

And before you knew it, you had filled out everything and had finished and suddenly, you realized you would give anything to trade this file, this hand, from this deck for your old one.

“Thank you.” Dr. Vita said as she took it from you before she signed off on it.

“Ok, now as you know, Rome was not built in a day. So, there will be a transition period. Where this will be replaced by this. If it all happened over night, you would think you would still be dreaming and your own mind would reject your own reality.”

“Like The Matrix?” You guessed.

“Yes, exactly. So tomorrow, you’re going to receive a “care package” if you will. It will have everything you need to start the transition and end your old life and start the new one you want.” She informed as you nodded in understanding.

“But there’s more. In order for the transition to be complete and the change to be permanent, that’s where these come in.” She said before she put the two files beside each other and began to take out bottles of pills out of the cabinet above the counter and lined them up.

“So, meet the only pills you will take from now on. These are your new supplements. They are to replace your medications. And all of them have their own explanation but we’ll go over all of them.” She reassured you as she pulled out several bottles that are simply labeled Supplement 1A- 2B-3C in various colors and puts them in a row on the little counter there in the exam room with the other “normal” medical supplies you’ve gotten used to seeing.

She picked up the white bottle that has a blue label that simply says 1A on it before she openned it shakes the bottle until a single pill lands on the lid of the bottle and offers it to you, along with a bottle of water she pulls out from a mini fridge that was hidden in a cupboard under the counter.

“What do you love to drink the most?” She asks before you answer her and she smiles and nods, puts a small, white tablet that instantly dissolves into the water and turns it into your favorite drink before she offers you the bottle and the single pill that is held within the cap.

“So 1A- is your health. Your mental health, emotional health, physical health, spiritual health, everything. You take this now, and then you take another before you go to bed tonight. And one every night until the bottle is empty. While you won’t feel any different after you take this first dose right now, you will feel different when you wake up in the morning.” She insisted as you seemed to hesitate as you had the cap in one hand and the mini water bottle that is now holding your favorite beverage inside in the other.

“So what 1-A does- is bring your mind and body into your own standard of perfection. After you take this first one, this one is meant to build you up from your very core outward. So this first pill is meant to bring your vital organs back to perfection. The second pill you take tonight, will bring your mind into what you feel is perfection. And tomorrow, you will have no need to take any of the medications you currently take because you simply won’t need them. And you will get all of the side-effects but none of the cure if you do take them. Because you will already have a clean bill of health internally, no matter what you may look like on the outside. You could even stop wearing those bothersome contacts and glasses too because your eyesight will be restored.” She insisted as you looked from her to the pill and almost wanted to laugh at the ludicrousy of it.

But if that is what the pill could do, you weren’t going to look this gift horse in the mouth so to speak. So you readily took it and swallowed it down and appreciated the blue raspberry flavor of the skin of the pill that reminded you of a liquid over the counter pain killer or multivitamin.

“Now, if you woke up tomorrow, with what you feel is your perfect version of yourself, no one would recognize you, not even yourself. Which is why you must take this pill every night over the next three to six months, even up to a year, depending on how quickly or slowly you want this process to take. It’s all so that the changes are so subtle that it seems much more believable, because the longer it takes for a miracle to work, the more it can be explained away and easier accepted by those around you.” She advised.

“But otherwise, tomorrow, it will be as if all the teeth in your mouth have either been replaced or restored to perfection. They will all be in alignment and perfectly white and your oral health will be perfect. Your dentist will be just plain amazed, actually, I strongly suggest you change dentists, because otherwise, your old one won’t believe that all the work they’ve done or could ever do for you is now null and void and the new dentist will be relieved that they only have to do the usual cleanings once or twice a year for maintenance. And as long as you continue with a good oral hygiene routine, you’ll never even get a toothache, let alone a cavity or any kind of sensitivity. While also never having to worry about whitening your teeth either. And a new oral health regimine will be in your care package.” She explained.

“Otherwise, all the other changes to your outward appearance will appear slow but it will appear as if you have been going to the gym from anywhere from a couple of days up to seven days a week even though your day to day life won’t change. You can eat as healthy as you wish or as unhealthy as you wish and you can eat whatever you want and never have to worry about it not agreeing with your gut, because your gut health will be pristine and able to eat just about anything even remotely edible. It will not have any impact on the results or negative impact on your health. And once your body is what you want it to be- bring the bottle back here to the office. Because usually by then, there won’t be any more pills left in the bottle because each bottle already contains all the pills you will need for your personal transformation. Because I don’t need to bring in a computer to show you what you have secretly always wanted to look like. But know that by the time the bottle is empty, you will be that person in mind and body.” She began.

“Now supplement 2B- the red pill. This is the love pill. If you take this now, every thought of depression, suicide, self harm, self doubt, self hate, bad self esteem and bad body image, all of that will never again enter your head. But you will not forget how awful those thoughts once tortured you, which will help you to continue to give sympathy and empathy to others to also help heal them and help them love themselves too. Because once you take this. You will truly love yourself. Wholly and completely. You will have a good healthy sense of self confidence without arrogance. You will love yourself without being a megalomaniac. After you take this one. You won’t see anything about yourself that you hate, only areas about yourself you could and should improve on in a positive way.” She explained as you eagerly reached for that one and swallowed it down, smiling at the general berry flavor of that one before you nearly wanted to cry in relief when your voice saying such horrible things to you in your head finally shut up forever.

“Now, the next few doses, these will help you love everyone around in the ways they have always wanted to be loved while also allowing them to love you the ways you have always wanted to be loved in return. This too, should be taken after you take 1A at bedtime.” She smiled happily as she screwed the lid back onto the bottle since it was the smallest of the bottles before she opened the cabinet to pull a second bottle out, this one just as big as the first bottle was before she held them both up and side by side.

“Now here’s the danger in the red pill, your romantic relationships both now and in the past, both the good and the bad, the how and the why too and I hold no judgment for any of it. So, here is what I can do for you- I can either give you the small bottle and you will learn to love your current partner the way you have always wanted to while they will do the same. Or if you take the larger bottle. By the time your transformation is complete. You will be free to be with your real and true soulmate and love match. Which most think is rather silly or scared that they already have it too good where they are and who they are with to reach for something that could potentially be better but end up costing them what they’ve grown accustomed to. But if you take the larger bottle and have faith and wait and see- you will finally know and feel what true love from a soulmate and your true love match - which is something that you’ve always felt could only be found in fairytales- feels like. So, what will it be? Something you already know and have found a small measure of contentment with- or something that right now, is hard for you to imagine and might be scary at first?” She asked as she held up each bottle for your choice.

“Second bottle please.” You immediately requested.

“That’s my girl. You’ve gone this far, don’t go back now, and if you’re going to go for it, go big. And by the way, he’s a dreamboat, you won’t regret it.” She beamed before she put the smaller bottle back into the cabinet and set the larger bottle of 2B next to 1A and got the third bottle that was purple.

“Now this is 3C, 3C is your hopes, dreams, desires, ambitions coming into reality. That dream house you have already mapped out, planned and built in your mind? You take this first pill- construction begins today. Your business is obviously already taken care of. And by the time the bottle is empty, your new house with it’s own business will be move in ready and you’ll hit the ground running and not lose momentum.” She promised as you eagerly took that pill too and smiled again at the purple grape flavor.

“But it doesn’t stop there. All those stories in your head, or even stories you’ve already written either in part or in whole? Fully written, proofread, edited, ready for submission to the best publisher. When you get home, get on the laptop and read them and enjoy them. You’ll make a mint in royalties and practically on every best seller’s list. And you’ll become a famous writer when you’re not healing other people’s pain. Your masterpieces will be the next big thing, but stay big. Better than Star Wars or Harry Potter and your audience will never turn on you and you’ll never fall from grace. And the movies? The TV series? You cast who you want. You either cast unknowns or the big names or the rather forgotten. You do whatever you want. All of it will be a smashing success. And yet while you’ll be very popular on the red carpet and movie premiers and the sets and events and comicons- you’ll still also be able to live more or less a normal life too, unless you want to either play a part or have a cameo in them, then you’ll have the popularity you want but not to the point that it’s intrusive or dangerous either for you or your family.” She added as your eyes nearly bugged out of your head.

“All of that starts tonight when you take the second dose tonight and every dose after.” She revealed.

“Oh. Wow.” You murmured but blushed but smiled so happily at just the thought of it.

“Now, 4D- the green pill. This is the wealth pill. You take this now, all your debts are paid off, you take it tonight, all the money problems in your whole family will vanish overnight. You’ll see a huge lump sum from the government as a “stimulus”. It will be much more than what you need to completely get out of debt. You can pay off every credit card, every loan, everything. At least a few times over too. And more than enough to replace every single vehicle you have with brand new luxury vehicles right off the lot a few times over. And you could even fully redecorate the house you live in now with it too. And when you take the second dose, the same thing will happen to all your friends and family. So that their own money problems will be over too.” She promised as you practically gobbled that one up and smiled even wider at the taste of watermelon on your tongue.

“Now here’s the fun thing about the wealth pill. It won’t be just plain money. Because if it was just plain money- money can be spent, lost, stolen, given, whatever. No- this is real- wealth that encompasses more than just money. Every piece of jewelry in your jewelry box? Real- 24 karat gold, or platinum or whatever. Real gemstones. Nothing fake. And even old jewelry that you thought was lost or damaged beyond repair? Returned and made new. Now, when your dream house gets built and you move in, that’s when the real fun begins. Every piece of jewelry you see either on someone else, or in a magazine or in a store, or even on your phone, even Pinterest- mentally say ‘that’s mine’ and it’s yours and suddenly on your finger or around your neck. You’ll need a room just for your jewelry. Or even a safe. Properties? Fully owned outright in your chosen name, you want them fully furnished? Done. You want stocks? In that care package will be a laptop that lists it all out in a portfolio that kicks in tomorrow morning when you wake up and receive your care package. Your business accounts? That “stimulus” that got put into your family’s account? It’s matched and doubled just for your business. And everything you buy- comes with the double rule. So, say you buy your dream work vehicle. Well the bank will see how the money for that came out, and then see- that number rounded up to the nearest hundred dollars, deposited back into your account under any name you wish for it to come in as or whatever. So in theory, the more you spend, the more you make. But it doesn’t stop there.” She practically giggled.

“When you open your business/ You will have an area of massage chairs in the waiting room. Where actual physical money is concerned, the ten fold rule applies. Where your customers will come to sit in those massage chairs. They pay you five dollars for five minutes, it becomes fifty in your pocket. Ten? A hundred dollars. Twenty? Two hundred. You can charge your clients either outright cash, the ten fold rule applies when the payments are in physical cash in your possession and put into an bank account. For them it will feel like they’ve been given a two hour massage and those chairs just completely healed every ache and pain they’ve ever had head to toe in those few minutes. And if your profession is medical and they have insurance? Bill the insurance whatever you want, you will have your very own fee schedule codes they will pay it in full, no questions asked and no denials. And when it is deposited in your account- it’s also multiplied by ten. You’ll clear a bare minimum of ten thousand dollars a week if not more. You could even hire others at your company, who will come work for you and under you practically a hundred dollars an hour for a forty hour work week and have them only work barely part time, with full time benefits, the best health insurance, best vision, dental, 401k, paid vacation and all of that, the whole shebang. And you’ll have people lining up around the block to work for you and only the best will work for you and you won’t have a single complaint from anyone. While they’ll receive the tips as what the tips actually are. But their client’s payment to the business itself? Ten fold again. And all the tax write offs possible and your taxes themselves? Barely 1%, that you won’t notice or care. But no one will notice or care where and how the money appears, they will simply care how they can get some and you won’t get scammed out of any of it either. You’ll never be questioned, audited, or anything. You could come out with a skincare line and it’ll actually work and you’ll make a killing. A cosmetics line? Instant love and adoration with the best quality with affordable prices so everyone will look fabulous, of which, you have already received your own custom lineup of those cosmetics, custom crafted just for you. But again, just as you find, that you don’t know what to do with it all, or what else you could possibly spend money on? By that point, the bottle will be empty, bring it back.” She instructed.

“Now this is 5E- you’ll notice it’s clear, I call it the crystal ball supplement. It will give you clarity, give you some foresight and more discernment than you could ever imagine. More than Adderall could ever do for you. Think the premise of Limitless- but beefed up on the strongest steroids ever, but you won’t have any time blindness or areas of lost memory. Instead you’ll have perfect memory recollection. So be careful about what you choose to remember.” She warned you before you took that one too and smiled softly at the flavor of pineapple on your tongue.

“Now 6F- notice how it’s black, almost completely opposite of 5E. That’s because it is. This is to show that whatever you choose to do in the shadows will never be brought to light and will be struck from all memory, while also giving you powers you can’t even imagine. You want to moonlight as a superhero? This is it. You wish you had superpowers? Here’s the powers to give them to you. And while the adage that ‘with great power comes great responsibility’ will still hold true. This one will help you bear such a burden with ease.” She offered as you took it and smiled when it tasted like black raspberries.

“Now 7G- this one is perhaps the most important. See how it’s yellow? Usually yellow is associated with joy, sunshine, and warmth. Which is what most will feel when they are around you. But it’s more than that. All you need to do is either think about them hard enough, or touch them, and their pain, their darkness, their suffering, their despair, will melt away. Leaving them feeling at ease and at peace. But again, with such a thing, use with caution, because once people feel safe and at ease with you, they may tell you very troubling things. But this will also shield you from all of it as well. So that your own happiness, joy, and warmth will not be leached from you- simply shared and that it will always start with you and your family first. This is how your customers will be healed. Because you will not only heal them in body, but in mind and soul too, at least for a short time until they need another “dose”.” She offered before you took that one and had to smile again as you tasted mango this time.

“Now is 8H. And that is because this is because everything you do, everything you put your mind to, everything you make- will be heavenly good. Whether it be food, being a parent, a partner,, a friend, a boss, a workmate, or a patient and client yourself. No matter what it is, it will be heavenly good. Everyone will claim that not even michelin 3 star chefs can make food as good as you can.” She said before you took the gray pill.

“Now, this is the last supplement, 9-I. Notice that it’s bronze.” She noted.

“9-I is Time. Because I know everyone wishes- that if only they could go back do it all over again- knowing what they know now? Well this is your chance. Notice it’s a small bottle. In fact it only really has one pill in it. When you’ve transitioned, you have the choice, take this and start your life the way it was meant to be started, and relive your dream childhood that you just wrote out. But knowing what you do now. So that you can avoid the same mistakes you’ve made in the past. And once you get to be as old as you are now, then we will have this same appointment and I’ll give you the Alpha-Omega dose to take the rest of your life. But when you start taking that dose after you take 9-I- all memories of who you are, and what your life is right now, will fade once you start taking the very last suppliment.” She said as she held up the small bottle. Before she put the small white bottle down with a bronze label before she put her hand on the bottle that had all the colors of the rainbow on the label with the name Alpha/Omega on the label.

“When all of these are empty, and if you choose to take 9-I, that’s when you trade them in for this- it’s called Alpha Omega.” She said before she picked up the bottle to show you the multicolored bottle with all the supplements listed as a “maintenance dose”. Before she opened it and put the pill into the cap to show you.

“And as you can see, it has a section of all of the colors together to maintain where all the others have left you. And when you are done with this bottle, that’s when the cost for such a change will be asked of you.” She dictated and that’s when you suddenly felt a large pit in your stomach.

“Now, don’t freak out. When this bottle ends. You will be quite old and aged. Your kids will have grown, your grandchildren too, and you’ll get to see great grand kids. And see everything you’ve ever dreamed of- come to fruition. You will go to bed one night. And to everyone else, you will have passed in your sleep. But instead, you will wake up and see the old body you once inhabited, laying beside you, but you will wake up in the body that you have right now, granted with some minor upgrades and without the pain and other physical imperfections. But you will have lived a new life. And when you’re done, then you come back to this one. And that’s when you get to replace me as the next Dr. Vitanova.” She explained.

“Oh.” You blinked in surprise.

“But here’s the key. You can only treat the most deserving of patients who will find you and you will have to use your own judgment to decide who is really deserving of getting a new hand when life has dealt them really shitty ones. And if the good they will do will offset the cost of the supplements. You must choose your patients as Dr. Vitanova very, very carefully. They must want to help people. Or they have an amazing imagination that if only they had the chance to properly articulate or express it, give them the chance so that they can and their creativity might be cultivated. What wonders the great artists would have done had they been given such an opportunity. Your potential patient as Dr. Vitanova - must be kind even when others have shown them cruelty. Usually the more suffering they have gone through, the better the candidate for they show a strength of character to rebel by being kind when everyone else is cruel. They must desire to help others. They must not let greed for wealth, or thirst for popularity corrupt them and turn them selfish and spoiled, just like you must guard yourself from becoming yourself. Because if that ever happens to you- after you prove that it has, then the supplements will no longer work, no matter how many you take. Also, if you tell anyone about me, this office or what these supplements really are or where you got them or what they really do, the pills inside the bottles will vanish and any effects will automatically reverse and all you’ll be left with are simple and plain bottles. And then when you least expect it, even the bottles will vanish. And then you’ll be seen as a one hit wonder and the masses will turn on you and you won’t be any better than you are right now right where you are, but usually, much worse off.” She warned you as you nodded in understanding before she put all the bottles into a bag for you to take home- except for 9-I and Alpha and Omega, which she put back into the cabinet.

“Now, tomorrow, you will receive your care package in the mail. Make sure you open it and read the instructions, very, very carefully. But otherwise, all of the bottles will be finished at the same time. When they’re out, bring them with you back to this office and just drop the bottles off at this office, and one of my nurses will be ready and waiting to take them from you. But otherwise, I’ll see you again when the time is right.” She smiled sweetly.

“Where do the pills come from? You said they’re expensive?” You asked her.

“They’re made from pain. Your pain, your agony, your frustrations, your disappointments, your regrets, your sorrows, your guilt, even over things that were never your fault in the first place. This morning you looked at yourself and saw a monster, one that wasn’t worth the very air you breathe, or the sunshine on your face or worthy of the love from the few people you feel in your life who really do love you, as imperfectly as they do. And the table you’ve been sitting on- has been pulling all of that from you this whole time. That’s why, finding the right people to give this gift to, to give them new hands out of new decks- the more pain they’ve suffered, the more joy and pleasure they will receive in the long run. But that’s only to make the inner person- the greatest they can be. That’s why I chose you. You’ve suffered enough, more than anyone ever should have. Now, you get the sweet relief. And now, instead of surviving and dreading each day, now each one will be better than the last until it’s your last.” She smiled fondly as she reached out and rubbed your arm before you broke down and cried and hugged her tightly.

“It’s gonna be ok. After this moment, no more loss, no more pain, no more hurt, no more bad days, no more sick days, no more pain days. Only good days.” She soothed you before you let go and she walked you out and you stopped when you passed a full length mirror in the hallway.

Because in that mirror’s reflection- was what you always wanted to be and look like in your reflection. Your very own doppelganger in a way, but in reality- your true self- looking back as you smiled at yourself and started to cry as your brain finally said that the person looking back at you- really was you. And that that was your body, and you were going to live so happily in your own skin. And you leave there, feeling lighter than air- not feeling a single pinch of pain and ready to play this new hand from this new deck. And when you check the time. You realize that despite feeling like that appointment took several hours. It really only took a few minutes according to your phone. Which gives you plenty of time to finally do the things you always felt you were in too much pain or too busy or didn’t have the energy or stamina or gumption to do.

You get home, and for the first time- am able to clean your home the way you wish you always had the time and energy to do so. And you make a fantastic dinner for you and your partner.

The next morning, you awake to a large box already on your front porch. In this box is a packet, and a set of shampoos, conditioners, personal care items, a new wallet, a new purse, a new phone with a wallet phone case and a new set of bluetooth headphones. Along with a new laptop with charging cables and a new surprise box.

In the packet are instructions of what to do and when to do it- for the day. Along with 2 more checks. One for you and the other for the business you always wanted to have. They are both for $250,000. And the instructions are to sign them and to deposit them after you go through the packet and the prompts on the laptop.

Once you turn on the phone, complete with it’s own wallet case, with new cards, you find it has replaced your current phone. The laptop is to replace your current one and with both, you find you now have new accounts in your name with every bank possible. Each one with the same 250,000 balance. You now also have credit cards, each with unlimited balances that pay themselves off every month and the wallet, you are told- according to the packet, has unlimited supplies of cash inside and new platinum passes for your favorite Theme Parks and various other places and gift cards galore.

And in this laptop- is everything you need to start my new life. And all you need to do is plug it in, turn it on, sign into the laptop with a fingerprint and the fingerprint alone is enough to sign that you accept the care package and its contents. Which you do without hesitation. Because in the packet is a deed for land, and on the laptop are designs for your dream home that begin construction the moment you electronically sign the ok with the new name you had made for yourself the day before- which you do, again, without a second thought or hesitation.

With the packet, there is also a lease agreement for your business and its new office which is now waiting for you in the local Medical Center, complete with its own computer, and other hardware and software. It has a list of aged clients who are eager to see you at your earliest convenience and who are eager to have you be their heir when they die soon. The office is already set up for everything you could possibly think of, need or want. And all you need to do is accept the business, sign the lease, accept the keys that are taped in a bag to the lease agreement- for the office space and move your current equipment into one of the rooms as the business also has it’s own apps on your new phone that you can easily copy to your business phone. And you find that you actually have four businesses and each with their own checking accounts, savings accounts and the like and with only putting in the headphones, for only a minute, you find, you now have all the knowledge and licenses and certifications you could ever want for your businesses and all kinds of special continuing education and you are recognized as one of the best in your fields. Which you had done once you finished reading and following the instructions in the packet, labeled and marked as Day 1 with the date.

After you go to deposit the checks, which due to the nature of the checks, were made fully available to the accounts, you go to your new office space. You marvel at the other rooms and everything there, including your own scrubs in a huge closet that will be laundered by the Medical Center. The only thing you need to do is set up your work day and come into the office, process your clients and come home because everything else will take care of itself. And there is room here for more than one employee, you could have practically a fleet of them here. And you even have the option to hire a receptionist, which you do, who will start work the very next day.

You go home and go back to the packet and read the instructions on the shampoo and conditioner bars- are to replace your current ones and they smell divine, like better than any other cologne or perfume you own. And the body wash is to match. The shampoo doubles the thickness of your hair every time I use it until your hair is as thick and long and the color you desire it to be. And the conditioner allows it to be the perfect length, texture and softness and keeps whatever color you wish to color you hair with- perfect without a hint of gray until you’re ready to go gray. There is also a body scrub in addition to the body wash bar. And the body scrub cleanses the body of unwanted hair and imperfections, acne, cellulite, discoloration, stretch marks, restores youthful skin and glow, etcetera. And a bottle of perfumed body oil to moisturize and keep it soft, glowing and supple and keep you smelling amazing and a deodorant that is practically divine that will never fail you.

There is also a facial cleanser, moisturizer and serum. The cleanser cleanses your face and neck of imperfections, fine lines and wrinkles, and discoloration and a face scrub to be used once a week to keep it that way as you use the face scrub first, then the cleanser after to wash away the last of everything you don’t like about your own face, jaw, ears and neck. The moisturizer gives your skin everything it needs to make you look as old as you wished you looked. The serum is more or less surgery in a bottle. It takes care of sagging skin, plumps, firms, heals, and gives you perfect eyelashes and eyebrows and in just one routine you stare in awe at your new face, a face you could remember having when you were in your late teens early 20’s, but somehow way better.

Next is oral care, a toothpaste to permanently restore and whiten and straighten teeth and clean and heal the gums and with a mouthwash, also fixes all bad breath and after one routine you marvel at the results.

And because you like to wear makeup, there is also a fully stocked makeup bag. And it’s everything you could ever want or need. The perfect eyeshadows, foundations, blushes, highlighter, eye liner, mascara that makes it look like you have eyelash extensions and the best lashes ever as you do your makeup and can’t stop smiling because in only a few moments, you suddenly look like you walked off of the red carpet level of amazing, beautiful makeup. And you feel you look like you could be in a plus size model magazine and once you get dressed, for the first time in a long time, you’re happy and pleased with your appearance and your hair and face make you forget how unhappy you usually are with yourself.

You go back out to the living room and look through the new wallet. Giggling at the fact that no matter how much money you try to pull out of the wallet, even more reappears, always making it look like you only have a few bills before you put them all back as any anxiety you ever had about money- vanishes for good.

For once, you can truly focus and actually clean your house top to bottom, and do that real spring cleaning you hadn’t done in way too long. And for once, the house stays clean. You’re able to clean out everything and restock as you want to and keep it all perfectly clean, neat and organized.

Also in this package is the perfect sex toy. That simply needs to charge via USB cable and gives you amazing orgasms, which you take full advantage of before your partner comes home for the day, of course, right when you’re able to make another amazing dinner for yourself and them.

And your partner, comes home and is happy to announce they got a raise, and a bonus. And it’s equal to the checks you just deposited. They’re thrilled and so happy. Because things are finally working out. They are making enough money, all of your combined debts and credit cards are paid off and all the cars are now able to have the services they need to be maintained, and even traded in and buy new ones altogether.

The next morning, you wake up and you’re able to do some amazing writing on your new laptop to update all your stories while also eating breakfast and over lunch, you just can’t stop looking at the plans and the computer generated images of what your dream home will be like when it’s finished. And after breakfast you go to that office space and meet your new clients. And it’s like they’ve known you since you were kid. They’re practically those sweet, wonderful grandparents you always wished you had, all of them eager to adopt you. All of them without any family and heirs to leave their fortunes and properties to. Which you, graciously accept, because you know that once you finish off the regime, they’ll pass, you’ll inherit everything and your transformation will be complete and you’ll be fully equipped to either continue your life the way it is in that moment. Or take that one does of 9-I and get a chance to go back and do it all over again, the way it was meant to be done the first time around.

And every time you look in the mirror, you see what you look like now, and how you’re transforming into the perfect version of yourself. And you’re delighted when your favorite clothes, change with you. So that you don’t have to replace any of your favorite clothes to suit your changing body shape.

And sure enough- in six months, you’ve fully transformed. And you go back to the office to drop off the bottles and are presented with the bronze bottle with a single pill in it.

“So what’s it gonna be? A full do over? Or just continue to play this hand?” The receptionist asks as she takes the empty bottles but still holds the bottle of Alpha-Omega between her hands.

“A full do over.” You decide.

“Awesome. Live it well.” She offers before she puts the bottle of Alpha Omega away and gives you a packet to pack up everything you had gotten in the care packet in the first place, which you do. Since you had even kept the very box it all came in and you repack it, just the way you had gotten it. And you tape it back up, wiping the last of your tears up, looking around at the last remnants of what your old hand had left you with. And with a sense of bittersweetness, you drive down to the post office and send the package back to where it’s meant to go, knowing you’ll be reunited with it when the time is right.

You go home, you have one last night with your partner. One last hurrah and take the single pill before you lay down to fall asleep.

When you awake, you are a baby, in your mother’s arms as she’s holding you, smiling and crying at the same time.

“Hello there, I’ve waited so long to meet you.” She cooes as you coo back. Happy to see her young and happy again as you reach and grab her finger before you look at your father beyond her who is also crying tears of happiness as he looks at you and strokes your head.

“Hi Baby.” He coos too as you coo back at him and smile. Knowing that your life, will be what you’ve always wanted and needed it to be. You’re going to grow up, strong and healthy, safe and sound, unconditionally loved, disciplined in love so that you didn’t turn into a spoiled brat. But to be a better person over all. And you couldn’t be happier for it.

#Monster March #Monster March 2023 #Monster March 2023 Day 27 Doppelganger

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