#I've never actually puked from anxiety. But I've definitely felt bad enough that I thought I would

[watery-melon-baller]

babygirl i am so fucking nauseous rn

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 21

First time reader click here

TWs/SUMMARY: Wanda fluff, Loki fluff, we're getting a whole ass friendship! Dad sucks. The outfits are neat tho! Check the end for a mood board 😍

a/n: dress inspo and aesthetic visuals can be found here, here and here. (Paolo Sebastian, Firefly Path gowns and Viona Ielegems photography).

"Gi-i-irl..." Wanda drawled, seeing me arrive with Tony, both of us freshly showered and still hazy from the amazing orgasms. God only knew what she'd seen in both of our heads - if judging only by the vivid, crimson blush she spouted, it was definitely something very NSFW. Bruce already sat at the dinner table, quietly slurping his soup, his back and shoulders the most relaxed I'd ever seen. He gave me a knowing smile once he noticed my presence in my usual spot by his side.

The rest of the team appeared completely oblivious, preoccupied by their food.

"So, about the party. Got any costume ideas?" I cut straight to the chase, unwilling to wait for Wanda to start asking for details right in front of everyone.

Steve, Bucky, Pietro, Thor and Natasha all answered affirmative, the latter whacking Clint upside the head and firmly stating "no funny business". I couldn't help but wonder what kind of crazy shit the Bird had in mind and was kind of disappointed at Nat's intervention. A good chaotic moment was always worthwhile in my opinion!

The other bird, Sam, approached Bruce with caution as he wondered if the scientist was interested in doing a paired costume with him, only to be interrupted by Tony declaring, with childish glee, he had a "wicked project" that he and Bruce would be doing together. The scientist gave a resigned sigh and apologized.

Sam wasn't deterred by the slight setback; he approached Clint instead and after being given an okay from Natasha, the Birds decided to pair up. As they should, if you'd ask me.

"I have a costume but I need some accessories. Wanda, Lokes, join me on my lil' shopping trip?" I prompted, wanting everybody to be included. I was fully prepared for Loki to scoff and dismiss my invitation but the Asgardian nodded after a second of brief speechlessness. Didn't anyone invite him to birthday parties as a kid? Either way, Thor gave me a grateful smile, like a proper big brother. Both Asgardians had grown visibly closer during the past couple of months which made me hide a secretive smile behind a spoonful of soup.

It turned out, Loki hadn't exactly been introduced to the buzzing beehive that is NYC. He didn't get out much and when he needed to be somewhere, the man simply teleported to the desired destination. As convenient as it must've been, I still expressed my outrage at his lack of experience doing the usual "touristy" things that, in my opinion, every non-newyorker was obligated to do when visiting. Yes, even if said visitor had literally traveled across different galaxies.

Wanda wasn't much better in terms of city knowledge. According to her, she'd lived here for several years already but never bothered to go beyond the borders of the block surrounding the Avengers tower. The witch didn't have friends outside of her teammates (therapy. they all needed so much therapy. y'all...) so she simply saw no point in going anywhere beyond the local mall.

Which was trash. I mean, I loved Hot Topic and Forever 21 as much as any other young adult with depression and anxiety but it was literally impossible to wear clothes made out of cheap cotton and polyester all the time. I'm pretty sure I would have hives and ulcers if I attempted that.

"We're going on Sixth Avenue and that's final. No friend of mine will be wearing shit from Wal-Mart at a Stark party," I interrupted Wanda's defensive stuttering, using my other hand to summon an Uber.

"That is good advice," Loki, previously silent, added in a sweet tone. I counted on the fashionable Asgardian to be on my side and with his schmoozing skills, I didn't even have to drag Wanda inside the car by, like, her hair or whatever. The three of us barely fit into the small Toyota anyway.

A thought struck me when I had to consciously avoid stepping on Loki's leather shoes and keep away my elbow from Wanda's stomach. "Mister? I'll give you a hundred bucks cash if you turn around and drive to this address," I hurriedly rattled off my home address, delighting in the way the driver nearly did a U-turn at the mention of crispy dollar bills.

We arrived home quickly. Wanda gaped in mild disbelief at the size of my house while Loki looked about as interested as he'd ever be. His face was akin to an expression one made while smelling fresh manure. Opening the garage, I was greeted with an unpleasant surprise of my dad's outrageously painted Corvette standing neatly by my white Range Rover.

Loki looked and felt considerably less tense in the back of my car. The subtle signs of discomfort all but left his face replaced by slight wonder as I explained how to adjust the temperature and turn on the heated seats.

Dad met us at the gates. "You didn't come in to say hello," He pouted. His breath reeked like a five-day drinking binge hangover and he looked a dead man.

"We're in a hurry, dad. There's a lot to be done," I replied curtly, hoping to get rid of him fast. I hated being sober around my drunk father. My fingers twitched on the steering wheel.

"You're like your mother, always busy," Dad's laugh was coarse and bitter. "But at least you find time for Stark and his friends. That'll do your future real good," He clapped once on the hood of my car, heading back to the house with a wave of his hand, just in time to miss the disgusted shudder that ran through me.

I knew my dad well enough to understand the implications of what he meant by his words. In his world, fucking way up to the top was considered the norm. I'd rather cut off my own foot than use Tony that way.

"Sorry you had to see that. I thought he was still in Cali," I gritted my teeth, pulling out of the driveway.

"I'm sorry you had to experience that. I have no kind words regarding your father," Loki's look was sympathetic in the rearview mirror.

"Or your mother," Wanda added, messing with her seatbelt. Loki nodded tersely.

"Aight, aight," I sighed, set on improving the mood. "Let's not poop this party. We're getting some absolutely delicious beverages and wasting my money on outrageous pretty things. My treat."

Wanda's protests were drowned out by Motorhead and Loki's grumbling was overshadowed by Guns'n'Roses. Their resistance didn't stand a chance. Few blocks out, the witch was singing along to November Rain, heavily accented and terribly off-key, and the Asgardian watched New York city intently behind the protection of the tinted rear windows of my ride. He seemed mesmerized by the crowds and the variety of colorful shop fronts. This was the the one and only reason I eased off the gas pedal and drove the speed limit for once.

The atmosphere was, well, magical. Looking at my two companions, I discovered the familiar city anew with every question they asked, every remark they made. The desire to ask in turn about their homelands melted like the tension I was harbouring after the run-in with my father. Content and warm, I had my attention divided between Loki and Wanda juggling their wonder back-and-forth between themselves and the absolutely crazy NYC traffic.

So what if I parked in a no-parking zone just to get us the most delicious coffee in the city? Loki, the resident tea person, ordered himself something unpronounceable, something that made the barista twitch. Wanda got a sugary-sounding vanilla-white chocolate perversion. I just got a mocha, having had outgrown my adolescent desires to experiment with "how sweet can I make this coffee before I literally puke?" beverages.

With a laugh, I instructed them to pose in front of the nearest reflective surface to brag about our coffees on Instagram - this café deserved more recognition. My companions reluctantly obliged.

I wonder if the barista realized just who had bought the coffee - Loki was quite a media darling when it came to fangirls. Tony's PR team did a wonderful job on the Asgardian's redemption arc. The trickster only fueled the utter devotion his fangirls had for him by being extra nice and charming in every video I've seen. I guess you can't out-mindcontrol manners outta somebody, he was raised a prince after all.

It wasn't raining but the autumn chill seeped into the tiny spaces between my layers of clothing. I already managed to regret my fashionable dark academia inspired outfit at least twice, however the matching vibe all three of us had was positively dashing. Loki, wearing his usual onyx black and dark green. Wanda with a burgundy sweater dress and thigh high platformed boots - sweater dresses, out of all things, had no business looking this good on anybody. But she pulled it off.

"You said you've got a costume. Mind sharing what it is?" The witch said, curiously peeking into the windows of a nearby vintage boutique as we took our leisurely stroll with steaming paper cups keeping our fingers warm.

"A fairy dress. It was custom made for me last year and I actually didn't get to wear it. I need some jewelry to go with it," I explained, stopping to show a photo of the dress on my smartphone. "And some shoes, too. Let's hope the party will be held completely indoors, otherwise I'll freeze my ass off."

"Custom made?" Wanda squeaked, looking at the garment in wonder. Loki gave a vaguely approving nod.

"Yeah, there's a company that makes these fantasy dresses. You want one? What did you have in mind for your costume anyway?" I switched the topic quickly, seeing how Wanda withdrew into herself slightly. I heard from Peter she grew up poor, in the middle of a war and I didn't want to make her feel bad or anything. I wasn't good at these things...

"I thought maybe I could match with you," She replied, slowly taking a sip of her coffee.

"Sure. There are a couple of shops with really cute dresses that fit the aesthetic." Marchesa. We need a Marchesa store. And a Zuhair Murad - if there was one on this stretch of road. "What about you, Lokes? Anything in particular strike your fancy?" I asked our silent companion, frantically googling the information I needed.

"Black," He answered moodily.

"Boo, you whore," I rolled my eyes at his scoff. We had watched the Mean Girls recently and he got the reference, immediately raising a sarcastic eyebrow. "You know, you could do so much with this pale aristocratic look you've got going on. How about a medieval vampire?"

"Like Lestat? He's fucking hot," Wanda and I understood each other promptly. She jumped on the bandwagon immediately.

Combining my blunt honesty and her adorable fawning over a fictional bloodsucker, we managed to convince Loki into going on a hunt for brocaded, velvet suits and blouses with ruffles for his look. The trickster revolted at the mere suggestion of procuring some fake fangs, instead magically making them appear and showing them off in the middle of the crowded sidewalk, much to my and Wanda's delighted shrieking. He looked, I daresay, very attractive, like a porcelain figurine. Delicate but dangerous.

We arrived at the store that showcased beautiful, airy dresses of silk, chiffon and tulle. The lace was delicate and the seams invisible. I ushered Wanda into a dressing room with a shop attendant that was quietly but strictly instructed to not discuss the cost of the dresses and hide the price tags.

"I want it to be a gift. My friend here deserves no less than a magical experience," I explained quietly, winking at a bewildered Loki.

"Why did you do that?" He asked once Wanda was given a selection of several dresses in flattering colours and led into a separate dressing room.

"These dresses, they're special so they're a bit pricey. And knowing Wanda, she'll make a scene and refuse to let me buy them for her," I idly twirled my phone in my hands. "But every girl wants to be a princess and it's kinda sad she never got to be one. It's more than just a dress, it's more than feeling pretty, although it's a big part of it. She'll feel on top of the world."

Loki nodded. I'm certain he didn't understand it - being a man and all - and I wasn't sure I understood it completely, too. I never lacked pretty or expensive things, always got whatever I wanted whenever I wanted. But for a moment, I thought how it must've been for Wanda - seeing all these girls on TV, looking like pictures - and never having the chance to experience that. A concept that made me so sad, I was tempted to ask the customer service person for a glass of scotch. Being poor sounded depressing as hell.

Suddenly, Loki's cool, large hand landed on mine. "Thank you. I am certain Wanda will be the most beautiful lady at the ball."

I stared at him. Loki understood.

"Well, I... I don't know how finicky you are on gender labels for clothes, but there were a couple of blouses you might want to check out. They've got the neck ruffles and shit." My throat suddenly seized up and I had to clear it before speaking, steering away from the uncomfortably emotional moment. Thankfully, Loki wandered off without as much as a word.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie

& the promised aesthetic

[heresathreebee]

That G-D Ring of Yours

High Fidelity’s Robyn Brooks X Female reader

Summary: You seek comfort from your neighbor Rob

Masterlist

There's probably gonna be a part 2

Word count: 2.5k words

Warning(s): +15 | implied cheating, internalized homophobia, heterosexism, author and Rob swearing, no hate to polyamorists but major hate to bad faith players, shameless self insert, no beta, barely edited, long as fuck I'm so sorry

Author's note: I'm having anxiety for no discernable reason and my brain has decided this is ideal fuel for a fic, so please enjoy. EDIT: ha ha yeah still anxious but we're doing stuff about it

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"-- And she just touched my hand by accident and I just felt this–  this spark between us…" 

It was so sweet how he was talking about it. Or at least it would be were this not your fiancé explaining how he had been seeing another person behind your back. Had you rushed into things with him? Gotten hitched after three months because of familial pressure to settle down and start your family? Quite possibly.

But it didn't make that stabbing in your gut hurt any less. 

You had been a little gung-ho from date number 1, but he had been right there with you the whole time. Date number 2 happened the following weekend and then you just kept seeing each other more and more until before you knew it you had been introduced to each other's extended families and announced your engagement on Valentine's Day. 

You started to suspect something was amiss on Sunday, when you were braiding your hair on the bed and he had gone to take a shower. He accidentally set his phone screen aside with a text chat still open. Thinking nothing of it (he had already told you he was talking to Mark about getting drinks tonight), you looked at the name and saw it belonged to a woman you had never heard of before. Your immediate reaction was 'she must be a new coworker or a cousin,' but then you glanced again and saw the text conversation mirrored the same kind of ‘sentiments’ he texts you. 

The dirt burned into your brain for eternity: 

You had looked away then. You were actually not going to say anything at all to him that night– had planned to bring it up after Tuesday dinner with your auntie's family, but something came up. It turns out that Jessabelle also frequented the same Starbucks as you (and she's your age, not a teen like you worried). You can't even find it in you to be mad at her since it seemed like she had no idea who you were when she showed you the picture of her date at a baseball game. You tried not to puke as you asked for her number and to send her that picture "for her contact profile." 

You hadn't heard a word your fiance had said since the beginning of the phone call and you cut him off with some excuse you barely remember. You tossed your phone carelessly onto the couch and laid back on the cushions in defeat. What now? 

You weren't really a drinker or a smoker, and you didn't exactly have friends who would be supportive right now. You could hear them now, your family too– asking you what you did wrong, telling you to just forgive him or how to get even, or simply saying 'well what do you expect? Boys will be boys.' 

Maybe… no, you definitely need to get this off your chest before you do something stupid like pretend to forget about it. You had a bad habit of that because you tend to fall fast and hard. Perhaps your neighbor could give you some advice. 

Thank the Lord for fire escapes. Rob lived on the floor beneath you, always playing something good from her huge collection of vinyl records. You've told her at least a hundred times before if she played nothing but Phil Collins for the rest of eternity, you could die happy. You crossed your fingers and hoped you weren't being weird or invading her privacy. 

Thankfully, she seemed to be expecting you. She even motioned that the latch was undone and waved you inside. Ok the second wine glass made your face grow hot. 

"I'm not interrupting am I?" 

Rob gave you a warm smile. "I could hear you pacing around your kitchen for about an hour. Was about to come and get you actually." 

She pressed the glass into your hand and you made an effort not to grimace. Rob liked her drinks cheap and strong and she never held back. You tried a sip just to be polite, and she snorted at the face you pulled. 

"That's right, you like that sweet stuff. What's it called again?" 

"Stella Rosa," you mumbled, grateful when she takes the glass back and hands you a water to replace it. 

"Favorite flavor," she asked looking at her phone. 

"Uh… the peach and the rosé. They're all pretty good, not gonna lie." 

"OK, take this, grab a blanket from the hall closet, and tell me what's going on." 

You curled up on Rob's couch and put your feet up. There were piles of records all over the place, empty beer cans and a pizza box or two on the coffee table. Your neighbor tapped away at her phone screen before silencing it and slipping it in her back pocket. She gave you a minute or two to speak up, sipping her drink like you two had all night. Which actually you did as you did not want to see your fiancé right now. 

You felt two fingers gently tap your forehead. "Come on, dreamer, tell me what's going on in that head of yours." 

You swallow the lump in your throat. "I feel a little over dramatic saying my life is about to fall apart." 

Rob raised her eyebrows at you. "Damn, OK." 

You rush to correct yourself– explain your weird sentiment in more detail but you end up just vomiting words until your voice is hoarse. 

"I mean– like– like it's not falling apart per say or whatever– I… the rest of my life is fine its just my relationship that's screwed. Which I guess I'm more worried about because it's gonna screw up all my other relationships for a while too– dang it, let me start over–" 

"Babe! Slow down. Breathe." Rob switched drinks with you and against your better judgement you took a sip. Oddly enough it did calm you down. "So… it's your fiancé, right? What did he do?" 

You stared at her trying to unscramble your thoughts. "He… I found out he was kind of... dating another person. After I found out, he tried to explain that he didn't think I would mind–" 

Rob barked, "let me guess: he didn't think you were exclusive? Pull the Main Chick, Side Chick schtick? Tried to claim 'polyamory' after he got caught?" 

Two and two clicked together at last. "Yeah… yeah, he did!," you scoffed, "and it's not like it didn't ever come up in conversation: we spent our third date talking out our, like, sexualities and fantasies and fetishes and shit. If he was polyamorous, wh- why wouldn't he have brought it up then?" 

"That is so fucked." 

You took a deeper draft of her wine, coughing before setting it aside. Up until now, you've been numb. Now there's this wave of anger boiling up to the surface and you hear yourself getting louder. Rob doesn't flinch but she does give you this look of empathy unlike anything you've seen before. 

"If he– if he would have just asked me, I would have told him it was fine. My family does shit like that all the time: nobody bats an eye! If he really thought I wouldn't mind, he wouldn't have been so freaking sneaky about it. He literally lied, Robyn!" 

You whipped around and for a brief moment you knew you looked crazy. "He said he was going out for drinks with his guy friend, but he was making plans to go to a baseball game with a girl I've never heard of! If he really thought I wouldn't mind, or if he 'thought I would understand,' then why would go out of his way to lie about who he was with?" 

Someone buzzed Rob's door and she left you on the couch momentarily, coming back quickly with two bottles of your favorite wine. "Damn girl, these are kinda bougie: Peach or Rosé?" 

"I--"you choked, "Robyn you didn't have to–" 

"Peach it is!" She unscrewed the caps and handed you the whole freaking bottle of white, downing the last of her merlot and getting a fresh glass for you. 

You felt a little guilty she had spent money on you. But then again it had been her choice. If she didn't want you there, Rob wouldn't have let you in in the first place. Maybe you were just a tinsy bit worried you shouldn't be here. 

You and Rob took a break from talking to put on music and get a little tipsy. It came much easier with the help of the Stella Rosa, though Rob initially complained it was 5.5%, she did get accustomed to the sweetness pretty fast, and after consuming half the bottle, realized it was a little easier to get carried away with a drink like this. She admitted it was her first time trying rosé and now she was hooked. Eventually you started talking again, just spilling your guts out with no filter anymore. 

"I really think I just hate myself," you said cuddling the cool glassware. "When I found out, I wasn't even thinking of it as a betrayal of my trust– it felt like I was trying to come to terms with it so I could continue with the relationship. Not because it would make me happy but because… I don't know… it's what everybody else wants me to do. They don't even know about it and I was fully prepared not to tell them even though they'd want me to marry him whether they knew or not." 

Rob barked a laugh of surprise. "Doh-K!" 

"What?" 

"Nothing, nothing…" she said, "keep going." 

You stared off into the middle distance and leaned into her side. She was a tiny bit warm despite her lithe figure. Made you want to throw your blanket over her shoulders and share your greater warmth. 

So you did (you're not great at acting out your desires but this is nice!)

"It's just easier," the words left your mouth unbidden, "I don't even know what that means, but it's true. I don't want to marry him anymore but I don't want to break it off. Not marrying Fiancé means disappointing my family. It means having to find an entire new man to marry sooner rather than later because I'm already 'behind' and lowering my already low expectations. 

"It's not gonna make me happy, but I just think it's easier to keep this wedding going because at least I won't have to find somebody new who might not be as good for me just because I didn't want him. Another man won't make me happy so there's no reason to drop him... except that I don't want him." 

Rob's brow furrowed. "Are you saying it's easier for you to please your family than it is to be happy?" 

"Yes? I– no, I– … I don't know," you sigh. "I guess you could say my priorities are a little… mismanaged." 

"Sure, you could say that." Rob wrapped her arms around your shoulders and you inhaled the scent of her soap and cigarettes. "What if you tried… like… not doing that anymore...? You just said you do whatever your family wants you to do. So, just like do what makes you happy for a change." 

It really does sound so simple the way she puts it, doesn't it? Why are you doing this to yourself? You're not dependent on them for money or security or happiness for that matter. So... why has your whole life been centered around pleasing them? 

"I think… I think I've never really sat down and thought about what makes me happy," you admitted. "I think it's just been that way forever and I might have been too scared to try anything else." 

Rob hummed. "Are you still scared now?" 

Are you? You look into her eyes and ask yourself a question that has never crossed your mind with such depth. You used to be scared– but what is it about your happiness that you are so afraid of? OK, let’s start a little simpler: what are things that make you happy? 

“I like…” you swallowed, trying to break down the barriers you’ve built years and years ago. “I like… coffee. I like… short skirts. I like… girls– I like… my job. I like… music. I think I’d enjoy camping, you know, some day…” 

Your words… these things seemed so arbitrary and trivial. But in your house, these things cause dissent. “My family has an opinion about everything. There’s no right way to live in all of their eyes, but I think I figured out a way to get past it. Keep my head down and do what’s expected of me. Graduate college, get a respectable job, find a man to marry, drop the job and become a mother. Just… don’t make waves. It seemed better because the cousins who didn’t or couldn’t… well they became the butt of every joke at the family dinner. Lisa had one miscarriage so she was a ‘failure’ and Don never dated girls so he was gay and that was ‘bad,’ but grandma Zelda did everything a good Christian woman could do and they still gossiped about her behind her back… 

“And I just… I just let their ignorance control me for my entire life.” God, you could cry right now, but somehow it just felt too good to say it outloud. “That.. that is so fucked.” 

Robyn snorted, and you turned to her as if you’d forgotten she was there. There it was again, that sympathy. Not pity, she did not burden you with tears of her own or try to be angry for you. She just listened and understood. You twisted the diamond encrusted ring on your finger and stared at her. You felt it, that feeling in your heart. No one else had given you that look, like she could really see you. 

“You’re not going back to Fiancé, are you?” Her question was equal parts worrisome and hopeful and you already knew the answer in your heart. 

“No.”

And that was it. Decision made. Actually easier than you'd thought. Maybe not down the road but it felt good for now. There's the telling your fiancé it's over, the moving out, the public announcement, the inevitable feeling of failure, your family, god, his family too. Untangling your lives would be long and hard. You're not sure if you have that level of commitment and motivation in you but fuck it. Problems for tomorrow.

You rest your head on Rob's shoulder and hope your not pushing any boundaries. She doesn't stop you though, in fact she snuggles you deeper into her. You get the feeling she's been here before though your not sure which side or how bad it was for her.

"I like you way more in the few times I've met you than any man I've ever dated," you heard yourself say. "I'm sure that means something but I'm too tired to decide anymore. No tonight at least."

Rob chuckled. "I like you too, sugar."

If you made it this far, hi 💛 appreciate you, leave me a comment! Or just comment "💛"

[mypotsielife]

LIFE UPDATE:

So, I have had a headache for three weeks straight now. Always constant. Never gone. However, varying severity of pain. Sometimes it's only a 3. Other times... well. I have my new definition of "10". It makes me shake and puke from it hurting so bad.

My CT came back clear. So my primary sent me to a neurologist. Who at first thought viral meningitis. But. No fever, my white count was fine. Then during the initial examination he thought he saw papilledema, which made him think maybe it was psuedotumor cerebri/intracranial hypertension. Too much spinal fluid.

So.

He sent me to an eye specialist. Who said "well. One eye measures a 3 and the other a 3.5 so maybe that's why he thought he saw papilledema, but I wouldnt classify it as that".(also fun fact I have a hardcore phobia of eyes and eye doctors and had a panic attack and my mom had to hold me in a headlock like I was 5 just so the guy could examine me 🙃🙃).

So back to the neuro. He scheduled me for a spinal tap. I'm like okay 😎 I've got this. I work in healthcare. Ik what's gona happen. This will be fine. However, my anxiety didn't play night and I cried so much before I even got on the table 🤦‍♀️ the lidocaine hurt, but honestly I've had dentists cause more pain 🤷‍♀️ BUT WHEN THEY WENT TO ACTUALLY INSERT THE SPINAL NEEDLE my bro hit a nerve. Intense sharp pain shot down my back into my toes and then both my legs went numb 🙃 it only lasted for a bit but long enough for me to be convinced I was paralyzed. Then, my spine wouldnt release the juice 🤦‍♀️ my nurse said she had been doing this for 20 years and it was literally the longest tap shes ever had to do. it's only supposed to take like 20 mins. 30-45 if it drips slowly. MINE LASTED TWO HOURS. Two hours worth of spine in needle, my arms going numb from the position I was in. And finally they were like okay well we are going to have to roll you to your side to see if we can get more fluid, because you've stopped dripping.. I'm like 😅😅 kay 😭 by this time the majority of the lidocaine had worn off and I could feel a great deal of it.

Lemme tell you. Tryna roll with a huge freaking needle in your spine is not fun 🙃 however, it did the trick. Then. He was like "I'm not gona lie. The majority of your anesthetic has worn off. But I need to take this needle out. Dont tighten your muscles just relax." And my bro pulled that needle and I screamed like a baby 😅😅😅😅 I felt so bad for acting that way cause I know it was probably a bit excessive but. Fudge a fudge. It hurt like a bad word that I dont use 🙃😅 then they get me back in bed. For the whole "lay flat for 4 hours" goes fine and dandy. I sit up to go home, and my legs go numb again 🙃 at which point they told me the nerves were angry from being poked with needles. So ya know. That's cool.

Also I learned a lot because 2 hours of not being able to move, induced boredom. And I work in healthcare and find it fascinating. So I made them show me the manomometers (measures opening spinal pressure). They showed me my spine xrays and how to read it. Then the doc was like "okay so if you were the doc and trying to determine with csf sac to aim for, which would you pick?" And the one I chose was actually the one they had used. So. A+ for me. Haha anyway.

My opening pressure was only an 8? So. Probably not the psuedotumor cerebri / intracranial hypertension. But that also leaves me with???? Why the heck does my head hurt so bad???? My next neuro apt is Monday so hopefully they find something out with all the labs and csf tests they ran. Also. Enjoy my hospital selfies, a pic of my spinal fluid, and my bandage (I told them I was severely allergic to adhesive. So they were like "okay no bandaide" and instead used gauze and tape. Which is still adhesive 🤦‍♀️ which I realize they still had to bandage but gosh dang. Hives around the insertion sight is not fun).