#Pain Physicians

[youngchronicpain]

I've been keeping my pain meds in a music box that is lined in red cloth that I found at an antique store and honestly. The vibes are impeccable. It plays creepy music every time I open it. I love it.

[ehlnofay]

One day – as far-off as a century, as near as tomorrow – it will all be a grand old story.

The stories will speak of a handful of champions, rushing headlong against time and logic to save the world; the last Blades, the last Septim, and his hanger-on Hero, carving a bloody path to the Temple doors. The stories will tell of skies like burned blood, of fire and ash and uncountable legions of monsters – hundreds, thousands, millions, the quantity rising with each telling – the city streets cracked and quaking, every civilian locked up in their homes and businesses and praying for deliverance. The stories will tell of the appearance of Dagon, red-hot and roiling, a gory perversion of the sun; they’ll tell that when all seemed lost, Martin Septim sacrificed himself in a blaze of glory, calling down the avatar of Akatosh and casting Dagon and his ilk back whence he came. They’ll tell that the golden dragon threw back its head and roared, and the sky cleared and brightened at its word; they’ll tell how it petrified in place, a magnificent pillar of stone, a sacrosanct statue. A site of pilgrimage. A shrine, to the grace and glory of the gods, and the bravery and benevolence of the last Emperor, the best of men.

It will be a good story. All splendour and triumph, a bittersweet victory right out of the epics; the pages closed, the crisis done, the world saved in as golden a resolution as could be asked for. It doesn’t get better than this, a perfect saviour, a hallowed end.

What the stories won’t tell is how, under clear skies and sunlight, the Hero of Kvatch falls at the statue’s marbled feet and howls like the world is still ending.

“You fucking coward,” Pax is screaming, as best as she can. Her mouth tastes like smoke. Her voice is hoarse. “Stupid worm, fucking – selfish bastard – what’s wrong with you?”

His head is swimming, a bit; he shouldn’t have tried to stand, but he – but – he’s dragged himself up to the dais, just about, and managed to sprawl himself over the edge, a snail’s trail of blood smeared along the floor behind him. The copper tang of it is strong in his nostrils. The statue stands, proud and silent, one marble claw dug into the cracked stone of the rostrum. His whole body is beginning to ache – just because of a stupid stab wound in his side, he’d swear he’s had worse, it’s not that bad, it’s not that bad. His throat burns. He isn’t crying. He isn’t.

The sky is so fucking blue.

“What’s wrong with you?” he demands, again, and brings the heel of his hand thudding against the clawed foot hard enough that he feels the impact down his arm, through his blurry head. “Why would you – piece of shit – sorry spit-gill – I thought –”

None of their thoughts will go through to the end. “I thought,” Pax says again, and she’s not crying, and it hurts so much it’s looped back around to not hurting, and it’s all getting fuzzy at the edges, all the world narrowed down to this and this and this and all fucking hell she’d rather be anywhere, anything else. The statue is cold. Her throat is scraped raw. “Come back,” she’s begging without quite meaning to, “come back,” and she drives her palm into the stone again, and the pain sets her reeling.

And all hell, the sky is so blue; the statue enormous; and here they are, at its feet, vision blurring, staring up at its cold marble face. It’s so fucking tall, so proud, face tipped up towards the new-appeared sun, away from them.

“How could you?” Pax says, and then they can’t even see it anymore, blood unspooling from them like skeins of madder-dyed thread. Red has never been their favourite colour. The shape of the dragon, glowing like the sun, is fixed forever on the backs of their eyelids; gold, they think, is worse. The world is detached and floating about them. They taste smoke and then bile. Stone digs fierce into their spine.

It burned like the sun, the dragon; like all the divine light of Aetherius come to earth just to sear the moisture from her eyes. Where it clawed Mehrunes Dagon, his blood boiled; when it screamed, the world moulded itself to its call. Pax hadn’t known what was happening, while it happened; sure as shit doesn’t know now. What they do know is that he’s gone. What they do know is that the dragon didn’t look at them once. They don’t taste ash on their breath, now; just fear, stagnant, sour, blood jangling bitter in their veins and seeping out to soak their gambeson.

It doesn’t hurt, anymore, there’s just this spreading, vague numbness. It doesn’t feel like their body. It’s just a thing they’re putting on. Their ears are still ringing from the crashing-in of the Temple, but there’s a faint buzzing of noise outside. They might be dying. They can’t be assed to get up.

Skeeving asshole. They’re getting blood on the dragon’s immaculate feet. The hollow sounds of voices feels distant. Could well be worse.

Then, “… a healer, here!” they hear, much closer than anything else had been before, paired with the faraway thudding of the door, and “Pax. Pax! It’s – where’s –” and there’s hands on him, a cautious manipulation of his neck, a shifting of his legs. Pressure on his sternum, and then his stomach, and a pained grunt slips out of his mouth, bound up with a slurred curse.

“Stay calm,” says an unfamiliar voice, soft and steady. “I’m just accessing the wound.”

“Go away,” Pax says, or tries to say, but his voice is whispering-hoarse and the dragon looms in the dark even still. He could open his eyes, but what would be the point?

The hands stay on him even when he bucks, holding him steady; they whisper over the stab in her gut, pulling at the drying blood, mumbling words that she can’t be fucking bothered to listen to, one voice known to her already, one voice not; pressure again on the injury, and they try, half-heartedly, to breathe out a swear – and then light, copper-bright, behind their eyelids, and burning heat, and pain pain pain eclipsing all else as something inside them wrenches back into working order, and then their eyes are open and the sky is blue and they are very fucking aware, thank you.

Pax sits up, fast enough to send the world dizzily whirling, and shoves the mage-medic away from them.

“Piss off,” he says – and it’s still hoarse, smoke-throated and scraped raw, but there’s more bite to it this time, more sound. The strange hands fall away from his side, and he looks down. His gambeson is hanging open, cords untied, the emblem of the wolf split clean down the middle. His undershirt is rucked up around his chest, too, so much of his skin is bared to the clear, bright air; all to get to the wound tucked just under their ribs. It’s an underwhelming thing – smaller than they would’ve thought, a thin short slash like a very red mouth has opened itself up in their gut. It’s stopped dribbling quite so much blood, gone scabby with rough healing, though the stuff is still smeared all over their skin, damn near enough to bathe in. It’s barely anything, really. They’re barely even hurt.

“I’m not done,” says the mage-medic, all stern. The wound itches, the taste of hasty magic gone sour in the back of their throat with all the rest of it. “I might have to find my suturing needle. It isn’t too bad, but it can’t be healed all at once.”

“Piss off,” Pax repeats – and all fucking hell it hurts, and he’s sitting up against the statue, legs lolling. He’s dizzy. He ignores it.

Ocato – his fine clothes sooty, face tight as a wound-up spring – says, “Calm down, please – he’s a skilled healer, he knows what he’s doing.” His eyes keep skipping around the room like he’s searching for another enemy lurking hidden in the shadows. “What happened? Where’s the Emperor?”

Ah – not an enemy, then.

Pax tastes bile.

“Not very quick on the uptake, are you?” she says, elbow braced against the statue’s massive marble claws (she hates touching it, she hates it, she hates it, she wants to set it crumbling apart, she doesn’t want to let anyone else touch it ever again). She can’t stop leaning because then she might topple back down again. Fuck, she needs to keep her head on straight – or lose it altogether, whichever happens faster. Her fingers feel cold. “How’re you going to run an Empire when you’re this fucking clueless?”

Ocato looks them in the face; his brow, high and slanted in that way elves have, furrows. “You’re hurt,” he says, in a tone like he expects Pax to argue with him. “Martin Septim–”

“Can’t you see him?” Pax demands, tone torn in half and uglier than they’ve ever heard it before, and they slam the back of their hand against the stone for echoing emphasis. (They want to shatter all the bones in their knuckles, break every piece in their hand one by one, like wishbones. They want it bloody and bruising. They want to scratch its polished-smooth surface until their fingernails tear. They want – they want – they want –)

Ocato, the Empire’s de facto leader, says, “Ah.”

In his plummy robes, all fruit-rich and stained with ash, he looks very stark against the Temple’s cracked marble floors.

“The Avatar,” he says. “If – the Amulet – joined blood of kings and gods –”

“Ocato,” says Pax, leaning heavy against the statue’s hateful foot, “shut up.” Their voice is bowstring-taut; he looks at them, his eyes too golden to meet. His mouth twists. They tip their head back against the stone, glaring up at the chips of blue sky shown in the crater where the roof once was, and try hard to ignore the tugging ache hooked behind their ribs.

It really fucking hurts. Worse than it did before, maybe, like some gauzy veil has been ripped from it. A veil has been ripped from the world. All the colours are too-bright, hideous. Pax breathes, because there’s no alternative, and waits for the pain to ebb.

(It doesn’t, really.)

“The Gates are sealed,” Ocato says, slowly, and he’s looking at her again, she can see out of the edge of her eye. “We will speak later. I’ll have you put up in the Palace until you’re healed. Ah – Quintus, does –”

“As long as she doesn’t go back into shock,” says the mage-medic, busily flipping through some kind of supply bag at his belt, “her odds are good. Lost blood, but I don’t think anything important was too damaged – get a proper examination, all I did was give her a second wind. Stitches, rest, fluids should do it, with luck.”

“Can she stand?”

“Can or should are –”

“Shut the fuck up,” Pax snaps, “I’m right here.” Her back pressed against the cold marble of the statue, her plait half-loose and knotted, filled with ash. The sky is so fucking blue. It hurts like hell – if the healer took her out of shock, then shit, she wishes he’d put her back in. She can see in too much detail. She can feel the skin, damp and ragged and angry. She presses the heel of her hand to the injury; her palm is crusted with dust, tacky with the same half-dried blood streaked over the floors.

Ocato, in the edges of her vision, shifts, all a blur of rich clothes and sympathetic eyes and solemn voice turned soft like he’s talking to an easily spooked horse. “I know.”

The mage-medic clucks his tongue. “Let me take another look first,” he says, and takes a step forward –

Pax kicks out at him before he even gets close. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

“Pax,” says Ocato – and why, why the fuck is the Empire’s de facto leader here, now, babying them like a whimpering little puppy instead of anywhere fucking else, why is he bothering to talk to them all patronising soft, why does he care? They’ve barely fucking met – talked twice, if you can call either of those times talking. Is it because they’re the Hero of Kvatch? Is this what they’ve earned – a bit of leeway as they throw a tantrum, bleeding out at the marble feet of that stupid bloody statue? Ocato looks so fucking tired; Pax wants to hit him in the nose. “You need care.”

“I need –” and Pax chokes it off in a puff of air. The statue looms behind them. There’s blood on the floors. (Traitor liar coward come back come back I hate you come down I’ll knock your fucking teeth in stupid selfish fraud come BACK. LOOK AT ME.)

Pax closes his eyes.

“My gratitude,” Ocato says, “ – our gratitude for what you’ve done cannot be overstated. The Crisis if over. The gates are sealed. Mehrunes Dagon and his ilk can never threaten Tamriel again.”

The knobs of Pax’s braid are pressing uncomfortably against their scalp. They can hear footsteps, coming closer. They don’t respond.

“It’s a great shame we had to pay such a price,” Ocato says, and Pax would fucking love to know who’s we here, “but it’s done. Dagon is defeated. We’ve won.” He’s much too close, now; his voice pitches softer. “Martin – is dead. But he died an Emperor – and a hero to rival Tiber Septim.”

Pax shoves him.

It’s a good fucking shove – knocks him right to the ground, his elbow hitting the marble with a painfully audible crack, Pax standing over him, shirt rucked up, their handprint on his shoulder marked in blood. “You useless, prattling jackass!” they spit, hoarse, and deal a swift, savage kick to his side. “How dare you act like this is a victory! It should have been me!”

Then their head swims, and they’re sitting again on the edge of the dais, palm pressed to their side, the sweaty cloth of their gambeson pushed half off their shoulder and its cord biting into their hand. The mage-medic is kneeling over Ocato, who still lies, stunned; Pax can’t see his eyes, now, but they remember them, brassy with shocked fear. Their bow is off by the wall where they left it. Pax’s palms are sticky with blood. The sky is so fucking blue. No matter how hard she rages the dragon won’t look down at them.

By the time the mage-medic has helped Ocato up, they’re gone. The Kvatch guard gambeson remains, smoke-smelling and crusted with blood, left like an offering at the statue’s feet. The Hero of Kvatch is never seen again.

[lady-harrowhark]

went to the emergency dentist today after 5 days of excruciating pain and they couldn’t find anything wrong other than that there’s an obvious spot of irritation, so he said it looks like either something cut me there or there was a bone spur that worked its way out. i asked what to do for the pain and was told to call back next friday if it’s not better “since it’s just achy and [i] can push through”. when i asked how i was meant to sleep or eat in the meantime given that tylenol+ibuprofen+orajel+ice wasn’t helping, he didn’t have any suggestions other than “alternating” tylenol and ibuprofen (i.e., taking less medication than i have been).

so the takeaway here is that if you are a woman with a naturally bubbly and smiley disposition, doctors will ignore the words coming out of your mouth because you don’t “look like you’re in pain.”

[populationpensive]

Abdominal Pain PSA

I've had a run of people admitted to the ICU after have 1-2 weeks of abdominal pain who were struggling to eat or drink that ended up having conditions leading to necrotic bowel. Dead bowel makes people incredibly sick. Like, death's door sick. Anecdotally, I'd say maybe 60% of our patients make it through such an ordeal. Every time I talk with their families, their loved ones say that they looked bad and they tried to get the patient to go get some help. Often, these people wait too long.

So.

PSA: if you're having abdominal pain and can't keep anything down for more than 48 hours (especially in the context of N/V WITHOUT bowel movements), you NEED to go to the ER. Not urgent care. Not your PCP. The ER. Please get checked out. Do not let things sit. If you have known GI disease like diverticulosis, a hernia, etc, even more of a reason to get checked out.

[alostwanderernotfound]

Hostile Power Takeover? Learnings on Urban & Domestic Warfare , “PANDEMICS: How We are Spreading Diseases”:

Want to Stop Pandemics?

We Need to Address How Our Systems Contribute to Disease Spread & How It Is Making Pathogens Stronger

1: Understaffing & too much workload

- When it comes to the greatest factor that influences every other issue in preventing the spread of infectious disease in healthcare settings it is workload vs amount of staffing. Overburdening staff results in more medical errors, more issues missed, less time with patients, less time able to be spent per patient, often limited ability to customize treatment plans, less diseases screened for, less infectious control practices used like hand washing, more grouping of sick people in close proximity, using unsafer practices to save time, attempting tasks distracted, & many other sources of both harm & pathogen spread. This issue is inseparable from safety.

2: Need for Universal safety practices in hospital culture

-Often times many hospitals throughout different regions have different training programs with some similar content & some very different content included in their training. There are some safety-related practices that are not taught universally. I think the lack of standardization across the world has really negatively impacted us. As healthcare, healthcare staff, our healthcare buildings change & evolve, these safety practices can get lost along the way.

For example: Pathogens all spread in a certain & defined way based off their characteristics. Some of the more common disease spread through making physical contact with the pathogen (for instance touching something contaminated), touching & inhaling pathogens in droplets, and by breathing in airborne pathogens. BUT, it is important to remember that we often forget that most of the pathogens that make us sick are autonomous & tangible things. They take up space & they move. It is very easy to not see something & not feel it & for it then to be on the bottom list of priorities. Two major examples of often unknown risk are in 2 common practices:

>New Toilets

- A lot of hospitals got rid of toilet lids. Flushing bodily fluids results in those infectious particles going into the air. Disease that weren’t originally airborne would then be airborne. These pathogens can possibly be breathed in. Even if toilets are moved to a different room to protect patients, staff will possibly breathe in these particles.

>Venipuncture?

- You DO NOT need to get a needle stick injury to get a blood borne illness from someone. Drawing blood (specifically winged butterfly sets)produces blood splatter at a significant rate. This means if you were following the disease precautions that we do for everything else, you should be required to wear protective equipment: goggles, disposable gown, & gloves when drawing blood. This is not a standard that is enforced in the culture & many forget or are not aware. (1)

3: Lack of infectious disease teams

- Staff should be dedicated to prevention, control, & monitoring for success in these topics in each hospital. For obvious safety reasons.

4: Disease Screening & Pathogen identification

- Often times screenings are skipped due to patient’s lack of access to healthcare, understaffing, & lack of resources. But there are MANY practices I will continue to advocate for to get funding & to be done around the globe. I’m going to reiterate strongly that not all systems are perfect, but currently the risk for the world is far too high. I’m in favor of universal screening for blood borne disease with at least all inpatient hospital stays and likewise universal testing for respiratory illness is a good approach during “winter seasons”.

- I also think identification of pathogens & their characteristics inside places where healthcare is done is necessary. Reevaluation of cleaning practices is necessary. The level of antibiotic resistance we now see with MRSA or antibiotic resistant staph could happen to ANY other pathogen & we are not taking enough steps to prevent it.

6: Where “Knowledge” Becomes Deadly

- Unfortunately a large proportion of our knowledge comes from observing problems and then frantically attempting to solve them in the middle of a crisis. We have studies on diseases and then we learn & teach everyone based off the most up to date scientific knowledge we have available at that time. I think our understanding of a lot of disease processes & body processes are very incomplete. I also think that people have been steered in a very dangerous direction over the course of history despite ample warning. The specific directions medicine went into for standards of care over history is deeply disturbing & highly suggestive that someone trying to hurt people was attempting to influence the medical sphere by any means necessary including force. Without a full understanding of all the different functions organs do, the standard in medicine many, many years ago became to just start removing things. This became the “gold standard” of care or best practice for a very common problem that can be treated in other & less invasive ways. But since funding, research, & general direction hasn’t been focused on getting more info on specific important topics- these are practices we still do to this day. To reiterate something I said long ago, when someone has a tummy ache, no one actually suggests to take out the stomach. Despite nonstop pushing for more federal regulation, there are still few regulations on supplements. This is dangerous and it’s hard to recommend these type of needed supplements when they are not standardized across the board in regards to their safety. All your organs do multiple things. If you take any out or damage them you will need some type of “replacement therapy” to feel normal again. The issue is that primarily books & research inform healthcare worker education. But if no one will fund the research or investigate specific topics, the interventions & meds that help never get taught. It’s not that the interventions don’t work, it’s just that someone established the norm to be the most painful/hardest on your body type treatment. I reiterate, that seems HIGHLY suspect for something being wrong in multiple domains to get us to this point.

There are forces trying to take us down a dark path & I continually hope it isn’t too late to prevent harm in all domains of our lives. I debate with myself about including links with each post due to how cluttered it gets. But I think it’s incredibly uncomfortable topics like drawing people’s blood has a somewhat unknown & higher risk for pathogen exposure than people say that’s been demonstrated in research & people don’t make a bigger deal about it. It’s hard information to find on google & many hospital cultures do not emphasize its dangers in the same way even that we do towards MRSA. It’s incredibly uncomfortable reality to find ourselves in, but something’s got to change.

(1) https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0196655308005427

[laneaconite]

Treatment

“Take this pill,” They say.

Take this pill and it should work

 In a month,

                    Three months,

                                            Six.

Take this pill,

And it will make you tired.

                                        They all make you tired,

Because they act on the brain, 

                                                  You see.

Take this pill,

“We’re sorry the others didn’t work.”

We will smile

                    Sympathetically.

                                                 We do care.

Take this

            Pill.

                  It will make you dizzy.

Take this

            Injection.

                           Since it is treatment resistant

Now.

It will hurt,

                 It will make you itch.

You can still keep taking the old ones,

                                                         In case they end up working

                                                                                                          Too.

Take this pill,

                      It should work in one month,

                                                                    Three months,

Six.

No, we don’t know

                               Why this is happening.

We don’t know

                     How to fix it.

Your blood screening was

                                           Normal.

Your CT scan was

                                Normal.

Take this pill.

-Lane Aconite,

March 5th, 2023

[haleingstorm]

I'm back on my pjo bullshit now with added Naruto for flavor.

Team 7 gets reborn into pjo, who are they? Well I'm glad you asked.

What is the difference between too much loyalty, so much you forsake your own life, your well-being, your mission, and too much love? Uchiha's feel too much, too much love and too much hate. Percy Jackson is a son of the sea god but his eyes burn with fire. He is jaded and proud and desperately wants to keep his people alive. He is a master swordsmen because he has spent a entire lifetime perfecting his skills. His enemys expect him to fight like a Greek and underestimate him.

Annabeth Chase looks at Luke and thinks 'I've seen this before, I know what you will become ' but she can not stop him, will not stop him because she loves him. Annabeth fully believed that Thalia's death is her fault because she wasn't good enough, she was too weak too useless. She knows Luke blames her too(does he? Not to begin with but with Kronos whispering in his ears...). Annabeth meets Percy and thinks 'oh I know you'. Their relationship is not easy. This is not a love built on quests, and soft smiles and protection. It is one built on death and betrayal, barred teeth and knives at each other's throats. But they make it work.

History has a tendency to repeat itself and another little boy is called a monster. Leo Valdez knows who he and who he was. He knows somewhere out there his brother/person/other half is waiting for him. The first time Leo hears the prophecy he makes a choice, the only choice. The first time he gets his brother again he hugs him and does not let go for a long long time(Annabeth looks at the two of them and greives, you think at this point she would be used to always coming in second but that doesn't stop it from hurting).

Team 7 looks at the rest of the 7 and says no. They will make it home. Whatever else happens we will bring them home.

[revelations-mp3]

Trying to acknowledge my wins today bcuz I feel like a complete failure ! I called for my prescription refill which I will definitely pick up tomorrow because I will run out of medication tomorrow 😐 and I made a doctors appointment which is honestly terrifying and I’m scared and anxious and scared

[cinnamnt]

how do i get tested for fibromyalgia

[talkethtothehandeth]

It keeps me up at night wondering what kind of medical treatment I would’ve already received had I been been born amab. like would they have listened to me on the second ER visit, or would it have been the third? it couldn’t have been on the fifth time, right? would they have not told me my malnutrition was minor and nothing to be worried about? would they have not suggested it was because of my anxiety? would I have got the feeding tube I needed before my body broke down the way it did, or would they have let me continue to starve? would I already have a diagnosis by now and be able to have access to proper treatment??

last year I went to the er doubled over in pain from (what turned out to be) unbearable cramps. the doctor could barely even press on my abdomen to assess me for appendicitis, yet ordered me toradol for the pain. but a couple of weeks later my dad walked into same the er and received morphine because they thought it was his appendix, which turned out to be just constipation 

i don’t want to know if I would not be this bad, but I know I wouldn’t be this bad if I wasn’t born afab

[non-un-topo]

The irony of trying to start a "pain journal" but being too fatigued and having too much brain fog from said pain to start one

[californiaquail]

googling something and needing a real answer but the only articles coming up are written by robots

[jacqcrisis]

its funny how, as a child of two chiropractors, my first thought upon throwing out my back is not to go pay someone for an adjustment that wouldn't actually help anything but line a chiro's pockets, but to do meaningful exercises and stretches to soothe whatever lumbar muscles got pissy yesterday. I could barely stand yesterday, but after doing what you should, I'm already 60% better today.

[yellow-lemon-lime]

This poll is brought to you by Debilitating Headaches Inc. Your ticket to spending the day in bed.

[prionz]

i am actually so tired just gotta stay motivated

[flintsilvers]

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