#Rescue Medications

[ivygorgon]

AN OPEN LETTER to THE PRESIDENT & U.S. CONGRESS; STATE GOVERNORS & LEGISLATURES

Say NO to Loony-Bins: Immediate Action Required for Inpatient Psychiatric Care

2 so far! Help us get to 5 signers!

The current model of inpatient psychiatric care, which primarily focuses on safety and crisis stabilization, falls short in promoting sustained recovery. The prevalent emphasis on ultrashort lengths of stay often overlooks the need for comprehensive treatment plans.

A proposed model of care advocates for rapid diagnosis, goal-setting, and treatment modalities before initiating treatment, organized into three distinct phases: assessment, implementation, and resolution. This approach emphasizes individualized treatment and active patient involvement in treatment planning, addressing critical psychosocial aspects that are frequently neglected.

As we strive to reform the mental health care system, it's imperative to prioritize effective, recovery-oriented treatment strategies. This includes ensuring patient comfort and preferences are accommodated within reason. Considering patient preferences, like comfort items (such as safe stuffed animals; Share-Bears, if you will) and rescue medications (like melatonin,) is essential to upholding rigorous standards of care and safety.

Let's advocate for reforms that enhance patient-centered practices while adhering to established treatment guidelines and advancing recovery-oriented care.

Say no to “loony-bins;” those archaic relics that should be relegated to the distant past.

📱 Text SIGN PWORPV to 50409

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💘 Q'u lach' shughu deshni da. 🏹 "What I say is true" in Dena'ina Qenaga

[zarla-s]

heavy can be a pretty princess if he wants

[patreon]

[jordanstrophe]

Whumpee hasn’t realized they’ve been rescued. They fight the hands trying to stop the bleeding, wich resulted in them also having to hold them down.

Then there’s a voice. A familiar voice that could never be mistaken. Caretaker speaks just loud enough over the shouts saying “Eyes on me, nothing else matters, don’t look at them. Eyes on me.”

They would never see the blood; or how gruesome and horrific their wound actually was. They never saw the faces of the strangers who had no other goal other than keeping them alive. 

They only saw caretaker.  

[biohazbat]

I fully stand by Damian growing into his own mantle as a world class medic for vigilantes

[triptychofvoids]

random question, opinion on roller skating/have you ever done it before?

i have an idea! lets not talk about that

[whumpy-bi]

Rescuers/medics bringing in a more “emotionally aware” member of their crew to talk to a recently rescued Whumpee, who has spent the past few days lashing out and refusing any treatment.

They’re crouched behind their bed when Caretaker walks in, wide eyes watching them intently. They know Caretaker can see them—the bed is giving them a sense of security, Caretaker figures, a barrier between them and anyone else.

Caretaker keeps their voice soft, but loud enough that Whumpee can hear them. “Hey,” they start.

“You’re Whumpee, right?” They only nod to themself, knowing the answer. “I’m Caretaker…” They notice the apprehension in Whumpee’s stare.

“I’m not a medic, don’t worry. I just want to talk to you, would that be okay?”

Whumpee finally nods. Good, an acknowledgment.

Caretaker slowly lowers themselves to their knees, stopping at eye level with Whumpee. Notably, they hadn’t attempted to come any closer, nor attempted to move Whumpee from behind the bed.

“I heard you were a little upset this morning. Is that true?”

Finally, a verbal response.

“Yeah.”

“I heard you got pretty angry, with the medic. That true, too?”

“…Am I in trouble?”

Caretaker shakes their head, resting their hands on their knees. “No, not at all. I just want to understand what happened. Do you know why you were angry?”

“…No. I just didn’t want them near me.”

They hummed in thought. “Well…I’ve also heard you haven’t been able to sleep since we brought you here.”

Whumpee was silent, but frowned.

“I know I always feel pretty crappy when I can’t sleep. I get angrier than I mean to. Do you think maybe that’s why?”

“…Maybe.”

“Well, that’s alright. I can help you figure out how to get some sleep, we can talk about that too. But do you remember specifically why you lashed out at the medic today? What did—“

“He grabbed me. I don’t want people to grab me. He wouldn’t stop grabbing me.”

Caretaker nodded again, shifting their jaw as they listened. “That makes sense. I probably wouldn’t like that, either. What if he asked to touch you, before he did?”

Whumpee was silent again, but they quirked their head to the side. Considering.

“I’m sure we can all do that, asking to do things. We can tell you what we’re doing, before we do it. So you know how we’re helping you. Would that help? I think that’d be a lot less frustrating.”

Whumpee mumbled, now. They’d come closer to the other side of the bed.

“Maybe, yeah.”

Caretaker smiled warmly. “That’s good, I can tell them that. Now…I wanna help you get some sleep. I think that’ll help you feel a lot better, too.”

They watch Whumpee quietly as they climb back onto the bed, careful not to move too quickly themselves.

“Is it hard to sleep in here?”

No answer again. Caretaker glances over to the window.

“It’s pretty bright outside, isn’t it? Even with the parking lot lights at night. I can get some heavier curtains, if you’d—“

“It’s hot.” Whumpee’s voice is barely there, a hushed mumble.

Caretaker’s eyebrows raise, their expression a relieved smile. This was good.

“Yeah? I can’t sleep if it’s too warm, either. Here, I can…” They very slowly rise to stand, keeping eye contact with Whumpee as they do so. “I can lower the temperature, that’ll help a lot. I’ll just make it a little cooler in here…I can make sure you have water at night, too. Nice cold water.”

Whumpee watches them closely as they adjust the temperature, less apprehensive than before.

Caretaker suppresses a chuckle at Whumpee’s expression. “You look pretty tired, Whumpee. You wanna try sleeping again?”

“…Maybe.”

They let Caretaker help adjust them into a sleeping position, leaving the blanket by their ankles for now. As Caretaker goes for the light switch, Whumpee calls out one more time.

“Will you come back?”

“Sure I will, Whumpee. I’ll check on you a lot, you can ask for me whenever you want. Why?”

“I…liked talking to you.”

“I liked talking to you, too, Whumpee.”

Whumpee’s prolonged nap that day was the best sleep they’d had in months.

[ultrabreaksounddownwavemagnus]

Ratchet my love

[daffi-990]

Please let the whole season keep this kind of energy.

[bonanza-7]

Hello! I'm doing a leftover sale of my old merch! You can check it out on my Ko-Fi!

Enjoy!

[oceanandspring]

[littleblood]

[sgt-tombstone]

https://www. tumblr. com/tiktoks-repost/664415151341076480

saw this and now i'm picturing soapghost in this situation

link, you’re so right anon

I’m thinking an au where Soap is part of a search and rescue team and Ghost, who was discharged for medical reasons but still lives close to base, gets bullied volunteered by his old captain, Price, to be a casualty victim for the CSAR (combat search and rescue) drills

Ghost would hate it, because it reminds him of actually being injured, but Price always makes sure that his fake injury is vastly different from the real one that got him discharged, and he actually has a lot of fun playing a victim. He knows how real injuries work, how real victims act in the heat of combat, and he really enjoys getting to play “bad” victims (ones who refuse treatment or are combative, because the PJs need to know how to deal with that too)

He’s never really treated it as anything more serious than helping to train soldiers to do their jobs better, but then he’s leaning up against the side of a house in the middle of a field in the base training grounds, and he sees a pair of brilliant blue eyes approaching, startling in their intensity and almost scary in their conviction, and Ghost thinks that maybe, for the first time, he might be in over his head.

The soldier scans the area, gun at the ready, because the first step in a search and rescue situation is securing the premise (and fuck, this guy is well-trained, Ghost thinks to himself, half-sullenly and half-grudgingly impressed, he knows what he’s doing), and then he drops to his knees by Ghost’s side. His gaze drops to the card in Ghost’s hand, marking Ghost as an amputee with a sucking chest wound (a far cry from the brush fire that had caused 3rd degree burns along his entire left side and more skin grafts than Ghost could count). Ghost tries not to be upset about the loss of eye contact, especially when the man opens his mouth.

“I’m Soap,” he says, thick accent distracting from the utter ridiculousness of his call sign. He’s deadly serious, both his tone and face conveying his devotion to rescuing Ghost. “I’m gonnae get ye out of here, I promise.”

Normally, Ghost would thrash around a bit, maybe have some fun letting out a little cry (who ever said he wasn’t a good actor? Price kept bringing him back for a reason, and he was directly responsible for many CSAR operatives developing eye twitches. But they were better soldiers for it, so who really won?) but he can only stare as Soap starts undoing his tac vest (the only time he still gets to wear it) and pulling on gloves to start simulating treatment for Ghost’s fake wound.

He keeps one hand braced on Ghost’s chest, apparently where he’s decided the sucking chest wound would be, applying pressure while preparing a dressing (god, who approved the funds for all of the equipment they wasted in practice? Ghost wasn’t about to start complaining) and pressing a chest seal against Ghost’s bare skin. He tells Ghost to exhale, then secures the dressing. It’s a textbook treatment, as far as Ghost can tell (and he’s done this a lot) but there’s something about Soap’s sure hands, his unwavering haze, his steady presence, that makes it feel like something more.

When Soap moves down to pull up his pant leg, obviously intent on treating his fake leg amputation, Ghost stops breathing altogether, and if he ends the day by receiving very real CPR from a very concerned Soap (as well as Soap’s personal phone number), well… what Price won’t know won’t hurt him, right??

(he’ll be Ghost’s best man at the wedding two years later, and his speech will have many, many innuendos about a certain sucking chest wound, much to Simon’s mortification)

[jordanstrophe]

Without a word, whumpee was taken. 

And without a word, they were returned. 

In much rougher condition than before. 

They’re monitored in the hospital while caretaker tries to find out what happened. They gently ask questions; where they were and what happened. Sometimes whumpee mumbles some vague details, sometimes they just go silent. 

But the heart monitor never does. 

The questions whumpee goes quietest tend to be the monitor’s loudest.

[tanglepelt]

Dp x dc 158

When Danny and Ellie are captured frostbite and pandora make it to them once. Only to see them torn apart and signs of experimentation. A ghost shield activated before they could save them forcing them back.

Both are more determined then ever to save their ghost child. Pandora will simply force Wonder Woman to help. Surely she would provide aid.

Frostbite following pandoras lead enter a portal only to exit in some conference room in space.

[carlyarts94]

Primis Edward rescues medic

[whatwooshkai]

10 for smoke and mirrors? 😼

Heatwave stares at the bags he's packed.

The room is still just as full without his stuff, which doesn't make him feel any better about this. His guardians assured him that they weren't going to replace him as soon as he left, that they're done taking in sparklings, even with the extra space now.

The thought is nice, but Heatwave doesn't believe them, because he's heard that line too many times without any evidence backing it up. Which he doesn't really hold against them, he loves everyone that lives in his home, it's just...

It's not just regular jitters- sure, this is his first time leaving home, his first time alone, of course he's going to be nervous.

But he's not nervous. He's scared.

Heatwave really should bring up the strange hallucinations he’s been having with his guardians.

His tanks will oddly cramp, he’ll see things in the corners of his optics, or his visual input will suddenly become shimmery and swirly, as he watches events play out before they do.

Now, Heatwave has heard of outliers before. He’s not stupid. But he never thought…

Yet all the signs are there. He’s able to do something no one else can, or rather, something happens to him that doesn’t happen to anyone else. He overproduces coolant and runs hotter than any other mech.

He shouldn’t tell anyone. Outliers are required to be documented by the government, and Heatwave hasn’t heard too many stories of mechs being whisked away to government facilities never to be seen again, as their abilities are exhausted while the government tries to turn them into some sort of weapon.

So no, he’s not telling anyone.

“Heatwave!”

Snapdragon’s voice floats to his audials from downstairs.

“Coming!” He shouts back, leaving his stuff laid on his berth.

The living room is the center of a rare moment of peace- the sparklings are all down for naps, while the older mechs are all out and about. He can see the twins bickering quietly in the kitchen, though.

Snapdragon is standing next to the couch, while Hard Drive, his other guardian, leans on it towards her.

They’re both tall and bulky mechs, bigger than Heatwave. He hates feeling small, but it doesn’t feel so bad when he’s next to them.

“C’mere, kiddo,” Hard Drive says, grinning with badly disguised excitement. “We gotcha somethin’!”

Snapdragon produces a little box and with a grin to match Hard Drive’s, shoves it into Heatwave’s hands. “Go on, open it!” she encourages.

He does, keeping his field tight to his frame so his guardians don’t pick up on the feeling of foreboding he can’t seem to shake.

It’s a universal translator. Heatwave’s tanks drop.

“It was a while of savin’ up,” Snapdragon starts to explain, clapping her hands together with glee. “But so worth it. Our little Heatwave’s gonna be a Rescue Bot!”

Seemingly oblivious to his inner turmoil, both Heatwave’s guardians sweep him up into a crushing hug.

Primus. I can’t tell them I don’t want to go now!

Heatwave worries his lip between his fangs, but returns the hug. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

I have to… I have to at least try.