#St. Francis Hospital

[wombocombo4x3]

St. Francis Hospital - Remix Cover (Trauma Center: Second Opinion) [Rema...

[pilgrimjim]

"We must learn to forget revenge"—Thinking about Gaza

Israel and Gaza: a time for tears, a time for thought.

Palestinian Christian girl in Ramallah (May 1989). I photographed her on Easter Monday 34 years ago. Does she have children? Are they safe? If we could see every face as an icon of God, peace would come. “[A] contemplative politics will be one that is capable (as seems so unthinkable in public life at the moment) of recognizing and naming our own failure, the hurt done as well as received, and…

[hoggleswart]

＂    i  wouldn’t  dream  of  it.      ⸻      i  grew  up  in  a  family  that  very  firmly  believe  snitches  get  stitches,  and  i  like  to  avoid  those  as  often  as  possible.  had  enough  to  last  me  a  lifetime.    ＂      it’s  as  simple  as  that.  not  because  seamus  overly  believes  in  a  tired  motto  himself,  but  because  he’s  been  here;    clawing  at  hospital      (    or  in  his  case,  infirmary    )      walls,  desperately  seeking  an  escape  from  the  haunting  silence.  it’s  the  very  same  reason  he  refused  treatment,  preferring  to  keep  injured  arm  in  sling  as  skele-gro  works  wonders.  it  seems  antigone  hasn’t  been  granted  the  pleasure  of  options,  though  he  can’t  pretend  he’s  surprised.  images  of  them  and  their  sibling  have  been  hard  to  shake  since  the  attack,  yet  another  traumatic  memory  to  add  to  his  never  -  ending  collection.  sometimes  he  wonders  if  his  mother  was  right  to  keep  him  back  in  ireland,  tucked  away  safe  in  muggle  world.    ⸻    but  then  he  also  wonders  what  might’ve  happened  if  he  let  her,  how  much  worse  events  could  be  with  one  less  person  to  defend  and  he  knows  he  prefers  to  be  present,  even  if  it  comes  with  consequences.  hefty  sigh  heaves  from  chest,  a  slight  shake  in  breath  that  stems  from  anxiety    &    unspoken    (    could  he  have  done  more    /    moved  faster?    )    guilt,  slowly  perching  to  sit  beside  them.      ＂    no  one  would  blame  ye’  if  you  were.  in  fact,  if  you  need  help  breaking  out,  just  blink  twice.  i’ll  jump  right  on  it.    ＂

𝙻𝙾𝙲𝙰𝚃𝙸𝙾𝙽  :  ( outside ) st mungo's hospital, london  !

"don't tell on me," it's a simple thing, that request. almost laughable, at their age, but antigone has been subject to the whims of everyone but herself for the past week and as childish as it sounds, it's about what this amounts to - the difference between temporary freedom and a stuffy, private room that she has been forced to stand despite the discomfort that goes all the way down to bone boils down to whether her new companion feels inclined to tattle. she's not doing much. it's obvious she's not meant to be there, hunkered down on a stone bench in her dressing gown, hours past visiting and past the gardens being a warm and welcoming retreat, but anything is better than inside. she tells them, voice small, "i just wanted some fresh air. i'm not a flight risk. promise," and uses a bandaged hand to cross her heart. where would she go? the funny thing about loss is how it leaves you only wanting the person you'll never be able to run to again.

[wizardofpalmsprings]

Saint Jude - patron saint of hope and lost causes. Occasionally confused with Judas Iscariot. Patron saint of hospitals as well, which is why a certain sect of children’s hospital is named for him. Also the patron saint of the Chicago PD??

Saint Lawrence - patron saint of “those who work with open fires” (ex: cooks, bakers, brewers), known for giving to the poor. Martyred for saying that the poor were the church’s treasures (at least the way I read it?) and reportedly said “I’m well done on this side. Turn me over!” In the midst of being martyred.

Saint Francis - patron saint of the animals and the environment. His feast day is also world animal day

I was curious to see if the different saints used as code names by the Santo Patron folks might have any significance and well, I can kind of see it.

Lawrence/Stocks is this Everyman used by an organization, if he dies in the field he dies in the field and someone else will take up that name in his place. It’s very fitting for someone who is out doing dangerous work.

St Jude I think could read a couple of ways. If he’s the one who brings people into the organization, he might be the patron of those who were down on their luck but molded by the organization to be something more. On the other hand, it could be that what they’re doing as an organization is bringing hope to people in lost cause situations.

Unclear on St Francis but I have a feeling it may come up later in the season EDIT: the neurons shook hands. This doesn’t relate to the name specifically but St Francis fell off a train and hasn’t been found - a la Bucky Barnes. He’d 100% been Winter Solider’d and Barsimmeon is running around in his body (see the super soldier Jennifer/Russell encountered)

[kaytheday]

The Weight of the Eldest Brother

Hello! This is my submission for Day 4 of @outsidersweek

This submission is pretty long. I know that today has been a difficult day for everyone (which is probably why this fic is so long 😭), if anyone needs someone to talk to or vent to, just PM me! I am here for anyone who needs it. More under the cut!

On the rare occasions that Darry Curtis Jr. got nervous, he would feel irritable. Sweating incessantly as his fuse was cut short. He knew that a nervous Ponyboy would start shaking, going pale and sometimes even throwing up. Ponyboy had confessed that the few track meets that college scouts had stopped by to watch, he’d been so nervous he’d thrown up. Soda would turn into a firecracker, unpredictable and unable to concentrate, sleep, or even sit still for more than a few seconds. His restlessness would only grow as the nerves ate at him. 

Now, Darry sat completely still on that hospital bench. He was sweating and staring at the floor and feeling like he might throw up. He was nervous. That’s what he assumed this feeling was anyway.

This felt worse than the time with his parents. Somehow, this was ten thousand times worse. He didn’t know what he would do if-

“Mr. Curtis?” He turned to find the coroner looking at him expectantly. “Are you ready to go down?” 

Soda had been missing for upwards of three days. It wasn’t unusual for him to disappear for small stretches of time, it wasn’t like he lived at home anyway. But he usually found Ponyboy or Steve and went to hunt down some action. Neither of them had seen him since the fight. 

Darry and him had gotten into a terrible fight. The kind of fight that no longer becomes about what you were first fighting about, instead becoming a contest of who can say the nastiest thing. 

So Soda had stormed out. 

And Darry doesn’t even remember what it is that he said. He said a lot of terrible things that night, any one of them could have been the reason Soda stormed out. But he doesn’t remember. And now it might be the last thing he ever said to his brother. And he doesn’t even remember it. What an asshole. 

There in the hospital's ground floor, Darry just gulps and gives the Coroner a nod. Standing on shaky legs and following him to the hospital morgue… the same one where his brother might be lying. 

“Are you feeling alright Mr. Curtis?” Darry jumps a little, of course he’s not feeling alright. The last time he was here it was to identify two different members of the Curtis family.

It seemed like a lifetime ago but he still remembers it like it was yesterday. Their bodies were still fresh from the crash. Mottled and bloody but despite the disfiguration, Darry knew it was them. It just reminded him of something that his Momma used to say to him when he was little and wanted to help hold Ponyboy. 

“How come he only stops crying when you hold him?”

“Ponyboy loves you very much but sometimes babies just want their momma. A baby will always know his momma.” 

His mothers words certainly rang true on that terrible night. Even in death his mother was very beautiful. She would have been glad that her baby boy always knew his momma… even in death. 

He’d hoped that would be the last time he would ever receive a call from the coroner's office.

Luckily, it was his day off and even more luckily, he was the only one home. 

“Hello Mr. Curtis, this is Jeff Alberts. I am a chief coroner with St. Francis hospital, I may have some very bad news regarding your brother…” That was all Darry heard before his world shattered into a million pieces. 

Somehow this was worse. He thought the universe would have cut them a break by now, but this was worse. This was worse than his parents, worse than Johnny and Dally, worse than that damned draft letter that started this whole mess in the first place. 

“I feel fine.” Darry told the coroner. “Just a little lightheaded.” He doesn't know what it was in him that told the coroner that. Probably the fact that this coroner seemed like a real adult and Darry felt like the same scared little kid that had to identify their parents' disfigured bodies with his little brothers at home. Darry was still that same scared kid that stepped up to raise his two little brothers all while simultaneously messing things up even more. 

He didn’t have time to think about Ponyboy right now. He couldn’t imagine what Ponyboy would do if the body he found in the morgue was-

“I know these situations are very difficult, do you need to sit down for a minute? I can grab you some water if you’d like.” 

“No, I’m okay.” 

“Okay.” They went down a few more stairs. “The man we received in the morgue came in with a stab wound among other lacerations…” With each word Darry felt himself getting sicker. He needed to throw up or punch something or maybe both. “...also found various evidence that he may have been on drugs or with someone who was using.” Then the coroner launched into an explanation of the man’s physical description, a lot of which matched Soda exactly. 

Stay standing. Darry told himself. You can’t stop now. It was the same stuff he had told himself the first time he had come here. It was awful when his parents were killed. Darry had felt worse than he’d ever felt before. Beyond terrible, Ponyboy had been throwing up because of how hard he was crying and Sodapop looked about ready to combust at the way he was moving. But Darry was the one that couldn’t stop, the one that had to pull them together, take charge, and make sure everything was okay. Nobody else was going to do it. 

“Are you ready to go in Mr. Curtis?” Darry took a deep breath, steeling himself for the worst. He could say no, he could tell the coroner that he needed a minute. But it was better that he just do it now. It was better that he just went in immediately. Afterwards he would need to call Ponyboy and tell him that it was Sod-

“Do you need another minute son?” Darry couldn’t breathe. Just breathe. Just calm down. He tried to take another deep breath. “Son?” 

“Okay. Let’s go in.” 

The room smelled the same way that it had when he’d been there the first time. The body was underneath a sheet on a metal table. The table had some flecks of blood on its shiny exterior. Darry went and stood next to the body on one side. 

“I’m going to pull the sheet down now. Is it alright if I do that Mr. Curtis?” Darry bit his lip and nodded. He didn’t really have a choice, he had to know. He had to know so he could figure out a way to pull their family back together again. How would Ponyboy take this? Darry hadn’t even told him about this, Pony was at work anyway. Home from school for the summer but more importantly to see Soda after his tour  in Vietnam. Darry didn’t know what Ponyboy would do if he found out his favorite brother had been killed. Ponyboy had already lost so much. He couldn’t take losing one more. How could Darry take it?

The sheet came down. 

The relief that flooded through him was instant. It had him nearly swaying on his feet, his eyes growing hot and wet as he stared at the body that wasn’t Sodapop. 

He could understand how the coroner thought it was Sodapop, especially considering it was Soda’s wallet they found in his pocket. This guy looked nearly the same, but there were a couple clear differences. This guy's nose had been broken more than once and his hair was longer. Soda had barely had time to grow out his hair since the four months he’d been out of the army.  This guy was also missing the scar that Soda had on his neck from Two-Bit throwing a bottle at him three years ago. 

“Is this your brother, son?” 

It’s not him. It’s not Sodapop. 

“No, it's not him.” The doctor looked skeptical. 

“Are you sure? Sometimes in death our loved ones can-.” 

“I’m sure. It’s not him.” Darry interrupted. This wasn’t like the first time, with his parents. He had known immediately as soon as he’d seen their mangled faces that it was them. This was completely different. 

“Okay.” The doctor said softly, pulling the sheet back over the man's face. “You are free to go Mr. Curtis. Thank you for coming in.” Darry still had Soda’s wallet in his back pocket. He was relieved but still worried. If he wasn’t here, where was he?

Before he knew it Darry was putting a dime in the slot of the hospital payphone. 

“Hello?” Ponyboy.

“Hey kiddo.”

“Hey Darry, what’s going on?” He sounded genuinely confused and maybe a little worried. He had a right to be. Darry didn’t usually leave the house during his days off and then mysteriously call home and not say anything. 

Darry thought about telling him. He thought about telling him everything. The coroner's office, the guy who looked like Sodapop, the pit in his stomach. But he couldn’t tell Ponyboy. He shouldn’t even have to be worrying about Darry in the first place.  

“Just makin’ sure you made it home from work okay.” 

“Sure.” Pony said slowly, still confused. “You okay? Where are you calling from?” Of course the kid would pick up that something was wrong. 

“Just the gas station. I’m headed home in a minute.” 

“Okay, I’ll see you when I get home then.”

“Okay, bye Pone.” 

“Bye Darry.” And just like that the call dropped. At least he had one brother accounted for. 

Darry didn’t even really remember the drive home. He did that sometimes. His head filled with so much worry and stress that he simply went on autopilot, somehow managing to find the way home without crashing the car. Today was no different. 

He could hear the racket before he even stepped through the front door. Ponyboy and Steve were on the floor, a hand of poker set out before them and Soda… Soda?

Soda was home. The same Soda that had come back from Vietnam so different. The same Soda he had fought with and driven out of the house. The same Soda that he had driven to the hospital to identify. The same Soda that was sitting on the couch in front of him, unharmed and not dead in a hospital morgue. 

“...arry?” Ponyboy was looking at him, something like concern written in his eyes. 

“Sodapop?” He asked, completely ignoring Ponyboy for a moment. “Where you been?” 

“Around. Didn’t know if you’d want me back for a while after… that night.” He trailed off, obviously uncomfortable with everyone's eyes on him. 

“You’re always welcome here, no matter what.” Darry said in that no nonsense tone. Darry wiped his hands on his jeans. “You guys start dinner?” He asked, itching to change the subject. 

“I preheated the oven.” 

“Thanks Pone, I’ll finish it.” He felt their eyes on him as he went to the kitchen. Get a grip. He told himself. Of course Soda is fine. He began to slather the thawing chicken in sauce.  He went to get some butter out of the fridge when he nearly ran into Soda. 

“What’s this about?” He asked, running a nervous hand through his hair. 

“What’s what about?” Darry asks, taking some frozen vegetables out of the freezer. 

“You were lookin’ at me like you saw a ghost. That’s gotta be something.” 

“I’m fine, I’m just really glad you’re okay Sodapop.” Soda’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. 

“Sure, I was only gone a few days. Are you still mad about our fight?” Soda asked.

Darry thought about telling him. He really did. About telling him everything. He thought about telling him that he thought Soda was dead and he was the one to blame. He thought about telling him about the smell and even mom and dad. He thought about yelling his head off that Soda should have called, should have told Darry where he was, that he could have been killed and it would be all Darrys fault. 

After all, Darry hadn’t had anybody to tell for so long.

But he didn’t.

Over the years he had a lot of practice of knowing which things his little brothers needed to know. His little visit to the coroner's office and hospital morgue was not something either of his little brothers needed to know about. 

“No, I’m not mad about that. Not anymore little buddy. Now how about you help me with dinner, huh?” 

“Sure Dar.” Soda says easily, knocking his shoulder against Darrys. “Though we might be having blue chicken.” Darry laughs, thinking about how close he was to thinking Sodapop was dead. How he had felt like this might never happen again. Everything would be fine. Soda was alive and Darry would keep it that way if it killed him. 

[catherinetheprincessofwales]

The Irish Princess and her dynastic marriage to a Norman that helped shape Europe. Aoife, Princess of Leinster -> Catherine, The Princess of Wales. The Princess of Wales is Aoife, Princess of Leinster and Richard de Clare, Earl of Pembroke 26th Great-Granddaughter  via her paternal grandfather’s line.

** Aoife or Eva, Princess of Leinster, played a pivotal role in the history of Ireland and the Norman expansion. She was the daughter of Diarmaid MacMurrough, King of Leinster, who sought the help of the Normans to secure his throne and defeat his enemies. As part of this alliance, Aoife married the Norman leader Richard de Clare, known as ‘Strongbow,’ on 25 August 1170. This marriage marked the arrival of the Normans in Ireland, just 104 years after their conquest of England by William the Conqueror.

Through their daughter, Isabelle de Clare, The 4th Countess of Pembroke, the union of Aoife and Strongbow forged a lineage that would shape the future of European nobility. Isabelle became an ancestor of nearly every reigning monarch across Europe. Within a few generations, her descendants included much of the European aristocracy, including all the Kings of Scotland since Robert the Bruce (1274–1329) and every monarch of England, Great Britain, and the United Kingdom since Henry IV (1367–1413). 

Family Line

Aoife MacMurrough, Princess of Leinster and Richard de Clare, 2nd Earl of Pembroke. Painting of their wedding, depicting the political and cultural consequences. 

Isabelle de Clare 4th Countess of Pembroke m. William Marshall 1st Earl of Pembroke. 

Eve Marshall m William de Briouze, born  Pembroke Castle.

Eve de Briouze m. William de Cauntelo, Coat of Arms

Millicent de Cauntelo m. Eon la Zouche, Coat of Arms

Eva la Zouche m. Maurice de Berkeley, 2nd Lord Berkeley, buried St Mary's Church, Portbury. 

Thomas de Berkeley, 3rd Lord Berkeley m. Catherine Clivedon

Sir John Berkeley m. Elizabeth Betteshorne, burial location.

Eleanor Berkeley m. Sir Richard Poynings, burial tomb.

Eleanor de Poynings m. Henry Percy, 3rd Earl of Northumberland

Lady Margaret Percy m. Sir William Gascoigne 

Anne Gascoigne m. Sir Thomas Fairfax - Gawthorpe Hall, family seat.

William Fairfax m. Anne Baker - Gilling Castle, family seat. 

John Fairfax m. Mary Birch - Master of the Great Hospital at Norwich, Norfolk

Rev. Benjamin Fairfax m. Sarah Galliard - Preacher at Rumburgh, Suffolk.

Benjamin Fairfax m. Bridget Stringer - died in Halesworth, Suffolk.

Sarah Fairfax m. Rev. John Meadows - died in Ousedon, Suffolk.

Philip Meadows m. Margaret Hall

Sarah Meadows m. Dr. David Martineau

Thomas Martineau m. Elizabeth Rankin - buried at Rosary Cemetery, Norwich.

Elizabeth Martineau m. Dr. Thomas Michael Greenhow - died in Newcastle upon Tyne, Northumberland.

Frances Elizabeth Greenhow m. Francis Lupton

Francis Martineau Lupton m. Harriet Davis

Olive Lupton m. Richard Middleton

Peter Middleton m. Valerie Glassborow

Michael Middleton m. Carole Goldsmith 

Catherine Middleton m. Prince William of Wales

*Catherine is also a descendant of Aoife via her mother Caroles maternal line.

[girlactionfigure]

 THURSDAY HERO: Rabbi Abraham Joshua Twerski

Rabbi Abraham Joshua Twerski was a Hasidic rabbi and psychiatrist who authored dozens of books, helped tens of thousands recover from addiction, and was a blessing to everyone he met.

Born in Milwaukee in 1930, Rabbi Twerski was the scion of two illustrious Hasidic dynasties: Bobov and Chernobyl. His father Rabbi Jacob Israel Twerski was a Russian immigrant and leading rabbi who was beloved by the Milwaukee Jewish community. Abraham was one of five brothers and the first to be born in America. He was raised in a traditional Orthodox home but attended public school.

After being ordained as a young man, Abraham served as his father’s assistant rabbi, and was in awe of his father’s ability to connect with people and counsel them. He later said, “I didn’t see my life as a performer of rituals, and I felt that if what psychiatry is doing is what my father used to be doing, well, then that’s where I’ll go. So I went to medical school to become a psychiatrist to do what I wanted to do as a rabbi.” He graduated from the medical school of Marquette University  in 1960 and served as clinical director of the psychiatry department at St. Francis Hospital in Pittsburgh for many years.

In 1972, Rabbi Twerski founded Gateway Rehabilitation Center in Pittsburgh, a program so successful that there are now 22 Gateway centers in Pennsylvania and Ohio, serving both Jewish and non-Jewish patients. The current CEO of Gateway, James Troup, said “Dr. Twerski is our founder, inspiration leader and the person we think of every day as we execute our mission and vision.”

His granddaughter Chaya Ruchie Twerski remembered growing up with her beloved zaydie. “My grandfather used to pray on Saturday mornings in Chabad and when we would walk home from synagogue, every single Shabbos was the same thing. Cars would honk, people would roll down their windows and shout, ’Sending our love,’ or ‘Five years clean, Dr. T!’”

At that time it was rare for an Orthodox rabbi to be an expert in secular subjects such as medicine. It was also a common belief in the Jewish community that alcoholism and addiction were gentile problems. Rabbi Twerski challenged both assumptions by becoming a prominent psychiatrist who wrote over 80 books and helped thousands of Jews and non-Jews recover from substance abuse – all while maintaining his identity as a pious and visible Hasidic Jew. He tackled subjects nobody else in the Jewish world was addressing, such as domestic abuse and drug addiction.

Those who knew Rabbi Twerski remembered that his favorite word was “gem” because he believed that every human being is a precious gem. Rabbi Moishe Mayir Vogel, executive director of the Aleph Institute in Pittsburgh, said of his beloved rabbi, “He would never throw anyone away. He would say, ‘We just have to polish them off and wipe away the dust.’”

Rabbi Twerski was the first Jewish leader to embrace the 12-step program created by Alcoholics Anonymous, despite the program’s association with Christian teachings. A renowned expert in spiritual and secular subjects, Rabbi Twerski wrote dozens of best-selling books, all with the same theme – self-esteem. A fan of the Peanuts cartoon, Rabbi Twerski co-wrote two books with Peanuts creator Charles Schultz. Noted psychologist Rabbi Dr. Tzvi Hersh Weinreb said of his mentor, “He was a great believer that there was no contradiction. A person could be a person of great faith and a rigorous scientist.”

In his long life, Rabbi Twerski made use of every moment. Besides treating patients, authoring books, and traveling the world to lecture and advise, Rabbi Twersky founded multiple organizations including Nefesh, an organization for mental health workers, the Kollel Learning Center, and Transitions, for boys from Orthodox homes battling substance addiction. Pittsburgh resident Mike Pasternak, co-founder of Transitions, described Rabbi Twerski as “an amazing person who cared about everyone. Every day I spent with him was an experience seeing someone be the ultimate mensch, caring for everybody.”

Besides his work as psychiatrist and spiritual leader, he was a gifted singer and composer. Rabbi Yisroel Rosenfeld of the Lubavitch Center of Pittsburgh said that Rabbi Twerski “had a beautiful voice and was a great composer of songs… He was an unusual kind of person. A person that was down to earth, but at the same time very spiritual. He had a foot in and was able to reach out and be effective in the entire world.”

Rabbi Twerski died in Israel on January 31, 2021 at age 90 and was survived by his wife Dr. Gail Bessler-Twerski, four children, and many grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great grandchildren. His first wife Golda died in 1995. Rabbi Twerski’s will specified that there should be no eulogies at his funeral, instead mourners should sing a melody he composed for the words of Psalms 28:9, “Deliver and bless Your very own people; tend them and sustain them forever.”

For saving lives and blessing the entire world with his saintly presence, we honor Rabbi Abraham Joshua Twerski as this week’s Thursday Hero. May his memory be a blessing.

[waywardidjitdaughter]

Something I just recently found out about the onset of POTS: it can initially be triggered by an infection. People have developed it after battling Covid-19. I've never had covid (she says as she goes and knocks on every piece of wood in her house) but I was hospitalized last year for three days to be treated for sepsis that was brought on by a silent UTI. My symptoms started at that time. Unfortunately I was being treated by an idiot doctor in a crummy hospital. They kept saying those symptoms were anxiety and drugging my ass to high hell on benzos and gave me an antibiotic that is known to be very dangerous for EDS patients. They also gave me permanent scars because no one would listen when I said I have Ehlers Danlos Syndrome and to be gentle with my skin when inserting IVs. One nurse was just a nasty piece of work and kept stabbing me like she was a horror movie villain from the 80s and told me to suck it up when I ended up in tears. Yes, I reported her and she was actually held accountable for her behavior. Long, rambling story short my (amazing) new doctor thinks the sepsis combined with my EDS triggered the POTS and stay FAR AWAY from St. Francis Hospital in Memphis if you have EDS or POTS...or a fucking paper cut. Baptist Memorial Hospital is your friend here in Memphis.

To anyone in the Memphis area who needs a good doctor to treat your POTS or EDS, message me. I'll send you my doc's contact info. He's been a true hero to me and I love him to death.

Also, anyone in Fort Wayne, Indiana who knows of a good doctor, please hit me up with the information. I'm moving sometime in the next year. I love my doctor but there is just too much violence in Memphis. The shootout behind my house last month where a bullet went through my next door neighbor's living room window was the last straw for my husband and I.

[scotianostra]

September *1st 1720 saw the official marriage ceremony of Prince James Francis Edward Stuart and the Polish Princess Maria Clementina Sobieska.

*dates differ a wee bit

The marriage took place at the Italian Cathedral of Monte Fiascone, and the union led to the birth of Charles Stewart in Rome in 1720. Maria Clementina Sobieska was one of Europe’s richest heiresses and brought the Stuarts a cash injection.

The Polish Princess had been kidnapped on her way to the original wedding the preceding year to “The Old Pretender”. She escaped, and had married James by proxy when he was away trying to raise support for the 1719 Rising. After the Uprising was quashed, Jacobite hopes were raised in the form of the infant (Bonnie) Prince Charles.

After his marriage James took up residence in Rome at the Palazzo Muti, also known as Palazzo Stuart He also maintained a country residence at Palazzo Savelli in Albano, about 25 kilometres south of Rome. He was well received by the Italian nobility who were very happy to give him hospitality in their homes. James regularly travelled to Bogna and other towns where he was received with full royal honours. He maintained a court worthy of his rank thanks to pensions paid by the Holy See and by France, as well as thanks to many legacies which he received from cardinals and Italian nobles.

Maria died on 18th January 1735 aged just 32, James never remarried.

On December 23rd, 1743, James appointed his elder son Charles, Prince Regent, two years later Charles made his attempt to restore the Stuarts to their rightful position.

James died in the Palazzo Muti (now Palazzo Balestra) in Rome, January 1st, 1766, when he was succeeded in all his British rights by his elder son Charles.

James and Maria are interred at St Peters Basilica in Vatican City, later their sons Charles and Henry were also “buried” in the Monument to the Stuarts.

[theanoninyourinbox]

IT BE TIME FOR YMA SIDHE LOOOOOORE!!!!!! THE @mommyclan background Scottish Ghost Attack Grannie!

Sidhe was born in a little cottage in the woods, home to an old punk woman who practiced an odd religion - somewhere on the scale between Wicca and Celtic druidism, with an emphasis on music connecting the planes of existence. Sidhe's mother Morgana raised her to read these text, and learn the family practice of hunting "The Returned", strange beings that dragged cats from the heavens and below to the fiery pits. The pair were very successful, with Sidhe's first kill being the tom that sired her...

Eventually, Sidhe struck out on her own, and after a few successful years of hunting, she found herself with a void. She wanted kits, but every attempt at a romantic relationship ended in disaster - she never figured out if that was a Curse or terrible luck. On one pass through the woods, she sheltered at an old abandoned church dedicated to St Francis of Assisi. Within, she met the local cryptid named Lugosi, a cat of some sort from far away. After a few visits, she asked him to father her kits - but no romance involved. He agreed with a promise to help raise them like an uncle, and soon after she gave birth to three kits - Brahm, Wilma, and Dewey.

The kits grew up in relative peace, and Sidhe and Lugosi grew close like siblings. However, it soon became noticeable that Brahm was...uncaring. Selfish. It took Brahm trying to shove Dewey off the church for Sidhe to act. She took him to a twoleg cat rescue, hoping that they could help. Eventually Wilma moved to a barn a few hills over, and Dewey left to explore his love of reading at the library in the nearby town. Sidhe left too, going back to hunting, but visiting often.

And then she came back to a pregnant molly at the church, and her tale of abuse at the paws of her own son Brahm. Sidhe stayed then - for the pregnancy, and the birth of a little black tabby kit with her looks and Lugosi's fangs. The molly was sent home, but little Dracula stayed with his grandparents - his Grandpops, and his Yma. She stayed, taught him how to use the knife he treasured to defend himself, loved him dearly...and passed away in her sleep.

...which did little to stop her. Within a week of her death, she re-materialized as a spirit, protecting the cat she loved like a heart-bound brother, the grandkit who wore her collar with pride, and the old worn church that held the faith of its parishioners and refugees like trees held the sun. Eventually her grandkit went on to make a new family visiting often...and one night, bringing one of the Returned with him, one willing to harm themselves to save a soul. One she would not let go - @askdoeleaf was HER family now, and no powers below or otherwise could change that.

OTHER IMPORTANT DETAILS

*Sidhe has a strong Scottish accent, thick and wild. Lots of *ye* and *aye* and a strong urge to kill I MEAN bother the British.

*Fond of Scotch and meat pies. Despises blood pudding to the point of physically throwing it out windows. Neutral on tea surprisingly.

*Will terrorize "Brats", usually those who disrespect the hospitality of the church or harm others for cruel reasons. Favorite spot to hang is in the rafters, so she can descend menacingly.

*Makes knives for all the grandkits, with blessings to suit the user. Adds her sigil somewhere, usually small and undetectable.

*Her grandkits can summon her in times of extreme danger. The ghostly neck area looks like space.

[genderqueerpositivity]

The arrest this week of a South Carolina woman accused of self-administering an abortion pill to end a pregnancy in 2021 prompted outrage among advocates who decried the criminalization of self-managed abortions.

According to a police report, a 33-year-old woman in Greeneville was taken to the hospital in October 2021 due to labor contractions. Police said she told staff she had taken the pill to terminate the pregnancy.

In light of this news, I'm passing along this reminder:

(image description: an image from the Instagram account @palmettostateabortionfund. There is white text inside a yellow box over a background of blue and yellow pills. Text reads: "Remember, you do NOT have to disclose what medication you have taken, if any, if you are seeking treatment for miscarriage symptoms.")

This is especially important if you live in South Carolina or Nevada, where self-managed abortion is criminalized.

I'm adding a link to the Repro Legal Helpline below:

The Repro Legal Helpline is a free, confidential helpline where you can get legal information or advice about the abortion laws in your state, including self-managed abortion, young people's access to abortion or judicial bypass, and referrals to local resources. If you have been arrested, questioned by the police, or charged with a crime for your abortion, we may also be able to help you by finding you a lawyer in your state, or working with your lawyer to help with your defense.

And finally, for my locals, tread carefully when seeking any form of reproductive or pregnancy related health care from the St. Francis Hospital system; they are Catholic affiliated. Very recently I met someone who was, several years ago, refused a tubal ligation after giving birth at one of these hospitals. Be careful.

[duchessofyorkreincarnated]

Wee facts about Princess Louisa Maria Teresa Stuart since it's her birthday today:

• She was born at St-Germain-en-Laye to James II and Mary of Modena on June 28th 1692.

• When she was born, she was nicknamed La Consolatrice by her father as she was born during a distressing time for her family, being usurped and exiled from the throne.

• She was brought up in France with her brother, James Francis Edward Stuart. Her tutor, Father Constable, was a Roman Catholic priest who taught her Latin, history and religion. The Countess of Middleton was Louisa's governess.

• Louisa was transferred to Passy with her brother when he was proclaimed king by Louis XIV and was looked after by the Countess of Middleton and Antonin Nompar de Caumont, 1st Duke of Lauzun and his wife.

• Louisa was a fan of dancing and the opera.

• She was also very popular at the French court. When she was thirteen, she went to a ball at the Château de Marly, and she ranked only after Louis XIV himself, Mary of Modena and James Francis Edward.

• She was considered a bride for both Charles, Duke of Berry who was actually Louis XIV's grandson and with King Charles XII of Sweden but neither match came to pass.

• She paid for many daughters of Jacobite supporters to have an education, in return for their support to her family. She made no difference between Catholic and Protestant girls, supporting both.

• Sadly, she succumbed to smallpox on April 28th and was buried with her father in Paris in the Church of the English Benedictines, being widely mourned. After the French Revolution, Louisa and her father were moved to the Val de Grace medical hospital. She was only nineteen.

• She had the nickname The Princess over the Water since her father and brother were both known as The King over the Water.

[eternal-echoes]

“To embrace someone is not enough, however. We must hold the hand of the one in need, of the one who has fallen into the darkness of dependency perhaps without even knowing how, and we must say to him or her: You can get up, you can stand up. It is difficult, but it is possible if you want to. Dear friends, I wish to say to each of you, but especially to all those others who have not had the courage to embark on our journey: You have to want to stand up; this is the indispensable condition! You will find an outstretched hand ready to help you, but no one is able to stand up in your place. But you are never alone! The Church and so many people are close to you. Look ahead with confidence. Yours is a long and difficult journey, but look ahead, there is “a sure future, set against a different horizon with regard to the illusory enticements of the idols of this world, yet granting new momentum and strength to our daily lives” (Lumen Fidei, 57). To all of you, I repeat: Do not let yourselves be robbed of hope! Do not let yourselves be robbed of hope! And not only that, but I say to us all: let us not rob others of hope, let us become bearers of hope!”

- Pope Francis, APOSTOLIC JOURNEY TO RIO DE JANEIRO ON THE OCCASION OF THE XXVIII WORLD YOUTH DAY - VISIT TO ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI OF THE PROVIDENCE OF GOD HOSPITAL, 24 July 2013

[layce2015]

Supernatural (Dean Winchester x Female!Reader)

Fear Of Flying

Masterlist / Next Chapter

Jerry was looking through a microscope as Dean and I stand near him. "Sulfur?" Dean asked Jerry, who sighs then nods at him. "Well, that's great." Dean grumbles, annoyed, as I rub my hands over my eyes. "All right, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him." I said.

"With all due respect to Chuck, if that's the case, that would be the good news." Sam said and we look over at him.

"What's the bad news?" Dean asked him.

"Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into flight. And get this, so did flight 2485." Sam said.

"Forty minutes? What does that mean?" Jerry asked.

"It's biblical numerology. You know Noah's ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death." Dean replied.

"I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in." Sam explains.

"Any survivors?" I asked. "No. Or not until now, at least, not until flight 2485, for some reason. On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP said?" Sam asked. "No survivors." Dean and I said in unison and something hits me. "It's going after all the survivors. It's trying to finish the job." I said.

*****

That night, Dean was driving the Impala as I follow them in my bike. While following them, I start to think that I need to find a safe place to put my bike in. As much as I love to drive this bike around, I wouldn't mind riding in the Impala with the boys and plus to save me gas money. Maybe I can stop at one of the safe houses Dad had bought and put the bike there for safety.

****

We make it to an airport and Sam gives me a rundown of the flight attendant from flight 2485, Amanda, was about to board a new flight. We rush into the airport and check the Departure board. "Right there. They're boarding in thirty minutes." Sam said once we make it inside. "Okay. We still have some cards to play. We need to find a phone." I said then Dean goes and picks up a courtesy phone.

"Hi. Gate thirteen." Dean answers. "I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on flight, um...flight 4-2-4." He replied to the person at the other end then he stands there.

"Come on." He mutters, annoyed, as Sam and I stand there. Then Dean jumps then said. "Miss Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Hetfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here. Nothing serious, just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so—" Dean started to say but pauses.

"You what?" He asked. "Uh, well...there must be some mistake." He said as Sam and I go up to Dean and try to hear what's going on.

"Is this one of Vince's friends?" I hear Amanda's voice asked.

"Guilty as charged." Dean said, smiling.

"Wow. This is unbelievable." Amanda said.

"He's really sorry." Dean said to her.

"Well, you tell him to mind his own business and stay out of my life, okay?" She said, angrily. "Yes, but...he really needs to see you tonight, so—" Dean started to say but Amanda interrupts him. "No, I'm sorry. It's too late." She said.

"Don't be like that. Come on. The guy's a mess. Really. It's pathetic." Dean said. "Really?" Amanda asked.

"Oh, yeah." He said.

"Look, I've got to go. Um...tell him to call me when I land." She said.

"No, no. Wait, Amanda. Amanda!" Dean shouts into the phone but I hear the dial tone.

"Damn it! So close." Dean growls. "All right, it's time for plan B. We're getting on that plane." I said to them and Sam nods. "Whoa, whoa, now just hold on a second." Dean said as he places a hand on my shoulder. I turn to him and see that he's wide-eyed.

"Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we're right, that plane is gonna crash." I said to him. "I know." Dean said and I could've sworn I heard his voice shaking.

"Okay. So we're getting on the plane, we need to find that demon and exorcise it. I'll get the tickets. You guys get whatever you can out of the trunk. Whatever that will make it through the security. Meet me back here in five minutes." Sam said and Dean looks between us, anxiously.

*****

"Are you okay?" I asked him, concerned.

"No, not really." He replied.

"What? What's wrong?" Sam asked him.

"Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh..." Dean stammers, anxiously.

"Flying?" Sam and I asked.

"It's never really been an issue until now." He said.

"You're joking, right?" I asked him in disbelief.

"Do I look like I'm joking? Why do you think I drive everywhere, guys?" Dean said, angrily, and I chuckle a bit.

"What?" He asked me.

"Nothing. Just...I never thought I'd see the day where Dean Winchester was afraid of something." I said and had flowers at me. "Shut up." He grumbles.

"All right. Uh, (y/n) and I will go." Sam said to Dean. "What?" He asked. "We'll do this one on our own." Sam said, gesturing between me and him. "Yeah, we can handle it." I said.

"What are you, nuts? You said it yourself, Sam, the plane's gonna crash." Dean said. "Dean, we can do it together, or Sam and I can do this one by ourselves. I'm not seeing a third option, here." I said and I pat Sam's back and we started to leave.

"Come on! Really?" I hear Dean exclaim at us but I look ovef my shoulder and see him following us, reluctantly.

*****

Dean, in the aisle seat, was anxiously reading the safety card while I sat next to him and Sam got the seat behind us. "Just try to relax." I assured him, calmly. "Just try to shut up." He grumbles and then the plane takes off, with Dean jumping at every rumble and sound. I smirk then look behind and see Sam smirking as well and shaking his head.

Dean leans back in his seat, humming to himself. "You're humming Metallica?" I said, disbelieving, "Calms me down." He replies.

"Look, Dean, I get you're nervous, all right? But you got to stay focused." I said to him, firmly and calmly.

"Okay." He said.

"She's right. I mean, we got thirty-two minutes and counting to track this thing down, or whoever it's possessing, anyway, and perform a full-on exorcism." Sam said as he leans over to the side and looks over at Dean. "Yeah, on a crowded plane. That's gonna be easy." Dean remarks.

"Just take it one step at a time, all right?" I said and he looks over at me. "Now, who is it possessing?" I asked the boys. "It's usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness, you know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress." Dean replies.

"Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up." Sam said. "Mm-hm." Dean hums then he turns to a flight attendants.

"Excuse me. Are you Amanda?" He asked her.

"No, I'm not." She replied. "Oh, my mistake." He said and the attendant walks away. Then he looks to the back of the plane. "All right, well, that's got to be Amanda back there, so I'll go talk to her, and, uh, I'll get a read on her mental state." Dean said.

"What if she's already possessed?" Sam asked. "There's ways to test that." said Dean and he goes into his bag and comes out with a Virgin Mary-shaped bottle of water. "I brought holy water." He said and my eyes widen.

"No." I said as I snatch the bottle and tuck it inside my jacket. "I think we can go more subtle. If she's possessed, she'll flinch at the name of God." I said. "Oh. Nice." Dean said then he turns to go.

"Hey." Sam said and Dean turns to him.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Say it in Latin." Sam replied.

"I know." Dean said and he starts to leave but Sam stops him again.

"Hey!" He said.

"What?!" Dean said, annoyed and I try to hold back a chuckle. "Uh, in Latin, it's Christo." Sam said. "Dude, I know! I'm not an idiot!" Dean growls at him and he makes his way back to the plane.

****

Moments later, Dean returns to his seat. "All right, well, she's got to be the most well-adjusted person on the planet." He said once he sits down. "You said Christo?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." Dean replied.

"And?" I asked.

"There's no demon in her. There's no demon getting in her." He said. "So, if it's on the plane, it can be anyone. Anywhere." Sam said just as the plane shakes.

"Come on! That can't be normal!" Dean exclaims.

"Hey, hey, it's just a little turbulence." I said to him.

"(Y/n), this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I'm friggin' four." He growls at me and I roll my eyes at him. "Well, maybe quit acting like one." I said and he glares daggers at me and I sigh.

"Look, you need to calm down." I said. "Well, I'm sorry I can't." He said. "Yes, you can." I said to him. "(Y/n), stow the touchy-feely, self-help yoga crap, it's not helping." Dean growls, angry and annoyed.

"Listen, if you're panicked, you're wide open to demonic possession, so you need to calm yourself down. Right now." I said, firmly. "She's right, Dean. We don't need that. So, calm down." Sam said and Dean takes a long, slow breath.

"Good." I said as Sam leans over to the side of the chair. "Now, I found an exorcism in here that I think is gonna work. The Rituale Romanum." He said.

"What do we have to do?" I asked Sam.

"It's two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful." Sam replied.

"More powerful?" Dean and I said.

"Yeah." Sam said.

"How?" I asked.

"Well, it doesn't need to possess someone anymore. It can just wreak havoc on its own." Sam said. "Oh. And why is that a good thing?" Dean asked. "Well, because the second part sends the bastard back to hell once and for all." Sam said and I nod at this.

"First things first, we got to find it." I said and Dean nods.

****

Dean walks slowly up the aisle with his EMF meter, getting odd looks but no readings. Sam suddenly claps him on the shoulder, and he jumps. "Ah! Don't do that." He said as I come up to them. "Anything?" I asked him.

"No, nothing. How much time we got?" Dean said and Sam looks at his watch.

"Fifteen minutes. Maybe we missed somebody." He said.

"Maybe the thing's just not on the plane." Dean said and I look over at him.

"You believe that?" I asked him. "Well, I will if you will." Dean said but then he looks down as the EMF meter spikes.

"What? What is it?" Sam asked as I look up and see Dean staring at one of the pilots. "Christo." Dean said and the man turns slowly to face us, his eyes are black. Then he goes into the cockpit as the boys and I share a glance.

*****

"She's not gonna believe this." Sam said to Dean as we make our way to the back. "Twelve minutes, dude." Dean mutters as we come up to Amanda.

"Oh, hi. Flight's not too bumpy for you, I hope." She said as she looks between us. "Actually, that's kind of what we need to talk to you about." Dean said and I closes the curtain.

"Um, okay. What can I do for you?" She asked, nervously. "All right, this is gonna sound nuts, but we just don't have time for the whole the truth is out there speech right now." Dean said. "All right, look, we know you were on flight 2485." I said to her and her smile disappears.

"Who are you guys?" She asked us. "Now, we've spoken to some of the other survivors. We know something brought down that plane and it wasn't a mechanical failure." Sam said to her. "We need your help because we need to stop it from happening again. Here. Now." said Dean.

"I'm sorry, I—I'm very busy. I have to go back—" she stammers and she brushes past Dean but I stop her.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait a second. We're not gonna hurt you, okay? But listen to me, uh...The pilot in 2485, Chuck Lambert. He's dead." I said and she looks up at us in shock.

"Wait. What? What, Chuck is dead?" She said, shocked. "He died in a plane crash. Now, that's two plane crashes in two months. That doesn't strike you as strange?" I asked her.

"I—"

"Look, there was something wrong with 2485. Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn't. But there's something wrong with this flight, too." Sam said to her. "Amanda, you have to believe us." Dean said to her.

"On...on 2485, there was this man. He...had these eyes." She admits. "Yes. That's exactly what we're talking about." I said to her.

"I don't understand, what are you asking me to do?" She asked us. "Okay. The copilot, we need you to bring him back here." Dean said.

"Why? What does he have to do with anything?" She asked us. "Don't have time to explain. We just need to talk to him. Okay?" I said to her.

"How am I supposed to go in the cockpit and get the copilot—" she said but Sam talks over her. "Do whatever it takes. Tell him there's something broken back here, whatever will get him out of that cockpit." Sam said.

"Do you know that I could lose my job if you—"

"Okay, well you're gonna lose a lot more if you don't help us out." Dean said to her, firmly, and she hesitates. "Okay." She said and she leaves and goes to the cockpit. She knocks on the door and says something to the copilot, who follows her back. Sam pulls out the holy water while Dean pulls out John's journal and hands it to me and I open it.

****

"Yeah, what's the problem?" The copilot asked as he comes in. Dean punches him in the face, knocking him down. He pins him down and puts duct tape over his mouth. "Wait. What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him." Amanda said, freaking out.

"We are gonna talk to him." I said as Dean splashes holy water on his skin, which sizzles.

"Oh, my God. What's wrong with him?" She asked, confused and shocked. "Look. We need you calm. We need you outside the curtain." Sam instructs her.

"Well, I don't underst—I don't know—"

"Don't let anybody in, okay? Can you do that, Amanda?" I asked her. "Okay. Okay." She said, nodding then she leaves.

"Hurry up, Sam. I don't know how much longer we can hold him." Dean said as he and I hold the demon down while Sam looks down at the book and began to read it. "Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino—" he said and the demon breaks free briefly and hits all three of us until Dean and I manage to subdue him again. Sam pick up where he left off but the demon knocks Dean off again and pulls the tape off his mouth then knocks me to the side.

Then he grabs Sam by the collar.

"I know what happened to your girlfriend! She must have died screaming! Even now, she's burning!" he taunts as Dean and I recover and we hit the demon as Sam sits there, stunned.

"Sam!" Dean and I shouted and he recovers and begins reading again. He puts the book down and helps us pin down the demon, who kicks the book up the aisle.

"I got him." Sam said but the demon exits the copilot's body and disappears into a vent. "Where'd it go?" I asked, fearfully.

"It's in the plane. Hurry up. We got to finish it." Dean said just as the plane suddenly dips and heaves violently. Sam struggles to retrieve the book as Dean and I splay ourselves against the exit door, Dean began to scream.

Suddenly a bright electrical charge runs through the entire plane, which then levels out. I sighed with relief then looked over at Dean. "You okay?" I asked him and he nods after letting out a few deep breaths. "Yeah, you?" He asked me. "Yeah..." I said, breathless, and he gets up then helps me to my feet. We come out from behind the curtain as we see Sam standing up.

****

The passengers from the flight were disembarking to an area milling with uniformed agents. The copilot was seated in a wheelchair with a blanket wrapped around him, being questioned by an FAA agent. Amanda was being questioned by another agent.

She sees us standing across the way and mouths Thank you to us and we nod at her. "Let's get out of here." Dean said to us and we head for the exit. I looked over at Sam and noticed he had a disturbed look on his face.

"You okay?" I asked and he stops and turns to us. "Guys, it knew about Jessica." he said and I give him a concerned look. "Sam, these things, they, they read minds. They lie. All right? That's all it was." Dean said to his brother.

"Yeah." Sam said in a tone of voice that said he didn't believe that. I frown then I go and hug him, he hugs me back and he buries his face into my shoulder. I patted his back, reassuringly, then I pull back from the hug and smiled at him. "Come on." I said and we head out.

*****

"Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed." Jerry said to us as we went to tell him what happened the next day. He goes and shakes our hands. "Your dad would be real proud." Jerry said to me as I go and hug him. "Thanks, man." I said to him.

"We'll see you around, Jerry." Sam said and we head out to our vehicles and drive off.

[venicepearl]

St. Elizabeth of Hungary or The Miracle of the Roses by Gustave Moreau, 1879

Elizabeth of Hungary (7 July 1207 – 17 November 1231), also known as Elisabeth of Thuringia, was a princess of the Kingdom of Hungary and the landgravine of Thuringia.

Elizabeth was married at the age of 14, and widowed at 20. After her husband's death, she regained her dowry, using the money to build a hospital where she herself served the sick. She became a symbol of Christian charity after her death in 1231 at the age of 24 and was canonized on 25 May 1235. She is venerated as a saint by the Catholic Church. She was an early member of the Third Order of St. Francis, and is today honored as its patroness.

[lavosse]

Hey, if I remember correctly, you went to one of your siblings communions (?) and you shared some of the more interesting saints people chose as their confirmation name(?)

Do you have anything more from that? Bc telling people about Saint Jude makes people holler every time I tell them their patronage.

I mean how fucked up does it have to be to name a hospital for sick kids after the saint of lost causes?

Sorry -- I was going through my asks and found this, but I guess I never got a notification for it?? hopefully a month isn't too late lol.

Yeah! So my sister chose St. Maximilian Kolbe, who was a martyr during the Holocaust, mostly because she didn't have another saint she was attached to and max kolbe is a pretty bulletproof choice. The most common choices at her confirmation were St. Francis of Assisi and St. Michael the Archangel (probably occupational choices for kids that want to be vets and law enforcement, respectively).

The only one I remember where I was like "huh how interesting" was that someone had chosen St. Rita (patron of domestic violence survivors). I have known people who were confirmed as St. Jude, but the vibe is more like "I didn't think I'd make it this far". That's the reason the hospital is named that!!! It's saying 1) if other doctors have told you your child is a lost cause, they'll keep trying anyway, and 2) if they are a lost cause, they still deserve to be cared for as if they weren't. I think it's a pretty hardcore sentiment.