#also in need of surgery as i cannot put any weight on my leg. help me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

marvelmadam08 · 4 years ago

Text

Baby Blues 11/?

Summary: Ace goes to his first doctor’s visit, and Alex checks in with her doctor.

Warnings: First shots, crying, doctor visits, slight jealousy. Fluffy Dad!Chris content. Body insecurities, health concerns, and mentions of sex.

A/N: Rest in Power to Chadwick Boseman, our Black Panther and King. He gave us so much while battling cancer, not just Black Panther. The work he has done in the amount of time he had left a mark, and cannot be replicated. Chadwick Boseman has been such a force in Hollywood that no one could ever forget him. My heart goes out to all his close friends and family.

Also, let’s not make this about Black Panther 2.

~~~~~~

6 Weeks Old

“I mean they can program a robot to perform surgery on a grape but they still have to jab a n-e-e-d-l-e into my baby’s skin for vaccinations.” Alex glared at a few of the other moms in the waiting room, eyeing Chris up and down with Ace.

Chris fed him while Alex filled out the medical file. He was noisy drinking from the bottle, but he took to bottle feeding easier than Alex expected. She watched from the corner of her eye, Chris was a natural, jumping right into action whenever Ace needed something. Seeing him walk around the house with Ace never got old. He was always singing songs to him, some made up. Alex’s favorite so far was the one called ‘Doggies Are Friendly’, in attempts to get Ace to warm up to Dodger. No luck.

Overall seeing Chris Evans with a baby was enough to get any woman excited, and willing to give him more. So she could understand the gazes he got from the other moms, but that didn’t mean she had to just sit there and let them undress her husband with their eyes.

“Al, he can’t understand you.” He watched Ace, unaware of the extra eyes lusting after him

“He’s intuitive Chris, he knows what I mean." Alex frowned, thinking about the how upset Ace would be once he got his shots. She always thought her mother was being overprotective when she was younger but now she understood it completely. She could hear him crying now, and the thought made her eyes sting.

Chris finally looked up, after hearing the infliction in Alex’s voice ”What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t say that, we’re not gonna bottle up our feelings.”

She half shrugged “I guess it’s a mental thing. I mean I know he has to get the shots- I just feel like I’m a monster, purposefully putting him through pain.”

“Baby, it’s a required check up, the first of many shots down the road. You aren’t a monster, you’re a mother.”

“Evans?” the nurse called out from behind the counter

“Are you gonna be okay?” Chris asked as they stood, shifting Ace against his shoulder to burp him

“If you’re asking me if I’m gonna cry, I’m making no promises.” she quickly admitted

Alex hovered over the nurse while she weighed and measured Ace, and checked his heartbeat. Ace’s face when the cold stethoscope touched his chest was adorably deadpan. However, Chris was the one with all the questions, discussing development stages with the nurse the entire time. Going over Ace’s feeding and sleeping routine, asking if the amount of sleep was too little or too much. Would changing the baby wipes would cause any rashes. How soon would it be before hiding out if he was actually allergic to food or animals. And he jotted it all down in his phone, Alex stopped the nurse short when she offered to give Chris her number for any future questions.

“Al, I can hold him.” Chris offered once it was time for the vaccine shots

“No, it’s fine. I can handle it.” She kept Ace’s head turned away facing Chris. The nurse took a step closer, syringe in hand, Alex moved away slightly. “Sorry.”

The nurse tried again, Alex turned the other way.

“Mrs. Evans, I need you to stop moving him.”

“Al-”

“Okay, you hold him.” she conceded, before handing Ace over to Chris

She chewed her nail and watched from her new spot. Ace cried the second the nurse stuck him, Chris felt tears rising to his eyes. He went to wipe them away before anyone could see but more spilled over hearing the cries getting louder. Ace fidgeted against Chris, a heartbreaking attempt for him to move away from whatever stuck him.

“It’s okay baby.” Alex did her best to soothe him while the nurse prepped for another shot. She looked up at Chris, his cheeks wet but he kept his face straight, Alex wiped the tears away from her husband’s face before repeating “It’s okay baby.”

Seeing Ace’s lip poke out while the nurse moved in to stick him again nearly made Chris go into full defense mode, but he bit the inside of his cheek when the crying started again. Ace’s, not his.

“It’s okay honey, we’re all done with the shots.” the nurse soothed, covering the puncture points with small smiley face band-aids

“Yay, all done!” Alex clapped while Chris kissed the top of his son’s head to calm him “You okay?” Alex gave her husband some comforting back rubs

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He sniffled

"Good because now we have to go to my appointment."

***

After chewing down the nails on her left hand, Alex was half through her right one when she was called into her doctor’s exam room. Chris offered to go in with her, but she quickly declined, knowing she would have to be undressed for part, if not most, of the check-up. She done her own self-examination last night, seeing how different she looked down there.

She didn’t want to be vain about it, but the first thing that popped in her head once she looked was how much she needed to get a wax. The second was equally as vain as it was humbling when she thought about having sex with Chris again. Her husband, AKA, Captain freaking America, who could eat to his hearts content and still come out looking as cut as the day she met him. Alex wanted to kick him and kiss him at the same time.

“Well Alex,” her doctor spoke, going over her notes “my main concern for you right now, is your blood pressure. It’s a little higher than usual, what’s your diet like at home?”

“More red meat than before, loads of pasta.” Alex paused to think “I tried string peas, y’know just for research purposes, surprisingly good.”

She chuckled “I tended to lean towards the squash when my first kid was born, but peas were a close second. What about stress?”

Alex shrugged “Fine, I guess. I mean, I can deal with it.”

“Alex, you can’t take this lightly. Stress can be just as harmful as smoking, for both you and your son. You are still breast feeding right?”

“Yes, and I started pumping.”

She jotted down some more notes “Mhmm, and how’s that going? No issues? Low milk supply? Pain while nursing?”

“Aside from the nipple chaffing, not really.” Alex picked at her nails, her doctor noticed

“Alex, I can’t help if you’re not one hundred percent honest with me. It’s bad enough we have doctors that downplay our symptoms because of a bullshit theory that Black people, specifically Black women, have higher pain tolerance. Don’t put on a brave face, not when it comes to your health.”

“Well when you put it like that- I hate pumping, I hate feeding sometimes too. It’s like a bunch of pins and needles sticking me when I do it, just sucking the life out of me. I don’t recognize my body anymore, and I’m warning you now, it’s not pretty down there. As for the stress, my husband and I have been fighting over what’s best for Ace, and our marriage. Which makes me concerned for when I go back to working. My Dad damn near broke his back, my son won’t sleep for longer than an hour, and I think he hates our family dog.” Alex exhaled a sharp breath

“You feel better?”

“Yes, thank you.”

“If you don’t like the feel you have when pumping when why do it?”

“Chris wants to be included in feed Alexander, my son, which I get. He’s gonna be back and forth between working and home again, so he wants his chance to bond with him.”

“But breast feeding is also uncomfortable to you?”

“Only when he fights trying to latch, but once he does and he’s calm, it’s worth it.”

“Have you ever considered formula? Lots of new moms do it, even rotated between that and breast milk. It’s actually proven to help both the mom and the baby.”

“We’ve talked about it, I voted against it.”

“I’m not saying you should, ultimately it’s your choice, but I will recommend, giving it a shot considering the stress you might be going through.” she scribbled down a few more notes “Now physically, how do you feel?”

“In my vagina?”

“There too. Please scoot forward and lay back for me.”

Alex followed orders and put her legs in the stirrups “Mostly tired, out of everything I’m exhausted. I’ve been walking to try and slim down a bit, but the weight isn’t going anywhere.”

“That’s to be expected, a lot of new moms hope for the baby weight to drop right off.” Alex’s doctor explained while pulling on her gloves “However, a lot of it is your uterus trying to shrink back to it’s regular size after being stretched out for nine months. Perfectly normal to like your body isn’t the same anymore, because it’s not. It gets easier the more kids you have.”

Alex chuckled “I don’t plan on having another one for a while.”

“Are you taking birth control?”

“No, Ace’s spit up on my clothes is all the birth control I need right now.” Alex shifted slightly “Plus I don’t really get in the mood too often now a days. Not sure if it’s emotional or mental but I’m just not ready to bring intimacy back in just yet.”

“Well physically, you’re good to go. Stitches are all healed, no signs of infection or tears. I will recommend going easy though, as well as a birth control, in case your mood changes.”

“Thanks, what do you recommend for my marriage?” Alex asked jokingly

“I have an acquaintance who’s a marriage counselor. I can give you her contact information if you like.”

“Um- I think I’ll pass this time Doc.”

“Okay then, I’ll let you get dressed and just talk to Toni at the desk before you leave to set up your next appointment.”

Chris stood once he saw Alex reenter the waiting room, Ace was fast asleep in the carrier.

“What did your doctor say? How are you doing?”

Alex did her best not to hesitate “A little concerned about my diet, said my blood pressure was a bit high, but overall-”

“Are you okay?”

“Chris, let me finish.” she gave him a reassuring smile “I gotta fix my diet, limit my stress and my blood pressure will be fine.”

“What did she say about- other things?” he hinted, a light blush creeping to his cheeks

“Well- my insatiable husband- I should wait a little longer. Nothing is wrong it’s just what she recommends.”

Chris nodded “Okay, not a problem.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders “We’ll wait, doctor’s orders.”

“Doctor’s orders.”

#chris evans x ofc #Chris Evans #Black Writers #OFC #babyblues #marvel #Avengers #Defending Jacob #devil all the time #Sebastian Stan #black reader #the falcon and the winter soldier #rip chadwick boseman

78 notes · View notes

barnesandco · 5 years ago

Text

Nikah: August

Story Masterlist

Nikah: noun, Arabic, meaning the contract of marriage.

Bucky marries Peter’s former tutor because her student visa’s about to expire and the government isn’t granting her a green card. Can she find a way to permanent residence by marriage, and if so, will it be at the cost of their hearts?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, blood, angst, panic attack. Excessive metaphor usage.

A/N: Written under the Arranged/Accidental Marriage trope for @mermaidxatxheart ‘s writing challenge. Guys, I had to Google the English word for coriander lmao. I literally had to search: dhanya vegetable english. How. Pathetic. Also, whew. This was hard to write, but I’m pleased with it, so I hope you will be, too!

In the climax of a week-long mission, everything changes. The world flips on its axis, the universe inverted such that those flaming stars he was admiring in that planetarium nary a month ago are now inside of him. Burning, searing, wicked torture, his body is bursting from the seams with pain. Exploding, the half-a-dozen poisoned bullets being pried out of his system by the field medic. How anyone managed to land not just one, but six round on him, none of them know. His teammates are still in the thick of it, several thousand feet down while he gets flown off.

The young man, green-faced but resolute, is doing the best he can as the poison takes hold. Soon - somewhere over Mexico, now miles away from the battlefield - the convulsions start, and so do the hallucinations. All of a sudden, it’s 1942, and Buck is buried in the Austrian snow, a hole where his arm should have been. The medic removing his last bullet becomes Zola’s cruel face, and Bucky roars. Lunges up as the death pill is extracted. Clint has to put the jet on auto-pilot for the landing, grappling with his teammate, the slick blood making it near-impossible to get a grip.

The latch hisses open and a medical squad is on him in seconds, tranquilizing him like an enraged animal. His mind goes numb, weightless, Hydra’s cellars and the infirmary of the Compound wrestle for the right to be what he sees now, on his way to salvation.

Empty hallways, surgery, and the regeneration cradle are all stepping stones in the path to the bed he lays in now. The states of consciousness, unconsciousness, and subconsciousness dance devilishly in his mind. Fever dreams flirt with hallucinations until he is positive he can see his wife standing in the doorway.

Bucky jolts when she moves closer, because her shape is so vivid, although she is a dream. Must be, for how can she be real? Clad in shalwaar kameez from Friday prayers, the floral motifs blooming on the garden of her body. The personification of Eden, although part of him worries she is actually the angel of death. Most of him knows she is nothing but a fantasy, even when she speaks.

“Hey, Bucky. God, I was so worried.” Her brows furrow and even though he knows he should, he does not feel like a wild animal. The rabid dog waiting to be released behind his teeth. Until her hand covers his and the disorientation, the wheel of misfortune, comes to a screeching halt, reality the prize of the doomed game his mind was playing.

Bucky nearly falls off the bed in his haste to get away, throwing off the sheets. A few of his stitches stretch to a point of discomfort, but he isn’t concerned about that.

“Oh my God, what happened? Are you okay?” She asks approaching him slowly, and he backs himself into a corner, scrambling away.

“Stay away,” He says, chest heaving, and she looks at him, petrified. Something in his brain registers that the fear is not of him but for him, but he is in no state to acknowledge this perception.

“Bucky, it’s me. It’s just me,” She doesn’t come any closer now, de-escalation sounding desperate and frantic in both their ears. Bucky’s ring with misery, screaming, her screaming, and the notions of all the ways he could cause that cement his resolve to stay put.

“I’m dangerous. Can’t be trusted. You’ll get hurt. Leave.” His voice cracks at the last command, the reservoir of pain swelling.

“Bucky, you’re hurt. Please, let me help.”

“No. No. You- you’ll get hurt,” He reiterates brokenly. “I- I’m dangerous. You shouldn’t be here.” His breathing is coming in short pants now, staccato beat disturbing the oxygen supply in his blood. “I- you- we- oh God.” Bucky crumples like a house of cards, the dam bursting under the tsunami of agony it cannot hold, and she’s there. On her knees next to his paper ball body, creased with the hell of the past several hours, lungs starting to buckle like his legs just did.

“Hey, woah. Breathe, Bucky, come on,” She says, her hands - still painted in mehndi from last week’s Eid celebrations - rising to cup his face. Her eyes are bloodshot, like she hasn’t slept for a week, and his windpipe constricts. “Okay, you’re having a panic attack,” She mutters to herself. “Bucky. Bucky,” She calls again.

“Buck, baby, look at me.” He does. “You cook, right? You’re good at it, you do it all the time. Focus on cooking. Think about your favorite recipe. Imagine making it. Go through the process, think about what you have to do.”

In the muted haze of his subconscious, the distraction technique rings a bell, but his conscious is busy following her instructions. Food. He swallows the bile, chest still straining to breathe, and flips through the paperwork tornado of his mind to find: pakoray. The word is stammered from his chapped, dry lips, and if she’s surprised, he can’t tell. Isn’t in much of a condition to.

“Okay, Buck. Pakoray. We’ve made those a shitload of times,” She answers, urging him on, so he does.

“You need to cut the potato slices thinner,” She says, peering over at his work from the tomatoes she’s assigned herself.

“Thinner than this,” Bucky asks incredulously, the ultra-thin French fry shapes in a small pile in a bowl on the counter. She laughs, reaching for his knife.

“Here,” She says, demonstrating the appropriating cut quickly, returning the knife to him.

“What else goes in these things?”

“These things are called pakoray, Bucky. And we have to add onions, coriander, pomegranate seeds, salt and red chilli. My mom adds a little spinach too, but I prefer not to,” She answers, finishing up the tomatoes and reaching for the onions.

“Let me do those, sweetheart,” Bucky says, trying to stop her.

“They’re onions, Buck, it’s okay. It’ll be over in a second,” She laughs, starting to peel them. “Besides, a wise man once said: tears are words the heart can’t express.”

“Are you quoting Bob Goff to me? About onions?” He asks, hurrying to finish the potatoes so he can help her. Her nose scrunches as she spills what she seems to think are very funny beans.

“Gerard Way.” Is her only answer, aside from the laugh she lets out after.

“Who’s that?” Bucky expect her to clutch imaginary pearls on behalf of another classical author he isn’t familiar with, in spite of his increasing education, but the response is anticlimactic.

“Lead vocalist of a rock band.” She shrugs, and Bucky realizes he has so much to learn about this woman.

The panic attack fades as he is reliving the scent of the deep-fried dish, heavenly, the fizzing of the oil in his ears, and she is so close he can breathe her air. The tension in his shoulders is released, but hers stiffen further, like she has taken on the load herself. Like his burden has become hers to bear, but she will do it with a pained smile and a bruised soul. Her forehead tilts forward to meet his, eyes closing for the first time in days as she lets the weight of his trauma settle, and he thinks: he hopes it’s over soon; he hopes she flies away on her angel wings.

Taglist: @suz-123 @mermaidxatxheart @buckyreaderrecs @shield-agent78 @corneliabarnes @readerandcinephileingeneral @stevieboyharrington @notsomellowmushroom @veganfangirl5 @mood-pancakes @lbuck121 @starnight-charmer @redhairedfeistynerd @geeksareunique @samingtonwilson @alyxkbrl

#ayesha writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes angst #bucky x reader #bucky x reader angst #bucky barnes x desi!reader #desi!reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction

166 notes · View notes

ask-de-writer · 4 years ago

Text

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 81 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 81 of 83

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

//////////////

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact. They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

///////////////////////

Without hesitation, Gemma pointed out Kotance.

Kurin quietly said, “Thank you, Gemma, that will be all.”

As Gemma turned to leave, Kotance shouted, “Come back here, you Grandalor trash! Now it’s my turn to ask the questions!”

Sarfin’s angry voice overrode him. “MISTER KOTANCE! This is not a trial. The witness is merely providing the Court with the information it needs to decide who, if any, should be charged with crimes listed. If you are charged, you may then speak to the witnesses listed in the information given to you.”

In the audience, several of the Grandalor’s crew, including little Arnat were holding back Darkistry, who had murder in her eye and a knife in her hand. Arnat said, “Please, Darkistry, don’t spoil things now. Kurin’s just got you justice before the fleet.”

Darkistry looked down at Arnat and managed to pull together a smile for him as she calmed down. “You’re right, Arnat.” She handed him the knife in her hand and said, “Kids your age aren’t supposed to have knives, Arnat, so let Officer Paddles keep this for me — ” She thought for a second and sheepishly added, “And this, too.” A knife came out of the back of her shirt collar. “… And these.” She pulled two more, one from each boot.

Kurin waited patiently while Darkistry disarmed herself. “Darkistry, will you come here, please?” When the helmswoman came to her, Kurin took her hand and asked, “Can you keep it together in front of Kotance? Stick to straight answers to what Sarfin and I ask. Don’t give us opinions unless we ask for them. This is a kind of battle. Treat it like one, OK?”

“Yes, Kurin. I won’t lose it again. Sinking this one is too important to mess up.”

Kurin took her hand and said, “Good, that’s the Battle Commanding that I know and trust.”

Turning her attention to Sarfin, Kurin said, “Your Honor, This witness already has another action against Mister Kotance. This is Darkistry Colm Grandalor. She also was wounded in the same incident that we are investigating. She had deep, nearly to bone, cuts in both her right arm and right leg. I assisted doctor Corin in the surgery to save her leg.

“My skill with tools is well known. I know the kinds of cuts that different tools make and what they look like. The wound that I helped to treat had the multiply slashed edges characteristic of a cut by a knife with large hooked serrations.”

Kurin turned from Sarfin and spoke directly to Darkistry. “Now, Darkistry, please tell the Court what happened.”

Darkistry put her hands behind her and closed her eyes in deep and painful thought. She began, “It started just as Gemma told you, so I won’t waste your time repeating. When we got to the bow quarter of the Longin, we had to toss up grapnels. The first of these were thrown back. We quickly found that if we put weight on them fast enough, they couldn’t dump them back at us.

“Lenai was the first one up the line in front of Captain Mord. I was first up on the line next over.” Darkistry closed her eyes and put her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook. Several tears leaked past her hands.

“I never expected to see that monst … Mister Kotance, I mean, on a ship with the good reputation of the Longin but there he was, right behind the Captain. Mord tried to push Lenai overboard and while he was pushing her, Kotance stabbed her with a big knife. It was so long that the point came out her back.

“Helmsman Macoul tried to help her, and Captain Mord tried to push his shoulders. Kotance cut Macoul’s throat as the Captain’s push sent him overboard.

“I yelled to Captain Mord that Lenai was hurt and I just wanted to get her back to the boats. I took her arms and he took her legs and we put her over the rail together. The Captain braced my legs with his hands while I lowered her to where the others could take her. While we did that, Kotance cut my leg and then my arm. Captain Mord probably saved my life then, by lowering me to the boats, not just throwing me overboard.

“He looked like he was in shock. I don’t think that he’d ever seen anybody killed on purpose before. As he lowered me he said, ‘I’m sorry, Ma’am. I never meant for this to happen but Grandalor sailors aren’t allowed on my ship.’”

Sarfin regarded Darkistry for a moment and asked, “You saw Lenai Halin receive her fatal wound. Did you actually see who cut you?”

“Yes, Sir, I did. When I felt my leg being cut I looked and saw Kotance with his knife still in the wound. He saw me, too. He said, ‘So that’s where you disappeared to.’ I had just let go of Lenai when he went to cut my throat like he had Macoul’s. I got my arm in the way and it got cut instead. That’s when Captain Mord intervened and lowered me to the boats.”

“May we see your scars?” asked Captain Sarfin.

“Certainly, Sir,” Darkistry replied, baring her arm. “The leg scar is on the thigh, moderately high up.” She pulled up the leg of her loose pants and the sleeve of her shirt, displaying both scars, still an angry reddish color.

Sula spoke up. “Doctor Worran, you have much experience with battle wounds and the weapons that make them. Would you examine these scars and render a forensic opinion, please?”

Doctor Worran came forward attracting many stares for her unusual complexion and exotic good looks. She examined the scars, prodded them both and the flesh around them. She looked puzzled for a moment and put a finger at each end of the big scar on Darkistry’s leg and sighted the line between them as if she could see through the flesh.

“You are a very lucky young woman,” Doctor Worran pronounced. “This was repaired by a better surgeon than I. My only question is why you are not in Iren’s halls. About the wounds themselves, both were made by a weapon or tool with large coarse serrations along a cutting edge. These serrations were dragged through the muscle in this direction, based on the tear patterns created in the edges of the cuts.” She gestured, miming the use of the knife. “The angles and position of the leg and arm cuts are consistent with the explanation given.”

Sarfin thought for only a few moments before saying, “Then what is needed now is to find the knife and establish its ownership.”

Kotance immediately spoke up, “I’ve never owned any knife like that.”

Kurin looked at him with feigned innocence. “Oh, really? Then whose knife have you been carrying for the better part of two Gatherings? There’s two whole ships full of witnesses to you carrying such a knife. The Longin and the Grinna. Others saw it too. One is the co-judge, Sula Corin Dark Dragon.” She turned to Sula with a smile. “Remember your first meeting with Mister Kotance, Sula?”

“I do,” Sula said sternly to Kurin, “but I cannot be both judge and witness.” She paused and then thoughtfully added, “I can ask you, Mister Kotance, where you got the knife that I made you drop on that occasion? Where is it now?”

“Oh, that,” he said dismissively. “It broke shortly after our meeting and I threw it away.”

A small hand went up at the back of the Longin group. Sula pointed to it. Bron, the cabin-boy, stepped forth. He said, “I can get the knife for you, your Honors. Mister Kotance hit Cap — er, Mister Mord Halyn, in the back of the head with the pommel and was about to use the blade on him when the helmsman, that’s Second Officer Marrik, knocked out Mister Kotance with a marlin spike. I picked up the knife because I thought that the ship’s Councils might want it. It’s in my sea chest.”

Desperately, Kotance interjected, “You’re confused. That is Mord Halyn’s knife.”

Master Juris raised his hands and spoke at once, without waiting to be recognized, “That is a lie. I have made every knife that Mord Halyn has ever carried since the age of ten Gatherings. He has always favored a six inch blade Strong Skin tooth knife because it is clearly a tool and not a weapon. Testimony has placed his usual knife in his hand during the engagement with the Grandalor’s sailors. You, Mister Kotance, have openly carried a knife that matches the murder weapon. It has been in your belt since you came aboard the Longin.”

Sula turned to Bron and said, “Please go and get the knife that you retrieved.” Bron left at once and shortly after, returned with the knife. It had a long blade, fully twelve inches in length, with jagged serrations like saw teeth about a half inch long and perhaps a quarter inch deep along the cutting edge.

“Where and how did you get this knife, exactly?” Sula asked.

Bron replied with certainty, “I was the Captain’s errand boy on the day that Captain — er, Mister Kotance ordered the attack on the Grandalor. After the Grandalor’s catapult wrecked our mainsail, Mister Kotance froze and Cap, uh, Mister Mord started to give orders to clear up the mess and get the injured to safety. Mister Kotance got mad and hit Mister Mord in the back of the head with the hilt of his knife. As Mister Mord went to his knees, he got hit again, knocking him out. The helmsman, Second Officer Marrik, left his post and grabbed a marlin spike. As Mister Kotance reversed the knife to stab Mister Mord, Marrik hit him from behind, knocking him out, too.

“When Mister Kotance fell to the deck, he dropped the knife and I picked it up.”

“Very clear,” said Sarfin. “Is it possible that this knife belongs to someone else?”

“No, Sir. I am a cabin-boy and watch go-fer. I get sent to every part of the Longin in the course of my duties. The only similar knife aboard ship is Master Clard’s and it is two inches shorter and wider at the hilt. This knife has been worn by Mister Kotance since he came to us, two Gatherings ago. We have all seen it. He usually points and gestures with it as if he’s trying to make us afraid of him. Don’t take my word for it, ask anybody from the Longin.”

“In the Corliss fleet,” said Sula, turning in her chair to face Sarfin, “this evidence would be far more than enough to add two charges of murder, and two of attempted murder to the charges already laid against Mister Kotance.”

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS NEXT==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

#SEA DRAGON’S GIFT #Part 81 of 83 #World of Sea #Written by De Writer

8 notes · View notes

doberbutts · 5 years ago

Text

Okay so this is going to get long and more than a little bit tmi but it’s a post summing up some strides I’ve made regarding my own transgender journey and I wanted a place to talk about it and maybe help some BabyTrans figure themselves out along the way so I’m putting it under the cut but it’ll go here >:V

Anyway long story short my insurance settlement from my car accident finally figured itself out and I found myself suddenly $30k richer and immediately spent about $10k of that digging myself out of a very deep debt hole I’ve been wallowing in for a while so now I have some actual financial stability plus have some money to throw at some things that would probably make my life a bit better.

And since I have the money to throw at some things, I bought myself a few new binders and also a packer. Binders because my old one was literally disintegrating- part of that is my fault, washing binders in an industrial machine on high heat plus throwing it in the dryer means your binder falls apart faster than it should. Remember I’m from the very end of Ye Olden Days of transmasc products, which means previously most binders lasted a year at most. My binder made it 2.5 years before giving up and becoming a sports bra instead. I’ve learned from my mistakes and treat my binder(s) much more gently now, plus I have more than one so I can rotate them out and not wear the same binder 8-12 hours daily for 2.5 years and kill it doing exactly the same shit.

For reference sake, I’m 5′10′’, 180lbs, 36C bust, and fit a XL from gc2b. Which is who I bought both my previous binder and my current set from. They are low cost, lightweight, well made, and LGBT-owned and operated which makes me super into buying from them instead of some of the other companies offering something similar.

Being that I am biracial and finding something my skintone is always somewhat... interesting... I followed the internet’s suggestion and went with PeeCock for the packer. I’d bought a zip binder from them a few years ago and actually found that to be the most comfortable binder I’ve ever used in the history of ever, but I will say the durability of zip binders is low compared to pull-over binders in my experience, as the zipper exploded one day when I bent down to pick up a small dropped item. I’d had the binder and was rotating its use with my pullover gc2b for about 6 months when this happened, and was in public when I went from flat chested to big uncontained tiddies in the span of seconds. Not great. I’ve been told that probably means it was a little too small for me, but PeeCock is a company based in Singapore, and their sizes like most East Asian clothing do run quite a bit small (I was a XXL in PeeCock sizes when I wore a size L gc2b binder) so there’s not really a lot of wiggle room for me to go up in size. Additionally their sizing taps out at XXXL so anyone who’s bigger than me in the chest/torso is a bit out of luck for their binders. A shame, because that zip binder was so comfortable I fell asleep in it forgetting I even had it on more than once.

Anyway. Since I did like that binder even though we had the wardrobe mishap, and the internet had pretty good reviews on the PeeCock packers because they are multifunctional and actually make correct skin tones for black dudes, I got one. Since money wasn’t an issue I did get the most recent model which was not cheap (~$300) and so far I like it a lot. I got so used to wearing it that when I take it off to clean it, it actually really bothers me. The weight of it is... comforting, in a way.

HOWEVER I did see a bunch of reviews about how I would be super likely to pee on myself the first time using it and then used it and went “wow I don’t have any idea what you guys are talking about this is easy” aaaaand... then peed on myself by accident. Gotta control your stream or things are going to overflow and you’re going to be really sad. And wet. And stinky. Thankfully I had the forethought to practice at home before actually doing this at work/public restrooms but be warned. Being that this is my first one I can’t say if this is common with all packers however I told several of my transmasc friends that do pack and use STP about this experience and they all assured me they did the exact same thing on and off for the first couple weeks and most of them do not have the same brand. We’ve yet to have a repeat at least?

Plus there’s a little attachment rod so I can use it for sexy times with the boyf and also feel what I’m doing to him so there’s that too. 10/10 A+ experience would recommend. The packaging warns you to be careful how you pack because of the way the silicone works, and your partner cannot be on top or ride you, so keep that in mind if you’re considering it. Cleaning is pretty straightforward however and packing feels correct and natural as long as you follow a few rules:

I’ve discovered that whatever size you consider a perfect fit? Unless you like really relaxed fit for your pants, you’ll need to go a size up. I wear tighter clothing and usually skinny jeans at that, and my exact perfect size has been 34/32 for some time now. When packing I need to go up to 36/32 because otherwise wow that crotch is way too tight. I can’t sit down in one of my pairs of jeans and I’m legit sad about it. I also can’t have anything in the pockets of a different pair of jeans or else I have the same tight crotch problem. I went up a size in underwear and that was more comfortable, so I ordered new pants from online and I’ll see if that helps as much as I’m expecting it too.

Speaking of underwear, ymmv, but I genuinely did not expect this. Jockstraps? Super comfy, super durable, and super convenient. Additionally unlike boxers or even briefs, I don’t need a special packing-specific design to be comfortable in one. I never wore one before and honestly this doesn’t even feel like wearing underwear. They’re really just a banana hammock anyway so that’s probably a large part of it, but honestly I would definitely recommend trying them if you haven’t yet. I do have a few pairs of packing briefs and boxers, as well as normal briefs and boxers, and I’ve been alternating between the various types of undies to see which ones I prefer, but I already know my decision so I bought several because I can. One word of advice, though... if your pants ride down understand that your entire butt will be out. I don’t wear low rise pants because they draw too much attention to my waistline and make me super dysphoric, but those that do, watch out.

Jockmail is highly rated and multiple transmasc websites recommend them for packing and I can absolutely see why. Usually the waistband of my underwear irritates my skin and so I was dubious because Jockmail stuff- being that it’s for athletic wear- has a minimum waistband of about 2in... but it’s actually more comfortable and less irritating, rather than the other way around. They also have briefs, boxers (more like short shorts), and boxer briefs, which I also have of the same brand, but... not as comfy. Once again Jockmail is a Hong Kong company so like all East Asian clothes, they run small. I’m a M in most men’s clothing sizes... I am XXL in Jockmail. I also had purchased a brief harness from PeeCock (goes by inches for waist) as well. (Also where I discovered you need to go a size up- I bought a 34in waist brief from PeeCock and it’s a tad tight. I bought a 36in waist brief from Jockmail and it’s perfect. I have been buying 34in waist things for the past few years now- I didn’t suddenly gain 2 inches at the waist, I did suddenly gain a need for a deeper crotch)

If you look down your body from above it will be super obvious that there is a dick there and you will go “oh god I look like I have an erection”. I have been reliably informed that it is actually not true and if you pack correctly a bulge will be there but not so obvious that it looks like you have a raging hardon the whole time. Better to look in the mirror, rather than down your tummy.

(Additionally I voiced my doubts to my boyf who immediately reminded me that most people don’t spend their time staring at someone’s crotch and as long as I wasn’t constantly messing with mine, no one was likely to notice even if I did have an obnoxiously obvious bulge. He then gave me some tips on how to let it hang if I wanted a “natural” look, and when we walked around while I had it on he made sure to check in on my mental health. He’s cute y’all.)

Some (cis) guys will have a specific leg they like to let things hang against. Some switch it up. Some are okay with it hanging straight down provided there’s not a lot of squish happening. Find what feel comfortable and needs the least amount of adjustment for you, and then stick with that. For me, I’ve found straight down or off to the left feels better- a friend of mine prefers off to the right, another straight down only, etc. Also can depend on the size- some (cis) guys I know are a bit smaller down below and are more comfortable with straight down than those with larger weiners.

If you pack you probably need to shave. I was very uncomfortable until I shaved. Now I feel much better packing. So trim that jungle or else you might feel a pinch every few minutes when a hair gets pulled.

And there you have me this morning before I got dressed. As you can see, both fit very nicely. I’m not particularly happy with my stomach or feminine hip set but eh, I cover those with layers and no one bats an eye.

At this point it’s figuring out the whole hormones thing, yelling at my insurance to cover certain surgeries, and... fixing some minor details with my wardrobe... and I’m feeling way more confident than I was a few years ago.

Anyway if anyone has questions feel free to hit me up

#text post #shut up jazi

77 notes · View notes

pokemaniac1 · 4 years ago

Text

To Grant a Wish - Part 1

Written for @tilltheendwilliwrite‘s 7.7k Celebration (Covid Sucks) Challenge. This got waaaay away from me and ended up being almost three times longer than I thought it was going to be. It was originally going to be a oneshot but i’m going to have to post the second half in a few days due to the flu. :(

Check it out on Ao3 Here

My prompt was this image:

Summary: After trying and failing to set an appointment to meet with Iron Man, Make-A-Wish Foundation worker, Eliza Elliot, has no idea how she's going to help her kids fulfil their wish to 'Meet a real life superhero'.

However, thanks to an online video, some determination, and a pair of chaotic interns, Eliza manages to pull it off.

Warnings: Childhood illnesses, references to terminal illnesses, hospitals, possible inaccuracies in the job description tbh, cat calling, getting cornered by drunk guys, threatened assault, car crash, (almost)getting run over by a car,

------

Saturday evening had Eliza rubbing her eyes tiredly and glaring at the phone in her hand. The number to the Stark Industries' head office flashed briefly on her phone’s screen before going black.

She had been trying to get in touch with the events' coordinator of the company, or someone who could help her, for the past 3 months, but she'd been shunted off from one person to the next with seemingly no end in sight.

She noted the time, seeing 8:26pm, and sighed. Closing her notepad, she was about to place it back in her bag and head off for the night when her phone buzzed on the counter. She looked at the number and, seeing one of the numbers she had spent over an hour on hold with today, she scrambled to pick it up. She almost lost her mug - empty but for a few left over coffee grinds laying at the bottom - off the side of her desk in her haste but managed to catch it just as she pressed the 'Accept Call' button. She placed it back on the teetering pile of papers that sat on the edge of her desk, its weight balancing out the whole pile and preventing an avalanche that was one day inevitable.

"Hello! This is Eliza Elliot." She said to the phone, her best Customer Service Voice(TM) in place. She hoped briefly that she didn't sound too frantic.

"Ah, Miss Elliott. This is Michael Walters, I'm the deputy events manager at Stark Industries." Came the clipped voice from the other end. "I'm calling to follow up with you regarding your calls over the last few months." "It's great to hear from you Mr. Walters." Again, Eliza did her best to sound calm, hope rising in her chest. Three months and finally a response. "I was told you were one of the best people to speak to in regards to setting up an appointment with Iron Man." Him and like 20 others. "That's correct, I'm one of those in charge of approving Mr. Stark's events." he said, sounding like he had his nose pointed to the ceiling.

The haughtiness in his tone was hard to miss and Eliza felt her own nose wrinkle in distaste. Just get through this conversation Eliza. You've waited 3 months for this opportunity. She took a deep breath and jumped right into it.

"Great! As you're most likely aware from my previous calls, I'm calling on behalf of the Make-A-Wish foundation. I'm looking to set up a meet and greet with Mr. Stark and some of the children who would love to meet their hero." Her rehearsed line came out in a single breath and quickly enough it almost sounded like a single word. Thankfully, it was understandable, but it was a close thing. Pinching herself slightly, she forced herself to take a deep breath. Here next words came out a tad more controlled. "What would be involved....."

"Miss Elliott." Came the abrupt reply, cutting off her off. "I'm calling to inform you that, unfortunately, we can't approve of an event held at your location." Eliza's breath caught in her throat.

"Oh, well thank you for getting back to me and letting me know. Is it because of security for Mr. Stark?" She asked once she could breathe again, figuring that that would be a valid concern considering everything that the Avengers deal with on an almost weekly basis. It's not like a small (government funded) hospital in the middle of New Jersey would have the kind of security needed to prevent those risks. "We're happy to book an approved venue if that's what it takes."

"Ah wonderful, we can put you on the waiting list then." Walters said. The snobbish tone was still present and it rubbed Eliza up the wrong way. Do it for the kids, Eliza. Jeremy and Zeki have been waiting for this. She heard papers shuffle in the background. "It appears our next available booking is in 18 months at the..."

Her heart plummeted, a heavy rock forming in the pit of her stomach not even hearing where the venue was. She found her voice after a moment and was quite proud of the fact that there was no waver to it.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Walker. I know this may be a lot to ask, but is there any chance we can get an earlier time slot?" She asked. A pause on the other end had her palms sweating. She rushed to fill the silence. "It's just that, we have a couple of kids who have been waiting a really long time already and we're working on fast-tracking a few select wishes due to the nature of their illnesses." Fuck. Did I just violate HIPAA by saying that? Shit fuck. Too late now. "They're really looking forward to seeing their heroes."

"Miss Elliott," He started, a harsh edge to his voice. "I certainly cannot rush you up the queue. If we let anyone just push ahead, especially those looking for handouts, then we wouldn't be the industry leaders we are. Your organisation will wait your turn regardless of whatever sob story you have lined up."

Eliza was stunned silent momentarily, not quite sure how to respond.

She wasn't the best with social cues, but she was pretty sure that the man's response was entirely uncalled for. Even if she was trying to get a foot in the door to meeting her superhero for personal reasons, surely they had enough resources to do a background check on everyone who was trying to get a meeting? Wouldn't that be enough to see that she was who she said she was?

He clearly knew she was with the Make-A-Wish Foundation though. He mentioned looking for handouts, was this because they were a charity? Why would they have a problem with that though? Tony Stark and Stark Industries was famous for having one of the most influential charities in the country in the Maria Stark Foundation. Surely they'd be understanding in helping another charity? This sort of thing is what they did, right?

Mr. Walker had continued talking throughout her minor existential crisis.

"It's also come to my attention that you have made over a dozen calls to our office just in the past month." He said in his imperious tone.

She didn't need to look at her notes to know that, yes, she had indeed called them over a dozen times this month. Twenty-six times to be exact. Though, to be fair, most of those were to the Maria Stark Foundation rather than Stark Industries itself and all of those were because they couldn't seem to decide who was in charge of organising a meeting with Iron Man.

"I have booked you in for the next available appointment in 18 months. Our event team will be in touch with the details in the next 48 hours. From now on, please refrain from excessive phone calls, otherwise we will be forced to pursue legal action on the grounds of harrassment. I hope you have a lovely evening Miss Elliott."

At the sudden beep signalling the end of the call, Eliza could only stare at the phone, the number again flashing on the screen before going dark. After what felt like an eternity, she placed the phone down on the counter and collapsed her head onto her arms.

What the fuck was that?

--------------------

Two days later on Monday morning, Eliza walked into the children's wing of the hospital, the laughs and chatter that greeted upon her entry making her smile. Despite everything that they were going through, the kids always managed to have smiles on their faces.

Her job as a Wish Granter with the Make-a-Wish Foundation had her scheduled to come in to socialise with her assigned children at least three days a week. She adored seeing her honorary children whenever she was scheduled; it was a part of her job description that was a bonus she was very happy to take advantage of.

They were so often such a joy to speak with as the distinctive resilience of children was plain as day in almost all of the kids in the hospital. Whether they're hospitalised because of cancer, a birth defect, or even a degenerative disease, the vast majority of the time they're playing and laughing as much as they were able just like any regular kids.

Her job could be really difficult though. Sometimes, it was heart wrenching to look at all the tiny faces in the children's wing of the hospital and know that for some of them, their stay in the hospital would be ongoing for the remainder of their lives.

There were also days where certain children had a particularly painful day. It could be a flair up, a seizure, or a day after a surgery. The days that she had to watch the almost lifeless forms of usually energetic children weighed heavily on her heart.

Thankfully, that day seemed to be one of the good days.

When we she walked through the door to the ward one of her children were assigned to, she was almost bowled over by a bright blur at waist height. She only just managed to stay standing by reaching out and snagging the doorframe with one of her hands, steadying both herself and the little barnacle that was now attached to her legs.

She looked down and her face brightened in happiness at seeing the excited face of one of the kids looking up at her. Her concerns of the previous night's talk were put on pause and sent to the back of her mind as she went to chat the tiny ray of sunshine.

"Carly!" She exclaimed, taking in the little 6 year old dressed in her favourite summer dress, even though it could be considered sweater temperature in the air conditioned room. "It's good to see you, sweetie! I see you're up and moving about like a little tornado."

That got a giggle from the little girl and another squeeze before she let go and stepped back from Eliza.

"I'm super fast today!" Carly giggled. "I totally surprised you just then, didn't I?"

"You sure did." Eliza laughed, taking a step back into the room and making space in the doorway for a mum coming in. "What have you been up to today with all this energy?" The question seemed to remind the girl of something and she quickly grabbed hold of Eliza's hand again, tugging her towards a bed at the back of the ward and chattering so fast Eliza couldn't keep up with what she was saying.

As she was dragged walking past, several parents who were sitting beside beds – some carefully trying to avoid any wires or IV cords their young children had - looked up and smiled in greeting at her. They were doing remarkably well at managing the kids considering most of them seemed to have caught whatever spurt of energy Carly was displaying. She'd be worried if it weren't such a refreshing sight to see.

The children in this ward ranged in ages from five to ten years old and while most of those in the children's wing stayed maybe a couple of nights at a time, this ward and the ones either side of it were where those with some of the more serious conditions were staying. These were the kids who tended to come in more frequently for operations or observations and for longer periods.

For example, Carly, who wasn't one of the children whose Wish she was organising but was hard to ignore even on one of her bad days, was there that day on observation after a scare that her leukemia was returning. She'd recently had her third chemotherapy treatment so she was still in the early stages of treatment. Despite this, she rarely stayed still for very long, and was on her feet as often as she was physically able to be, much to her parents' distress.

It hurt sometimes to know that such young children were going through such terrible experiences, but they always maintained such positive outlooks on their lives, it was difficult to remain too upset around them.

Eliza noted, with no small amount of amusement, that the bed she was being led to was almost completely covered with pillows. It was an impressive stack to say the least. It had been covered from the very top to the very end in pillows of varying sizes and was roughly five layers high all the way across, even six layers in some places. If Eliza had to guess, she'd say there was easily fifty pillows just on that one bed alone. Beside her, Carly was chatting away happily, informing Eliza that they had plans for today and that they needed her help with a very important task.

"Mummy said we weren't allowed to start until you got here, so now that you're here you, me and Zeki can play princes and princesses! Buuut...." the drawn out word was punctuated with another fierce little tug to her arm. "we need a castle!"

Eliza huffed out a laugh and traded an amused glance with Carly's mother who was watching everything from a chair by the window.

Zeki, a young boy with polymicrogyria and a smile with an intensity set to outshine his hardships, was standing beside a tower to the pillow gods, practically vibrating with excitement. He was one of the two children whose wish Eliza was organising and he happened to be one of Carly's best friends in the ward. The two of them were practically inseparable when they were staying in the hospital at the same time.

Due to his condition, his brain hadn't developed correctly in the womb and led to Zeki being born deaf, having a lot of trouble with coordination, and often experiencing seizures. It was a severe condition that was progressively getting worse. This condition, paired with an underdeveloped heart, had led to far too many close calls for comfort and a great deal of uncertainty of his survival with each seizure (hence Eliza's urgency to get in touch with Iron Man).

Kids being kids though, that didn't stop either of them from playing their hardest. With an excited wave at Eliza when he saw her, he pointed at the pillows and started signing even more wildly. She didn't know much sign language but it looked like a pillow fort construction was in the near future. She was proven correct a moment later.

"He says we're going to be building a Pillow Castle Fort, 'liza!" Carly almost shouted her Big Reveal as they came up to him. "Ooohh! That sounds fun!" Eliza said with enthusiasm. "That's a lot of pillows you have there. Where did you get them all?" "His mummy brought most of them and my mummy brought some of the others! We needed at least a hundred pillows for the castle!" She said with a serious nod to her head. "Let's go!"

"I'd love to help, Carly. But, aren't you supposed to be resting today?" Eliza asked, pausing by the bed and giving the girl what she hoped was a disapproving face. She apparently needed to work on her disapproving looks because Carly just grinned, ignored her, and started helping Zeki move the pillows from the bed to the floor. Eliza sighed. "Fine, but once we finish, you're going to bed, little miss."

And with that, the three of them got to work. With a chuckle and an amused glance at the two troublemakers Eliza focused on following the appointed princess' directions.

She wasn't surprised when, after only a minute and in a moment of frustration and mischief, as they were taking the main pile off the bed, Carly decided that the easiest way to bring them down was via the avalanche method; i.e. Grab a couple from the bottom of the pile and rip them out to bring the rest of the pillows down on top of them. Zeki let out a squeal of surprise and then a loud giggle as the pillows tumbled down around them.

Once that excitement was over, the castle was started by using the bed as a foundation with the pillows propped up against the legs and built around it. Carly obviously had a vision as to how her castle needed to be designed because she took over directions almost immediately and was very fastidious about the placement of each pillow.

She wasn't sure exactly what she was signing to Zeki, but her playful comments to Eliza along the lines of "'Liza, make sure that pillow is exactly this far away from the one next to it! No, no, no! This far!", or the very serious "No, 'Liza. We can't just make it two floors high! It has to be three floors! The princess and the prince are going to have the best room we can make." while Zeki giggled and wiggled at their side made her think they were talking smack about her in their secret language. The cheeky little things.

It was an hour later and the pillow castle was well on its way to completion when Eliza's other charge came to greet her.

Jeremy was a little boy for his 10 years of age and he came almost crashing into the ward through the door and bounding, not quickly but still energetically, over to her when he saw her. He had a massive smile on his face as his momentum, and lack of coordination, brought him crashing into her where she was crouching on the floor. Luckily for the castle, they fell to the side and away from the pillows, however, it wasn't so lucky for Eliza's elbow, which caught the tiled floor as she turned to catch the small bundle of energy flying into her. She chuckled as she sat up, ignoring the slight flare of a soon-to-be bruise, and picked up the squirming child from her lap.

"Hi Jeremy. How are you going today, kiddo?" She asked with a grin.

The garbled noises she got in return, paired with an excited wave of an Iron Man toy she had just noticed in his hand made her smile widen further, though a ball of sadness curled low in her belly.

Jeremy had an enzyme deficiency (the name of which was more a rearrangement of the alphabet to Eliza than an actual word) which caused a variety of issues for him. Besides being unable to communicate verbally, he also had various bone malformations, and had to have enzyme replacements each week. These appointments meant he was hooked up to a bunch of machinery for 8 hours every Monday, and while not a cure for his condition, did a lot to slow down its progression.

Having just arrived for his appointment, he was in high spirits and was excited to see all of his friends again. It was also apparent, he was keen to show off his new toy.

"Oh wow! That's an awesome Iron Man toy!" She told him excitedly. "Is he new?"

He nodded frantically in return and pulled out his mobile phone. He pulled up his communication app and started typing.

She waited patiently for him as she fixed the base of the castle fort and once he was done she read what he showed her. Carly and Zeki were excitedly starting to crawl through the castle and test its integrity so Eliza knew she had a moment to chat with her second charge. Carly was gingerly pulling herself up to the bed level while Zeki was exploring the base level, the one securely on the ground and the one with the most 'rooms' able to be huddled together.

'We were buying a present for my friend's birthday and mum got it for me!' He'd typed.

"Ooh! That's awesome!" She exclaimed. Grinning, she looked down at his shirt with a big screen print of the Ironman armour on it and his light up Ironman glow shoes. "Iron Man's your favourite superhero too isn't he?" She knew the answer but he always got excited when he spoke about Ironman.

As she expected, he started writing frantically on his app, telling her all about the trip to the store and the fact that he got to play in the park after it, and even meeting one of his school friends there!

'It even comes with 2 extra armour sets!' He went on to type. 'When I get home, I'm going to be putting on one of them! It's like a puzzle!'

She grinned. "Woah Iron Man puzzles!?" She started nodding her head thoughtfully while smiling. "They are the best kind of puzzles."

As Jeremy started typing on his phone once again, and Carly and Zeki started playing princes and princesses among the pillows, her thoughts drifted to the disastrous conversation with Mr. Walters on the phone the day prior. She hadn't yet received the confirmation email he said she'd receive but she still had roughly a day or so before she had to follow up.

Iron Man was Eliza's first choice of hero to contact for Jeremy and Zeki's shared wish of 'meeting a superhero' because of Jeremy's absolute adoration for the hero as well as the hero's very public identity. Zeki hadn't really shown a preference for any hero in particular as he reacted with the same vigorous energy to all the heroes when she'd asked and when they came on tv. So as long as they were in their suits, he'd be happy.

Getting in touch with the heroes was the biggest hurdle that Eliza had to face, made only slightly easier by the fact that Stark Industries had made a public method of setting up fundraising or social events. She'd seen pictures of Mr. Stark in his Iron Man suit taking publicity shots with people, both adults and kids, at other hospitals around the country, sometimes even the world, and she figured it would have been easy to get through to the self proclaimed Philanthropist. Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Steve Rogers, Captain America, was also contactable through Stark Industries according to their website, but she didn't hold out much hope for reaching him if she couldn't get past the first stage of reaching Iron Man.

How was she even supposed to get in touch with another hero? It's not like all the heroes essentially had a hotline to contact them for meet and greets.

A tug on her shirt pulled her out of her thoughts and she looked down again at Jeremy, only to have his phone jammed in her face in his excitement.

'Spiderman was with Iron Man Yesterday in New York! There were super cool pictures and videos on Youtube of them fighting the big robot! Iron Man got really close and Spider Man even ran right past! They're so cool!'

Eliza raised her eyebrows in surprise, "When did this happen? I didn't hear about any fights that the Avengers were called to over the weekend." Though, I was working for half of it trying to get in touch with said hero and then staring despondently at Netflix for the rest of it when I couldn't.

After a few moments of typing, he replied. 'Saturday!! I can show you the video'

At Eliza's nod, he started searching YouTube for it. She took a moment to glance again at Zeki and Carly who were still playing Princes and Princesses. They'd moved from playing hide-and-seek through the castle to a royal tea party in the main room on the 'second floor' (i.e. on the bed rather than the floor).

It didn't take long before Jeremy had found his video and her attention was brought back to him.

It was a very shaky shot at first, all blurred and out of focus. It was equally likely that the cameraman was either in a rush to get away from the danger, or in a hurry to catch some of the action (self preservation more often than not came after taking the chance to catch the action for the chance of a viral video of the heroes). After a few seconds of the of the blurred sidewalk, the camera's view shifted to a smoky version of the New York skyline, with Stark Tower reaching towards the sky and the Empire State Building in the distance. Rubble from nearby buildings littered the roads and people took shelter in various shops, nooks, and crannies around the street for what seemed to be an almost monthly occurrence at this point.

For a moment, the only sounds that could be made out were voices calling out to take cover or directions for the closest shelter, but then a low whine could be heard getting louder. The camera turned towards the sound and a dark spot in the sky could be seen getting larger, presumably as whatever it was got closer and closer coming from the direction of Stark Tower.

Suddenly, a loud crack and groan drew the cameraman's attention to the right, causing the camera to jostle and then move in that direction. The crack had been from the impact of a large body being thrown into a mess of steel frames outlining a construction site, which, by itself, was disturbing enough despite it having reptilian features and being almost twice the size of a human. Anything described as reptilian while being the size that it was had no business being in this century, let alone taking down construction sites.

As soon as the figure was there, it was gone. A brief shout from the cameraman and a pan to the left showed it had been yanked away and stuck to a wall across the street by what appeared to be a spider's web. A blue and red clad figure swung through the air in the direction of the disturbing lizard-man.

The camera was able to get a surprisingly good view of the swinging form as it passed. For the briefest of moments, it captured the black webbed pattern through the red and blue, and even managed to pick up a few fuzzy tears in the fabric wear blood seeped through. Again, almost as soon as the figure was there, it was gone, swinging up to meet the bad guy of the day head on.

Right behind him, a reddish-gold blur followed, streaking through the air and leaving a trail of smoke behind it. It went by too fast to get a good look at it, but as it got closer to Spider Man and the lizard-man on the side of the structure, it slowed down enough to make out the shape of a very humanoid robot.

The video ended on a frame of Spider Man swinging through the air just as the lizard-man broke free and launched himself up and into the air, Iron Man close behind the newer hero and ready to lend a hand.

It was still quite grainy but a really picturesque screenshot nonetheless and Eliza figured it would be used as a lock screen by many of the superheroes' fans around the world.

Ironman’s assistance brought up a question that she had actually been meaning to find out.

"Does this mean that Spider Man's an Avenger?" She asked the little fan.

After some frantic typing, Jeremy answered, 'No, he just stays in New York. Iron Man offered but he said no :('. At this, Eliza just hummed.

Then, an idea.

New York was Spider Man's base of operations? Perfect.

She'd just found her next contact.

------------------

Her Friday morning found her on a bus to New York City.

The trip to New York was a long and tedious one.

The bus routes from New Jersey to Manhattan were all painfully convoluted and each had their fair share of congestion issues so the total trip took 3 bus changes and roughly five and a half hours.

She'd planned on arriving at the city midmorning so that she'd have a greater chance to walk around and spot the vigilante throughout the day, but she ended up arriving after lunch thanks to a particularly nasty pile up on the freeway just outside the city.

Tumbling out of the bus, she thanked whatever god was around that day that the ride was finished.

She had just spent four and a half hours, shoved right next to a guy who looked like he had spent a night out on the town and smelt of piss, vomit and other bodily fluid she really didn't want to think about. To make it worse, the woman in front of her turned out to be a very loud Karen who had decided that this was to be the bus trip where it would be most beneficial to inform everyone in her general vicinity of the conspiracy theories she had heard of recently. God forbid anyone try to correct her though. Oh no, that would send her on a rant lasting another one of the four hours they were all stuck together and Eliza prayed fervently that no one made that mistake again.

Then, she started to declare that she was being discriminated against because the elderly woman in one of the front rows didn't give Karen the seat and the lady 'had a walker with her so surely she could sit on that!'.

Frick that lady.

Anyway, thankfully that ride from hell was over.

Standing in the middle of the bustling New York sidewalk, however, she realised that she forgot to think of a very important detail.

She had no idea how exactly she was going to go about contacting Spiderman.

Theoretically, she knew that he stayed around the queens area, but that only narrowed it down to about a hundred square miles of the city.

Thankfully her last bus had taken her right into the centre of Queens so she decided to wander around for a bit at least. She hadn't been to New York city before so she figured she'd do a bit of sight seeing and hope to see Spidey at some stage.

This method proved to be enjoyable for a time, and she had great fun taking pictures of 'Queens: Home of the Amazing Spiderman'. However, after three hours of seeing the sights but not seeing any signs of Spider Man, she was starting to get a bit antsy.

She had realised before she'd even set out that she most likely wouldn't see him on the first day, after all it was barely four o'clock in the afternoon and she was pretty certain he had a day job that took up his daylight hours. She'd hyped herself up for the encounter for most of the day though, and it was still a bit of a disappointment regardless of the logic.

Six hours of wandering later she admitted defeat. Friday was a bust, but she had high hopes for the weekend.

Sadly, Saturday turned out similarly to the previous day; some lovely sightseeing and tourist opportunities she hadn't had time for the previous day and no Spidey sighting. She had tried asking people around the area if they knew how or where she could find Spiderman but they'd mostly given her a brief, very judgy, once-over and a very generalised 'He sticks to Queens mostly.', or 'he's usually out around this time.', or the most useful one of all; 'if you need him, he'll find you.'

She couldn't say she blamed them for being hesitant to explain. She was a somewhat short, gangly, woman, who looked more like a teenager with her scruffy backpack and wide rimmed glasses than her actual 22 years, and very obviously not from New York. Hell, the locals probably got fangirls that looked similar to her looking for Spiderman on a weekly basis.

Honestly, she admired their loyalty to their local vigilante, it just made it a bit more difficult to do what she came there for. She hadn't lasted 3 months, over 20 phone calls, an eternity on the bus ride from hell, and two days of wandering around, just to be stumped by some city searching though, so she marched on.

It was late Sunday afternoon and many glances down suspicious alleyways later that Eliza had a breakthrough in her search for the local vigilante. It came in the form of a group of drunk guys and an ignored catcall (which the aforementioned drunk guys apparently took as a challenge).

She hadn't thought much of just ignoring the tottering group as she'd passed them, it was after all an unfortunately common experience and not the first time that day, let alone weekend. What wasn't a common experience, however, was the sound of uneven foot steps and increasingly boisterous attempts at getting her attention as she moved down the street.

It wasn't quite dark yet but it didn't take away from the rising sense of panic that sped up both her heartrate and her steps. Interestingly enough, her increased speed didn't deter the group, if anything it seemed to encourage them. She cursed her lack of knowledge of the area, avoiding looking at Google maps in order to keep her eyes on her environment.

After a few blocks of power walking, an ill-timed red light and road work stopped her in her tracks and allowed the group to catch up with her.

"Heey girl!" One drawled. "Come on, we just wanna say hi."

His friend stumbled along beside him slurring "Yeah, why ya gotta be so ru-ude? Juss' tryna give a compl'm-nt!" He hiccoughed and slumped just a bit more on another in the group.

She kept her eyes trained forward, directed to the traffic light but just out of focus enough to observe the drunken antics on her peripheral. She knew New York city was famous for its creeps but this was getting out of hand. Just the situation she was hoping to avoid; Alone at night with a group of men following her.

Sure, Spider Man patrolled this area, but she'd seen neither hide nor hair – nor web – of the guy in the days she'd been here and she wasn't too thrilled about putting her safety on the line to just have a slim chance of seeing him.

Her silence seemed to just egg the guys on, encouraging them to get closer and more obnoxious. What had previously been at a distance was now up close and within reach. Her hands tightened on her bag straps and her breath stuttered as she noticed their movements tilting towards her, stopping just short of actually touching.

Everything was just slightly out of focus as the sun was almost completely gone by now, leaving only the glow of the street lights and the pin-pricked lights of the passing cars to provide an eerie illumination of her entourage. It put her on edge more than it would have in the daylight, even if there were just as many people lining the street. No one had come to her aid, and most likely wouldn't have in the daylight either, so she resigned herself to tensely waiting for the change of traffic signal. The feeling of hyperawareness was a feeling that would linger and probably leave her too agitated to sleep that night.

"C'mon girl!" A third guy crooned patronisingly, propping his drooping friend up from a stumble. "Just give us a smile!"

Just to spite him, she scowled.

"Awww! Look! She can hear us!" Another hollered. "Smile! C'mon, smile! You'd look soooo much prettier! At leeast say hellloooo!"

The beeping of the crosswalk signal was her saviour in that moment and as soon as she heard it, she was off, practically jogging across the road. Unfortunately, that just happened to be the moment that someone decided that they were above the road rules for driving and that they needed to run a red light. Directly towards the crosswalk she was running across.

She was two steps off the sidewalk and mid-step when she heard a scream behind her and caught a brief glimpse of headlights to her left before she realised her mistake. Years of listening to her mother drill into her to look both directions before crossing the road flashed in her mind.

Everything seemed to fall into slow motion as she turned her head towards the light, the dark shadow behind the lights loomed closer and closer. She felt her eyes widen and her foot move through the air as if through molasses for split second and she had only a moment before a thought flashed through her mind.

Well...damn.

A sudden weight crashing into her diaphragm punched the air from her lungs and caused her head to snap forward and her legs to trail in her wake as she flew through the air. She instinctively shut her eyes and tensed at the impact, the pain from the car taking a moment to register to her shocked mind, though the wind at her back as she flew through the air was mildly soothing. She was pretty sure that when she crashed into the ground, the pain would come through and be even worse.

A few seconds passed and, when she didn't feel the jagged impact on the ground and the wind continued to whistle past her ears and whip up her hair into what was going to be a definite birds nest, she realised that the impact she had felt wasn't the front bumper of a car but instead an arm. It was an arm that had apparently swung out of nowhere and was still wrapped securely around her torso as it, or rather they, swung through the air and away from the middle of the street she was nearly flattened in.

She looked down at the arm and saw a sliver of red and blue...just before her eyes noted the fact that they were approximately four to five storeys above the ground and going faster than the cars below them. She would have screamed but her breath caught in her throat as they started dropping and getting closer and closer to the pavement below so she contented herself with clutching at the only lifeline she had. She briefly hoped that she hadn't left finger shaped bruises on her saviour's arm in her panic (as she was sure that would be poor rescue etiquette) but she realised later that, considering he dealt with troublemakers such as the Rhino and Electro, bruises would most likely be fine, if not non-existent.

As they swung, she could faintly hear a consistent stream of chatter coming from behind her. The voice sounded young, excited and carefree.

"It's ok ma'am, I got you. Just hold on and we'll be on the ground before you know it." He whooped when they crested another swing - contrasting her own urge to either puke or scream - and continued the stream of babble as the wind rushed past her ears. She thought she heard a few questions, but she didn't answer on account of the mild terror thrumming through her veins.

They touched down in front of a well lit strip mall surprisingly lightly considering they were going over 30 miles an hour less than a minute beforehand. Eliza was glad for the iron grip maintaining its hold on her after their landing as she knew she would be a shaky puddle on the floor had she been placed down and let go of immediately. She locked her knees to prevent them from crumpling and took a moment to breathe and mentally kiss the ground beneath her.

The arm around her slowly pulled away when she stayed standing so she slowly turned around to make eye contact with her rescuer. Well... Eye-to-mask eye contact. Her heart practically beat out of her chest from nerves and whether it was because of the drunk guys, the near death experience, or from simply meeting one of the famous heroes, she wasn't sure. Truth be told, the combination of all three would probably give her a heart attack if she took the time to think about it.

She had barely turned around before she was being spoken to by the figure in the famous red and blue costume, his hands coming up to steady her as she stumbled back slightly from being closer then she'd thought.

"Oh my gosh! That was a close one! That car came out of nowhere, are you ok?" She nodded, tongue still stuck on the roof of her mouth, not that it seemed to matter to the superhero. He seemed pretty content to talk a million miles an hour even without her input. "You look alright. I mean, the swinging can be a bit terrifying the first time you do it, but better that than being hit by the car." The eyes on his mask narrowed a bit and he tilted his head slightly to the side. "Actually, you look a bit pale and Karen says yo-I mean, I think you might be going into shock. Here sit down for a bit."

She was gently nudged to a set of stairs and she sat down gratefully.

"Thanks Spider Man." She sighed and relaxed as much as she could onto the cold concrete.

"No problem!" He replied. She couldn't really tell because of his mask, but it sounded like he was grinning.

"Bloody hell." Eliza sighed again, dropping her head into her hands and resting her elbows on her knees. "That's the last time I cross the road without looking, even if I do need to get away from creeps."

"Yeah, checking the road is always a good idea." Spider Man agreed. "As for the creeps, you could try carrying around some pepper spray?" She snorted.

"Yeah, like looking down and rummaging through my bag is a good idea when surrounded. Aren't you supposed to suggest I keep my eyes and ears alert, avoid badly lit locations, and always walk with a friend?"

Now it was his turn to splutter. "W-well yeah... I guess that would kinda defeat the purpose of keeping your eyes on your surroundings." He scratched his head almost sheepishly before continuing, his tone turning fervent. "It is useful if you happen to be able to get it though! I once saw this lady spray this guy in the face and he was still rolling on the ground after I came back to check on him after I walked the lady home! I didn't realise how useful the pepper sprays were until that day!"

Eliza could only grin at his earnestness. She could already feel the erratic beat of her heart calm into a more sedate pace and her breathing even out as they spoke. It was great to see someone trying their best to help and give advice on staying safe, all hints of superiority absent in his tone.

"If you're feeling better, would you like me to walk you home?" He asked suddenly. The offer made Eliza release some extra tension she didn't realised she still had.

She nodded. "That would be great actually. I'm staying in a hotel somewhere around here."

"Cool, I can definitely take you back!" He was already standing and excitedly bouncing. Geez, he had a lot of energy. "What hotel are you staying in?" When she told him, he nodded again. "Ok, that's not far from here. Do you feel alright enough to start walking?"

"Sure. I could do with a really hot bath right about now." Eliza said, taking Spider Man's hand he offered as she spoke. She idly ran her hand through her tangled hair. "And a brush by the feels of it."

Spider Man laughed and they started walking down the street.

"So where are you from?" He asked.

"I'm visiting from New Jersey." She paused, realising suddenly that this is her chance. She took a deep breath. "I, uh, actually came to New York to find out if you could help me with something." Spider Man turned to her and with his face covered she couldn’t tell if he wanted her to continue or not. So she too another breath and continued anyway. "You see, I've been trying to get in touch with a superhero, any superhero, for a few months now and I haven't had any luck. I've met you though today so... yay!" Jazz hands added for good measure. "I could have done without the almost-getting-run-over part, but hey, if it means I get to finally ask you about seeing the kids then I'll take it I suppose."

She really could have done without the 'almost getting assaulted and then flattened' part of the evening but considering he hadn't outright declined immediately, she was counting it as a win.

He continued to stare at her, making Eliza desperate for a verbal response as she could not read his reactions with his bloody mask on. "Well, it'll depend what it is. If you want my help to take over the world, I'm sorry, but you'll have to find someone else." He said playfully. Eliza laughed, almost in relief.

"No nothing like that." She said waving her hand. "Just want some help making a couple of kids' remaining years enjoyable." At this, Spider Man seemed to take more of a keen interest so she elaborated. "I work with the Make-A-Wish Foundation and I have a couple of kids who would love to meet a superhero." Her tone had turned soft as it usually did when she was talking about the kids.

He seemed to perk up even more, if that was even possible. "Oh really? That's so cool! I mean, it's really cool that you thought of me! I'd love to meet the kids! I'd have to run it by Mr. Sta- I mean, Tony, but it should be fine!" He was almost shaking now and she could practically see the excitement rolling off him in waves. When his words registered though, she couldn't help but sag a little in relief.

"Awesome. It's been a long few days." she said with a chuckle, rubbing her temples while trying to keep her eyes on him just in case he disappeared. "You're really hard to find."

Spiderman tilted his head to the side as they walked, "Really? I thought there was, like, an Instagram or Facebook page following me?" He said, making it sound more like a question than a statement. Eliza stared at him for a moment and he rubbed his head. "I can't remember if there's a twitter page, but I know for certain that there's an Instagram page that likes to keep up with me and they do a surprisingly good job of it too." Eliza mentally facepalmed. Of course social media would have the answers. Spidey fans have some of the best content and the most up-to-date info on their hero (second only to Tony Stark and that's only because Mr. Stark's been around longer and is a literal billionaire) since the Friendly Neighbourhood Spiderman is so directly active in his community.

"Oh. Right. I completely forgot about that." Came her tired sigh. "Geez, I feel like such a failure of a millenial. I mean, what kind of millennial forgets about bloody Twitter and Instagram?"

Spider Man laughed quietly, "It's fine. I know a few people at sc-work... who aren't on social media. Not many, but a few." After a moment, he asked, "So what are the kids like? Is Spider Man their favourite Superhero? I know I'm only kind of an Avenger, so it's cool they want to meet me!"

She snorted, "Are you kidding? Only 'kind of an Avenger'? Your battle last week with the lizard guy was on Youtube and you were working so well with Iron Man! One of the kids was practically vibrating out of his seat in excitement when he was showing me."

"Oh, you mean the one with both Mr. Stark and me going past? Yeah, that was a pretty good shot of us, we looked so cool at the end, it even stopped on a cool pose!"

As he continued enthusiastically, Eliza giggled. He almost reminded her of some of the kids. Energetic, easy to entertain and constantly bouncing between topics. Idly, she wondered how old Spider Man was. He didn't sound much older than her, and his energy....

"You know, Mr. Stark might be interested in meeting them too. I know he goes to a lot of charity functions." Eliza thought she heard him mumble, "He sure complains about them often enough." But she wasn't sure.

The comment made her crash back into the present. She felt her shoulders slump.

"Yeah. I tried getting in touch with him through the Maria Stark Foundation, but it didn't work out."

Spider Man seemed to frown at her tone, made obvious only by the slight narrowing of his eye lens things. "Really? How come?"

Sighing, she recounted her long and overly complicated phone journey through the bureaucratic chain of the Maria Stark Foundation and Stark Industries, followed by her brief but greatly disappointing interaction with Mr. Michael Walters. She was pretty positive this was going well and she could see her hotel across the street now so she let herself relax a bit. Suddenly feeling drained and really tired, she had to stop herself from stumbling the last of the distance to the building.

"I mean, it's understandable I suppose, the security that is. I get that Mr. Stark has a lot of enemies and I want what's best for the kids, so the safer the better." As she finished, she realised she probably sounded a bit whiny to one of the superheros that the safety protocols directly affected. At this point of the night however, she didn't have it in her to care all that much, not to mention, Spider Man was nodding encouragingly beside her. "At the same time though, I'm on a...bit of a time limit, you could say."

"What do you mean?"

"It's just, one of the kids I'm organising the meeting for has a progressive illness and, to be honest..." She paused, sadness filling her as she fiddled with the frayed end of her jacket's sleeve.

They'd come up to the main entrance to her hotel by now and she momentarily contemplated if it was really a good idea to bring it up, but she was fast running out of fucks to give and desperately wanted something good to come out of this hell-trip, "it's just...not very likely he'd make it the 18 months Mr. Walters said we had to wait. If anything, we're not sure if he'll make it to the end of this month."

Silence.

She looked at him and she saw him staring at her, lenses wide and standing eerily still beside her, his head cocked to the side.

After a moment, all he said was, "You know what? I'll talk to Mr. Stark. I'll see what we can do." And he swung away. Staring at the empty space beside her, it took a second for her to realise she was suddenly alone again. She hadn't even given him her number.

Still in shock and with fatigue starting to sit heavily on her bones, she shook herself and made her way toward the door, numbly figuring she was going to have to think of a different way to meet another superhero.

Eliza only had to wait two days before her life-risking journey paid off.

#tpromptsachallenge #my writing #To Grant a Wish #part 1

3 notes · View notes

minotaurman-ayjay · 4 years ago

Text

Do not drink and drive

This post details the car accident that I survived.

It will be about how the accident occurred.

What happened to me (Injuries, Court).

What happened to the drunk driver (Prosecution)

and where I am, now.

TW: graphic details of car accident trauma, pictures of x-rays (when I get them). Details of out-of-body experience, and potential glimpse on the afterlife.

In 2015, I had just bought a brand new car, a black and gunmetal grey Volkswagen CC. I loved that car, and I was going to treat it like it was my baby. I bought the big, thick manual that details every part of the car so I can fix it myself if I ever need to.

I didn’t even have the car for more than 3 months.

I was at an intersection, about to go north (one way) on an entrance ramp to the highway. I saw these headlights coming toward me. I didn’t think anything of it at first until I remembered “Wait a minute, this is one way.” Before I could finish that thought, he had collided head-on with me. “Why didn’t you react earlier? You knew you were on a one-way street.” Let me tell you, even though you *know* you’re on a one-way street, to see headlights coming at you is confusing. It’s disorienting, and usually it’s way too late when you remember that YOU��RE the one going the right way, and this motherfucker is about to hit you.

He was in a huge pickup truck called a “dually”, it’s a pickup truck that has a set of two wheels in the back and has a hell of a lot of horsepower.

When he collided with me, his truck went over my car, nearly crushing me in the process. One of his tires was about 3 inches away from my face.

I was pinned under the dashboard, I had lost consciousness. I vaguely remember someone holding my hand and saying “It’s going to be okay. Just stay with me.“ I had an out-of-body experience, I saw myself getting extracted out of the car. I was pretty beat up, my face was scuffed up and bloody from the scrapes of the airbag hitting me. When I was pulled out of the car, my limbs were listless like noodles. I remember seeing my legs… My feet, in particular. Both of my ankles were dislocated, and my hip was dislocated and it looked like it was nearly coming out of my skin.

This is where my out-of-body experience ends. I briefly regained consciousness in the ambulance, I don’t remember if I had an exchange with the EMTs or anything like that, because soon I had fallen asleep again.

Then I remember waking up at this house that I had never seen before. There were people everywhere, music being blared, it looked like a party. I approached the door and my friend Evan, who had died several years before in an accident where he was killed by drunk driving, was at the door with is arms crossed.

I’ll never forget this shocked expression on his face as he asked me "What the hell are you doing here?” and I was like “What are you talking about? You invited me.” He scoffed “Like hell I did, man. Go back home. You’re not supposed to be here.” I thought he was just being an asshole, and we were always confrontational with each other… But it’s all in jest. I posted up to him and said “Fuckin make me, man.”, and then he shoved me.

The shove was so realistic, so jarring, so violent that I had fallen backwards— and then I woke up in the hospital, and according to my mother I was on my way to Radiology to get xrays when I came to. I don’t know if I caught a glimpse of some afterlife, or if I was dreaming, but it was very real. My mom knows that I almost died, and watched me fight for my life.

Anyway, they had to restrain me because the drugs that they had given me made me combative. I was taken to the hospital where my mom works, as it was the closest hospital to the accident scene. She was also on duty that day, and for her to see me like that *had* to have been traumatizing to her.

Apparently I continued to go in and out of consciousness, and when I finally came to for good, I was in the ICU.

The moment I woke up, I felt this whole body pain, like an elephant was sitting on me. Not just my chest, but my whole body felt crushed under this gigantic weight. It was so much pain that it literally felt like weight, like I had woken up on a different planet and the gravity was crushing me. I begged and begged and begged for pain relief, I couldn’t breathe. My mom put the morphine control in my hand and told me to press it. I clicked that thing probably 4 or 5 times. It probably only worked once, but by then I didn’t care. I was so divided from the pain that it didn’t matter anymore.

My mom told me what happened, and what my damage was.

1) I had brain damage and a severe concussion. I was monitored in the ICU for 3 days to make sure I didn’t have a brain bleed they couldn’t detect. (I can’t remember the details of the brain damage). I had to relearn words, I had to relearn how to talk without stuttering or forgetting what I was saying mid-sentence, or having a word just disappear on me. This still happens from time to time.

2) My sternum had been displaced. Meaning it was fractured and pushed inward. Had my sternum been pushed in any further, I would have died. To this day, I still live with this. Because of this I cannot bind. I still cannot afford the surgery necessary to reposition my sternum.

3) My hip was so severely dislocated that it broke the acetabulum. This is the socket that cradles the ball joint in your hip. I still live with hip complications to this day. Because of this dislocation and the missing piece of acetabulum, I have degenerative osteoarthritis in my hip. I am a fall risk without a cane. I need a hip replacement, but surprise, I cannot afford the surgery.

4) Both of my ankles were dislocated and had bilatural fractures… Which means I had fractures on both sides of both ankles. One of the ankle bones was crushed beyond repair. I needed rods, plates, screws, and a bone graph. I still live with ankle complications to this day. Because of the surgeries and extensive injuries, I have degenerative osteoarthritis in my ankles. If I am to be on my feet or walking for more than an hour, I need to wear boots that are high topped to support my ankles. The drunk driver’s insurance was able to cover these surgery… However, as it became apparent over the years that I needed more surgeries and had more complications because of the MVA, it turned out that the drunk driver had changed auto insurance companies. Since America is the Greatest Country In The World™, health insurance providers DO NOT COVER INJURIES THAT ARE A RESULT FROM CAR ACCIDENTS. You have to go through the at-fault party’s Auto Insurance to get your bills paid. However, SOME health insurance companies WILL temporarily cover what is needed and will go after the at-fault party’s health insurance on your behalf.

But since this fucking shit smear changed insurance companies, I am absolutely fucked, and I can’t track him down to sue him.

5) I have damage to my eardrum. Luckily, it was not punctured by the force of the airbag hitting the right side of my face.

6) I have nerve damage in my knee (somehow? I don’t understand it, either) I can’t kneel on it. I either feel nothing (like the body part isn’t mine or something?) or excruciating pain when I try. There is no in between. Sometimes the nerve damage *itches like fuck*, but I cannot scratch it, as I will either feel nothing, or it will hurt.

7) I have nerve damage on the tops of my feet. I do not like it when my feet are touched. It causes electric shock feelings that travel to my ankle. It’s not pretty.

8) I have nerve damage in my face. I have Trigeminal Neuralgia that is secondary to trauma. Look at my “bloggy” tag to learn more about this.

9) I now have fibromyalgia. When it’s cold, or rainy, or if I’ve pushed myself too much, I will wake up the next morning feeling like I just came to in the ICU. Where I feel this full body pain that’s like an excruciating weight. Luckily, marijuana helps me with fibromyalgia and trigeminal neuralgia flare ups. I take a 2,000mg of gabapentin (spaced throughout the day) and 200mg of seroquil to manage them.

10) I have PTSD that is triggered by the smell of hot metal, the sound of circular saws, and by car accident scenes in movies. It took me forever to get over being gunshy in an intersection, and to even drive at all.

I was bedbound for 2 months, and wheelchair bound for 8 months. I was taking physical therapy and speech therapy for a year before my restitution to cover it had run out.

Needless to say, my quality of life had taken a drastic decline, compared to me pre-accident. Before the accident, I was in shape again. I was gaining muscle and I was close to meeting what I call my “healthy dad-bod” goals. I was going to go to police academy that year, but that was because I wanted to be an investigator for the Crimes Against Children Unit. I’ve had to reshape my future entirely. At the end of it all, my bills were $110,000. Luckily, I only had to pay $10,000 out of pocket, and that’s *LUCKILY*

So, what happened to the drunk driver?

The trial did not last long, he has been given 10 years probation (and straight to prison if he violates), mandatory rehabilitation, and to pay me restitution. Which had recently run out. I don’t know what has become of him, because as I said, I cannot track him down to sue him for my ongoing injuries.

If you are EVER considering driving while drunk, don’t fucking do it. Do not think you are invincible. Do not think it’s not going to happen to you. Do not think you’re not going to hurt someone. I don’t care if you are a “functioning alcoholic” or a “seasoned drinking veteran”, you WILL fuck up. This man that had hit me was 63 years old, and has probably been driving drunk for who knows how long. And once you DO fuck up, you are going to kill somebody. IF they DO manage to live through YOUR mistake, their life is changed *forever* and their quality of life will NEVER be the same again.

You are garbage the moment you sit in the driver’s side with booze in your blood.

#Do not drink and drive #drink responsibly #survivor #tw: car accident #bloggy

1 note · View note

iamyemzi · 5 years ago

Text

#YemziGirl Feature 50 (April) - Barbara - Nanny from Brazii

Hey Barbara, lets get straight into it…does being a nanny make you want kids more or less?

Hello Elizabeth !!! First of all thank you for getting in touch with me and for the invite I really appreciate it. Well I helped looking after my cousins and neighbours kids so when I came to London I first started working as a cleaner then slowly I was getting into the nanny life and as long as I remember I always loved it. I always say when I go on interviews that some people do this job because of the money and some other people do because they love being nannies and love what they do and I am one of them, being a nanny it isn’t an easy job as you need to balance the kids, parents and your needs and also you need to always keep reminding yourself that they aren’t your kids and you must do what the parents wants even though sometimes you won’t agree with them. I remember this family that I worked once that was very challenging that got me so stressed to the point that the thought of not wanting kids was being on my mind constantly and people that knows me knows that there isn’t nothing else in this world that I want more than kids so I had to put myself first and move on because I was getting so stressed by kids that are not even mine so when I have mine I wouldn’t be patient and this is not how I want to be when I have my own kids.

Why did you leave Brazil for London and what do you miss the most?

I left Brazil on 2012 when I was just 23 years old and was the first time I was living way from my family and in a foreign country. I came because a good friend of mine came with her girlfriend and a few months later she invited me to come and I decided to as I wasn’t in a good place back then as I was dealing with depression (only had the knowledge that it was depression years later) so I took some time off from drama university to come to London and have been here ever since. I love London and I feel like home here more than Brazil, I know I came from a beautiful country with beautiful people like me rsrsrs but life in Brazil it isn’t that beautiful like most people see when they watch tv or go on holidays specially now with that guy on the presidency. I really miss the weather of course but I am not complaining about UK weather no no no I am grateful with either because in my perception we must be grateful for everything we have in our lives but I was born there and that weather is part of my culture so I do miss playing outside with my friends as kids or going to a bar as adults OMG!!! If I could only share the images I have in my head with you all would be amazing but besides the weather I miss my family and friends the most but I have made my own family and friends here and where I live Willesden Green I can get all the Brazilian food I want to so I am ok with that rsrsrs.

Your bared all on BBC's Naked Truth:Tattoos so beautifully, how was that experience?

The experience on The Naked Truth was amazing and of course being naked in front of camera and people I’ve never met wasn’t that easy but the program’s idea of showing to people what tattoos means to us was what that made me want to be part of it. At the time we filmed it I didn’t have my full arm and leg inked and I’ve seen and heard people saying and looking weirdly at me because of my tattoos but imagine now that I have way more tattoos...once I had a nanny job position turned down because my tattoos would influence the kids rsrs crazy huh!? I can’t believe that there are people that still think like that they are more worried about my tattoos than how I am going to treat their kids. I am really happy and blessed with the family I am now and I can say this I’ve had a really hard year before I met them with three different families and I’ve been putting out to the universe to bring a good family that would see me for who I am and forget the stereotypes and I finally found them and I remember on my interview I asked the mum if she had any problem with tattoos and I showed her my arms and I was really worried about her reaction and me and the little girl was love on the first sight and her mum was like “no I also have one so no problem I am more worried how you are going to look after her than about your tattoos” I was in shock and as I am writing this now I have tears in my eyes because maybe for some people this was nothing but for me was her way of saying I don’t judge you by your look. The world it is getting better as much as we think that it is not but it is look at us black people everyday we are making our voices to be hear more and more...yes we have a long way to but hey lets celebrate instead of complain right? I hope one day people understand that tattoo is a form or art and expression.

As an aspiring plus size model which brand would you love to work with and why?

As long as I remember I’ve been overweight and we know how society treats us plus sizes women and men so until my 25 years old I thought that being “fat” was bad and no one would love me for who and how I was and that feeling made me doubt myself all the time but then I decided to lose weight and I lost 50kg in a year I went from 126kg to 78kg and you are must be thinking WOW she was so happy right? No! I wasn’t. I was happy from the outside because I never thought that I could lose weight on my own without surgery or pills but I was so unhappy inside because I was treating myself so badly and that made me feel so unhappy and when I got stuck and couldn’t lose more I started gaining again and today I am back to my weight and you are must be thinking WOW she must be sad now right? No! I AM NOT and you know why? Because I had to learn how to LOVE MYSELF I thought that losing weight would make me happy and make people love me because that was what the tv and people used to say to me all the time and I saw that it wasn’t true. Today I learned that the “love yourself “ means literally love yourself no matter how you are, you can be slim or plus or too tall or too short be black or white or be Japanese or African love yourself means be grateful and proud of the life body,s kin that you have but doesn’t mean that you don’t need to look after your health for example today I want to lose weight because I want to be healthy to look after my kids when I have them not to make people to love me.

So once I started my journey on loving myself I started to have my own plus size inspirations so I thought about modelling so I’ve done one photoshoot for a friend and I loved it so I went and did a workshop for plus size model and I met so many wonderful and beautiful plus sizes women but ever since I haven’t done anything but soon I will be back to it. I always buy clothes from this brand called grassfield it is an online store that I found on instagram they are two sister if I am not wrong from Nigeria and all they clothes are handmade and believe me they are amazing and they have from size 8 to 24 so I would love to model for them plus just know that I am helping my black sis from there I am happy to keep buying from them.

What should designers who are wanting to cater to larger women pay attempting to?

Well I have large breast so I still think they should be paying more attention to that because sometimes you can find plus size clothes that with fit you everywhere but not on breast area and it is só frustrating and I know all my big breasted sis out there will agree with me rsrs.

Beauty products your afro can’t survive without?

OMG!!! One of my favourite subjects rsrs my friends always make fun of me saying that I go crazy if I don’t deep condition my hair at least 3x a week and I look after it like a babe and it isn’t completely true but I do deep conditioning it 1x when I am working and 3x a week when I am on holiday and as I do the low poo method so I don’t use any products on my hair only products that are allowed so I get it from Brazil as we have a huge range of products but when I cannot get it from there I get from Shea Moisture or Cantu they are not cheap comparing to the normal brands but for girls like me that are always dying their hair it’s worth it.

What does style mean to you?

Style for me means WEAR WHAT MAKES YOU FEEL COMFORTABLE AND BEAUTIFUL. At least that how I am to be honest, as I mentioned before I have my inspirations but I have my own style that for some people it isn’t cool but it’s fine beca I don’t choose my outfit to please anybody but me and I love before going out I plan the whole outfit in my mind and when I put it on I look in the mirror and I say GIRL!!! You are looking Gorgeous OMG rsrs and I am telling you I go out in the mood and no one will change it. I see sometimes people looking at me thinking “her style is cool or I didn’t like it” but the most important thing is I am feeling myself so F*%# the world rsrs.

Plain or printed?

Both depends on the occasion

Favourite quote?

Treat yourself with love and respect, and you will attract people who show you love and respect in other words FIRST LOVE YOURSELF

What piece of Yemzi do you love or have your eye on and why?

Girl I am getting that Yemzi identity pin!

Thanks so much @barbraprata! <3

2 notes · View notes

crow-songs · 6 years ago

Text

What No One Tells you....

…..about losing weight and getting Healthy.

Alright, so one of my rare ranting moments, what you’re not warned about when you start getting healthy or losing weight for your own health.

1. Buying Clothing for yourself, is a pain in the ass!

~If you live on your own, pay your own bills, pay for your own groceries etc…You also know the pain of buying clothing. Now, for me, I get to see both sides of the scale. I get to see my Partner, who happens to be much smaller (weight-wise) than I am, and then you have my big fluffy ass. Where my partner can get a cheap tank if they need, I have to spend almost $20 to get one that actually fits me without riding up the belly or being defeated by the BOOBS of DOOM! Even my partner has commented on how drastic the price differences are for clothing. Now imagine, you are losing weight, no longer do you fit the ‘fat girl’ clothing well without looking like a 50 year old stereotype aged soccer mom, and I am too big to fit into what is considered regular clothing. (And I will be ranting about that later because ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?) So you either have to cough up the big bucks for clothing that you know you’ll not be able to wear in a few months and will be trying to donate to a place that will actually give clothing to people in need, or you end up looking like that 50 year old person who doesn’t care about being 'fashion forward’. Now this second style most would say “But hey, at least you’re comfy!”. Like, yea, that would be awesome! I get to lose weight and be super comfy, yay! But NO! That is not the case. Half the day you’re pulling your pants up afraid that you’re going to moon someone because there are 'no’ pants that fit you right after that first single time! you’re shirts are so baggy that they get caught on doorknobs, tangled in the fat on your arms, or boobs and at worst, get tangled in that said boob when all three things happen all at once when you are carrying all those groceries on the bus because cars are expensive dammit, and suddenly your shirt is pulled down so far that this 'comfy’ piece of clothing is exposing you. But the worst part, is how it makes you feel. I mean, I am trying to get healthy, and finally be comfortable in my skin, not because of media, but because being fat is exhausting thank you. Those loose pieces of clothes that you have to pay an arm and a leg for, make you feel…well…awkward. More so that you already feel. I hate it. I’m trying to lose weight for my health and self esteem (Don’t get me wrong, I am damn fabulous and I know it) but I want to look down and see my damn toes. The price and self image that the clothing brings, does not help.

2. People are MEAN when you’re trying to get healthy!

~Holly crackers are being just mean! I cannot tell you how many times I have been shamed for what I am trying to do! But here’s the kicker, it ain’t the skinny ones being this mean, it’s girls (not many guys care or ask questions about it) that are my size or larger. Now, here’s a story of when I first started losing weight.

(Little background here, I use to be a cashier at a USA Chain store and I was good at my job, this is a conversation between me an a woman who was the same size as me)

————–

Me: “Hi! Thanks for shopping with us did you find everything today?” *Starts scanning her items and bagging*

Customer: “I did thank you.”

Me: “So, how’s your day been today?” (Now for this, I always use my genuine voice because you know what, everyone needs someone to just talk too)

Customer: “It’s ok…..Wait, I’ve seen you here before, you look different.”

Me: *All happy proud that someone other than my epic Partner sees my hard work* “Yeah! I’ve lost about 55lbs in about 3 months! I’ve been trying to get healthier!”

Customer: “Oh that’s good. What diet are you on, or did you…..”*pauses to lean in and whisper*“Did you get that surgery thing. I’ve been thinking about that too so no need to be ashamed.”*insert sly smile*

Me:*Stands there blinking a moment before giving that awkward laugh you give when you just don’t know what to say* “Ah, actually no diet per say, and I am waaay to poor for surgery of any kind. No, I actually cut out dairy finally since I’m actually allergic to it, and cut gluten out of my diet because my partner is highly allergic and I figured why not do so in solidarity. I love my meats so you know not too brutal. And I’ve been doing some basic exercises like walking and little 5lb weights that we sell here. It’s been amazing and I actually feel like I can do things without falling over dead!”

**mind you, I am stilllll scanning the overflowing cart of stuff this woman has and she is not unloading it at all, so I am having to hop lean over my counter to reach her items**

Customer: *Pauses with this surprised look before her lip literally curls and she gives me the most disgusted look ever* You know how unhealthy it is to starve yourself!

Me: *actually goes still to being confused* What?

Customer: I mean you should have better self esteem in how you look and love your body no matter what people tell you! Starving yourself is not the answer! *starts to go on rant about media and about how I’m some dumb child falling for this and how I probably cut and how I’m not 'that’ over weight and make up can fix my face.*

Me:*stares at this now labeled crazy bitch getting annoyed* Ma'am…I’m 23…I am doing this for my health, I can still down a whole chicken by myself if I wanted, but I am trying to portion my food. *Holds out receipt as she swiped her card while ranting loud enough that all cashiers are now staring* Have a good day.

———-

I mean are you kidding me!? I have bee actively shamed more since I have been working to try and get healthy more than once! One woman had the guts to tell me that losing weight is for whores and I was just going to be a target for rape if I did this. I have been called stupid, worthless and informed how ugly I am. WHAT THE SEVEN HELLS IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE!!!????

By the way, that conversation actually took place almost over a year before the gluten free diets started to gain some fame/attention.

3. The Assumption that Working out is dangerous/I don’t know what working out is.

~I cannot count the amount of times I have been lectured and talked down too when I mention that I need to work out more or am trying to work out. People people people…I am not stupid. Yes I know how to lift weights, yes I loooove punching bags, yes I know how to run and yes I know how to swim and do sit ups. The surprise you get from people is insane. What people assume is that you have never been active your entire life, and you eat like a damn pig. No, that isn’t always the reason someone is over weight. When i was a kid, I was active, I played softball, I was into multiple forms of martial arts including MMA (thanks to my dad), running, climbing etc. I was like this till about 13-14 years old. That is when depression, stress, loneliness and lack of support entered my life. That and my genetics and a knee surgery I had when I was 16-17, yeah I got damn fat! But I’m not stupid! My Gods!

4. Depression is the biggest Bitch ever.

~I won’t lie, my biggest demon, is depression. even when losing weight, when you have sooo many telling you how horrible you are for trying to lose weight or for doing it, even that one person (for me my partner) who is supporting you…..sometimes it isn’t enough. You watch your body change, going down and then ballooning back up and then back down and put that on repeat. It’s hard. When you have a 40 hrs + job, the world around you is literally falling apart, knowing that going outside can get you killed and worse, when you look at your bills and you feel like there is no end, when you look at your life and you know, you know this is not what you wanted to do with it, or what you are capable of doing…..damn it gets hard. It’s hard to keep that motivation to be healthy. Real Healthy I mean. For years I convinced myself that 'my’ method was the best, that how I was eating would do my body well. I was never told that fat girls could have an eating disorder. And than I realized what I was doing. I was doing a different kind of binge and purge. I would take 1 week and just massively over eat, to the point that I would vomit on my own without any finger, and then for 2 weeks, I just wouldn’t eat anything. I would drink water or for a while, soda….maybe have a bag of chips….but nothing else. For 2 damn weeks. I never felt faint, dizzy, dazed. I only felt tired, still massively depressed and my weight would bounce that a stupid bouncy ball in a locked room. Later, through my own studying as during the years of going to a doctor (And more than once ulcer later) I had always been told I was surprisingly healthy and active for my age (I CALL BULLSHIT), I realized the reason I didn’t feel this, was because my body was eating itself and I’ve got/had the stores to eat where these sessions while unhealthy, wouldn’t trigger my brain. People assume that working out, getting healthy and changing your lifestyle, changes that. But to be honest, YOU CAN BE DOING IT ALL RIGHT AND STILL BE DEPRESSED! I feel the need to shout that from the roof tops sometimes! Even if you have the best support system, sometimes, you still feel very much alone in your situation. And there is no reason you or anyone should be feeling guilty about this.

Alright, there is my rant, I could likely add more, but in this moment, I don’t want too. For any who read, thank you for reading, and know, You CAN do this. What is healthy for one person, doesn’t mean it’s healthy for you (This is coming from the person that is actually allergic to the entire mustard family when it comes to greens) and above all, you’re worth getting healthy, physically and mentally. You can want to lose weight, all while loving yourself.

Here are two links for people going through this in my opinion that might help:

https://www.torrid.com/homepage ~~A great place for clothing that frequently has some damn good sales and does focus on how it fits your body.

https://www.udemy.com/ ~~This might we odd, but classes help. Whether it’s in art for self therapy or self expression, or nutrition classes. They do have sales (Their current black Friday/Cyber Monday sale of epicness)

Alright everyone, have a wonderful, and a life that you can be proud of.

#weight #rant #health #losing weight #opinions #I repeat this is a personal rant and I know it doesn't apply to everyone #fat #Bitch I am beautiful now I want to be healthy #Entry1

2 notes · View notes

bunionsurgeryrecoverytime-blog · 6 years ago

Text

Bunion Surgery Recovery Time

youtube

The incision is something that is performed mainly in a bunion surgery, generally located on the big toe with bunion surgery recovery time, where these bunions are generally located. It usually takes the form of a bony bump on the outside of your big toe, although bunions can sometimes appear on the top of the big toe joint or even on the little toe (often called a "bunionette"). Non-surgical treatments can ease the pain and discomfort caused by a bunion, but they can't change the shape of your foot or prevent a bunion from getting worse over time. This will also relieve pain and discomfort caused by the bunion. They are often caused by poorly fitting shoes that cause pressure on the toes, pushing them out of their natural position. Mechanical issues of the foot and leg are correctable. With the continued movement of the big toe towards the smaller toes, it is fairly common to find the big toe resting under or over the second toe on one's foot with the bunion surgery recovery time.

Bunion Surgery Recovery Time

Treatments include using specially made cushions, but most people find that they need to be removed by a medical professional. Know about the treatments in detail before going under the knife. Some temporary bunion treatments include taking pain relievers if the bunions are extremely painful. As with any other medical concern, talk with a trusted medical professional before taking any treatment or medical remedy. Many people endure the inconvience and pain associated with bunions because they do not know where to turn for treatment or think they cannot spare the time to fix the problem. One problem is called a hallux varus, a condition that causes the big toe to point inward. This causes the second toe to weaken. The enlarged joint at the base of the big toe (the first metatarsophalangeal joint) can become inflamed with redness, tenderness, and pain . This can cause you to feel like you need a new shoe size since your feet will feel so tight and you an also develop corns on the sides, tops and even in between toes.

This common deformity of the toes is believed to be largely a result of wearing very narrow shoes that are too tight, as well as shoes with high heels. This is why the need for shoes to have plenty of room for your toes has to be emphasized, even though at first glance, it may seem like an obvious statement. In the first six weeks or more your foot and ankle will be swollen so you might need to wear special shoes. And it is also for this reason that women have bunion formations more than men: because of their fashion. With that little piece of knowledge, it shouldn't be a far stretch to learn that 90% of all bunions are found in women. On an average, you are likely to be charged USD 4,000 for a bunion surgery. Any surgery can cause potential complications such as; bleeding, infection in the surgical wound, unsightly scarring, blood clots, difficulty passing urine and pain. If youve ever had a bunion, you know what intense pain it can cause. Often they have had pain in shoes and with activity for years when they finally come into the office. I only wish I had visited the Clinic years ago.

Mild bunion. For this type of surgery, the surgeon may remove the enlarged portion of bone and realign the muscles, tendons, and ligaments surrounding the joint. After your bunion surgery, you will be transferred to the recovery ward and then to your private room. Your foot and ankle surgeon will provide you with detailed information about your recovery. If you already have a diagnosis of RA, any symptom changes to your feet or ankles should be followed closely, as new swelling or foot pain may be the early signs of the foot or ankle being affected. Yes, it is that trying to squeeze our foot into tight toed, high heeled shoes that deform our feet for life. I mentioned in my previous blog about the perfect ballet foot. Some people also attend to put more stress than normal on the inside of the foot when they run or walk, making them more prone to bunions. These are discussed in more detail below with the bunion surgery recovery time.

Should You Have a Bunionectomy?

Tightrope Bunion Surgery mainly differs from other sorts of bunion surgeries for the using a particular non-absorbable fiber wire that is certainly attached through the first and second metatarsal bones (great toe and second toe) to realign the great toe and look after its proximity close to the second toe. Since bunions are often identified as the outward turning with the first metatarsal outside the rest in the toes, tightrope bunion surgery aims to fix this issue by pulling the great toe for the second toe, decreasing the appearance of protrusion around the medial side in the big toe.

Traditional surgical method will eliminate the bunion for this area to keep up this problem. Minimally invasive bunion surgery will employ laser right to the bunion. These bones which can be attached directly on the big toe supplies the boundary in between cartilages and fluid. Even if you can leave a bunion unmanaged for some time, you'll begin to experience its effects because it spreads outside in the procedure. This is the time when you'll start experiencing aches and foot deformation in addition to problems finding the right shoes compared during the past for bunion surgery time off work.

With the coming of the internet, many people choose non-surgical treating their bunions, spending 100's of dollars on bunion splints, orthodics, and special corrective devices to discover how the bunion will continue to worsen and hurt. It is not uncommon for folks to wear out several pairs of shoes in their quest for relief and lasting comfort. Over time, as the bunion worsens, patients must elect to continue suffering or seek treatment. Bunions affect one out of six people. The tendency to formulate bunions is hereditary and some women tend to be often affected than men. Because bunions certainly are a hereditary ailment, they'll gradually worsen over time. While there are many successful, non-surgical options available, many bunions will require surgery to take care of the joint alignment and still provide long lasting pain alleviation.

The great thing about bunion surgery is the recovery time is quite short which make life less difficult to manage. This means that in a very means of days or perhaps weeks after bunion surgery, you should be able to dig up back on your feet in no time and initiate enjoying the things you used to. Having a foot problem not merely effects you with pain, nevertheless it will make it hard to accomplish everyday tasks such as buying groceries or working. Missing work is not a good thing because it gets you further behind and helps it be harder to acquire back prior to the game. If you are looking for a way to obtain rid of those uncomfortable bunions, consult podiatrist about the most practical method to eliminate that evil little joint problem.

This is a fusion of the first metatarsal cuneiform joint (joint with the base from the 1st metatarsal in the arch area) and repositioning of the great toe with removal with the "bump". This requires five to six weeks of non-weight bearing in a very cast, then progressing to full weight bearing in a tennis shoe within the next 4 weeks.

For more details on bunion surgery recovery time go to https://www.healthline.com/health/gout-vs-bunion.

#Bunion Surgery Recovery Time

1 note · View note

dazais-guardian-angel · 6 years ago

Text

lots of tmi medical/personal shit below. tumblr please help me

I’m so done, I’m so tired of being sick, it’s been a year and four months and this health problem has changed and and evolved and has gotten much better, but still, still, I suffer; it’s not completely gone, I suffer differently now, and I keep saying “I’m done”, but that doesn’t mean anything because I have no choice but to keep suffering through it because no one knows what’s truly wrong or how to help me. I was done ages ago, but have had to keep pushing on without any other choice.

I’m disabled, in a wheelchair, with a muscle degenerative disease, that normally doesn’t affect me much beyond not being able to walk, catching colds and allergy season being worse for me than others, using a breathing machine when I sleep, and having to be tube fed. Last year I started having what it would take months and months, a hospital stay, and so many doctor visits to surmise that I’m probably having reflux. I had a surgery when I was a baby to keep me from refluxing or vomiting, but apparently those don’t last past ten years, and I’m more likely to have reflux from eating lying down. Months and months of crying and arguing with insurance and struggling to get a liquid Prevacid later, I’m so much better than I was. I can breathe normally about half the time, and can lie to myself and tell myself everything is back to normal during those times.

But it isn’t. My stomach still becomes tight and bloated often, I get constipated (which has always been a thing, but it’s worse when it happens now because it just puts more upward pressure on my lungs), I have a ton of saliva/mucus in my mouth that i keep having to swallow that gurgles and sometimes I’m afraid will choke me (and sometimes my throat hurts a little), that gives me congestion (before all this happened, the only time I’d ever be congested is when I’ve caught a bug or when allergies are really bothering me. Now, it’s every day to some degree, which is not normal for me at all), and worst of all, I get this strange feeling near-unsteadiness and shortness of breath and the only thing that helps it is moving around wildly or being rubbed on my back. I’ve had panic attacks because of all this, so maybe that’s anxiety. I’m certainly mentally anxious and stressed as fuck out of my goddamn mind. But I don’t know for sure. We don’t know anything for sure. The other day I started an antibiotic in case I have a sinus infection or something similar, and I woke up feeling nauseous and pale and shaky and weak and couldn’t breathe, so basically the anxiety(???) cranked up to a hundred, and I thought I was going to die. I’ve taken that antibiotic a hundred times before and it was fine, but fuck logic anymore; there is no logic with me anymore. But if I can’t take antibiotics anymore (cause I absolutely one hundred percent cannot throw up; it would probably kill me), then I’m fucked for real! Then again, I’m fucked anyway if I catch something while still like this, so.

I don’t know if I still have reflux. I don’t know what this stuff in my mouth and throat is that feels like when you need to burp when I swallow it. I don’t know if I have anxiety, and if I do, what is the anxiety and what isn’t it. Why does moving and being rubbed help it. I don’t know anything. I’m tired of fearing for my life all the time, though, and not knowing what’s happening to me, and doctors being unable to help, just telling us to do tests I can’t feasibly do. But my body is a wreck, I’m underweight (and already small as hell for my age) and desperately need to gain weight, but can’t because of these stomach problems that cause us to keep cutting back the amount of food I get so I can breathe, I’m probably dehydrated, I might be low on other things, I’m taking so many meds and who knows what all they’re doing to me and causing to happen that we don’t know about, my sitting posture is absolute crap and I lean over on my stomach, probably making this shit worse, whatever “this shit” is, and I get nerve pain down my legs from sitting that also gives me headaches (idfk).

I’m so scared. And scared of being scared. I lie to myself and tell myself that I’m happy, and I’m definitely happier than I was, but I’m never going to be as happy as I was before May of 2017 until I’m fixed. And no one knows how to fix me. How long until I waste away like this, starve? Why does no one know what’s wrong with me, know how to help me?

I can’t believe I’m going to post this; I never wanted to reveal any of this gross shit about my body online, because I hate it and no one should have to know about it. Maybe it won’t even matter because no one will read this lol. But I’m at my wit’s end. I need help. I’m scared and desperate and upset and I don’t know what to do to save myself, someone please help me

I just want my normal life back.

#personal posts #tw medical #medical stuff #tmi #about my body #health side of tumblr help me #i don't know if i actually mean that or not because getting health advice from strangers online can't be smart #but the fact that i'm even half-trying at all shows how fucking desperate i am #how done #doctors won't help you for shit if you're not able-bodied #and my situation is extremely specific so #i'm not expecting answers #especially since this is far from all the details lol #but god i have to try #at the very least to just know i tried and to get validation LMFAO #why am i doing this i'm insane #i gotta do t before it talk myself out of it though

8 notes · View notes

possibilistfanfiction · 7 years ago

Text

put down your sword & crown (come lay with me on the ground)

[this is rly late for clexa week but whatever it’s here (day 7 bc this is like future canon world but like nothing happened past 304) - clarke rly wants lexa to rETIRE partially bc her wife is hurt & stubborn abt it. also they have a baby. its soft & theres not a lot of plot. ao3.]

put down your sword & crown (come lay with me on the ground)

achingly beautiful how the sky/ looked as i stood after they left. nicer somehow/ in the middle. all the trees tucking blackbirds/ into their darkness. it really did take this long.

—gabrielle calvoccoressi, rocket fantastic (poems)

she has a limp. it’s more pronounced during storms, especially in the winter, and sometimes you think your wife is far too young to have a limp. other times you think it’s amazing she’s made it this far, alive and mostly in one piece.

you’ve been together for fourteen years, been married for ten of them. lexa is kind, attentive, and very funny—sides of her most people don’t get to see, but ones that you know almost better than any of your own moods. hers come with some warning: a tick in her jaw, solemn, sad nods, hours of swordsmanship when she’s upset. you think she’s more beautiful now than ever, a few laugh lines around the corners of her eyes; she takes you to the ocean whenever she can, and you think her eyes are the sort of jade—clear and depthless—as seaglass, as lightning left here for you to see.

she’s the most incredible, tender, intelligent person you have ever met, and she has a limp, shuffling in from training, again—and you. are. furious.

hale is babbling away in the corner, playing with some toys your mother had brought during her last visit. you watch her carefully because she’s walking now, and sometimes she looks at you before she darts off across the room with an expression that reminds you so much of your wife that you have a hard time believing that lexa didn’t bear this child herself.

but today, soothed by the rain or the smell of bread you’re baking, she seems content with the small stuffed dog in her tiny hands. she looks up when lexa barges into the house, soaking wet and grimacing, but then goes back to her little game.

you open your mouth to say something, to snap at your wife, but she only holds up her hand exhaustedly before limping past you toward your bedroom quarters. you hear a stone sink into the bath you had started to draw, and then her first boot hit the ground. you wait for a moment, think about the old saying—wait for the other shoe to drop—and then, unsurprisingly, your wife’s does, softly and finally onto the worn hardwood of your bathroom.

you put hale in her little playpen—she doesn’t protest, just clings to her stuffed toys, and you brush back the mess of dark curls on her head and kiss her forehead when she smiles up at you—and then sigh. she’s the brightest, most special thing in the world and it had been lexa, surprisingly, who had advocated so passionately to adopt this tiny baby, abandoned in the woods near her home village. you had been hesitant: the ground is still not a gentle place, and it is not easy to love the most powerful person in the world. it is not easy, not really, for you to be mothers.

but she smiles, little dimples and all, and you hold her cheek for a moment before turning to go tend to your wife.

when you walk into your bathroom, lexa is naked, sort of staring at the tub. she’s put oils in it, and a few dried flowers; the room smells like lavender, like milk and honey, and if you weren’t already so mad you would be struck by it all, how beautiful and long and toned your wife is, wiry muscles and gentle curves, the steam causing her sun-kissed skin to flush gold. but lexa is crying, heaves a sigh, and then looks at you sadly, and some of your anger melts away.

‘i can’t get in,’ she says, quietly, and you’re surprised she’s speaking in english. perhaps it’s to feel further away from the words. she does this sometimes, when things are especially difficult for her to admit.

you don’t say anything, just take your shirt off and lay it on the chair. you slip out of the loose pants you have on, then your underwear, lexa watching you with an unreadable expression, one full of apology and relief.

‘hale?’

‘she’s in the playpen. she likes the toys my mother brought.’

lexa nods once, and then you step into the tub, and hold out your hands.

she takes them, is graceful with one leg when she steps into the relief of the warm water, but then it is slow going for a few moments, and her hands grip yours tightly, almost frantically, while she gets her other leg over the edge of the tub, her hip not bending like it should.

you stay quiet when you settle in, and she leans back and closes her eyes. her hand massages the muscle above the sore, stiff joint, and you know you need to wait, no matter how much you want to berate her, or argue, or yell.

‘you’re angry with me,’ she says, after a while, sitting up and looking at you. she does so with tenderness and no trace of anger herself.

‘yeah.’

‘we’ve been fighting for a while, now,’ she states, no question, and reaches for your hand.

‘we have been,’ you agree.

you take her hand, her gentle, calloused fingers, turn it upside down and trace the scar on her palm from so many years ago.

‘i do not know how to stop,’ she says, shakily, after moments of quiet.

‘you don’t have to stop being a leader, lexa,’ you say. ‘i’ve never wanted that for you.’

‘how can i be commander, though, if i do not fight with my people?’

a rush of frustration wells up in your chest, but her eyes are wide, and she looks young and lost and scared. and you are her wife.

‘we are at peace.’

she stares down at the water, swallows. ‘the other clans cannot revolt, if i were to relinquish power in any way.’

‘you are a brilliant leader,’ you say, and reach toward her to raise her chin. you nod when she meets your eyes. ‘you brought them together when you were 16. you overcame a shit show when we fell to the ground, and the mountain, and the ice nation.’

she sighs, nods minutely.

‘things will not fall apart of you give some power to aden. if you usher in someone capable and guided by your own hand.’ you squeeze her hand. ‘you are a brilliant leader, my love.’

‘he is quite capable.’

‘you’ve trained him since he was a boy.’ you smile, because you very much do like aden, and he’s grown into a fine warrior and strategist, perfectly adept and passionate and willing. ‘he will be good for polis, good for your people.’

‘i still want to lead,’ she says, looks at your seriously, tilts her head in a challenge.

‘you will,’ you say. ‘just with a little more help.’

you give her the few minutes she needs; you stay quiet and wash her hair gently, massage her hip.

‘okay,’ she says, finally, resolved and upset and relieved.

you kiss her—tender and kind, rough, a mess of a kiss, the first of a certain kind—and she kisses you back.

when you back up, your foreheads pressed together as you both breathe, she says, ‘i do not trust your machines, and i only vaguely trust your mother’—you laugh, nod—‘but i think i may want to learn more about the procedure.’

you want to sing, or shout or dance or something, because your mother has offered surgery to fix lexa’s hip for months, since you forced lexa to go to arkadia for x-rays and a consult.

‘we can do that,’ you say. ‘i’ll radio her.’

lexa shakes her head, kisses you again. ‘tomorrow,’ she says, and when you lift a brow, she sighs. ‘i give you my word, clarke.’

‘alright.’

‘just,’ she sighs, stands slowly, less stiff than before because of the warm water, ‘i need a day. i want a day with you, and with hale. to—to, i think, know what i can have.’

‘we do want you around, you know.’

lexa smiles, and, almost as if on cue, hale starts wailing for both of you, her little voice full of over-dramatic sobs. if you had to bet, it’s because she tossed her toy over the side of her playpen.

‘your daughter, undoubtedly,’ she says, as you help her out, and you flick water on her with a laugh before you follow.

she wraps her hair up in a towel and puts on a robe before walking out and collecting your mess of a child, her eyes brimming red. hale sniffles in lexa’s arms and you bend down and then hand her the little dog, wipe her tears before she hugs it tightly against lexa’s shoulder.

‘come on, strikon,’ lexa says softly. ‘mama made us breakfast.’

she situates hale at the table in her little chair, and you bring the fresh bread and cheese over with some fresh berries you’d had to trade a significant amount of venison for, but you are the commander’s wife, after all.

and you have breakfast with your family, lexa breaking the bread into pieces small enough for hale, and trying to get her to speak in complete sentences, and making both of you laugh. lexa looks at you after one particularly stupid joke that had pulled a snort out of you, and she says, ‘i am glad to no longer argue, niron.’

‘you’re an exhausting person to love,’ you say, but you’re smiling and she kisses your hand.

you clean up together, in rhythm and quietly, and hale starts to nod off in her chair, so you take her and put her between you in bed, watch her little chest rise and fall before you look at your wife.

‘she will need braids soon,’ she says, sifting her fingers through hale’s soft hair.

‘that’s all on you.’

lexa laughs softly. a weight has been lifted from her, you know, years and years of pain and being in a lifetime of forced debt to her people. she has fought for peace, and been willing to die for peace, and all you want—all you want for her, for your love, more than anything—is the same grace she has given to everyone around her.

you brush a strand of hair behind her ear, trace down her jaw. ‘you can rest,’ you tell her, and she closes her eyes like it’s some kind of holy benediction. a few tears leak down her cheeks but you let them, and then she dries her eyes and nods and props herself up so she can reach over hale to kiss you.

‘ai hod yu in,’ you say, quietly, and she smiles softly, tiredly.

‘i love you too.’

you put your hand on her hip, rub gentle circles below the waistband of her loose pants, her skin smooth and soft. your mother will cut it open, fix her bones and her nerves, and after that you will trace healing into her scar.

but for now you are all whole, and the rain has turned to heavy snow outside the windows. the fire is full and burns away; hale sighs and lexa’s breathing evens out. you watch them, and the wind howls outside, but you are warm.

#possibilist #possibilistfanfiction #clexa week 2018 #clexa fanfiction #clexa fic #BABIES #they r a lil old!!!!!!!! i love them so much

227 notes · View notes

ask-de-writer · 6 years ago

Text

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : World of Sea : Part 81

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

written 2007

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

//////////////

///////////////////////

New to the story? Read from the beginning. PART 1 is here

///////////////////////

Without hesitation, Gemma pointed out Kotance.

Kurin quietly said, “Thank you, Gemma, that will be all.”

As Gemma turned to leave, Kotance shouted, “Come back here, you Grandalor trash! Now it’s my turn to ask the questions!”

Darkistry looked down at Arnat and managed to pull together a smile for him as she calmed down. “You’re right, Arnat.” She handed him the knife in her hand and said, “Kids your age aren’t supposed to have knives, Arnat, so let Officer Paddles keep this for me — ” She thought for a second and sheepishly added, “And this, too.” A knife came out of the back of her shirt collar. “. . . And these.” She pulled two more, one from each boot.

“Yes, Kurin. I won’t lose it again. Sinking this one is too important to mess up.”

Kurin took her hand and said, “Good, that’s the Battle Commanding that I know and trust.”

Kurin turned from Sarfin and spoke directly to Darkistry. “Now, Darkistry, please tell the Court what happened.”

“I never expected to see that monst . . . Mister Kotance, I mean, on a ship with the good reputation of the Longin but there he was, right behind the Captain. Mord tried to push Lenai overboard and while he was pushing her, Kotance stabbed her with a big knife. It was so long that the point came out her back.