#also she has to wean off most her meds so shes in so much pain atm

[doctorwormcore]

Oh mY GOOOOOOOOOD I now work four days a week ;-; I know thsts nothing to complain about but factoring in my two higher learning certificates im completing, plus a forty minute commute, literally an 1hr20min there and back, on top of my body trying to repeatedly kill itself thes past two months, while doing light caring of my mum...its just a lot lmaoooooo

[galaxywarp]

your post about addiction hd me realize i might be addicted to nicotine and im. really worried because this has never happened to me before - context genetically for some reason my mom just doesnt… get addicted? like shes been on (prescription) drugs for so many things and can just come off of them with no weaning, no withdrawal symptoms. for the most part, im the same way (except for prescription drugs like depression meds. when i come off those cold turkey urgh). but like, weed and stuff? it doesnt impact me, i dont get addicted, can stop and restart like whenever i want. i used my friends vape whenever i saw her (which was like. months and months in between and only once every couple of hours), my brother kept giving me new ones whenever i’d see him (months/weeks in between visits and it only lasted a few weeks, with no withdrawal or issues) but ive been getting new ones just because i enjoy doing it (which is also why i smoke, because i enjoy doing it + pain management). but now ive been waking up with nausea and stuff and i think its related to the vape i have because nicotine starts leaving your system within 3 hours… how did you manage your symptoms? did you just have to deal with it until it sorted itself out?

First of all good on you for recognizing that you could have a problem starting. That can be really hard to admit and denial is strong when it comes to addiction. Our brains try to trick us into justifying what we’re using and come up with alternative reasons why we aren’t feeling good, which often leads to using even more

Secondly, for nicotine it’s fortunate that there’s a number of ways to wean yourself off. You could try nicotine patches and/or gum, or if that’s too much of a jump, you may also consider lowering the amount of nicotine in your vapes that you buy. The packaging should specify what percentage of nicotine is in them, and you can try getting ones with smaller and smaller amounts before making the plunge to come off of them entirely

Ultimately though when you do finally make the commitment to quitting, you’re gonna have to muscle through at least a little of a hard time. Especially with smoking/vaping, there’s an oral fixation that forms about the act of doing it in and of itself. For that reason a lot of people chew tons of gum or get suckers to handle the absence of something to keep your hands and mouth occupied

Also remember not to let relapses get to you too much! Hardly anyone is perfect at quitting the very first time. Relapse doesn’t erase your progress you’ve already made, and often it can be a good learning experience about what you need to do differently in the future to avoid it happening again

Best wishes to you, friend <3 hang in there. And reach out again if you need support, okay?

[jojo-reader-hell]

(The bio says that requests are open but if they aren’t, feel free to delete this!) Jotaro’s sibling (whether his twin or just a younger sibling) nearly dying/getting severely hurt during the adventure and both of them trying to process it as best they can. Light angst - nothing too heavy around here! I’m just a sucker for sibling stuff.

Ask and ye shall receive my child.

Jotaro and Sibling!Reader

(Had to add grandpa in there too because I love this part of the SDC OVA 🥺)

It’s so cold, but they won’t let you stay.

They constantly push you away from their warmth, even though you’re trying to fight to go where they are. You don’t want to go back to the cold that’s waiting for you. No matter how many times they tell you that if you return to the cold it will warm up again.

Baby... please breathe!

“Please darling, go back! She’s calling to you!”

“I don’t want to! It’s too cold!” You broke free from the hands trying to keep you away, crying when your path was blocked.

Please fight!

“No! Go back love. It ain’t your time yet!”

“Please don’t make me go! It’s so cold... I don’t want to be cold anymore!”

No matter which way you try to run, they stop you. You try to cling to a dress, or duck underneath an arm, nothing deters them from trying to make you return. The older one is strict and swats at you when you try to cling to his wife’s dress. Another one, young and blonde, asks his grandfather for assistance in corralling you. The other one with the scar helps the two. In the meantime you hear voices calling to you from the cold. They sound familiar, you’re sure you know them from somewhere. But you want the warmth that awaits you with the ones trying to push you away, if only they’d let you through. Maybe if you’d slap the tall top hat off the man and dodged between his grandson’s legs you’d be home free...

Just as you attempt to try, a hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you into a warm, familiar chest. You beg and plead with your captor. You want to go with everyone else, the coldness you want to leave behind is seeped in pain and suffering. It’s easier with her and the rest of them.

Don’t leave me...

“My love, look! Your mother wants you back with her. Just go.”

It’s your captor’s husband. You try and reach for him but his normally welcoming arms are closed off to you.

“Sweet pea it’s time to go back to them!” She insists, enlisting the help of her son when you struggle and cry.

“No! No I don’t want to go back! I want to stay with you!” You can feel the hot tears streaming down your face. A voice continues to call your name but you pretend like you don’t hear it.

I need you... I need you!

“Don’t let me go back there all alone...” you sob.

“You will not be alone.” She insists, and you can feel her dragging you back to that cold path.

“I love you so much.” She coos.

“If you love me you’ll let me stay!”

You try one last desperate attempt to play on her heart strings, maybe if you guilt her into keeping you with all of them... but it doesn’t work. She pushed you forward into the cold maelstrom, the snow storm howling like wolves and drowning out the noise of everyone in the warmth telling you they love you too. As her voice fades away, the calls that wait in the cold get louder and louder.

The last thing you remember is her sweet words:

“We all love you. You will never be alone, I will be with you always. I love you. You hurry back and be good! Tell your grandpa to take you home, that Granny said so… you tell him to stop pouting and make sure you’re loved... we all say so-!”

Papa! Mama! Come quick!

It’s like being born all over again. Your lungs are burning with your first cry of pain, you have no control over any facial movement, let alone any type of movement. You want to open your eyes, or at least let the tears stream down your cheeks freely. Even your crying sounds infantile. You fight the ventilator they have you on, struggling to breathe on your own even though it doesn’t feel like you can draw a breath to save your life. It hurts so badly. Everything does. Your legs, hands, arms, head, so many things feel broken or frost bitten, and you want the warmth you were surrounded by.

They’ve pushed everyone you love out of the room by the time you’ve come to, and the doctors don’t seem to care one way or another if you’re lonely. The kind voice of the one who sent you back is nowhere to be found. She lied to you. No one is going to stay with you. All you can do at this point is cry. Cry for someone to come get you and help you.

You spend the whole night and most of the morning alone, save for a few nurses that come in to assist you with the ever embarrassing prospect of changing your catheter drainage bag. Every so often, they have to clear the mucus from your lungs. It’s arduous and painful, and makes you gag every time. There’s no way you can eat on your own now. They’ve told you that the doctors don’t want to take you off the machine just yet. It will most likely take a couple weeks to wean you off, so for now all of your meals are taken courtesy of a tube they put down your nose. You’re not sure what they’re feeding you. It’s not like you can taste anything, but you sure feel the coldness going down the tube in your throat. When you whine, they discuss warming your food in the future. Like it’s an afterthought.

No one allows you visitors until you are fed and given pain medication, and then, it’s only one person for an hour per day. Your mother is the first one in, shuffling towards you quietly and whispering your name.

Holly can’t hold you like she wants to. She wants to cuddle you, kiss you, try to comfort you, but all they allow her to do is hold your hand. After hearing her encouragement, you realize this whole time she was the one calling out to you, telling you how much she needed you.

“Baby… you did it!” She encourages every small milestone, smiling and wiping the tears from your face and dribbling her own on you.

“You made it through the worst of it, I’m sure you did. You’re going to get better. And when we get better, we’re going back to SoHo with your big brother. Won’t you like that my love?”

All you can manage is to squeeze her hand. SoHo… Even the name makes you feel lighter. It’s when your heart beats faster at the prospect that the doctors and nurses usher your mother out of the room all too quickly, each one fussing over you and helping to only make the situation worse.

Time blends together. It feels as though sometimes you can only tell the passage of time by who has come in to see you. Your grandpa comes after your mother, he seems strained, angry, but he reassures you that everything is fine when you make your sad eyes at him. He still holds your hand gently and tells you that you’ll be ok. Nonna Suzie echoes his sentiments on the next visit. The nurses even allow her to kiss you, and you can make the tiniest whimper when she says how much she loves you. She says the same thing your mother did: you’re going home with all of them after you get better.

“Nonna got you some beautiful outfits to wear on the plane ride home. And we have your room all ready. I’m going to make you something special to eat, anything you want my love. Ok?”

A weak whine. Your only affirmation. After she’s ushered out of the room you close your eyes, wondering who else will come to see you. It alternates between your mother and grandma, your Grandpa’s appearances are peppered throughout but they don’t often last too long. Joseph is troubled, mind miles away now that he knows you’re ok. Even Jean Pierre stayed to see you recover. He insists that he’ll stay in New York with you for a short time to make sure you’re back on your feet.

It’s hard to measure time in visits at first. Eventually you start getting better at being able to make out details like the clock on the wall. You expect everyone at certain times. The nurses to change and clean you between each feed. The doctors to monitor your progress. Your feedings of breakfast, lunch, dinner. And your visits which are always after breakfast.

They start letting in more than one person in at a time. It’s mostly your mother and Nonna. You notice that your mother looks strained, holding Suzie’s hand and yours the whole time they’re with you. Grandpa and Polnareff come together, but Grandpa never stays long and will kiss you absently.

It’s not until they take out the feeding tube and the ventilator for good that Jotaro comes to see you at last.

Thus far, they have you on so many meds you don’t do a whole lot of talking. A few grunts, murmurs of “uh huh” or “no” if you can manage. So it wasn’t as if you could ask if Jotaro even made it through the carnage. He looks like his usual self, save for a scar or two and a cast on his arm.

“Bubba…” your first words are his nickname. He doesn’t smile. Just takes your hand in his and kisses your knuckles softly.

“You ok?” He asks.

It takes too much effort to shake your head no, so you whimper it out. He sits closer to you, Jotaro’s love language has always been his presence, but you notice now he’s trying to let you know he’s there by touch. He lets go of your hand after a while and begins doing little things like wiping the sweat from your brow or smoothing out your hair.

“... it’ll be ok.” He says.

His voice is low. You appreciate the fact that your stoic big brother wants to be near you now. After what happened both of you seem to be unsure of what to say to one another, you have a lot of burning questions now that some of the pain is gone.

“... happened...?” You manage weakly.

He hesitates. Just for a little bit.

“... They said you had a lot of bad breaks. No lacerations, some internal bleeding. Skull fracture though, but nothing that required them to shave your hair to operate. Your Stand... the ice protected you from the worst of it. It kept growing. Said that you had some areas that were frost nipped though. You have some spinal injuries and your legs are braced. They also said you wouldn’t remember what happened.”

That was true. You didn’t remember much of anything before you woke up. Vaguely you recall some little key points, but it’s nothing that Jotaro seems to want to push. He tells you that as soon as it was over, Holly woke up and your ice melted. By then it was a matter of rushing you to the hospital where they said you might not make it out alive. Grandpa had gotten on the horn with Suzie Q and Holly. As relieved as he was that his daughter was alive, he knew this might be the one chance she had to see her own child. You were still in a deep coma by the time she got in to see you. Now that Dio was gone, she was able to get anywhere she needed to a lot faster. Granny followed her, had been taking care of her as best she could when your mother nearly lost her will to live seeing you so beat up.

Apparently you’d almost died a few more times. Your heart seemed like it was struggling to keep up. At one point it did stop, and you remember the numerous people telling you to go back to everyone.

But that’s not something you think you’ll tell anyone anytime soon.

“We’re not going back to Japan now...” he says.

“Why?”

They tell you that you’re going to the penthouse in SoHo nearly every day, but they don’t say why. You hadn’t been looking forward to returning to Japan, but in some part of your mind accepted it.

Jotaro leans back in his chair. He looks stiff and agitated again.

“... mom and dad are getting divorced. The whole time you were out, she tried to get a hold of him. Jiji pulled a few strings and got through, but he said he couldn’t leave the tour now when they were almost done. Told mom that you’d pull out of it and he’d see you when you got home...”

Good old dad. You thought. You could literally be dying and he’d insist you’d be ok and he’d see you later on. What would have happened if you had literally croaked, you wonder dryly that he probably would have said “oh, I’ll see my kid at the funeral”, then probably send his regards the day of by letter.

“Mom snapped.” His words make you refocus on what’s happening instead of the what if. “She... I never heard her get that angry in her life. Called him a worthless piece of shit, said that if you died and she caught him beating his chest about how much he loved you that she’d make sure his death looked like an accident. Told him not to bother calling back, or even to expect a home to go to once touring was over. She even told him that if you died, not only was your blood on his hands, but that he needn’t bother showing up to your funeral.”

It must have been bad... Jotaro even shudders at the memory, and you suspect that the version you got of the story is the PG version. You can’t imagine what she said to your father, nor can you imagine what would have happened if Joseph had been in the vicinity. Doubtless he’d made a few threats of his own. Probably why he couldn’t even stay focused on you during visiting hours. He was probably plotting his next journey to kill your “deadbeat Jap” father, as his racist tendencies would often so eloquently refer to your sire.

“Everything’s moved to New York now.” He continued. “It took them 24 hours. That was maybe three weeks ago. Now that you’re off the ventilator, the doctors said that they’ve got a plane ready for us to medically repatriate you stateside. At some point they’re going to do more testing. They’re going to continue to treat you in home. You’ll probably need to learn to walk again. Great Grandma is going to come and take care of you too. Says she might be able to help you get back to your old self again.”

His time is nearly up. The nurses and doctors are mad dogging him from the doorway. You can already feel that it’s time to have your drip bag cleaned and to try having a normal bowel movement, and by the looks of the extra doctors, it seems this must be the day they examine you for medical repatriation. Before he gets up to leave however, you both feel the icy touch of your Stand taking hold of both of you.

Well... looks like that little problem wouldn’t go away even if Dio was dead.

“Grandpa... tell grandpa...” you manage. You can already feel the pain coming as the doctors try to scold you for over exerting yourself. But Jotaro knows. He knows you need to tell him one thing before he goes back to everyone else.

You tell him the last words you remember. Queen of Swords smiling down on both of you without her helmet or veil on. It’s the first time you’ve seen her during this whole recovery period.

“Tell grandpa...” it’s an effort, but you’re going to try to get it all out at Queen’s encouragement. “Granny said take me home... make sure... love me... Granny, ‘n everyone said so...”

He notices Queen of Swords smiling at him. She looks roughed up, some of her clothes are ripped and each correlating arm or body part is frozen where you’re injured. Her long white hair is disheveled, fallen into a half ponytail where the rest of her long tresses trail down her back. But she looks happy, pets his arm and hums ever so gently. When did she gain this sentience? And more importantly, why does she look so familiar without her helmet?

“I’ll tell him.” He reassures you.

Joseph had to have been shaken from his icy demeanor, because by the next visit, he breaks the rules to hold you gently in his arms, telling you to tell Granny not to worry. He’s going to take you home and make sure you’re never going to lack for love again.

Queen of Swords smiles down on both of you, petting your grandpa’s hair and humming. It only makes him break harder, because it’s a lullaby he’s not heard since he was a small boy.

Granny Erina didn’t lie after all, you think to yourself as you manage to wrap your arms around your grandpa’s back. She didn’t leave me, not once.

[scrubsandarmchairs]

╰ ❛ 💉 — › graham rogers. cismale. he/him. . ╯ have you met julian vanderbilt ? this thirty-four year old taurus has been living in the seattle area for a week. he makes a living as a paralegal, which is best suited for their charismatic, honest, reckless, and hedonistic personality. let you down by nf is one of their favorite songs, and they're written by laurie

HISTORY (DRUGS TW)

Julian is the youngest child of Jameson and Jacqueline Vanderbilt, their third child after James and Jana. His childhood was filled with privilege and pressure, the expectation that he was to be the best - not just the best he could be, but the objective best - in everything he did.

He met Whitney Winters in high school and, although he may have never believed in it before the moment that their eyes connected, but it was love at first sight. They were love’s young dream. The perfect couple.

The first devastating blow to his unwavering confidence during the semi-finals of his senior year. The state championship was in sight, the whole crowd cheering his name, and then suddenly he was on the fifty yard line clutching his knee and being told he’d never be able to play football the same way again. He’d also be given a Vicodin prescription that would change his life forever.

For a while things were fine. He hadn’t needed a football scholarship to get into Yale after all, ignoring that his father had probably pulled some strings, and so him and the most beautiful girl in his world were going to their dream school, they were young and in love. Sure he was still refilling a prescription that he didn’t technically need anymore, lying to his doctor about pain that had long since gone for months, but it was fine.

The real trouble started when the prescriptions stopped coming...but he still needed the meds. He started buying them from a guy down the hall, the same guy that sold Adderall and occasionally weed at frat parties. By then he and Whitney were engaged, he was convinced that he just needed one last month, and then he could wean himself off. It wasn’t supposed to be a big deal.

For a few months it seemed as though he’d been right, that it was all in the past and his secret was still safe. Four months after the wedding he cracked. The pressure to be the perfect husband, the perfect son, to get into law school. It was all too much and he found himself at one of those frat parties, looking for his dealer. He still doesn’t remember why exactly he took the heroin, he thinks he might have already been high, but that was the beginning of the end.

He didn’t make it through a year of law school, his marriage disintegrated and his parents tried desperately to cover up the fact that he was in rehab. He thought that after fifty days it would finally be over, his life would be back to normal. It was never normal again.

He move moved to NYU, making it through two years of law school before he relapsed again. He spent the next six years in and out of rehab, in a cycle of clean and the eventual relapse.

He met Grace Quinn in rehab, and in hindsight it probably wasn’t the best idea to celebrate their six months sobriety in Vegas. They woke up hungover, coming down from a high, a lot more broke than they’d started...and married

They tried to make it work for the next three years, they got clean and for a while deluded themselves into thinking that this was how it was meant to be but they both knew it wasn’t. He shouldn’t have been shocked by the divorce papers and her insistence that she would never be Whitney and he would never be able to forgive her for that.

Because he knew she was right.

Now divorced for the second time, he’s determined to move on with his life - to ignore his former wife’s words....and yet he’s found himself in Seattle where he knows that Whitney will be

PERSONALITY

Julian has always been charismatic, having learnt from his father young that it’s always more convincing if it’s said with a charming smile.

He’s a sociable guy, being used to high class dinner parties he can hold his own with the most sophisticated people he’s ever met but he still remembers nights spent in college dive bars, singing to bad eighties rock while beer drunk. He’s comfortable in either situation

Honesty is something that Julian values, and sometimes it can be brutal. The only thing he has ever been dishonest about is his addiction, a shame only fuelled by his parents’ determination to cover it up

He’s always been reckless. The first to jump in feet first without having thought through all the consequences. Some might think it’s brave, he’s often been told that it’s foolish

He seeks pleasure above all else, usually to his own detriment. He can admit that he has a tendency to be selfish.

[malafight]

Long-Ass Life Update (I’m not dead!)

Finally a life update now that I’m back home. It’s been a painful and tiring couple of weeks :’) And actually some of the days/times might be off because I was like super fucking out of it for most of that time period.

Anyhow, I went to the ER on Friday the 1st after 3 days of severe stomach pain, and the local hospital is like notoriously shitty but I was in horrible pain ok

They actually took me seriously for once, took me back immediately, ekg, ultrasound, blood and piss tests, and told me from the start not to eat or drink anything.

They told me they found gallstones and one or more might be stuck in the bile duct, but they made it sound like it wasnt inflamed and there werent many, so I wasnt super worried? They sent me for an MRI and then told me that they didnt have the capability to get out any stones, so they sent my ass an hour away via ambulance to a much better hospital so they could do the probe thing they needed to. It took until Saturday night to get a room there, though, and they didnt know when I’d get there and since they figured theyd want to do the probe ASAP, I was kept completely without eating or drinking for all of Friday night and Saturday, after not eating more than a few bites of muffin on Friday and next to nothing Thursday either because Everything Hurt.

Also, Fentanyl is fucking magic. Thats the only thing that even vaguely touched the pain.

So anyhow, I get to the other hospital at fuck o’clock at night and God Damn Staved because, like I said, bitches gave me No Fucking Food for an entire day (I’m not kidding that hospital is horrible and has a horrible reputation for ending up with killing people or making situations worse but the next nearest hospitals are an hour away in different directions and I don’t often have anyone willing to drive me that far and I often don’t feel up to driving myself that far if I’m already at “need to go to the ER, fuck the money I don’t have” point, and Saer has only just gotten into the USA and the last time they came with me to the ER they ended up with a virus for like three weeks and I wasn’t gonna do that to them again!!) and finally when I got to that hospital they were like “yeah we won’t be able to do the probe until Monday so eat something and then tomorrow you’re on a liquid diet and then nothing by mouth after midnight” so they scrounged me up some chicken broth and orange juice at like ten o’clock at night and gave me Those Good Good Meds and I slept in a decent hospital bed instead of on a fucking ER bed like Friday night (since they were transferring me at the local hospital they didn’t admit me and I slept in the ER. yeah. i hurt too badly to sleep on my side even with pain meds, and I slept on an ER bed. I had to sleep all day Saturday on and off just to get vaguely rested, but honestly? this whole ordeal has been an adventure in sleep deprivation despite heavy sedatives)

Monday rolls around and they take me for the ERCP (iirc thats what it was) where they put a thing down my throat and cut the bile duct wider so the stone could pass, get that bitch cleared up, all is well. I was heavily sedated and remember none of it, just waking up with different pain in my stomach and the world’s worst sore throat.

I was on a liquid diet from that and until the extraction on Wednesday. I have drank my weight in broth and orange juice.

Wednesday they take me in to remove my gallbladder. It was supposed to be a simple laparoscopic procedure, nip it out, pull it, I go home in a couple days with a couple small cuts on my belly. My dad (and several other people) reassured me that it was routine and quick, and is an easy procedure that should take 2 hours at most. I told him, “Listen, with me, literally nothing is ever easy and you know that”

Fast forward to me waking up and my first thought is “is that a catheter? guess it didnt go so easy after all.” I’m pretty sure the first words I said as I woke up were “told you it wouldnt be easy” lmao

Remember how hospital #1 told me that my gallbladder wasn’t inflamed and there were only a couple gallstones?

It was chock goddamn full of gallstones and so inflamed that when they tried to get it out laparoscopically, it tore. He spent an hour trying to get it out that way safely before realizing that his only recourse is to cut me open and get it out that way. The procedure took closer to 5 hours.

I have at least 20 staples in my belly now and I hope I get a cool fuckin scar but shit hurts still. I was in the hospital slowly ramping up to eating solid food again until Friday when I was allowed to go home to Saer. I can’t lift anything more than 20 pounds for another like month, and my range of motion is a fraction of what it was before. I’m so easily exhausted now and i can barely do anything and it’s really fucking pathetic??? and every time I bring that up Saer is like “they TOOK your ORGAN” so

(its really sad that i’m so conditioned that If I’m Not Doing Everything I Can All The Time Then I’m Not Trying Hard Enough that even after having full surgery to remove an organ I’m like NO I CAN DO THE THING and then end up hurting myself s-sobs)

(we watched the episode of b99 today where gina comes back after getting hit by a bus and when she tried to dance while still in the halo saer pointed at her and was like “it u” and i was like “exCUSE” but like, tru)

anyhow, im home, and i have my wife with me, and saer is such a blessing right now because i cannot do SHIT and they need to help me off the couch sometimes if my dumb ass gets in a position with no leverage, and also ive already fallen off the couch like twice because i was like NO I GOT IT and saer was across the room like BEB NO U DONT and yeah im stubborn and stupid ok saer is saving me from myself for the most part

also also the app i drive for is shutting down in my city at the start of december hhhhh so now i also have to fuckin... find a job like this and uGH do not WANT ffff

but yeah thats something even my parents have okayed me holding off on until I’m better so if even my fuckin parents are like “pls chill???” yall know im fucked up

however i’m mostly weaned off opiod pain meds now and am only using them at night when it’s worse and hard to sleep, tylenol tends to take care of it well enough now. my range of motion is improving, too, but i am just still so easily tired that its frustrating. we went grocery shopping yesterday and even in the little motor scooter i was completely worn out by the end of it.

but im alive! all is well! i will continue improving! sorry for being so quiet during this but like I said, i’ve been some level of sedated for most of this event. not fully sedated except for the two procedures, but fentanyl and dilautin (ok i have no idea what it actually is and google isnt helping but i had a button for it) and then morphine and hydrocodone on top of not getting restful sleep At All due to pain, discomfort, and people coming in every hour for vitals checks... I was fuckin Gone i got fuckall done rip

however once my pain-induced blood pressure spike was lowered (i saw them take it at the ER and it was fuckin RED) everyone was like “...you have really good blood pressure??” like i’m pretty sure i have low blood pressure naturally and my size/genetics gives me high blood pressure and they kinda cancel each other out, but yeah. pretty cool.

my family kept swinging between “IF YOURE IN THAT MUCH PAIN FOR 24 HOURS YOU GO TO THE ER. YOU DO NOT WAIT THREE DAYS.” and “...jesus christ you have a high pain tolerance”

//throws the horns thats what chronic pain does to ya baybee

my mom especially was impressed because she was just like “you’re so calm talking to them about how much it hurts how are you doing that” and im just like “its literally wasted energy to freak out and i hurt too badly to move so im just gonna sit here and tell them im a ten and hope they take pity on me because i have no other options”

anyhow fun new experience and im pretty sure ive broken my brother’s hospitalization record and also pretty sure i’ve got enough medical debt on me now that i can literally file for bankruptcy so

also i can feel a void near my ribs and it is so bizarre yall fuckin organs need to close the gap asap bc this shit weird as hell

[scruffandyarn]

That One Time Scruff Wrote an Avengers Fic (part 7)

That One Time Masterlist

Bucky x enhanced!female!reader

Warnings: profanity, mentions of medication (including antipsychotic medication), medical testing, physical pain, vomiting

Thanks, as always, to these wonderful human beans:  @siriuspiggyback(you are the absolute best) @fangirl-library (you kick-ass, wonderful person) @written-loki-imagines (thank you for your fantastical support)  @bkwrm523(where would I be without you in my life) @thejamesoldier (you’re amazing and deserve every good thing) @samingtonwilson (you’re super duper awesome) @invisibleanonymousmonsters (thank you so much for all your inspiration) @feelmyroarrrr (this is all your fault, still love you)

@shirukitsune @electraphyng  @l0kisbitch @yafriendlyfangirl

Previously:

Pepper was waiting for you in the garage, extremely worried.  “Are you alright?”  She held you by your shoulders as soon as you climbed out of the car.

“Just wanted groceries.”

“Loki bought them for you.” Tony eyed the god curiously.  “Seriously, though, someone else can go get your groceries next time.”

“I can’t–I can’t do anything.” Tears welled in your eyes at the thought of basically being trapped until the testing was over.  “It’s too much.”

“I’ll let Bruce and Helen know that you need to stop testing.” Pepper smiled gently.

“No!  No, I can’t.  The Clozapine is fucking with my blood–”

“It screws up the production of white blood cells in the bone marrow.  If she were to get an infection, her body wouldn’t be able to fight it.” Tony cut you off.

“Oh, shit, sweetheart.”  Pepper pulled you into a tight embrace.  “Let’s get you to your room, okay?”

“Please.”

Now:

Day two of cutting down your medication started with a dull ache at the base of your skull.  You swallowed two pain pills, hoping they could get you through at least a few hours.  

After completing the scan Helen had requested, you slunk off to the kitchen after checking that no one was there.  Your appetite had dwindled, but you knew you needed to eat.  You’d just finished grabbing an orange to go with your bowl of yogurt, when Clint popped into the room.

He signed a greeting, to which you helplessly gestured to your full hands.  “Sorry, but good morning to you, too.”

“No problem.”  Despite feeling exhausted, he pulled out a chair at the table and smiled at you.

Fuck.  “I was actually planning on eating in my room--” the pout on his face had you changing your mind.  “Yeah, nevermind.  I’ll eat out here.  Just, if anyone else comes, I’ll probably head out.  Don’t really feel like adding to the headache I already have.”

“If anyone else comes, I’ll just glare at them until they go away.”

“Does that work for you often?”

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

Silence reigned for the remainder of breakfast.  Clint told you all about his family, the life he had outside of being an Avenger.  His heart was practically bursting with pride when he pulled out a picture of his children.

“Barton, your presence is required in the conference room.”  F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced suddenly, causing you to jump in your seat.

“Duty calls.” Clint slipped the photo back in his wallet.  Then he signed his thanks and quickly left the room.

You were headed back towards the kitchen to snag some lunch when nausea hit.  A tidal wave of emotion crashed into your brain, making it swell and throb along with your heartbeat.  

Swirling.

Raging.

Suffocating.

Your feet seemed to slip out from under you so you blindly tried to grab onto the wall to hold yourself up.  When that didn’t work, you slid down the wall to slow your descent to the floor.

“What the--are you okay?”

You tried to open your eyes to see who was talking to you, but the stabbing pain seemed to start in your eyes and pierce through your head.  “Room.”  That was where the rest of your pills were.  “Please...I need…”

“I need to get you to the lab, doll.” The voice was accompanied by a hand on your shoulder.

You weakly shoved at the person but all your strength had deserted you. “No!” Fuck.  You were pretty sure setting yourself on fire would hurt less than this.  “Need to go to my room.”

“The doctors can help--”

“No doctors.  Just stop being angry.”  That was what you felt from him...Bucky.  But not just him--that was the overwhelming emotion that seemed to permeate from the walls and had dropped you.  “Everybody needs to stop being so angry.”

“I can’t just leave you like this--”

“‘m fine.  Please, I need...need to lay down.  Take my pills.”

The sudden shift in your position from being on the floor to being hoisted into Bucky’s arms only fueled the nauseous feeling.  Your stomach heaved, leaving both yours and Bucky’s shirts covered in the remnants of your breakfast.

“Oh, fuck...’m so sorry.” Even to your own ears you sounded drunk.  

“Don’t...don’t worry about it.”

“Where--”  You’d only fallen a few meters from your door.  This trek was already twice as long as it should have been to get you back to your room.

“I’m taking you to the lab.  F.R.I.D.A.Y. will you let the doctors know?”

“They have been notified.”

“Would you also let Pepper know?”  Worry was taking over his anger.

“Done.”

Helen and Bruce set you up with a sedative almost as soon as Bucky had laid you on the bed.  Once that kicked in, the pain in your head dropped to a dull ache and your queasy stomach settled.  Thankfully, there was a shirt for Bucky to change into, while you got to wear a hospital gown. Yippee.

You’d had to go through another scan, which you were pretty sure was the cause of concern in the room.  “What’s going on?”

“We’re going to have to slow down taking you off your meds.”,

Fuck.  That was not what you wanted to hear from Helen.  “You said the medication is screwing up my body--”

“I know that, but if you’re getting sick--”

“It was...It was just at that moment.  Felt like everybody here was just projecting this...this really intense rage at me and I crashed.”

Bruce looked over your shoulder at Bucky.  “You said you found her on your way back from the meeting?”

“Yeah.  She collapsed on the ground right outside my room.”

“That meeting wasn’t exactly the most peaceful one we’ve ever had.  And we were all there.”

“And all of us were pretty pissed.”

The sedative was making you drowsy, but you fought it.  Even with Pepper there, you needed to know what was happening.  You wanted at least some input on what decisions were being made.

Sensing your distress, Pepper smiled and squeezed your hand gently before looking over at the doctors. “What are the options?”

“Well, we’re going to have to slow down weaning her off the codeine.” Helen offered you a sympathetic look at your noise of protest.  “But that’s only going to help with the pain.  It’s not going to keep her brain from picking up everyone else’s emotions.” She sighed.  “We could look into isolating her.  Or keeping her sedated.”

“She’s already isolated away from everyone.” Bucky looked between Pepper and Helen curiously.  “Isn’t that why she has the room down from mine?”

“I don’t wanna be sedated all the time.” Were they just going to keep you out of it for a month?  “Can I--can I just see if...maybe it was a fluke? You said everyone was pissed at the meeting.  Maybe it was just all that emotion in one place?”  

Bruce looked at Helen.  “That would explain why the scan didn’t show any massive activity.”

“True.” Helen conceded before turning to you.  “It’s quite possible that the concentration of anger was why it affected you so strongly.  In the end, it’s really up to you.  Do you think you can handle what’s going on in your body right now?”

“I think so.”

“Alright.  But I would like you to wait five days before cutting back your codeine again, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“For now, though, why don’t you just get some rest?”

You nodded and tried to get comfortable on the bed before closing your eyes.

You sat up straight, a chill running through your body as you fought to catch your breath.  You clawed at your chest, trying to remove whatever was constricting your lungs and preventing you from taking in oxygen.  Your feet thrashed, but you couldn’t free them.  Something was holding you down, keeping you prisoner.

“Whoa-hey, hey, hey, relax.”

Waking up was generally like flipping a quarter.  One side meant nightmares that had you shooting up in bed, looking for any possible danger.  Those were the nights when you couldn’t get your brain to stop replaying the emotions you’d picked up from others.  Over and over until you felt like you were being strangled by feelings that weren’t your own.

The other side of the coin meant no nightmares, no dreams.  No invasive emotions wreaking havoc on your mind.  Those nights were possible thanks to your medication.  While they left you feeling groggy and disoriented, they were infinitely more appealing than the alternative.

Coming out of sedation was like the worst of it all mixed together.  

The hand on your shoulder had you striking out, only for you to crying out in pain when your fist connected with something hard.

“Easy..”

The pain in your hand helped to clear your head and you looked up to see Bucky standing over your bed.  “Ow.”  You cradled your hand to your chest.

“That’s what happens when you hit vibranium.” He tried to smile, but he was still very much concerned.  “How are you feeling?”

“Like I just punched a brick wall.” Shit, he must think you are a complete lunatic.  First you puke on him, and now you hit him.  Great way to make friends.  “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Nah.  You’ll probably bruise though.”

“Awesome.” You winced, trying to flex your fingers.  

“How’s your head?”

“Hurts.  But not like before.” You looked around the room.  “Where’s everybody?”

“They uh--they had stuff to do.  Pepper said she’ll bring you something to eat.”

“So you got stuck with babysitting duty?”

He flashed you a genuine smile that time.  “This is nothing.  When Steve and I were growing up, he’d be stuck in bed for days he was always so sick.”

“You know, I’ve read about how he was before the serum, but it’s really hard to believe.”

He laughed and proceeded to tell you about different times Steve had gotten sick or hurt back before he’d become a super soldier.  It wasn’t too long before the combination of his emotions had you feeling nostalgic, as well, for a time that didn’t belong to you.

“Brought you some dinner.” Pepper announced as she walked into the room.

You’d forgotten all about your hunger until you smelled the food she carried. However, there was one thing you wanted more than food. “When can I get back to my room?”

“Helen said you’re good to go once you’ve eaten something.”

“Fantastic.”  You turned your attention back to Bucky.  “Thanks.  I--I really appreciate you looking out for me.  And I’m sorry about your shirt.”

“That’s not nearly the worst thing that’s ever gotten on my clothes.” There was a hitch of hesitation in his voice, but he just shook his head.  “I’ll see you around.” The smile on his face didn’t reach his eyes as he left the room.

[takeeachdayonebookatatime]

Caskett fanfiction 

Staring the cast of Castle 

Why did you elbow me? Part 2.

Kate: pov I opened my eyes and I'm in a strange room and there is a tube in my mouth. Castle calmed me down, the Dr had me move my arms and legs. I was taken for scans, before the breathing tube could be taken out. After it was out My Dr came in to perform a swallow test on me, the liquid never made it down. He said I failed and we would try again tomorrow. 

Lanie: pov her bed was laid flat. I can't believe she failed her swallow test. The Dr has her heavily medicated for the pain. Kate was getting her meds around the clock. Kate's pills were in IV form and were her heart meds, pain pills, steroids for swelling and blood thinners to prevent clotting in her neck. It was now the next day and she failed the test again they would retry tomorrow. I made sure to tell her what happened before she wrote down her question asking what happened to her. Ryan said his little one wanted to send a bear for Kate to make her feel better. I suggested a nice heated one. Turns out she loved the bear; it made her feel safe and warm. 

Castle: pov we spent the day watching some movies. The room Kate  had was huge, only the best for my wife. The whole family was watching the movie. Ryan and Esposito were at work. Kate slept most of the day. While she slept we ate that way it would Not bother her. The next day She just managed to pass her liquid swallow test which was amazing. They would try soft food later on. Kate was given some water to drink. It hurt a lot but it went down. She was not allowed to move at all. I could tell Kate was upset with the liquid diet. She only woke up to painfully drink some water. There was not much she could do but sleep. Lanie took over so I could eat and shower. I put some temptation lane on. When she was awake, which was only a little. She was getting weaned off the meds that made her sleepy. Mother and Alexis came by to visit with her.

Kate: pov the man from pt came he was moving my legs so they would stay working. It was starting to get late. I did well all night.

Lanie: pov She is awake more. I think she is getting tired of watching movies. I also played some music I know she likes. A nurse came in with a washcloth to clean her up a little. Her bed had also been raised during the day to make her more comfortable. Today was her soft food swallow test. The yogurt went down. She had been transferred to nasal oxygen before the test. I thought she was going to choke but she did not. I'm so happy she is cleared for soft food. Kate wrote some stuff on the dry erase board so she could be included in the conversation. Her dad Jim came to visit while he was with her. Me and Castle ate lunch. After I helped feed Kate her yogurt. She had more scans today. The Dr said she is making improvements healing wise. For dinner she had oatmeal which Castle fed her. She was still getting her tube feeds, just to make sure she was getting enough food. It is hard to eat with her injury. Me and Castle had a sandwich for dinner. The night time pill helps her sleep all night. 

Kate: pov  today is a big day. Dr Jerry cleared me for light movement which means i can get up to go to the bathroom. He took out my catheter. The guy from Pt Steve is coming to help me get up and out of bed. It was slow progress. Lanie was holding/moving my equipment. Castle was helping by making sure it did not fall. 

Castle: pov Alexis came over and painted Kate's nails not sure if she is into that. She also braided Kate's hair, Lanie had to brush Kate's hair because it was so knotted and she did not want Kate getting injured while Alexis did her hair. She looked so pretty with braided hair. She could now eat the oatmeal by herself with no help. The physical therapist came by with a ball for Kate to toss to him; he wanted to keep her arms moving. She was off the oxygen fully. Lanie went home for the night and she would be back in the morning. She took some time off to help me with Kate.

Lanie: pov Kate was allowed to move around more so we walked in the hallway. Castle had been writing his book while she slept. I think it helped him let out his emotions. I would not be surprised if Niki heat gets injured in this next book of his. For breakfast she was getting eggs, Jim came by to eat with her. I was watching her like a hawk to make sure she did not choke. She did great. It was still painful for her to swallow, but the swelling went down a huge amount. Her pills were now given orally. The Dr told me  everything was going great. She was up and moving, off of oxygen, eating and taking her pills orally. He said she had some scans today and he wanted to take out her feeding tube. But other than that he sees no reason why she can't be released seeing how tomorrow goes. 

Castle: pov Kate went for her scans then the boys came over to eat lunch with her. I told them what Lanie said about Kate possibly getting out of here if tomorrow goes okay. The Dr said her scans look good and everything is healing up nicely. Just a few more weeks in the brace. We went for a walk before dinner. The rest of the night was good. In the morning Dr Jerry went over the things she could and could not do. Like how she was not allowed up stairs.  Bending over was a big no. He also explained how Kate can't get her brace wet in the shower. Lanie would help her with that. Changing her shirt would be hard. He explained to Lanie how it should be a button up shirt. She could only take off the chest/spine brace to change her shirt. We had all the instructions and schedule for her meds.  Dinner was soup, Kate was writing down what she wanted to say. Her Dr said her voice would come back but it needed to heal first. 

Lanie: pov I know castle ordered a ton of button down shirts online. He was also having groceries delivered to the house tomorrow so we would not have to go to the store. It was now morning and Kate was getting released from the hospital after about 16 days wow I can't believe it. Castle had also ordered a few books for Kate to read. To be continued…..

[07-02-2017-blog]

My experience with FFS. Part 1

I remember waking up that morning feeling like I had moved some great mountain. My surgery was scheduled for 11:30, meaning I had to be there at 9 to check in and get settled and ready for surgery. It was 7am. I finally cleared all obstacles getting me to this day, and I had nothing in front of me but this life-changing, affirming surgery.

I hurriedly got ready in comfy clothing, not bothering to put on any makeup or fuss with my hair which, by itself, made that day unlike others. I took whatever pills I could dry swallow, since I could not drink or eat anything for 12 hours prior to surgery. I was mostly grumpy due to not having eaten breakfast, and seeing my mom drink her coffee made me deeply envious.

To anyone who is reading this that hasn’t had an amazing trans related body surgery, I woke up that day with the feeling like I was going to some tropical getaway. Everyone is excited to go away somewhere exotic and tropical; and waking up on the day of travel, you feel very very antsy to get there, and you can’t believe the day has come. But you must make the day through the treacherous airport lines. I was so close to the end of that line.

My analogy of going somewhere foreign and exotic mirrors why I decided to go through with this surgery. I was finally leaving behind the harsh conditions of having my face; it was hard to be out in public and I was always cooped up inside, to then go to a place where my face could look inviting, exotic, warm, new. Once I had the new face, I would get to make all these new amazing memories that would enrich my life forever. I just had to face (no pun intended) a day of waiting; waiting to be called, waiting to be put out, waiting to go home, waiting for that amazing recovery.

My mom, as brave as she is, was nervous all morning. At the end of the day, one of her babies was going to be put under a anesthetic and undergo a five hour procedure. I think every person can relate to having a mother being nervous on the day of surgery. We went down to her rental car, and I left my apartment for the last time with my old face.

—-

During the 30 minute drive, I thought about of all the endings that were being dumped on me. My family was never going to see my face as it was ever again. I was not getting changes to the point of looking unrecognizable, but still, the next time I would be sleeping in my bed, my face would be changed forever.

We arrived early and I excitedly hopped out of the car while my mom parked. I went up to registration and told them what I was getting done, and showed them my health card. While the kind volunteer made my wristband, I said in a pleading tone “Please don’t let the sex say male—I am a girl!” I’d been to a hospital recently since then, and the nurse there had put it upon herself to assume I was a male. I could go on and on about that, but that’s for another time. I was there to get my face feminized and my wristband was NOT going to say male. Not allowed.

I then went over to the corresponding pre-op room, with my correctly female gendered wrist band thank you VERY much, and the volunteer there took me to the makeshift changing rooms, along with a key to a locker. I was instructed to strip down behind the dressing curtain, change into the hospital gowns, and store my personal belongings in the locker.

Now, as a transgender female, whenever I hear the words ‘dressing room, bathroom, strip down, or take all your clothes off’, I go into hyper defensive mode. I needed to take off everything?! Even the delicate article of clothing that hides my biggest shame? (Cis translation: my underwear. Panties. Whatever ya call em). I was completely naked; the only thing separating me from showing the whole pre op room my genital situation was a heavy linen curtain. I called my mom in to tie up the back of my dress (god bless her), finished putting on the dress, put slippers on, put on a hairnet, and bam! I was one girl lookin’ great for surgery. I was escorted into the sitting room. I waited until a nurse came to get my final vitals and ask me about my weight, height, and last foods/meds consumed. I was sitting in a chair in an unflattering, frumpy mint hospital gown, wearing nothing underneath. My junk hadn’t been free like that since 2015. On top of all of this, that this was when I started the Holy-Shit-I’m-Getting-Surgery thought process.

Between not being able to cover my body parts properly and waiting in a poorly lit room to be cut open, needless to say the panic was mounting. For a time I looked around at all the people being wheeled off to surgery and having their blood checked; then I thought holy shit, that’s gonna be me soon! And, because my insecurities always come out at the most perfect times, I was looking around wondering what gender people thought I was. I was wearing a gender neutral frumpy dress and my long brown hair was sloppily tucked into the hairnet. In my mind, every person that looked at me saw a boy. Don’t get me wrong, I know I am a woman; but pre surgery, when I couldn’t wear makeup or hair or femme outfits, I was mistaken for a male.

Uhhh, that’s wrong.

My insecurities were confirmed when a nurse called me for a final pre-surgery questioning, and she continually referred to me as he-she. No, not in the offensive way that you are thinking, what I mean is that when talking to other nurses, she would say things like "Oh yeah—I’m almost done with hi—uh her, he—she is just about to go into pre-op procedures.”

Yeah. I got that for the past two years. Well meaning people who do correct themselves and respect my identity, but nonetheless, through no fault of their own, subconsciously assign me as male. And it kills me all the same.

I was then ushered into the outside of my surgery room. There I met with the anesthesiologist, my surgeon, the main nurse helping in the surgery, etc. They all reassured me and told me the surgery is going to go amazing, and that I’d be okay. My surgeon assured me that he preforms a lot of these surgeries, and everything would be alright. Well, so much for reassuring me. I was a nervous, fidgety mess. I was about to be cut open for god sakes! My brow bone was literally about to be shaved! I consulted with my anesthesiologist about how panicked I was, and he assured me that he was gonna give me the good stuff to really make me loopy.

One of the nurses participating in my surgery came into the room, and told my mom and I that they were all ready and set up for me to go in. I tearfully hugged my mom goodbye, and told her to busy herself with her various friends while I was in surgery so she wouldn’t panic. I kissed her and she told me how brave she thought I was as I walked away with the nurse. The first thing the nurse mentioned to me is how tall I am (hey, short people: saying I’m tall is neither a compliment nor an insult. It’s just a fucking statement. You don’t have to acknowledge it. I promise you’ll be fine.) Obviously this annoyed me, and distracted me from my nervousness for a split second. Then, I was ushered into a Grey’s Anatomy-esque Operating Room (yes, I know that reference makes me basic) which shocked me back into nervousness. Holy shit. I’m getting operated on. What did I get myself into?

In retrospect, what happens next was a healthy distraction from my mind automatically thinking the worst results of my surgery. And it also realigned why I needed this surgery for MY own peace of mind. All of the operators in the room were calling me “he,” and then hastily (or not so hastily, I remember you bitches) correct themselves. I went immediately into self deprecation mode. Well yeah they misgender me because I’m not wearing anything indicating I’m female. I combatted that thought with a sense of defeat and pure frustration; even operators that are operating on someone who is getting FACIAL FEMINIZATION SURGERY wouldn’t put in the effort to try and be respectful of my identity. And then I had one final thought: with this surgery, I can go outside without trying so hard to preform ‘female’ and I can still be respected and identified naturally as a girl! That was my original goal! Let’s fucking do this!

My anesthesiologist put the IV in, and remarked that I was going to be drowsy in about five seconds. I didn’t even have time to think, and then bam. All the tension left my body. I was suddenly floating on a cloud and everything was beautiful. The assistant anesthesiologist put my oxygen mask on and said “Okay, let’s start putting him out.”

Suddenly my frustration of being misgendered there of all places was mixed with my razor sharp focus to get into this surgery and complete it. Amidst the effects of an inhibition-lowering drug, I took off my mask and yelled to the room: “She, Her, HERS! She, her herrrrrrrr-“

—-

I woke up in what felt like two minutes after being put out. I was still tremendously high from the weaning anesthesia. I felt blissful and absolutely at peace. I did it! And no pain! (just wait, Sami). The nurse said a bunch of soothing shit that went over my head. I toned her out and basked in the accomplishment. I had booked this surgery all the way back in October, and waited for it to be preformed on April 9th, 2018. I moved away from my family in the states so I could work my ass off and save for this surgery.

I’m on the other side. I can now be free! And be more Samantha than ever!

-Samantha Kru 🤠👽💀

(P.S… I will post my post ffs experience, from waking up to a month later, as soon as I can! This is long enough on its own! Haha)

[beingalostboy]

253: 2 days post op

I'm going to break this post down into 2 parts. Surgery day and post-op.

Surgery Day: On July 28th, I had top surgery (double mastectomy which nipple reconstruction. My family and I arrived at the hospital at about 12:45. I checked in at that time and began to wait to be called back. 

One of my anxieties was having the wrong name on my wristband and having to explain to everyone what my name is. While I was waiting to be called back, I went back up to the front desk and asked them to make sure the correct information was on my papers and wristband. They assured my that the correct name would be used through out.

After I spoke with the main desk, I was called back to sign paperwork. The lady who helped me was very nice. The only documents I need to have with me was my insurance card and ID. While I was signing the paperwork, she went and got my wrist band and information stickers. Both items had the right name and I was immediately relieved.

Once my paperwork had been signed, I was moved to a different waiting room. Before I even sat down, I was called back to be prepped for surgery. Initially, my family had to wait in the waiting room.

The nurse took me to get weighed and lead my to my "room". Then she took my pulse, blood pressure, and temperature. After that, she had me answer some basic questions like my name, birthday, why I was there. After verifying all of that, she had me undress and change into a gown. They also gave me a pair of socks, which are actually really comfortable, and a bag to put my street clothes in.

After I changed, another nurse put in my iv. This was another thing I was worried about. They put a tourniquet on my forearm, found a decent vein on top of my hand, and then they sprayed my hand with some sort of numbing stuff. This mist that came out of the can was extremely cold, but it numbed my hand almost immediately. Right after she sprayed it, she stuck me with the iv and hooked everything up so I could get fluids. Overall, the iv was really easy.

Once that was set up, my family was invited back to wait with me. Overall, I only had to spend about 30 minutes away from my family. 

While waiting for my surgery time, I met a few more nurses and two anesthesiologist. The nurses had me fill out some more paperwork stating that I wanted to receive blood if necessary and other things like that.  The first anesthesiologist told me that they were going to give me some medicine before surgery. I supposed he told the nurse what I needed and then she administered the medicine to me. I was given a patch that went behind my ear for nausea, an antibiotic capsule, a nausea preventative in my iv, and a shot to help me relax before surgery. I was able to use the restroom after this, but a nurse had to walk me their with my iv still hooked up.

After receiving that, Dr. Wood came in and drew his surgical map on my chest. He asked me if I had any additional questions, and then he left. After Dr. Wood left, the second anesthesiologist came in and had me open my mouth and say “ah”.

After Dr. Wood came, I went ahead and took out my contacts.

About 15 minutes after getting the shot to relax me, I started getting pretty loopy and my family tells me that I couldn’t stop laughing. Once the drugs kicked in, I stopped forming memories and I was pretty out of it. I don’t even remember saying goodbye to my family.

I remember very briefly being moved from my bed to the table. I just remember feeling weightless and they picked me up.

The next memory I had was waking up after surgery when they were doing their final examinations. I was able to see my chest. I remember saying “they’re gone?” and then I started bawling. I’m told that I was in the first recovery for about an hour before my family could see me.

Once I started waking up, I would drift in and out. I could hear the nurses calling my family back, but I had a difficult time keeping my eyes open. I wasn’t hungry or nauseous at all from the surgery. They asked about my pain and I was about a 7. Then they gave me some medicine, and after some time, my pain reduced to a 2. My family came in and I was given some ginger ale. Once I was pretty awake, a nurse took me to the restroom. When we got to the bathroom the nurse asked me if I sat or stood. I told her I had to stand because I didn’t have a willy and she looked at me in surprise. Then I told her that I was ftm and the surgery I just had was to remove my breast tissue. It was really nice to pass so well that a nurse assumed I had a penis. Her response was pretty shocked but completely accepting. So at that point I was feeling really confident.

 My family and I waited in second recovery for about an hour before being discharged. A nurse showed my mom how to empty my drains and answered some of my mom’s questions. I remember saying “milk me momma” when it was her turn to try and all of the nurses lost it. After that, I was wheeled out to my car by a nurse and got into the car. Then we left, got some crackers from Walgreens, and made the hour and a half trip to my brothers house. The ride was pretty decent and I dozed in and out for a good portion of it. 

2 days post-op: I’ve settled in at my brothers house pretty well. I’ve been sleeping on a recliner. Yesterday, we went to the mall briefly so I could walk around and we walked around more later in the evening. I’ve been eating normal food but I haven’t had much of an appetite so I’ve been eating rather small portions.

I started off recovery with the maximum dosage of pain killers. I also have been taking muscle relaxer before bed to avoid any back pain. In addition to that I’ve continued taking miralax. I haven’t had to take any of my meds for nausea. 

The most uncomfortable part of recovery has been my lower ribs. The binder is really tight and it’s putting a lot of pressure on them. My throat is also pretty sore from surgery and I have been clearing phlegm from my lungs fairly often. My back and shoulders are also very itchy from the binder.

Overall, I have a pretty decent recovery. I started limiting the amount of painkillers I’m on to wean myself off of them. I’m still taking maximum doses before bed and half doses during the day.

[royal-possum]

[OUTLAST OC] 

Tagging @zombbean because I would love an Rp with her.

More under the cut,really kind of lazy and old description of her. I'll have better art for her later I promise.

Name: Jasper Rook

Age: 29

Gender: female

Birthdate: September 15

Zodiac: Virgo

Personality: jasper is literally that person who will snap at you not to touch her she hates physical contact unless it's absolutely necessary,she has a good ear for music,jasper stays pretty neutral about everything she rarely shows happiness and whenever she does it's an odd sight,she does have a pretty short fuse and she will knock your lights out if you press her buttons enough,jasper also has a sleeping problem and is usually found sleeping in random places but her drowsiness is usually solved by her friend known as coffee,she most definitely is a workaholic which is causing her sleeping problem and she acts very passive aggressive and sarcastic whenever she's angry,she hates dirt and messy things and she's a total neat freak. Jasper also gets flustered very easily and she hates it. She hates it when people bring up her height,because evidently people think that just because she's small she won't fight them which they're ​​wrong to think because she will. She's surprisingly confident in her looks sure she knows she's not extremely attractive but she still loves her body,she just doesn't like people touching her. Jasper may come off as cold but she's actually quite affectionate once you get to know her,she's also very calculating finding escape routes or figuring out a strategy whenever she's in trouble.

Characters Mannerisms and Habits* Due to Jasper's OCD,she follows a strict schedule on a daily basis (at least until she got her meds) she eats a certain thing in the morning on a certain day (ex: toast and yogurt on Wednesday) she takes two showers on a daily basis one in the morning and one in the evening when she gets home,she goes to bed at a certain time and wakes up at the exact time her alarm is set. Until she got her meds she was practically controlled by this mental schedule. She does have her bad habits,smoking was one developing a taste to it after a coffee shortage and she soon came to the realization as to what a awful habit it is so she's weening herself off of it by doing origami. Origami was the best thing to replace her smoking habit because it not only stopped it but it was also a major stress reliever for her. But now you can always tell whenever she's stressed out because she'll began to fold paper or whatever fabric she has in her hand. Shes known to have a tape recorder in her bedroom so she can recorder and speak her mind she found it to be calming,but whenever she doesn't have that she writes it down in a small notebook she has with her. A strange habit Jasper does is that she scratches her neck,it could be described as an anxious twitch,but she doesn't feel anxious. To prevent any unsightly marks from appearing Jasper cleans and trims her nails. Jasper favours a simplistic or minimalist style when it comes to home interior. Her favorite flower is daisies because of their simply design. prefers coffee,but likes her tea with milk and a spoon of honey no sugar. Characters Allergies* Animal dandruff Characters Fears* Blood phobia (also AE: hemophobia or BE: haemophobia) is the extreme and irrational fear of blood, a type of specific phobia. Severe cases of this fear can cause physical reactions that are uncommon in most other fears, specifically vasovagal syncope (fainting). -in truth Jasper isn't afraid of blood in general, She's just specifically afraid or bleeding to death,that one little cut over an artery would be the death of her. She frequently has nightmares about her accidentally cutting herself and them drowning in her own blood.- Dementophobia,fear of going crazy. Claustrophobia,the fear of having no escape, and being closed in to a small space. It is typically classified as an anxiety disorder and often results in a rather severe panic attack. It is also confused sometimes with Cleithrophobia (the fear of being trapped). Corvidophobia,fear of crows. -Jasper has been afraid of crows since she was a child,she never had a very specific reason why,they just freaked her out-

Description of Characters Appearance (body shape, hair, eyes, bust, height etc)* short wavey chocolate brown hair that goes down to the lobes of her ears,it's slightly curly,slightly tanned skin,yellow eyes,she has freckles on her arms,basically everywhere,and scars going down her back from a nasty fight she had with a Thug when she first started her job as a detective,and some scars around her collar bone,she's usually mistaken for a boy because of her lack of curves,and she has a scar on her upper lip,and a dog bite scar on her right arm. She is 4'9,drinking all that caffeine stunted her growth that and because people in her family are just short.

Bio: as a child Jasper lived in Munich countryside with her agoraphobic mother Ginger Rook and her father Robert Rook,Jaspers mom didn't work in order to take care of her daughter,and Robert eventually had to get involved with gangs and drugs in order to support his family,he was caught in the end by the police after a murder of a rival gang member and arrested for possession of the murder weapon and a small bag of drugs. Of course after Robert was put in jail Ginger divorced him and sold the house to pay for a one way ticket to America for her daughter and herself. After moving to America Jasper was reluctantly sent to public school by her mother would would've preferred she stay home and let her homeschool her but she couldn't due to her stay at home job. A few months passed and Jasper was pulled out of school by her mother after she was attacked by a hooligan with a knife,so now their both stuck ginger can't homeschool her daughter because she's working but she doesn't want to send Jasper back to public school fearing that she would be attacked again,I guess you could say they were lucky that they were neighbors to a college professor that had a slight crush on Ginger,and who offered to homeschool Jasper. A few years passed and Jasper graduates from a police academy wanting to be an officer for her career,but due to her mother's illness she took a job close by,mount massive asylum as a security guard for the building at night. Jasper liked her job okay,in fact she was possibly one of the only security guards that was more reasonable with the patients not resorting to violence immediately like how other guards would. She might've gotten a little...curious about what goes on in mount massive asylum,and she did she found out about what they were doing to the patients downstairs and obviously she was mortified. Going to the boss immediately afterwards threatening to expose their abuse on the patients...she was barely out the door before she was forcefully admitted to the asylum. They cut her hair shorter,and changed her name to 'John Doe' claiming that she was found wandering the grounds with no name rambling,they kept her heavily sedated,and in a straight jacket. This all happened about a month before the riot,and as she was imprisoned there,there was plans to use her as an experiment for the morphogenic engine as a way to kill her off quietly,they prepared her for it but the riot happened before she was ever put in it. Flaws: She does have a soft heart for the patients,knowing that their all just sick,so she at least talks to them before she's forced to do anything violent. She had always prided herself in looking in order during work,so she might have a small vanity problem. Her Stubbornness. She has a major fear of bleeding to death. Affection,after a full blown month of just being isolated,drugged,and no doubt harmed Jasper would be easily manipulated with kind words or even a gentle touch. Praise would absolutely make her melt of she felt she'd be getting loved in return of...whatever really. Weaknesses: Her small size,it could easily be used against her. Smoking,she knows it's a bad habit so she's weaning herself off of it by doing origami as a stress reliever. Strengths: small size is helpful for escaping aggressive patients,hiding,and slipping by unnoticed. Her determination,Jasper just is resilient to just not give up,she knows that she has someone waiting on the outside for her,so that's why she hasn't given up yet. She has very keen ears. Despite her small size she has a strong resilience to just not die,which is why her old boss hates her so much. Injuries: She was thrown out a window by her old boss Jeremy Blare,so she might have a few shards of glass in her legs and arms that she hasn't managed to pull out yet.

Other notes: being prepared for the engine fucked her up pretty good,she now has painful headaches,she vomits a lot to the point where she's too weak to move,blood sometimes drips out of her ears or eyes and she sometimes overwhelmed by a deafening screeching sound in her head.

[spotlightsaga]

Kevin Cage of @spotlightsaga reviews… Orange is the New Black (S05E11) Breaking the Fiberboard Ceiling Airdate: June 9, 2017 @oitnb Ratings: @netflix original Score: 6.5/10

**********SPOILERS BELOW**********

The line between right and wrong continues to become more and more unclear, but the line telling Lorna (Yael Stone) she’s pregnant is clear as day. I couldn’t remember if Lorna had some opportunity to have a conjugal visit with her husband in the past… And then it hit me. Season 3, after Lorna and Vinnie (John Magaro) are married, an opportunity presents itself. Even though conjugal visits aren’t a ‘thing’ at Litchfield, It was CO Bell (Catherine Curtin) who looked the other way while they banged against the vending machine with headphones to drown out Lorna’s ecstasy. I have to wonder… Will this change things for Vince? Had he already considered this? Does the thought of having a baby with someone who is a little off kilter frighten him? I think we, as an audience, almost buried this happening for the most part. Many of us were scrambling to figure out what was going on with Lorna or just figured this was just another one of her outlandish outbursts… But since 5 has happened in almost real time and S4 flew by as well, I’m thinking that Lorna could be around 3 months pregnant, if that.

Then we have the issue with Suzanne and Lorna… Cindy being compelled by Taystee’s (Danielle Brooks) inaction and concentrations on negotiations that I fear will never truly come to fruition (something I’ve feared from the start), to deal with matters usually delegated to Taystee who just isn’t having it right now… She’s a woman possessed… A woman on a mission. These women are being eaten alive by a corrupt private prison system, either the privatization stops or the insanity continues. More to that later as the subject is really just an after thought and a device to move Cindy and Suzanne’s joint storyline along as well as for a bit of comic relief with Taystee and Fig (Alysia Reiner) discussing the names of their vaginas… Thx, Caputo (Nick Sandow), for that one!

Lorna has been withholding medicine from Suzanne. As powerful as Lorna’s speech was, as much truth to it as there was, ultimately this is someone who also is in need of dire psychological rehabilitating and intense therapy work making an uninformed decision about Suzanne’s medication. When it comes to drugs like Lithium and other heavy anti-depressants, that’s a road that should only be traveled if absolutely necessary. I suffer from extreme bouts of manic depression, bi-polar disorder, and anxiety. I have tried it all, and with my expertise in the fields of experimental psychology and a good grasp of sociology, I can tell you Suzanne’s extreme behavior isn’t something that is too far from reality.

I had read a few comments challenging the source of Suzanne’s behavior… And I just want to say, Suzanne is beyond bipolar disorder, and yanking those meds from her cold turkey can produce extreme side effects. It’s not like opiate withdrawal… It’s more like static and misfired electrical impulses that you can feel like mini-explosions in your brain. Anything taken regularly that alters your 5-HT (serotonin) release on a regular basis can have monstrous effects. Paxil, Zoloft, and any SSRI reuptake inhibitors are straight dangerous to just 'stop’ and I would say that Suzanne probably needs something a bit more extreme, or that airs on the side of more of an anti-psychotic. That’s not the point. The point is; I didn’t treat her but I do know that she has a serious mental disorder and any medication taken on a regular basis from benzodiazepines to opiates to anti-depressants must be carefully weaned and monitored by a professional or someone with the will-power of a well-bred stallion. And for the record, Uzo Aduba has been the highlight of this season. As the season winds down to the end, for me, she’s clearly the MVP. Secure her nomination now. Matter of fact, just in case, we’ll have a TVTime/Spotlight Saga end of the year awards, in case any of our favorites get shafted. Uzo, you’re a lock.

Speaking of great performances, I really believe that Adrienne C Moore who plays Cindy is also been working hard to be a possible top contender. This is her best season yet… The nuance she’s brought to Cindy, a more focused and self-aware Cindy, one who is aware of problems and the bigger picture outside of herself, has been incredible to watch. Adrienne’s scenes with Uzo have been nothing short of amazing and as determined as she was to quell the situation with Suzanne, she showed a real underlying concern for whether she was doing the right thing or not. This is an all new Cindy and it’s so amazing to see some of these women grow as actresses and add notches to their characters that are more than words on a page or stage direction. Excellent work, Ms. Moore!

Selenis Leyva has also been serving up some of her best work, and although I’ve received feedback from mothers who understand her motivations (believe me, I understand too, more than some of you may know)… It still feels a bit out of character for Gloria to make these batty decisions. I had a feeling that not only would all of this blow up in all of these women’s faces, but that Gloria in particular would receive a swift kick in the gut of privatized prison reality. I hope for change for these women, I really do… Hopefully we get that in a later season, but for now I don’t see good things in their future. And the fact that all of Gloria’s hard work disappeared underneath the fence is a sure fire sign that this determined mother won’t be getting that furlough she’s been working so hard for. God, I hope I’m wrong. Selenis has really conveyed the pain and confusion she’s experiencing during all of this so well, I just wish that her angle was approached in a more realistic manner for her particular character.

Ultimately, 'Breaking the Fiberboard Ceiling’ is a big step back into the right direction in terms of character work, tone, and story arcs for OITNB5. Episode 10 was nicely directed by Laura Prepon… But the chaotic, unfocused writing attempting to steer the show out of their E9 Horror Homage, that I actually really enjoyed, into a tense thriller in E10 and back into the strong laced dramedy in E11, given life by Director Wendey Stanzler and talented writer Lauren Morelli was no easy task. They literally had to dig the show out of a bit of a hole it had found itself stuck in, but luckily they’ve got it back, marching forward, in the right direction on its drama-heavy, darkly shaded eventuality of a path.

[mdmacuresptsd-blog]

Awakening from PTSD:                          A Personal Story

(names have been excluded for privacy)

It’s 6pm on a Wednesday.  My stepdaughter calls.  She’s desperately pleading, “We were just in a car accident!  My mom is hurt really bad!  We need an ambulance now!!!”  As I start to respond, she interrupts me and says, “(MyName)?!  I thought I was calling 911!”

90 minutes later, I see my wife in the ER lying on a stretcher.  I don't know what's wrong but her whole face is contorted into terrible agony. She's clenching her eyelids together as tightly as possible and she has her bottom lip sucked all the way into her mouth, biting down hard enough to break the skin. In this state, she is blind and unable to speak, other than moans of pain. Her hands shake violently and I realize then, that she is in the worst state of shock I have ever seen — nearly paralyzed by fear.  

I start touching her and speaking to her, and she can sense my presence.  She begins trying to draw invisible letters in the air with her right index finger. The letters spell “(Daughter'sName).”  I get right up to her ear and say “(Daughter'sName) is safe, she is okay.”  I hear a quivering sigh of relief for her daughter's life.  I bring my face to hers and try to get her lips to relax by kissing them.  She starts slowly releasing tension as we stay connected, exchanging our breaths.  I continue to gently reassure her that “you are safe, everybody is safe.”

Eventually, I get her to speak but only in single-sound outbursts.  “(MyName)?!” “Fire!” “Roller coaster!” “(Daughter'sName)?!” “(Son'sName)?!” Her eyes remain shut murderously hard.  As I speak to her, I attempt to pry open her eyelids by pulling against her stressed facial muscles.  Her pupils are rolled up into the back of her skull.  She seems to be lost in a waking nightmare.  I tell her that there is no fire and she is not on a roller coaster (one of her fears).  Over the next hour, we get up to short phrases and I'm even able to get her to look at me for a few brief moments, before her pupils roll back into darkness.

The Accident: On August 26, 2015 a driver smashed into our small SUV at 45MPH, head on, with my wife and stepdaughter in the front seats.  The airbags deployed and struck my wife’s torso at an angle.  The two struggled to vacate the vehicle as they were compressed by airbags and crushed metal.  My wife’s last conscious words were to her daughter, telling her to pull the keys out of the ignition as smoke filled the air.  As soon as they got out, my wife felt extreme pain and went into a absolute panic.

At the Hospital: By the time I arrived, my wife supposedly had a full body CAT Scan and Xray. The ER doctor assured me that there was nothing physically wrong with her. “She's just in shock,” the staff robotically repeated.  But she claimed to be in incredible pain.  After a few hours, she was wheeled upstairs to the extended-care unit; a secluded, no-window, fluorescently-lit hospital room. At least once an hour, she was stricken with psychotic rantings and crying fits while her veins were pumped with emotion-numbing anxiety drugs and opiate painkillers. This provided some immediate relief, but as soon as they wore off she became hysterical. This cycle continued through the entire hospital stay.

There wasn’t much I could do at this point, but stay next to her.  I brought her some multicolored pastel drawing sticks and a notepad so she could make art to pass the time.  In that room, the only stability her mind found was through this creation.  I’ve included a few of these drawings below.

I realized that she would have much more comfort at home.  I continually requested for her to be discharged, but doctors were almost never available. We stayed for two nights.  On day three, I lifted her frail body into a wheelchair. Then, without permission, we rolled out the front door to embrace some much-needed fresh air and sunshine.  In disarray, she smiled and peacefully dosed off in a drug coma.  When a doctor finally came back into our room, she said she was “ok to leave,” so we could get the hell out of there.

To this day, my wife’s recollection of that hospital is totally distorted and fragmented (by drugs and trauma).

Discharged: One week later, we would find out that she was not “just in shock.”  At our outpatient facility, she was X-rayed and given an MRI; she had two broken ribs, two broken toes, a twisted spinal cord with disc bulges, and misaligned ribs leading to a protruding bump on her chest.  

Over the coming weeks, we visited another handful of doctors and specialists. We are sent home a litany of different drugs — more than a dozen for anxiety, depression, muscle relaxation, and pain.  I took on the role of the only unifying nurse/doctor who had to figure out the best way to mix and dose these chemicals to my helpless wife.  Like experiments on lab rat, several of the drugs we attempted produced horrific side effects both physically and mentally.  I had a front-row seat to witness the madness of psychotropic pharmaceuticals.  

The drug that was the most beneficial for mind-numbing was Ativan (an addictive anxiety med).  She also took opiates for pain.  These two drugs clouded her emotions allowing for a break from the craziness, so she could intermittently pass out on the couch.  Still, I knew that both of these needed to be dosed down and eliminated from her body as quickly as possible.  There was no way I was going to feed my wife legal heroin until she became a junkie.  

Her mental state during the first two weeks was utterly erratic.  Every morning like clockwork (when the drugs wore off), she would have a meltdown with crying, panicking, and trying to escape back to the hospital (where she imagined there was a magic potion to fix her).  As the days dragged on, she appeared to get about 1-2% better each day, but after a few weeks the mental improvement was ending.  This healing pace was agonizing.

Without the Ativan, her trauma replayed in her brain on an infinite loop.  “Fire!” “Roller coaster!”  (repeat)  Her sense of reality was gone during these moments. Her eyes would roll around, with no eye contact, like a psychopath. She had lost her mind, and her kids and I had lost our loved one.

We Tried Talk Therapy: In total, we visited three different psychiatrists and psychologists.  The general procedure seems to advocate that she have weekly sessions for an undetermined number of years until maybe one day she'll (never) get better.  I suppose the great talk-therapists of this world are the slim minority and we didn't find one.  I knew how important it was for her to speak with someone who could lift her emotional state and ground her in reality.  Luckily, I was able to be that person for her.

Therapists gave us one thing of value: an official diagnosis.  She is on record as having Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), confirmed with second and third opinions.

Prescription Revocation: Continuous doses of Ativan pills were chopped in ever smaller pieces as I tried to wean her off this shit.  This drug made her mind cloudy and lazy, which was better than being manic, but nothing close to her prior normal.  It was a very temporary reprieve that lasted for the life of each hit (about 3 hours), until the next dose was required.  We started using plant medicine as an alternative.  

Marijuana (cannabis) has anti-anxiety, anti-inflammatory, painkilling, calming effects and also allowed her to sleep and eat food which were both difficult without it.  It’s a mild psychedelic, that has a broad application due to the fact that humans have cannabinoid receptors throughout the body.  The anxiolytic properties of this plant are temporary and not curative (similarly to Ativan). However, it’s one of the least toxic, safest, and least addictive drugs on the planet.  And we found it to be very useful for reducing and then eliminating the toxic opiate and anxiety pills.

Now, that she was out of her drug cloud, the real work had to be done.  I refused to accept that she would be doomed to the lifetime burden of not being able to drive, work, or function.  I believed that I could bring my wife back, and it was my greatest purpose to do so.  Of course, I did not know HOW.  

Striving to find answers, I voraciously studied PTSD online.  Then, one day, a random backlogged memory popped into my front-of-mind.  It came from two specific episodes of Bulletproof radio; the Dr. Julie Holland interview and the Rick Doblin interview.  The memory was: "MDMA can cure PTSD."  

Lightbulb!  Yes!!!  I quickly Googled the idea and found a recent "The Doctors" TV show episode in which they have video proof of a woman who was healed from her decades-old PTSD in just one MDMA-assisted psychotherapy session. I bought Dr. Julie Holland's book, “Ecstasy: The Complete Guide.”  Then, let's just say, the universe provided some MDMA.

All quotes in bold were borrowed from the book, “Ecstasy: The Complete Guide — A Comprehensive Look at the Risks and Benefits of MDMA” by Dr. Julie Holland, except where indicated.  I have no affiliation to anyone quoted below:

“One of the most important potential uses for MDMA is in the treatment of PTSD.  This is where it really should be used.”

——————————————————————————————————— What is MDMA?: 3,4-Methylenedioxymethamphetamine, commonly called “Ecstasy” or “Molly,” is a psychoactive medicine.  Effects include increased empathy, euphoria, energy, clarity, pain-relief, and gratitude.  MDMA was originally being used as an essential tool in psychotherapy in the 1970’s and 80’s.  During this time, therapists named it “Adam” (as in: Adam and Eve) “the condition of primal innocence and unity with all life.”  

In the U.S. in 1986, after years of testimony from doctors and patients who had benefited from this substance, the recommendation by the Administrative Law Judge (ALJ) was that MDMA should be placed on the DEA’s Schedule III.  This means that the drug HAS a currently accepted medical use in the U.S.  It also means that the drug has less potential for abuse than drugs in Schedules I and II.  But in the end, the DEA went against the medical evidence and the better judgement of the ALJ and emergency-scheduled MDMA in Schedule I (i.e. totally illegal, with NO accepted medical use).  This is where it remains today (in 2017), but this will be changing very soon.  

After fighting the good fight for more than 30 years, Dr. Rick Doblin will get MDMA medically approved.  In 2017, MDMA is entering Phase 3 clinical trials through the FDA.  It’s already curing war veterans and other PTSD cases by the hundreds.  To get legal MDMA today, you would need to seek out these trials … or go to Portugal.  

“Probably MDMA and psilocybin (mushrooms) will both be approved (for medicinal use) around the same time; (the year) 2021 is our current prediction. Medicalization precedes legalization.” - Rick Doblin, Ph.D (The Joe Rogan Experience podcast #782) ———————————————————————————————————

MDMA Session One: With sanity and happiness hanging in the balance — the MDMA session was started as soon as we could be alone together in a safe and comfortable environment.  Hopeful and scared as we approached this moment, I quickly prepared for my first attempt to play the role of therapist and try to save a beautiful life.  My wife’s apprehension was strong.  Surely, her ego felt that it was going to undergo a radical change, so there was inevitable resistance. But she fully trusted my guidance.  So, we proceeded to both take a carefully weighed-out, proper dose.  Just enough to push us beyond the threshold of normal consciousness and into the headspace of empathic Ecstasy.  The quantity was perfect.

“No evidence exists that a single therapeutic dose causes any damage to the nervous system.”

In 30 minutes, we were in.  Seated at the dinner table, mid-day, with the hot sun streaming onto us, we talked.  Within this initial come-up, I saw my wife’s former personality starting to shine through.  I was a believer!

“MDMA is an immediately acting antidepressant.”

We discussed the day of the crash, each giving our own account.  We broke down her tangled memories and reframed them to what actually happened. “There was smoke, but the ‘fire’ was imagined after you shut your eyes.”  I explained what happened in the hospital.  She had forgotten that her children and I were there with her the whole time.

“I kept seeing my dead relatives, and I was moving towards them” she said. (These visions were likely to be near-death DMT-induced hallucinations)  “I felt like I was dying, and inhaling your breath saved my life.”  My heart ached with the gravity of hearing these words.  

“MDMA is superb for recovering repressed memories.”

During this session, her physical pain, which had been spiraling her deeper into her PTSD, had nearly disappeared.  This benefit allowed her a respite, in which she could feel that the suffering was coming from the emotional center of the brain.  Pain is about perception and therefor it's modifiable. The relief can last for days, weeks, or longer after the session has ended, as it did for her.

“Mental states translate into physical states.  And one of the great values of the MDMA experience is that it can show you very concretely how a shift in your mental state can produce dramatic responses in your body.” - Dr. Andrew Weil, M.D

After Day One: The next morning, she was miraculously better.  This session did not fully cure her, but I estimate that it brought her about 80-85% of the way back. She was able to ride in a car without crying — a huge improvement!  I knew then, that we were going to be able to save her.  Her immediate family got to witness her radical shift overnight.

‘like a year of therapy in 2 hours’  ‘psychic pain-reliever’  ‘penicillin for the soul’  

Shrunk: Five days later, since driving was now an option, we visited another psychologist.  As we sat on “the couch," the doctor fired off the worst possible questions and, whether intentionally or not, triggered her PTSD. Re-traumatized, she broke down in tears unable to continue any conversation for the remainder of the session.  As a person meant to heal, I don't think he could have fucked up any worse.  She was terrified once again in the car ride back from his office.

After returning home, my wife was very frail and I was furious.  Because of this, I was sure she would need another MDMA session … and soon.  So, we did.  In fact, we were so unhappy in that moment that I made the quick decision to cancel all my business for the rest of the day and fix her right then.  Why wait to let the negativity sink in?

Spontaneous, MDMA Session Two: Careful doses were measured, the same as the first time.  As soon as the medicine hit, it was apparent that my wife was completely cured.  She was reawakened to her former glory with a clear outlook on life.  The PTSD had just vanished!  An almost unbelievable transformation from the woman that was sitting on the psychologist’s couch.

“MDMA acts as a catalyst to the psychotherapeutic process in four ways; Connection, Recall, Insight, and Acceptance.”

During this therapy, we took time to appreciate the positive side of the whole situation.  The crash and subsequent healing process forced us into an extremely-powerful learning experience that will enhance our lives forever. We talked about how grateful we were to Dave Asprey, Julie Holland, and Rick Doblin for publicizing this forbidden secret.  We became enamored with this sacred medicine and had the incredible desire to share this knowledge with the world — which is why I write this piece.  

“The MDMA-assisted psychotherapy session lasts just 4 hours, but the discoveries and decisions made during that time can last a lifetime.”

Post MDMA: Amazingly, after the second session, it's as if my wife's mind was healed to 110-120% better, surpassing her prior normal.  She was walking around with happiness beaming off of her.  She promptly told me that she was ready to go back to work and drive her car, at which point she still had four freshly fractured bones.  This new high-level of jubilance, she exuded for several more months.  I am certain that we would have had a long and horrible road to recovery without this molecule.

“It is easy for most people to approximate the feeling that they had when they were taking MDMA.  You don’t need to keep taking it over and over, because you can pretty much get there without the drug.”

The Experience: The feelings on Ecstasy are coming from multiple happy hormones secreted in unison (serotonin, dopamine, oxytocin and prolactin).  There is a sense of heightened awareness.  It's as if, we normally distort the world through negative filters and this substance rips them away, allowing us to see the beauty in all things.  It's pure bliss.  

“The common statement going around in the mid-eighties was ‘Once you get the message, you can hang up the phone.’  You don’t need to take it repeatedly.”

MDMA is also being studied for couples therapy, and it’s showing great promise.  We have personally experienced a benefit to our marriage through the deep, nonjudgmental conversations we had under the influence.  It was a lucky accidental byproduct of going through this adventure together.

The empathy gained during the sessions has made us more kind and generous to all living things.  It has significantly reduced our egocentricity and strengthened our most precious relationships.  It has helped us tune in to our happiness, inspiration and deeper purpose in life.

“Likened to a state of advanced meditation.  One Zen teacher had this to say: ‘Ecstasy is a wonderful tool for teaching.’”

My wife had a the worst symptoms of PTSD I have ever seen, and it is now 100% cured.  How many therapists can truly say that they’ve been able to heal PTSD absolutely, in just 1-2 sessions?  (Probably, only those who have used a psychedelic as a catalyst.)  We feel blessed to share our story with you about this sacred, safe, medicinal, magic molecule: MDMA.

“Self-love. Joy. Forgiveness. Acceptance. Peace.  These are the goals of long term psychotherapy.  They are also the feelings experienced by many when they take MDMA for the first time.”

by Leo Leapnovel

[bandbacktogether]

Eight Tips For Battling Depression

New Post has been published on https://www.bandbacktogether.com/posts/eight-tips-for-battling-depression-after-child-loss/

Eight Tips For Battling Depression

We’ve all seen the commercials:

“Depression hurts.”

“Do you have trouble concentrating or making decisions? ___ [drug] can help.”

“Depression can make you feel like you have to wind yourself up to get through the day.”

“Depression can take so much out of you.”

I have to say that all of that is true. I hate to use the word depression (I think most people do), but things have been rough since my daughter died. I’ve scraped for words to express the isolation, pain, persistent sadness, discouragement, lethargy, roller coaster days, rage, sullenness, futility… but every time those words fall short.

Over the last few years, I’ve learned  a lot of things not to do, and a few things to try.

Most important is that a quick fix is a myth. So often I’ve woken up feeling OK, moved through the day’s activities relatively well, actually enjoyed some of the day’s moments, and thought to myself, “Hurray! I’m better!” Only I woke up the next day back in the swamp, feeling worse than before because I was wrong. I hadn’t actually left it behind.

Here are a few ways that have helped me, along with a few things I recommend avoiding.

If you are struggling with depression:

1. If you are a spiritual person, pray and tell God about how you feel and ask for help. Don’t shut God off just because you don’t feel God’s presence anymore. Feelings are fickle things, affected by lack of sleep, poor eating habits, hormones, illness, grief, and more.

I found that praying in the shower was a good place because

1) I could usually count on not being interrupted by my children, and

2) if I cried my heart out, the water washed my tears and snot away (I’m not a pretty cryer.)

2. Talk yourself through the day. I don’t mean talk out loud to yourself – that’s the fast-lane to crazytown. What I mean is this: if you catch yourself possibly over-reacting or taking the actions or words of another person personally, try to stop long enough to remind yourself that you are predisposed to assume the worst right now. Tell yourself, “I need to take my own emotional/mental/physical state into account when I’m reading other people and cut everyone, including this jerkwad, some slack.”

When I remind myself of this, I’m more likely to step back and wait to see if what I am jumping to conclusions and being paranoid (and usually I am). This helps preserve those relationships, and heaven knows we need as many healthy relationships as we can get.

3. Talk to someone about your struggle. Be selective. Keep your circle small, at least at first. Look for someone who is strong because they have struggled through some hard things themselves (not because he or she is a know-it-all). Find someone you can trust. Don’t talk to that girl who starts every story with, “Don’t tell anyone else, but so-and-so told me …” If they tell stories about other people, don’t give them any dirt on you. The right person will listen well, try to understand you, and give realistic counsel. They will be flexible but also persistent, drawing you out even when you withdraw or hide what’s inside.

4. Remain engaged with your family and friends. Make yourself go to birthday parties, cook-outs, ball games… whatever it is that you and your friends and family do together. Go even when every cell in your body wants to hole up in bed. We need people, and you have never experienced encouragement quite like spending time with people who care about you and who love to have fun.

I am so thankful for my husband and friends who have dragged me out of the house. No matter how many times it happens, I’m always surprised at how much better I feel when I go, even when it’s The Last Thing I want to do that day.

5. Give yourself time. This one has been hard for me. I want to be done with this depression. I want to move on, move forward, leave it behind, get better. I’m tired of dragging it around every day. But my counsellor keeps reminding me that there is no timetable on grieving. And if I try to stuff it all away and hide it, that actually makes the whole process longer. I need to feel those feelings and work through my grief, not run away from it.

6. Go see your doctor. Ask him or her to check for any physical problems and talk about how you are doing. It is very common for an illness or untreated condition to affect every part of you, including your energy level and outlook on life in general. They will collect some labs to look for things like low iron, an out-of-whack thyroid, or abnormally high white cell count (indicates that your body is fighting an infection somewhere). The doctor should be able to work with you to identify ways for you to improve your physical health, and present some options for improving your emotional and mental health.

7. Do your homework before trying supplements and/or prescription medications. Talk with your doctor about this. They will help you select the best things to try and often have non-prescription options as well. Taking a pill, whether it is an antidepressant or an herbal remedy, is not going to make you happy. These treatments are designed to give enough of a boost to do the hard work of recovery. Be sure to ask your doctor and pharmacy about how various things interact. Tell them everything you are taking, including herbals and home remedies, because some things are very dangerous when combined. And if you think you need to change something because it isn’t working, don’t just stop cold-turkey! Call your doctor or pharmacist to see if you need to wean yourself off or if it is safe to just stop.

The best advice I was given about trying meds? Try one thing at a time, and give it at least a month before changing anything. Otherwise you won’t know what helped and what didn’t.

8. Build in some cushion. During the worst of my depression, I realized that my weeks were so tightly-scheduled that I had no slack at all for bad days. You know the kind: it’s all you can do to get the kids fed, dressed, and to school, and when you finish that, you collapse. Forget work, laundry, paying bills, washing dishes, cleaning house, grocery shopping. I got radical, backing out of commitments, canceling activities, and taking a leave of absence from work to build in some slack. It gave me the time I needed to rest and recover.

I hope these tips are helpful. I offer them up as ideas picked up along my own struggle in hopes that they encourage you to keep going, keep trying, and most importantly, get help.

[ismokeitsite]

After years of sub-par pain management, my grandmother finally gave in to my requests for her to try an alternative.

After years of sub-par pain management, my grandmother finally gave in to my requests for her to try an alternative.

I don't have anyone to share this with, but I wanted to write it down because it makes me very happy. It's long quite, so I apologize.

My grandmother is 76 and on dialysis 3 times per week. She's on 15+ medications for a variety of ailments (including restless legs, anxiety, and depression) and often for symptoms from other meds. Most notably, she's on oxycodone.

She has extreme pain in her shoulders from arthritis, old rotator cuff injuries, and a worn out ball socket. Her x-rays show the years of damages from bone rubbing on bone. She can't lift her arms higher than her chest. One of her legs is shorter than the other from a birth defect and she has a slight waddle even with a lift on her shoe. Because of this and her hip replacement, she falls very easily. She's lucky to fall just right because she's never done serious damage. Her wrist is S-shaped though from a falll ast year that didn't heal right.

Because of dialysis, she's malnourished. Many 'healthy' foods contain vitamins and minerals she can't have. Her sensitive stomach makes it so she throws up a couple times per week. This malnourishment slows her body's healing. Her tissue paper skin tears easily and causes pain as well.

She weighed 200 pounds at one point in her life and dialysis and illness brought that down to just over 100 pounds. Her tastes are off and she gets nauseous and sick very easily.

She takes a lot of oxy each day to help the pain, but it does nothing for her shoulders. Even cortisone shots do nothing for her. The oxy makes her itchy and likely to tear she skin trying to scratch. It also makes her sleepy, thereby putting more stress on her shoulders/neck since it's laying down more.

I've asked her doctors about medical marajuana. Even though it's legal in our state, they can't recommend it as a doctor for whatever legal reasons. But in 'off-duty' conversations, they've let me know it does help many people and someone in her case would be a good candidate.

I did research with every one of her medications and ailments. For a couple years, I'm been telling her about it. She's an old conservative who, I quote, 'doesn't want to shoot the pot like a druggie'. I do love those choice of words.

She trusts me and knows I wouldn't recommend something like this without reason. I often get her to try new things and wanted to plant (heh) this idea in her mind.

A few weeks ago, an old family friend (who is a grower) brought us a gift basket of his products. Various edibles and oils. I asked my grandmother to stay overnight with us and try a small bit of brownie so we could at least monitor her that night. She tried a small bite of a brownie and went to sleep soon after.

A few days later, she said she had woken up the next day without shoulder pain and a lovely sense of calm. Nothing has helped her shoulder pain in years. She thought she was dreaming when she woke up pain free. Her next question was when she can try it again.

This past Thursday, she took a brownie before dialysis. The last hour of her treatment, she always gets extremely restless and anxious. Sometimes she gets very ill and pukes everywhere. Poor woman handles so much.

This Thursday was different. I walk in at the end of treatment to help pack her up. She's reclined in her chair with sunglasses on, totally chill. Normally she's shaking her legs/feet because of the tingles and anxiety. She told me she felt wonderful, if only a tad fuzzy headed. Granted, she got a normal pot brownie and nothing for medicinal purposes. I told her about different strains, so she's more willing to try again.

After dialysis, she's usually nauseous, wiped out, and just wants to go home and sleep. This time she asked if we can go get food. I knew she was stoned and decided to take her to one of her favorite places. She thought the recipes had changed because everything tasted so good. Sometimes can barely finish a few bites; this time she ate a whole meal. Her nausea didn't happen at all, food tasted good, and she was pain-free.

She was laughing and moving and alive again. She woke up the next day without pain for a few hours. She normally has at least 5-6 oxy pills a day. She's had 6 total in the past 3 days. Her doctor has confirmed she still has to take them so prevent cold-turkey withdrawal of course, but she'd be happy to wean off of them completely.

I know this was long, but I can't believe what a wonder cure marijuana can be for some people. Both medical and recreational versions are legal in my state and she asked if we can go to a dispensary next week.

I wish her doctors could be more help, but she's told them she's trying it and they can't stop her. They said they'll help with everything, but can't officially condone it. That doesn't even matter. I never thought my grandmother would be closer to her old self again.

I'd also like to say thank you to the trees community here because I found so many resources that helped convince her. She's kicking herself for not trying it sooner.

EDIT: Just wanted to give an overall thank you for the support and kind words from everyone.

Submitted February 11, 2018 at 03:10AM by PrinceofCanino via reddit

[angelasbryan-blog]

SCARS

We all have scars, maybe from being covered in chicken pox or from that bicycle wreck where you meet the pavement up close and personal or the beautiful but scary day the delivery of baby didn't go as planned.  No matter how we acquired them, they travel through life with us as a reminder.

I think it's safe to say that most do not have a scar that directly points to the day their life changed directions.   I do.   I see that scar everyday, multiple times each day.   It stretches from the base of my sternum to right above my belly button.  I consider it a large scar but it carries such meaning that I treasure it.   I'm thankful for that imperfection.  

This scars story started many years before the scalpel ever touched my skin.   Honestly, I don't know the true beginning of the story.  I do know that I heard a Dr tell me that I had lupus in April of 2003.  I will never forget that phone call and the fear and uncertainty that swept over me.    I had no clue what lupus was but judging by the tone of my Dr.'s voice it was serious.   For the next 7 years my days had no consistency, except for pain.  No matter how strong the medication was, no matter how good the day was, pain was a constant  companion.   A pain that hurt in the core of me.   A pain the could start out as a tiny ache and grow into a tsunami of pain that would flow over me almost rhythmically for hours...days.  Pain controlled every aspect of my life.  I never left home without my bag of medication.  My clothes had to fit just so and could not lay heavily on me. Hugs and a simply touch had to be given with the gentlest hand. 

As the years passed the pain grew and life was little more than counting the hours to my next dose of medicine.  My Dr.'s tried everything but it all failed till a simple blood test changed it all.   That blood test showed an irregularity in my liver function.   It wasn't a major irregularity but enough to warrant a second test.   BINGO! That scan found it! My bile duct was cystic (enlarged). At the time I was 33.  The specialist told me that my bile duct was the size of an 80 year olds. Surgery was put on the calendar. 

Surgery day was April 6, 2010.  I remember waiting in the waiting area with my husband and our pastor.  Looking back I know I didn't really grasp how serious this surgery was.  I was on so much pain medicine I was numb to most emotions.   The surgery lasted 8 hours.  But, the surgeon found more issues.  Not only was my bile duct cystic but my pancreas was also cystic and half of it had to be removed.   So at 33 years old I had what is called a whipple procedure.  The lower portion of my stomach, galbladder, bile  duct, half my pancreas and the upper portion of my small intestine were removed. 

Remember, I lived on pain medication.  I took 5 different narcotics daily and still hurt.   Being on pain medication wasn't a new or odd feeling to me.   It was normal.   I clearly recall briefly waking up after the surgery and having my husband standing on the left side of my bed holding my hand.   I looked him in the eyes and said, the pain is gone.   He smiled an "ofcourse it is your on morphine smile" and gave me kiss on the hand.   But he didn't understand, that pain that had been an unwanted companion for so many years was gone, really gone.

I spent 2 weeks in the hospital and another 6 weeks on bed rest recovering.   It took months to get back to a "normal" life.   Shortly after the surgery I convinced my pain clinic Dr that the pain med were no longer needed.   He carefully and slowly weaned me off of them over the course of a year.   One thing you must understand, typically a patient that is on this much medication stays on it for life. My story isn't typical or a normal occurrence at the pain clinic.   But just like the day of my surgery, I had no pain.   To this day, that pain is gone.   Yes, I have aches and I have pain. I still have lupus.

My scar isn't simply from a surgery, it's from a surgery that changed my life...no it saved my life.   Post surgery my gastroenterolgist sat me down and said that he hadn't told me pre surgery but I had only had 3 months to live.  3 months!!    I went from truly being at the brink of death to having a full life before me in a matter of 2 months.  

How is all of this possible you ask? Great doctors? Yes. Without the best team of doctors I would be dead. But I know, I watched God move my rheumatologist to run that blood test. She had already made the decision to not do the lab work and to wait til my next appointment the next month.  But at the end of my appointment she said she couldn't get that test off her mind. She had to draw for that test.   That was God!  Intuition?  Maybe. Luck? No not at all.   God's unending grace? 100% God working His plan in my life?  1000 times yes!

I am a completely different person today from who I was in April 2003.    I was given several amazing gifts. I was given years of nothing but time alone on the couch.   I'm not going to lie, some days were torture.  But I was able to spend hours studying and learning what I believe and finding out who God really is.   I also learned what a pathetic example of a Christian i had been.  God changed me and my heart.

I was also given a story or testimony showing God's grace, mercy and unbelievable love.  How did I make it through all those years of pain? Only God's grace got me through it.   I certainly did nothing that helped.  I had nothing to give.  I couldn't dress myself. What could I do?  When we all stop and look at our lives, no matter our situations, none of us have anything to offer.   God doesn't need me to be blemish free or in peek physical health.  He needs me to willing to be scarred and willing to let His glory shine through this crazy amazing life He has allowed me to live. 

I hope you understand,  my scar is my own personal picture of grace.  Everyday I am reminded that I am here for a reason. God so lovingly and graciously made me exactly who He needed me to be, scarred.

2 corinthians 12:9

And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

[diorco]

The Journey of Breastfeeding

The sensitive topic of breastfeeding has been something that I wasn’t that open to talk about. Do well and you’ll be deemed boastful and proud, don’t do well and you’ll be judged as lazy. Either way I go, people can still criticize. 

So why am I writing about this now? 

This post isn’t going to tell you what to do to increase your milk or how to build a milk stash or how to do it right. There’s already a ton of that in the internet. I’ve read too many articles telling moms what to do to be successful at breastfeeding but almost no sharing of personal experiences of the struggles and sacrifices that come with it. What I needed during my first few weeks is even just one story from a mom to tell me that yes, it is THIS HARD. And that yes, it will get better. So I now, I’m sharing my story to tell moms who are just starting off in their breastfeeding journey that yes, what you’re going through is normal. 

It’s daunting to even relive how it all went down, waking up each day with the uncertainty if I can survive another day of breastfeeding. I would’ve changed a few things if I knew better. But five months down the road and we’re still exclusively breastfeeding. What you’ll read are purely my raw experiences on the first few months of motherhood. I hope that new moms and mom-to-be’s can find strength and inspiration in my story. 

I always knew I wanted to breastfeed ever since we found out we were pregnant. My sister told me it’s even harder than delivery itself. Others told me it’s the reason why they suffered from postpartum depression. Many said it’s the most difficult thing they had to do in their life.  

Hearing all these, I signed myself up in breastfeeding classes and workshops, making sure I have the right expectations when it’s my turn. 

The moment I gave birth, Elise was placed on me for our first latch and skin-to-skin encounter. The next time I saw her was in the recovery room where the nurse had me breastfeed her. I remember seeing her latch for a second and then letting go. The entire fifteen minutes was just a repetition of that. I was worried she didn’t have the skill to suckle and that I didn’t have enough milk.

We were brought in my room together and we opted to have her room-in with us despite the exhaustion that 19 hours of labor caused us. I highly advise parents to do this! Once you put her in the nursery at night instead of your room, you won’t know the issues that may arise and better to have your baby with you 24/7 in the hospital so you have nurses to call and ask advice from. Rooming her in prepared and managed our expectations as to how it’ll be when we bring her home.

True enough, a lot of issues surfaced those first few nights. For one, I had flat nipples that made it difficult for Elise to latch on me. Imagine how frustrating that might have been for her. The nurse tried to solve this by using the syringe technique to pull my nipples out. The process made my toes curl in unimaginable pain and caused my nipples to bleed. This process was repeated every feeding time during our two day stay in Makati Med. The day we left the hospital, I had an open wound on my right nipple so we needed to drop by Rustan’s to buy a pair of Medela nipple shields as recommended by the lactation consultant in the hospital.

Elise was born 2.52 kg heavy, or should I say light. Our pedia was worried as Elise wasn’t feeding well and needed to catch up on her weight so she advised me to breastfeed and pump after every feed to condition my body to produce more. Day 3 postpartum and I was already pumping every 2 hours after her feed, while Ivan or our nanny feeds her via a small medicine cup. 

If I’d break down our routine during her first weeks, it was this every 2 hours:

Feed for 40 minutes

Pump for 20 minutes (while Elise drinks via cup)

Do other baby chores for an hour

Elise wakes up again to feed

I’m lucky if Elise can last 3 hours (counting from the time she started feeding), before wanting to feed again. Those rare instances gave me a chance to get an hour of sleep. If she’s still asleep on the 3rd hour, we needed to wake her up to feed to prevent dehydration, as ordered by our pedia. So far, this was the most exhausting thing I had to do in my 30 years of existence. 

Oh, and the growth spurts that lasted for ten days during her 3rd week, 6th week, 9th week, where she’d feed infinitely for the entire day. I’d only get fifteen -to thirty- minute breaks. We were feeding round the clock.

During the first week, I was only able to pump 10 ml or 0.3 oz of milk after pumping both breasts for 20 minutes every 2 hrs. I was worried with my output and also because Elise never looked satisfied and kept on crying after every feed as if telling me I’m not producing enough for her. My sister in law offered her sister in law’s breastmilk to help us cope. We gladly said yes. It made me feel safe though I still followed my two-hour interval of pumping and feeding to condition my body to adjust to Elise’ needs. 

Two weeks postpartum and I started feeling the baby blues creep in. Thoughts of doubt and feelings of despair consumed me. Will this ever get better? Will I ever be able to go back to my life? Is this all I do now? When will I be able to sleep again? But I pushed myself and just continued on doing my routine every single day. It didn’t help that we had small spills of pumped milk here and there. You do really cry over spilled milk, even if it’s just 5 ml worth.

Elise’ latch was still poor. It took us more than five minutes just to get a good latch. The frustration was mutual and we often cry simultaneously at the start of every feed. We are on and off the nipple shields as my lactation consultant told us we need to wean her off slowly so she can get the optimal benefits of breastfeeding without it. It prevented her from having the full breastfeeding experience and also hindered milk from being suckled efficiently.

We were following baby-led feeding and it made me scared of my own child – I feared my own child! Every after feed, for a split second, there’s relief that it’s done, followed immediately by dread & the agony of waiting for the next feed. 

Needless to say, I was stressed out. They say you need to be relaxed to induce milk production and maintain your supply. HOW?

What also made it difficult was finding the right position for us to feed. She seemed only comfortable with the cradle hold. She would always cry when we do side-lying, and it’s too time-consuming to arrange pillows for a football hold. We got ourselves a LaZboy and it’s the best investment ever.

As if it’s not enough to be drained physically, I was also mentally depleted. I read countless articles, even medical journals, to find answers as to how to increase my milk and at the same time reassurances that I won’t get mastitis if I oversupply. I was going from one end of the spectrum to the other. I was so confused I didn’t know which, from the countless advices I’ve heard, to follow. I made Kellymom.com and Livingwithlowmilksupply.com my best friends, when what really helped was talking to my husband who never failed to talk me out of my spinning head and reassure me of my daily progress. He was and is my sanity.

Cup feeding took its toll and I introduced her the bottle after only a month. She immediately took it and it was the first time ever she looked satisfied after a feeding. That day, I concluded she’d be happier with the bottle than feeding directly on me. It would be easier to pump at a schedule (my schedule) instead of waiting on her hunger to strike anytime. By doing this, I’d have more freedom and control and I can finally say goodbye to my nipple cream, the savior of my sore and cracked nipples.

The next day, we tried this. I was going to exclusively pump and just feed her the bottle. But during the first pump of the day, after ten minutes into the pumping session, Elise cried. Our nanny was warming up the bottle and she won’t stop crying. I remember feeling helpless, stuck on my pump, waiting for the twentieth minute to come so I can finally console my daughter. This happened three times that morning. 

I couldn’t take it to the point of retreating from my decision to exclusively pump and offered her my breasts again. She refused them, looking for the bottle that provided her a faster milk flow. I cried uncontrollably, hating myself for ever thinking I was okay to lose my bond with her through breastfeeding. The next couple of days, we went cold turkey on the bottle and “unli-latched” since then, and went back to cup feeding her expressed milk. 

One month postpartum and I found myself waking up each day with a feeling of doom. Is it another day of this? Or is today the day it gets better? For 3 months, the answer was always no. During this time, I was most prayerful. I begged God to lessen my suffering and grant me comfort, as I didn’t know how else to go on. Don’t get me wrong, Elise has given me so much joy and I don’t think I suffered from PPD. I enjoyed and found fulfillment in all other aspects of motherhood. But breastfeeding? It was excruciating. 

It helped that I forced myself out of the house to get some fresh air and perspective. To feel like I’m still part of society and my use isn’t confined in the walls of our home. 

The only silver lining at two months postpartum was Elise’ rapid weight gain that made me relax and bring down my pumping interval to 3 hours instead of two. I also experienced a little bit of normalcy when I get to leave home for work and just pump. Though I’d find myself in the strangest places especially when I do not have control where my next makeup job venue will be. I’d lay tissues in hotel bathrooms and sit on the toilet to pump for 20 minutes. My milk started stabilizing at 90 ml every 3 hours. I didn’t feel safe still so I continued taking in my fenugreek and malunggay supplements together with home-cooked meals from my mom like halaan, malunggay soup and mother’s milk tea from my sister in law. To have a strong support system is such a big blessing. My mom generously supplied me with all the food I needed and my sister in law who also just gave birth communicated with me each day, making sure I’m okay physically and mentally. I asked her almost everything I needed to know about motherhood.

We started introducing one bottle daily and she didn’t have a problem with nipple confusion this time. My milk supply already stabilized at 4 oz output every 3 hours.

Finally, we encountered a good problem for a change. There was no more space in our existing freezer for our milk. We decided to finally get a deep chest freezer to accommodate it and also because my first few bags thawed when our other existing freezer automatically defrosted. Lots of tears were shed that afternoon.

Three months postpartum and it got a little better. I had more time than just for a quick shower and a five-minute meal. I didn’t find the need to pump so much anymore as Elise didn’t need to be supplemented expressed milk as her weight gain stabilized. My nipples were still sore and blisters came and went every now and then.

I’d still wake up wondering when she’d feed less, and she did at just around 30 minutes instead of 40. And then, the most amazing thing happened – she started sleeping through the night! First at six hours, then eight then ten! Did I sleep straight as she did? Nope. The paranoid momma went on to pump every four hours in fear of mastitis. With one pumping session before I sleep that gets me 120 ml or 4 oz of output, then a dream feed from Elise at 1am or 2am on one boob and a haakaa on the other that gathers around 2-3 oz of milk, I was able to build a huge milk stash. 

Four months postpartum and the day finally arrived – the day when I found myself excited to spend the day with her instead of dreading breastfeeding. She’s feeding for a shorter duration at 20 minutes, still as frequent as every 2 to 3 hours, but sleeps through most of the nights. I got to relax a bit and was able to catch up on my TV series!

Just when you think you’ve got it all figured out, things changed. Elise no longer wanted the bottle. What to do with a halfway full 5.5 cu ft deep freezer? Up to this day, we are humbled to be given the opportunity to share our milk to preemies and other babies in need. 

We’ve decided to have me stay home with her as much as possible or bring her with me when I really need to be out as she now prefers the breast. You’d be surprised how breastfeeding-friendly establishments are nowadays, providing nursing stations for the privacy of their patrons. I’ve grown to find comfort in those spaces but I’ve gained enough courage now to just breastfeed her with a nursing cover anywhere in public as I don’t want to excuse myself all the time at social gatherings anymore.

Five months postpartum and she has been retrained into taking the bottle. She takes in less with it but at least she accepts it now. She feeds directly on me whenever we are home and things have been looking up lately. I’m weaning off my pump at night as I don’t need to secure a stash anymore. From 20 minutes, I only pump for 10 minutes or until my breasts feel comfortable. I’m hoping I can drop this pumping session soon without getting engorged.

She has also reduced her time on the breasts for just 10-15 minutes per feed now. Going six months, I find myself being able to do more. I’m gradually getting my freedom back, able to attend to other things than just Elise without feeling like I’m always running out of time. She’s growing at a steady pace and my pedia’s perfectly happy with her health. We get to do other things too than just feed! I’ve also started to miss and look forward to our breastfeeding time especially when I’m out for long. 

Direct breastfeeding has become easier now than bottle feeding. We don’t need to bring bottles when we’re out with her or clean mountains of bottles and pump parts. She regulates the milk I produce and there’s no more fear of undersupply or oversupply. I’m beyond amazed as to how the female body endures! It seemed easier to exclusively pump at the start as you can have more freedom and control. But I will never trade the teamwork and bond Elise and I have established. I thank her everyday for her patience and determination to stay on track with me.

Looking back, what would I have done differently? I would have trusted my body more and believed that it will follow Elise’s demand. I would’ve slept more and focused less on the output I’m getting from my pump. I would’ve enjoyed the early weeks of motherhood more with the faith that God will provide abundance when we show Him that we are also doing our part.