#am I developing early onset dementia

[juniperhillpatient]

dude I’m not even a stoner how the fuck do these things happen to me 😭 (bought a whole bottle of ranch yesterday & it’s NOWHERE like it’s literally just gone??? not in the fridge not in the cupboards just vanished into thin air apparently?)

[andiatas]

H.M. The Queen's speech at Goodes Prize Science Day, Alzheimer’s Drug Discovery Foundation

Distinguished guests, researchers, ladies and gentlemen,

It is a true pleasure to be here today with you to open this important scientific event.

I would like to extend my gratitude to the Alzheimer’s Drug Discovery Foundation (ADDF) for organising the Science Day, in collaboration with Professor Kivipelto’s team at Karolinska Institutet and the FINGERS Brain Health Institute.

Sweden is honoured to host this gathering as we celebrate the 10th Anniversary of the Melvin R. Goodes Prize and recognise the outstanding accomplishments of the remarkable scientists who have received this prestigious award.

It is wonderful to see so many leading researchers from around the world come together to discuss the latest breakthroughs in the field. I sincerely hope that this meeting will inspire further innovation and global collaboration in our efforts to find more effective ways to prevent and treat Alzheimer’s disease and other dementias.

Thanks to greater prosperity and advances in medicine, people are now living longer than before - a positive development for all of us. However, this increased longevity has also led to a sharp rise in the number of people living with Alzheimer’s disease and other forms of dementia. Advanced age remains the primary risk factor for dementia, making it especially valuable that the Alzheimer’s Drug Discovery Foundation is placing significant emphasis on the ‘biology of aging’.

This focus is essential for identifying new ways to prevent and treat these diseases. In the fight against dementia, there are many reasons to prioritise preventive measures. Any efforts to prevent or delay the onset of dementia can have a significant impact on individuals and the society. In Sweden, we have seen a great deal of innovation in this field.

The FINGER model, developed by Professor Kivipelto and her team, has gained global recognition and now includes trials that combine lifestyle interventions with pharmacological treatments, thanks to the support of the ADDF. It is encouraging to see progress in the development of new treatments, and continued support for clinical trials is crucial to this advancement.

New advancements in early detection and diagnosis will be a key focus during this science day. The introduction of new blood-based biomarkers promises to significantly enhance early detection and treatment, potentially transforming both research and patient care. I am delighted to be here for this special occasion, as Professor Henrik Zetterberg from Gothenburg, Sweden, receives the 10th Goodes Prize for his groundbreaking work in this field. Warm congratulations to him on this well-deserved recognition.

It is wonderful to see all the previous Goodes Prize winners gathered here as well. Each of these scientists represents the very best minds in Alzheimer’s research. By fostering communication and exchanging ideas across borders, programmes and research areas, they are paving the way toward the future of dementia prevention and treatment.

As everyone here knows, dementia does not discriminate – it can affect anyone, no matter where they are from – so global collaboration among scientists is essential to deliver effective solutions to patients.

While there are many opportunities ahead, there are also several challenges. I am deeply grateful for the work you are all doing to advance this critical field. I have seen firsthand the profound impact of Alzheimer’s disease. Questions related to dementia research and care have been close to my heart for many years. This commitment inspired me to establish the Silviahemmet foundation in 1996, with a mission to provide education in dementia care, and to offer tailored care options focusing on enhancing quality of life.

Over the years I have had the pleasure of attending several Alzheimer’s conferences here at Karolinska, and I look forward to hosting the eleventh Queen Silvia Nursing Award Grand Ceremony later this week.

I firmly believe that by working together and sharing knowledge, we can build a dementia-friendly society and ensure that research findings are translated into real-world applications. Alzheimer’s disease challenges us to think creatively and act collectively.

Once again, I extend my deepest gratitude to the ADDF for organising this vital event together with Karolinska Institutet and the FINGERS Brain Health Institute. Thank you all for being here and for your dedication and work in this crucial field.

I wish you a productive and inspiring conference, and a wonderful stay in Stockholm!

Speech held by Queen Silvia at Karolinska Institutet, Stockholm, on September 9, 2024.

[metanoianmayhem]

My dad is whittling down to nothing. For those of you unaware (like most of us remember who is who on our mutuals. This anciente hellscape) (yes, the extra e is pronounced) dad has early onset alzheimers and vascular dementia.

He's had one big stroke and near as the imaging shows, is continuing to have minihemmorhages.

My dad was a man of science. He grew tall in his field - helped develop new techniques and a new field. Founded a convention that is ongoing.

He spoke Chinese because he fell in love with Chinese poetry as a teen hiding in the library in Texas.

Wooed my mother by quoting Tom Bombadil about Goldberry. (goddamn you, autocorrect, let me type).

He used to go on all fours and have us (sometimes two at a time!) as little kids ride up him on the stairs. Dad, my dad, would grab the railings and shake them making elephant noises. At the top of them, he'd use one arm as a trunk.

That was how he took us to bed. Taught me how to make scones and cookies. To get up when I scrape my knee. How to kick a soccer ball. Check another player with my shoulder.

We painstakingly kicked and screamed our ways thru every math class I ever had - and he still sat down to help. We both hated it, but we knew I needed the help.

Telling my first boyfriend that what I decided about my body went after he spent the night.

Came and held me and cried with me everytime a cat died or a family member.

We weren't- and still aren't- allowed to sit next to each other at dinner because we stir up trouble.

Perpetually pulled pranks. Woke us up one cranky morning on our drive to school - by shrieking "Aliens!" and lifting them off the wheel. We both came to mighty fast at that point.

There's so many more things I could talk about on and on and on like this.

He is not that anymore. Every day he becomes a little less - like a stone worn away by the stream it's in.

He loves me still. Even when he's struggling to track, he remembers my name and calls me his boy as well as his girl.

And I get to wonder how long until we lose that.

Until he doesn't know who we are.

I wish I had something wise to say, or kind to say. But mostly I am hurting very badly and weeping because God, I miss my dad.

[theevilmaninyourcomputer]

For the past few weeks I've felt like I've been in some kind of mental decline. Stringing thoughts together takes way too much effort, and I feel weak and faint when I stand for an extended amount of time. Also, my head has hurt constantly. I mean, I've had a headache for three weeks (I have chronic migraines so this isn't that unusual). I came to the conclusion that I was just extremely burnt out, and coming down off of final exam stress. But I'm a hypochondriac, so I secretly began to assume the worst. Maybe I have a blood clot in my brain, or I've spontaneously developed early onset alzheimer's or childhood dementia! I actually cried about this to my mom yesterday and she was like, "I'm not taking you to the ER for 'brain fog'" which is honestly reasonable. So, because I am incapabale of being normal about anything, I started doing research and I realized: I am so fucking dehydrated. Like, ridiculously dehydrated. There have been multiple days in the last month where my daily water intake has been one or two cups of coffee. And fun story, my sister absolutely despises the flavor of water. So much so that she has developed an irregular heartbeat, is randomly overcome with vertigo, and has done irreparable damage to her vital organs. It's bad. She's probably going to have to go on IV fluids in the near future. Anyway, I asked her how much water she actually drank, and she was like "I don't know, two, three cups a day?" Well, shit? If she's experiencing these symptoms and drinking more water than me, then what the hell am I doing? So long story short, I probably don't have a serious medical issue. I just need to drink water. Hopefully.

Still, it's freaking me out. I keep forgetting words, like, really basic words. Or accidentally substituting words for other words. And if I focus too hard on the spelling of a word, or the grammatical structure of a sentence, the words lose meaning. When I referenced my hypochondria, I wasn't exaggerating. I legitimately do have hypochondria. So since I've noticed this, I've been in a state of constant panic. I'm used to my head being a place I can retreat into. But lately, I haven't felt compelled to invent elaborate daydream worlds or internally monologue for hours. And to combat this, I find myself straining, forcing myself to do so anyway. I miss the comfortable chaos that used to be my mind. It's too still, too stagnant. It's disconcertingly silent. I feel like something is legitimately wrong with me and I'm fucking scared. But at the same time, I recognize the possibility that I am making a mountain out of a molehill.

My anxiety always worsens during the summer. I wouldn't consider myself an extrovert (far from it), however I do need some level of human contact or I lose my fucking mind.

But still, what if this is just how my life is now? What if I'm just not smart anymore? My entire life, I've been told that my writing is what's going to get me into college. If I can't form a coherent thought, or write a sentence without second guessing myself, how the hell am I going to get anywhere in life? If I lose the ability to create, then I am nothing.

This is besides the point, but I've already made the decision not to pursue a career in writing. I think I would enjoy journalism, or screenwriting (just, something creatively challenging), but with the recent developments in AI, I don't think that dream is feasible anymore.

I'm trying not to spiral, but thinking gives me a headache. An actual, physical headache. That's not fucking normal. What the hell is wrong with me??

Anyway this blog is like, my journal now. I know that no one will really see (or read) these, and word vomiting into the void makes me feel better. It's like, the potential of someone stumbling across it and connecting that is reassuring to me. So if you see this, just...idk. Tell me I'm not going insane. Or having a stroke. Or losing myself or my mind of whatever. Tell me I'm just dehydrated, and that the world isn't ending, and that everything is going to be okay. Because every day feels like the fucking apocolypse and my head hurts so bad and I wish I could just feel good and normal and okay.

So I'll try to drink more water (like, wayyy more water) and I'll update you guys. My head feels like it's full of cotton balls right now.

Later, dudes.

[kringelorde]

I wish people talked more about what bipolar will do to you cognitively. yeah, ofc, there’s the obvious impairment to overall function bc you’re oscillating between being off the shits, lethargic and unable to do anything, and feeling you like you need to crawl out of your own body at random intervals that you absolutely cannot plan around. on top of that, though? there’s the neurodegenerative aspect.

even with unipolar major depression, there’s this phenomenon where being severely depressed can mimic mild/early forms of dementia. the memory lapses, the fogginess, the inability to really understand what’s going on around you, not being able to process information. it’s reversible... but the degree depends on how severe it was and how quickly you got on top of it.

there’s a similar kind of cognitive fall off with schizophrenia after the disorder manifests but there’s also a plateau, more or less, bc it isn’t a cycling or episodic disorder (although, obviously, there’ll be ebbs and flows in terms of how intense the symptoms are; there just isn’t the on-off, all or nothing, seesawing pattern). schizophrenics also often exhibit issues with cognitive development/function before first onset.

with bipolar? more or less, you start off with whatever cognitive development/function would be deemed normal for you otherwise. nothing aberrant. and then you get hit with the first episode and oops, there it goes.

there have been observations that suggest that cognitive functioning becomes worse and worse with each episode. that’s manic/hypomanic/mixed and depressed, any time you are not considered euthymic. it’s also been suggested that it may even accelerate over time. a lot of this has been shown in gray matter and brain density.

it pisses me off that there’s little to no research into this. hell, it’s been known about for longer, I think, with schizophrenia and I don’t think there’s too much being done there either. I had two years of extremely severe, rapid cycling, SSRI-agitated bipolar ii episodes at the very least and may have just had two years of low grade depressive episodes (depending on if I continue showing more stable patterns of functioning off zoloft that I did while on it for 6 years).

it is so frustrating to feel myself having difficulties with shit that legitimately wasn’t even a problem until this stupid piece of shit disorder showed up. I feel like I am far more incapable of things like synthesizing research, processing new information quickly, cohesive analysis, right now than I was when I came into college. obviously, not being medicated for ADHD consistently for the last year is also a component of it but I’m not terribly optimistic about this being some sudden 180 when I’m on my brutally high dose of adderall (bc it doesn’t really work for me teehee <3 but I can’t afford to try newer gen meds that don’t have generics <33) consistently day after day.

guh.

and hey, if you didn’t know that bipolar may very well cause neurodegeneration and were either waffling on getting checked for it or actually taking meds, now you know.

[txxfiles]

hello hello.

it's me, magnolia! i lost my job this month! i have been doing Very Badly (i haven't really talked about it so don't tell anyone but turns out i exclusively tie my self-worth into the value i can bring to other people so being unemployed has been... pretty rough) and have just been kinda getting very high and waiting until i don't feel like shit any more, but i am beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel!

i'm going to use this month as a chance to share the beginning of an article I'm writing about 2018 video game firewatch because i keep forgetting I'm meant to be working on it. it's one of my favourite games ever and touches on a lot of themes that are important to me, so I'm writing about them because i am a sentient being with free will. pls enjoy!

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

I don’t like the feeling of being known. 

I don’t want someone to tell me what I’m thinking or how I’m feeling. In my head, I am an impenetrable puzzle box of a person, decipherable only by sheer force of will. My life experiences are unique, irreplicable, and knowable only by me and a select few people I have chosen to let through the thick iron gate that is me. 

Which is why crying at the opening cutscene of Firewatch felt less like a moment of connection with a video game, and more like a personal failure. 

For those of you who haven’t played Firewatch, Campo Santo’s BAFTA-winning 2016 narrative adventure game, my reaction isn’t an abnormal one. This game is a tear-jerker through and through. Using a combination of a beautiful and masterfully crafted setting and incredible voice-acting performances from Rich Sommer and Cissy Jones, the game tells the story of a man who escapes into the Wyoming wilderness to avoid the reality that the love of his life is slowly losing herself to early-onset dementia. It’s an insightful look at the futility of running away and the pain of grieving someone who’s still alive.

The game’s opening montage tells the life story of its protagonist, Henry, and a chance encounter with a woman named Julia. They meet through a chance encounter at a bar, and what follows is a fairly apple-pie love story; meet-cute becomes dating, dating becomes marriage. Stop me if you’ve heard this before - they also adopt a dog, because of course they do.  

Throughout the opening cutscene, the player is offered a few dialogue and action choices that help develop Henry and Julia’s relationship. Nothing too earth-shattering: for example, you get to pick the breed of dog they end up adopting as their first big mark of commitment to eachother and their shared lives. But you, the player, are given limited agency around crafting the narrative that sets the scene for the rest of the game. A few limited choices that give you a feeling of control over the characters that the game provides you - not as people, but as agents of your whims as a player.

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

and that is all because i have not been able to bring myself to write any more because i am straight up doing pretty badly. hope you're all well and i love you dearly.

magnolia

[letterstomyabusers]

I wrote this on my Facebook to a select audience, but I am going to put it here too. I feel like shit.

9th February 2023

I’ve been struggling lately. Being all but alone for weeks, on these reduced shifts at work (actually what I was originally contracted for, but this is the first extended time I’ve worked the reality), and probably hormonal shifts (yay probable menopause and PMDD?) has done a number on me.

I’m now in the position where I don’t know if the black dog of depression is sitting on my head or if I have legitimate gripes. I don’t know if I’m just taking things personally or if I’m being hard done by. I don’t know if I should stay at this job I love or if I should leave it because I don’t feel valued. An 11c “raise” for becoming permanent feels like a slap in the face.

I also feel like I’m making so many stupid mistakes at work; like, forgetful things that I once never would have done. I’m honestly scared I’m starting to develop early onset dementia, or perhaps there’s Aspergillis in the walls and I now have brain damage.

I used to shelve things for a living, but now I’m not even sure if I’m filing things properly. Was that misfiled record card me? I was the one who wrote the note on it, did I have yet another massive brain fart?

Am I feeling anxious and overwhelmed and so making a mass of mistakes that I’m just not catching?

Are other people better than me?

Do people find me reliable?

Am I a danger?

Am I a mess?

If you’ve read this far, thank you. If you can see this, I trust your opinion and I don’t work with you.

[thebibliosphere]

I think the hardest and most annoying part about knowing the pernicious anemia ate parts of my brain (not Literally literally, but we now know I suffered some more permanent cognitive problems than was previously realized) is the random holes in my memory.

Like... people and faces. I know we’re supposed to be friends? But the connection just isn’t there anymore. Which uh, needless to say makes me feel like a terrible person and I hate it. Same with my general memory. I used to be able to look at something once and memorize it perfectly. Now I’m lucky if I can find my keys while holding them.

(And yes I know these are features of ADHD and trauma, but these are not things I was previously affected by, and we know is a direct result of the homocysteine flash frying my brain like scrambling eggs in lava. I was developing early onset dementia. It was so bad I forgot the word vampire, while writing a novel about vampires *emphatic hand gestures* get your b12 levels checked)

But the most annoying thing currently at this precise moment is having to relearn how to do my job. I noticed it last year when editing Phangs. My editors would ask me a grammar question, and I knew the words they were saying. But the cue card in my brain where the information was stored was gone. Like someone had plucked it out my head and put it through a shredder. Hilariously, for a bleak value of hilarity, I can still remember how to do it in French. So I go through this whole process of translating it in my head, then converting it back again. But that’s a slow, slow process, and it’s simply become easier to say “can you remind me...” than trying to navigate the potholes in my head.

I’m basically just bitching to avoid the grammar workbook I’m currently going through. I’m mad and pissy because I’ve already done this. I got part of my degree in this. This was my job for years. And my brain remembers parts of it. But not enough to be useful. Of course, it’s doubly annoying cause this whole thing could have been avoided were it not for profound medical negligence. Yet here I am, the one being punished.

And just so we’re clear, relearning parts of the English language is absolutely a punishment. Fucking nightmare language.

[docgold13]

On anon for… reasons. But I have a question.

I am in the UK. My mother’s cousin was diagnosed with early onset dementia, but he was (and I suppose still is) a massive bigot and I’m certain he’s a neo nazi - he hates on immigrants, Muslims, the LGBTQ+ community (I’m a lesbian), Catholics, Jews, women - almost everyone. He definitely voted to Brexit and poisoned some of my family into voting for Brexit too, by bribing them with all expenses paid holidays to Lanzarote (I’m aware of the irony). And I’m 90% sure he believes in QAnon.

I don’t feel “nothing”, I feel a bit “well, this is what you get for being a really terrible person” and I kind of worry that feeling that makes me a terrible person and then I feel shame. So I’m not sure what I feel. I haven’t told anyone this, because even though he’s hated and disowned by most of the family, he still kind of is family. So I keep my opinions to myself, mostly (the courtesy he did not afford the rest of us).

I know this is a bit of a difficult question, but is that normal? Does feeling like this make me a terrible person?

No. None of this makes you a terrible person. That is a perfectly normal, even healthy reaction to your situation.

It’s an unrealistic expectation that we should all act in this saintly fashion and be all forgiving, all accepting. This guy has been a pox on your family, spreading hateful ideas like a cancer.

I suppose it would be a little ghoulish were you outright celebrate his illness. As such, feeling kind of nothing about it is in many ways the best option.

The dissociative process, wherein we feel a numb disconnect from our feelings about specific things, is a normal defensive mechanism. And it can work both ways… it can distance our psychs from terrible matters and can also disconnect us from developments that are actually kind of positive (when feeling good about it triggers reactionary guilt).

I think you are handling all this very well and the mere fact that you are at all concerned over the matter in and of itself leads me to believe that you are very much not an awful person.

[journeyofacoupleofsteps]

1st January.

Thus begins the tentative steps into a familiar world.

Diabetes, according to medical experts, is hereditary and since my family has a long history of having it, then it would be inevitable that I should get it at some point.

Took a little longer that I'd expected. Everyone else got it in their late 30s early 40s.

I'm in my mid 50s, so I've been lucky.

But I have been surrounded by diabetes for much of my life. My auntie, my foster mum/also another auntie. My husband (we'll get to him in a minute) and most of his family.

So I should have a fair bit of knowledge regarding keeping it under control.

My mum .. was fairly easy, since I had to make sure she took her meds and stuck to a health esting plan.

She, however, developed early onset dementia and became really difficult to help. She died at 57.

I'm coming up to that age/danger zone so I won't lie when I say I am nervous. My family also has a history of dying young or young ish.

I think the oldest survived until her early 60s. But that's about it.

Anyways, that's my brief family history.

Hubby, however, is proving to be challenging to say the least. He went into full denial for the longest time. Took him 10 years to realise that this isn't going away any time soon. But he was ... and still is ... reckless.

Yes, he was bound to get it, but instead of changing his lifestyle to accommodate, he chose to please himself what he ate etc.

And fast tracked from diet controlled, to medication and now he is on insulin. I don't keep track of if he is actually taking that, because ... after years of fretting, stressing and making myself sick with worry, battling him and his diabetes. I threw my hands in the air in defeat and left him to it.

And look at the result.

Anyways. Nuff said about him. This is my blog and personal journey.

And so I intend to write down daily stuff/goals etc. When I remember/find the time.

I've been given a blood sugar machine and been told to test myself before breakfast and before tea time.

That was yesteday/last year.

My test results were ... 18 at the doctors, it dropped down to 14.8

Had dinner last night. Chicken supreme with rice. Checked the ingredients to make sure there was no hidden sugars.

Didn't eat anything else and took some water to bed with me.

Tested this morning and it had dropped slightly to 10.6

It should be maintained at about 6.6

I was told that at my last blood test, it was alarmingly high at over 90 ... the base line for diabetes is 48.

And my liver levels have risen too.

So that will have to be kept an eye on.

In this blog, I'll also log in my own personal weight loss/exercise program. Because that will help tremendously

[carmenlire]

Perfect Crime

Part 6 of the Mafia AU series

read on ao3

Alec is acting weird.

Jace watches his brother as he reads something on his phone, sees the little smile that curls around the edges of his mouth, the way the lines of tension bleed out of his shoulders for the few heartbeats it takes to type a reply to whatever was on the screen.

Trying to remember the last time Alec looked so free takes more effort than Jace would like to admit. Definitely before Robert was murdered and certainly before Alec earned his own first kill. That was over three years ago now and the truth is, Jace has become used to Alec’s constant frowning, to his surly attitude and the way he’s grown into himself since he became the leader of one of the biggest crime syndicates in New York.

Alec’s come into his own. It fills Jace with equal parts pride and worry to see the way Alec no longer seems to shrink when talking to his men but instead stands tall and uncompromising as he gives orders with every confidence that they’ll be carried out to the letter.

He makes decisions and they are right far more often than not. His punishments are meted out swiftly and without remorse and Jace has lost count of how many men Alec has killed.

There’s so much blood on his own hands, too, that Jace knows will never wash away.

Things are different lately, though. Alec Lightwood, self-professed workaholic, has started disappearing a couple times a week. An hour here, an afternoon there, and when Jace looks at his brother’s calendar, all he sees is a time written in his messy scrawl.

No place, no clue as to who he’s meeting. Just a block of time that Alec is otherwise occupied.

Now, Jace would like to think that he’s a great brother, an even better second in command. While he doesn’t go around advertising it, he also considers himself a great people person in all the ways that helps him carry out his job and keep Alec on an even keel.

If Jace didn’t know better, he’d think Alec has found someone else to temper his edges.

When he thinks about it, it’s both appallingly obvious and obviously appalling. Alec hasn’t shown an interest in anyone ever. There have never been schoolboy crushes, lingering looks, wrinkled shirts or faded marks or other dead giveaways. The thought that his brother had managed to find someone for himself now of all times, when he’s working sixteen hour days and is far more used to the shadows than the light makes Jace want to shake himself for entertaining such foolish thoughts.

But then he reconsiders. He thinks about the way Alec’s been carrying himself lately, with a confidence and light that he’s never seen before. There are his disappearances that he never mentions or even alludes too-- Jace wouldn’t have even noticed probably if he hadn’t gone looking for Alec one afternoon and hadn’t been able to find him.

He hadn’t been at any of his usual haunts-- nowhere at the gym-turned-headquarters, not his favorite coffeeshop, nor at the apartment he’d renovated but rarely slept at. Jace had just about been ready to call in reinforcements, sure that his brother had been kidnapped, when the bastard had waltzed into his office, loose-limbed and looking without a care in the world.

Alec hadn’t mentioned where he’d been, just waved off Jace’s concern with frankly insulting blitheness. Still, Jace had been stunned when his brother, the most stoic Lightwood, had started humming as he reviewed evidence that one of their dealers had gone turncoat for a police precinct on the edge of their territory.

All of which brings Jace to now. Standing outside Alec’s office door, he overhears his brother on a phone call that sounds the furthest thing from business. He’s never been so grateful that Alec prefers to keep his door ajar most of the time because it allows him to hover just close enough to hear his brother sound decidedly enamored.

“Are we still on for tonight,” Alec asks in what, if Jace didn’t know better, he’d define as a flirty tone. He stares gobsmacked at the mostly closed door. When the fuck had Alec developed a flirty tone?

He doesn’t hear what the person on the other end of the line says before Alec’s sighing. It’s not one of his annoyed sighs, though, oh no. It’s one that speaks volumes despite its brevity. It’s the exhalation of stress and tension, like he’s taking his first deep breath of the day and it’s all due to who he’s talking to.

Jace is both curious and wary.

“I’ve never had Ethiopian before,” Alec muses. “You’ll have to let me know what’s good.”

A short pause before Alec’s laughing and it’s not a polite thing. It’s full bodied and completely free. “Get your mind out of the gutter, babe. I’m actually starving and I refuse to let you seduce me before I get food. Not again.”

A softer laugh, a quieter voice, so low that Jace leans closer to the door to hear the words. “Of course I had a good time. I always have a good time with you” His tone turns dry. “That’s not the point. The point is that I have a very healthy appetite-- ruling half the city’s underworld does that to a guy-- and I feel like I could eat an entire restaurant right now.”

A breathless laugh, more fond than anything and then Alec’s replying, “You’re incorrigible.”

It’s just seconds later that they’re saying their goodbyes and Jace straightens as he runs through everything he just heard. Alec called the person on the phone babe. There was a particular kind of softness that Jace hasn’t heard from his brother in years, if ever.

Now, Jace knows Alec is an adult and is entitled to both his privacy and his own judgement. Still, he can’t deny an overwhelming urge to know who’s caught Alec’s attention in such a way. It may be over-protectiveness, it might be his own arrogance in thinking-- knowing-- that he knows Alec’s best interests but he need to check out the situation, make sure Alec isn’t making a mistake, that the person on the other end of the phone is worthy of his brother and best friend and leader, who’s deserving himself of only the best.

With that in mind, Jace runs a hand through his hair, regroups, and pushes open the office door to saunter into Alec’s office.

“Hey bro, what’s up?”

Alec just levels him with a look. “Same old shit, different day. I am thinking of expanding our lines on the Eastern front, though. Thoughts?”

Jace mulls over that little tidbit of information, thinking over their options and potential gains compared to disadvantages. “Disanto isn’t going to go away without a fight,” is what he finally offers.

Meaning back in his chair, Alec folds his hands over his stomach and when he grins, it’s wolfish. “I think he’ll lose most of his bravado when all of his men defect.”

Now that information has Jace standing straighter, eyebrows high. “What the fuck does that mean?”

Looking like the cat who’s caught the canary, Alec replies, “I’ve been in talks with a few of his people. One of his men came to me awhile ago and talked about how the boss is losing it. They think it’s a combination of early onset dementia and Disanto just being a greedy bastard. He’s started skimping on paying his men and when they get a haul, he’s taking double his agreed upon share. There’s also rumours that he’s entering deals that none of his men want anything to do with and that he’s turning a blind eye to some abuse his girls are getting, just so he doesn’t piss off his biggest dealers. Something needs to be done and his men have persuaded me that I’m that something.”

It’s silent in the room as Jace takes his time to digest everything. Taking a seat across from Alec, Jace is surprised that Alec had even entertained people from a rival organization before he realizes that he should have known better. Alec’s always been a gossip and in their line of work, things often hinge on a nugget of information revealed at the right time.

“And you’re sure they’re not just setting you up for a coup of their own?”

Alec smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’ve confirmed what they’ve told me independently and Jace--” he blows out a frustrated breath. “Things are a shitshow over there. He’s lost the trust and respect of everyone and the only reason they haven’t ended him alone is because the entire head needs to be cut off and they don’t have a suitable replacement they can agree on.”

Jace raises a skeptical brow. “But they all agree on an outsider? They all think you’re the answer to their problems?”

Shrugging, Alec only offers, “We’re the second biggest organization in the city and if we take over their operations, we’d be damned close to first. I have a reputation for being fair but brutal and it sounds like they need both a firm hand and someone they can look up to. For whatever reason, that seems to be me.”

It makes sense but that just leads to another question. “Why not go to the biggest syndicate then? Directly to the best? Why didn’t they consider Bane?”

Humming a little, Alec considers the question before simply saying, “He wasn’t interested. Apparently, he has his hands full enough and he wasn’t interested in retraining another faction to his specifications. I think he’s expanding his business interests and it’s taking most of his attention right now.”

Jace laughs a little and it borders on a scoff. “Where did you hear that? You know they like to keep their cards close to the vest.”

“You know I have my ways, Jace.”

Deciding he’s had enough with Alec’s cryptic ass, Jace just shrugs before he stands. “I say go for it if you have the time to dedicate to turning them over. I’ll help with whatever you need, but you know this is an ambitious takeover that’ll fall on your shoulders the most. You’ve spent the past few years establishing yourself, Alec. I think you’re ready and Disanto’s value isn’t inconsiderable. Just let me know what to expect when the time comes.”

Alec nods and Jace can see the satisfied gleam in his eye. “We’ll be moving forward then. I expect we’ll start the first stage sometime next month, I’ll need to hold a formal meeting with all of my men and make sure we’re all in agreement and talk strategy with the defectors.”

“Sounds great, bro.” Now, a plan has been brewing during this conversation and Jace finds himself almost tripping over his words as he switches subjects. “Can I have the night off?”

He watches Alec frown in thought. “That was abrupt. Everything okay?”

“I just have a hot date tonight. I know it’s sudden but we just matched earlier and they seem eager, so. Who am I to deprive someone of all this?” Jace waves away his concern with shameless narcissism. It’s an easy enough deflection and Alec is used to it.

“Fine,” Alec answers before fixing him with a look. “You know you don’t have to ask permission, anyway. Your time is your own.”

Jace grins. “Never let it be said that I take advantage of my position.”

Rolling his eyes, Alec just glares halfheartedly. “Get out of my office. Enjoy your date and try not to be so fucking greasy while you’re on it. It’s the world’s biggest turnoff.”

Jace scoffs as he heads toward the door. With one hand on the handle, he gives Alec his best finger guns. “Wrong. My confidence is the sexiest thing about me.”

Alec rolls his eyes so hard Jace briefly worries they’ll get stuck that way. “Leave me alone. I fully intend not to hear from you until tomorrow.”

With a halfass wave, Jace leaves without saying anything else and puts his plan into motion.

This was not what Jace had expected when he’d overheard that phone call a few hours ago.

This being his brother, always so cold and clearheaded, out on the fucking town with one Magnus Bane.

Their biggest rival and all around considered to be New York’s biggest bastard.

Slumping from his tiny booth in the corner, Jace holds the menu up to his face as he covertly stares at his brother laugh and flirt and blush in the company of Bane. He still can’t wrap his head around the fact that the man who’s grabbed Alec’s attention isn’t a harmless librarian or nerdy professor but one of the most influential, dangerous people in the city.

Jace doesn’t think about how Alec would be considered just as dastardly in different company.

For god’s sake, they’re holding hands over the table. Though Jace is too far away to hear their conversation, he watches as Alec says something and if he didn’t know better, he’d say Bane is blushing himself in answer.

They’re at a simple restaurant, cozy and charming with delicious smells emanating from all around. Jace had almost gagged as he’d seen Magnus round the booth to sit next to Alec as he explained the menu in what looked to be far too much detail.

Jace’s plan had been simple enough: make Alec think he would be busy on his own for the night before doubling back and following his brother to his date at the Ethiopian place. Thankfully, Jace could be extremely discreet when the need arose and he knew Alec well enough to hide all of the usual tells his brother would be attuned with.

He’d expected to find someone quiet and intellectual, someone Alec could enjoy long silences or deep conversations with. He had not thought that Alec would be head over heels for someone so loud and refined and cunning.

Jace doesn’t know what to think.

He’s startled out of his thoughts as a waitress walks up to him and asks for his ordered. Having not even looked at the blasted thing since he’d been seated, Jace’s dazed eyes scan over the menu quickly before ordering the first thing that registers. The waitress leaves quickly and Jace turns his attention back to the sickening scene in front of him.

Alec is laughing and looks so carefree-- more so than Jace thinks he’s looked since he was a kid. As he watches the two of them on a date, in their own little world, Jace wonders if it doesn’t make a kind of sense.

Suddenly, a lot of things make sense.

He remembers a few months ago when Alec really had been kidnapped, when Jace had arrived to one of Aldertree’s warehouses frantic and ready for blood only to find his brother not unscathed but whole enough.

So clearly, he remembers thinking how extraordinary it had been for Alec to have killed all the men and escape with a few busted ribs and a minor concussion. He remembers the shiver that had trailed up his spine as Alec had walked to the car, when Jace had taken in the carnage and felt eyes on him, the eerie whistling that he’d told himself was his mind playing tricks on him after the adrenaline surge of thinking Alec was in danger.

He should have known better, really.

Trying to resolve the events of that day with all the evidence that’s been piling up along with what’s right in front of his eyes right now and Jace thinks he must be an idiot.

He also think his brother is playing with fire and it’s only a matter of time before it burns down the whole damn thing they’ve been building since that horrifying summer night that feels like a lifetime ago.

Jace knows his brother better than anyone and even though this is the first time he’s seeing this side of Alec, it’s easy enough to define.

His brother is in love. Jace sees the brightness in his eyes, the flattered flustered look on his face when Magnus no doubt flirts with him, teases him with an ease that’s well-known and well-honed.

As he follows them out of the restaurant-- barely tasting his own food-- he ducks behind a flower bush in the park when Alec and Magnus come to a stop near a lone street light.

Wrapping his arms around Magnus’s middle, Jace feels like a voyeur as he sees Magnus wrap his own around Alec’s neck. Their voices are low in the solitude of the park, in the quiet of a night growing late, but their easy intimacy is obvious in the way their conversation flows with an ease that’s surprising before Alec is leaning forward, before Magnus is tilting his head up, and then they’re kissing.

It’s soft and slow and Jace has seen enough.

Alec has never been selfish or careless but Jace thinks there must be a first time for everything. All he can see is calculation in Magnus’s eyes when he pulls Alec closer, manipulation as he banters and flirts and wraps his brother around his finger with every word he speaks, casting a spell over Alec.

He doesn’t blame his brother for falling for Magnus. Still, Magnus’s reputation precedes him and Jace swore when they were kids, that he’d always have Alec’s back.

Quickly and with the stealth he’s known for, Jace leaves the lovebirds to it and can’t help but wonder when their house of cards will come crumbling down.

---

A few months later and things aren’t exactly going to plan-- with anything. Alec is still disappearing, still in a great mood-- unless they’re talking about the consolidation of Disanto’s syndicate.

It’s taking much longer than either of them had estimated to gain a foothold. Disanto had become increasingly paranoid and while most of his trusted advisors had been cut loose-- by Disanto himself not by anyone on Lightwood’s payroll-- and the leader was very difficult to meet with. He’d declined every invitation Alec had sent and the takeover was turning into such a headache that Alec looked ready to tear his hair out at any given moment.

Plus, Jace wasn’t blind. The past week or so, Alec had been in an even more godawful mood and he hadn’t seen Magnus. Jace knows the two are related. He just doesn’t know how.

It’s a Monday afternoon and Jace has a large pizza with everything on it and some beer and he’s ready to de-stress with his best friend. He enters through the kitchen in the back, sets the pizza down on the counter and puts the beer in the fridge before he starts toward the living room.

Alec had claimed a migraine and left headquarters while it was still morning. It’s now the early evening and Jace is ready to listen to his brother vent for the next hour while inhaling a truly horrifying amount of pizza between breaths.

When he nears the threshold between the kitchen and the dining room, though, he stops cold at the sound of rising voices.

“What are you saying, Alexander?”

Alec’s voice is devoid of all emotion as he apparently restates, “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t be with you anymore.”

Jace will give it to Magnus, the tremor in his voice is so faint that he almost misses it. “Just like that?”

Jace ducks mostly behind the kitchen wall as he sees Alec walk out into the corridor. “Just like that,” Alec says grimly. “I’m sorry it had to end this way but it's over.”

Holding his breath as Magnus follows Alec into the hallway, Jace can’t help but think that if Bane is acting, he’s doing a hell of a job at it. There are tears in his eyes that Jace just catches and he looks vulnerable in a way Jace wouldn’t guess him capable, holding himself together with a thread that’s quickly unraveling.

“We’ve been together for over a year and this is how it ends? You won’t even give me an answer for this sudden turnabout, darling. Excuse the shit out of me if I don’t go merry into this fucking terrible night.”

“Don’t be so crass,” Alec chides idly and from his vantage point, Jace thinks Magnus is seeing red with the way he stiffens.

“You don’t get to tell me how to talk, Alexander.” He laughs but it’s bitter. “Not now, at least.”

Alec’s facing Magnus-- and Jace who’s hiding behind the apparent ex-lover-- so he sees the coldness in Alec’s eyes, his impenetrable stare.

Alec opens his mouth and in a way that’s only possible after knowing someone so long, Jace knows that Alec’s next words are going to be the kill shot.

“I don’t love you anymore. I never really did, if we're being honest,” Alec says, infuriatingly cool. “You’ve served your purpose. I don’t need you anymore. It’s over, Bane, and now I’ll ask you to leave without embarrassing yourself more than you already have.”

In stark contrast to just a moment before, it’s like all of Magnus’s strings are cut and Jace almost wonders that he doesn’t just slump until he collapses onto the ground. It’s quiet for a long moment before Magnus raises his head an inch, meeting Alec’s eyes, and asks in a dead whisper, “It was all a lie? You were just using me this entire time?”

Now here’s the thing. Jace knows Alec and he knows when his brother and best friend is lying. And right now? Alec’s lying through his goddamn teeth. Jace sees the way each word of Magnus’s is a blow to Alec in the way he’s braced himself, in the slow blink of his eyes that means Alec’s thinking carefully of each word, like there’s a script he’s following lest this entire charade fall to pieces around him.

Magnus pulls himself up to his full height and Jace knows he’s not imagining it as Alec shrinks imperceptibly at what must be a hell of a glare.

“I loved you,” Magnus says calmly and when he speaks now his voice is calm and strong and carries a weight that shows clearly how he became one of the most ruthless men in the city. “I love you,” Magnus repeats and he takes a single step closer to Alec. “But I swear to God, darling, I will forget you.”

Jace isn’t breathing as he watches his brother’s face and the devastation that’s lurking just beneath the surface. Alec doesn’t say anything and Magnus steps around him, toward the front door.

Alec’s staring at the floor when Magnus stops with the door open. Neither one look at the other as Magnus serves his own kill shot. “When you first took over from Robert, I thought there was something different about you, something your father lacked. A heart.” His voice drops lower, menacing in its condescension, as he continues, “But now I see that you’re just like him. Worse than the shit on the bottom of my shoe. Not worth my time. There might be a day when you need my help, Lightwood, and I want you to know what my answer will be when it comes. No. I will look at you with nothing but pity and I will tell you to go to hell. I will happily send you to your ruin, know that.”

Magnus laughs a little and Alec shudders, out of Magnus’s view. “We’ll see if you’re as pathetic as Robert was when you beg me for help anyway. Until then, goodbye Alexander.”

Magnus leaves and Alec steps over to the wall, bracing his arms as he leans forward, trying to catch his breath.

Jace knows he should go, should act like he was never here in the first place but Alec is hurting and he’ll never be able to ignore that.

He steps out from where he’d been hiding but Alec doesn’t even notice, totally focused on what must be total devastation. Not knowing where to start, Jace cuts to the heart of the matter in the way he does best.

“You lied.”

Alec’s head shoots up and he stares at Jace with wide, red-rimmed eyes. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Deciding to play the indifferent asshole card, Jace shrugs. “I brought pizza and beer over but it looks like I missed the party.”

“Go to hell, Jace.”

Jace just lifts an unimpressed brow. “Bold words when you look three seconds from bawling your eyes out.”

Alec’s expression clears just enough for anger to take over. Jace watches him dispassionately as he takes a breath, trying to settle the rage that must have started licking up his spine. “Maybe you didn’t hear me,” Alec says evenly, pushing away from the wall and coming to stand in the middle of the hallway. “Get the fuck out. Leave me alone. I don’t need you right now.”

Acting like he didn’t hear, Jace leans against the wall in a way that he knows ruffles his brother’s feathers. “So, Magnus huh? I don’t blame you for ending things. I can imagine that’s a lot to handle.”

Alec glares at him so coldly, Jace almost rears back. “You don’t get to talk about Magnus like that. Shut up Jace,” Alec warns softly. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Jace doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything for a long minute. The two of them stare at each other, and Jace decides he’s kicked Alec enough when he’s already down. “Here’s what I know,” he starts softly. “I know you’ve been happier the past several months than I can ever remember. I know you love Magnus and that you just lied to his face when you ended things, that you ripped out your own heart at the same time. Here’s what I don’t know-- why?”

Raking hands through his hair, Alec just mutters, “I need a beer.”

He stalks past Jace into the kitchen, and goes directly to the fridge, drinking half a beer before Jace even has time to reach for his own.

The two of them sit down at the counter and eat cold pizza mostly in silence. It takes awhile for Alec to stir and when he does, all he says is, “I had to break his heart to save his life.”

Jace doesn’t react, merely asks, “Okay. What does that mean?”

Sighing, Alec pushes away his empty plate. “Disantos has become dangerous, Jace. I don’t know how but it looks like you’re not the only one who knew about us.” He swallows hard. “Disantos came to me-- you didn’t know about it because he swore me to secrecy, said he had information on Valentine that he would only hand over if he could be assured that I was alone.”

Jace hums noncommittal. They’ll come back to Alec’s lack of faith in him later. “That doesn’t explain why you think you’re doing the right thing here, Alec.”

Taking a shuddering breath, “Disanto’s been tailing Magnus and when we met, he told me that he actually has ties to Valentine, that he’s under his protection and that Valentine has access to Bane. He knows about the damned coup, about his men's betrayal, and gave me an ultimatum. Unless I call off my takeover and keep my distance, they’ll go after Magnus.”

Alec turns to face Jace and there’s such devastation there that Jace almost starts tearing up himself. “I’d rather have him alive and hate me than to not have him around at all, Jace. You know Valentine, you know what he’s capable of. There’s no way I’m giving him any reason to make Magnus a target.”

“So what,” Jace says. “You’re going to be miserable forever just so Magnus won’t get killed by a bad guy? Alec, that’s our life. If it’s not Valentine, it’ll be someone else. Magnus knows what he signed up for with this life and you should know that, too. Sometimes you can’t protect the ones you love but does that mean you shouldn’t love at all?”

“Emotions are nothing but a distraction, Jace.” It’s obvious that Alec tries to be hard but he’s still so dejected that the words are more of a plea than anything else.

Jace scoffs in his face. “That’s bullshit and you know it. Robert was an asshole; you should know not to listen to anything he had to say. What about me,” he demands. “Do you think we’re too close? That I’m a liability? That I can’t take care of myself if need be?”

Alec closes his eyes. “It’s different and you know it.”

“Do I,” Jace counters evenly.

“You’ve been my best friend, practically family, since we were kids. We always said we’d be together.”

Jace looks at him, mouth tilted in a sly hint of a smile. “Are you telling me that you and Magnus haven’t talked commitment? I can’t believe that.”

Looking frustrated, Alec snaps back, “How are you so calm about this? I thought you hated Magnus.”

Jace hums, thinking about his answer. The truth is, he’s disliked Bane since he first heard about him, especially since he’d learned that the man had gotten his devious little nails into his brother. But while Jace might not like to admit it, he’d be a dumbass not to. He’s seen how happy Bane makes his brother. He’s seen the unconscious affection the few times he’s tailed them on their dates, and just now tonight-- Magnus’s heart had been thoroughly smashed.

Maybe he judged too quickly, Jace thinks wryly. He has to wonder if he’s not letting prejudices against the Bane syndicate from previous generations fuck with the here and now.

Maybe I’m not the only one who needs to forget Robert’s lessons, he supposes.

“You love him,” Jace finally answers. “From what I’ve seen, Bane loves you too. All I want for you is to find whatever happiness you can in this life you’ve chosen for yourself. Did I think you were being reckless when I found out? Sure. Did I wonder if you weren’t thinking with your dick? Of course. But I’ll be honest, bro. I’ve known about you two for months and the other shoe has yet to drop. Especially seeing how you feel without Magnus, I’m willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt.”

“Thanks, Jace,” Alec says softly. “That means a lot.”

Then he groans. “What you said made sense,” Alec admits, which Jace knows had to be a herculean task for him. “But that doesn't erase the fact that even if I’m willing to gamble with his life-- I just made him fucking hate me. This isn’t even the first time we’ve dealt with this. Fuck, I hate myself.”

“What does that mean?”

Alec takes a deep breath. “A few months into dating, Magnus tried to break up with me because Valentine was getting to close. He sabotaged that Hell’s Kitchen project and when I confronted him, he tried to act like it had always and only been business between us. I saw through him, though. Wouldn’t let go until he finally broke and admitted his plan. We said back then that we were stronger together, that we wouldn’t let either of our protective instincts take over again, that we would talk through things. And now I did the same thing Magnus did.”

Jace moves closer, blames the half dozen beers for this turn of events. Rubbing a hand over his shoulder, Jace tries to rally them. “Well, at least Magnus will understand where you’re coming from. Not gonna lie though, you seriously fucked up.” Before his brother can tell him to fuck off, Jace keeps going. “Tell me how.”

Alec frowns. “Why do you want to know?”

“If you’re going to go groveling back to Magnus, you’re going to do it properly. I know you’ll be annoyingly sincere but Magnus isn’t a fool and he’s so angry right now that just getting him to talk to you might be impossible for awhile. So when you do talk to him, you’re going to have to lay all of your cards on the table-- acknowledge you messed up, acknowledge what you did wrong, promise never to do those things again, and hope by the grace of God that he takes you back. And from the sounds of it, you both need to have a talk and stop being such self-destructive disasters. So. How did you fuck up, Lightwood?”

Swallowing hard, Alec’s gaze turns toward the counter. He picks at the edge of the pizza box as he starts. “I guess I didn’t talk to him. That’s the biggest thing. It’s been bothering me for awhile and Magnus knew something was wrong but I brushed him off every time he asked.” He laughs but it’s humourless. “I said I had it handled.”

Nodding encouragingly, Jace prompts, “What else?”

“I made a decision alone that affected both of us. I-- I thought that I had it all figured out and I didn’t take Magnus’s thoughts or feelings into consideration.” He blows out a breath. “Honestly, I pretty much acted on instinct. Magnus was threatened and I made the fastest decision I could that would save him from harm, regardless of the consequences. It was blind panic and while I know that I can never act like that in my position, with Magnus I didn’t even stop to think. I was so mad when he pulled this shit but now I understand. I feel like such an idiot.”

Jace sighs himself and thinks that his brother has gotten himself into a hell of a situation while trying to do his best. It’s par for the course for them but it still hurts to see Alec make a mistake. And while Jace won’t say it out loud, he wonders if Magnus will ever speak to Alec again-- let alone welcome him back. It gives him hope that both Magnus and Alec seem to fuck up in such similar ways. Hopefully that proves to be Alec’s saving grace in this mess.

That won’t really help Alec to hear though so Jace keeps his game face on. “Anything else you need to beg forgiveness for?”

Alec’s expression sours at his choice of words and Jace remember’s Magnus’s little parting shot, wincing himself. Still, Alec rallies. “I guess I just want to tell him that I’m so sorry I hurt him, that I didn’t mean anything I said today, that I was trying to protect him, albeit in the most ass backwards way I could think of. That he’s his own person and I should have gone to him and we could have worked together-- and that I love him more than anyone in the world and that I’ll do whatever it takes to earn his forgiveness.” Alec’s voice is much quieter but no less full of conviction as he adds, “Or I’ll respect his decision if he doesn’t forgive me or want anything to do with me as long as he knows the truth.”

Looking at Alec, looking so dejected, Jace sighs and hauls him in for a hug. “Ah hell, Alec, you sure do know how to get yourself into messes, don’t you?”

Jace keeps patting his back and doesn’t say anything as Alec’s voice wobbles in his shoulder. “He’s my world, Jace. I thought I was doing the right thing, the only thing I could do, but you showed me I was just being a shortsighted ass. God,” he tries to laugh, though it comes out much closer to a sob. “I don’t think I could take it if he didn’t forgive me.”

“It’ll be okay, Alec.” Jace tries his best to be comforting, to be the shoulder his brother needs even as he’s not quite so sure they’ll make it through this. He’s never seen his brother so devastated. He remembers the look in Magnus’s eye though, when they kissed in the park all those months ago, when Alec broke his heart just a few hours ago.

He knows Magnus is hurting just as much as Alec. With Alec’s sincerity and the way it’s so obvious that Magnus is it for him, Jace thinks they’ll find their way back to each other.

It might take time but Alec’s always been patient and steadfast when it counted.

Pulling back a little, Jace pretends he doesn’t notice the tear tracks on Alec’s face. “Okay bro, Operation Win Magnus Back is officially commenced.”

Alec scrubs his hands over his face. “You think I can do it?”

Smiling, Jace looks at his brother. The man who tries so hard to be good even when by very definition he’s anything but, the leader and brother and son who accepts responsibility to a fault, the man who’s only fallen in love once but found a hell of a match on his first try.

“Oh Alec,” he says with a bolstering, little grin. “I have no doubt.”

[otheroutlandertales]

Anonymous said: Modern day au where Fergus and Marsali are members of opposing biker gangs.

This is the last chapter of this story. Catch up here on Part One and Part Two.

Sadly, it is also my last regular publication on this blog. I have written a longer post elaborating on that on my personal blog, but I want to take a quick moment to say thank you on here as well - trust me to go out with a bang (although, which is unusual, in this instance I say that without innuendo)!

The Borders Between Us

by @wunderlichkind

Three

She’s never been comfortable in hospitals. The harsh lighting and sterile smell, the hushed noises – all of it reminds her of too many motorcycle accidents, too many visits after gang fights, too many of Laoghaire’s diagnostic appointments. Marsali squirms in the uncomfortable chair, staring at her own reflection in the small room’s window, unable to see the dark parking lot beyond it. A ghost stares back – someone she has to work to recognize as herself. Her hair is unruly, her eyes are ringed with dark circles, her expression somber, haunted almost. She hasn’t slept in nearly two days, hasn’t been well-rested ever since she left Fergus’ apartment.

Laoghaire stirs in the bed and Marsali jumps in her seat, but her mother doesn’t wake and she takes a deep breath. Her eyes are still scanning Laoghaire’s body, taking inventory of her broken wrist, her bruised cheek, the tear at her hairline, the swollen left knee – something she’s been doing several times every day since the fall down the stairs, something she can’t seem to shake.

„Miss Fraser, have you thought about exploring other options for your mother? It might be time to find a nursing home for her, for both your sakes,“ the hospital’s social worker told her the day before, her stuffy office filled with the sound of a ticking clock. Marsali only nodded and accepted the bunch of brochures, eager to escape the too small space, the implications of considering such a solution. The words haven’t left her, though, and neither has the feeling of uneasiness.

She sighs and stands, resolving to channel her inner unrest into movement, to temporarily fill the icy hole in her chest with coffee. She takes the long way down to the cafeteria, which is closed at this hour of the day, but has a coin-operated coffee machine much better than any of the hallway vending machines on this floor. She stares at the white walls, the bland hospital art, the petrol green room number signs. She counts the steps as she descends the stairs, but it does nothing to calm her. The strain on her nerves is almost unbearable. Marsali is sure that any minute now she’s going to snap when she rounds the corner opposite the hospital entrance and almost collides with Dr. Taylor.

„Oh, Miss Fraser, you’re still here? Shouldn’t you get some rest?“

Marsali manages a wry smile. „I could ask ye the same thing, Dr. Taylor.“

The doctor laughs, a genuine, friendly laugh that shows her white teeth and the dimples in her dark cheeks. „I’m on my way out, actually. I’m glad I bumped into you before leaving, though. I’ve been meaning to tell you that we’ll have your test results ready by tomorrow and I’d like to see you in my office, say 10 am?“

She waits for the string of her nerves to snap, waits for the impact of the doctor’s kind words to hit, but instead of the violent crash she’s expecting, there’s only a feeling of surreality. For a second, Marsali has the impression that she’s watching herself from a distance, eerily indifferent to her own numbness, her own shock. She has to force herself to nod, to mumble her assent.

Dr. Taylor is already walking away, but she turns again after just a few steps, finding Marsali still rooted to the spot.

„How’s your mother?“ she asks, and there’s real sympathy in her voice, a hint of worry in her dark brown eyes.

„She’s... not great,“ Marsali answers honestly, her voice cracking a little on the last word. Dr. Taylor nods.

„You get some rest, okay? And I’ll see you tomorrow,“ she says and it sounds like an order and a reassurance at the same time, like something her father might say to her. It makes Marsali smile despite herself.

„Aye, I’ll see ye tomorrow.“

The fight with Fergus. Laoghaire’s fall. The possibility of having to place her in a home. Her own test results. Marsali’s mind is a battleground, a tangle of fear and pain and nerves, a virtual hell. It’s why it seems almost cruel, an unlikely twist of fate, when the moment after the door has fallen closed behind Dr. Taylor, it opens again and the quiet of the nightly hospital is broken by loud shouts for help.

Her body reacts before her mind is able to register the whole picture, and she takes in details while already moving; their jackets, identifying them as Hell’s Angels, the strained muscles in their shoulders, evidence of their struggle to hold up the slim figure in their middle. The blood on his face. The pain in his eyes.

She reaches him just when they set him down on a chair, one of them gesturing wildly at the woman behind the welcome desk.

„Marsali?“ he says and it’s a question, his voice quiet, disbelieving.

Her own voice is everything she would have expected it to be in her conversation with Dr. Taylor. There’s despair, terror. There are tears.

„Fergus. What happened?“

___________________________________________________________________

It seems all hospital offices are too small for comfort. Dr. Taylor closes the door behind Marsali and gestures for her to sit, moving to open the small window as if she can sense Marsali feels trapped. A cold breeze wafts in and Marsali is grateful for it; a reminder that the world keeps turning, that the seasons are progressing.

„Before I let you know the results of your blood tests, I want to go over the facts with you one more time,“ Dr. Taylor says as she sits down behind her desk, her calm gaze focused on Marsali, who just nods.

„You’ve decided to have your blood tested because your mother has early onset dementia, which can be hereditary. However, the results of this test will not conclusively tell you if you’ll suffer from the same disease.“

Marsali nods again. She knows all this, she’s had a lot of time to get informed.

„The test identifies certain genetic markers. People with mutations in certain genes are statistically more likely to develop early-onset dementia. We know your mother has tested positive for one of the markers,“ Dr. Taylor pauses and sorts through the papers on her desk.

Marsali grits her teeth together, balls her hands so tightly she feels her nails cutting into the flesh of her palms. She holds her breath. She’s aware that no matter the results of the test, she could always develop the disease. She’s aware how little reassurance a negative result really holds. But she wants it, needs it. She needs to know that she can live her life without the sword of high risk hanging over her neck.

„Miss Fraser.“

Marsali hasn’t realized she closed her eyes until she opens them to meet Dr. Taylor’s smiling gaze.

„You do not have any of the mutations, you tested negative for all the genetic markers.“

And Marsali breathes. She breathes in the cold air wafting through the still open window and Dr. Taylor reminds her again, that the test results provide only an indication of what may or may not happen. And Fergus is lying in a hospital bed, bruised and battered, two floors up, because he deliberately got into a fight with some of her father’s men. And Laoghaire is lying in a hospital bed, bruised and battered, three floors up, because she fell down the stairs to the basement when Marsali hadn’t locked the basement door. And the hospital’s social worker is looking through nursing home brochures with her father five doors down.

But Marsali breathes, and for the first time in days, she feels like the air is reaching her lungs. She feels like there’s a tiny sliver of hope. And where that tiny sliver grows, a plan slowly starts to take shape.

___________________________________________________________________

It’s raining when the procession of bikes reaches the cemetery, the roaring of motors drowning out the splatter of water against stone for just a moment before the bikes stand as still as their riders.

Black is their everyday color, and only their somber expressions hint at the special occasion. The pastor has held gang funerals before, but never one like this, he realizes with worry, when he stares at the mix of Mongols and Angel signs on the jackets of the assembled. They’ve come together, and it seems they’ve come in peace. He hadn’t really believed in it until now.

„Hatred stirs up conflict, but love covers over all wrongs. Proverbs 10:12.“ The pastor’s voice raises over the cries of heaven as the heads of the assembled men and women rise at his words.

„We lay to rest your children,“ he continues, „who, despite their youth, knew the truth of God’s word in their hearts. Marsali Fraser and Fergus St. Germain have loved deeply. Their love crossed borders, and stood safe in the middle of a stormy sea of conflict that finally consumed them. Let us remember that love and let us honor it by calming the conflict between us.“

Jamie Fraser is a wall of stone, a picture of hard edges. Claire softly squeezes Jamie’s hand, her face hidden in his shoulder, and after a moment of hesitation he squeezes back.

„Marsali and Fergus’ love has endured great conflict. It is now, on this day, reason and incentive for us to come together as they have, to cross borders as they did. May you be united in love and grief for your children as they have been united in love for each other.“

Nobody moves when the pastor ends his speech. The rain is too loud in the silence of their shared grief, too warm on their icy skin. It’s a day to be marked – the day they buried Marsali and Fergus, the day they’ve let a semblance of peace enter their hearts.

Jamie and Claire are the last to leave the cemetery. Jamie’s phone rings just when he sits down on the bike’s saddle and he shuts off the motor again before picking it up.

„How did it go?“ she asks and he thinks he must imagine the tinny quality to her voice – modern technology doesn’t bother with distance as much as the heart does, after all.

„All according to plan, a leannan,“ he assures her, and Claire smiles at him. „Ye’re safe?“

„Aye, Da, we’re safe.“ She sounds full of wonder, as if stunned this crazy plan of hers has worked, has somehow spit them out safe and sound on the other side of the border.

„Yer Ma?“

„They say she’s adjusting well. We’re going back to visit her on Sunday. I have a good feeling about this, Da.“

It takes him a moment to answer her, emotions warring in his chest. The pastor was right, he decides for himself. There have been too many wrongs in this story, too many obstacles in his daughter’s path. But however winded the way, however dramatic and unusual the means, love covers all the wrongs.

„Me too, Marsali. Me too.“

[twilight-adamo]

Author’s Notes: These Our Actors, Chapter 2: Rosalie

I meant to start getting in the habit of posting a link back to my work on AO3 with my author’s notes for Brave New World Chapter 1, but I plum forgot, so I’m starting that practice now:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/14429865/chapters/46781116

As I’ve said, this was a particularly difficult installment for me to write. To understand why, you need to understand my creative process. I tend to view writing as something of a dialogue between myself and my characters, particularly my protagonist. It’s not that I’m literally speaking with them - I speak of my characters as having minds of their own, and they do to an extent, but they’re not fully realized people. It’s more of a mental back and forth. I have an idea for a story, I begin writing, and then I just get a sort of sense that, oh, no, things actually happened this way, or that character felt this and said that at a given point. The characters tell me their own story, in a sense, once I’ve set the basic framework of the story.

Sometimes a character doesn’t want to talk to me, and I get stuck, and have to find a way to move forward. That wasn’t the problem with Rosalie.

Rosalie just had too damn much to say, and was quite picky with how I said it.

Am I entirely satisfied with the end product? No. Is the part of my brain that got into Rosalie’s frame of mind, the part of my brain that IS my version of Rosalie, entirely happy? Also no! But at a certain point you have to call the work done and put it out there, and after over a year of struggle, I was ready to get the blasted thing out of my head.

Looking at the revision history, I see that I spent a lot more time actively working on it, with fewer breaks, than I did working on Brave New World Chapter 1. I did take a six-month break from September to March, and then another extended break from March until June and July. I wasn’t doing a lot of writing at all in those periods due to the major stressor I mentioned before, a troubled organization I got involved with last fall which ate up a huge amount of my energy and mental bandwidth. Only since resigning my position with that organization and taking a step back have I found myself able to write again.

I did have a fairly complete version of this installment last year, but I’d had so much trouble writing it that I felt I needed a few extra pairs of eyes on it. I’m part of a small local writers’ group that meets every other week to share and discuss our fiction. Mostly I show them my original work, but they had seen some of my fan work before, including pieces of Out of the Blue (my Little Mermaid/Wonder Woman crossover) and a Power Rangers fic I have not yet begun to publish. Only a couple of them had read Twilight and none, as far as I know, had read As Dreams Are Made On, but I felt their general feedback might help me figure out what I was still missing.

A lot, as it turned out. In the draft I submitted to the group, there were no flashbacks to Rosalie’s developing relationship with Bella. The story focused entirely on Rosalie talking about Vera, intercut with scenes of her vigil at Bella’s bedside in Denali. I made mention of Rosalie and Vera’s little blood sister ritual, but didn’t show it; and in fact the blood sister scene and the observatory scene were a single scene, when they were about ten years old, and Edward wasn’t present. (Edward was, in fact, a very late addition to the observatory scene.)

The group felt that the story might be better served with more emphasis on Rosalie’s memories, and less on what was happening in Denali. They also felt that they didn’t entirely understand the depth of Rosalie’s feelings for Bella, and would like to see how they had become close. There were other more specific criticisms and suggestions, but those were the main issues.

So I went back to the drawing board. Even though none of the These Our Actors installments are meant to stand on their own - they all depend upon As Dreams Are Made On (and will eventually depend on Brave New World) for context - I had to admit we had only seen Rosalie’s relationship with Bella from Bella’s side, and I wasn’t entirely sure I’d sold it. I wanted to get her perspective on things. As always, she had almost too much to say.

The revision that followed involved a lot of agonizing. A lot of hair-pulling. This is probably the most technically complex story I’ve written in a while. I tried to keep the order of events consistent, always shuttling between time periods in the same order - present-day, Vera flashback, Bella flashback. I wrote the flashbacks as Rosalie telling the story, and the present-day scenes as an inner monologue. I added dates and places to try and ease confusion. Edward turned up - he was originally mentioned, but not shown - and while I didn’t feel he really fit, he came off as a decent character and I’m trying to write him sympathetically so I let him stay. I found I wanted to include discussion of Rosalie’s power, something I couldn’t really fit into Brave New World right upfront, and again it didn’t really fit but I tried to make it work.

Did I succeed? I don’t know. The initial feedback I’ve gotten is that the story is still confusing in parts. But people seem to be responding well to at least one of the parts I’m proudest of, and perhaps that’s the most I can ask.

The scene in question - Rosalie visiting Vera near the end of her life - hasn’t changed much from the first draft, if at all. I wanted to bring closure to Vera’s story, beyond the night of Rosalie’s death. I found it hard to believe she would never look in on her best friend, her surrogate sister. And, well, I guess Alzheimer’s and dementia are becoming something of a theme in my work, and writing Vera as suffering dementia toward the end of her life gave Rosalie another point in common with Bella.

As this story has evolved, I have deliberately started divorcing Bella’s story from my own. When I started writing, she was a straightforward self-insert, and the only question the story asked was “what if I found myself dumped into the story, in Bella Swan’s body and role?” But as this has changed, I’ve been trying to see less of myself in Bella, to make her more of her own person. She still has some things in common with me; one of those is that my mother died, far too young, from early onset Alzheimer’s, or as near to it as to make no difference. We never got a definitive, final diagnosis, but I watched her lose her mind, go from a force of nature to a barely verbal shell, from an independent person to someone who needed full-time care, who drifted in time and place, and who ultimately lapsed into a coma and died.

It was agonizing. And among my many regrets is the fact that I didn’t get to have an exchange like the one Rosalie gets with Vera. I didn’t get to have that final moment where she recognized me, and we talked, and I got to say goodbye. I didn’t realize that I’d had my last remotely lucid conversation with her until it was already over and gone.

So it’s a little bit of bittersweet wish fulfillment, perhaps, and a road into Rosalie’s head that I didn’t have before I conceived and wrote it. I am glad that at least some people have found it moving.

On to other matters.

The story centers on two poems. “The Old Astronomer” - one of my favorites - was part of it from the beginning, and seemed like a piece that both Rosalie and Bella would find moving for their own reasons. Canonically Rosalie did study astrophysics at one point, and Bella (again, like me) has always loved the stars. “Autumn Chant” came later, but when I heard it for the first time, especially that final stanza, it seemed so very fitting, and it gave me some ideas for Rosalie’s unique qualities.

Even in the actual Twilight books, Rosalie seems to have a uniquely sharp recollection of her human life, compared to other vampires. I knew early on that I was going to give her a power, and I wanted it to be more complicated than “supernatural beauty,” so ultimately I decided to bring her supernatural charisma together with her unusually good memory and create a new power: a supernaturally resilient self-image, one that allows her to protect her memories and sense of self from outside influence, and even project her self-image onto others. She sees herself as uniquely beautiful, she was raised to believe first and foremost in her own beauty, so others still see her that way too. (Rosalie is naturally lovely, of course, but her power gives it a little extra oomph.) How will that power change as Rosalie begins to master it and Bella helps it along with her own ability? What relevance will this have to the plot? I can only say that time will tell. But it was important, I felt, to get it down. I’ll have to find some way to work the explanation into the main story as things go forward, of course.

Overall, I sincerely hope you enjoyed most of Rosalie’s story. It’s not perfect - I don’t know if I can ever make it perfect, even if I do eventually loop back around to making an author’s preferred text out of all the Tempestverse stuff - but I hope there’s more good than bad. I have much more straightforward ideas for Callie, Angela and/or Edward, and Jasper and/or Jessamine cooking on the back burner, so we’ll see who ends up getting to go next.

[asryakino]

Ignore me for a while guys I had to take a pain pill after today’s bus rides, wheelchair wrangling and lawn mowing escapades.  

But gods does my life legitimately suck. It’s no wonder people look at me with this weird mix of pity, fear, and regret when they ask how I’m doing and I say fine.

I mean... they pry and I tell them. I tell them my dad’s been disagnosed with diabetes. But on top of that he got two bypasses within the past four years, developed an infection after one of the surgeries, had a series of microstrokes that’s left him with double vision and now he’s developed multiple infections in his foot. They’ve already removed a toe, and now he’s been in the hospital for a month with a wound vac attached to his foot because the infection just... ate away about half his foot. 

I discovered that the sight of a raw, open, wound doesn’t bother me. And that I was weirdly facinated with the sight of a live, working tendon in a living foot. 

That was a new and interesting expierence. At least I know that when the guy got when we moved in it wasn’t just a fluke thing that the gunshot didn’t bother me. I was concerned, worried, and otherwise wanting to help his wellbeing. But I wasn’t freaking out about the blood like everyone else was.  I don’t really know what this means, but I feel confident that if something awful happens, I can help without being a burden to the situation. 

My mum got a diagnosis of diabetes, she’s had it for three years, the doctor didn’t bother to tell her. the new doctor says this was common, male patients would have a diagnosis, female patients wouldn’t, for the exact same data. 

So now she’s being sent all over the place by the VA to all these appointments meant to help with the crushed certabre, the crushed and replaced arm, the heart-that-doesn’t-work, the recent stint with a cancer that the previous doctor AGAIN just.... watched, and ignored outright results saying ‘these tests were abnormal’ and he’d tell us that was ‘her normal, it’s fine’ until the cancer had already spread to nearly every part of her lady parts. So they removed everything.  And she’s still recovering a year later. And showing symptoms of the cancer having moved to other parts. But.... can’t prove it until new doctor tests for it. 

Plus she’s a 45 supporter, and legitimately has nightmares about -me- apparently taking her guns away.  I wish I was joking. I really do. She’s described her nightmares as being about me helping “some government” person to take her guns away from her.  She considered the nightmare that her guns were being taken away. I was more disturbed that her nightmare was specifically ME taking her guns away. 

The joys of living with a victim-complex narcissistic mother. Whom I am positive is showing signs of early onset dementia. Although she’s smart enough and lucid enough to seem like she’s perfectly fine to everyone else. Making it look like I’m just an overreacting control freak. 

I have to be the responsible, mature, and head of household. While not being allowed to know such information such as... house finances, bill amounts and due dates, or being given any sort of legal power to get paperwork done on her behalf. Because she won’t trust me enough to do it.  I can’t even do the same for my dad because he’s so stubborn “I don’t need help”. He’s been put on suicide watch multiple times in the past because he smarts off to the doctors.

Then, the bastard who targets my truck did it again. Broke into my truck and trashed it. He didn’t take anything this time but he seemed to be specifically looking for SOMETHING. 

I had only recently gotten to where I was comfortable sleeping through the night. I was sure he was gone. But no. Almost to eh motherfucking DAY to the last time he broke in... 

he targets my house and my vehicle. And the police are just SO understanding and helpful guys. Last time I reported him I was told, and I wish I was paraphrasing. “Well these things happen in places like.... this.”

Because we live on the edge of the bad side of town. As if I deserve to have my truck targeted. As if I deserve to have my sleep, sanity, and sense of safety stolen from me by a man the police refuse to even TRY to find. I described him, I told them where he ran to when I CAUGHT HIM RED HANDED last time!

The only reason I didn’t CATCH him and make sure he was there when the police arrived was because he threw the patio furniture he was stealing at me and hit me. He assulted me with my own fucking furniture. And the police refused to even look for him, “These things happen in places like this” 

And just to add sprinkles to the icing of the shit cake that is my life. My teeth are just.. breaking apart in my head. They’re just crumbling one by one. Because I have (among other things) a lovely genetic condition that caused the enamel to not form properly so when my wisdom teeth impacted sideways and caused micro fissures in every single tooth and then they just... kept getting bigger and bigger until my teeth are literally just falling apart. That’s a huge help in the confidence meter! I get to explain to every kid I meet why my teeth look like shit. 

the world is going to motherfucking hell outside of my immediate circle. And my immediate circle is already on fucking fire. 

I need help. I just need to get through the next few weeks. 

[eretzyisrael]

MORGANTOWN — World-leading brain experts at West Virginia University’s Rockefeller Neuroscience Institute are celebrating the historic breakthrough Alzheimer patients around the global have been waiting for.

“For Alzheimer’s, there’s not that many treatments available despite hundreds of clinical trials over the past two decades and billions of dollars spent,” said Dr. Ali R. Rezai, a neurosurgeon at WVU who led the team of investigators that successfully performed a phase II trial using focused ultrasound to treat a patient with early stage Alzheimer’s.

The WVU team tested the innovative treatment in collaboration with INSIGHTEC, an Israeli medical technology company. Earlier this year, INSIGHTEC was approved by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration to begin a phase II clinical trial of the procedure and selected the WVU Rockefeller Neuroscience Institute as the first site in the United States for the trial.

Last summer, researchers at Sunnybrook Health Sciences Centre in Toronto reported the results of a phase I safety trial showing that they could reversibly open the blood-brain barrier in Alzheimer’s patients.

The phase II procedure involved the use of ultrasound waves focused through a specialized helmet with more than 1,000 probes targeting a precise spot in the brain, Rezai said, coupled with microscopic bubbles.

“And when we put a different frequency of ultrasound on the bubbles, they start osculating,” he said.

The reaction opens up the brain-blood barrier — a nearly impenetrable shield between the brain’s blood vessels and cells that make up brain tissue.

“It’s protected on one end for us to function, but also prevents larger molecules or chemotherapy or medications or anti-bodies or immune system cells or amino therapy or stem cells to get in,” he said.

In this case, the West Virginia team targeted the hippocampus and the memory and cognitive centers of the brain, which are impacted by plaques found in patients with Alzheimer’s.

“Plaques are these clusters of proteins that accumulate and block-up the brain’s connectivity,” he said. “In animal studies, it showed that these plaques are cleared with ultrasound technology.

The first patient, a person Rezai called a pioneer and hero, is West Virginia health-care worker and former WVU Children’s Hospital Neonatal Intensive Care Unit nurse Judi Polak.

“I think that, with Alzheimer’s there’s so much in the unknown. I’ve been with health science for a long time, and I understand that we need to be able to step forward and look into the future,” Polak said.

But getting to this point was a long journey beginning five years ago when she was first diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s.

“That took me a while to deal with,” Polak said while sitting with her husband of 36 years, Mark Polak. “It was hard to say that I have Alzheimer’s. I didn’t want to be the person who felt sorry for myself and so we looked at clinical trials as a way to help not only me but other people, too.”

Early onset Alzheimer’s is an uncommon form of dementia that strikes people younger than age 65. Of all the people who have Alzheimer’s disease, according to research conducted by the Mayo Clinic, about 5 percent develop symptoms before age 65.

Judi Polak’s willingness to be the center of a study or research experiment in hopes of finding a cure for Alzheimer’s took an emotional toll, Mark Polak said, referring to a controlled drug-placebo trial at the University of Pittsburgh several years ago.

“Guess what, the drug didn’t work,” he said with contempt. “Just like every drug that has been tried doesn’t work.”

However, Judi Polak’s patience and persistence appears to have paid off. The procedure, which lasted three hours, safely and successfully opened her blood-brain barrier for a record 36 hours.

“It was opened longer than they expected,” Mark Polak said. “They were actually, I think both excited and scared. The team was ecstatic.”

One member of the team Mark Polak mentioned is Dr. Jeff Carpenter, a professor of neurology, neurosurgery and an interventional neuroradiologist at WVU.

“This is really step one,” Carpenter said of the successful trial. “This is to make sure it’s safe, and hopefully, we can decrease some of the big plaques in that part of the brain.”

Carpenter is what he jokingly called the “technical guy” on Rezai’s team with 18 years of experience working MRI technology and interventional radiology.

“It’s a combination of knowing MRI very well and also being used to actually treating patients,” Carpenter said. “This treatment marries MRI guidance with ultrasound targeting. “It really uses all the things I’ve been working with.”

Carpenter, a native of Fairmont, credited Rezai’s work and the leadership at WVU Medicine for supporting the research needed.

“It is really nice to be able to do this level of work this close to home,” he added.

The potential benefits of the first and subsequent treatments will take several years to fully evaluate, Rezai said. Two more similar procedures are scheduled for Judi Polak; one Tuesday and a final test in November.

“I am hopeful that focused ultrasound opening of the blood-brain barrier will prove to be a valuable treatment option for Judi Polak and other patients with early Alzheimer’s who are confronting the enormous challenges associated with the disease on a daily basis,” Rezai said.

Although Rezai stopped short of giving any immediate results from the first treatment, Polak said she noticed a change the next day.

“I think I could speak clearer and did not wait as long in answering questions,” she said. “Sometimes, in the past, things would leave my mind and I couldn’t remember things.”

“This is man on the moon stuff,” Mark Polak said of his wife’s success in the first trial. “Maybe we’re on to something.”

NCWV Media Business Editor John Dahlia can be reached at 304-276-1801 or by email at jdahlia@ncwvmedia.com.

[honestiaa]

CBD in Alzheimer's - From creeping forgetfulness and personality change

Many also know the term Alzheimer's under the name 'dementia', which includes many symptoms. One thing can be said comprehensively: it is a disease that is not just about forgetting - it changes the entire personality. This guidebook informs you about the illness, also known as Alzheimer's disease, and aims to convey how CBD oil may help.

What exactly is Alzheimer's?

The disease was first described in 1906 by Alois Alzheimer, who performed experiments on a brain that had suffered unusual behavioral changes during its lifetime. On the basis of the brain, he noted some extreme changes, which he subsequently documented. Nowadays, the disease, which is neurodegenerative by nature, is called dementia. It is estimated that there are approximately 25 million people worldwide who suffer from Alzheimer's disease and have to fight with a wide variety of symptoms.

Unfortunately, one fact is that the disease can not be stopped, but its symptoms are partly treatable. As for the causes, researchers are not in agreement. Some claim that it is protein deposits responsible, others assume genetic conditions. The brain, however, changes significantly in each case, so that the corresponding symptoms appear. Incidentally, dementia cannot be determined by age. You are more and more young cases that fall ill.

The symptoms of Alzheimer's are manifold

It is not uncommon for people to realize that they are affected when it is too late. The first signs, such as the ever-repeated question and the forgetfulness of where important things (such as the house key) have come, are only a small fraction of the typical symptoms. Fully mature dementia includes:

Degeneration of Short-term Memory, Late of Long-term Memory Everyday tasks can no longer be done correctly Problem with linguistic expression holistic disorientation (also concerning time, place and space) reduced judgment difficulty concentrating reduced allocation capacity (The brush is then with the butter) Behavioral and personality disorders Furthermore, a certain degree of lack of motivation is associated with it. Most sufferers retreat, develop depression or do not want to have anything to do with any other human being. With regard to the behavior, it can be observed that balanced people suddenly have a contrary birth. They become aggressive or similar. The end of the song is that the person concerned no longer needs care and support all day long.

CBD oil against Alzheimer's? - Therapeutic options at a glance Surely you are wondering if there may be some treatment options if the symptoms are taken seriously and treated directly. First and foremost, it is important to distinguish between drug and alternative treatments.

Alternative treatment methods - in the sense of self-sufficiency In the context of alternative treatment options, there is the option of strengthening the person concerned as much as possible in his daily routines. The quality of life can be increased so much and also strengthen longer independence. Occupational therapies are also included. I am sorry about Affected felt that he can still participate in the normal life, the sooner he gets along with the situation. Studies have shown that in the early stages, this can delay the development of the disease and lead to improved memory performance.

Drug treatment - is cannabidiol an option?

Of course, the pharmaceutical market also offers a lot of preparations that fight against the symptoms of brain change. As a rule, yesterday cholinesterase inhibitors or memantine are used. The former comes into question in the earlier and middle stages. Memantine, on the other hand, increases patient attention and relieves symptoms such as dizziness and restlessness.

They all have something in common: they stimulate the neurotransmitters in the brain to strengthen the signal processing and thus to allow a normal behavior. Recent research has also scrutinized CBD and documented their experiences.

Alzheimer's Experiences - How It Can Help Helpful

The fact that the effect of hemp is used in different diseases has been known for some time (for example with CBD ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis)). In Alzheimer's it can also help those affected, especially CBD has been proven by some users. The experiences speak for themselves, for some, it was the perfect option to alleviate the symptoms - even we tried it and are convinced of the overall effect. In addition, taking drops is not really that difficult, but another question was how high the dosage should be.

Dosage in Alzheimer's - How many drops are needed?

If you want to use the CBD oil drops in Alzheimer's, you should think carefully about the dosage. A big advantage is that you can barely overdose them. It is relatively harmless, so it can be partially used in pregnancy, for example, to relieve the morning sickness.

Nevertheless, it should be remembered that every person reacts differently to the product and accordingly an individual adaptation is required. On average, there is the talk of a maximum of 25 mg, which the patient should take a day. First changes are felt after about four weeks, sometimes more, sometimes less. The onset of effect is not 100% guaranteed, the attempt can not hurt despite this definitely.

Alzheimer's and CBD - A great way to relieve symptoms

Alzheimer's is a disease that can not be stopped. But there is a way to curb the symptoms by taking CBD and make everyday life more bearable. Even within studies, the effectiveness of other diseases has already been confirmed, this is only a regular application of a few drops of the oil necessary. Now try the power of CBD and give yourself some relief, because you are not alone with this problem.