#and the nurse who triaged me gave me a weird look and was like “you dont need to keep that on”

[radarsteddybear]

Whumptober Day 17 - Waiting

Fandom: Original Fiction (H.O.U.N.D.S.) Prompt(s): overcrowded ER, "What happened to me?" Rating: Teen Additional Tags: whump, hurt/comfort, friendship, found family, spy-fi, blood

Part 1 | Part 2

When Cassandra woke up, she was in the passenger seat of a standard-issue H.O.U.N.D.S. sedan.  Minnow was in the driver’s seat; they were driving on back roads, making their way back towards civilization.  It didn’t appear to be their usual car, as the various bits and bobs they’d collected over the years were nowhere to be found.  Instead, the interior was empty and sterile, like that of a rental car.

The trees rushing by the windows soon gave way to homes and shop fronts.  Traffic lights replaced stop signs, and the road became more crowded.  Cassandra looked over towards Minnow, who was glancing between her and the road with a worried look on her face. 

Cassandra had the feeling that Minnow had probably been trying to talk to her.

“I can’t hear you,” she said.  It was weird to speak without being able to hear herself. 

Minnow said something that Cassandra, again, couldn’t catch. 

Cassandra ran a hand through her tangled hair.  “My memory’s shot,” she said.  “I haven’t the faintest idea of what happened or how I got to…whatever that place was.  I can’t even remember the mission I was on.”

Minnow frowned. 

“Other than not being able to hear, though, I think I’m ok,” Cassandra continued.

Minnow said something in return, though Cassandra, of course, had no way of knowing what it was, but she could tell by Minnow’s face that she was deep in thought.

They rode in silence—or, at least, what Cassandra assumed was silence.  Blessedly, the ringing in her ears had faded.

To Cassandra’s surprise, they turned into the parking lot of a hospital.

“What—where—” she stammered.  “How far away are we from a headquarters?”

Minnow took a pad from her pocket and scribbled something on it before turning it around to show Cassandra.  Far enough.

Cassandra made a face.  “That’s not an answer.”

Minnow got out of the car and came around to the passenger side to help Cassandra out.  Cassandra considered refusing to move until she got a real answer—she really didn’t like this feeling of not knowing what was going on—but decided against it.

The emergency room was full to bursting.  The waiting room was packed, there was a line to see the intake nurse, and Cassandra could see filled beds lining the hallways past the front desk.  Luckily, the intake nurse was very efficient, so they didn’t have to wait too long in line. 

Once they reached her, Minnow did all the talking.  She flashed her badge at her, not for preferential treatment but so that the emergency room staff would understand their need for secrecy, and explained what was going on.  Probably.  At least, that’s what Cassandra assumed she was doing.

The intake nurse checked Cassandra’s pulse, heart, lungs, temperature, and, of course, her ears.  Then she said something to Minnow and sent them to wait in the waiting room. 

And wait.  And wait.

Not trusting her own volume control, Cassandra took the pad and pencil from Minnow’s shirt pocket.

Are you sure it wouldn’t have been easier to go straight to HQ?

Minnow took the pad and shook her head.  5 hours away.

Cassandra looked around.  I think we’ll be waiting longer than that here.

I wasn’t going to risk driving back w/o getting you looked at.

You could have done it.

I’m not a doctor.

Cassandra gave Minnow a Look.  You might as well be.

That’s not how it works.

Cassandra huffed.  That may be, but Minnow was certainly more than capable of basic triage.  And Cassandra was pretty sure that whatever was going on with her ears could wait.

Cassandra took the pad back.  I’ve been looked at.  Can we go?

Minnow didn’t even take the pad back; she just frowned and shook her head ‘no.’

Cassandra crossed her arms and flopped back in her chair like a petulant child.  If only the waiting room weren’t so loud and crowded.  The ringing in her ears had returned with a vengeance.  At least now Cassandra could cover her ears, though she wasn’t sure that that was helping.

Minnow frowned again, worried this time, and took back the pad of paper.  What’s wrong?

Too loud.  Ears ringing.

Minnow looked around.  Cassandra could tell she was trying to come up with some sort of a plan.

Want to step outside?  I’ll wait in here if they call you.

Not really.

Cassandra didn’t particularly want to be alone right now, and certainly not in an unfamiliar place in the wee hours of the morning.  She took the pad back.

What did the nurse say?

Hearing loss is probably temporary, doctor will look at it to make sure.

A HOUNDS doc could do that just as well.

No.

Cassandra checked her watch.  An hour had passed since they’d seen the intake nurse.  She wished she had a book or something.  Her stomach grumbled.

Ah.  Yes.  That made sense.

I’m hungry.

Minnow smacked her hand to her forehead.  Cassandra knew she must feel about as silly as she herself felt.  Any turn, even one as brief as the one Cassandra had had last night, burned a lot of calories.  The nap Cassandra had taken in the car had helped a great deal, but no amount of sleep could replace a good old-fashioned candy bar.  Or five.

Minnow stood up, clearly searching for a vending machine.  She took back the pad. 

I’ll be right back.

At that, every fiber in Cassandra’s body screamed No!  Cassandra grabbed onto Minnow’s arm and held her fast, looking at her pleadingly.  Even if Cassandra’s ears were working fine and she knew she’d be able to talk without shouting, she couldn’t find the words she wanted to say. 

Minnow looked back at Cassandra, startled.  She slowly sat back down in her chair and put her arm around Cassandra’s shoulders.  She took the pad back.

Are you ok?

No.  No, Cassandra was not ok.  She didn’t know what had happened to her, she couldn’t hear anything and had no idea if she ever would again, there were too many people around, and she didn’t seem to be getting any closer to getting seen and getting out of this damned hospital. 

But if Cassandra wrote any of that—hell, if she thought any of it—she’d burst into tears, and she didn’t know when she’d be able to stop.  So instead, she wrote, Stay?

Minnow pulled her tighter and nodded.  She took back the pad and wrote, I’ll stay.

***

They sat like that for a while.  A long while.  Some of the people around them were called in to see a doctor.  Some of the people around them weren’t. 

The next thing Cassandra knew, she was being nudged awake.  She rubbed the sleep from her eyes as Minnow handed her the pad of paper.

I’m going to see how much longer.  I’ll be right back.

Cassandra’s heart fell, but she nodded anyway.  She watched Minnow as she made her way over to the front desk, only looking away to glance at her watch.

Three hours, now, and counting.  Cassandra knew they should have gone straight to Headquarters.

It wasn’t long before Minnow returned.  Cassandra leaned her head back on her shoulder while Minnow scribbled something on the pad.  She was awfully tired and also lightheaded.  She realized that she still hadn’t eaten anything since she’d turned, which would certainly explain both.  But Cassandra didn’t quite care. 

Minnow had to nudge her a few times before she opened her eyes; she hadn’t even realized she’d closed them.  Minnow handed her the pad.

It’s going to be a while.

Cassandra nodded and settled back in against Minnow’s shoulder.  The ringing in her ears seemed to have intensified.  At least it fell away when she shut her eyes.  But soon, Minnow nudged her awake again.

We’ve got to get you something to eat.

Cassandra’s eyes slipped shut only for Minnow to nudge her again, harder this time.

I’ll be right back.

This time, Cassandra didn’t protest.  She rested her head on her arm while Minnow left to go find food.

Cassandra had no idea how much time passed before Minnow came back with three chocolate bars and a package of peanut butter cups.

After the first bite, Cassandra’s hunger became the only thing she could think about.  She devoured the rest of the chocolate as fast as Minnow would let her.  Minnow scribbled on the pad again.

We need to get you something more substantial.

Oh, no.  Cassandra was not going to sit here by herself while Minnow went searching for the hospital cafeteria. 

Cassandra took the pad back from Minnow.  Headquarters?

Minnow looked around at all the people still in the waiting room, then at her watch.  Then she nodded and stood, motioning for Cassandra to follow her.

They went back out into the crisp morning air and returned to the car.  Soon, they were back on the road, heading towards the nearest H.O.U.N.D.S. Headquarters.

Wherever that was.

But first they stopped at a diner so that Cassandra could get some real food in her.  After Minnow had ordered for the both of them, Cassandra pulled out the pad of paper.

Where are we?

Dave’s Diner.

No, what state?

Minnow looked between Cassandra and the pad a few times, a stricken look on her face.  Colorado.

Colorado.  That did not ring any bells.

Minnow took back the pad. ��You don’t remember anything?

No.

What is the last thing you remember?

Cassandra thought.  Images flashed through her head: boarding a plane, a briefing in Mr. Thaddeus’ office, being taken to some unknown place.  Then she clutched her head at the memory of an impossibly loud noise that seemed to penetrate her skull and leave her reeling.  All Cassandra wanted to do was curl into a ball and stay there until pain passed.

Minnow laid a hand on her arm.  Cassandra didn’t move.  She couldn’t, even if she’d wanted to.  Right now, she hurt too much to want much of anything.

Minnow’s hand shifted, and Cassandra was vaguely aware that she’d left her seat and had crouched down next to her.  Minnow gently pulled Cassandra’s hands away from her head and examined her face, her breathing, her pulse.  She pulled her penlight from her pocket and shone it in Cassandra’s eyes. 

The waiter came over, a concerned look on his face.  He said something, and Minnow responded.  Cassandra realized that her face was wet with tears.  She bit the back of her fingers, trying to muffle the whimpers that threatened to escape her throat.

Minnow scribbled on the pad of paper.  I asked him to bring out our check with our food.  It’ll be out in a minute.  What do you need?

Cassandra just shook her head, tears spilling onto her cheeks.  She didn’t know.

Minnow slid into the booth next to Cassandra and pulled her into her arms.

Cassandra took the pad of paper.  What happened to me?

Minnow shook her head.  I don’t know.  We’ll figure it out.  I promise.

Cassandra nodded, because that was the only thing she could do.

The waiter came by with the food and the check, which Minnow settled before he left.  By then, the pain in Cassandra’s head had lessened to a dull ache, and they both ate their breakfast in, well, silence.  Then they headed back to the car to resume their long drive back to H.O.U.N.D.S. Headquarters.

To Be Continued...

[ladywithoutababy]

IVF transfer #2, day 18: embryo transfer

Ok, we tried the thing where we had a nurse come to my hotel room to administer the progesterone shots and IT. WAS. AWESOME. So easy, so professional, she was so nice and friendly, and she even answered some stupid questions I had and gave us some tips on how to make the shots hurt less (lay down instead of standing up) and how to avoid bubbles (it doesn't actually matter at all if there are tiny bubbles, but you need to just keep the needle in the liquid when you're filling it and then tap out whatever bubbles you can). Highly recommended if you have to travel while doing shots. It was so much less stressful and upsetting than trying to do it myself. (She also told me stories of husbands who just can't handle the shots so she comes literally every day during someone's IVF cycle. Men!!!)

And then this morning I went in for my embryo transfer. Just like last time, the thing that was giving me the most anxiety was trying to time it so that my bladder would be full during the procedure (it makes your uterus easier to reach or something). The nurse who did my bloodwork yesterday actually gave me a helpful tip (just start chugging water when I got there 30 min early for the appointment), but even that is hard to time perfectly because what about the giant tea I had right before I came in? But honestly they didn't seem much concerned about it and if anything seemed concerned I would drink too much water, so I think when they say "full bladder" they just mean "not a totally empty bladder".

The procedure itself was super quick and painless, just like I remembered. I had to put on grippy socks and a hair net and walk around with a hospital gown flapping open, but that's life. They shuttled me around to a few different triage rooms and then popped me into the little operating room. I always get a kick out of how many times, and how straight-faced, they double and triple and quadruple check that YOUR NAME AND BIRTHDATE match THE NAME AND BIRTHDATE on the tube holding an embryo. You have to say your full name, and your partner's full name, and both birthdays, about 10 times. I don't know why I find this so cute, but I do. Makes me feel very taken care of. There were 3 doctors each doing various things and then another one came out of the back room and asked how I was doing and gave me a little cheer when she saw I was in a good mood. (Unfortunately, because of all the estrogen, her cheering for me made me almost start crying. But I held it in!)

Anyway then they had me lay down and put in a speculum (just like a pap smear), and then they put the embryo in a catheter and then somehow inserted the catheter all the way into my uterus (no idea how this works, or why it doesn't feel like anything), and then all of a sudden they said "and that little bright spot is the fluid containing your embryo!" And then they give you this weird picture of the embryo they just inserted and shuffle you back out in reverse order through all the triage rooms.

Annnnnd.... that's it! Now we wait for 9 days for the bloodwork to confirm whether or not it worked (and then I think there is weekly bloodwork for a while to confirm it's still working from there). They said everything looked good (the embryo thawed at 100%, my lining looked just how it should look, etc etc) but who knows. It's still very unclear what the variables are that can make a pregnancy not work at this stage in the process. I am taking it one day at a time and am determined to accept whatever outcome there is. But I am also sending this hardworking little embryo positive vibes.

[itsafanficthing]

My Sassenach - Said What? Seeing Who?

Obligatory - I’m not dead just bad at writing. I’m sure this is full of errors, grammar and spelling but.... hey it's an update.

A03 Link

“Geillis, you speak Gaelic right?”

Claire watched as the pen paused and hovered over the paperwork Geillis was filling out.

“Aye,” she said slowly.

“Could you… I don’t know the spelling. What does “Mo khiddle” mean?” Claire was certain she had botched the word and it sounded nothing like how Jamie said it. It was much breathier, but rougher (and about a thousand times sexier) when he said it.

“Mo khiddle?” Geillis repeated with her eyebrows scrunched over her forehead.

“It’s something like that. More... I don’t know… more air in it,” Claire answered, her inflection rising at the end as if it was a question.

“Well,” Geillis paused, “‘Mo’ means ‘My’ and ‘khiddle’ is’na a word.” Geillis looked at her paperwork again starting to fill in the details on her patients file. She bit her lip as she tried to think.

Claire rehearsed the word in her head. Jamie has said it to her several times in the night. A few of those times had been when he was deep asleep and her name was in the mix of the words she didn’t understand.

Claire clicked her pen nervously. Jamie had said that he “thought” he was “falling” in love with her. Not that he “was already in” love with her. In all honesty Claire thought that she was in love with him as well but she had repeatedly told herself that it was much too soon for that and she was probably just infatuated.

“Khreah,” Claire said under her breath. She was trying to get it to sound the same way that Jamie said it and she knew that she was falling short.

“Khreach?” Geillis repeated as the scratching of her pen stopped abruptly.

Claire looked up hopefully, maybe she hadn’t got it as wrong as she thought.

“What does that mean?”

“Absolutely nothin’, Love,” Claire looked downcast as Geillis continued, “but ‘Chridle’ does.”

“That sounds exactly the same to me,” Claire shrugged. “What does it mean?”

“Where did ye hear it?” Geillis asked cautiously.

“Is it something bad?”

“No, not at all, it’s just uhhh it’s quite erm, personal.”

“Personal?” Claire asked in confusion.  

“Aye, ye ken in French ye say ‘j’aime’ when ye like something, ‘j’adore’ when ye love something. But when ye… ye have that feeling about someone, ye truly love someone ye say somethin’ like ‘je suis amoureux’, it’s similar in Gaelic. The word ‘heart’ in a medical sense is ‘Cridhe’, but then when ye want to express to someone, erm, the proverbial heart it changes to ‘Chridle’. So, it would mean ‘My Heart’ but not in the sense of ‘I’m having a heart attack’, but more like… ‘you are my heart’. Does that make sense?”

Claire swallowed a few times before she could respond and nodded weakly.

“More to the point,” Geillis continued in a businesslike fashion, “where did ye hear it?”

“Oh, just… around. A movie, I think.” Claire lied quickly- aiming for nonchalance but missed the mark by a mile as her voice shook and her cheeks flushed red.

“A movie?” Geillis repeated, clearly unconvinced. “Someone said it to ye?” Geillis guessed as her pen slammed down on top of her paperwork. “Jamie said it to ye?” She guessed again, her voice rising an octave.

“He might have mentioned it,” Claire all but whispered, concentrating very heavily on the file in front of her, pretending to be absorbed while also trying to hide her flaming face.

“What did he say!” Geillis demanded, turning her body fully toward Claire.

“Well,” Claire paused, taking a steadying breath. “He said that, and uh… that he wanted to see me again, and uhh…”

“I mean, in what context did he say it,” Geillis interrupted.

“Oh, uh, he said it in his sleep.”

“So he slept over,” Geillis grinned.

“Well, yeah, and uh, he said it another time, when we were… you know… together.”

Geillis almost shrieked with laughter, “In the throws of passion then! What a poet!”

“Shhh!” Claire hissed as one of the Senior Nurses passed them with a disappointed glare.

“Ye have to tell me everything!”

“I just have,” Claire disagreed as she closed her completed patient file and picked up the next.

“Ye’ve barely told me anything at all.” Geillis looked back at her file and started to write hastily. “Don’t walk away from me Beauchamp! I want more details.” Claire shook her head at her friend, smiling, and made her way back to triage.

It made sense, Claire supposed, that Jamie would say something like that. Hadn’t she stayed awake with anxiety for an hour after Jamie had said that he thought he was falling in love with her as he was drifting off? They’d only slept together twice. Granted, she was Jamie’s first, so it would be a fair assumption that he would be confusing the feelings of lust and love, but that didn’t really explain how Claire was feeling. She knew that felt something for him, but to say it was love? Well, it was much, much too soon for that.

It all felt too difficult, too confusing, too much. And she was definitely over thinking things again. Classic Claire. She didn’t need to worry about these things; their relationship was still so new, and all things going well, it would continue to progress. She just needed to be sure that she didn’t screw things up before then.

—

-I’ve cooked dinner and I have to say, I’ve very much outdone myself. What time do you finish work?-

The message came from Jamie as Claire was opening her front door. Her stomach was entering the painful stage of hunger, it had moved beyond rumbling and was starting to feel like it was eating itself.

-I’ve just got home. I’ll have a shower and come by?-

Claire didn’t wait for a response before she was hurriedly trying to get out of her sweaty, dirty scrubs and into the shower.

-See you soon.-

—

They were dating now. It was official. Monogamous dating. It felt like it had been far too long since Claire had been in a proper relationship. She had been on so many single dates that entering a proper relationship felt foreign. At what point did it feel like they weren’t “dating” but they were a “couple”? Wasn’t that supposed to happen over several months? Maybe even a year? So why then, when Claire arrived at Jamie’s apartment and he kissed her quickly before ushering her inside to a steaming plate of delicious smelling food, did it feel like a practised routine she’d been doing her whole life? The only thing about it that had felt even remotely off was the time lapse between Claire leaving her apartment and arriving at Jamie’s. That felt wrong. It felt like she was just supposed to come home to him.

And that was - Fucking - insane.

She had known Jamie for all of a month. His apartment shouldn’t feel more like home to her than hers did. HE shouldn’t feel more like home to her then he did.

But it did and he did.

“Honeymoon phase,” Claire reminded herself. They were in the honeymoon phase where everything was still bright, fresh and new. There would be a turning point where the routine would become mundane, and there would be something about him that would piss her off to no end, but she would be in love with him and so it wouldn’t actually bother her. Like right now, he had a bit of sauce on the corner of his mouth, stuck in his stubble. She had tried to get him to lick, wipe, wash- anything- something to get rid of it, and for reasons unknown to anyone, he consistently missed before giving up and just leaving it there. He wouldn’t let her remove it either. When she reached out to wipe his mouth he dodged out of her way while laughing. “Saving it for later,” he said as he stopped her hands.

Jamie was stubborn. Stubborn about the smallest, stupidest things. Maybe one day Claire would be beyond annoyed by this. But today, she found it endearing. There were probably a thousand things about Jamie that she would find annoying in time, but right now she was looking through rose coloured glasses. And things looked good.

—

They were sitting on the couch together, the tv playing in front of them, though neither one was watching, when Jamie brought up the topic of family.

“I was wondering,” he said before pausing for a moment. “At what point in us being an item,” he exaggerated, “do we introduce each other to our respective families?”

“I don’t have any family,” Claire shot back automatically. It was an emotionless reply that she had given hundreds of times. She waited for the soft pitying voice that everyone gave her. “Poor orphaned Claire.”

“Ye might not, but I do, and I’d like ye to meet them,” Jamie said unperturbed by her abrupt response.

“Them?” Claire had to clear her throat before she continued. She was surprised by  how he had breezed past her rebuttal, though she shouldn’t have been. He never reacted the way she expected. “How many people are we talking about?”

“My sister to start with,” Jamie said. “Her husband and my nephew. Once ye get past that hurdle ye’ll be more than ready to face the rest of the Fraser/McKenzie clan.”

“Clan?” Claire repeated dubiously.

“I can trace back my family for generations, near on- Adam and Eve- ye ken they were Scottish?”

Claire snorted with laughter. “Sure they were.”

“I have a large family, I won’t lie to ye, but I’m really only close with my sister, Jenny and her husband- Ian. Ian was one of my best friends growing up.”

“Bit weird that he married your sister, isn’t it?” Claire asked. She didn’t have any siblings but surely that dynamic wasn’t usual.

Jamie shrugged half heartedly. “When ye see them together, they just make sense. I don’t think that they even had a chance to see it any other way.”

Claire nodded in response, not really sure what to say. Was meeting Jamie’s family really that big of a deal? The same woman that she had mistaken for a potential love interest for Jamie. Laughable now of course, but in the moment- guttering. Did she know that Claire thought that she was the “other woman”? How embarrassing if she did! How close were Jamie and his sister? Would he have told her? Maybe not. They’d only just started seeing each other. Why would they talk about Jamie’s dating life? That wasn’t a sibling conversation! Or was it? Claire had no point of reference.

“What’s wrong? Ye look like yer brain’s going about a thousand miles a second,” Jamie chuckled casually as he squeezed her shoulder in comfort.

“Oh, nothing, just… thoughts… thinking…” Claire trailed off.

“But yer ok to meet Jenny and Ian? It would mean a lot to me.”

“I-uh,” Claire hesitated before asking Jamie what she was thinking. “Are you close with your sister? I mean you said Ian was your best friend growing up. Are you still that close?”

“Aye, I think so,” Jamie said through a stretch. “They probably ken the most about me than anyone I know.”

Claire nodded in response, that’s what she was worried about.

“They, um, they know about us? Dating?”

Jamie nodded, “Aye.”

Claire tried to unsuccessfully swallow the lump that had somehow lodged itself quite firmly in her throat. She hadn’t met someone’s family since… well since Geillis she supposed. Nothing ever really lasted long enough or was serious enough to warrant meeting the family.

“I can feel ye trembling, mo nighean donn,” Jamie laughed lightly. “If ye’re no’ ready that’s ok. Just have a think about it.”

“I’m not trembling,” Claire retorted. “It’s just been a while since I’ve met someone’s family. I’m not really sure… what… what it entails.”

“Oh, the usual. I imagine some sort of arm wrestling, they’ll take yer measurements,” Jamie said as he took a generous squeeze of her arse. “Probably grill ye about yer past relationships and what yer plans are with me. Just normal things.”

Claire smacked Jamie lightly on his chest. “Very helpful. Thank you. Can't wait now.”

“I could introduce ye some of my mates first, but that would just be Ian and why no’ rip off the plaster off all at once and get Jenny over and done with at the same time?”

“Why indeed,” Claire mumbled.

“If ye really dinna want to, ye dinna have to. But it’s something that I would like to happen… at some time… in our future,” Jamie hesitated over the words, trying to gauge her reaction.

Claire worked to keep her face calm while her heart just about leapt out of her chest at the mention of “their shared future”. When did she become such a commit-a-phobe?

“Fine. Fine. Rip the bloody plaster off then. Yes, I’ll meet them.”

“Only because ye seem so thrilled about it,” Jamie laughed. “I’ll ask Jen when she’ll be in town next.”

—

Meeting Jenny Fraser- now Murray- was, to put it lightly, an experience. Claire was already nervous but watching the tiny woman who was at least a foot shorter than her, come barrelling down the street toward her and Jamie, husband in tow was positively frightening. The fact that Jenny Murray could command an entire restaurant into an almost revered silence by her very presence alone was, frankly, terrifying.

She pulled Jamie in for a hug before turning to Claire and, (Claire looked for a better word but couldn’t think of one) inspected her. Jenny’s face was polite of course, a warm smile on her mouth, but it was the dark blue cat eyes, so similar to her brothers but about four times darker, that, also like Jamie, were the true tell of what she was thinking. Initially Janet Murray was not impressed.

Ian on the other hand held a completely different impression than his other half. Still shorter than Jamie (though that wasn’t exactly hard, the man seemed like a giant sometimes) he was about Claire’s height with sandy brown hair and kind brown eyes. He greeted Jamie with a hug, much less forceful than Jenny’s, and Claire with a smile and handshake.

Once they had settled at their assigned table, with appetisers, meals and drinks ordered, that’s when the real awkwardness started for Claire.

Jenny updated Jamie on the comings and going’s of the village that they had grown up in. Mrs McKinnely had finally had that knee operation and was in a worse mood than usual. Alexander Poole had sold off the back half of his fathers property to a residential developer and the whole town was furious with him. Mrs McKimme (the name said with obvious clues to Jamie and a quick side eye to Claire) and her daughter were doing well and asking after him at every chance they could.

Ian managed to have a small side conversation with Claire to stop her from nodding along to news about people she had never met before.

Jamie took hold of Claire’s hand at some point and it took her several moments to realise that she was clinging to it for dear life when Jenny started to throw rapid fire questions at her.

“What do you do for a living?”

“A nurse? For how long?”

“Why scotland?”

“How long have you been here?”

“Where’s your family?”

“No siblings?”

“How do you enjoy your work?”

“Any plans for travel in the future?”

Claire felt like she was on a game show as the clock was counting down and one wrong answer would disqualify her from future dates with Jamie. She’d barely answered the last question before Jenny was asking the next.

Finally the entrees came out and Jenny had to take a break so that she could eat. Probably summoning the strength for the next round of the Spanish Inquisition.

“So Claire,” Ian said gently, “what got ye into nursing?”

“My uncle,” Claire answered quickly, afraid that Jenny would start up again. “We travelled a lot growing up and he always managed to injure himself in one way or another. It seemed like I was always patching him up.”

“Yer Uncle?” Jenny interrupted. “What does he do?”

“He was an Archeologist. A professor later in life. Wrote a few books here and there,” Claire answered quietly.

“Well known then, was he?” Jenny continued relentlessly.

“Not particularly. Unless you have a specific interest in Neolithic Mesopotamia,” Claire answered bluntly.

“And where we’re yer parents in all of this? Surely they didn’t relish ye travelling about the globe with yer uncle?” There truly was no stopping Jenny.

“Janet!” Jamie hissed at his sister as she shrugged back at him.

“I wouldn’t think that they care all that much being that they’re dead.” Was what Claire wanted to say. Instead she swallowed the retort and answered quietly. “They passed when I was a child. My Uncle raised me.”

“Oh,” Jenny paused, her eyes finally leaving Claire’s face, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Claire nodded mutely, wondering where the next onslaught of questions was going to come from. She was saved by Jamie taking the lead in the conversation now that it seemed like Jenny had run out of speed.

“Did ye watch the Wales game? I did’na think we were going to pull it outta the bag after that dodgy first half.”

—

It was sometime around when their main meals were almost finished that it seemed that Jenny had finally warmed to Claire. Claire didn’t know what had changed but it was a welcome relief after Jenny’s interrogation. Ian and Jamie were arguing over the merits of some Rugby Centre that Claire had never heard of before in her life when Jenny drew her attention.

“I- ah I wanted to say that I’m sorry about earlier,” she said quietly. “It’s just… my Braither has always seemed to jump in head first to everything he does. He’s no’ had a lot of relationships, and he’s only brought a few lasses around to meet the family, so I ken ye’re special to him, it’s just that,” Jenny paused as she tried to think of the right words. “Ian and I, we’re protective of him. Probably too much if ye ask him. Anyway, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry if it seemed like I was puttin’ ye under the furnace.”

Claire smiled tentatively at Jenny. “I can understand that.” She desperately wanted Jenny to like her, if nothing else than for Jamie’s sake.

“Aye, ye’re gracious.” Jenny blushed slightly. “Truly though.”

“I mean I didn’t say that I’d like to experience another interrogation again anytime soon,” Claire smiled shyly.

“I suppose no’,” Jenny grinned in return. “Feel free to giv’ it back to me all ye like. I’ll happily give ye all the dirt on this wee lad, including’ the time he jumped butt naked into the Broch in the middle of winter and nearly froze his bollocks off because Lisa Annister said that she’d lay one on him if he did.”

“Oi,” Jamie grumbled, his and Ians’ conversation momentarily abandoned as Claire laughed.

It wasn’t instantaneous, and it took most of dessert and a few glasses of wine, but it was there- the beginning of a friendship. Claire didn’t have a lot of friends, she didn’t need to surround herself with people, she preferred her relative solitude, but there was something about Jenny Fraser. It sort of seemed like Claire didn’t really have a choice on whether they were going to be friends or not. Jenny had already decided and Claire found that she didn’t mind that much after all.

If it was for Jamie, she wondered what she wouldn’t do.

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Better Late Than Never?

I had a few other ideas in the creative queue that I planned to do first but after watching TLC and Smackdown, this one just pushed its way to the front. Kevin is one of my long time favorites and not just because he’s from the place where I live. I seriously think that despite having been Universal Champion, US  Champion, and a major player for years, he’s still undervalued by WWE. Aside from his skills in ring, he is one of the Top 10 and possibly Top 5 promos in the world, whether as a heel or babyface. I hope 2021 is the year that he finally gets fully acknowledged. 

SO... Here’s a story featuring Kevin that’s about someone seeing just how wonderful he is. 

Pairing: Kevin Owens x reader

Word count: 3,627

Content advisory: swearing, references to sexual activity

You definitely need to be more diligent about moisturizing your legs. There’s a fine, powdery finish that lays over your dark skin like a kind of mildew or fungus and you can see a delicate web of white lines where your body cries out for hydration. You run your fingers along your tibia, wiping away the offending dust. It’ll be back in a few minutes but you like the feeling that it’s something that you can get rid of when you choose to. However, unless you plan on rubbing your fingers over your legs constantly, you need to be more diligent about moisturizing. 

It’s one of those details that’s become kind of fascinating during the hours you’ve been sitting here, getting a headache from the endless background noise and recycled air of the hospital, consciously stopping yourself from turning into one of those strident Karens who get up in the nurses faces and yell because they want their loved one to take priority over everything else. 

‘Loved ones.’

Even thinking the term makes you feel nervous, makes your dry skin shiver. You’re here in this hospital sitting vigil next to the bed of a man who’s been your friend for years, a sometime sparring partner, a frequent travel buddy, and a recent one night stand. But now he is very much a loved one and you wish he’d wake up from his medicated slumber so you could tell him. 

“I love you, Kevin Owens.”

There are a lot of visible welts and bruises on his skin. There’s a contusion on his cheek that’s so swollen it looks like someone’s inserted a balloon under his skin, a bruise so dark you can see it through his beard, and various ugly yellow and purple marks all the way down his torso. You know because, after the nurse had left the two of you alone, you lifted up his chintzy medical gown to survey the damage. 

You were allowed to do that, you figured. That’s one of the things that couples who loved each other never had to be shy about: showing their ugly parts and imperfections. If he would just wake up, you’d be happy to show him how dry and dusty your skin had gotten. If he’d just wake up. 

More concerning than the bruises are the split on his wrist and the bandaged ankle that’s been elevated to reduce the swelling, and the two dislocated ribs. Those are things that can put a wrestler on the shelf for months. You know, because you’re just getting the chance to get back in the ring yourself after you somehow managed to break your ankle in two places at once jumping from the top rope to the floor, a move you’d done a hundred thousand times without incident. You don’t want that for Kevin, not when he’s been on such an upward trajectory lately, not while he’s been so able to remind the powers that be of what an incredible talent he is. That ankle is already held together with Mac-Tac and positive thinking. It would break both your hearts to see him sidelined now. 

That’s how a woman in love reacts under these circumstances, you think. When her man is threatened, she becomes dangerously protective. She’d do anything possible and probably a few things that aren’t in order to save the person she’s in love with. And if the bastard would just wake up for a few seconds, you’d say that. 

Tenderly, you run your fingernails through the wiry scruff of his beard, careful to avoid touching the bruised skin. You let one finger, your so-called ring finger (that’s never had a ring on it) over the corner of his lips. You consciously choose that finger because the human body exerts the least pressure on it. You want him to wake up but not because you’re poking at him. But you can’t resist touching him a little. 

Even when you and Jey had been together, you and Kevin had been affectionate. It was one of the many points of conflict that you’d had with Jey, along with the fact that you swore so much that he was worried about introducing you to his mother, that you were a shit cook, and that your parents’ marriage had made you extremely dubious about the whole concept. 

You might consider marrying Kevon Owens, though, because he thought it was funny that you swore, that you had a tendency to drool in your sleep, who thought you were beautiful when you woke up even though you had crusts in your eyes, who was fine with ordering takeout or trying to cook something together that occasionally worked out. 

And maybe he would have asked if you hadn’t been so weird about everything. That was on you. 

You wouldn’t have described Kevin as one of your closest friends but he was definitely a guy you got along with, dating back to before you’d both signed to WWE. You’d even fought each other a couple of times, the last one being a PWG event where you’d failed to tuck your head up properly taking his signature package piledriver and ended up with a concussion. 

He’d apologized every time he saw you for six months, even after you were both in NXT, until you’d finally figured out a way to assuage his guilt about the whole incident. 

“You don’t need to keep apologizing, big boy,” you’d cooed, “just because I couldn’t handle your package.”

Then that had become a huge joke between you, and everyone assumed it meant that something had happened, that the two of you had done the horizontal mambo and were trying to get over it. You’d almost felt offended because you knew Kevin wasn’t exactly thought of as a hot property. At the same time, there was something about his rough persona, the character of a guy who’d just take what he wanted that made you think of what it would feel like for him to grab your wrists and pin you to the bed and…

Well, the two of you were always just friends. You were both experts at banter and setting the other up for funny lines. And you even found it easy to travel together, which coworkers found pretty remarkable. 

Normally, Kevin traveled with Sami, and if Sami wasn’t available, he traveled alone. But he’d come to accept you because he’d realized that any kind of travel put you to sleep almost immediately, which meant that he could have the peace he wanted and you could sleep without the guilt that other travel partners gave you for not doing your share of the driving, or at least being good enough company to keep them awake and alert by being good company. 

An announcement sounds, exceptionally loud as they all seem to be, over the internal broadcast system. 

“Housekeeping to triage with a wet mop and a bucket!”

You don’t even want to think what that means, but Kevin stirs just the tiniest bit and you’re excited that he might actually be coming out of it. Without even thinking about it, you lean over and press a soft kiss to his cheek, close to his lips, like he’s Sleeping Beauty and you’re Prince Charming. 

His facial muscles twitch a little but he remains unconscious. You are not Prince Charming. 

About a year ago, you’d started dating Jey Uso. He was so incredibly hot to you that you could barely stand to look at him. He’d joked around with you all the time and rather than come up with your usual retorts, you’d been unable to do anything but giggle uncomfortably. Naomi, who was your closest friend at the time, had sworn up and down that the two of you were perfect for each other. 

“Everything that I think makes Jey a dick compared to Jimmy to me makes it like he was meant for you,” she’d gushed. 

And she was right. After half a dozen times she’d insisted you ride with them (which had forced you to stay awake), made you eat with them, gotten you to hang out with them, you were totally smitten and you had a pretty good notion the sentiment was mutual. One night, the four of you had gone bowling and you and Jey had just spontaneously started making out. Considering it was girls against boys, it had kind of ruined bowling night. No one had cared. 

After that, you’d seen Kevin a lot less. You were a couple and you were more or less connected at the hip to another couple. But after eight or nine months things had started to go sour. And then Naomi and Jimmy got sidelined and it became obvious that you and Jey had stayed cool more or less for their benefit. 

You’d been the one to end things. He’d been adamant that what you had was worth fighting for, whereas you knew that the two of you were just too different to mesh in the long term. Being funny and being wrestlers wasn’t enough. It had felt unreal that he’d fought so hard to stop you from leaving him when he hadn’t seemed that happy having you with him. Sometimes, you’d wanted to relent because the good times with him had been some of the happiest of your life. Sometimes, you’d wanted to relent because sex with him had been amazing. But you’d managed to stand your ground, even though your ground left you pretty lonely. 

It wasn’t that Naomi didn’t understand, but once you’d broken up with Jey, things with her became awkward. And you were suddenly on lousy terms with Jimmy, who’d been a pal to you. Other friends were hard to talk to because you’d basically dropped them when you’d hooked up with Jey. But Kevin was happy to welcome you back. The two of you fell into the easy, comic interaction you’d had before and it was the first time in months you’d felt like yourself. 

A couple of weeks ago, it had gotten weird. Well, not weird. It had gotten sexual. You and Kevin had been excited about the fact that you both had matches on TLC, the first time you'd been on the same PPV. You’d started with actual champagne, or at least whatever sparkling wine the restaurant had in your price range. Then you’d moved on to real wine for your celebratory dinner. Then there was this amazing cocktail bar that had materialized right across the street from your restaurant and it wasn’t like either of you was tired. 

You’d been the one to make the move. You’d had a hunch that at some point, Kevin had developed a crush on you, something that had been put on ice during the time you’d been with Jey, but that had started to thaw in the time the two of you had been back to your old ways. You were two drinks into sampling what the cocktail bar had to offer when you’d dove in, smashing your mouth against his and pressing your tongue into his astonished mouth. The two of you had actually ordered a third round but had barely touched the glasses because you were all over each other, making out like horny teenagers before it occurred to you that you could just go back to your hotel and fuck like you were both so eager to do. 

And fuck you had. Everything between the bar and being in the hotel room naked was a blur, aside from the fact that you’d been going at it so heavily in the back seat of the cab that the driver got irritated and threatened to throw you out. You’d had a jubilant time throwing each other from one position to another and it seemed like Kevin had made you cum in every single one of them. And yet nothing had been so satisfying as looking at his face when he finally orgasmed, like every part of him, body and soul, released at once. You’d pretty much passed out together, embracing. 

When you saw him the next day at the Performance Center, he’d wrapped his arms around you and tried to kiss you in full view of other NXT and WWE personnel. You’d twisted away from him, unsure of what you wanted to do, but knowing you weren’t comfortable just having some new relationship in your life announced to the world without so much as a conversation. 

“Sorry,” Kevin had said, head bowed, “was that not ok?”

“No it wasn’t ok,” you responded tartly. “I never said we were a couple or anything. We fucked. We’re friends and we fucked once. That’s it.”

Kevin nodded but it looked more like his head was bobbling after a hard kick. He’d slunk away and the two of you hadn’t seen much of each other in the days since. You’d wanted to talk to him but it seemed like every time you got close to him, he’d run away or rush to the safety of a group of male friends. 

At first, you’d told yourself that you just wanted to tell him that you wanted things to go back to normal, but as you thought about things going back to normal, you realized that wasn’t what you wanted at all. Then, on the Friday night before TLC, looking at him as he staggered to the ring and declared to Roman Reigns that he’d take the WWE Universal Title or die trying, you’d realized that you were in love with him. You’d rushed to find him afterward but somehow, he’d eluded your grasp. But the thought remained at the front of your mind: you were completely in love with Kevin Owens. 

It had pained you seeing the beating that he took at the hands of Roman and Jey. In theory, Jey was attacking Kevin to ensure that Roman, the head of his tribe, won. In reality, you knew that Jey was dishing out extra punishment because he believed that you’d broken up with him for Kevin. Ok, you had to admit that maybe he’d picked up on something you hadn’t. But it killed you seeing Kevin suffer because of it. 

After the match, Kevin had once again eluded you, but that Friday, when he was helped away from his match, bleeding and bitter, you’d been waiting at the top of the ramp. You’d tagged along as they’d laid him onto the stretcher and attached an oxygen mask because they weren’t sure he was breathing properly on his own. And when the EMTs had asked if you were his significant other, you’d immediately nodded and jumped into the ambulance. Kevin had just enough time to look confused about your presence before the IV full of painkillers did its work and he slipped into blissful oblivion. 

They’d kept him medicated while they did various scans and scopes to evaluate the extent of the damage he’d suffered. And so, hours later, you were still perched at his side, waiting for him to come around. The doctor had insisted that he was better off asleep since that allowed him to rest and heal. You nodded in understanding, even as you imagined yourself shutting the IV drop off so that you could wake him up and let him know what you were feeling. 

You’d memorized every crack in the institutional-standard paint, every scratch on the tile floor, every nuance of the voice that periodically crackled over the loudspeaker, but you were determined that you were going to stay in place. You were going to tell Kevin Owens that you loved him the second he woke up and if he recoiled the way that you had when he’d tried to hug you. 

After about a hundred and thirty-eight years, his eyelids flutter and his brown eyes open, still glazed with drugs. It takes a couple of minutes before he registers where he is and who you are and what’s happened. 

“How bad is it?” he croaks, his throat crackling from dryness.

You pick up the plastic cup of water on the tray next to the bed and push the attached straw to his lips. He obediently sips, his eyes focusing on you as he recovers himself. 

“You took a lot of hits. You weren’t really up to the cage match. So it’s not great,” you inform him. 

He twists away from the straw and stares at the ceiling. 

“I’ll be fine,” he groans, his neck muscles tensing. “I always am.”

“Yeah, well you’re not going to be fine for a while. So just drink water and relax.”

“I don’t know why you’re here. You don’t need to feel guilty because your boyfriend fucked me up and fucked me over. You can go home.”

“He’s my ex-boyfriend. And I’m not here because of him. I’m here because of you.” You gulp, realizing that your moment has come. “Because I love you.”

Kevin grimaces and his eyes flit towards you but he angles his head away. 

He thinks you mean it like a friend, you guess. He doesn’t understand what you’ve just said. You grab his hand and pull yourself closer to him, so that you’re leaning halfway onto the narrow bed with him. 

“I love you, Kevin. And I’m sorry I was stupid when you tried to hug me and I’m sorry that I’ve been stupid and haven’t realized it before. But I really love you.”

He doesn’t say anything but he looks at you with an expression of innocence and surprise and he pulls on you a little so that you’re forced to crawl onto the bed with him.

“I’ve been sitting here for about eight hours trying to figure out some wonderful way to say this to you,” you whine. “But now my ass is asleep and my eyes are burning and I can’t think of any other thing to say. I love you. I don’t know how long I’ve felt this way and I don’t know why I never acted on it. I just need you to understand-”

“Ok, ok, I get it,” he says with a sigh. “You love me. That’s great. I love you too.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I’m the one who thought it meant something when we had sex, remember?”

“Hey,” you retort, placing your hand against his jaw and turning him to face you, “I did too. I just didn’t understand what it meant at first.”

Your lips come together softly and then urgently, until he twists away. 

“Ow,” he says, rubbing at his jaw. 

“Yeah, you definitely took a hit there.”

“You know, every time I hit Jey, I was thinking of you.”

“You know, everyone thinks you deserve to be the champion, but me most of all.”

Giving him a coquettish smile, you allow your hand to trail down to his thigh, curving towards the inner part. You can immediately feel a twitch from the one part of him that is definitely not injured. 

Sliding your hand under the thin fabric of his robe, you take hold of his member, already semi-erect, and begin stroking it, swirling your hand over the head and trailing your finger down the sensitive seam, reveling in the grunts and hums of pleasure this elicits from him. 

“What do you think you’re doing?!”

the sharp cry startles both of you enough that you sit up a little. The nurse, a middle-aged woman with wispy grey-brown hair pulled back from her care-worn face, stares furiously at both of you. 

“You can’t be doing anything like that,” she says sharply. “And you can’t just go climbing on the bed.”

Face burning, you slide back into your chair. 

“Now sir,” she says, haughtily turning her attention solely to Kevin and averting her gaze from the visible bulge under the thin bed sheet, “how would you describe your pain?”

“Painful,” Kevin quips, making you giggle a little. 

“On a scale of one to ten,” she snaps. 

“I’m a professional wrestler, so I’d say five was a normal day. Let’s call this a seven and a half.”

“So would you like the doctor to increase your dose of painkillers?”

“No,” he says thoughtfully. “I’d like the doctor to say it’s ok for my girlfriend to curl up in bed with me and take care of me.”

You smile broadly the second you hear him call you his girlfriend. 

The nurse rolls her eyes and walks away but as she does, both of you notice her covering her mouth to conceal how hard she’s laughing. Without even thinking, you clasp hands and as you watch her leave the room, you turn to look at each other. 

“You mean it?” you ask him. 

“Mean what?”

“That I’m your girlfriend.”

“Is there something else you wanna be?”

“I just want to be the woman you’re in love with and the one who you want to come home to.”

“Well that’s a given.”

You lean in and kiss his cheek. 

“Ow.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I hit a bruise.”

You let your lips trail over to his eyebrow and press a kiss there. 

“Ow.”

“I didn’t notice the cut,” you gush apologetically. 

He squeezes your hand and smiles at you, full of his incredible warmth, even though it’s tempered by the drugs he’s receiving. 

“Well I love you,” he sighs. “And don’t you worry. I’m about a half a CC of this juice from dragging you onto this bed and having my way with you.” 

You wind your hand and arm around his, so that you can pull him close enough for a kiss. 

“I hope they up your medication,” you murmur, “just so that I can make you relax while I show you everything I want to do to you.”

[snarky-badger]

I'm just imagining in the trapped in the elevator story after SO has the baby and V's just like 'it's so small....... a tiny human...' just completely enamored w/ this lil squishy bean. Just. Noodle Dad and smol babby is Good Shit.

Had a bunch of Prompts like this one:

Hey there! Just wanted to say that I absolutely fell in love with your Expecting Venom x Reader story!! 🖤❤️ Do you think there will be a sequel/follow up where Eddie and the reader have a cute discussion about names or Eddie/Venom freaking out over a Braxton Hicks contraction? (And maybe the reader goes, “OMG, it’s fine! I’m fine! Plz calm down!” after Venom fully transforms, scoops her up, and is about to web-swing her to the hospital, or something! XD )            

OMG, I just LOVED your Pregnant Reader x Eddie Brock/Venom story!!!! Do you think you could do another one where the Reader suddenly goes into labor?  

Can we get more pregnant reader with Eddie and the symbiot? Maybe she goes into labor and they are freaking out and after 5 hrs twins are born, one completely human and the other a symboit that already bonded with the human baby and they are a perfect match since they basically grown together.          

Hi don’t know if I’m asking at the right site sorry if I’m not. I was wondering if you could do a venom promt, like a sequel to the Elevator one where the pregnant reader finally gives birth and Venom is immediately mesmerized by the baby after the delivery, maybe have him freak out like a lot of dads do during the labour since he is still learning things about humans? If you already have a sequel to it then just ignore me. Gamer-Kat.

WOW! So much interest for this one! Alright, here we go. I hope this doesn’t disappoint. (I tried to work in the symbiote/baby idea. It’s not quite what was requested, but I hope it’s good enough)

Sequel to ‘Elevator Troubles while Expecting’

EDIT - I have edited the prompt ‘Daddy’s Girl’ to fit in with this. Think of it as a future part of this ‘series’ of prompts.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, babe?”

You grimaced a little as you braced a hand against the living room wall, your other hand clutching at your belly. Pain radiated from your stomach, to your lower back and down your legs, turning standing into an exertion that you really didn’t need. You breathed through it, when spoke once the wave had passed. “I think you should get me to the hospital now.”

His head jerked up and spun towards you so fast you thought he’d broken his neck. “W-What?”

“I’ve been having contractions… for the past hour.”

“The past— Babe! You said you were sleeping!”

“Yes, well, after the Braxton-Hicks incident I wanted to be sure this time.” Said incident had involved a panicking Venom, who had scooped you up and bashed his way out the living-room window - and part of the wall - in the rush to get you to the nearest hospital before you’d been able to explain to him what was going on.

Luckily the Building Manager was a good one. Most of the brickwork had been replaced, and while the ‘window’ part was still boarded up, the Manager had assured you that the order had been put in and it was just a matter of waiting for the custom window to be delivered.

Currently, however, you had bigger problems.

Like Eddie running around the apartment trying to find the bag you’d prepared for your trip to the hospital. “Eddie.”

His voice wavered. You saw little symbiote tendrils start to weave in the air around him, a sure sign that Venom was getting just as flustered. “Yeah?”

Jesus. Did all men get this freaked out? “Hallway closet, top shelf, green duffel bag.”

“Right!”

Shaking your head, you slowly waddled towards the apartment door, thankful for the slip-on sneakers you’d bought two months ago. Bending over just wasn’t possible anymore.

Eddie returned to your side with the needed bag, eyes comically wide. “Cab or web-slinging?”

You opened your mouth, then shut it with a grimace as another wave hit you. You’d had bad menstrual cramps before - had been warned by your OBG/YN that the contractions might feel that way - but this was ridiculous.

“Web-slinging. Definitely web-slinging. Off the rooftop!” you added quickly as Eddie vanished under the darkness of the symbiote, Venom reaching for you once the transformation was complete. “We managed to bullshit our way through one excuse for the wall. I don’t think we can do it again.”

“WE PANICKED A LITTLE,” Venom rumbled to you, voice low with embarrassment, as he gently scooped you into his arms, cuddling you close. He lashed out some tendrils from his back to pick up the duffel bag, anchoring it to him as he used another bit to open the front door.

It wasn’t often that you saw Venom employ stealth. Usually he just went where he wanted to go, and damn anything in his way. Now, he was silent, footfalls making no sound as he darted across the hallway and into the stairwell, bounding up them one flight at a time.

“TALK TO US MORSEL. WE CAN SENSE YOUR PAIN. WHAT DO WE DO?”

That had been the symbiote’s largest issue with your pregnancy. Not the physical changes, or the oddity of a live birth, but the fact that you’d end up in pain. Both Eddie and Venom had zero tolerance for seeing you in pain. They both fretted and hovered, and one of them had a horrible habit of just wanting to kill the source of your torment.

You worried about having them in the room during the actual childbirth.

For now though. “My lower back, can you put pressure on it a little?” Felt a tendril slip under your shirt, spreading across your back and kneading into your flesh, and instantly the seizing sensation eased. “Mm. Thanks. That helps a lot.”

“WE’LL BE AT THE HOSPITAL SOON.” He wasn’t as stealthy as he bashed the rooftop access door open with his shoulder, but you were in the middle of another contraction and couldn’t care. “OH! WE CAN SENSE THAT! HOW FAR APART ARE THEY?”

You glanced at your watch. “T-They’re speeding up. This one is only three minutes after the last one.” The symbiote had read every bit of literature that you and Eddie had brought home, twice, even pestering Eddie into going online so it could learn more. It probably knew more about childbirth than you did at this point.

Venom growled, shifting you in his grip, a thick tendril lashing around your legs, to support you as he freed his right arm and sent a webline out to another building. “HOLD TIGHT. WE CAN GET TO THE HOSPITAL BEFORE YOUR NEXT CONTRACTION.”

Blinking, you obediently curled your arms around his neck, clinging to him as he leapt off the roof. The pull of gravity felt worse than ever before, tugging at something inside you, but you didn’t comment, not when everything blurred past you at a speed you’d never experienced before.

Venom swung around a corner and rebounded off a building before sending out another line, the hand curled around your shoulders tightening a little when you hid your face against his shoulder. It was a rapid paced roller-coaster of ups and downs, pulls and pushes, the wind ruffling your hair as he crossed a quarter of the City in record time.

It was Eddie that landed in a quiet part of the Hospital’s parking lot, his left arm returning to properly cradle you. “Jesus, I didn’t know he could move that fast.”

“Neither did I,” you admitted, feeling the bit of symbiote applying pressure against your back ripple a little.

No one gave you any weird looks as Eddie carried you into the ER, though the triage Nurse was a little slow on the uptake, at least until Venom took over Eddie’s voice and snarled out that you were in labor and to call the doctor now. Then she moved.

Half an hour later - after your water broke and an ER doctor had confirmed that you were ‘officially’ in active labor (no shit Sherlock) - you were in the maternity ward, lying in an uncomfortable bed, in an itchy gown, hooked up to a fetal heart rate monitor. Your legs were in stirrups while a Nurse checked to see how dilated you were. You had a grip on Eddie’s hand, mostly because there was a sheen of white over his blue eyes, a sign that Venom was close to the surface, and you couldn’t tell if the symbiote was just curious or protective.

The next four hours went by normally, so your Nurses told you. You turned down an epidural, but accepted some painkillers. Eddie stayed by your side the entire time, helping you walk when the Nurses suggested that you walk, rubbing your back, fetching you water and ice chips when needed and talking you through the contractions. The symbiote was always just under the surface, evident by the slightly cloudy sheen that turned his eyes grey - something that only you noticed, thank God.

It wasn’t until you were almost fully dilated that the real pain started. Intense cramping, pulling, tightening, waves that left you shaking with every ebb and crest. Eddie became glued to your side, literally, as the symbiote sent out half-camouflaged tendrils, massaging your back and hips, giving you little nudges when you forgot to breathe. At the same time, Eddie encouraged you through each wave, gently using a cold cloth to wipe the sweat from your face, holding you hand when you needed and not complaining when you tried to crush his fingers.

Honestly, there were moments where you wanted to kill him for getting you pregnant.

To say you were relieved when the overwhelming urge to push finally came and a Nurse announced that you were fully dilated and ready to go. You had no idea of how long you’d been at the hospital at that point, everything had just blurred together in the rising and falling of contractions.

Nurses, a doctor for you and a pediatrician for the baby filled the room, the sudden hustle and bustle making your nerves spike a little. But by then the urge to push was massive, and you just wanted the baby out.

They allowed - funny ‘allowed’. Obviously had no clue - Eddie to get behind you on the bed so you were between his legs, back to his chest, helping you to settle into a more comfortable position. It gave the symbiote the opportunity to cover your back and sides, massaging, kneading, where ever it could touch, safely hidden from view by your gown.

You gripped Eddie’s hands and bore down during contractions, gritting your teeth at the stinging, burning, sensation. Jesus Christ, how was the world overpopulated if this is what women had to go though?

Went limp when the doctor told you to stop pushing, leaning your head back against Eddie’s right shoulder, so tired and drained. He nuzzled at you, scratchy stubble itching your cheek, the symbiote kneading your back, pressing against you.

“You’re almost there,” Eddie murmured, kissing your cheek, hands gripping yours tight.

The doctor told you to push when you could, and you shook your head a little. “I-I can’t–”

“Yeah, you can. C’mon. One more.” There was some of Venom’s voice melded with Eddie’s and you shivered as the symbiote rippled against your spine.

With a last herculean effort, your baby daughter was born. Once the doctors cleared her airway, clamped the cord, and deposited her on your chest, she started to fuss and cry. Felt the symbiote go very, very, still against you as you pulled her into a gentle hug, nestling her close to you, hearing Eddie’s breathing hitch a little as he rose a hand to rest it over her back.

“Told you you could do it,” he sniffled, pressing a kiss to your cheek again, though you knew his gaze was locked on his daughter.

Your little Jamie.

The pediatrician took her from you, briefly, cleaned her up a little and checked her over before happily announcing that you had a perfectly healthy, seven-point-two pound little girl.

It wasn’t until you were in your own room, cleaned up, with your daughter in your arms, that Venom felt safe enough to make an appearance. You kept an eye on the door as he slowly approached you, leaning down to peer at the little life in your arms.

“IS… IS IT SAFE TO TOUCH HER?” You’d never heard Venom actually sound nervous before.

“Just watch the talons,” you murmured, smiling when the blackness on his hands rippled, those wicked claws retracting.

Slowly, as if he was almost afraid of her, Venom lifted his little girl into the crook of his right arm, carefully supporting her head the way he’d obviously seen in all the books you’d brought home. Jamie was minuscule in his arms, her little face scrunched up as she slept, one hand nestled to her mouth.

You watched as he ducked his head, gently nuzzling at her, drinking in her scent, just like he did to you. “SHE SMELLS LIKE US MIXED WITH YOU. LIKE…” His voice trailed off, and you saw his pale eyes widen a little.

New motherly instincts went off. “Venom? What is it?”

He licked at her face with the tip of his tongue, blinking when she fussed a little in her sleep. “SHE SMELLS LIKE… LIKE A SYMBIOTE.”

Okay. That wasn’t as bad as your mind was thinking. “You and Eddie are her father. Of course she’d smell like you.”

“NO, MORSEL. SHE HAS YOUR SCENT, YES. BUT SHE DOESN’T SMELL LIKE A HUMAN.”

Okay. That was a little worse. “Which means what?”

One massive shoulder rose and fell in a shrug. “NOT SURE. THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE. NEVER KNEW WE COULD HAVE AN OFFSPRING THIS WAY.” He turned his attention back down to the baby in his arms, rumbling softly, purring to her in his own way. She fussed a little more, then opened her eyes - the same steel blue as Eddie’s eyes - and though you knew that she probably couldn’t focus her vision yet, you could swear she was looking back at him.

Venom stared back at her for a moment before his head jerked up, eyes narrowing at the doorway. Moments later, it was Eddie standing in his place, the man looking a little frazzled to suddenly be holding his daughter, though that awkwardness quickly turned into a sort of protective-Dad vibe when a Nurse walked in.

Thank God for keen symbiote senses.

After the Nurse had checked up on you and the baby, you were left alone again, Jamie back in your arms, Eddie perched on the side of the bed so he could look down at her.

“Venom thinks she might genetically, be part symbiote,” Eddie murmured to you softly, relaying the symbiote’s thoughts, since the alien had decided that staying hidden while in the hospital was safest. “That might be why she smells different to him. Which makes sense, I guess. I’m not fully human anymore.”

“I don’t care,” you frowned, keeping Jamie settled close while she nursed at your breast. Deciding that Eddie looked too bummed for such an amazing day, you rose your free hand to Eddie’s face, pulling him down for a kiss. “She’s ours and she’s perfect. So, long she doesn’t go biting the heads off of people before she’s eighteen, I can pretty much adapt to anything.”

Eddie paled a little. “Jesus, I didn’t think of that.”

You grinned as you pecked Eddie on the lips again. “And,if she ends up climbing walls and gets stuck up there, I expect one or both of you to get her down. And when the time comes I’ll even let you handle any potential boyfriends.”

“Boyfriends?!” Venom’s voice growled out of Eddie’s throat before the man whacked himself in the chest, coughing when the symbiote relinquished control.

“Calm down dude,” Eddie muttered. “That won’t be for, like, thirteen years.”

“If you’re lucky.”

“Please don’t rile him up,” he pouted, smirking when you giggled. Smiling, Eddie leaned in to kiss you again, then dropped a softer peck onto Jamie’s head. “Love you.”

“I love you, too. Both of you.”

[flamestoflight]

here’s my quick summary. on sunday night i was driving home and came across the scene of an accident on the other side of the highway it had just happened, no emergency responders, two people laying in the highway, one next to the car that was totaled, a bunch of people shouting and yelling. I pulled over, grabbed my first aid kit i keep in my trunk with all my supplies, gauze, bandages, CPR mask, etc. etc., jumped the highway divider and ran over. One crushed leg, two unresponsive bad bad bad head injuries. I triaged quick and ended up spending most of my time with one of the people laying in the middle of the highway with an obvious skull fracture/brain injury, stabilizing his neck, holding gentle pressure to the skull fracture, trying to stop the bleeding, trying to keep him awake, trying to keep him from getting up off the road. Someone who identified as a nurse ran over to me at some point and asked if I had a CPR mask in my kit bc they had to do CPR on the other person lying on the highway. I had one. I think they did CPR. When EMS finally came, helped get a c-collar on him, helped get him onto a spine board, helped lift him onto the stretcher. They were all airlifted off the highway. I drove home covered in blood that wasn’t mine, shaking, not sure if I had just had a bad dream or if that was real.

Since then the days have been weird. Nothing has really felt real. I met with three of my beloved professors back at UD yesterday - the ones who taught us EMR. They all wanted to hear my story and help me debrief. They asked if I would record a testimonial that they could keep and play for the future classes during their EMR training. They said that whenever they;ve had to act in an emergency responder role, it’s been one person. They’ve never had to deal with/triage 3, and be the first one to arrive with training and the only one to arrive with supplies.

I’ve been sleeping a lot though. I had a half day at work today and got home around 1. Immediately went to sleep and woke up around 4. Got up around 4:45, just made myself some coffee (I didn’t get a chance to have my coffee this morning), and am going to try to get some life things done this evening. I really haven’t done anything productive since that night, I’ve just been going through my work day and sleeping. Thinking about it on the car ride to and from work. Sleeping.

I think this will sit with me for a while. I’m not glad it happened but I’m glad I was there when it did, so that I could help. It still doesn’t feel real, which my professors all told me would happen. They all gave me so many hugs and told me they were proud of me. I guess I’m proud of me too, but it doesn’t feel real so it doesn’t feel like I have anything to be proud of. I keep looking to see if there are any updated news articles that say if they survived or not, but none that I can find. I hope so.

I haven’t really told anyone in my life because how do you go about bringing up what you saw. I haven’t even typed the details here - it’s not something you just talk about. The blood and the injuries and the screaming and the highway shut down and the people getting out of their cars and staring at you as you try to save someone’s life, someone praying over the person whose head you’re desperately trying to keep still, people asking you what they should do because you’re the one with a box of supplies and gloves on and covered in blood holding this man’s head and you tell them what to do to help and they listen, and you realize you’re the one on the highway with the most training. And that’s a terrifying thought because there are 3 people here whose literal lives are on the line. 

So it’s mostly just been me processing in my head. The talk yesterday with my professors was helpful. The most helpful. I miss UD, I miss not being at this setting, where my CI sucks because he doesn’t know how to be a CI and he’s just so arrogant and a prick to me at times. It all feels so small now, now that I’ve held someone’s life in my hands. Not to sound dramatic but. That’s what it feels like on the few instances where it feels real. My professor told me that I can handle anything if I can handle that. I can deal with my shitty CI for 2 more weeks....easy. Because look what I just did. 

I really didn’t think I was going to type much of  anything here but I guess I had more to get out than I thought. Which is good, I think. It’s been a weird week but I have this weekend to myself which I need. Which will be good. And I’ll take it one day at a time but. I guess that was the quick but not so quick summary.

[takeeachdayonebookatatime]

Triple f  day  [flashpoint fanfiction friday]

 

(Sometimes you wonder if this attack was planned)

Staring the whole team.

Greg : pov  the new guy on team 4 is weird, the way he stares at jules, he always seems so angry around her to me. The other team leaders/Sargent's are talking about him since Donna is out for a few weeks for her honeymoon Carl has never been around another woman officer, only Jules. We think it might be a woman he does not like, we are not sure. Spike and Wordy are restocking the self while Sam and Jules exercise together. We decided to watch him closely from now on.

Wordy : pov me and spike are restocking the shelf and telling jokes. We talk about family and I told him the girls made get well soon cards for his dad, and I would drop them off tomorrow so he could give them to his dad.

Sam : pov I had to pee so bad but I did not want to leave jules alone that one officer Carl is weird around her. Since no one was in the gym, jules told me she would be fine. and to go pee 2 minutes after, on my way back to the gym I hear her scream really loud I manage to pull him of off her. Since he was choking her he ran off,  while I caught her before she fell onto the floor. I laid her down then checked her vitals. She was not breathing and unconscious. I managed to call winnie, and have her call medics and have wordy bring a medical kit. A few seconds later and wordy arrived with the medical kit I opened it. And grabbed the resuscitation mask i had wordy slowly pumping air into jules. I felt around her neck and put an ice pack on it, to try and keep the swelling  down. spike was by the door waiting for the medics.

Jules : pov I was working out with sam while he was in the bathroom. Carl came into the gym and started yelling about how women are worthless, useless and have no place on an sru team. He accused me of hoarding the work out equipment for myself. All of a sudden he started to attack me. He was choking me but I managed to scream before Sam came and everything started to turn black it was so hard to breathe.

Ed : pov we were not fast enough and that sob attack jules now we need to go find him, sam is taking care of jules we are looking in every room for him even in the closets. He was not on the main floor of the building. His car was still in the parking lot so he could not have gone very far.

Sam : pov I found an epi pen in the medical kit and decided to try it to see if it would help open up her airway. Once the medics arrived they took over, I told them her vitals and what happened.  A medic named Terry tilted her head back and inserted a number 5et tube since her airway was closing, he went with a smaller tube. Once it was properly in place he secured it and then inserted an iv in her arm. He also hooked her up to some monitors. I rode with her the whole way to the er. A dr and a specialist were waiting for us in triage room one. They gave jules some pain meds since she was starting to stir a little. Once she was back asleep a dr named Jerry did an ultrasound of her neck while dr Jen felt around she said everything feels okay, but she wants some scans to be sure. 40 minutes later and she came back to talk about the results. She said it is very severe bruising of the airway with some soft tissue that is injured/inflamed it will be at least 3 days before the breathing tube can come out. Maybe more he went to tell the team the update on jules while she was moved to the icu.

Spike : what happened to jules was so scary. I'm so glad Troy and Greg thought to look in the woman's bathroom because they found him hiding in there. Sam gave us an update on her injury; it does not sound good at all. The dr told Sam a few more seconds and she would have died. He really did save her life today. We visited her every day for 5 day.

Sam : pov it has been 5 days  since the attack the dr said we could try and wake her up just slowly. At noon jules woke up and was trying to pull her breathing tube out.  The specialist dr Jen came in and checked jules's vitals then started to take the tube out. Once it was out she switched her to an oxygen mask. She told her no talking, swallowing will be hard and hurt alot. A nurse wheeled in a cart with some  supplies on it, dr Jen said it is for her feeding tube jules was not happy with that at all once the dr placed the feeding tube down jules's nose she taped it in place and started administering the tube food.

Jules : pov ugh the feeding tube is ruff, swallowing hurts, breathing hurts. I'm just plain miserable, I fell asleep until 6 then the team came by. They talked with me About their day and how the new recruits are working out. I wrote my sentences down on a dry erase board so I could be included in the conversation. The team left at 7 except for Greg who stayed a little while extra so Sam could eat, it was awesome Greg stayed with me for a bit, we got to talk about stuff so he talked I wrote what I wanted to say afterwards me, and Sam went to bed. In the morning I got transferred to a regular room. Then Sam showered while my dr checked my vitals and stuff she said I could shower if I wanted to.

Sam : pov Dr Jen said jules could shower but the oxygen mask goes back on immediately after. A shower chair was put in the bathroom for jules 15 minutes later and jules was back in bed and asleep. I went down to the cafeteria for lunch. It was now 1pm and Jules was up and we watched a movie. Jules signed to me that she was thankful I saved her life. Yesterday shelly had stopped at jules house in the morning and got her some clothes which jules was wearing now. Tomorrow jules had physical therapy and a form of food therapy. The team came to visit for 1 hour, Wordy talked about his kids and so did ed they even had get well soon cards from their kids. After we went to bed. It was the 7th day jules had spent in the hospital, jules did not get her morning feeding.  A guy from Food therapy came to see jules, Dr Jen switched her to nasal oxygen, he checked her throat and cleared her to try liquids. Water was the first down it was ruff but it went down, her breakfast was a protein drink. After the physical therapist came to work with Jules she had her walking around and doing some light exercises. Lunch was some chicken broth. Dr Jen cleared jules to not need oxygen one step closer to getting released. Sam played a few board games with jules she showered, so did sam dinner was a smoothie for jules and a sandwich for him. The team came by and talked about their day and how jules was doing. They talked for an hour while jules signed/wrote down what she wanted to say after Dr Jen came in and gave jules her medicine for her throat. She pulled Sam aside to talk about jules and how she was making good progress, she said if everything looks good tomorrow they can start to talk about  a release plan for her.

Jules : pov

It was the next morning my breakfast was a protein shake, the lady from pt was ruff everything was so sore I guess a week of not moving does that to you. Lunch was more broth this time it was beef flavored. Sam had a roast beef sandwich then we both showered. I was taken down for some neck/throat scan which made me scared Dr Jen said everything was looking better. She said I could try and talk but to not use my voice too much it will hurt a lot. I tried to talk but nothing happened. I was then taken for more test and  scans afterwards a speech therapist came by to see me. She said it might take time and hard work but I would talk again. Later After dinner which was a smoothie for me and pasta for sam. The guy from food therapy came by and talked about solid foods I can have starting tomorrow. 

Sam : pov the team came over at six, I told them the good news jules could have solid starting tomorrow I also told them the not so good news that jules could not talk yet The dr cleared her for it but no sound came out when she tried she thinks it is temporary. In the morning jules got her feeding tube taken out it was not pretty. Breakfast was apple sauce which went down dr Jen said jules would need to eat soft foods for a week and then go from there at her follow up appointment. Jules was so excited she signed does this mean I'm getting released and dr Jen said after lunch if all looks good. I called Greg and told him the good news jules had oatmeal for lunch. I had some eggs, wordy called and asked me if jules needed anything food wise because shelly is at the grocery store and can pick it up so when you get home there will be soft foods available for jules. Sam thanked wordy and told him what jules could eat he said shelly could pick up some baby food. Since that is very soft and comes in a lot of flavors. Sam asked Jules, she said it was okay with her. 40 minutes later and jules was getting released dr Jen handed jules her speech therapy scheduled. The speech therapist had handed to her she was cleared for light workouts and exercising and to not over do it. At home shelly had left a note, jules napped until dinner which was banana baby food jules, signed it tasted good. We showered and went to bed. In the morning I got jules showered and my self her breakfast was a protein drink. We made it to her therapy appointment on time. Since they had run some tests at the hospital they knew all about her medical history the slp named Jessica did some manual  circumlaryngeal techniques on jules. She also showed us some stretches and self massage techniques. After we went home and jules ate mashed potatoes, she then fell asleep until dinner which was more baby food peas and carrots yum. Tomorrow she had more speech therapy. To be continued........

[canaryatlaw]

OKAY. so my entire day post is going to be put under a cut because the entire thing is WAY TMI, but there’s way too much shit that happened that I need to process and I already gave the sanitized language version of it on twitter but I can’t fully process it without getting into details. you have been warned- WAY TMI. 

okay, so. backstory, I woke up on Tuesday with stomach pain and ended up spending most of the day on the toilet. By the time I finished (like 7 hours later- yeah it was BAD) I noticed there was something weird going on down there, but I wasn’t really paying attention. Wednesday morning I was having a lot of pain and it occurred to me that maybe because of Tuesday I had a hemorrhoid (it only gets worse from here, so if that makes you squirm you should bail out now), but like, idk because I’ve never had one before and idk what they look like, so I googled it and shit and did their home remedy stuff, sitting on a ice pack helped, I did a “sitz bath” (which is basically sitting in four inches lukewarm water for 15 minutes), aloe vera, and really nothing helped. Woke up this morning and it was still bad. I showered because the warm water did help a bit, but I was getting suspicious at this point that something else was going on here, so I asked my mom to look at it and she was like WOW OKAY WE’RE GOING TO THE DOCTOR. And here lies the problem of trying to diagnose and treat your injuries off google, because I wouldn’t have known that other than my suspicions that hey there’s this giant bulge in my ass crack and it probably shouldn’t be there. my primary care couldn’t fit me in today but they recommended we go to the walk in clinic, so we do that and the doctor takes one look at that and is like “yeah this looks like a rectal prolapse and a hemorrhoid and you need to go to the ER right away” OH JOY. so if you’re not up on your scientific vocabulary, a rectal prolapse is basically when part of your digestive tract comes outside of your body and usually requires surgery to fix. wonder-fucking-ful. Thankfully we’re close to the local hospital that’s like, the number one trauma center on LI (it’s like two miles from my house so that’s always been convenient) so we go there and the urgent care people gave us a letter to give the triage people, but we still ended up waiting in the hallway for like an hour and a half, during which I was in pure misery, but the male nurse who drew my blood was sweet though and slightly flirty but in a nice and not a creepy way so there’s that at least. he left the needle in my arm because it sounded like I’d be needing it at some point. So eventually we get called, and taken into a section called the clinical decisions unit, where I guess is where they figure out if you need surgery or not. So I get in there and someone comes to look and is like OH YEAH LEMME GO GET THE DOCTOR because everyone seemed to agree this was high key bad, so they got doctors, and more doctors, they even took pictures and sent them to the head guy of the department, but the consensus was oh yeah, this needs surgery to fix. and at this point I’m just like fine, just get it done. they did give me some pain medication around 3 or so, which ended up by 5 mg of morphine, which took pretty much all my pain away and I only felt slightly woozy lol but that perked me up significantly and I was actually like talking and stuff instead of lying there looking like death. there was a bit of a wait for the OR so we had to chill for a while, then eventually I get brought in there and the surgeon comes and like, I had been thinking all day about watching The Resident and just how ridiculously easy it is for them to just straight up kill patients in routine surgeries and they have the one chief of surgery who’s got a hand tremor and is just like slicing organs open, and then in comes this guy who’s like the #1 in the department and has gray hair and I’m just like FUCK MY LIFE I hope I survive this lol (I know the show isn’t very realistic when it comes to that subject). So we’re getting ready, their general idea is that they’re just gonna cut the damn thing off because it looked infected and shit, so they go to check and the doctor is like “oh, uh, it’s gone” and I was like......”really? are you sure????” cuz apparently it slipped back in because that’s a thing that can happen, but they were like well we should still probably go ahead with the surgery because the hemorrhoid is still there and could pop back out, so we go for it, they decided to not do general anesthesia but do sedation, whatever the difference between those two is, so I was out anyway and I woke up after and they were like “yeah so turns out it wasn’t a hemorrhoid and he didn’t have to do any cutting or stitching” and I was like “....so then what did he do?” haha and I’m still not 100% sure about that one really, but they were more than happy to send me home which I was very thankful for because I did not want to spend part of my spring break in the hospital. so they got me out of there pretty quickly with a giant bandage on my butt that I’m not sure is serving any purpose at all really, but they told me to leave it on there until I shit again so I guess that’s what I’ll do. We got home, my mom went to pick up the percocet they called into the pharmacy for me but they were closed, a little while after my dad and my brother got home, my dad was speaking at this big thing tonight that he’s trying to launch at churches across the island about understanding the opioid epidemic and how to prevent it, and he said not quite as many people showed up as he would’ve liked but it was still good so that was good to hear. As far as how all this craziness started, I’ve in the past had episodes of like scathing stomach pain that make me feel like I have to go to the bathroom, but I usually end up cowering in pain on the toilet with nothing coming, until eventually something will give and it’ll all just pour out as liquid (again, I told you this is TMI) and like, it used to happen a lot more frequently when I wasn’t eating much and my regularity was thrown way off schedule (like once a week) but I don’t do that anymore and I take a fiber supplement every day because I’m on a high dose iron supplement thanks to me being super anemic, so it’s usually not an issue, it happened the night of my sister’s sweet 16 at the end of October but I think it’s only happened maybe once in the four months between then and now? And I did bring it up at my last gastroenterologist appointment but he didn't seem to think much of it and said it was probably just another muscle spasm (because he had just said my chest pain issues were probably caused by a muscle spasm). The doctor from the hospital tonight apparently recommended I get a colonoscopy done at some point to make sure everything is alright and in place, but idk if I’m gonna do that because I have a pretty good idea of just how this happened, plus I have a lot of like, traumatic memories about that stuff from when I was little and they thought I had Crohn’s disease (when it was actually just nightly cramps for an entire year before my period showed up) and being subjected to a bunch of really invasive stuff that I was not at all comfortable with so that’s not exactly gonna be on the top of my to do list. Other than that they said not to strain when going to the bathroom and eat a lot of fibre, so I’m gonna try harder to eat actual fiber and not just the shit in caplets, and try to make that work out better. and yeah, that is about it, after all that I chatted with friends for a bit then started getting ready for bed with this absurdly large bandage on my butt 😂 We’re supposed to go out to dinner to this super schmancy place (because my parents have a gift card to it) tomorrow to celebrate my brother and I’s birthdays (his was today but because of all the crazy we’re gonna celebrate this weekend) so hopefully that will work out. And oh yeah, since I turn 26 in 11 days, if this happened 11 days from now I would’ve totally FUCKED because I would’ve had no health insurance thanks to getting kicked off my parents plan at 26!!! Lovely *sigh*. And as much as it does suck to get sick on vacation, I am at least glad I was with my family and not in Chicago where I had nobody except like, Jess (and no offense to her in the slightest, because I’m sure she would’ve been great, but with this kind of thing a mom is just better suited for it), and that sounds kinda miserable. Okay, that’s the end for real now, I took my pills a while ago and now my eyes really want to shut and I’m going to listen to them. If you made it all the way through, thank you for suffering through all that TMI to find out how I’m actually doing, though I kinda doubt many of you will actually reach this far, lol, but I cannot blame you for that. Goodnight my dear friends. I hope your Thursday was a hell of a lot better than mine.

[drferox]

20 Questions with Dr Ferox #21

Looks like it’s time for another round of 20 questions and comments. I’ve tried to tag you all again, but if you asked on Anonymous I have no way of tagging you.

Anonymous said: Do you prefer treating certain animals over others? I'm friends with a few vets and I know one who's pretty much specialized in cats and another who can treat most companion animals but has a strong preference for dogs (good thing dog vet was out hiking with cat vet when cat vet's dog got a face full of porcupine quills lol) .

I do have a preference for cats, we just seem to come to a better mutual understanding, and I'm very softly spoken in person so the cats are less inclined to panic. I used to get along well treating cattle for some reason too, but I'm pretty exclusively in small animal practice these days.

Anonymous said: Does your clinic have a Facebook page? If so - how would you feel if clients posted pictures of their pets to it? My vet recently got my rat through a tough injury and I'd like to post a picture of her now that she's all healed up, but I don't know if that'd be weird or if any of them would even see it.

We love it when it happens. Happy pets with a nice comment on our Facebook page is always welcome. Sometimes we let people email us photos and we post them for us too.

Anonymous said: I know is Aus we're usually told to take injured wildlife to our local vet. Do you mind it, or should they be taken somewhere else instead?

It's perfectly fine for triage, but if somebody brings in an endangered species with a reasonably good prognosis, we'll often recommend it goes to a better equipped clinic for that species. Note very clinic has UV lights for turtles, for example.

Anonymous said: Hello, many years ago I lost my chihuahua to a broken back which I believe stemmed from him jumping onto our couches and beds so often. The experience was very traumatizing for me but now I have another chihuahua who jumps often and I don't often take him to the vet so I was wondering if it is common for smaller dogs to hurt themselves from jumping so often?

To actually break the back would be unusual, but slipping an intervertebral disc so that it prolapses up into the spine is relatively common after jumping off things in tiny dogs.

@justaphage said: I've been wondering about probiotics (this is not a question about the health of my dog, she's getting treatment). Multiple times (and with two different vets) when my dog had diarrhea they gave us a probiotic along with the dewormer or antibiotic and I've been thinking: my doctors never prescribed or suggested that when I'm sick in a similar way. Is there some difference in what we know about dog/human probiotics or is it just a difference of the culture of medicine.

It's probably more a culture of medicine than anything else, but also probiotics are kind of wishy-washy in terms of clinical evidence. There's some evidence to say they're sometimes very useful, but other times not so much. Keep in mind though that dogs are also much more likely to eat poop from other animals and so will be picking up all sorts of intestinal microflora.

Anonymous said: I came across your weed toxicity post for pets and had a question: a friend of mine recently told me he got weed extract for his anxious rescue pet (can't remember if it was a dog or cat) but prescribed by a veterinarian I didn't ask him more about it because I was too confused at the moment, knowing that weed does not have the same effects on dogs and cats as it has on people. do you think this is legit or was he bullshitting me?

It's hard to know, especially given that I have no way of knowing which country you're in, or what your laws in relation to marijuana are. Certainly there are some veterinarians working on cannabinoid extracts with known concentrations and milligram dosages, but if I was told this locally I would be extremely skeptical.

@fallowsthorn said: On the "cats don't usually get round tumors" thing - weirdly enough, our cat has a bunch of them. Our joke is that he gets a new one every time he goes to the vet, because every single time, the tech says something to the effect of "well this isn't normal for cats but...." They're just little bumps of fat, they don't grow, and he doesn't poke at them or seem in pain, but he's got like twenty of them by now and it's super weird.

It is super weird. Cats usually get inflamed fat rather than fatty tumors, but there's always somebody that does things differently.

Anonymous said: Hey Dr Ferox! I'm just asking purely out of curiosity, have you ever had a kitty patient come in with an aural hematoma?

I have once, but I can't remember whether it had been in a fight or had an ear infection, or both. We treated it surgically, the same way as a dog.

@daedricprincessxoxo said: I've decided to start as a technician before becoming a veterinarian, after a CVPM at a big-deal hospital told me how much she recommends it. After ages of financial constraints, I finally began the course to become licensed!! I'm to excited not to share!!!

That is very exciting and great to hear. Best of luck with all of it.

@insatiable-obsession said: Hi I love your blog! It's so informative and real, and I'm trying very hard to get into the vet world (unsuccessfully applied to several vet clinics and hopefully going to vet tech school next year!) I was wondering if you have any advice or opinions on zoo work/zookeeping? Also to give you a fun break from all the vet questions, do you prefer: sunset or sunrise? Camping or going to the beach? Christmas or Halloween? Pen or pencil? Sweet or savory?

I really don't do much with zoos and prefer not to analyse them too much through a veterinary lens, because I want to keep them as something fun. Like everything else in life zookeeping is possible to do very well, and possible to do very badly. You could pop across to @why-animals-do-the-thing for more zookeeping connections.

Anonymous said: I'm so annoyed right now. So ever since my friend got a dog we were trying to get them to get him fixed (her dad who's totally hyper masculine is against neutering) then they got a girl dog and refused to get her fixed (we convinced the mom but not the dad). They tried to rehome the girl earlier in the year and until tonight they've refused to get one of them fixed. Tonight the girl had 9 pups and it's the only thing that convinced them to get her fixed (after she's done nursing) They also are keeping one of the male puppies. The dogs go out on a cable because they don't have a yard. The dogs are big too they're an staff bully breed mixes.

I don't know what to tell you Anon. It's a poor situation for those animals to be in, but I can't tell you anything to make it any better, and as long as their minimum welfare standards are met, the animals can't be seized.

Anonymous said: I am considering harness training a new cat. I have only indoor cats. If I allow my new cat out in a harness will I need to do anything different for care of my indoor cats, because all the cats will be in contact together at home. My indoor cats are up to date on their rabies and distemper vaccines, do they need anything else? 

You should call your own vet about what concerns are relevant locally. You are very clearly not local to me and I cannot give you specific veterinary advice, but I suspect parasite control is going to be important for your cats.

Anonymous said:What do you do if your pet dies at home? Like with the body?

Depending on where  you are, you can have the option to bury your pet at home, or you can arrange burial or cremation either through a vet clinic or a pet crematorium directly.

Anonymous said: I have a 3.5 month old kitten and he occasionally like tries to eat litter? i use a clay bases non clumping litter and i move him away whenever he starts but like? Could there be a medical reason? Is he just weird? Were taking him to the vet soon to be neutered and im going to ask them then. Thank you!!

There is no way for me to tell whether your kitten it eating litter because it has a nutrient deficiency, an abnormal behavior or is just chewing on things with a novel texture. Hope your vet visit goes well.

Anonymous said: Hi, not sure if you can help, but figure it's worth a shot! I'm in my parasitology class and I'm having the hardest time keeping the Spinose ear tick and the ear mite straight in my head due to their extremely similar scientific names(otobius megnini and otodectes cynotis respectively) and both residing in/around an animals ears, can you offer any advice?

Sorry I don't have any advice for you, other than O. megnini being an overseas parasite and not one I have to deal with.

Anonymous said: I came across your blog while having a nasty bout of heartburn and I got to wondering: can animals suffer from acid reflux or have symptoms similar to GERD in humans? If so, do you know of any cases or treatments?

Small animals can also suffer acid reflux and subsequent oesophageal ulcers. It's particularly common in brachycephalic dogs. There are a variety of potential predisposing causes, some of which are managed medically, but some require surgery. Hiatal hernias are a good example.

@softlyfiercely said: Am curious re: your thoughts on a childhood memory. We had snails in our yard growing up (southwestern USA) and we loved them. My brother & I fed them lettuce & built them little stick-and-leaf villages. Once we brought one inside to show a family friend. He dropped it. Its shell cracked & it looked in bad shape. We were distraught and begged mom to bring it to a vet. She did not. But would a vet have been able to help? How do zoos care for endangered snails? Can snail shells be repaired?

Some clinics equipped for exotics can and will treat snails, but not very often. It's possible to repair small areas of damage to the shell, so long as the body has not been damaged and does not come into contact with any glue or compounds used.

@malted-shark said: Just wanna' say. Sardine sounds like my Basil at the vet. He has aggressive on his chart and they legitimately have to launch a liquid sedative in his mouth. I wish I was kidding. I wish he wasn't such a nightmare at the vet. He's like that at home sometimes too. Particularly, he doesn't like it when things aren't done EXACTLY to his liking and don't dare try to restrain or hell is to be paid. I just let them handle it, I get scared of him.

With cats like this, sometimes all you can and should do is sedate them for an exam. It's stressful for the cat and dangerous for the handler otherwise.

@peaceofpuregold said: As a primary human to two feral (currently not so feral with a lot of patience, training, and good luck in the mix) can confirm at least 70% of the feral cat escape phrases. All I was missing were the washing machine related ones. I might use this to make a bingo card.

If you do make a feral cat bingo card, let us know!

@hesmyboi said: Came for Trashbag, stayed because I adore animals, I like your style, and I'm having fun learning about veterinarian stuff

And we're very pleased to have you here with us. Thank you.

[themrsdiaries]

Milan’s Birth Story

A week ago I went into labor and had a baby completely unmediated and if you asked me two weeks ago if that was the plan I would have laughed at you, like big, howling laugh! “Give me the drugs” was basically the first thing I told my nurse with Zara but with Milan’s birth, I didn’t even have time for an IV! If you’re a birth story lover and enjoy scouring the web for fun stories like I do, keep on reading!

I woke up last Saturday morning, April 25, at 4am feeling veryyy minor contractions that could have easily been dismissed as Braxton Hicks, which should have been my first clue because I never got any Braxton Hicks with either pregnancy, but I thought maybe this time around it would be different. They came every hour but weren’t painful enough to stop me from going about my day. I got ready, attended a Zoom meeting with my Lead Pastor and other staff wives and simply said “I’m getting some baby vibes so it could be soon but nothing crazy right now...” little did I know she would be in my arms a few hours later. I put Zara down for her nap at about 1pm and decided to go lay down to see if the contractions would stop. They didn’t but they still weren’t that painful. Disclaimer: I like to labor at home as much as I can cause the thought of going in and realizing I was at a 2 or not far enough along for them to admit me just doesn’t sound fun so basically my philosophy is stay home until I can’t stand the pain anymore and then go to the hospital...jokes on me this time! While laying down I began realizing that the contractions were steadily picking up in pressure and coming more often. I Facetime’d my mom and told her what was going on but I STILL didn’t think this was it. By about 3pm, I could tell things were progressing and told Tim we should just go in to have them see how things were progressing so I could get some clarity. Disclaimer Pt 2: I opted not to have my OBGYN check me at prior appointments because it’s not the most pleasant experience and I’d just rather not know. Unless there is a medical reason as to why they need to check, I opt out and like being just as surprised as everyone else. The contractions at this point are steadily increasing and I was beginning to get emotional because I knew I had to go but also knew Zara was sleeping and I was devastated thinking about leaving without saying goodbye. I Facetime’d my mom AGAIN who convinced me to wake her up to say goodbye and to tell her that I was going to see how sissy was doing. So back upstairs I went at 4:08pm to say I love you, I’ll see you soon and to let her know I’ll probably have sissy with me when I come back. It was a moment I’ll never forget. No one prepares you for the feeling of leaving your one baby up until that point to bring another one into the world and I’m so happy Tim was able to catch this last photo of us.

I got into the car at about 4:25pm after putting some final things in my hospital bag and that’s when things really began to pick up. Looking back I think having said goodbye to Zara gave my body the permission it needed mentally to give birth. It’s super weird to explain but in the car was when things REALLY picked up. I was in the front seat and literally could not sit. I was facing the back of the car bear hugging the front seat with all of my strength during the contractions. I had Tim put on “Man Of Your Word” by Maverick City Music and endured the 20 min car ride. I knew things were happening and knew they were happening fast...and Tim drove literally the opposite of that hitting EVERY. SINGLE. RED. LIGHT. It got to the point where I told him he had to run every single one or I would be having the baby in the car. He didn’t listen to me and would patiently wait at each one as I secretly plotted his murder. He would keep telling me “5 more minutes, 3 more minutes” based off of the GPS and looking back I think that helped me get through. We pulled up at 4:45pm and I told him to run and get somebody. There was no way I was walking in with the pain I was having. Nurses came running out with a wheelchair and I told them there was no way I could sit at this point so I powered through one more contraction and walked to triage where things REALLY, REALLY picked up. In the room, I felt my body needing to push and before I even had the chance to undress my water broke right then and there. I was sweating profusely and I knew it was go-time. Tim wasn’t allowed in at this point so he went to park the car. I was in agony and gave the nurse absolutely no chance of seeing how far along I was. I was in pain and I needed drugs. I was quite literally begging for them. I was not prepared to push a baby out unmedicated but once my water broke I knew there was going to be no other option. She finally checked me and immediately walkied for everyone possible to get me on a stretcher and the room ready. I could tell she knew this baby was coming fast and all the while Tim was still standing outside. A storm of nurses came in, a doctor I had never met got suited up and I was ready to push. There was no stopping Milan even though I begged multiple times for drugs and each time the nurses told me I was way too late and she would be here in literally 10 minutes. I had to power through. I pushed once and they saw her head. The nurse then had the audacity to ask me what Tim’s number was so she could call him and tell him to come in. In agony I told her his number and she called him to come in immediately. I was literally screaming in pain at this point. There was no “birthing breathing mama goddess” moments at all. It was straight drama every single push. LOL! The nurses and doctors did their best to control my efforts and I finally got into a rhythm that lasted maybe 4 minutes. When contractions came, I would tell them and within 3 pushes, she was here. 29 minutes from arriving at the hospital she arrived at 5:14pm. They finally were able to get an IV into me so I could get morphine and deliver the placenta somewhat peacefully. Tim and I both were in complete shock at how fast it all went down and how beautiful she was! Tim was maybe with me for 10 minutes and luckily didn’t miss it. Milan came earthside completely perfect and healthy and once the morphine hit, I was in a dream world and so, so happy it went by so fast so I could get home even faster.

I requested immediately that they send me home as soon as I could (I hate staying at hospitals!) and they said if all went well with Milan and I, we would be discharged at 5pm the next day. After eating dinner, I was wheeled to our maternity suite and along the way every nurse said “congratulations, but please come in earlier next time” ... LOL! Nurses truly are the heroes of this world! We were able to spend a glorious 24 hours with just Milan and after passing all of her tests, meeting with her pediatrician and requesting to leave probably 17 times LOL, they let us go. I was up and at it probably 2 hours after delivery and was ready to GET OUT. I really like getting home and getting situated, showering in my own shower, and knowing Zara was there made it even more sweeter. I can’t wait to tell Milan her story and if her entry into this world is any indication of the person she will be, she is going to be a force to be reckoned with. So here’s to giving birth with no meds in the midst of a global pandemic ... guess I can check that one off the list!

[thesefoblog]

6.1.2017

On Tuesday, May 30, Wilson and I went to my regular prenatal check-up. I was 1 day away from my due date, and really anxious to have the baby. I thought about the possibility of going into labor or my water breaking basically every single minute of the day. When I brushed my teeth, I’d wonder if I’d have a contraction before I would finish. When I drove to work, I pictured hitting a pothole and breaking my water. When I sat down at my work desk, I’d wonder if I’d make it to the end of the day without going into labor. I was obsessed. I read this thing that said waiting for your baby to be born is like waiting to pick someone up at the airport. Except you don’t know when the flight is, or who you’re picking up.  

At my appointment, everything was looking good/normal. When the doctor took out the doppler to check the baby’s heartbeat, it took her a really long time to find it. I wasn’t worried at all because I could feel the baby moving all day every day, including WHILE she was looking for the heartbeat. She finally found it way up by my ribs, which was NOT where it should be! The baby was definitely not in the “ready position”. My doctor did a quick ultrasound to confirm…and yes, the baby was breech. Again. 

My doctor called the hospital to have them schedule me a c section ASAP. She told me that the next evening I’d get a call with my exact scheduled c-section time and I’d go in on Thursday, June 1st.

 I called my work and told them I’d see them in September and decided to take Wednesday to prepare myself! I filed my state disability paperwork, installed the car seat, and FINALLY packed my hospital bag. On Wednesday evening, I waited for my call from the hospital to get my surgery time. My doctor told me I’d get the call pretty late because they wait until the very end of the day to schedule for the next day to avoid cancellations/schedule changes. At 9pm, I still hadn’t heard from them, so I decided to call. They had me scheduled….for June 8! I was like, um..no. I need an appointment TOMORROW! They were able to fit me in and told me to be there at 9:30.

 I was so excited, I could barely sleep! So a typical night. During my last few weeks (or months?) of pregnancy, I pretty much did not sleep.  With the bathroom breaks, constant kicking/punching  in my womb and the need for a large crane to reposition me in my bed every time I needed to move…well, sleep did not come easy.  To be honest, I’m getting way more sleep now than I did when I was pregnant.

 The next morning, Wilson and I made our way to Roseville. I wanted to give birth in the hospital in Vacaville which is way closer to home and where I took the hospital tour…but for a scheduled c section, I had to go to Roseville. Don’t ask me to explain why because I don’t know.  But I heard Roseville was super fancy, the best hospital…it was nice, but Vacaville was better. But…after giving birth in the Dominican Republic, I won’t complain!

 When I checked in, there was a lady in the waiting area with me who said she thought her water had broken. That was exciting. Anyway, I got checked into a triage room…which are like the smallest, most uncomfortable rooms. But they said I’d only be there for a little while so it was fine. I was in a bed so it didn’t bother me, but there was nowhere for Wilson to sit, except for the spinny stool the doctors sit on when they come to check on you. Typically the triage rooms are just to determine whether or not the women are in labor, and then they get moved to the delivery rooms right away. I got hooked up to the IV, prepped for surgery and I was completely ready to go….and then my surgery got bumped back. Again. And again. And again. Finally, they were ready for me a little after 2pm. So we spent quite a while in that tiny room!

 I have a complaint about the Roseville Kaiser now…

There was a window on the operating room door. So anyone that walked by could see me completely. In the nude. Oh well.

 Once I was plugged into all the machines and full of the necessary numbing solutions, I laid down and I felt SUPER nauseous right away. I started gagging, but I was numb, so I didn’t have the strength to throw up. It was weird. I thought I was going to die for a second because I had to really focus to fill up my lungs with air…my chest just felt SO heavy. I was super scared and started kind of panicking! They gave me a shot to make the nausea go away and it worked super fast…within ten seconds. I wished I had a stash of those earlier in my pregnancy! Once the nausea was gone, I felt so much better and my anxiety went away.

 They let Wilson in, and I could tell he was really nervous. I didn’t know if he’d survive the OR because he even had to leave the room when Maya got stitches on her foot. He kept rubbing my hair and my face and I think it more to calm himself down than for me! Everything happened so fast, and before we knew it, the baby was out! Everyone kept saying over and over how big his head was. I was grateful that he was breech haha. They also said he was SO big and so chunky, etc. I felt bad for him…they were totally body shaming my newborn.

 They weighed him, and I guess they were right! He WAS a big boy- 9 lbs, 2 oz, 20.75 inches long, born at 2:57pm. Wilson cut the umbilical cord, and they brought the baby over to me and I got to hold him. I could not believe that whole baby fit inside of me!

After a while, Wilson went with the baby to the recovery room and I followed a little later. I was pretty amazed that at that point, I could already move my legs a little! I had flashbacks to Maya’s delivery where even the next morning the nurses had to like flip me around to clean me because I couldn’t move still. Things were so different this time…in a good way!

 We spent a few hours in the recovery area, where they have a nurse with you 24/7, and during that time we had our first visit from my parents, who brought Maya. Maya is always very shy when we take her to meet babies in the hospital, but this time she was more brve and outgoing and even wanted to hold the baby. It was so exciting and sweet to see my two babies together…she waited so long for that moment! Wilson surprised me with roses and balloons, which was so nice. I love a good balloon bouquet.

After a few hours, they moved us to our regular room. It was nice, but not as nice as the rooms I saw on the tours in Vacaville. But, on the other hand, it was MUCH nicer than my hospital room in the DR. Perspective.

 At this point, I could fully move my legs. I had pretty much no pain, but I was still moving pretty slowly because I was just a few hours recovered from major abdominal surgery. I had to keep reminding myself of that, because I honestly felt great. The only time I felt a little pain was when I’d go from a laying position to sitting up….the muscles required for that were just not firing correctly. But it was not bad AT ALL.

My nurse came in to help me stand up. She told me that I could take it slow, and if I got up and realized it was too much, I could just dangle my legs off the side of the bed instead. We just needed to get some blood flowing. In my mind, I was like oh, this is going to be easy! I can like run up the hallways right now! And guess what? It WAS easy! Ok, I wasn’t quite running up the hallway….but not only did I stand, I walked. And the nurse had given me a walker but I didn’t need it at all.

To compare to my recovery with Maya again...the day after my c section I was barely able to stand up straight and I was just barely hobbling along…definitely could’ve used a walker! But this time, it was just like 4 hours after surgery and I was walking fine! It was so crazy. I kept waiting for the pain to come, the meds to wear off or whatever…but it really never happened. My recovery was amazing and fast. Wilson had to keep telling me to slow down because I would kind of forget I just had surgery. I don’t know if they accidentally cut out something that made me feel no pain? Haha. But my doctor was definitely some kind of magician.  I never even took anything stronger than ibuprofen (except during surgery, obviously).

Our first night with Luke was…sleepless! Wilson actually had to be at work the very next day at 5am so he had planned to leave and sleep at home, but the baby kept spitting up blood, which was scary. Wilson decided to stay (thank goodness). The doctors told us it was completely normal, especially for c section babies to have blood and amniotic fluid that they cough up for the first few days so they weren’t concerned…but there is just something unsettling about hearing your newborn choking on blood every half hour during the first night of his life.

The next day, Wilson left for work and I was alone!! I was super nervous about this before giving birth…I told Wilson it would be impossible for me to handle the baby on my own right after surgery…but it turns out, I felt great and was able to take care of the baby with no problems! Also, he was sleeping pretty much allllll day, which helped. In fact, at this point, I hadn’t even really seen his eyes! I think he was not ready to be born yet. Sometimes he would like flutter his eyelids and raise his eyebrows and you could just tell he wanted to open them, but he couldn’t quite get it.  We had our second round of visitors on Friday- my brother and his family and my mom and Maya came again. I even got dressed for the occasion. Well, just FYI, when you give birth they give you a special lactation hospital gown…with 2 holes for your boobs. So its not really something you want to be wearing to greet visitors.

The baby continued to sleep for hours at a time, which was amazing. But right before we got discharged on Saturday morning, a lactation consultant came to see us and said they were concerned about is weight loss. He had lost 8% of his weight…which was not a big deal, as long as he didn’t lose any more. They delivered a hospital grade pump to my house to use and told me to wake up the baby every 2 hours to feed him. And thus ended my sleep. 

We left the hospital around noon on Saturday and we actually rode in the elevator with the lady from the waiting room while we were checking in…apparently her water HAD broken because there she was with a baby! 

Looking back on my birth experience, I would say I have zero regrets. It didn’t go how I had hoped/planned, but I really can’t complain about how things turned out. Plus, I’m super grateful I did not birth a 9lb baby vaginally. The past 9 weeks have been quite a blur (hence the super delayed post...), but we are completely happy with our sweet baby boy!

You survived this post, time for some pictures!!

Papa and baby in the OR...he was very white at birth! haha

In the recovery room

Meeting big sister

98th percentile head accentuated by extra tight swaddle

Taking home our squishy-cheeked boy!

[getoutofthisplace]

Dear Gus,

First off, your name is Gus, but more on that later. I’ll pick up where I left off yesterday: When we got to the hospital, I drove to the parking deck as we’d been instructed to, but the entrance was blocked off, so I turned to circle, but the parking lot was partially blocked off and there was a sign that said “Farmer’s Market.” Your mom, who didn’t want anything unexpected to delay your arrival, said, “Who the hell puts a farmer’s market in a hospital parking lot!?” But we eventually got into the parking deck and we parked near the skybridge. I grabbed our bags and we walked across the skybridge. “Do you want me to run ahead and grab a wheelchair?” I asked Mom, but she said no. Even when we had to stop walking so she could have a contraction while she held onto the rail. That skybridge seemed to get longer and longer with each step we took across it. I’d believed the sign that said there would be wheelchairs on the other side of the bridge, but when we got there, we saw only a long empty hallway into the hospital. Dr. Beck had told us there would be a desk there with someone sitting behind it, but alas, there was nothing. We walked toward the center of the hospital and saw no one. We were on a mezzanine level that overlooked the main entrance, but there was no one down there, either. “Hello?” I said into the lobby. No answer. There were no signs directing us where to go, and the doctor had just told us to go to the second floor, which we were clearly on because we could look over the railing at the first floor. “Stay here,” I told your mom while putting down our bags. I ran down the nearest hallway, and shouted again, “Hello? Is anybody here?!” Nothing. I ran back to your mom and down a different hallway. Nothing. The night was starting to take on a post-apocalyptic vibe. I ran down another hallway. Nothing. Finally we saw a bearded guy in a hospital staff uniform come in through the door on the first level. “You guys okay?” he called up to us. 

“Where do we go to have a baby?”

“The second floor,” he said.

“We’re on the second floor!”

He told us to stay put and he would come get us. He grabbed a wheelchair and headed to the elevator. When he got to us, your mom sat in the chair and we thanked him for helping us. Then your mom said, “Preston?” And he looked at her funny, so she pointed at herself and said, “Liz.” “Hey, what’s up, Liz?” “Having a baby!” “Congratulations.” (That’s the gist of it anyway, your mom and I remember it slightly differently.) Preston said he wasn’t supposed to be wheeling patients around, but we told him we wouldn’t complain if he’d just get us to Labor & Delivery. 

Turns out the second floor is not actually on the second floor–leave it to the Baptists, amirite?–so we had to take the elevator to the third floor to reach the second floor. At Labor & Delivery they put us in triage and gave your mom a gown to put on. We were relieved to be there, but then no one came in for a few minutes, which irked us both because we felt like you were on the way. The only other women we saw in triage were watching TV in their rooms. Your mom was in too much pain for that. When they finally came in to check on her, they were surprised to find her water had already broken and she was five centimeters dilated. We heard the nurses say she should’ve never come to triage and instead gone straight to a room. And they eventually took us to one.

The nurses told your mom to breathe through the contractions and do her best to rest between them because she’d need the energy when she had to push later. But of course, your mother couldn’t relax. When they checked her cervix, she was dilated seven centimeters. “When you feel a lot of pressure, let me know and I’ll come check you again,” the nurse said. And as soon as she walked out of the room–literally as soon as the door clicked–your mom said, “Tell her I feel pressure.” So I went to get the nurse, who came in to check your mom again and said, “You’re at eight! There’s a good chance you’re going to meet your baby within the next hour.” They called to update Dr. Beck, and the nursing staff began to cycle through the room regularly. They were all clearly impressed with your mother, who had made up her mind to not have any drugs to ease the pain of labor because she didn’t want you to experience anything unnatural in the first moments of your life. That’s how much she loves you.

You didn’t come within the hour, though. Your mom went from 8.5-9 cm dilated back to 8 cm. We hadn’t prepared for the possibility of moving backwards and it killed morale. Your mom was so exhausted from the hours and hours of contractions and she told me she couldn’t do it anymore, but last week she’d told me that she’d say she couldn’t take it anymore and that I should tell her she could do it. And so I did, and eventually she made it all the way to 10 cm. 

“It’s time to push!” the nurses finally said around 6.45am. And your mom pushed and pushed and pushed. For four solid hours she pushed. Even when she didn’t think she could push anymore, she gritted her teeth and pushed some more. I was so, so proud of her. We went through three different nurses who tried to help her push, and the last nurse said she was going to introduce some aggressive tactics to get you out because you were taking so long and Mom’s body was reaching a point of exhaustion. But even those tactics didn’t work. So the nurse called Dr. Beck, whose office is very proud of their natural birth rate, which is why we chose her, but Dr. Beck decided we needed to go in after you with a Caesarian section. Your mother cried because she wanted to have you there in the room and she was disappointed that she couldn’t. She didn’t want anyone to go in after you like that. And I cried because Mom tried so hard and the thought that she might be disappointed in herself at all crushed me, because she didn’t deserve that. All of the nurses were in awe of Mom’s strength and fortitude, and her willingness to endure so much pain so that your life might be the slightest bit better from the outset. And I kept crying and crying and crying because I was a basketcase. Your mom was strong, though.

They wheeled her to the operating room, but I had to stay in the hallway. I didn’t like that. I thought I would be away from Mom for only a minute or two while they prepped her for surgery, but a minute turned into what seemed like 20, and I worried for her. I tried to distract myself by texting updates to Nene and Yiayia, who were in the waiting room, and I updated Penny and Pa & Tutu. I was so worried about your mom.

Finally the anesthesiologist came and got me. I put a surgical Bouffant cap on my head and another on my beard, and then we went into the OR, where your mother was already on the operating table. I sat down beside her head and put my hand on her hand, but she had an epidural and didn’t realize it was me. I watched Dr. Beck make an incision on Mom’s abdomen and then clear a pathway for you to come out. Mom was awake, but she was behind a sheet so she couldn’t see what was happening. I hated to see her like that, and I think at that moment I realized how devastated I would be if something ever happened to her. I couldn’t stand to see her in pain, which she felt, despite the epidural.

“Can you feel that?” they asked her with surprise when she groaned.

She nodded her head. They told her she would feel pressure, but Mom says she felt pain. And it would be hard not to. As I watched the doctor work, I could tell things weren’t going as she’d hoped. She couldn’t get to you.

“He’s wedged,” she told the nurse. I think she had a hold of you, but she couldn’t pull you out because you were stuck. Your mom groaned from the pain, and the doctor made a bigger incision, and then she grabbed hold of Mom’s abdominal skin and pulled with all her might. She literally tried to stretch your mom so the nurse could break you free, which they finally did. You came out covered in goo and they immediately got you to a little table I couldn’t really see.

“He’s out,” I whispered to your mom, and I rubbed her cheek with my finger. She turned and saw it was me sitting beside her and she smiled. When I looked back up at her abdomen, I saw an artery dancing over her body like a fire hose, squirting blood with each pump of her heart. Blood spurted over the sheet and hit your mom in the forehead, but she didn’t notice. Blood spurted everywhere. Dr. Beck grabbed the wild artery and pulled it back into your mom’s abdomen.

“Is he okay?” Mom asked me. You started crying loudly right about that time, and I said “I think he’s okay.”

The nurses brought you over to me and put you in my lap. They showed me bruises on your head and nose because you were wedged against Mom’s pelvic bone. Mom cried as soon as she saw you. I put you right in front of her face and I could tell it bothered her that she couldn’t reach out and hold you right away, but I held you as best I could. Every time I’ve ever held a baby, there was always an end time, a time in which someone else would take the baby back and I could go about my way, and it was a weird feeling thinking that no one will ever be waiting to take you back from me because you are mine.

This is the first photo I ever took of you, when you are 24 minutes old and being passed to your mother for the very first time.

We’ve named you Augustus Ruff with the intention of calling you Gus. We both like Augustus and the name has some history in both our families. Your mom’s great-great uncle was named Gus Derdevanis. He owned a Greek restaurant/bar in San Francisco called Plaka Taverna, which is closed now, but it apparently used to be a happening place. And my 6th great-grandfather was Milton Augustus Calhoun. He died in the Civil War at the Battle of Shiloh. I’ve been fascinated with him ever since I got interested in genealogy back in 2010.

Your middle name is a nod toward Papa’s memory. His most affectionate pet name for me was Buddy Ruff and when I playfully referred to you as Gussy Ruff not too long ago, I struck an emotional chord by accident. Your mom and I talked about it and decided to go with Augustus Ruff Choate. We hope you like it. 

We’re beside ourselves with joy because you’re finally here. Know that we love you from the start, and we’ll love you forever–no matter what.

Dad 

Little Rock, Arkansas. 6.13.2017 - 11.47am.

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Vital Signs, Part 5

Word Count: 2099 Tags: @to-pick-ourselves-up-7 and @outside-the-government, @jimfromsales, @donnaintx 

I woke up to my pager and was momentarily disoriented. I lifted my head from the textbook I’d dozed off into, wiped the drool from the corner of my mouth and checked the message. As usual, I was wanted in the ER.

After returning to finish my residency at Midtown General, it became apparent very quickly that SHIELD, and in particular Director Fury, had made it clear to my residency program that I was to be accelerated through to finish as soon as possible, and that I needed my focus to be trauma. As a result, I always kept a clean set of clothes in my locker, and I hadn’t seen my apartment in about 6 days. TV shows might lead you to believe that a lot of naughty happens in the on-call rooms, but I would have killed anyone who came near me looking for blow off steam. I was too tired and too worried about my boards.

I ran down to the ER to find out what was happening. I checked in with the triage nurse.

“Hey, thanks for answering my page. There’s a really hot guy here with a deep laceration on his arm, and he said he knows you and only wants you to treat him. Curtain two.” She handed me the chart. I flipped it open as I opened the curtain and couldn’t help but smile when I looked up.

“Captain Rogers! It’s been too long,” I said warmly. He smiled back and then directed his gaze to his arm. He pulled back the makeshift dressing he was holding on it. I dropped the chart.

“Holy shit, Steve. What the hell?” The gash in his forearm was about 3 inches long and oozing blood. I grabbed a pair of gloves and started poking at it.

“Would you believe this is a gym injury?” He blushed.

“Really? The equipment is fighting back?” I pulled a dressing cart behind the curtain and set about cleaning it up. It was a clean tear, but it was deep.

“Actually, yeah. It’s a long story, but part of a press machine popped apart.”

“At least I know your tetanus shot is up to date,” I laughed, “but you’re going to have to help me out. I know your healing is accelerated, but is it enhanced too? If you were a normal guy I would put a couple of internal stitches in and then stitch up the laceration, but I don’t know if that’s appropriate here? You must have been hurt at some point during the war, right? What did the docs do then?” I was trying to keep quiet. Most people had no idea that Captain America had been found, and thawed back into life. It was probably why he sought me out for treatment.

“I’m not magical, Lex. If you would put stitches in a normal guy, then I need them too. I’ll just need them out sooner than the average guy,” he chuckled. I shot him a look and opened the dressing cart to dig for sutures. I stitched his wound closed and put a dressing on it.

“I’m going to guess you’re still susceptible to infection as well, so I’m going to give you a shot of penicillin too. But otherwise, you are all fixed up. I can take those out in a few days for you, pretty much as soon as they start to itch.” I wrote the penicillin order in his chart and dropped it back in the chart rack so the nurse could get the med ready. I returned to his bedside to clean up.

“You didn’t mention you were a doctor when we spoke.”

“Because I wasn’t, Steve.”

“But your name tag says Doctor now, Lex. I might have been asleep for a while, but I know med school takes longer than a few weeks.”

“It’s a long story.” I gestured to the busy ER.

“Meet me for dinner sometime and tell me about it,” he shrugged, and stood up.

“Why, Captain Rogers, are you asking me on a date?” I couldn’t help but smile. He was very hot. And he seemed really nice, so far. And he was Captain Fucking America, which was kind of cool, and seemed to suggest he was probably a pretty decent guy.

“I don’t know. Am I?” He seemed surprised, and looked down at his feet before looking back up at me. “Listen, I’ve been told that I can use my phone to send letters, if I have your phone number. Is that true?” He dug into his pocket for his phone.

“It is. Do you want me to put my number in there for you?”

“Yeah, I’m still figuring it out. I feel pretty stupid sometimes.” He handed it to me. I added my number, and sent myself a text from his phone so I had his as well before handing it back.

“There, now I have your number too. I’m supposed to have tomorrow and Thursday off, but I’ve been up for about 36 hours, so I am not going to be great company tomorrow. Let me know if Thursday works for you.”

“Sure. Thanks Lex. I don’t know a lot of people, and Fury has asked me to keep a low profile,” he blushed. I had to wonder exactly how awkward he’d been before he got the super serum that turned him into a hero. He seemed awfully shy.

“You don’t need to apologize for wanting to be friends, Steve. I’m lonely too.”

“Thursday then,” he said and shook my hand, which was a little weird. I nodded and excused myself. I checked in with the head nurse to make sure he got his antibiotic shot, and went back to the on-call room to keep studying. If I was going to take an evening off to hang out, I needed to redouble my study efforts. The boards were in just a few weeks.

I was jogging through Central Park when my text alert chirped in my ear. I stopped running and pulled my phone out of the running sleeve to check the message and immediately cracked up.

“Dear Alexandra,

I hope you are well and got some sleep last night. The weather has been great the last couple of days, it would be a shame for you to miss out on enjoying it. Further to our conversation on Tuesday at the hospital, I wanted to make sure you were still available for dinner tonight. If you are, I would like to meet you at the hospital at 1800, and from there we can continue out for the evening. I am looking forward to seeing you, and hope you enjoy the plans I’ve made. Please let me know if you received this letter. It seems very strange to be sending you a letter through this tiny phone.

Sincerely,

Captain Steve Rogers”

I was laughing so hard I started to cough and had to sit down on a bench. I quickly typed a response, careful to make sure it would make sense and not seem short with him and continued on with my run. I received another text back from him as I was running up the stairs to my apartment.

“Lex,

Thank you for writing back so quickly. I had no idea the letter would reach you as fast as it did. I’m glad we can still get together. And thank you, I will remind you to show me how to make text messaging easier. I would appreciate it. I’m having a hard time with how much technology has changed.

Steve”

He was so naïve it hurt. And I was really looking forward to our ‘date’.

True to his word, at six p.m., Steve was waiting outside the doors of the ER. Even better, he was holding out a Starbucks cup.

“The clerk said I should try a caramel macchiato, but I like mine black. I hope you do too,” he smiled. I was totally taken in by his offer, and accepted the coffee while giving him a quick appraisal. Yep, lots had changed since the 1940s. He was wearing a button down shirt, open at the collar, and I could see he had a white t-shirt underneath it. It was paired with khaki Dockers that were belted appropriately at his waist, and not hanging down showing the top of his underpants off. He looked old-fashioned and at the same time, so incredibly hot.

“You look great, Steve,” I offered.

“Thanks, you look fantastic. I had no idea your hair was so long. Or so red,” he said. And then blushed.

I’d been careful in picking out what to wear. So far, he’d only actually seen me in scrubs or my archery whites, and he’d been back long enough that I didn’t think the pants on women would be really shocking anymore, but I opted to wear a wrap dress anyhow. And to be honest, it was the only dress I had. I was wearing a heeled boot that brought my height to just above his shoulder, which was nice. I usually wore flats around guys just because anything more than 2 inches and I wound up six feet tall. It’s unnerving to be that tall. Steve was tall enough that I didn’t look like a giant. I linked my arm in his and smiled at him.

“Where to, Cap?”

“I hope this isn’t too forward, but I was hoping we could go to my apartment. I’ve discovered that I really like cooking since I’ve been… back.” He waited for my response.

“I love a man who can cook.” We walked off the same direction I’d come from and when he stopped in front of my building I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You live here?” I asked. He nodded. I held my door key up.

“It must be SHIELD building,” he laughed.

He definitely had the better apartment. I had a bachelor suite, no bedroom, tiny kitchen, miniature bathroom. He had a separate bedroom, and a decent sized kitchen that opened into a living room that was roomy enough to accommodate a big TV. I was jealous. The aroma in the apartment was amazing. He’d obviously figured out enough about the 21st century to realize that I was not going to have a problem having dinner at his place, as he’d already set something in the oven. Whatever it was, it was mouth watering. I sat down on a bar stool across the counter from where he was working and watched him. He immediately set about making a salad, obviously not used to company, as he was humming tunelessly. To say I was smitten would be an understatement. He probably drank a gallon of milk every day and cared for orphans too.

“What’s that you’re humming?” I couldn’t resist asking. He turned bright red.

“Oh, uh. It’s old. You probably wouldn’t know it. Glenn Miller.”

“Love Glenn Miller. I just didn’t recognize the tune.” My grandfather had been in a band in the 40s, and his love of playing had been one of the highlights of my childhood. The thought gave me pause. Steve was probably born around the same time.

“Yeah, the serum didn’t cure me of being tone deaf,” he laughed, “Oh, I’m a terrible host. Can I offer you a drink? I have Coca-Cola or milk. Or water, I guess.” I bit the inside of my cheek. He did drink milk.

“Still working on my coffee, but thanks.” We sat in an amiable silence for a while as he continued to prepare dinner.

“It smells amazing,” I offered when he pulled the pan out of the oven. He dished up and came and sat on the bar stool beside me to eat. But first he said grace. I wasn’t sure who was suffering worse culture shock, him or me. Alone in his apartment we were equally odd to one another. I could understand wanting to spend the evening together here. After dinner, he invited me to stay for a movie. I decided I probably could stay, as I just needed to go down a single flight of stairs to get home. I got comfortable on the couch while he made popcorn and chatted excitedly about how much he was enjoying catching up on the movies he’d messed.

I woke up to my phone ringing, stretched out on the couch under a blanket, with the sun shining brightly into my eyes.

“Yeah?” I answered.

“Dr. Richmond. You are late for rounds.” It was the chief attending at the hospital.

[andlikelions]

Like This & Like That

In the not so distant past I was frantically shuffling through nursing school with my eye on a promise that the choice I had made would provide security for my family and a colorful career for myself. I have never put more trust into anything before, and much of it felt entirely blind. It’s very unusual for me to blindly go all in without clear definition of what will be the product. I am historically a control freak.

I came from a very regimented structured program and university that very strongly advocated for its nursing graduates to move into either education, administration, military, or intense hospital nursing. It wasn’t a spoken rule by any measure but certainly that’s what seemed to get everyone all warm and fuzzy. My peers listed off their hopes of working in the Air Force, becoming neonatal intensive care unit nurses, neuro-oncology nurses.. wound care nurses.. the things you probably picture nurses to do with their skills and education. I’ll never forget what a graduating senior said to a group of us new sophomores who hadn’t had clinical experience yet, “if you don’t enjoy your medsurg clinical you probably shouldn’t be a nurse”. Daunting. It crippled my good friend right out of nursing school and normally that’s what would’ve happened to me too.

The pragmatic higher thinking part of my adult brain overrode that silly statement. I think my life experience up to that point was able to see beyond oversimplifications like that. So I continued to trust and invest all the while getting older, deeper into debt, and further involved in existential questions of my my purpose and my abilities as a woman and a creature.

I stand where I am now in awe and disbelief. Since I graduated and passed my boards I haven’t been able to fathom the unveiling of opportunities. People have been coming to me to request I apply to work with or for them including at the Plainfield Health Center, the Vermont Department of Health as a nurse epidemiologist, in multiple areas of multiple different hospitals..

Overwhelming isn’t the word. Joyful? Proud? I don’t know what the word is. I am in awe and amazed at my accomplishment. I truly did not believe I possessed the ability to create a new branch and path in my family’s story.

Nursing isn’t rocket science, but it certainly is rigorous in several ways including what felt like the ultimate test of character. Academically challenging for sure, but it was so much more than that. Prior in my life I’ve gained praise for my demeanor and dedication, not the case in nursing school. I felt, as we all did, that we were not worthy of the title we were after. I craved proving my will to myself. It’s sort of sadistic in a way.

Now that it’s all over and the death of my daughter has broken me down to my core, I feel as though I’ve been granted a new beginning. It really feels like starting all over again. Being reborn only this time I trust myself a little more. I’m reborn with skills and tools and have strong value. I also determined the senior with all of her nursing wisdom was wrong. We are not all cut out for hospital nursing as we all shouldn't be.

Five or so months ago I couldn’t have ever pictured going back to work. I couldn’t picture healing myself let alone others, I couldn’t picture doing my laundry or minimally cleaning my house let alone maintaining infection control protocols in a hospital. If I woke up and Grace ate, the day was a success.

It was around Thanksgiving time that I spoke with my employer and conveyed that very message in a heartfelt monologue. Their response surprised me and left me feeling so not pressured to make up my mind. They kept me on the roster so that I’d still receive benefits (under FMLA) and offered to help me find work in another area of the organization IF that’s what I wanted. Otherwise they expressed a sincere willingness to offer recommendations and write referrals.

At that point I looked into their job openings and thought how impossible it would be to find a match. A match to what? What even was I? I was a brand new nurse, in thick grief, what could I offer? I couldn’t align myself to people around me, conversations felt so foreign and awkward.

The very first day I browsed job postings I saw an opening for a triage nurse at Montpelier Integrative Family Medicine. Well that’s too good to be true, working for a place that is willing to get creative and think outside the box but also be independent of way out there eclectic naturopathy. It is what it’s name implies, it’s integrative. No way. I talked with my liaison from the hospital who made some calls and found that in fact it was too good to be true. Understandably a triage nurse needs prior experience.

Time went on, I applied to a couple of other positions that didn’t appeal to me but felt an obligation to put in some effort. In mid-February another job at Montpelier Integrative opened up. It was full time though and that didn’t sound remotely possible to me. Being away for 9 hours per day, 5 days per week? Couldn’t do it.

Meanwhile I went back to my old position at the hospital. My coworkers were as inviting and welcoming back as they could possibly have been, and the support was all I could ask for. The nature of the work mixed with the crazy hours on the other hand. I just could not set aside the interference of my circumstances playing on a reel through my mind. It kept me from being able to think in any depth and certainly kept me from being able to retain the volumes of details and contexts that I needed in order to even mildly effectively move through my day. Big fat no. Couldn’t do it.

My employer said they would extend my leave again, but this time the resources were sort of exhausted so I would need to be hired into a new position by the end of March or else they’d have to let me go. I decided it was time to dig into Montpelier Integrative a little more. And I thought about my criteria. One of my criteria was to not work crazy hours.. but I also had to weigh being able to walk at lunch time (rather than swallowing lunch whole while trying to chart on my patients), I could have Ashton and Grace come visit for lunch. Another factor that had to be seriously considered was weekends and holidays. The profession I got myself into works around the clock in all elements of weather, to not worry about holidays in an office setting was certainly a perk.

I thought and weighed and rearranged all that I could to try and think up a scenario that would fit the best and what I decided was that I hoped to work no more than part time.

I submitted my application on a Monday, by Thursday HR had contacted the practice to see what the status was. They already had plans to interview me. What?! Don’t get my hopes up, it may not be what I dreamed, in fact it probably is not, and furthermore the position I applied for was full time. My hope was to get an interview and see if there was any flexibility.

They called me for an interview the following week. It’s in a great location, near downtown as opposed to isolated just off the highway with no real great place to walk during a break.

I realized that I don’t get nervous for interviews at all anymore. I don’t know when the shift happened but I don’t get caught up in my head stressing about it, not beforehand or during.

The office has a weird layout but it’s doable. They at least talked emphatically about a plan to renovate soon. Change. I like it.

Two nurses interviewed me, one is an office nurse who would be my partner, she’s been working there for about 8 months. Prior to that she was an ED nurse at CVMC and also worked as a float around the hospital. She was intimidating. But intimidating means something very different to me now. I’m an adult, I have value and skills, I am a mother, I have accomplished a lot, the feeling of being intimidated is only a feeling not a quality or trait of mine. The other nurse is the practice manager. She’s intense but the kind that made me feel she could be trusted to have her nurses backs if push came to shove. She’s very alpha female but with more of the feminine traits- understanding and compassionate- and less of the masculine domineering ones.

Early in the interview she said firmly that the position was full time, I saw no opening or invite for negotiation. So from that point on in the interview I didn’t do much of anything at all to sell myself, I turned it around and wanted to be sold the position. I felt like my sacrifices had to be worth it and wanted proof of it.

They were really into me despite my secret reservations, I could tell they were interested in my experience and my aura. They talked about the position as though it were already mine using phrases like, “this is what you’ll be doing”. They gave me a tour and introduced me to the other nurses and the provider who I would be working for.

I left kind of bummed. How could I reconcile 40 hours per week? I spent a few days minimally thinking about it. I had sort of written it off, especially after one night when I decided there was no way I could part with my counseling visits. I sort of forgot about it.

I went back to the drawing board and was far far less inspired. I just had an interview at the only place I could envision being a nurse at this point in time and have all but turned it away. How was I going to find a fit? Nothing felt right.

I put my thoughts together and finally decided to send the hiring nurse an email. She told me to contact her by email with any questions. I wrote thanking her for her time and for the opportunity but that I didn’t think it were possible for me to walk away from the routines I have developed to help me cope. As I wrote it, I found myself reeeeaaally wanting her to find a way to make it work for me, but for how firm she was in the interview I felt like it was no use. I typed it in there anyway “if there is any adjustment that can be made to fit my life in where I need it…”

I had it all typed and ready to send. Ashton was beside me, and so I started reading it to him for a final check before I sent it off to its doom. Just as I got to the second paragraph my phone rang. It was Gail, the office manager.

I didn’t know what to say, but I did because I had just rehearsed it for the last hour. She was giddy with excitement, she had several ways of describing how much they wanted me to come work with them. She was far more emphatic than she was in the interview. I said, “I just have to be honest, I can’t leave counseling and other commitments that I have made to myself”, she said, “I am a flexible manager and I will make anything you need to work, work. Don’t you worry about that”. I also said we finalized a plan to take a trip to Austin in 3 weeks. Done. She said she’ll list it as a condition of being hired. I accepted the offer. I took a $1.24 pay cut, which was a surprise, I was expecting a more dramatic drop in pay. I don’t lose benefits, I don’t change organizations.. I qualify for short term disability now, I qualify for 28 days off per year..

I don’t know exactly what I need, but I feel like I’m doing the right thing. Grace is in daycare 3 days per week as it is. I asked Ashton if he could bring Grace to me for lunch on her off days. I’ll be able to see her when she wakes up, I’ll be able to have dinner with her, and weekends and holidays, and all the while I’ll be able to establish some financial stability for us. A major major factor was benefits. In the current political climate keeping health insurance means even more to me than income.

Here we go, my life is about to change again. I hope to create a lens or filter that works for me to enjoy all aspects and not feel like any one area of importance to me is negated. Especially Grace. I think the routine will help for me to concentrate my time with her even more than I do now. Sort of like putting the oxygen on myself before others. I can do it. I can find balance, I just have to be willing to see it and know that it won’t always feel the same. I have to be vigilant about planning vacations and using my time off wisely.

I feel that this will anchor me in a way that I need right now. I need mental exhaustion in a different way.

I welcome more change, and am open to growing and learning.

Nothing ever has to be permanent, and it doesn’t ever have to be one or the other.

[unholyhelbig]

Title: Wolf-Girl

Ship: Hope Mikaelson/Lizzie Saltzman

Summary: Lizzie Saltzman is a doctor in a small rural hospital letting another full moon pass her by, but when a car accident involving a girl who seemingly got up and walked away rolls into the ER, Lizzie can't help but follow her gut and lean on her curiosity.

Medicine was never Lizzie’s first choice. She wanted to be a designer; she never got far enough to know what kind, if her specialty would be homes plated in glass or celebrities equally as adorned in diamonds. But she wanted to be in control of something, to make a difference in someone’s life without having too much commitment and influence.

Medicine was not her first choice. It wasn’t her second or her third, but fate had a way of steering her in a direction that seemed unfathomable. Fate had the scent of blood and the sharp stinging pain of shrapnel.

Lizzie remembers the first life she saved. It wasn’t poetic or planned, but it never quite is. She had mustered the courage that her summer babysitting course instilled in her; calm, collected, concise. Even as a creamy red bubbled past a motorcyclist’s lips and splattered her face, and her collar, and her fingers, she kept going in a rhythmic fashion until the real lifesavers got there.

They thanked her, and asked her questions, and told her that she needed to get cleaned up for her own sake. A young EMT squeezed her arm and looked into her dilated eyes and told her that she did everything she could.

But when she laid in bed that night, a fan pushing soft summer air around the room defenselessly, she didn’t’ feel like she had done enough. Sweat made her skin sticky and damp, and she woke up from a light sleep thinking it was blood- a stranger's blood coating her fingertips and making them toxic in their own way.

Josie said she screamed, and her father would have agreed. But Lizzie doesn’t remember any of that, or maybe, along the way, she forced herself to forget. It took her a long while to force herself to drive again, but eventually, she did. And after that, after that summer at their house on the ocean, she had decided that she would go into medicine.

It wasn’t her first choice, not in the slightest, but she was damned good at it.

She tended to regret her choices on nights like these; full moons that hung high in the air. It pulled the tides and pulled the insanity right along with it. She had stitched up a kid who thought it was a good idea to tie the blunt end of the string to an RC car and the opposite side to a tooth not ready to come out yet. The chord of rope split his chin right open.

There was the usual influx of abdominal pain and splinters lodged deep into skin. The standard pill pushers and nightly drunks. A group of frat boys that got a little too close to the propellors on a boat, slicing the thumb clean off their leader- but they brought that in a cooler stocked fresh with beer and ice. It worked just fine.

“I took a Latin class in undergrad; Lunacy is the definition of going crazy because of the moon. Whoever invented the damn word knew what they were doing to ER workers when they were scheduled on a night like this.”

“The Romans invented Latin. Shouldn’t you know that?”

Lizzie was trying to get some sleep before her beeper would inevitably go off. She had taken off her lab coat and situated it into a little ball of fabric until she was satisfied before finally getting a chance to close her eyes.

But Jade had been antagonizing MG the whole night about the fact that Full Moons didn’t’ actually make the nights harder; what made the nights harder was the fact that they blamed every odd thing on said moon. It made the night drag on, and the first half of the next day too.

“You know what I think?” Jade went on, slamming her elbow into the glass sheet of the vending machine shoved into the corner of the break room “I think you should stop watching so many horror movies in your free time.”

She fished her prize from the bottom of the trough, the cellophane crinkling under her grasp. Lizzie didn’t’ know how old the snack cakes were, they had never seen it restocked, but it never stopped them from scarfing down the sugary treats whenever possible.

“Alright, so you explain room seven to me?”

Lizzie opened her eyes then and stared at the tiled ceiling, the lights above her head were buzzing dutifully. The nurse and Rad Tech had moved over to the only table in the room. MG picked at the second cake that Jade seemed to hand over to him.

“Dude is old as dirt, probably had a few drinks too. No wonder he saw what he did.” She shrugged her shoulders “probably tired too.”

“Oh, pick a struggle, besides he blew a 0.00 on the breathalyzer. Even if he was drunk, which he wasn’t, there’s no way to fool that thing.” He took a thoughtful bite of his snack cake and chewed.

Lizzie finally sat all the way up, her hair scrunched on one side and sleep biting at her reddened cheeks. She didn’t’ remember drifting off, but then again, she never did remember. Jade lifted her hand in a small wave and MG beamed at her, crumbs against his chin.

“What happened in room seven?” She asked, bringing her legs to her chest, the sofa in the breakroom nothing but uncomfortable and stiff. Her spine ached.

Jade waved her hand in front of her face “Car accident. Not a big deal at all. MG is just making it sound like more than it is.”

“It is more” He whined, turning his chair towards the general practitioner “Man comes in carrying a naked girl in his arms. She’s pretty banged up and wrapped in a tarp from the back of his truck.”

Lizzie lifted a brow; weird, sure, but she had taken a cooler with a detached extremity in it a few hours ago, and an intern had suggested that they warm it back up with an electric hairdryer. So after a dark glare and a moment of slamming her head against the triage desk, she regained her composure and considered this normal enough.

“Tell her what he said,” MG had a shit-eating grin on his face as he nudged Jade.

She sighed heavy and hot “The old dude claimed that he hit a dog. He said his headlights caught it at the last minute and by the time he stopped it was already under his front tires. But when he got out of his truck it was a girl. A naked girl, the one he brought in.”

“The full moon strikes again,” MG lowered his voice.

“Or he’s been holding this girl captive in his basement for god knows how long and concocted a heinous story to get the cops off his tail. No pun intended.”

The pun had been intended and she seemed quite proud of herself, licking the little bit of icing off the tip of her pinky finger. Lizzie was wide awake now, with a dull pain at the base of her spine from the springs in the sofa. She stood and snatched her lab coat from the far cushion before sliding it on. Seven more hours to go in a 48-hour bender shift.

“I want it,” Lizzie said.

MG lifted his eyebrows and shoved the snack cake, half-devoured, closer to her. She shook her head with a frown.

“Not the food, I want room Seven. I’ve been stitching up lacerations and pouring lidocaine into dixie cups for two days, if you don’t count the thumb incident, I’ve been nothing more than an intern.” She leaned heavily against the table, staring at her two colleagues.

Jade smiled and moved her finger against the side of her lip. She reminded Lizzie of a weed dealer in high school, clearly having an advantage over her with the snide look in her eyes. Lizzie wasn’t above begging, not for a case like this, not for a girl who probably had a few broken bones.

But she wasn’t interested in the victim. Not fully- she was more invested in the man who claims that humans morphed to beast but bleed the same.

“Whatever man, you can have it.” She relented “She’s the only one on my rotation right now.”

Lizzie considered that a win. She clapped the woman on the shoulder before walking towards room seven. It had gotten quiet, there was a rough cough down the hall and a mother holding a crying baby as the attending gave a shot.

But for a full moon- for something that pulled people into insanity, lunacy as MG would call it, it was quiet. She would never admit that because it was a forbidden word in healthcare, always had been. She knew that as she got to the enclosed room and picked up the silver chart. She scanned Jade’s scribbled handwriting.

HOPE M

Fractured Ulna, right side

Atypical white blood cell count

Tachycardia

Laceration, right side, temple

Lizzie tucked the metal under her arm and rapt her knuckles against the door. She didn’t’ hear anything but listened hard, before pushing the door open. The scent of blood was apparent and shrouded in sweat and antiseptic.

The lights had been dimmed but those that were shining, every other tile buzzed like a fly trapped listlessly against a windowpane. It seemed to take up the entire hospital room; the heart monitor beeped in a rhythmic fashion every couple of seconds. A certain type of nausea settled itself at the base of Lizzie’s stomach as she walked.

She had expected helplessness. Working in a hospital in the Emergency department pretty much guaranteed it. And Lizzie- Lizzie had the chance to be a hero and make up for the man on the motorcycle with cherry on his lips and a gurgling in his throat.

It wasn’t the same with this girl; this girl was pulling on a scuffed-up combat boot with gravel embedded in its rubber base. Her naked back faced Lizzie, and the orange trace of blood splattered in the shape of a map against soft skin.

A more permanent mark of a half-moon facing west was embedded on her shoulder. That couldn’t’ be wiped away. Lizzie stared, maybe a little too long, before realizing that her patient was pulling on her clothing to leave. The bruising against her sides and around her hip bones looked as if it were more than dead blood just under her skin. It looked like waves, entirely alive and moving towards the moon positioned just above.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Lizzie found herself saying.

The stranger startled and reached for the cotton flower gown that tied at the neck and again mid-back. She held it flush against her chest and stood. She winced- but that didn't catch the doctor's attention. What did was the fact that she could stand at all. Lizzie caught her eyes, green and blue and grey under the lights.

“Leaving.” She said, sizing the doctor up.

Lizzie hoped she didn’t’ look as small as she felt. She had hugged the metal clipboard close to her and studied the strong presence in the room with curiosity. She had fished a thumb out of a bucket of beer for fucks sake, she was not about to let this… this girl leave in the middle of the night when she had been sidelined by a truck.

“No, I don’t think you are.”

Hope scoffed “Really? I feel like there’s something legal here that permits me to refuse medical treatment.”

There was, But part of Lizzie thought that if she puffed up her chest enough she could get the patient to stay. They always pushed it hard, and she wasn’t about to let a pretty face and snide attitude stop that now.

“My chart says you should be dead right now.” She lifted an eyebrow, making a show of opening it, though her brain couldn’t make sense of Jade’s words while the patient stared her down. “And the man in the hallway says you should be a…. golden retriever?”

Hope laughed this time. “Man’s blind. He tapped me with his car, and I got up. Do I look like a golden retriever to you, Doc? You’ve already scanned my brain, no concussions. As far as I’m concerned, I’m free to go.”

“Go on then,” Lizzie shut the chart and stepped out of the pathway leading to the door. “But Just to let you know. That blind man is sitting right outside, waiting to grill you about the fact that you had a tail. So you can either do that, or you can sit your ass back down in bed and let me get some fluids in you.”

She frowned, pouted really. Her stormy gaze shot to the door, and then to Lizzie again. “Isn’t there a way to just… remove him?”

“Not legally.”

Hope lowered herself back down to the bed, as dramatically as she could with the soreness in her muscles. Lizzie was satisfied with that for now and watched as she toed off her boots easily, not having bothered with securing the laces.

She rushed her hand under freezing water with generic soap and slid some gloves on. She felt Hope’s stare burning a hole in her lab coat the entire time but didn’t’ give in to the pressure.

“Why do you care so much?” Hope asked when she pulled a stool up to the side of the bed, tourniquet in hand. “I mean, I know it’s your job and all, but the last I checked, a nurse could have done this.”

“You interest me. Jade rarely misses, and X-rays don’t lie. Everyone else might chalk you up to a medical miracle,”

Lizzie secured the latex around the upper part of Hope’s arm and tied it tightly. The woman flinched again, this time as it pinched her skin. She took two fingers and started to press against the unnaturally hot part of Hope’s arm until she found a good vein that wasn’t over a tendon.

“And what do you think I am?”

“I don’t know.” She rubbed cooling alcohol against the spot, not having started an IV in years. “A product of the full moon. The man could have been blind. Jade could have been wrong. You don’t look like you have a fractured ulna to me.”

Hope drew in a sharp breath as soon as the needle slid into the crease in her arm. Lizzie worked quickly, securing the catheter with tape before grabbing the tube that linked to the fluid bag. Hope eyed her carefully through it all but seemed to relax at the lack of prodding once the drops started to flow.

“You’re not normal, are you?” Lizzie asked, peeling her gloves off and balling them up.

“None of us are normal, Doc. Some things are just more noticeable than others.”

Lizzie didn’t’ move from the small stool that she was crouched on. It was as tall as it could go and her knees still pressed close to her chest. She felt like a child squeezed into a tiny plastic chair waiting for a non-specific orange beverage.

She watched as blood collected around the IV that she had placed in Hope M’s arm. It bubbled and hissed like black goo, but it was just blood. The same blood that crusted against her hairline and the expert sutures that Jade had applied earlier. Hope stared at her all the same, a mix of a pout and a curious frown against her features.

“I’ll tell you what, wolf-girl. I’ll forge the reports, get the old quack out of the lobby, and discharge you if-“

“If?”

“If you come back in two weeks and give me a vial of your blood. So, help me if I took any more from you tonight. Superhuman or not, everyone needs time to heal.”

“I don’t’ understand.”

“I want to study you.”

Hope laughed again, this time it had a bit of malice in it. It sounded like gravel, and it slowly turned into a wet hack. Lizzie, the doctor in her, stood and got her a little plastic cup filled with water. She gulped it down greedily and pulled in a shaky breath. “You’re being serious?”

“As serious as they come, yeah. I want to understand how a ford can hit you full force and you can walk away- limp away. It’s not just adrenaline, this isn’t a situation where you lifted a car off a baby in a fit of strength. You’re always like this, aren’t you?”

Hope narrowed her eyes and traced the plastic edge of the cup “Like what?”

“You’re a hard stick. Not because I can’t find your veins. I could do that blindfolded. Your skin was thicker, like stone.” The corner of Lizzie’s mouth quirked up into an odd smile. “You’re not human and I’ve never seen that before. So, I want to study you.”

“And if I don’t agree to be your little lab rat?”

Lizzie shrugged “Either way you’re going to walk out of here. I can’t stop you. As you said, there are laws in place against that but… let me help you, and you can help me.”

Hope shifted in the hospital bed and groaned as her fingers moved away from the empty cup and instead pushed into her ribs. She tried not to show the discomfort that rushed through her. But Lizzie could spot a prideful disadvantage from a mile away. She lowered herself back onto the stool.

“You heal fast, I get it, if you didn’t chances are you’d be jacked up on fentanyl right now, halfway to the moon or a coma, whatever you reached first. But that doesn’t mean you’re immune to pain. You’re still experiencing it now. Let me help you with that.”

Hope glowered for a moment, fingers still pressed against the sore spot in her ribs. Lizzie could have sworn there was a soft, nearly inaudible growl that rumbled in the girl's chest, but she wasn’t sure, the machine tracking her heartrate clicked steadily by and the light still buzzed like a trapped fly.

“Okay,” She said, soft and slow “Okay, fine. You have a deal.”

[motherof4dragons]

Sample Chapter

I've been writing fan fiction, but I recently started a fan fic that I really enjoyed the premise of.  I thought I could really do something with it outside of the fandom.  I read a ton, and did some research on 2nd chance fictions and friends to lovers stroeis and I think this would be pretty unique in the genre.  

So I stripped the story of all of the original content that connected it to the fandom and tried to write a first chapter, or first several chapters depending on size for a "real" book.  Please tell me if it's ok, and if it is too closely resembling it's origin content.  I'm purposefully leaving out any tags so that maybe someone who doesn't normally know what I write about can read it hopefully not draw the connections to the fandom.  Does that make sense?  Try to read it as if you just picked the book up off of Kindle's 1.99 list.

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

May 2018

I’m in the middle of discussing today’s surgery with my patient and her family when I hear my phone and my pager go off simultaneously.  That’s never a good sign.  Giving my patient my best Anderson smile, I look at my pager, then swipe across the front of my phone.  Both alert me to the same thing.

MASS SHOOTING ETA 15 minutes out.

I learned long ago to turn the news alerts off on my phone, otherwise I wouldn't be able to concentrate on my day without worrying about what my day could turn into.  So 15 minutes out for us means the shooting probably started a half hour to an hour ago, which means I need to get a move on it.

 I turn back to my patient and her family and put an end to our pre-op conversations.

“Excuse me guys, I am so sorry. It looks like we may have to put todays surgery on hold, there’s been an emergency. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” I pat my patient on her back, shake her husband’s hand and leave the room as quickly as I can.

Heading out of the patient’s room and to the nurse’s station, I put the tablet back on the charging station then head to the surgery board where I know everybody will be meeting. Sean, though not technically our chief of staff anymore, is up front leading the charge.

“Ok people, we have a mass casualty event. Shooting at the mall. We can expect the majority of the victims to come to us. We don’t have an estimate yet as to how many that may be, but it sounds like he got a lot of rounds off before he was taken down by a civilian. The ambulances are waiting on the all clear to start scooping them up. I want OR’s 1-5 on constant rotation. Don’t take the time to make it pretty people, get in and get out. All elective and non-emergent surgeries have been cancelled and the patients that can be are being discharged. Move all non-critical ER patients to the clinic. The blood bank is sending up all available units. I want every available surgeon in the pit in 5. Get a move on it.”

I’m a reconstructive surgeon.  I trained as a plastic surgeon, but I really dislike that title.  I don’t work with plastic.  I work with people.  That’s not to say that plastic doesn’t have its place.  I think every human has the right to feel good about themselves, and if that means a person needs a boob job or a butt implant, then the more power to them.  And that’s not to say that I don’t still do the occasional ‘plastics’ job.  Liposuction keeps the lights on as my old mentor used to say.  But my specialty is reconstructive surgery.  I take something that was once beautiful, but damaged due to life and circumstance, and make it beautiful once again.  I specialize in burn victims and gender reaffirmation surgeries.  Two of the toughest life events any person will ever have to face. I’m to the point in my career where I can pick and choose what surgeries I want to do, so I do the occasional pro-bono cleft palate surgery to make the soul feel good too.  I’m a board certified ENT as well, but that really only falls into play with burn victims, and the occasional hard intubation in the emergency room. But no matter their specialty, a surgeon is still a surgeon. And a requirement for working at a hospital like Riley’s Memorial is that you have to be proficient in trauma.  We’re the largest hospital in the state, with a trauma and burn department that is world renown.  If you get severely hurt in the state of Colorado, there’s a large possibility that you’ll end up with us.

Noah takes the time to swing by his locker to hang his coat up then heads  down to the pit.

--

 “Anderson, have you talked to Lizzy today?” Sean stops and sticks his head into the trauma room Noah is just finishing up in. Superficial injuries, but she cut herself pretty bad on something running away from the shooting, and had an eight inch laceration that required stitched. Normally I would have a resident or intern do it, but it’s in a pretty visible spot, and I wanted it done right.  Every wound I can repair properly now is one I won’t have to go back in to fix at a later date.

“No, why?”

“Because several of the victims are saying they were triaged on scene by someone who says they were a doctor.”

“So what?”

“A redheaded female doctor.”

Elizabeth Marie Stewart, former trauma surgeon and current Assistant Department Head of Public Health.  She also happens to be the mother of my children, my ex-wife, and the probable love of my life.  And yes, she is a red headed female doctor.

We’ve gotten the first wave of ambulances emptied and into the emergency department. I did notice that some patients have the trauma triage color codes written on their bodies, but I just assumed that they didn’t have the tags at the scene.  However, that’s a trick they use out in the field in the military, and both Sean and I know it.

The chances of that being Lizzy are pretty small, but I snap off my gloves and pull my phone out of my pocket anyways. We just went to church together with Lillian this past weekend. She didn’t mention going to the mall this week, but then why would she. We may share a daughter, and since her accident, we’re back to being good friends, but long gone are the days where I got daily reports of her plans and movements.

After 4 rings it goes to her voicemail. “Hey Liz It’s me. Listen, I know this is going to sound weird, but there was a shooting at the mall, I’m sure you’ll have heard about it by the time you get this, And I bet you’ll get a kick out of this but some of the patients are saying they were triaged by a redheaded dr. So now I’m worried about you. Call me back."

Thought of her at that mall, despite how improbable that may be makes my heart speed up a little. I decide to shoot her a text too.

Noah: Hey. Mass shooting at the mall. Check in with me please.

I debate sending a text to her husband, but I think Lizzy said he’s out of town, so I put my phone back in my pocket and try to shake it off, then head back into the fray.

  --

“Next wave coming in guys!”

I’m in the middle of assessing a middle aged man with a gunshot wound to the thigh, through and through. Whoever is on the scene knows what they were doing, that’s for sure. The patient’s own belt is wrapped around his upper leg to stem the blood loss and the words “yellow tag” were written in blue ink across his forearm. He told a more exaggerated story of the redheaded angel running into the middle of the bloodshed single handedly saving every person she touched.  The guy is seriously smitten.  It’s one of the more extreme versions of the story of the red head I’ve heard today, and I’ve heard variations of the same thing from multiple sources over the last hour.  The more we hear, the more I’m afraid it may really be Lizzy.  She hasn’t replied back to my messages yet.

And then he hears Her.

“22 yr old female, 3 gun shot wounds to the right arm, hip and thigh. Approx. 2 liters blood loss in the field. 2 large bore ivs placed in route. Her driver’s license states she’s o+ so let’s get a trauma panel, type and cross match and get blood hung. We also gave 4 of morphine. She’s passed out but she’s going to hurt like a bitch when she comes to. I need ortho in here stat, her pelvis is probably shattered. Get me x-rays and then let’s get her up to an OR. And someone find me a pair of scrubs please.”

Lizzy’s voice is authoritative and electric. The sound of it issuing out commands flashes me back to ages before. The ER is her domain, even if she hasn’t stepped foot in it for over 2 years. I can’t see her, but I can see the ER’s response to her. Residents and nurses that know her are scattering in different directions to obey her orders. The interns in the room with me are watching the chaos in awe, this stranger who can waltz in and command everyone’s immediate obedience. She yells out louder than the other orders, “also someone find Davis to give me privileges!” I look up and meet Emma’s eyes to see my grin echoed on her face. “Stewart’s back” she says and snaps her gloves off to go help Lizzy.

Emma takes two steps out of the trauma room and freezes. “Shit” she says with passion, then quieter, “Noah.”

I move to where she is standing, and feel the grin melt off my face and my blood run cold. Lizzy is in skinny jeans and what may have once been a lighter colored t shirt. Her red medusa like hair is piled on her head in a messy bun with hair streaming down around her face. And Lizzy is covered head to foot in blood and gore. While most of it probably isn’t hers, some of it obviously is. She has a bandage wrapped haphazardly around her left upper arm, and there is a small trickle of blood still dripping down off of her bent elbow. She’s wearing gloves, but it’s apparent from the distorted color of them that there is just as much blood inside the gloves as outside.  Seeing the blood all over her body, I feel all the blood drain completely out of mine.

“Lizzy, oh my god Lizzy were you shot?”  Emma’s the first to react, moving towards Lizzy and the patient.

She looks down at her arm like she’d forgotten about it and shrugs, hands still on the patient.

“It was just a flesh wound. Noah, can you call the nanny and have her pick up Lillian today?  Have them go back to your house. Nathan and River are going to be at his parents’ house for the rest of the week still. I told the paramedics on scene to send all non-critical to St. Mary’s Hospital so that we could concentrate on the critical. The first paramedics to arrive tried to give me push back until Warren showed up, then they let me control the scene. Where’s my ortho consult?”

I’m standing there looking at her like an idiot.  I hear her speaking, but for some reason none of it is computing in my mind.  She’s just so casual, like this is an everyday occurrence.  Yes, rearranging childcare isn’t exactly a new situation, seeing how our entire community are either doctors or in the medical field.  But this, this catastrophe she just walked in with?  This certainly isn’t our normal operating method.  Wait a minute? Warren knew she was there and didn’t bother to give us a heads up? As soon as I see him I’m going to kick his fucking ass.

The sight of a nurse coming in with a set of black scrubs finally spurs me into motion, and I take them from her.

“Emma, take over the patient. Lizzy, come on, let’s get you stitched up.”

“Just throw some antiseptic on it and I’ll worry about it later.” The portable x-ray is in here now and she steps back, momentarily putting the safety coveralls on while the pictures are taken.  I cringe at the amount of blood I can now see on the inside of the x-ray shield.  It’ll need to be hosed down before it can be used again. And why am I worried about the x-ray shields?  I wonder if I’m going into shock just from the close contact of Lizzy. 

“ELIZABETH!”  I yell it out into the room, voice laced with all the fear and anger and frustration I possess and feel rather than see half the department stop and look at me.

When she finally turns to face me head on, her shoulders fall and her face softens. I don’t know what she sees on my face, but it makes her acquiesce to my request. She nods sharply and starts to remove her gloves, tossing them onto the floor with the rest of the trash.

Alex comes into the trauma room grinning, arms crossed over his chest, light on his feet despite the situation. “You know Stewart, if you missed us that much all you had to do was call. There was no need to get yourself shot.”

Lizzy returns his grin ear to ear. “You know me Davis, I like the drama. I’ll meet you guys upstairs, which OR?”

Davis’ eyes flick to me momentarily and I read the concern in them with years of practice. I nod, not giving my ok but acknowledging that I’ll take care of her.

“OR 4 should be ready for turnover in 20. I expect you clean and stitched before you enter my scrub room Stewart.”

“Sheesh Davis, the power’s gone to your head hasn’t it? Fine. Have ortho stabilize her before she goes up.”

We start to walk out of the trauma bays towards the elevator when we hear Davis call out “good to have to you back Stewart.”

--

We head into the attending’s locker room and I walk straight thru to the bathing area to turn on the shower. I put the scrubs on the counter and go back out into the locker area to find some soap and shampoo for her. She’s taking off her tennis shoes and examines them critically before tossing them into the corner. Her t-shirt comes off and goes straight into the trash. She has her hands on her jeans and is halfway thru pulling down the zipper when she looks at me. It takes her cocking her eyebrow at me before I realize I’m staring at her half naked. God she’s beautiful. But that’s not what I’m staring at, not really.

If our bodies are a road map, hers has taken some very painful turns.  I can see the faint outlines of her chest tube scars across her chest, upraised and evident with the goo coating her. I see the jagged c section scar low under her belly button above her panty line where our daughter was pulled from her body. The dried blood all over her torso is horrifying.  It’s left weird patterns on her skin as it’s dried through and from the contact of her clothing.  She almost looks like a walking Rorschach painting.   And I think, this is the third time she’s almost been taken from me. The thought makes me sick.

I put the bottles I took out if Amanda’s locker into the shower stall, then turn and pull her towards me. I embrace her harder then I mean to, and seeing as she’s married to another man, and half naked, it’s completely inappropriate, but I can’t let her go.  

“Noah? I know Noah, I know.”  She squeezes me back tight, then takes in a shaking breath herself.  “I can’t, I can’t fall apart yet Noah.  There’s still stuff to do.  We can’t fall apart yet.”  She sounds like she’s trying to separate herself from me but still, she doesn’t try to pull away and I tighten my hold just a little more.  She runs her hands soothingly over my back and I bury my nose in her hair. Even under all of the blood I can still smell her flowery conditioner.  “I’m alright Noah. I’m alright”  

When I feel myself on the verge of cracking, I let her go and quickly wipe the moisture from my eyes. “You shower, I’m going to go get a suture kit. We have about 15 minutes before they’ll be ready for you. I’m assuming you’re wanting to operate? You haven’t been in a surgery suite in a while.”

“I’ve kept all my certifications up to date and done more continuing education credits than I’m required to, due to boredom mainly.  I still do ride alongs on a quarterly basis.  And I think I proved today my trauma skills are still sharp."  She points at me before she resumes the removal of her pants.  "You need to change your scrubs too, you’re covered in blood now.” I look at myself and see that she’s right. Her blood covered imprint is now on my shirt.  It’s hard to tell from the dark color of the material, but I can see the strange patterns the blood has left on the fabric.

I decide to ignore the boredom statement, but push it into the back of my mind to consider later. “Ok. I’ll be right back.” I pull her to me one more time and kiss her forehead, blood and all, then leave the bathing area and shut the door behind me. I lean against the door after I shut it and try to gather my thoughts.  Lizzy, my Lizzy, was shot.  Never before have I been so happy we got Lillian into that fancy preschool. I don’t know what I would have done if they had both been there. The thought makes my knees weak. But there’s luck there for another reason too. There are a lot of people alive right now because Lizzy was in that mall today. If Lillian had been with her she would have been protecting her instead of helping all those people. She’s a hero.  Another wave of adrenalin or some other hormone shoots thru me, and I will myself to calm down.  I’ve felt on the verge of a panic attack since I first laid eyes on her, but she’s right.  Now is not the time.  We still have stuff to do today.  

Get yourself together Anderson. Scrubbing my hands vigorously over my head, I push off from the door and head out in search of a suture kit. When I see a supply cart, I grab supplies to draw some blood too. With that much blood mixing over her we’d better do some blood tests at well. Rapid HIV, blood counts, std’s, pregnancy, the works.  Oh god.  The thought of Lizzy pregnant makes me feel sick.  I let myself into the drug closet and grab the lidocaine and some pain killers, then head back into the lounge and place it all on the table. I’m getting everything set up with a bottle of water on the table for her when she comes back out of the shower.

To my surprise, she has the scrub bottoms on but not the scrub top. She has the towel wrapped around her torso, but they aren’t really made to wrap all the way around a woman’s curves, so there’s a damp line of bare skin showing from her shoulder to where the scrubs start low on her hip. She’s run her hair through the towel, and it is hanging damp down her back, wavy from the water instead of her usual beach curls. It’s darker that way, and I’m transported to a time when she would leave the bathroom like that, towel dried and damp, and climb naked into the bed we shared.

I have no idea what has gotten into me all of a sudden, and luckily she doesn’t seem to notice as she wanders over to the lockers. I should not be thinking of Lizzy this way. The only excuse I have is the stress and hormones pushing thru my system at the thought of her being hurt at that mall.

“I had to toss my bra, I couldn’t put that thing back on again, and I didn’t want to put the scrub top on until you stitched me up in case I got blood on it too. As you can see I kept the bandage on and it’s probably pretty gnarly under there. Emma used to keep a full change of clothes in her locker. Do you think she still does?” She pops the door open and bends down to the bag in the bottom. “Aha” she says, so I assume she found what she was looking for. “Don’t peek” she says, then drops the towel after she moves so that her back is facing the door. She puts the bra on upside down and backwards in the way that women do, and begins to rotate it to the front. I do the complete opposite of not peeking and stare at her as I have been since she walked into the ER this morning until I feel my cock start to twitch, then I quickly avert my eyes.

When she comes and sits at the table with me, I find that looking at her with Emma’s bra on is worse than seeing her bare back and sides. Whereas Lizzy always favored bras with the firm cups that offered extra support, this bra is low and lacy, and I can see the outline of her nipples thru the thin fabric.

Clearing my throat, I hand her the Tylenol and the water bottle and wrap the band around her good arm to draw her blood.

“Any chance you could be pregnant?”

”No.  Definitely not.”  I ignore the wave of relief that passes through me at her firm assurance.  I tell myself it’s just because I hate the thought of her endangering an unborn child with her stunt today and not because I hate the idea of her having another man’s baby.

”I’m going to test for everything ok?”  Her only response is a nod.

That done, I turn her to the side so that I have access to her bad arm as it rests on the table.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“Well really, this is all your fault.”

“MY fault?! How so?”

“Well, you know Lilly starts dance class next week. And I was going to go to payless to get her tap and ballet shoes, and then I heard your voice in my head going ‘really Liz, Payless?’ So I went to that specialty store in the mall that costs 4 times as much for the exact same thing.”

I scoff at her, then tell her “This is going to burn” As I unwrap her arm.  She was right about it being gnarly. I know from past experience that she has a high pain tolerance, but she must have a pain tolerance thru the roof, because the wound is ugly and jagged, and deeper than I feel comfortable with. It’s more a thru and thru than a graze in my opinion, but there doesn’t appear to be any muscle compromise, and she’s obviously been using it ok. I grab the antiseptic to clean in.  I nod my head in her direction and tell her, “Go On.” Her face pinches tight for a minute, but whether it’s from the pain or the story I don’t know.

“I was in line to pay when it started. I heard the first shot and froze, unsure about what I was hearing, but then the next started rapid and close together and there was no doubt. I dropped my bag onto the register counter and told the clerk to go hide in the back room. She told me to come with her, but I knew there’d be injured. I’m a war trained trauma surgeon so…” She trails off and shrugs again, then winces. With the adrenalin fading I bet she’s starting to feel it more now.

“I grabbed a sharpie I saw on the counter, and started heading towards where everyone was leaving. He started in the food court I think. It’s a weekday, so it’s not as bad as it could have been, but it was bad enough. I was able to hug the wall and inch towards where it was coming from. There were two civilians, ex-military from the look of them, doing the same thing. They told me to scram, but I told them I was an army surgeon, and if there were wounded I was going to help. I couldn’t get too close to the action for fear of being shot myself, but when he started strolling, he was just walking as calm as could be Noah, like he didn’t have a care in the world.  That was more disconcerting than him opening fire.  He didn’t seem mad, or insane.  He was just going for a stroll in the mall.  With a bag full of automatic weapons.”

Aa a trauma center, we often see the results from the worse of humanity.  I’ve treated rape victims and rapists.  Assault victims and people arrested for murder.  This isn’t even our first face to face with an active gunman.  But this time feels different.  And hearing her retell the story to me is haunting.

“He was going the opposite direction from us, so I started darting in and pulling wounded to the side, triaging as I went. I used the marker to tag them as I felt appropriate, did what I could to stop the bleeding or ease the patient with what little I had, which was nothing of course, and went on to the next one. Ike and Mike we’ll call them, split, one on either side of the corridor, so when he dropped both guns to grab another pair they went at him from both sides. That’s when I got hit. He got a spray off as he was being brought down and I’d gotten too close pulling a victim with an abdominal wound to safety. They broke his arm. Bad.”

“Good.” Somehow I managed to keep my hands steady through her story despite my heart rate racing and my system flooding with adrenalin. So she didn’t just happen to be close to the shooting. She ran into it. The fucking mother of my children ran towards gunfire with no regard for her, her children or anyone who cares about her. I close my eyes and take a hissing breath in through my nose, trying to calm my raging emotions.  I place my hands flat on the table for a moment to try to center myself.  I can feel her watching me.  This is going to be a make or break moment between us.  If I react wrong, this could end very badly.  I pull my composure out of the surgeons vault, and when I reach for my supplies again my hands are steady.  I can actually see some of the tension leave her body at my choice not to throw down with her right now.

“Here comes the stitching.” I’m going to kill her with my bare hands. I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry in my entire life, and lord knows Lizzy’s done a lot to piss me off over the years. Her phone rings, and she picks it up and hits ignore. 20 seconds later it’s ringing again. Releasing a big sigh, she answers it this time. Her voice is overly perky and it takes me off guard for a minute, helping to calm my raw nerves.

“Yea I heard about that. Crazy huh? No no, of course we’re ok. I was thinking about going to the hospital though and seeing if they need any help.” There’s a lull in her side of the conversation here, and I can tell by the tightening of her posture that whatever being said is making her less than happy. “Of course, no, you’re right, they don’t need me. Yea. Ok. You too.” She puts her phone down and turns her face to me giving me a half smile.

“I’ve been contemplating coming back to the hospital, have I told you that?” Her statement takes me by surprise. She hasn’t given me any indication that she was anything less than satisfied with her work at the clinic.  I wonder if she’s told anyone else this.

“Nathan, he doesn’t want me to. If I told him about all, this” and here she uses her free hand and wiggles it around in the air, indicating everything and nothing at once “He’d probably think I arranged the shooting on purpose.”

“Lizzy, he’s your husband. Don’t you think he’d want to know you’ve been hurt?”

“I’ll tell him later tonight. It’s not a big deal, and you took care of me.”  She says it with surety and confidence and fixes me with a sweet smile.  I’ll always take care of her. “Are we almost done?” She twists sideways to try to get a look at the wound. I could have done it a lot quicker, but I’m tired of seeing scars all over her body. So I took my time, and hopefully in a few months we’ll have only the faintest memory that this ever happened. I put some gauze over it, then a bandage over that, when wrap some of the double sided sticky wrap over top of all of that. The need to continue to touch her, to reassure myself that she is in fact ok is overwhelming, so I push her hair behind her ears and cup her face in my hand. Instead of pulling away, she leans into it, putting one of her hands over mine and closing her eyes, breathing in deep.  We stay that way for a few moments.  Breathing and ensuring each other of our presence.  But times a ticking and I’m sure they’ve started without her.

“Come oh trauma goddess, let’s get you to the OR.” I pull her to her feet, watch her put her top on, and then follow her out of the room.