#but apparently that normal for these meds
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Medical leak AU pt 7
It's 11pm, have 5k words of whump from Vale's POV.
Chapter 7 - Vale's Interlude - A03
Parts 1-6 on the #medical leak au tag
Usual TW apply (suicide, abusing pain meds - no graphic details)
LMK what you think
Ever since the news broke, Valentino had been overwhelmed by a myriad of confusing feelings.
He first heard whispers in the paddock on Friday morning. He was walking past some journalists and had noticed the excited murmuring that usually accompanied big news. It wasn’t until he heard Marquez’s name that he stopped, pretending to be busy so he could eavesdrop.
Although he liked to pretend Marc was no longer important, he could not deny his interest in the man. Marc had ruined his untarnished career; it was only normal to feel such intense rage whenever he was reminded of the man. It was the reason he still spoke about him, he needed the world to understand the injustice, to feel his hatred. Because that was what this was all about. Hatred. He knew the boys would call him obsessed, but really, he was just getting a better idea of the enemy, for Pecco’s sake. He scoffed when he figured out what the journalists were talking about, the apparent breaking news– yeah, as if. He continued walking, amused by the idea. It was preposterous, all Marc wanted was to beat Valentino, to take his records. He wouldn’t have given up on that. The one thing Marc loved more than anything else was winning. He shook his head; Marc was never so weak.
It wasn’t till later, when he sat watching the press conference, that a sliver of doubt crept in.
He considered himself an expert in Marc. The way he calculated every action, how he performed every expression. Everything was a persona with him. But after the first question, it all crumbled. He watched pure fear cross Marc’s face before he could school it. The press constantly brought up 2015, it usually made Valentino feel slightly vindicative, the way Marc always had to paste on his media smile. This time, though, he only experienced a creeping sense of dread. Marc was trying to get them to move on from the topic, with limited success. Valentino observed the way Pecco was staring at Marc, concern and bemusement unhidden in his countenance. It made Vale frown. The atmosphere in the press room was tense, even through the screen.
It only got worse.
Marc was staring into the distance, looking at something off-camera, his expression alarmed. The next question was worse, shaking Marc out of his daze. He watched in fascination as Marc’s façade fell apart, sweat glistening on his brow, his face carefully blank to the casual observer. Valentino flinched when his name was mentioned, and his stomach dropped at the sentence that was uttered.
Marc? Suicide? No way. No, that wasn’t possible.
Valentino was clenching and unclenching his fists, his brow furrowed as he intently stared at the screen. He thought he might be having a heart attack.
Jesus.
He was fixated on Marc’s face; Valentino saw the horror dawn on his face as understanding settled and felt his own nausea rising in response. He watched as the Marc on-screen flitted his eyes to the other riders on stage, he followed the younger man’s gaze. Pecco looked wrecked, fear shining in his eyes. The others didn’t look much better. The silence was deathly; Marc was frozen in place – a rabbit in headlights.
Valentino blinked. Marc shot out of his seat, sending it clattering to the floor. He watched in horrifying confusion as Marc fled. There was a second of quiet before the media room exploded. The three remaining riders looked bemused, staring after where Marc had bolted, before they too rose to their feet, trailing out of the room in a daze. Valentino had to close his eyes for a second. This could not be happening. Seriously. This had to be some elaborate joke, a media ploy from Marc’s team. He simply could not believe that happy, carefree Marc had done this. He settled slightly, yes, of course. It had to be false. Marc would never give up, no matter how bad it had gotten.
*
Thoughts of Marc were still on his mind when he found Pecco later. He wondered what had happened and why Marc had reacted in that way. A part of him thought this must have been some elaborate ploy to gain sympathy.
Pecco was sitting despondently on the settee in his motorhome, deep in thought. Vale once more cursed Marc Marquez, of course, Marc couldn’t just leave Valentino alone, he had to fuck with his students too. Anger rose within him; he shoved it down. Right now, he had to focus on Pecco. He sat down, their knee knocking as he did so, and sighed quietly.
“Are you okay?”, he asked.
“Ah, I do not know. Cazzo, that was hard to watch”, Pecco replied.
Valentino cocked an eyebrow, there was more anxiety in Pecco’s voice than he had anticipated. He had hoped that it wouldn’t have affected his student as much, Marc was clearly fine, wasn’t he? He said as much to the other man, who scowled in response.
“You’re joking, Vale. You should have seen him after, he was a mess, throwing up in the toilets, almost crying. It was horrible”, Pecco snarled. It raised Vale’s hackles, Pecco didn’t know Marc the way that he did.
Marc was a manipulator; he changed that narrative to suit himself. He would do anything to win, including betraying people he claimed to love. He got people on his side by any means. The way he’d convinced Ducati to hire him for next year still baffles Vale. Sure, he was a good rider, but putting him in red was a bad move, stupid if you asked Vale. Marc was dangerous, and unpredictable. Ducati was Italy’s pride, and they had gone and put enemy number one on their bike. Valentino’s frustration had nothing to do with his title record and his own failure on the Ducati machine.
Nothing at all.
Valentino tried not to consider it too hard, how much he thought of Marc. In his weaker moments, he allowed himself to reminisce on what could have been. He hated to admit his former soft spot for Marc, the way the younger looked at him as if he had hung the moon and the stars. At his worst, he let himself imagine sharp cheekbones and pink lips, of loud laughter and warm brown eyes. Marc should always be smiling; even going through tragedy, he smiled. The thought of him in pain made him shudder. But he was not in pain, because it was a lie. It was abhorrent to think of it as the truth. It could not be. It went against the very fabric of the universe. It was a bit like this: he hated Marc Marquez, and Marc Marquez was a smug bastard who was always infuriatingly happy. These were two facts that he clung to desperately.
He turned back to Pecco, who had gone stiff beside him. Valentino had heard that Alex Marquez had swept Marc back to their motorhome after the press conference, he tried not to think too hard about that. Clearly, it had shaken Pecco, and Vale didn’t like that one bit. He settled a hand on the younger’s back, ignoring his own thoughts for a minute.
“Pecco, you cannot let this get to you”, he said. “Let Marquez deal with his stuff, it will blow over soon enough.”
Pecco did not look settled by his answer, but Vale did not have anything else to say, instead, he changed the conversation into a practice debrief, easier territory for them both.
If only he had been correct.
*
Marc got pole position in qualifying. It made Valentino grit his teeth in frustration, wondering how the hell the Spaniard was beating the others on a year-old bike. He had been watching Marc carefully in his box, noting his slightly subdued manner. It made an unnamed emotion swell within him. He pushed it down. His stomach soured when he caught sight of Andrea Dovizioso in the Gresini garage, looking at Marc with unconcealed fondness. He was all over the Spaniard, the two of them laughing together like children. Surely nothing was that funny. The ugly feeling only grew when they walked past whilst Vale and Pecco were chatting in the paddock, the older whispering to Marc. Valentino couldn’t help but stare, as he always did when it came to Marc.
Valentino didn’t notice the man until it was too late. He watched it happen in slow motion- the cruel words and Marc’s heart-breaking reaction. The ‘fan’ was brutal, viciously attacking Marc. It was hard to watch the way his face broke, his eyes going shiny with tears. Valentino’s world stopped at the hurt he saw. By the time his brain came back online, Pecco had gone, stalking over to the incident. He followed closely, grimacing as Pecco began to shout at the man. Marc was being dragged away by Dovi, Vale tried to shove down the misplaced discomfort at seeing the two together, it almost felt akin to jealousy. But that was impossible. He had nothing to be jealous of.
(Nothing).
He re-focussed on the way that security was hauling the man away from them and towards the exit. Valentino tugged Pecco’s sleeve, wanting to escape from the public as soon as possible. He swallowed down the feelings which threatened to rise at what he had just witnessed.
“Come on, let’s go, it’s not worth it”, he sighed, pausing briefly before continuing, “you are upset, it is not worth staying and watching, we will make sure he never comes back. I promise.”
Pecco relented. His face was distraught, his anguish clear. By the time they reached the Ducati motorhome, Pecco had fully retreated into himself and asked to be left alone. Valentino accepted the request despite his concern. He did not really want to abandon the younger man but felt he had no choice after he had almost screwed up that morning.
Being alone gave him time to think, as uncomfortable as it was. He was surprised by the venom that had laced the man’s voice as he spoke to Marc, it made Valentino wonder if that was usually how people addressed him. He could understand Marc’s reaction to such horrible words, and Pecco had always been a kind-hearted person. Dovi’s intentions were still unclear to Vale. He let his thoughts drift back to Marc- his sad eyes and blank face. It couldn’t be easy to be hated so viciously. To make matters worse, a quick look on social media told him that a lot of people had said similar things. He thought back to his interview this morning, where he had suggested that they disregard thinking about Marc’s life from 10 years ago. It was, after all, pointless. The past was the past. Clearly, he was alone in his views. He pointedly did not lament the fact that Sepang and his 10th were a decade ago too, because that was different. He closed his eyes, pushing away the mental image of Marc’s shattered face.
Instead, he focussed on his anger. The way Marc had practically fallen in Dovi’s arms as if he was anything but a lone wolf, an outsider in the paddock. He had heard whisperings in the paddock that Dani Pedrosa and Jorge Lorenzo were in Gresini today too. It seemed like Marc was inviting all the retired riders to watch. He did not analyse the feelings too much, but let the indignation rise within him. Marc’s stupid games were affecting Pecco, it was unfair. Vale frowned at the thought, it would not do, he would have to tell Marc to cut it out. Make sure that Marc knew that Valentino knew the truth.
It wasn’t too difficult to catch Marc before the sprint. The younger had, predictably, taken the quiet route through the motorhomes to get to the garages. What was more unexpected was the tense fight that occurred. Valentino had expected to call Marc out and be met with annoyance and maybe an admittance of guilt. He had not anticipated the stone-cold fury in Marc’s voice, nor his own rising emotions, made worse when he spotted Dovizioso’s stupid jumper. He tried to keep his temper under control but the thought of Marc lying to the media, making everyone feel bad, only to be doing that, with Andrea of all people, left a sour taste in his mouth. He was meaner than he intended to be and was met with blazing anger from Marc. There was startling hurt in his voice. It was only once Marc had turned on his heel and stalked away that Valentino realised that the younger had had tears in his eyes and that he had sounded scarily like he was telling the truth. He watched him leave as regret welled up inside of him.
Merda
*
When Marc crashed out of the sprint race, the guilt and regret increased tenfold. His heart had stopped when Marc had collided with the ground, nausea rising when he did not move after. He could not stop thinking about the look on the younger’s face as he had called him an attention seeker. It hurt too much. Suddenly, ten years of anger seemed irrelevant. To make it worse, now people were talking about more leaks, something about Marc and painkillers. Valentino wasn’t sure he really wanted to know. He was beginning to question why Marc would do this to himself.
Afterwards, Valentino tuned into the stream of the media pen, not wanting to go down in person. Pecco had won the race, and Marc had gotten back to his feet, scoring no points but alive. Valentino could only watch in horrified fascination as the press continued to hound Marc. He had never seen it so bad. The way the journalists watched Marc like they were hunting prey made him shiver. He didn’t think he had ever seen Marc look so ruffled. A distant voice told him that this was his fault. The aftermath of Sepang flashed through his head, he steadfastly ignored it. It was not his fault the media had broken into Marc’s house. He had not caused the fallout or the hatred, if Marc had not ruined his title chances, there would have been no issues. Valentino scowled at the thoughts.
His momentary distraction ended when Marc once more stalked out mid-interview. It left Vale feeling slightly dumbfounded. Why would Marc keep having such strong reactions to the news if it was planned? As much as he hated to admit it, his theory was beginning to show cracks, splintering at the edge. He chose not to consider the other feelings that came alongside that revelation. Instead, he turned off his phone, hoping the boys would provide some distraction when they came back.
The boys came pouring into his motorhome an hour later, after their celebrations and debrief, as was usual for the academy on a race weekend. Luca and Bez were first, talking between themselves about the race, making Valentino smile with their rehashing of the events. When Franky entered, he was complaining about how long his debrief had lasted, making Valentino grin as he reminisced. Long debriefs were always painstakingly boring. Pecco and Cele eventually stumbled in half an hour later, the older still buzzing from his win. Vale tried to let his awkwardness from earlier show as a round of cheers sounded. He congratulated Pecco warmly, and let happiness fill him at the sight of Pecco’s beaming smile in return. Things would be okay.
Valentino drifted in and out of the conversation after that, his thoughts elsewhere. He nodded at appropriate times and tried to look interested whilst his mind whirled. It was inevitable, really, that someone would bring up Marquez eventually.
“Did you see Marquez’s crash?”, Bez asked.
It prompted a round of affirmative hums from the others. Luca flicked his eyes over to Valentino, his eyebrows furrowed.
Pecco looked contemplative before he responded, “I am worried, he would not look at me on the grid. Then he crashed. He was distracted. I think the media are being too harsh. And the fans. They are being cruel. The things being said...”
He trailed off, deep in thought. Luca bumped their shoulders together, smiling gently when Pecco met his eyes. Valentino had the distinctive feeling that he was missing something.
“Did you hear about what happened in the press pen?”, Cele asked.
Pecco frowned at him, tilting his head to signal that he should continue.
“Apparently, he froze up completely when they asked him about the pain medication. Aleix and a few others basically carried him out. I saw it happen; I’ve never seen him like that before. It was horrible”.
His eyes flashed to Valentino as he spoke the last bit as if he feared being chastised. It made him feel distinctly uncomfortable, was he really so obsessed with Marc that his boys were afraid to mention him?
Bez looked on in confusion. He turned to Cele,
“What do you mean pain medication?” he asked. “I haven’t really looked at any of the articles, I thought it was bullshit? Or some kind of a joke”.
Pecco huffed slightly, scowling at Bez as he did so. The younger touched his arm in apology, and yet again Valentino felt out of the loop.
It was Luca who pulled out his phone, bringing up one of the many articles which covered the news.
“Here”, he said. “Yesterday his medical records were leaked to the press. There were a whole bunch of appointments and hospital visits documented. The main bit was at the end of 2015 and onwards. He had been to A&E twice, there was a lot about suicide attempts and Alex saving his life. Apparently, he had tried to overdose, it's unclear what happened the second time. His heart stopped I think.”
Valentino blanched. Luca grimaced slightly before continuing.
“From there, there was a whole bunch of stuff about his mental instability and risk. It looked pretty bad, even as a non-medical professional. Then today, more of it was leaked, this time about his crash in 2020. Apparently, he was abusing the painkillers prescribed to him. He would race through agony, causing more issues with his arm, and then just take a load of painkillers after to mask it. Again, Alex ended up getting him help. No wonder they are so close. I think there was a lot of concern about him using the pain as a form of self-harm or something, then it was so bad he just kept taking medication.”
Pecco spoke up then, his voice strained, “I just don’t understand how no one noticed. One of the most prominent drivers on the grid and no one noticed his declining mental health or his use of painkillers. It’s ridiculous.”
Valentino was barely listening, transfixed instead by Luca’s words. He took the phone out of Luca’s hand without asking, staring down at the article. There, in black and white, were pages and pages of clinical medical records for Marc Márquez Alentà. Valentino felt a bit sick. He couldn’t stop reading. There were blocks of gruesome detail about his A&E visits. The medical terms flew past Valentino, but he got the gist. It was bad. Page after page after page of horrific detail about every bit of pain Marc had gone through across the past decade. His eyes glanced over words, his mind conjuring the images to life. He could see 22-year-old Marc’s face, heartbroken and desolate in Sepang, and then blank afterwards. Fuck. How had he not noticed?
He wanted to stop. He couldn’t. Panic was rising inside him; he clamped it down. It was a lie. A lie. This couldn’t be true. He tore his eyes away. It swelled within him. He was going to be sick. He was losing it. Marc. He had missed it, how had he not seen it back then? The thought of his Marc like that broke him. The thought of him being the cause made him choke. He squeezed his eyes shut. Where was this coming from? Why did he care?
Vale spoke without thinking, his mind a million miles away.
“Why would he do that?”, he asked. Luca shot him a sympathetic look. Valentino had a suspicion that his face was betraying his emotional turmoil.
He choked over his next words.
“It’s not true. It can’t be true. Marc wouldn’t do this. Marc loves winning. He couldn’t win if he was 6 feet under. No. No. It must be a lie.”
Valentino knew he was now ranting like a madman. The boys were staring at him with wide eyes full of fear. He felt like he was going crazy and yet he continued.
“Why would be so selfish? Why would he do something like that? He was so young. He had so much to live for. What about his family? His brother. It’s not fair. It’s so selfish. I hate him. Bastard.”
Valentino was on the brink of tears, clutching at his hair. He didn’t notice the way Pecco’s eyes had turned hard and cold. He didn’t see the way Bez had frozen, clutching Pecco’s arm. The others were silent, shocked at his words.
Valentino looked up. He met Pecco’s eyes.
The younger man stood and stiffly walked to the door. He opened it and looked back towards Vale.
“You do not get to say things like that when you were part of the cause. Don’t you dare call him selfish. You are the bastard here”, he whispered, his words scalding. Before Valentino could respond, he was gone. Bez leapt out of his chair to follow, slamming the door behind him.
Valentino shot Luca a questioning look. His younger brother sighed,
“You are so obtuse, Vale. His sister also went through similar. She almost died. He is hurting seeing Marc this way too.”
Vale found himself full of outrage. How was he meant to know? Of course, he felt bad for Pecco, but this was Marc they were talking about. He said as much to Luca, who just shook his head, looking angrier than Vale had seen him in a long time.
“You need to wake up Valentino.”, he said.
“You do not hate Marc; you are obsessed with him. Yes, you were angry, but that was a decade ago. Surely you are over it by now. If I were you, I would consider what all your feelings about Marc really mean. Before you fuck it up even more.”
With that, the rest of the boys filed out of the motorhome, leaving Vale to stew in his anger and his guilt. He did not want to think about what Luca had meant about Marc. Instead, he would find Pecco and apologise, it was, after all, unfair to bring the boys into it. It was not his finest moment; Marc had always had that effect on him. He scowled at the thought. No one had ever been like Marc, he doubted anyone ever would. For Valentino, Marc was like a drug, inherently bad but at the same time addictive. A strange paradox for someone he hated.
Vale locked the door of the motorhome behind him as he headed out to find Pecco. The wave of anger had receded, and the guilt came crashing back down, threatening to drown him. He had to make it right.
Pecco wasn’t in his own motorhome; the lights were off as he went past, the door unanswered. He tried the Ducati garage but still had no luck. The staff had not seen him since earlier, after the sprint. Bez’s motorhome was similarly empty. He was running out of ideas and worry was beginning to engulf him.
One last idea struck him, and he walked slowly toward Marc’s motorhome, the lights were on. As he approached, the dread he felt threatened to engulf him. It was like a premonition. A war between guilt and anger was waging inside him. He heard Luca’s voice, followed by Bez’s, and the fury took hold. He threw the door open; it hit the wall with a resounding bang. He took in the scene before him, the remorse souring in his stomach, turning to resentment.
“What the fuck is going on?”
*
In hindsight, he could have handled it better. He had seen red. The thought of his boys running to Marc. Then he saw Marc on top of Dovi and Lorenzo.
He lost himself.
It wasn’t until Marc addressed him directly that he felt like he could breathe again. He returned to his body. The more Marc spoke, the more his fury faded to irrelevance. But then Valentino had spoken without conscious thought, once more putting his foot in it.
The realisation had taken his breath away. Marc had been crying. Marc had been vulnerable; he hated being perceived as weak. Marc was angry, no, he was furious. Marc had just had his deepest secrets announced to the world. He was receiving more hate than Valentino had ever seen.
He hadn’t been lying.
Why the fuck did Vale ever think he had been lying? The evidence had been right in front of him, but it had been too scary to really look at. Valentino hadn’t wanted to admit what he had done. He realised what Luca had meant then. He didn’t hate Marc. Yes, he had been angry about his tenth world championship slipping through his fingers. Yes, he had partially blamed Marc. But alongside the hurt, the anger, the pain, was pure devotion. He had lost the championship and blamed it on the nearest person to save his ego. Although Marc had done wrong, he had never deserved this. Sure, Valentino still thought he was dangerous, pushing the bike to stupid limits. But Marc would never hurt anyone on purpose. It was like falling 50 feet and hitting the ground, the realisation crashing into him. He was jealous of Dovi, that he got the Marc that smiled and laughed, the Marc that Vale used to have. Before everything had gone to shit. Valentino thought that maybe he had loved Marc for 11 years and that somewhere in his head, love had become confused with hate. He had never hated someone like he hated Marc; he had never loved someone like he loved Marc. It was all-consuming. He was obsessed. He thought about him all the time. He was always angry, scared, and jealous when it came to Marc. He couldn’t pretend he was ambivalent, not when he consumed every waking thought. Not when he still went on podcasts to talk about the younger man. Every insight was like a punch to the stomach.
He thought Marc was stupidly pretty, with his cheekbones, his bronze skin, his wide eyes and plush lips. He wanted Marc next to him, under him, above him. He wanted to kiss the stupid, smug smirk he always wore on his face; he wanted to kiss away his tears. Valentino wanted to bring Marc breakfast in bed, make him laugh, and make love to him. He wanted Marc on his track again, taking off his helmet after with wild eyes and messed up hair. He wanted to fuck him on every surface of his house, in every position. He wanted Marc in every way that he could have him.
Oh god, he loved Marc and all he had done was fuck up his life for a decade.
Valentino panicked.
He scrambled, pleading with Marc, distantly aware of the horror on everyone’s faces. He had been kicked out. Marc had shouted at him, and then Alex had shouted at him. Pecco left and Luca was disappointed.
He deserved it all. If he could take all of Marc’s pain, he would. Instead, Valentino was left with a yawning pit of desperation and want, devastation and pain. His anger was gone.
He thinks about the way the younger man used to look at him. He thinks about the adoration that he had brushed off as hero worship. He had broken Marc’s heart. The look on his face in that press conference. The way Marc would look away during Vale’s jokes about them together. He had assumed it was awkwardness, now it seemed like someone had hit too close to the truth. Now, Marc barely glanced at him, brushing off every comment Vale made to the media in a desperate hope for a sliver of attention. It destroyed them both.
Standing there, outside the motorhome, Valentino realises just how much he has fucked up. He isn’t sure there is any coming back from this. Certainly not with the way Dovi and Marc look at each other. But damn it, he will try. He will spend the rest of his life on his knees grovelling if he has to. He has spent too long with his vision clouded by misplaced anger. It had taken him 11 years to work out his love for Marquez, he would spend the rest of his life loving him, and every day trying to prove it to him. Even if it killed him.
#motogp#marc marquez#rosquez#motogp rpf#my fics#medical leak au#valentino rossi#pecco bagnaia#luca marini#andrea dovizioso#hope you like this#bit funky with Vale's pov i know i know#i didnt think it would be so long#this fic is fully getting out of hand#i need to sleeppppp
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Okay so how quick are anxiety meds meant to kick in because...
I think these are working? after only 3 days? Like I feel carefree and hopeful and felt less awkward just chatting with my therapist about The Last Of Us (because apparently she's watching it to which is cool!) Like I rambled for a good few minutes infodumping about zombie media because I did a course on it in Uni, I was this close to giving a fucking presentation FFS.
I feel like me again, and I don't think I've really felt this free to be me since I was like... 14. It's a heady feeling.
#its nice#im less nervous but i dont even know in what way?#i just simply feel free#if also a little nauseated and headachey#but apparently that normal for these meds#i also feel less self conscious about what i believe is my autism#like stiming in front of my mum or even alone. of realising later that i missed a social cue in a conversation. of infodumping#this is so freeing what the heck#i love this??#im singing more too which feels SO fucking nice. not just mumbling along to a song but Belting It#and its less nervous sounding too#even alone#gosh i cried out of HAPPINESS after my therapy session i felt so much like me#i havent cried in happiness for... i dont even know how long??#morning the loss of my twenties a bit. if i knew it was this easy to get help... but nevermind i have it now and#im hopeful#truely hopeful#katy liveblogs life 2023
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I think my favorite thing about doing ginger red hair instead of cherry red hair is: lying to people about it
#I love the cherry red / wine red and I'll probably go back at some point bc it's my Origin.#but for now.#I don't actively lie to people but bc it's a Natural and Plausible hair color#and I'm already pale and I dye my eyebrows to match my hair. ppl figure it's natural#and it has come up MULTIPLE TIMES. and I've recently been rolling with it instead of correcting ppl. bc who cares?#recent examples that come to mind (but I did correct them in this one) my surgeon assuming it was natural#and using my genetics as a natural redhead as a baseline to tell me about what I can expect from my future scarring#and then again later with the anesthesia. they were going to dose me differently#the anesthesiologist glanced at me when I came into the OR and was getting the stuff ready on his cart#and when he heard me talking to my doc and re-telling him that oh the hair isn't natural#he was behind the curtain like FUCK#taking shit off his cart and quietly redoing his setup#that's how I learned that redheads need higher doses of anesthesia than other ppl.#they also need more of the topical stuff like lidocaine. apparently they metabolize it faster(?)#ANYWAY he was going to up my dose thinking I needed it lol#so i almost got way more sedatives and pain meds than i needed bc of my hair dye LMAOOO#other more Normal Life examples was a country dude in full hunting gear holding a door open for me someplace#and I said thank you and he lifted his hat up to point at his (natural) red hair and said ''twins!''#this one sticks with me because that was such a cute thing to do. what the hell#and at snakefest I was talking to some people at their food truck. there was an older guy who trapped me into a convo for like 30mins#he was Very Nice. and they were going to some type of irish festival next and said I should go too bc I'll be right at home#flat out just was like. this bitch looks irish#and I don't know why all of this is so funny to me. it has no reason to be.
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I'm like...having a meltdown over my migraine meds. Now insurance is saying that my prior authorization has been denied because I don't meet the criteria and I have to call the appeal number. For the meds I've been taking for years.
And I'm like "...but I've been taking this for years and I've been out for almost two weeks" <- audibly about to cry.
And the poor woman on the phone is like ".....I can transfer you to a pharmacist who can talk you through...uh...possible effects of not having that medication?"
I know the effects, ma'am. The effects are I'm getting CHRONIC MIGRAINES that I can't treat and it's really hard to go to work and do my job because of it! It sucks. I'm anxious all the time because every head twinge could be the beginning of a 48 hour pain spiral that I no longer have the tools to pull out of.
God *fucking* dammit.
#migraine#disability#i normally dont really think of myself as disabled#until Im OUT OF MY FUCKING MEDS FOR WEEKS#and apparently Im very prone to frustration crying with doctors and insurance hot lines#so thats fun
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in retrospect i was rawdogging this past week of absolutely insane mental/physical health problems without realizing that i was experiencing the usual pmdd. and then proceeded to think that i had a stomachache for an hour this morning before realizing 1. uterus 2. ohhh no it's too late for meds to head this off im gonna be bedridden for hours. i had some (too much) uptime and im back in bed. but i have a very pretty new keyboard. and im watching my esports (we are fighting for our lives atm). and i have a sodie pop
#was MISERABLE this morning like ohh that's why i have an entire pain med regimen if i fuck it up even slightly i will#literally be screaming sobbing and throwing up on the bathroom floor cool. normal uterus. also im exhibiting a symptom that's#apparently like. doesn't happen normally. so.
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What do you mean Jessica is 2 years older than Tooth Fairy😭
Spreading my TF is in her thirties headcanon here what do you mean that woman keeps calling the likes of Blonney and Horropedia children if she’s only 4-5 years older than them
#reverse 1999#tooth fairy#pursuing med school and dentistry and being a school doctor in her twenties has apparently added 10 years to her personality#that woman is 35 above to me and i will simply look away from the 'remained on display for 25 years'#for reference blonney is 20 and horropedia is 21#i suppose you have to take into account that jessica isn't exactly human or arcanist as you may know from the car scene with z and tf#and when you look into her story she apparently does mature a little slower compared to normal humans
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this is so tmi but i had to have some tests and stuff as part of top surgery pre-op clearance, and one of those was unfortunately pissing in a cup, and I made the grave mistake of being so dehydrated when I went to the appointment and now a bunch of shit has come back abnormal on my piss test 😭 so I have to go back to the doctor tomorrow and probably do it again
#aiden text#like apparently the concentration of everything is higher when you're dehydrated so normal levels of stuff can show up as abnormal#but also there is like some genuinely weird kidney stuff happening which is probably because of a med i take that is hard on the kidneys#hope that doesn't progress!
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Cardio said my echocardiogram ultrasound, exercise stress test, and week long heart monitor all showed no serious issues, my resting heart rate is fine, but that my heart rate does seem to rise very rapidly under even small amounts of stress (postural changes, taking stairs, casually walking around my house) and rises very high (160+ bpm according to the monitor) so now I get to be put on beta blockers to see if they work and if they do she said that is sufficient evidence to confirm for sure that it's POTS.
Obviously could confirm it as well with a tilt table test but those are TORTURE based off what I've heard from fellow POTSies so I am very thankful that she doesn't think that's necessary and will not be making me do one.
#i was not expecting to get dx and meds this fast tbh but im very happy about it#i think the fact that she also has POTS herself helps because she is very well acquaintaned with what it looks and feels like#and how hard it is to actually catch with orthostatics in office unless youre having a bad heart day#so my orthostatics not being within range was unsurprising to her and she was like#'that doesnt mean anything you clearly still have a heart rate issue going on even if it didnt show itself right now'#i didnt do shit the entire week i had that monitor on to like physically exert myself but my heart rate still hit almost 170 a few times#also the doctor who did my stress test asked me if i ever experience any chest discomfort or pain and i was like hm no dont think so#and he went 'your chart says you have palpitations though?'#and i was like '... those count as discomfort???' akdjaicidjwjcjsn the answer is yes apparently#im just so used to them now because i have them daily that they dont even really register to me anymore#unless theyre bad enough to knock the wind out of me or make me cough#they just make me anxious which... ig is also a form of discomfort#chronic illness and chronic pain problems though lol not having a normal baseline for discomfort and pain#ndr#not dog related#health stuff#not that anyone probably cares lol but im excited about getting things that have neen affecting me for years FINALLY figured out#im not crazy im just disabled!!!!#*been
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hi!! i was wondering how bunnycat is doing? :D
i think he's glad to be home! unfortunately his saliva/sweat/etc is still radioactive enough that we can't really cuddle him or let him free roam around the house for another 10ish days 😭 but we got him a bigass catio style enclosure with lots of perches and room for all his necessities/toys and set it up inside by the glass patio doors so he can watch birds all day and eek indignantly at us every time we walk in the room 🙃
#we can have physical contact with him for 10 minutes a day for the first week and then up to 20 minutes a day for the second#and then after those 14 days (counting from the initial injection date) we can return him to normal bunnycat life#we also have to keep all of his poop/litter in a sealed bucket for 90 days before the radiation levels decrease enough to throw out#otherwise you can get a huge fine from state waste management services apparently?#thankfully the place that did his procedure said we can bring it to them after these next 10 days and they'll take care of it#it's all kind of a logistical pain in the ass and not very ocd friendly but it's worth it to have a healthy happy bunnycat#his thyroid was just not responding to meds/the special thyroid sparing food so this was kind of the last resort#thank you for inquiring about the bunnylad! he appreciates you checking in#fashionablyfyrdraaca#asks
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I complained a lot about the side effects from my anxiety meds but they've genuinely changed my life in the best way. I'm talking to friends again, I'm playing video games, I'm not having panic attacks about dying every single night... genuinely wish I had this years ago
#im pretty sure the main side effect of emotional blunting has actually mainly gone away now#pretty sure it was because i was taking them inconsistently#im supposed to take two a day but before i got adhd meds i couldnt remember to take my second dose#and then it also says on the bottle to take with or without food but take it the same way everyday#and i didnt start doing that until recently. and its gotten better since then#it changes the absorption of it apparently so you gotta do it the same everytime#i was gonna go with not eating every morning cause i normally didnt like to eat when i got up#but i always eat before bed when i have to take my second dose sooo yeah#anyways. just realized this is probably super boring to most people#whatever its my tags its im free to be boring#engagement is optional
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So I was chatting with my fellow very mentally ill queer coworker friend about mental illness (as we do) and I mentioned how I was realizing that my wildly manic depressive response to grief wasn't... normal...
& they were like 'oh my god Yeah I've been suspecting you're bipolar for a While now' bc apparently I get in... modes... where my pupils are Huge and I'm talking a mile a minute and doing 4 things at once and even my Posture is different
And then I'll come in the next day like all the life's been sucked out of me.
& she mentioned there's type 1 and type 2, 1 being the longterm episodes & 2 being them alternating on a day to day basis. And I'm just like... damng... I sure do seem to have that 2 thing...
Apparently it's not normal to alternate between manic and depressive states! Who knew!
#speculation nation#ive like... always had this sorta thing. fatally hyperactive is how ive thought of it#those moods where im bouncing off the wall and super cheerful but DEFINITELY in a concerning mental state#apparently it's not exactly normal to be having a breakdown but laughing as you do it#no wonder no depression meds have worked for me. bc im not Just Depressed.#ive known for a while now that i dont have normal depression. i just dont. but sometimes im depressed#and then sometimes i write 70k words in 3 weeks!!!!!!!!#it makes sense but i kinda wish it didnt lol. as if autism and adhd wasnt enough. bipolar too??? really????#im gonna do some research & see if it's smth worth looking into treatment for#mayhaps i could mention it whenever i set up my psychiatry appointment :p#i dont wanna b bipolar 😭 but then again identifying it will probably help with managing it#damng all i needed to figure out my manic depression wasnt normal was losing my uncle & the symptoms getting Much Worse#me wildly oscillating between too depressed to write and too manic to write (bc even though i was motivated i didnt have clarity of mind)#longest... sigh... imaginable... i have so many mental and physical problems and i have No idea where to start with them#...adhd first probably. if i can tackle my abysmal executive dysfunction then maybe the rest will be easier to address lol#negative/#I Guess.
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on the off chance anyone on here followed me for my jonmartin fake dating au, currently standing tragically unfinished at 7 out of 8 chapters: i'm still working on the last chapter! i would love to have it up this year, but unfortunately i can't make any promises, because i've started a new medication and the side effects are wreaking havoc on my mind and body. haha isn't chronic illness fun. but rest assured the fic is the beating heart under my floorboards, and i WILL finish it one day
#i feel pretty bad about it because my update schedule has been really inconsistent for the whole fic :///#and now the final chapter is going to be even more epically delayed than the other ones#should've probably finished the whole thing properly before i started posting it but you live and learn i guess#my chronic illness really messed with my ability to write and i hate it#like the chapter is almost done. under normal circumstances it wouldn't take me long to finish it#but it's like my brain has forgotten how to make words happen. ugh.#i don't want to let people down by making them wait so long for an update#but i also don't want to let them down by giving them a mediocre chapter y'know#if all goes well the new meds might help with both the chronic fatigue *and* the depression which would be an absolute godsend#but ngl. the side effects are rough. and they can apparently last for up to six weeks#and i've only been taking the meds for about 2 1/2 weeks so i've still got a long road ahead of me#i also started my period yesterday which certainly doesn't help lmao#delete later maybe#just needed to vent for a lil bit. and as everyone knows there's no better place to discuss your private business than tumblr dot com
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don't mean to be prying into your personal business, so feel free to ignore this if it makes u uncomfortable pls ! but. couldn't you feel that giant cyst? D:
No! I literally had no idea. My hysterectomy was for severe PMDD. I had a pelvic MRI two years ago but they can develop quickly.
Also most ovarian cysts are harmless and can go away on their own. And are not uncommon. Obviously in my case it was dangerous since it was like 3x3 in and was bigger than my uterus 🤠. Even if I wasn't getting a hysterectomy I would have had to at least have that ovary removed. What COULD have happened is it could have ruptured or twisted my ovary or fallopian tubes. But luckily that didn't happen.
The only symptoms I can really correlate to my cysts was the fact that I started to have more and more breakthrough spotting while on birth control. But still idk. She's dead regardless hurrah
#puffer talks#its funny to me because it didn't hurt me but wow#it had hair! 💗#because that kind of cyst apparently uses your normal tissue idk i was on pain meds when it was explained#medical cw
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hooooly shit oh my god is this what mornings are like for neurotypical people?? hello???
shoutout to my mom & psychiatrist for suggesting i take my adhd meds as soon as i wake up instead of after breakfast because GODDAMN this is way better. holy shit
#cryptic cawing#caffeine doesn't work the normal way on me but if this is what it feels like for most ppl i get why they say not to talk to them before#adhd#btw if you're taking meds and still struggling with mornings. might be worth a shot. idk thi im not a doctor talk to them about it#it's WAY easier for me to executive function my way into getting out of bed and ready for the day if i take em FROM bed. apparently
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I’m currently vibing with Corine’s “the English Department just went gaga over it” as my professor called the paper I wrote half at 6AM after waking up from an accidental benadryl sleep and half while actually teaching a class (admittedly poorly) and submitted two months after it was due “thoughtful, probing, and reflexive” and gave it full marks.
#Warnings at Waverly Academy#I would say this is like when my honours kid writes a novel instead of an essay and I give up on reading it and give an A#but like#I went the bare minimum with this assignment#and I didn't even put my normal commentary in the footnotes#(commentary that apparently others are unused to because people keep commenting on how humorous my writing is and I'm not all that funny)#the final is due tomorrow I should probably start it#but it's only five pages so it'll be fine#(actually five might be the max on pages)#(this is probably the easiest graduate class I've taken)#(and I have a MEd those things are a joke)#if you're somehow reading this professor I apologise and I'm gonna e-mail you that syllabus for the class you're letting me teach
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i am allowed to both be delighted and content with the way my evening went and how lovely it was to be around friends, and also be really upset over the fact that i cannot do much without intense and great pain.
#like tonight was super fucking pleasant!#i really enjoy hanging out with people and talking and meeting new folks and just having a Nice Time!#it's one of my favorite things is to Hang Out with a group of people#and i just...i just#it is hard not to feel like i'm being punished for having fun#but that's apparently more rooted in my trauma than i initially realized#and also it just...does kind of feel like a punishment like you're allowed to have fun#so long as you can handle the QUENCIES#and i'm like my *guy* i just.#i didn't get to hang out with people as a kid can i please get to have friends now as an adult like a normal people finally?#preferably without needing to brace up and have the heating pad on while i wait for the meds to do work#and i'm allowed to be mad about this!!! i am allowed to be so upset!!!!#and i am!!! i am incredibly upset by this!!!!!#this is also just How It Is and i don't have a way to fix it yet#and i don't know if there *is* a way to fix it at all#so i just... just gotta deal#doesn't even get into the fact that i had to save up spoons not just to hang out but also to watch a Favorite Thing#and that i didn't realize how many spoons Favorite Thing was going to take out of me and now i'm out of spoons#so imight not be able to hang out tomorrow with friends again and i *wanna*#i'm not even sure i'll have enough energy to continue watching Favorite Thing like !!!!!!#this is so bullshit#i hate this
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