#but i've never been that sick to warrant such treatment

[isekyaaa]

I haven't had a fever in over 15 years and I rarely get colds either, but I'm planning on eventually writing a sick fic for that certain series, so like I need to get sick before than so I can write it properly.

[firelord-frowny]

blehhhhhhhhhh health and adulthood

i really really really really really need to make a dr appointment (a few different appointments actually, probably) but i am Too Chicken and i keep putting it off but i really don't want to put it off anymore and i so so so so so so so hope i'm not waiting too late about something that turns out to be more serious than what i think it is.

the "it" that i think it is, is fibroids or uterine cysts or both. which like, i know those things can be serious enough to require surgery, but i also know that they're both very common conditions that might not require treatment at all (at least for a while) and that they're usually very fixable problems.

which like, i supposedly have pcos but was never diagnosed beyond my former gyno just saying "oh thats because of pcos" when i told her that i often skip periods and my flow is hella heavy. but like. apparently there's more diagnostic stuff that could have/should have been done about that.

but nowwww one new symptom that i think might be related (and would still warrant seeing a doc even if its not related) is that im getting HELLA constipated lately???? like for the past few months at least, i've been having to use a laxative at least once or twice a month. and good LORD this is tmi but the sheer amount of poop that accumulates in me is bizarre?????????? like jeeeez HOW? how is ALL THAT in there????

and then when i do finally manage to poo, it's almost always a terribly crampy experience. :( or at least mildly crampy. but it's often pretty bad.

and im kinda worried that if i do have some kind of cysty or fibroidy thing goin on, could it have grown to the point where it's actually causing some sort of blockage?? and then of course there's the terrifying possibilty that its a straight up tumor or something???

which kinda ties into the fact that even if my being constipated isn't related to the cysts or fibroids that im pretty sure i might have, it's still cause for concern. i mean i guess statistically the odds are that i just need to Drink More Water and Eat More Fiber and Get More Exercise lmao but i prolly shouldn't count on that.

but anywayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. i'm sick of worrying about this but im also so terribly afraid of finding out anything scary or even just inconvenient. :(

[growandrecover]

ive been in recovery for about 4 years but the “you’re not sick enough” voice hasn’t left my head at all and what i keep getting stuck on is i know people with eds who had lower weights than i did and who restricted more than i did. and i know it’s illogical but i feel like i can’t have actually had an ed when other people ate less and weighed less. particularly i found out the other day that someone i know had a lowest weight that was just over half of what my lowest weight was. like i was twice as heavy as they were at my smallest. and this person ate less than me at their worst too. I know that eating disorders aren’t diagnosed based on what you weighed or when the specifics of your restriction. Like I’ve been in treatment and I’ve been diagnosed and no one has ever even asked how many calories i ate in a day. But I harbor this fear that if I told people how much I ate at my worst they’d be like “that’s not that bad” or that it wasn’t really an eating disorder or that I wasn’t really starving. And I know logically the truth of the matter but I can’t make it stick in my brain. Idk if you can actually help but I’m desperate

Hi!

I totally understand what you're going through. I've experienced this as well.

Starting off with the person you know, the two of you don't share the same genetics, so you being their lowest weight could be unfeasible for your height/family history/or even just your body. My childhood best friend and I could eat the same amount of restricted food, and exercise the same, but she'd always be smaller than me. Because I've always compared my body to hers, that's been a huge struggle for me as well, but I have to remind myself that we simply do not have the same genes, and now matter how hard I tried, my body would never look like hers. And that's okay.

If you were diagnosed with an ed, I'd most likely say that if you were to tell someone what you were eating in a day, they'd find that it's not as much as you think it is. During mine, I ate all three meals and some people didn't believe me when I told them I had an ed. But if you were to put all of my safe foods on a table, it wouldn't be enough to satiate the average person my age's appetite. If a professional could look at your behavior, diagnose you, and send you to treatment, you were starving and you have an eating disorder.

Just because some people restricted more than you or had lower weights than you doesn't mean you weren't as sick as they are. Someone once added a note to one of my posts talking about this, but with a cold metaphor.

To very roughly summarize, they said that if you had a cold and your friends had the flu and covid, their bragging about being very sick might make you feel like having a cold doesn't make you sick enough, even though fevers and other cold symptoms warrant medicine and time off school and work. Here's the link to the post in case you want to read it yourself.

From an outside perspective let me say this: the people in your life who aren't sick aren't thinking about you not being as sick as someone else they may know. They either know you're sick or they don't. If they know that you went to treatment for an ed, they probably think you were as just as sick as anyone else, and I'm sure they're glad to see you in recovery.

And also, you don't want to be as sick as some people are! I know your ed is telling you that it's the only way to feel valid, but some people with dangerous weights may still feel like they're not as valid as someone else. Your ed is giving you life during it through rose colored glasses. Being sick was not fun. It was not enjoyable in any sense of the word. Being sicker would only make your life worse, and that's what anyone's ed wants for them. You're in recovery now, and you should be really proud of yourself. If you can't say it, then I will. I'm so proud of you, anon. You don't need to be sicker. Your ed is valid, and you *were* sick enough. Anyone that is struggling with an ed is sick enough. Their weight, food intake, and other habits don't matter. If you have an ed, you are sick enough, and you deserve all the help you can get.

Finally, if you're able to, you might want to reach out to a therapist and see if they could help you with this issue. I'm giving you things to think about on your own, but I'm not a medical professional, and if you continue struggling with this, it could impact you more intensely than it already is.

I hope this helped, and feel free to send another ask or a message if I missed something or you just need to talk.

Best of luck to you in you recovery, and I hope things get better for you ♡

[forcebookish]

Honestly I feel that all the friends should go their separate ways once they graduate (aside from Cheum, her Top and Mew could still hang). Sometimes, the friends you make in college/university are literally just that. Sand seems to want to play nursemaid to Ray for the rest of his life and Nick is probably going to follow Boston to New York. From the jump, I suspected Ray saw Mew as a competition which is why he hated Top so much when he hadn't even done anything to warrant it. The way he shouted at Mew for "not giving it to him" honestly made my skin crawl and the fact that Ray and Boston both have their "boyfriends" in their ear enabling their behaviour knocks me sick, these people will never change. Everything Top has been accused of is actually how these people ended up behaving whilst showing no remorse. I miss smiling and happy Mew so much, here's hoping Top and Mew are back together next episode I'm seriously getting withdrawals!

yeah, i've been talking about this with a few friends: these just aren't the kind of people you keep in your life for long. there are a lot of friendships that can withstand hardships and fights, but those take hard work, honest communication, and real love. that's not what the gang has or has ever had with boston; it's been all but spelled out that ray only ever cared about "having" mew and not about cheum or boston as companions. (i mean, did he even apologize to cheum for doing drugs in the hostel? unlikely, based on how he rarely ever apologizes for his worst offenses.) and they're not just bad friends, they're bad people. we can't rule out a timeskip but if there isn't, there is no way boston and ray can suddenly become good people in three episodes.

i know i'm harping on about being right but... i was right lol top and mew would have had a normal relationship with normal, internal problems if boston and ray were actually good friends and hadn't actively tried to sabotage their relationship. i once thought that perhaps the couples wouldn't stay together, but the friendships would remain and now i have such a hard time seeing it: if it does happen, i just know it won't be satisfying lol

i miss happy mew too, anon 😭😭😭 give them back 😭😭

i need them to get the guncher treatment and just have all of episode 12 them just being happy and in love. no more dramatics, i just need them to be more in love than ever. i just need ONE (more? do episode one and five really count? debatable) episode where nothing bad happens to them 😭😭😭 please 😭😭😭😭😭

thanks for stopping by, anon! i agree wholeheartedly!💗💗

[glutenfreetitty]

I am *once again* screaming into the void/using this blog as a personal diary. Obviously not private since I'm posting it on the internet, but I find that knowing someone can read this and possibly relate and not think I'm crazy gives me a sense of validation that feels relieving. CW for abuse, family conflict, misogyny, racism, cancer, alcoholism

I don't know how to say that I have issues with my dad because in my mind that statement seems to evoke an absent father who left his family. Mine didn't and has supported me through adulthood in his own way. The older I get, the more I see how wounded he is and how far the extent of his own traumas are. The older he gets, the darker he seems to become. I don't like him. And I used to feel so much guilt for not liking him, but I truly do not like who he is as a person.

I had cancer when I was 19, and my mom had cancer when I was 12. He could not have been colder to her when she was in treatment. I remember overhearing one of their conversations- it was in the morning, my brother and I were ready to be taken to school, but my mom was way too sick and in too much pain to drive us. My dad had to leave to go to work and when my mom asked him to drive us to school for her, he told her to "nut it up." He wasn't cruel normally to any of us, and I feel so whiny that hearing him say that to her so unapologetically stuck with me for so long when I know there's people who have exponentially worse fathers than mine. But he was so unaffected by her illness and would get annoyed with her when she asked for help. When I got my own cancer diagnosis in college, he was exactly the same way. He once came into my room when I was sick in bed and suggest I get outside. I told him I felt too sick for that, and he told me how disappointed he was in me for choosing to feel sorry for myself. He'd get annoyed and appear to think that I was overreacting when I was sick or trapped in the fear and uncertainty that comes with cancer.

He very much is a boomer white man in the sense that he has the emotional intelligence of a toddler, and has never been a particularly nurturing person. I think he prides himself on being "rational" and "logical". I've always been aware of that, but it was another thing to experience him being so detached from his wife and daughter having cancer. The way he spoke to me when I had cancer definitely flipped a switch in my head. It's been eight years and it still stings.

I could write endlessly about the shit head my brother has been over the years. He fell into the whole alt-right pipeline in 2016 when I had cancer and once lectured me on gender roles, and what women were biologically "made for" and that if I didn't accept what he was telling me, I'd have to learn to accept it the hard way by either becoming 1. "a white trash piece of shit single mom with four bastard children or 2. pathetic fat lonely cat lady" At that point, my brother and I had had quarrels that siblings typically have, but he had never been so personal or angry or fucking misogynistic. I was honestly freaked out and ran to my room. I had it in my head that if I told my parents he had crossed the line the way he did they might have a talk with him, but my dad literally shrugged and told me that there were two sides to every story (implying I had said something to warrant what was said to me). Another time, he called me a cunt and when I looked up, he had his phone out to record my reaction and threw a glass of water in my face. He posted the video to his Snap Chat. I think the idea was for him and his friends to point and laugh at my embarrassment. My dad shrugged. A few years later, after my treatment ended and I went back to my adult life, I came home for Thanksgiving. My brother had only grown angrier and more staunch in his views. After our parents went to bed, he came at me again with his alt-right views and was getting angry. He was telling me again that I was the lonely cat lady stereotype and that I was unlovable and it was my fault for the fact that I was gonna be alone forever and I don't have any worth, etc. It was clear to me this was textbook projection and that's what I told him. He started calling me every misogynistic word he could and told me I was lucky there wasn't a gun in the house, but that there were knives, and he was lucky there weren't doors on the locks, implying he was going to stab me in my sleep. When I told my parents what happened the next morning, my dad once again shrugged and repeated, "there's always two sides to every story"...... what the fuck could I have said or done that would have made it okay for someone to threaten to murder me? That morning when my brother was confronted by my mom, he got angry with her too and stormed out of the house. My mom was rattled and said she didn't want to chase after him. My dad told us we needed to just calm down and try to show him some grace. Every instance of my brother's misogynistic violence, which got more egregious each time, my dad shrugged. His reaction to threats and the worst, most sexist things that could be said to his daughter made me realize that if I ever found myself in an abusive relationship, there's nothing he'd do for me. He will never see me as someone to stand up for, unlike my brother, who just needed to be shown "some grace."

When I had cancer, I used to wish that something horrible would happen to my dad. I wanted him to be in unbearable pain and I wanted to point and laugh at him. And then he lost his job in the pandemic and spiraled into a depression which led to around the clock drinking, because of course he is a boomer white man and can't process any emotion in a healthy way to save his fucking life. I came home for a few weeks in the summer a few years ago. My mom had warned me that he was sick, but I when I saw him he was jaundiced and could barely get up by himself. We took him to the hospital while I was there and they told us he has liver failure. To receive a liver transplant, you have to wait on a list and agree to treatment for alcoholism. After spending a week in the hospital he agreed and seemed to do well with the treatment. But on Christmas morning that year, my mom walked in on him taking a swig of vodka in the kitchen. At that point he had stopped going to doctor's appointments too. He basically told her he didn't care and was going to do what he wanted to do, and he has declined considerably over the years. When they told us he had liver failure my mom nearly collapsed. It was the first time I saw her be scared and vulnerable (for a man who had no time for her pain when she had cancer...) and I remember feeling like I had to be strong so she'd have someone. I am lacking the descriptive words to convey how much it enrages me how he has made a mockery of her concern about his health, and his lack of accountability in taking care of himself. He's put my mom a position where she has to nag him to take his medication because he won't care or remember to do it himself, then have the fucking audacity to get upset with her when she does.

A few months after he went to the hospital, but before Christmas when he told my mom to fuck off with her emotional irrational woman concerns, his brother got diagnosed with leukemia and would need intense treatment. My mom told me she had never seen my dad so sad. She said he would cry throughout the day and tell her how scared he was for his brother and didn't want to lose him. He never shed a tear when it was his wife or his daughter.

He's also become incredibly bitter. I think his reaction to the things my brother said and did to me hurt so deeply in part because he never ever held or perpetuated misogynistic beliefs. I don't remember ever feeling as a child that he would be so apathetic to someone treating me that way. But he seems to be falling into that way of thinking. He's more unapologetically racist. When I push back when he says something fucked up, it doesn't matter what I say to him because he just shrugs and sees me as over reacting. You know, like an emotional, irrational woman. He doesn't take me seriously, and it used to not be that way, or it at least didn't feel that way.

I don't know why I keep trying with my parents. It's not all fucked up all the time, and it's really my dad and brother I can't fucking stand, even though I can't seem to escape feeling guilt for typing those words. I think I keep trying for my mom. I feel guilty for not living nearby because my mom is stuck with the two of them. I got off the phone with my mom tonight and my dad always finds away to butt in. He didn't even say anything that fucked up for him, he just made a joke about JD Vance, implying that he was gonna be in the White House next year. He makes jokes like that all the time, and each time I see him laughing and watching me, because he wants to see my reaction to them. I know making me uncomfortable is the joke, like when my brother threw water at me and called me a cunt. Although I don't think my dad is aware that that's what he's doing. When little things like that happen, it triggers all the pain he and my brother have inflicted and pulls me into my feelings. I don't know what to do with all of this. I know I need to get back into therapy because I hate feeling stuck in this space without any way of coping with it. I don't know where the boundary line needs to be drawn. My last therapist was advocating for no contact, but I know that doesn't feel right.

[loversinthesnow]

Chapter One: This is the Best Day Ever

As I gazed out the window, the only thing on my mind was how I desperately needed to get out of here. I couldn't spend another day confined to a bed, drowned with boredom and Benzedrine.

They all think I'm sick. Sick in the head and sick in the heart. They think they can cure me. That they can save me. That they can fix what isn't wrong with me. What's never been wrong with me. They think I have a problem. But the problem has never been me. The problem is merely what surrounds me, surrounds them. Engulfing us all in pain and a false sense of glory. Basking us in hope for a better day that'll never come.

They'll never save me. I'm not worth saving.

-

The sound of nurses heels tapping the ground is irritating to say the least. To me, it's like nails on a chalkboard, or the sound of my own voice. Hearing them all run around, never near enough to warrant my complaints but never far enough to ignore, causes headaches that could last a lifetime. Or what feels like a lifetime to me at least. But then again, anything feels like eternity when you're trapped in drab hospital walls. The tapping continues, except this time it seems nearer. Closer. I looked up to see a blonde woman wearing a nurses uniform approaching me. She smiles slightly at me, seemingly an attempt to calm me. I don’t smile back.

"Clyde, is it?" She glances at me after presumably reading what is my file. I nod at her, not wanting to make conversation.

"You've been relocated to the second floor due to a vacant bed. You'll be moving soon enough, just wanted to give you a heads up." She smiles at me again, but more genuine this time.

"Thanks," I mutter. I try and smile at her, hoping she takes it as me thanking her. She nods and turns away, leaving me alone again. With my thoughts, and my thoughts alone, as my only company.

The room I'm currently in is bare to say the least - the only decoration being blood on the walls. Everything is an off whitish shade, the room feeling damp and bleak. It smells stale and abandoned - an uncomfortable feeling as I drift off to sleep.

-

As I awake, all I can hear is the sound of people chatting and shuffling, noisier than it has ever been, nosier than it should be in an empty ward. I open my eyes, only to meet a smiling nurse's eyes. "You're awake" She beams at me, not particularly unusual, but odd regardless.

"Yeah, uhm.. I presume I've been moved, right?" She nods at me, confirming my suspicions.

I glance at my new surroundings. It's brighter, cleaner. There's actually people here. To my left, I can hear an old man talking to who I presume to be his wife. He's describing his day to her, listing everything he had done previous to arriving at the hospital. He speaks of their home, how he's painted the walls a bright shade of yellow while she was away. He's redecorated the kitchen for when she returns, splurging on new easels for their art room. He tells her how the dog misses her oh so much, and how he's barked at every salesman knocking at the front door, wishing it was her instead. She asks questions about his day, and how works been, and it's simple yet beautiful how much she cares. I know nothing about these people but their love is sickeningly clear. And my heart aches again, but for once not out of sickness - but out of jealously instead. It must be nice to love, and to be loved in return.

To my right, there seems to be someone, but I can't quite make out their face. I can only see slightly through the thin, worn dividers. All I can see is black hair, and blood. Lots of blood.

Why is there blood?

"Is there a Clyde here?" The nurse calls out again.

"Yeah, that's me." I do my best to sound pleasant, however, it's difficult to sound happy when you're simply not.

"Yeah, so you've been moved up here for your last couple days of treatment. You were attacked - punched, right?"

"Yeah pretty much." She begins to read my file.

"It says here you came in with a fractured jaw and some other minor wounds, cuts and scars elsewhere, mainly around your chest, is that correct?"

I nod, not quite meeting her eyes. I feel pathetic for getting into this situation in the first place. So any form of a reminder is humbling to say the least.

"Okay, so it seems that you're healing quite nicely in terms of that, however, from what I’m aware of you do have some sort of underlying conditions that Dr. Thompson will be dealing with, which should all be fine, so no need to worry about that" She doesn't want to worry me. It's not working.

"It says something on your case about previous incidents with supernatural encounters, as well as some history with substance abuse and self harm if I'm correct, which may seem like such awful challenges - but with modern technology I'm sure you'll be just fine" She gives me a sympathetic look .

"But you've had no visitors, which is unfortunate." her look turns to one of pity. She pities me.

“Although, we do have some other patients who are likely feeling lonely as well, so I'll see if I can organize some form of meeting to keep you all entertained and in good company." She pities me.

"I'll do my best to get something sorted." She pities me.

"Take care." She smiles, while looking down at me, and I watch her walk away.

I don't want her pity. I don't want anyone's pity. I've never asked for pity - only fools ask for pity. People who wallop in self loathing ask for pity - they feed off it. They live amongst themselves, forever alone and in their head. Yet here I am, alone, once again. And pitied, the last thing I've ever wanted to be.

-

I turn my head back to the right in an attempt to distract myself once again, instead this time not being faced with a loving couple, but with a faint view of the woman I had seen there mere moments before. Squinting closer this time, I try to focus in on the details of her face. There's blood covering her lips, seemingly dripping from her nose, but it's hard to make out through the divider. I feel myself frowning - last time I checked there was more blood. I can hear her breathing, it's soft, barely audible. However, still just loud enough to hear since the ward is quiet now bar the sounds of faint breathing. I presume she's asleep, as her eyes are closed, and her body is still. She's relaxed - how could anyone be relaxed in a place like this? She must be drugged. Yes, that must be it. I have to leave. What if they get me next??? Her breathing stays constant, at a steady pace. I feel fear creep up on me. It's too calm. It's too bright, too happy in here. We're all sick - They're all sick. Why is everyone so cheerful? Why is everyone?-

-

"Hello"

The sudden noise startles me. Her face startles me more. She's beautiful.

"I wasn't sure if it was okay to wake you, they just kind of left us here." She smiles hesitantly at me. "No, it's fine.. uhm.. no worries, yeah." I glance around her. She's hooked up to a machine, same as me. There's no one else in the room anymore, just the two of us.

“Do you have any clue what happened here?" She shakes her head. As I glance at the surroundings, I realize we're in a different room now - the kind of place where they hold group therapy sessions for psych ward patients. I frown.

"I woke up in here about an hour ago, and no one's come in since. I think they must've forgotten about us or something" she chuckles.

I find myself smiling back. I look at her face, closer this time. She looked familiar - faint blood stains on her lips and jet black hair contradicting her pale face. I had seen her before, but we had never met - I would remember if we had. I never forget.

We sit in silence, it's awkward and uncanny. I try to analyze the room some more, but it's no use. Every room is the same here - just another cage. I look back at her, while she picks at her blood stained nails.

"So, why are you here then?" I ask.

“That makes me sound like a criminal"

"Well, I never said that-" She cuts me off by laughing. How irritating. Cutting me off is rude - does she not have manners? I glare at her as she continues giggling. She has a pretty face, but only with her mouth shut.

“I got injured, can't exactly remember what happened but I've been hooked on these machines for the past few days. You?”

“I was walking to work, and,” I paused. There was no way to explain this without sounding like I'm insane.

“And you..?” She dragged on the “you” bit, clearly annoyed at my pause.

“I don't know - I was just walking and the ground caved under me, and I felt a punch to my face and then the next thing I know I'm awake in an ambulance and covered in blood. Nothing makes sense at all here.” She nods in agreement, and I’m surprised she doesn’t question it further.

“That's rough isn't it.” I nod, and we sit in silence once more. At least we had something in common - Knowing something was wrong. Very wrong.

-

“So, you were walking to work and then got in a one sided fist fight with Casper. Where do you work anyways? You a mortician or some spooky shit like that?”

“I work in a liquor store.” She perks up at the word liquor.

“God, I could use really use a drink” She half sighs, half laughs.

“Tell me about it.”

The room falls silent once again as I wonder how long we'll be left alone. It's strange how we've just been left to our own devices in a hospital of all places, but this place is even stranger, so it's fitting I suppose. Yet it still makes no sense. They're meant to be professionals - they should be doing their job, watching us, as odd as that may feel. It's worse that they're not. What if something happened? What if there was an attack?? And they couldn't risk taking us, so we've just been left here to die. What if we die here??? What if there's monsters outside the door, waiting for us to move closer, inching nearer by the second. What if we die here???? What if I never go home????? What if??????

“Sorry for the wait, I meant to come up sooner, but I was.. busy, yeah” A nurse.

She has bloodshot eyes and is breathing like she’s just ran a mile.

“I'm obviously no doctor,” she started.

“Well no shit”

She shoots me a look.

“But you two have been put in here as you've had no visitors and this room was free.”

“That's not how hospitals work,” I start, “Why are we really in here? They can't move us without reason. I was moved earlier today, this is bullshit you know-”

“I don't know, nor do I care. I'm just here to watch you.”

“Bullshit.” My fist clenches. Why do they always think I'm stupid? I'm not stupid. I'm not crazy. There's nothing wrong with me. Why do they always act like this?? Why???

“Woah, okay relax man.” The woman in the bed from before looks worried. Like she might start crying, even. I don't care. She's a giddy little bitch anyways. Of course she's scared.

“You better fucking tell me what's going on before I figure it out myself.” The nurse begins to back away, like I'm some sort of animal.

“I think it's best if I leave.. yeah.. I think that's best..” She backs away, leaving us alone again.

“What are you doing leaving me in here with him? What the fuck woman.” I look over to see a startled expression across her face, and I notice the faint blood stains. Her voice is shaky, and I feel a sudden pang of guilt strike my chest. Maybe I was too harsh before.

“I'm not gonna hurt you or anything. I just-”

“Yeah, like I can take your word for that.” She rolls her eyes, voice wavering.

“Listen, there's obviously something up here. We shouldn't be moved around like this, and that ‘nurse’ was as high as a fucking kite. I need answers, okay?”

“Right..” she says, half heartily. Better than nothing I guess.

“Do you remember exactly how long you've been here for?” I ask.

“Like, around three or four days? Five days max. Why?”

“The medication might have some sort of prolonged sedating effect, making us drowsy and unresponsive - when were you last medicated? that could explain why you're so calm and I'm normal”

“Normal? Maybe your just a fucking looney-” she mutters.

“I heard that.”

“The last thing I remember from before I was down here was being given medication, so I'd say only a few hours. Happy now?”

“That'd all add up..”

“We've not been sedated or poisoned or whatever you think - we're just being treated.. or whatever they do at hospitals.. stop making shit up to worry about. It'll do you no good.”

Maybe she's right. Or maybe not. Probably not.

-

“So uh, tell me more about yourself. What’s your life like when you're not trying to figure out some hospital’s doomsday plan.”

I glance at her. She seems genuinely interested. Maybe I'm worried over nothing. Yeah, maybe. Maybe she's right.

“Well, I live alone in a shitty condo,” I pause, not really knowing where to start, “I get paid minimum wage and that's about it. No plans, no real ambitions. My life is.. sad I suppose.” I look over and see her frowning. Shit.

“Sorry, I don't mean to ruin the mood.. whatever it was before.”

“No it's okay, I really don't know what I was expecting you to say. It's not like some millionaire would ever end up in here.” She says, and I'm unsure how to take that. Is she insulting me? Or is this some form of sympathy? I wonder.

“Do you like where you work? Do you get discounts on stuff?”

“On what?”

“Drinks, obviously.” She rolls her eyes at me. Right, that.

“I mean sometimes, I don't drink all that much anymore. Can't be assed. It gets boring alone after a while.”

“Well maybe next time you won't be alone. I wouldn't mind a drink, and you owe me for that scare earlier.”

“What-”

“So,” She interrupts, “When are you gonna get out of here? D’you think we could break out?”

“Uhm..” I think for a moment, “I'm not too sure, but the security isn't too tight here, that's for sure.”

She nods, and I remember my earlier suspicions. The medication - they must be poisoning us with it. That's probably what that nurse was in for earlier. I can't take anymore of it. I eye the woman again. Should I really take her with me if I am going to escape? She seems too emotional, too expressive. It'd be risky. Why should I bring her? What gain would it be for me? I look up at her. She's picking at her nails again. She's odd - and I don't like her. But I can't just leave her here. Who knows what they'd do to her. Despite that I dislike her, despite it being risky to bring her with me, I'm oddly captivated by her- and my guilty conscience would eat me alive if I just left her here to rot. Why is she so perky in a hospital? How did she end up here? Why does she ask so many questions? Why are they about me of all people? Is she just asking them to get on my good side? She's irritating but I don't think she's stupid. What if she's just been sent down here to get me to stay? What if this is all a part of the hospital's plan to use me as a lab rat? That'd make sense. Maybe that's why she tried to calm me. That's why she's trying to lure me out. Maybe I should knock her out, then I'd get a chance to run. I'd have to leg it, but it'd be possi-

“Hellooooo? Earth to.. whatever you said your name is.” She's glaring at me again, an irritated expression on her face. Maybe I'm overthinking it. Maybe I'm not.

“It's Clyde.”

“That suits you.”

“How does a name suit me - that makes no sense.”

“I dunno, it just matches your face.” I feel myself pout. Matches my face? What the fuck does that mean?

She begins to laugh, “Oh God, your face. I'm sorry, I didn't mean that as an insult.” She continues giggling. What is she, twelve?

“How is that funny???”

She laughs even more, “Pfft,” she's wheezing at this point. “You look like someone just killed your first born - I wish you could see yourself.”

She reaches over to grab a pen and grabs a tissue. She begins to draw what looks like my face - but instead of being me it's a stickman drawn by a shitty blue biro. It's got two dots for eyes, and it's frown stretches across half it's face.

“Is that supposed to be me?” I say, still pouting. There's tears in her eyes at this point.

“I'm so sorry I can't draw for shit. It's fucking awful.” She says, in between giggles.

“I look so.. lopsided :(”

She's a mixture of laughter and wheezing now, and I can't help but find it contagious.

“They should put this up in the Louvre.” She mumbles, smiling.

“Yeah you wish.”

She smiles at me, and for some strange reason, I smile back. Maybe she's not so bad after all.

“It’s Bonnie, by the way.”

-

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” She asks, eyeing me nervously. I fight the urge to roll my eyes, and tell her she’s acting like an absolute wuss, especially since it was her idea to leave this soon in the first place. It’s night now, and it’s been hours since anyone has come to check on us. I managed to disconnect myself from the monitor - there was a patch on my left arm, connected to what seemed to be a heart monitor. But when I peeled it off, nothing had changed, only confirming my suspicions that we needed to leave. What kind of hospital fakes a patients heart race? What do they think I am? A mouse? A lab rat?

“Yes, I’m sure you’ll be just fine. It’s not even tracking your heart rate. It’s literally just a preloaded video they must have on loop.” I tug on the patches, disconnecting them one by one.

“I just don’t understand, why would they do that” She frowns.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if this was just a front - it’s probably just a cover up, like money laundering or something.”

“Isn’t that done through like, restaurants or laundromats? I don’t think they’d do that through a hospital, I mean, how’d that even work??”

“Yeah well,” I reach a hand out to her, offering to help her up, “Hospitals usually treat patients, but that’s not happening here, is it?”

She rolls her eyes at me, smiling slightly, and exhales - almost as if to suppress a laugh.

“You should be a detective.” She jokes. I simply roll my eyes back.

“You’re sooooo funny, you know you should be a comedian.”

She giggles at me, whilst grabbing my hand to stand up.

“Jesus, it feels like it’s been years since I’ve been on my own two feet. Crazy how much things can change in only a few days, isn’t it?”

I can’t tell if her question is rhetorical. I answer regardless.

“I guess life is fragile like that.”

She nods in agreement. She’s gripping on to the bed - it’s weird. I haven’t stood up in days either, yet I’m barely struggling, while she’s clinging on to the bedframe like it’s her lifeline. Weird.

“Here,” I say, handing her a handful of safety pins, “Since you're um.. in a hospital gown, y’know?”

“Yeah, right, right.” She says awkwardly, pinning the back of her gown.

“So, when do you think you got in here again?” I do my best at small talk, even though it’s mostly repetitive. I try to not come across as rude or intrusive - the last thing I need is an argument.

“Like five days ago? Maybe six, that might explain why I can barely walk. What matters now though is that we’re getting out, so c’mon, let’s go.” She reaches for my hand, but misses, so I grab hers.

“Well, I’ll be leading you then.”

“I’m perfectly capable of figuring out how to get us out of here, thanks.” She glares at me.

“Trust me,” I sigh in annoyance, “I have no doubt about that. But you can barely stand up by yourself, and I can bet you that I’ve been in this hospital more times this past year than your entire bloodline combined - I know this place like the back of my own hand. So, follow my lead, kay?”

She gives me a look, but nods. I take her hand, and lead us towards the door. It’s closed, but not locked. Pushing it forward slightly, I look out to see if anyone’s nearby.

“I can’t see anyone, let’s go.”

As we make our way out the door, I read the sign outside our door.

“If I’m right - which I always am, we’re on the first floor in the left wing. We shouldn’t be too far from a staircase.”

She stops and gives me a blank stare.

“What?”

“Turn around.” She says, her tone somber. Fuck. What if someone’s behind us? Shit - they’ll have us locked up properly if they catch us, but there’s no way we could leg it - she can barely walk and I can’t just leave her here. What can I do now? Think Clyde, think.

“Oh God your face - turn around dumbass. There’s a stairs right there.”

Before I can even reply, I feel her pulling me towards the stairs.

“What the fuck was that for? That was seriously uncool.”

She begins to laugh, “Uncool? What are you, twelve? Stop whining and let’s go.”

Before I get the chance to protest, she shushes me, again. Reluctantly I follow her down the stairs as she clutches on to the handrail.

“Y’know, maybe I should go in front - that way in case you fall I’ll be able to catch you.”

“Well that’s not gonna happe-” She says, as she slips. I grab her before she’s able to fall.

“What was that?” I ask smugly. She’s got the most defeated look on her face - and I feel bad for just a moment.

“Yeah, whatever.” She mumbles.

We reach the end of the stairs after an awkward minute of silence.

“Sorry, that was a dick-ish thing to do. My bad.”

“Is that even a word?”

“I’m not too sure. Do you accept my apology?”

“Sure, still think you’re an asshole though.”

-

“We’ve been walking through this hall for ages, where the hell is this ‘emergency exit’ - I swear, if you made this shit up-”

“We’re nearly there, I promise.” Its about the fifth time I’ve said this in the past hour.

“From what I remember, the left wing was closed off a few years ago due to fire hazard concerns, which means that all the exits should’ve been cut off.”

“Well clearly not since that nurse or whatever got in earlier - and we were put in here somehow.”

“Exactly - and the only exit we haven’t passed should be right about.. here.”

We stop in front of exactly what I knew would be here - an emergency door with a busted sign above it.

“Let’s get out of here” I say, and she takes my hand. And we’re free, as we wander past the gates. The city is dead - no one really goes out past 11pm, unless they’re looking for trouble.

“Why don’t we head out of here - like out of the city?” She asks.

“Why would we do that, don’t you have anyone to go back to?”

“Please, I know a place and it’s always so beautiful at this time of the night. You can leave if you like after, but just come with me for a bit.”

I pause, unsure of whether or not to trust her. Oh well.

“If I die, bury me with my dignity.”

-

The silence is practically deafening - but that’s what every safe place feels like when you’ve lived in trouble your whole life. I’ve never been one for the countryside, or anything that resembles it for that matter. Yet it’s oddly peaceful. The quiet is alien to me, it’s as foreign as could be, but I don’t dislike it. It’s comforting in a way. Unsettling, sure, but comforting nevertheless.

“Y’know,” She begins, still holding my hand, “You’re not as bad as I thought. I think I might learn to like you, Clyde.”

“Well maybe I could learn to like you too, if you weren’t so-”

“Oh shut up,” She laughs, “I’m just glad we got out of there.”

“Me too.”

We’re alone in the field - nothing but grass and flowers surround us, with the night sky looming overhead. The only thing I can see clearly is the moon reflecting in her eyes - and it’s kind of beautiful, the way it glows.

“As stupid as this may sound, I think this might just be the best day ever” She declares.

“What? You’re not serious, are you?”

“Maybe, maybe not.” She smiles. “How far do you live from here?”

“About an hours walk from the hospital, so it's not too far I guess.”

“We can leave in a bit if you'd like.”

“Yeah, sure,” I smile.

And as what feels like hours passes by, I find myself grateful for the horrible circumstances I've found myself in. And as we leave, those thoughts from earlier come back again. Maybe I could learn to like her. Maybe she is right.

[wyn-n-tonic]

this is going to be a lot. i'm sorry in advance, i just need to get it out of my head.

i'm still getting used to being okay with my diagnoses. it's the first time my life has ever really made sense and i'm very grateful for having finally been listened to but it's also so bittersweet and full of grief.

i started out life very quiet. apparently i didn't really cry and i didn't really speak either. and then i did and people didn't really like it and they made sure to let me know that so i got very quiet again.

i grew up not really feeling like i belonged anywhere - friends, family, community of any kind. i did not (and still don't, really) feel connected to people the way i see them connected with each other.

i isolate a lot because i was always told that my needs were my responsibility to deal with. something that has only been reenforced to me through hateful comments (from those i know & complete strangers) when i have attempted to express them. because in my attempt to find people who relate to these things, people only see it as complaining or begging for sympathy when really i'm just looking to not be so alone.

i've never felt as though i've been enough of anything to be granted true access to those spaces. not queer enough for queer spaces. not woman enough to be included in spaces for women. not sick enough to warrant treatment.

the only place i ever felt like it was okay to unmask and let my brain be the way it just naturally is was with regards to soccer. because it has no off season and the variables are ever changing so at least i'd always have somewhere, was my thinking. and now that's gone because i was never enough for that either and encountered harassment (mostly sexual) and misogynistic abuse on an almost daily basis when i decided to try to participate and finally connect with people the way i've always wanted.

and now i know that i'm autistic and have ADHD and, while it explains so much, i don't even feel like i am enough of either of those to even say that i am and it hurts for so many reasons.

it hurts because i know i'm not enough for this community either and it hurts because i have this knowledge that if people had just listened to me when i was younger and begging for help, i wouldn't have all this other pain built up and compounded. it hurts because i'm very sad for the little girl i was and the woman i could've been and the goals i had that could've actually been achieved had i gotten the help that i needed.

it hurts because i'm essentially having to relearn how to be a person with all this new information that is allowing me now, at thirty years old, to pull apart and rewire my brain. and i'm really afraid that i won't do that right either and it'll just isolate me further from belonging to any kind of community or connecting the way that i have always craved. i'm really afraid that i'm only ever going to be able to understand and recognize the things that i want but those things will never be something i am meant to have.

[briarpatch-kids]

I'm sorry if this is dumb but how do you know when to get help? Like I've been noticing my physical health getting worse, at least it seems like it, and it's really painful and exhausting but I don't feel like it warrants an ER visit or anything (maybe a doctor's visit but I can't afford that) and tbf I've ridden out a lot of pain and shitty stuff to avoid going to the ER (it freaks me out and again I never feel like my pain warrants it no matter how bad I think it might feel) but I'm just so tired and work is so difficult and I'm not rly sure what to do. I just wanna figure out when to finally give in and try to get some help somehow bc it's so hard to tell where my breaking point should be

I'm SO sorry for not answering this right away, I think I was sick and meant to write something longer and didn't get to it in time. It's not dumb, it's a good question ESPECIALLY when you're poor and can't afford to go to the doctor for every little ache and pain.

Basically, if you've tried the usual lifestyle adjustments doctors recommend (trying to get a little exercise, changing how you eat, cutting back on activities to leave time for resting, etc) and things aren't helping or you're still exhausted, go into the doctor. It's best to call and ask for a primary care doctor and not to go to urgent care, for the reason of the appointment let them know you have fatigue and pain that lifestyle changes and over the counter medicines aren't doing enough for, that you're at your limit, and you need to figure out what's going on. I've heard anecdotally that "sliding scale" clinics are better at understanding that you already tried to handle this at home and won't tell you to do some lifestyle changes and see them in three weeks.

Try and notice what makes the pain and fatigue better or worse. If there's patterns like "exercise makes it worse" or "every time I try and get my shit together I have a massive health crash after a couple months" let them know. Telling the physical therapist that while he could see my muscles doing their thing in real time was what got doctors to FINALLY take me seriously. Tell them what lifestyle adjustments you've made and how they affected you so they don't just send you away with "change your lifestyle." (I keep saying this because I got that runaround for 3 years 🙃)

And finally, ask them what you can do to manage things while you wait to figure out what's going wrong. I got a lot of the bare bones medical care I managed to claw out of doctors while in diagnostic purgatory because I asked what we can do to make things more bearable in the mean time. (physical therapy, occupational therapy, mobility aids, mental health therapy because it's fucking stressful to be undiagnosed, that sort of thing.)

If you're lucky, it's something common and easily tested, a lot of people have stuff that's treatable or at least manageable like diabetes or anemia. If you're unlucky, you could end up diagnostic purgatory for years and doing things in the meantime will keep you going. There's also conditions that just don't go away and don't have many treatments other than symptom relief, like chronic fatigue, EDS, or the more unusual stuff like mitochondrial disease and myasthenia gravis. I highly recommend "hoping for the best and preparing for the worst" meaning it's totally fine to hope it's something like anemia and treated with regular medicine, but also don't be totally blindsided and shocked if you end up like me and take 7 years to get answers that are "you're really sick, here's how, but there's not much we can do! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ at least you're probably not dying in the near future!"

[prof-peach]

Professor! Something is wrong with Michi! (Litten) he has this green...slime? Coming down from his mouth, it might just Be puke or something Else, But Michi has Been sick before, and this has never happend, he is also really dizzy and doesen't seem to Be sure of where he is, If i'm not closet to him he goes into panic mode, what should i do? I've Been meaning to take him to a poke-center but he HATES poke-centers and i don't want to Make him More uncomftrable than he already is,what do i do?

You dear need to get that pokemon to a centre, or a doctor. That set of ailments sounds very dubious, and you need to do the right thing for your partner, AND for the health of all pokemon who come into contact with them, for all we know at this point is that what Michi has is infectious and dangerous to others. y’all know whats more uncomfortable that Michi’s current state? Death. A lot of diseases and illnesses left untreated, or even just left too late can be fatal or debilitating, I don’t mean to alarm of course, chances are this is just a bit of a viral infection or something harmless enough, but you MUST get them to a professional when symptoms like this show up. 

We are very easily lulled into a sense of thinking that all pokemon are these hyper intelligent and almost human like beings, but sometimes (especially with younger individuals such as your michi) we need to act a little tougher to get them to the specialists they may need. 

Its like getting a young kid to go get their vaccinations, they won’t go by choice, like, yeah it sucks but if you don’t get them done, all who come in contact with your unvaccinated kids are at risk. The adults (you)  have to make rational and logical choices to give the individual (michi) the best chance at a healthy happy life. This is exactly one of those cases. 

Pokemon don’t always like going to the doctors, I know, trust me i’ve been bitten and kicked and whipped and chewed on enough to understand this. It doesn't make it any less important to train our beloved partners to at least understand that its sometimes scary at first, but necessary. 

For this particular instance, he sounds very sick, enough to warrant keeping him in his ball until you get to a secure treatment room with a nurse or doctor to look them over. They're quite trained in handling even difficult patients, so you shouldn't be too worried, so long as you tell them that Michi is a little uneasy and may lash out in his confused state. Once he’s been diagnosed and helped hopefully, get him well and medicate or do whatever is needed according to your practitioner. 

Once well again, you need to help him associate the pokemon centre with good stuff. Training a pokemon isn't just attacks and basic commands like ‘sit’ and ‘stay’, its also about them being able to be safe, get checks when sick, and not hurt people trying to help them. Take them to the centre, just get into the building, maybe hang out a while, have a soda, meet a friend, that kind of thing. If its quiet ask the staff if they can interact with your partner, give treats, get to know them. Its very important that you can build a sense of trust to pokemon centres at Michi’s young size now, because I promise you an Incineroar that doesn't want to do something just flat out wont, it takes a LOT to get them to treatment if they've built up a dislike for the facilities. fixing this dislike at his earlier age will help in the long run, and I advise you to do this once treatment is over and your buddy is better.  I do hope you two can find out whats up, I can’t diagnoses an issue such as this from a distance, this is an illness that requires hands on observations and testing of samples, somethings not right here at all. be brave, be responsible, do right by your buddy, things will be just fine if you can get them the correct care. 

[nozzlebolt]

"Healthcare" farce.

The other day I as usual requested a renewal for two medicines I've used for 15 years - the right stuff. Instead a nurse booked a meeting, claiming that "the doctors" said to meet for renewal, in my journal! Changing, gaslighting.

What is normal is for a doctor to schedule a summons ffs! Instead they had changed the predicted renewal to beg for a needless appointment then! Rotten to the core frauds!! 🤬

This was the continuation from last year, where a nurse had commented that they had free time for "your spirometry", a useless service that I am not in need of at all given that the dosage is already correct, and minimal! The doctor then only renewed for one, rather than the usual four times - a year supply - apparantly going with the nurse by imposing an artificial limitation on the availability of my medicine to push needless services on me! Thus, they callously created artificial demand! I complained about that to the healtcare inspector authority, but never heard from them. Useless. 🙄

Back to today... I naturally unbooked the appointment since I hadn't requested that. Then I went to an emergency room since I had no medicine left. They agreed to prescribe a limited amount, though their function is not to renew prescriptions. The nurse was victim blaming though, needlessly playing devils advocate. So I got my medicine for now anyway.

I will complain to the healthcare inspectors about the begging to be needed despite my chronic condition remaining unchanged. They put my life at risk by playing games - sadistically trying to push needless services on me - instead of delivering on them medicines upon request ffs!

I will schedule an appointment at another clinic than the unreliable beggar one, then really iron in that I do need my medicine upon request, nothing else!

I will not submit to needless check-ups just because of some abusive nurse once had time to spare for needless spirometry, and the groupthink that ensued! I do not exist to fill their slots! That ain't "care", that's blackmail and fraud! I ain't no slave! 🤬

And so, guess what... I will henceforth REFUSE TO LET ANY DOCTOR TOUCH ME AT ALL!! Minimize that! 🤯

AND I will still get the medicine I am entitled to, given my chronic condition.

Ah yes, touching privaleges removed! The client has spoken. 🤫

I am not to be trifled with! 🧐

I am not to be trifled with! 🧐

I am not to be trifled with! 🧐

I'll update, and link this post once I have complained to the inspector about the bad practise, etc.

Update 1: The farce continues.

The new clinic are playing sick games. Will put together a collage of screenshots later.

One "doctor" claimed I don't have asthma, an official diagnosis according to my journal, going against all previous observations from my childhood and adulthood! They then neglected to schedule a meeting, instead a doctor instructed a nurse nurse to tell me to ask for an appointment for the purpose of getting another diagnosis! I commented my objection to the deranged claim in a note in my journal. 🙄

I called the head of the clinic, who was on vacation. I then called IVO (healthcare inspection authority), who were not available by phone like their homepage claims, instead running an unadvertised schedule during summer. I then inquired through the IVO website how a primary care doctor is allowed to go about when questioning a diagnosis. I will lodge a complaint regarding this negligence - grasping for straws to falsely contradict a lifetime of doctors, out of malice! 🙄

After I sent the request again, adding my strong assertion that the other doctors are correct, the clinic today - on the 25:th of July - scheduled an appointment for the 19:th of August, far from their obligation BY LAW of maximum 3 days for a primary care appointment (90 days for specialist). I added a note of the negligence in my journal. 🙄

I then sent my request yet again, where I also inform them of the negligence, and that I will lodge complaints to the IVO regarding the failures.

I have chronic asthma without a doubt. I went to visit a specialist doctor/researcher during my entire childhood! A rolemodel for his field, they call him in the news article below. I'll include pictures or scans of part of the journal for the upcoming collage.

He expressed concern for me upon my transfer to a specialist for adults in the 90:s... rightfully so given this farce from these primary care "caregivers", who are playing games and now a "doctor" even falsely questioned my asthma diagnosis - which is backed up by a ton of data from my childhood, and adulthood. 🙄

(https://www.sydsvenskan.se/2008-06-15/tony-foucard-foregangsman-inom-barnallergologi)

(Salmeterol is a long-acting beta-adrenoceptor agonist. We later opted out of the study since we'd get charged more for the medicine, but I was prescribed it later and it is a component of the medicine I have used for 15 years that I am trying to get a renewed prescription for.)

Instead of believing in the diagnosis first set and observed by specialist doctors way back, primary care employees are now taking turns sadistically abusing me together by playing with my life - attempting to cause emotional distress and mortality salience, as a part of yet another monstrous obedience training - the latest unspoken excuse for deranged sadistic punishment is my refusal to be touched - only warranting my mistrust 100%! Here is the kicker... since I have suffocated so often from my lifelong asthma, I don't get stressed from asthmatic symptoms since that costs precious oxygen. 🙄

I will not be silenced by malpractice, and will indeed never let them touch me! It is the duty of the primary care to take this seriously and make sure my journal says not to touch me for, ffs! That IS my boundry, which no healthcare staff shall violate! It is utter incompetence to fail to take notice! 🤬

Go ahead and shamelessly beat the dead horse... burn the charred bridges that you still can't cross... sink the shipwreck you are in... the deep mistrust is still gonna be there, as it is obviously well deserved! 🙄

Again, none has taken notice of my assertion of refusal to be touched - A doctor I have never met opted instead to abuse me by disagreeing with my lifelong diagnosis, as a punishment. 🙄

Given the psychological torture I am being subjected to by sadistic "primary care" staff, I will indeed lodge a complaint to the IVO before long. 🙄

Update 2 (2019-07-28):

This patient is happy with the medicine and happy with the CORRECT diagnosis, despite the debased attempt above to force ME to suggest otherwise in order for them to provide service. ⚠️🙄

My DEAD SERIOUS no touching boundary for the healthcare staff keeps getting stonewalled. Boundary issues detected! 🕳️🙄

I predicted I'd get the silent treatment next, and thus asked for a specialist doctor. AND I put in an request to renew my prescription for the medicine that does the trick anyway, despite the propagated false claim that it doesn't. It does though. 🛑🙄

Update 3 (2019-08-02):

The other day, I finally got an appointment within a reasonable timeframe, for today. I immediately voiced my reservations in a note in my journal given that I was now to meet the same doc who got things so wrong (including the category, that looked like a physical meeting though it was a non-physical).

I went to the appointment earlier and am now chilling, some time after having gone out again to pick up the medicine.

The head of the clinic - a psychologist - joined the meeting, perhaps having gotten passed my complaint to this patient committee/authority thing since they had called me the day before after I filled in a form (only to minimize my grievance and undermine me though).

I tried to convey my personality and at the suggestion of spirometry and a lung x-ray to see if anything is amiss for instance, I said I can tell things are the same and that x-rays are carcinogenic, respectively. The doc then argued that tobacco causes cancer too, to which I said that is why to not add more risk since I would not submit to be treated for cancer anyway, and that my level of non-attachment includes my own life (I had mentioned my father passed away when I was 18, since we talked about my scool years, and that it was not "must have been difficult" to me). Such is my personality.

Anyway, we then discussed my medication. I requested an aerosol bronchodilator and an aerosol chamber instead of the powder, and suggested to go back to having separate salmeterol, to enable to cut down on the anti-inflammatory corticostereoids (salmeterol can never be prescribed alone though).

Now I'm prescribed Serevent Discus (50 microg salmeterol) twice a day, and Flutide Evohaler (125 microg fluticasone) 1-2 doses, twice a day - instead of the combination one, Seretide 50/250 twice. Also Ventoline Evohaler (salbutamol). GSK city.

The end of the too long story, I hope. There you have it.