#but i. CANNOT AFFORD. TO GOT THE HOSPITAL
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but like i was fully cognitive the whole time i just got super dizzy and my vision was blurry and the right side of my body had like a light numbness/tingling sensation, but i was still walking and talking fine
#i had like a period of a year where this would happen to me and then it would go away and i would have a migraine#and i did research about it and i think it was called a hemiplegic migraine#but then they stopped and then i when i finally managed to visit a doctor and tell her about them she was like#when was the last one? almost a year ago? ok it doesn't matter. like??? 😭😭😭#i have a new doctor now but i never mentioned them cause like yeah it's been a few years since i had one#but now i know i have anemia and i know anemia is a common in stroke victims like bro i'm scared#but i. CANNOT AFFORD. TO GOT THE HOSPITAL#i don't even have all my rent for next month yet dude#why is being alive so suckkk#kyra's ramblings
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Leaving for chicago today and I’m SOOOO SICK vyvanse literally has it out to get me BUT i have no insurance so i cant go to the doctor
#me getting prescribed vyvanse literally my last day with insurance#and i already owe the hospital a lot of money#i cannot afford to go rip#but if nobody has my back i know water and crackers got my back
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The pain in my sternum hasn't gone away yet. Im hoping i just accidentally pulled a muscle bc there's no way i can afford a hospital visit
#if it was heart related i think i would've been dead by now so i don't think its that dhdjsjsi#i just hurt and feel gross#FIL said he'll take me to the hospital if it doesn't get any better by the weekend#i honestly want to go but i cannot afford a hospital visit#everytime i try to sign up got mnsure the site fucks up and i have to wait to try again#ugh i hate my body for doing this rn#cuddles talks
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Basically. I got screwed.
I am very sorry for how relatively quiet this blog has been but I've been dealing with a very unpleasant situation the last few months, and now I need help.
Essentially, I tried to help someone out, and she took advantage of me, and I have no way to recoup my losses.
Earlier this year, I moved into a new house. Before we sold the old house, a Now-Former friend ran into some trouble and was about to become homeless with pets and a small child. Not wanting them to be on the street, we offered to hold off selling the old house so she could stay there for a little while, if she could pay the cost of the mortgage on that house (because I could afford one mortgage but not two) while we helped her find somewhere more permanent.
I was not making money from this- since I was still paying the utilities and property taxes, I was actually losing money, but willing to soak that in order to help her save up and get her on her feet.
Instead, she:
Never Paid a Dime towards covering the mortgage costs like she agreed ($12,000 for the nine months she was there)
Trashed the house ($500 dump fees for the trash alone)
Let her pets piss and shit all over the house ($1,500 bio hazard cleanup, $4000 to replace the carpet and other damaged flooring)
Caused an electrical issue in the garage ($900 to repair)
Broke the washer, dryer and refrigerator ($2500 to replace)
Broke the fence ($1000 to repair)
When I told her I could no longer financially support her and that I needed to sell the old house, she illegally squatted there for a solid three months and I had to hire a lawyer and actually take her to court to get her to leave ($2,500)
The resulting stress has been, as you can imagine, stressful.
So stressful, in fact, that it aggravated a the medical conditions my husband had and made him extremely sick. He had to go to the hospital and take time off work to recover. Now the health insurance is trying to weasel out of paying his short-term disability claim.
So net, this woman has managed to cost me around $25,000 and that's not taking into account the missed paychecks and medical expenses. I do not have $25,000, and until at least $13,000 of that is spent to repair the damage she did, I legally cannot sell the house to even begin to recoup my losses.
Theoretically, I could sue this woman, but she doesn't have any money and it would be me paying even more money I don't have to get... Nothing. So I'm asking for help to cover the costs of getting the old house ready to sell, my husband's medical expenses, and other expenses incurred by this debacle:
If you can help out in any way-share, donate spare change, anything- I'd be extremely grateful.
Thank you.
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more bitching in tags
#got hit with an unexpected bill from my psych#(i thought he'd been charging my card but apparently the office policy changed)#so that was an immediate blow to my savings#also reached out to the finance office to see if my r&pd funds would be accessible for my flight home#but they can't reimburse me for anything that's not a conference#or an archival trip#and relocation costs aren't included#meanwhile i cannot get anyone to buy my bike on craigslist#and i'm trying to get rid of things that i can't bring with me#so my brain is eating itself from TWO directions#i just hate that a sudden unforeseen expense can utterly decimate my finances#i feel like i'm getting to a good place and even building a bit of savings and then WAM#i have to shell out $400 all at once#meanwhile i still don't know if i'll have a job any time soon!#i'm so tired of being materially precarious#like the point of grad school was so i'd be able to get a stable job#so i could ensure that my parents don't like. die from being unable to afford a hospital.#instead i'm MORE in debt and i can't see any way out of it#so i listed a bunch of stuff on poshmark#i'm still desperately trying to get someone to buy my bike on craigslist
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to everyone who has reached out and helped so far thank you so so much. genuinely i cannot even find the words to describe how grateful i am for it.
shares/donations are still so so helpful and appreciated, but the fact that any aid has been offered in the first place has really truly made my heart swell
hey guys. i hate to do this but due to changes in pay from my work it’s been hard to meet ends meet this week. i have rent due and im not sure how ill meet that given the current circumstances. im hungry.
if you’re able to help out at all, it is so so so much more than appreciated.
my cashapp is alliepio and my venmo is shutupallison.
thank you
#reblogging again because admittedly i still need help. without oversharing we currently don’t have heat in our apartment and it’s#the coldest week we’ve had in a year but we’ve had issues with our gas and electric company#and our landlord just. hasn’t responded to us. our gas an electric company massively screwed us over#and tripled our bills and we’ve been fighting with them for the past month but nothing has been resolved#we fr cannot afford to keep up gas n electric this month and also desperately need to find a means of moving out#due to our landlord#we’ve had 2 gas leaks— one of which hospitalized my roommate#and gave her a lofty medical bill we are still trying to pay off#this happened after our landlord assured us all was ok. we even got the fire deportment involved who assured us#‘it was all in our head and they couldn’t smell a gas leak’ but there were in fact two different ones#between this and cuts from pay at work ….
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missing eddie and roan rn🥲
can we get something were roan brings home flowers she picked during recess for reader🫶
Eddie and Roan —Eddie’s daughter brings you a bouquet when you’re sick. (step)mom!reader
Roan skips up the path to the house with a big smile. “Dad, come on!” she demands.
Eddie’s trying to carry three paper bags of groceries and close the trunk at the same time. He is not receptive to criticism at this present moment. “Shut up, babe.”
“You shut up!”
“You first.” He drops the keys by accident. “Ro, can you come and grab these for me? Thank you.”
She races to grab the keys and then back to the door. “Dad, COME ON!”
“You’re being super rude and irate right now but I forgive you,” Eddie says, yanking the door open to let her inside, “because I know you’re hangry.”
“Not hangry!” she denies, bursting into the hallway and kicking her shoes so hard against the shoe rack that the top layer of your work shoes topple onto the floor. “Mom!” she shouts, one word lined heavily with joy even now. She’s been calling you mom for months and it doesn’t get any less exciting for her, clearly. “Y/N! Y/N, I got you something! Where are you?”
“I’m in bed!” you call, sounding excited yourself, if a little confused. “What did you get me?”
Eddie wasn’t aware of any gifts. He puts the groceries on the counter in the kitchen and follows his charge up the stairs, curious and not wanting to put stuff away anyhow. Roan tumbles into the master bedroom still wearing her red vinyl coat, door slamming into the wall, you wincing in bed.
Eddie winces too. “Ro,” he says desperately, “come on, bub, she’s in bed rest, remember? So we’re being careful about loud noises. I told you twice today already.”
“Sorry! I just want to see you,” she says, straight to your side and arms up expecting to be helped.
You pull her into your lap. “I’m sick of resting anyways.”
Eddie intercepts Roan’s hug to lean down over you and give you a gentle kiss, of which you are extremely receptive. He gets butterflies thinking about you to this day, and having you raise your chin to receive him intensifies them by half, then whole as your lips do finally touch.
“Okay day?” he asks.
“Really quiet,” you say, tugging Roan up into your chest before she can get jealous.
“Head?” he asks.
“Fine. Barely a headache anymore.”
Eddie bites his lip. Not too long ago you were in a hospital bed practically catatonic. He cannot afford to be uncareful with you. You’re too much to him.
“Promise?” he asks.
You’re distracted from answering by small hands on your face. “Mommy, I was talking to you first.”
“Sorry, baby, yes you were.” You sink further down. “Can you ever forgive me?”
Roan could forgive you for almost anything. She wiggles where she’s sitting on your stomach, hands clumsy at the bottom of her coats zipper, her chest rising and falling after her sprint up the stairs. Eddie and Roan are still both cold enough to have it emanating from their coats, but you don’t care, you just want your after school cuddle.
Eddie peels out of his coat at the same time, takes his shoes off with some self-chastisement (mud upstairs is awful and rude of him and he’ll spend the evening trying to rub it out of the rug because you really like the rug and he likes you), and sits on the bed by your feet.
“Oh, what have you got?” you ask warmly.
Eddie bends his head to watch her pull flowers from her overall pocket, one small stem at a time. Daisies and buttercups with petals smaller than her fingernails. They keep coming, ten then twenty, maybe thirty flowers on your chest. The stems are broken, but they’re all more alive than anyone could have hoped for considering they’d been sandwiched in her pocket for hours.
“These are for me?” you ask.
“All for you. Except this one for dad,” she says, picking up one of the bigger daisies. “And maybe this one for me.” She grabs a buttercup for herself.
“Aw, thanks baby. These are gonna make me better, huh?”
She looks like him when she smiles. Cheesy, cute, she arranges the flowers in a bouquet in her hand and presents it to you grandly. “I picked them at school behind the wooden house. Do you like ‘em?”
“I love them,” you pronounce, just as grand but not half as loud.
“I love you.”
“You cheesball,” Eddie says, rolling his eyes.
“Ignore him.” You touch her cheek with a fondness that makes his jaw ache thinking about the love behind it. “I love you too.”
“And you’ll be better soon,” Roan says.
Eddie can answer that one. He holds your ankle through the sheets, and gives your calf a quick stroke. “She’s gonna be a hundred percent any day now, bug. Better be extra gentle with her to help her along.”
Roan rubs her bouquet of flowers softly under your chin. “I’m gentle,” she whispers.
You rake your fingers through her hair, a half centimetre a second, fingertips drawing down between her shoulders. Such a mom thing to do, Roan dissolves like sugar paper in the rain.
Eddie smiles. “Alright, I’m jealous.”
#eddie and roan#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson scenario#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfiction#dad!eddie munson#dad!eddie munson x reader#stranger things fanfiction#stranger things#stranger things fic#stranger things x reader
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sd! toto? this man is the biggest sugar daddy material hands down, like a billionaire. maybe the reader is student at Harvard (i know this type of prompt has been used many times but I can’t think of anything else 😭) she’s studying to be a professor and can’t seem to be paying her student loans. And her friend invited her over to the paddock for the weekend to get her mind off of her studies and relax, where she then meets Toto and there’s a attraction which then leads to him being her secret sugar daddy?
-jenson anon ❤️
jenson anon you are so sexy for this idea ily bae <3333
you thought you knew him from somewhere; your friend ran in all the high end, luxury circles because of who her parents were and when she introduced you to the team principal of mercedes; you knew you had seen him before.
he remembered you before you remembered him - the two of you had met when he did a lecture at harvard. you were telling him that you were getting your PhD so become a professor and he said if you ever changed your mind, you could come work for them.
you never bothered with his comment, you figured you'd never see him again; you had been too busy to even think about that. between school and working to be able to pay for school, you barely had time to breathe.
the only reason you were there is cause your friend's parents paid for everything.
the afternoon goes by, everyone gets busy and your friend eventually disappears when she sees someone she knows.
you were sat in merc hospitality, having a coffee when someone asked if they could sit with you. you look over and see toto.
you tell him go ahead and you two make small talk. he asks how the PhD is going, you tell him it's slowly killing you.
"what do you mean?" the man pushes his glasses up a bit, looking at you.
you shrug, "I might die before I pay back the loans I have." you joked, not really tho.
toto shook his head, "so stupid that you need loans to go to school, to work just to pay back the loans."
"tell me about it." you sighed, spinning the cup around on the table. it goes quiet for a bit before he speaks. "let me pay for it."
you look at him like he's insane, "no, absolutely not. you're very kind for offering but I cannot let you do that."
"why not? it's a good use of my money."
"I wouldn't be able to pay you back, it would kill me to just take the money from you."
toto nods, telling you he understood and the conversation drops.
"we can work something out," he starts and you cut him off, "I can't afford that-"
"no, not like that. uh, so I was thinking more along the lines of you just giving me some company."
you get what he meant and you can't help but laugh. "I'm not looking to be a sugar baby."
"no of course not," he shook his head, "just two friends who benefit from each other?"
"well when you put it like that." you nod, smiling.
toto asked you to join him for the races over your summer break, in exchange he paid for your next two semesters.
you got to travel the world and he got the company he wanted, while your school was paid for.
it was nice, you got to explore on the days you didn't join him on track. he left a card with you which you used for emergencies but he left it with you incase you wanted to shop or stop to eat somewhere. you two had dinner together almost every night, unless he was working late.
he spoiled you with lavish clothing and jewellery to match; you told him it was too much and he said you needed to fit in with the crowd so he's just making sure you don't stick out.
you both knew he just liked to spoil you, that was the whole thing.
the break in the race schedule came up, the drivers off to rest for the summer. toto asked if you'd like to join him in England, spend a few weeks with him relaxing.
you said okay; the 2 of you spent 2 of the 4 weeks in England, resting and getting to know each other properly- and by that I mean in bed.
one too many glasses of wine turned into flirting, into touches and stolen glances and eventually you two ended up going at it right on the deck.
the next 2 weeks were on an island, a little villa all to yourselves, rolling around in bed all morning, waking up to the sun and your lover kissing on you.
you returned to the paddock, toto a little more touchy than before but no one seemed to say anything even tho they noticed the change in the two of you.
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"Long COVID has destroyed my life
I would love nothing more than to “finally ignore COVID,” as the headline to Dr. Ashish Jha’s July 31 op-ed reads (“With a few basic steps, most of us can finally ignore COVID”). As a healthy, vaccinated, and recently boosted 35-year-old, I did what he said: I ignored COVID-19 on a weekend trip with friends in September 2022. But the infection I got as a result has all but destroyed my life.
A week after my infection, I began to experience intense fatigue, overwhelming headaches, and cognitive challenges that continue to this day. These symptoms are debilitating: I can no longer work, socialize, or travel. My finances are dire. And if I am unable to avoid another infection, my condition may deteriorate even further.
Jha wrote of long COVID “treatments” being promising. Perhaps he could clarify what treatments he is referring to, because my doctors say that there are no approved treatments for long COVID.
A recent study funded by the NIH’s RECOVER initiative showed that 10 percent of adults infected with COVID still have symptoms six months later, even with vaccination. By downplaying the prevalence and debilitating outcomes of even moderate long COVID, Jha is signing thousands of people up to the misery and despair with which I live every day.
Ezra J. Spier
Oakland, Calif.
Another view from infectious disease doctors
As infectious disease doctors, we disagree with Dr. Jha’s contention that it is time to ignore COVID-19.
Yes, being vaccinated and taking Paxlovid thankfully decrease the risk of severe disease. But only 43 percent of people age 65 and over and only 17 percent of all Americans had received an updated COVID vaccination by May 2023, and access to Paxlovid treatment is inequitable by race and insurance status.
Long-term complications of COVID can be devastating, including after second infections.
More than half a million Americans have died since the summer of 2021, when sufficient vaccine doses were available: COVID death rates in the United States continue to be double those of Canada. Termination of free tests and “commercialization” of medications as implemented by the federal government will only widen our country’s grisly COVID-related health disparities.
Inevitably, ignoring COVID leads to ignoring the slow-motion epidemic of long COVID. Standing up against such neglect, leaders like Boston Mayor Michelle Wu and Governor Maura Healey can promote meaningful measures to protect our communities: air purification in all schools and public spaces; free COVID-preventive masks (KN95 or N95, not surgical masks); tests, vaccines, and Paxlovid for all who cannot afford to buy them; and concern for and support of long COVID victims.
Dr. Julia Koehler
Boston
Dr. Regina LaRocque
Wellesley
We remain vulnerable to long COVID
Ashish Jha’s position as former White House COVID-19 Response Coordinator is a conflict of interest masquerading as a qualification for his op-ed. Researchers who study long COVID stated in a recent paper in Nature Reviews Immunology that “the oncoming burden of long COVID faced by patients, health-care providers, governments and economies is so large as to be unfathomable.” Rapid tests, which are less accurate with recent strains while PCR tests are less available, and low death rates give a false sense of security.
I agree that despite progress, more buildings need the air filtration and ventilation that would make public life safer. But Jha omits our vulnerability to long COVID after even mild infections, its devastating effects, and higher death rates for hospital-acquired COVID-19, combined with a lack of collective protection in health care settings with unmasked, untested people who prefer to ignore COVID-19.
Aside from advocating vaccines, he describes an everyone-for-themselves approach, not mentioning responsibility to protect others or access to essentials.
Jha dines in a restaurant with his friends while patients even in leading cancer hospitals are forced into Russian roulette, thanks to this approach.
Kathryn Nichols
Cambridge
Vigilance is necessary to prevent long COVID
While I understand the desire to promote optimism amid the ongoing pandemic, I am deeply concerned about the potential consequences of downplaying the importance of COVID precautions and the significant risk of long COVID. As a person living with long COVID for the last 16 months despite being vaccinated and boosted, I have experienced post-exertional malaise, fatigue, headaches, joint and muscle pain, cognitive dysfunction, and more symptoms that have continued to today. I have tried numerous medicines, supplements, and even participated in a clinical trial, only to find limited relief from the persistent effects of this virus.
Such a stance overlooks the reality that millions more people could end up with long COVID if we fail to remain vigilant in our efforts to combat the virus. Long COVID is a devastating consequence of this virus, and we cannot rely solely on vaccinations to end the pandemic. Even with widespread vaccination, the risk of contracting long COVID remains high. A recent study funded by the NIH’s RECOVER initiative showed that 10 percent of adults infected with COVID still have symptoms six months later. Minimizing the significance of long COVID not only neglects the suffering of long-haulers but also risks undermining public health efforts to control the spread of the virus.
By raising awareness about the risk of long COVID, media outlets can play a pivotal role in educating the public and promoting continued vigilance. Responsible reporting on the enduring impact of long COVID can serve as a reminder that the pandemic is far from over and that we must remain committed to taking necessary precautions to protect ourselves and others. Highlighting the struggles of long COVID survivors and the lack of proven treatments can spur further research and medical advancements in addressing this condition. Empathy and support for those living with long COVID are essential in paving the way for better understanding, compassionate care, and better health outcomes for everyone as COVID rates increase again this summer.
Travis Hardy
Norwalk, Conn.
Link https://www.bostonglobe.com/2023/08/05/opinion/cant-ignore-long-covid-jha/
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I cannot find the ask for this, but to the anon who requested sick Wendy + Max caretaker, here you go!!
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"Marshall, you've gone over your hours," her supervisor had squinted at her in a tired manner, "again."
She was a resident doctor, meaning Wendy's hours were split between clinic, or more often than not ER in her case, and specialized clinic, where she took the neurology cases and discussed it with fellow residents and her supervisor.
Problem was, Wendy had taken half of Jon's general clinic hours during his three weeks away. She had figured it wouldn't be an issue, given those were up for grabs and she'd get a considerable pay bump that month...
"No, I didn't," Wendy pouted, rubbing at her forehead and drumming the pen impatiently against her notepad, "I did my math, I didn't go over 80 hours per the week..."
"You got Patterson's double shift last Monday and came in an hour early every day this week. That puts you at 96, Marshall," her supervisor, Dr. Jones, was a woman in her early sixties, who always looked annoyed, "I'm putting you on leave for the rest of the week."
"What-" Wendy's eyebrows jumped up, "you can't do that, ma'am-"
"The hospital cannot afford all the hours you think you can do," Dr. Jones glared at her, "and frankly, Marshall, it's neither financially feasible or healthy. Push me on this and I'm gonna request your psych eval."
Well, shit.
Really, what was there to even say?
Wendy's frustration at being forced away from work dragged during most of morning, until Jonah had sent her a string of laughing emojis when she told him about it and the text, You're pissed because you got a free vacation? get out of my sight Dee and Bella had sent her a middle finger followed by go FUCK YOUR BOYFRIEND, WOMAN!!!!!
Her mood had cleared up considerably as she was forced to realize this meant five uninterrupted days of waking up next to Vince and eating her boyfriend's cooking and getting dicked down until she forgot her name.
Her bag was 70% just lingerie and Wendy had put on her best matching set under her outfit — beige flared jeans, chunky white heels and a sage green frilly crop top, with silver jewelry — all but bouncing to her car. She had turned up the music and ignored the drumming behind her eyes.
By the time she got to Doverport, though, her headache had escalated enough to cause Wendy to shut the music off. She had taken the max dosage of tylenol already and her stomach was iffy from a mix of hunger and too much medication, since she had skipped lunch when trying to get to the town before the school day ended, so she could wait for Vin in the parking lot.
She was glaring at her phone, trying to will Vince to answer her text, when the screen lit up.
P.Mgnt: you're here???
This caused Wendy to pout. She had expected a more enthusiastic reaction than this.
Wendy: sorry?
Vince was typing back an answer immediately.
P.Mgnt: I'm sorry honey, I'm happy you're here. I just can't go meet you right now, I'm stuck in detention duty :/ I'm gonna be here for another hour :(
Ah, shit. Wendy rubbed angrily at her forehead, the throbbing there increasing considerably. It was a warm day and she really didn't want to wait in the parking lot for another hour... She just wanted him.
She considered telling Vince she wasn't feeling well, maybe he'd find another teacher to watch the kids, when another text came in.
P.Mgnt: Go ahead to my place. Get a shower and catch up on an episode of 911 , i'll be there soon🥰
Wendy sighed heavily, feeling a knot form in her throat and her eyes burning. The text wasn't dismissive and she knew it was only one hour and that she had dropped by surprise, but it still sucked and she really just wanted him.
Her headache spiked to the point it it felt like an actual physical drilling on her left eye and Wendy bit back a groan, getting inside her car once more. There was no kidding herself this was just a headache anymore and she felt even closer to tears, it was so unfair she got a migraine right now, of all times.
Not only that, but a sense of urgency overtook her. If it was a migraine, she needed to get to Vince's place quicker, before her brain forgot how to drive and was too busy attacking itself in a constant pain loop.
With something closer to a whimper, Wendy started her car.
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Max Daniels was not a snoop, he'd like this in writing.
Sure, he had been very curious when he saw Vince's cute girlfriend in the parking lot, but instead of staying to meet with her boyfriend she had gotten in the car back again and left.
And sure he was tailing her, but that was only because the shortest route to his own place was through the main avenue and he was not about to take the longer way just to avoid her.
And yes, when she turned the emergency lights and pulled over on the side of the road, he had pulled over as well, but that was called Being A Nice Person, after all he knew the woman. What if she needed help?
He was currently sitting in his pickup, staring at Wendy's car and trying to figure if it was completely out of line for him to approach her or not. Vince wouldn't be pissed Max had tried to be nice to his girl, right? He didn't seem the jealous sort, but then again he had bitten Max's head off for less regarding the woman and he had been all sarcastic that one time Max hit on Wendy, before he knew who she was.
Why wasn't her getting out of the car, anyway?
With a frustrated sigh, Max got out of his own pickup and circled Wendy's pale pink sedan, until he was in front of the driver's side. She was crumpled forward, forehead pressed to the steering wheel and flinched visibly when Max knocked on the window.
His curiosity only grew as he saw her bloodshot eyes and Max jumped back as she pushed the door open and squinted at him, "yeah?"
"You need help, gorgeous?" The nickname rolled past his tongue, before he could think better of it, "you turned your emergency lights."
"Uhm-" Wendy pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead like she wanted to push her eye in its socket, "car-" she gulped down, frowning, "carsssmakin' a weird noise..."
Max's frown deepened, noticing the slight slur of her words, "are you okay?" he asked, really taking in her appearance. Her lips were pale and she looked close to the color of spoiled milk, eyes rimmed red...
"Mmm'kay," Wendy groaned, then a small, cute little burp shook her frame and she squeezed her eyes shut, "S'ry..."
Max was well versed enough with puking to recognize nausea from a mile away. He stepped to the side, but crouched down to touch her arm, "you're feeling sick?"
She nodded, gulping down, without opening her eyes and Max winced in sympathy, looking around her car. There was a suitcase in the backseat and a frankly ridiculously looking Stanley cup sitting the cup holder. Max chewed on the words, hesitantly, before saying, "would water help?"
Wendy shrugged, the hand that was pressed to her forehead digging in even more, so much it looked like she was gonna leave a bruise there. Max reached in and grabbed her cup, opening the lid and sniffing at it. Monster Energy, great. No wonder she looked sick, just smelling that made Max's stomach squeeze, he couldn't fathom drinking it.
He needed a new plan, because Wendy was leaning forward, elbows on her knees now and breathing slowly through her mouth, condition deteriorating by the seconds, "were you headed to Vince's?"
She nodded, then let out another little burp, this one not as dainty, with a brassy tone to it.
"Alright, hurl and then I'll drive you there. I can come back for your car later," Max decided by clasping his hands and the clap noise they made caused her to flinch, then another burp snuck up on her, this one turning wet... She whimpered and cradled her head with both hands, while Max moved further away so his shoes wouldn't get covered in vomit.
"Get it up, gorgeous, you're gonna feel better in a second," he figured her stomach was rejecting all that energy drink, as his own would've been, and planted a hand on her back, looking around to give her some semblance of privacy. It was a sunny day and the main avenue was quite busy, cars continuing to go past them.
Under his hand, Wendy's shoulders rolled and she let out a little choked, "Oh god-" before heaving and nearly falling from her seat. Max cringed, glancing down and noticing her wavy hair getting in the way, so he carefully held back her curtain bangs, just in time for Wendy to vomit. A small light brown puddle formed on the tarmac and Wendy let out a burp again, before melting into a coughing fit.
Max grimaced as he heard another whimper, then a gag, "there you go," he moved his hands so his left one could cup her clammy forehead, "get it up."
She nearly fell out of the door with the next heave, whole body lurching as a much bigger wave came up and splashed on the ground, causing Max to internally curse as the tips of his brown boots got splashed with puke.
Then Wendy went boneless.
He let out a yelp as she collapsed forward, only not falling because he was holding her, and puke be damned, Max crouched down in front of her, "Wendy, Wendy, hey-" he said frantically, patting her cheeks, "Wendy, c'mon, don't do this to me, open your eyes."
It was just a small black out, she started to straighten up again, but Max's heart was now in his ears. He couldn't believe his luck if girl died on him. He pushed her hair back, no longer trying to be gentle, hating how white she was, "Wendy?"
"Sssstop-" she grabbed his wrist, whole face scrunching up with pain, "talkin..."
He snorted in disbelief. Some nerve she had to tell him to shut up!
"Well, fucking excuse me if I'm worried! If you die on me, your polar bear of a boyfriend is gonna have my head!" Max glared at her and Wendy opened her eyes. He knew they were pretty, but he couldn't remember their color. Now he saw they were a beautiful dark green shade, currently welling up with tears, "wait, no- No, don't cry-"
"Stop. Talking," she said strongly, as tears ran down her cheeks and gritting her teeth, "hurts..."
Oh.
Max felt stupid and embarrassed, his whole face turning red as he understood why she was shushing him. He wiped the tears with his thumb, trying to collect his thoughts. She needed to be lying down in the dark, not sitting on the side of the road with a puddle of puke in between them.
"C'mere," Max whispered, grabbing her arms and throwing them around his neck, silently praying she was too out of it to comment on how touchy he was being when they were basically strangers. There was no other way of getting her out of that car, "hold on me," he wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted Wendy out of the car.
It was a good thing she was so tiny, because he managed to lift her up entirely, so she didn't clumsily step on the mess. She was panting in pain against his ear, burying her face in his shoulder, body tense as a slab.
"Almost there," he stumbled forward with her, all but bracing against his pickup. Max opened the passenger door, then cringed, "sorry, uh- Excuse me," he mumbled, then hugged her waist and lifted Wendy up to sit in the passenger side. Whatever misplaced intimacy he was feeling, was promptly ruined by her gagging and burping up a small stream of puke, down his shirt.
Max froze, while Wendy's forehead pressed to his shoulder, like she couldn't lift up her head. Her shoulders were shaking as she sobbed and he rubbed her back, "it's alright, gorgeous, don't even worry about it," he sighed, straightening her up to rest against the passenger door. It was terrifying how quickly she had become unresponsive, "I'll just put this down in Vince's tab, don't stress it."
He leaned over her, grabbing his shades in the glovebox and then planting them on her face. Wendy let out a little sigh, body melting slightly, "t-thanks..."
"Yep," he grimaced at the mess in his t-shirt, wanting to remove it, but worried it'd make her uncomfortable if he was shirtless around her, "I'm gonna lock your car, be right back."
At her car, he grabbed her purse and suitcase in the backseat, her keys still in the ignition and then stripped his shirt, using her Monster energy drink to wash off the puke. He'd rather be smelling like that than vomit. Then he drove her car further to the dust shoulder and turned off the emergency lights, locking it.
Wendy was curled up as much as she could in the passenger seat and Max squeezed her knee in a friendly manner, before driving off.
#ending here bc I think its very very long already#sickfic#mywriting#wendy marshall#emeto#emetophilia#migraine
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Important Update
Thankfully, as of Sunday, her symptoms started to improve, but we still went ahead with the stool sample to make sure that her immune system had finally kicked in and was fighting off the cocci on its own. Results today showed that the sample was now negative, which means we don't have to worry about any medication right now. That said $79.50 (receipt is screenshotted and included) is still a major blow when you've only got $140 to your name and no guarantee of employment and no other assistance.
So. I appreciate everyone who has shared this post and the individual who donated (and thanks to that individual, this is no where near as urgent now)! If anyone the ability to help me cover the rest of the cost I would super appreciate it and it would help a lot, but otherwise I'm not in panic mode at the moment.
Thanks to everyone who was so willing to help!
~~~
Alright I hate to have to do this but I don't really have any other choice right now.
Hi. I'm Jay. Or Victor. Or Viktor. Any of those names work. I'm a disabled neurodivergent transmasc who is currently in unemployment hell because the few jobs I am physically capable of and meet all of the requirements for are also coincidentally all the jobs that either don't want to hire me, or just straight up won't get back to me. I'm sending out applications daily, so far I have gotten three interviews, one of which was for a job that it turns out I would not be physically capable of doing, the second ended up being filled before I could even get to the second interview, and I still haven't heard back from the third. Needless to say, I have absolutely zero income right now.
This is my cat.
Her name is Catra.
Catra recently got extremely ill to the point of needing to be hospitalized, which meant that between me and my family, she has recently cost well over $3000. At this point, my family cannot afford to help me with any more medical costs for her, and I can't afford to continue with extra medical costs for her if I want to still be able to feed her until I do manage to get a job. Thankfully she has made a very strong recovery, for the most part...
However, she is also now battling a nasty coccidia infection that seems to be resistant to the medication the vets had given her. Which means I am once again going to need to send in a $75 stool sample and pay for a different medication. My parents will not help now as they have already gone over budget for her and also believe it is my fault that I haven't been able to find a job, but I literally cannot live without this cat. I will not live without this cat. She is all I have left right now.
So that said. If you have even a little bit to spare, I would greatly appreciate it. I'm asking for $100 $79.50 to cover the stool sample and the medication. Thank you in advance.
Please make sure if you do send anything that you select the 'friends and family' option. If you can't send anything, I would appreciate reblogs and signal boosts. Thank you.
$36.26/79.50
paypal: @binonjay
venmo: @BiNonJay
cashapp: $BiNonJay
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I Cannot Afford To Lose You - Bucky Barnes
Marvel Masterlist
Summary : You get shot on a mission, resulting in you almost dying in Bucky's arms.
Warnings : gunshot, gunshot wound, reader almost dies, a tiny bit of angst, fluff, John Walker, Bucky being protective, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English is not my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.
Word count : 3k
French version
A/N : this one shot was based on this request made by @tieddown-withbattleshipchains hope you'll like it ! Personally, I enjoyed writing it, your idea was really inspirational :)
You enter a dark room, your senses on alert, lying in wait for a potential threat with your batons in hands. You look at every side of the place when you see a shadow coming towards you. Just in time, you block the punch of the Flag Smasher with your weapon. Then, follow a fight between you and the masked woman. Despite the Supersoldier serum running in her veins, you can get through it pretty easily. Thanks to your training with Bucky, you can easily adapt to a fight with someone who has super strength. You succeed to hit her but not enough to knock her out. Your hits only made her lose her mask, allowing you to see she’s a woman in her early twenties. You keep fighting when a gunshot can be heard. Lowering your gaze on your stomach, you see blood. The Flag Smasher pushes you before running away while you fall on the ground. You bring your hand to your wound and try to put pressure on it, despite the pain.
“Y/N ? What was that ? You’re okay ?” Bucky’s worried voice asks in your earpiece. “Y/N !” he screams as he doesn’t hear an answer from you.
“I lost the target.” you articulate after a few seconds.
“I’ll handle it.” Sam informs, “Everything is good for you ?”
You don’t have the strength to answer him, too focused to not bleed out. You sweep the area with your eyes, hoping to find the shooter yet you see no one. You keep looking around, searching for something to help you, in vain. Your breath quickens when Buckys appears. A worried expression takes its place on his face when he runs to you. Before reaching you, you can hear him ordering Sam to call paramedics. Bucky kneels next to you, takes your hands away and puts pressure on your wound. Gradually, your eyelids are getting heavier so Bucky shakes you with one hand to keep you awake.
“I forbid you to fall sleep, you hear me ? Stay focused, Sam called for help, they’ll get there soon.”
“I’m tired.” you stutter, looking at him with difficulty.
“I know but you can’t close your eyes, okay ? You’re gonna make it out alive so stay awake.”
“Bucky, I-” you start putting your hand on his.
“No, shh,” he cuts you off softly, “focus on not closing your eyes. You’ll tell me what you want to say later. Hold on, Y/N, you’re gonna make it out alive.” he repeats whilst his hands are getting dirty with your blood.
You try to listen to Buky and do everything to not fall asleep however the more the time passes, the harder it gets. You slowly start to give up when the paramedics come to you. Distantly, you can hear Bucky screaming your name while you sink into darkness.
When you open your eyes, you feel attacked by the lightness of the place. You close them for a second before opening them again slowlier. When you’re finally used to the brightness, you analyse your environment and realise you’re in a hospital room. Your eyes fall on Bucky who is sitting next to you, his hands holding your right one and he’s lost in his thoughts. You lightly move your fingers to catch his attention. Feeling you moving, Bucky’s head instantly turns on his left. When he sees you awake, he sighs in relief before getting closer to you. With his left hand, he strokes your cheeks.
“Hey, how are you feeling ?” he whispers.
“Like I got shot.” you say, trying to smile.
“At least, we know for sure we haven’t lost her.” Sam intervenes, making Bucky roll his eyes.
“Are you hurting somewhere ? Do you want me to call a nurse ? I should call a nurse to let her know you’re awake.”
“No need. The IV is still working.”
“It’d be safer and maybe they need to check something as you’re awake now.” your boyfriend insists while pressing the button to call the nurse.
“Worse than a mother hen.”
“Shut up, Sam.”
“Don’t make me laugh.” you order as you feel a pain in your belly even though you only laugh a little at their bickering.
“Sorry.” Sam apologises.
Bucky keeps looking at you as if he was afraid that if he looks away you’ll disappear. You look at him lovingly, hoping it’ll reassure him, confirming to him he hasn’t lost you. Meanwhile, Sam feels a little bit left out yet he can’t help but look at the scene tenderly, knowing very well what you mean to Bucky.
Indeed, since you met the former Winter Soldier, you’ve always made sure he never misses anything. You helped, and still help him sometimes, to get used to the modern world and you’re one of the few shoulders he can cry on without feeling ashamed. Your feelings for each other got stronger gently and your relationship evolved at the same pace. Your bond is strong and indescribable. All that you both know is you can’t live without the other. Bucky in particular cannot lose you, not only because he loves you but also because you’re one of the rare constants in his life since he got his memory back.
Someone knocks on your door, breaking your bubble by doing so. You get ready to greet a nurse when you find John Walker in his Captain America outfit and his helmet in hands. You frown, not expecting to see him here.
“John, what a pleasure !” Bucky starts, sarcastically, “Are you here to give the Shield back ?”
“Buck !” you reprimand him and he fakes an innocent expression.
“I just wanted to know how you were feeling.” John asks you, avoiding your gaze for a second.
“I’ll get by, considering I almost died.”
“About that, I wanted to apologise.”
“What are you talking about ?” you question, frowning.
Although if you didn’t see who shot you, you guessed it was a Flag Smasher as your wound allowed your enemy to escape, until Sam caught her, so you don’t understand John's apology.
“I… I was targeting the Flag Smasher,” explain John, playing with his helmet, “but while you were fighting, you moved and I shot you by accident.”
Upon hearing the end of John’s sentence, Bucky sees red and lets go of your hand before trying to get to John. Sam barely holds him, preventing Bucky from breaking his therapist’s rule number two. John moves back to the door in case Sam wouldn’t be able to hold Bucky back anymore. Your boyfriend forces himself to not use all of his strength against Sam, he knows he’d be able to get away from his grip if he really wants to but he also knows it’s not the thing to do. Bucky finally got his pardon, he can’t ruin everything now. However, it doesn’t mean John didn’t almost ruin the most precious relationship to his eyes. As if it’s enough that Bucky can’t for the life of him like the new Captain America, now he has only one urge : hurt him real bad or go back in time and force Sam to keep this damn Shield like this, you wouldn’t be in this hospital bed.
“It was an accident, I promise.” John states, “I really am sorry.”
“They don’t teach you how to shoot in the army anymore or what ?” Bucky spits as Sam tightens his grip on him. “Come on, if you don’t have a clear view, you don’t shoot, that’s common sense ! Because of you, Y/N almost fucking lost her life and we almost didn’t catch the Flag Smasher. You can’t be that stupid !”
“Bucky, he didn’t do it on purpose.” you intervene, hoping it’ll ease the tension.
Even if you hate John as much as Bucky does, you can’t have your boyfriend rearranging his face. You can’t have Bucky being the US government’s number one enemy again.
“I don’t care about that,” Bucky retorts to you, “You almost died in my arms because of his incompetence.” he keeps saying as he points at John with his chin, “What a good Captain America ! Just for that reason alone, you should give the Shield back.”
“It was a mistake. Besides, I just got promoted as Captain America, I still have a lot to learn.” John tries to defend himself, irritating Bucky a bit more.
“Shooting innocents shouldn’t be a part of it ! You’re supposed to have learned this at the beginning of your training in the army. It was more than a mistake. You better leave now before I make you a permanent resident in this hospital.”
“You should go, John.” you confirm, knowing well Bucky’s anger won’t cool off now, “Thanks for telling me the truth.”
“It was the least I could do. Again, sorry, Y/N.”
When John finally leaves the room, Sam slowly lets Bucky go, though he stays at the ready to hold Bucky back just in case. Your boyfriend takes a deep breath before setting his attention on you. He might seem calmer, you can see in his eyes his anger is still there. He sits back down whilst Sam gets settled at the end of your bed.
“All of this could have been avoided if you hadn’t given up the Shield.” Bucky exclaims, making both yours and Sam’s eyes roll.
“Still with that.”
“How can you not be mad at him when he almost killed you ?” he questions, confused.
“Look, you know my opinion on him as Captain America and today proves us a bit more, it shouldn’t be him, but the fact is, he didn’t hurt me intentionally.”
“Intentionally or not, I could have lost you.”
“And it’s not the case. I’m still here.” you assure him, stroking his cheek.
Bucky is about to add something when the nurse he called earlier enters your accommodation. She checks your vital signs, asks you some questions and informs you your doctor will come check on you later before letting you rest. Thanks to her appearance, Bucky finally gives up the ‘John’ subject, however he’s still fulminating. To lighten up the mood, Sam changes the subject by talking about his house in Louisiana. He speaks about the weather, his family boat and the several activities his hometown has to offer until your doctor cuts him off. She explains to you they saved you just in time and you’ll have a scar on your belly. Finally, she informs you you’ll have to spare yourself for a while, strictly forbidding you to get back on the field until further notice. You can’t help but let go of a frustrated sigh at her last information. The last thing you needed was to be confined in your bed when you’re someone who is active. When she leaves, Bucky tries to make you see the bright side as he knows you’re annoyed by your current situation. However, no matter what he says, it doesn’t seem to make your pout go away. Sam finally proposes to do your recovery at his house in Louisiana, away from the city. You weigh the pros and cons before accepting, not without making Bucky roll his eyes.
When you’re finally cleared to leave the hospital, you discover the State where Sam lives. The latter gave you and Bucky the guest room. You thanked him countless times for his kindness whilst Bucky only gave him a small smile to show his gratitude.
During your recovery, the two men pamper you. Sam makes you taste the traditional dish from Louisiana as well as his family recipes. You have to admit Sam is a good cook, something you wouldn’t have thought at first. Sam also brought you several things to keep you busy from your bed like board games or some manual activities. You now consider yourself a pro in the making of bracelets with plastic pearls. You’ve made some for Sam, his sister Sarah and her sons AJ and Cass but also for Bucky. AJ and Cass aside, Bucky is the one who has most of them, with cute or ridiculous names going from ‘my lover’ to ‘grumpy’. Some of your bracelets are in perfect contrast with his Vibranium arm.
As for Bucky, he’s always by your side and worries even when you assure him you’re not in pain. He helps you clean your wound, change your bandage and always makes sure you’re in a good sleeping position. Finally, during the night, when you’re asleep, Bucky is glued to you - while being careful about your wound - and delicately rests his head on your chest to hear your regular heartbeats. By hearing them, Bucky can breathe and sleep peacefully whilst saying to himself again and again you’re still alive, you’re still by his side, he hasn’t lost you.
After several weeks laying down, you can walk a longer distance than the one from your room to your bathroom. Sitting on your bed, you’re putting your shoes on when Bucky with his eyes wide open comes to you.
“What do you think you’re doing ? You need to rest.” he reminds you, stopping you from tying completely your left shoelace.
“The doctor told me I needed to walk to help with the healing.” you explain playing with the pearls of his bracelet making the word ‘oldman’.
“What kind of stupid advice is that ? You need to stay in bed.”
“Bucky, if I stay one more second on that damn bed, I’m gonna burn it down.” you inform with a serious face. “Besides, I’m not gonna run a marathon, I’m just gonna walk very slowly around the house. Come with me if it can make you feel any better.”
“What if you hurt yourself while walking ?” he inquires and you stop yourself from rolling your eyes.
“Then, thank God my amazing and strong boyfriend will be next to me to help me. Bucky, I’m fine.” you comfort him, looking in his eyes. “I’m not in pain and I need to move. I can’t stand there and look good anymore in this house. I know every corner of this bedroom, I need to go out.”
Bucky seems to consider it for a second, mentally weighing his options before sighing and nodding.
“OK, but if you feel even the slightest pain, you better tell me and we go home.” he orders, untying your left shoelace to redo it, “and we’re not walking more than five minutes.” he adds.
“Fifteen.” you negotiate.
“Ten.”
“Deal.” you accept with a childish look.
Bucky finishes tying your right shoelace before giving you his hand to help you get up from the bed and examine your face for any sign of hurt. To prove him you’re fine, you smile at him before pecking his lips. He takes your right arm and locks it with his to support you while you start leaving your temporary quarter. Upon - finally - leaving the house, you take your time to enjoy the sun’s heat on your face. You walk, sharing with Bucky all of your observations on the landscape in front of you. Since you arrived, you didn’t get the time to admire the outside beauty of Sam’s house so you look at every tree, flower and wave, enjoying the nature Brooklyn doesn’t have.
After a few minutes of walking, you ask Bucky to stop. Immediately, he questions you, worried you might pass out at any given time.
“I’m fine.” you reassure him though his worried expression doesn’t leave his face.
“Sorry I’m always on your back but I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I know.”
“Do you think I’m too much ?” he questions while touching the bracelet with the word ‘sweetheart’.
“No, I think it’s cute the way you’re always worried.” you say, lifting his head with your hand. “You’re a real mother hen but I like it.” you add, making him chuckle a little.
“Can you hold it against me ? I really thought I’d lost you.” he says, reminiscing the moment where he got to you as you were bleeding out. “When you started closing your eyes, I was sure it was the end. And I cannot lose you.” Bucky affirms with a shaking voice, “I know I don’t tell you often but my therapist says I need to learn to communicate what I’m feeling so here I am saying it : you matter to me and I need you in order to keep moving on. I know it might sound selfish but I cannot afford to lose you and if it were ever to happen… i don't know what I’d become.” he keeps saying with teary eyes, “I need you close to me. I love you so much.”
As you see a tear rolling down his cheeks, you take him in your arms and stroke his back. He hides his face in the crook of your neck and breathes in your smell. A part of Bucky feels bad for being the one getting comforted when you’re the one who got wounded notwithstanding he needs it. Losing you is his worst fear and since John shot you, he became aware his fear could become real in a second. You keep hugging him, proving to him it doesn't bother you to comfort him because you understand him.
“I love you too, Bucky,” you murmur in his ear, “so much.”
You stay in each other’s arms for a few minutes until your anxiety vanishes away. When you break the embrace, one of your hands finds its way to Bucky’s cheek and the second one strokes the bracelet with the pearls ‘forever’ before taking his left hand.
“I can’t promise you I’ll always be safe considering what we do for a living but I can promise you one thing : I will always do in my power everything to stay by your side and I want you to promise me the same because I need you as much as you need me.”
“I promise.”
Like to seal your promise, you delicately kiss each other with the Sun as a witness. Bucky doesn’t put his hand on your waist, worried he’ll hurt you involuntarily, so his hands find their way to your cheeks while yours get lost in his hair.
Marvel Masterlist
{This is my side blog so I'll be answering comments under the username @marie-sworld}
#marie swriting in english#marie srequest#mcu fanfiction#mcu imagine#mcu#mcu oneshot#mcu marvel avengers#mcu fandom#mcu fic#mcu x reader#marvel one shot#marvel#avengers#marvel mcu#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes fandom#bucky barnes fanfiction#james bucky buchanan barnes#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#winter soldier#white wolf
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No personal offense Morg but as a global south crippled I'D GLADLY change baby shit for 13$ per hour 😭😭
I can’t drive so I ride the bus for 3.5 hours every day and have to get up at 5AM and wait in the dark in freezing temps because of it. my rent is $1100 a month, my meds and copays are $400 a month, heating is $200 a month. I am on state health benefits and food stamps. I’m only able to work a few hours a day because my body physically cannot take any more than that & because I need to go to physical therapy, the drs, and the pharmacy very often. I get home in pain and spend 14+ hours in bed after every shift. I get like $65 a day and most of it is immediately gone anyways to all my bills and debts (I get a debt collection call every single day, sometimes up to 4x a day, for my ambulance and hospital bills)
and before anyone comments on it… I’m not bad at budgeting I just literally can’t afford to live as a disabled person in any part of the country. before I got this work I considered suicide because I am afraid of enduring homelessness again especially since it’s winter now in the northern hemisphere (winter is brutal where I live).
Idk. maybe your situation is worse. but I don’t think $13 is a lot of money under these circumstances
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Also preserved on our archive
Do you have $32,000 for covid treatment? Neither did Nannette, and now her whole family is paying the price for her covid hospitalization. This is why we must mask up: You may be able to afford that cost, but you are just as likely to spread covid to dozens who cannot if you refuse to take precautions, especially when ill.
By Noah Zahn
CHEYENNE — When Nannette Hernandez got COVID in 2021, she didn’t realize how long it would take to recover. Although she was released from the hospital after only a few days of care, she is still suffering from the financial burden that has led to the loss of her job and her home.
At 45 years old, Hernandez and her son, 26, moved in with her mother when she lost her home. The three of them now live together in a mobile home south of Cheyenne. The walls and tabletops are decorated with photos of family members, many of the frames containing photos of her three grandchildren.
Papers were strewn across the coffee table in the living room: bills from the hospital, letters to the hospital, research on how to get financial assistance, one letter denying financial assistance.
Although Hernandez says she tries to keep a positive attitude, her smile faded when she said she often feels hopeless as her debt continues to grow and she is considering filing for bankruptcy.
“They garnish my wages every week, and I owe them more now today than what the judgment was for, and that’s all due to the interest,” Hernandez said. “I’m never going to get through this, you know.” Toys are neatly put away in a corner of the room, behind the couch, for when her grandchildren come to visit on her days off work.
Hernandez has a new job and has health insurance. In addition, she contributes a portion of her wages to life insurance. She said she does this so that she at least has something she can pass on to her family.
Before interest, Hernandez’s bill from Cheyenne Regional Medical Center was around $32,000 after three days of care for COVID and related pneumonia and reduced to $22,000 because she was paying uninsured and out-of-pocket. Between garnished wages and paying for insurance, Hernandez says she only sees at most $12 of her $17.30 per hour wage from working at a deli in a truck stop.
Hernandez said she now suffers from depression as a result of the stress caused by her medical debt. It is difficult for her to work full 40-hour weeks at her job.
However, her smile returned as she talked about how she gets to spend time with her grandchildren, aged 2, 4 and 8, on her days off.
“They’re my light. Oh, they’re wonderful,” she said. “… I stay happy. I don’t let it give me misery, that’s one thing. I might carry it, and I might be right here, always talking about it, but very blessed, very happy, though, still, no matter what.”
Available funding The Provider Relief Fund (PRF) was established in the Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Security Act (CARES Act) to reimburse eligible health care providers for increased expenses or lost revenue attributable to COVID care.
A companion fund to the PRF is the Uninsured Funds, which made $10 billion available nationally to reimburse providers for treatment, vaccines and vaccine administration costs for care provided to uninsured individuals.
According to the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services, CRMC received $3,145,097 in Uninsured Funds for COVID treatment, accounting for nearly 30% of the Uninsured Funds received by care providers across the state. It is unclear whether these funds were what reduced Hernandez’s bill from $32,000 to $22,000. Her itemized bill notes the reduction as a discount for “self-pay, uninsured.”
Hernandez received her $22,000 bill shortly after she was released from the hospital and was summoned to court when she did not make payments. She did not appear in court, as she said she felt hopeless and afraid and knew she would be unable to pay. As a result, the court ordered the hospital to garnish 25% of her wages and any argument she had that the government should have assisted her financially was nullified.
After her hospitalization, Hernandez was forced to leave her job of 10 years, where she worked as a waitress, and was unable to work for three months while she stayed at home and was on oxygen 24 hours per day, due to COVID complications.
“I would like to see if they could reverse this, it’s not that I didn’t seek assistance. Now I’ll never get out of this, I’m never going to get out of this,” she said. “It started at $32,000. I’ve been paying on that this whole time. I had started working, they started garnishing right away. I owe them more now. What am I paying for? What am I working for?”
Additionally, Hernandez said she applied for and was denied CRMC’s financial assistance program. According to CRMC’s policy summary, CRMC determines whether patients qualify for financial assistance based on their income and household size compared to the Federal Poverty Guidelines from the HHS. In 2021, those guidelines stipulate that the threshold for a one-person household is $12,880 annual income.
“If being an uninsured waitress making $350 a week doesn’t qualify a person for financial assistance under your hospital’s charity policy, I’d like to know what does,” Hernandez wrote in an email to CRMC officials.
Hernandez sent this email to CRMC, the Center for Medicare & Medicaid Services and Wyoming government officials. In nearly two months, she only got a response from CMS, which informed her it never received an application submitted on her behalf for Wyoming Medicaid and she was not on Medicaid at that time.
Hernandez: “The prices, they’re outrageous”
In this letter, she also claims she was overcharged. On her itemized bill, she was charged $2,124.20 per 100 mg vial of Remdesivir. Gilead Sciences, the drug’s manufacturer, set the price of Remdesivir at $390 per vial for uninsured patients. Hernandez was charged for five vials for a total of $10,621 instead of what would have been $1,950 for five vials directly from the manufacturer.
Hernandez was charged $8.01 for each 20 mg tablet of famotidine, an acid reducer. This medication is commonly available over the counter and a pack of 225 20 mg tablets is available on Amazon for just under $9, equivalent to about $0.04 per tablet. At this rate, CRMC’s price for the medication is 19,825% higher than what can be purchased in store or online.
CRMC charged her the same price for each 100 mg tablet of thiamine mononitrate, more commonly known as a B1 vitamin. These can also be purchased in the pharmacy section of most grocery stores. A pack of 100 tablets can be found for $7, or $0.07 per tablet, more than 114 times less than the hospital’s price.
It is common for hospitals to charge more for medications, even if it can be purchased at a CVS or Walgreens, for charges associated with administering the drug to the patient. This may include factors like the doctor’s prescription, the pharmacy charge to fill the order, the transportation of the drug from the pharmacy to the medication unit, administration of the medication from the registered nurse to the patient and documentation that the correct medication was administered on the patient’s record.
However, Hernandez believes an 11,343% upcharge for a B1 vitamin may be a bit too much.
When she initially went to urgent care and got an X-ray scan, she was told to go to the emergency room immediately, and the providers at the urgent care said it was a matter of life or death. Without financial assistance or price transparency as her bills continued to grow, Hernandez felt disenfranchised and marginalized and is now fearful of the system that is supposed to provide care for her and the community. She said she is now afraid to ever get sick again.
“I feel it’s unjust. I should not be living every day with a heavy burden like this,” Hernandez said. “… I’m sure I’m not the only person this has happened to. I know there has to be so many more.”
Price transparency In 2022, the White House reported that one-in-three adults in the United States — nearly 100 million people — have medical debt. It is now the largest source of debt in collections — more than credit cards, utilities and auto loans combined. Data from the 2020 U.S. Census also found that Black and Hispanic households are more likely to hold medical debt than white households.
The U.S. spent 17.8% of gross domestic product on health care in 2021, nearly twice as much as the average economically developed country. However, the Peterson-KFF life expectancy tracker shows that the average American lifespan is nearly five years lower than those in the comparable country average and was about the same in 2022 as it was in 2004, while most other comparable countries’ life expectancies have increased since then.
Marni Carey is the president of Power to the Patients, a nonprofit organization advocating patients’ rights to upfront price transparency from hospitals.
“I get letters every day from people who are fighting medical debt, burdensome medical debt,” Carey said. “… It’s just a horrible place to be driven to. And if hospitals could tell patients in advance what their financial responsibility is, or if patients could look online and see what the cost of care is, they could choose providers that were affordable to them and competition could enter the marketplace and Tylenols wouldn’t be $80, they would be $5. That’s why we need transparency, so patients can have financial certainty when they go into the medical system.”
A February 2024 report from Patient Rights Advocate, a nonprofit advocating systemwide health care price transparency, found that nearly two-thirds of American hospitals were not compliant with the federal Hospital Price Transparency Rule, which took effect in January 2021, including CRMC. This legislation requires hospitals to make their prices publicly available and easily accessible online to help patients understand the cost of care before they receive it.
According to the report, CRMC is compliant with all transparency rules except for negotiated rates, which Patient Rights Advocate measured by whether the hospital posted the charge that the hospital has negotiated with a third-party payer for an item or service. They found CRMC lists 89% of its negotiated rates as “N/A.”
“I couldn’t go into the Cheyenne Regional Medical Center machine readable files and find out if (Hernandez’s) bill was at all correct, because the hospital doesn’t have that, they don’t comply,” Carey said.
CRMC officials declined to comment on this story, citing patient privacy.
“For privacy reasons, we can’t disclose patient medical treatment or billing details. We recently received a letter from Ms. Hernandez and we will review the medical and billing records and provide a response,” CRMC told the WTE in a statement. “As a general matter, please note that sending a bill to a collections agency and potentially sending an unpaid bill through a court process are last resorts, used only when someone does not respond to offers of financial assistance, billing statements and phone calls.”
At the time of publication, Hernandez said she has yet to receive a response from CRMC and never got any offer of financial assistance. The only correspondence she has received after her release from the hospital has been her bills and a letter stating she did not qualify for the hospital’s charitable care program.
No savings left Hernandez said she believes she would have been in a better situation now if she had more savings before she got COVID more than three years ago. She said she did have savings, but she had to burn through those savings when her father, who lived in California, passed and her grandmother, also in California, passed a month later. Between several trips to California and multiple funeral services, she said she had little savings remaining when she got sick.
“My dad’s burial cost took all my savings, everything, because I just wanted my dad to lay in peace, you know, I wanted to bury my father, and that took all my savings,” she said.
“It’s just like a train of events, such an unfortunate train of events in life that people go through. Everybody goes through it, and that was mine. I said, ‘Man, if I would have had all that money held just a little bit longer, I would not be in this right now.’”
#long covid#mask up#covid#pandemic#covid 19#wear a mask#coronavirus#sars cov 2#public health#still coviding#wear a respirator#covid conscious#covid is airborne#covidー19#covid isn't over#covid pandemic#covid19
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Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 ao3
Steve gets quiet.
They’re not talking about it, but Eddie can read more than enough into the silence, into the way Steve gets a fixed look in his eyes, keeps going to some place that he cannot follow. His jaw clenches a few times, as if he’s trying to hide how his breath starts to catch every so often; it’s such a subtle movement, but Eddie notices.
He can’t afford to not notice.
It feels too familiar. Feels like a clock ticking.
He slips away when a nurse brings up some dinner—tries to justify his exit as Steve is seemingly distracted, shooting the shit with her. The excuse is weak even in his own head; it doesn’t stop a nasty inner voice from whispering venomously, That’s right, run away. You’re a coward.
But his skin is crawling, and he can’t—He needs—
He presses the phone firmly against the side of his face, so that it feels as if each dial tone reverberates through him. He’s lucky, in the end, that Wayne picks up, caught in a lull between volunteering and his night shifts starting again. Eddie tries to crack a joke about how it didn’t take long for mundane routine to return, but his heart isn’t in it.
And of course Wayne can hear that. “Eddie,” he says, “what’s wrong?”
Eddie swallows. “I—I can’t stop thinking that—that something’s going to happen.” And the phrasing sounds childish out loud, but he can’t think of another way to put it. Can’t stop feeling that a part of him has never left the RV, still on the precipice of knowing…
“Saw that Nancy Wheeler at the trailer park,” Wayne says mildly.
Momentarily thrown, Eddie frowns. “Oh?”
“Mm-hmm. There was a big group of folks cleaning up there—I thought I’d shown up early for it, but she looked like she’d been there for hours.” Before Eddie can even ask how she was, Wayne goes on: “She smiled at me, but she was really quiet. Got her a coffee just so she could hold onto it, you know?”
Eddie smiles. “That’s… thanks, Wayne.”
“I think she was waiting for something to happen, too,” Wayne says, gentle.
Eddie breathes in and out.
“That kinda feeling doesn’t just leave you overnight, Ed. Even if there’s nothing left to—”
“But what if—” Eddie has to cut himself off, frightened suddenly that he will speak it into existence.
“Talk to him, Eddie,” Wayne says.
Eddie stands there holding the phone long after he’s hung up.
-
He moves the couch so it sits flush against the side of the hospital bed. Steve watches him absently; his eyes keep drifting over to Eddie’s guitar.
But Eddie doesn’t pick it up. He sits down on the couch, faces Steve. Tries to be brave.
Steve isn’t looking at him now; he’s staring at some fixed point in the distance. The sight makes Eddie’s stomach clench.
“You have to tell me,” he gets out.
Steve blinks, turns to him. His eyebrows furrow slightly. “…What?”
“If it’s—if it’s not over,” Eddie says. “If you’re… if you’re seeing… fuck.” He shakes his head, his attempt at seeming even remotely calm shattering all at once. “Look, I-I’m sorry, I just—I can’t do it again.”
Steve stares at him.
“Please don’t make me do it again,” Eddie pleads. His voice breaks at the end.
Silence.
“Oh,” Steve whispers. Then, louder: “Oh, shit. No, Eddie, that’s—God, I’m sorry. That’s not it.”
Air leaves Eddie’s lungs in a dizzying rush of relief. “N-no?”
“No. I don’t—he’s gone, I don’t feel… there’s nothing there. Nothing.”
“Okay, that’s… okay.” Eddie nods repeatedly, reaches for the guitar—it doesn’t need tuned but the pattern of it helps to hide the residual shake to his hands. He feels a bit foolish now, but he’s fine with that, honestly. Better that than…
“I’m… I’m really sorry, Eddie,” Steve insists. “You weren’t supposed to see, like, any of it.”
Any relief Eddie might have felt evaporates. He feels suddenly very cold.
“What,” he says flatly. Has to set the guitar aside again. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
The worst thing is that Steve just looks confused, like what he’s said is meant to have been reassuring.
“What do you…? It’s not a riddle, dude, I just meant it wasn’t for you to—I should’ve—”
“Oh my god,” Eddie breathes. “Oh my god.” He feels like he’s just been pushed off a cliff, like he’s in free fall.
He can’t avoid the thought, now: that, if he had fallen asleep in the RV, if Steve was alone when…
Eddie makes an involuntary, despairing noise—not quite a whimper, but close enough to it that Steve’s expression softens despite his lingering frown.
“Eddie,” he says, far too kindly. “I don’t… I’m kinda lost here. I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Tell me,” Eddie manages.
“Tell you what?”
Eddie gives a shaky sigh. “Just—tell me you wouldn’t have—if I hadn’t heard you… Please. Please tell me you wouldn’t have—you wouldn’t have just gone off fucking quietly.”
Steve glances away.
“Jesus Christ,” Eddie says.
Because he can see it now, can imagine blearily waking in the RV along with everyone else; can see the driver’s seat lying empty.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Steve says, and his voice sounds strange—choked with something Eddie can’t truly place.
“Like what?”
“Like it’s some…” Steve exhales, and he sounds almost angry. “I don’t know! Like it’s some big thing.”
Eddie laughs in disbelief. “A thing.”
“Yeah! Like it’s something—fucking noble or—”
“Then what is it?” Eddie counters, heart pounding.
“I—”
“’Cause from where I’m standing, Harrington, it seems like—”
“Look, would you just—”
“—you’re the only one who can play the hero card, is that it?”
“Yeah,” Steve says, and he laughs harshly. “You know what? Yeah, that’s exactly what I—Stop looking like that, you’ve got no fucking right to judge what I—”
“I’m not judging, I’m—”
“Just shut up!” Steve says, eyes wild; and Eddie has the sinking feeling that he’s somehow missed several steps in this conversation. “I don’t care what you think, ’cause even if I’d—no matter what, I’d choose it. I’d choose it fucking gladly.”
“How can you say that?” Eddie says, hushed. “How can you even—”
“Because it had to be me!”
“Why?”
“Because.”
Eddie laughs again, but it barely counts as one; the sound equal parts tired and devastated. “You realise that’s not a fucking answer, right?”
Steve’s hands are clutching the sheets with a vice-like grip. “Because,” Steve says, suddenly very, very quiet, “it couldn’t be anyone else. I… I couldn’t handle it, okay? I’m not… I’d never forgive…”
“Steve—”
“And he knew that,” Steve says. He sounds close to tears. “He knew.”
A long, long moment.
Eddie sighs. “Jesus. I’m—okay, okay. I’m… I’m sorry.”
“Can you just…?” Steve’s jaw clenches again. “Please just play.”
Eddie hesitates. Thinks of when he played the song this morning, Steve’s thousand-yard stare. “Not if it’s hurting you.”
“It helps,” Steve says, and Eddie can’t help thinking that it’s not quite a denial. “Helps me… remember.”
Eddie plays the song, but he doesn’t sing. Instead he searches and searches for something to say. He thinks of Chrissy. Fred. Patrick. How perhaps no-one had ever… noticed. Had never asked them.
But, faced with Steve, he doesn’t know where to start—instinctively feels like a question that’s too open-ended will seem too daunting to even begin to answer. So, he tries to keep it small. One step.
“How long did what?”
Steve blinks back into awareness. “Hmm?”
“This morning,” Eddie says. He slows his tempo until the song sounds almost like a lullaby. “You were gonna ask something, and you stopped yourself. How long…?”
“Oh.” Steve sighs. “Yeah.”
Eddie waits patiently, plays right through another verse until…
“How long did it take?”
Eddie hears the question, but he doesn’t understand. He continues to strum, replies, “How long did what take?”
“In your trailer,” Steve says, “for me to…?” And he must see something in Eddie’s face, because he’s quickly saying, “You don’t need to—Christ, I’m sorry.”
“No, I just—” Eddie drops the guitar, swallows through the sudden light-headedness, the nausea. “Just gimme a second.”
He must not be doing a very good job at collecting himself, because Steve looks stricken. “Eddie, you don’t have to—”
“Just gimme a second,” Eddie repeats, because if Steve withdraws now, he’ll never forgive himself. He covers his mouth with his hand for a moment, then says, “It was really fucking quick, man. Like…” He clicks his fingers, and it seems as if the sound echoes in the silence between them.
“Oh,” Steve says again. He pushes a palm briefly against his forehead, as if he’s the one to now feel light-headed. “That’s… Jesus, that’s really trippy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Felt like I was… Um. Felt like it went on for a… A lot longer.”
Eddie reaches out, slowly, slowly, to where one of Steve’s hands is gripping onto the sheets. He places his own hand on top, squeezes once. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You were…” Steve relaxes his hold, then pushes the back of his hand up against Eddie’s palm, like he’s leaning into the touch. “I remember, you were making me laugh. And then…”
The sight of the white film across Steve’s eyes flashes through Eddie’s mind, as harsh as lightning. He doesn’t allow himself to flinch. Keeps holding Steve’s hand.
And he gets it, suddenly. Because whatever is in Steve’s head is killing him, hurting him deeper than any physical wound ever could.
“Steve,” he says softly. Begging. “Please.”
Tell me.
Eventually, Steve nods. He smiles, of course he does, even through his fear. Takes a deep breath, then lets it out slow. “Okay.”
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Hi, so long. I bring news. I finally got an apartment, small but for me it's fine because I can afford it. This was not easy due to the change in politics and the fact that Argentina is going through the coldest winter in the last 60 years. And the day Argentina was the coldest country in the world, I was WITHOUT A WARM PLACE TO SLEEP. This, as well as many other things, I cannot understand or forgive.
No matter what happens, no matter what they tell me; My father is officially dead for me. Because I will never, NEVER understand how, with your daughter being the breadwinner of the house and the one who took care of you when you were in the hospital; You throw her out on the street when she is going to work while sick.
I spent the last few nights having the darkest thoughts possible and I thank all my friends and uncles from the heart (Not blood) who helped me at this time, as well as all the people who asked for commissions or donated. I don't know how to thank you all, but I'll find a way.
My health isn't the best, I still have to get seen by a doctor because of how much cold I was in, but at least now, FINALLY, I have a place I can call my own.
I don't know what else to say, I feel like a person transformed based on hate. And this feeling will probably die with me.
Thank you.
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