#eeg brain scan

[neophony]

EEG Flex Cap: 8 Channel Dry EEG & Neurofeedback Device

Discover the Neuphony EEG Flex Cap - a versatile, portable EEG machine for brain wave reading, neurofeedback training, and biofeedback therapy. Ideal for EEG tests, brain scans, and mind control training.

[whosmoraless]

Take eeg bog!! :]

what??

u want me to take an electroencephalogram????

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

I went off ADHD meds because they weren’t helping much and the crash was making me a little too silly (you can imagine in what sense I mean that phrase). But today I went back on because I need to do things and holy mother of god sounds and the lack of sound are pushing me into overload simultaneously.

[guilted-bat]

I think they should let you keep a mini picture of your brain when you get a brain scan like they do with school photos?

Give it to me on a keychain, or a mug, I just want a picture of my silly little brain doing it's silly little things

[greenpyrowolf]

I am so the cause of one of these stories:

Fake Christmas tree needles…in late summer..

the thing about working as a housekeeper is that sometimes I will be called to clean a room that is in such a state that it gives me pause.

The thing about being a housekeeper at a Hospital is that it is not the things that would usually be concerning that leave me with questions.

Like if I go clean a room and it is just covered in blood, I'm not all "where did all this blood come from" that would be silly. It came from inside the patient and they were already in a hospital so they're probably mostly fine hopefully.

In fact "Inside the patient" is where most of the potentially concerning stuff I have to deal with comes from. Vomit? That's from inside the patient. Urine? Feces? Inside the patient baby. Needles full of unidentified drugs? That was supposed to go inside the patient but I guess they frogot.

But when I go to clean a hospital room and it is full of Sand... Did that come from inside the patient? I hope not. Why is there so much sand? Where did it come from? Was there some kind of terrible beach accident?

I have many questions and I'm scared of the answers.

[whats-in-a-sentence]

Each line on an EEG charts the activity in a different part of the brain: a mixture of different rhythms, ranged on a scale from slow to fast.

"The Body Keeps the Score: Mind, brain and body in the transformation of trauma" - Bessel van der Kolk

[americas1suiteheart]

I have something called Juvenile Myoclonic Epilepsy that I was diagnosed with when I was 15 which isn't caused by flashing lights or strobes, but rather hormones. So, I decided to do something with a reader that is epileptic, just not with something exactly like mine. Enjoy!!

I Won't Tell, I Promise

James Wilson x Epileptic! Reader

Summary; Y/n has been working at Princeton for 4 years, hiding her epilepsy in fear of losing her job. But what happens when an episode comes out of no where?

Notes; Everyone I've met and told I have epilepsy always thinks it's light sensitive, but it's not. I wanted to kind of have this as a thing to give a bit of what it's like dealing with that stigma.

Warnings; Foul language, mentions of taking prescription drugs, epileptic episodes, angst.

Word Count; 4,230

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

You've been working at the Princeton Plainsboro teaching hospital for a short while so far.

Before Prinston, you worked at a hospital all the way over in Oklahoma City as a nurse, then to Chicago as a doctor.

You probably would've never gotten this job if you mentioned what would be considered a "safety concern", to anyone.

You were diagnosed with Myoclonic Epilepsy when you were 17 and though it was said to be hormonal, it still hasn't gone away 26 years later.

"It'll go back to normal, just give it time, it usually goes away by your 20s," the neurologists and your mother constantly reminded you that. And nearly 30 years later and they were wrong.

That's what upset you the most. The fact that they assured you that it would go away and you would no longer have to take anymore of the god damn medicines or switching them constantly. They lied to you.

But, no use in moping about it. It is what it is. This problem, this disorder, is what pushed you to do what you do now. Neurology.

The doctors and neurologists could never figure out what was "wrong" with you. Countless tests, week long EEG's, CT scans, blood tests and draws, more brain scans, everything you could think of. Nothing.

No tumors ever found, nor any family history of it.

You'd just figure it out yourself.

Being in the medical field for almost 20 years has just earned you one of the larger titles.

Dr. Y/n L/n | Head of Neurology.

You had your own office on the floor where all of the MRI and CT machines resided. Made recently for you.

You just got that title just a couple months ago, and man was it difficult.

You had to take an extra dose of medicine due to the amount of stress and lack of sleep you were getting. And you weren't about to give that title you worked so hard for up.

Maybe (you knew it was,) mixing one of the strongest medications with another concentrated one was a bad idea.

750 mg of Levetiracetam, 370 mg of Lamotrigine, and 50 mg of Clobazam 3 times daily. On top of vitamins due to deficiency.

Now, that high of a dose of the Levetiracetam was already bad enough, but mixing it with the Lamotrigine made it worse. But you couldn't have an episode on the job. You feared that if you did, you would lose not only your title, but your job, and at the worst, your medical license.

You just couldn't risk that.

"...Y/n? You okay? Can you hear me?" A hand waved in front of your face with a couple snaps, trying to get your attention

Now see, that was the tricky thing with epilepsy. Absent seizures. You never knew if you'd just spaced out or had another small seizure.

"Oh, uh, sorry. Yeah, I just spaced out for a second, my bad." You respond, forcing a smile with a chuckle.

"Oh, good. Thought I lost you there," Wilson says, putting his hand down and taking another bite of his salad.

Your watch begins to beep, indicating it was time to take the second medication of the day.

One in the morning, one during lunch, and one at night, taking each one with water and food.

"Um, give me a second, I gotta go get some water real quick. I'll be right back." You awkwardly rush.

"Don't worry, I'll get one for you. I've gotta throw my trash anyways."

"No, Wilson. Really it's fine I can get it," You began to panic. Don't panic.

"Then I'll go with you," Wilson smiles, getting up with his trash.

You mutter out an "Okay."

'He's going to ask about the pills. I've never taken my meds in front of anyone before. What do I say?' You began to freak out even more. 'What if he sees them and tells Cuddy about them? I'll lose my job.'

Technically you weren't supposed to supply your own medication to yourself. That's how House got in trouble. It's not like I'm abusing them, though. Right?

"What's that timer for?" Wilson asks.

"Well, sometimes I'll be working and I'll forget to grab lunch, so I don't want to forget to eat, y'know?" Liar.

"Oh,"

You continued walking in an awkward silence before you quickly went to the food bar and bought a bottle of water.

"You left me, what was that for?" Wilson chuckles with a hand on his hip.

'Do I just tell him? He'd be the first to know apart from my family or friends back in my hometown. No one since I left there knows about it. But I could trust him.'

"Uh, well.." You begin.

"Wilson! Come here!"

You turn around to see House marching (or trying more so,) toward the two of us.

"House-"

"Shut up, I need you. You can talk to Ms. Addict later."

'Shit, did House know?'

"Excuse me, what did you just call me?" Unbelievable.

"..real bold coming from you, House." You continue.

"At least I admit it! You’re exactly like me!" House shouts as he walks away with Wilson.

"What do you mean by 'Ms. Addict?'" Wilson asks, you being able to hear him as he walks away with House.

'If House knows, will he tell Wilson? Shit, more importantly, will he tell Cuddy?'

You sigh as you walk out of the cafeteria and go down the stairs to your respective level and enter your office.

"God, I've gotta stop this shit.." You say, picking up some x-rays of brain scans.

The patient was an 8 year old little boy. He was experiencing small seizures regularly, without any family history of seizures or epilepsy diagnosis'.

He'd been in the hospital for nearly a week now, countless tests were run, and he'd been attached to an EEG machine to see what would spike when he had an episode.

'Shit.'

You looked more closely at one of the radiographs. On the right side of his temporal lobe there were two black masses, most likely tumors, which looked to have been roughly 5 to 6 inches in size.

"Fuck.. Fuck, what do I do with this." You began to panic. There shouldn't be masses like that. This could just be something wrong with the machine, right?

You can't just stand there. You had to say something.

'Wilson,' You thought to yourself.

He would be the one to go to. You could only hope that they weren't cancerous tumors.

You gather up the rest of the radiographs and make your way out of your office to go to Wilson's, hoping that House was finished doing whatever he does, and that he would be in there.

"Hey, Dr. L/n, I was wondering if you have any updates on Noah yet?" The boy's mother stopped me in my tracks.

"Oh, good afternoon, Mrs. Pieters. I was actually just looking at Noah's radiographs now. I'm going up to Dr. Wilson's office right now to go over them with him, so the final results should hopefully be out soon," You explain anxiously, still trying to sound as professional as possible.

"Oh wonderful! Once again, thank you for putting Noah in your care. You have no idea how lucky and relieved we feel now." She replies, a big smile on her face.

You feel so bad...

"Of course, Mrs. Pieters. Noah's health is one of my top priorities right now, and I couldn't be more happy to help. If you don't mind, though, I really need to go over these with Dr. Wilson right now."

"Of course. Sorry for keeping you," She apologized.

You wave her goodbye and rush to the stairs to reach Wilson's office.

You urgently knock on his door, waiting for a response, yet none came. You knock once again, and still no response. "James, are you in there? There are some radiographs I need to show you,"

You wait more, and still no response. Maybe House or Cuddy know where he is.

You go next door and open House's door, not even bothering to knock.

There House sat, throwing and catching his oversized tennis ball.

"What the hell-"

"Do you know where Wilson is?!" You cut him off in an urgency.

"He's probably in the bathroom touching himself, I'd check in there if I were you," He says sarcastically.

Oh..

"I'm being serious, House!" You roll your eyes and shout in frustration.

“Why, do you want to finally confess your undying love for him?”

You look at House with your mouth agape, looking like a fish out of water trying to create a response that wouldn't make you seem flustered. “I-”

You figured it would be near impossible to have an actual serious conversation, though not that you wanted one, with House. “I’m just gonna go ahead and go to Cuddy’s..” You sigh, frustrated with the time you’d just wasted trying to talk to him.

“Fine then! Be-” House shouts before you shut the door on him, silencing whatever bullshit he was going to say to or call you.

You make your way to Cuddy's office, looking at the radiographs on your way to make sure they really were something to be concerned about, though you would still look them over no matter what.

You knock on Cuddy's door and barge in, the same way you'd just done with House's. "Cuddy, have you seen Wils-" You say, stopping as you see Wilson standing at Cuddy's desk, going over some files.

"Oh my gosh, thank god. James, please, I need your help and time just for a moment," You plead.

"James? I got upgraded to James now?"

"Not the time now, Wilson,"

"Can you two do this somewhere else?" Cuddy says, a tinge of annoyance barely clear.

You leave Cuddy's office with Wilson following behind.

"What is it I can help you-" He says before you urgently (rudely,) cut him off.

"It's about Noah's MRI and CT scan results," You sigh, sadness in your voice.

Wilson's face softened, "Please tell me it's good,"

You pull up the radiographs and show them to him, not being able to see it all that great.

"Let's go to my office,"

You and Wilson make your way into your office, you put the pictures onto the intensifying screen and take a look at them once more, that feeling in your stomach getting deeper.

Please don't let it be bad..

"Those black masses right there at the temporal lobe, do you think those are.. tumors?" Your voice shakes.

Wilson inspects the pictures and points out the same two that you feared.

"Th-these ones?" Wilson questioned.

You nod your head.

You were horrified, but at the same time, you were anticipated. If these were the cause, then you would know why this was happening to him, unlike you with yours.

Wilson lets out a deep breath and turns to you, "We're going to have to run some more tests.. these are.. definitely tumors, but we don't know if they're cancerous..."

You sigh and rub your hands over your face.

Wilson walks to you and rubs your back with one hand, and places the other onto your shoulder.

You shiver at his touch, you began to feel dizzy and after taking your hands away from your face, you see black auras begin to obscure your vision.

And then, you blacked out.

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

Your head was pounding and your tongue was swollen. You looked around you in confusion as you found yourself laying on your side.

Where am I?

A hand ran through your hair as someone softly assured you that you were okay.

You get up before quickly falling back down to the floor.

"Hey, hey, L/n, just- sit back down. You're okay," a familiar voice assured you.

You blink slowly.

"Hey, look at me, look.. What's my name?"

You look at the male, his face becoming more familiar, though not enough until a couple seconds passed by, him staying patient with you.

"Wilson?" You slur.

"Good- um, what's your name, now?"

You felt like you were going to vomit. Your head was still spinning, though you were starting to become more familiar with your surroundings,

"Y/n? What happened?" You groan.

"Y/n, you just had a seizure.."

Those five words sent you into shock, though now it was beginning to quickly rise up to a panic attack..

"What?"

You put your head into your hands and brought your knees to your chest, a lump began to form in your throat and tears welled up in your eyes, "No, no, no, no, no, oh god, no..." You sobbed. You let yourself stress out enough to the point that you had an episode after not having one for nearly 6 months. You were doing so good. God there's no way you're going to ever drive again.

"Hey, hey, hey, it's okay, it's okay, Y/n." Wilson tried to assure you as he patted your back.

"No, no it's not okay.. shit," You choke up.

You wipe the saliva off of your mouth, presumably from spitting up during your episode.

You rock yourself back and forth, head still in your hands.

Wilson stayed quiet. He had no idea what to say, but you preferred that he didn't. You needed some silent time to gather your mind together.

"God.. fuck, I'm so sorry, James. You shouldn't have had to deal with that.." you exhale and apologize, afraid to even look at him.

"Y/n, don't- don't apologize,"

"You're not going to tell anyone are you? Please don't tell anyone, please, Wilson," You pleaded, tears welling up again at the thought of losing your job.

You didn't know that House had already known before. House had overheard you when you were speaking to Noah that one day, and then found out how much you were taking a day, earning your new nickname 'Ms. Addict'.

Him being the huge blabbermouth that he is, he obviously felt the need to tell Wilson. Wilson didn't know if he told him because he had some sort of worry for you, or if it was just him being an asshole, but by God was he glad that House told him.

"I won't tell, I promise." Wilson said as he wiped the tears away from your face, cupping it with his hand.

You melt into his touch and sigh.

"How.. how much Levetiracetam have you been taking..?" Wilson questioned.

You look at him in confusion, "What? What are you talking about?"

"Your meds.. how much of them are you taking?"

House.

"House- House told me, just earlier today," Wilson admitted hesitantly.

House!

“I’m gonna kill him!” You suddenly shout in a fit of sudden rage.

You get up only to fall once again, not just triggering your vertigo, but also making the previous dizziness you’d just had only mere minutes ago worsen.

You grab onto the nearest table to stable yourself, stumbling around as you try to pathetically attempt to speed walk.

 “L/n– L/n hold on just– Y/n!” Wilson says anxiously.

“Fuckin’ asshole, I’m gonna kill him.. How does he even know?” You grumble to yourself.

You stumbled around the workplace, bumping into things and nearly dodging others, looking like a lunatic disguised as a doctor, or to be more accurate; House.

“Y/n!” Wilson calls out to you, catching up to you far more quickly than you had been “speedwalking”.

He stops you, getting ahold of your left arm and goes in front of you, grabbing your other arm after successfully stopping you from even taking one more step.

“L/n, don’t. I know he’s an asshole but let's just go back to your office so we can sit you down, and then talk about this, okay?”

You were upset, and overwhelmed. He was right. You should go back to your office, sit down, have some water, and focus on Noah.

Noah..

You nod at him and turn around to make your way back to your office, one of his hands on your back and another out in case you fall.

He was so.. caring. You’ve never had someone care so much for you. You haven’t had that in years, you’d forgotten just how nice it was to be cared for, even if it were in upsetting circumstances such as now.

You smile to yourself as he helps you to your office chair, thanking him.

Wilson pulls up a stool in front of you, “L/n, are you okay?” He questions, taking your hands into his own, warm and calloused.

“Yeah, I guess I just freaked out a bit. I’m alright,”

“How much medicine have you been taking, L/n..” Wilson asks concerningly.

You sigh. You didn’t want to admit you had a bit of a.. problem with substances, specifically your prescribed ones. God, I really am House..

“Uh,” You look away from him. You were more than ashamed of yourself. There was a reason the drugs were controlled, because they were addictive..

It had gotten to the point where you depended on them too much. The Clobazam wasn’t even necessary, either.

“750 mg of Levetiracetam, 370 mg of Lamotrigine, and 50 mg of Clobazam.” You mutter.

“750 of Levetiracetam??”

“Yeah.. three times daily.��

Wilson sighs and lets his head fall low, muttering something to himself.

“L/n, you could overdose on just the Levetiracetam and Lamotrigine together twice, maybe even once! But you're mixing it with the Clobazam, too? Three times a day? Who’s prescribing you this much medicine?!” Wilson was genuinely concerned for you, he didn't mean to sound or come off as angry or upset, but that’s definitely what he sounded like.

"Myself," You looked at your hands, his were still holding yours.

"..I'm sorry but- I couldn't risk having an episode, especially not here. If- if anyone else found out I thought I might lose my job or- or my medical license, I can’t risk that, I- I worked so hard for this title, I can’t let it be taken away because of some stupid-” You started to get worked up and hysterical. So much build up just over the years of not telling anyone your worries, not even your parents or friends from home, all of it just spilt out in front of Wilson.

Wilson gets up and pulls you into a tight hug, stroking your hair as his chin rested on to of your head. “I won’t tell anyone, and I promise you, I absolutely promise you that you won’t lose your job if anyone else finds out,”

You tense up, but the sound of his heartbeat so close to your line of hearing made you relax into his arms, wrapping your own across his torso.

“I don’t know about you, but this is one of the first times that I’ve ever been happy that House is an asshole. I’m glad he told me. I’m glad you’re safe.” Wilson continued, holding you closer to him.

His overwhelming affection and concern began to make you tear up. He actually cared for you.

And though House would never admit it, so did he.

You began to cry into Wilson’s lab coat, still not letting go of him in fear that you would lose him forever if you did.

“I care for you, Y/n. I never want you to feel this way.”

He didn’t even care that you were dirtying his coat with your own tears and snot, he only cared for you at that moment.

“Oh, you finally found him. Did you find him in the bathroom touching himself like I said he was? Is that why you’re crying? Do you need a hug from me, too?” House says sarcastically as he barges into your office.

You take your face out of Wilson’s coat to scowl at House. “Fuck off, Greg..” You sniffle.

“House, it’s really not the time for your shit, and that’s a highly innaproppriate thing to say- wait, where did you get that from?” Wilson says, pulling away from you.

“I’ve heard you,” House ‘whispers’ very loudly.

House hobbles over to you and stares for a few seconds before ruffling your hair, making it messier than it already was before.

“Addict,”

“Says you, asshole,” You respond, trying to smooth out your hair for it to look decently.

“..Uh, how did you know? About my..” you continue.

“You have really gotta start being more quiet when you talk to your patients about stuff like that, it was hard not to hear you blabbering to that kid. Do you just do that with all of them? Pretty wreckless if you ask me,” House responds.

“And my medication?”

“You’re not as sneaky with it as you think. Maybe being more open about it would raise less flags. You just might actually be worse than I am, Ms. Addict.”

Wilson stood aside, watching the interaction between his best friends. They hated eachother, but cared for eachother at the same time. He smiled at the scene.

“Whatever,” You say as House leaves your office.

“You two are an interesting pair,” Wilson chuckles.

“He’s a child.” You roll your eyes and smile.

House pops back into your office, sticking only his head in through your doorway. “Druggie addict.” and he disappears once more.

“There’s my point being proven,”

“Oh, I never doubted you,”

You look up at Wilson, with him looking back down at you.

You took in his features for a good couple of moments, 

his thick brows were one of the most noticable features of his, in the best way possible in your opinion at least. You could never imagine him with what people would concider “normal proportioned” brows. They sat atop those puppy dog eyes that held a sort of tired softness to them, you could just get lost in them forever. A single section of hair seperated from his usual kept up hair, laying on top of his forehead. His smile. My god, his smile was so nice.

“What?” Wilson lets out a breathy laugh.

“Nothing, you just look nice today,” You reply back before getting up out of your chair in your best efforts, successfully making it back to Noah’s Radiographs.

“Thanks, you do, too,” He stood next to you at a closer proximity than before.

You and Wilson looked closely at Noah’s Radiographs for a few minutes before Wilson declared, “I don’t think you have to worry about these tumors too much, they look benign to me. We just need to remove them and Noah should be fine,”

You let out a sigh of relief. Noah was an amazing kid. You have no clue what you would do if you had to give news that he had something that could possibly be a cause of death. At least you found the reason for his.

You lay your head on Wilson’s shoulder and smile, “Thanks, James.”

He brings his hand up to grab your waist, pulling you closer to him and laying his head onto yours, “Thank you for letting me help out with him. He’s lucky to have you,”

“..though, I think I would be even luckier to have you, Y/n.” Wilson continues.

Wilson had always been good with his words when he wanted to. They always came out to be smooth, yet not too vulgar or forward. Thats exactly what it felt like now. It felt genuine, it felt like it actually came straight from the heart, and now you felt like yours was about to practically beat out of your chest.

“I think you would, I’m just special like that,” you giggle.

Wilson raises his head off of yours and looks at you, taking in how beautiful you looked before placing a small kiss to your head.

You grin, practically from ear to ear and lift your head off of his shoulder to press a kiss to his cheek, only for him to lift your chin up. You two were practically teasing each other, for as when you went to close the gap, he lifted you up and carried you to your office chair bridal style and sat down with you in his lap, now closing the gap himself as he spun around in the chair with you.

You smiled into the kiss and you could feel he was too.

This would be one of your most memorable days ever, in so many ways. Not only because of Noah, but because of this moment with James that you would never imagine would happen to you in a million years.

Its not to early to think to yourself or say, you love him.

You love James Wilson, and you would scream it from the top of your lungs so everyone else could be reminded of it.

You were in love with him, and he was in love with you.

[roxygen22]

Chart

Summary: Timothée Chalamet x female reader. Timothée gets a call that you were in an accident. Happy ending!

C/W: car accident, injury (not too graphic), hospital setting, pregnancy

A/N: not my best work, but I've been sitting on this for weeks and finally made enough progress that I was comfortable posting.

<><><><><>

"Your wife has been in a car accident. She is stable but unconscious."

The words kept running through his head as he drove like a maniac to the hospital. Barely keeping it together, he ran up to the emergency room registration desk.

"I got a call. My wife is here. She was in an accident. What room is she in?" he stuttered through panting breaths.

"What is her name?" the receptionist responded calmly.

"[Y/N] Chalamet."

"She's in room 302 in the trauma wing."

The blood drained from his face as the word "trauma" sank in. With the help of some staff, he finally found your room. He froze as soon as the door opened. You had a huge cut on your forehead and a c-collar around your neck. You were hooked up to IV fluids in one arm, and a blood pressure cuff surrounded the other. Aside from the beeping of the monitor, your room was silent.

As he closed in on your bed, he saw more damage. There were airbag burns on both of your wrists. One of your legs was uncovered to allow the deep gash on your left shin a chance to breathe. He gently took your hand in his and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles. "Oh, [y/n]." That's all he could muster before breaking down into a puddle of tears.

After a few minutes, he heard the door open and looked up. The nurse came in to check your IV. "Oh good, I'm glad someone could get here quickly to be with her. Are you Timothée?" she asked.

"Yes. Can you tell me how she is doing? She's so...still."

"Sure." She pulled up your chart on the computer. "She was brought in about an hour ago. The police said a drunk driver ran a red light and t-boned the passenger side. EMTs said she was unconscious at the scene."

Timothée shuddered and placed his hand over his mouth.

"Her EEG showed normal neural activity, and her pupils were reactive, so no signs of a brain bleed. The doctor ordered x-rays of her neck and leg and CT scan of her chest, but since she's pregnant, we will take precautions to shield..."

"Wait, what did you say?"

"She's...oh, you didn't know. Oh my. We had to run bloodwork, which includes an HCG test. Her levels were indicative of early pregnancy. We did an ultrasound of her abdomen when she first got here to check for internal bleeding. The baby seemed unharmed. It is very early but there was a strong heartbeat. We printed this." She handed Timothée a black and white picture on slick paper.

"A baby?" was all he could mutter as he looked back at you. "How long will it take for her to wake up?"

"It could be any minute now, or it could take hours. Sometimes, the brain just needs to rest." She squeezed Timothée's arm reassuringly. "I'll be back once it's time to take her to CT. If you need anything, the nurse's station is just across the hall."

Once the door closed behind the nurse, Timothée looked down at the small picture in his hand. There was an arrow pointing from the word "baby" to a dark, bean shaped spot inside of a larger gray oval. The two of you had decided last year to start trying to get pregnant, or at least not prevent it. And to think he could have lost both of you in the blink of an eye before he even knew. Likely before you even knew. You were terrible at keeping secrets, especially one that big.

"Please wake up, my love." He clasped your hand between both of his and leaned his forehead against them. Silent sobs wracked his body. After a few minutes, he felt your hand twitch. He shot up from his slouched position to stare at your face. Your eyelids twitched as you slowly regained consciousness.

"What's go- Timmy?" you asked groggily.

"Hey," he grinned and loosened one hand to smooth your hair down. "[sniffle] hey there, love, I'm here. I'm here." You looked at his teary eyes and red, puffy face in confusion.

"What happened? Why am I-?" You started to move to sit up, but soreness and the c-collar kept you from doing much. You looked down at the IV in your arm and back up at him, frightened and disoriented.

"Hey, shh. Don't move around too much. You were in an accident. A drunk driver ran a red light. They need to do some more scans just to be sure, but so far everything shows you're going to be alright. Probably sore for a bit, but nothing broken or bleeding."

You leaned your head back against the pillow to look at the ceiling and take it all in. After a few moments of silence, you said, "I'm guessing my car is totaled." You loved your little red sports car. It was your first big "adult" purchase after you graduated from college years ago.

"Probably. I came straight here, so I haven't seen it. But...," Timothée paused. "Maybe this time we should look for one with four doors?"

You pulled your head back up to shoot him a puzzled look. He smiled and handed you the ultrasound printout.

"An ultrasound? Is- is this mine?!" you squeaked.

"You know I can't keep a secret to save my life," you replied with a laugh. "We're going to have a baby?!" Then you felt yourself go pale, remembering what brought you here in the first place. You placed your hand on your stomach. "Is it okay?"

He laughed and cried simultaneously. "I guess that answers whether or not you knew."

"The nurse said there was a strong heartbeat." Timothée placed his hand over yours. "We're going to have a baby, [y/n]." He nuzzled your cheek with his nose. "I'm so glad you both are alright."

<><><><><>

Bonus chapter

Masterlist

[gobackimhaunted]

also the readings from her EEG (brain wave scan) are “i love you it’s ruining my life”

[kidrauhlschik]

2. Tangled Memories ~ Lee Know AU

Post Traumatic Amnesia (PTA) is a transient state of confusion, disorientation and memory loss that occurs immediately following a traumatic brain injury. PTA is sometimes also referred to as post traumatic confusional state and can occur from the moment of injury until the return of continuous memory.

The accident was a tragedy.

But it was the best tragedy to ever happen to you.

~

-

PT - 2 - See pt 1, 3, & 4 on the Masterlist linked above

Warnings: angst, f!reader, enemies to lovers, drunk driving, gaslighting, Fighting, yelling, cursing, angst, heartbreak, lies, angst, accidents, minho is mean, lmk if I missed anything!!

Words: 5.5k

~

In the hospital waiting area, the air felt thick with tension. No one could say a word, almost too afraid to speak.

It had been hours since the incident at that point. A witness came forward and gave their statement to the police. Apparently, you had been been walking alone with your eyes glued to your phone screen. When it came to the point of crossing the street, you made your way across without glancing up. Unaware that the light was red and a car was barreling down the road towards you. It had all happened very quick. A the sight of you, the driver immediately stepped on the brakes as he was speeding towards you, but the damage was done. No one dared to pick you up, too afraid of furthering the damage.

Once Minho told Chris what he had seen, the eight men packed themselves in two cars and sped to the hospital. Minho was planning to stay back but Chan wasn't having it. The second Minho said something in suggestion of not going, Chris blew up. You were his best friend after all.

He shoved Minho to the nearest wall. They never laid hands on each other, not like this. Minho's head hit the wall, causing a sharp pain, leaving him stunned, gaping at Christopher in confusion.

Chan got close to him, pointing an accusatory finger to his face.

"You're going, because you are the reason she walked out, you are the reason she was walking down the road, and you are the reason she's hurt right now. So god help me, Lee Minho, you better pray that she's okay because if she's not..." Chris stops himself from going further. He shoves Minho one last time and turns to grab his car keys.

Minho wanted to argue, he felt wrong going to the hospital, but Chan was right. He couldn't stand you, but he knows deep down, that if something serious happened to you, the guys would never forgive him. Indirectly, the accident was his own fault. So even now, in the waiting area, he knows that if he speaks, the response would be less than pleasant.

The doctor treating you emerges from the hallway, and immediately got swarmed by seven men, Minho being the only one to stay in the corner where he had been standing on for hours.

“Is she okay doctor? She’s okay, right?” Jeongin is the one to ask.

The doctor sighs and looks at his clipboard, “She’s going to be okay,” and a swarm of relieved sighs could be heard around the room. “Aside from a few broken ribs, a broken leg, and a broken arm, she held up pretty well. The team thinks that she took most impact on her arms, while trying to lessen the damage.”

“Can we see her?” Seungmin asks.

“She will be in a medically induced coma for a couple of days. However, I have to warn you. I was concerned with the damage the patient took to the head, so I decided to run some tests.”

“Tests? What kind of tests?” Felix’s voice drips with concern.

“The team ran an MRI, CAT, and an EEG scan. We wanted to ensure nothing was missed”

“I’m sorry doc, but what does that mean?” Jisung asks, not knowing what to make of what the doctor was saying.

The doctor takes all the boys in. They obviously cared deeply about you, so he knew that what he was about to say would severely affect them. “It means, that once we ran the tests, we came to find out that she received severe brain damage. We have a suspicion that she may suffer from post traumatic amnesia. We will not know for sure until she’s awake though, and through the EEG scan, it seems that she may suffer from seizures as well. She will need immersive care once she is released. I am truly sorry to inform you of this.”

At the news, Minho finally looks up from the tiled floor that he’d been inspecting. Much to his dismay, Chan meets his gaze. While Minho looks like a deer caught in headlights, Chan looks like he’s about to run him over.

Chris makes his way to the corner Minho was standing in.

“This is all your fault.” He says while Minho does his best to avoid his gaze. Chris knows that he is acting harshly, but in the midst of panic and pain, he couldn't help himself.

“I know.”

“I bet you’re happy aren’t you? You wanted her to go away, right? I hope you're happy. with what you've done” Tears well up in Chan’s eyes, imagining that there’s a possibility his best friend won’t remember him.

“Chan.” Minho begins, but Chan is quick to cut him off.

“When she wakes up, you apologize. You get on your fucking knees and apologize. When she’s out of here, you are taking care of her. You better make fucking sure to show how sorry you are.”

Minho wasn’t as concerned for your well being as the guys. However, he was concerned about the consequences. He was very aware that everyone in the room was truly angry at him. More than anything, he was aware of the guilt he felt. It felt as if he'd let everyone down, as if he was truly the monster everyone made him out to be.

“Okay.” Is the last thing Minho said to Chan.

-

It had been a week.

A week that everyone ignored Minho. He was kicked out of the group chat, he got the ignored every time he reached out to any of the guys, and he got the cold shoulder anytime he’d see one of the guys in person.

He felt alone. Abandoned. He was watching his friends leave him, just like he had before, and it was no one’s fault but his own. He knew he deserved it, he deserved all the hatred and animosity. He did what he was best at, he fucked everything up. It was like history was repeating itself.

Now they all sat around the waiting room once again. Instructed by the nurses, in order to prepare for the worst case scenario, they thought it'd be best for the guys to stay out of the room. Anxiety was building up for seven of them, all while Minho felt nothing but dread.

All he received was a message telling him to show up to the hospital at 5pm from Seungmin. Presumably the only one willing to make any interaction with him.

Finally, a nurse comes out, and similarly to the doctor , she gets swarmed by a hoard of boys. Much like the last time, Minho stands in his corner while staring at the floor. He hoped the Earth would open up and swallow him alive.

The nurse instructed for the guys to go in one by one. "We already explained the situation to her. We told her she'd have some visitors that would come see her. Make sure you introduce yourselves first, and explain what relationship you had with her. Don't overwhelm her with information, as she is still in a delicate state. You shouldn't cause any more stress to her situation."

With that being said, Chan doesn't even bother to inquire with the rest of the guys before stepping up towards the nurse, "I'll go first." No one dared to argue.

One by one, the guys filed into the room until Minho sat alone in the waiting area.

He was fighting his own mind, doing his best to avoid the demons that kept trying to make their way inside of his head.

That’s the only way he can cope. He’d rather not feel anything at all, rather than to be face his emotions. People call him cold, but he doesn’t want to feel hurt in the way he has hurt before. The way he's hurting now, for instance. He let himself love too much and now that he screwed everything up, he has to deal with the pain of having his best friends hate him. All because of you.

Lost in his own thoughts, he didn't realize Jeongin had joined him in the waiting area.

"Chris asked me to come get you." The youngest seemed confused by this. Probably overwhelmed by the situation, he didn't bother questioning Bang Chan's strange request. Minho didn't bother questioning it either.

Going into the room, the vibe was off. Christopher had tears in his eyes. Changbin and Seungmin both looked angry, waiting for something or someone to fix everything, nothing was coming to help them though. Jeongin, Han, and Felix all looked out of it, as if trying to take in the situation. They all knew what to expect, but seeing their best friend lack recognition of them, was a feeling none of them could have been prepared for.

You were in bed, and for the first time, you looked at Minho with curiosity. The animosity was missing from your stare. It was odd to him. Chan sniffled a bit and collected himself, "Y/N, this is Minho. He's um... a friend."

The way Chan paused in the middle of his sentence caused Minho to wince. He knew he wasn't in their best graces, but to doubt their friendship was something he was not prepared for.

He feels as if he says anything, it will be taken in the wrong way, so Minho opts to stay silent. Although he's looking everywhere but you, he feels your gaze. Inquisitive. He's probably the first person you've seen since you woke up that didn't immediately start hugging you and screaming his concerns in your face.

"He's going to be taking care of you for now." Which causes both you and Minho to stare at the eldest. Was Bang Chan out of his mind? They would kill each other, (had you recognized him).

Minho can already picture it. The second you get your memories back, you are sure to murder him. At the same time, he's painfully aware that taking care of you is the only shot he has at redemption.

"I'm going to visit you periodically, check up on you to make sure Lee Minho is taking good care of you. Alright?" Minho doesn't miss the way that his friend is gripping your hand with a little too much force. Almost as if he's scared that you'll vanish into thin air. In a way he understands. Had it been one of the guys to get hurt, he'd be just as restless, if not more. Maybe he underestimated exactly how much you meant to Bang Chan. Hell, maybe he was right with the thought that Chris wanted to get into your pants. He won't admit that out loud though.

You nod slowly at his question, everyone can just assume how confused you must be.

"Are any of you my family?" You ask, unsurely. Still not fully grasping the situation.

Hyunjin clears his throat, awkwardly trying to cleanse the air from the stiffness that your question brought to the room. "You weren't exactly close to them, your family, I mean" He responds.

"But they'll come if we call right? I mean, I should have a family right?" Your voice is now filled with anxiety. Are you really supposed to trust the 8 random boys that presented themselves as your friends?

Chris, a bit less shaken now, presumably because he realized that if anyone could calm you down, it would be him. He knows you best after all.

"Hey sweetie-"

"Don't call me that." It hurts him. You may not remember your best friend, but the hurt in his face is almost impossible to miss. He is typically good at hiding his emotions and being everyone's rock, but he felt like he was taking hit after hit.

"I'm sorry, but I'm just really confused. I think I just need some time. You seem like a really nice guy, you all do, but please just give me a couple of days. I just want to go home.” Minho can feel the stares. He feels animosity from his friends, they don't trust him, and that much is obvious. But he tells himself that he can prove them wrong. All he has to do is make sure that you don't die while you recover from your wounds. He tells himself that it shouldn't be that hard.

Chan throws on the best fake smile that he can muster. "I understand sweet- Y/N. If you need space, we can at least give you that." You nod slowly at his words, shoulders relaxing. The expectations that they all had for you felt like too much. Seeing all of their faces, one by one, look so disappointed that you didn't recognize them felt overwhelming. It made you feel guilty. The only one that wasn't visually affected by your predicament was Minho.

It felt nice.

-

Walking into your house, or rather getting rolled in felt awful. The place, your home, felt strange and foreign. It hurt to think about it too much. You and Minho were silent the entire ride home. While he was struggling to get you in and out of his car, he remained stoic. He hadn't forgotten that not long ago, you had his car towed for shits and giggles, and he'd always been a little too good at holding grudges.

When he leaves your apartment once again to grab the remainder of his clothes out of his car, you take it as an opportunity to look around the place. The task doesn't come easy with your broken arm and leg, yet slowly but surely, you manage to reach the few spaces you could get to without any help.

All of the pictures surrounding the place had some of the guys in the frame. Mainly the guy that introduced himself as Bang Chan. No one else is pictured aside from the guys, which made you feel more at ease with your decision to trust them.

You couldn't help but notice the lack of Minho in the pictures. Didn't they say he was also your friend? You make a mental note to ask him about it later.

Minho walks in and throws his bags by the entrance, immediately making his way towards the kitchen. He had been in his head since the second he agreed to take care of you. It's not like it was much of a choice, but he'd been stressing over how exactly he would approach the situation. He wasn't doing this for you, he was doing it so his friends could forgive him. That's what he kept repeating to himself in order to actually come through with his assistance.

You roll into the kitchen as he was making dinner. He doesn't pay you much attention, the only thing that lets you know that he noticed you in his space, is the avoidance of your chair, running around and swiveling around you.

"Do I have a phone?" You ask him, but it throws him off a bit. There was no sarcasm in your tone, it was nothing but a question, but it comes off as a odd to him. Having known you for a little over a year, not once had either of you had a civil conversation with one another.

"It broke in the accident. Chan is buying one for you, I think." Still not bringing his gaze towards your direction. You silently nod in response.

"I must be pretty close to him, for him going out of his way to buy me a phone."

"Mhm." He is still very unsure on how to approach you. He briefly thinks about kicking your chair while passing by you, but quickly shakes the thought out of his head. Chris is still going to check in on you, and he knows that if Chris finds out that Minho was treating you less than perfect, he'd have another argument with him. Minho wanted to avoid anymore conflict. Through everything, he just wants his best friends to talk to him again.

"Were we close?"

That question actually throws Minho in for a loop. Should he lie? What is he supposed to say? We hate each other? I'm the reason you lost your memories? I'm the guy who practically pushed you into the accident? "Huh?" Is the only thing he manages to say in response.

"Well, there are no pictures of you here. All of the people at the hospital are in the pictures. You're the only one that didn't throw himself into my arms and damn near burst into tears. I'm assuming that we weren't that close." There was no ill intent with your question, just pure curiosity.

"Well-" You interrupt him before he can actually come up with an explanation. "You have been avoiding me like the plague since you picked me up, and all the guys visited me every single day since I woke up." Minho asks himself if you'd always been this talkative.

"We weren't as close as you are to the other guys."

"So why are you the one to take care of me?" For the first time in a while, he finally makes eye contact with you.

"Chris wanted us to get closer." Is the best lie he can come up with.

"Why?" God, why are you asking so many questions? Minho wondered.

"I don't know. He's your bestie, you'll know when you get your memories back." Now you're taken aback.

"Do you think I ever will?"

"I hope so." He does. This whole situation feels uncanny to Minho. He doesn't remember a conversation that you guys have had, that lasted this long and hadn't escalated to screaming and it felt odd.

With that answer, you drop the conversation. He obviously didn't want to talk, and you felt as if you had pried enough for the night

-

For the next couple of weeks, things go as smoothly as anyone could hope. You and Minho coexist which is more than he expected. He goes to his classes and comes back to your apartment everyday. Most nights he comes back to cook dinner, then he helps you bathe, and then heads to bed. It's a stark difference in comparison to when the other guys are visiting you.

You manage to get a couple of questions in every night, but he typically doesn't show much interest in shoving your past down your throat. You don't bother to pry, mainly because you get plenty of information when the guys come by, especially because of Felix. He seems like a pretty sweet guy, but it's very easy to get overwhelmed when he shoves his phone screen in your face whenever he comes to visit.

"Wait Y/N! Look at this! You asked if we could go to the beach and obviously I am always down to hang out with you. That day we left super early and spent the whole day lounging around in the sand. You almost managed to drown me with your lack of swimming skills. It was kind of funny actually." He means well, but it almost feels like he's trying to guilt you into remembering. The guilt that you feel when all you can do is smile and say, "Woah, sounds nice." Is incomprehensible. They try to hide their disappointment, and move on to the next memory that you can't recall. You know that they're trying to help, but it doesn't make you feel any better.

That's why Minho's silence is welcomed. It's like he doesn't expect anything from you, which feels like a breath of fresh air.

Minho is slowly falling into a routine with you. Initially everything felt strange to him. Your sudden friendliness, the need to be taken care of, the lack of bite with your words, all were foreign to him. Prior to the accident, you were very independent. Almost terrified to let someone take care of you.

Even the bathing part became causal to him. Initially, he felt very awkward, almost flustering to him. He hardly knew anything about you, and now he had to see you naked. He couldn't help the blush that took over his face when he first had to help you clean up. Now, he mainly disassociates and gets it done as fast as possible.

"Did you have a crush on me?” You ask all of the sudden, causing him to choke on his dinner. Eyes wide as saucers stare you down.

"I'm sorry???"

You shrug nonchalantly. "I'm just asking."

"What would make you think of that?" He asks, still just as flustered.

"I mean, why else would Chris ask you to get close to me? Why were you always acting so weird around me? The only explanation I can think of, is that you had a crush on me and you were too shy to approach me." You explain nonchalantly, shoving more food in your mouth.

"I did not have a crush on you." He says a bit too aggressively for you liking.

"Or maybe you hated me." Once again, speaking entirely way too casually.

"NO." He almost screams. Which confuses you even more.

"Damn. Make up your mind dude. Love or hate me, it would be nice to know." You chuckle a bit with your response.

He composes himself a bit before replying. "I mean, I mean, um, we just had a weird relationship."

"Relationship huh? So I'm hearing you were in love with me and I rejected you."

This was a new side of you Minho was not used to. He had never played around with you. You could hardly look at each other, and now you were implying that he had a crush on you. How is he supposed to reply without admitting that you guys loathed each others presence?

"I mean... It did hurt when you rejected me." He couldn’t just admit that he hated you, then you’d be apprehensive towards him. He knew, or he wanted to believe that you'd regain your memories one day. So he honestly wasn't sure as to why he kept on lying to you, whenever you got your old self back, you'd for sure murder him.

"I knew it!" You slammed your uninjured hand on the table, seemingly proud of your 'deduction skills', as wrong as they were.

-

By the time you were able to get your arm out of the cast, everything was a lot more casual between you and Minho. It seemed as if you had accepted his fake confession with grace. You dropped the subject and moved on. Minho had no idea how wrong he was.

He failed to notice how soft your voice had gotten with him, and missed the way your eyes would linger on him for a second too long after you made a joke to see how it’d affect him. He was oblivious on how you always seemingly flocked over to him when the guys were over out of instinct. He definitely didn't see that whenever Chris called you to see if he could come by, you'd deny his requests, opting to stay alone with your ex enemy.

The two of you fell into a new routine. You'd watch movies until the first one dropped, though it was typically you. He didn't think much of it. He would never ponder on the fact that he'd watch you sleep sometimes, and observed your light snores and weirdly found them comforting. He told himself that it was like watching a snake taking a nap. He never thought much about the nights that he'd allow himself to run his fingers through your hair without thinking.

The forced proximity grew your relationship so organically that before he knew it, he didn’t dread sharing a space with you. Yet, he refused to acknowledge the fact.

Eventually, there were no casts, no broken bones, and no reasons for him to stay with you. You still didn't remember anything, so that's why he reasoned that he should stay.

One day, he woke up in the middle of the night. You and Bang Chan had a sleepover, you had gotten comfortable with your best friend again, after many months of him trying to make himself back into your life, you had begun to let him. The memories he always tried to remind you of, softened your heart. He spoke in a way that seemed safe, causing you to build a strange sense of trust with the man.

"Hey, I was thinking that you should be good to stay on your own once again. I don't think that Lee Minho is doing much but getting in your way." Neither of you were aware that he was standing in the hall. Hoping to get a glass of water, but instead being met by your conversation.

"I want him to stay." Minho grips his empty cup a bit harder. Not expecting to hear those words from you.

Chris was very clearly taken aback. He had heard good things about Minho. He knew that he was acting out of guilt, but he didn't mind much. You needed someone to be there for you, and Bang Chan hoped that even if it was superficial, you could at least have all the help you needed.

"What? Why" He questions.

"Well, didn't you want us to get closer?"

"I mean, I guess but..."

"Then you got what you wanted." You say with a sly smile.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't know what my deal was before, but I think I'm ready to accept him." Your words make Minho look around the hallway in a panic. What the hell were you talking about?

"Accept him?"

"Yeah, I mean he's handsome, he's very mysterious, but in a good way. He feels safe, like he is just staying by my side because he wants to, not because he expects something out of me." Minho leans against the wall with worry and exhaustion. You misread everything. He didn't expect anything out of you because he expected forgiveness from his friends. How did he let it get to this point?

"Hey sweetie, I don't know if it's my place to tell you this-" With Chan's words, Minho immediately makes his way to his bedroom and loudly slams the door, making it appear as if he was barely coming out. He makes sure to make his steps as loud as possible, as he fakes the best groggy voice he can manage.

"Hey guys, what's going on?" You and Chan both freeze in place.

"Oh, me and Chris were just catching up." He nods at your response and makes his way back to the room that has became his.

Chan quickly changes the subject. How is someone supposed to tell you that the man that they all forced into your life used to be your mortal enemy? So he merely avoids it.

It is not as simple for Minho though, he can't avoid you, so he simply shuts you out in his own way. He answers your questions even less, he stops making you dinner, opts to go to his room during movie night, and overall, tries to spend less time at your place. This does not go unnoticed by you though. His new attitude makes you wonder if your lack of memory is finally getting to him. Has he gotten tired of you? Tired of waiting for the person he had been infatuated with? Those questions make their way into your head with the lack of his attention.

"Hey Minho." You begin the second he walks in through the door, stopping him from making a beeline to his room.

He stops without looking at you, dreading what your next words may be.

"How have you been?" That being the last thing he expected you to say.

"What?"

"I feel like we haven't talked too much lately. It's strange." That's strange? Minho wants to laugh. After experiencing the oddest of the past few months with you, the fact that he's distant is strange? God, if only you knew.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think we could go do something? Maybe go skating or maybe shopping?"

"What?" If he agrees, that would be the first time the two of you went out alone. He didn't expect this situation to arise. He wanted to say no, you were the person he hated most afterall. Yet, the you now wasn't the old you. The you now, looked at him in a different way. You trusted him. Which he genuinely enjoyed, mainly because no one really trusted him as of lately. It is odd that you of all people, are making him feel better.

On the way to the park, he can't help but wonder. What if you got your memories back right then and there? Would you immediately recoil from his side? Acting as if he had burned you? You'd know that you had been lied to. You wouldn't only be mad at him, but at everyone else as well.

He briefly wonders if everything that they're doing is right. He had never asked himself that, always looking at his ultimate goal. Seungmin and Hyunjin had talked to him first, mainly to ask how you were doing. Then Felix and Jeongin had been the next to reach out, asking if you could all hang out together. Changbin, Jisung, and Chris were harder to crack though. However, they had all gotten significantly kinder toward Minho. He takes all of it as wins, but can't help but think about the way you'd react toward the past couple of months full of lies that they all fed you. Minho of all people? He remembers your murderous behavior, and can already see you breaking down, and breaking them, whenever you remembered everything.

"Do you have any dreams?" Your words break him out of his thoughts.

"What?" You know he's standoffish, so you already had a response for his questioning ready.

"I always wanted to be a singer." You say to persuade him to confide in you.

"Wait, wait. What?" He stops your walk at the unexpected statement.

"Yeah... I think I'm remembering somethings," The thought causes Minho to shudder. "I don't recall much, but I think I'm beginning to remember my parents."

"Wait what?!"

"Don't tell anyone though." You shake your hands as if to say 'no' to make it a point that he is the only person you're telling about this.

"But... do you remember anything else?"

"Huh, not really. I think my memory is working itself backwards. Sometimes I have dreams of what used to be. Sometimes I wake up remembering what I did before, but it is mainly things from way back. I'm beginning to remember why I cut everyone in my family off, and why I stopped chasing my dreams." The way you said it so calmly, lead Minho to infer that you've been remembering things for a while. It makes him feel weird to think that you're confiding in him of all people.

"Well, why did you stop chasing your dreams?" Had anyone told Minho that you two would be walking through the park together, talking so casually, he would've thought they were psychos.

"I haven't got to that part yet. What about you? Why did you stop chasing your dreams?" The question takes him aback. He can't remember telling you that part of his life.

You take his confusion into account, and continue talking, "I noticed the way you're an amazing singer. You're not really quiet when you shower." You laugh at your own statement. "I hate to be intrusive, but Chan also told me that you had unfinished business with that," Before Minho could get mad at your curiosity, you kept speaking. "I didn't let him tell me much more. I assumed that I was right, but you're free to tell me that I'm wrong right now." With that, he's at a loss for words. It was a longshot, but you were meeting the mark.

"I wasn't really made for it."

"I think that you are."

He doesn't reply to that. He takes a bit to take in your words. For a second, he forgets how you used to be. Had you always been so observant? So caring? The person that had made him feel like shit for so long felt like a stranger in comparison to how you were right now.

"You're nice." He says before he could stop himself.

"That must be why you were so in love with me." So confident. That was also new for you.

"I wouldn't go that far." He chuckled to himself. He finds it odd that you were so funny. He's seen bits and pieces of you for a while, but never directed towards him in that way. He feels a confidence coming from you that he had always failed to see before.

Although you don't reply to him, he feels as if he couldn't leave his statement unended. "You're maybe kinda sorta cute. I guess." Which brings a laugh out of you.

"Ha, good way of hiding your never ending love for me." If only you knew.

He is not sure why, but your statement makes him smile.

"Hey Minho,” your next words would make his mood flip in an instant, “you make me feel safe." Your words bring bile to his mouth. He feels like a faker. He feels like he’s betraying you, not the old you, but this new version that he strangely liked. It’s all so confusing to him. He's supposed to hate you.

"You make me feel okay." That's the best thing he can muster before wrapping his arm around you. It felt like the right thing to do but the wrong universe to do it at.

He hoped that your memory would never come back.

-

A/N: i'll try to wrap this up by this weekend. thank you so much to those who have given me encouraging words :)

TAGLIST: @stanstraykidsskz @weareapackofstrays @linos-kitten @cassidymb121

[moosemonstrous]

(Still a WIP, but I have reached a point where I can't leave a bit alone until it's posted somewhere and it's terrible brain times besides.)

Ghost Rider Pacific Rim AU - nod and smile

Robbie isn’t feeling well.

He has no idea what is being said in the meeting. He really needs to focus; for all he knows, Brook is outlining all the ways he’s to be summarily executed for fucking up his first deployment. You’re fine. He’s not. He feels like he’s been hollowed out and can’t stay still, like every single one of his nerve endings is on fire. It’s like—like you’re bored in a fucking meeting. Big deal.

He can’t look at the slides Brooks is using to illustrate his points, the bright white background making his bad eye feel like it’s being punctured by a thousand tiny needles. He can’t not look – this is important. I’ve got it, the voice says. It sounds more confident than Robbie thinks he’s capable of even under more favourable circumstances. Lay back and let me handle the big boy stuff, yeah?

“—loses consciousness, if you please”

Ivanov looks at him like he knows he’s losing more than that. It’s probably obvious to everyone in the room. He passed out halfway through his post-drift scan, and the nurses left him to rest until it was too late to pick Gabe up. Then there was a check-up – he was sure they will see something, that the moment he puts the EEG on Cho will know he’s fine. There was nothing wrong with your scan. People are looking, say something.

“Sorry.” His throat feels raw. When he looks back down to the table, he realises he’s picked the label clean off the bottle. God, he wants to get out of here. He needs to be alone for five minutes, he needs—Did you see his face? Oh, this is precious. You’re freaking out the big bad Colonel.

He needs to be able to finish his own fucking thoughts. He can’t hear the difference now as clearly as he felt it through the drift – a hairline border between what’s him-him and the—the voice, but he's beginning to pick out where he’s not making any sense. Ivanov doesn’t look freaked out, he looks reasonably displeased that Robbie isn’t paying attention.

He waits for—something. A disagreement, the usual insistence that Ivanov is some kind of mob boss pointing a gun at him under the table. When nothing comes, it’s somehow even worse, because if it was constant, if it happened every time, he could at least learn to expect it. Waiting for the debrief to start, Robbie went through the drift compatibility diagnostics again – it's available online for hopeful academy cadets – and the mental health section. The doctor in psych eval told him that the gaps in his memory aren’t uncommon, that most of the recruits don’t tick all the boxes, that any of the serious stuff would likely have shown up in one of the dozens of brain scans he’s had. Surely, they’d have picked it up if he was—he doesn’t even know. Yeah, this kind of shit doesn’t show up overnight. You’re stressing yourself out for no reason.

No, he has a pretty good reason. If he doesn’t meet pilot threshold for anything unrelated to acquired injury, he will lose access to the family healthcare program, and the MS treatment he’s hoping to get for Gabe. He hasn’t even had the time to figure out how viable it is – back home, it was so far outside his budget the doctor mentioned it only to be clear how strict he needs to be about physiotherapy. If only dear mom didn’t fuck off like she did, you’d have had access to it all along. If—what?

“Mr Reyes is present to defend his choices, if he so wishes.”

Crap, he spaced out again. He shakes his head – he can’t exactly defend a choice he didn’t make. Would he have tried to block the demon anyway? Probably. Looking back, there weren’t any other options other than to watch it crash into the shore. He’s not going to lose any sleep over that– What was that about mom?

Nothing. His hands no longer feel like he needs to crack every joint over and over again. Ivanov watches him like he’s expecting him to faint.

“Well, we’re going nowhere fast,” one of the Eden Assassin’s pilots stretches in his seat. His sister elbows him in the side. “Ouch, what? Brooks would have notes for his mother’s cooking. The kid did okay and we killed the monster, hooray. Let the D-Sci figure out what the hell is going on with those scales, then we can talk.”

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing with you, but yes, thank you,” Cho raises an eyebrow at Brooks’ exasperated expression. He only shrinks a little when Captain Danvers pinches the bridge of her nose like she’s considering throwing them all out of the room.

Just like that, the debrief is over. Robbie hopes somebody took minutes, before he realises Major Brooks will definitely repeat every comment he made in training, to the word. He never thought he’d be grateful for the guy’s particular brand of crazy, but there’s a first time for everything. Unfortunately, his vague plan to escape the dome and spend the rest of the day watching cartoons with Gabe in their bunk shatters as soon as he follows everyone out of the conference room.

“You ran long,” says a young woman in an obviously expensive dress. She looks somewhat familiar, but Robbie can't recall seeing her around the base before - he hears one of the Summerses whisper ‘scatter!’, to her even more obvious satisfaction. “Don’t worry, Alex, you’re off the hook this time.”

Captain Danvers pats Robbie’s back. “Nod, smile and it will be over before you know it.”

“I–what?”

“Hi!” The young woman seems to materialise right in front of him, smiling in a way he can only describe as predatory. “I’m Kate. You’re about to be on TV.”

[v-tired-queer]

Hey! We don't know each other but I found you through the PNES tag. I'm trying to find out more info about PNES versus temporal lobe epilepsy, to help me figure out how likely it is that I need medication for what I'm pretty sure are focal seizures.

My question is: can PNES seizures have an aura?

Are there any ways you know of to tell the difference aside from an EEG during an episode? I am planning on getting a neuro referral at my next doctor's appointment but it's been giving me bad anxiety worrying about it.

Thank you for your time.

Hello! I really hope things go well with your appointment! I know how scary all of it can be. I have full faith that you've totally got this though!!

So, to answer your question: yes, some people with PNES can and will experience an aura before a seizure, but others won't. The way that PNES affects people and is experienced can vary from person to person. For example, like I said, I do experience an aura sensation before I have a seizure. My head begins to fog up in a way that's kind of hard for me to fully describe. For me, it's almost like I'm slowly becoming mentally numb, like a fog is rolling in that puts me on high alert. But I also have other tell-teale signs that I'm about to seize: my left hand always starts to tremble, and I always become vastly less-than-aware of myself and my surroundings. Other people with PNES might have different cues, or similar cues, or anything else entirely. That being said, the seizures themselves can differ, too. While mine include no longer being in control of my limbs and violent convulsions and twitches, some people may have ones that look like absence seizures, or even another type completely.

Before I was officially diagnosed, I went to two different neurologists and had two different EEG scans done: one in office and one overnight. They monitored how my brain behaved both outside of a seizure and during a seizure. PNES seizures and epileptic seizures look very different on EEGs, which is to be expected due to their different causes. It's actually pretty cool to see the difference, I recommend looking up some different scans to see! But outside of the tests, my doctors ran through my symptoms and how I experience having a seizure, and were able to jot down the differences in what I was experiencing compared to someone with epilepsy. For example, I'm actually able to hear everything around me during a seizure, but since I'm seizing, I'm unresponsive no matter what, which tends to be abnormal for the type of seizure I experience. I also go completely nonverbal after a seizure for anywhere from 10 minutes to an hour. But again, that's just how I experience them. Experiences can and often times will vary from person to person, but the cause is the same: PNES is brought on by an emotional response, while epileptic seizures are caused by a physical response from the brains nerves cells.

Now that being said, temporal lobe epilepsy doesn't seem to be caused by an emotional reaction, but rather, can be triggered by an emotional reaction (usually high stress levels) due to the epilepsy being present in the, well, temporal lobes. Which then circles back around to the overall cause being different, though symptoms can be similar.

To be honest, due to their similarities, I'm not sure if you could be diagnosed with one or the other without having EEGs and other tests done. But the good news is, none of the tests hurt! And for all of them you'll be closely monitored so in the event of a seizure you won't be injured then, either.

(I'm a "glass half full" kind of person lmao)

I cannot stress enough how important it is to be honest with your doctor about what you're experiencing. It's definitely anxiety inducing for a lot of us, but the more open and honest you are with them, the more they can help steer you in the right direction. And if you get saddled with a doctor unwilling to listen or simply write you off, please don't hesitate to really advocate for yourself. You really need to be in your own corner so you can get the correct diagnosis, so you can then get the proper help and treatment you need. It'll take time, and at some points it'll probably be frustrating--I know it was for me--but it's so important to get the proper treatment for the true problem.

I really, really hope that things go well for you and that you can figure out what it is that you're experiencing! I'm rooting for you!!

(Also this got very long very quickly, but I hope it helps nonetheless!)

[alleyesonthehindenburg]

Foreman brings House a case.

This alone is enough to catch House's (begrudging) attention, since usually it's Cameron coming to him with sob stories and puppy-dog eyes. Not that Foreman bothers with either.

The case was brought to him by a colleague he knows through various neurology conferences over the years. Her patient is late twenties, male, lives an unremarkable life as a computer tech. Symptoms: debilitating migraines, audio-visual hallucinations, short-term memory loss, and what seem to be intense night terrors. All of which the patient denies or insists aren't cause for concern.

"TBI or neurodegenerative disease. Boring."

"That's what I thought too," Foreman says, "until I saw these."

fMRIs. EEGs. There's a handful of them, and they're like nothing House has ever seen before. Brain activity in places that brains aren't usually active. House cracks a joke about mutants and Professor X, but Foreman can tell: he's got him. He's interested now. He wants to see the patient, run some scans of his own.

"That's the thing. He's not here, he's in California."

"Well, Cuddy vetoed my request to purchase Cerebro for the department, so..."

"He insists there's nothing wrong with him. We wouldn't even have these scans if his sister hadn't guilted him into letting her get some imaging."

"Hallucinations, memory loss, night terrors, and he's not worried at all. Sounds like a liar. My favourite." House squints at the patient info attached to the scans. "Fine. Tell Cuddy we're taking a field trip to see one Charles Bartowski."

[faofinn]

28. "I should've stayed home"

Part 1 | Part 2

Tom looked up at her, catching the urgency in her tone. He reached to rub at Finn’s chest, knuckles on bare skin. "Finn, come on, take a breath. You can do it."

"He's not going to, is he?" She murmured. 

"I've got the BVM. Do you want to update them and get the pads on?" Tom asked, swapping the masks over. "There we go, that's getting air entry there. Sats are coming back up. Should we intubate?"

Fao bit his lip, feeling his stomach twist. This wasn’t uncommon for Finn, but it wasn’t good. It was the end of their holiday, that was for certain, and they were desperately far away from their safety net. They had all his paperwork with them, management plans and everything, but it was still worrying. 

He forced himself to take a deep breath, wishing Finn could do the same. 

Finn ended up intubated, crit care travelling with them to keep him sedated and stable. While Sheila travelled with them, Fred and Fao had to follow in the car behind them. With the severity of the situation, they pre-alerted him in, travelling on blues and treating with diesel. It was straight through to resus when they arrived, teams swarming around Finn. As awful as it sounded, Sheila was glad Finn was sedated, he'd have been unable to cope with the fuss and everything on top of him. He was quickly sent for scans, thankfully stable enough to go to CT, but Sheila couldn't help the worry and nausea that curled in her stomach. They were meant to be on holiday. Finn had been doing so well, and now they were in resus, and he was very much not okay. 

The EEG done by bedside was positive, no signs of seizure activity during their test. Of course, they couldn't be sure if the epilepsy was the sole reason for the seizure, or if the head injury had played a part in it too. The MOI itself was concerning, a fall from any height could be dangerous, especially one head first. By some miracle stroke of luck, the scans were good. No new brain bleed or skull fracture, no c-spine (or spine in general) injury. His arm wasn't lucky, quite a significant break to his humerus, but bones could heal.

He was transferred up to ICU, the plan to slowly reduce his sedation see where they were up to. Calls were made to SGUH, an attempt to keep on top of things, and they happily agreed with the management plan. They'd cleaned his wounds while he was sedated, the fracture reduced and splinted while they could do anything. Of course, Fao was by his side the entire time, barely refusing to let go of his little brother's hand.

Fao hated it. At George’s, people knew him now, having done placements and spent so much time with Finn, Steve always spoke to him like a doctor, made sure everyone was in the loop, and knew Finn well enough to treat. The team here had been good, of course, but it wasn’t their normal. Everything felt wrong, Fao had gotten lost more than once in the short time they’d been there, and the ICU was unfamiliar. 

When the fuss had subsided, and Finn was left alone (or as alone as he could be), Fao sunk into the chair by his bed, forcing a deep breath. Fred and Sheila had taken five minutes to run to the shop to grab some lunch for the three of them, making Fao promise to keep them updated but not expecting anything. 

Finn’s sedation had been reduced, and he'd slowly started becoming more aware of his surroundings. It took him forever to realise he had something down his throat, forcing air into his lungs, and he hated it. He tossed his head, trying to breathe with it. There was a flare of pain as his arm moved, and he grimaced, trying to get away.

Fao looked up as Finn fussed, reaching to squeeze his hand. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

Fao. That meant he was safe, wherever he was. It was easier to try to squeeze Fao's hand than to open his eyes, and though it was weak, it was there.

“I’m here, just relax, you’re okay.” Fao reassured, squeezing Finn’s fingers. 

He finally managed to work out how to open his eyes, fighting through the drugs pulling him down. As awful as it was, Finn had spent enough time in ICU to know how to breathe with the tube. He took a moment to try to relax, his teeth grinding on the hard plastic.

“That’s it, you’re okay.” Fao said, leaning forwards so his brother could see him. “You can breathe with it, you’re okay.”

Finn made to scrub his eyes, moving the arm not holding Fao's hand. The sudden spike in his heart rate was a clear indication of pain and panic, the drugs clouding his thoughts but not enough to stop the pain.

“Careful, don’t try and move too much.” Fao told him gently. 

The pain had him struggling against the tube, overwhelmed and fighting to catch his breath. He gripped Fao's hand tighter, the flash of fear in his eyes not going unnoticed. 

Fao instinctively reached out, running his hand through his hair. “You’re alright, you’re okay. You can breathe with it, just relax, I’m here. You’re just fine.”

He couldn't manage it, couldn't work out why Fao wasn't helping. He pulled his hand away, reaching for the tube. If nobody was going to help him, he'd sort it himself. 

“Leave it alone Finn, it’s okay.” Fao said softly. “Leave it, that’s it.”

As the monitors continued to alarm, the nursing team arrived to check on him. With Fao's attention on the staff coming in, Finn tried again, his fingers grabbing onto the plastic. He pulled as hard as he could manage, choking and retching as he did so.

The retching from his brother pulled Fao’s attention back to him, heart sinking as he pulled the tube. “Oh, Finn.” He mumbled. He let the staff work as much as he could, but gripped his brother’s hand again, trying to distract him. 

He'd dislodged it enough to be a problem, his monitors and observations screaming their displeasure. He was with it enough to follow their instructions, so they made the decision to pull it completely, in a slightly more controlled manner than Finn had attempted. 

It was nerve wracking, watching them pull the tube. Finn had a horrible habit of fighting it and then just refusing to breathe once it was gone, and it was hard to watch. He kept quiet, letting them do their work, and soon enough it was gone properly. Fao held his own breath as he waited for Finn to breathe again, his heart pounding. 

“Well done Finn, that’s it.”

Finn struggled once they'd pulled it, turning to look at Fao with fear as he gripped his hand tighter. He couldn't manage a breath in, convinced he was going to die.

“You can do it, you’re doing so well.” He encouraged. “You’re okay.”

His breath caught in his throat and he coughed again, the tube having irritated his throat already, and then him making it worse as he'd pulled it. With the cough came another, and then finally, finally, a breath in.  He took a few deep breaths, closing his eyes as he rested his head against the bed in exhaustion. 

“Well done.” Fao praised. “You can rest, it’s okay, you’re safe.”

The nurses adjusted the oxygen, reaching over to put a mask on. Finn cracked an eye open and glared at them, completely unimpressed at the situation. 

Fao couldn’t help but laugh. “Finn, don’t be a dick. You need it, it’s not forever, and it’s better than the tube.”

He turned his face away as they tried again, his eyebrows pulled into a frown. 

"Finn, come on. If you don't, we'll have to go more invasive again. Let me put the mask on, okay? We'll be able to take it off later."

Still glaring at them, he nodded in defeat. He didn't look impressed, but let them put it on, hating that he felt better for it. His voice cracked, barely there, but he tried.

"Thanks."

“Suits you.” Fao teased. 

Finn turned to him, his glare returned. "Fuck off."

“Hey, language.”

"'Urts?"

“What hurts?”

"All."

“Can he have some more pain relief?” Fao asked.

"We'll get you something, Finn. Aside from the pain, how are you feeling?"

He shrugged with his good arm. "Dunno."

“That’s alright.”

"Fuzzy." He managed after a while, glancing at Fao. He pulled his hand from Fao's, clumsily signing drink.

“Drink?” Fao echoed. 

Finn nodded, repeating the sign. His throat hurt, which wasn't surprising, but he didn't have the energy to fix it.

“We’ll see if the nurses can get you something to drink.” Fao murmured. 

"What do you want, Finn? Some juice? Water?"

He forced his eyes open again, giving a heavy sigh in discontent. He turned to look at Fao properly, waiting for him to answer for him. 

Fao stroked through his hair again. “Juice, yeah? Better than water.”

The corner of his lip twitched into a smile, and he gave a small nod. Fao always knew the right answer. 

The nurse gave them both a smile. "I'll go get you some juice, then."

“Thank you.” Fao said, settling back in the chair. “Mum and dad will be back in a minute, Finn.”

He cracked an eye open again, drink? Food?

“They went to go get something to eat, yeah.”

He nodded again, shuffling slightly to get comfortable again. The drugs were still strong, and despite the pain in his arm, he was comfortable and warm. His hand found Fao's and he tapped at him: one, two, three. I love you. 

Fao smiled, instinctively tapping back. “I love you too, Finn.”

Finn gave a sleepy smile, lacing his fingers with Fao's. He knew the pain relief and juice were on their way, but he was tired, exhausted from everything, and five minutes wouldn't hurt. 

“That’s it, get some rest.”

He was asleep almost immediately, quite content. His peace was disturbed by the nurse returning, bringing his juice and pain relief.

"Finn? Finn, sweetie, I've got your medicine." 

Finn startled, a moment of panic before his brain caught up through the haze. He nodded again, offering the nurse a smile. 

"Let me find your arm under there, eh? There we are. Just your pain relief." She hummed, giving it slowly. "There you go, all done. I'll leave your drink with your brother, but just small sips, alright? Just give us a shout if you need anything else."

Fao offered the nurse a smile, thanking her for everything before she left. Then they were alone again, and Fao sighed. “Glad you’re okay.” He admitted softly. 

Finn had already drifted, the drugs making the room spin. At Fao's voice he forced himself to look at him. Even though Fao was far from in focus, Finn gave him a dopey smile, squeezing his hand.

Of course Finn couldn’t really reply, but Fao appreciated the smile. “You’re okay.”

Finn was happy enough to drift, Fao's hand in his hair and the other holding his. He was pain free and warm, so slipped quickly. There was a slight commotion as Sheila and Fred returned, but he was too deep to really give much response. 

Fao turned to acknowledge his parents, offering them a small smile. “He tried to do their job and pull the tube, so it’s out now.”

Sheila paused, her eyes narrowed. "When you say he tried to do their job, you mean he pulled it out?"

“Tried, didn’t do a very good job, just dislodged it. He panicked.”

Fred's heart broke. "Bless him. I know it's awful seeing him when he's in here, but I think George's had it right when they restrained him."

Fao nodded. “Yeah, it’s for his own good. They usually keep more meds on hand, too, but they were good. Got the tube out easily enough.”

"Oh that's good, then." Sheila smiled to herself. "Here, I've got you a drink and a sandwich."

“Oh, thanks.” He murmured, reaching for them. 

"He's been alright though?"

“In pain, but he’s just had some more painkillers.”

"His arm?"

“Yeah, I think so. Wasn’t making loads of sense.”

"Does he ever?" Fred joked. 

“That’s true.” Fao said with a grin. 

"You're not even wrong." Sheila managed a laugh.

“He’s okay, though. Communicated well enough.”

"That's good."

“Yeah. And good he’s got rid of the tube.”

"He still ended up here. He's not had such a bad status in a while."

“Yeah.” Fao murmured. “It’ll get discussed with Steve.”

"I hate that we're so far away."

“Me too. Everything is wrong.”

Finn stretched out with a quiet whine, frowning. His eyes flicked around the room, his expression changing to a grin as he saw his parents. 

"Mum! Dad!" His voice was still rough, barely there, but easily heard in the silence of the ICU.

“Yeah, they came back.” Fao said softly. 

Fred reached to pat Finn’s knee. "Hey, kid. How you feeling?"

Finn sniffed. "Rubbish."

“Gonna feel a bit crap for a bit.” Fao said gently. 

"'m sorry."

“Hey, don’t be sorry.”

"My fault."

“It’s not your fault.”

"It is." He scrubbed his eyes, his breath catching in his throat. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, Finn, baby." Sheila soothed, standing to move closer. "It's not your fault, these things happen."

"I should have stayed home." He managed. "I wanted to go out and I forgot to take my meds because Fao was ready."

"Oh, Finn." She sighed.

Fao made a noise, unable to be annoyed when his little brother just looked so upset. “It happens, Finn. It’s okay.”

"An'-and I threw up last night and didn't say 'cause I thought we'd have to go home."

“Oh, Finn.” Fao murmured. “You should’ve said, you must have felt rotten.”

"I thought you'd be mad at me."

“Never mad at you.”

"Of course we wouldn't be mad at you, Finn." Sheila sighed. "That's being daft, eh?"

“Always tell us things, and then we can help.”

The tears had started to fall and he tried to hide his face. "I'm sorry.c

“Hey, it’s okay.” Fao reassured. “You’re okay.”

[ugly-lizard-crab-thing]

*getting an eeg scan*

*tech can't pick up my brain waves*

It's official. I have no brain

[sevenoctober7]

#The_brain_at_death. Stony Brook University of Medicine, headquartered in New York, detonated one of the craziest and most exciting post-death science bombs...* *In a scientific study that is the latest and most accurate... its leading researchers found that the brain stops working as soon as death...or minutes after it. This has been known for a long time, but the new study has proven that the brain stops at a rate of approximately 95 percent. It includes all the reaction centers and the main vital centers such as breathing, pulse, movement, etc., but the centers of hearing and vision to be precise. It continues to give signals for long periods after death, exceeding a few hours. The same signals that the same centers give to a living person. The dead person hears us around him very clearly. He sees us around him with complete clarity. But he has become trapped in himself. He has no movement or reactions. .. He cannot respond to you.. He cannot move towards you.. But he sees you and hears you exactly as if he were alive.. Amazing while reading the research.. And with every word and proof... The position of the Messenger of God, may God bless him and grant him peace, reminds me of... The killing of the polytheists at Badr..* *He, may God’s prayers and peace be upon him, stood and called: O Utbah bin Rabi’ah, O Shaybah bin Rabi’ah, O Umayyah bin Khalaf, and O Abu Jahl bin Hisham.. Have you found what your Lord promised to be true? .. For I have found what my Lord promised me to be true..* *Umar said: O Messenger of God, do you call out to a people who have died?!!* *So he, may God’s prayers and peace be upon him, said: By the One in whose hand is my soul, you do not listen to me better than them... except that they do not answer. ..* *I bear witness that you are the Messenger of God..* *In research from the University of Michigan, Dr. Jimo Borjigin confirms that a person moments before death sees unknown things!!!!* *And when the research team monitored the brain activity of a number of people for a moment Death: They found unusual activity in the visual area of ​​the brain..* * Scientists from this university recorded signals using electrodes to measure electrical fluctuations in the brain (Electroencephalogram (EEG)) issued by a number of people during death, and it was found that increased activity in the visual area of ​​the brain indicates... However, the dead person sees amazing things that lead to this activity occurring, but scientists did not know at the time the type of images seen by the person supervising death..* *The fMRI scan images showed increased activity in the visual area, which indicates that the being supervising the death Death sees strange things at the moment of death..* *What kind of things does the dead see???* *This was answered by a later study from the same American University of Michigan.. which fully confirmed that the signals of the visual center in the brain at the moment of death are much stronger than Natural signals..* *And the closeness of the signals given by the visual center in the brain when exposed to a very strong flash. It seems that the dead person sees unnaturally bright objects at that time. He sees them with complete clarity and clarity, which is explained by the strong signals given by the visual center in the brain that There are light waves of high strength and clarity..* *And God Almighty has spoken the truth* *"You were unaware of this, so We removed your cover from you, and your sight became sharp"* *"Surat Q 22"* *It seems that this flashing... is accompanied by strong signals The center of vision in the brain during death... is due to the appearance of very highly luminous beings... in a way that a normal living being cannot see... but only those whose sight today has become iron...* *(We will show them Our signs on the horizons and in themselves until it becomes clear to them that it is the truth. Is it not sufficient for your Lord that He is Witness over all things?) ..* “Fassilat” *Glory be to God..*

‏‎#الدماغ_عند_الموت .

فجرت جامعة ستوني بروك للطب و مقرها نيويورك واحدة من أكثر قنابل علم ما بعد الموت جنونا و إثارة ..*

*ففي دراسة علمية هي الأحدث و الأكثر دقة .. تبين لكبار الباحثين فيها أن المخ يتوقف عن العمل بمجرد الوفاة .. أو بعدها بدقائق .. و هذا كان متعارف عليه منذ زمن .. لكن جديد الدراسة أثبت أن توقف المخ يكون بنسبة تقارب ٩٥ في المائة .. تشمل كل مراكز رد الفعل و المراكز الحيوية الرئيسية كالتنفس و النبض و الحركة و غيرها .. لكن مراكز السمع والإبصار علي وجه الدقة تستمر في إعطاء إشارات لفترات طويلة بعد الوفاة تجاوزت بضع ساعات .. نفس الإشارات التي تعطيها المراكز نفسها للشخص الحي... الميت يسمعنا حوله بكل وضوح.. يرانا حوله بجلاء تام.. لكنه أصبح حبيس نفسه.. انعدمت عنده الحركة و ردود الفعل... لا يستطيع الرد عليك.. لا يستطيع الحركة تجاهك .. لكنه يراك و يسمعك تماما كما لو كان حيا ..مذهل أثناء قراءة البحث.. و مع كل كلمة و إثبات... يحضرني موقف رسول الله صلي الله عليه و سلم مع قتلي المشركين في بدر ..*

*وقف صلي الله عليه وسلم ينادي : يا عتبة بن ربيعة، ويا شيبة بن ربيعة، ويا أمية بن خلف، ويا أبا جهل بن هشام .. هل وجدتم ما وعد ربكم حقا؟ .. فإني قد وجدت ما وعدني ربي حقا ..*

*فقال عمر : يا رسول الله أتنادي أقواما قد جيفوا؟!!*

*فقال صلي الله عليه وسلم : و الذي نفسي بيده ما أنتم بأسمع لي منهم... غير أنهم لا يجيبون ..*

*أشهد أنك رسول الله ..*

*في بحث من جامعة ميتشيجين University of Michigan تؤكد الدكتورة Jimo Borjigin أن الإنسان قبيل الموت بلحظات يرى أشياء مجهولة!!!!*

*وعندما قام فريق البحث بمراقبة نشاط الدماغ لدى عدد من البشر لحظة الموت وجدوا نشاطاً غير عادي في المنطقة البصرية من الدماغ ..*

*لقد سجل العلماء من هذه الجامعة إشارات بواسطة الأقطاب الكهربائية لقياس تقلّبات الكهربية في الدماغ Electroencephalogram EEG صادرة من عدد من البشر خلال الموت، و تبين أن نشاطاً زائداً في منطقة الإبصار في الدماغ يدل على أن الميت يرى أشياء مذهلة تؤدي لحدوث هذا النشاط، ولكن لم يتعرف العلماء حينها على نوعية الصور التي يراها من يشرف على الموت ..*

*و تبين من صور المسح بالرنين المغنطيسي الوظيفي نشاطاً زائداً في منطقة الإبصار، مما يدل على أن الكائن الذي يشرف على الموت يرى أشياء غريبة لحظة الموت ..*

*ما نوعية الأشياء التي يراها الميت؟؟؟*

*أجابتها دراسة لاحقة لجامعة ميتشيجن الأمريكية ذاتها .. و التي أكدت بشكل تام أن إشارات مركز الإبصار في المخ لحظة الاحتضار تكون بشكل أقوي بكثير جدا من الاشارات الطبيعية ..*

*و تقارب الإشارات التي يعطيها مركز الإبصار في المخ حين التعرض لوميض قوي جدا .. يبدو أن الميت يري حينها أشياء عالية الإضاءة بشكل غير طبيعي .. يراها بوضوح و جلاء تام يفسره الإشارات القوية التي يعطيها مركز الإبصار في المخ بأن هناك موجات ضوئية عالية القوة و الوضوح ..*

*وصدق الله العظيم*

*" لَّقَدۡ كُنتَ فِی غَفۡلَةࣲ مِّنۡ هَـٰذَا فَكَشَفۡنَا عَنكَ غِطَاۤءَكَ فَبَصَرُكَ ٱلۡیَوۡمَ حَدِیدࣱ"*

*"سوره ق 22"*

*يبدوا أن الوميض هذا.... المصحوب بإشارات قوية جدا لمركز الإبصار في المخ حين الاحتضار... هو لظهور كائنات نورانية عالية الإضاءة جدا... بشكل لا يمكن للكائن الحي العادي أن يراها.. و لكن لا يراها إلا من أصبح بصره اليوم حديد ..*

*(سَنُرِيهِمْ آيَاتِنَا فِي الْآفَاقِ وَفِي أَنْفُسِهِمْ حَتَّىٰ يَتَبَيَّنَ لَهُمْ أَنَّهُ الْحَقُّ ۗ أَوَلَمْ يَكْفِ بِرَبِّكَ أَنَّهُ عَلَىٰ كُلِّ شَيْءٍ شَهِيدٌ) ..*

"فصلت"

*سبحان الله ..*