#eeg test for brain | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

literaryvein-reblogs · 26 days ago

Note

If it isn't inconvenient, do you have any tips on writing characters suffering from a concussion?

✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

Writing Notes: Concussions

Concussion

A blow or a jolt to the head can cause a concussion or traumatic brain injury (TBI).

An injury to another part of the body that transmits force to the head can also result in concussion.

Concussion Symptoms

These are symptoms of a possible concussion:

Physical

Bothered by light or noise

Dizziness or balance problems

Feeling tired, no energy

Headaches

Nausea or vomiting (early on)

Vision problems

Thinking and remembering

Attention or concentration problems

Feeling slowed down

Foggy or groggy

Problems with short- or long-term memory

Trouble thinking clearly

Sluggish reactions

Social or emotional

Anxiety or nervousness

Irritability or easily angered

Feeling more emotional

Sadness

Mood changes

Sleep

Sleeping less than usual

Sleeping more than usual

Trouble falling asleep

These symptoms may occur right away or may worsen over minutes or hours after an injury.

Symptoms may be stable or improve with various lengths of time.

Symptoms may last less than a day or may linger for months, or longer.

Causes

A concussion can result from a fall, sports activities, vehicular accidents, assault, or other direct injury to the skull.

A big movement of the brain (called jarring) in any direction can cause a person to lose alertness (become unconscious).

How long the person stays unconscious may be a sign of how bad the concussion is.

Concussions do not always lead to loss of consciousness.

Most people never pass out.

They may describe seeing all white, all black, or stars.

A person can also have a concussion and not realize it.

Exams and Tests

The health care provider will perform a physical exam. The person's nervous system will be checked. There may be changes in the person's pupil size, thinking ability, coordination, and reflexes.

Tests that may be done include:

Blood and urine tests

EEG (brain wave test) may be needed if seizures continue

Head CT (computerized tomography) scan

MRI of the brain (magnetic resonance imaging) of the brain

X-rays

Treatment

For a mild head injury, no treatment may be needed.

But be aware that the symptoms of a head injury can show up later. Your providers will explain what to expect, how to manage any headaches, how to treat your other symptoms, when to return to sports, school, work, and other activities, and signs or symptoms to worry about.

Children will need to be watched and make activity changes.

Adults also need close observation and activity changes.

Both adults and children must follow the provider's instructions about when it will be possible to return to sports.

You will likely need to stay in the hospital if:

Emergency or more severe symptoms of head injury are present

There is a skull fracture

There is any bleeding under your skull or in the brain

Alternative Names

Brain injury

Traumatic brain injury

Closed head injury

Signs: What to watch for according to your child's age

Infants, toddlers, and pre-school aged children (birth to age 4)

Irritability and crying more than usual

Seeking more comfort than usual, like needing to be held

Refusing to nurse or eat

Changes in sleeping patterns, like sleeping more or less than usual

Not wanting to engage in play or usual activities

Needing more help than usual

Showing behavior changes, such as more temper tantrums, sadness, or irritability than usual

Changes in speech, like speaking more slowly than usual

Vomiting right after the injury without other causes, such as a virus

Appearing dazed, confused, and more clumsy than usual or seeming unsteady on their feet

School-aged children and adolescents (ages 5 to 17)

Appearing dazed, stunned, or confused about recent events

Sudden difficulty remembering or concentrating, especially on topics or activities that would otherwise hold their attention

Answering questions more slowly than usual

Appearing more clumsy than usual, seeming unsteady on their feet

Vomiting right after the injury without other causes, such as a virus

Suddenly slowed reaction times

Mood, behavior, or personality changes

The following are emergency symptoms of a more severe head injury or concussion. Seek medical care right away if there are:

Changes in alertness and consciousness

Confusion that does not go away

Seizures

Muscle weakness on one or both sides of the body

Pupils of the eyes that are not equal in size

Symptoms in just one eye

Unusual eye movements

Repeated vomiting

Walking or balance problems

Unconsciousness for a longer period of time or that continues (coma)

Head injuries that cause a concussion often occur with injury to the neck and spine. Take special care when moving people who have had a head injury.

The above are excerpts from this previous post.

And these sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Notes ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Concussions can present differently for different people, depending on the cause and other factors. Choose which of these references are most appropriate to incorporate in your story, considering your character, plot etc. Hope this helps with your writing! :)

#writing notes #writing reference #writeblr #literature #writers on tumblr #dark academia #spilled ink #writing prompt #creative writing #writing inspiration #writing ideas #light academia #writing resources

391 notes · View notes

cupcakeslushie · 6 months ago

Text

First || Prev || …

Here’s the next part of the Kendratello AU! I knew it was going to be very dialogue heavy, so I figured writing it out would be fast, but I’m so ready to be done with it that I’ve not really beta read it. So I apologize for any errors. But enjoy!

Splinter loves his sons, but these last few days have been eating away at his already shriveled and fraying nerves. Watching his children ambling around their home, for months, each in varying states of anxiety, fear, and distress, hasn’t been easy on his old heart.

They’ve been through so much, experienced more hardships than Splinter has ever wanted for them. But the latest crucible tearing his family apart was caused, not by some ancient demon, or world-ending threat—but a fiendishly smart, young woman.

One who’d kidnapped his son and replaced him with a stranger that Splinter hardly recognized.

The bitter tale is too familiar for the old movie star to painlessly swallow. It seems fate played such cruel tricks sometimes. Always seeming to strike harsher the second go around. With outcomes even more brutal and painful. His son was stolen by a hateful, sadistic woman, and kept locked away, until she was satisfied with the new toy that emerged from the shadows.

So it stands to reason how…relieved Splinter had been that one, early morning. When his three sons had pulled Purple into his bedroom, piling into his bed, nothing but wide eyes and panicked shouting; one over the other. Looking back now, he can recognize how short-sighted his quick relief had been. But in the moment, as a father, Splinter had only seen this new, strange development as a blessing.

Donatello might have been confused, and irritated with his brother’s manhandling, but Splinter could clearly see more life in those eyes than he’d witnessed in months. Splinter had shushed the rest, and spoken to Purple directly, finally getting a better grasp on what his sons were shouting about.

Amnesia.

So, of course, relief. Because how could forgetting all those horrible, tortuous weeks in that woman’s grasp, possibly be a bad thing? By some miracle, Splinter’s boy had been returned to him. Nowhere near that frail ghost of Donatello, which Splinter would sometimes find curled up on the floor of his own lab, screaming Kendra’s name and sobbing to be returned to her care.

He had been spared all of that, like it never happened. Their family had been handed a gift, and Splinter truthfully wasn't interested in the whys of it all…

Until Michelangelo chose to contact Draxum, and words like “brain damage” and “tumor” were thrown into the mix.

An entire day of testing yielded…varying results. They were able to rule out the scariest of options. No dark shadows were seen in the X-rays of his son’s beautifully brilliant brain, and no concerning squiggles were pointed out by the Hidden City doctors who studied the fast moving waves appearing on the EEG. It was all a bunch of nonsense to Splinter, but Donatello nodded like he agreed, when he was handed the papers over to inspect himself.

Everything was normal, physically.

That left the most difficult part of the day. Getting his son to speak to a psychiatrist—seriously, and without snarking back at every possible question he would eventually be asked.

Draxum had thankfully picked a good one. Briefing her beforehand on…everything. She seemed prepared for Purple’s special brand of cynicism. The sheep yokai was apparently at the top of her field.

A tentative diagnosis of “dissociative amnesia” had been given, along with a small number of pamphlets and printouts. The doctor had informed Splinter that certain treatments might improve Donatello’s situation, but no cure had been discovered for something like this.

They would just have to take things one day at a time. And they’d been doing so well. Almost like everything was back to normal.

Splinter had become very good at ignoring that pending feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He smiled at his sons every day onward, like nothing was wrong. And all of them, in return, began falling back into a more comfortable ease around each other. The stress had just been starting to loosen in Red’s shoulders and jaw. Orange was giving real, honest smiles again. And Blue was no longer a shadow around corners, hiding from Purple like a bomb he was scared to set off.

But the other shoe that had been the root of Splinter’s dread, finally dropped, and the rug was pulled from under their feet once more, violently, with no warning.

Even after they’d managed to calm Donatello down. There was no negotiating the terms of his reality, and he was stubbornly convinced that the world around him was fabricated. Without caring about the consequences, he refused to be civil towards any of them, treating them all like jesters in a play, where no one had the script.

The family’s usual process for dealing with Purple’s anger–letting him cool off alone in his lab until he collected his thoughts–was unfeasible this time around.

Splinter didn’t think he could ever forget the image of his son, turning the knife he held in his hands inwards, and threatening to end his own life.

No; leaving him alone was not an option.

Which led back to Splinter’s previously mentioned frayed nerves.

Four days into this new, stressful change, and his genius son was still managing to find creative ways to sneak past their watchful eyes. Six attempts, in total. Each time, caught with seconds to spare, and just as traumatic for everyone involved.

Raphael and Michelangelo at the moment, were going through their home, removing every sharp implement they could find. Anything that could possibly be used to “put an end to the loop” that Donatello was convinced he was stuck in.

While the two performed their important task, Blue and Splinter had the harder of the two jobs; watching Purple.

Splinter was currently sitting comfortably in his chair, but it was far from his usual level of relaxation. Despite plenty of bean bags to occupy, the twins were locked in a shoving match. For some reason, they were fighting over the single, smallest one they must’ve owned.

“If you don’t get out of my personal space, I swear to Oppenheimer you will regret it, Leonardo!”

“And I swear to Ryan Renolds, that I’ll shred all of your softest hoodies if you kick me in the nuts one more time!”

“That Barbenheimer joke doesn’t even make sense, you idiot, that was Ryan Gosling!”

“Who mentioned Barbie? I’m talking about Deadpool and Wolverine!”

“What does that movie have to do with anything?!”

“Fuck dude, what did I just say about nut shots!”

“Then get out of my kicking radius, and your non-existent nuts will be safe!”

“BOYS!”

Both his sons quickly pause their arguing, giving their father their undivided attention.

“Leonardo, go help your brothers.” Splinter demands. “I will watch Purple. He has not had a moment of free time from any of you in days, and it is clearly wearing on all of us.” Blue gives his father one of his patented unimpressed stare downs.

“No offense, Pops, but how is you watching him, any different than me?”

“Because I will sit in my chair, and Purple will scroll on his phone, and there will be quiet.” Splinter can’t stand the bickering any longer. He knows both his sons will benefit from this time apart. It’s just convincing Blue of that.

Donatello’s gaze is boring holes into the back of Leonardo’s head while his second oldest son matches Splinter’s scrutiny. The rat can see the need for some fresh air battling against Blue’s desire to stay close. But Leonardo is his sharpest son, and even he can admit that his constant presence has become too grating for his brother.

“You need to watch him like a hawk, Dad,” Leo glares at his twin out of the corner of his gaze, “sometimes you can get a little…distracted.”

The new projector, playing Splinter’s same old programs, flashes against the curtain hung on the wall. The volume is set to low, but Blue still looks pointedly between his father and the screen. Splinter doesn’t blame him for his concern, so he tries to put all the gravity he can into his tone, enough that when he does promise to stay vigilant, it seems to convince Blue to place his trust in him.

Purple stays quiet through the exchange, only breathing a sigh of relief once his brother is long past the threshold of the den. He looks ready to lean back into his hard won pillows, but Splinter realizes that Blue had something of a point. Donatello is positioned quite far from him, and he’s suddenly nervous about catching something in time.

“Purple, how about you come sit with me.” Splinter suggests it kindly but firmly, and with a smile– so his son can’t refuse. He pats the bit of cushion next to his legs, “I will honor my promise to leave you alone, but I would be much more relaxed if you were within my reach.”

His boy merely blinks at him, blank faced, and staring at the very spot that Splinter has just created for him.

It isn’t as though his recliner is small, even if Splinter himself is. Donatello had custom made it for him, after one too many complaints about his old brown one hurting his back. It practically swallows Splinter, but remains just stiff enough to provide plenty of support for his lower back. He could even lay sideways and still have some space to stretch.

Splinter recalls very clear memories of all his sons fighting for a spot by his side when they were younger. But it has been some time since those days…perhaps Donatello thinks he’s far too old for such a thing as sitting by his aging father. Yoshi remembers himself at eighteen, and shudders. He’s forever thankful that no matter how lacking his parenting skills might have been, that his boys are kinder to him than he ever was to his Jiji.

Donatello pulls at some invisible thread of his black leggings. Since this new alteration of his memories, Purple has taken to wearing more layers. It’s nearing fall, but not nearly cold enough for the large sweatshirt, black leggings AND socks that his son is currently donning.

Splinter just barely hears Purple murmur a jumbled, “Huh?”

Splinter catches some sort of emotion actively being suppressed behind the bewildered shock at his offer, but it’s hard to tell what it is. Over the years Splinter is ashamed to say, he has grown very bad at reading his own children. Especially Purple, who, if he was being honest, has always been very hard to decipher.

Splinter starts to think the offer will be rejected, when Purple finally climbs to his feet and ambles slowly over. The unknown emotion skittering at the edge of Donatello’s expression morphs into something closer to suspicion. This one easy to identify, especially when it practically drips from his next words.

“Trying to endear yourself to me won’t sway me into falling for your tricks.”

The barb is said just as unkindly as everything else Purple has thrown at his family these last few days. Splinter lets it slide off him like water. He knows his son would (probably) never speak to him like that if he wasn’t stuck in such a painfully clear mode of survival and uncertainty.

“Yes, yes.” He says, untroubled. “Come sit and I can finally lean my chair back.”

Donatello watches him the entire time as he cautiously settles into his spot. He yelps when Splinter grabs his ankles and pulls his son’s long (thin, still much too thin) legs across his lap. For an instant, Splinter freezes, growing worried he’s overstepped. The act had been done without a thought. It’s the way Purple has always liked to sit, finding it more comfortable than any other way. Donatello preferred to keep his distance. A deviation from his siblings, for sure.

Michelangelo would press as close as possible, two sides smushed together like a hug, only without the constricting limbs (though, if Orange were ever to fall asleep in Splinter’s chair, those too would eventually find their way to catching him in their hold).

Leonardo preferred to sit on the arm of his chair, never staying still for long enough to find a comfortable position. But when he slumbered, after a long night of binge watching Novela’s with Splinter–he would curl up, head in his father’s lap, limbs held tight to his body. Like he was afraid even that was asking for too much.

Raphael, his poor, eldest son, hadn’t sat with him in so long. Splinter could still remember a little turtle tot in red, climbing up and splaying out onto his lap when he needed a good cry–or just a moment of peace from his much too loud siblings. Sadly, it wasn’t long before his Red was too big, and his father too small to provide such a refuge. The last time Raphael needed consoling; after the Krang, Splinter had been forced to climb up onto his own son’s knees in order to reach and wipe away his tears.

In the few rare instances of Purple seeking out physical touch, this was all he would allow. Legs stretched over his father’s lap, but his upper body was always off limits. Pulled just far enough away from the threat of any sort of long term contact.

Splinter used to wonder if Purple was scared to ask for anything more, like Leonardo, or if he thought depriving himself of a comforting hug would make him seem stronger, like Raphael, or even the rare times when Michelangelo wished to appear more mature and refused to be comforted. Eventually, Splinter caught on to the truth. His son was asking for comfort, in his own unique way. He was content with the minimal amount of closeness, as long as he felt like he was able to dictate the terms.

But one thing Purple would always allow his father to do, was loop his fingers around his ankles. Trusting the grip would hold his legs in place and keep him stable. He once said the pressure was small enough that it wasn’t overwhelming, but strong enough that it could ground him when everything became too much.

Even now, the act of reaching out to pull his son’s long legs up had been so instinctive. When Splinter looks over and sees the uncertainty still on Purple’s face, he knows he’s pushed too far too quickly.

It’s a risky move, but he’s already pushed, and it’s something that never fails, not once since he’s discovered it.

Purple has always been the most ticklish of all his brothers. Another thing that never really helped his sensory issues. But Splinter long ago discovered that there was a particular spot, which could always earn him a giggle and a brighter smile.

Splinter grips the meat of Donatello’s right knee and jiggles it back and forth. The silly action seems to do the trick and knocks something loose in his son’s overwrought head. His gamble pays off spectacularly, and Splinter is overjoyed to see a small smile erase most of the uncertainty clouding Donatello’s face. It isn’t a full peal of laughter, but the wariness makes way for something softer, and the huff of air from his nose is just as rewarding as a full body laugh.

His boy rests his shoulder and head onto the cushioned back of the chair and Splinter presses the button that will lift up the leg rest, and recline them both into a more restful position.

After a few moments of quiet, Donatello slowly pulls his phone from the pocket of his hoodie. Even without looking directly at him, Splinter can feel his son watching and waiting for the reprimand he thinks will come. Instead, Splinter raises the volume of his show just loud enough for him to hear, but not enough to completely shatter their peace. He wants to make Purple feel more at ease; like he’s not being constantly surveilled–not providing more overstimulation.

They sit like that for some time. Splinter rubs a thumb back and forth across the meatier part of Donatello's calves. He’s learned that repetitive touch is the best kind of grounding technique for Purple. The patterned motion always worked to calm his nerves.

Even still, after only so long Splinter catches Purple lowering his phone.

He keeps his own gaze forward, locked on his commercials. Splinter can see, without looking, that his son is studying him, trying to take apart something in his mind that he doesn’t understand. Splinter allows him all the time he needs to gather his thoughts.

Finally Purple speaks, “Dad…?” It’s so quiet, if Splinter hadn't been waiting for it, he might’ve missed it.

He pauses the repetitive kneading for just a moment, squeezing his hold, and humming in order to prompt his son to continue his thought.

“Can I tell you something?” The inquiry is whispered to him so delicately. It takes everything in him to keep his face open and soft and his movements steady. It’s clear that Donatello is trying his best to remain aloof, but his gaze is locked on his hands that are settled in his lap, the fingers of one pulling on the digits from his other.

At some point he must’ve put his phone completely away. Splinter feels the pressure of having Donatello's complete focus aimed at him.

The tugging intensifies. Splinter wonders if he should reach out, but he’s not sure how well that would be received. It doesn’t look painful just yet.

“I don't know what Kendra is accomplishing by showing me this.” Donatello growls, suddenly digging his palms into his eyes like he can still feel the weight of the screen blocking his vision. “Trying to make me happy, only to rip it all away from me? Or attempting to make me feel, even more like a useless burden than I was?”

It’s the first crack in his armor that Purple has shown in days. A clear sign that he was not as unaffected by Kendra’s lies as he’d been trying to project. Donatello sighs, but as it dies out Splinter thinks it sounds closer to a sob.

“You can’t tell the others…” Donatello looks at him with wet, desperate eyes, and it’s unclear if his son still doubts who he’s speaking to, but Splinter works to ease his fears all the same.

“I swear, whatever you tell me will remain between us, alone.”

Donatello nods faintly, eyes trailing downwards once more. Splinter may have had trouble before, but now the many emotions jumping across his son’s face—fear, shame, frustration, all are easy to catch.

With a shaking breath he whispers his secret. “I lied.” He’s crying now, real tears that he doesn’t even bother to wipe away. The pulling at his skin grows more violent, and Splinter finally interferes to carefully pry Donatello’s hands apart before damage is done. In place he cradles his son’s hands like delicate porcelain and runs a thumb over Donatello’s palm.

“I told everyone that I could tell. That I wasn’t being fooled, but that’s not exactly true. The last few loops have…it’s been getting harder, and harder to remember things— how they really happened. Too much is…plausible.”

Splinter keeps silent. This confession has clearly been weighing on Donatello. He deserves to get it all out, and hopefully feel lighter for it. Even if Purple suspects the family, something is letting Donatello open up enough for him to share his fears.

“There was one loop…Mikey broke…he broke the remote…When I said I didn’t have time to fix it. He threw the pieces at my head. He would never do that, though…right?”

“No, of course not,” Splinter answers immediately, quick to banish the doubt from his son’s mind. Donatello only blinks at him, like his thoughts are moving too slow, and cannot comprehend such a simple, stark contradiction to what he experienced.

“It felt so real…it all feels so real. But…I could feel how one of the sharp, broken corners had cut through my mask and how the wet fabric stuck to my skin with blood.”

Donatello raises a hand and touches the spot where the phantom wound must’ve sat. The pain now gone, but the memory of it haunts his eyes and rattles the tremors building in his hands.

“I thought…I thought I was handling this—maybe not well…But I’d hoped I would be strong enough to last until you all came for me…And now Raph is saying it’s already over.”

It’s a simplified form of the truth which they had tried to get Purple to believe, but even that much clearly doesn’t sit well with him. “If it is over, why does my body feel like one massive bruise? How did you all find me? How long did I last? Was I in there long enough to…?”

He’s clearly scared to ask Splinter any more questions, so he trails off, curling in on himself and pulling his hands up to his chest, pressing there, as if checking to make sure he feels something still beating.

Splinter decides he’s waited long enough and slowly pulls Donatello out of his hunched ball and guides his head to his own chest, making sure his ear is aligned against his own pulsing heartbeat.

Donatello resists slightly at first, but the moment he’s close enough to catch the sound, his breath catches and he glues himself to the spot.

“I don’t want to be there anymore,” Purple murmurs. It sounds like sleep is catching up with his son, the exhaustion pulling him down and slurring his words.

Splinter cups the back of Donatello’s head and carefully tug his fur lined blanket down from where it’s been sitting on the back of his chair. The blanket slots over the both of them and Donatello curls even closer to his father, tucking himself into his warmth.

“Go to sleep, when you wake up, you will be right here.” He’s sure to say it softly but with as much reassurance as possible, and Donatello seems too tired at this point to hold onto his doubts.

“Okay…,” Donatello mutters. Then, practically hanging on to the waking world for one final query hesitantly asks, “…Dad?…Do you love me?”

Splinter doesn’t even think. “Of course, my son.”

Donatello’s breathing finally evens out, and Splinter feels a few tears finally escape.

He’s not sure what next steps they should take, or what kind of state his son will be in when he wakes, but Splinter can only hope this is progress. He prays it won’t be undone…but regardless, Donatello is home. Any steps back or forward will be taken together, and that is the most important part.

#kendratello au #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise donnie #rise splinter #rise leo #tw brainwashing #slushie writes

632 notes · View notes

kunaigirl · 2 years ago

Text

Happy Disability Pride and awareness month! Let's talk about Epilepsy!

Hi there! I got tired of seeing my condition (that impacts my literal every day life) being left out or forgotten about during discussions about disabilities, so I made my own post about it! Let's go!

First Off! What the heck is epilepsy? Epilepsy is the fourth most common neurological disorder in the world, and it's a chronic medical condition. Epilepsy is a brain disorder that causes recurring, frequent, triggered, and unprovoked seizures to occur.

The official Epilepsy Foundation describes seizures as follows: "Seizures are sudden surges of abnormal and excessive electrical activity in your brain, and can affect how you appear or act. Where and how the seizure presents itself can have profound effects...Seizures involve sudden, temporary, bursts of electrical activity in the brain that change or disrupt the way messages are sent between brain cells. These electrical bursts can cause involuntary changes in body movement or function, sensation, behavior or awareness." (Source link)

Sounds like a lot of fun right? This is our life. Even with medication, we can be VERY limited to what can be safe for us. Seizure medications are NOT a cure, they only exist (at least as of now) as a tool to help have your seizures less often, or be triggered less intensely. Even on medication, seizures can still happen.

If you have epilepsy as a child like I did, it impacts your entire growing and developing experience. I spent MANY times as a child in and out of hospitals, neurologist and specialist offices, an getting so many EEG tests done. The pain of scrubbing the glue out of your hair for DAYS is horrible.

At a young age my seizures were so frequent and serious, it impacted my brain's ability to retain information. I had to re-learn the names of things at age 8 and 9. I had to re-learn HOW TO READ at age 10. I had to be home schooled because the public school system of my state at the time refused to work with me. I have VERY distinct and vivid memories of crying over my little baby ABC's book that I needed as a 4th and 5th grader. I knew I should've known this by this age. I knew that at one point I already did, and it was TAKEN FROM ME.

As an adult, I'M NOT ALLOWED TO DRIVE A CAR. And I can NEVER go to see a movie in theaters or go to see concerts or live music. There are entire TV shows I don't get to see. I can't go to clubs, arcades, dances, or raves. I miss out on A LOT of fun things. I always do, and I'm WELL AWARE of the fun I'm missing out on. The social, casual, and fun life experiences I'll never get to have. That WE'LL never get to have. And oh yeah! Seizures can KILL SOME OF US. Yep.

And the list goes on, and every person with epilepsy experiences it differently. There are multiple different types of seizures you can have, they're NOT always convulsing on the floor. For example, I have complex-partial-myoclonic-seizures. Meaning my muscles DO twitch when I have seizures, but I'm not always completely unconscious and sometimes I'm even able to stay sitting up. However, I'm still very "off" and can't focus or remember much for a good while after the fact. I can't talk or communicate during one, even with my slight bit of consciousness.

My experiences are not universal, I just wanted to talk about it and bring it up. It helps to talk about it even a little bit. Here's more about different kinds of seizures. Here's more about common seizure triggers. Here's more about CORRECT seizure first aid. And here's more general information/resources.

Please stop leaving us out of disability awareness. Please stop ignoring us or saying we're "not really disabled" or anything else like that. Please. Why does it always feel like the only people who care about epilepsy, are people WITH epilepsy? We're so tired of being ignored by others who don't have our condition.

If you're an epileptic person reading this, I see you. I love you. You're so strong, we all are. I believe in you, I believe in us. We're so much stronger than we get credit for, and it's going to be ok. Your anger and frustration are valid. Your emotions and struggles are real. You're valid, and I see you. Hang in there, we got this.

#epilepsy #epilepsy awareness #actually epileptic #disability pride month #disability awareness month #disability awareness #ok to reblog #disability pride

4K notes · View notes

bardoftheshire · 4 months ago

Text

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 nowhere?

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.

James Wilson Masterlist

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.

#james wilson #james wilson x reader #house md #greg house #lisa cuddy #robert sean leonard #hugh laurie #house md x reader

149 notes · View notes

amsgrey · 1 year ago

Text

Deja Vu II

Part I

Okay so, I have been researching more and trying to get things at least somewhat accurate before I wrote part two. In the first part, I wrote TBI, with further research, what I was actually trying to write is an Anoxic brain Injury (still technically a TBI). The whole idea there is when the brain is starved of oxygen critical functions are impacted and there can be a whole bunch of differing symptoms after it. OBVIOUSLY, I am NOT a medical professional, so take everything with a big ol' grain of salt. I am thinking of writing some more parts to this but purely when I have time bc adult life sucks. I kept the ending open but also al actual end, unlike the first part. Hope it is somewhat enjoyable.

WARNINGS: Medical stay, seizures, talk of needles + medical procedures, hospitals, Will and Jay being their usually angsty selves, poor writing and zero editing

"Will?"

Abrams looked between the Halsteads, not sure what his place was. Everyone remembered when Pat Halstead passed, mostly because the Halstead brawl was talked about for weeks. Will Halstead was known for causing headaches for plenty of people around Med, he was the topic of gossip all through the building.

Abrams was saved by the bell - literally. His pager started beeping, excusing him from the brewing storm between the brothers.

"I'll put in for the tests," He tossed over his shoulder, disappearing into the stream of medical workers.

"Will." Jay snapped, glowering at his brother.

Will scrubbed a hand down his face, "Abrams needs to run more tests."

"More tests?" Jay pressed, "What just happened, Will?"

Will shook his head, looking at his younger brother he knew, telling Jay how bad this might be, would destroy him. Jay hated hospitals, hated medical things in general. Will couldn't look him in the eye and plant the same fear he had gnawing at him.

"I don't know, Jay," Will sighed, "I'm not a neurologist."

Jay didn't want to accept his answer, but Will didn't give him much of a chance. He turned back to your hospital room, forcing a smile as he entered.

"What was that about?" You asked, exactly where they left you.

"Just more tests," Will smiled. He stopped at the top of your bed, checking you over with doctor's eyes. You could always tell when he flipped between Big Brother and Doctor because Big Brother Will wore his emotions. Doctor Will was better at keeping his poker face like he was now.

Will's eyes flittered around the monitors before settling back on yours. His eyes softened, the slight furrow in his brow disappearing and a smile pulling on his lips again.

"You feeling alright?"

You nodded, "I'm just tired."

Will nodded, he reached out and brushed the hair off your forehead, "Get some sleep, yeah? We'll be here the whole time."

Jay reached out and squeezed your hand, before pulling up the blanket and tucking you in.

A few hours later, you were sitting up in your hospital bed while a Neurology Tech attached electrodes to your scalp. Jay had left for home, for a shower and clean clothes. He promised he would bring back your blanket and pillow and some other stuff to make you more comfortable, seeming Will said it would be okay.

While he was gone, Will sat at the end of the bed, holding your hand through the Electrode placement. After the Tech finished, you were attached to a monitor with wires upon wires, all differing colours. The tech apologized for the cap that sat over all the leads, promising it wasn’t too bad.

“it’s a new fashion trend,” you joked, smiling at the tech, “Nuero floor chic.”

The tech laughed, continuing her work. When she was done, she walked you through what she had done. Explaining the placement and the leads, and how it all worked.

"This is your personal EEG," She explained, gesturing to the boxy machine on wheels that your wires were attached to, "Try to keep it close."

She explained a few more things, then promised to return in a little while. In her absence, Dr. Abrams stopped through again. He looked over the techs work, mumbling to himself and making medical comments only Will understood.

"How are you feeling?" He asked.

You had already taken a nap, so you weren't as tired as you had been.

"Sick of sitting," You said, stretching your legs and accidentally nudging Will in the process. Will playfully batted at your feet, feigning offence.

Abrams pulled at the EEG machine on wheels, testing how the wheels glided, "If you are feeling up for it, you can go for a small walk."

You lit up, "I can?"

"If you take it slow," Abrams ordered, "And Will is by your side."

Will nodded, "Are you feeling up for it?"

"Yes."

Will helped you detangle yourself from the blanket, letting you adjust to being fully upright for the first time that day. Your feet dangled over the bed as you took a moment to compose your spinning head. Will pulled a pair of socks over your bare feet, muttering something about keeping your toes warm. He held your arm as you stood up, supporting your weight as your body adjusted again.

"You alright?"

"Mmm," You responded, focused on staying upright.

"Okay," Will wrapped an arm around your waist, "One step at a time, we'll try to make it to the nurse's station and back."

It was slow going. With every step you took, it felt like the world was twisting, like walking through an earthquake. Will's arms hovered around you, only holding you up when you needed the support. He was so steady in his support, his warm presence keeping you grounded and calm.

Two steps outside of your room, Jay bounded up with your pillow and blanket tucked under his arm.

"They're upright," He commented, "Nice hair, too."

He reached out and pretended to ruffle your hair, careful to avoid touching the wires around your head. You reached out to smack his hand, but missed drastically.

You frowned at Jay, frustration barely contained, "Sshut. uphh."

The words sounded fumbled through your gritted teeth. Abrams had mentioned how you needed to take things slow and Will tried to tell you that it might be frustrating at first, but you weren’t expecting to feel such anger. It was gnawing away at you. A week ago you were dancing around with Makayla, wrangling her for a weekend while Kim and Adam worked. You had run around, danced, sung, every little thing that made Makayla happy. Not you hardly knew how to move your feet, could hardly tell what direction was up.

The anger grew and held firm in your head, making itself known with its red cloud fogging your mind.

Will grabbed your hand, "You okay?"

"Hmm."

Your vision blurred, everything swaying and twisting as you fell forward.

Will was faster than Jay was, for once. He saw the signs a mile away, already braced for when you would fall. He held you to his chest, lowering both of you to the ground and cradling your head as your body started to convulse.

Jay immediately dropped what he was carrying, falling to his knees by your side. Jay looked up at Will trying to ask silently what to do, but the eldest Halstead had gone full doctor mode.

"Need some help over here!" Will shouted, calling for the nurse's assistance.

"I need you to breathe,” Will spoke with such certainty, like he was treating any other patient.

“You’re okay,” Will kept repeating, “Just breathe, I’ve got you.”

Jay was ushered out of the way by the nurses, who crowded in with monitors and equipment to help Dr Halstead. All Jay could do was watch helplessly.

Jay held his breath as the medical team got you off the ground and transferred you back to the hospital bed. The leads they had removed that morning were reattached, placed on your ashen skin.

Dr Abrams rushed into the room and ordered Will to get out of his way, the forced politeness gone now the situation was emergent. Will stepped back, somewhat dubiously, letting Abrams run his team.

“How did you do that?” Jay asked when will stood by his side, the pair of them watching as Abrams and the team worked.

With a dose of meds, the convulsions stopped, but the team checked over the leads and kept working.

“Do what?” Will asked, turning to look at his brother. Jay had grown pale, the fear and anxiety he felt spelt out across his features. His eyes kept darting from you to the heart monitor screen like it was going to flatline.

“Stay so calm?” Jay whispered, taking a deep breath for the first time in the last few minutes. The nurses placed a mask over your face, securing it behind your head and then leaving the Halsteads and Abrams in the room.

“Jay…” Will tried to find a way to explain it, how he could just shut off his fear in that moment to help you. But he couldn’t find the words.

“She’s stable,” Abrams spoke in the silence that had formed, “From now on, we’ll keep giving them diazepam to keep them relaxed. No more strolls, even if it is supervised.”

Will nodded, taking it in.

Abrams was mostly speaking to Will, Jay was by your side, focused solely on you. He held your hand, careful to avoid the IV that was in the back of it. He watched you breathe, every-time you exhaled, he watched the mask fog up. He listened to the quiet puffs and the melodic beeping. You were okay. He kept trying to force himself to remember that. You were okay.

“Hopefully we can get this under control. In the meantime, we’ll keep monitoring, keep on with the EEG testing for the next few hours. Hopefully we’ll learn more.”

Will nodded, clapping Abrams on the back, “Thanks, Sam.”

The big brother in him wanted to press for answers, but the doctor in him knew that sometimes Doctors didn’t have the answers. If Abrams knew, he would share.

Will did a check over you and the monitors with his eyes, again. Then looked over to Jay, who looked completely deflated. It was no secret that Jay hated hospitals and medical treatment in general, especially needles. Spending time in hospitals usually gave him the creeps and he would always say to Will, “I don’t know how you do it, man.”

But Jay hadn’t complained even once. Not when he was watching the IV get put in your hand, or while you were attached to countless machines. Will knew it was because he felt hopeless. The same look that he wore at their dads bedside he wore now. Will stood and stared for a while, the memory playing in his mind in time with real life. This was different. You weren’t on life support like your father had been, things were different. That didn’t change the memories Will had of his dads last moments plaguing his mind.

“I stayed calm because i had too,” Will finally spoke. Jay looked up, watching his brother cross his arms over his chest and take a deep breath.

“I had to stay calm, for her.”

Jay shook his head, “I just froze, Will. And you-“

“Trained for years to react in medical emergency situations, spent years working the ER,” Will interrupted.

“Jay,” Will reached over the bed and gave jays shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “I do this every day. I know how to tune out the emotions and focus on medical stuff.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Will sat on one of the chairs, mirroring Jay across the bed, “Listen. I could never get used to being shot at, could never be shot at and react how you do. Because I’m not trained, I’m not good at that. You aren’t a doctor Jay, stop beating yourself up over something that was a basic human reaction.”

Jay didn't answer, letting silence fall over the room. Neither one of the brothers was up for a conversation, mostly just consumed with their own thoughts as they watched you sleep.

You had stirred a few times in the coming hours but mostly stayed sleeping. Will told Jay that it was a combination of the medication and the stress of recent events catching up with you. In his words, it was nothing to worry about.

"Hey," A soft voice called from the door, Will and Jay stood to greet Hailey as she stepped into the room.

Will and Jay had been off work since you had gotten worse, staying by your side or close by ever since. Both Voight and Goodwin understood, giving them all the time they needed.

"I brought some supplies," Hailey joked, handing food over to the brothers, "And I stopped by home and Wills, got some clothes."

"Thanks, Hailey."

"Yeah, Of course." Hailey stood by Jay, taking his hand for his comfort. "How's she doing?"

Will relayed the events of the day, the incident in the hall and all the things that had happened since. Things were moving fast, more tests and hopeful treatment plans were being talked about.

"It'll be okay," Will finished, mostly trying to convince Jay more than himself. He knew the look on Abram's face, knew that everything was far from okay.

Will told Jay to go back to work after a week, promising him that sitting by your side was a one-man job. Will had spoken to Goodwin, who agreed to let him take his occurred PTO for as long as he needed. So for the three weeks you were in the hospital he stayed by your side. You weren't used to having Will there every single minute of every single day, but you didn't mind it too much. Mostly he helped you go on walks or watched over you like a personal nurse. You knew that he and Jay were worried, but the overprotective brother act was suffocating at times. During the last week of your stay, you managed to convince him to let you have more space - that when he left the room you wouldn't make a break for it like Jay would. He agreed hesitantly, mostly hanging around from lunch until you fell asleep at night. You complained to Jay when he visited every day, but you were thankful he was there.

On the last few days of your time in the hospital, you were more independent, nothing like what you were before the accident, but more than before. You could walk small distances unsupported and some of your fine motor skills came back. The PT had told you it was common after TBI's for patients to lose control of their movements and motor skills, she promised that you would get better as time went on.

Dr Abrams had spoken to Will and Jay about Rehabilitation centres, there were a few in the city that focused on TBI rehabilitation but Will had been dragging his feet. Jay wanted to do what was best for you, even if it meant you might have to stay in a rehab facility. Will had a sour taste in his mouth over it all.

"Come in," Goodwin called from inside her office.

Will pushed open the door, greeting Sharon and Peter.

"What can I help you with, Doctor Halstead?" Sharon asked after Peter had left.

Will explained his plan, reviewing all the details he had sorted out. When he finished, Sharon was nodding in approval.

"Are you sure about this?"

"I am," Will was sure nothing could change his mind now.

"Okay then, I will talk to Dr Archer, and see how we can help," Goodwin bid Will the best, letting him continue on his way.

Will met Jay right outside your room, almost running straight into him.

"Will," Jay grabbed his brother's arm, "We need to talk about the rehab facility-"

"Yeah," Will nodded, "I know, i have a plan."

Will ushed Jay back into the room. He gestured to Jay to a chair and took a seat at the end of your bed. You were expecting him to stop by, sitting up properly on the bed expecting some kind of serious conversation from the eldest Halstead.

"What is it, doc?" You joked.

Will smiled, reaching out and holding your hand, "I have spoken to Dr Abrams and Sharon Goodwin and I have decided that we won't be trying to find a rehab facility."

Jay sighed, he had been arguing with Will about this for the better part of the week. "Will-"

"I think you should stay with me," Will told you directly, "I've taken a leave of absence, I think you should be home and recovering."

You looked to Jay, who was just as surprised. Jay hardly got caught off guard by Will, right now he had never been more surprised.

"Are you sure?" Jay broke the silence that settled over the room.

"If that is what you want?"

You could feel the joy blooming in your chest, a wide smile breaking across your face, "Yes. Please, yes."

Will mirrored your grin, pulling you into a tight hug and kissing your forehead. At times like this, you were reminded how much Will and Jay became like parents to you after your father's death. Although it was painful for all of you, you didn't have a good relationship with your father. He was never caring or affectionate, he never came to your sports games or awards, that was all Jay and Will. They stepped up and took care of you, they always have and promised they always would. You were so drained from the last few days of tests and the week in the hospital that you felt like you might burst into tears.

Will could sense your fragile state, staying sitting by your side and holding your hand. Jay got to his feet and pulled you into a hug too, then clapped Will on the back.

“So when am I allowed out?” You pressed, hoping to be home and somewhere familiar.

“Slow your roll,” Jay laughed, “There's still things that need to be organized.”

You let out a loud dramatic sigh, “I hate it here,” You whined.

Will wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him and playfully messing up your hair, “It won't be too much longer, promise.”

“Pinky promise?” You raised your finger, dramatically pouting.

Will indulged you, linking his pinky through yours and giving you a serious stare, “Pinky promise.”

taglist: @halstead-severide-fan

#chicago pd x reader #chicago med #chicago pd imagine #jay halstead x reader #will halstead #jay halstead #halstead!sister #jay halstead x sister!reader #will halstead x reader #chicago med x reader #one chicago x reader #one chicago imagine #chicago med imagine #chicago fire x reader #chicago fire imagine #jay halstead imagine

442 notes · View notes

theelderhazelnut · 26 days ago

Text

OC Interaction!

It was your OC’s first day in as a MIS agent. However, there was one last thing they needed to do before starting their job: They had to take a psychological test.

They were being guided through the facility’s hallways. The sleek and glossy floor vaguely reflected their image. Beams of white and blue lights were embedded in the ceiling and the walls. Even this part of the vast map of the facility was oddly secluded.

The small door at the very end of the hallway was slid open. Your OC stepped into a much darker room with Ombra standing gravely at the far end behind a desk. Your OC’s eyes landed on several devices arranged around the room. One of them was most certainly an EEG, so the other ones also had something to do with the brain, or at least the body. On both walls, there were a variety of stuff put neatly on the shelves. The diversity was weird, there was a regular pen placed next to the duck plushie.

“Agent [your ocs name]” Ombra began solemnly, her voice unusually raspy. “Take a seat.” She gestured to the black leather chair while sitting down on her own. She pressed a button on a remote, and an intense white light was turned on right above their heads.

The test had began.

36 notes · View notes

thekinkymadscientist · 11 months ago

Note

Oooh a mad scientist! What kind of freaky experiment are you doing. All hypnosis? Need a test subject? An obedient pet who helps carry them out? Both? Heheha-🧡

Both could be useful, indeed. Currently been thinking about active brain monitoring techniques. Sadly you can't really miniaturize fMRI gear, but EEG equipment is small and light. Trance states are visible on EEG, so you could theoretically set up a vibrator to provide more pleasure the deeper the subject goes.

Now, would you like to be the test subject, tied down and forced to stare at a spiral while wearing a headset and a vibrator, or would you rather be the obedient assistant who straps the test subject down, inserts the vibrator (and maybe other equipment), and then eagerly waits for praise, overjoyed to be of service?

#hypnosis #brainwashing #hypnok1nk #mad science fantasy

127 notes · View notes

strangebiology · 1 year ago

Text

The Science of Humane Slaughter

I asked an expert on humane livestock slaughter how we decided on certain methods of slaughter as more or less humane than others, from a scientific perspective.

He pointed me to this document (PDF) from the European Food Safety Authority called “WELFARE ASPECTS OF ANIMAL STUNNING AND KILLING METHODS:” Scientific Report of the Scientific Panel for Animal Health and Welfare on a request from the Commission related to welfare aspects of animal stunning and killing methods.

It's long, and old (from 2004) but it's a pretty useful document summarizing a lot of the science of why certain methods of killing may be more or less humane.

You can test a method, for example, by hooking an animal up to an EEG and monitoring its brainwaves after stunning it, or delivering a fatal blow (functionally killing it, but it won't always die instantly following a fatal injury, so you can still monitor it.)

Other ways of monitoring and measuring suffering include recording: how many times does an animal vocalize (moo, grunt etc) after being put in a chute? If it moves, does that matter, or is that a post-mortem or unconscious spasm? Does it immediately collapse, does it blink when you touch its eye (corneal reflex)? Is the animal permanently brain-damaged (which is a good thing when you want it to die fast!) or is it only a little knocked out and immobile, with the potential for recovery if you were to not bleed it out? (Which is bad in that circumstance!) A scientist can test that by testing a stunning method on a group of animals and then seeing if they recover. Those individual animals are likely not happy if they do return to consciousness with a hole in their heads, but such is science.

Anyway, while the testing might sound gruesome, I thought you'd like to know that slaughter regulations are pretty serious and well-studied. And those regulations seem pretty consistent among everywhere I've seen (EU, Norway specifically, the US.) With some minor differences here and there.

Perhaps we will discover better ways to slaughter meat animals in regard to their welfare, or perhaps we will find one day that our preferred method wasn't as good as we thought! There might also be people doing things in very bad, unintentionally cruel ways because of silly, disproven myths (but, if someone is legally selling meat, any US slaughterhouse is required to have a USDA rep see every death.)

I don't want to imply that every animal death goes perfectly well, or that it's even acceptable, or that the meat industry is perfect or good! But I do want to share that there is scientific precedent for why people kill livestock the ways they do, and you can read the studies in the aforementioned document. There are tons.

PS. If you have any interesting insights on the science of humane slaughter, I'd love to see them! Or, even, just tell me how it's done in your country, the role of the government, etc.

#animal death #humane slaughter

130 notes · View notes

shishibazz · 1 year ago

Text

Fear's Favorite Test Subject

♱☠︎.𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙: Headcanons of the Fear and his most prized possession. These headcanons will be about As Nodt as a yandere mad scientist with a female reader in mind.

♱☠︎.𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: There will be content that'll include human experimentation, yandere themes, manipulation, gore (subtle flesh picking, needles, drugs, etc.), As Nodt being a warning himself, mad scientist themes. If any of these topics are triggering for you, I would suggest not reading this for your own comfort. If I missed any other warnings, please don't hesitate to let me know!

♱☠︎.𝖂𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝕮𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙: 1.3k

♱☠︎.𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: This is for @nagumoan's Dance with the Dead collab. This is also my first time writing yandere, so I hope this is good jdskf. I gave As Nodt a backstory of him as a neurologist that went into being a neuroscientist. I tried my best with the research I did for these careers, so I apologize if I got any facts wrong 😭.

The Neurologist and His Patient

As Nodt. Oh boy. The very embodiment of fear itself. This quiet man would be formidable as a mad scientist. He is no Mayuri or Szayel, but he is a madman in his own right. His knowledge on the nervous system and negative human emotion makes him one of the worst, if not THE worst mad scientist to come across. And when you add “yandere” to that status? It’s essentially game over for anyone who intrigues him.

A long time ago, As Nodt was a renowned neurologist. He barely spoke to anyone, always preferring to keep to himself and just do the job. To him, the idle chit chat was distracting and unnecessary while attending to his patients. He was a firm believer of interruptions being a hindrance to his work. He barely even spoke to his own colleagues. It all became a daily routine, over and over. Every day was silent. Every single hour became dull. That is until he made an unintentional discovery while looking over a recording of a patient's video EEG test session. Your EEG test session.

His dark eyes were trained on the recording, reviewing your results. The tapping of his pen against his clipboard matched the tempo of the machine in the video. His interest was intrigued by the amount of activity your brain displayed. Your reactions to the variety of clips being shown was brilliant. But, what really had his sights set on you was your fearful reactions. The way your beautiful face contorted whenever a killing scene appeared sparked an unfamiliar feeling. It didn’t sit right with him, but… it piqued his twisted curiosity. How much fear can the brain take before it breaks? How long does it last? He wanted to explore the possibilities. He needed to find the answers. And these thoughts began to chip away at As Nodt’s curiosity… all until it descended into something twisted and deranged.

It seems that dual graduate program will be useful to him, after all.

From that day on, As Nodt began to keep tabs on you. Your appointments, the days and times where you came and picked up your medicine, all of it. He even made arrangements to make sure that you went to him and him only. You didn’t think much of it at first, believing that he favored certain patients over others. As didn’t say a word to you in the beginning, his only responses alternated between blank stares and curt words that lasted two seconds at most. Even with his custom doctor’s mask and lack of eyebrows, his demeanor did the talking for him.

But eventually, he began to make small conversation with you. His words were still short, but definitely way more than what his coworkers received. The sudden change didn't make much sense. As Nodt, the most nonsocial person on Earth, showing interest in something other than his job? Impossible. You figured that was just his personality … but little old you failed to realize that your new friend lover was leading you on a gurney straight to Hell.

As the months went by, As Nodt stopped showing up to work. You didn’t even realize he was gone until you came in one day and another neurologist handled your appointment. You assumed he was on vacation, so you didn’t worry too much. You went home that day and did your daily routine, watching a cheesy reality show with a snack. It was only a shame that you didn’t catch the small camera that was placed within the console below the flat screen. Or the carnival teddy bear’s eyes that were now camera lenses. Every small corner in your home had been turned into a secret watch party for As to learn everything about you. From the clothes you wear down to the way your fingers moved when you held something of value. His dark eyes burned everything into memory. He couldn’t wait to see that look of fear in your eyes again.

The Fear and His Frankenstein

The day you were taken from your home was akin to a scene right out of a psychological horror. You came home from your errands as normal, but things just felt out of place. The feeling of being watched crawled all over you like flies on a piece of food. It was a mystery… up until a small flash on the TV console caught your eye. You thought it to be a reflection of light from outside, but they don't flicker like a heartbeat. The moment you got closer to it, As Nodt came from the shadows and used a chloroform cloth to make you pass out. It took five minutes for you to finally go unconscious. The neuroscientist’s face crinkled into a creepy expression as he carried you out bridal style.

When you woke up, you were met with grim lighting and advanced machinery. The room was filled with computer monitors, graduated cylinders with foreign chemicals, and multiple shelves of books. You were in a lab. Your eyes studied the room until they landed on As Nodt’s figure. You were filled with confused relief to see him, and went to ask where he had been, but he cut you off with a deep and eerie command.

“Experiments should keep their mouths closed until they are given permission to speak. And I did not grant you that, so I suggest shutting your mouth unless you want to end up like the failures in those tanks.”

Life after that first day was pure agony. Every single moment brought misery. It would make even the strongest people crumble. As Nodt would tell you it’s “for the sake of research and health” but you knew better. He was sick and obsessive, but what could you do? You had little to no power, so your insults and words meant nothing to him. They were as valuable as the dirt that clung to his shoes. Throw every single curse word at him if you want to. It won’t save you from what will come.

His experiments were tormenting and painful. Needles and brain-prodding machines chipped away your sense of self every day. There was no hour where you weren’t being picked at with a needle, or an MEG scanner being attached to your head. The flashing lights and constant clips of horror movies was nothing compared to the pain-inducing drugs that invaded your nervous system. Or the electric buzzing that made your senses numb. The daily experiments were already bad enough, but when it came to his punishments, he became a sadistic creature. Anything that would bring you pain, physically or mentally, As Nodt would turn it up ten notches.

For every offense that you commit, this silent scientist will base the experiment on whatever it was you did. If you leave the house without permission, he’ll use a special medicine that renders the nerves of your hands useless for two weeks. He’ll feed you and all, but don’t see it as a token of appreciation. Now, if you mess with his other experiments… you’ll wish you’d be one of those brains in the tanks. As Nodt would strap you to a chair and use an MEG scanner and clips of him experimenting on the other “failures” to torment you for hours. In your best interest, and others, don’t underestimate his ruthlessness. If you desire to keep your body and consciousness intact, just keep quiet and be his good little test subject.

“Why do you insist on being so difficult? Because of your constant insolence, I’ve been forced to end the trials of two nearly successful subjects. Thanks to your little belief of escaping, they’ve paid the price. You’ll make up for that, won’t you?”

♱☠︎.𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗'𝖘 𝕹𝖔𝖙𝖊: I apologize for posting this three days after Halloween is over hfbdjf. But I hope you all enjoy these spooky headcanons for As Nodt!

#bleach #yandere bleach #bleach x reader #yandere bleach x reader #as nodt #as nodt x reader #yandere as nodt #yandere as nodt x reader #<< dark content ahead ⚠️>>#dwtdcollab

159 notes · View notes

compneuropapers · 2 months ago

Text

Interesting Papers for Week 4, 2025

EEG microstate transition cost correlates with task demands. Barzon, G., Ambrosini, E., Vallesi, A., & Suweis, S. (2024). PLOS Computational Biology, 20(10), e1012521.

Compression-based inference of network motif sets. Bénichou, A., Masson, J.-B., & Vestergaard, C. L. (2024). PLOS Computational Biology, 20(10), e1012460.

A cortical field theory – dynamics and symmetries. Cooray, G. K., Cooray, V., & Friston, K. (2024). Journal of Computational Neuroscience, 52(4), 267–284.

De novo sensorimotor learning through reuse of movement components. Gabriel, G., Mushtaq, F., & Morehead, J. R. (2024). PLOS Computational Biology, 20(10), e1012492.

Pupil-Linked Arousal Modulates Precision of Stimulus Representation in Cortex. Geurts, L. S., Ling, S., & Jehee, J. F. M. (2024). Journal of Neuroscience, 44(42), e1522232024.

Single-neuron representations of odours in the human brain. Kehl, M. S., Mackay, S., Ohla, K., Schneider, M., Borger, V., Surges, R., … Mormann, F. (2024). Nature, 634(8034), 626–634.

Properties of layer V pyramidal neurons in the primary motor cortex that represent acquired motor skills. Kida, H., Toyoshima, S., Kawakami, R., Sakimoto, Y., & Mitsushima, D. (2024). Neuroscience, 559, 54–63.

Dopamine release plateau and outcome signals in dorsal striatum contrast with classic reinforcement learning formulations. Kim, M. J., Gibson, D. J., Hu, D., Yoshida, T., Hueske, E., Matsushima, A., … Graybiel, A. M. (2024). Nature Communications, 15, 8856.

Impact of background input on memory consolidation. Lamberti, M., Kikirikis, N., Putten, M. J. A. M. van, & Feber, J. le. (2024). Scientific Reports, 14, 23681.

Attentional guidance through object associations in visual cortex. Lerebourg, M., de Lange, F. P., & Peelen, M. V. (2024). Science Advances, 10(41).

Mnemonically modulated perceptual processing to represent allocentric space in macaque inferotemporal cortex. Li, A., Chen, H., & Naya, Y. (2024). Progress in Neurobiology, 241, 102670.

Physically stressed bees expect less reward in an active choice judgement bias test. Procenko, O., Read, J. C. A., & Nityananda, V. (2024). Proceedings of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences, 291(2032).

Tipping the balance between fairness and efficiency through temporoparietal stimulation. Soutschek, A., Șahin, T., & Tobler, P. N. (2024). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 121(42), e2409395121.

Striatal Serotonin Release Signals Reward Value. Spring, M. G., & Nautiyal, K. M. (2024). Journal of Neuroscience, 44(41), e0602242024.

Conjunctive processing of spatial border and locomotion in retrosplenial cortex during spatial navigation. Sun, H., Cai, R., Li, R., Li, M., Gao, L., & Li, X. (2024). Journal of Physiology, 602(19), 5017–5038.

Directing Attention Shapes Learning in Adults but Not Children. Tandoc, M. C., Nadendla, B., Pham, T., & Finn, A. S. (2024). Psychological Science, 35(10), 1139–1154.

Exploration, Distributed Attention, and Development of Category Learning. Wan, Q., & Sloutsky, V. M. (2024). Psychological Science, 35(10), 1164–1177.

The structure and statistics of language jointly shape cross-frequency neural dynamics during spoken language comprehension. Weissbart, H., & Martin, A. E. (2024). Nature Communications, 15, 8850.

Multisensory working memory capture of attention. Xu, L., Cai, B., Yue, C., & Wang, A. (2024). Attention, Perception, & Psychophysics, 86(7), 2363–2373.

A population code for spatial representation in the zebrafish telencephalon. Yang, C., Mammen, L., Kim, B., Li, M., Robson, D. N., & Li, J. M. (2024). Nature, 634(8033), 397–406.

#neuroscience #science #research #brain science #scientific publications #cognitive science #neurobiology #cognition #psychophysics #neurons #neural computation #neural networks #computational neuroscience

14 notes · View notes

beemovieerotica · 8 months ago

Note

if you feel comfortable with sharing, can you explain the process for the psilocybin trial? like what you had to do, who was with you in the room, the people involved, ect.

Oh for sure!

The whole process took about 4 months from the initial screening survey to the first actual treatment. (I still have another treatment scheduled for a couple weeks from now, as of writing this).

To get started, I filled out a survey online, sent an e-mail to their point of contact, did a brief phone interview, and then I was enrolled.

I had 2 big in-person pre-treatment events, and the first was a full 8-hour day of psychological and physical screenings (lots and lots of surveys) - including an in-person sit-down with a psychiatrist going through basically everything in my past. Adverse events, my childhood, life stress, relationships, anything that might come up during the psilocybin session and that plays a part in aggravating OCD.

I also talked with an OCD specialist, another remote psychiatrist, and did a full physical with their medical team, got a complete blood panel done, and an EKG since hallucinogens can cause spikes in blood pressure, and I would have been screened out if I had any cardiac conditions.

Once I got the all-clear on my blood panel and EKG reading, I was able to move on to he second in-person visit. It was a full day of EEG testing to get my baseline brain activity down - they hooked me up to a monitor with electrodes on my head, and I played a lot of very boring video games, did memory tests, and they showed me distressing, neutral, and happy images to see what my reaction was - again, for a full 8-ish hour day.

All of these in-person visits required urine drug screenings - I was not allowed to take THC or any other substance for the duration of the study. Specific prescription medications are also not allowed.

We then set the date for my actual dosing sessions and I was assigned two guides. One of them is an MD + psychiatrist, the other is a psychiatrist. I had three prep sessions with them, going in-depth and basically letting them know who I am and why I want to do all this, and they were there to answer any questions I had and help get me mentally prepared. Overall we wanted to establish trust & safety, because they would be the two people watching over me and interacting with me during my session.

I went in-person two days before my session to see the space where I would be tripping and meet my guides face to face. The space is a very soothing psychiatrist's office type place with a sofa, comfy chairs, nice carpeting, and peaceful pictures on the walls. My guides are awesome - they were selected for me by the point of contact who had helped me through most of the screening, who worked to match participants with study staff. There's always an open line of communication - I've been able to text and call them with concerns, and I was also notified that if I want to change guides at any point (or if I want to drop out of the study altogether) I can do so with no repercussions.

The dosing session was a full 9-5 day: I arrived at 8:30 to do a urine drug screening, fill out surveys, and then I took a blue pill and waited for the effects to kick in. The whole session was recorded for my safety and for accountability of the guides.

The sofa had been converted to a bed - I was asked, as much as possible, to just lie down, put on a sleep mask to block out any vision / light, and wear noise-canceling headphones with a pre-selected playlist of instrumental music on it. I really enjoyed the playlist (lol) I felt like it set the tone for a lot of the revelations I had, and they genuinely did a great job choosing tracks.

The whole point was to minimize outside influences and to have the participants look inward and work on themselves. The guides offered two options for physical reassurance: if I wanted, I could put my hand out and one of them would come over and ask, "Do you want your hand held?" and if I replied affirmatively, they would hold my hand firmly until I asked them to stop. They also offered a "shoulder touch" - firm pressure on the shoulder - but I only took the hand hold for about a half hour on the come-up before sailing off on my own.

They also said that I was completely free to remove the headphones and mask and talk to them at any point if it became overwhelming - they would engage with me as much as I needed to, but they would gently encourage participants to re-enter the "default state" (lying down, eyes closed, music on).

I ended up only talking to them when I needed bathroom breaks - they walked me over to the bathroom (no lock), waited outside, and walked me back to make sure I didn't fall.

They had a medical kit in the room, and I was told that if my blood pressure ever reached a concerning point, they had sub-lingual meds that could lower it and put me back in a safe zone. My BP was fine the whole time, and other than my heart rate being a bit high from initial anxiety, it leveled off as soon as the peak hit.

I was in it, processing and crying for the whole 5 hours of the trip and only responding when they needed to take my blood pressure and heart rate (at first every 5 minutes, then 30 minutes, then every hour - this was done with minimal interruption, I barely noticed it happening). After the trip, I came out of it and talked to them and processed a little bit of what had happened still on the video recording - they were really curious about big first impressions and highlights of the trip. I filled out a bunch of surveys. Spouse came and picked me up, and I was asked to do a full write-up at home capturing everything I'd experienced on the trip.

I'm currently in the "in-between" phase and am doing my check-ins and processing of the first trip before I do my second one next-next week. The full study length is six months long - I'm going to keep doing check-ins and surveys into next year to see if the positive effects actually stick around for that long. Six months is kind of the gold standard for a lot of clinical trials, and I think it's also about as long as they can usually retain people and keep them responding to surveys lol. I'm trying to think if I've missed anything, let me know if you have any other questions!

#ask

35 notes · View notes