#endos seriously go away nobody likes you

[afton-robotics-co]

Hey man this is your daily reminder it's not your fault if you have a problematic source. You can't control it

There's nothing wrong with still identifying with that source. That's you, if you want it to be! That doesn't mean you condone the actions of your character, sourcemates, creator, etc! It doesn't mean you condone the problematic media in the slightest, it just means that you still see yourself as you, and anyone who gets mad at you for that is just a jerk

You are not what is wrong with that source. You are you, and that's all

You are just a person, do not reduce yourself to what your source does wrong

You're just you

(Reblog with your problematic sources if you want! We won't judge! This includes factives, we love you! 🫶)

[clatterbane]

My first real appointment through orthopedics to finally try and get set up with an aftermarket leg is coming up on Monday.

The previous referral last year just didn't work out, for multiple reasons, and I was a bit bummed over that. I think part of the problem was it falling through the cracks because nobody really seems to be sure what to do with somebody showing up from completely outside their system already minus a leg.

But, we thought to ask that new endo for a fresh referral. So, I did get an intake appointment set up through ortho, with no schedule collisions this time.

In one way, I'm excited to hopefully get moving toward with the process of getting set up with a prosthetic. I would really like to be able to get around better again! And, you know, be able to take my sorry ass off paved surfaces and up steps and stuff again!

OTOH, due to the person I am? I am trying not to borrow too much trouble and drive myself crazy worrying in the meantime. Especially the closer that draws.

Frankly, not least that somebody is gonna just say, "Oops, it's been so long and this entire situation does not fit into any familiar procedures. We just can't/won't help you!”

Yeah, I know there is going to be an awful lot of PT ahead, likely before I even get to the point of any fitting. I have some other concerns about that, after some sufficiently unpleasant experiences as a troublesome-bendy individual, with rehab-focused PT after injuries/knee surgeries (directly coming from the probably-EDS) in the past. My knees are also pretty damned terrible, and also kinda further destabilized by said surgical tinkering.

But, I am much older and more confident now--and not nearly as eager to take any "no pain, no gain!" bullshit seriously. Much less push in ill-advised ways until I do my bendy self an injury.

But yeah, even right now? I would place good money if I had it on the likelihood that I am currently in better shape than 75% of the new patients they see much sooner than this after surgery. Who are statistically much older and otherwise in pretty damned bad health. Probably I've been staying more physically active over the past few years than a lot of that demographic have been able to, even under the current circumstances

Mean age at the time of the first registered amputation in our sample was 74 years (SD 14); women were older (78, SD 14, CI 77–79) than men (72, SD 14, CI 72–73). 43% of the patients were 80 years or older by the time of the primary amputation (Figure 3). The mortality rate of the registered patients was 19% within 6 months and 24% within the 1st year after the last registered amputation. The 1-year mortality rate after TFA was 40%, after KD 38%, and after TTA 24%.

("Lucky" transtibial/TTA here. Those figures are from the Swedish national database, BTW. Because there is one. You see dire mortality rates after this sort of surgery come up? That's a lot of why. Those demographics and the occasional nasty accident requiring amputation seriously skew things.)

There were reasons they kept going on about how young and healthy my middle-aged ass that had just barely cheated death was when I was stuck in the hospital in Romford. And therefore considered a candidate for prosthetics at all under that system. Not going off on that rant right now.

Still, the majority of those elderly patients in otherwise not great shape DO get successfully set up on replacement legs here. Which is encouraging, that they are likely not looking hard for excuses to avoid spending the money. (We're talking the equivalent of a new not-cheap car, back in the US. Region Skåne is still set to lay out a fair chunk of change here. We are thankfully not directly.)

I do rationally doubt that I would get turned away just because I have been off that leg for several years now, and my knees were terrible even before that. And I fucking suck at trying to use forearm crutches, which I am not at all used to and have a very different feel than the type I do have too much experience on.

But yeah, my brain just won't leave things alone as usual. That's just one of the crappiest possibilities it's seized onto right now.

[sparrowwritings]

Day One: Paranoia

Masterpost -- Day Two

Continued from: Anomaly Something wasn’t right. Nothing had changed significantly since the last time he’d been to the headquarters. People were still chatting amicably with each other but…the atmosphere of the office was off. And nobody was noticing.

Which was alarming, considering the entirety of the workforce were psychic.

Not for the first time, Endovelicus was glad for the mask he wore. Even if someone could stand to look at his face, they would’ve seen the tension in his jaw as he tried to spot just what it was that he was sensing. 

Normally he’d chalk the feeling down to his own unruly thoughts. It wouldn’t have been the first time that his own imagination had run away from him in a bad way, particularly when Endo was tired or had been hurt. Except, he was fully awake and moderately healthy. And his instincts were telling--no, shouting at him that something was amiss. 

The snapping of fingers pulled his attention to the here and now. A blonde man with sunglasses tangled up in his wavy hair waved once Endo’s mask turned in his direction. “Wow you’re really not here right now, huh?” Agent October--also known by his office nickname of California--cracked an only slightly nervous grin as he (ill-advisedly) leaned back in his rolling chair.

Once upon a time, the only expression on a person’s face when they looked at him would have been fear. That was before a certain someone took him in and decided to trust him. That she hadn’t called yet despite him running off on a mission of his own choosing was only adding fuel to his already hyper aware senses. Endovelicus could sense her in her office just out of sight, and yet...there had been nothing. Except this odd feeling.

He tapped his fingers across the back of his gloved hand, making sure that the bracelet with a stylized sun was still around his wrist. “I’m as here as I ever am.” Came the deep rumble of his reply. 

California rolled his eyes. “Okay and the not vague bullshit answer…?”

Endo didn’t reply for long enough that under normal circumstances, the other man would’ve filled the silence with his own inane chatter. When it didn’t happen, even after a solid minute and a half of waiting, there was nothing else for it. “Something’s weird.”

“I just said--” 

Without even bothering to ask or warn him, Endo telepathically dug around in California’s head for a good metaphor. After a quick moment (and a yelp of surprise from the other man), he found one that he liked best. “It’s like headquarters is a puzzle and someone took two very similar looking pieces and put them in the wrong places.”

The agent held his head like he suddenly developed a migraine. “Fucking--did you need to do that?? My mental walls don’t need more damage.” 

“Yes.” Endo felt himself grin, despite how uneasy he still felt. 

“Fuck you, fuck your insane powers, and fuck your bullshit answers.” California rubbed at his temples with his eyes tightly shut. “I’ll snitch on you to June after we deal with whatever’s bothering you.” 

He didn’t even need to read the man’s mind to know that the threat was an empty one. “Fine.”

Taking his sunglasses out of his hair to place on the bridge of his nose, California finally had a moment to properly sort out what the metaphor had been. “Like a puzzle but with a couple pieces flipped, huh…how come no one else can sense it, though?” He was able to look around just fine, but no one else did the same in their direction. Luck had nothing to do with it. Endovelicus was already quite infamous around the Psychic Assistance Organization. The fact that he had engaged in massive breaches of ethics and etiquette with one of the two people who he listened to meant that no one else was going through the same thing. Or so the other agents hoped.

In response to the question, Endo shrugged. “It’s too high level for them, maybe? People got drugged? Shit’s just weird, and I can’t pinpoint it.”

There was another moment of silence while both men scanned the room. “Too high for me, though?” The agent said in a much quieter tone than his usual one. “I’m not like, a master telepath but I’m not sure if--” He winced as Endo not-so-gently opened up a mental link. “O-kay, yeah, that’s…” Through the link, he could feel and hear California’s reaction as he spoke. His head was pounding with the new sensation and his emotions went from tempered skepticism to alarm instantly. “That’s not good.”

One advantage to having a telepathic link was that neither party could even try to lie to each other. This was also a disadvantage. Endo let his triumph and satisfaction take the forefront of his thoughts, if only to attempt to hide how much worry he had about what he was sensing. “No, it’s not.”

“Think we need to see how hot or cold the sensation is, or…?”

“I’ve been trying.” Frustration mixed with worried anger filled the link between them before Endovelicus cut it off just as easily as he had established it. “It’s just all over.”

Rubbing his fingers against his temples again, California hummed. “Guess we better talk to June, then.” When Endo didn’t reply after about thirty seconds, he continued, “Well okay first you’d better get yelled at by her and then we’d better talk to her.”

“She hasn’t called.” He barely breathed as he said it.

While his eyes were covered by sunglasses, the agent definitely blinked several times. “You’re gonna have to repeat that, I didn’t hear it.”

Barely increasing the volume of his voice, Endo repeated, “She. Hasn’t. Called. Since before I left.”

California lowered his glasses to look over the rims at the masked man. “You’re kidding. She’s more on the ball about keeping an eye on you than even the people above her.”

“Why the fuck would I lie about that?”

“How should I--” The words died in his throat as the door to the largest office opened. June Summers, Director of this particular branch of PAO, exited quickly and locked the door behind her. She didn’t even spare a glance around her as she headed out through the exit. “Oof, maybe you’re more in the doghouse than ever, man. Gonna have to come up with a really good gift to get back in her good graces.” California had a grin on his face, but it died when he laid eyes on Endovelicus. The masked man was frozen in place, statuesque except for the very slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. “What’s up now?”

The deathly white mask slowly turned to look him dead in the eye. Endo spoke slowly and with deadly seriousness.  “That woman is not June Summers.”

With a gulp, California managed to ask, “Well then...who is she? And what’s she doing impersonating our director?”

Endovelicus stomped after her, his gloved hands curling into fists. “I’m about to find out.”

[jedimasterkelly]

Shit happens when you're a woman. A lot of shit. Bad shit. And a lot of the time, you will run into doctors who do not listen to you. Will not care about you, and will not take you seriously.

This story is about the Great Cancer Scare of 2020.

I was 49, and 3 yrs post menopause. I was pleased about that, as it means no more period ever. I could deal with the occasional hot flashes, and the snapping of necks of anyone who dared bother me. Then in May of 2020, after the pandemic fully hit and the University I work at closed and sent all of us to work from home, I got very sick. Not from Covid, thankfully, but something else. I had started bleeding, and it wasn't menstrual blood. It was bright red and HEAVY. I was filling post-natal pads within 2 hours. I called the Women's Clinic where my OB-GYN lived. They couldn't see me until July. WTF! I called my GP, who got me in on an emergency basis, I mean, 3 yrs post-menopausal women don't just spring a leak, you know? My ovarian function had been almost nil for 3 years. He called my OB-GYN and demanded I get seen right away. They made an appointment for 2 weeks later. Keep reading, because it's quite a ride!

Seriously! 2 weeks later!

In the meantime, my GP discovered my thyroid was tanked out, so I was put on Levothyroxine 25mcg. It helped a lot. I started to feel a little bit more human, at least in the brain area. I finally got in to the OB-GYN, and he did a biopsy and trans-vaginal ultrasound. We got the results 2 weeks later and he called me in to go over them. He said I had hyperplasia with atypia. Cells were dividing rapidly, and he was very concerned. He recommended an endometrial ablation, or a full hysterectomy. At 49 he wasn't concerned with me having a sudden maternal urge (I have no kids), so he was fine with either choice. I decided on the hysterectomy, because why not? Endometrium grows back after an ablation, and why bother at my age? Just yank it all and let me get back to my life.

He said he didn't feel safe doing the procedure, since the cells were most likely cancerous and rapidly dividing, so he sent a referral to one of the cancer centers in OKC. I expected a call within a couple of weeks. I mean, really, if I have the early stages of endometrial cancer, they'd call me in immediately, right? Right?

Crickets. Literal crickets for 4 months! I was very concerned, hell, worried I was going to get full blown cancer and these jackasses weren't going to try and help me at all. I called OB-GYN several times during that 4 month period, and was told the cancer center in OKC wasn't returning their calls. I called them numerous times, and could never get a person on the phone.

I was told it was the pandemic. The pandemic was shutting everything down and causing huge backlogs for non-Covid issues to be seen. I told OB-GYN to refer me to the oncologist from Tulsa, who also worked once a month in Stillwater at the SMC Cancer Center. He didn't want to, he wanted me to see the doctor in OKC (who wasn't returning anyone's calls!) I called SMC Cancer Center and asked how soon I could get in with Dr. Thomas. His office called back within 2 hours asking for my chart and biopsy results. I had the Womens Clinic send my information to Dr. Thomas in Tulsa. Within a week, they called and had me on the schedule to see him in Stillwater on his next visit.

This is where the story gets good. And by good, I mean, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK. Thanks for sticking with me this far.

Got in to see Dr. Thomas. I researched him and learned we have the same Alma Mater. That day, we were both wearing t-shirts from said same Alma Mater. Instant bonding! I also work in Administration at said same Alma Mater, so we spent some time discussing (gossiping) about my department since he had taken classes with a lot of my faculty during his undergrad. Then he got serious and handed me my biopsy report. He told me he was going to assume I wasn't shown this, since I am:

1. A Master's of Science graduate student in Education Leadership - this making me a researcher who knows how to do research, do research, and understand research.

2. Work full time in a Physical Sciences department at a Big 12 University.

3. Edit manuscripts for my Dept. Chair, thus proving I am scientifically literate. You can't edit scientific manuscripts without having a good, solid knowledge of said science. If he's alternating between "adsorb" and "absorb", I have to understand his research in order to correct his manuscript. This is important because his manuscripts have to be peer reviewed before they can be published in a reputable journal.

"Read it to me, out loud," he said.

I started reading from the paper in my professional scientist voice. It didn't take long before I began to falter as I came to the realization I had been lied to.

"Read it again," he said.

This time, I read it with a lot more heat in my voice.

Diagnosis: no hyperplasia with atypia, no abnormal cells detected

Dr. Thomas waited for me to explode. I didn't. I just stared at him in anger and horror. He offered to do another biopsy to make sure, but he suggested I fire my OB-GYN immediately and find someone who actually gives a shit about me.

I was still randomly bleeding, 6-9 weeks at a time, so we agreed on another trans-vaginal ultrasound and biopsy. The attached photo shows he took 3 samples from my uterus. He wanted to be sure.

A little ditty about endometrial biopsies:

They hurt like a motherfucker.

Take 2-3 ibuprofen before you leave the house to go to your procedure.

Relax. It usually only lasts a couple of minutes. The doctor normally takes 1 or 2 samples. Pinch, snip, clip, done.

Not this guy. He wanted to be surely sure.

He went for a 3rd pinch snip clip. My uterus seized up in the most painful spasm I ever had in my life. I almost came off the table. He was seated on a little rolly stool so he shot back away from me before I could connect his head to my foot. He triumphantly held up his little weapon of Uterine Destruction and declared, "Got it!"

"Yeah, you almost got your ass kicked mister," I growled at him.

"It was worth it to get this beauty of a sample."

So, after a biopsy of your uterus, expect some bleeding and cramping. I had severe cramps for 2 days. I was not amused. We're talking laying in bed with a heating pad and ibuprofen every 4 hours kind of cramping.

Got the results back in a couple of weeks. No cancer. No hyperplasia. No abnormal cell growth. He recommended I find a new OB-GYN fast. I decided fuck it, I'm done. I'm never seeing another OB-GYN ever again.

Dr. Thomas said several times he's convinced my issues are endocrinal. I filed that away in the back of my mind.

(if you ever do test positive for cancer and you are in the Tulsa area, I highly recommend Dr. Eric Thomas! Make sure you have a sense of humor with him.)

My GP started pressuring me back in March of 2021 to find a new OB-GYN. The Women's Clinic has several, but they have a fucked up rule you can't switch doctors there. So if you go there, you are stuck with the same doctor and can't move over to his colleague on another floor. I saw my GP again, and asked if he was still best buds with a gynecologist who had his own clinic. He was always full, and not taking new patients, so GP would have to call his buddy to get me in.

Which he did. Buddy-GYN's office called the very next day to schedule me in. He had been sent my chart and was concerned about the long bleeds (6-9 weeks in duration) and why the fuck were they happening after being 3 yrs post-menopause.

I went in for a consult in April of 2021. First thing out of his mouth, "Has anyone ever talked to you before about PCOS?"

I laughed.

I laughed because every GYN I saw over the last 20 years told me I didn't have PCOS, endometriosis, or any sort of hormonal issues. I was just fat, lazy, and a piggy pig pig. I actually had one OB-GYN tell me to go on The Biggest Loser. Fat shamed while sitting there naked on his table after an invasive exam of my female bits. Thanks a lot, asshole.

I told him about that. He informed me he could tell by LOOKING at me I have the classics signs of PCOS. I use an epilator on my crazy man-hairs, so he asked if I was tweezing or waxing. I about fell out of my chair. Nobody ever believed me that I was having to remove crazy thick hairs off my chin and neck all the time. He asked if I ever had ovarian cysts. Affirmative, I was diagnosed with ovarian cysts the first time one exploded back in 1994. He stood there, holding the bridge of his nose and shook his head.

"Well, going by your chief complaints, your abdominal circumference, history of bursting cysts, and no period for 3 years, I am saying you have PCOS."

He went on to discuss my need for an appointment with an endocrine specialist, he was convinced my thyroid tanking out sent my ovaries back into production, and now my hormones are all over the place, most likely, and I needed specialized care.

He must have talked to GP, because I soon got a call from the endo clinic to come in.

This post is already long and tedious, but I am happy to say I finally have 3 doctors who listen to me. My new Endo doc tripled my levothyroxine and scheduled a follow up blood test for next month. Buddy-GYN talked me into a pap smear and cervical exam in July as well. He also wants a mammogram, which I begrudgingly need to schedule so he doesn't chew my ass in July when I walk in with no results. GP is working on my other issues (weight, bad fluid retention, etc...). We discovered from a blood test last Friday my iron levels are dangerously low. I am now on a Rx iron supplement. I've always struggled with anemia, but it never occurred to me or GP to check my iron levels. If you're a woman, and you feel like absolute dog shit and your doctor can't figure out why, have your iron and electrolytes tested. It'll probably take about 3-4 weeks for me to see any results from the iron supplement, but I can already see a reduction in fluid retention.

In September, I have an appointment with Dr. Le at Integris in OKC. He's a bariatric surgeon. I have gained so much weight from having PCOS and Hypothyroidism that I need to drop a lot of fat fast. I'm pretty healthy - I don't have the normal problems obese people tend to have. I'm not diabetic, don't have sleep apnea, my cholesterol levels are good. I am what they call "healthy fat" which seems like an oxymoron. However, it will improve my chances of getting approved for a sleeve gastrectomy.

I turned 50 last week, and had to endure 3 decades of no one listening to me. I feel I lost so many years of my life and I can never get them back. I hope this post reaches a lot of younger women having issues. Keep looking for a doctor who will listen to you. It sucks we have to hunt for these unicorns, but they do exist. I finally have a good team who actually cares about me.

You have a right to be listened to! You have a right to be heard!

I was asked: Who are my doctors?

Dr. Daniel Brown D.O. Stillwater Physicians Clinic

Dr. Yasuto Taguchi M.D. Taguchi Women's Clinic

Dr. Wynter Kipgen M.D. Stillwater Diabetes & Endocrinology

[lucarioisinthevoid]

I’ve always imagineer that it is one of Mike’s biggest fears to not have The Gang (TM) not be real and it all was one big hallucination. 🥺🥺🥺🥺 poor boi

Hah, you don’t even know how many universes I have about this. It certainly terrifies him beyond everything, but he’s desperate to believe, because not only would him waking up mean that his delusions have reached a whole different level, but also that he’s absolutely incapable of connecting with real people. It’s scary to like people. It’s scary if people like him. There’s the constant threat that it will all be taken from him. Even worse if it might happen by his own hands. That he breaks something so important, so valuable, that not even his co-workers can forgive him. Sometimes he just feels like an untrustworthy animal. A feral monster. Though in an odd way he felt more connected to the animatronics- perhaps there was a place for monsters, where they weren’t- … well, where they at least weren’t unwanted. But yes, he never will be free of the worry. Of the fear. Because how do you prove what you see is real? How do you test if all your perceptions can be faked? Do you know if you’re a brain in a jar? Are you here right now? With me? Can you hear me?

When Mike woke up, he sucked in his breath panicked. Where was he?! What happened?! His mind was a fuzzy mess of static-y noises and missing memories. Quickly he shook his head, then looked from the left to the right, trying to figure out what exactly was going on- Doors, the screens, the cupcake, the fan- Oh. The fan was off. Quietly he flicked it on and felt a little bit better instantly as the cold air hit his face. Right. The nightshift. Everything was fine. NO WAIT IT WASN’T- Checking the doors, the awful grinning Chica stood in front of it, pressing herself against the glass. Waiting. Without even having to think, he pushed the button, causing the door to slam. Good god, how lucky he was that he hasn’t been gone too long- He couldn’t imagine what would have happened if the animatronics would have caught him sleeping- Did he ever fall asleep on the job before? … something was wrong. The temptation was there to go out and check on this feeling- But no, he wouldn’t let himself being baited into getting murdered. Hah, that would be FUNNY. No way. His brain was working as good as it always did, he was above this. He KNEW truth from his feverdreams. Finally, six AM. He was out. Or rather, he could relax while the animatronics retreated onto their respective stages. Mike stayed in the main area, playing around with the hats, waiting for the doors to open and his co-workers to enter. But they never came. He waited an hour, he waited the day, as the sun slowly sank down he got more and more worried. He attempted to call them- but nothing. Then finally he decided to go out- But where should he even seek? Did he KNOW where they lived? Seemingly not as he constantly ended up at the false places- he must remember something wrong- something was WRONG! But what was the guard to do? When the night approached, he returned back into the office, for another shift. There was no way he could just abandon the machines, they would hurt themselves- or others, then getting torn apart. Simon would come back right? Simon was his friend. He would return. He would come to look for him, right? If he couldn’t look for them, they would eventually return- Jeremy- Dave- Old Sport- ONE of them had to return eventually, right? Someone would come to tell him what happened! Time passed by. Mike wasn’t even sure how fast- every day pretty much the same. By now he had befriended the machines a little bit more, at least for during the day. The restaurant was breaking down, but thankfully the generator needed little to charge it up, the cameras and lights were all still fine. Hell, even the music did work still out. He felt a bit bad for the animatronics, as they slowly became more and more broken down- they still seemed to be in high spirits though. And still hunting him down heartlessly at night. Mike had stopped questioning that part. They knew he was their friend, at least during the day… he assumed there was some trauma related terror coming with the darkness, causing them to act out viciously. Fine. He could handle it. He was like them after all. Trying his best he attempted to maintain what could and keep the place at least SOMEWHAT clean, though he slowly lost the fight against the creeping plants and mold. But that was fine. Nobody ever came, even if he was sure that the doors were open. What could have caused the sudden shut-down? And were the other taken along? Maybe they had been sent to another location? But then- why not him? His thoughts were constant circles that were slowly driving him insane. He hoped for SOMEONE. SOMETHING. Hell, he was looking for secret doors, hoping for ANY HINT- Until one night, finally someone came. Mike was flicking through the cameras, rather bored as he heard something and quickly flicked until he found the one where there was unusual movement. The doors had opened and a group of teenagers had answered. He could hear their laughter and words, but those turned into distorted echoes, as they were send through the empty hallways. Glancing at the clock he realized it was shortly before midnight. Fucking hell- what for fucking IDIOTS! Rashly he grabbed his flashlight and made his way down the hallway. The poster changed as he passed them. Fuck, fuck, fuck, they were awake- When he arrived in the main place, where the teens had set up some alcohol and party lights, one even having put on a hat, he called out loudly- and admittedly, maybe a bit too harshly. “HEY! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING HERE!?” The kids jumped, one falling straight from the chair. Frozen they stared at him and he frustratedly stared back. Seriously, what where they DOING here?! Suddenly, next to him was a noise of something dropping on the ground loudly. Snapping around he saw a girl standing there, a few broken cups to her feet. Suddenly one of them screamed out. “RUN!” And she didn’t hesitate anymore. “DON’T FUCKING DO IT- goddammit.” Mortified he looked at the stage- The head had turned. With a last glare at the teens he proceeded to follow her up. “IF YOU GO THERE YOU WON’T GET FUCKING OUT, YOU’RE AWARE OF THAT RIGHT? THOSE ARE A FUCKING DEAD END. EMPHASIS ON DEAD.” As fast as he could he rushed after her, but he was distracted as he heard multiple voices scream in the backroom, then scattering. “Goddamn kids- why aren’t they running OUT!?” The next generation seemed to seriously lack self-preservation instincts. Torn he stood on the spot, swaying- Then he rushed back. The animatronics were there- the danger was THERE. Rushing as fast as he could without crashing into any walls while taking corners, just to spot one of the teens being chased down by the laughing Chica. He wanted to go along, distract the animatronic, but quickly saw a silhouette in the darkness ahead- “HEY!” It ran off, moving into the office, making Mike realize what was going on. “YOU BETTER NOT CLOSE THAT DOOR, YOUNG MAN-“ The door was closed and locked and Mike could only stare in through the window, at the mortified person cowering inside, looking back at him. “OPEN THE DOOR! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING-“ The other side was still open and to Mike’s horror, a golden eye lit up behind the guy. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK- Desperately he pounded against the reinforced glass. “GET OUT! TURN AROUND! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING!?” The brown-haired teen kept his eyes locked on him, causing Mike to make a distressed noise and try to run the other way around- Not three steps and he heard an animatronic scream. Too late. There were other screams throughout the place, there was no time to dwell. Again Mike made his way around, attempting desperately to spot any humans- This was terrible, terrible, fucking awful! How would he tell the police about this?! How would the animatronics deal with hurting people who were almost children themselves!? WHY WASN’T HE DOING HIS JOB!? Hurry, hurry, hurry up. Make you can save SOMETHING. For ONCE. Hearing something he pressed himself against the wall, letting an animatronic pass that seemingly didn’t notice him. Out of breath he moved past the bathrooms and- Sobbing. Instantly he moved inside, hearing a muffled cry. The last of the teenagers cowered against the wall, the green eyes wide and terrified. “STAY- STAY AWAY FROM ME!” “Calm the fuck down!” Mike tried to reassure him. “I… I’ll get you out of here. But you NEED to calm down. You HAVE to-“ The boy threw something that Mike promptly deflected. “You’re a little bitch, you fucking know that? Maybe I SHOULD let you brats handle yourself” He turned to check on what it was that had fallen- His eyes met the ones in the mirror. Silver. Shining silver. An endoskeleton, with tiny white dots in their big black eyes stared back. A torch in its hand. A hat on his head. A little glowing badge on his chest. “What… what the fuck…” He stumbled back and the endo almost crashed into one of the stalls behind him- he could feel the door open against his back. Terrified his eyes wandered back to the kid. “That’s- that’s not real. That’s not me. THAT’S NOT ME-“ IT’S ME IT’S ME IT’S ME IT’S ME Before he could do anything more, the teen bolted past him and he lost his focus more and more. S Y S T E M R E B O O T Mike woke up at his desk, tired, with a headache. Fuck… what happened?! Something happened. Did he fall asleep?! Dizzy he stood up, looking outside of the black doors. There was noise of slow animatronic movement. Something was… off. Slowly he stepped outside, looking around. Chica was with the back to him, carrying something. A liquid of indistinguishable color dripped from whatever she was carrying- “… Chica?” She turned, then smiled, turning further to reveal her pizza. “Mike! So you finally came out! Took you long enough! Lazy butt!” Happily she laughed. “… you’re in a good mood… what is that…?” His head was HURTING. “Pizza, obviously.” “How did you make that?” For a second it was silent, then she tilted her head. “The ingredients you brought in…?” “Ah.” Suddenly he remembered. He went out today, buying groceries for this. Because Chica was whining so much. God, how could he have forgotten that? Friendly she signed him to come along. “Come!” “Can’t. Someone needs to clean up the damn sauce. You got it all over the fucking place.” She smiled sheepishly. “Sorry Mike… come, I’ll clean it up later, I promise.” “WILL you?” “Yessir!” She smiled. “Well…” “Eat with us, Mike.” The guard sighed and followed the machine into the darkness.

[gendertrader]

Physical

279 lbs / 5’9” / 24 / Spiro: 1/1/19 | E: TBD

All right, y’all. I know I’ve been away for some time now, but there haven’t really been many changes to report. Until now.

I’ve set a date. Well, an approximate date, but a date nonetheless. My birthday is coming up (February 10) and I figured now is as good a time as ever. I’ve been on Spiro for a year now and I’ve been happy with all the changes. Of course, there have been mental issues arise since I’ve started, but I like to think of it as unlocking a new level – it’s harder because I’m further in the journey. I originally looked into going to a Planned Parenthood (because they’re informed consent and offer payment options for those without insurance) but there aren’t any near me that offer HRT, merely service referrals. Now I’m shopping around but still plan on setting the appointment for early February. Anyway, let’s get into the data.

Skin

N/A

Hair (body/head)

My hair is a little softer and a little easier to tame than it used to be. Of course, I’m working to improve my haircare routine, but it’s been visibly less crazy even on days when I use the same routine as previous years. It’s not quite as full, but I think that’s due to the hair-loss I experienced a couple weeks ago. I also recently cut my hair (from a lob to a bob) and even though it’s shorter than I wanted, it’s still a cute cut and has gotten me “ma’am”ed a couple times so I’m not unhappy.

My body hair has been growing a little slower for sure, but since I’m on biotin, some of it is growing at regular speeds but is easier to maintain. Chest and armpit hair has been growing slower for sure. I don’t believe anything has gotten thinner or finer, though.

Face

Not much cheekbone growth since my previous mention. I wish there were more, which I guess is why I will be (hopefully?!?) starting E soon.

I finally got my eyebrows thin enough for the look I’m going for! There’s still a little trimming to be done, but I think I finally found what I’ve been looking for.

I experienced a slight increase in facial acne around the chin and forehead, but I imagine this is normal.

Body

Not much here, either. I’ve seen very minor breast growth, but still in a gynecomastia kind of way, and not a breasts kind of way. Which is fine. But I’m starting to doubt (surprise surprise asksdkgskd) my decision in an “I’m just using gender dysphoria as a cover for my desire to be thin” way, which is problematic but a very real worry I’m having. I keep telling myself that I’m actually happier with my fatter body because it feels closer to my desired shape, but there’s no denying that the idealized version of myself that I’m trying to build is thinner, and I’m not sure that I’m appropriately disassociating weight and happiness from transness. Am I falsely assuming that transitioning will help with my weight problems and happiness problems inherently, or do I believe that transitioning will increase my happiness, which will in turn affect my compulsive need to overeat to substitute for the organic happiness I’m not receiving, which will result in my being thinner? Who knows! It is kind of helpful to get it all typed out (thanks for the help lmao) but still doesn’t clarify anything. I’ll have to wait and see.

Ummmmm I’ve been literally so horny recently. Like wtf horny. Like masturbate twice a day as opposed to once a week horny. I guess it’s fine, it just makes me concerned that my Spiro isn’t as strong as it used to be, or that there’s a ‘spillover’ (if you will) of T since Spiro blocks the reception but not the production. I’d like to speak with an endo sometime after I start E to discuss switching to something safer (like bicalutamide or cypro).

I noticed a distinct scent change probably like two or three months ago, I’m not sure if I’ve recorded that, but my shower schedule has had to change because it’s more difficult to hide if I’ve not cleaned in a week. Good for depression or something.

Mental/Emotional

Depression: Definitely getting worse. It could be the SAD or that I’m changing jobs or that I’m hitting a new trans milestone that’s got me all fucked up, but I’m tired of it. I was told that there’s a free clinic near me that would prescribe meds, and I’m seriously considering it. I’m not sure if I want to go before or after my E appointment but I imagine executive dysfunction will cause it to be after. Speaking of which...

I’m p sure I have ADHD: inattentive. Like symptoms and coping mechanisms are lining up interestingly close to those with diagnosed ADHD and some other things are clicking into place. I’m not sure if this means anything, but thoughts are happening for sure.

Anxiety: Not as bad, though I switched the weed strain I’ve been smoking last month, so that could be playing in. I’m definitely smoking more (or for different reasons?) than I used to so I’m trying to keep an eye on that, make sure that I’m not withdrawing too much. This world is a shithole and I sometimes despise being forced to exist here, but it’s the only one we got.

I keep catching myself nervous beyond belief to actually start E, despite having wanted this since high school. I know this is a normal reaction with many valid points, but I can’t help but worry that mine are one of the few that are unfounded (#narcissism). I’m going to have to detransition because I was experiencing mental traumas that made existing as a woman-aligned person easier that confronting my relationship with masculinity and my body. In reality, I think my grasp on masculinity and its role in my personality will become clearer with HRT and I will have an easier time displaying it when “masculine” is no longer the default seen by the people around me.

Finally, I wish to share this with the parents. I think. Probably.

I know I want to share the decision to start E with my Facebook friends, as they’ll likely realize something is up via my posts and pictures, but I can’t do that until I’ve explained this to my family, which will be...interesting. I’ll have to prepare some resources for understanding nonbinary identities and answers to all those pesky questions nobody wants to have to answer, and I’m sure it’ll be a while before they get it, but...this coming out will be different from my first. I guess mainly because I’ve mostly socially transitioned at this point so few people should be surprised, but also because I have more power in how I decide to exist and am a stronger person now who has weathered this before. I think this is where some of my anxieties stem, that I’ve forgotten how to be that person, but I’m working on remembering that I’m stronger than I think, and that I’ve been through much worse.