#if needed see doctor
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
consult-johnhwatson · 13 days ago
Note
Medical question for you, Dr Watson!! What is the difference between a strain and a sprain? And should I see a doctor for a fever? I tripped over a branch yesterday and need to know how best to treat an ankle but dunno the difference. Caio <3
In short terms, a strain is often in tendons or muscles, while a sprain is in the ligaments, which connect the bones. You may feel more effect rubbing the muscle/tendon, and that may be a strain, and if you can't reach the pain/unable to walk/bend the limb then it may be a sprain.
So, easy test is if you can stand or walk with pain, maybe a strain. If you can't, might be a sprain or worse. For a delicate area as your ankle, I highly suggest seeing a doctor if pain doesn't ease after a few days or if pain is extreme/unable to stand on.
Long lasting or high fevers suggest seeing a doctor either way, or accompanying rashes/headaches/confusion. Normal fever rules.
5 notes · View notes
cozylittleartblog · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
what if there was a plague doctor that was so so so cute (and was also secretly a bird themself)
13K notes · View notes
inkskinned · 1 year ago
Text
the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.
three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.
two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.
their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.
one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.
i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.
i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.
and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?
you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.
a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.
someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.
#writeblr#warm up#this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru#but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist#ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school.#like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it.#was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes.#but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create''#when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work#part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just#like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent.#speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r#ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week#this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice.#''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism#imagine if we said that about literally any other profession.#''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt?#u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky''#we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY#''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''
11K notes · View notes
uncharted-constellations · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
I’m Me
7K notes · View notes
tbaluver · 23 hours ago
Text
no lube, no protection, all night, all day, from the kitchen floor to the toilet seat, from the dining table to the bedroom, from the bathroom sink to the shower, from the front porch to the balcony, vertically, horizontally, quadratic, whatever he wants
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
HE DID THE FUCKING GLASSES THING WHEN HE MAKES OJT WITH US IM NOT OKAY FUCKKKK @ilovemitsuya witnessed me screech in call when this came out btw thank yew also she made me these gifs love yew 😼
865 notes · View notes
poorly-drawn-mdzs · 8 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
An unbothered queen has entered, and subsequently left.
[First] Prev <–-> Next
2K notes · View notes
thetorturedlovergirl · 23 days ago
Text
I can’t wait for part 2 I need to hear Cynthia sing No good deed and scream FIYEEROO please I need it rn
407 notes · View notes
eightdoctor · 9 months ago
Text
they need to put all the doctor who authors on big brother or something like i need to see what happens when you lock them all in a room. probably murder or at the very least some extreme violence
1K notes · View notes
gallusrostromegalus · 1 year ago
Text
Hope everyone had a good Christmas I got... Shingles.
2K notes · View notes
daughter-of-war · 6 months ago
Text
Something I think about a lot is how the 13th Doctor clearly has dyed-blonde hair. She has visible dark roots. This can mean two things: Either Time Lords can just... regenerate with funky, non-natural-human hair colours (perhaps like how Time Ladies always seem to regenerate into a full beat of makeup..), OR that the regeneration energy of 12 to 13 fried her otherwise naturally brown / black hair into a blonde.
Of course, the latter leads to so much potential. Does the Doctor now have to upkeep her dye job? Does she disappear sometimes for "five minutes" only for Yaz to stare disapprovingly at her grown-out roots? Has any of the Fam ever taken her to a hair salon or does she bleach her hair in the TARDIS console room with a jug of water and some totally-safe-don't-worry Space Bleach that nearly sets the console on fire when she bumps into it? Where is all the art of 13 with dark hair?
I need answers.
589 notes · View notes
hubrishazard · 1 year ago
Text
I edited together all the clips of 14 frantically twirling and climbing and sliding around in here like his life depends on it
1K notes · View notes
paintedcrows · 29 days ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Together
299 notes · View notes
uncanny-tranny · 3 months ago
Text
"If men got periods/needed abortion/got ovarian or breast cancer, those resources would be handed out like candy! They'd be more plentiful than ATMs!!"
You mean perisex cis men. You mean perisex cis men. Say what you mean.
I'm a trans man. I avoid all medical care because ninety percent of my doctors have not treated me properly because I am a trans man. I am acutely aware that doctors would be more than happy to not provide me care on the basis of my being trans, even if it costed my life.
Every time I so much as think about the doctors, I'm reminded of men like Robert Eads - of how my care is at the whim of the opinions a doctor has about my life. And because of my own past negative experiences, I hesitate to open my patient portal to schedule an appointment. When I have gotten a good doctor, it's not been the rule, it's the exception. I have a doctor right now who I'm lucky to see, who actually treats me like a human being. I'm celebrating that a doctor finally treats me like a person.
If you want to group all men as being the same, I hope you're willing to have that blood on your hands. Because that care is routinely kept away from men, and it's a real, tangible, systemic issue.
I don't talk about this because I see being trans as this negative thing, but because I want to continue living and I want my trans siblings to live. I understand the frustration that people have who say this - it's another systemic issue that also costs lives. However, I am alarmed at the trend of... forgetting or perhaps erasing that this is still an issue for men, that we literally aren't treated the same as somebody like a cis perisex woman. No doctor has ever treated me like one, and of that I know for a fact. And this is a simple fix - be clear about who you mean when you talk about a group of people or a specific phenomenon. That applies when you are talking about any group of people because, generally, these overgeneralizations will be useless because it can't apply to everyone, and might just hurt a group of people you may not even be intending on hurting.
343 notes · View notes
dandelionjack · 11 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
do you guys ever forget about Age. me too
829 notes · View notes
corallapis · 7 months ago
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
452 notes · View notes
aq2003 · 1 year ago
Text
doctor who said hahah yeah we're gonna make the tenth doctor a guy that gets so deeply and utterly attached to the people around him and one by one he watches them leave and it drives him to a complete breakdown as he gets his heart broken over and over again and keeps causing harm to those around him and then finally he has a conversation where someone tells him that they want him to live actually, that he's a wonderful person and he needs to make the decision to save his own life along with the rest of humanity's. and then when the battle is over and for the first time in so long he laughs with real relief and joy that he's alive and that he's happy that he's alive, he has to sacrifice himself for the person that gave him that reason for living back. he dies alone and scared and desperate to cling onto the love that shaped his identity and the pain that resulted from it. And all i have to say on this is that i need to strangle rtd with my bare hands
2K notes · View notes