#if only doctors would actually diagnose me

[itsgirlcraft]

God, HOW did you know, Tumblr? How did you know I just got my meds refilled?!

Forgive me if this is more of a vent than informative, but this is probably the best place for this...

I...God, the past week was INSANE and it's all because of this. Because I'm diagnosed with ADHD and have a therapist and my pharmacy just. They didn't even have it. My mom was too stressed 2 weeks ago, so I had to call the pharmacy myself. But I didn't know what to do with that information. I don't even have my doctor's number.

I was already knee-deep in college work and couldn't take days off from my medication. I've managed to scrape together 3 pills over the past several months, just in case. And I had to use every last one last week. I barely got a week's worth of work done in two days. And then I used my last pill to try to enjoy Halloween. And I did! I did have fun! I did enjoy it! But I went to bed at midnight...and I had quite possibly the worst possible mental health episode I've ever had the next day.

Last Friday was the closest to depression I've ever been in months, years, even. Between being unmedicated, sleep-deprived, menstruating, and the anxiety of college constantly on my peripheral, I was in the worst state I've ever been in. I can't shower while unmedicated due to overstimulation, and I was already 4 or 5 days overdue for one.

I'm used to being more tired and anxious when unmedicated, but this was something worse. I was too tense to lay down, too tired to stand, and too anxious to be alone with my thoughts. The only coherent thoughts I had were my anxiety. Periodically I would break down crying as I realized how helpless I was to the passage of time, knowing I'd need to do college work soon again. I didn't know if my medication would ever come, and if I may have to drop out.

Two weeks ago, I'd had a severe anxiety attack that came back repeatedly, related to college. I was scared I wouldn't be able to do the reading for both classes, and I'd have to drop out of (ironically) my psychology class. Running out of medication following that was the worst possible scenario for my mental health. That anxiety came back throughout the week I was unmedicated and crescendoed horrifically on Friday.

Like stormcloud, my life's improved with medication and diagnosis, but monthly prescriptions still creep up on me. I thankfully can handle offbrand medication just fine, but my pharmacy has a tendency to be incredibly unreliable. Even if I stay on top of it, despite everything, it's still likely that they somehow forget or are late again. I haven't been able to transfer to a different one nor get an actual doctor. I've been stuck with pediatrician despite being 20.

anyways can we start recognizing adhd as an actual and serious disorder that

can affect on functioning in every day life so badly that it interferes with taking care of very basic human needs

is not 10 yrs old white boy exclusive disorder

is not a fake disorder created to benefit medicine companies

definitely should not be reduced to “kid who cant sit still and wont stop screaming” stereotypes because adhd has a whole fuckton of symptoms ranging from serious memory issues to fine motor control difficulties

[42-because-why-not]

The night before doctors appointments I like to put my medication and patient history out for Dr. House to come and hopefully give me a diagnosis since I’ve been a good little patient

[mosscaps]

the arguments against self diagnosing any illness sound very funny when you’re a chronically ill guy that’s been trying to get diagnosed for almost a decade with something 90% of doctors don’t even believe in or blatantly don’t care about and they will say directly to your face “yeah so you have all the signs of this and we’ve ruled out a lot of other things but we just don’t know enough about it so we cant diagnose you” and diagnosis wouldn’t even get you the resources you need because those resources barely exist in the first place slash we don’t know what would help because, see above, medical professionals deny the existence of this very real condition or set of conditions, and so there isn’t enough funding or research behind it. the ouroboros of a terrible healthcare system should not stop you from trying to determine what resources you need even if that means just saying you have the thing so you can move forward. if you need treatment for xyz symptoms, even if you do not necessarily have the condition most associated with those symptoms, you still need treatment. there is not a real house md out there cooking up the perfect diagnosis to your condition while violating many professional and ethical boundaries that i would absolutely let him violate if he could, you know, accurately diagnose and treat me. instead you have to do what you can do with what you have and if you disagree that it is necessary to “”play the system”” to get potentially life saving care, then you have never had the marginalized usamerican experience and i wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy but if you keep insisting self diagnosis is the problem, instead of like, the horrors of capitalism, i wish you stuck in a doctors office for an hour and a half only for them to suggest you might feel better if you take a multivitamin or lose some weight.

[icd-11]

self dxed this, professionally dxed that, who gives a shit. become unofficially diagnosed. find a prescriber who will do everything they can to get you the right medications that you need without having to attribute a stigmatized diagnosis in your chart. find a psychologist and therapist who recognize and treat your disorder without needing to have it officially documented.

so much of the self dx/prof dx argument is the validity of any individual diagnosing themselves with a disorder, compared to an objective, third party perspective, but a question i never see anyone ask: what does your third party stand to gain by diagnosing you with this condition? what, exactly, do YOU stand to gain by having that diagnosis? if you need to be diagnosed for disability reasons, that's completely understandable. if you need to be diagnosed due to medicine regulation, that's completely understandable. but really. ask yourself. if you are seeking professional diagnosis, what do you stand to gain from having that diagnosis? is it worth the risk? can you trust your providers to see you as a person first?

[businesscasuallabcoat]

I've talked about this before, but I'll mention it again here: I have hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. This is a condition I was born with, and I've shown signs from an early age. I've been complaining to doctors about severe joint pain since I was in middle school. I wasn't diagnosed until I was 25, because I'm fat and always have been. I was told to keep exercising through the pain, that it would go away once I lost weight. I never lost weight, and my pain only got worse. I likely have permanent joint damage from being forced to run on sprained ankles, because my gym teachers didn't believe that the fat kid could actually be hurt. I dropped out of college because, without the treatment it would take me 2 more years to get, my physical health was deteriorating too much to continue. It's still bad enough that I don't know if I will ever go back. That might not be the case if I had been taken seriously when I was a kid.

I work at a daycare with infants.

One of our baby girls is fat, in the 99th percentile for her age. She is super cute and sweet. Lately, she has been sick with various breathing issues, so she has been reluctant to take her bottles. Normally, she’ll take 4 ounces of formula at lunch and 8 ounces in the afternoon. Today, I was lucky to get to her take 5 all day.

There was a substitute covering a lunch break in my classroom today. We emphasized to her that we need to keep trying to get the baby to drink her bottle until she finished it. She said, “Why are you guys so worried about taking her bottle?”

My coworker replied, “That’s where all her nutrients are. She needs the nutrients and the water.”

To which the substitute replied, “But she’s so fat. She doesn’t need it.”

Thin privilege is a small, pretty baby getting better childcare because the caretaker doesn’t think she’s too fat to be allowed to eat.

[bigmack2go]

My docor just went „either they‘re hard of hearing or they have adhd“ and my mom just straight out saod „motherfucker, BOTH!“ and i DIED

[senseiwu]

maybe a bit tmi but. I need to Scream.

[homestuck--edits]

janesol with any panel that'd work or smthn

thought this'd be fun :> was right !

-mod davesprite

[born-to-lose]

According to 6 different serious health/psychology pages I have BPD, do you think that means I should see a therapist?

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[yuribalisms]

I think it is finally time to bite the bullet and begin the long and arduous process of getting my slew of illnesses (mental and physical) diagnosed so I can actually pursue treatment and/or accommodations with jobs because I uh, cannot do this shit anymore

[gemwolfz]

frog dump yippee yahoo!! with gay people, shitty presentations, and creepypasta dororo my silly

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

I hate how inconsistent the temperature iOS this time of year. Today the high is like 64 but two days from now they are predicting a high of 80 something. Every morning i have to check the weather to see what I have to do, air conditioning on or off, and when I’m getting out my clothes for the day i have to figure out just how much of the day I’ll be outside. In the morning it will be like 60 something and then at noon it’s like 80. What pants am I supposed to wear like this? And do I need a sweater or will it just be extra bulk in warmer weather? On Monday I was like “oh hell yeah, I can wear my skinny jeans now. And the new ouija board sweater i got at target! And then yesterday it was 75 and i forgot to check the weather so i didn’t turn on the air conditioning or open a window until i noticed it was uncomfortably warm in the afternoon and i had trouble falling asleep because my bedroom (i don’t open the window here very often because i live near train tracks and I’d rather not hear it louder in my bedroom while i try to sleep, and any wind will blow my curtains around and let light in) even with my window open all night while it dipped to around 60 felt too hot, but I refused to use the air conditioner when it was 60 out and nice. I had been using the stove though and that combined with my body heat and the weather warming the small apartment up, I was sweating in my bed and I couldn’t fall asleep. And then! If you sweat a whole lot overnight and your window is open cooling the place down, you’re hit by cold when you remove the blanket. I need to wash shorts and pants and it’s weird. September is always super inconsistent here.

[schadenfreudich]

Franz was talking about reading a proposed law early in the morning and went "Yes, I love doing that" while putting his hands into what was almost the Merkel Raute, just not on purpose.

[bethanythebogwitch]

I listened to reading of some askreddit threads (don't judge me, it's a guilty pleasure) about doctors and healthcare and I notices some major division on topics when the answers were from the doctor's POV and patients' POV. I'm of course not qualified to draw conclusions from this, nor is Reddit a good place to get data, but here are some recurring points I found where the doctor and patient position appeared to be different.

Doctor POV: we can always tell when people are faking pain for opioids. It's extremely obvious.

Patient POV: multiple doctors accused me of drug seeking when I was actually in agony from stones, appendicitis, endometriosis, a tumor, etc.

Doctor POV: people who try to diagnose themselves are really annoying and counter productive.

Patient POV: I only figured out what was wrong with me by searching the internet after multiple doctors dismissed or failed to diagnose me. Alternatively: I went in with a good idea of what was wrong based on past experiences/family history/ etc and the doctors didn't take me seriously. Some would even refuse to do tests to check if the self-diagnosis was correct.

Doctor POV: the phrase "I know my body" is usually used by people who don't know what they're talking about. We are the ones who know medicine so we can tell if you're sick or not.

Patient POV: I knew something was wrong with me because I know my body and know when something isn't normal. The doctors wouldn't take me seriously and told me nothing was wrong after only doing basic tests.

Again, Reddit is not a good place to get data as the nature of the website encourages people posting more sensational stories and exaggerating or fabricating stories to get upvotes. In addition, most of these stories are likely far from the average doctor and patient experience. However, it appears that there may (emphasis, may) be a disconnect between doctors and patients that involves doctors not taking patients seriously and thinking they know better than patients about their own bodies. It seems like defaulting to thinking patients exaggerate pain to seek drugs and that patients don't have any way of understanding their own health is really detrimental.

Do not take this post as me saying you shouldn't go to the doctor. If you need medical help, go to the doctor. The medical system isn't perfect, but it's the best we have. And go to an actual doctor, not a naturopath, homeopath, or other quack.

[callooopie]

Modern!Davos Blackwood headcannons (pt. Smut)

— NSFW edition—

It can’t be unlearned. I’ve known the warmth of your doorways — It Will Come Back // Hozier

I haven’t written NSFW in a bit ~3~. Bear with me while I try not to blush and cringe at my own writing T~T (also that new episode.. rip MY queen Rhaenys dude. It actually made me so bummed it ruined my night.) Also do I still use the Benjicot tags or is he now his own character now that he’s been mentioned finally ~3~ ?!

cw— NSFW, smut detailed to the best of my abilities. Minors do not interact. Interact with this and I’ll punch you so hard your ancestors will feel it I’ll-

< added one (1) new headcannon since posting >

Cool, calm, confident. That’s what Davos was. Surely it would translate to the bedroom too—it does not. He’s shy the first time around. Very much. Silent, rigid; his eyes simply darting up and down your body as you undress in front of him. The only sign that he’s there in the head is his hands gripping the comforter in his fists tightly. Before you begin, please give him a few kisses and reassuring smiles. Sitting in his lap and doing so does wonders. Run your fingers through his hair in a calming manner too.

You might have to pause, because he’s genuinely trembling out of excitement and anticipation that he cannot concentrate or continue without calming down. He just loves your touch! Any touch, all touch. Your fingers grazing against his skin, it’s like nicotine. Press your nose against his, laugh softly and kindly against his lips, and tell him it’s alright—you can wait a minute. His hands (shaking slightly still) will find their way to your hips soon enough.

Before you two experience each other more often. Before ANY sexual encounters, with you or not with you. He is the type of guy… to not know where the clit is. It’s a sad truth. You have to sit him down and literally point to where it is. No pants, sitting on the bed with your legs spread. It’s not even sexual at this point, you’re just letting him ooo and ahh at your pussy as you tell him what feels good and how to make it feel good. A lesson in anatomy that has him going (“…really?!”). Don’t worry. He gets with the program right away. When he figures shit out you won’t ever let him leave the house ever again.

If he’s already on the more experienced side and/or after you’ve both gotten comfortable with one another after months or a couple years; he is a fiend, a menace. He wants his sheets drenched by the time you’re both done. He wants you passed out, unconscious. If you aren’t being carted off to the emergency room after sex he feels he isn’t doing it right.

Speaking of.. He has sent you to the ER before. A bruised cervix that sent searing pain whenever you walked, burning aches in your muscles and bones from being bent or pulled around that. It’s something that’s never happened before and worried you enough to make Davos drive you to the urgent care. Embarrassment and a hint of disbelief burned on your face as the doctor awkwardly told you your diagnoses, splitting their gaze between you and Davos. The latter had the biggest grin on his face as he sat there like an innocent man. His apologies are a farce don’t believe it.

Needs you to sit on his face. Dude gets off on eating you like you’re his last meal, and makes it messy too.. Doesn’t matter when (or where..) but if you are not straddling his head, laying her full weight onto him—that’s basically like breaking his heart. He wants to die by your thighs that’s his goal. He is the type to grab and scratch at your thighs, squeezing flesh as he tries to pull you closer to his lips and tongue. Sometimes his hand leaves your thigh to deal with his own hardened cock—muffled and incoherent whines leaving him as he devours you sloppily and breathlessly. If he’s eating you out while you’re laying on your back; he will be pathetically grinding against the mattress.

Suck him off under his desk. Quietly slip underneath the wooden desk, he’s too focused on whatever he’s doing to even notice you undoing the string of his sweats anyways. Once he dies in-game and looks down he gets the memo, silently helping you slide them off of him as he talks to his team. Whatever you do, do not drag your tongue up from his base to his tip—especially when he’s comming to his teammates. He’ll be talking normally and then let out a nearly pornographic whine. If you choose to not be a menace off the bat and simply slide his cock in and out of your mouth; he’ll go blank in the head. He starts to mess up, mouth going slack as he splits his attention between the game and you on your knees between his legs with your tongue wrapping around his tip and licking off whatever leaking pre-cum you find. It’s the fastest he’s ever won (or lost) a game.

It’s edge or be edged in his world. Loves it when you tell him he can’t cum. A sloppy half-grin plastered on his face as you ride him. His hands holding your hips as he sits up, looking up at you from where he places his head by your chin. He’s gonna bitch and moan about it as usual, but slowly devolves into loud begging. His speech is slurred as his eyes stare up at you like your god who has the power to grant him that divine release he’s been denied for an hour.

He loves fucking you against the wall. It gives him a reason to show off his arms and muscles—and it feels good. If you have comments about your weight, your body, how will he hold you up, etc. Leave ‘em at the door, Davos does not care. He goes to the gym for this reason baby! To be able to lift you easily and hold you against the apartment wall as he pounds into you. His hands digging into the skin of where your thighs and ass meet. Wrap your legs around his waist, tangle your fingers into his hair. You’re not leaving until there’s a puddle of your arousal and cum underneath you.

Switch. He’s a switch. Let the world (and himself) believes he’s a top, only you will know the truth. And the truth is that he loves when you take control. Tie him up, slap him around, ride him till he’s crying and drooling from either edging or overstimulation—and then keep going some more. But also remember that he can easily overpower you, pinning you down to the bed or against a wall as he thrusts in and out of you with loud groans and words of praise. His hand holds your head down as he fucks you from behind, fingers grasping onto your hair as he rambles in a pleasured high. Davos is the type to tear underwear too, so be careful about that as well..

Davos is gentle, Davos is rough. No matter what, he’s mean about it. And he’s very vocal about it too. He’ll ask if you’re enjoying yourself, if you’re liking how rough he’s fucking your cunt right now—speaking of.. can you hear how wet you are right now, it’s almost embarrassing no? Ohhh, you like being used by him? Well.. he likes your sloppy pussy too—don’t worry. Made just for him, all for him. If he’s gentle he asks if you’re doing okay between the soft kisses he places on your neck and face. His face will nuzzle against your neck, soft whispers of how you feel entering your ear between groans. You’re just a sweetheart after all, aren’t you? So soft, so good, just for him. He likes how you feel around him, how soft your skin feels under his hands. So beautiful, so cute. Don’t you like how you can feel all of him as he thrusts into you slowly? Can you feel every vein and ridge? ‘Cause he can feel every squeeze and shudder from your walls darling.

Biter. I’ve got him pinned—Davos is a biter. Bites at your nipples before swirling a tongue around them and sucking harshly. Licks your ear before biting and tugging on it. He’s a bastard and bites your clit, a low chuckle coming from him as you yelp (he kisses it after, of course). Hickeys line your skin from your neck to your lower abdomen. Bite marks, prominent bite marks, are scattered across your body. No matter what, it’ll be on your neck mostly as well. From the front or the back, a bite mark will find its way to your neck. He just gets so into it! Dicking you down so roughly he just needs to latch his teeth onto your skin hard enough to draw blood. What? No he did not lick the droplet of blood up you must be imagining—

…car sex—I’m sorry I said it. At night when you both are skating or if he’s driving around with you. Sometimes you just end up in an empty parking lot.. the windows are fogged up and there’s music playing faintly, not that you care or really hear it as you listen to his moans. His hands holding your hips or waist as you slowly bounce on his cock while he sits in the driver seat. Bonus if you hold the thin necklace he wears between your teeth as you grind yourself down onto him.

Added! HE’S INTO SHOTGUNNING. Absolutely, how did I forget such a thing. Happens when you’re riding him. It’s a lazy night; him sitting in a chair, a cigarette between his fingers as you moan and whimper loudly. His other hand remains on your ass, guiding you up and down as he lets his head fall back briefly with a low grunt from his throat. He sits back up to take a drag from the cigarette, his other hand moving up from your ass to the back of your head (he gives you a parting slap to your butt). He presses your face closer to his and you instinctively part your lips, letting him blow smoke into it. He does talk you through that like he’s talking you through your orgasm, soft words of encouragement and guidance as he watches you blow it back out. It ends in him kissing you and wrapping one arm tightly around your waist as he starts to thrust up into you roughly. “In.. and out.. atta girl. There we are. Aren’t you just a good listener, my lovely lady?”