#if this goes on it just might come down my worst fear (hospitalisation)

[shiraishi--kanade]

THATS SOO BAD OUTDHDH MANIFESTING IT BREAKS AND LOWERS THROIGH THE NIGHT ;-;;

It broke rn I'm on like 37° and it's been a bliss. I forgot how normal it feels to have a 37° body temperature. Now I just need it to stay that way or the profs will actually skin me alive...

[spencers-renaissance]

Rain is a Chance to be Touched Ch.2

hell is empty, and all the devils are here

Chapter One

This is the second chapter in my new ongoing hotchreid fic! Please click here for the fic summary, full tags, trigger warnings, more information etc.

Last Chapter: Spencer's disordered and depressed thoughts were introduced, he was shot, Foyet stabbed Hotch, and Spencer ended up alone in his apartment :(

In This Chapter: we get to see Hotch's view of the events of early season five.

TW: aftermath of violence, recovery, spousal death, grief/mourning

Word Count: 3.4k

RCT Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

AARON

All but mariners plunged in the foaming brine and quit the vessel, then all afire with me: [he] cried, 'Hell is empty and all the devils are here.' — William Shakespeare, The Tempest

The team is working on the case.

Aaron tries desperately to remember this when the fear starts to rise in his chest again, squashing his lungs and pressing violently against his already groaning heart. The team is working on the case, they always solve the case, and he trusts them with his life because, at the end of the day, that’s what’s at stake here, isn’t it? Haley and Jack are all he has in this world; he absolutely cannot lose them.

The team is working on the case.

Frustration builds as he lays in a hospital bed, completely incapacitated during the most important case of his life, and it’s only made worse by the knowledge that Spencer is hurt, too. He was absolutely furious when he eventually found out after asking his whereabouts on his third day of hospitalisation, having realised he hadn’t seen him once at the hospital.

Rossi had deliberately omitted Spencer being shot from his account of the case. Why, he had no idea. Did he not think it important that one of their own was seriously injured? Aaron hopes not. Did he think he was unable to handle the information at that point? Certainly more probable, but still infuriating.

It was all exacerbated by the guilty expression on JJ’s face when he asked who’d been visiting him. She’d told him that there hadn’t been time, that they were working on the case 24/7, that Penelope had heard from him and he was fine, but it wasn't enough to satiate his rising anger. Aaron doesn’t quite understand the blistering fury he still feels when he thinks about Spencer injured and alone, abandoned by his team, but he expects it’s because he still feels protective over the youngest member of the team.

That’s almost definitely it.

He takes a month off from work, but he has no idea what to do with himself, especially once he's discharged from hospital and returns to a lonely apartment in which he was brutally attacked by the FBI’s Most Wanted Serial Killer. He’s miserable without seeing Jack regularly and fearful of the length of time he’ll have to wait until he can see him and Haley again as he tries desperately not to think of the possibility that he may never see them again.

A lot of time is spent touring his DVD and box set collections and passing the time by cooking and exercising as much as his healing body will allow him. Every functional moment, every spare shred of brain power he has to spend, though, is directed at the Foyet case.

Finding Nemo is playing on the TV when there’s a knock at the door a week into his stay at home — admittedly, his collection is not all that large and he’d exhausted the more age-appropriate films far too quickly — so he turns it off and peels his exhausted bones off the couch. Most of the team have dropped by at various points, bringing food and gifts and comfort in the worst time of his life, so he’s expecting Emily or Rossi or JJ, but instead, it’s Spencer standing on his doorstep.

He doesn’t have the time to school his expression so his surprise is written all over his face, and Spencer must see it because he immediately cringes and deflates, as though suddenly doubting whether showing up out of the blue was a good idea after all.

“Hi.” Aaron smiles welcomingly to try and counter the negative thoughts that are almost certainly worming their way into Spencer’s mind. “Come in.” He steps aside and allows him to hobble awkwardly into the living room, his crutches dragging slightly along the carpet, the telltale sign of someone not quite accustomed to them yet.

“I hope it’s alright I came,” Spencer says shyly, almost apologetic. “I should have texted but I dropped my phone under the sofa and I can’t get down on the floor to retrieve it.” He blushes at his admission but gratefully accepts Aaron’s invitation to sit down.

Aaron smiles as warmly as he can manage, joining him on the couch. “You're fine, don't worry; it’s not like I’m up to much. I’m just happy to have some company.” He almost confesses that he was watching a children’s film before Spencer showed up, but decides that’s perhaps revealing just a little too much. “How have you been doing? I did message you, but I suppose your phone gathering dust under a couch explains the lack of a response.”

“You did?” Spencer’s eyes meet his and he looks utterly bewildered for some reason, seemingly surprised that Aaron would do such a thing. “Sorry, I— yes, that would be why, uh.” He looks down, clearly trying to gather himself as he plays with his fingers. “I’m fine, though. Obviously, the leg is a little sore, but. I’ll be back to work on Monday.”

“Good,” he replies, though he knows a gunshot wound will still be more than a little sore only two weeks after the initial injury. “How long do you have that?” He gestures vaguely to the brace around Spencer’s left leg.

“Not really sure,” Spencer says, looking sort of bemused by the contraption. “It’s pretty inconvenient, so I hope it isn’t too long.”

Aaron can’t help but smile at the small grin on Spencer’s face as he looks down at the brace. It looks… genuine. He doesn’t have the wherewithal to contemplate why that’s so endearingly surprising. “Are you looking forward to going back?” he asks, settling back into the couch cushions as he feels his muscles protest against his strained position.

Spencer seems to struggle for a response, unsure how to answer him. If he wasn’t so damn exhausted he might try and figure this slightly odd behaviour out, but the inherently complicated puzzle that is Spencer Reid feels like one too many right now. “I’m looking forward to not being quite so bored,” he eventually replies with a short, self-deprecating laugh. Aaron almost flinches at the sound, so foreign for Spencer’s gentle soul.

He’s fiddling with his crutches and the profiler in Aaron is screaming at him to decode what’s going on, but he forces himself to push it to the side. Spencer is a capable man. He’ll be fine. Aaron, on the other hand, needs to try and save his energy for his family.

“I can understand that,” Aaron says diplomatically, careful to not reply too emphatically one way or another. “The boredom’s crippling sometimes. Thankfully, the team coming round has been saving me from having to watch too many movies.”

Spencer seems to sort of shutter down as the words leave his mouth for reasons he doesn’t know or comprehend, but he does know that the resulting silence is awkward and he feels like he’s stuck his foot in his mouth by saying something totally innocuous. Has he had a falling out with someone or something? Is it something to do with not having many visitors in the hospital? He wouldn't blame him at all if that's still a sore spot.

“I’m going to have a coffee, I think,” he says, getting up carefully from the sofa and heading towards the kitchen despite the pain in his torso begging him to sit down. “Do you need anything?”

Spencer’s head snaps up, suddenly back and engaged. “Uh, no, I’m alright,” he says, and he sounds almost… choked up? “I should probably get going, anyway.”

“Oh, uh, okay,” Aaron says, a little surprised. His mind is too foggy with pain and grief to process the microexpressions and endlessly odd behaviours Spencer is exhibiting. He knows how much Spencer appreciates his company usually, so his leaving so soon is just wrong.

He doesn’t want him to go, he loves spending time with the younger man, and even if he is acting a little strangely, he’d much rather Spencer be with him than away from him, especially when the world seems so much more personally dangerous than it was before. At least if Spencer is close to him then he knows he’s safe, and that’s all he deserves, really. To be safe.

“Say hello to the team from me,” he says, fumbling with the door handle and awkwardly making his way out. He briefly turns back, “bye, Hotch,” before he’s closing the door behind him. Aaron can hear the plastic click of the crutches on the linoleum of the corridor as he hurries away from the apartment.

Before he can think much of it, though, he’s drawn to the couch, exhaustion overtaking his body. He’s asleep in seconds.

Eventually, he goes back to work and for a small amount of time, things seem like they’re going to be okay. Emily picks him up and takes him in, Penelope gives him homemade cookies — not that he didn’t already have an ample supply of the fruits of her kitchen waiting to be eaten in his fridge — and sure, he’s a little stressed and abrasive throughout the first case, but no-one holds it against him. It’s a little tricky when he doesn’t manage to stop Darin Call from shooting his father, but he’s calmed down by the time Emily walks him back to his apartment.

“He’s not alone,” she says as they stand in his small living room, talking about Call but looking rather pointedly in his direction. They both know what she means.

Penelope and Sam, the marshall looking after his family, help him see Jack again on his 4th birthday — granted, over one of her many computer screens — and he has to swallow down a sob at the sight of him swinging in the park, looking happy as ever. He tries to be furious at Haley for uprooting Jack again, causing them to move to a halfway house because of a few phone calls to her mother, but there’s nothing left in him. Anger at the inevitable takes energy he simply doesn’t have. It’s why he simply accepted it when the money for the counter-surveillance against Foyet ran out. Fighting seems pointless.

He does manage to get angry, though, when he finds out Spencer lied to him by telling him he was cleared to travel when he wasn’t. He’d put himself at risk for deep vein thrombosis or other complications, so he calls him out as soon as the initial debrief ends. He looks sort of relieved to be staying behind with Penelope, which is a little strange since he’s always so eager to be in the thick of the action, but he brushes it off and they get on with yet another case.

Of course, it’s significantly harder to deal with when the Bureau questions him as Unit Chief of his beloved team. He takes a step back for the sake of the team, and he’s glad he does, but things don’t feel quite so good, quite so positive. He’s suddenly following Morgan’s directions instead of giving them, no longer a leader, and it’s… humiliating.

Still, he trusts Morgan. He trusts the team in general, and they still solve cases, and they still gel together like a well-oiled machine. Things are okay. There’s still hope.

But then.

Then Karl Arnold sends him a message.

Then he agonises, fights, wrestles, swims against the current to try and save his family in time.

Then Haley dies.

🌧

Aaron thanks every god he doesn’t believe in that Jack is too little to really understand what’s happened. He knows Mommy isn’t around anymore, he knows something bad happened, that Daddy is sad, but beyond that, he has no real comprehension of the situation.

In the first days after Haley’s death, he spends a lot of time cuddled up in bed, holding Jack as close to him as he can, hugging close all he has left of his ex-wife, desperately gripping onto the one person he loves more than anything else in this world.

Once he’s cleared by the Bureau, he can at least breathe a little easier in knowing his job is safe; he can provide for his baby boy. What follows, however, is less pleasant than job security.

Watching his team cry at her funeral and seeing Haley’s family in pieces almost does him in. He’s not usually the kind of man to show emotion, but he can’t help swallowing a choked sob as he tells everyone gathered just how incredible Haley was, how lucky he and Jack and everyone who knew her were, and just how much he loved her.

“If Haley were with us today, she would ask us not to mourn her death but to celebrate her life. She would tell us… she would tell us to love our families unconditionally, and to hold them close because, in the end, they’re all that matter.”

As he reads his speech, he can’t help but think of his team. For years, they've been his second family — arguably, as much as it pains him to admit it, the family he prioritised the most — and now, they're all he and Jack have. All of them have reminded him of that over the past few days, between helping with funeral arrangements and making food for them both, constant check-ups and distractions and messages of love and support. Having his back in the moment that mattered most.

“Okay, you can go ahead,” he murmurs to Jack as he lifts him up onto his hip, the last two standing at her coffin. He watches as his son places his white rose on his mother’s coffin before following suit, stomach constricting with grief as he does so. “Blow Mommy a kiss.”

And he walks, his son clutched desperately in his arms, towards the wake.

(The team leaves the funeral, called to a case that — despite everything that’s happened — he can’t help but long to be a part of even if he knows he’d be no use right now, lost in the haze of grief and the massive life change that is suddenly being a single parent, the sole carer for his son.

He uses the time off to pack Jack’s things and move them into his own flat, trying as hard as he can to keep life as normal as possible for a little boy who just lost his mom. Actually having time to be with Jack feels like the only possible good thing to come out of this situation, and he tries to be present in the moment as much as humanly possible, grateful for every second he spends chattering away with him about the dramas and dilemmas of being four-years-old, or playing dinosaurs with him, or stroking his hair while he falls asleep.

Strauss visits, says hello to Jack, and then offers him early retirement. With a heavy heart, he promises he’ll think about it.

Jessica offers to stay with Jack while he’s away. He calls Strauss, and he declines.)

Almost as soon as the team gets back from their case in Tennessee, Spencer shows up again. This time he’s only leaning heavily on a cane instead of awkwardly wrestling against two crutches, and his brace is gone.

“Hi,” he breathes, smiling hesitantly at Hotch. It doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m sorry to show up unannounced again. This time I don’t have a dusty phone to use as an excuse, I just wanted to come as soon as possible and see how you and Jack were doing.”

“It’s fine, Spencer, don’t worry,” he says reassuringly, opening the door wide enough to allow him into the sitting room. Truthfully, he’s glad he’s turned up. Spencer’s a soothing presence; innocent, almost, in his openness and honesty, how trusting he is of everyone around him despite how hurt he’s been in the past. And while the others always scoff and groan at his academic and overly factual rambles, he’s rather fond of them.

“I don’t know if you heard,” he says as he takes a seat on Aaron’s sofa again, “but we solved the case.” His leg is clearly bothering him still: he’s subconsciously rubbing it through the fabric of his trousers and his facial expressions are showing subtle indicators of pain.

“I never doubted it,” Aaron says, face soft and open, happy to have Spencer here. He joins him on the couch. “How is it, working cases with the injury?” He wonders whether asking about work will have the same response as before, but he seems slightly calmer this time around. He hadn’t noticed anything amiss when he’d gone back, though he had, of course, been a little preoccupied; there's plenty he could have missed.

Spencer considers for a moment, looking marginally more subdued than the last time he’d sat on his sofa. “It’s… not easy, but I’m sort of used to it now. I don’t mind sitting out the fieldwork too much; besides, I get to talk to Penelope more.” He looks like he’s not saying something, averting his eyes as he talks but Aaron doesn’t push. He doesn’t want Spencer to bolt, but he makes a mental note to keep an eye on him when he eventually gets back to work again. “I heard through the grapevine that Strauss offered you retirement.”

He looks up at Aaron with wide, hesitant eyes and for a moment, his heart clenches tightly, a rush of some emotion he can’t quite place flooding his chest and squeezing the breath out of him. It’s only for a second: the moment’s over before he can actually process it, but it leaves him floundering for a response.

“I— ah, yes. She did,” he affirms, nodding his head, “but I declined.”

“You did?” Spencer asks, suddenly looking far brighter and another flash of that feeling flares in his chest.

As such, he can’t help the fond, private smile that spreads across his face. “I did.”

Spencer looks like he’s about to say something else but he’s interrupted by Jack dashing into the room, flying his toy plane around the room. As soon as he spots Spencer on the sofa, he dashes over, eager to show off his toy.

“Wow, that’s amazing, buddy,” Spencer says, looking as interested in a wooden replica of an aeroplane as an extremely well-educated adult possibly could. That’s probably because, Aaron thinks with a smile, he actually is.

Before Aaron knows it, he’s watching him be dragged towards his son’s new bedroom to inspect all his other toys. Jack has always loved Spencer and Spencer has always loved Jack, sharing a bond over an interest in all things scientific and mechanical, albeit at vastly different levels.

He hadn’t noticed how dull Spencer’s been looking until he brightens so considerably as soon as Jack is engaging with him, and his brows furrow. Trusting Jack to keep Spencer well entertained for the next few minutes, he fills a glass with water and leans against the counter of the kitchen, sipping it quietly as he thinks it over.

Now that he considers it properly, Spencer has seemed rather downcast and far quieter than usual recently. Not that he’d had the energy to address it, or even really clock it, the last time Spencer had turned up at his apartment, but his weird, abrupt departure was clearly triggered by discussion of the team. He starts to get some food out for lunch as he resolves to keep a much closer eye on things when he gets back to work.

He only thinks it over for a few more minutes before Spencer emerges into the kitchen, one hand clutching his cane and another gently holding Jack’s. He’s still bombarding him with questions about planes and trains and cars, but Spencer fields them expertly, managing to actually get an answer in before another question takes its place, a skill Aaron has yet to master. His chest clenches for the third time in the small period Spencer’s been in his flat as he watches the two together.

“Would you like to stay for lunch?” he offers, taking in Spencer’s small frame and dark eye bags; he can’t help the protective desire to feed him and make sure he’s happy and healthy.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Spencer says, looking pleased with the offer, mouth twisting into a little smile. Aaron probably shouldn’t feel quite so delighted at his acceptance, but he brushes it aside and turns to face his son, who is watching them curiously.

“Hey Jack,” he says, crouching down to face him, “how about we get you some lunch, yeah? You can continue asking Spencer some questions while we eat. How does that sound?”

Watching Jack’s face light up as he nods happily and looking up to see Spencer’s small smile still firmly pasted on his face makes him feel, for the first time since Haley died, like there’s a future for him. A good one.

Chapter Three

If this chapter brought anything up for you, hotlines are in the endnotes of the AO3 version of this fic. Bigger countries are listed and a link is included if you live somewhere else in the world. I love you all, see you next Saturday! <3

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @marvel-ous-m @oliverbrnch @sbeno22 @aaron-hotchner187 (taglist form)

[hcpefulmarshmallow]

Topic! (Am I late for this thing? Oh no.) I was thinking the other day, what if Nagito's S/O was also terminally ill? (I blame Your Lie in April for that question, honestly.) I wanted to know what you say for it! Your analyses are really good, that Hufflepuff headcanon is one of the best things I've seen, actually! I'm curious to how'd he react.

Send Me A Topic To Write Meta On 

Now that I’ve picked myself up after not lying face down on the ground for half an hour because I can’t take a compliment, I swear, let’s get to it. But first: thank you so much Anon, and fear not, you’re never too late to request meta. Memes like these are more reminders that I do this kind of thing than anything because, you know, I just don’t know how to be subtle.

 And finally, this doesn’t exactly happen in canon, so much of this will be conjecture, and of course, I will do my level best to treat the topic sensitively. Chronic illness, and terminal illness in particular, is a terrible thing to live with or alongside, so if you know anyone in this situation, please treat them with kindness. 

 Anyway. 

 I think it kinda depends on a few things: when and how he gets the news, how long this has been a factor, and exactly what kind of illness his S/O has. I’m also gonna go right ahead and assume this S/O is someone with whom he is madly in love, and in whom he sees hope.

 Obviously, either way, the news will devastate him. All hope deserves the chance to thrive, and to watch that chance get ripped away from someone so full of it is about the worst thing in the world. And of course, just knowing someone you love is going through something so horrible hurts. Nagito happens to have a uniquely empathetic insight into just what his S/O might be feeling, physically and emotionally, which in some ways makes it worse.

 It’ll be much easier for him if he goes into the relationship knowing this reality. He’ll be sensitive and attentive, moreso than he is with his own medical needs. He makes an effort to not make long-term plans or dream long-term dreams, instead making a point to live in the moment. There are lots of spontaneous dates, excursions, so forth. He always hopes he and his S/O make it to see the next sakura blooming season, taking a great deal of comfort in the metaphor, and in the beauty in it. He’ll also be somewhat more pushy for relationship milestones, almost like he’s trying to cram an entire lifetime into whatever remains to them. One of these sudden dates may even end in an elopement, if his S/O is for it. Basically he’s just trying to make the best of a bad situation and keep his S/O in high spirits. He doesn’t let himself get sad about it until he’s alone, in an attempt to take away as much of their burden as possible. 

 Much of the above applies if they’re already together at the time, but not without a tremendously difficult adjustment period. In this case, Nagito has to learn to let go of all the dreams he has for his S/O, even though he’d always known he could never be a part of them. Surely someone so amazing was going to go on to do amazing things, and the comfort he feels at knowing he’s leaving behind a world that’s better for having them in it is suddenly gone.

 Most of his focus will be on helping his S/O come to terms with their prognosis, basically working himself to a point where he doesn’t really have the time to stop and seriously think about all this; possibly even to the point where he makes himself quite ill from a lack of rest. 

 Naturally, any illness that is slowly taking one’s life isn’t gong to do so kindly. He’s understanding when his S/O gets sick and has to cancel whatever plans they do make, and will go out of his way to care for them during those times. If they’re hospitalised, he doesn’t leave their side. He’s dedicated, gentle and cheerful throughout it all, but there’s an underlying sadness and exhaustion that he can never quite shake. It’s hard to come to terms with, but eventually he finds solace in the hope that their final days are peaceful, and works towards that end; and most of  all, that he’s the first to go. Finding someone to love, who loves him - this Ultimate Hope, if you will - has been his guiding light for so long. He doesn’t want to see a world without it. 

[voice-oftheempire--archived-blog]

//Today we are going to make a long post about my health, which is going to catch you up on where I have been and why I haven’t been posting as much lately in comparison to my norm. For some of my friends, you will be aware that for the past few months I have not been doing so well. For others, this information will come as a surprise, as I didn’t make this very public at any time beyond vague allusions to or the occasional complaint about being near a hospital again.

At this point, I’m exhausted, waiting on my medication to start working to keep me held over, and just really hoping for something to start working, so you get to hear everything.

Warnings for: Discussions about menstrual bleeding, hospitals and hospitalisation, mental health, and some pretty frank feelings on everything. LONG POST. Also feelings.

Something has been terribly wrong with me. In December of 2016, I started bleeding and just didn’t stop. And it wasn’t light either: I was losing upwards of 80mL of blood a day. Every day. In July of 2017 I still hadn’t stopped and giant clots the size of my hand – yes, the full hand from fingertip to palm – began dropping as well. Sometimes I would just be sitting and they would…fall out of me.

 It was humiliating. It was painful. I was eating painkillers like they were candy to try and keep myself in order. I was missing work and ruining clothing. I was dizzy most of the time from bloodloss and life was horrible. I started seeing a gyno as my health insurance finally kicked on, got ultrasounds done, discovered that my endometrial lining was 14mm thick (for relation: directly after your period, the lining should be 1 – 4 mm thick. I had been bleeding non-stop since December and mine was 14mm. It was as thicker than some people who are pregnant), and I was slapped onto Minastrin birth control to take care of it, along with an antibiotic to deal with a mild infection found in the uterine lining during the most painful test I have ever had performed in my life (Endometrial Biopsy).

 One month later in August of 2017, my heart began palpitating out of control. I began experiencing neuropathy. Cold sweats. Chest pain. I couldn’t breathe. Everything was wrong and bad and I was steadily freaking out. I began looking at symptoms and everything was telling me you could be having a heart attack. Worried, I spoke to my manager who told me I could either leave and go to the hospital right then or she was calling a stretcher and I was leaving that way. So off I went to the hospital, now terrified that I could be dying. But why? What had I done? All that was wrong was that I was fat and stressed, so why?

 I arrived at Hugh Chatham hospital and was immediately rushed back to check for heart attack. They ruled that out quickly, but my blood levels were all over the place. No one knew what was wrong, precisely, but there was a fear about a blood clot in my lungs because of elevated d-dimer levels. They couldn’t bring my blood tests up high enough, though, so I was given a choice: overnight stay to bring them up and perform a CT Scan to rule out the bloodclot, or take blood thinners and hope for the best. Unwilling to stay, I opted to fill the bloodthinners and go home.

 Mistake. I was back in he hospital the next day, as the symptoms got worse. My chest began squeezing, I broke out in a cold sweat, I had a sensation of everything pulling together and then dropping and I was more terrified than ever. I returned to the hospital, wasn’t given a choice this time about overnight stay, and boarded up in the room for observation. To make the longest story short, it turns out I was in the 1% of the population that suffers an allergic response to birth control and is unable to take it. Go me.

 I was discharged the following day, but something new had happened: my bleeding had mysteriously stopped without hormone treatment (I would be put on medroxyprogesterone to continue regulating it), but a cough had appeared. I thought little of it and went about my way.

 Until that cough got more severe and I couldn’t even deep breathe or laugh without wheezing and coughing. I rolled into a FastMed within a week and was diagnosed with Bronchospasms from potential asthma, given prednisone and an inhaler to take care of it, and sent off.

 This story goes quickly as well: suppose who began suffering heart attack symptoms again after a week and a half of prednisone? Guess who is allergic to steroids? With this knowledge, the drug was tapered and stopped in order to keep from having even worse symptoms present themselves, and off I was escorted to an Allergist and Asthma doctor to take a good and critical look at what was going on with my lungs.

 I was quickly informed I was allergic to everything (this I already knew), and I was given a corticosteroid inhaler to treat my asthma. This was bad – allergic to steroids, I was very hesitant to take it, but was reassured that everything would be fine. Different class of steroids, everything should be good. I trusted and began taking my Arnuity Ellipta inhaler along with a myriad of allergy medications. The asthma didn’t calm down. I was boosted onto Dulera instead – a stronger steroid inhaler. Again, the steroid allergy was repeated and again it was discarded.

 **A beginning note before we continue this story: It is under no uncertain terms that we should note that I am an overweight individual. During this time I have had no changes in habits, am on a medication that does stand a chance to have you drop a little weight, but not massive amounts each week at the low dose I am on.**

 Flash forward to November, and I am back in the Emergency Room because of – you guessed it – chest issues. Palpitations, pain, back pain, abdominal discomfort (including lancing pain radiating from my upper right side), can’t catch my breath correctly, everything is just fucking up and I was freaking out. So I had my husband transport me to the closest hospital to get that under control. Wilkes Regional ran all the basic tests, assured me I wasn’t having a heart attack, and bounced me. I discovered too – at this point thanks to my primary care doctor at the time – that my weight had dropped by 21 pounds from 9/28/2017 to 11/09/2017 (and 6 lbs more by this hospital visit on 11/28).

 I just kept deteriorating. My appetite continued to decrease. My abdominal discomfort continued. Within twenty minutes of consuming food I would be in pain and have to go to the bathroom where I would have diarrhoea. I started getting to where I would want to be violently ill after eating. My appetite decreased. My breathing was becoming worse. Chest pains were coming back, but then would leave. And there was this constant, constant pain between my shoulders that was just getting worse all the time.

 I caved and returned to an ER on 12/15. Again, no heart attack, but I was told, “Something is wrong with you, but we don’t know what.”

 More bloodtests. Negative for H. Pylori. Negative ANA results. Negative for simple things. Remarkably good results in other testings, but some things just didn’t add up. Some scores dropped rapidly, while others climbed. My father’s CVID (Chronic Variable Immune Deficiency) diagnosis began looming in all of our minds. We got worried. We stayed worried. My weight dropped more – now almost to 50 lbs gone (Where has it all gone? How can anyone lose that much without doing anything? Where has it gone? Why is it gone?)

 “We don’t know.” “We don’t know.” We don’t know.

 The pain is unbearable. I cannot sleep. Most recently, I began getting to the point that the pill I was given to help me eat has failed me. I try to eat but I see it soon after. My abdomen is in agony. My back feels broken. It’s spreading. My chest varies between feelings like I’m having a heart attack or the worst asthma attack of my life. I feel like the ERs are laughing at me now from how much they have seen me this month. I am humiliated. I am afraid. I am sick. I am in pain.

 I am lost.

 On 12/27 I went to Forsyth ER, hoping a bigger hospital might be able to help more, but I got the same results as always. Another CT, another “you’re not having a heart attack and everything looks fine.” Another “we’re only here to help emergent situations stop coming.” Another “follow up.” Another we can’t help you go away. I broke. That night at 1:00 in the morning I called my mother sobbing in pain and begged her to take me back to a hospital – take me somewhere and please fix me because I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t lie down on my back or my side without my heart immediately beginning to climb into the 90s – 100s and just RACING out of control. I couldn’t breathe. I was in agony. My chest hurt too much. My back and abdomen were terrible. Surely I was dying.

 God bless my mother. My husband drove me to her and she took me back to our local hospital where she brought hell down on the doctors who had not listened to me before but they listened to her. They gave me my first anti-anxiety medication and for the first time I could lie down without my heart racing too uncontrollably. I actually slept for an hour that night. I got a referral for an ultrasound on my abdomen for my organs that I had desperately needed since the CT scan had mentioned a slightly enlarged spleen and since all of my symptoms sure sounded a lot like gallbladder issues too. We were getting somewhere. I took painkillers and went to sleep with a gameplan.

 This all promptly went to port.

 My symptoms grew worse. On 12/29, I began vomiting more than ever. Yellow bile was all I passed. Bright yellow. Performing an experiment, I had ceased my iron and Vitamin C pills to see how this would change the colour of my stools, and they have promptly begun turning clay-coloured. And my skin? Beginning to yellow slightly. My upper eyes under the lids? Soft yellowing. I mentioned this to my husband and mother, but we agreed to monitor and just kind of…go through the day. I had work, I had DSS I needed to visit. It was a day. I had him call to ask about the anti-anxiety pills my GP had prescribed me because they didn’t work for me like the hospital ones had (resting BPM does not need to drop below 60).

 In the middle of my DSS work, I received call after call from my husband, and then a text stating my doctor wanted me in the ER immediately. Forget my appointment for an ultrasound, go to the ER and get it now because the yellowing meant gallbladder failure. Well, aye, I knew that, and thank goodness because I was feeling like total crap at that point anyway. My mother and I went – with me getting progressively worse and worse and in more and more pain.

 The doctors gave me morphine because I hurt so much, okay? Morphine.

 The ultrasound came back with no visible stones. My blood tests “did not support gallbladder issues” and I was discharged (which is wrong – the trend shows clear: Bilirubin is used to check for jaundice. In 24 hours, mine had increased from .5 to 1.2 – the maximum acceptable number. How can it raise that much in 24 hours? That’s not good. And Lipase – a blood test often used to check for gallbladder problems – was showing as <20. For reference, on 11/28 I was 32, then 11/28 I was 21 [the lowest acceptable should be 22], and then 24 hours later I don’t even have a scorable number?).

 I was told to follow up with a Gastroenterologist. I’ve been told to check with my OBGYN (Jan 4th). I’ve been given a Cardiologist appointment (Jan 11th). At some point I will see a Rheumatologist, but they haven’t called to schedule an appointment yet.

 No one seems to know what’s wrong (though the evidence clearly seems to support gallbladder, imo), but all I do is get shuffled around and suffer and I just

 I hurt. I am always in pain, I can barely sleep, I can’t eat well, I have problems even drinking water. I lost the only job I have ever loved because of this, I am suffering, I’m terrified all the time because I can’t tell if the chest issue I’m having is something okay or is this the time I need to go to the hospital because it’s definitely a heart attack or am I just going to waste everyone’s time again and just

 This is what has been going on in my life. This is where my health is. So it’s definitely made me a bit slow here on Tumblr, because I’ve either been too exhausted or too de-motivated to write lately, and I’m sorry that it’s suffered, but I hope to catch up again soon. The medications I’ve been given to help stabilize me in the meantime help decently, but they do make me really dizzy and tired, so it’s kinda like I’ll get some burst-time and then I have to rest, so we’ll see.

 Anyway, just…thanks. <3 Thanks for working with me, sticking around, and being awesome. I love you guys.