#illness/injury
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Anyway, people with brain damage I love you. People who have had strokes I love you, especially if you're told you were "too young" to have one. People who acquired your brain damage by less common means such as infection, lack of oxygen at birth or degenerative disease, I love you. People with moderate and severe brain damage, I love you. People who lost their sight or hearing or ability to speak because of their brain damage, I love you. People who have paralysis from their brain damage, I love you. People with amnesia and severe cognitive issues from their brain damage, I love you. People with rare and unusual symptoms from their brain damage, I love you.
You are not a punchline, you haven't lost your humanity, your thoughts and opinions are as valuable as anyone else's. We deserve respect.
[ID: a dark red banner with the words "This post is about physical disabilities, do not derail." in grey font. Either side of it is a lighter grey wheelchair user symbol with the user leaning forward with the arms raised and back, giving the appearance of wheeling fast. End ID.]
#actually disabled#neurological disability#traumatic brain injury#acquired brain injury#stroke survivor#neurological illness#cripplepunk#cripple punk#disability#physical disability#annoying that every post about brain damage needs that banner or it'll be swarmed with 'depression is brain damage actually 🥺' people#1k#2k#3k
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give love to people with traumatic brain injury, acquired brain injury, stroke, neurological condition, worsening mental health, trauma, PTSD and all other brain based conditions that make you feel conflicted about your identity. About whether or not you’re the ‘same person’ you were before your injury or illness. People constant evolve and change but can be more difficult when changes more sudden, pronounced, and noticed by others. I hope you are doing well and are able to find some peace, support and love.
#tbi#traumatic brain injury#Acquired brain injury#neurological condition#mental health#mental illness#disability#PTSD#trauma#Stroke
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As someone who is somewhat of a “veteran” of the online ND community, I’m disappointed in the lack of positivity and love for lesser known diverse cognitive conditions, and the opposing abundance of posts about “cures” or outdated criteria or treatments for those conditions. So, without further ado, I want to say hello to anyone with any of the disorders I’m listing, and give them the love and support that hardly anyone else in our community has… Shoutout to:
People with Down syndrome
People with Fragile X
People with William’s syndrome
People with dyslexia
People with dyspraxia
People with dyscalculia
People with dysgraphia
People with Prader-Willi syndrome
People with PANS or PANDAS
People with aphasia
People with a TBI (traumatic brain injury)
People with chronic/early onset mental illnesses
People with cerebral palsy
People with FASD or were otherwise disabled via other substances in utero
And many, many more I may have forgotten to list (but still support and love, I will add more to my list)
You are all beautiful and wonderful, and you all deserve so more love, appreciation, acceptance and support. You are just as neurodiverse as the rest of us, and your voices deserve to be heard and amplified.
I love you all ❤️
#autism#autistic#actually autistic#neurodivergent#actually neurodiverse#audhd#sensory processing disorder#down syndrome#fragile x#fragile x syndrome#williams syndrome#dyslexia#dyspraxia#dyscalculia#prader willi#aphasia#tbi#traumatic brain injury#chronically ill#chronic mental illness#cerebral palsy#fasd#neurodivergent love#dysgraphia#pans#pandas
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domain expansion
#my art#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#yuji itadori#itadori yuuji#fanart#jjk fanart#jjk spoilers#jjk manga spoilers#jjk leaks#jjk 264#yuuji#help she entered a fugue state and finished a painting in 7 hours again#I still wish with all my heart that wed gotten megumi but HOLDS UP YUUJI THATS MY BOYYYYYYY#god his face is Messed Up i feel so bad#but i do think this is how ill go about drawing the injuries from now on :'>#just a Mess of flesh tones on that boy :((((( maybe shoko can kiss it better#anyway towards the end of drawing this my llsif pilled brain supplied 'domain expansion: happy party train' and i think its a keeper#yuuji if u havent picked a name yet pls consider thank u <3#a train station tho......as much of a vibe as it is i SUFFERED#the high ceilings full of pipework...the parallel lines....thank god i make the rules and dont actually have to detail it all#i love u vague lines that convey Essence Of Room#i think it works !!! i feel like im waiting fr a train n watching time slow around me as the lights stretch#btw the rake brush is SO good fr making lil bits of stretched light like u r squinting . i love it i have fun#anyway enjoy !!! him!!!! we r truly in yuuji kaisen i never Once doubted my boy
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waking up
#art#artists on tumblr#horror#ghosts#halloween#blood#injury#1930s#im so tired i think ill just die. i hope you guyses like it and it was worth it
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get shown affection IDIOT
#UNWELL UNWELL UNWELL IM UNWEELLLL#think about it. just how lonely Oscar was before Arthur. before Noel. before realizing he has worth as a human being#GUHGGGHH#Noel getting to be close to someone for the first time in years….#I’m sure he blames himself for anything Roland went thru before he died… now he gets to be gentle and insure someone actually makes it.#THEY MAKE ME ILL#artists on tumblr#malevolent#malevolent fanart#malevolent podcast#oscar malevolent#detective noel#noel malevolent#charlie dowd#holy ghosts#tw injury
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Thinking about the possibility of Fiddleford noticing various random injuries & unexplained bruises that Ford would’ve received from when he was possessed.
Thinking about how he’d be concerned for his friend, only for Ford to shut him out, not wanting to reveal the existence of his “muse”.
Thinking about, despite his best efforts, Fiddleford would be forced to watch Ford suffer in silence, unwilling to tell him the truth.
#they make me ill#gravity falls#ford pines#fiddleford mcgucket#fiddauthor#tw: injury#tw: implied abuse#bill when i catch you…
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People forget that recovering from an injury takes so much energy. It’s not just pain, but a constant exhaustion as your body dedicates all of its resources to repairing itself. This can last weeks or months.
The same is true in the aftermath of a severe illness. You’re not necessarily “well” after the infection passes. Your body has to recover from the damage done by the infection. It leaves a person weak and lethargic well after they’ve “recovered” from their illness.
So, imagine a Whumpee being forced to work again immediately after an illness or injury.
#whump#physical whump#whump prompt#whump tropes#whumpblr#whumpee#fever whump#sick whump#illness whump#cold whump#injury whump#injury#injury recovery#medical whump#whump scenario#whump ideas#whump inspiration#hurt/comfort#hurt/no comfort#caretaker#exhaustion whump#sickfic#sicknario
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The Next One / Antigonick, Anne Carson
#many such cases#im back and feeling ill about these strange canadians#sidney crosby#connor mcdavid#connor bedard#jack hughes#juraj slafkovsky#macklin celebrini#nhl#hockey#web weaving#tw injury
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Just thinking about angsty Apple and her big scar caused by EQ’s magic. I’ve been developing an HC where it’s a curse that’s makes the mark, one which leaves Apple incredibly sick not long after Dragon Games. She refuses to tell anyone, and her own pride and shame just gets in the way. People aren’t particularly happy with Apple despite her doing the right thing in the end (she still freed the EQ and almost destroyed Ever After), so it takes way too long for anyone to actually notice something’s wrong until it becomes a bit too noticeable.
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*tw: injury, tiny amount of blood, sickness*
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#ever after high#eah#apple white#angst#tw injury#tw blood#tw illness#digital art#concept art#character art#fanart#illustration#art
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911 lone star -> ranger soup in 5.08
#911 lone star#911lsedit#ranger campbell#otherwise known in this house as:#ranger soup#someone should check if i'm ill cause i finished this before my paul set and that is concerning me actually#my gifs#tw: blood and injury
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Grabbing you by the ears. Disabled people do not have to explain ourselves to other people. If I can’t do it, that’s all the information you need! You’re not entitled to my life or medical information!
#neurodivergent#autism#ableism#disability#disabled#actually disabled#actually mentally ill#chronic pain#chronic injury#chronic illness
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tired and i'm awake
fandom: Chicago Med
pairing: Connor Rhodes x Reader
summary: You've kept your chronic pain a secret from Connor since you started dating. But fate has other plans for you, and an untimely accident leads to him finding out about your condition.
tags/warnings: angst, injury, burns, hurt/comfort, chronic pain/illness
word count: 3024
a/n: this one's for all my EDS/POTS combo girlies
When you were young, the doctors said it was “growing pains.” That eventually it would go away, that it was only temporary, take an Advil.
Then you got older, and it was your period. Even though the pain was constant and all over, somehow every doctor put it down to your cycle. Sure, it was worse when you were menstruating, but it didn’t disappear when you weren’t.
Sometimes, you were “making it up” or “drug seeking.” ER visits, annual physicals, all proved fruitless. Eventually, it was all just too much to handle. The constant doctors’ visits, the unending questions with no answers. You’re tired.
Even when you lay on the bathroom floor, curled around yourself and sobbing, you refuse to go to the doctor. You know it won’t amount to anything, just another bill and insurance paperwork. You manage on your own with 3 extra strength Tylenol or a heating pad or just laying in bed until it mostly subsides. Then you can get up and pretend to be okay again.
So, it was a bit of a surprise to everyone who knows of your issues when you started dating a surgeon. Hell, you even surprised yourself. But Connor is… different. He’s kind and understanding and patient. Still, your previous negative experiences prevent you from telling him about the chronic pain you experience, or any of the other problems that come along with it.
You’ve been dating now for about six months and you couldn’t be happier. Connor’s hours are busy and long, but you look forward to the end of every day when you can see him. Even if it means putting on a brave face when your joints ache. You moved in together about a month ago, and it’s a little harder to hide the pain now, but you manage. You don’t want to be just another patient for him to deal with.
Today, you have a feeling it’s going to be a little more difficult to put on your façade. Your knees and hips have been acting up lately. Everything feels… a bit looser than usual, like the tissues between your joints are made of thin string, ready to break at any movement. Each movement feels as though you’re going to rip yourself apart, limb from limb. It’s all you can do not to cry out when you finally pry yourself out of bed in the morning. Connor is already gone, having left sometime in the middle of the night, off to work his shift at the ED. You hope beyond hope that the pain will have subsided by the time he gets home tonight.
You hope that maybe a warm bath with some Epsom salts will help, and take short, shuffling steps to the bathroom, walking near the wall just in case. Each footfall sends shooting pain up your legs. You grit your teeth and manage to make it to the toilet, sitting down and reaching to turn the tap on the bath. Breathing in and out slowly, you remind yourself that you have this under control. You will survive this, it’s just pain. It’s just pain.
You stare as the tub fills with water, trying your best to compartmentalize and clear the pain away. Mind over matter, that’s what your mother always says. Easy for her, when she’s not the one in pain.
Feeling as though you might break with any sudden moves, you lower yourself into the warm bath, closing your eyes as the water surrounds you. It’s calming and smells like eucalyptus.
You linger until the water is cooled and your joints begin to protest from staying in one position too long. You wrap a fluffy robe around yourself, a gift from Connor after he saw the old ratty one you’d been using for years. It’s luxurious and soft, and probably cost him the equivalent of an entire week’s salary for you. Perks of dating a surgeon, you suppose.
Just standing has you feeling lightheaded, and you can feel your heart beating in your ears. For a moment the room darkens as spots fill your vision, but you just breathe in deeply until it subsides. Then you continue to take small steps back out to the bedroom, before placing yourself gingerly on the comforter.
Once you’re still and laying down, the pain begins to creep back in with force. It just reminds you that as much as you want to, you can’t ignore it. You can compartmentalize and convince yourself all you want, but you’re stuck with this.
Now, along with your hips and knees, your back and neck have begun to ache from sitting upright in the tub. You sigh and curl onto your side, your wet hair clinging to your neck. Five minutes, you tell yourself. Then I’ll get up and get dressed and dry my hair and… God, it’s all so much. How are you ever supposed to get all of that done when you feel like this? Still, you reprimand yourself and promise only five minutes of rest. Just until the aching diminishes somewhat.
You wake to the sound of the door unlocking. Night has fallen outside the window, leaving the apartment bathed in darkness.
So much for five minutes.
Connor walks in, looking tired and worn out, but still wearing a smile when he spots you curled up on the bed. You smile back, still groggy from your extended nap.
“Hey sweetheart,” he murmurs, setting his bag down before taking a seat next to you. “How was your day?”
“Good,” you lie easily. “How was work?”
Connor smooths some errant hairs away from your forehead before placing a soft kiss there. “Busy. But good. Did you shower? Your hair’s still wet.”
A fierce blush makes its way up your cheeks as you avoid his eyes. “Took a bath. I guess I just passed out after. Baths always take it out of me,” you half-joke.
Connor’s brow furrows and you can immediately sense the switch into “doctor mode.” He places the back of his hand on your forehead again. ���Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine,” you reassure, pulling his hand down to your lips to plant a gentle kiss on his knuckles. “Do you want dinner? I can make something.” The ache in your joints begins to make itself known again, but you want to do something nice for Connor. You know how tired he is after his shifts.
“Sure,” Connor replies, but he’s still looking at you with concern.
You slowly sit up, trying to school your expression as something pinches in your hip. “Spaghetti? I think we have some noodles leftover from the other night; I can just make a quick sauce.”
Connor nods and stands with you. “I’m gonna go shower,” he states while pulling you into a loose hug. “Do you need anything before I go?”
You shake your head and breathe him in. He smells like the hospital, but underneath that is the gentle scent of his cologne that always relaxes you. “No, you go. I can handle it.”
Connor releases you and makes his way to the bathroom while you head to the kitchen. You feel incrementally better than this morning, the pain in your back and neck thankfully lessened. Your hips are the worst now, and the right one especially feels tenuous. Each step is shaky, but you push through it.
You’re grateful for the distraction of cooking as you work on dinner, but it’s not enough to totally take away the pain. As you stand over the stove you can still feel the pulsing in your knees, the unsteadiness in your hips, and the ache in your back is returning. You barely suppress a groan as your right hip nearly gives out.
Seconds later, the door to the bathroom opens, and Connor exits with just a pair of jeans slung low on his hips. For a moment you’re tempted to stop cooking altogether and take him right back to bed. But then your right hip protests yet again, and the thought quickly flees. You shoot Connor a smile as he comes up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist. His chin rests on your shoulder and you tense imperceptibly. Illogical as it may seem, you’re worried maybe he’ll… feel your pain or something, if he gets too close.
“Smells good,” Connor murmurs, kissing the side of your neck.
“Grab some plates,” you reply, stirring the spaghetti sauce one more time before turning off the heat.
Connor’s arms leave you and you let out a breath. You grab some potholders from a nearby cabinet and pull the sauce off the stove.
As you make your way over to the table, your hip begins to feel even more unsteady than before. Each step is agony as you grip the saucepot, praying that your leg doesn’t give out now. Connor’s back is to you when suddenly you step wrong. Instantly, you feel a popping sensation in your hip and you stumble.
The pot goes flying, splattering sauce all over you and the kitchen. You crumble to the floor, a short cry leaving your lips. The sauce burns your thighs, uncovered thanks to the robe you still wear, but all you can feel is the burning pain in your hip. It feels… wrong.
It’s not exactly a new experience. A few years ago – with no help from your doctors – you finally realized that this type of pain means something is dislocated. In this case, your hip. It’s one of the worst to dislocate, since you have trouble getting it back in place on your own.
Connor immediately rushes toward you, calling your name in panic. “Are you okay? Oh god, what happened?”
You grit your teeth to stop from crying out again as you right yourself with your leg out in front of you. Your hand grips your right thigh, the pain from your dislocated hip shooting down your leg and making your toes numb.
Connor’s already pulling out his phone to call 911, obviously only seeing the burns on your legs from the hot sauce.
You reach out to grab his wrist to stop him from dialing. “I’m fine,” you insist, tears brimming in your eyes.
Connor levels you with a glare that would make anyone give in. “You just spilled scalding sauce all over yourself. You’re at least getting checked out at the ED.”
“Okay, okay, but… Can’t you just drive me?”
He must hear the pleading tone in your voice because he sets his phone down with a sigh. “Fine,” he surrenders. “Let’s get you cleaned up first so I can take a look.”
You nod as he stands to retrieve towels. Once his back is turned, you take mental stock of your hip. It doesn’t feel too badly dislocated, but it certainly needs to be put back sooner rather than later. Before you get a chance to do it yourself, Connor returns with wet towels. He immediately gets to work gingerly cleaning your skin. You can tell that you’ve at least got first-degree burns, maybe even second in some places. But you can’t get past the pain in your hip. If you could just get a moment alone so you could reset it…
You notice that Connor’s movements have stopped and you look to see what he’s doing. His brows are furrowed as he looks at your right leg, now clean of the sauce. “Doesn’t look too bad, but I still want to go to Med just to be sure. And…” Suddenly his eyes widen and his hands rest delicately on either side of your leg. You can’t help but flinch at the touch. “It looks like your hip is dislocated… God, that must hurt. Did you hit it on the ground when you fell?”
You bite your lip and shake your head. “It’s nothing,” you insist.
“Y/N,” Connor’s voice is firm. “We need to get this reduced. I’m calling an ambulance,” he says, pulling out his phone once more.
“No!” you cry. “I can take care of it!” Before he can stop you, you bend your knee outward, making a half-butterfly shape with your legs, then push down on it with your hands. Your hip pops back into place with an audible click and the relief is instant.
Connor is silent for a long moment as he stares at you, mouth agape.
You speak before he can, blabbering without much sense. “It’s fine, it happens a lot. I’m okay, I promise.”
Your boyfriend’s eyes are wide with concern and empathy. “What do you mean?” he whispers.
You shrug and take the wet towel from his hand, continuing to wipe off the sauce from your other thigh. This one’s not as bad as your right, but it’s still painful. “Nothing, Connor. I just… It happens sometimes, okay? Dislocating things, it’s not new to me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Connor’s voice is so full of hurt that you immediately regret keeping this from him.
“I don’t know,” you murmur, meeting his eyes. The tears in your own begin to fall down your cheeks. “I just… I’ve always dealt with it on my own. I didn’t want you to have to deal with it too. And I didn’t know if you’d believe me, no one ever believes me, and I didn’t want to lose you because of my broken body…” You’re rambling now, the adrenaline and pain making your words come out jumbled.
Connor scoots over to sit next to you, uncaring of the sauce that’s getting on his jeans. His arm wraps around you gently, and already you can feel that he’s treating you differently. Touching you like you’re… fragile. “Y/N… I would never not believe you about something like this. Have you gone to the doctor about it?”
A sob leaves your lips and you smile sarcastically. “Of course, I have, Connor. I’ve been to so many doctors and none of them have any answers. It’s always growing pains, or my period, or I’m faking it. Eventually I just gave up because, like I said, I can deal with it on my own.”
Connor is silent for a long while. Finally, he lifts your chin with his finger so you’re forced to meet his eyes. “You don’t have to deal with it on your own now. We’re together, and that means we tell each other these things. I won’t leave you because of something you can’t control, sweetheart. And I want you to find answers. We can find them together. Okay?”
You nod and Connor goes to dial 911 again. As he’s on the phone with the operator, you let the tears fall. The pain of the burns is finally hitting you, only adding to the existing pain you already feel. Connor’s words mean everything to you, but right now that’s all they are – words. How can you know he’ll stay with you after he finds out what this really is like? The constant pain, the days spent in bed, the agony of it all? How could anyone – how could Connor – ever want someone like you?
You don’t realize that Connor is done on the phone until his hand lands on your shoulder. “Babe?” his voice is a little louder than necessary, which tells you that he’s been trying to get your attention for a while.
“Sorry,” you mutter, using the back of your hand to wipe away errant tears.
Connor takes a deep breath, and you worry about what he’s going to say. “You can talk to me, you know?”
You nod, avoiding his eyes. “I know. But this… I don’t want to be just another person you have to take care of.” The sound of sirens grows loud outside the apartment building.
“Honey. Look at me,” Connor urges, lifting your chin again. “You are not just another patient to me. You never will be. Okay?”
“You don’t know,” you whisper, your voice suddenly hoarse. “Once you know what it’s like, how much help I’ll need�� I don’t know what my life will be like in 10 years, hell, even in a year. I’m in pain all the time, and I don’t know if it will get worse, and I don’t want you to be burdened with that.”
Before Connor can answer, the intercom buzzes as the paramedics request entrance. Connor stands to let them in, and you bring your sore legs up so you can bury your head in your knees. The embarrassment of it all is starting to hit you as you realize that soon you’ll be at Med, surrounded by Connor’s colleagues. No doubt he’ll want to run a myriad of tests to figure out your underlying condition, and you’re not sure you have the energy for that right now.
You hear the door opening, followed by a couple pairs of footsteps and Connor’s voice getting closer. “Female, 27, post-fall and contact with hot liquid. Superficial partial thickness burns on the thighs. Right hip dislocated but already reduced.” You hold in a snort at his medical jargon describing your silly accident.
The paramedics aren’t anyone you know, but they’re nice enough as they examine the burns and apply saline-soaked gauze. You’re embarrassed by your lack of proper clothing, but they don’t seem to mind. You’re sure they’ve seen worse than a nearly-naked woman anyway.
They ask various questions while Connor watches nearby, eyes slightly narrowed as if to make sure they don’t hurt you further. Once you’re finally loaded up onto a stretcher, he returns to your side and holds your hand in a crushing grip.
“This is really unnecessary,” you mutter at him, squeezing his hand.
Connor looks down at you with a soft smile. “Doctor knows best, sweetheart.” He plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. “Don’t worry, we won’t stay if you don’t want. As long as you get that hip x-rayed and those burns checked, I’ll be satisfied. We can figure out the rest later.”
You smile back, tears pricking your eyes again. “Thank you, Connor. For being here.”
He snorts out a laugh. “You really have to raise your standards, baby.”
#imagine#imagines#oneshot#x reader#writing#fiction#chicago med#connor rhodes#connor rhodes x reader#connor rhodes x you#reader#hurt/comfort#injury#chronic pain#chronic illness#ehlers danlos syndrome#heds#pots syndrome#postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome#pots
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Whumptober 2024
No. 1: RACE AGAINST THE CLOCK
Search Party
#whumptober2024#no.1#search party#oc#whump art#unconscious#injury#shot#and here goes the first entry#i dont think ill be able to complete all 31 days but ill try to draw whenever ill be able to
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shoutout to all the fellow disabled people who spread awareness and advocacy even when they have no energy to do so, I see you, I love you, and you are so deeply appreciated. your story has the potential to be someone else's survival guide.
#I might have gastroparesis and reading about the firsthand info online is making me feel better#this shit is terrifying#physical disability#chronic illness#spoonie#invisible disability#disabled#chronic pain#actually disabled#pots#chronically ill#cripple punk#hypermobile ehlers danlos#ehlers danlos syndrome#gastroparesis#feeding tube#ileostomy#wheelchair#cane user#mobility aid#mcas#cfs#chronic fatigue syndrome#chronic nausea#tummy ache survivor#diabetes#diabetic#brain injury#quadriplegic#just ibs things
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