#instead of upping the dose or changing meds

[justmeinadaze]

Not Alone Part 2 (Medication)(Eddie X You)

A/N: This is what I mentioned writing the other night and is a part to this ask here.

I want to say that I have had so many experiences with medications since I was diagnosed with my mental health issues in 2016. I had watched it help people like myself after so many trials and errors and I've watched it hurt people to their core. I've been physically hurt to the point where I was vomiting and curled up on the bathroom floor. I've had pills that messed with my brain chemistry to the point a friend found me sobbing on the floor terrified I was going to die. All that fun stuff and to be honest the worst part was no feeling heard.

I would tell doctors how much pain I was in and they would tell me it was normal. After a couple of days I would tell them something wasn't right and I was told to give it more time. It wasn't until 2019 I finally found a doctor who worked with me and realized that my brain and stomach are extremely sensitive to meds and we have to start on the lowest doses first before moving up. Ive been on my current set of pills since then and it's changed my life.

Of course, mental health meds don't fix everything and I was suggested a vitamin that help with calming your mind. Yesterday, I took and what the reader feels about her quiet mind is how I felt. I didn't know what to do with myself. Honestly, I just wanted to be held and told everything is ok.

But yeah, my advise to you is trust your gut. If you want to take medication and notice somethings off voice your concern. If you don't like what a drug does or how it affects you, say something. DO NOT let a doctor walk all over you. If I've learned anything over the last few years, it's that all doctors are human and like humans...they make mistakes and can be assholes.

Warnings: Mentions of mental health concerns, details on medication symptoms (tummy ache, vomiting, change in personality, quiet mind), feels of "being a bother" More then anything this is Eddie taking care of you and him making sure you're ok. Mr. White Knight <3.

Word Count: 1579

“Ok and what should we be on the lookout for?”, Eddie asks as his hand remains intertwined with yours. 

The doctor you had just met at the insistence of your family heavily exhaled as your boyfriend asked him another question that seemed to annoy him. 

“Look, Mr. Munson, she’s going to be fine. This medication helps so many people to be relaxed and quiet their mind. At most, she’ll be so relaxed that you both will get a good night’s sleep. Now, I do have other patients waiting.”

As he begins to walk the door, the metalhead starts to follow before you grab his elbow and pull him back. 

“Stop it, freak.”, you tease as he tosses you a smile back. 

“Hey, I just want to know that you’re safe. I don’t like seeing you in pain or anything. I know your depression tells you no one cares but I do.”

Beaming up at him, you pull his lips to yours as he wraps his arms around you to hug you to his chest. 

***

“Y/N? How are you feeling so far, baby?”

It had been about an hour since you took the antidepressant the doctor recommended and Eddie noticed within 5 minutes of taking it your entire body language changed. You seemed…heavier…as if there was a weight baring down on you and folding your frame. 

His careful eyes followed you around the trailer as you silently grabbed a water bottle and sat cross legged on the couch to watch tv. The thing was…he could tell in your eyes that you weren’t really paying attention. You seemed to be looking through the tv instead of comprehending anything going on. 

“I’m…I’m ok.”

“Can you give me more than that, please?”, Eddie asked as he sat down beside you.

“I’m…calm. I don’t feel anything really. Like…I’m relaxed but…I kind of just want to curl up into a ball.”, you mumble raising another red flag in his brain. 

“Why is that do you think?”

“It’s going to sound dumb.”, you sigh as you hang your head. 

“Hey.”, he coos as his fingers lift your chin. “Nothing you say is dumb to me. I’m a freak remember?”

Eddie smirks at the sound of your laugh but even that sounds out of place. This particular metalhead was never a fan of medication. He believed it worked and helped people but in his experience it made things worse. His uncle once tried to put him on ADHD medication when he was a boy and promptly took him off it when he noticed his nephew’s personality completely change. In later years, weed helped calm him down along with his music and creating a campaign for Hellfire. 

You had told him once, you struggled with finding your purpose. Your family made you believe that paying bills and working a desk job is normal. It’s the only thing in realty that was attainable.

With him, he showed you a new world that you absolutely loved and encouraged you to try new things like writing or learning an instrument for yourself. Since you had started seeing him, you felt like someone cared and put you first, constantly making you feel wanted and seen. 

Throughout your time together, he watched a personality unfold that made him fall more in love with you every day and truth be told he was terrified that medication would strip that away but if it could help you be happy and achieve your dreams than he was open to the idea.  

“My mind…has never been quiet. As far as I can remember something’s been…buzzing around in there, you know? This…this scares me…I don’t know…what to do with the silence.”

Eddie’s heart cracks listening to your explanation as he pets your head and kisses your temple. 

“Well, sweetheart, things will never be silent with me as your boyfriend.”

Giggling, you crawl into his lap and melt into his embrace as he softly plays with your hair.

***

Three hours later the energy changed as you felt a pain in your stomach you had never felt before. Rushing to the bathroom, you threw up over and over again as Eddie held your hair back. 

“Everything’s ok, baby.”, he whispered before turning his attention to the phone next to his ear. “No, I don’t fucking care that he’s not there! Then give me another fucking doctor to talk to. My girlfriend hasn’t stopped throwing up in the last thirty minutes. I refuse to believe that’s fucking normal!”

“Look, sir, there’s nothing we can do about it over the phone and like I said with mental health medication, it is common for it to cause the symptoms she’s experiencing. After a while, they will go away.”

“What is ‘a while’?”

“Usually after 2 weeks, your body gets used to the—”

“Oh, hell no! You’re saying she’s going to be in this much pain for that long?! What about her job, her life, her fucking sanity!? Aren’t these pills supposed to help with the depression!? How does that help!?”

“Eddie…”, you cry as you try to reach for his arm to calm him down. 

“Listen, we have an opening for you to see her doctor tomorrow morning. Bring her in and we can take a look.”

“Yeah we’ll do that.”, he sasses before hanging up the phone. “Here, sweetheart. Drink some of this water and then we’ll go lay down ok?”

“I’m sorry.”, you sob causing him to grab a tissue to wipe your eyes. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for—”

“I’m causing problems. I’m making things difficult for you—”

“No, baby, No. Listen to me, Y/N. The only thing that’s difficult for me is watching you hurt like this. I knew that fucker wasn’t taking you seriously. I swear to God when we get in there tomorrow—”

“Please…I just wanna lay down.”

Nodding, Eddie careful lifts you and lays you in his bed, bringing the covers up over your frame. After placing a trashcan by the bed and the water on his nightstand, he crawls in behind you and pulls you into his arms, gently kissing your shoulder as he listens to your breath. 

***

“Alright, Miss Y/L/N, now I heard you were having some symptoms in regard to the medication and—”

“She’s not taking that bullshit anymore. Check her over and make sure she’s not dehydrated or needs a hospital and then you can fuck off.”, Eddie growled from his place in front of you like the protector he was. 

“Listen there’s no need for—”

“There’s a huge fucking need. She came to you for help and you just toss any drug at her without really speaking to her about her history?! You didn’t properly warn her about the side effects. Trust me, the most that happened wasn’t ‘a good night’s sleep’. She threw up half the fucking night and sobbed in arms. Do you know what that’s like?! Having someone you love being in pain and feel so fucking helpless?!”

The doctor cleared his throat as he sighed. 

“She said it calmed her mind but to an extent she didn’t know how to handle. You don’t just thrust someone into that. You have to ease them in so they don’t get overwhelmed. You should know that…or did years in medical school strip you have your humanity and common fucking sense?”

“Let, um, let me look her over here.”

Eddie’s intense eyes watched the doctor as he checked you out and you confirmed you felt better since you didn’t take the pill again for day 2. 

“She seems fine and one day on the drug won’t hurt her mentally. I recommend a day to rest and then she’ll be as she was.”

The metalhead, seemingly satisfied with his answer, took you in his arms and gently placed you on the tile. 

“I’m not trying to be a dick, doctor. She’s been through so much already and all by herself. Lord knows I’m not perfect but if I can help her I will. You dropped the ball here, sir, and I hope you don’t again.”

***

“Thank you.”, you murmur as your arms wrap tighter around him while you both lay in bed listening to the music and the rain outside. “For standing up for me. My family and doctors always treat me like I’m being overdramatic.”

“No, baby, you’re not. You deserve to be heard. My mom’s medication used to make her sick all the time and she would brush it off saying it was part of the process. I know they helped her with her pain but…”

“Will you help me look into maybe some alternatives? Something that can help me without changing or hurting me? Or maybe we can find a doctor that will work with me…”

“Of course, sweetheart.”, he coos as he kisses your forehead. “You’re not an inconvenience or a problem by the way. You say that a lot when you’re low. I really do like helping you and or taking care of you. You’ve always been there for me and I see how you are with other people including some that don’t deserve your kindness. You deserve to have someone help you take the reins from time to time.”

“What did I do to deserve you, Eddie Munson?”, you smile up at him. 

His chest vibrates as he laughs and grins down at you. 

“I don’t know. Probably some voodoo chant or dance or something.” 

##########

Eddie Asks

[batwynn]

I finally get to try a different medication for ADHD via my NP primary care because I explained to her that I’m weeks behind on work, but also I literally have an autoimmune disease that causes open wounds that need frequent care and guess what executive dysfunction and memory problems make really hard to do?

I love having to beg for help using the most extreme versions of my problems via ADHD because my regular day comfort and being able to function just don’t matter.

[milo-is-rambling]

I can’t even imagine living without anxiety. Like. How. What?

[introvert-celeste]

.

[possum-tooth]

uhm good morning :)

[jacensolodjo]

I too would like my sleep schedule to go back to normal

[calware]

post about me. i added pictures to keep it interesting

i've had a problem for most of my life that i'm currently visualizing as a gray dorito poking into me. it's frustrating, inconvenient, difficult to deal with, and overall makes everything suck a little. many people have told me that this problem is most likely adhd, such as my therapist in high school who said it was "textbook." unfortunately, she was just a therapist, not a psychiatrist, and therefore wasn't actually qualified to diagnose me with anything. this was in 2021 when there were no child psychiatrists in my area accepting new patients (thanks, covid), so instead my doctor gave me a few adhd meds at differing doses to see if any of them stuck (i had literally no reaction to Any of them) and the whole thing went nowhere

so, is the problem actually adhd? i'm an adult now and could pay several hundred dollars (of my parent's money) to get a proper test, but it would make no difference as my issues would not be solved by adhd medication (maybe. i'm worried i somehow messed it up) or any form of accommodations. i don't want to ask my parents to pay for something that likely won't have much impact (and my mom wouldn't be fully convinced anyway. both parents are pretty sure there's nothing wrong with me). i want to know, but the time and money don't justify it. so the best solution i have is to keep going, keep learning which lifestyle changes to make and how to "work smarter". i'll be okay. and i say that with sincerity

whoops, forgot my glasses here. this is another gray dorito-shaped problem, only this one is much smaller. i rarely notice it, and when i do, it's superficial. it's only gotten genuinely bad twice in my life. it's my paranoia, obsessiveness, and, on occasion, compulsions that follow those obsessions. now, i know what you're thinking, which is that it kind of sounds like Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. frankly, from my understanding, my issue is so negligible that it doesn't qualify as OCD. like i said, it barely affects me. it still bothers me that it's there, though. i do my best to deal with it, letting my thoughts pass as they come to me and not trying not to give into/breaking out of compulsions, but i just don't want it there at all

this is another thing i could see a therapist about, but does a problem this small really justify the time and expenses of seeing a professional? not in my case (not for me, at least. don't apply this to your own problems if you genuinely want to seek professional help)

i have a goal to have enough disposable income later in life to justify paying a scientist to pick through my brain for my own amusement. because, despite no substantial foreseeable improvements to my mental health after getting a psych evaluation, i still find the idea to be really exciting. i have a strong desire to understand how my mind works, how my brain ticks, why i am the person i am. that's how i know that if i ever played sburb, id have the heart aspect (that's right. you thought that this was just a personal post on my homestuck blog that had nothing to do with homestuck. do you really think i would do that? make off-topic posts solely about me on a homestuck blog? look, i even remembered to draw my glasses this time and i made them homestuck glasses. because i care about you guys) and i am vain and self-centered enough to desperately want someone with a phd to talk about me for an hour. and no, i don't need a therapist to tell me why that is, i already figured that one out allllll on my own

[ultravioart]

On a positive note, the comic for Hazard actually was interesting enough to make me look past his 'safe' for a punk character design. I'm hyped!

I did not expect overwatch to directly call out systemic ableism and classism in the story.

Kids in poverty being funneled into a military pipeline only to be spat out and cast aside as disabled vets in poverty is a very real issue in the world.

If Hazard was rich, he could have afforded prosthesis that actually fit him, ones that didn't cause him pain. Instead, only bc he could not afford better ones, the system gave him the bare minimum for survival, and instead of actually dealing with the root cause and issue they gave him pain meds. In his eyes, this was done so that the system could pay him to shut up, or face consequences. No different than what his parents went through. They wouldn't even give him the respect to tell him WHY the deadly crash that maimed him happened, nor do anything to prevent OTHERS from being hurt in the same way. The system is working as intended. The system didn't care about him, nor others. The system uses it's citizen's bodies for profit.

This panel hits so hard because visual story telling wise it says so much.

In this panel, the stray animal that saved his life is the only one who cares, as the fellow human beings he fought to keep safe as a veteran walk past him at full pace.

How in this panel, his disability is 'blocking the path' of the able bodied, his very existence a 'hindrance' to the able bodied, when the hospital path really ought to be the one taken into account for. Pushed out the door into a system that was never designed for him. Yet, anyone could be in his shoes. Anyone could become disabled, poor, or neglected. Anyone could become just another 'stray mutt' in the system.

How in this panel he is posed in a way where he has the choice to turn and 'go with the flow' of the system and follow the crowd and not look back.... or go 'against the flow' in the opposite direction of the crowd looking for other 'strays' like him left behind by this system.

Honestly props to the comic creators for even discussing systemic oppression to dorectly.

I also am incredibly interested in seeing if Sombra got her spine mods from the Phreaks or not, because it looks like similar tech in her short.

I just hope that the Phreaks are more RobinHood and 'guerilla warfare against the system to spark change', rather than purely anarchists blowing everything up bc lol. The Phreaks being anarchists would be a waste of story, just another gang that became radicalized and corrupt and causes harm and must be defeated by Overwatch. (I am only worried about this because Ramattra became radicalized and demonized for trying to prevent the extinction of omnics. Ramattra is fully in his right to physically resist omnic extinction bc omnics ARE finite and being killed. We STILL don't know what those null sector helmets are for... but for some reason Ramattra is written as emotionally hasty(???) to the point of horrible accidents happening, which makes no sense since he is a R-7000 built for war TACTICS, not an emotional human that can misremember. The way Ramattra's story is handled doesn't make sense imo, they write him as if he's a biological being.)

I hope Hazard aims for accountability and dismantling of oppressive systems, rather than having no rules at all thru anarchy (he as a child saw what no rules in small doses gave him: bad homelife, bad school life, no accountability, no fostering of the mind and well being. That's why I think making the Phreaks anarchists would be stupid to do. There are systems that CAN foster mental and physical wellbeing, cooperation is one of those systems and Hazard is pro cooperation.) He did have an "eye for an eye" against the forces that took out the Phreaks in Morocco, but to be fair Oasis is using minority report 'predictive crime ai' bs so I can't blame Hazard for wanting to hit Oasis where it hurts by stealing thier most secret tech. (Perhaps Sombra helped the Phreaks/gave them that clue since Sombra is against the eye conspiracy, and that eye conspiracy is connected to Oasis)

I also hope Hazard's character is used to discuss the discrimination disabled people face in the Overwatch world, because they really dropped the ball with Soujorn on that front. (Her book used ableism... as a metaphor for racism?!?! Awful stuff. Cyborg (life saving surgery for disabled) people canonically face discrimination in overwatch.)

Because of that, I am super interested in hearing Hazard's voice interactions for lore, I hope we get more lore on omnics and Oasis and the Sombra eye conspiracy, and I am curious about Hazard's kit and what he will bring to the table matchup wise. We will probably get more eye conspiracy lore with the release of the Morocco map tho, tbf.

[cozzzynook]

Rodimus being really stressed and not taking care of himself because he has so much going on. His spark flutters get so bad that he ends up having a seizure.

- rodimus over works himself because he gave his high command holiday leave to enjoy it with their conjunxs and he stayed because he doesn’t have a conjunx or partner. He doesn’t even have a frag partner this time around because contrary to belief he does not want to take advantage of his crew or start sleeping around on his ship. He’s not that irresponsible.

- He takes on their paperwork and has their shifts covered. He can’t get Minimus or Megs shift covered by anyone so he just does it himself. Its fine at first but all the caffeinated oil on the ship can’t keep him awake for all the hours needed to help him focus on paperwork. Not to mention he needs more recharge than the average speedster. His spark can’t handle too much caffeine oil either so he’s stuck with a tired spark and dulling frame as he does constant paperwork, long ongoing shifts and gets little less than five hours recharge.

- the cycle repeats for a solid month while high command is away. First aid is about ready to throttle Rodimus to make him get some recharge when Rodimus falls out during his shift and ends up having a seizure right there in the halls.

- rodimus missed too many doses of his spark medication and the over consumption of caffeine oil made his spark beat far more erratics than usual.

- Rodimus is put on berth rest and left in the medbay for optic supervision since he hasn’t been taking care of himself.

- When the others in high command come back, Roddy is still on berth rest and in the medbay in a deep, much needed recharge.

- Drift is not pleased Rodimus hasn’t been taking care of himself nor is Ratchet who wants to take over but First aid won’t let him.

- “he’s my stubborn patient,” and First aid promptly kicks them out but relents to Minimus and Megatron joining the space but only for a brief time.

- the seizure took quite a lot out of Rodimus who had to do speech therapy to strengthen his vocal cords and internal speech modules.

- he also had to get a new med panel for his spark.

- he doesn’t get released from the medbay any time soon and when he does he has to agree to let someone stay with him because he’ll need it. Rodimus out right refuses that.

- thankfully a little visit, forced acceptance, from Cyclonus, Whirl and Tailgate changes him processor and he’s staying with the three in their large hab until he finishes recovering.

- Drift is not happy Rodimus refused to stay with himself and Ratchet and Minimus and Megatron feel the same way.

The only thing Rodimus can say that won’t hurt their feelings is, “I don’t want to sleep in the same hab as a conjunx pair. I don’t need to hear you guys going at it.”

He resorted to saying that after, “I don’t want to intrude,” didn’t work.

Both were true.

But he really, really, really, didn’t want to lay in berth or watch them be in love when he once was in love with them. How he was alone and had no one.

The thing with Whirl, Cyclonus and Tailgate is that he didn’t have old feelings for them. They truly have only been friends and still are. So its a lot easier staying with them instead. He still doesn’t want to intrude but he can’t argue with Cyclonus carrying him bridal style into their room and Whirl threatening to poison him until he’s fully recovered.

“No more over working yourself Captain. There are still bots aboard that want you here.”

Cyclonus words are something only himself and his two partners truly know the meaning of and he has to hide his em field and optics while others are passing them by. The purple mech knows his appreciation and he whispers as much in that moment.

Rodimus doesn’t overwork or over stress himself after that but he does have a new appreciation for the trio.

When they land on a planet with bots and one comes up to him and kisses his servo, he doesn’t push the large femme away.

Instead, he smiles.

And hopes the future will be brighter.

[whumpetywhumpwhump]

Posting one of my actual (fandom-related) full fics on here... be nice!!

This is some good ol' intubation whump because it's my favourite.

(for slight context of character, see this old post)

When the call comes in, everybody in the ER is hoping it isn't Coop. Especially Neela.

Severe asthma attack. 26 year old male.

Somehow, because it's his day off and he really ought to be relaxing, it seems almost impossible for him to find himself back in the hospital as a patient. It just… isn't fair.

That doesn't stop the wheels of the gurney from rolling through the doors, though. Doesn't change the fact that Coop is laying half-conscious on top of it, his quick, shallow breaths fogging a nebulizer mask, his skin so pale it looks ashen.

“26 year old male,” the paramedic conducting the transfer restates. “Severe asthma attack with symptoms pointing to onset of status asthmaticus. Albuterol administered, as well as 0.5mg subcutaneous epinephrine, both to minimal effect.”

Dr Lewis, the attending on the case, moves to Coop’s side, slipping the chest piece of her stethoscope underneath his t-shirt as they continue to move into one of the trauma rooms. Her expression, when she withdraws it, is severe.

“His airways are pretty much closed up. He needs more epi now.”

Abby hurries to drag a crash cart in, and Neela follows the gurney all the way until it's positioned in the trauma room, at which point she starts readying an IV kit with shaking hands.

Coop does not look good. Even when compared to the time she almost killed him with epi. At least then he'd been alert, sitting up, and his skin hadn't lost all of its colour like it has now.

Dr Lewis returns from fetching some more equipment, and as she waits for Abby to arrive with the crash cart, she strokes Coop’s hair reassuringly.

“Hang on, sweetheart, we’re going to help you feel better. Just keep breathing for me, okay?”

Through weak wheezes that emerge from blue-tinged lips, Coop nods. His eyelids are heavy with exhaustion.

Neela hasn't seen an asthma attack this severe in person before, but she knows from med school how dangerous they can be- especially when the patient is as tired as Coop is. It isn't clear how long he's been struggling this much to breathe. The colour of his skin (or lack of, for that matter) tells her it's been too long.

If they don't work quickly, his body will run out of energy. He'll stop breathing, too exhausted to even inhale anymore. He'll lose oxygen.

He'll die.

“Neela, I need an IV of 100mg hydrocortisone.”

She turns to find Dr Lewis’ keen gaze on her. There's a thinly veiled panic in the attending’s eyes that quickly disappears as she turns back to Coop, gently trying to reassure him as he fights for air.

“I’m going to page Pratt as well, alright, Coop? He can get you some more albuterol so your nebulizer doesn't dry out.”

Neela can't see whether Coop replies, but if he does, it isn't audible. All she can hear is his terrifying wheeze and the hum of the nebulizer, shortly joined by a rapid beeping as a nurse finally helps him take off his shirt and hooks him up to a monitor. She doesn't dare turn around to look at his oxygen saturation. It's likely going to keep plummeting.

Instead, she focuses on setting up the cannula in Coop’s trembling arm, her left hand holding it steady while her right slides the needle in.

“There we are, Coop.” she murmurs. “You're doing so well, sweetheart.”

The pet name feels stranger coming from her lips than Dr Lewis', but at this point her slight blush is the least of their worries. While Coop’s this sick, it doesn't matter what she calls him. He just needs to start breathing properly again.

Once the IV site has been secured with a clear sticker, Neela measures out the dose of hydrocortisone. 100mg. When they're giving it as a steroid over a longer period of time, they prescribe 20-30mg a day, in two doses. The fact that they're pumping him full of this much at once is testament to just how emergent his case is.

“100mg hydrocortisone going in.” she announces. Connects the needle to the cannula. Pushes down on the plunger of the syringe.

Despite her accumulated knowledge surrounding medication, Neela still half expects the effects to be immediate. For Coop to suddenly relax, his airway opening up again, the colour gradually suffusing his cheeks. For the wheezing to fade as he breathes in properly for the first time in hours.

It doesn't. None of this happens.

Minute by minute, Coop continues to deteriorate. Abby brings in the crash cart. Dr Lewis injects the epinephrine beneath the skin of his forearm and, unlike before, he doesn't even react to the needle. His eyes flicker like his awareness is slipping away from him.

By the time Pratt arrives to switch out Coop’s nebulizer, such a small intervention becomes pointless. Even if Coop were able to breathe properly, time has proven that albuterol, on this occasion, just isn't working. Pratt sets down the new nebulizer and instantly crosses to Coop’s bedside, brow furrowed.

“Coop, man, can I listen to your chest?”

A barely perceptible nod.

When Pratt presses the cold stethoscope against Coop’s heaving chest, it seems more of a confirmatory action than one that's actually necessary. He sighs, shaking his head. Coop, as evidenced by the blue tinge to his lips, his rolling eyes, the pallor of his skin, is officially status asthmaticus.

He's in respiratory failure.

Things suddenly grow a lot more urgent. Pratt gives Lewis a gesture that she reciprocates, and a nurse pulls the crash cart closer to the bed. Neela’s heart sinks just as Abby sinks into position right at Coop’s bedside, crouching next to him as she strokes his hair and updates him.

“Sweetheart, your breathing isn't where we need it to be, okay? You're not getting enough oxygen. We need to put you to sleep for a while… intubate you. Do you understand?”

Coop closes his eyes, humming in assent even as a frightened tear slips down his cheek.

“Ju-just… d-d-do… iiiiit.”

His voice is shot. Weak. Resigned to his fate.

It's the same phrase he used when Abby shocked his heart back into a regular rhythm a few months ago. Back then, though, it had simply been a plea to get things over with.

Now, it seems not only a desperate entreaty, but also a solemn reminder:

I’ve been here before.

Neela knows, just as the other staff do, that Coop’s been super sick a couple of times. He knows what it's like to wake up in the ICU feeling like you're breathing through a straw. He knows what it's like for weeks to pass in the span of a minute.

He knows that when he's tubed, he can breathe, and that’s all that matters.

“We’re going to look after you, sweetheart, I promise.” Abby says, her own eyes a little misty. She brushes the sweat-damp hair from his forehead and squeezes his hand. One of the other nurses adjusts the bed so it's laying flat. The tears, terrified, continue to stream silently down his cheeks.

Abby lifts his hand, pressing an almost motherly kiss to the back of it, while Pratt slots a syringe full of medication into the cannula of his other hand.

“Propofol and some muscle relaxants are going to go in now, man. Just relax and let yourself drift off- we’ve got you.”

As the syringe is pushed, Neela can see Coop’s grip on Abby’s hand loosen. The thick tears decorating his cheeks seem, in themselves, to slow down, the scared expression in his eyes melting away beneath the anaesthetic. He blinks once. Twice.

Gone.

There's something so unnerving about Coop being still. How, as Pratt brushes his index finger underneath Coop’s eyelashes, the latter doesn't stir at all to crack a smile. When Dr Lewis gets into position behind his head and adjusts her patient accordingly, he's limp and movable. Floppy.

“Pratt, can you get that nebulizer off?”

“Sure.”

There are red marks across Coop's face from where the straps of the mask dug into his skin for hours. Now, he doesn't breathe at all. He looks dead. According to the dropping numbers on the monitor, he may as well be dead.

“Laryngoscope.”

“Here. Laryngoscope.”

A nurse places the metal instrument into Dr Lewis' awaiting hand. Her other hand gently tilts Coop’s head back.

“Alright… sliding laryngoscope in… got slight cord visualisation. Tube?”

“Tube.”

Neela watches her angle the endotracheal tube in with bated breath- and for good reason.

“C’mon, Coop.” Lewis murmurs, desperately trying to gain access. “I need to help you breathe, sweetheart. Let me help you breathe.”

Pratt steps up next to her, arms crossed. “Difficult airway?”

“Nearly impossible. Haven't seen this level of inflammation in a long time. Poor guy must have been so incredibly uncomfortable.”

The monitor continues to blare. Coop’s oxygen levels continue to drop.

Abby, still positioned right next to him, stroking his hair even as he lays there unconscious, glances worriedly at the screen.

“His sats aren't looking good.”

Dr Lewis sighs. “Yeah, I know, I'm just trying to- there.”

Her relief is palpable, and Neela knows at once that she’s finally in. She watches the tube slot into place before Lewis inflates the cuff, and Pratt connects everything up to the vent.

“Tube’s misting.” Abby says gently, as everyone begins to relax. “Looks like good placement.”

Pratt pulls his stethoscope out from around his neck.

“I’ll check.”

He moves to Coop's side and checks his breathing, first auscultating the left side of his chest, then the right. It's odd, Neela thinks, to observe how natural his breathing looks now, when only moments ago it was erratic and desperate- but of course, it isn't technically him breathing now at all. They've taken over for him.

After a few more checks with the stethoscope across Coop’s chest and neck, Pratt stands up, slinging the device back around his own neck.

“Bilateral breath sounds. You're in.”

Everyone in the room seems to relax at once, especially when the numbers on the monitor start to creep up to normal.

“Alright,” Dr Lewis breathes, turning to Abby. “Secure it, then we'll get him down to ICU. Keep him on max settings until we know it's safe to start weaning him off."

She moves back, as does Pratt, and Abby stands, giving Coop’s hair one last gentle run through with her fingers before she moves away to fetch the tube holder. Neela's eyes remain fixed on him, though. It's impossible not to when he's so completely still.

“You alright, Neela?” Abby asks gently as she returns a few moments later.

Neela nods. “Yeah, I just… it's so different when you know them. I didn't realise how sick it would make me feel.”

Abby gives her a small reassuring smile, then focuses her attention back on the packaging she's just picked up, tearing it open and pulling out the holder before she starts to peel off the tape on the pads.

“I know what you mean. It's not easy seeing somebody you care about like this, and it's somehow even harder with a person like Coop. He's always smiling, always moving, always there, and now…” She presses the first pad against his cheek gently, thumb brushing against it to secure it. “He's not. He's always there to take care of everybody else, and now…” She applies the other pad, movements just as careful and attentive. “He needs us to take care of him.”

Neela hums affirmatively, watching her secure the tube.

“There's just so much at stake. So much that could go wrong, and nearly did. Maybe it even has.”

Abby finishes, standing up fully again and adjusting things ever so slightly. Coop looks like the other patients in the ICU now, and it makes Neela’s stomach roll with anxiety.

“It isn't easy.” Abby responds. “But that's what the ER’s like, even if it happens with one of our own. It's fast-paced, it's risky, and sometimes the worst happens. Sometimes, we can't easily cure a patient, and we have to hope that they'll fight enough on their own to get through things.”

“Do you think he will? Coop?”

“There are no guarantees, but if anyone's going to, it's him.” She looks down at him with a mixture of affection and admiration. Her thumb strokes along the curve of his jaw. “He just needs to hang on long enough for the inflammation to go down. He just needs to do something which is pretty alien to him, and rest. Let us do some of the heavy lifting for a while until he's strong enough to do it on his own again.”

Neela nods. “He'll get through it.”

Abby smiles. “Exactly. He'll get through it… You’re a tough one, aren't you, sweetheart?” She brushes back some more sweat-damp and unruly hair from his forehead. “Let's get you somewhere you can rest, hm?”

Coop remains still, the only sign he's still there at all being the beeping of the monitor and the fogging of the tube. But somehow, as Neela helps Abby raise the railings of the bed ready for transport, she knows he's going to come out of this.

He always does.

[freesia-writes]

Lil Life Update for Y'all <3

I've been a lil cryptic or back-n-forth, I think, and just wanted to share a little bit about what's been going on. I say it's not for attention but who knows what motives lurk under there, LOL. It's mostly because I love you all and want to let you in, also hope that it's encouraging or connective for anyone else who's experienced the same, and also I just miss the community I have sooooo loved here. 🥹

I'm a 34yo female with 2 kids aged 4 and 7. I had depression like crazy during and after my second pregnancy especially. In Aug 2021, my primary doc suggested I try something like Zoloft since I'd been complaining of irritability, no capacity, constant worry, and other anxiety symptoms. When I did feel some relief and felt encouraged that I could "feel like myself" again, I pursued solutions for other issues I was noticing. Over the last year and a half, it's been quite a ride. ADHD symptoms led to Adderall for 4 days, then Wellbutrin for a few months, then Buspar for a few months, then Strattera (tapering up and then back down) for about 3 months, then Ritalin for 1 month, which I thought was helping until we realized that the entire month of October was basically an increasingly manic episode.

Whew.

We're talkin 2007 Britney here (ok I didn't shave it but I cut my hair off into a pixie). Spent thousands on a new wardrobe of the "dark academia" style. Bought Disneyland tickets. Invested in a photography mentorship. So much energy and inspiration. Then we realized it was getting out of hand.

I had also been tapering off a lot of the meds over the last two months, so it was just a crazy cocktail of chemicals that made my brain finally go kaput. I finished the last dose of Zoloft on November 5th, and that was the last of the meds, so now I'm off everything. My therapist thought the mania was medication-induced due to all the changes plus the addition of the stimulant, so the goal was to try to allow everything to settle down and see what "baseline" is for me right now.

And it has been frickin HARD.

Cervical vertigo. All-or-nothing sleep and appetite. Extreme sensory sensitivity. Random itchiness. Racing mind. Total inability to focus. And the worst part has been the mood swings.

I'm basically having all the symptoms of bipolar disorder in a rapid-cycle format. It may be cyclothymia, or it may be the withdrawal effects from all the meds, but regardless... It's been quite the roller coaster. The nerd in me has been fascinated by the experiential knowledge of it all, since I majored in Psychology and have always loved learning about it, but the overall negative effects on me and my family have been difficult.

I'm someone who has always relied completely on being highly capable and in control. I find my worth in my productivity and competence. And it has caused increasing stress throughout my life. I've been praying for years that God would break me of it, and I can see how he is using this to do precisely that -- lovingly trying to answer my request to be freed of this relentless pursuit of the illusion of control. He's inviting me to simple, joyful life of trust. The perspective shift is so freeing when I realize that I don't need to have it all figured out because he already does, and I can just rest in his loving guidance and look to him for the next step instead of trying to plan out every possible outcome and strategy. I went on a reflective retreat in the Santa Cruz mountains and just felt so encouraged and loved in the way he invited me to let my shoulders down and to ground myself in his warm provision and care.

But the change doesn't happen overnight.

So in the middle of a total storm of bipolar symptoms -- days of mania followed by days of depressive episodes and being so new at it all that I don't know how to navigate "normal life" with all of that -- I'm also trying to rewire 34 years' worth of the way I think and act. BUT it's a blessedly simple process: the only thing I have to worry about is this moment. I can't affect the future or the past. So all I have is right now, and I can turn to God for guidance, encouragement, insight, or anything I need in this moment, and he is so faithful to give it. But man, it's easy to forget. ;)

Literally me with that right now, trying to figure it all out on my own before I remember I can't and don't need to:

Anyway, this got LONG, surprise surprise, but I've always enjoyed being vulnerable for the sake of connection and potential encouragement. And selfishly, I'd LOVE to hear from any of you who may have had similar experiences. Right now the fixation of my [very limited] capacity is on my photography business, but I've been feeling drawn to writing more and more, and have attempted a lil drabble here and there. So I'm just patiently waiting for the inspiration to return. :)

I have so appreciated the love from you all. I also haven't been as active with reading/reblogging/supporting/etc as I was, and that's just where I'm at right now, but please know that my heart is with you even if my brain is not, LOL.

If you made it this far, you get a gold star. Or a Howzer hug. Or somethin. :)

[bomberqueen17]

realizations

this is just me having medical realizations and again wishing I had someone to help me coordinate my medical care. I hear rumors some people use primary care physicians for this but mine doesn't do that kind of thing, so I'm writing things out here instead.

physical therapy:

shit got so busy last week that i fell off the wagon for the first time. I've only ever missed a single day of the thrice-weekly physical therapy exercises since I was first prescribed them in January; on two occasions I think I've wound up doing them only twice in a week. But last Tuesday, I woke up and did a few of them and then ran out of time, and then worked three twelve-hour days in a row, and a fourth day I worked six hours and then drove four more. And then I was visiting friends and had horrible menstrual cramps. So I just didn't climb back onto the wagon.

I haven't had bad sciatic nerve pain at any point during any of that. Sure, toward the end of the long days on my feet I was taking any opportunity to sit, and I was doing some of the pt stretches, and it's not that the sciatic nerve didn't hurt at all. But it didn't keep me up. And I now am back to a normal level of physical activity, and I slept in a bad position last night and am experiencing no consequences today.

I'll go back to them-- need to figure out today if I have an appointment tomorrow or Thursday first-- and I'm sure not saying the exercises caused the sciatic nerve pain-- but it sure is a fucking data point isn't it.

ADHD meds:

I have managed to take two doses of Ritalin about four times in the last two weeks. It used to be that I would at least really notice the first dose, but I've been faithful enough with it that at this point my body doesn't seem to react to it at all. I can't tell whether I've taken it, most days, and that means I don't notice it wearing off and I don't think to take the second one. I know it shouldn't work like that but it definitely doesn't. There have been days I've forgotten both doses, though, and there's no real difference in those days. And that time I tried to sew those bike shorts was one of my most obvious two-dose days.

I don't need help focusing my attention, which seems to be what the stimulants do. My manifestation of ADHD is not distraction. I have always been able to focus on a task. What I cannot do is initiate a task, change a task, or perform a sequence of tasks that depend on one another, beyond a very simple list structure. Last night I had to entirely admit defeat because coordinating a sequence of tasks was beyond me. It was an embarrassingly simple sequence of tasks: I had to drop my car off for service, and get dinner, and the hardest part was that I had to coordinate a person accompanying me in a second vehicle so I could get a ride home. And there was a time constraint, and I could not do any of it because I could not initiate the task of looking up which takeout restaurants were nearby. "Solve one thing at a time," Dude said, and proceeded to help me, but I said "i can't solve one thing at a time, because if I solve one thing I will not then be able to initiate the solving of the second thing, and then the second problem will derail the rest of my night."

On my own I would not have been able to feed myself dinner, I think. I would have had to abandon that very simple task as unsolvable. I simply could not hold two things in my mind long enough to consider it. It was absolutely stupid.

Relatedly I was trying to figure out how to calculate the sale price of an item, and it was 60% off the listed price, and I know to get 60% of something you multiply it by .6, so I was trying to do that and then subtract the number I got from the original number, and I tried it literally nine times without being able to remember the .6 result long enough to then type it back into the calculator. Yes, I know you can just times it by .4 instead now, and I also know that at any moment I could have gotten up and gotten a piece of paper, or gotten a second calculator, or taken a screenshot, but all of those solutions were so cumbersome and involved me abandoning my initial task that I could not figure out how to use them. I finally asked someone else and they told me the answer and also how to use the times .4 method, which I had considered but wasn't confident enough in.

All of this is related, I think, to me having basically no working memory. I cannot hold a thing in my mind while I contemplate a second thing. And I don't know if any ADHD medication would ever help with that. That is the root of almost all of my problems: I know, from long experience, that I have to continually maintain the single thing I am focused on in my mind, and if I try to think of any second thing, I either can't, or if I succeed, will lose the first thing irrevocably. So i can't use most of the problem-solving skills I know fine well how to use. I can't get fucking anything done. (I give amazing advice, always have, because I've spent a ton of time figuring out how to solve problems and then discovering that I can't actually use any of those methods successfully.) And, I can pretty conclusively state after these several months of experimentation: ADHD stimulant meds have zero effect on this problem.

I don't know if any meds have any effect on this problem. It may well be that there is nothing to be done for my condition, medication-wise. I guess I'm glad I was able to try medication, since it is such a miracle for so many people. I guess I'm just sad it wasn't a miracle for me. But it hasn't addressed any of my problems so I don't see a point in continuing it.

Possibly what I need is some other kind of therapy, some kind of like behavioral therapy or life coaching or something, I don't know. It would help me enormously, I think, to have a lifestyle with a predictable routine and very little dislocation, but that's not possible for me with my current job and life situation. And I don't know how to discover what kind of therapies even exist, and I know the psych provider I've been seeing will not be able to recommend anything in the three minutes we get per meeting. So I might just be out of options, now. But I guess I'm glad at least I tried.

I really wish I had some kind of doctor overseeing all of my medical care I could consult about this, but I don't, I only have the individual specialists. So I'm on my own and I'm just trying to work around my severe memory problems by writing things out, I guess.

Currently I am just going to have to accept that there's literally no way I'm going to be able to figure out how to get to Rochester and back this week, so I'm going to give up on retrieving my critical personal electronics and just wait until I head back to the farm to get them on my way through. Which sucks and I am sad about but I just don't know how to coordinate the logistics and incorporate that into my life, so I'm going to stop worrying about it. This is how I get through things: I just let almost everything go, and live with whatever I can pick up in the aftermath. C'est la vie!

Oh huh you can't add more tags onto posts once you've stopped adding them huh. Fascinating choice, Tumblr.

[roxygen22]

Any of these fever prompts with timothee or any of his characters since the last one was so good! plz and thx ☺️

https://www.tumblr.com/pmak2002/753295462967246848/send-me-things

"You feel warm"

Under Control

"Mr. Chalamet?"

"Yes," Timothée answered, phone clamped between his cheek and his shoulder as he signed paperwork at the studio.

"This is Amy from Primrose. Rosalie is pulling at her ear and running a low fever, and we can't get in touch with Mrs. Chalamet. Is there someone who can come get her?"

Timothée stilled. His wife, Aria, had only just recently returned to work after their daughter turned one, and this was her first time to go out of town for a conference since. She was beside herself on her way out the door the morning before because she had never left the baby overnight, much less multiple nights. He reassured her that he had this all under control.

He could handle this, right?

"I'll be there in about 20 minutes."

After a couple more signatures and calls to his assistant and the pediatrician, Timothée was on his way to the daycare. As soon as they brought Rosalie to the front office, she reached out for him with her chubby little hands.

"Da da da," she whined pitifully.

"Come here, you," he cooed, taking her into his arms and pressing his cheek against her forehead. "You feel warm, baby girl. Let's get you to the doctor."

<><><><><>

"Timmy, I just got the voicemail from the daycare. Did they call you? Is Rosie okay?" Aria asked frantically, talking a mile a minute.

Timothée could hear the crowd of conference attendees in the background. "Yes, she's fine. I already took her to the doctor."

"You did? What did they say?"

"She has an ear infection, but they sent her home with some antibiotics. They said she should be feeling better by morning."

"I'm looking at changing my return flight, but it doesn't look like I can get out of here until 8pm. Everything earlier is booked."

"Aria, we're fine. Lizz has already rescheduled my meetings today and tomorrow. I've already picked up the meds and given her the first dose. She's napping now. I have this under control. You've been looking forward to this trip and I want you to enjoy your last night. Please, trust me."

Timothée heard Aria sniffle. "I trust you, I- It's just...my baby's sick and I'm not there."

"She's my baby, too, y' know."

Aria laughed wetly and sniffled again. "I know, I know."

Timothée looked over at the baby monitor and saw Rosalie stirring. "Looks like she is about to wake up. I promise I will keep you updated. Ok?"

"Ok. I love you. Please tell her Mommy loves her and misses her, ok?"

"I will. Love you, too."

"Ma ma ma ma ma." Timothée heard the baby babbling to herself through the monitor and hoped that she wouldn't be too terribly disappointed with him instead. She quickly changed her tune when he gently pushed open the door to her room and she spotted him.

"Da da da da da!" Rosalie chanted. She pulled herself up to the crib rail and bounced excitedly.

"There's daddy's happy girl. Glad to see someone is feeling better." Timothée lifted her up out of the crib. "Are you hungry?"

Rosalie pinched her fingers together at her mouth to sign for food. He chuckled and ruffled her hair. "Yeah, me too. Let's go find some yummy food."

"Num num num," she replied.

<><><><><>

Changed and fed, Rosalie was a happy girl again, playing and reading books with her daddy for the rest of the evening. Timothée was enjoying this one-on-one time with his daughter, despite how much he missed her mother - to whom he was constantly sending updates and pictures as promised.

If it weren't for the runny nose, one would never know she was sick. But as is the case with most small children, Rosalie got cranky around bedtime. She fussed any time Timothée tried to put her down and all but refused her medicine. He danced with her around the house, gently swaying side to side and bobbing her up and down until her drooping eyelids finally got too heavy to hold up.

Timothée dared not lay Rosalie down in the crib too soon for fear she would wake again, so he just sat in the rocking chair with her snoozing on his chest. He hummed and gently patted her on the back, soaking in the precious fleeting moments of baby snuggles until he nearly put himself to sleep as well.

<><><><><>

Masterlist

@croatianprincess @bluizh @jindongdongie @groovy-lady @pmak2002

[butterflyinthewell]

Changes.

I cried out to my choir a few weeks back about what’s going on and Greg, who owns a home care company like Visiting Angels (but something else, like Care At Home), got in touch with my mom and literally donated a person’s help to us after seeing what a disaster our lives are. I’m still gobsmacked. This restored my faith in God caring when it was just about to fray apart. Maybe He realized He was going to lose me and reached out to prevent that.

So we have D coming over twice a week for a few hours. Mom showed him the ropes for how we deal with dad’s toileting and changing the chux pads on the bed since those are the biggest problem for mom since it hurts her back bending over to do that.

It’s not much, but mom can have a break since D will do things like bathing, toileting, stuff like that. If mom and I want to go out for a short time, we can. It’s Mondays and Wednesdays, but it’s something. I think it’s going to help in the long run.

Dad likes D, and D likes sports, so they’ll get along.

Moving on…

I saw my psychiatrist yesterday. She wouldn’t diagnose me with PTSD even though I think I could have it, but she put me on Zoloft because she said it’s clear I have severe anxiety and depression, especially after I admitted to suicidal ideation. Zoloft treats things like anxiety, depression, ptsd and pmdd, so I think I’m covered there. She’s aware that my symptoms went away when my dad was gone in the rehab facility and that he’s the cause of it all, but because I can’t leave she felt it was best for me to get on meds so I can at least function again.

I took my first dose today and I intend to document my journey. Depression is nothing like I thought it was. It wants me to not care, wants me to think nobody else cares, wants me to stay silent, wants me to shrivel up, and sometimes I rage so hard I scare everybody around me.

But it wants me silent. I decided to talk instead.

The meds won’t show any change for a few weeks, so I don’t know what to expect or if I’ll notice a difference. So taking videos can also be a way to measure the changes. Most of my videos will probably be long and rambly because I’m incapable of being concise when I talk. Sorry.

I’m fighting for my life here and I’m scared.

Link under a cut so it doesn’t get pulled out of tags.

[emhm]

How are you doing? I feel kinda weird asking for a life update but I'm curious how you've been. I love all the dolls you're make. I think KC is currently my favorite. And are you gonna do anything special for your 100th chapter?

I didn't want to answer this until I was back home and on my PC, [I REALLY hate typing long messages on my phone.] As far as the chapter- I don't hold things back for certain numbers. Or I would have teased Sun and Eclipse's first actual sex together until the 100th chapter. Thank you for that. I'm already planning four more dolls. They're really fun to make. Everything else... it's complicated. I've already dosed the cats for fleas twice in the last 30 days and it's supposed to last a month. The Frontline Gold is barely keeping them flea free for two weeks and it's insanely frustrating. The only way to get them better meds entails a vet visit for the 3/4 cats that aren't current anywhere. I still have a lot of cleaning to do because I'm only home/awake two days of the week and I still have to cook for the rest of the weeks lunches on those days. This is my problem and I am working on it. My partner basically does the same job as me but for a different client because our work is contracted out by a parent company. Her previous contract ended and took her from 40hrs a week down to 24. And that's the biggest reason that I've been having to beg via Ko-fi just to pay the normal household bills. I already work 40hrs a week and they won't give me any more. We also share a car so that limits what she can do. I heard offhand that the client I work for wanted 10hr shifts for my position instead of 8 but didn't get it for some reason. And I'm the only one on the site, so it was likely to avoid paying me overtime. So what I've done is arrange for my partner to take one of my weekday shifts. This doesn't make us any less fucked on the bills, but it means that if the client pushes for longer hours then I can bump back up to 40 and she'll have the extra day they wouldn't give me. Plus it means I get three days off to do shit at home instead of just two. We have the money to get Lucky fixed [thanks guys!] but we can't seem to score an appointment to get it done. It's a low cost thing and it's first come first serve. We'll keep calling. The dealership offered us a better deal on getting the breaks repaired then the tire place we were going to use. But it was sight unseen. They owe us a free oil change anyway. The appointment to have that done is tomorrow. I also have money set aside for that. [You guys are freaking amazing.] I won't touch any of it until the breaks are done and then I'll know if there's anything left to put towards bills or buy some wood for winter. Because we're already not getting what we need for hours I have to assume the worst [that there will be nothing left] and the every other month electric bill is this month. Fortunately we're only had the AC running maybe four days since it got hot. Point is that I was short several thousand dollars last month. This month will probably be more like $600 short at the worst. Personally. I'm just... here. Doing my thing. I'm really hoping to see some people attempt to follow the patterns I put up. I actually love teaching people to make things and I'm happy to answer questions. Thank you for asking. :) https://ko-fi.com/followmeontumblr

[jacksdinonuggets]

Prompt 13 because I'm pretty sure Vaggie has back pain after getting her wings ripped off

Sorry this isn't that long! For some reason, the motivation just wasn't clicking.

Right when Vaggie woke up, she knew it was going to be a tough day. Not only did she wake up with a burning sensation in her eye socket, but she felt absolutely exhausted and wanted to stay in bed. However, she needed to get up and be productive. If she wasn’t productive, she would feel upset with herself. She just needed to get through half the day.

It was rough trying to get through breakfast. Every minute she tried to ignore it, it got worse. She barely got through the dishes. Charlie had noticed that she was in pain and slowly walked over.

“Hun, you okay?” She asked. 

“Y-yeah, just my phantom pain acting up again” Vaggie answered, drying off the last of the dishes.

“Do you wanna take the day off? Or take some pain meds?” Charlie offered. She hated seeing her partner in pain.

“M-maybe some p-pain meds,” She replied. Charlie nodded and went over to the medicine cabinet and took out a bottle of painkillers. She handed Vaggie two pills. However, she only grabbed one.

“It’s not that bad, I don’t need the full dose,” She explained. Taking meds was always a struggle for her. She hated taking the full dose mainly because she never feels like she’s in enough pain to need the full dose. It had a lot to do with her self-worth issues but she was working on it.

Charlie sighed and just handed her a water cup. She put the other pill back in the bottle and put it back in the safe in the cabinet.

After Vaggie took her pain killer, she went to work on some more projects the hotel needed. It was difficult to get some of the stuff done like fixing the holes in the walls and replacing the batteries in the fire alarm.

It was very difficult to get all the holes fixed but she eventually got it done. It took an hour longer than it would usually take but she was just glad to be done with it. However, she couldn’t even get to the fire alarm because her back hurt too much to use her wings. Even with the pain killer, it wasn’t enough to stop the hurting. Instead, she fell onto the couch and whimpered.

Charlie walked into the room and saw Vaggie on the couch. She sighed and went over to her. She sat down next to her and rubbed her back, trying to ease some of the pain.

“I think you’ve deserved a break, sweetie,” she told her. Vaggie whined but nodded.

“Can we go to the nursery please?” She asked. She was feeling a bit tiny and vulnerable from the pain and wanted to be small.

“Of course, Honey. I’ll get you a warm baba on the way, okay?” Charlie offered. Vaggie nodded as she was picked up.

Charlie quickly made her bottle and handed it to her before walking upstairs. Vaggie drank some of it as they went up. Though, once they got to the nursery, Charlie placed a towel over her shoulder and made sure to burp her. After that, she got her changed as swiftly as possible so there would be no accidents. She laid Vaggie down in the crib and snuggled up next to her. She sang a few lullabies and gave her lots of back rubs before applying a few heating pads. 

Unfortunately, her VoxPad was a bit too stimulating for her so she couldn’t watch anything as they cuddled. But Charlie’s singing was enough to keep her entertained and distracted as her chronic pain ran its course.