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eishtmo · 9 months ago

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Why Your Inventory Sucked Part 5

I would jokingly threaten to quit over the years. I didn't laugh when I did it, but I also knew I wasn't going to do it. I suppose the fact that I stopped making those joking threats should have been a sign that I was at the end of my stay.

But there was one time I was very, VERY serious. We entered a Family Dollar. It was to be a small store, didn't need a lot of crew, shouldn't take long. Turns out the reported size was wrong, it was at least 3 times larger that it was supposed to be. I threatened to quit if I didn't get some help and get done by 5 pm. I was obviously serious as my boss' boss called me to try to talk me down. We did finish before 5 btw.

The thing is, it wasn't the store I was in that pushed me to that point. It was a dumb thing, and felt like we had been lied too, but any other day I might have dealt with it. But I had just come out of the worst month of inventories we had ever had, and I was stressed, angry and tired, and this was almost the straw the broke the camels back. The rest of the weight, though was all the fault of. . .

PART 5: HOBBY LOBBY

I hate Hobby Lobby, for all normal reasons, but also for specific inventory reasons. But for you to understand WHY those reasons are so toxic is to do some setup.

Most stores do their inventories once a year, though a few will do theirs more frequently. For the big stores, yeah, once a year is enough, and companies like Lowes, Walmart and even Dollar General will spread them out across the entire year because there aren't enough people to count them all at once. The stores that tend to want to cluster their inventories together are small hole in the wall mall clothing stores, like The Gap. And those stores prefer to do them in January, so they can see how they did over Christmas.

This works out as December is our lull period as few want to do inventory around Christmas. While our regular workers have to apply for unemployment to keep money coming in, it gives us time to hire new people. The small stores in January gives us a chance to train the new hires in the field. We'll lose a lot of them by February, but we usually have enough counters to reinforce as the dollar stores start up and then we can start another round of hiring.

Our basic training in December teaches the new hires about how to quantity count, and most of those January stores are AQ-1 stores, so by the end of February they usually have a good idea of most of the kinds of inventories they will do will be like. So they are ready for the rest of the year, or however long they actually last.

Then here comes Hobby Lobby. They wanted all their stores, across the entire country, done in 6 weeks. And this was the compromise, as originally they wanted it done in 4. They also want it done January and February.

Hobby Lobbies are BIG, even the smallest one is a quite large. To do one Hobby Lobby takes between 25 to 60 people to do in a reasonable amount of time. Our office during a normal year has about 35 to 40 people, tops. It's not what we were supposed to have, but it's what we typically did have.

So not only do we have to throw our new hires at the store, but also our vets AND tap into other offices to get enough bodies to take care of ONE store. There are about 6 of them in our territory. And we have to help other offices as well, so we tend to do a much more than 6 stores.

I mentioned that there are generally 2 kinds of inventory, Quantity (scan and count) and AQ-1 (scan everything) but that's not strictly true, there are other kinds of inventories. There's things like pharmacy inventories that are weird combo of Quantity and AQ-1, and the less I have to talk about halfs, wholes and tenths, the better, and then there's one of my favorites, the pallet count. That's where we take a clicker like you would use for exercise reps and count all the blue pallets in a warehouse. It's how I ended up in so many distribution centers.

Then there is Financial. It's an old style count, from before I ever got involved in the business, and is designed for a world before barcodes. The ideas is that individual items don't really matter, it's only how MUCH those items are worth that matters. The store is broken up in such a way that every area is a "department," like one for candy, one for beer, one for automotive. Then you go up, enter the department (or tag number, it depends) and find the price of the items on the shelf.

So let's say there is a row of those Little Tree car air fresheners. They all cost 1.99. Enter the price and count ALL the air fresheners. Don't worry that there is half a dozen or more different scents, they all cost the same. In fact, anything in that section that costs 1.99 can be counted together. I didn't strictly do that, but that was more to keep track of where I was in the tag than for any other reason.

With practice, it's shockingly fast. There was a truck stop I used to do via this method and two of us could clear the entire store in the same amount of time it took a 5 man crew counting it like a normal Quantity account, which they converted to while I was working for the company. The issue, of course, is auditing, which really can't be done because, well, which 1.99 product did I count? No way to know. There is a way, basically comparing the previous values versus the current values, but that's more detail than strictly necessary.

Well you've probably heard that Hobby Lobby doesn't use UPC codes, I think the owner thinks it's the mark of the devil or something. It has to be a Financial count, something our new hires aren't trained for, at all. And worse, they'll likely never use it again because NO ONE uses Financial any more.

So to summarize, we have a bunch of new hires that instead of training in the field on relatively easy and small clothing stores, we have to teach them, in the store, how to do a count they will NEVER do again in a painfully large and busy store.

It gets worse.

The main issue with Hobby Lobby is that they are part of that picky category of store staff. Not just the manager, all of them from top to bottom. They want it "right," which is our goal too, but their way of expressing it is, unpleasant.

First they WATCH the counters, like hawks, and if you aren't counting the way they want, they'll complain. What does that mean? Okay, so I told you how Financial counts are supposed to work, but Hobby Lobby doesn't want it done that way, they want EVERY facing counted separately, even if it is the same price. More than that, they want us to TOUCH every item. Somehow, if we don't touch something, we didn't count it right. I can see there's one item on the peg, it's obviously one item, but if I didn't touch it, I didn't count it, that's their theory.

They complain about our not counting right, at first. But if it happens enough times, they'll demand the counter be kicked out of the store. Now that's a common issue I have covered, but in Hobby Lobby, I cannot be convinced that they didn't WANT to kick someone out. It's about showing how serious they are about accuracy of their inventory, so kicking someone out is a power thing. Which would do something if the staff isn't so large that no one even notices if one person gets kicked out.

Of course, they also want to do audits, on a Financial count. Normally audits pull from the same master file as our scanners, and will even insert things like a description of the product, which makes it easier to track and audit a section. In fact, you can follow exactly the flow the counter used to count the section. Financial counts do NOT have this, they only have the department, price and quantity.

It's why they want every facing done, but it's still really hard to follow. If they can't follow it, they demand the whole section be recounted. This removes another person from the main count, often a supervisor (like me) to do the recount. So now you have one less person watching the hoard of new counters and keeping them counting properly, which the store staff will point out and throw out at the drop of a hat.

Some of the audits will result in demands for recount because the counters did it wrong, specifically because they didn't capture every different price in a section that THEY didn't bother sorting out (this is mostly in the paint sections). So they failed their prep, and then demanded we fix it. Thanks.

They generally do better on prep than most stores, specifically they pre-count a significant portions of their stores. Though we have to mark them properly with a red marker (which our company has to provide, not the other way around). Tag number on first page, slash each page as you finish them (not at the end or before, no no), and tag number on the last page. Screw it up, whole section is to be recounted, and you may be kicked out. Oh, and sometimes they forget to put the price or quantity for the item on the sheet and despite having a small army of staff, it might take a bit for someone to respond to a sku check.

All that over the course of about 10+ hours, while the store is open. Oh yeah, and during COVID they didn't wear masks either, because of course they didn't. That was the following year, though, so it didn't apply here.

Now the fact that several of the stores are out of town, often several hours out of town, adds to the mess. Have to meet several hours before the count, count for 10+ hours, then several hour drive home. Oh, and since we still had all those little clothing stores, several people would have to work double, or even triple shifts. Me, I got to DRIVE the crew to those jobs and while I could go take a nap mid way through the count, generally I couldn't be spared for the main count as we never had enough people.

All this compressed into a few weeks. Oh and then some of the store staff had the gall to complain that one of their inventories was on Super Bowl Sunday. You rat bastards, fuck off.

By the time it was over, our core counters were exhausted and angry, and the new counters, well, they were gone. ALL gone. We didn't retain ANY of them. Hobby Lobby broke those new counters and they decided not to come back. We ALL knew that, and it was going to make the rest of the year that much worse.

The following year, instead of dropping Hobby Lobby like the radioactive lump of shit it was, they dropped all the smaller clothing stores instead. The result was a bit lighter, but none of the vets forgot the previous year, and no one wanted to be in Hobby Lobby, at all. Bad moral makes the inventory slower, and there was no way to make it any better as long as Hobby Lobby existed.

So after that nightmare, I made a serious threat to quit. I didn't, ultimately, because I did like my job, I was good at it. It gave me confidence I hadn't gotten anywhere else. I was proud of the work and skills I learned. And Hobby Lobby came stupidly close to ruining it all.

Two years ago I did quit, but it wasn't because of Hobby Lobby. Maybe some other day I'll talk about why, but for now I'm spent on my ranting. Thanks for reading, if you managed to get through it all.

#wis #rigis #inventory #fuck hobby lobby

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shireness-says · 4 years ago

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Seeking Shelter, Seeking Solace [1/3]

Summary: 1895. Emma Swan answers an ad in the paper from a man looking for a wife in order to flee Boston - only to arrive in rural Storybrooke, Minnesota and discover that her intended husband is dead. Left with no other options, Emma takes a position at the local tavern alongside the sullen, dark-haired barkeep with demons of his own. But what will she do when the forces she’s worked so hard to escape reappear in the new life she’s building, forcing her to turn to this unlikely savior for aid? ~8.6k. Rated M for suggestive content. Also on Ao3.

~~~~~

A/N: Every year, my mother insists we watch “Sarah, Plain and Tall” because she thinks it’s a great tradition and doesn’t quite understand that she’s the only one that loves it. So last time, I plotted this in my head instead of watching: CS fic inspired by that story.

Thanks, as always, go to my wonderful beta, @snidgetsafan.

Tagging the interested parties (and let me know if you’re one of those!): @welllpthisishappening, @thisonesatellite, @let-it-raines, @kmomof4, @scientificapricot, @ohmightydevviepuu, @profdanglaisstuff, @thejollyroger-writer, @superchocovian, @teamhook, @optomisticgirl, @winterbaby89, @searchingwardrobes, @katie-dub, @snowbellewells, @spartanguard, @phiralovesloki, @initiala, @revanmeetra87, @quirkykayleetam, @captain-emmajones, @hollyethecurious, @officerrogers, @lfh1226-linda, @jrob64, @therooksshiningknight.

Enjoy - and let me know what you think!

~~~~~

Emma can’t help but fidget in her seat as her train tears across the Midwestern landscape. Though this was her choice, she still can’t help but be nervous; after all, this is a very different world from Boston, the only home she’s ever known. She’s used to bustling streets and the lap of the waves against the docks at the harbor, not these miles after miles of plains and crop fields. It’s almost enough to make her second guess this whole thing.

It’s not a mistake though, she knows. She’d needed to get out of Boston, as quickly as possible, and this had been the best of a variety of bad options. Emma has never been particularly romantic, even as a little girl, but in the few imaginings she’d allowed herself of her future, answering a newspaper ad for a wife had never factored in. Then again, her fantasies had never anticipated the particular situation she’s trying to escape: a man who wouldn’t hear no, who was willing to pursue her relentlessly, from city to city, always a threat on her tail. The security of marriage, and of distance, had only made sense. And then again, she’s never been sentimental ; true love isn’t something she anticipated in a union, or even particularly believed in, for that matter.

The man she’s travelling to meet seems kind, she consoles herself with knowing. Emma hadn’t been particularly picky in selecting a man from the handful of querants in the paper, but Graham Humbert seems to be a good one. He’s the sheriff of a small town in Minnesota, who found himself lonely and wanting companionship.

I can darn my own socks and cook my own dinner, though neither with any exemplary skill, he had written. I’m not looking for someone to look after me in that way, regardless of what my friends’ wives think; I’d hire a lady to do the cleaning if that was the issue. I’m searching for someone to speak with at the end of a long day, someone to listen and to laugh with. I don’t believe myself to be a sweeping romantic, but I will be happy to give and receive a kind of gentle affection. Maybe we can come to love each other in time; I would be happy with that too, though I am not counting on it.

She’d liked that about him, that amiable practicality so evident even in his letters. It’s what had made her agree to travel to Minnesota with the intent to marry him, really - the feeling that they viewed a union in the same way. There will be a trial period, of course, a month during which to decide whether the two of them will suit each other before anything is formalized - but Emma is determined to make it work. What other choice does she have?

The train will be pulling into Storybrooke soon - a tiny dot on the map, where Emma doubts anyone else will be alighting. All of her belongings have been tightly packed into two measly carpetbags in order to, hopefully, start a new life. Maybe it’s foolish, but Emma had splurged on a new, sleek jacket before she’d left the city, a cheery blue to pair with her navy skirt and white blouse in an attempt to impress. Mostly, she wants to look neat more than anything else: a capable woman, one who won’t be afraid to adapt to a new life with a minimum of fuss, one who won’t make Sheriff Humbert’s life more difficult. Pretty is of secondary concern.

She sees the town coming long before the train pulls into the tiny station, roofs and chimneys rising above the flat landscape and copious corn fields. Somewhere in this state, she knows, are hundreds and thousands of lakes; however, they’re nowhere to be seen here. Storybrooke itself is a bare cluster of buildings seeming to group around a single main street, with homesteads and farm plots doubtlessly stretching out to the surrounding area. It’s a whole different world from what she’s used to, but that’s the entire point, really; no one will think to look for her here, in the rural midwest as the wife of a sheriff.

When the train finally pulls into what passes for a station, a single cramped building with barely enough room for a ticket office and a luggage closet, a man is waiting on the platform, sheltered from the late-spring sun by an awning off the station roof. The star-shaped badge on his coat and the way he shifts nervously from foot to foot make Emma think this must be the anticipated Sheriff Humbert. His hair is rather more golden than the sandy blonde-brown color Mr. Humbert had tried to describe in his letters, but Emma supposes that’s to be expected. She likely didn’t give a perfect description of her appearance either.

Quickly, she gathers her bags and alights to the station platform with the assistance of a young porter. The man waiting quickly doffs his hat, playing with the brim in another nervous gesture. “Miss Swan?”

Carefully, Emma arranges her face into something she hopes passes as an amiable smile. “Yes, that’s me. And you’ll be Sheriff Humbert, I presume?”

“I - well, no,” the man who isn’t Graham Humbert stutters out. “I’m David Nolan, actually. One of the deputies here.”

Unexpected - but there are countless excellent reasons that Deputy Nolan might be sent instead. Trouble can happen even in a small town, dozens of minor disputes that can somehow only be settled by the sheriff himself. “In that case, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Nolan. I must admit, I was expecting Mr. Humbert. Pardon my mistake.”

“About that —” Deputy Nolan cuts himself off, looking curiously uncomfortable. It sets Emma a bit on edge, but there’s no way to dance around it - not when she doesn’t have all the information.

“Yes?”

Deputy Nolan swallows heavily, visibly, his fingers tightening around the brim of his hat again before he drags his eyes to meet hers. “I’m sorry to tell you, Miss Swan, but Graham - Sheriff Humbert - died two days ago.”

Of all the things she thought he might say, all the ways she imagined this might go, that certainly wasn’t one of them.

———

“It wasn’t anything violent, or related to his job,” Deputy - well, now Sheriff Nolan tells Emma once he’s led her to a seat in Storybrooke’s one and only bar, the Sherwood Tavern. Emma finds herself grateful for the glass of dark liquor the man behind the bar slides to her without asking; after this shock, she could certainly use it. “He just collapsed. Graham had been bothered by periodic chest pains for… as long as I can remember, really. We figure it just finally caught up to him.”

Emma nods at the words, not sure what to say. It’s all jarring, really, sad for the loss of who she believes had been a good man, but it’s hard to muster much emotion. She had only known him through letters, carefully crafted missives in which they had doubtlessly both tried to show the best sides of themselves; she doesn’t have the same attachment to the man as Nolan, and everyone else in town, understandably did. Her grief is for plans and possibilities never realized, for the idea of a man instead of the genuine article.

“We know you came out here specifically with the intent of marrying Graham. There’s not much other reason to come to Storybrooke,” Sheriff Nolan comments with a laugh. “Graham’s savings and property are set to go to the town, but we’d be happy to buy you a ticket back to Boston. It’s the least we can do, when you turn out to have come all this way for nothing but disappointment.”

It’s a kind offer, really. There’s no reason for Emma to stay, after all, and Storybrooke doesn’t have much to offer. But even if Emma hadn’t needed to escape Boston… there’s nothing there to pull her back. No family, and only a single friend. She isn’t even attached to the city, though it’s all she’s ever known. Returning to Boston would be returning to a sparse boarding house room and a life spent looking over her shoulder. Here - well, there’s no promises, but Emma would be willing to bet it’s not any worse.

“If you don’t mind,” she responds carefully, “I’d prefer to stay. There’s nothing for me back in Boston either, believe it or not. This may not be permanent, but… for the time being, I’d prefer to stay.”

“Then we’ll be happy to welcome you.”

———

And they are. Sheriff Nolan takes her down the street to the boarding house run by a Mrs. Lucas and her granddaughter over their family’s pharmacy, where both women welcome her with open arms. Ruby Lucas, the granddaughter, is tall and willowy, every inch of her full of personality, and her grandmother is a gruff old lady poorly hiding an enormous affection for her loud-spoken granddaughter. Emma can practically see the moment Mrs. Lucas - “That’s Granny to you, girl, only strangers and enemies call me Mrs. Lucas” - absorbs her into their little fold. The room they provide is small, but clean and bright; Emma is more than agreeable to the small fee she’ll owe to rent the room each month, especially knowing that breakfast and dinner are included in the rent.

Storybrooke is exactly the quiet little town it appeared to be from the train. Besides the bar and the pharmacy and the sheriff’s station, there’s a general store and a post office, a bank and a rudimentary library. There are a handful of other buildings too - Emma’s been told that one houses the doctor’s office - but she hasn’t had cause or need to learn them. Perhaps in time, she’ll learn all the ins and outs of who belongs where in this little place. It seems inevitable; after all, that’s small town life, even when so many of the so-called residents live further out on isolated farmsteads.

As much as Granny seems to immediately see Emma as her ward, Ruby Lucas seems to view it as her duty to introduce Emma to Storybrooke’s small social scene, and attacks the task with gusto. Even if it’s just a small circle - Mary Margaret Nolan, Sheriff Nolan’s wife; Belle Gold, the town librarian; and Elsa Jones, whose husband operates the general store - Emma finds herself somewhat overwhelmed by the attention. She’s never had this before, not really; there hadn’t been much of a chance to make friends, growing up in an orphanage. There’d only really been August, who she’s come to view more as a brother than anything else. It will take some getting used to, having this number of people eager for her company and opinion.

(There’s an argument to be made, Emma supposes, that Neal had been a friend, too - but he’d been a lover, more than that, and then he’d been gone. It’s hard to justify counting him, even in her pathetically brief list.)

“It’s so nice to have a new face about town,” Mrs. Nolan - Mary Margaret gushes as she leads Emma arm-in-arm down the street to the library. “Not that there’s anything wrong with the familiar faces of course - oh no, of course not! But it is so nice to hear new perspectives and meet new personalities, you know? Oh, I’m just so thrilled you’re here!”

It is exhausting and touching, all at once - and just another thing Emma will learn to expect in this little town, she’s sure. She’s determined.

———

When Emma decides to stay, Sheriff Nolan offers to put some of Sheriff Humbert’s assets towards paying her room and board, but Emma refuses. It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate the offer; it’s a nice change to have someone else trying to look out for her, even if she gets the sense that David does this for everyone. However, she never even met Graham. They’d exchanged letters, had come to a rudimentary understanding, and that was all. She has no right to lay claim to any of his money on such a flimsy connection, no matter how obligated Sheriff Nolan feels to look out for her.

Emma resolves to get a job instead, to pay her own way, and only accept the help if she’s forced to. It’s not a particularly big deal; Emma has been working in one way or another since she was a teenager. She’s worked in factories, and shops, and more recently as a secretary in a bank and then a law office. Her favorite had been the stint as a companion to a wealthy invalid. Ms. Ingrid had had a sharp tongue and had loved to turn her quiet, yet cutting comments on passersby outside her townhome’s windows, often leaving Emma in fits of laughter and the older woman with a satisfied look on her face. She’d had a fondness for Emma, too; privately, one of Ms. Ingrid’s nieces had once told Emma she had lasted longer than any of the previous companions, a small compliment she couldn’t help but treasure. She’d ultimately left, shortly before the old lady died; one of Ms. Ingrid’s sister’s husbands had been making ever-more-insistent passes Emma had been struggling to dodge, and she hadn’t been needed much as Ingrid had slowly slipped away.

(She thinks about Ms. Ingrid often, still, and the year she’d spent in that house; sometimes, Emma thinks it was one of the only times she’s ever been purely happy.)

Her opportunities for employment are limited. The general store doesn’t need additional help, and the library is barely big enough to justify one employee, let alone two. She’d played with the idea of helping out at the Sheriff’s station; with the way Sheriff Nolan seems desperate to be of assistance, for Graham’s memory if not her own sake, she’s certain he wouldn’t mind. But the fact of the matter is that this is a tiny town, with a tiny sheriff’s office to match. What would there be to do? It’s not like Boston, where there’s enough crime to produce enough paperwork to keep her busy. Sheriff Nolan himself had said that they didn’t deal with much more than petty disagreements and the occasional barfight. Even the local pickpocket had reformed and was working at the post office, running the telegraph machine.

Instead, she turns to the Sherwood Tavern - the one place in town she’s certain gets enough business to need help. Making inquiries, she discovers that it’s owned and operated by a pair of friends: Robin Locksley, who spends most of his time just outside of town at the horse stables he runs with his wife, and Killian Jones, the sullen, dark haired man who’d been behind the bar that first afternoon when Emma had arrived. They’re an interesting pair; Mr. Locksley is all smiles and sunshine, even with that slightly roguish grin, and happy to talk about anything, while Mr. Jones barely talks at all and smiles even less. Still, it’s obvious that the two men are friends, watching the way they work around each other in the space behind the bar. Maybe that speaks well of Mr. Jones, or poorly of Mr. Locksley; Emma thinks it’s likely the former, just based on Sheriff Nolan’s own reaction to the two men. Somehow, she doesn’t think he’d allow her to take a position at an establishment run by men he didn’t trust.

Mr. Locksley is immediately amenable to giving Emma a position as barmaid. It’s Mr. Jones who has more questions, and evidently more hesitance. Emma isn’t sure what to make of him; he’s an attractive man, objectively, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes, but his silence and moroseness are jarring, even if he seems to be a beloved member of this little town. There’s a story there, somewhere, maybe related to the scars that dominate the skin of his left hand.

“This isn’t a glamorous job, you know. It’s messy, sometimes even rowdy,” he says, studying Emma carefully where she stands in her neat skirt and shirtwaist.

It only makes her draw up taller. “I know. I wasn’t expecting it to be. You run a bar, not a tea room.”

That gets her a faintly approving nod, at least. “Pay won’t be anything to write home about either.”

“Will it be enough to cover my room over at Granny’s?”

“Aye, it ought to be.”

“Then that’s good enough for me.”

When Jones finally gives his nod of approval, Locksley beams across at her. “Well, Ms. Swan, it looks like you have a job, and we have a barmaid. Welcome aboard.”

———

It is not remotely the life that Emma expected to find herself living, but it’s nice in its own way. There’s a pleasant routine to it all, of Granny fussing over her at mealtimes and Ruby dragging her out to socialize and keeping busy at the bar in the afternoons and evenings. It’s almost… cozy, she supposes the word is. The citizens of Storybrooke seem determined to absorb her into the fold and make her feel at home, and Emma even finds herself becoming fond of the regulars at the bar. There’s something constant and reassuring about Leroy’s complaints and the way Mr. Marco comes in for exactly one beer each night, no more than 30 minutes after sundown. Will Scarlet might be her favorite; he’s a mouthy bastard, a former thief who now inexplicably runs the post office and operates the telegraph line, but his particular brand of attitude amuses Emma and keeps her on her toes.

(It takes her approximately a week and one passing observation in the street for Emma to realize that he’s head over heels for Belle Gold, wife of the man who owns half the town, and most likely reformed his life for her. A brave man, too, then - or maybe just a fool. From what Emma understands, it’s a bad idea to get on the wrong side of Mr. Gold; he’s a manipulative man who always needs to be in control of everything and does not tolerate people standing up to him or encroaching upon his perceived territory. Emma imagines that Gold’s wife is very much included in that inventory.)

It’s usually just her and Jones and the other barkeep, Mr. Smee, working at the bar every day. Emma thinks Mr. Locksley - “Robin, please, I’m not the formal type” - might have been involved just as a favor to the other man; he’ll put in appearances every so often, especially when his business partner requests it, but he mostly seems happy to stay out at the horse farm he operates with his wife. There’s a story there, Emma’s sure - but she’s certain that she doesn’t yet have the right to ask.

She doesn’t know what to make of Jones, really. He’s a meticulous man, and she thinks even a good one, based on the way he takes care of his establishment and is willing to patiently listen to various gripes from patrons at the bar as they work their problems out themselves. The sullen, quiet demeanor doesn’t seem like his natural state; sometimes, she catches his eyebrows twitching or the sides of his mouth trying to quirk up when one of the regulars says something suggestive, like it once would have been instinct to reach for innuendo or even jokes in the same way. She almost wonders if this is something of an emotional shield, an affectation he’s worn for so long that it’s become comfortable. Regardless, there must have been something in his past that led him here - something that’s emphasized by the careful way that Robin and Sheriff Nolan - David, now - treat him.

Jones’ brother, Liam - who operates the general store and is Elsa’s husband - seems to be the only one that doesn’t indulge Killian’s reserved state. It intrigues Emma, and really reinforces her feeling that the younger man must not have always been like this. It’s somewhere between a matter of the elder Jones not having a tolerance of it, and trying to purposefully provoke the younger.

“Is everything alright?” she dares to ask one afternoon after Liam Jones storms away from a discussion carried on in angry, hissed tones.

“Fine. Liam’s just trying to control everything again.”

It’s probably a wonder she managed to get that much out of him.

It’s hard, though, to be expected to spend so much time with a person and barely trading ten words in any given day. It makes the day longer, and the work harder. On a particularly slow day, when there’s barely a soul in the place and no longer even any cleaning left to do, Emma finds herself scrambling to break the silence, just to cut the boredom.

It is a mistake.

There’s a tattoo on his right forearm, usually covered by his shirt sleeve and just barely allowing hints of dark, swirling ink to peek through. Emma usually only sees the edges in flashes, when the sleeve of his shirt shifts just right as he reaches for something, but his sleeves are rolled nearly to his elbows tonight, revealing the whole work. It’s a detailed piece, one he must have gotten in Chicago or Minneapolis or some other city big enough to have an artist of talent. There’s certainly not a tattoo shop in Storybrooke, of all places. The swirls of black she’s caught glimpses of frame a heart with a jagged dagger through it, with a single word on a tattered scroll at the forefront.

“Who’s Milah?” she asks, instead of wiping down the tables for the twentieth time this evening. “On the tattoo.”

It’s like his whole body seizes - spine straightening, eyes shutting down, every inch of him infused with tension. It’s obvious she’s struck a nerve, one that affects his entire being.

“Someone from long ago,” he finally mutters, before stalking off to scrub imaginary grime off already-spotless tables.

It would be stupid to wonder what she did; that’s obvious to anyone with eyes. What she’s more confused about is why that particular question set him off. It’s obvious there’s a story there, one she doesn’t know but that must be central to the man he is.

Robin is there that day, taking care of something in the small office at the back; without Emma even asking, he slides up next to Emma with an explanation.

“Milah was his fiancée,” he explains quietly. “She died, several years back, in a freak accident. He was driving her to town and the horse startled, flipping the whole wagon. It’s how he injured his hand, too.” Another question answered, then; Emma can see the way the scarred limb still pains him, seizing and spasming in ways that make him scowl deeper with irritation.

“He wasn’t always like this,” Robin continues. “He used to be the most charming man you’d ever meet, always with a smile and some saucy comment. You’d have barely recognized him back then. It’s funny, and awful, what grief does to a man.”

And that explains a lot too - the way she sometimes sees his eyes flash or mouth pull like some half-forgotten instinct. That’s the look of a man who was broken, and who forced his pieces back together with the weakest glue, where things no longer fit together in the same way as they did before, even if all the fragments are there.

It is just another piece of the puzzle that is her silent coworker, but maybe the bit that makes it all make sense.

(Emma has never been much for guilt - but she can’t help but feel some small guilt for this.)

———

The thing about living in a small town, for better or worse, is that there are expectations. Despite its small size, there seem to be a million and five social functions in Storybrooke - church picnics and sewing circles and, tonight, a social and dance in Mr. Clark’s new barn. Emma could decline to attend, technically; it’s not as if she’s contractually obligated to make a showing. But Storybrooke is a tiny town, and Emma is the new face, and she’ll be thought of as unfriendly, even odd, if she doesn’t at least put in an appearance. Besides, everyone is going - and Ruby would never let her hear the end of it if she didn’t at least make an appearance.

So she goes. She stands with Mary Margaret and David and lets Ruby pull her along and compliments Granny on her contributions to the potluck spread. She even takes a turn around the dance floor when asked, even dares to enjoy herself a little bit.

That doesn’t mean that it doesn’t get to be too much, however. The residents of Storybrooke are all so welcoming and well-meaning, but Emma’s spent so much of her life alone, and suddenly being inundated with all this good cheer is a particular variety of overwhelming. It’s not their fault - it’s entirely hers - but Emma can’t resist slipping out the barn doors to creep around the side, seeking a quiet and solitary moment.

It’s not to be found, however; as Emma rounds the corner, it is easy to see Jones in the light of the nearly-full moon, leaning against the wall with his head tipped back and clearly avoiding the festivities in the same way. There’s half a thought of just retreating, creeping around the other side instead, but he turns his head to meet her eyes before she has the chance.

“I’m so sorry,” she tries to apologize. “I’ll just leave you be —”

A brief smile without much feeling twitches across Jones’ face. “Hiding from the party?”

“Yes, but I can find somewhere else —”

“There’s no need. Stay.”

Emma stays. What other choice does she have? She isn’t exactly eager to spend this time with Jones, but it would be blatantly rude to insist on leaving after he had made such a generous offer. Carefully, she props herself against the wooden wall, ignoring the way that stray splinters try to poke through her dress.

She assumes they’ll just stand there in silence - they aren’t exactly friends, for all the time they spend together, and after the other day she’s sure he isn’t much fond of her - but Jones surprises her by breaking that silence after only a few minutes.

“I owe you an apology, Miss Swan,” he says softly, but clearly. “I’ve been less than welcoming these past weeks. I am sorry for that.”

It’s the last thing she expected him to say, and Emma has no idea how to respond. “Thank you,” she finally settles on. “I appreciate it.”

She thinks that’ll be it; that he’ll have said his piece, and they’ll go back to a more-or-less easy civility. It isn’t. “I suppose Robin, or one of the others, told you about… about Milah?” Emma nods. It’s clear this is difficult for him to speak about; she wonders a little why he’s bothering to tell her, of all people. “After she was - after she passed, I rather fell to pieces. She was gone, and the accident all but mangled my hand so it seemed like I couldn’t do much of anything with my life, and it was easier to fall into a bottle than to face my grief. Robin helped a lot, giving me something to do at the bar and eventually letting me buy into the place, but some days I still feel like all those pieces are still barely held together.”

“I understand,” Emma tells him softly, almost too softly to hear. And she does; she’d felt something of that despair when Neal had left, like she’d never find anyone or anything to compare again and there were a whole host of feelings and experiences she’d never reclaim, never experience without him. She can only imagine how much deeper that pain must run for him, when his fiancée had died and not just run away.

“Thank you,” he says, but she can tell he doesn’t fully believe her. That’s alright; she hasn’t given him any reason to. “Anyhow. It’s been five years now, and I’m… acceptant, I suppose. I don’t anticipate being that same man I was ever again, or being able to truly move on and find someone else, but I’m not actively trying to drown all my feelings anymore, which most agree is a significant improvement.”

“Most?”

“Most,” he repeats. “I believe you’re acquainted with Mary Margaret Nolan?”

“Ah. Yes.”

“Exactly. Ah. Mrs. Nolan is a very kind woman, of course. She truly does mean well, and she and David are wonderful for each other. But she is… unbearably optimistic, if I’m being blunt. Mary Margaret is of the opinion that now that I have reached an acceptance of everything that happened with Milah - everything that I lost with Milah - that it’s time I move on, and find a new ‘happy ending.’ So when you came to town - a new face, lonely, needing help…”

Emma sees exactly where this is going. “You assumed she would immediately start trying to play matchmaker.”

“Precisely. Well, not quite assumed; I’ve known Mary Margaret long enough that it was more like knew.”

“And you decided to head it off before it even started.”

“Aye. Again, I do apologize for how it means I treated you. You didn’t deserve that kind of hostility. But I didn’t want her getting any ideas about fixing us up together.”

“Then I forgive you.”

Killian stares blankly at her for a moment, clearly not quite processing her words. “Just like that?”

“You forget - I’ve met Mary Margaret too.”

His lips twitch in that almost-smile again, and Emma could swear she hears him huff out the hint of a laugh. “She is nothing if not persistent. A second chance, then?”

And Emma finds herself surprisingly happy to agree.

———

They’re still not friends, exactly. Jones isn’t exuberant, and that doesn’t change just because they had a chance to reset things behind the barn. But they’re… friendly. Amiable. Companionable. A whole host of other almost-type words. She no longer feels like he resents her very presence in his place of business, and even makes sure to make her life better in little ways, like helping her wipe down glasses and handle more belligerent patrons. She appreciates it, truly; it makes her life easier, knowing he’ll back her up, and that’s more than enough. Despite the small town-big family feel of Storybrooke, she’s still a city girl at heart who’s fine not to make best friends with everyone. She’s more than satisfied to be his employee, and nothing more; in fact, it’s a welcome change after some of the jobs she’s had.

(That’s what landed her here in the first place, after all: a man who doesn’t much care about her many, many denials.)

Even if they’re not friends, she spends enough time around the man to recognize some of his reactions, the slight variations of “sullen” that still play across his face if you’re watching closely. And as soon as Belle Gold walks in with an older man Emma can only assume is her husband, Emma sees the way that Jones’ entire body tenses up. The tension in the air is palpable between the two; even Belle shifts uncomfortably as they approach the bar.

“Could I have a small glass of beer, please?” she asks Emma softly. It’s a relief to reach for the glass instead of just waiting for whatever this is to explode. “It’s so terribly warm out there today, I found myself needing a little something to cool down.”

Beside her, her husband hasn’t broken eye contact with Jones. Emma doubts he’s fully aware of what she and Belle are doing right next to him. “You’re still here then, Jones?” he asks in an icy, sinister voice.

“Aye.” Jones’ face is just as stony when he responds. Emma can practically see the way he vibrates with suppressed rage.

“I suppose you don’t have anywhere else to go, do you, or anyone else to chase after. No one really wants to take on a man with only one functional hand.”

“Let’s go, Robert,” Belle urges. Her beer is barely touched, but her refreshment seems forgotten as the encounter turns increasingly hostile.

Carefully, Jones sets the glass he had been holding back on the bar as the rest of the room holds its breath. Emma can see the way he flexes his scarred left hand, though she doesn’t think anyone else is playing close enough attention. “That’s true,” he says in that deadly quiet voice, “but you’re stuck here too, Gold. And we both know you’re the one who trapped me in this town.”

“Strong words from a weak man —” Mr. Gold starts to say, but his target has already stalked away towards the door Emma knows hides a staircase. Jones keeps an apartment above the premises; doubtless he’s gone there to lick his wounds.

Belle quickly ushers her husband out after that, leaving the barely touched glass on the counter. Emma takes a long drag, not one to waste the beverage; she can’t help but hold some bitterness towards Belle for this altercation, even though she knows the woman is otherwise lovely and kind and even something like a friend to Jones. She must have known this might happen, bringing her husband in here. The man has a reputation, one that makes it hard to believe that his wife is so kind - and married to him. Besides, the whole exchange reeked of an unknown history between the two men, of so many words and actions leading to today’s explosion.

Behind the bar, Mr. Smee - a timid man by nature, a predilection not remotely helped by these dramatics - looks anxiously between the room half-full of patrons and the door through which Jones had disappeared. It only takes a moment to realize what needs to be done - and that Emma will have to be the one to do it.

With a nod toward the bar floor for Smee, Emma quickly climbs the stairs, a glass of rum in hand. She’s noticed Jones taking a shot of the stuff when some customer is drunk enough to buy a round for everyone. If there’s ever been a time when a drink of something biting would help - well, this is probably it.

It isn’t hard to find Jones. He hasn’t even made it into his apartment proper, instead sitting propped against the wall in the hallway with his head hung between his upright knees. He looks up at the sound of her boot heels clicking on the stairs, happy to accept the proffered spirits, only to hunch back over the glass once it’s in his hands. Emma waits patiently for the explanation she knows is coming; she’s long since grown used to silence sitting between the two of them.

“He killed her,” Jones finally says, draining the remains of his rum in one swallow. “Milah. My Milah. He wanted her, but she wanted nothing to do with him, and she chose me.” He smiles softly in remembrance, a foreign look on his face from what Emma has come to know. “I could never prove it, of course. But he hated that she chose me, hated me for supposedly stealing what was his by pursuing the woman who pursued me first. And that wagon… it never should have tipped. It was sturdy, not even a year old, and the road was even. But there was a shot, fired someplace close that I could never pinpoint, and the horse startled, and the axle was apparently so weak or damaged that it broke, and by the time it was all over…”

“She was gone,” Emma supplies softly. Somehow, in the middle of all this, she’s found herself on the floor next to him. It seems like what he needs right now.

“It was quick, at least. She broke her neck and died instantly. I just… I could never prove it, but I always knew it was Gold. The sabotage of the wagon and the shot to set everything in motion.”

It makes horrifying sense; maybe Jones is wrong, but from everything Emma has heard and seen of Mr. Gold, she wouldn’t put it past him. “And now you’re forced to see him all the time.”

“We had plans, you know,” he tells her, staring into his glass like he can make it refill by will alone. “We were going to pack up, move to Duluth or Chicago - somewhere along the Great Lakes, where I could get a job on one of the ships. But she was - she was dead, and my hand was barely functional, and when Robin offered to let me buy into the bar instead of just doing my damndest to drink myself to death… I took it.”

“And you lived.”

He snorts. “Or close enough to it.” His head falls back against the wall heavily as he sighs. “He’s gone, I imagine. I’ll come back down in a moment, I just…”

“Take all the time you need.”

(Emma knows she didn’t do anything more than listen, but there’s still a satisfaction in seeing the way he has started to pull himself back together as she traipses back down to the bar.)

———

They’re still not friends, but knowing those bits of another’s soul bonds two people together in a way that’s hard to describe. Jones is still sullen and quiet, but it’s less off-putting when Emma knows it comes from a place of pain. What matters is that Emma feels comfortable and safe here in Storybrooke and at the tavern, in the midst of these kind - and yes, in some cases morose - people.

That all changes when a telegram arrives unexpectedly, marked urgent and portending dangers Emma had hoped she had finally escaped.

She opens it right away, of course; there’s only one person outside of this town who knows how to reach her, and August is too busy for needless correspondence. He hadn’t even responded when she’d wired him back in Boston that first day in Storybrooke just to let him know what had happened, and that she was still staying. Him sending a message can mean nothing good.

Emma sinks onto a barstool as she reads the stark letters. Even without a mirror, she can feel the blood draining from her face as her nightmares resurface.

Be aware Oz sniffing around STOP Hired private detective STOP Be on alert and do what you must STOP Will keep apprised STOP

Emma doesn’t know how long she sits there, staring at the little slip of paper. Somewhere, the yellow envelope it was delivered in has dropped away; she hadn’t noticed. She only comes back to herself when a firm hand shakes her shoulder.

“Swan!” Jones all but barks, jerking her back to attention and to meet his eyes. It’s evident he’s been trying to get her attention for a while; thank god there are only a scant handful of people in the bar at this early hour, though she’d rather Will Scarlet hadn’t had to see this either. “What’s the matter?” he presses ahead. “Are you alright?”

What an absolutely absurd question to ask as she sits here, white as a sheet. As much as Emma would like to deny it, claim everything is fine, she can’t. “No,” she barely manages to gasp out.

It’s like everything around her has become a blur, like her mind can’t focus on anything but impending doom. Jones and Will Scarlett must have corralled her into the little back office; she has no memory of how she came to be sitting in the padded chair. Jones crouches by her side, his shoes lost beneath the edge of her skirt, wearing a surprisingly tender look on his face.

“This is about what you’re running from, isn’t it?” he asks in as gentle a voice as Emma’s ever heard from him. It snaps her to alertness, eyes blown wide; it’s not remotely what she expected him to say.

“How did you know that?” she demands. Emma hasn’t told anyone in town the underlying reason why she came to this little nowhere town, and yet here Jones is talking like it’s obvious to see.

“I recognize the look of someone with demons to hide, and to hide from,” he says softly. “You’ve met mine, Swan.”

Faced with that kind of understanding, it’s like all the pride, the reticence, the fight seeps right out of her. What’s the point? He seems to see right through her front anyways, for some reason she can’t pinpoint.

“Yes,” she says, carefully making sure that neither her voice nor her hands tremble at the admittance. “It’s about the things I ran from in Boston.”

“Tell us.”

And she does. As Will Scarlet stands by the door and Jones moves to lean against the desk, Emma lets the whole tale unravel: about the law office in New York she’d been a secretary in, about the junior partner, Walsh Oz, who’d taken a sudden interest in her, about the way she’d left that job when he wouldn’t stop pressing his attentions on her. About how he’d found out where she lived, and forced her to move three times. About how she’d finally packed up and moved to Boston, only for him to track her there as well, showing up in the department store she worked in. How she’d gotten more and more desperate, finally seizing upon the idea of answering one of the marriage ads in the paper.

“It seemed like the perfect solution,” Emma explains. Against her will, tears have begun pooling in her eyes, and she blinks furiously to dispel them. “It’d take me so far away from Boston and New York that Walsh Oz would never track me down - and besides, I’d have a husband. It didn’t matter that I probably wouldn’t love him, I’d be safe. He wouldn’t be able to bother me anymore if I was already tied to another man.”

As Emma has told the whole sorry story, Will Scarlet has become visibly more upset in his stance by the door, bordering on fury, but Jones has remained implacably, unshakably calm. Emma appreciates it, in an odd way; it’s something stable to focus on, to keep the panic from overcoming her again. “And then you got here, and there wasn’t a husband to marry,” he says softly.

Emma nods. “I thought it would still be enough - rural Minnesota is so far from New York or Boston, you know? But now…”

“But now.” There’s something horribly ominous about his agreement.

“At least I have August to watch out for me - my friend, almost a brother. He works for a private detective agency.” Jones probably doesn’t much care about that, but talking and explaining keeps her in the moment. It only works for so long though, as the reality of the situation sets in. “If Oz comes here… where else can I go? What am I supposed to do?”

The silence sits for a moment, Emma trying not to cry, Scarlet and Jones looking at one another as if coming up with something. The question hovers in the room, threatening to suffocate them all.

“You came here because you thought a husband could protect you?” Jones finally asks.

“Yes.”

“Then I’ll marry you instead. If you like.”

It’s an absurd proposition, not least of all because Emma knows Jones may never get over his late fiancée. Beyond that… they barely know each other. They’ve worked together for two and a half months, and Emma has shared little bits of herself along the way and learned pieces of his own character, but that’s not enough to base a marriage on. But wasn’t that exactly what she was trying to do with Graham Humbert? To marry him, even though she barely knew him?

The difference, of course, is that Emma has worked alongside Jones for months, and knows this is not remotely what he’d ever planned for himself. It is much harder to go through with this when she knows that it isn’t something that both parties actively want.

“You don’t have to. I would never ask that of you,” she hurries to protest - but he’s already shaking his head.

“I know I don’t,” he tells her. “And if you don’t want to, that’s fine, and we’ll try to figure something else out. But I think it might be your best option.” Jones pauses, and his face softens. “Graham was a good man, and a good friend of mine,” he tells her quietly. “He waited a long time for me to be a better man, and do something with my life. Let me do this for him.”

And Emma agrees.

———

It is a small wedding - not that the occasion warranted anything different. They’re two people who barely aren’t strangers anymore, who hadn’t planned for this remotely or had even imagined such a possibility two days ago.

(Technically, it’s the second time since Emma arrived in Storybrooke that two days have abruptly changed the course of her life. Maybe it’s an omen, of some sort; Emma doesn’t have the energy, or the opportunity, to pay heed to such a thought.)

They make as much of the occasion as they can when Mary Margaret and Ruby only have two days to fuss. Emma wears her nicest dress - a summery, pale blue confection that makes her look a lot more girlish and innocent than she actually is - and there are fresh flowers along the pews of the little church that match the small bouquet in her hands. Only a small number of people attend to witness - the Nolans, Jones’ brother and his wife, Robin and his wife, and Granny with Ruby - but that’s alright. Emma may not know what her soon-to-be husband’s favorite color is, or his favorite meal, or even his middle name, but she does know that they’re both somewhat solitary creatures. Neither needs a crowd, or would be comfortable with one.

There’s something oddly comforting about his presence at the end of the aisle, waiting for her in front of the reverend. He isn’t dressed particularly elaborately, but he’s taken the effort to put on a tie and coat and comb back his hair a bit, even if pieces keep popping up again. Most of all, Emma appreciates that his hands don’t tremble when they take hers. She’s terrified out of her wits about the foolishness they’ve both agreed to, but he manages to be so calm; so certain. It’s like he’s found an odd kind of purpose in doing her this favor beyond thanks, beyond reason. He’s calm when she meets him at the altar, and calm all through the short ceremony, and still calm when he slides the thin gold ring on her finger. It feels like some kind of blessing.

Before she knows it, the words are all said, and they’re moving to sign the paperwork and make this legally official. And that’s it: some of the most momentous minutes of her life are over and done, and Jones - Killian? - is leading her back down the aisle of the little church with her hand tucked into his arm, still that pillar of stability and reassurance.

She’s married.

———

Eventually, they find themselves back in the little apartment above the bar. Emma’s pretty flowers have been set aside, her hat carefully extricated from the pins holding it to her hair, and Killian has worked off his jacket and tie. Silence stretches between them as they sit, she in the armchair by the fire and him at the kitchen table, but it’s not yet comfortable. They don’t quite know each other enough for that. It’s like they’re in a holding pattern, both just waiting for something to give, for the other to break or break through.

“I never expected to get married,” he finally says. Emma jerks her head to face him, but he carefully looks anywhere else, staring towards the opposite wall, fiddling with his fingers. “After Milah died… I expected I never would. That that would be it for me.”

It is not a good way to start a marriage - hearing that her new husband never wanted to get married in the first place. “I’m sorry, then. For trapping you in a marriage you never wanted.”

But he shakes his head at the words, finally meeting her eyes. “No, no, that’s not what I mean, Emma. I’m not trying to - I don’t want you to think I regret this. It is its own kind of honor, doing this for you and for Graham. Makes me feel like a better man than I’ve been in a long, long time. What I’m trying to say, I suppose, is…” He pauses, as if collecting his words. “I suppose I don’t have… expectations, so to speak, of our marriage. We get along. I think you’re a good woman, and I’ve appreciated the help in the bar. And that can be it. I’m not expecting anything more. I’m perfectly happy to have a paper marriage, companionship and nothing more, because that’s already more than I ever expected for the rest of my life.”

Ah. He’s alluding to sex. It’s kind of him to dance around this, but entirely unnecessary; delicacy has been out of the question for 8 years now, since she still thought Neal was her forever. It never really mattered for an orphan from the worst of Boston anyways. As kind as it may be, it’s unnecessary, and frankly too chivalrous for her purposes. In return, Emma chooses her words just as carefully as he did; at the beginning here, setting the stage for what may become the rest of their marriage, it seems important to do so. “Thank you, Mr. Jones —”

“Killian.”

“Killian.” He’s right; they’ve already traded vows, such as they were, after all. “Thank you, Killian - but the fact of the matter is that I need this to be a real marriage. If our marriage is to protect me the way I need it to… then I need there to be no reason for anyone to claim otherwise.”

———

They consummate their marriage that night.

It is not making love by any means, and it is not even particularly good - it’s been too long for either of them to be in practice, and too little feeling between the two of them - but there is no denying that it is a real marriage now. Emma can smell the shot of rum he drank for courage as Killian determinedly avoids her lips. His body is warm and firm above her, inside her, but there’s no feeling to it, except in the apology he mumbles against her ear when he finishes before she’s even close to satisfaction.

It is fine. It is no more than she expected.

But at least it is a union, in almost every sense of the word.

———

(She had been anxious about this - the idea of giving her body to a man she barely knows, no matter how much she knows it to be necessary - but as mediocre as the act itself is, Emma can’t help but feel… connected, afterwards. Despite everything, he had been gentle with her, considerate. She doesn’t quite feel an affection for him - not yet, though she hopes she might one day, if this is to be the start of years to come - but it’s the first link in a bond that they’ll strengthen with time. Consummation had been a fraught decision for both of them, an emotional minefield in many ways, but they’re truly in this together now.

All things considered - she’s glad she’s in it with him.)

#captain swan #cs ff #cs fanfiction #captain swan ff #marriage of convenience #my writing #Seeking Shelter Seeking Solace #independent!Emma #grumpy!Killian #and a bar

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hangrypa · 4 years ago

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s/p first year as a PA

I was hired as a hospitalist primarily for the transplant service. However, in the setting of the pandemic and staffing shortages, I am all over the place now and work in almost everything non-pediatric and non-surgical.

In my first few months as a PA, I was incredibly overwhelmed. I went from being a learner who switches specialties every month to a fully-fledged provider making life-or-death decisions on an hourly basis. Oftentimes I’d find myself in the room of a patient actively crumping, surrounded by the patient’s family and multiple nurses awaiting instructions on what to do to save the patient. I thought that I faced a lot of pressure in school, but it was nothing compared to this.

And just when I started to get a hang of it all, the pandemic hit. What a nightmare. As mentioned above, I was hired to work with with transplant patients. Prior to the pandemic, my transplant colleagues and I were masking and gowning for almost every patient: 1 surgical mask and 1 gown per patient and per patient encounter. But once COVID hit, we were rationing PPE. 1 N95, 1 pair of goggles, and 1 face shield for the pandemic. 1 surgical mask per week, and 1 gown only if a patient had Cdiff or a history of MDRO bacteremia.

What did the pandemic mean for our transplant patients?

Our patients are on immunosuppressant medications to prevent transplant rejection. Unfortunately, this makes it difficult for them to fight infections.

Our department did what it could to prevent COVID. We'd test patients on admission for COVID, regardless of symptoms or exposure history. If they were positive, they went to the COVID team and quarantined on their unit for a period of time and had to test negative before returning to our unit and being transplanted. We took many other measures to reduce COVID risk to the best of our ability.

People still died. To see someone get transplanted successfully and then die of a virus is horrifying. Unfortunately, despite our admission tests, sometimes patients contracted COVID within the hospital. Patients would be happily FaceTiming their family one moment, telling them all of their plans for once they were discharged- then the next day they'd be intubated. We tried Remdesivir, Dexamethasone, prone positioning, etc. But the virus moved through them quickly, and these efforts often were too late. No amount of hoping and praying brought them back.

As a first year PA, I learned to go to an empty conference room, close the door, and remove my mask before calling to the family of the deceased. This way, as they gathered around the phone in their homes, the family could hear me unmuffled as I delivered the news. Also, this way my tears didn't ruin my mask for the rest of the week.

I learned a lot this year. It's been a mixture of crying and laughing. There are times that I question why I ever became a PA, and then there are times when this career feels like home. In addition to transplant, I’ve also been working in the ED, IMC, ICU, inpatient hospice, clinic, and infusion center these past 6 months. I’ve learned quite a lot along the way.

Lessons learned as a first year PA:

1. Check your pager hourly: This is in addition to checking it whenever you get paged. Sometimes I’ll get paged while I’m rounding, read it, and then forget about it. Now I go through my pager at every hour to ensure that I already responded to all my pages and then answer ones that I missed/forgot. On a semi-related note, a while back I wrote about good paging etiquette.

2. Let people know when you're out: I work a rotating schedule. As a result, it’s hard to predict when I’m in or out of the hospital. Sometimes I’ll come back on service and find urgent emails or texts that are a few days old. Now I leave an away message with my return date and my supervisor’s contact information on both email and hospital text. If someone really needs to get a hold of me, my supervisor has my personal cell phone number.

3. Be conscientious of what time you consult: I generally try to get all of my nonurgent consults done before 3pm. Many services have only 1 resident covering after 3pm, so I try not to page/call unless I have an emergency.

4. Call the nurse if something needs to be done urgently: Being a nurse means being the ultimate multitasker. Room 5 is due for his IV Amphotericin, Room 2's Foley is supposed to come out prior to void trial with Urology, Room 1's infusion completed and is beeping, and Room 4 is a bit altered and yanked out her PICC. Now I’m placing an order for Room 3 to get IV Lasix due to concern for pulmonary edema. However, the nurse may be preoccupied with Room 4 and not see the order in the computer for some time. If I really need to the patient to get the Lasix right way, I’ll place the order through EMR and then call the nurse and see what their situation is. If they’re crazy busy with Room 4 and likely to be unable to get to the Lasix within the next 15min, I ask whether they’re okay with me asking another nurse to give the Lasix now. Usually the answer is yes.

5. Value your nurses: Nurses know the patient best. They’re the ones answering call bells, giving meds, doing dressing changes, etc. Unfortunately they oftentimes bear the brunt of everyone’s frustrations, from patients to patients’ families to attendings to managers. Not to mention, they’re the ones doing the dirty work. Bedside nurses are the heartbeat of healthcare, but they also are high risk for burnout. Always support your nurses, whether that’s volunteering to answer a patient’s family member’s 17th phone call of the day or responding to a patient’s call bell yourself.

6. Know how to get a hold of someone quickly: It’s less than ideal to page someone repeatedly. At my hospital, if I need to talk to an attending urgently, I call the operator and ask them to connect me directly to the attending’s cell phone. If a patient is crashing and we’re not in the ICU, I dial the emergency number and call a rapid response, which sends people running into my patient’s room.

7. Plan your discharge meds from Day 1: The goal of every admission is to treat the patient and then discharge them safely. Send medications early for prior auth and call the pharmacy to make sure that they have medications in stock. (One time a patient’s insurance didn’t cover Levofloxacin, of all things.)

8. Keep social work and care coordination aware of all needs from the start: Does your patient looks unsteady? Place a PT/OT consult and let social work and care coordination know that the patient might require home therapy services and/or DME so that they can start looking at services and companies that may be covered by insurance. Does your patient have a central line? They’ll likely need a home health service to teach them how to care for it daily at home. Do they seem to require frequent transfusions? They’ll probably need labs on discharge. Is the patient’s living situation safe (no heat/AC, possible abuse at home, financial difficulties, etc)? They may need alternative housing.

9. The attending is not always right: Generally speaking, the attending has the last say on how the team manages a patient. However, I’ve come across situations in which an attending’s decision put a patient in more danger. Sometimes asking them about their decision can help steer the care plan toward better patient care. Other times you just have to stand your ground and be okay with being on the receiving end of an attending’s misdirected rant. Report these instances to your manager and to other higher-ups.

10. Always have gloves in your pocket: You never know when you’ll find a mess. Or which part of the body someone asks you to examine. Or how hygienic a person is (or is not).

11. Verify weird vitals: I was very new when I walked into work, opened a patient’s chart, and promptly bolted down the hallway when I saw a patient’s O2 sats recorded as 15-20s. I found the patient sitting up in bed, eating breakfast, and bewildered by me bursting into the room. Turns out that overnight someone mistakenly recorded his respirations as the O2 sats.

12. Remove whatever tubes you can: Anything entering the body is an infection risk. Does your patient still need that Foley placed by the surgery team? No? Yank it (don’t actually yank because ouch). Is your patient A&O and able to eat without aspirating? Remove the NG tube. Does your patient have good veins and require infrequent transfusions/labwork? Pull their central line.

13. Take a buddy with you to emergencies: Two heads are better than one. Even if you’re a seasoned provider and well-equipped to manage an emergency, you might need another body to help with performing CPR, making urgent calls, grabbing supplies, etc.

14. Ask your patients about premeds for procedures: We all have different levels of pain tolerance. A procedure goes far more smoothly if your patient is comfortable. Note: if you’re going to premed with Ativan or an opiate in the outpatient setting, make sure they have a driver.

15. Be good to your charge nurse and unit secretary: I don’t know how they do it. If I had to manage the unit’s signout, patient complaints, calls from other floor, being yelled at by providers, verifying paper orders, and finding beds for incoming patients- all at the same time - I’d lose my mind.

16. If your patient is mad, just shut up and listen: There are many things that you can’t control: the time it takes for a patient to get a room, the temperature of hospital food, the dismissive attitude of your attending, etc. And oftentimes the patient knows this. My reflex is to want to apologize for things and overexplain why different things are happening. But sometimes the patient just needs to rant. Take a step back and just listen. That can make all the difference.

17. Fact check your notes: The framework for your progress note often is the note from the day prior. It sounds obvious, but make sure that you go through the note and make updates and changes accordingly. If today is 01/15, there’s a good chance that the Fungitell from 12/31 is not still pending.

18. Try to learn some nursing skills: This is one of the areas in which I most envy my NP colleagues. If a patient’s IV pump is beeping or their central line need to be flushed, I oftentimes awkwardly step out of the room and look vacantly into the distance for a nurse. I’ve finally figured out how to spike a bag (albeit I do so very slowly, and it certainly makes the RNs giggle some). I talked to our unit’s nurse manager, and she’s willing for me to learn some nursing skills from the staff during a slow day- we’ll see when thing slow down!

19. Be kind: Generally speaking, being in a hospital is stressful. Patients are feeling out of sorts, and staff are working with constant dinging in the background. I rant plenty on this website, but I’m kind to everyone at work (with few exceptions) because it makes things more comfortable for everyone. Additionally, if you are always kind to your patients and colleagues, your reputation will speak for itself. One time I was walking down a hall with poor reception while on my ASCOM with a notoriously standoffish nurse from another unit. My phone cut out. She called my unit’s nurse manager to complain, and the nurse manager told her that I would never hang up on purpose. My interactions with the nurse going forward were always more pleasant in nature.

20. Support your team: The best colleagues are not the smartest colleagues; the best coworkers are the ones who have your back. Whether it’s a medical emergency or just a strange situation, it’s important to be supported and to give support.

I know that I’ve learned a lot more than this, so I’ll likely be adding to this throughout the year. Happy Snow Day, all!

#hangrypa #PAblr #physician assistant #PA-C #PA

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hotchxprentiss · 4 years ago

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Maybe Baby: Chapter Three

Ao3 Link

Series Masterlist

Summary: How Emily dealt with her pregnancy.

Word Count: 2.2k

Chapter Warnings: angst, fluff, pregnancy stuff, mention of abortion

A/N: This is more of a filler chapter on Emily’s pregnancy. The next one will follow what happened in Chapter Two.

1995

“Emily! How have you been?”

“I’ve been good, Pam. Just feeling a little nauseous.”

Emily met up with her old high school friend, Pam, at a brunch spot in D.C.

“Oh gosh I’m so sorry. Do you wanna just wanna hang out at your place? I don’t want you to get sick out here,” asked a concerned Pam.

Emily could feel her stomach turning and nodded at her friend’s question. The pair made their way to Emily’s apartment and ordered takeout. The two of them talked about college, their family, and most importantly, their love life.

“So, is there a special man in your life? Perhaps a woman?”

“Wait what do you mean Aar- Agent Hotchner left? He was just here two weeks ago?”

Emily stared at her mother, waiting for an answer.

“He gave me his resignation letter last week. Turns out the FBI didn’t need an interview and hired him right away. Why are you asking anyway?”

“Oh nothing I’m just wondering where he went that’s all. He suddenly just disappeared.”

“He seemed quite excited to leave. I mean I don’t blame the man, it’s the FBI. Although, I am quite upset that we lost a great agent. Hopefully all goes well with his career.”

“Yeah, me too. I’ll just go upstairs now.”

Emily rushed to her room and clutched her pillow once she laid on her bed. Tears were streaming slowly down her face. As it turns out, Emily grew extremely fond of Aaron after the day they spent with each other. She appreciated his kindness and how gentle he was with her. Unfortunately they never really got to talk or spend more time together. Now he was gone and she had no way of communicating with him. Maybe it was for the best.

The raven haired woman chuckled at Pam and shook her head.

“No one as of now, unfortunately. Gotta focus on my studies first,” she replied, not wanting to mention Aaron.

“Same here, boo. College is just too much right now.”

The two of them continued their chatter until a doorbell signaled the arrival of their food. Once they paid and set up the dining table, Emily’s mouth watered at the sight of the orange chicken, which was typically not her favorite of the bunch. However, the smell of beef and broccoli caused her to gag and rush off straight to the bathroom. The contents of her stomach filled the toilet and Pam rushed to the bathroom to pull her hair back.

“Thanks, Pam.”

“It’s no problem. You sure you’re okay? Are you sick or something?”

“Probably just caught a bug. There was one roaming around my hallway at Georgetown. You should probably leave before you catch it.”

“Are you sure, Em? I can stay here to make sure you’re okay.”

“It’s alright, Pam, really. Besides, your brother’s wedding is in a few days. I would hate to see you miss out on that.”

Pam thought about it for a while and hesitantly nodded at her friend’s statement.

“Just make sure to call me if you need anything, and I mean anything at all, okay. I love you, girlfriend,” Pam smiled and blew a kiss.

Emily blew one back and locked her apartment door. She went to her bed and decided to sleep the rest of the day.

“Oh fuck.”

Emily woke up to a pounding headache and immediately reached for the water bottle on her night stand. I didn’t even drink yesterday. Soon enough, she felt bile rising from her throat and rushed to the toilet. Emily wiped her mouth and began thinking. No one else reacted to the bug like this. I hate my immune system. She went back to sit on her bed and that’s when realization hit her.

“Shit.”

Emily headed over to the nearest pharmacy and picked up three different pregnancy tests. She needed to be sure her instincts were correct, or hopefully wrong. She quickly paid for her things and went back to her apartment to finally get an answer to her question.

The tests were all laid out on the bathroom counter and she set a timer for three minutes. Please, be negative. Please, be negative. Please, be negative. The timer went off and Emily took a deep breath before she took a look at the tests. All of them were positive. Her knees gave out and she began sobbing on the floor.

Emily knew right away that Aaron was the father. She hadn’t been with a man for months before their one night stand. There was no way she could tell him, with her still being angry at him and not having any clue on how to reach out. Emily was aware that she had no right to be upset with Aaron. It was a one night stand after all. But with the way he treated her, she thought he at least cared for her, too. He still left without telling you, she told herself.

She then thought about what happened to her at fifteen, when she got an abortion with the help of Matthew. The truth is, Emily has always wanted to be a mother, but she knew she couldn’t handle taking care of a child at that age.

Now, she was given a second chance. She was aware of the consequences of keeping it. She was still in college and wanted a career that could cause her to travel to various places, not to mention being in the FBI could put her and her child at risk. But those thoughts were pushed aside when Emily imagined herself carrying her own baby in her arms. She swore she would protect her child with her life.

At that moment, Emily’s decision was already made. She was going to finish college and pursue a career in the FBI, all while being a mother and not having the father in the picture.

3 Months Later

Emily was now five months pregnant with her baby. Once she informed her mother, they stopped talking for a while until Elizabeth finally gave in and wanted to be part of her grandchild’s life. In her mind it was her way of making it up to Emily after not being there for her when she was younger.

Emily graduated college and put her career on hold until she gave birth. She wanted to focus all her attention on the pregnancy so that she and her baby are healthy.

Pam eventually found out about her friend and even offered to drive Emily to every single doctor’s appointment and wherever else she needed to go. She even came along with Emily to help her find a bigger apartment since her current one was not suitable for a baby.

At one of her appointments, Emily’s gynecologist told her that the sex of her child could already be determined. She quickly informed the doctor that she wanted it to be a surprise and wait until their birth.

After the appointment, Emily headed over to her mother’s house for a quick lunch. Elizabeth and her daughter started spending more time together and she hoped that they could move on from the past and start anew. Emily was reluctant at the idea at first but eventually gave in because even with what happened before, she loved her mother and wanted her baby to grow up with their grandmother. She arrived at the house and was greeted by her mother at the door.

“Emily, dear, how was the appointment? Is my grandchild a boy or a girl?” Elizabeth asked while hugging her daughter.

“Hi, mom. And yea it went well. I decided to wait until I gave birth to find out the sex.”

Elizabeth frowned at her statement but then remembered it was Emily’s pregnancy, not hers, and that she was the one to make all the decisions. She then changed her frown to a smile and hugged her daughter once again.

“I’m extremely proud of you, you know. And I’m sorry for not saying it enough. You are an incredible daughter and I’ll be sure to remind my grandchild how amazing her mother is. I love you, sweet pea.”

Emily tried to control her tears but due to her hormones, she started sobbing into her mother’s shoulders. ‘Sweet pea’ was what Elizabeth called her when she was younger.

“I love you too, mom. God, I’m sorry for the tears,” Emily laughed.

Elizabeth gave Emily a kiss on the forehead and led her inside.

After lunch was over, Emily drove back to her place and received a call once she got settled on her couch.

“Hello, is this Emily Prentiss?”

“Yes, this is her.”

“Congratulations, Miss Prentiss. I just called to inform you that you got the apartment on Greene Street. Are you still up for it?”

“Oh my god, yes of course! Thank you so much!”

“I’m glad to hear it. Would you be able to stop by tomorrow at noon and fill out some paperwork?”

“Tomorrow is perfect. And thank you once again.”

“It’s no problem at all. I’ll see you tomorrow then. Have a nice day.”

“You, too.”

Emily did a little happy dance on her couch, keeping in mind her small bump.

“Well, my little one, it looks like we got a place now. It’s just gonna be the two of us for a while. Mommy loves you so much and she’ll do whatever she can to make sure you remember that.”

At the end of her small speech, the exhaustion caught up on the soon to be mother and she fell asleep.

4 months later

Emily was now close to her due date and ready to pop. With the help of her mother and Pam, she was already moved into her new apartment. Pam and her went baby shopping a few times, buying a crib, clothes, diapers, a stroller, and little toys. Even though there was another room dedicated to the baby, Emily decided to have the crib be placed in her room to keep them closer to her. Everything was all set up, the only thing missing was the baby.

Emily was walking over to the kitchen when she felt something wet dripping down her legs. She looked down and realized her water broke. She immediately called Pam while grabbing her go bag.

“Hey, Pam, my water just broke. Can you please drive me to the hospital? I’m starting to cramp and I don’t think I can make it to my car.”

“Shit, okay, Em, I’m close to your apartment. Just give me a few minutes. Baby Prentiss is about to make their appearance!”

Emily smiled at her friend’s enthusiasm and hung up after saying goodbye.

“Ow, fuck,” she cried.

Emily came to the conclusion that her painful cramps were actually contractions. As the last one was over, Pam used her keys to unlock the door and helped Emily out to her car.

“Are you ready for this, Em?” Pam asked as the two of them were buckled in.

“At this point, I’m ready for everything. Let’s have this baby.”

“Mom, it hurts so much,”

“Shh shh, I know sweet pea. Your baby is almost here.”

Emily called her mother in the car and never in Elizabeth’s life did she move so quickly. She met Emily at the hospital and checked her into one of the rooms. She and Pam stayed inside to comfort her.

“She’s right, Em. That just means Baby Prentiss is gonna make their appearance soon,” Pam said while holding her hand.

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation and the doctor came in.

She went over to examine Emily again to see if she was ready to give birth.

“Miss Prentiss, it looks like you’re about ten centimeters dilated. I’ll go ahead and call in the nurses to set up.”

Once the doctor left, Emily started panicking.

“Oh god no, I’m not ready. What if I’m a bad mother? What if my child hates me?”

Elizabeth stroked her daughter’s hair and said, “Emily, dear, listen to me. You will never be a bad mother. I saw how you were during this pregnancy. Your child will be extremely lucky to have you as their mother. I know you’re going to love them unconditionally.”

Emily teared up at her mother’s statement and squeezed her hand.

“Thanks, mom.”

The doctor returned with a few nurses and everything was set up right away.

“Alright, Emily, when I tell you to push, I want you to push as hard as you can, okay?”

Emily nodded at her words and prepared herself for one of the most painful experiences of her life.

“Push!”

Emily pushed with all her strength and laid her head back on the hospital bed.

“I’m gonna need you to push again, hun. Just one more after this and you’ll finally meet your little one. Push!”

She pushed again, indescribable pain on the lower half of her body.

“One more, Emily, you can do it. Push!”

Emily pushed to the best of her ability and felt relief at the sound of cries that filled the room.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl.”

She smiled at the announcement and watched her mother cut off the baby’s umbilical cord. The nurses quickly cleaned her up and wrapped her in a pink blanket. The baby was laid on Emily’s chest and the new mother placed a soft kiss on her daughter’s head.

“Do we have a name?” one of the nurses asked.

Emily thought about names for a few months. She settled on one for a boy and another for a girl. Now that her daughter was here she could finally use the name she came up with

“Her name is Charlotte Natalia Prentiss.”

#hotchniss #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotch x prentiss #Criminal Minds #Criminal Minds Fanfiction

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cancerbiophd · 5 years ago

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hello! i was looking through your career stories tag and was inspired to ask for some advice of my own. lately i've been feeling very lost in undergrad. in high school, i was super successful, had goals and stuck to them, and had a path in mind. however, i ended up revising that plan a million times, and now i feel super behind in comparison to my peers. i feel like i lack a ton of skills and that i'm not where i should be (1/2)

(2/2) do you have any advice? and do you/your followers have any stories about people who were successful, got stuck in a rut, but found their way back? i keep reading stories about people who didn’t do well in school then found a successful career, but i never hear about people who were successful in school, got lost, then recovered, and it makes me wonder if there’s hope for me

Hi anon! (Thanks for sending in that 2nd part again after tumblr ate it the first time round)

I fee like I took a similar path to you, and before I launch into my story, here’s my advice on some things you can try:

Break the bad habit of comparing oneself to others. We are all unique, with unique pasts, presents, and futures. To compare two people’s achievements or lack of achievements is unfair. That’s giving an experimental treatment to a sick person and another to someone already healthy and then comparing the results directly to each other. Not a good scientific study huh. Well, we should look at our lives like that too. It’ll take time and practice and a lot of active thinking, but let’s all try our hardest not to compare ourselves to others. We are all carving out our own paths.

Talk to others with experience and get their insight. Talk to your professors, your counselors, your parents, your parents’ friends, and even older students (like me!). Ask them for advice. Ask them what opportunities you have. Ask them what career choices one can make with your interests and goals. Basically, broaden your knowledge of what’s out there in the world so you can find a niche to fit in. I really wish I had done this because I was very myopic in that “interest in biomedicine” = “clinical doctor or bust!”. I didn’t know that I could go to grad school to study cancer research and then go work in a biotech company (my current path and goal).

Once you find a career path that interests you, try to experience what “a day in the life of” is like. Because something that sounds great on paper may not be a good fit in person, and vice versa. Options for this include: volunteering, internships, entry-level jobs, shadowing, informational interviews (where you talk to someone in the field in a casual setting and ask them what their job is like), and well-rounded research. Doing things like working in the field or even shadowing also gives you the benefit of learning transferrable skills that could help you on your next step. And that brings me to:

Take a gap year (or a few) if you feel like you need it, especially if you need to gain more experience in a certain field. It’s also a great way to give your body and mind a well-deserved break after decades of school! I took a gap year (well, 2.5 years) to work and get lab experience and it was the best.

Do not give yourself a timeline. This sounds… counter-intuitive, but what I mean is: do not set goals like “dream job at age 30!!” “a house at age 31!!” because they may be a) unrealistic, and b) could set us up for disappointment. Also, we need to realize that we don’t know what the future will bring, and that it’s also ok to take one’s time. We’re all gonna live until we’re 70-80 anyway right? So let’s just take things one step at a time. We’ll set goals and work towards them, yes, but let’s not set deadlines for ourselves. We’ve had enough deadlines in school already!

Don’t give up. Things will be ok. I know it’s not.. super helpful for me to say this, but it’s a real point to make. No matter what happens, keep trying. We can’t reach the light at the end of the tunnel if we stop walking forward, yeah?

I hope those points are helpful. If you’d like more detail, or have any other questions, please don’t hesitate to contact me!

Alright, now to my story, because I feel like I may have gone through the same thing you’re going through right now, so I want to let you know that times may get tough like it did for me, but if you keep going and trying, things will eventually be ok:

Just like you, I was pretty darn successful in high school, also did well in college (like good grades, had goals and met them, etc). I always knew my path was going to lead me somewhere amazing, because that’s how I was brought up my entire life. Then I got stuck in a rut because my original plan A (med school) turned out to not be right for me, and then plan B also turned out not right either (pharmacy school), and then I got straight out rejected from plan C (physician assistant school). I even had to change my major 3 times because of my change of plans (well, one change was because the US recession hit and my college had to cut my original program ugh), so I had to really cram my classes into the summer. I graduated college with a degree that wasn’t going to get me where I wanted to (B.S. in Microbiology, and jobs were still hard to find because of the recession, and basically nowhere to go. I had no job and had no idea what to do (or what I really wanted, really). So I moved back home with a feeling of emptiness that no end in sight.

My plan was basically to find a job that would open doors for me in the biomedical field. I even got my pharmacy tech license, and I was applying to receptionist positions at clinics. It got to a point where I was so desperate I interviewed to be someone’s personal assistant and they were like “you are way too qualified for this I can’t hire you”.

And I was so confused as to how I could’ve ended up on the wrong path. I mean, I knew what I did wrong (I didn’t do those point of advice I gave earlier because I didn’t know I had to do them). But I didn’t know how it went so wrong. How did I go from straight A/B’s and proactive student leader in a bunch of clubs to unemployed with no concrete plan in sight? I was bright. I was a hard worker. A fast learner. I knew I could be good at anything I did. This rut I was in wasn’t really supposed to happen. And all the while my friends were going to grad/med school or starting successful careers–a fact my narcissistic and emotionally abusive mother would remind me of every. waking. moment. She would scream at me every day that I was an embarrassment, a disappointment, a “poor investment”, etc. The look of pure hatred she would give me–I have never seen that on another person’s face ever. I couldn’t even see my friends because she essentially put me on house arrest as “punishment”.

It really was absolute hell. I was cleaning some old storage boxes recently and I found my old diary from that time, and inside was a note. It was a note of despair and resentment and an ending that may have happened… I don’t remember how I got the strength to keep going, but I think I had conjured up the slightest sliver of hope that night, put down my pen, closed the journal, and went to bed.

So, I kept at it. I studied for the GRE, I looked up grad school programs, and I kept applying to jobs in the biomedical field. I got picked up by a temp agency that was hiring out contract workers to local science companies, and even interviewed for a few available positions. Things were looking a bit better.

Then I saw a job ad on craigslist looking for a research tech at a lab at my old college. I applied, interviewed, and was turned down. Bummer. Then my mother (in a rare moment of helpfulness) asked a friend of a friend who was a PI in a research institute in Florida if they wanted a totally free unpaid intern. I had a skype interview and they accepted, and I was getting ready to move halfway across the country to be a volunteer with a Bachelor’s degree when I got an email from another new PI at my old college. She had gotten my application from the first PI who I had interviewed with and wanted to meet to see if I could be her research tech. And then literally a week before I was supposed to move to Florida that PI told me she wanted to hire me. Oh thank god. I had graduated in May, and got hired at this position in October. Even though it was only 5 months, it felt like forever for me to finally find my way out of the dark cave and back into the light.

This PI did research on cancer biomarkers. Working in her lab was one of the best things to ever happen to me: I got the lab experience I was missing, I found a love for cancer research in particular, I applied for (and got into) grad school to study Cancer Biology, and I met a coworker who eventually became my husband (and you betcha we invited the PI to our wedding and asked her to give a speech lol).

I graduate (hopefully) next semester with my PhD in Cancer Biology, and my husband and I plan on moving to Seattle (a biotech hub) afterwards. I plan on getting a post-doc position at the Fred Hutch Cancer Center, then a scientist position at a local biotech company, and then see where that takes me. Life is good now. Things really did turn out ok.

I’m so glad I never gave up.

And I hope you won’t give up either, anon. I pray you don’t have to go through anything as tough but! Yes there’s still hope for you! There is always hope

#Anonymous #college advice #career stories

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wampa-baby · 5 years ago

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My Story: The Insulin Crisis

I’m very shaken right now. The amount of shit I had to go through to get that small vial of insulin above was terrifying and humiliating. I want to start out by saying that I consider myself to be “well off” in millennial terms. I live with 2 cats in a one bedroom apartment and recently got my dream job in my field making salary. That being said, I have a lot of bills, obligations, and responsibilities that take my money from me constantly. One of those responsibilities is called Diabetes Mellitus, Type 1. I have had this disease since I was 2 years old and I have never known life without it. I was lucky enough to have parents that supported me and allowed me to be on their insurance plan so that I could afford insulin at about $25. When I turned the magic age and was dropped off the family insurance and got insurance through my job, it was not as good, so the price of insulin raised a bit to about $60 for a 3 month supply. Still manageable. Through some choices I made (my parents would call them irresponsible actions) I was no longer eligible for my company’s insurance and was dropped. I then got insurance through Obamacare, and insulin copays again dropped to $25! But Obamacare was expensive and I couldn’t make the payments and I was dropped from insurance. However, I get insurance again through my new job, which was setup today (even though I was hired 3 weeks ago). This brings me to my crisis.

I have just come back from a family vacation, my insulin pump tells me I have about 10 units to my name before I run out. I go to the fridge to get my next vial, I have none. Panic. I have no insurance until July 1. I have about $150 in my bank account until Friday. I will run out of insulin overnight, be in DKA (Diabetic Keto Acidosis) by morning, and either be dead or in a $11,500 hospital stay by midday tomorrow. I have about 3 hours before the pharmacies close so I get to work.

GoodRx is an amazing company and so helpful for many people, but sadly not me. I look up Humalog and get a result for Walgreens that has it for $68. Awesome, I can deal with that. I transfer my prescription from CVS and zoom over there. When I get there I ask for Humalog and show them the coupon. They run it through and say that it will be $320. Apparently they have to give me 2 vials because that is what my script says. The coupon I have is for the generic Lispro not name brand Humalog and I don’t have a prescription for Lispro, I have Humalog. They say I need to call my doctor to get a prescription yada yada yada... Except the doctor’s office is closed and I talk to an answering service. Now I worked for an answering service so I have no qualms, when they couldn’t help, I understood and thanked them for being there. I ask Walgreens what to do, what they suggest. They tell me about Walmart’s amazing prices for insulin. I have heard the rumors, so I give it a shot.

I give Walmart a call from Walgreens, they say they have it for about $121 with the GoodRx coupon. I’m hesitant because thats almost all my money for a few days but hey it’s either that or my life so ok. Here’s where things get scary. They are going through the paperwork steps, getting my script transferred, setting up an account at Walmart, etc. I give them the coupon and they start the process for transfer and will get back to me with the price. I wait impatiently as they waste valuable minutes doing this. They finally tell me that one vial is $294 with the coupon. I almost cry as I realize I have 15 minutes before all pharmacies close.

I remember the news story about Walmart having $25 insulin thats available over the counter and ask about it. They pull out the Humulin. The pharmacist does not recommend it as this is not what I was prescribed. I try to explain that this is an emergency and that it will have to do at this point. He offers me three different kinds, Humulin R, Humulin N, and Humulin 70/30. Its been a while since I’ve had to take the different types since I use an insulin pump. I ask about the differences to make sure I have the right one (theres no returns). The pharmacist has a language barrier and is not answering my question. He keeps repeating that he does not recommend it and that I wasn’t prescribed it and its not the same, there will be complications, etc. I am trying to stay calm in this stressful situation but he is making it difficult. He starts telling me that I can call my doctor and he can fill the Humalog for tomorrow and that I should wait. This completely infuriates me and I tell him “I will be dead by tomorrow if I don’t have this right now.” I am in tears at this point. I purchase the insulin and go cry in my car outside of Walmart until I am calm enough to drive.

I don’t know if this insulin will work, but it’s all i have. My anxiety acts up and even now I am thinking about the different situations I might’ve ended up in tonight. I thought about asking my boyfriend or parents for the money, but the lecture would be worse than anything my own body would do to me. I thought about mooching off my diabetic friend, “can i use like 100 units of your stash?” I even thought about sucking that pharmacist's dick for insulin like some sort of drug addict. But im not an addict, im just trying to LIVE.

I realized what this crisis is doing to other people and children who live with this disease. I’m lucky that all I fear is a lecture ive receive over and over again. But for some, what I went through tonight would have been certain death. Insulin should not cost $600 for 1 vial. Its sickening to think people live in pain because they can’t afford something they need to live. Insulin is not optional for us! I am angry, I am furious at these companies for putting anyone in the situation i was in tonight. Contemplating their own death and thinking how much longer they can put off buying a simple life saving drug?? Its outrageous!

This was a wake up call for me, I hope it is for anyone that reads it. Please feel free to add your story or links to where anyone can speak up about the insulin price crisis. Much appreciated.

#diabetes #insulin #humalog #humulin #pharmacy #big pharma #rant #angry #type 1 diabetes

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sophocused · 5 years ago

Text

not so mini academic update

I feel like I've been on hiatus as a studyblr for a very long time that I'm an entirely different person than who I was when I was active.

I was an unemployed, grungy, lil ball of anxiety going into first year of uni, aspiring pharmacist. not two months into my first year, my SO of two years and I broke up because we were just growing into too diff of people.

the emotions of not having someone to depend on for romantic "sustenance" aka the withdrawal after 2 years of that type of love was a mountain of growing pains.

I dove aggressively towards wanting to be my own unlimited source of love, support, courage, security, and empowerment. I was driven by the unmoving desire to become the version of myself I could say I love.

Finishing my first year of uni doing a full 5x5 course load, I didn't pass the application process to get into the Pharm program because my GPA was too low. Beaten down because that was my plan since I was in junior high, in came big mental numero dos.

I was thinking, "Oh I can just apply again next year and boost my GPA in the meantime."

HOHO then my university decided to add another 8 required courses to apply to Pharm, AND also required to take and get a good mark on the +$500 PCAT.

I'll skip the long drawl of my mental battle within myself and hours of meditating over what to do about my future now.

I realized I didn't want to do pharmacy. I love science; chem, bio and all that, but pharmacy was only my first pick bc it made $100k a year. I didn't pick it with passion for the career, really. With that, I realized money like that isn't what I'm after in life.

My personality and soul is driven to be connected to others and be given the opportunity to help mold others into their truest selves. (This'll be important for when I get to what happens in 2nd yr uni)

So from 1st year, I moved into the faculty of science for the general science degree program. The plan was to keep doing science, specifically bio and chem, and with that I could be some form of technician or be able to work in a lab after I graduate.

I'll skip the depressing summer of 2018 when I couldn't get a job and I felt so inadequate about it, in that I was 19 and had never worked a day in my life.

On Oct 1st, 2018, I had just by chance applied online to a bunch of jobs even though I had low faith in getting into them since it was already a month into the 2nd uni year.

On Oct 2nd, 2018, I got a call from the private school for a job interview. I went, spoke to the principal for 5 min, she told me I was the last interview and that she was worried she wouldn't find someone right for her kids, but that she was lucky to have found me. I got hired to a job well above minimum wage for my first job and started Oct. 3rd. It was. so freeing.

Then came the 3 months of treating myself to things I could never afford hehe, given this new area of expression unlocked.

I failed a class for the first time in my life, because I kept having to leave that class early to get to my job on time. Mini mental breakdown. Then recuperated and adapted, as I always do.

I became inspired by my role in the students' lives and realized it was the kind of environment I wanted to be in. In a position to help mold characters into the truest, freest, best versions of themselves.

So now, I'm aiming to become a high school chemistry teacher. Or a biology teacher. Or a pre-calculus teacher. Either way, this career path, I'm once again excited and ambitious for. It has felt true to me, and as I keep revealing myself to myself piece by piece, it proves to me more how much it's the right career for me.

After working at the school til the end of the school year, they asked me if I wanted to come back and I said you betcha, now I have a secure employment from sept.2019-june2020 yaher

Onto 3rd year uni I go this September 2019, paying my tuition all on my own for the first time, and money no longer being an issue for the first time.

SO THAT WAS MY PERSONAL-ISH UPDATE

As for studyblr's sake update, I'll be taking biochem 1, ochem 1, and behavioural psyc in fall 2019, then genetics, cell biology, microbio 2, and stat 2 in winter 2020

I've begun my reviewing for ochem, and also already found a pdf for the psyc textbook. As a uni studyblr, I'm not sure if I'll go back to making physical notes but I'm trying it out again.

I'm working a full time summer job this summer from beginning of july to end of aug, and since they actually give me 9 hour shifts, I get 2 hour breaks. Ya girl has been in an insanely productive mood lately, so you betcha bottom dolla I'm using majority of that time to study in a nearby café.

Seriously, I had a long weekend, and I spent it voluntarily deepcleaning and organizing my room. It's been great. I've been a great big ball of sunshine for the past three weeks and counting 🌻

Thank you kind person for reading 💛 I appreciate.

#nina rambles

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orbemnews · 4 years ago

Link

Let’s Talk Policy Top policymakers and business leaders will assemble virtually next week for the DealBook DC Policy Project, to discuss the future of politics, the economy, markets and more. Register here to join us, from anywhere in the world, free of charge. Policy prescriptions With a new administration in place in Washington, the real work — and debate — about policy priorities begins in earnest. We’ve assembled some of the most influential players in that conversation to join us as part of a two-day event, the DealBook DC Policy Project, that starts on Monday. Between a health crisis and a related economic downturn, there are crucial policy questions about the way forward. And it’s not just about the stimulus needed to reboot the economy in the short term, but the policies necessary to create a sustainable and durable recovery. Everything from taxes to labor, trade, competition and markets is on the table. This project began in December with a series of round-table conversations with experts about climate policy, U.S.-China relations, the future of capitalism and more. Starting on Monday, we’re going to drill down on specifics with a series of decision makers to understand how they think about the most pressing challenges we face. My hope is that there will be lessons to take away from the sessions that advance the national conversation and make us all think a bit more deeply about our role in creating solutions. The agenda is below. I hope you can join us. Monday, Feb. 22, 9 a.m. – 9:30 a.m. Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen on the road to recovery The path out of the pandemic is paved with debt. On top of the $1.9 trillion economic aid plan that is working its way through Congress, the White House is raising the prospect of another big spending package focused on infrastructure. Although the economy is recovering faster than expected, it remains fragile and uneven. Navigating this path is Janet Yellen, the former Federal Reserve chair who took over as Treasury secretary last month. She faces pressure to reduce the deficit that ballooned during the worst of the pandemic downturn and to address fears that aggressive spending could stoke inflation as pent-up demand is unleashed. In addition to getting the economy back on its feet, Ms. Yellen’s to-do list includes reviewing the deregulation of Wall Street under former President Donald J. Trump, resetting U.S. trade relations and incorporating inclusivity, the climate and other priorities into policymaking in a more comprehensive way than has been attempted before. Further reading: “The Daily” did a deep dive on Ms. Yellen’s biography, and how her background informs her thinking about why “the smartest thing we can do is act big,” as she said at her confirmation hearing. Monday, Feb. 22, 2:30 P.m. – 3 P.m. Attorney General Letitia James of New York on the power of accountability Letitia James has more high-profile cases and investigations on her plate today than most lawyers will manage in a lifetime. The way she uses her power also highlights how states can shape national policy. The New York state attorney general sued Amazon this week, accusing it of failing to protect warehouse workers amid the pandemic, undaunted by the company’s pre-emptive suit to block the charges. Her recent inquiry into nursing home deaths exposed the fact that New York had severely underreported the numbers. Her office is also taking on the New York Police Department over its handling of racial justice protests last year and is investigating fraud in Donald Trump’s business dealings in a civil suit that may become a criminal matter. She is suing the National Rifle Association and its leadership over claims of misconduct. She is leading a coalition of state attorneys general taking on Facebook, accusing the tech giant of illegally crushing competition. And yesterday, she also joined with other A.G.s to urge Congress to cancel federal student loan debt in the name of consumer protection. And that is just the short list. Further reading: When Ms. James was elected in 2018, she shattered a trio of racial and gender barriers: the first woman in New York to be elected attorney general, the first Black woman to be elected to statewide office and the first Black person to serve as attorney general. Monday, Feb. 22, 3:30 P.m. – 4 P.m. Ed Bastian of Delta on the future of travel Last year was “the toughest year in Delta’s history,” according to Ed Bastian, the airline’s chief executive. The carrier reported a loss of more than $12 billion as travel ground to a halt during the pandemic. But unlike its rivals, Delta has been able to avoid mass furloughs, and it turned down a bailout loan, opting instead to raise money by tapping its loyalty program. In addition to feeling the pandemic’s economic effects, the airline industry is at the center of health policy debates, like one over making masks mandatory, which airlines have welcomed, and another over requiring coronavirus tests before travel, which they have resisted for domestic flights. The industry over all is shedding more than $150 million each day, and it won’t turn around meaningfully until high-margin business travel picks up. But some experts say corporate travel may never fully recover, with in-person meetings permanently replaced by video conferences. Further reading: “Leadership is not a popularity contest,” Mr. Bastian told our Corner Office columnist, in a wide-ranging interview about managing the company through booms and busts. Monday, Feb. 22, 4 P.m. – 4:30 P.m. Steve Ballmer of USAFacts on stimulus by the numbers Since stepping down as Microsoft’s chief executive in 2014, Steve Ballmer has kept busy as the N.B.A.’s most energetic team owner. He has also founded USAFacts, a nonprofit group dedicated to presenting crucial data about the United States in easy-to-read formats. The idea behind the group, whose projects include a yearly scorecard for the U.S. modeled on corporate annual reports, is to give Americans the important facts about their government that they need to make informed political decisions. Working with academics and other experts, Mr. Ballmer’s group aims, in his words, to “figure out what the government really does” with taxpayers’ money. Further reading: Where $3.4 trillion in economic relief — the equivalent of $10,300 for every American — has been spent over the past year. Tuesday, Feb. 23, 12:30 P.m. – 1 P.m. Karen Lynch of CVS Health on the vaccine rollout Karen Lynch took over CVS Health this month as the pharmacy chain takes center stage in efforts to fight the pandemic. It is working with the government to distribute the coronavirus vaccine in its stores, as well as in nursing homes and assisted-living facilities. To aid in those efforts, the company hired 15,000 employees at the end of last year. President Biden has warned of “gigantic” logistical hurdles to the rollout. CVS, which could add $1 billion in profit over the next year from the program, also aims to reach underserved communities, which have been disproportionately affected by the pandemic. Further reading: The job market for pharmacists is booming as chains rush to staff up to handle demand for vaccinations. Tuesday, Feb. 23, 2:30 P.m. – 3 P.m. Vlad Tenev of Robinhood and Jay Clayton, former S.E.C. chairman, on the markets Nothing captured Wall Street’s attention more in recent weeks than meme-stock mania, as the video game retailer GameStop and other unlikely companies briefly became the hottest things in the markets. At the center of the frenzy was the online brokerage Robinhood, which has attracted millions of users with commission-free trades but drew outrage among its users when it halted trading in GameStop and other stocks at the height of the mania. Vlad Tenev, a Robinhood co-founder and its chief executive, has been thrust into the spotlight. He faced hours of hostile questioning at a congressional hearing on Thursday about Robinhood’s business practices, which brought attention to normally obscure things like payment for order flow, clearinghouse deposit requirements and the timing of trade settlements. Mr. Tenev has called for changes to some of those practices while defending others. Joining him is Jay Clayton, the veteran Wall Street lawyer who led the Securities and Exchange Commission during the Trump administration. From the beginning of his tenure, Mr. Clayton said that his mission was protecting “the long-term interests of the Main Street investor.” To that end, the commission cracked down on cryptocurrency frauds on his watch. What the S.E.C. does now — if anything — to address another potential episode of meme-stock turmoil (or something like it) is open to debate. (Mr. Clayton has since rejoined corporate America, becoming the lead independent director of Apollo Global Management.) Further reading: Citadel Securities is a shadowy firm that handles more than a quarter of all stock trading in the U.S. (including a large share of Robinhood’s trades), making it a key player in debates about the future of market structure. Tuesday, Feb. 23, 5:30 P.m. – 6 P.m. Senator Mitt Romney on finding common ground In stark contrast to many of his party colleagues, Senator Mitt Romney, Republican of Utah, crossed party lines to vote to convict President Donald Trump on articles of impeachment, twice. Mr. Romney also recently proposed a family benefit program that would provide monthly payments of up to $350 per child, which was met with approval from many Democrats. It compared favorably to a plan from President Biden. Although some have accused him of a being a Republican in name only, Mr. Romney is in fact politically conservative and works with members on the right wing of his party. He is drafting a bill with Senator Tom Cotton of Arkansas that would raise the minimum wage while forbidding businesses to hire undocumented immigrants. This is typical of Mr. Romney’s approach, insofar as it speaks to concerns on both sides of the aisle. Source link Orbem News #Lets #Policy #talk

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stephenmccull · 4 years ago

Text

Rural Hospital Remains Entrenched in Covid ‘War’ Even Amid Vaccine Rollout

Editor’s note: KHN wrote about St. James Parish Hospital in April, when it was experiencing its first surge of covid-19 patients. Ten months later, we checked in to see how the hospital and its staff were faring.

This story also ran on The Guardian. It can be republished for free.

The “heroes work here” sign in front of St. James Parish Hospital has been long gone, along with open intensive care unit beds in the state of Louisiana.

Staffers at the rural hospital spent hours each day in January calling larger hospitals in search of the elusive beds for covid-19 patients. They leveraged personal connections and begged nurses elsewhere to take patients they know are beyond their hospital’s care level.

But as patients have waited to be transferred out of the hospital, which is about 45 minutes outside New Orleans, doctors such as Landon Roussel are forced to make unthinkable choices. As recently as Jan. 29, he had to decide between two patients: Which one should get the sole available BiPAP machine to push oxygen into their lungs?

That’s like a “war situation, which is not a situation that I want to be in — in the United States,” he said.

As the nation’s attention shifts to the vaccine rollout, rural hospitals such as St. James Parish Hospital have struggled to handle their communities’ sick following the holiday surge of covid patients.

“We knew it was coming. We saw it coming,” Mary Ellen Pratt, St. James Parish Hospital’s CEO, said by phone. “It really has to happen to their family for them to really go, ‘OK, wow.’”

And even though the vaccines have arrived and caseloads continue to improve after the holiday surge, only about 30% of staffers have opted to get their shots. Disparities in the broader community persist: In the initial rollout, only 9% of those vaccinated were Black in a parish — the Louisiana equivalent of a county — that is nearly 49% Black.

Staff members are burned out from months of handling never-ending covid crises.

“They had been giving 150%, and they’re just getting really tired,” Pratt said. “It’s just exhausting.”

‘Sometimes, Your Best Isn’t Enough’

In mid-January, the closest intensive care bed the staff could find was some 600 miles away in Brownsville, Texas — so far that a plane would have been necessary to transport a patient. After three days, a closer bed was found at a Veterans Affairs hospital about 45 miles away.

Staffers have tried Mississippi and Alabama with mixed luck. One patient they tried to transfer four hours away couldn’t go because the ambulance didn’t have enough oxygen to make it that far. A hospital in Florida even called them looking for ICU beds at St. James Parish Hospital, which has never had any.

More than half of U.S. counties are like St. James Parish and have no intensive care beds, full or empty. Rural hospitals in those communities are designed for step-down care: They often serve as a stopping point to stabilize people before they can be sent to larger hospitals with more specialized staff and equipment.

Across the country, rural residents’ mortality rate from covid has been consistently higher than that of urban residents since August, according to the Rural Policy Research Institute Center for Rural Health Policy Analysis. That has occurred even though covid incidence has been lower among rural populations than urban ones since the middle of December, said Fred Ullrich, who runs the health policy department at the University of Iowa’s College of Public Health and co-authored the study.

But, he said, rural populations are typically older, sicker and poorer than urban populations. And the nation has lost at least 179 rural hospitals over the past 17 years.

“This crisis is just magnifying existing access issues in a rural context,” said Alan Morgan, the head of the National Rural Health Association. “If you don’t have a local hospital, that impacts the diagnosis, the initial treatment, the complex treatment. It has multiple impacts, all leading to what we’re seeing: higher mortality.”

And at the hospitals that remain, such as St. James Parish Hospital, the stress level is palpable, because the level of care needed for such sick patients is higher than what staffers normally handle, said Karley Babin, the hospital’s acute nurse manager.

“It’s just an uncomfortable spot,” she said. “You know you’re doing everything you can and that patient just needs more.”

That’s led to many sleepless nights for Pratt.

“Sometimes your best isn’t enough if you don’t have the right resources,” she said.

‘We Know All These People’

Radiology technologist Brooke Michel lives seven minutes from the hospital, where she works with her husband and five other relatives. Her grandfather, grandmother and aunt were hospitalized there in December with covid.

Her family brought folding chairs to sit outside her 83-year-old grandfather’s hospital window each day, keeping vigil through the glass on Christmas Eve. He died Jan. 3 while family members stood outside, taking turns looking in and praying.

“It gave us a sense of closure,” Michel said. “We were all together. We were with him. We would never have gotten that at a bigger hospital.”

Seeing multiple family members hospitalized at the same time is tough on the staff, said Scott Dantonio, the hospital’s pharmacy director. “We know all these people,” he said.

Dozens of hospital staffers also have battled covid, and three have been hospitalized. A nurse’s aide died last summer after contracting it. One staffer, who was particularly close to that aide, now has a hard time treating covid patients, said Rhonda Zeringue, chief nursing officer.

“It’s a reminder: ‘You took my person,’” she said.

‘It’s Just Exhausting’

St. James Parish Hospital has been running short-staffed, because they haven’t been able to hire more nurses or pay traveling nurses — they’re just too expensive. Amid the pandemic, traveling nurses can command more than double what the staff nurses make.

So Babin’s kids ask often why she works all the time.

Community praise has died down, she said. People aren’t thanking them in grocery stores anymore. One upside? Pratt is happy to have finally lost the “covid 19” — the weight she put on from the community bringing food to the hospital back in the spring.

Pratt and Zeringue have offered staff members counseling, massage sessions, coffee and doughnuts. But it’s not enough.

Zeringue said the stress has gone through the staff in waves: First they were scared to death of being the front line in the spring. Now she sees burnout and sheer exhaustion.

The vaccines were supposed to offer hope. But when Pratt heard they would be distributed through CVS and Walgreens, she knew immediately the logistics of getting the ultra-cold Pfizer vaccine from its cooler into residents’ arms would fall to them. She said the community has no chain pharmacies nearby and the local health department is overloaded.

“We get an email at, like, 4:30 on Friday which says, ‘We’re going to send you another 350 vaccines on Wednesday and you have to respond in the next 10 minutes,’” Pratt said. “There’s not enough planning or time to do it.”

Staff members, who are juggling monoclonal antibody infusions and elective surgeries to deal with the backlog from the spring on top of the surge, must also call members of the community to let them know they have the vaccine available. And then the problems begin.

“People don’t answer the phone or they’re not available,” Dantonio said. “Or they can’t come at that time or they scheduled somewhere else.”

Most of the people coming in following the hospital’s advertising online and on Facebook have been white. So Pratt called on the people she had relied on during the rollout of the Affordable Care Act: Black preachers and well-respected Black local leaders such as Democratic state Rep. Kendricks Brass. After word from the pulpit spread and Brass’ team staffed a phone line, the vaccine distribution the next week jumped to 30% Black residents from the prior week’s 9%.

Even some among the St. James Parish Hospital staff have been reluctant. Many have told Zeringue they’re worried about their fertility. Others just don’t want to be first. So the hospital’s line of defense has many holes.

And the covid patients keep coming.

“This is a nightmare,” said Kassie Roussel, the hospital’s marketing director. “It’s crazy because it’s at the same time we marketed the beginning of the end.”

Kaiser Health News (KHN) is a national health policy news service. It is an editorially independent program of the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation which is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

Rural Hospital Remains Entrenched in Covid ‘War’ Even Amid Vaccine Rollout published first on https://smartdrinkingweb.weebly.com/

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gordonwilliamsweb · 4 years ago

Text

Rural Hospital Remains Entrenched in Covid ‘War’ Even Amid Vaccine Rollout

This story also ran on The Guardian. It can be republished for free.

The “heroes work here” sign in front of St. James Parish Hospital has been long gone, along with open intensive care unit beds in the state of Louisiana.

That’s like a “war situation, which is not a situation that I want to be in — in the United States,” he said.

“We knew it was coming. We saw it coming,” Mary Ellen Pratt, St. James Parish Hospital’s CEO, said by phone. “It really has to happen to their family for them to really go, ‘OK, wow.’”

Staff members are burned out from months of handling never-ending covid crises.

“They had been giving 150%, and they’re just getting really tired,” Pratt said. “It’s just exhausting.”

‘Sometimes, Your Best Isn’t Enough’

But, he said, rural populations are typically older, sicker and poorer than urban populations. And the nation has lost at least 179 rural hospitals over the past 17 years.

“It’s just an uncomfortable spot,” she said. “You know you’re doing everything you can and that patient just needs more.”

That’s led to many sleepless nights for Pratt.

“Sometimes your best isn’t enough if you don’t have the right resources,” she said.

‘We Know All These People’

“It gave us a sense of closure,” Michel said. “We were all together. We were with him. We would never have gotten that at a bigger hospital.”

Seeing multiple family members hospitalized at the same time is tough on the staff, said Scott Dantonio, the hospital’s pharmacy director. “We know all these people,” he said.

“It’s a reminder: ‘You took my person,’” she said.

‘It’s Just Exhausting’

So Babin’s kids ask often why she works all the time.

Pratt and Zeringue have offered staff members counseling, massage sessions, coffee and doughnuts. But it’s not enough.

Zeringue said the stress has gone through the staff in waves: First they were scared to death of being the front line in the spring. Now she sees burnout and sheer exhaustion.

“People don’t answer the phone or they’re not available,” Dantonio said. “Or they can’t come at that time or they scheduled somewhere else.”

And the covid patients keep coming.

“This is a nightmare,” said Kassie Roussel, the hospital’s marketing director. “It’s crazy because it’s at the same time we marketed the beginning of the end.”

Kaiser Health News (KHN) is a national health policy news service. It is an editorially independent program of the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation which is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

Rural Hospital Remains Entrenched in Covid ‘War’ Even Amid Vaccine Rollout published first on https://nootropicspowdersupplier.tumblr.com/

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ao3porcelainstorm · 4 years ago

Text

poison ivy & stinging nettles 2

On Ao3

Pairing: Sherlock/OFC

Rated: M

Warnings: eventual violence, torture, swears, adult themes (no explicit smut)

Chapter 1 - Chapter 3

Chapter 2- Eavesdrop

~~~

There were a few reasons why Sherlock decided to take Amelia's case. Though personally, I don't ever recall her asking us for help. She'd managed to negotiate a shower in exchange for information, and when she showed up to our flat covered in soot and dirt, I immediately admonished Sherlock's careless behavior.

I lent her some spare clothes, and Mrs. Hudson brought up some tea, thanking her for the artful touch she'd put into the flowers. After things had settled down and night began to fall, Amelia Brenner told us her story.

~~~

Amelia Brenner was a far cry from the bright saleswoman she'd been just hours before. The auburn curls that bounced with her step, had been tied back into a tight bun at the back of her head. Her green eyes were muted, her smile was forced and weak. John was almost positive the freckles that dotted her cheeks and nose, lost luster over the course of the day.

“My mother inherited Chemco Pharmaceuticals from my grandfather about fifteen years ago,” Amelia took a long sip of the chamomile tea Mrs. Hudson had insisted upon and took a breath. “I started working for research and development after I'd finished my PhD in botany. I ended up duel enrolling for a Pharmacology doctorate that was paid for by the company in exchange for a five year non-competing contract after graduation.”

“My mother's company exploded in size in the last decade. They had their hands on the best scientists, the strongest research, and the most innovative methods. Recruiting me was logical on my mother's part. I'd already dabbled in replicating certain botanical molecules into lab generated copies that boosted the effectiveness of certain medications with fewer side effects. It was perfect. She covered my expensive school bills, and I got to research whatever I wanted, so long as it benefited the company.

“I'm guessing things didn't stay that way for long?” John asked sympathetically. Amelia shook her head, her shoulders hanging forward. She looked tired, broken down from all of the stress she'd clearly been burdening for some time.

“I heard a rumor,” she explained. “There had been a new hire, a doctor from Stanford who was working on an exclusive project. Classified, and only carefully vetted research assistants were allowed access to the data. I was recruited, and on the first day, I was astonished at what I found.”

There was a horror that danced behind her eyes in the sad look she shared with the men before continuing her tale.

“They were killing people,” she stated, taking another sip of her tea. “Not directly though, subtly, through tainted medications. It'd apparently started small, with rival investors, or pharmacy executives who didn't carry Chemco products in their stores. But then there was a legitimate interest by an outside investor who wanted to take some of our research and apply it to a sample of drugs that were sold publicly.”

“Why?” John was sitting on the edge of his seat, quite literally, his stomach turning at the thought of these so called medical professionals carelessly violating their oaths to the public.

“Cures don't bolster stocks,” her mother had hissed when Amelia approached her. “This will be good for business.”

“Keeping cancer patients dependent on your therapies?”

“I'm helping them,” Lydia Brenner slammed her hands on her desk, the normally composed business woman's demeanor shifting violently. “We're providing relief for side effects of their therapies.”

“That you created,” Amelia screamed back, her fingers digging into the leather material of one of the office chairs that separated the women. “You're taking my research and turning it into something... you're a monster. You can't do this.”

“It's my research, dear,” her mother reminded her, her voice lowering sharply. “It's my data, and my company, and I think you'd be smart to keep that in mind.”

“Or what?” Amelia stepped out from behind the chair. “I'm your daughter, or have you forgotten?”

“Tell that to your uncle,” Lydia merely hummed, before calling security to escort Amelia out of the building. “Do remember to leave your badge at reception, love.”

Amelia had found herself fired, and thrown onto the sidewalk outside of the Midtown, New York, New York, headquarters of Chemco.

What her mother didn't know, was that Amelia had replicated the database onto multiple hard-drives, and saved the damning information to an encrypted cloud, days before she'd approached the CEO.

“My first phone call was to my uncle Max,” she shook her head. “We'd cut contact after my mom convinced me that he was basically the devil incarnate. Turns out, it was the opposite. He'd been the true heir to the company, and she'd manipulated the board, hired a crew of attorneys and ripped him out of the position. He ended up coming back home, to Essex, to try and move past all of it.”

She'd purchased a burner phone for that conversation, unsure of what level of control her mother truly exercised in her life. Max advised her to pull any money, and secure her trust before her mother got her hands into the small fortune Amelia had garnered. She worked quickly, pretending to be job hunting, while packing her belongings, and making small shipments to her uncle's storage in London.

It'd been a little over a month when she got her first unannounced visitor at her Brooklyn apartment. A private investigator who was asking about her knowledge regarding a data breach.

Someone had taken unauthorized information from Chemco, and someone was going to face serious circumstances if someone didn't give it back immediately.

Amelia played dumb, offered him a cup of coffee and wished him the best in his investigation.

She sent the first hard-drive to her cousin Ruthie, Max's oldest daughter, in Kent.

With the confirmation that she was being watched, Amelia was more calculated in her actions moving forward.

She spent the week finalizing travel plans, emptying her apartment of everything aside from large furniture, and quietly purchased a one-way ticket to London, where her uncle promised to help her decipher the data, and get her in contact with the proper authorities.

The drugs in question were supposed to hit the market soon, and aside from the lab, there was no way that Amelia could properly vet which specific chemicals were being added.

Not to mention, it was being added randomly to vials. Some would have the component, others wouldn’t. She would have to raid a pharmacy to confirm the data, and there was no telling what decisions had been made after she’d stolen the data.

“My uncle Max lent me one of his old retail spaces here in London,” she looked especially sad at this part of the story. “There was a hope that maybe my mother had come to her senses after all of the trouble. We hadn’t heard any announcements about the drugs or anything for over two months. I started a life here, at least as best a life someone could start in these circumstances.”

From there, it was pretty easy to piece together what happened next. Her mother still wanted that data secured. She wanted to secure the market without any intervention or trouble.

“Where is the data now?” Sherlock questioned, tapping his fingers in a steeple.

“Ruthie has one,” she explained. “There’s another copy in a security box across town, and I stored a third under the register at the shop.”

“So, two functional hard drives are out there?” he clarified and Amelia nodded. He stood up, moving toward the coat hanger, looking to John and Amelia expectantly. “We should secure it as quickly as possible.”

John scoffed. Typical Sherlock. Amelia looked about a step away from a full breakdown, and he was focused solely on the case.

“Now probably isn’t the best time,” John asserted quickly, sending an apologetic smile in Amelia’s direction. She watched the exchange passively, her gaze bouncing between the two men as they bickered.

“We can’t wait for the company to secure all of the data, then we’d have no evidence, John,” Sherlock’s tone sounded more like a parent scolding a child, rather than two friends discussing a potential international disaster.

“And what if you were followed? We just lead them right to the hard drive and let them ambush us?” John shot back.

Sherlock rolled his eyes pulling a pistol from his jacket pocket and passing it to John.

“Don’t be ridiculous, that’s why we’re all going,” he sighed, clearly itching to get a move on.

“Amelia has clearly been through a lot tonight,” John scowled at his friend, setting the gun on the table. “And the bank probably isn’t even open right now.”

He knew he had a point there, and Sherlock considered it briefly. If John knew his friend, and he knew Sherlock, the detective was probably weighing the pros and cons of breaking into the vault that evening.

“Fine,” he huffed, throwing the coat aside, and grabbing John’s new cup of tea before disappearing through the kitchen to his room. “First thing in the morning!”

Amelia watched the exchanged quietly, waiting until she was left alone with John in the living room before speaking up.

“He’s loads of fun at parties, isn’t he?” she asked with a small grin.

John laughed, knowing already he was going to enjoy her presence immensely.

~~~

While John and Amelia figured out their sleeping areas for the night, Sherlock paced his room, thinking through what the florist had told them.

The data could be outdated, but it could contain the chemical equations necessary for testing any of the tainted samples. The problem was the randomization. He could get John to sign off on a number of prescriptions, but that would potentially raise red flags with the NHS.

Mycroft could get his hands on a shipment, but there was a chance that if Chemco was already acting so bold, they had a person on the inside who could raise the alarm if the government intervened too prematurely.

There was also the consideration of Amelia Brenner being killed before the data could be accurately deciphered, not that this was a huge concern for him. He was more than capable of interpreting and applying chemical equations, he just lacked the specific research she would have been able to supply.

He paused, eyes darting toward his laptop.

That was where he could start that night, reading through her doctoral research and any relevant publication under her name.

He started with a basic background check. Everything lined up with what she’d told them, graduated from a high ranking American university pursing both a PhD in botany and PharmD concurrently. She took a little longer than the average researcher to graduate with her degrees, but it was obvious she was trying to use what resources she could to fund her research. And there was a lot of it.

She’d obtained samples of nearly extinct plants and flowers from around the world, extensively cultivated them, took their chemical properties and studied their medicinal values based off of local lore and cultural studies.

There had been a significant bit of truth to the stories, as she had detailed a number of sedatives, pain relievers, and immune boosting properties within her samples.

She published to three journals, before there was an abrupt stop in her research, immediately after her graduation. It must have been the stranglehold her mother held on the information. He frowned in irritation at the dead end, why didn’t anyone fund science for the sake of science?

It did explain the shift in careers. This was a woman interested in flowers, thrown into a laboratory setting. There was a clear distinction about the way she’d held herself when speaking about haughtiness and friendship and their corresponding blooms, compared to the way she’d detailed her research.

She seemed ashamed.

Still, it opened a potentially fascinating case for him. It’d been some time since he’d been able to put his chemical prowess to the test, and being able to take down an exploitive organization like Chemco? Double the fun.

He just wanted to get his hands on that data set.

Glancing at the clock; 4:04 am; he groaned out loud.

A pounding on the floor above him and John's muffled yelling confirmed that there was still a bit of time until morning.

Chapter 3

#sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock/ofc #sherlock original female character #sherlock holmes #john watson #watson #sherlock/reader #fanfiction #sherlock fanfiction #reader #ofc #writing #fanfic #sherlock fanfic

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charlottegracetaylor · 7 years ago

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Best Friends Forever Ch. 1

A Bellarke slow burn. I haven’t dabbled in fanfiction for about a decade, so this may be a little rough.

{Chapter 1} {Chapter 2} {Chapter 3} {Chapter 4} || {read on ffn} {read on ao3}

Gatorade.

Bellamy stared at the text message that interrupted his reverie. Every day during his lunch break, he hid away in his office to do some recreational reading. In a way it was cathartic. Teaching mythology to a bunch of uninterested college kids day in and day out really took a toll on him; aside from the fact that most of those students only took his class to fill their credits, he knew he didn’t have their respect. Having graduated only six months ago, his students were at most only 6 years younger than him and consequently regarded him more as a peer than as a professor. The number of young ladies knocking on his office door to ask for extra tutoring with insinuative winks and flirtatious giggles far outweighed the number of students who sought him out for real help.

Gatorade and saltines.

Gatorade and saltines and Coke.

Two more buzzes and he closed his book with a sigh. He picked his phone up and read the newest messages. A grocery list from his sister. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and snorted a silent chuckle.

I told you you’d get sick. Should’ve worn your coat like I told you. It’s JANUARY, O.

Octavia was a grown woman, but he would always be her big brother and she would always be his responsibility. Their father walked out on them when they were too young to remember, and their mother worked her ass off to give them the best life she possibly could. But when Octavia was thirteen, their mother was diagnosed with advanced ovarian cancer. Bellamy started working at the library in the evenings and on weekends; when he graduated high school five months later, he got a promotion and a full-time position. After their mother died and a social worker tried to put Octavia into foster care, Bellamy took matters into his own hands. He met with an attorney, picked up a second job, and spent an entire weekend making repairs to both the inside and the outside of their house. The judge granted him custody, and he was able to take Octavia home. He was the only male figure in her life, as their mother chose to focus all of her energy and attention on them rather than dating, and so in a way he had always had a hand in raising her.

I’M not sick, jackass. Clarke is. If you’d rather come hold her hair back while she pukes, be my guest, and I’ll run to Walgreens.

But it wasn’t just the two of them. Octavia’s best friend Clarke had become a part of their family many years ago. The two girls had been friends since they met at a skating rink when they were ten years old. Clarke’s mother had gotten hired as a surgeon at the county hospital, so she and her fiancé, Marcus, packed everything up and moved across the state to start their new lives as a family. Octavia had skated right over to Clarke, who’d been standing alone in the corner, and pulled her by her hand out onto the rink. They skated together all evening, and by the time Bellamy told Octavia to change back into her sneakers to go home, the girls had become best friends.

Over the years, Clarke and Octavia became inseparable. Playdates turned into sleepovers. Sleepovers gradually lengthened from one night, to two, to eventually a week or two at a time over summer vacation. They were together for the good, the bad, and the ugly. And by default, Bellamy was also there. The older the girls got, the closer three of them became. The day Clarke turned 18, she threw all of her belongings into the bed of her old pickup and moved into the Blake residence. She and her mother hadn’t seen eye-to-eye for years, and naturally the Blakes, her chosen family offered to take her in.

Shit. Is she okay? Is it the flu? Has she checked her temperature? I’ll get something for a fever just in case. Better safe than sorry.

Relax, big bro. I have things under control here. Clarke’s in good hands.

Octavia, just last week I heard you suggest that Jasper treat a head cold with Dulcolax.

That boy has always been full of shit.

Bellamy chuckled and slipped his phone into his pocket. Hearing students start to file into his classroom, he grabbed his lecture notes and headed out of his office for his last class of the day.

***

“Gatorade. Saltines. Coke. Gatorade. Saltines. Coke.” Bellamy mumbled Octavia’s list to himself as he walked through the store, and added a “check” into the list as he dropped each item into his basket. Halfway to the cash register, a sign by the pharmacy pronouncing that it wasn’t too late to get a flu shot reminded him that he wanted to grab something for Clarke’s potential fever.

“Too many options,” he grumbled under his breath as he stared at an entire wall of cold and flu medications. A hundred different pills, liquids, teas, powders, and creams stared back at him. Fifteen minutes of reading packages and an internal debate about trying to get Clarke’s advice later, Bellamy finally decided on a box of Tylenol Cold + Flu and some Theraflu tea. He also decided that once Clarke was better, she would be selecting a variety of over-the-counter medications to keep at the house for the next time one of them got sick. After all, she was the pre-med student.

***

“O,” he called as he gently kicked the door shut behind him. One hand hung his keys on the hook by the door while the other hand deftly dropped his laptop bag onto the floor but kept the Walgreen’s bag looped over two fingers.

“Shh!” Octavia came scurrying around the corner with a finger to her lips. “She’s asleep. Poor girl’s been sick as hell all day. She skipped class this morning.”

That rang a note of concern in Bellamy. Clarke hadn’t missed any school since the day he met her. Though if his face showed any worry, Octavia didn’t notice. She was slipping her coat on and reaching for her purse on the entry table. “You’re leaving?”

“Yeah,” she said distractedly, digging through her purse to find her car keys. “Lincoln’s making me dinner, but I’ll be back after to help take care of Clarke so you can get some work done.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders in a half hug and told her to drive safe before she pulled the door shut behind her with a soft click. He kicked off his shoes and padded into the kitchen, grateful that his socks silenced the usual slapping sound of his feet hitting the tile floor. The bag rustled loudly in the silence of the house. He poured some of the Coke into a glass and left it sit on the counter to go flat.

***

Just over an hour later he glanced up at Clarke from his spot on the recliner, a finger holding his place in his book and his glasses perched on his nose. She was starting to stir. Her eyelids fluttered open and immediately the harsh lamplight assaulted her senses, causing her to groan and snap her eyes shut again.

“Sorry,” Bellamy whispered as he leaned over to flick off the lamp. He stood up slowly, being careful to minimize the creaking from the old recliner. His book fell between the armrest and the cushion, the page he was on completely forgotten. Walking around the coffee table, he leaned down and felt Clarke’s forehead with the back of his hand. “Definitely a fever,” he muttered. “Headache. Body aches too, I’m guessing?”

Clarke grunted in response and threw her arm over her eyes. The only light in the room came from the setting sun peeking through the blinds, but it was still too much for her tired eyes. She heard Bellamy’s soft footsteps retreating into the kitchen. Though she knew he was doing his best to keep quiet, the whisper of his jeans brushing against the kitchen floor sent an irritating pain through her ear and straight to the knot behind her eye.

“Take these,” Bellamy whispered. She peeked through one eye to see her best friend had returned. He was holding a glass of water in one hand and offering her two small yellow caplets in the other.

“Thanks,” she whispered, then tossed back the pills and chased them down with the water. She felt him lift her feet and slide down onto the end of the couch. “Miserable, Bell,” she whispered moments before sleep claimed her again.

“I know, princess,” he whispered back with a sigh. He pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and threw it over them, her ankles crossed and resting in his lap. He leaned his head back and watched her sleep for a few minutes before sleep claimed him as well.

***

He woke to a kick in his stomach as Clarke wrenched herself into a sitting position. Her head was nearly between her knees as she vomited into the trash can Octavia had grabbed from the bathroom and left beside the couch. Within seconds, Bellamy had pulled her hair away from her face and started rubbing soothing circles on her back.

When the dry heaves and post-vomit body spasms subsided, Bellamy leaned back into his corner so Clarke could lay down again. “Feeling any better?”

“Headache’s gone.” Her voice was raspy, but she was glad the sensitivity to light and sound was no longer a problem. “Just wish my stomach would settle now.”

“I may be able to help with that.” He stood slowly and gently laid her feet on the couch. He crossed into the kitchen with long, purposeful strides. “Flat Coke always works,” he called over his shoulder.

Clarke sat up and took a couple deep breaths, hoping the movement wouldn’t bring on another bout of vomiting. “Old wives’ tale.”

“I’d say homeopathic remedy. Old wives’ tales typically don’t have any truth to them. Flat Coke always works.” She took the glass from his hand and made a show of taking tiny sips, before he felt the need to remind her that ‘it only works when you sip it.’

Clark snorted and rolled her eyes. “There’s nothing homeopathic about Coke, Bellamy. And anyway, flat Coke is like a placebo. It’s purely psychological.”

“Then I’ll just take that glass back and you can wait for your immune system to do the job itself.” He reached out for the glass with no real intention of taking it from her, but she swatted his hand away just the same with a murderous glare in her eyes.

“You wanna die today, Blake?”

Bellamy chuckled and leaned back into his corner of the couch. “Get over here, Griffin. We should have enough time to watch an episode of How the Universe Works before O gets home.” He stretched his arm over the back of the couch and reached for the remote on the end table while Clarke snuggled into his side. She rested her head on his shoulder and pulled the blanket over both of them.

It was one of their favorite shows, but even it was no match for Clarke’s flu. The voices coming from the TV combined with the Tylenol that was still in her system lulled her to sleep before the first commercial break. Bellamy tilted his head to the side and peered down at his best friend. He wished there was more he could do to make her feel better. He always prided himself on how well he took care of his girls, but unfortunately the flu was just one of those things he couldn’t protect them from.

Clarke twisted a little in her sleep, subconsciously moving closer to Bellamy, and Bellamy’s body automatically twisted to accommodate her without his mind even registering it. He pulled the blanket up over her shoulder and gently laid his cheek against the top of her head.

***

Octavia expected Clarke to still be asleep when she got home. She tiptoed through the entryway and peeked into the kitchen. She had expected Bellamy to be cleaning up from dinner, but she saw neither a dirty dish nor her brother. Walking past the living room to creep down the hallway and check their bedrooms, a mop of black curls on top of the couch caught the corner of her eye.

She was not surprised to see her brother and her best friend sleeping together with a forgotten docuseries droning on the TV. This was a regular occurrence in the Blake household. She wasn’t even surprised to see them cuddling under the blanket Grandma Blake had made for Bellamy’s tenth birthday.

Back in the kitchen, she scribbled staying at Lincoln’s tonight, pizza tomorrow on me xo O on a sticky note before tiptoeing back out the front door and locking it behind her.

#a: charlottegracetaylor #title: best friends forever #modern au #multichaps #slow burn #friends to lovers #professor!bellamy #fluff #best friends brother #bellarke au #bellarke modern au #bellarke fanfiction

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tabloidtoc · 4 years ago

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National Enquirer, February 1

You can now buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Conspiracy Exposed! White Supremacists Caused Capitol Riot

Page 2: Friends of scandal-scarred Shia LaBeouf fear he is sliding off the rails now that galpal Margaret Qualley has suddenly dumped him and Shia feels deserted and completely alone since Margaret walked out on him and he was blindsided when the actress took off in the wake of abuse accusations by his past girlfriends and colleagues labeled him difficult -- Shia thought he could count on Margaret to be at his side while he defended himself but she’s been warned by friends and family he’s toxic in Hollywood and that staying with him could ruin her career

Page 3: Siegfried Fischbacher’s sad last days have been full of tears and regret as the ailing entertainer prepares to be reunited in the afterlife with cherished partner Roy Horn -- the German-born illusionist has been fighting pancreatic cancer but after having a malignant tumor removed during a 12-hour surgery last month, Siegfried left the facility to die at Little Bavaria which is the Las Vegas home he long shared with Roy

Page 4: Angelina Jolie has been digging up dirt on ex-husband Brad Pitt’s pals in a desperate bid to get the upper hand in their toxic divorce war -- Angie and her team are still looking for whatever they can get on Brad but he’s so squeaky clean these days they’re turning their attention to the rockers and grungy types that he hangs with in L.A. and it’s all very twisted but Angie is willing to try anything at this point -- Angie and Brad’s custody battle is at a standstill with Angie refusing to budge with her demand for full custody of the kids while Brad wants more visitation rights -- Angie is likely to be barking up the wrong tree because Brad’s friends are sober clean-living types who have been a huge influence in helping him turn his life around but she’s leaving no stone unturned in this divorce fight

* Consciously unconventional Gwyneth Paltrow and husband Brad Falchuk are taking mini-breaks to prove that absence makes the heart grow fonder -- the love is there but Gwyneth is suggesting they try mini-me breaks to keep the embers burning in their relationship and she believes separating from time to time will stir up the passion ad anticipation between them -- Gwyneth often slips off for short trips without Brad and feels no guilt or remorse for it and she encourages Brad to do the same and says it makes her miss him when he’s away

Page 5: Sandra Bullock has become buddies with Will Smith and wife Jada Pinkett Smith and is reaping the benefits of the longtime couple’s hard-earned advice and Sandra’s five-year romance with photographer Bryan Randall has never been better -- the new friendship blossomed after Sandra appeared on Jada’s Red Table Talk show to celebrate frontline workers during the pandemic and Sandra and Jada have gotten really close since then and Jada’s been giving Sandra tips about how to handle the highs and lows of a relationship and learning to appreciate her man

Page 6: Newbie twosome Olivia Wilde and Harry Styles are already shopping for a love shack and they want to be with each other all the time and they both need permanent places to live because Olivia’s been staying at a temporary place and Harry’s been staying with friends and they both want someplace where they can be together in private -- Olivia wants two places which is one where she can be a mother to her kids with ex Jason Sudeikis but she also wants a love nest to share with Harry and they’ve been looking in the Pacific Palisades and Malibu areas because they’re in love but they don’t want to flaunt their relationship in front of her kids; Olivia has too much fondness and respect for Jason to do that

Page 7: Carrie Underwood and husband Mike Fisher have been gushing all over each other but they’ve worked 24/7 for months to avoid a divorce -- they had very real problems that stretched back years because Carrie was either working too hard in the recording studio or on the road or in their home gym and their issues never really got addressed head-on and they were even talking divorce but lockdown has done them both a world of good by forcing them to get to know each other all over again

* Covidiot of the Week -- Bruce Willis got booted from a Los Angeles Rite Aid rather than put on a mask to protect his freaked-out fellow shoppers -- Bruce was wearing a bandana around his neck as he strolled the aisles of the pharmacy but he apparently lacked the strength to pull it up and over his nose and mouth because he refused to wear a mask and he walked out of the store leaving his intended purchases behind rather than respond to a manager’s plea to have some respect for other people

Page 8: Love-starved Kelly Clarkson is having a little “Office” romance with one of the beloved sitcom’s former stars Craig Robinson -- a recent flirt-fest on Kelly’s chat show has left the newly single mother of two singing the comic actor’s praises to pals and he totally swept her off her feet and she thinks he’s cute and one of the funniest guys she’s ever met -- the mutual attraction between the two was immediate and obvious and she’s been reaching out to him on the phone and they’ve been continuing their funny and flirty repartee -- Kelly thinks he’s the perfect catch and wants to start 2021 off on the right foot after all the hell she’s going through in her divorce from Brandon Blackstock

* Embattled Ellen DeGeneres has cooked up a new plan to save her troubled career and marriage: a baby -- last year was the toughest year of her life let alone her career and she’s hoping a baby may be the answer to all her problems -- it was hell at home for wife Portia de Rossi because Ellen was blasting her about anything and everything and Portia declared she had no intention of being Ellen’s personal punching bag and Ellen has now realized how harsh she had been on her spouse of 12 years and that’s when Ellen cooked up the concept of having a baby to bond over and Ellen is convinced that sharing a child will bring them closer together again and is willing to go the surrogate route to make it happen -- she also believes bringing a baby into her life will improve her image and it’s a can’t-lose scenario in her mind

Page 9: Kelly Ripa is pushing pal Ryan Seacrest to find new romance online -- Ryan spent the holidays alone after being dumped by his on-off galpal Shayna Taylor but Kelly believes he can find lasting love with an age-appropriate partner -- Ryan is 46 and he’s dated some of the most beautiful women in the world but Kelly thinks he’d do a lot better if he looked for women closer to his age and Kelly has been pushing him to try a dating app like Raya which caters to a star-studded clientele -- Kelly has been happily married for 21 years and wants the same happiness for Ryan and she thinks he can find that by using an app where he can find a woman in his age bracket with similar interests and attitudes

Page 10: Hot Shots -- Malin Akerman hit the road on her bike in L.A., shirtless Justin Bieber hitting the shore in Hawaii, Good Morning America co-host Robin Roberts smoothed back her hairdo on the morning show set, Larsa Pippen posed on her Porsche outside her Miami mansion, dapper dresser Chris Pine shot scenes from the upcoming thriller All the Old Knives in London

Page 11: Dustin Diamond has been hospitalized with searing pain and is undergoing tests to pin down the cause of the mystery ailment but he feared prognosis is cancer which is said to have a history of the disease in his family

* Carol Burnett is overjoyed her temporary guardianship of grandson Dylan Hamilton-West has been extended but remains heartbroken her troubled daughter Erin is not yet prepared to resume her role as a parent -- Los Angeles Superior Court Judge Deborah L. Christian extended the guardianship until November 30 and praised Carol and her husband Brian Miller saying that everything seems to be going along swimmingly -- the judge also ruled Erin will be allowed supervised weekly visits with Dylan

* The house that tragic Glee star Naya Rivera shared with her son Josey in Los Feliz, California is up for sale for $2,695,000 -- Naya purchased the four-bedroom, three-bath home in May 2018 for $1,660,000 just a month before her divorce from Ryan Dorsey with whom she she shared custody of Josey

Page 12: Straight Shuter -- Katie Couric desperately hopes her guest host stint on Jeopardy! will turn into a full-time job replacing the late Alex Trebek -- it will be positioned that Katie is guest-hosting for a week but it’s actually an audition; all the upcoming Jeopardy! guest hosts are being tested out and depending on how they do and how the audience responds one of them will get the gig full-time -- the show is moving very carefully to replace Alex because they get one shot at this and if they hire the wrong person the show is over

* Kathy Griffin won’t ever be able to mend fences with former BFF Anderson Cooper after she posted a gruesome image of Donald Trump’s decapitated head -- Anderson holds a grudge like no other and once you upset him it’s for life -- he isn’t rude and he’s not vindictive but he has zero interest in ever being friends with Kathy ever again

* Image-obsessed Tom Cruise has boosted security since audiotapes were leaked of his meltdown on the Mission: Impossible set -- all phones and non-official recording devices have been banned from the set and Tom has become increasingly annoyed at anything being leaked from his closed set and he’s very controlling when it comes to his image and he’s upped his security to make sure a breach in protocol like that never happens again

* Selling Sunset’s Christine Quinn glams it up for a photo shoot in Bel-Air (picture)

Page 13: Sylvester Stallone is ready to relinquish his title as Tinseltown’s reigning action champ to enjoy the final rounds of his heavyweight career at his new Florida mansion surrounded by his family -- he isn’t hanging up his gloves in the movie business just yet but is content to coast to the final bell at the $35 million West Palm Beach estate with Jennifer Flavin his wife of 23 years -- Sly’s been working his butt off for decades and he’s finally got the perfect place where they can settle down and host their children whenever they want a proper family gathering

* Jennifer Garner hasn’t even moved into her $7.5 million home yet but she’s already installed a state-of-the-art security system to keep it safe -- the safety-conscious mom of three is building her Los Angeles dream home from scratch right around the corner from where she lived with ex-husband Ben Affleck and while the finishing touches aren’t complete she has made serious security arrangements like motion detectors and lights and safes and up to 20 surveillance cameras around the posh pad to keep intruders away from her and the children she shares with Ben: Violet, Seraphina and Samuel -- it’s costing her a fortune but she’ll spend whatever she needs to keep her family safe

Page 14: Crime

Page 15: Accused rapist Danny Masterson could be dumped by the Church of Scientology to protect its leader David Miscavige -- the Church of Scientology is not loyal to anyone but itself and it has no interest in its parishioners even Danny Masterson and if their leader is going to be exposed they will take out Danny in a heartbeat; he’d be excommunicated -- Masterson faces criminal charges he raped three women and he’s also battling a civil suit filed by four women who accuse him of rape and Scientology of intimidating them into silence and not reporting the crimes to police -- attorneys for the fourth woman Marie Bobette Riales are trying to serve a subpoena on Miscavige in a bid to expose the ruthless tactics used by Scientology to hide the twisted secrets of its celebrity members -- the controversial church will do anything including dumping Danny to prevent Miscavige from being dragged into court but if Scientology turns on Danny he could spill all their secrets on the stand

Page 16: Hollywood kid Rumer Willis has rewarded herself for four years of sobriety with a plastic surgery tune-up -- in a photo she recently posted to Instagram her face appeared more streamlined and her new look is likely due to cosmetic enhancements

* Nagging allegations that Kanye West is gay and had affairs with two male beauty gurus could not have come at a worse time for the troubled rapper -- Kanye is furious at the salacious accusations just as his marriage to Kim Kardashian is hanging by a thread and although Kanye is far from homophobic but the last thing he needs right now is to try and fight off rumors about his sexuality just when he’s desperate to save his marriage and he thinks the accusers are just trying to capitalize on his current problems and trying to crush any hope he has of staying together with Kim -- TikTok influencer Ava Louise dropped the first bomb in early January when she claimed Kanye slept with male YouTuber Jeffree Star and that it played a role in the current fractured state of his marriage and less than 24 hours after Ava shared her shocking claims she received a cease-and-desist letter from Kim’s mom Kris Jenner’s communications company -- Jeffree Star took to YouTube to deny the affair -- another male beauty influencer Cole Carrigan then jumped on the bandwagon and claimed to have had a sexual encounter with Kanye at Hollywood’s W hotel and said he had receipts and texts between him and one of the rapper’s bodyguards adding he didn’t want to say too much because he didn’t want a lawsuit from Kim Kardashian West but two days later Cole posted a video of himself with a cease-and-desist letter from the bodyguard’s attorney

Page 17: Only a week after Larry King was hospitalized with a life-threatening COVID-19 diagnosis his estranged wife Shawn splurged on a three-hour shopping spree -- Shawn didn’t seem to have a care in the world when she was snapped browsing for beauty supplies and home furnishings in L.A. while at the same time her soon-to-be ex-husband remained hospitalized in Cedars-Sinai Medical Center after being transferred from the intensive care unit

Page 18: American Life

Page 19: Kim Cattrall’s feud with Sex and the City co-star Sarah Jessica Parker just won’t die -- Kim who played Samantha Jones recently liked a tweet from a fan praising her for not joining her former castmates in an upcoming SATC reboot -- Kim and Sarah reportedly clashed behind the scenes for years

* Amber Heard splashed out more than $1 million in donations toward fulfilling her pledge to give away her $7 million divorce settlement from Johnny Depp -- one of Amber’s attorneys challenged charges from Depp’s legal team who claimed Amber had pocketed the princely sum -- Amber has been delayed in that goal because Johnny filed a lawsuit against her and consequently she has been forced to spend millions of dollars defending his claims against her

Page 20: Daring Duchess Sarah Ferguson has written a racy romance novel and she’s taken inspiration from her very own love life -- the ex-wife of Britain’s Prince Andrew who was scandalously snapped having her tootsies sucked by a suitor in 1992 penned Her Heart for a Compass which is set to be released this summer -- Sarah said the page-turner was inspired by the life of her great-aunt Lady Margaret Montagu Douglas Scott and the work incorporates research into the duchess’ heritage and draws upon her own unique life journey and experiences -- the historical saga is set in the late 1800s

* Hollywood Hookups -- Luke Evans and boyfriend Rafa Olarra split, Megan Fox and Machine Gun Kelly move into together, LeToya Luckett and husband Tommicus Walker split

Page 21: Prince Harry’s sporting a new crowning glory which is a ponytail -- that’s the dish from Rob Lowe who spotted Harry’s new ‘do while driving in their California neighborhood -- Rob said it looked that his hair had grown very long and was pulled back very tightly in a ponytail and he even followed the car to Harry and wife Meghan Markle’s mansion to make sure it was him -- Rob said Harry lives about a mile from him and he’s been very reclusive and seeing him is like seeing the Loch Ness Monster

* George Clooney’s face has blown up like a balloon -- he looked painfully gaunt for months after rapidly dropping 28 pounds to play an ailing scientist in his latest movie The Midnight Sky but once the sickly star has bounced back and judging from his mug he’s apparently been pigging out in a bid to regain the weight he lost

* Brendan Fraser is gearing up for a big career comeback as a 600-pound recluse in Darren Aronofsky’s The Whale -- the choice of the role is ironic as the once-chiseled star seemed to fall out favor with Tinseltown bigwigs when his own weight ballooned -- Brendan is poised to make a whopper of a return to leading man status with meaty character Charlie who is a grief-stricken compulsive eater who seeks to reconnect with his estranged daughter

Page 22: Explosive evidence reveals Earth is in great danger from attacking space aliens but despite a 3000-document cache released by the CIA, the government is still finding ways to classify extraterrestrial information -- the CIA dossier was obtained by John Greenewald Jr. and published on his Black Vault website -- the documents were likely released because of a new law that is part of the recent $2.3 billion COVID-19 relief package passed by Congress requiring government agencies to spill the beans on the UFO data they’ve amassed over 70 years

* Agonizing health woes threaten to push long-suffering Lisa Marie Presley over the edge -- Lisa Marie has been in a lot of pain and years of drug and alcohol abuse have devastated her body -- she’s recently battled liver ailments and an abdominal muscle tear and suffered a hernia and had to have two teeth removed -- in addition to being in physical torment Lisa Marie had to move out of her Los Angeles home while workers addressed a problem with toxic mold -- Lisa Marie was already close to rock bottom after her son Ben Keough killed himself in July and amid her grief she’s still embroiled in a lawsuit with her former manager and locked in an ugly divorce and custody battle with fourth husband Michael Lockwood the father of her twins Harper and Finley

Page 23: As more shocking details emerged from Armie Hammer’s former girlfriends about what they claim are his sick and twisted fetishes for rape, bondage and cannibalism his career is crumbling before his eyes -- although many had trouble believing the depths of depravity allegedly revealed in private messages an anonymous woman claimed the actor sent her, even his estranged wife is shocked and sickened by Armie’s tawdry reported sexual tastes -- this is not the kind of scandal any actor would want to be linked to -- his pals are urging him to get counseling as the scandal could kill the trust-fund actor’s career

Page 25: Cover Story -- It’s just the beginning! Capitol riot conspiracy exposed -- Proud Boys led blood-soaked siege -- 5-page investigative special

Page 29: Outspoken Arnold Schwarzenegger likened the recent attack on the U.S. Capitol which left 5 dead to Nazi violence -- the former California governor and staunch Republican compared the January 6 riots by protestors, who refused to accept the outcome of the 2020 presidential election, to German’s Kristallnacht in 1938 -- in a video address Austrian-born Schwarzenegger who’s held U.S. citizenship since 1983 said Wednesday was the Day of Broken Glass right here in the United States

Page 32: Health

Page 38: Tormented actor Gabriel Byrne confessed he finally confronted the priest who abused him when he was 11 years old and it didn’t go well -- Byrne phoned the pedophilic priest in 2002 but the sicko said he has no recollection and even thanked Gabriel for reaching out -- Gabriel wanted in those last seconds to say that even though he doesn’t believe in Hell he hopes the priest did because he wanted him to be terrified and burn forever but he said nothing because some part of him did not want to hurt an old man with a kindly voice stuck in a retirement home

* Miley Cyrus decorates her home with X-rated doodads -- she said in an interview that she likes sex toys and she buys them for herself but ends up using them for interior design

Page 40: Sleazy sex creep Jeffrey Epstein was nearly snared in a To Catch a Predator-style sting almost five years before the pedophile’s suspicious death in a Manhattan prison dished journalist Chris Hansen -- the former NBC host recently claimed in 2014 or 2015 after Epstein’s first jail stint for soliciting a minor he met with lawyers for some of the sex offenders alleged victims who claimed the financier was abusing underage girls -- they had a big file on it according to Hansen and he was trying to fashion a Predator-like sting operation in which they could catch him but he gave up on his quest because security at Epstein’s NYC and Florida homes made it very difficult to come up with something -- Hansen admitted not nailing Epstein was his biggest career regret

Page 42: Red Carpet -- Taylor Swift at the Grammys

Page 45: Spot the Differences -- Mayim Bialik on the premiere episode of her sitcom Call Me Kat

Page 47: The Odd List

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