#knee implant surgery

[star-hospitals]

Why Choosing the Right Knee Implant Matters - Star Hospitals

Optimal Function : A perfect fit ensures smooth movement & lowers complication risks

Pain Relief : A well-placed implant can drastically reduce knee pain

Durability: Quality implants are built to last, keeping future surgeries at bay

Reduced Risk of Complications: Minimise the chances of infections & wear with a correctly fitted implant

Improved Quality of Life: Regain your ability to move freely & enjoy life to the fullest For more details visit : www.starhospitals.in

[animeandcatholicism]

My biggest hot take

Is that, personally I believe that people should try to avoid body modification unless it's absolutely necessary and to accept themselves as they are.

Ultimately, you don't "fix" yourself by getting cosmetic surgeries and pumping yourself full of hormones or to alter your physical condition in order to achieve some perceived ideal that will "solve" your insecurities. The truth is, you have to accept yourself warts and all and nothing will magically solve that.

The only thing that you can control is how you respond to your own insecurities and often the way you do that is by confronting the reasons for that. Stop going onto social media and looking at people's "perfect lives" or consuming content that tells you what you need in order to be "happy". Talk to your friends and family, join a book club, an in person rpg group,go camping, somewhere that exposes you to the real side of life with as little bs as possible. Heck examine architecture and see how even in its flawed state it's still beautiful.

Understand that despite your flaws, insecurities and misgivings, you too are beautiful.

[keepontalking]

Guy complaining to the nurse about his knee pain and the nurse just brushing him off is giving me bad osteosarcoma flashbacks.

I know that Guy has a torn ACL and it is a common injury that can easily be fixed, but just hearing Guy plead for a break brings back the memories of screaming matches and desperate sobs

[sharma6]

Restore Mobility with Advanced Total Knee Replacement Solutions

Presenting the premium gold-plated Femoral Component, a hallmark of precision engineering for total knee replacement surgeries. Specifically designed for cemented fixation, this advanced component ensures unparalleled stability and exceptional durability in orthopedic procedures. Its sleek, highly polished articular surface minimizes friction, enabling seamless joint movement and ultimate patient comfort. The ergonomic structure ensures accurate alignment and effortless surgical integration, while the gold coating enhances biocompatibility, providing superior resistance to corrosion and wear. This world-class femoral component is manufactured by Sharma Orthopedic, one of India’s leading orthopedic implant manufacturers and trusted global suppliers. Key Benefits of the Femoral Component (Cemented Fixed) – GOLD:  Gold-Plated Coating: Superior biocompatibility and corrosion resistance for extended implant life.  Highly Polished Articular Surface: Reduces friction and ensures smooth joint articulation.  Durable and Robust Design: Engineered to provide long-term stability for cemented fixation.  Ergonomic Structure: Facilitates precise surgical alignment and integration.  Trusted Quality: Manufactured by Sharma Orthopedic, known for excellence in orthopedic innovation.

[trendtrackershq]

Exploring the Dominance of North America in the Knee Implants Market

Introduction:

The Knee Implants Market in North America stands as a beacon of innovation and growth within the global healthcare industry. With a robust healthcare infrastructure, technological advancements, and a high prevalence of conditions necessitating knee replacement surgeries, North America continues to lead the way in this critical sector.

Download FREE Sample: https://www.nextmsc.com/knee-implants-market/request-sample

Understanding the Dynamics of the Knee Implants Market

Knee implants play a pivotal role in restoring mobility and improving the quality of life for millions of individuals suffering from knee-related ailments such as osteoarthritis, rheumatoid arthritis, and traumatic injuries. The market for knee implants encompasses a wide range of products, including total knee replacement (TKR) systems, partial knee replacement (PKR) systems, and revision knee systems, each tailored to meet specific patient needs and clinical requirements.

Factors Driving Market Dominance in North America

1. High Prevalence of Obesity

Obesity rates in North America, particularly in the United States, are among the highest globally. According to the Food Research and Action Center, 39.6 percent of U.S. adults are obese. Obesity places significant stress on the knee joints, accelerating wear and tear and increasing the likelihood of degenerative joint diseases. As a result, there is a substantial demand for knee implants to address the consequences of obesity-related joint damage.

2. Technological Advancements in Implant Design

North America is at the forefront of innovation in knee implant technology. Leading orthopedic companies based in the region continually invest in research and development to enhance implant materials, design geometries, and surgical techniques. Innovations such as personalized implants, 3D-printed implants, and advanced surface coatings contribute to improved patient outcomes, faster recovery times, and longer implant longevity.

3. Aging Population and Joint Degeneration

The aging population in North America is another significant driver of the knee implants market. As individuals age, they are more prone to developing degenerative joint diseases like osteoarthritis. Knee replacement surgeries offer an effective solution to alleviate pain, restore mobility, and enhance quality of life for older adults. The growing acceptance of surgical interventions among elderly patients further fuels market growth.

4. Healthcare Infrastructure and Accessibility

North America boasts a well-established healthcare infrastructure with advanced diagnostic facilities, skilled healthcare professionals, and robust reimbursement policies for orthopedic procedures. Access to quality healthcare services and the availability of state-of-the-art surgical techniques contribute to higher patient satisfaction and favorable surgical outcomes, thereby boosting the demand for knee implants.

5. Regulatory Environment and Quality Standards

Stringent regulatory frameworks and adherence to quality standards ensure the safety and efficacy of knee implants in North America. Regulatory bodies such as the U.S. Food and Drug Administration (FDA) and Health Canada oversee the approval and market clearance of orthopedic implants, maintaining high standards of patient safety and product reliability.

6.Patient Awareness and Education

Increased patient awareness about the benefits of knee replacement surgeries has contributed significantly to the growth of the knee implants market in North America. Patient education initiatives by healthcare providers and advocacy groups have helped demystify the surgical process, reduce stigma, and encourage timely intervention for knee-related conditions.

7.Healthcare Spending and Insurance Coverage

North America allocates substantial healthcare spending towards orthopedic surgeries, including knee implants. Comprehensive insurance coverage for orthopedic procedures ensures broader accessibility and affordability for patients seeking knee replacements. Favorable reimbursement policies and healthcare financing options further support market growth.

8.Emerging Trends in Minimally Invasive Surgery

The adoption of minimally invasive surgical (MIS) techniques for knee replacements is gaining traction in North America. MIS procedures offer several advantages, including smaller incisions, reduced recovery times, and minimized surgical trauma. As healthcare providers and patients alike recognize the benefits of MIS, demand for knee implants compatible with these techniques is expected to increase.

Inquire before buying: https://www.nextmsc.com/knee-implants-market/inquire-before-buying

9.Integration of Robotics and Navigation Systems

The integration of robotics-assisted surgery and advanced navigation systems is transforming the landscape of knee replacement surgeries in North America. Robotics technology enhances surgical precision, facilitates optimal implant positioning, and improves patient outcomes. Surgeons benefit from real-time feedback and enhanced visualization during procedures, contributing to the market's growth.

10.Research and Development Initiatives

North America remains a hub for research and development in orthopedic technologies and biomaterials. Academic institutions, healthcare facilities, and private sector companies collaborate on pioneering research initiatives to innovate knee implant materials, enhance implant longevity, and develop next-generation implant designs. Investments in R&D drive continuous advancements in orthopedic care and shape the future of knee replacement surgeries.

Market Outlook and Future Prospects

Looking ahead, the knee implants market in North America is poised for continued growth, driven by ongoing technological advancements, demographic trends, and increasing healthcare expenditure. The adoption of minimally invasive surgical techniques, coupled with advancements in implant materials and patient-specific customization, is expected to further propel market expansion.

Conclusion

The dominance of North America in the knee implants market underscores its leadership in orthopedic innovation and patient care. With a focus on addressing the healthcare needs of an aging population and leveraging cutting-edge technologies, the region continues to set benchmarks for surgical excellence and orthopedic advancements. As demand for knee implants rises, stakeholders across the healthcare spectrum are poised to collaborate on enhancing treatment outcomes and improving quality of life for patients undergoing knee replacement surgeries.

[siorasurgical-post]

5 Reasons You May Need Knee Replacement Surgery

Simple tasks like climbing stairs or getting out of a chair can become a struggle when knee pain takes hold. If you've tried everything from ice packs to medication and the pain persists, knee replacement surgery might be on the table. But is it the right decision for you? Let us see some of the common reasons why knee surgery may be the last resort. Find the Top Orthopedic Implant Companies in India to get an international range of knee replacement implants.

[softzenia-tech]

The Nix Healthcare Hospital in Greater Noida is the Health Star You Need

The Greater Noida is in the busy area of Delhi NCR, where quality and kindness come together to provide excellent health care. It is known as the best school in the area and is a shining example of health.

When it comes to orthopedic care, Nix Healthcare Hospital is one of the best. We promise that you will get personalized, high-quality medical care from our team of dedicated and highly trained orthopedic doctor in Greater Noida. After this point, our institution's commitment to greatness permeates every part of it.

What makes the hospital stand out as the best orthopedic hospital in Greater Noida? Along with state-of-the-art buildings and cutting-edge technology, every corner gives off an air of care and warmth. Nix Healthcare Hospital goes beyond being a place where machines work and becomes a sanctuary where everyone can start their journey to health together.

We're very happy to be more than just an orthopedic centre. The trauma centre at Nix Healthcare stand as the best hospital in Greater Noida is ready to handle emergency cases quickly and correctly. Knowing that we care about your well-being by having a tra Trauma centre in Greater Noida nearby shows that you will always have a reliable friend in an emergency.

We care about your health in more ways than just emergencies, though. Nix Healthcare Hospital is the best medical facility in Greater Noida and can help with all of your health needs. We make sure that your health is in good hands by skillfully combining our knowledge with compassion. We are experts in both simple and difficult procedures. Nix Healthcare Hospital is the place to go for an amazing healthcare experience. Your path to health starts here, where caring care meets outstanding orthopedic care. Allow us to help you get to a better state of health and happiness. Your health and safety is our top priority at Nix Healthcare Hospital; we will always put you first.

[drsimonthomas]

Dr. Simon Thomas is one of the best Joint Replacement Surgeon in Delhi. He leads the arthroplasty team at the prestigious Sehgal Neo Hospital, Paschim Vihar at New Delhi. He and his team have been extensively trained at various centres of excellence in India and abroad including Germany, Korea, and Singapore. He specialises in Primary and Complex Joint Replacement of Knee, Hip, Shoulder and Elbow with experience of more than 10,000 joint replacements with excellent results. He is one of the few surgeons in India who have been trained to do revision joint replacement surgeries with more than 1000 complex revisions under his belt. Revision of infected joints is there forte and they have salvaged numerous such joints which have been deemed unsalvageable.

[medicaljournals1]

If your knee is significantly injured due to arthritis or injury, you may find it difficult to do simple activities like walking or climbing stairs. You may even have discomfort when sitting or lying down.

If nonsurgical therapies, such as drugs and walking aids, are no longer effective, you may wish to consider complete knee replacement surgery. Joint replacement surgery is a safe and successful technique for relieving pain, correcting leg deformity, and allowing you to return to regular activities.

The knee is made up of the thighbone's lower end (femur), the shinbone's higher end (tibia), and the kneecap (patella). The ends of these three bones are protected by articular cartilage, a smooth material that allows the bones to move freely within the joint.

Between the femur and tibia lie the menisci. These C-shaped wedges serve as shock absorbers for the joint.

Huge ligaments connect the femur and tibia and give stability. The knee is supported by the lengthy thigh muscles.

A thin coating called the synovial membrane covers all of the remaining surfaces of the knee. In a healthy knee, this membrane secretes a fluid that lubricates the cartilage, lowering friction to practically nil.

[sirfrogsworth]

I would like to lodge a few complaints about this perfectly designed body of mine.

Also, NO CHANGES ALLOWED!

No breast implants.

No cosmetic surgery.

No tattoos.

No knee replacements.

No heart transplants.

No fucking hair dye, Deb.

[xhollowfaerie]

silverv drabbles #5

a/n: oof, this might be my favorite one so far. after witnessing a particularly bad memory, Johnny offers to teach V how to play guitar. also yes my V is kinda seeing Judy too but idk I also ship her so hard with Johnny so interpret that however you will, I love her with either or both <3 also pre-game Samurai fan corpo V is my new roman empire

warnings: traumatic childhood, depiction of physical abuse, abusive "parenting", hopefully Johnny isn't too ooc

- Black Dog. V’s eyes watered at the sight of the electric guitar in her new apartment, bringing the back of her hand up to her mouth as she bit back a grin.

“Gettin’ all emotional on me? Sweet, but you know we’d never work” Johnny lit up a cigarette, resting against the windowsill.

“Shut up, Johnny” she laughed through her wavering emotions, kneeling down to admire the instrument. Her long nails ran over the glossy finish, hesitantly plucking a string to relish the sound. The rockerboy watched her in amusement. She looked just like a little kid getting their favorite toy on Christmas Eve.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never touched a guitar before” he said in between drags, eyes glued to her.

“No” V breathed, lowering her gaze. “Wasn’t somethin’ I was allowed to touch.”

Victoria Lovett’s slaps always stung for days after. Valerie gasped in horror as her mother snapped her vinyl in half before angrily bursting into tears.

“The fuck did you do that for?!” she roared, her rebellion earning her another painful slap across the face before feeling her hair being viciously tugged upwards. 

“Who do you think you’re speaking to, Valerie? Address me like that one more time and see what happens. This time, we’ll make sure you don’t get any medical attention.”

Valerie sobbed, attempting to free her mother’s hold of her hair to no avail. She helplessly stood face to face with the vitriol across her mother’s still-youthful features, the various implants and surgeries to keep her looking in her late twenties at most.

“Don’t try to play the victim with me. I’ve told you how many times? Stop wasting time on this drivel, it’s simply not my fault you won’t listen to your own mother. You need to focus on the Academy and the Academy only-” “I have top grades in every class! Every professor has praised me to you! What more do you want?! I’m not even allowed to listen to the music I like?! I’ve done everything, everything to appease you, it’s never enough! I’m never enough! ”

Victoria glared towards the broken Samurai record on the floor before returning her attention to her daughter. “This noise? You call this anarchistic low-class propaganda filth music? You are the heir to a royal bloodline, Valerie Lovett! There is no higher insult for us or for the future of our family for you to betray us - to disrespect The Company like this.”

Valerie’s dark makeup ran down her face in trails of black, shaking in fear in her mother’s grip. She squeezed her eyes shut and whimpered before she was abruptly dropped, falling to her knees. She tried to back away, but her mother grabbed onto her face so ferociously, she thought her fingers would crush her jaw to dust. Fear instructed her to bite down hard into her tongue, still her trembling and silence her cries. It always riled them up even worse when she couldn’t stop crying.

“Perhaps we’ve been too lenient with you - I should’ve listened to your father and scrapped you. He was right, your genetics were flawed. I was soft because I’d always wanted a daughter.”

Her unloving hands moved down to Valerie’s throat; she lowered herself onto the floor under the weight, eyes wide in horror, feeling the oxygen cut off from her lungs with a wheeze.

“M-Mom, it- hurts-”“You will address me as Mother, Valerie, and you will watch your tongue with me from this day on, unless you truly want me to go ahead and remove it. Better yet, your father suggested a faceplate; you know your facial features are… less than desirable.”

Valerie couldn’t help the tears pouring down the sides of her face, lips trembling. This was it, she thought. This time, Victoria would really go through with it and kill her, like she always said she would. She closed her eyes, trying to conjure up the smallest spark of courage inside her, to accept her death with dignity. She’d been contemplating choosing her own way out over whatever nightmare of a future her parents had planned for her for a while now, anyway. Lyrics played in her head, offering her the tiniest hope of solace as she tried - to no avail - to block her mother's words out.

“I better not see this slut makeup or clothing on you again. I’ve told you time and time again; a woman must be elegant. You’ve tarnished our reputation enough. I do not need the whole corporate world seeing my daughter parade around like a harlot.”

“Black dog in my head, guiding me into the end…” Valerie found herself humming, sitting down on the couch as she gingerly cradled the guitar in her arms. Johnny blinked in confusion for a moment before realizing they were back in the present, rubbing his temples.

“Fuck, kid. I’m- I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

V gave him a sympathetic half-smile. “...thanks. Sorry you had to see that.” She didn’t correct him on her age this time. She was barely a few years younger than him when he died, but she’d almost gotten attached to the stupid nickname.

He felt the clutches of wrath crawling up throughout his whole body. That familiar feeling. Anger, helplessness. Or maybe that was V. Maybe both.

“I know nothin I say’ll make it any better. But I’d kill ‘em for you, in a heartbeat,” Johnny tried to steady his voice from wavering with anger, taking a few steps towards the couch before lowering down onto the floor. She nodded, wiping the dampness off her face with her sleeve. “I know.”

They sat in silence for a moment; her fingers explored the ins and outs of the guitar, getting used to its weight atop her frame, humming still.

“That your favourite one? Black Dog.”

V let out a small sigh. She wrapped her arms around it, snuggling it to her chest like a teddy bear, but carefully enough to not damage it in any way, bringing her knees up.

“One of.” Johnny shook his head. “Never told me you were into Samurai.” “I did, though. Remember? Oh my gosh!!! I can’t believe it! It’s The REAL Johnny Silverhand?! I’m gonna pass out! Can I get a backstage pass? Please, I’m your biggest fan! I’ll let you see my backstage…!  Please, Daddy, I promise I’m 18! Can I at least get your autograph on my tits? Swear I’ll never wash it off!”

He let out a loud groan and quickly pushed himself up to the couch, placing one arm on either side of her to tower above.

“Christ, shut up” he barked, drinking in her joyous giggle as she playfully tried to push him away. Their eyes caught onto each other and they both stilled for a moment, brown staring into blue with a feverish intensity that made her heart pause its rhythm. Fine, maybe she'd had the most miniscule crush on him when she was a teenager, a lifetime ago.

Her hands, forgotten atop his chest, idly ran over the silver chain of his dog tags. He successfully suppressed displaying the tingle that rushed down his spine.

“I could teach ya. If you want” he spoke in a low voice, motioning towards the guitar in her arms. She widened her eyes with excitement, heart hammering rapidly inside her ribcage.

“No kiddin’?” “No kiddin’. Might even get a jump start, assumin’ your fingers inherited my muscle memory.”

The tone in his voice was very suggestive - her face flushed at his statement, reaching one of her hands up to clasp his face and shove him off her. “Ew! Do you always have to be a fuckin’ weirdo? I’m tellin’ the media that Johnny Silverhand was a degenerate sicko!” He chuckled as he moved away, reaching to wrap his fingers around her wrist and pull it off from his face with a sly grin. “Think you’re about a half a century late on that one, choomba.”

She rolled her eyes, feeling a sense of loss as his touch departed from her hand, grazing the guitar with a loving gaze perhaps meant for something, someone else.

“I’d love that” she whispered in reply to his suggestion, prompting Johnny to walk around the corner and grab his own guitar. How did that even work? Ah, whatever, she didn’t fucking care anymore.

“First off; you gotta shorten those vixen claws. I’m sure Judy will live just fine without them shreddin’ her back.”

She flung a throw pillow off the couch at him with a gasp. “Ugh! Don’t tell me you watched?!” “Nah, got better things to do, but you’re definitely a scratcher. Maybe Judy’s onto somethin’” he smirked, adding “...woman after my own heart” in a hushed voice before the unexpected pillow hit him right in the face. “You little!-” 

V let out a squeal as he threw the pillow back at her, dodging in time for it to only hit her side. “Slow reflexes, old m-ahh!” 

He pulled her to his chest with one swift motion, her guitar separating them from being flushed up too closely against each other. She gave him the faintest glare, trying to withhold the blush from returning to her cheeks. “What?”

Johnny’s eyes bore into hers. V shivered, gulping. Wow. The rockerboy smoulder really worked, huh.

As if he’d heard her thoughts (shit, he definitely did), he burst into a chuckle, shaking his head before turning them around, standing behind her and tilting his head by the side of hers. He tentatively hovered his hands above her arms, asking for permission. She gave him a small nod, freezing when his fingers made contact with her skin; oh, as if it wasn’t embarrassing enough, she was sure he could feel her heart rate climbing higher.

“Relax” his gravelly voice brushed against her ear, making her eyes widen - yeah, not helping! - the distance between them shrinking as he wrapped his arms around hers, placing his hands atop V’s. “You’re holdin’ it wrong. Here.”

Without any smartass reply, V followed his lead, letting him adjust her hold of the guitar and position her fingers atop the strings. “You ever play anythin’ ‘fore?” She was thankful for his idle chitchat, helping her relax into his instructions. “Yeah, piano.” “Hm. Suits you. Know the basics, then?” “Wouldn’t mind a refresher…” Truthfully, having him so close still unnerved her, and music theory was the last thing on her mind. “Alright. You’re gonna need a pick.”

-

The Kabuki apartment was filled with laughter and the sweet strumming of guitar strings as they passed the night away in their little corner of Night City. He was right - she did get the gist surprisingly quickly, learning the riff for Black Dog before it got high time to hit the hay. He watched her tired figure on the couch, sweetly curled around the guitar. 

He softly ruffled her hair with a chuckle. “Startin’ to look like you might just be cut out to be my prodigy. I'll admit - I'm impressed!”

“Mmm… Johnny?”

“The man, the myth, the legend. At your service.”

“Promise me somethin'?”

“Man, why do chicks always say this to me? Is it my devilishly good looks? Wasn't exactly tryin’ to inspire husband material…”

“Promise… you'll stay?”

His smile faltered, eyes idly following the curve of her thighs, all the way to the peaceful expression on her face. 

‘Course I'll stay.

“Don't got much of a choice.”

She let out a small noise, making herself comfortable as her speech slurred, breathing softly.

“‘m scared… t’… sleep alone. Been so good… know you're there. Means… they can't… hurt me.”

“No. They can't. We'll flatline ‘em before they even think it.”

She scooted closer to him on the couch, allowing her head to rest on the side of his leg. He tensed for a moment before his muscles eased into her touch, ghosting the tips of his fingers over her arm with uncharacteristic tenderness before letting out a quiet chuckle, the corner of his lips tugging upward as he looked down at her.

“‘night night, V.”

I’ll stay until I fix this. ‘Til you can be free of me.

[ruiniel]

What You Choose

Fandom: Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba

Pairing: Rengoku Kyojuro x f!reader

Count: 2K

Rating: T (M later)

Part I

Summary: Rengoku survives the fight with Akaza, but some battles are not so straightforward.

Tags & Warnings: Rengoku lives AU, blood, injury, death, pining, angst, second person POV, demon slayer!reader, tsuguko!reader, Rengoku POV, eventual smut

Author Note: I am not OK and will never be OK about *waves hands* all that, so this is now a multichapter story.

II.

“Once again, you’re a guest in my healing ward.”

Kocho Shinobu speaks softly, as is her manner. She's seated by his bed with the afternoon sun shining gently on her features, highlighting the amethyst in her hair and eyes.

“I seem to be the only one,” Rengoku replies, looking at the empty infirmary. He’s still bedbound and can barely move his limbs. It hurts to breathe more often than not, and there’s a dull ache where his left eye used to be.

Her kind smile never falters as Kocho looks at the liquid in the syringe she’s preparing. Rengoku always admired her decision to honor her late sister this way, by holding on to that smile Kanae loved so much. After all, everyone has a keepsake of their loved ones in their heart, driving them forward. Memories, moments, words that hone one’s spirit and meld with determination, acting as a guiding light in the darkest places. He knows this all too well. 

“At least you won’t be lonely during your convalescence, those three have been coming here every day, even before you’d awoken.” She giggles, seeking a vein in his arm. 

Oh, of course… young Kamado… the boar lad, the yellow-haired boy. All of them gifted, resilient, and unwavering. He’d promised to train them, but…

That was… before. 

Another image appears before his mind’s eye, drenched in fog—you, running towards him. He, ordering you not to interfere. “Kocho. Tell me, please. How long before I can leave this bed? What is lost, what can I regain?” 

She sets the used syringe aside on a tray, then places her hands on her knees. “My, my, impatient already?” 

Rengoku tries a smile of his own, though it hurts the muscles in his face. If not for the strong sedatives and painkillers administered to him since he regained consciousness, he imagines he’d be squirming in pain. “I want to self-assess myself. Besides…I have promises to keep.” 

She understands. He knows she does. The Insect Hashira gazes out the window, and a small sigh leaves her chest. “Your fatal injuries have been healed by the peculiar blood demon art of young Kamado’s sister.”

He nods. Remarkable. He thought that would be his last battle, and he’d have passed without regret into the land of Yomi. Nevertheless, his gratitude is boundless.

“... your muscle and organ tissue has regenerated and there was no internal bleeding. However, there is still some damage to several vertebrae in your spine, severe trauma to your head I’ve not fully assessed yet, and you have eight fractured ribs.”

“Hah, I can feel them, too! I miscalculated by one, I thought there were seven.”

She looks his way, with that odd expression people sometimes have when he sounds unreasonably high-spirited. He supposes not everyone shares the same outlook, and that’s all well. But what use is there to bow down in dismay and accept the worst life throws my way? 

“Your left eye was smashed, and irrecoverable,” Kocho goes on. “We removed it with surgery and placed an implant inside to fill the empty eye socket. The recovery period in these cases is typically a year, as now you must adapt to your monocular status. But this also depends on the individual, and… this might mean alterations to your fighting style, of course.” She rises and picks up the tray. “I’m convinced that with time, you can return to a state allowing you to perform your duties. For now, please rest, that is a foremost priority.”

My friend, you know all too well that time is never on a demon slayer’s side. “Thank you, Kocho.”  She is right, though: he does feel exhausted, as though he’d climbed a mountain without rest or ever reaching the summit. Expected, though bothersome.

“We’ll do our best to help your recovery. Aoi will return later to change your bandages,” Kocho adds.

Rengoku turns his head as Kocho greets someone on her way out, and sees you, standing in the doorway. “Hello.”

“Hello.”

“You heard?”

You nod, nearing the bed. “Ms. Kocho told me of it all while you were asleep.”

“I’m sorry.”

You tilt your head in bemusement. “What ever for?”

“Because, I won’t be able to help with your training for a while.”

You’ve been at his side often. While in a coma, even if he couldn’t react, even if his body wouldn’t listen, he knew you were there. The thought is a warm one, a foreign sensation: different from the heat bursting in his body during a fight. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look forward to your visits even now, to see how you’re faring, to hear the latest news on the Corps.

“No,” your voice brings him out of his thoughts, “but that does mean I can help you. When you’re ready, that is,” you add quickly. “With rehabilitation training.” 

“Of course!” The fatigue in his body is stubborn, clinging to him like heavy wet wool. “And… I don’t believe I’ve told you this yet: I’m happy you returned safely.”

You look away, appearing utterly miserable. It confuses him. Rengoku’s seen that shadow in his father’s eyes countless times, so often he can’t stand it: self-loathing.

“Forgive me, Master. I should have been able to do more, after all you strived to teach me. I… I could barely be of any use.”

But you were there, you helped protect all those people. You did your part. “You were unflinching, fast, and aided those who needed it precisely like I taught you. You are rank Kinoe, and what's your demon kill count?”

“Thirty-two.”

“There… now that I think about it, even without further guidance from me or anyone else, you’ll make Hashira soon! Our numbers are dwindling while demon activity increases. You’ve seen it. This is a struggle that needs all of us.” Rengoku pauses. The word ‘need’ felt odd coming from his mouth. But the statement is true. Why does it feel incomplete when he says it to your face?

You look down at your hands. “How can you do it?”

He blinks, frowning. “Do what?”

“Be so supportive and encouraging even when you’re lying broken in an infirmary bed. Sometimes… sometimes you are so very strange, Master.”

You do say that to him often, though less so than before. A smile trembles on your lips—it took you a long time to smile again, he recalls. 

“I merely speak the truth…” He can barely stay awake. The slow drip of liquid in the IV infusion is magnified, drowning out all other sounds, and your face becomes hazy as he drifts away.

Three years prior

The path of blood leads straight into the farmhouse, looking as though someone had been dragged inside by force.

His eyes narrow, and he centers his breaths as he walks forward with his blade drawn. The silence of the glade is eerie, the reek of decay nauseating in the heat of this humid summer.

Soon, he stands on the threshold. Two, there might be two of them. Near the farmhouse is a toolshed, he’ll look there next. Rengoku covers his mouth with his sleeve, eyes closing in pain.

The bodies lie there, some with scattered limbs. This was a family, no doubt about it. The brutality of the mutilation makes his stomach turn, but Rengoku steels his resolve, extending his senses for any hint of the entity’s presence: there is none. He sheathes his katana and enters the space proper. Three hours until dawn.

He descends to one knee, finding the fireplace in the middle is out, but the ashes are still warm. The tatami mats are sticky and stained dark. This all transpired recently. He reaches out a hand, touches an inert arm: not yet cold. Too late, I am too late. But I’ll find you, wherever you are, you damn beasts. 

It’s only due to his reflexes, honed with endless hours of training, that he turns around fast enough, leaping backward before the descending attack.

At first, he thinks it’s the demon, his katana at the ready.

“Don’t you dare touch them!” 

He pauses, nearly too late in avoiding the second strike. A girl’s voice, a human’s heartbeat. His arm shoots out, catching the wooden staff in a strong grip. 

You’re panting, eyes wild and glimmering in the moonlit night. “Let—go!”

“Wait, I’m not an enemy!” he says, taking a better look at you, still holding your makeshift weapon even as you try to wrest it from his hand. 

“How do I know that! Demon!” Your voice is hoarse. Half your face is caked in drying blood, and there must be multiple injuries on your body judging by the torn clothing and the widening dark stains. 

“I’m not a demon,” he speaks calmly but urgently. “I hunt them. Please, they may still be close.”

You jerk your chin towards a corner of the room. “I had him… I don’t need you. Get out of my home!” you yell, more desperate with each word. “Get out, get out, get out!”

Another body lies there in the dark, slitted pupils dark against its milky eyes. The head had been nearly completely crushed. Rengoku freezes in disbelief. You did this? Alone? “Wait, you don’t understand, there’s another—”

A loud crash severs his words as the ceiling collapses, and he barely has time to leap forward, catch you in his arms, and throw himself outside. He rolls onto the ground, pain erupting in his left shoulder with the impact. When he opens his eyes you’re there, safely held against him, face tearstained and body rigid with shock.

But there’s no time to explain further—he feels it. The gurgle of inhuman hunger as a figure emerges from the wreckage of the farmhouse, eyes fixed on them. It does not speak, but growls in hunger; it must be of the feral kind, no reasoning left as the transformation rotted its memories. 

Rengoku rises, changing his stance. “Stand back,” he urges, looking over his shoulder at you as you struggle with your own body. He looks back ahead, grinds his teeth, his breathing attuned to his thought. 

First Form: Unknowing Fire.

It doesn’t last long. He’s been running from mission to mission, dispensing with different kinds of fiends, and this was yet another run in a long chain that will only end with his own life. 

Once the head is removed, the battle is over. Sometimes there is someone left to check on after the fact; often, there isn’t. But now, Rengoku hurries towards you, descending and slipping a hand under your back, aiding you to sit. “Where are you hurt?”

“Thank you,” you say instead, eyes glazing over. He hopes the Kakushi will get here soon. You point towards your ruined home. “Set it ablaze… please.” 

“Hey, hey, stay awake!” Rengoku urges even as your body turns heavier and your eyes roll back. 

He expected this to come. Kneeling and with his forehead pressed to the ground he sits still, prostrated before the leader of the Demon Slayer Corps. 

A voice like the lull of spring reaches him, setting his worries aside. In his heart, he thinks he’s done what is right.

“Rank Kinoe Rengoku Kyojuro, you are summoned to explain why you have brought a non-combatant to headquarters, instead of having the Kakushi transport them to a civilian hospital.”

“Master, the girl shows extraordinary potential. Her family has been murdered by demons, and yet she managed to fell one before I arrived, alone, despite grievous wounds and bloodloss. Forgive me if I overstepped, but I believe…” 

“Go on.”

“I believe once her body heals and her focus returns, she will join the fight. I believe she will want to. If I'm wrong, I accept all consequences.”

“You sound fairly convinced of this, young Rengoku,” says Ubuyashiki Kagaya. “Though there is no reason to know for certain one way or the other.”

He stays quiet, his heart raging in his chest. It will all depend on you, of course. You may want to have nothing to do with this. 

“But… you’ve not failed us thus far. I will allow it.”

“Gratitude, Master.” And then, almost in the same breath, “If she chooses this, I will guide her myself.”

TBC

[clarepreed]

Micro-Story: Faulty

Story Content and Summary: 1,750 words. Micah's wife succumbs to a fault in a futuristic prosthetic heart. No EMS. On-site resuscitation.

--

Fuck!

The way she fell, first stiffening, then going boneless and collapsing in a heap before he could reach her. The way she fell, her face slack and her eyes rolling back. The way she fell pulled a silent curse from him, one he kept repeating as he skidded to his knees beside her, the accidental impact of his body rocking hers in the dirt.

“FUCK!” Micah finally shouted, losing control, his hands shaking as he reached for her, already knowing what was wrong as his fingers pressed into her neck.

Goddamn artificial heart. First mass-produced cardiac replacement piece of shit!

The artery beneath his fingers lay still, and her light eyes stared half-lidded up at him, even as her mouth slanted open and her lungs stuttered air.

Recalled.

He unzipped her coat and spread it wide, then dug in his pocket for his knife, flipping it open. Her hands curled, body shaking as her brain freaked the fuck out at the sudden lack of oxygenated blood. Micah sliced his blade through the collar of her t-shirt, then tossed his knife to the side and gripped her shirt with both hands. The shirt tore down to her navel and he spread the fabric wide open, reaching next for the small, rectangular lump just below her collarbone and above the cups of her lavender bra.

Recalled, and a fucking waiting list…

He pressed the center of the implant, just like he’d pantomimed with her before, when he’d printed the reset instructions from the manufacturer’s website. This time, he felt a button click, depressing firmly and then popping back up beneath his fingers.

“Come on, Gretchen,” he breathed, quiet now as he reached for the butterfly clasp of her bra. He popped it open as she gave another rattling agonal breath, quickly spreading the cups and sliding his fingers down to the tiny display implanted laterally. The miniature monitor glowed red, awakening with the activation of her reset button. He pressed the center of the glowing light three times, initiating the reset sequence.

Stay calm! the instructions had advised. The heart WILL restart!

“I’ve got you,” Micah gasped, his hands skimming over her chest and settling low on her sternum, along the line of her first surgery scar.

Okay. I have to be her heart and lungs until the device restarts. 

He linked his fingers, rolled his shoulders over his hands, and started pumping.

“One, two, three…”

His mind flashed back to the little practice mannequin he’d bought and subsequently worn out in the basement where she couldn’t see him desperately trying to learn. Terrified that one day, before she could get in to surgery, her replacement heart would glitch out and take Gretchen away from him forever. 

What good is a heart that resumes beating ten, twenty, forty-five minutes later if her brain is dead?

“…thirty!” Micah leaned down and quickly tipped her head back before pinching her nose closed and drawing a deep breath. Strands of her silken hair clung to her face and his fingers as he gripped her jaw with his other hand. He held her mouth open and covered her lips with his, exhaling, watching her chest rise out of the corner of his eye. Micah broke the seal and felt his recycled air waft over his face before giving her a second.

He returned to her chest, his voice shaking as he started counting. Gretchen’s ribcage sank and her breasts wobbled as he worked, the force rocking her head from side to side. Each time he pressed down, her navel popped up in a harsh seesaw motion. Her shoulders shrugged rhythmically, body bending to the force of his love.

“Huh, huh, huh…” Breathless sounds slipped from her parted lips as he reached thirty again.

Her soft mouth beneath his felt lifeless, already cool to the touch of his overheated skin. Another breath, her cheeks rounding out, neck swelling slightly as the breath made its way down her airway. Micah turned, quickly getting back into position for compressions, his hands skimming her smooth skin as he found his landmark.

“One, two, three…” Her breast felt soft under his fingers as the heel of his stacked hands thrust into her. Her nipples, erect in the cool autumn air, pointed briefly inward with each hard compression. Oblong tracks appeared in the dirt beneath her slim-fingered as her body danced to the rhythm of his thrusts.

“…twelve, thirteen…”

Her brainstem stopped trying to make her breathe as her eyes locked on nothing, already glassy with death. Shadows gathered beneath her eyes.

“…eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…”

A glance down toward her feet showed him that her entire body twitched with each thrust, legs rocking, toes drawing little circles in the air.

“Please, Gretchen!” he begged, before giving her another deep breath. Her breasts swelled once, twice. His eyes darted to the illuminated display in her side as he resumed chest compressions. One line, regular and jagged, represented his chest compressions. The second line, however, lay flat. Asystole.

“…nine, ten, eleven, twelve…”

Micah rocked into her chest, forcing himself to work as perfectly as he was capable, judging his compression depth with a critical eye and keeping the rhythm going as he counted. Each harsh thrust forced her sternum to squeeze blood from the useless artificial organ. As he pressed, her belly rounded against the waistband of her leggings, the hollow of her navel riding the crest of each wave. Sunlight stretching through the canopy dappled her body, leaves rustling as he shifted on his knees. A snoring sound abruptly emitted from Gretchen’s throat.

“…Christ! Thirty!” He sucked in a breath and covered her mouth with his, closing her nostrils just in time. Again, the air puffed out her cheeks and throat visibly. A thin string of saliva pulled between them as he broke the seal long enough to let her body exhale. Micah pressed his lips to hers again and gave her another breath. Then his hands slammed back into the center of her chest, fingers quickly linking. “One, two, three, four…”

“Hurk, huh, huh, hurk…”

“…nine, ten…” Her chest popped, the sensation crackling under his palm. He kept at it, watching her sternum and ribcage sink and bob beneath the strength of his pumping arms as he hoped, begged, that his effort was good enough.

“…sixteen, seventeen, eighteen…” Watching the wave of force ripple down her abdomen, eyes burning, he choked back the tears that threatened to fall.

Let this be enough. Let me be enough…

As he bent for mouth-to-mouth, he thought of her that morning, legs spread wide beneath him, mouth ripe for the taking, skin so soft as he stroked her. Now, she lay lifeless beneath him, her mouth slack and her eyes staring as he forced air into her silent lungs. The flat line on her prosthetic monitor haunted him as he shifted back over her bruised, motionless chest. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, even as the sensation of her body softening under his hands sent a wave of nausea rolling through him.

“…nine, please just start beating, fuck, come on! PLEASE! Fifteen, sixteen…” Micah worked desperately, letting his weight fall into his hands. She made abortive grunts as he thrust down into her chest, air escaping her lungs in harsh wheezes. “…twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty—”

BEEEEEEEP! An artificial sound cut through his panic.

“Gretchen?!” Micah leaned closer, hands shifting to frame the heart prosthesis screen. The chest compression line disappeared, but beneath it, where the flatline had been…

A rhythm!

“Gretchen!” Micah lunged, planting his hands to either side of her head. Her face tipped slightly to the side, skin ashen, eyelids slightly lifted. He moved one hand to her face, patting her cheek gently at first, then harder. “Honey? Gretchen!” Micah’s eyes trailed over her mottled chest, looking for signs of life. Despite her beating heart, Gretchen remained completely still. 

He moved a hand over her mouth, suspicion leading him to feel for breath that apparently wasn’t coming. Fear made him shiver as he bent to open her airway and tip his ear close to her pale lips. He hovered there, silently counting out the seconds as the dead air spread between them. 

With a groan of anguish, Micah crashed his mouth into hers, the angle of his face blocking her nostrils as he filled her lungs, pressure forcing a buzz of air out of the corners of their mouths. He pulled back enough to feel the air drift across his face, remembering then to pinch her nose. His eyes grazed the display embedded into her side, reassuring himself that the artificial heart still beat. Then he gave her another breath, the fingers of his other hand gently stroking the soft skin of her throat as it expanded beneath his fingertips.

“Please, Gretchen…” His plea came out quiet and broken. “I was right here. I helped you. Please!”

Another breath. His mind filled with awful thoughts. Gretchen dead, Marcus forced to sign paperwork to remove the heart surgically prior to her burial. Gretchen in long-term care, unable to recognize him or care for herself. His Gretchen, dead as her body lived. His eyes grew wet as he exhaled a fourth breath. 

As he broke the seal, Gretchen flinched beneath him and sucked in a shallow, ragged breath. Micah gasped and cupped her face with both hands, watching as her eyelids fluttered. “That’s it, Gretchen! Just breathe! You’re okay. I love you, you’re okay!” He shook with relief, his eyes blurring with tears as she coughed and gasped and moved her hands weakly. She curled them onto her chest, covering the redness there and letting out a soft groan.

Micah brushed her hair back from her face and then covered her hands with his. “I’m sorry. I know you’re in pain. Just open your eyes for me so I know you’re alright.”

Gretchen complied, her eyelids peeling open. She blinked several times before her eyes focused, latching on to his own. “Micah,” she whispered, barely audible. 

Micah shuddered and curled over her, pressing his forehead to hers and choking out: “Thank you… Thank you! Oh, I love you…”

“Love you…” she wheezed. “S’okay…”

His fingers threading in her hair, Micah wept.

[anexperimentallife]

We should find out soon if I need bone grafts and/or implants for my mouth. It will depend on whether I have enough inner jawbone left to retain regular dentures (they're making another set now to see if they can adjust them enough to stay in)--If not, we have to figure out if there's enough bone left for four implants (to hold dentures in), and whether that would be cheaper than the bone graft surgery (or if BOTH are needed--because the worst bone loss is RIGHT where the rear implants would need to go).

The good news is that my oral surgeon is offering to discount the surgery by quite a bit if it is needed, so it'd only take me maybe five or so years to save up the cash for it, assuming no other emergencies in the meantime and I let my other surgeries slide.

Honestly, if we can get this and my throat surgery taken care of within the next year or two, my hip, knee, and (possible) spine surgeries can wait. Yeah, it's a lot of pain, and I have to curtail walking activities, but I can get around on my cuff crutches most of the time as long as I don't overdo it.

It's frustrating, though, because if the contract to adapt my story to a game hadn't been canceled, AND if El's birth certificate error (which left her stateless) hadn't coincided with a pandemic and cost us our entire savings PLUS donations to correct, AND if I hadn't had COVID FOUR FUCKING TIMES, AND if COVID/Long COVID hadn't fucked up my eye and heart and immune system and general health so much, we'd be so much better off financially and health-wise.

We're fine for day-to day stuff; no worries about rent or groceries or anything like that, even with paying off all the debt from the birth certificate/citizenship snafu (Long story short: We're both US citizens, but had our daughter here in the Philippines, and a birth certificate screw-up left her stateless just as our visas were expiring and in need of a renewal trip, meaning it cost a LOT to be able to stay in-country with her until we could get that sorted so she could travel with us).

It's just the stuff that requires several hundred (or in some cases thousands) of dollars up front that fucks us up. Like, all my oral stuff is cash only, because you can only really use a credit card for most medical/dental stuff here if you're admitted to a hospital as an inpatient. No, I don't know why. So I can probably put my throat and other surgeries on credit cards, but we have to pay down our debt more before I'm comfortable doing that.