#like i woke up with a bloody tissue stuffed up my nose

[aggressionbread]

my sinuses are extremely clogged and painful, my face hurts a whole bunch but the worst part is the area around my gums where i had one of my wisdom teeth out a year ago is so sensitive and hurts so bad i can barely move my face, and when i blow my nose or sniffle i get a sharp pain in my wisdom tooth hole, just that one

[pumpkin-spice-whump-latte]

Unfixable: Carlos

I didn’t really understand how fun it was to cut your own character to pieces until I wrote it. 

briefly references #17: Stay With Me 

might have been what was happening during #18: Muffled Scream, or at least for part of it

tagging @straight-to-the-pain because they inspired me~

content includes: VIVISECTION, descriptive gore, blood, intimate whumper, creepy whumper, noncon touching, passing out, and because I can’t seem to go a few days without it, torture

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Carlos thought at first that someone had set him on fire.

He came to with a sharp, deeply violent burning in his midsection, making him gasp and squirm against the leather straps that held his ankles and wrists. There was nowhere to hide from it though; he couldn’t even curl up on himself. The only thing he could do was look down and see–

See Dr. Tillman cutting into him with a scalpel.

He let out a blood curdling scream, prompting the scientist to glance up from his work with a small smile.

“Ah, good. You’re awake.” The burning Carlos had felt had been his body trying to process the pain of something very sharp opening a bloody, fleshy line through the muscles of his abdomen. It carved it’s way down in a long diagonal line, upper right all the way down to left hip, slicing through layers of skin and muscle. His entire body tried to thrash away from the pain, back arching up as far as it could from the operating table, but the blade always followed him wherever he tried to wiggle. Soon enough the scientist had a hand down against him, forcing him to be still as he finished opening a bloody mouth where there should never have been one.

Carlos tugged at his restraints, panic gripping him and turning his blood to ice. Turning his will to live into something stronger than his common sense, and he would have torn off his own limbs or broken a damn bone if it meant getting away from the horror and pain. But with all that screaming and struggling he only succeeded in getting a gentle hand petting through his hair. Trailing blood along his forehead in little warm, drippy lines.

“Oh, shh. Shh, shhh now. Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing. I’m a man of science.” When Carlos met Tillman’s eyes he could see a strange glint behind them. The normally placid, detached blue was glassy, the pupils blown. There was a fire that danced behind those eyes that just made everything feel that much more Wrong.

A dread settled deep within him then. Bigger than the fear. More ancient even than pain.

Then the scientist made another incision, this time in an opposite diagonal line across the first. It made a large X across Carlos’ stomach, and then he couldn’t see those doom-bringer eyes anymore. He couldn’t see anything anymore as he threw his head back and screeched against the pain. This time he was only answered with a low, dark chuckle. Tillman was amused and Carlos actually might have laughed too. He might have laughed and laughed and laughed until he went crazy, because that seemed like a better fate than staying lucid for this. He thought that at the very least he might pass out from the agony, from the shattering knowledge that he was being cut open and couldn’t stop it, but blessed darkness never came.

A few moments later he could feel cool air rushing against a part of him that hadn’t ever been meant to feel it. He felt the four cross sections of his skin being pulled back and clamped open, so that when he dared to glance back down…

He could see himself. The inside of himself. Dark red like murder, wet and sloppy looking, and terrifyingly vulnerable.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME? WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?” His words came out sharp with rage and fear. Bruised with pain. None of the monolithic dread yet but that’s because Carlos was still, in part, himself. He still had a good bit of his own fire.

Tillman only slipped two gloved fingers into the mass of his blood and guts. “You’re doing very, very good Carlos. Hang in there my boy. Wasn’t time for… For any anesthetic. You were fading fast. Had to do something.” Carlos could barely keep up with what was being said, let alone understand any of it. He was too busy feeling every soft, intimate drag of those fingers as they practically fucked into him. Some perverse imitation of a lover. All the while Tillman’s eyes held Carlos’ gaze captive, not allowing him to look away or deny this was really happening to his own body.

“Arrg… Stop! PLEASE!” His chest heaved, beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, and the rest of him shuddered helplessly as Tillman sank his hand further into his guts. It made a sickening squelching sound that he could somehow hear between his panting and rising sobs.

Before today he’d had no idea you could feel someone touching you inside like that. He’d never had occasion to even need to think about it. But no, no. There were nerve endings even along the deepest curve of his lower intestine, ones that only knew a song of pain and nothing else. He was learning about them today mothers and fuckers and they were singing a backup chorus to his nearly broken screams.

“You see organs… Don’t lie.” Dr. Tillman spoke above him in little more than a hushed whisper, but every word still stabbed into him like a knife. Like a surgeon’s scalpel. Like two fingers, and then five, and a hand curling oh-so-gently and carefully around something deep within him and sending a sensation of awful pressure and hammering pain.

“They may fail, eventually, but it isn’t their fault. They spend their lives as diligent, loyal subjects of the body. So fragile and yet… So strong at the same time.”

Carlos only heard this as a faint buzzing that might have been words. He couldn’t take a full breath, sucking in little gasps of air between hitching sobs as fat tears rolled down the sides of his face. His eyes were saucer wide and shining, he was burning, his whole being was a quivering mass of blood and guts and fire and it would never stop. His brain wouldn’t let him just pass–

___

When he opened his eyes again Tillman was still there. Carlos let out a moan of agony as the pain reintroduced itself (how do you do?) and as the scientist raised one gore covered finger to Carlos’ neck. How long had he even been out? A couple minutes? He swept his gaze down across his bloody chest to his lower body. Things looked basically the same. He still looked like a messy peeled fruit and he cursed his brain and body for only letting him escape this for a few minutes instead of nuking his entire consciousness till he woke up somewhere with less horror. What a bitch.

That finger–that finger that had just been inside him–traced a slow, deliberate line straight across Carlos’ neck as Tillman stared down at his captive. He looked like an abandoned lighthouse. The lamp was shining, sure, but nobody was home. “I could just kill you now. Slit your thhhhhhroat, my d-dear boy.”

“Then do it! F-fu-UCK YOU MOTHERFUCKER DO IT.” No matter how scared he was, no matter how much pain made him stumble through the words, he’d still say them. He was determined to say them till he fucking died.

Tillman leaned in close. One of his hands was still buried in Carlos’ abdominal cavity, and this time it wriggled a gentle path upwards. He felt knuckles brush against his ribs. The tissue that cradled his lungs and heart. He felt the soft wetness of Tillman’s tongue as it licked over the blood line on his neck. “I might as well kill you. You can n-never be fixed. No matter what I…what I do…” His awful minty breath tickled against Carlos’ cheek. Tears cooled against his skin as he shook in his restraints and tried desperately not to feel the scientist counting his ribs from the inside. He wondered how long he could even last, opened up like this, and why he hadn’t already died.

Maybe he was already dead.

Maybe he was in hell.

___

He’d passed out again without realizing it, the only evidence being that one moment Tillman was squeezing his internal organs like they were his personal stress balls, the next he was standing over Carlos with a bloody mass in his hand.

“Is that… Is that my…?” He was so cold. He was shaking all over but still so damned cold.

“Kidney? Why, yes. It’s quite bad. See?” The scientist held Carlos’ own kidney up under his nose for his inspection, but he could see nothing wrong with it. He knew with a kind of sickening certainty that there had been nothing wrong with it.

“I’m afraid that’s all we can do. There’s so much e-else that I could… Fix. In here.” The scientist paused to turn his vacant gaze back down to Carlos’ ruined insides. A long coil of his intestines lay limply against his hip. He could see a shock of white bone somewhere. 

“I’m going to have to ask you to please stay silent now while I stitch things back up. You squeal very nicely but I need to concentrate now, dear boy.”

A thick wad of gauze bandages was stuffed deep into Carlos’ mouth, and he made some kind of sound around them. Defiance? Pleading? He wasn’t sure anymore. Tillman reached a hand in again and this time found something hard. Something boney. It was his spi–

___

Moving through the hallway. Ceiling passing by like dull clouds of stucco. The pain had followed him even here. It would never stop stalking behind him. How much blood had he lost? Where was Ben? How much blood can someone even–

___

A kitchen. A warm kitchen and a fleeting feeling of being safe. Ben was there. Ben couldn’t stay. It was better that way though. The pain would eat Ben if he stayed. The world shook and the pain gobbled Carlos whole.

___

“…subject responding well to the replacement?….”

“…at least another week in recov…”

“…can’t be sure the body won’t reject…”

“…of course we included the tracking devi…”

“….the normal payment of course, Dr. Till…”

___

When he looked down again his insides were back on the inside. He touched a couple shaking fingers to the healing X scar that marred his entire torso. Ugly staples made ugly railroads across his body. The pain had stayed, but it was drowned enough to stop screaming. Why bother giving him pain meds now?? Carlos tried to focus on the surroundings of the room. Was this a hospital? Was…was he actually OUT??

Tillman stepped into his field of vision like a satellite passing over the sun and blotting out it’s light. His eyes were back to Detached Doctor mode.

“Good afternoon. And how are we feeling?”

There was a smudge of red at the corner of Tillman’s placid mouth.

Carlos opened his own and screamed.

[the1idontshowppleatwork]

I literally pick the best moments to write :D Okay, this is ‘part 2′ of timeline break for Said and Done (Jack’s family is a wee bit more overbearing on the subject of his mental health so he finishes his MSN and misses out on SEP). Also, a test run for Jack’s POV which is not featured in Said and Done itself outside of one or two brief instances. (Would be nice if someone would drop a comment about wanting to read more of Jack’s POV or not). Part 1 with Gabriel’s POV below.

*

For Jack Morrison, on the other hand, the whole day (nearing his twenty-sixth hour since the last time he managed to sneak an hour-long nap in transit) was going to hell in a handbasket. In his own humble opinion, the command and the military intelligence (an oxymoron, as he heard it referred to colloquially quite often) have collectively shat their own bed but who was he to judge? The whole situation was fubar. Fucktangular. Fucktastic without the 'tastic' part. Evacuating the force this size under active enemy fire was an impossible feat. Well, at least until Strike Force arrived to try and slow the growing tide of Omnics which gave them time and opportunity to get to more of the wounded that otherwise would have been left behind as 'acceptable losses'.

And it seemed that it had worked - for some time - until one of them managed to blow himself up on a mine, or something. Figures.

Jack sent the last stretcher back and hunkered down next to them. The woman was already putting down the biotic field when he shouted over the noise.

"Have you checked for shrapnel and bullets?"

"We don't have time!"

"There's time on evac!"

And that's how Jack ended with his nose broken while almost up to his elbow in someone's intestines because the motherfucker just woke up and swung. Really, he should get a medal for not ripping anything more than it already was, and another one for extracting the metal junk when almost choking on the blood that went down his throat. Maybe, even a third medal was deserved for finishing the sutures.

"Okay, you can run the field now," Jack muttered stuffing a torn off part of his own undershirt into his nasal cavities, "and I'm going to lie down and sleep. Wake me when we get there," he added looking at his watch. "I'll need to run some checks on site."

Luck would have it that was one of the fancy crafts and Jack only got half an hour in, definitely too little, but his life was always this shifty mean little fucker that threw curveballs every chance it got.

The base was a small temporary unit running on a skeleton crew with no real medical facilities, with evac orders standing for the next ten hours. Jack spent the first hour calmly screaming at a changing gallery of different bureaucrats through his comms until he got to Colonel Ramiz. At least the rest of Strike Team had fun listening in judging by the comments and the occasional sniggering.

"Sir, with all due respect," by which Jack meant no respect whatsoever, "I want you to know that I have a so-called supersoldier with shrapnel in his stomach, and I need very precise information on how to treat him if he's to be of any use in a day or two. Yeah, sir, I can see how you're just going to fly someone with enough clearance here within the closest two hours," the sarcasm was palatable. "Yes, sir, I know this obviously is a strictly need-to-know basis, so I'm asking you to patch me to Achan Nguyen on the secure channel. Oh, just tell her it's her brother calling, John Francis Morrison."

There it was, the incredulous 'Francis' in the background, and Jack turned to glare.

"Yes, Colonel, sir, 'that' John Francis Morri... Motherfucker!" The line clicked off but then connected again after few seconds. "Hey, sis. Yeah, I'm good. Clusterfuck. Mhm. No, no, sis, I'm good. I got one Gabriel Reyes, shrapnel in the abdominal cavity, removed, stitched as well as I could, but they got those new gen biotics, and the first scan showed abnormal growths on internal... Yeah. No, I can do it, but he goes through anesthesia like candy, and I'd prefer he doesn't break anything more than my nose. No, that all good... Okay, give me a sec," Jack frantically searched for a pen and paper to take notes. "Wow. This would kill an elephant. Thank, sis. Give love to the rest. Yeah, I'm taking care. Yeah, I'm taking my pills diligently. Could you stop embarrassing me in front of the whole Strike Team? Bye. Yes, bye, I'm disconnecting."

Scavenging the needed drugs took about half an hour, another half hour he spent mixing everything together, just in time for the sleeping princess to start coming to. After it became obvious his patient was really out of it, Jack decided to have some fun because, really, who could blame him after a day like this? The guy broke his nose while he just wanted to help, and anyway, he was up and standing only thanks to the copious amounts of caffeine and sheer spite.

"...and, with all due respect, sir, if you try to move your arse from the bed, I'm authorized to jab you with this very big and very blunt syringe full of very complex chemicals with very long names, of which at least two are classified as regular poison, and I'm told they will put you under for around five hours," Jack let his mouth run on autopilot at the man staring at him with something akin to awestruck expression on his face.

"Marry me...?" 

"Did you just proposition me, sir?" Jack blinked. He had his previous patients tell him some strange things under the influence but this was a first.

"Yeah, I did...?" There was a genuine wonder to be heard in the hoarse voice.

"I think trying to bribe a medical officer with sexual favors does classify as a syringe-worthy offense," Jack snickered and stabbed him in the arm with the aforementioned syringe. The cocktail worked wonders.

"So, how's the patient doing?" The woman stood leaning on the doorframe. "Ana Amari."

"Good. And the name's Jack," he muttered while focusing on the image on the scanner.

"Not 'John Francis'?"

"John's my father, and Francis was my grandpa," Jack cut away another fold of new tissue. "Before you ask, you use prototype biotics, they're good, very good, but they're only machines and do what they're programmed to, and do it good, but they get confused when it's more complicated than just rebuilding, like, you know, they go batshit crazy on complicated injuries like here, and coupled with abnormal healing factor, there's going to be additional growths and things stick together, that shouldn't be. Get stuck together, I mean."

"You seem to know a lot about this, Jack," Ana nodded.

"Yeah, you get to use this shit, they teach us about this shit, and sorry, I'm really tired right now, can't really focus on two things at once. Can you hand me the blue laser-pointer looking thingy?" Jack extended his bloodied and towards her. "Yeah, that one. Topical biotics. And my sister was, is, involved in the program, and I really shouldn't be talking about that but screw that, I'll probably get court martial about the whole clusterfuck anyway."

"I'm sure we can put in a good word, or two, on your behalf," Ana smirked.

"Oh, yeah, would be nice, but first let me sleep for a day or two in the brig, can you?" Jack stitched the incision and then applied the nanomachines over it. "He should be waking up in around an hour, and probably be at ninety, ninety-five percent on evac, regardless, you should have him go through a full physical at the closest possible time because there might be still things that slipped past me. Definitely, there are. But," Jack fell into the chair next to the bed with a feeling he would not be getting out of it again, "probably nothing of the kind that's life-threatening or very inconvenient. More than usual. What's his usual anyway?"

"Dorky grumpy," Jack had to admit Ana had very pleasant laughter. "You are going with us, by the way, I'll make him apologize."

"It was nice even if he was tripping balls."

"What, breaking your nose?"

"Oh, that. Sorry," Jack slurred feeling consciousness leaving him. "Need to sleep..."

And then, there was only sweet darkness.

[mcschnuggles]

i don't do titles whoops

Rich groaned as he woke up. His head hurts and he feels extremely sluggish. He’s not even hungover! He hasn’t gotten drunk in a month!

He just wants to go back to bed, but he knows he has to get up and go to school. Sighing, he rolled out of bed and into the bathroom. He brushed his teeth and threw on some sweats, not really caring about his appearance for the moment. Rich scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes and put his backpack on, finally beginning his journey to school.

—

“Rich, please answer number 6 for the class.”

Rich jumped and looked up at the board, squinting at the math equation up there. “Um…thixty-theven?”

“Close–sixty-six. To get the answer….”

Rich sighed and slumped back in his seat. He wants to go home, but it’s only third period. He still has 3 hours to go.

“Hey, Rich?” Michael whispered. He moved his desk closer to the other boy. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sure? You’re acting kind of…strange…. And you’re sucking on your fingers….”

Rich blushed and pulled his fingers away from his mouth. He didn’t even realize that…. “Yeah, I’m just kind of tired….”

Michael seemed unconvinced, but left it alone for the time being.

Finally the bell rung and Rich jumped out of his seat to go to lunch. On his way to the cafeteria, somebody tripped him. He fell right on his face. He slowly lifted his head and felt blood pouring out of his nose. Rich’s breathing picked up and he started crying.

Michael ran through the halls and helped Rich stand up. They walked into the bathroom and Michael locked the doors.

“Are you okay, Rich?” Michael asked, rubbing Rich’s back soothingly.

“Hurtth!” Rich sobbed.

Michael frowned sympathetically and grabbed some toilet paper for Rich’s bloody nose. “I know it hurts, buddy. Do you know who tripped you?”

Rich shrugged. “No!”

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re going to be okay. How about we leave early today and we’ll get you home? You can get in a diaper and some comfy pajamas and we’ll watch a movie or color!”

Rich’s face contorted into one of confusion. “H-huh? What d'you mean?”

Michael’s heart stopped. Did he get it wrong? Is Rich not little…? “I…thought…do you age regress?”

Rich paled. “N-no….”

“Oh! I thought that since you were sucking your fingers earlier and kinda crying a lot…. Je–somebody I know regresses and you’ve been acting like them when they’re trying to suppress their little side…. It never works.” Michael shook his head, sighing at the thought of his friend.

Rich opened his mouth to speak, but instead cringed in pain as a memory flew to the front of his mind.

**He’s sitting up in bed wearing a diaper and a plain blue t-shirt, a pacifier in his mouth. Some cartoon is on the TV, as background noise while he tries to color even with a soft, stuffed rabbit is in his hands, and a bottle of apple juice not too far off. His squip stood next to his bed, watching with his arms crossed.**

Rich looked up at Michael’s worried face. “I…I blocked pretty much all my memorieths of the thquip out of my brain, thso I gueth I didn’t remember that I would thometimeth do that….”

Michael nodded, thoughtfully. “Do you remember how you felt when you would regress? Or afterwards?”

“Calm,” Rich replied after a moment. “Good….”

“Okay. Well, if you want, I can take care of you for a while. It’s really not good to repress your little side.”

“…What if I don’t want to be little?”

“Well…I won’t force you or anything, but I think it would be good for you. I’m going to take you home either way. You can think about what you want on the way there. I’m okay with anything.”

Rich threw his bloody tissue away and followed Michael out to his car.

Michael parked in Rich’s driveway and smiled sadly when he looked to his right and saw Rich asleep with his head against the window.

Michael sent a quick text to Jeremy, letting him know where he went and finally lifted Rich out of the seat and carried him inside. He set him down on his bed and removed his shoes, tucking the boy in. Michael went out to the living room and sighed. He guesses he’ll stay here until Rich can wake up and tell him to go away.

—

When Rich finally woke up he felt…well, he couldn’t quite explain it, but it felt strangely familiar.

Rich slowly sat up in bed and brought his fingers up to his mouth, looking around his bedroom with wide eyes. His nose still hurts and his head hurts and he’s alone. Alone is bad. Alone is scary. Where’s Kip?

Rich dropped down to his feet and ran to the closet–his squip would sometimes hide in there when they played hide and seek!

Kip wasn’t there.

Rich saw his stuffed bunny, Foo-Foo, however, and picked him up, hugging him tightly. Rich felt his eyes fill with tears when the bedroom door finally opened.

“‘Ichael!” Rich cried, running over to him. “Kip?”

Michael frowned, confused as he hugged the toddler. “Kip? Your squip?”

Rich nodded, looking up with wet eyes and a pout.

Michael sighed and brought Rich to sit on the bed. “Rich…your squip went away, buddy. He was being really mean, so big you made him go away.”

Rich huffed. “Not mean! Taked care me!”

“I know he did, but he can’t anymore. I’m sorry. I know you miss him, but I’m here now. I’ll take care of you.”

Rich pulled his legs up to his chest and hid his face in his knees.

Michael sighed again, running his hand over his face. This is fine. Jeremy behaved almost exactly like this the first time he was little without his squip.

Michael heard tiny sniffles coming from Rich and looked over to see he had wet himself. Michael’s heart hurt. “Oh, buddy…. It’s okay. How about a nice warm bath? Would that make you feel better?”

Rich shrugged, but allowed Michael to pull him into the bathroom. He watched as the tub filled with water, but refused to put Foo-Foo down and get in.

“No! On'y if Foo-Foo come!”

“Your bunny will get all ruined if he comes and you need a bath,” Michael gently explained. “Foo-Foo can sit right here on the counter so you can still see him, but you can’t take him in the tub with you.”

Michael gently tugged the bunny out of Rich’s hand and set it on the counter before stripping Rich of his soiled clothes and lifting him into the tub. Rich sobbed the moment his bunny left his hands.

“I know, buddy, I know,” Michael cooed, “I’ll make this fast, okay? I promise.”

True to his word, the bath was very quick, but Michael managed to get a few giggles out of the boy, tickling him as he washed him.

Once in a towel, Rich pulled Foo-Foo back into his arms and stumbled out of the bathroom.

Michael let the toddler cuddle his bunny for a minute while he searched his closet to find some thick diapers with designs on them and a shirt with Winnie the Pooh on it.

Rich was already laying down on his bed when Michael turned around. He quickly diapered and dressed the boy, ignoring the way he whined when Foo-Foo was briefly out of his hands to put his shirt on him.

Rich climbed onto Michael’s lap after he was dressed and curled against his chest. “Thowrry for bein’ gwumpy….”

Michael smiled softly, hugging the boy tightly. “It’s okay, buddy. I’ll be here for as long as you want me.”

��- idk how to submit anonymously but oh well here you go cc: i been writing for 4 years but it STILL SUCKS (probs bc i don’t edit and only write when i’m sleep deprived ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ) lmk if i should continue this bc i have a lot of feelings and ideas i hope you enjoyed this even though it sucks

[aliceellablog]

Sick and Tired - (includes my M.E. story part 1)

It kinda seems like it's just one thing after another to be honest. So I woke up on Monday fully colded :( scrap that... I had the FLU!!!!!

Tissues stuffed up each nostril, Sudafed, Lemsips, Vix vapour rub in all the right places... (not there...ouch) and I could hardly get out of bed ... good times!!!

So I basically slept all of Monday and Tuesday... oh and I looked oh so god damn attractive while doing so...

Wednesday I could at least make it to the sofa to watch endless episodes of ‘Catfish’ with my housemates. I think we must have watched them all now- which is an impressive amount of catfishing agwarning!

The next few days consisted of mainly sneezing, coughing, a lot of snot, (how does one nose create SO MUCH?!?!?) eating cream eggs in the bath and watching so much ‘Line of Duty’ that I was pretty convinced I worked for AC-12.

It’s now Sunday and at least the sun is shining and its bladdy beautiful outside - apart from the wafts of blocked drains that keep finding their way up my luckily blocked nose. Rank.

Not much else has happened this week to be honest. I got chatted up by the local weirdo in our corner shop when I was wearing a ‘my little pony’ tracksuit, had no makeup on and looked like I was straight out of the walking dead. He kept asking my name and I replied that I’m not into talking to strangers and could he please leave me alone. His response was that all relationships start with strangers talking....eugh.... he was creepy AF. Then on the way home from said shop three drunk men tried to hug me. GO AWAY. I feel like I was giving out some sort of pheromones that day. Oh and when I ordered my fav Turkish takeaway I asked for ‘fries’ and they thought I said ‘rice’... when I got home I wanted rice.... and there it was! Oh god! what a FASCINATING week!!!!! COOL STORY BRO!!!

Flu will be flu, but I have to say that I am feeling stupidly positive today! And yesterday too actually! Normally when I get a cold or flu or whatever I turn into the biggest pile of woe is me you have ever seen and feel like the world has ended.... Instead... this time I feel like I can’t wait to be better from this and to then continue getting better from the M.E.

In fact. I’m gonna kick it in the balls. hard. 

Seeing as my week has been so interesting and totally worth the read... lols... I figure maybe it’s time for PART 1 of my M.E. story. Lord only knows how many parts there are going to be and how this is gonna turn out, but over the next few weeks maybe the whole story will be here...

Ok... where to begin... no freakin’ idea...I guess I will just type...tap tap tap...

I had a pretty great childhood in general, and was a happy and healthy kid. I mean, obviously I can think of loads of messed up things that happened and could go in to a whole load of crap, but I’m gonna start this story when I was 14. 

Those 14 years can be rambled on about some other time :)

Long story short...lol lets see if I can actually keep this short... I was at an all girls school in West Sussex, and life was pretty good!

I was popular enough, school was fine- My friends and I would put on ‘The Ali V Show’ at lunchtimes where I would improvise songs about everyone - friends, teachers etc and prance around like I was on the stage of a West End musical. I went to dance classes after school and competed at weekends, and did gymnastics too! Yep... I would be jumping about in a leotard and loving it! Oh how things change! I was also in the choir at school and used to enter talent shows dancing to Liberty X with high kicks all over the place - I did all kinds of crap, and loved it all. 

I was at that age where me and all my mates would go out drinking in the local park every weekend- we’re talking the finest WKD Blue, Smirnoff Ice and the odd bottle of Lambrini if we were feeling fancy ;) 

These weekends were the best. They were what we lived for. Getting silly drunk, kissing boys, and getting chased down the park alley ways by police dogs. There were loads of us, all hanging around the skate park, and it was all innocent fun really.... other than the under age drinking, but who didn’t do that?

Then we upped our game and started going to these club nights for over 14′s in creepy Crawley. Classy. Man I used to LOVE it!! Walking through the doors and feeling the music hit you in the chest - now I’m always just complaining that it’s too damn loud. Such a grandma.

So I THINK it was on one of these nights that I may have unknowingly slipped my poor little tongue into a horrible diseased mouth LOL and gone and got myself the Glandular Fever that has ruined my life. Great.

We used to play ‘the game’ where you’d have to kiss as many boys as you could and then when you’d get back to your mates house you’d be up all night telling each other all the details, whilst eating enough sweets to ensure you didn’t fall asleep first - cos that made you like super ‘uncool’.

Anyway, I’m not sure if I caught it at one of those nights or not, but Glandular Fever is known as the ‘kissing disease’ so it kinda maybe makes sense.... oops.

So I got really sick. Like a really bad flu. I didn’t think anything of it until I just kept not getting better. All my flu symptoms eventually went - the fevers, the snot (nice), the coughing etc but I just wasn’t feeling better like you usually would. 

Weeks would go by and I just didn’t feel well enough to go back to school. I was getting so miserable, missing my friends etc so much that I kept trying to force myself to go. I’d manage go in for the odd day and end up being sent home a few hours later. I could hardly keep my eyes open. 

My Mum had obviously written to the teachers and explained the situation but most of them were bloody horrible. I remember once calling my mum in tears asking her to come and pick me up and one of my Science teachers saw me on the phone and started shouting at me and took my phone off me. I explained I was calling my Mum cos I felt so ill but he didn’t give a shit and made me go back to class.

I had letters excluding me from having to do P.E. saying how exhausted I was and could I please not be made to get changed into my P.E. kit (not sure why they always made you when you weren’t even doing it) but they still made me.

I was SO weak. every little thing was a struggle. I also remember when Hayley and Holly (no hard feelings now gals) had such a go at me in front of everyone at lunch. 14 year olds could be so bitchy. They were saying I was faking being ill and that I was so lucky not to ‘have’ to go to school every day. I was gutted. They were my best friends, they were supposed to understand. I broke down and told them to fuck off. They then told the teachers that I swore at them (they also did a lot of swearing at me first FYI) and I was the one who got into trouble for it. What they had said to me was a million times more painful than a simple ‘fuck off’ outburst. ugh. No one understood.

It’s hard to explain- I was feeling so so ill all the time but trying desperately to make it into school and pretend that I was OK. In the end I just couldn’t make it in anymore and I think the last time I went was early in year 10. 

I had school work sent home to me and I did what I could in bed when I had the energy but things just got worse and worse. It got to a point where I didn’t have the strength to leave the house, or my bedroom and had to have my food and drinks brought up to me in my bed. 

My school friends would visit most weeks but understandably this got less and less and I don’t think they ever quite understood what I was going through. When all I could do is lay in bed all day and then I’d get a text from my friend saying ‘sorry I can’t make it round today hun I’m seeing my boyfriend’ or ‘I’ve got too much homework to do’ - I get it, but it’s like that visit was lit the only thing keeping me going.

During all of this I’d had no diagnosis. All of my blood tests were ‘normal’ and no one knew what was wrong with me. I think that’s why so many people thought I was ‘faking’ or didn’t understand. I’m so lucky that I did have friends who visited as much as they could, but it must have been awkward for them too, I’m sure they didn’t know what to say or do most of the time. 

So basically, years went by and I got progressively worse and worse. I would keep trying to do little things - my Mum (who is just beyond incredible and who would look after me every day) would get me into the car sometimes and just drive me around for a bit so that I could see sunlight, fields, animals, civilisation lol. We would mainly go out at around 5pm when the rabbits would come out and see if we could spot any. Now you tell me, that’s a teenagers idea of a good time right? OH DEEEEEAR!!! (I did enjoy it though hehehe)

During all of this I was of course seeing doctor after doctor trying to find out what was wrong with me. I was seeing all kinds of specialists and no one had a clue. Then I went to some big London hospital and saw the fittest doctor ever! (every cloud) It was then that they found a positive result in my blood tests for Glandular Fever. The thing is though that this was years after I had caught it and I was now kind of ‘better’ from the actual Glandular Fever and was just left like this. By this stage I was in a wheelchair. I couldn’t walk more than a few paces and could hardly eat either. At least I lost a few pounds...well a few stone actually! #win 

I could hardly even talk and when I was at my worst I could’t tolerate light (so I had my black out blinds shut all day) or any noise- like even people talking was unbearable. I would lay in bed all day, sleeping on and off, and of course couldn’t sleep during the night. I was thoroughly depressed and had thoughts of wanting to just end it all. I could never have done that though because of my amazing mum and brother (totes my best friends) who would try and cheer me up every day. They would even put on little sketch shows for me at the end of my bed to just try and make me smile. I thank them from the bottom of my heart- them and all my other friends and family who were there for me when I really needed them #TotesEmosh 

One of the weird things is that my brother had been through all of this before himself. He was just getting better as I was getting ill. We are not sure if M.E. runs in the family or not but I’m gonna go with yes. This means that my poor mum had basically nursed him better for about 4 years (he’s totally better now! yay!) and then had me to deal with!! Ouch. His case was a little simpler though. They found he had Glandular Fever and diagnosed him pretty soon after with M.E. - He did very strict G.E.T. (graded exercise therapy) and found that it really worked for him- This is where you build up your level of activity VERY slowly- so literally one step at a time - (more about this in a bizzle) 

So it got to a point where I had a stair lift fitted in my house and couldn’t even watch tv or have a conversation with anyone.

I was fucked. 

All we now knew was that I had ‘at some point’ HAD Glandular Fever. No one knew what to do, we only knew about M.E. because my brother had had it and thought it could be a possibility. But I was firmly in denial. He had been so ill for years and years and I was NOT going to have the same thing as him. I was desperate for the doctors to find that I had some kind of easily curable illness. Then some of my blood tests started coming back as positive for other things that indicated Crohn’s Disease. I was in and out of hospital having every test you can think of. My temperature was raised most days and they made charts of this. Now the question was if I had Crohn’s, or M.E. or both!?

Right.... I reckon that’s enough for Part 1!

Let’s see what next week brings and what I will want to blog about at the time, but either way Part 2 is on its way!

Ooh and check out my new blog banner up the top of my blog page - That’s the other thing I’ve been working on this week :) - Shout out to the amazing Simon Ackerman for the photography!!

Huge thanks again if you have read this blog - I am finding that it gives me a sort of ‘purpose’ as stupid as that may sound. It gives me something to think about in the week and then when it’s Sunday I’m like, yay! Sunday blog day!.... is that depressing or what hahaha, but seriously, please get in touch if you want to, more than happy to chat :) And if anyone can *like, *share or *follow this post or my blog in general I appreciate it lots!!! 

[katelynkrebsbach-blog]

Day 15 Consumption Blog

Music, Dayquil, Nyquil, Emergen-c, water, vaseline, vicks, chipotle, cereal, corndog, yogurt, paint, gatorade, lots of tissues, artificial tear drops, and soap.

So my sickness just got worse. I woke up today barely being able to open my eyes. There were crusty stuff and my vision was fuzzy. I still wasn’t feeling good and I was stuffed up. I blew my nose but then got a bloody nose again for another 20 minutes. When I looked in the mirror, my eyes were super red. I got very concerned but I figured it was because of the lack of sleep. I got ready and went to class and work. Once I got to work thought my co-worker asked what had happened. I said I don’t know this is how I woke up this morning. He said it was probably pink eye which was just great. My boss said I should leave work and go to the doctor so I did. She said I had a viral infection in my eyes due to my cold. So, basically I had pink eye but not as bad as people normally think. I had conjunctivities which doesn’t sound as contagious as pink eye because it isn’t. However, I got a get out of class free card that I am using for all three classes tomorrow so I can get sleep and hopefully feel better.

I basically laid in bed all day attempting to do some stuff for work but it was very hard to focus. My boss said that if I want to make up some hours for missing work that I should work from home and keep track of my hours. Plus I can also do that when I feel better which would be great because I could put in more hours and be able to lay in bed while I get paid. I am hoping that I can do that while doing other homework but we shall see! My boss was super nice about understanding my sickness. My other co-worker who is an intern too is also sick but I think he is starting to feel better. I love the environment at work. It is fun and everyone jokes around so it is always a good time. I was actually kind of bummed that I wasn’t at work today but it was definitely nice just relaxing in bed. I am hoping to do it again tomorrow. 

I have a board meeting on Saturday from 9-5 that I am not excited to go to. It is for my PDFMP student group that I am apart of. I have already missed two events so I feel like I can’t miss any more. On the other hand, I would really like to sleep in. I am sure I will end up going and then if I start to feel too bad again I can always just leave. I couldn’t go to the last one because it started early and that was right when I was starting to feel sick. I was hoping that if I got some sleep that I would feel better by the end of that weekend. That did not happen. That meeting was more of an activity because they did a scavenger hunt that took place all over campus. I did it last year and it was fun. I don’t think I could’ve walked all over campus though because my head ached just from sitting up. I do want to meet all of the new members this year so I will go on Saturday I just won’t be in the best mood I am sure. 

[lisahan826-blog]

When I was a Kid... (Part 2)

…I struggled with heavy nosebleeds.

These bloody waterfalls started when I was around 6 years old. I was in the front seat of my dad’s truck-like car on my mother's lap. While it was warm and cozy inside with the heating and fluffy button up coats, it was absolutely freezing outside.

I saw the snow violently chunking down around us and I instantly felt sorry for the poor, shelter-less animals.

The three of us were stuck in a heavy traffic jam, and the honking of the snow-covered cars did nothing to push the other cars forward. My dad was impatiently tapping on the driving wheel and staring outside. As I stared at the road, I felt a sudden need to scratch my nose. The first few seconds of scratching my nose felt great as the itch died down. Then, I felt the start of a nosebleed.

I never had nosebleeds before, so I had no idea why my runny nose was suddenly producing blood instead of the normally clear mucus. I started to cry as I nervously looked down at my bloody hands and jacket. My dad, immediately noticing my distress, grabbed some tissue from the glove compartment. My mother, who was sleeping soundlessly, woke up to see my panic-stricken and bloodied face. She grabbed the tissues from my dad and helped me stuff one up my nose. This tissue was to be one of many tissues that would be stuffed up my nose.

The next time I had a massive nosebleed was when I was in 6th grade. This was the most traumatic incident that I have ever had and I was actually taken to the hospital to help stop the bleeding.

That day, I was in my gym clothes and grabbing some lunch from the school cafeteria. After paying, I decided to throw out a small packet of sauce on my tray. As I walked over to the large grey trashcan next to the double doors that lead to the playground, I felt my nose becoming runny. With years of experience, I realized that this was the sign for another nosebleed.

As I was holding my tray with both hands, I couldn't initially stop the flow. Blood starting coming out of my nose at record speed, staining the lower half of my face and all of the front of my gym top. A homeroom teacher quickly noticed the issue I was having and helped bring some tissue over. She then took my tray away as I started to hold my nose while cleaning the rest of my face. I was ushered to the nurse's office that was luckily just outside of the double doors, and for the next 30 minutes, I sat on the white hospital bed waiting for the blood to stop.

Eventually, I was told that I had to go to the hospital. After getting into my car and driving along, I noticed that I was not bleeding anymore. However, we had already arrived, and I just got some medication to stop the bleeding if it happened again.

Even though I had many experiences with nosebleeds, I still get anxious every time. However, now I know the trick to help stop the flow.