#like when she was dying of sepsis a few years ago I was the only one to do anything and it was only when I walked by the room

[engagedtobefree]

My friend Craig died last month. I knew it was coming, but it still doesn’t take any of the pain away. His mom texted me and our boss just before noon the day of his passing, saying that he went peacefully. He didn’t even know. He consciously had no idea he was dying. I don’t know whether that’s a blessing or a tragedy, though I really can’t see this situation as anything but the latter. I spent most of that day crying. Succeeded in not crying at Walmart, but then cried at the laundromat. My apartment’s washing machines were unusable because the water was frozen between the coldness and all the snow we got that week. Frozen, just like Craig’s life. Frozen at 33.

Craig went into the hospital the morning of December 28th. I remember this vividly for several reasons, the first being that I had taken off the next day to attend another friend’s wedding. The second reason being I immediately knew he wasn’t going to come home. His mom is my co-worker, and Craig also worked at our company. There’s only 3 of us in my department: her, me, and our boss. She told me some time before lunch. I had gone into her office to give her some paperwork and she told me Craig was in the hospital for the flu, that he woke up that morning and couldn’t breathe. She said that whenever he gets sick he has breathing issues, regardless of what it is, but that he doesn’t have any type of disorder. I thought that was strange because I have asthma and that doesn’t even happen to me. But the thing is, right before she told me what he went into the hospital for, I had an intuitive feeling, you know the ones that come from right beneath your lower left ribs. It came from there. I had the specific feeling that he wouldn’t leave the hospital alive. I have been trying to listen to my intuition more to make it even stronger than it already is, but naturally I didn’t want to listen to this. Joyce told me Craig was in the hospital, the feeling washed over me he wouldn't come back, then I asked her what was wrong and she told me, and I thought maybe for the first time ever, my intuition was wrong. I wanted it to be. Craig has the flu, I rationalized. He will be fine. Except he wasn’t fine. The flu turned into an infection, which led to sepsis, which then led to bleeding around his brain, causing several strokes and brain damage that he would never recover from. I want to be angry at myself, that my first initial reaction, regardless of it being my intuition, was that he wasn’t going to come home alive. But I can’t feel anything other than grief right now. I tried so hard to rationalize my first feeling away, I tried so hard not to be worried or concerned, I tried so hard to believe he was somehow going to pull out of this, even as things got worse and worse. I just kept telling myself he’d be fine. Being dead is so far from being fine. It’s the furthest thing away from it.

Craig was 33, just a year older than me. He has a 4-year-old son and a wife, who I believe is my age. I cannot even fucking imagine being widowed and left a single mom at the age I am at right now. I know his wife also lost her father a few years ago; he had a heart attack during Thanksgiving dinner. Joyce, Craig’s mom, is also no stranger to tragic loss. She lost a brother when she was a kid, I think she was like 8 or 9 and her brother was 12. They were walking home from school and he just dropped dead from a brain aneurysm. Now she lost her son in a similar way. I know she lost several close friends, and I think she was pretty young when she lost her parents. She has two other children; Craig was the oldest. Her youngest, Jason, who I believe is 25, has been struggling a lot with his mental health. I met Jason a few years ago when he joined a D&D group I was in with some friends. Craig was a new father at the time, his son was maybe 1 or so, and he had mentioned to me at work how hard it was and he felt like he barely got to go out anymore. Him being a nerd like myself, I invited him to join my group, and then eventually he had his brother join too. Jason didn’t stay in our group very long, maybe a few months tops, because of his severe anxiety. We all thought he was doing okay, but of course anxiety being an internal thing, it’s not always easy to tell. Jason has been struggling even more, his anxiety morphing into depression because of them having to put down their dog last year. Joyce said their dog was Jason’s best friend, and now he just lost his older brother. Last year on several different occasions, I gave Joyce some tips for helping Jason, since he hasn’t responded positively to any medication. One suggestion I gave her was pharmacogenetic testing, another was TMS Therapy, and the third was this video game therapy program (I forget the name at the moment). Both Jason and Joyce were really grateful for my help, and Jason even came into the office one day back in maybe late November/early December after a therapy session (he doesn’t drive and Joyce had to stop by the office). I could tell he was nervous but trying to open up, so I just started talking in the hopes I could help ease his nerves a bit. I think it worked, cuz before Joyce left to take him back home, he said we should all plan a game night where I can come over. I don’t know how I am supposed to do that now. It would just be so weird without Craig. But good God, Jason is going to need help more than ever now. Joyce was trying not to bury one son and ended up having to bury the other. This whole situation is so fucked. The only light I can see is that hopefully Joyce can help him in some way because she knows what it’s like to lose a brother. I was telling my friend Amanda some of this and she said Jason will need support now more than ever, and I know that. Just right now, it is so hard to see beyond my own grief for my friend, not knowing how I’ll be able to help when I am also grieving, but I know what I feel is absolutely nowhere near as devastating as it is for his family. My heart breaks for all of them.

This just doesn’t feel real to me. I haven’t known Craig a very long time, since 2018 I think. It wasn’t long after I started that he did too. He worked in my building first, out in the warehouse, so I got to interact and talk with him often. It was some time in 2021 he got a position in our other building, and then he left our D&D group to spend more time with his family since he usually worked long hours in his new role. He didn’t want to be a dad at first, but he did start to adjust to it better eventually. I was looking back over our work messages and we continued to talk at work throughout all of 2022, but it phased out in the new year. I occasionally got to see him at work, and I think the last time I saw him was the end of last summer. He worked from home the day of our Christmas party, so I would’ve seen him then but that didn’t happen. I had been thinking all of last year how I should reach out and eventually I did, on his birthday, September 8th, the same as my dad’s. I think that was the last time I talked to him. Joyce knows he shares a birthday with my dad, and what’s even more fucked up is our boss’s birthday is the day Craig passed, January 18th. We are both now going to be reminders of her dead son. Joyce hates it at our company (really don’t blame her tbh) and I know how she has been looking to leave for a long time now. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if at some point this year she turned in her resignation. Not only did she work with her son, but they all lived together: her, her husband, Craig, Craig’s wife & son, and Jason. Her daughter is the only one who doesn’t, as she lives with just her husband and her son. So not only does Joyce have to deal with Craig’s absence at work, she has to deal with it at home too. I just feel so sorry for her. I feel so sorry for everyone.

Craig was such a tough person. I really had high hopes that he was going to pull through. He was in a car accident a little over a decade ago that left him with brain damage and a lot of physical problems, but he wasn’t a complainer. He worked hard and didn’t let his pain get in the way. He even helped me move into my new apartment 3 years ago, and drove me to it in his Tesla, and then he helped my mom move like 6 months later. He had hit her neighbor’s car with the moving truck and since his dad is a mechanic, he promised to come back and fix it. Craig was a man of his word. He was a good friend. He was incredibly funny, though he said things with an ounce of dryness or sarcasm. He always had sassy comebacks that were either given in good faith with some playfulness underneath or said out of brutal honesty. The former was reserved for family and friends, the latter was reserved only for those who truly deserved it. He had a biting sarcasm that not everyone appreciated, but I found it funny. He was honest. He defended himself if you treated him poorly. He didn’t take shit from anyone. He would only tolerate things for so long before he would say you know what, I’m out, screw you. He looked just like Joyce. I’m pretty sure the first exact thing I thought when meeting Craig was, “Oh my God, he’s Joyce’s twin.” I remember one time at work he told me everyone called me his work wife, which I thought was weird because it wasn’t like we talked all the time, but I guess because I don’t talk to many people there, that’s why they came up with that. Apparently, some people, including his mom, even speculated we were having an affair. By that point, I had already survived affair rumors about Scott and I, so I was mostly unphased; people already thought I was some sort of homewrecker, so my reputation was already tainted beyond the point of salvation. Craig handled the situation a lot better than Scott had though. Scott was dismissive and mean towards me about it, but Craig’s attitude was more of a “Fuck ‘em” approach, which I appreciated, and it made me feel better despite another ridiculous rumor going around about me. Thinking about it now, I can only imagine what smartass comeback he had for people saying stuff to him about it. I can’t even begin to imagine what wildly insane reply he would have, but it makes me smile just knowing that that is how he would respond. I keep my friend group relatively small. The fact that Craig was a part of it says a lot. I am going to miss my honest, hard-working, funny friend.

It is so hard for me to wrap my head around all of this. I guess it always is when someone dies young, but even more so when that person especially it is hard to picture their light going out. I don’t know if they mis-diagnosed Craig with the flu at first, or if that is what he had and maybe something else on top of it. Joyce had only been online for a handful of hours for those several weeks, and even though she was texting Pete and I updates all the time, the info she gave was brief. When I would ask questions, I tried to limit it to one or two because I didn’t want to bombard her. Since then, I have given her her space, and I have only seen her in person 3 times this year, so there hasn't been a ton of interactions for more info to come up. I know Craig was pro-vaccine, because I remember talking to him about vaccines in the past. I don’t know if this year he missed his flu shot or if he just got seriously fucking unlucky. I don’t know. It’s just absolutely mind-boggling. This is also the first time I’ve lost a friend. I have lost some family members throughout my life, but this is just different. Friends really are the family you choose. Unlike family, friends are people you consciously let into your life. You choose to spend time with them, make memories, and genuinely enjoy each other’s company. It just hits a bit differently, losing a friend. This is a new experience for me.

One of my best friends, Amanda, lost her other best friend Cassie to brain cancer back in November. Cassie fought long and hard, despite there being no hope for her, and she extended her life another two-and-a-half years. Like Craig, she was only 33 when she died. She had first had cancer back when she was like 19 but was able to enter remission, and she found out at 31 she had cancer again when she went for a check-up because her and her husband planned on having a baby. She wanted to make sure everything was okay since she had been having some headaches, and ended up leaving with devastating news. I only met her once: she came to a donation-based yoga class I did for the Ukraine back in early 2022. During savasana, her and her husband held hands as they laid there. I had never seen any couples do that in class before and I thought it was really cute. I am 100% a believer in romantic soulmates and true love, and it just made my heart feel so warm. Amanda has told me a bit about their relationship and it seemed like they really had a healthy, loving, thriving partnership together. It makes Cassie’s story even that much sadder. Her and Amanda had been friends for probably as long as Stacy and I, and I couldn’t even imagine losing Stacy (or Amanda, who I’ve only been friends with for like 7 years). I put together a grief basket for her, which I was only able to give her right before Christmas. It included: a sticker (Amanda loves traditional tattoos, so the style was perfect for her), a grief notebook (I glued on the starfish since starfish were Cassie’s thing), a book on grief, a pocket hug (yellow, her current favorite color because her one son loves yellow so much), a Doodlebob pen holder (for shits and giggles, to break up the seriousness of everything), and of course a card. I put everything in a little basket, which wasn’t as fully thought through as everything else because as you can see below, it’s easy for stuff to fall out. Cassie got married on the beach and she had two tattoos of starfish below her collarbones. Amanda told me that the two of them designed her tattoos together. Amanda had a dream about starfish one night; there was a bucket of water in front of her with starfish swimming, but when she picked them up, they died. When she put them back in the water, they were alive again. She thought it was strange because she never remembers her dreams, but this one she remembered very vividly. Ian, Cassie’s husband, called her that same day, to tell her it was time to say goodbye. Cassie was gone I think about 12 hours later. Cassie had been unconscious already when Amanda had her dream, and Amanda believes she had been communicating with her in some way. I think so too.

The book I got for Amanda I found a PDF online of, just to make sure it would be a good fit, which it was. It wasn’t preachy, or dismissive, or religious; it gave actual decent, constructive advice, and every day came with an affirmation. I really wanted Amanda to have it before the new year started so that she could decide for herself when exactly she wanted to start it, since it’s a 365 day kind of book. Amanda’s wifi password has always been a Doodlebob-related thing, and that item randomly popped up when I was searching up grief items on Etsy. I knew I had to include it. The card is something similar to Amanda’s dream. I only briefly searched through cards before that one popped up. Before I even clicked on it, I had this instinctual feeling of “This is the one”. I had ordered from that particular Etsy shop before and really loved the cards, so I knew the quality would be good. It took me some time to decide on everything I ordered, and when I was ready to checkout with the card, I started to second-guess it, thinking maybe I should look back over my options just in case. I remembered that intuitive feeling I had though, and decided before I let my thinking mind get in the way that I was just gonna get it. The day it arrived in the mail I was so excited, as I already had planned what I was going to write in it. Well, I flipped the card over and started crying. On the back, near the bottom, were the astrological symbols for the sun, Aries, and Aquarius. Amanda is an Aries sun and Cassie was an Aquarius sun. I grabbed the previous cards I purchased and checked the backs, even though I already knew that they were all different, which they were. Some didn’t even have any symbols, the rest were all random, like this one, some of the signs being astrological as well and others not, like a peace sign. This Etsy shop has probably hundred of cards and only a handful for grief, and I don’t know how to calculate those odds of getting that particular random ass combination, but I know they’re very slim. I had asked Cassie a few times, just put it out there, to help me pick out only the best for Amanda, and here she was giving her confirmation that she helped. I told Amanda all this and we both cried. I think this is actually what hit Amanda the hardest. Amanda isn’t spiritual like I am, and she has her doubts about a lot of things, but she confided in me that losing Cassie helped her understand what it means like to still feel a person around you after they’re gone. She doesn’t know where Cassie is, but she knows she is still around, and I think my card helped her believe too that what she feels is real. Cassie is still here, she’s just no longer in her body.

I want to get something for Joyce, though I don’t know what yet. I had thought of getting something made with a picture of her and Craig on it, but I don’t know how I’d manage to do that. I’m friends with Craig on Facebook, but he doesn’t have many pictures, and the only ones of him and his mom are from his wedding, but there’s always other people in them. I am going to think about it a bit more this month. A few days after Craig passed, my mom chipped in with me to bring Joyce a catered meal from Olive Garden. It was the Tuesday before Craig’s viewing, and Joyce had the rest of the week off for bereavement. I didn’t want to stop by on any of her days off so she could have some space. She had worked from home that Monday and Tuesday, so I came by her house with the food after work. I had also picked up Thai for myself, and they invited me in to have dinner with them. I got to meet Craig’s wife and son for the first time, and Jason was also there. I stayed for a bit and it was nice. I had kept thinking for well over a week how badly I needed a hug, and Joyce was the first person I was able to receive a hug from. I don’t generally long for physical affection outside of romantic partnerships and with my pets, so this was out of character for me, but after hugging Joyce I did feel better and that yearning went away. Joyce’s husband wasn’t there because he was in the hospital since what happened to Craig also happened to him, except he recovered and is now in rehab. He wasn’t even able to say goodbye to his son. The more I think about this whole situation, the more I realize how fucked up it is. For everyone. Like it’s not even that Craig just died young; there’s all these fucking layers on top of it to make it so much worse.

Craig’s viewing was on January 27th. I had bought a new black dress right before the new year began, and I couldn’t have fathomed that the first time I’d wear it would be to my friend’s viewing. I didn’t want to arrive too early, so I got there about 15-20 minutes before the service was about to start. I had wanted to practice a speech just in case I had to speak, but then I thought I wouldn’t have to do that. Turned out, I did end up giving a little speech. Craig’s best friend had gone first, and he was an absolute mess, understandably. A few other people talked for maybe a minute or so. Then there wasn’t anyone else. I thought, This won’t do, Craig deserves better, and next thing I knew, my legs were walking me up to the podium. I mentioned the first time I met Craig and my first thought about him, which made Joyce bark out a laugh. I also mentioned how Craig helped me move and took me to my new apartment in his Tesla. I mentioned how he hit my mom’s neighbor’s car on her moving day, and how she didn’t think he would come back but he did because he was honest. It was a bit more fleshed out than that, but you get the gist. I did want to say more than I did though. I wanted to say what I put in my obituary condolence about how I was looking back over our work messages from the past few years, and no matter how the conversations started, he always somehow managed to bring the topic around to Star Wars or video games. I wanted to say how he joined my D&D group (which is Dungeons and Dragons for all you non-nerds out there) and how he was able to just be himself always, all the time, even when fully surrounded by people he was meeting for the first time. I wanted to say how generous he was, how hard-working, how tough. But I couldn’t continue. I kept looking over at his casket as I talked, which was a mistake, and being up in front of everyone with their eyes on me was just a bit more unsettling than I thought it would be. I started choking on my words, the tears were building up too much, and I had to end my short little speech that was only half of what I wanted it to be. Later on, it did get me thinking though, how I always remember meeting people for the first time that I either ended up becoming friends with or ended up dating. It’s like a part of me knows, hey this person will be important to you at some point. That inner knowing extends far beyond my capacity to always consciously recognize it.

There was a part of me, for the first few days after Craig’s passing, that was afraid, because you know, death always comes in 3’s, and both Cassie and Craig were 33. I’ll be 33 later this year, Amanda is already 33, and then I have a bunch of other friends who will be turning 33 either this year or next. I was really worried about a third death happening in my personal sphere. Then, one day I had remembered how my dad’s “girlfriend” (long story) has cancer, and I thought, Oh, maybe he will tell me she’s been in the hospital 33 days or something. I kid you not, 5 minutes after I thought that, my dad called me to say he was sorry about my friend, and then he tells me he just took his girlfriend home after she was in the hospital 33 days and that her cancer spread to her brain. I stopped what I was doing when he said that. There it was, the 33, and not only that, but the brain connection too. I know this is going to sound terrible, but I found some relief in that. Of course, I don’t like hearing about anyone dying or even being close to death, but my dad’s girlfriend has at least lived life almost twice as long as any 33-year-old. I do feel sorry, but I also know it was a sign telling me not to needlessly worry, and since then, I haven’t.

I have been thinking about death a lot lately, which I guess has to do with it hitting so close to home. I don’t want to get too much into my own personal beliefs here, but I do believe in reincarnation after a particular event that happened last year made me recognize that I’ve been here before. I was always open to the idea previously, but never fully committed to it prior to that event, which left me absolutely no wiggle-room to ever be unsure about it ever again. I also know that consciousness, that energy, never really dies, and that a person lives on, for however long, in some other world parallel to ours before coming here again. Or not. I am not sure that we all come back to earth. Maybe we get some say in the matter, that we can forever peace-out to some blissful afterlife or we can dive headfirst down into the chaotic wonder of being human again. I believe too, that we choose all of this, this life we have, at least to a certain degree, before we come here. Idk, I won’t pretend to fully know the afterlife rules. Saying all of that, I’ve thought about Craig, trying to find some relief in any of that, and I can’t. Regardless of whether he will one day get another life, his current life has ended, and that is still a tragedy. He won’t get this life back ever again. It was a one-time deal and now it’s gone for good. I’ve been thinking about that, and how his life was tragically short, and how we, as humans, always act like we have all the time in the world. We are so arrogant to think that we always have time, that being young somehow prevents us from meeting an early death. This is part of the reason why for the past year I have been trying desperately to find the right ADHD medication (more on this later). ADHD is possibly one of the biggest time-wasters there is, and I’m tired of living my life the way I am when I try so hard every goddamn day to use my time wisely and fail miserably because my brain doesn’t have all the chemicals it needs. This is why I am a bit frustrated with Chris at the moment (more on this later too). Like, we do not have all the time in the world!!! What are you waiting for!!!!???? Wake up!!!! There is no better time than the present to get things moving along!!! None of us know when our last day on this earth is going to be. Like why are we always waiting and waiting and waiting when literally the next day isn’t even guaranteed?? There is only the present moment always. That’s all there ever is. We are all foolish to believe we have an infinite amount of time before us. Time itself is endless, but it will end for each of us. At least on this physical plane. We’re not guaranteed 80 or 90 years on this planet. We don’t all get that lucky, and it’s time to really wake up to that fact if we haven't already.

This year so far has been pretty shitty. I was sick with a really bad virus two days before new years, and stayed sick two weeks into January. I didn’t even take off, which I think prolonged my sickness, because I didn’t want my boss to have to be by himself since Joyce was only working sporadically because of what was going on with Craig and her husband. That first week was brutal, and I feel bad because being sick kept me in my ego more than I like. I kept rationalizing that Craig would be fine, and I felt a bit bitter for having to work, even though really I could have just taken off a day or two and my boss would have been fine by himself. I am not usually like that, and I have some guilt over feeling that way while my friend was much worse off - dying, in fact. Then Craig passed, my illness faded into just a cough, and there was a week and a half where I was just grieving. Then two days after Craig’s viewing, I started not feeling well. Turned out I had contracted covid for the very first time in my life. I also realized a few days later that the day my symptoms started showing was the 9 year anniversary of my suicide attempt. Go figure. I took off the rest of the week, though I did try to work one day but felt too sick to continue. That leads us to this past week, where I having been slowly getting back to feeling better, but I continued to test positive up until Thursday, so yesterday was the first day in almost two weeks since I left my apartment. So yeah, that’s been my new year. A lot of people have been sick though, and my friend (Amanda) that I was supposed to see today has also been dealing with back-to-back illnesses in her own household. There have been some positives, mainly due to my utter determination to make big changes in my life this year. If not for my own attitude and determination, I’d feel way more dejected than I currently do. Amanda and I were supposed to see Lisa Frankenstein together, which I had invited Chris first to go see with me, but he never got back to me on it. I didn’t want to follow-up because while he said he would definitely go, a part of me knew it wasn’t a priority for him to make it happen, so as the movie date drew closer, I made plans with Amanda. I put out on Snapchat if anyone was able to go to to let me know since my friend had to cancel, and my one friend did say he could go if I changed the time, but after sleeping on it, I decided to just go alone. I really wanted to see the movie in theaters, but it’s only showing for a week, and for some reason while I originally wanted to go with someone special, albeit Chris or a good friend, in the end I just wanted to be alone. So I went to the movies by myself feeling okay, but then I left wishing I had someone *cough*Chris*cough* else there with me. The movie was so cute and it put me in a romantic sort of mood, I guess. I feel like being sick helped me not focus on too many things except maintaining a determined mindset to keep going despite current circumstances, but now that being sick is (hopefully) over, I am left with an empty feeling of sorts. I am not where I want to be, and my life currently has taken several turns that I wish it hadn’t: my friend is dead, my mental health is still a struggle, Scott has been reaching out to me again, and I’m fairly positive I somehow ruined things with Chris before they even began.

I already talked about Craig, and I don’t really have much more to say about my ADHD aside from the fact that I’m trying my best to find solutions and have only made a tiny bit of progress. I am finally getting the pharmacogenetic testing done, though it wasn’t covered fully by my insurance like I was led to believe, and I have had to wait to do it since I had covid. Nevertheless, I’m hoping it can help me find the right meds and dosage. This has been a struggle all my life, but I am determined to get to a balanced mental state where I can live as close to neurotypical as possible. It's going to happen this year because I am doing everything in my power to make it happen. I've also been researching and trying to find ways that I can help myself more. Some stuff hasn't stuck, but other things are showing potential, so I'm hopeful about that as well.

So I guess that leads us to Scott now. I was really hoping that by now this man would be completely irrelevant in my life, and for the most part, he is. The only internal connection I feel towards him is the lingering trauma I have from him, but now he keeps trying to reinsert himself into my life, which is partially my fault since I told him we could still be friends. When I told him last summer I didn’t want to try again, I made it very clear so that there was no room for him to interpret my words differently. I know that being direct is the best approach and that’s what I wanted to do since I didn’t want him to think there would ever be a chance of us happening again. Then, out of kindness, I said we could still be friends. I didn’t think he’d actually try to talk to me because he never put in much effort previously when we were in a “situationship”. (Side note: I really despise that word, but I don’t know what else to call our previous situation aside from that, so unfortunately that’s the word I have to use here.) Since then, he has occasionally responded to my snap stories when I post a selfie, sending me bitmoji stickers telling me I look good or whatever. I have always just responded with “Thanks!”, no emojis or anything beyond that, in the hopes that he will see that I truly do not have any feelings left. His birthday was back in January, and I remembered the day of, so I figured I would be nice and just tell him Happy Birthday. I should have known better, I really, really should have, but I guess I have yet to learn that being nice does not always pay off. After I wished Scott a Happy Birthday, he continued to message me, and then asked me for a selfie. Before responding, I remembered how it was a special birthday for him: it was his 50th. Then, with that knowledge, I told him no 😊. Stacy told me to send him a picture of Weasley’s butt, but he isn’t even deserving of that much. Scott then proceeded to message me for the next two Fridays asking if he could come hang out. I turned him down the first Friday by saying I had to get up the next day for Craig’s viewing and just wanted to rest and go to bed early. He didn’t know Craig had passed. I thought someone from my work would have told him since he’s still in contact with a bunch of people from there, but I guess not. Then he tried to be all supportive and whatnot, which annoyed me. He never previously gave a fuck about anything I went through and never had any kind encouragement when I was going through something. The fact that he treats me like I am some idiot is honestly what annoys me the most about him reaching out to me. I know he isn’t genuine and that he’s doing it in the hopes that eventually it will benefit him in some way. The second Friday he reached out, I told him I had Covid. He didn’t reach out yesterday, thankfully, but I do need to think about how I want to approach this if he asks again. So far, I have had legitimate excuses, but I do not know what I want to say next time. I still have his beers in my fridge; they are on my top shelf, which is as high up as it can go and therefore rarely gets used. Also, ADHD keeps me from not doing things I should do immediately, like dumping beers from a guy I used to see but no longer have any interest in reconnecting with. Actually, screw him. I’m gonna go dump them right now. Okay, I’m back. They were expired anyway, but while I was typing this I realized I truly do not want to see him again. I had toyed with the idea of just letting him come over so that I could make it clear, yet again, that I truly have zero interest in this being anything at all, but then I realized that I have already given this man so much of my time and I do not owe him any more of it. I want to work through the trauma and be able to move forward without worrying about this anymore.

This brings me around to Chris. I don’t think I’ve written about him since my last appointment, aside from posting about him telling me he’s single and that we should go out on a date. That was around mid-December. He did reach out to me when he saw me in my dress at my friend’s wedding, but beyond giving me a few compliments, he didn’t seem to have much interest in continuing the conversation. I reached out to him two times since then and pretty much got the same reaction from him. He is clearly not a phone person, which I already deducted, and that’s fine. I had tried to set up us meeting up twice so that I could get to know him better, but so far it hasn’t happened. Logically, I know it couldn’t have. It was the holiday season and then I have spent the entirety of this new year either physically sick or sick with grief, so it would have been impossible for us to meet up even if we scheduled something. Even if he really did want to see Lisa Frankenstein with me and we set it up, he might not have been comfortable being around me since I had covid, even though I tested negative two days ago. It was the way he responded to me asking him to go that has me confused, and I’m not sure if I’m overthinking it. He said he would definitely be interested in seeing something like that, that it’s cool it was playing near my apartment (which I mentioned), then he said he hopes we get snow and that he hopes I have a wonderful day. It was weird. It’s nice he told me to have a wonderful day, but then I’m wondering if he said that just to end the conversation. I’m not sure. I post on my Snapchat stories about once a week or so, and I noticed he hasn’t viewed any for at least the past month. I think I’m not going to post on there for awhile until I’m sure I won’t have any anxiety about this. I don’t know how to describe how I feel except as patiently impatient. I am not a patient person, but I will wait nonetheless, and I won’t be super obvious about my impatience. I don’t want my mind to continue to circle around to Chris, but I can’t help it. It just happens. I place a lot of focus on myself and my own life and making the improvements that I need to (or well, trying to, anyway), but my heart keeps guiding my attention back towards him. I am completely enamored, even now, despite there not being much contact between us. I know it can’t happen yet because I still have a few things to sort out, but my progress on those things has been painfully slow. I keep feeling like until those things are taken care of, nothing can happen with Chris either, which frustrates me. I am not even certain whether anything can happen between us at all. I am just hoping for the best at this point.

One of the biggest barriers is my lingering trauma from Scott. Scott always made me feel like I was asking for too much by wanting to talk to him or for him to come over. With Chris, this has manifested as me hesitating in reaching out too often, and it’s gotten to the point where I also feel like me reaching out is burdening or annoying him. To be clear, he hasn’t explicitly made me feel this way, he just usually doesn’t say much back to me or continue the conversations. Scott did explicitly make me feel this way. He always told me he couldn’t talk, and when I would ask him to come over, which I only ever did every few months or so, he’d hesitate and then say he was tired or whatever. It took me a long time to realize that he kept mentioning people from our work he had talked to, and then I finally saw the situation for what it was: it wasn’t that he was busy or didn’t have time, he just wasn’t making the time for me. It got to the point where I realized that I was at the very bottom of his list of priorities, coming last, behind everything and everyone else. I started to feel like he could bump into a stranger on the street and he’d make more time for them than he did for me. I don't expect to be anywhere near the top of someone's list if we're not even in a relationship, but I feel like it's okay for me to not want to be in the very last space. Scott made me feel like that was asking too much, and I haven't been able to shake that feeling despite the situationship with him ending a year and a half ago. He was only ever eager to reach out when he was horny and wanted some pictures, and those were the only times he could ever even spare me a compliment, if you could even call it that. He would just tell me I was “hot”, but I never actually felt that way. He didn’t ever make me feel pretty or valued, so his “hot” was always meaningless and unsexy. I’m glad we never had sex, at least. That probably would have done some damage too.

When Chris told me before he’s “busy”, of course my mind circled back around to all this. I always like to give people the benefit of the doubt, and I thought Chris was very much deserving of that. He was, at the time at least, the only full-time dental hygienist at his work since the other two quit, and I know he is on two hockey teams; both of these things he told me at my last appointment with him. There have been so many parallels between the two situations with them, which has been really confusing for me. I am not sure if it all has been unfortunate coincidences or if it’s really the same stuff repeating all over again. There’s been so many things that I don’t think I could remember them all even if I tried to list them all out right now. That being said, they are two completely different people, which is great for Chris. I feel like I can trust him, and I never felt that way with Scott. With Scott, the deceitfulness and the selfishness, while shocking to me at the time, lined up with who he is. I don’t know Chris that well, but being this deceitful, selfish person just doesn’t fit him. At all. I could tell from day one that he is a genuinely good guy, and that was something I felt before I was even willing to acknowledge my romantic interest in him. Also, both situations have been incredibly different as well, even despite the comparisons my mind keeps making. I want to stop thinking about it and just focus on healing. There are some meditation techniques I want to practice to help me out, and journaling is always super cathartic. So is writing poetry, but I haven’t yet gotten around to the poem I want to write to process everything with Scott. Hopefully soon.

It’s weird because I am always a what-is-this-trying-to-teach-me person, but I haven’t been able to do that in quite some time. I think I am just tired. I have been single for over 6 years now, mostly by choice to focus on improving myself, and while I haven’t regretted that choice at all, I am kind of tired of it at this point. I don’t want to just be with anyone, because that would never satisfy me, but I am ready to grow alongside someone now. I don’t think I am 100% there yet, as I’ve already mentioned, but I’m getting there. It’s just my impatience again, asking “Are we there yet?” despite there being a few more miles until we reach our exit. I really am at a loss for words on how to describe this feeling. I wouldn’t say I’m lonely because that’s not entirely accurate. It’s more of a type of yearning, I guess. I don’t know why, but I have felt this really strongly since my last appointment with Chris. It’s strange. I feel like it has probably been building since I first met him, but for whatever reason after seeing him last time, it has reached its full capacity. It is like this low hum now that is constant. I can’t turn it off. Even when I’m not thinking about Chris and am preoccupied with my day-to-day life, it is a feeling that is still there all the time. I always feel this way; even if I’m not consciously acknowledging it, it’s always there. I can’t make sense of it to be honest. I have never felt this way before and I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve been asking myself recently what I can do, what lesson is here, trying to get myself back into that mindset, but the only thing I can come up with is to keep working on myself. But I’ve been doing that and it hasn’t changed anything, so then I think maybe it’s not that, but that I have to find peace on my own first. I have to shift into a certain state, and then everything will right itself. I have done that before, so I know I can do it again, it’s just that the previous time I was able to make that internal shift, it went to hell because covid happened. I didn’t build up a strong enough foundation to sustain that state while a worldwide pandemic happened and I was trapped inside 24/7 with my abusive mother. That’s understandable though, but this time I know I need to make that shift permanently, to give myself the tools and build the foundation well this time so that I can withstand anything. I won’t be immune to life’s happenings, but I will be able to face them and approach them from a place of love. I don’t want to think about the outcome of that, of whether that is the key needed to me finally moving forward romantically, but there is this part of me telling me that once I do get there again, everything will begin working out, better than I can even currently imagine. I find that once I even start thinking about any outcomes at all, I don’t even care, then I remember that any life benefits I get from that isn’t even the point. The point is my existence. The point is me reaching that place because that’s what I need, and that’s what the world needs. That’s what matters more than anything else. In those moments where I do remember that purpose, everything feels okay again. I’m going to be okay. I know I’m going to be okay.

Edits: Adding my edits down here because it's too much effort atm to go back through and find where to add them. I want to clarify a few things, the first being that saying I'm frustrated with Chris isn't entirely accurate. I don't mean that in the way it sounds. The more appropriate word would probably be "disappointed", though I guess that also doesn't sound great lol. I would feel much better about things if there was even the tiniest bit of communication. He mentioned a date, interacted with me a few more times, and now has seemingly dropped off the face of the earth. I would wait for as long as he needs, but knowing why I am waiting would help with that. I just really don't like disappearing acts, because then I start to wonder if I did something wrong, or if he lost interest, or if there's someone else, or if I'm just being ghosted. I could ask, which I briefly considered, but idk how "what's the hold up" would sound in a message. I don't want to sound impatient or pushy, especially because I am willing to wait, but leaving me completely in the dark after showing so much interest in me is also kinda a shitty thing to do. I would be understanding no matter what it is. On the flipside, I am still appreciative of this time to tie up some lose ends in my life and tackle some lingering problems that would affect me starting anything with anyone. So there is still that.

Right now more than anything, I'm frustrated with myself. So many things have been dragged out for so long, despite my determined efforts to move forward. I am trying to be more patient and understanding with myself, because honestly, I'm the person I need to give that to the most. This week I have been trying to really give myself to space to process things I haven't been able to because of all of the chaos going on since at least last summer. It's difficult, but only because it's hard to find the time right now. I fell behind on so many things since I have spent 4 out of 6 weeks this year physically sick and incapable of doing pretty much anything. I've been doubling up on trying to get stuff done, which doesn't always happen because of my ADD, but even when it does, there's still a mountain of things to take care of, more than there was previously. I feel like there's so many big things I'm trying to tackle, especially in regards to processing past traumas, which I started years ago. There has been so much trauma in my life that untangling it all, processing it, and healing it is pretty much a non-stop ongoing thing. Then there's my mental health, with me trying one medication after another to try and find something that fits, and even then, ADHD meds are so high-risk, it's a tug of war in my brain trying to determine if it's worth it. But then I see the tiniest improvements where I can function at even the smallest fraction of a how neurotypical person does, and Idk how I can ever go back to unmedicated. It makes me want to cry. I have spent my entire life battling mental illness, and there seems to be no end to trying to stabilize myself. I had my first panic attack when I was 6, then eating disorders started a few years later, then the depression, which I think was secondary to something else, then the ADD for as long as I can remember. I see very clearly how I have really never been thriving, but that's only because I spent so much of my life focused on surviving. I didn't get to start at the same starting point as many others because of my brain. And I'm tired. I'm so tired. I just sent back my swab today for my pharmacogenetic test. I'm hoping those results can help me find the better balance of meds that will work for me. I still would like to try Strattera again, but my psych wants to hold off on that for the time being. Taking natural stuff is a difficult path to navigate because I'm on a TCA, which interacts with so many things. Even the ADHD meds I can be on are very limited because of interaction risks. I need the TCA for my bladder though, so as of right now, I can't be off it. Maybe one day, but my current finances don't leave me a ton of room right now to navigate testing a ton of products to see what works and what doesn't. Plus, I'd also have to be prepared to tackle my anxiety and depression completely naturally if I went off the TCA, which I am also not currently equipped to do. Everything is just such a long process, and everything interconnects. I don't plan on staying on all these meds the rest of my life, but as of right now where I'm currently at, I really, really, really could use full functionality like I've never known before. It would help me out incredibly with so much of what I'm currently trying to get in order.

I'm also trying to implement new routines and habits, make time for things I love, and tackle decluttering, organizing, and maintaining my entire living space. I'm also doing this thing where I'm writing a new poem everyday this year, which I've somehow kept up despite the days I was really sick. Those were haiku days lol. But I also would love to speed along my more personal poems that I've been writing for forever to process past traumas. Writing poetry really helps me think over, process, and get out everything I need to, so it's a great healing tool for me. My problem is that I mull over each word, making sure everything is accurate to how things how happened, and that the overall feeling of the poem accurately captures the essence and energy of that time in my life. It's not stuff I can write in a day and be done with. Also, I overthink everything, if that wasn't already apparent lol. I think I might seriously take a vacation in March if I'm feeling mentally well enough where I know I can be healthily productive with my time off.

Anyway, I feel better adding in all these little tidbits that have been sitting on my brain that I didn't get to the first time around. I think there was more. Actually, there was definitely more, but I'm too tired right now to think or care. I'll deal with those thoughts later. Editing officially over. 😎

[ndragoon]

.

Really love how the past two weeks have played out.

Starts off with me going to the ER because of back pain so severe I couldn't even just sit and watch stuff because every pulse of pain made me physically move in kind

They told me that not only did I have a bad infection, but it had caused sepsis and I needed to stay and be treated for it.

Okay, whatever. I don't know the specifics of it but I know it killed one of my closest friend's mom a few months ago, so I'll put up with it.

While I'm there, I get seen by a urologist (technically I saw four, but the other three were decent) who tells me that actually, the prostate doesn't really have any issues unless you're around 60, so even if this wasn't going on they'd never look at it anyway. It doesn't matter that it hurts to stimulate my prostate because it's "small and perfectly healthy".

She then goes on to tell me that I didn't actually have any shrinkage from the testosterone gel. Sometimes the testicles do reduce in size some. But mine are just small and were small since I was born. The only reason they "seem to sit high" is because I'm just really fat and because of all the fat down there, it hangs around them and obscures them. The only reason I felt any pain in them was because of this infection, since it's all connected.

Doesn't matter that they shrunk down so much I only feel the tubes behind them most of the time. Doesn't matter that I can't even find those sometimes because they pull up inside me. Doesn't matter that they used to hang low enough that if it was warm I had to put in effort to make sure they didn't dunk in the toilet water. Doesn't matter that my penis has shrunk so considerably that it's clearly visible with photo evidence, since I used to take size comparison pics to show just how small it was for the longest time. Clearly I'm just a Manly Man trying to strut my stuff and explain why I'm not packing a summer sausage with two oranges at the moment.

When I finally get told I'm well enough to leave, I'm also told I'm not allowed to drive for some reason until I see my PCP and get cleared. So I'm like whatever, I'll deal with it since I shouldn't be going anywhere anyway.

Finally see my pcp and she tells me that apparently the scans they did found stuff on my liver, some kind of thing alongside fibrosis. What's going on with it is something that just seemingly happens. She told me there really isn't any known cause, it just happens.

The rest of my lifespan is basically going to be dictated by roulette. It doesn't matter if I became *perfectly healthy* by the most ridiculously strict standards. I could see the doctor one day and be told I have 2 to 10 years left anyway.

And now I can't even find anything pleasant online because people are acting like reblogging about Palestine's genocide to the exclusion of everything else is going to help. If anyone posts anything even slightly positive or neutral, they get attacked because they are supposed to be reblogging about it exclusively with no breaks.

So I'm basically stuck being reminded that I'm stuck dying alone because I'm not going to drag someone else into my life when I might have to tell them I have two years left after we just got started, on top of everything else. While also seeing an endless running commentary about how a genocide is going on that is actually okay! Because apparently Jews are the only forbidden people to genocide!

Because people seem to think that the US Army will suddenly start to care about what the people want if they are just annoying enough to the right people, as if they haven't been doing whatever they want longer than I've been alive.

And I'm sitting here being forced to pretend that everything is okay because if I stop to so much as catch my breath, everything will breach my mind and I'll start to spiral badly. But I also can't step away from anything because it's as they say, it makes me selfish putting myself over everyone else who has no choice but to keep dealing with it with no way to get out.

[rextasywrites]

Grab a bite (Lady Dimitrescu x f!Reader)

Hello! This is my first smut fic here on Tumblr. Please enjoy, I tried my very best <3 mostly smut with a hint of plot, maybe i can expand this idea??? have fun!

Warning: period blood kink! smut! don’t like don’t read please!

Find this fic on AO3

 The days in the castle hadn’t been pleasant to you...to say it in a mild way. The three vampire chicks had thrown you into the basement, up to rot along your mates. The first one to go was Mike. He had suffered from a cold before you headed into the mysterious village, and his cold soon turned into pneumonia. There wasn’t anything you could do for him apart from making sure he was as comfortable as he could be.

 The next one to go was Jasmin. In the cells you three (and a corpse) shared were quite a few rusty nails and she had the misfortune of stepping on one. Sepsis took her in less than 24 hours.

 Just a few hours ago, it was James who perished. The food given to you by the vampires was barely edible.. for humans. While you suffered from stomach aches quite a lot, James had a bigger problem. His food allergies were through the roof, and a simple dish with some nuts in it was his last meal on death row. You tried to make a tracheotomy, you really did.

 The vampires kept you in the cage for just a little bit longer. The bodies were taken away by them, but you had no chance of escaping. As you laid on the uncomfortable bed that kind of resembled a murphy bed, your mind went to everything you had left behind. Your family, your friends. All of this for a stupid job and “exploring Romania”. Fuck this shit. Were they looking for you? Were they missing you?

 Your stomach churned at all the anxieties creeping up your throat, making you choke back whatever was trying to come back up. But that wasn’t the only weird feeling in your stomach. While you didn’t know how long you had actually been in this hellhole, you knew your birth control ran out several days ago, and now your body was keen on getting its hormone household back into place.

 As if your uterus called her, one of the vampire ladies stood in front of the cell you were locked in, licking over her lips. You couldn’t tell if the darkness of her lips was from lipstick or the fact that she was a half dead monster. “Lady Dimitrescu awaits you.”, the lady said and unlocked the cage. When you first stood up, you had to press your hand against your stomach, feeling how the cramps were slowly getting worse inside of you. The lady just watched with raised eyebrows - do vampires even get periods?

 She led you through the impressive castle, and you wondered when someone cleaned in here for the last time, spiderwebs and dust were settled on nearly every surface. But boy, if it wasn’t impressive. Bigger than anything you had ever seen in your life. This sentence also was fitting for Lady Dimitrescu, who was sitting on her luxurious bed, covers of satin under her impressive...body.

 “My dear, I knew you would make it alive out of there!”, she gave you her biggest smile, and when she stood up...Jesus, she was taller than anyone you had ever seen, easily reaching 2,5 meters. Absolutely supernatural. But the thing which caught your eyes the most were her huge breasts. They were right at eye height for you, and being killed by massive tits seemed like the most pleasant death in this place. Well, at least better than dying because of a rusty nail.

 Lady Dimitrescu cupped your cheeks, feeling how the past few days had made you visibly lose weight already. “Oh my...if you want to survive the ritual, we have to nourish you. Daniela, please, get us some of the wine. I wouldn’t want my daughter to starve, would I?”

 Daniela came back with a bottle of the wine Lady Dimitrescu mentioned, pouring it into two glasses before handing you one, the other one to her...mentor? Mother? You didn’t know. Lady Dimitrescu made your two glasses click together and took a sip off the exclusive fluid, smiling as it made its way to her stomach. The taste wasn’t unpleasant, not at all. A strong taste of dry wine, but the aftertaste was slightly metallic. “You know you are allowed to speak with me.”, Lady Dimitrescu said as she put her glass on the nightstand, which had looked hilariously small in her hands. “You are part of the family now, dear. There is nothing to hide.”

 “Why me?”, was everything you managed out. Daniela had left the room by now, but that didn’t help to lessen your anxiety.

 Lady Dimitrescu chuckled and took your hand into hers, giving you the gentlest smile a vampire demon whatever the fuck she was could give. “Because you are special. The first moment my daughters spotted you in the village, I knew you’d come here. I knew you’d make it out of there alive. And now, I will prepare you for the ritual.”

 “What kind of ritual?”, the questions were clouding your mind. The last ritual you heard of was from Midsommar, and you had no interest in being burnt alive! As your hands started to shake, Lady Dimitrescu tightened her grip on them.

 “I will make you one of us. But first, you have to show me you can handle this life. That you can handle…”, she got closer to your ear as she whispered into it, “my needs.” Her needs?

 Lady Dimitrescu took the glass from your hands, putting it next to hers. Once her hands were free she placed them on your shoulders, pushing you down into the satin covers of her bed, and once you hit the sheets, your eyes felt so heavy. “Don’t fall asleep little dove!”, Lady Dimitrescu shooed, tapping her long fingers against your skin.

 “We would have started this sooner, but sadly”, Lady Dimitrescu gestured to your pants, “you have used this pill which stopped your period. And I need a good taste of you before we can continue.” What? A good taste?

 “I thought vampires drink blood!”, you bursted out, cupping your mouth once your brain realized what you just said.

 Lady Dimitrescu laughed loudly, giving your thigh a little pat. “Oh, we do, little dove. But I need to taste your innocence.” Your innocence… Her words flew around your brain while her fingers touched your bare skin from the holes in your pants. The bucket of water and the washing cloth might have helped you with feeling filthy, but it didn’t help with any ripped clothes. “It won’t hurt, I promise you. And once you have passed this test, you will be one of us in no time.”

 “...Okay?”

 “Good to hear that you agree with me, little dove!”, Lady Dimitrescu smiled, and her next move shook you to the bone. Out of the fingers of her right hand came claws, something straight out of a Wolverine movie! You froze in shock as she came closer, but instead of hurting you, all she did was slowly ripping the fabric of your clothes - or better said, what was left of them. She hummed at the sight under her, while your face became hotter and hotter. “Do not worry, dove. You will get new costumes when I am done with you. We will burn this trash you called clothes. Cheap trash.”

 Soon you were left in your undergarments, Lady Dimitrescu eyeing you up and down as if you were a piece of meat, ready for the predator to rip into its prey. And it wasn’t that wrong of a thought. In the end, you were at her mercy, but slowly her soft touch made you feel warm on the inside, spreading from your stomach, reaching all the way to your fingers and toes, a warmth you hadn’t felt in days. Was it the wine? Or was it something else?

 Lady Dimitrescu smelt old. But not an unpleasant old smelt, not this smell from nursing homes, where the rotten flesh melted into the seats of the wheelchairs. The smell of old books and knowledge, aged like the fine wine she had just given you.

 As your mind was clouded, Lady Dimitrescu continued to undress you. Your period had started by now, and a single drop of your blood fell on the satin covers under your ass. She chuckled, dipping her finger into the blood, licking it clean. “Have you ever laid with a man before, my dove?”, Lady Dimitrescu asked, to which you were ripped out of your thoughts, your reply a simple nod. You didn’t trust your voice anymore. “That’s good. You are pure. You are innocent. Just perfect for my daughters and me. Oh little dove, we are going to have so much fun together!”, Lady Dimitrescu laughed as she clapped her hands together, giving you her widest smile - and for a moment you could spot her fangs. What a weird turn on all of this was.

 Once her finger was clean, a hunger formed inside of her. Your blood...it tasted so good, so fresh, so healthy. Unlike anything she had eaten in the past 500 years - and she fucking wanted more. “Come here, little dove. Spread your legs for the Lady.”, she said as she grabbed hold of your hips, pulling your middle closer. The claws on her right hand had gone back into her skin, and at this point, you didn’t even want to ask why. At this point, all you needed was her.

 Lady Dimitrescu settled between your legs, “Let’s make this a pleasant experience for the both of us, shall we?”, she smiled as she pulled down her dress, exposing her big breasts. “I noticed your stares.”, and by the gods, they were everything you ever wanted and needed. Big, her dress had held them up, it must have been painful to her. They were saggy, but who didn’t appreciate a great pair of tits? You reached upward, your fingers sinking into the soft flesh as she chuckled. Lady Dimitrescu placed her hand on yours, letting you feel her up as you desired.

 “Come on, little dove”, she smiled after some groping from your side. She couldn’t deny, your eager massages on her breasts had left her wet and ready, but she had to prepare you. Maybe once she managed to spill a sweet orgasm from your lips, maybe then she would engage in some self centered pleasure. But right now, you were her main focus.

 Her fingers dipped a finger between your folds, scooping up your wetness mixed with blood. Lady Dimitrescu hummed in delight as she sucked her fingers clean, happiness clearly evident as she savoured the taste on her tongue. “You want to try it too?”, you shook your head in response, to which she laughed, “Oh, you will appreciate blood soon enough, little dove!”

 You couldn’t gasp when Lady Dimitrescu grabbed your hips, pulling you up against her mouth. With your legs wrapped around her shoulders, she had your pussy right in her face, taking in the sweet smell of your arousal and the metallic undertone of blood. Just how she liked it. Just how she imagined it. “Oh, having to wait for you for so many days was terrible, little dove. But now, you are mine.”, she whispered as she dove her head between your thighs, taking in more and more of you. The moment her tongue hit your folds, a loud gasp escaped your throat, surely the vampires outside of the room would hear you. Lady Dimitrescu just chuckled against your wetness, flicking her tongue over your clit as the sweet taste of your wetness spread all across her mouth.

 Her tongue was in the same proportion as her body, longer and thicker than anything you had ever seen before - or felt before. She slurped up whatever fluid she could reach, humming in delight whenever blood found its way into her mouth. The blood of a healthy and innocent virgin had been her favourite kind for so long, so hard to come by and the resulting fullness lasting for even longer. Maybe she wouldn’t turn you and keep you as her little to-go human. But where would be the fun in that?

 As much as you wished she’d use her fingers too, it was like Lady Dimitrescu was reading your mind. “No penetration for you, little dove. You need to stay pure, untouched.”, but eating your pussy out was fine? Well, you had to play by her rules, not yours. You relaxed further in her grip as Lady Dimitrescu refreshed herself on you, feeling hundreds of years younger.

 Your orgasm came crashing down on you, unexpected but with a force you had never felt before. While you groaned and trashed under Lady Dimitrescu’s grip, she kept her lips on your pussy, taking in all the juices she could get her mouth on, the hint of blood making her moan in delight.

 The next thing you know is that the pain in your abdomen had stopped and Lady Dimitrescu had put clothes on your. You rubbed your eyes, blinking as you made sense of what had happened while you were out. The clothes on your body were dark and silky, just like the dress of Daniela before. The hunger inside of you was burning your stomach down, but it wasn’t just a simple hunger.

 You were lusting for blood. Well, time to find Lady Dimitrescu and tell her about the little changes in your body...

[a-wanderersdiary]

Diary of a Wanderer-Entry Twenty Four

It’s been a strange few days. Not really felt like writing til now. Obviously I’m glad Jana and Alex found me, gladder still that they didn’t freak out about the mark. It feels...really weird. Having my face uncovered again. Must have been years since I’ve gone without the bandages around people. Still wearing the goggles most of the time, I don’t think my eyes will ever quite be used to sunlight again. 

How many years now? Three? Four? I cant even really remember. The mark stopped growing last summer. I was dreading the colder weather but, it’s not gotten any larger. The coughing’s a bastard, but Don says he’s seen far worse cases. That I’m lucky.

Mark or not, I’m doing better than Conway.

We found them two days ago. Camped out in the caves. Don nearly shot us when we came up too quick. He’s not been sleeping. We can all see it, but he says he has his patient to attend to.

He’s got Conway laid out on a rock shelf, closest thing to a bed he could find. Poor guy’s hot hit with a fever, the wound’s gone bad. Don got the bullet out, patched him up but it’s not looking great. 

I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on Don’s face when Jana and Alex told him those bastards stole the medical kit. He shook his head, took some of the water bottles and went to Conway’s side. 

And it was all going so well, you know? Jana and I met and apart from that shit in the forest, we had it good. Hell the first few days with Don, Alex and Conway just felt right. l thought I’d found a proper group. People we could stick with.

Shit Conway saved my life! And now he’s probably gonna die of sepsis. Hundreds of miles from anything close to a hospital. Cold, in a dark forest surrounded by god knows what.

I gave him a drink of Jana’s moonshine when Don wasn’t looking. Told him to stay strong, that I still owed him several more drinks. He laughed, but there wasn’t much humour in it. 

“Look after ‘em, Red...Look after em y’here...that’ll be us square...”

He knows he’s not gonna make it. I think the rest of us do to. We just dont wanna say it. It’s never easy. You think you’d be used to it, but you’re not. Especially like this. When the dying goes slow.

Jana’s been a comfort. She’s said I can keep the bandanna, but that she hopes I show my face more. Seems only fair I suppose.She’s been sitting with me at the fire on a night, I want to hold her hand but, well that’d just spoil things. 

She asked if she could clean my Non-Binary badge, I didn’t even realize how much muck had gotten on it. I said sure, and she polished it like it was a coin from ancient Rome, and smiled so warmly when she gave it back. I felt like I was gonna melt.

 I cooked tonight. A stew. Hot, simple. Something to keep us going. The others ate like they’d not seen food in a week. Hell, so did I. I’m no chef but, sometimes I get it right. 

Conway could barely eat any of it. I doubt it’ll be very long now.

I’ll look after them, I owe you that much.

-Red

[thefandomlesbian]

2, 4, 17, 20, 35 and 81

2.) If you could meet anyone on earth, who would it be?

I don’t know! In recent years, a lot of the people I used to idolize have either died or have turned out to be pretty shitty. I guess maybe Stephen King? 

4.) What do you think about the most?

Aggressively planning fanfictions in my head to dissociate from the stress of my day to day life.

17.) What is the last lie you told?

I don’t usually lie a lot. I guess on Tuesday, I signed off that I gave a cat her ocular meds, but I couldn’t find her and I ended up forgetting, so that counts as a lie.

20.) What is your greatest weakness? Greatest strength?

I have a hard time saying no to people even when I know I’m being taken advantage of or when I disagree with the situation that’s put me in that position. (ie, right now my cat room supervisor who was like a mother to me from the time I was fifteen has been bullied into resigning from the shelter... and the shelter asked me to replace her. Morally, I’m fucking outraged and I want to walk away completely because I’ve been watching them mistreat her for months and they wouldn’t even have me as a resource if it weren’t for her, but instead I’m not only staying on staff--I’m trying to figure out how I can take more hours to help them out because “we don’t know what we’re going to do without you” even though I’m already the only staff member who works with both cats and dogs and I work 20-25 hours/week with school). 

But I think my greatest strength is sort of in the same vein--I’m an independent thinker and I don’t allow an authority figure to convince me to do something I disagree with morally or think is illogical. Because the shelter where I work is no kill, when we have animals in great need of euthanasia (be that medically or, less often, behaviorally), we receive a lot of pushback. When I was very new, I folded under the thumb of the board and watched a kitten slowly die in agony when I knew she needed to be euthanized, that there was nothing else we could do to help her, and the people giving me the orders were not the ones trying to care for this dying animal and were not the ones assessing her condition (and in fact, most of them don’t even own cats--we have a huge problem of the board not giving a flying fuck about the actual lives of our cats and only using them for PR). After I did that, I promised myself I wouldn’t put myself or an animal through that again. I no longer hesitate to make the recommendation when I think it’s time to let an animal go, and if I’m directly overseeing an animal’s care, I take care of them in my own time, even if that means defying orders. A few weeks ago, the board instructed me to “just administer fluids” to a kitten with suspected FIP. He had crashed on Friday and no vet would examine him until Monday. His temperature was 106.3. FIP is not survivable. There is no cure. Once it has taken action, it is one hundred percent terminal. There is no medical intervention we can do to stop its progression. So I told them I would not torture him by administering fluids, I would go to the old backwoods country clinic and have him euthanized. The board was upset with me, but the vet and the techs defended my actions and confirmed he was not in a position where we could save him and he was suffering. 

There’s the opposite side of that coin, where I have been in a position where I was told not to seek veterinary care for an animal and went on to do it anyway; most severely, I had a dog who had opened his neuter incision, had uncontrollable bloody mucous stools everywhere including in his incision, was lethargic, refusing to eat or drink, incontinent, temperature 105.9. It was a Sunday; the board said he could wait until Monday morning. I scheduled an emergency vet appointment where the vet confirmed sepsis and said he probably would not have lived to see Monday morning. 

Being a self-starter and trusting your own assessment is vital both in what I do now (animal care) and my future (nursing) and I think not being swayed by the insistence of authority figures if I’m suspicious of their recommendations will help me in the future. 

35.) To you, what is the meaning life?

To plant a tree under whose shade you do not intend to sit. 

81.) What do you want to be written on your tombstone?

Honestly, as long as they don’t deadname me, I’m good with just about anything. 

[the-sober-story-so-far]

A pre-snippet to the past 10 years

 Hi there, i’ve got quite a few posts to catch up on since i’m on day 3 of sobriety but I feel like any story should start with where I was these past 10 years. I became a mother at 19, happily. My son was planned, I had met the love of my life a bassist in a metal band and fell in love with the lifestyle that came with it.

 When I had first met Matthew I had never partied before, I was in a very abusive relationship before where I wasn’t allowed to experience what most teens did. Parties, drugs,drinking, hell even my proms. So when I met Matt (before i was pregnant keep in mind) I went wild. We would party almost every night, we fell in love fast too. One of those loves that just hit you right in your face like a bullet. We were inseparable and we were both wild as could be. Once we had decided to slow down and stop going out as much we decided we wanted to get married and start a family together no matter how young we knew that regardless it was meant to be. So we were engaged, we were actually trashed when we got engaged it was pretty punk rock if I say so myself. In the middle of an alley in baltimore, he didn’t have a ring and it didn’t matter. We were just jamming to some Coheed and Cambria in my car drinking a 30 pack parked in this alley when he suddenly told me to get out of the car and follow him. At that point he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him. I thought he was just drunk or joking at first and I remember I kept asking him the next day if he was serious well, obviously it turns out he was. 

 So fast forward a bit, we were engaged and started trying to get pregnant and it took a few months but with luck we ended up pregnant. We decided to get married at the courthouse since we were already on the way to getting married that year anyways. Then we had our beautiful son, I was sober my entire pregnancy. I remember the first week after I had him I got trashed though just to celebrate 9months of pain and hell but at this point i was still a social drinker. The toddler years were happy years, we would only drink on the weekends or here and there when friends would come over. It wasn’t to the point where I had a problem yet. 

 Then he turned 4, and life got really hard. Problems with my family arose, financial problems as well. My mental health declined and i was diagnosed with Bipolar Type 2, as well as OCD, Severe Depressive, Severe Anxiety and Borderline personality Mercurial type. As well as having PTSD from my childhood with my parents. My mom almost passed when I was younger from liver failure. She ended up having a transplant and living. I had an emotionally abusive father, my mother’s mental health was never stable I actually use to remember her waking me up at 4 am and screaming at me as a child for things I had done the day before. I witnessed so many fights and insane moments a child shouldn’t. I then ended up in an abusive relationship from 14-18 with a boy who would hit me, verbally abuse me, gaslight me, manipulate me and then one day eventually sexually assault me in my sleep. The thing about trauma is it always catches up to you.

 And that’s where I think it all started going wrong, it began catching up. I moved out in my first apartment with my husband and my son and finally had freedom. We had lots of parties, I met lots of “friends” who only cared about where the next party was or who had the drugs. I began partying more and more, and made decisions I was not proud of. Including hurting my husband more than I ever could have even fathomed, I don’t like to speak of it. I have faced my guilt about it daily but in short I was unfaithful. Even if it was one time, it was inexcusable. My cousin had moved in with me, and though I love her back in that time she wasn’t the best influence either. She always wanted to party or smoke weed as well. We became partners in crime, we always wanted to get into some chaos and have fun. Then we were forced to move back to my parents all 4 of us this time due to a shooting in my apartment complex where we were no longer safe. It was unbearable living there during that time, before my mom began fixing herself and facing her own demons and dealing with my father and his emotionally abusive ways.

 So we ended up moving to my grandparents, where we were later kicked out of for having people over partying almost every night. At that point I had also assumed I wanted to be polyamorous, which indeed I am not. I am bisexual yes, but the polyamory was just an excuse in my own mind not to work on my own marriage and fix the damage I had unleashed upon it. When we lived at my grandparents was when the peak in my drinking began. I began drinking daily with my cousin starting early in the morning drinking bottles of rum and vodka all day to the point of blacking out, mixing clonopin with it. Smoking spice, smoking weed, just drugs and booze constantly. One night I overdosed and slit my wrists so bad that the scars are still there to this day I am lucky to be alive and you’d have thought that would have been enough to stop me from my path of destruction but it did not.

 I did end up quitting spice, once we were kicked out of my grandparents I saved money at my job and we rented a place with my cousin and a “friend”, the drinking only got worse there. More parties, more drugs. I started dabbling with Molly and Adderall while i was there and almost ecstasy. My mental health declined so bad due to being worried about a relationship with a girl I thought I loved and spending my money on substance that we lost our house after I lost my job.

 I moved back home again with my parents, just my husband, my son and myself and the drinking continued then for a few months it was daily drinking until one day I did finally get sober and quit drinking, months later I started to become incredibly sick and was still sober but thought I had cancer from how violently ill I was but I was too afraid to go to a doctor for it, instead in my fucked up mind I decided to attempt suicide twice. I lost many friends along this journey from the choices I made, and from who I was. I felt that being sick was my penance for being such a piece of shit for so long.

 Months passed after this, I was sick for at least 9 more months vomiting at least 9 times daily sometimes more. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t shit and I knew something was wrong but I had doctors who didn’t care to find out, who brushed it off as IBS because I was “young and healthy”. 9 months they let it go, it turned out to be my appendix and a dead bowel. The day my appendix ruptured sepsis poured into my abdomen and i was dying, I was actually dying like I had wished for all those years and then it was in that moment that I knew I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live, I wanted to fight. I had my surgery and had 3 months of severe complications including seizures, fluid ruptures and a massive hole left in my abdomen from those fluid ruptures. September of that same year my intestine popped up below the surface of my skin and I had to have my first hernia surgery, it was successful until November of last year when it tore open and I had my final one. During the process I was foolish enough to keep the same doctors, to be dismissed over and over until the first hernia surgery when I had finally had enough and found doctors who actually cared. However, now I have severe PTSD with practitioners not to mention a nurse  who physically and sexually assaulted me and a doctor who possibly did while I was under anesthesia. This is getting back to the trauma creeping up on you, it all has a purpose.

 So, I went through severe anxiety, and experienced what real PTSD was. I was still sober until one night my husband and his friends and myself were all hanging out in the garage and they said have a beer you’ll be fine and that was when it all started again.

I used to look forward to every Friday and Saturday just wanting to get drunk to feel something, all the while i was still using marijuana daily as well. Well, maybe not to feel something i’d say more to feel nothing. And then it went from 6 drinks to 12 drinks, from Saturdays and Sundays to every day of the week. From 6 packs daily to 12 packs daily. From 12 packs daily to 15 drinks daily, from 15 to 18 and so on. This was a year ago i relapsed and this is my first 3 days sober since it all happened.

 This is to document my journey, this is to look back and feel pride in how far i’ve come and this is so that I know I can do anything and how much I refuse to go backwards. If you’re reading this, i hope if you are in a place where I was it gives you strength, I hope you never feel alone. 

 Welcome to my sobriety diaries.

[a-l-c-gem]

Death Hurts Like Hell. Take it from Me.  Here is my Story....

I’m not even joking.

Take it back 3 years ago, rewind the tape of life.  I remember the exact month AND day.  It was literally at 1 pm.

I was 25 and foolish as hell.

I did something extremely risky- with NO fucking education, which put me into a position of not knowing that death would creep upon me, in the form of septic shock.  Yes- you read that right.  The number one killer in America within hospitals. 

I had a bacterial infection which had, at that point, invaded my blood, and I was in shock, freezing cold, and my body literally felt like it was burning everywhere.  That’s the best way I can describe it.  Please keep in mind that I had been incorrectly diagnosed twice prior, and given the wrong antibiotics. (They thought it was a yeast infection & then, a UTI- NOPE)!

I was lying down on my couch, wailing in pain, barely getting breaths of air in.  “It fucking hurts,” I said, through clenched teeth, as my only friend since birth ran to grab a thermometer, taking my temp.

I barely got it for them, and screamed again, my body feeling like 50 people were stabbing me, all at once.

“Okay, honey, c’mon. You’re going to the ER.”

Once inside, on a wheelchair because I literally could NOT walk, my temp was taken, and read 104 degrees.  I was literally dying.  I was rushed with no questions to a room, and the doctor ran tests, immediately telling us “We have to get her upstairs in a room, ASAP- she has severe sepsis and has gone into shock.  You will lose her completely if we don’t act right now.”

I was confused and bewildered, while in severe pain and exhausted, enough to ask, “You have to admit me?” He nodded his head, looking emotional, and medic transport was there within 1 minute.  My friend grabbed my clothes/wallet/phone, was literally rushing beside them, going along with me.  After that, I was in my room, given medications, and legit passed out. 

The rest after that, was blurry, as I was in and out of consciousness.  I DO remember being highly sedated with morphine for my pain, having a blood transfusion, and my friend being scared to death, diligently checking on me.  I was sedated for what felt like forever, to me. Only because if I woke up, I’d either be A- vomiting up blood, or the oral antibiotics they TRIED to give me, or B- crying in pain.  I do not wish that pain upon anyone, EVER.  I guess I cried a lot, and it took a lot of effort to get me re-stabilized.

It wasn’t until my final day (I spent 6 total days in the hospital) that I was 100% awake, alert and able to somewhat comprehend all that had happened.  I just knew that I could eat food, hold it down, and my body felt better.  

Now, jump forward to today, June 2020. 

Nobody told me the whole story of my sepsis until 3 years later, a few weeks ago because it had been so painful for them. ((The hospital in depth details, mainly the fact that it was to the point that the pain that I felt, was actually my body dying, and then fighting to live, and more below)).

My liver had been failing, and my lungs as well.  The doctor and nurses saved my life, by acting as quickly as they did when I was literally dying. My MOM saved my life. <3 I owe her literally everything. For answering my questions.  For helping put together my whole story and the missing pieces. For never giving up on me, despite the mistakes that I had made.  

Above all, my Heavenly Father kept me alive.  I am here for a reason!

I have survived death.  I have survived septic shock.  I am one of the very lucky ones, who 3 years later, suffers from PTSD and has health issues with her lungs, immune, and digestive system but is SO grateful to be alive!  Here’s my heart and shout out to fellow survivors, and prayers for those who have passed.  Sepsis is real, and death hurts like hell.  Be safe.  Take precautions, take care of and love your body.  <3 Life is too short. 

[7-wonders]

As Above, So Below Ch. 13

Summary: Your average, mundane life as a college student is flipped upside down when the man you thought you knew as your next-door neighbor turns out to be the God of the dead. When Michael lures you down to Hell, everything that you thought you knew about the world is proven wrong.

Word Count: 3666

A/N: This chapter’s a lot happier than the last one! I’m also extremely pleased with how this one turned out. Feedback is always appreciated; leave me a like, reblog or comment if you liked it! My inbox is always open if you want to chat.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7| Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13: Finding You

Out of all of the bad things that come along with almost dying, the sudden ‘caring’ attitudes of family and friends you hardly know is one of the worst. Since your release from the hospital a couple of days ago, you’ve been inundated with texts and calls from people who you didn’t even know had your phone number. Classmates who haven’t talked to you since the day you graduated high school flood your social media, all saying how “you’re the sweetest person I know” and that “I know we haven’t talked much recently, but…” It’s sickening, how people flock to tragedies just so they can say they’re connected.

However, being on the brink of death does bring visits from your favorite family members whom you haven’t been able to see for extended periods of time, due to one reason or another. There truly is nothing like being critically ill to bring a family back together. Today, you’re lucky to have one of your favorite family members stopping by for a long-overdue visit.

John Henry Moore, your mother’s cousin and one of your most beloved ‘uncles,’ is one of the so-called outcasts of your family. He’s constantly gone on shady business, teaches at a boys’ boarding school in the middle of a desert in California, and supposedly dabbles in the dark occult. He’s elegant, well-spoken, and totally weird; you love him dearly.

“You’re looking well, darling niece.” John Henry says, swinging the porch swing you’re both sitting on. A rare rainstorm has been drenching the city all day, leaving the sky gloomy and the the air smelling sweet.

“You don’t need to lie to me, Uncle John.” You smirk, knowing that you’re as pale as a ghost and still pretty weak.

“I promise you I’m not. Considering you almost died, the mere fact that you’re alive and smiling is incredibly good to see.” John Henry chuckles when a sudden clap of thunder has you jumping slightly, settling his hand on top of yours. “Something troubles you, (Y/N). What is it?”

You look at him in surprise, his intuition just as strong as you’ve always known it to be.

“You’ll think I’m crazy if I tell you.” You say finally, looking him in the eyes. John Henry smiles slightly, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge you.

“Try me.”

“Uncle, do you believe in witches and warlocks? Magic?” He doesn’t look shocked, or incredulous. Instead he grins, turning to face you.

“It appears there’s something I need to tell you, as well.”

From here you tell him the entire story. Your meeting with Michael, how he lured you down to a Hellmouth and brought you to the Underworld. The prophecy about you that had been written thousands of years ago. Learning magic and accepting your fate, as well as your relationship with Michael and the second prophecy that almost got him killed. In return, John Henry tells you his own dirty little secret. He’s a powerful warlock who teaches at a school for warlocks and serves on a secret council that oversees all of the witches and warlocks in the world.

“So you’ve met Hecate, then?” John Henry asks, lips twitching.

“I have. She’s...my friend.”

“A lot to handle, isn’t she?”

“You’ve met her, too?” Your eyes twinkle at knowing that other people have had the joy of meeting Madison.

“Hecate is the mother of magic and witchcraft. As a member of the council, I am in frequent contact with her.” He stands, crossing over to the railing and leaning against it as he looks out at the Murder House. “So, you’re supposed to be the Queen of the Underworld?”

“Apparently.” You smile sheepishly. “I didn’t believe it at first, either, but it’s true. I’ve seen how it works.”

“But a second prophecy makes it impossible for mortals to survive in the Underworld.”

“Even though I’m supposed to rule the Underworld, I also can’t survive there as a mortal. I’ll die down there, but if I’m not down there Satan will use Michael to blur the lines between the living and the dead and start the Apocalypse.”

“Well, it appears you’re facing a true catch-twenty two.” He says dryly, lighting a cigarette with his pyrokinesis.

“Not even Madi-Hecate has been able to find a loophole around these two prophecies. I’m a mortal, and I’ll forever be a mortal. Unless you can find a stray vampire that would be willing to change me?” You joke, attempting to use humor as a coping mechanism.

“No, no nice vampires at least.” John Henry takes a couple of deep drags from his cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs for as long as possible before releasing it. It’s a very Madison-esque move, and it’s one that has your heart clenching painfully for your second home. “Let me ask you something, (Y/N). Obviously, your reasoning behind wanting to return to the the Underworld lies in the fact that you do not want to inadvertently trigger the Apocalypse, which I understand and am fully behind. But, is there a small part of you that has an ulterior motive?”

“An ulterior motive?” You question, watching as a conspiratorial smile spreads on his face.

“Do you...do you love Hades?”

“I don’t think so?” You say hesitantly. “I like Michael a lot, and I like him romantically, but we had only just started expressing our affection for each other a few days before I got sick.”

John Henry nods half-heartedly, and you can tell he’s thinking. What about, though, you’re not quite sure. Everytime you want to interrupt and ask what’s on his mind, his facial expressions change completely. It’s almost like he’s having a conversation with himself, and it makes him look like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

“I think that I might have an idea.” He says suddenly, causing you to shoot up (well, shoot up as quickly as a person still recovering from sepsis can) off of the swing.

“Really?”

“I need to gather some supplies, but I should be back within a half hour. I’ll meet you back here.” With that he disappears dramatically, off to go and get the aforementioned supplies.

Your uncle is a man of his word, and 35 minutes you’re sitting on the bottom step in the basement of the Murder House while John Henry sets up the supplies he had left to grab.

“So you’re making an altar?” You ask, taking in the different colored cloths that sit on the small table.

“Hecate is very particular when it comes to being summoned. She requires a lot, which really isn’t that surprising. Three cloths: black for the Underworld, red for the middle world, and white for the upper world.” With each color, he picks up the corresponding cloth and spreads it out, placing items on top of each one. “Animal bones go on the black, wine on the red, and a plant on the white.”

“Something dead, something stagnant, and something growing?” You guess. John Henry looks over his shoulder, smiling at you.

“Very good. The three stages of life.”

The candles he’s set up around the altar all light up suddenly when he snaps his fingers, and he holds his hands out with his palms facing the ground. He starts chanting, switching easily between Latin and English whenever the incantation calls for it. When the wind from the Hellmouth reaches the main part of the basement and blows the candles out, the chanting only increases. You hum happily upon smelling the familiar scents of lavender, smoke, and dirt, nose seeing Madison before your eyes do.

“Well, well, well, it’s been an awfully long time since I had a warlock summon me.” Madison’s standing before John Henry, sunglasses perched on her head and black lace dress rustling in the wind. “Why does it not surprise me that the only tolerable warlock I’ve met in ages is associated with you, (Y/N)?”

You stand up, but choose not to pull your friend into a hug when she’s here on official business. John Henry’s head is bowed in respect as Madison relights the candles, an apparent sign for him to look back up.

“John Henry Moore is my uncle.” You explain, smiling when she smirks.

“Hecate, I thank you for choosing to receive my offerings.” He speaks up, causing you both to look at him.

“Why have you summoned me here today?” She asks.

“I think I may have a way for (Y/N) to return to the Underworld without being harmed anymore, at least long enough for Satan to be defeated.”

“How?” Madison’s intrigued, and you are too.

“The Seven Wonders. If (Y/N) truly does possess both light and night magic, then it should be a given that she’ll pass the Seven Wonders. You’ll still be mortal, but there will be a part of you that is the Supreme. You’ll be able to stay in the Underworld for a longer amount of time before the effects start to reach your mortal being, and thus, you’ll be able to defeat Satan.” Madison looks surprised at this suggestion, but you bite your lip in worry.

“Uncle, are you sure I’m strong enough? I can barely walk without getting winded, and not to mention that I couldn’t do any sort of magic when I attempted it in the hospital.”

“You were on so many drugs in the hospital, it doesn’t surprise me that your magic was repressed. The more Wonders you complete, the more vitality you experience. Think of it as levelling up. Each time you are successful, you’re healed in some way. The Supreme is meant to be the picture of a strong witch, and your magic won’t allow you to be so ill.” You’re more than shocked when Madison defends John Henry’s’ suggestion.

“What happens if I fail?”

“You won’t. I know you won’t.” Madison and John Henry both stare at you as you consider what you’re about to do.

Six of the Seven Wonders don’t scare you at all; if you fail, everyone will just find a different way to stop the Apocalypse. If you fail at descensum, however, that’s it. Game over. You’ve seen the consequences of failing that wonder, and it terrifies you to think about what being stuck in your personal hell for all eternity would be like. But if you do pass, like Madison believes you will, it would mean gaining immense amounts of power that would help you to defeat Satan and stop the end of the world before it even starts. Not only that, but you would be guaranteed to at least see Michael one more time in your life.

“I’ll do it.” You say finally, nodding your head decisively.

“We shall conduct your tests at the Hawthorne School, where I teach. We’re more prepared with magical supplies there than the basement that sits over a Hellmouth.” John Henry notes, wrinkling his nose in distaste. He holds out his arm for you to take, but Madison grabs you before you can even begin to reach for your uncle.

“We’ll meet you there, thanks.” She snaps. You nod, letting him know that you’ll be more than okay with Madison. Although he’s obviously displeased, John Henry still bows towards Madison before transmuting away. “Thank the gods, I thought he’d never leave.”

“Why don’t you like warlocks?” You ask with a smirk.

“Never have. The majority of them are misogynistic assholes who believe witches are below them, even though a goddess herself gifted them their powers.” She snorts, rolling her eyes. “Biggest mistake I ever made.”

“Let’s go, before my uncle comes back and you hex him or something.” You grab Madison’s hand, feeling the familiar tugging sensation that comes with transmuting.

When you both land, you’re standing in the library of the underground school that you’ve only ever seen pictures of before. Madison walks like she owns the place (which she does, if you’re getting technical), and you’re relieved that there’s no other warlocks around to annoy her. You stand still, cracking your knuckles nervously. You don’t know why you’re so nervous; everybody that’s closest to you has absolute faith in you and your magical abilities. But you don’t have that same faith in yourself. John Henry can sense your obvious nerves, and approaches you before taking your hands.

“My dear, darling niece, there is nothing to be frightened of. The magic that you possess...it’s not once-in-a-lifetime, it’s one of a kind. I was willfully ignorant, in that I chose to ignore your power and not tell your parents. I just didn’t want you to go through the same cruelty that I dealt with from our family growing up. You can do this, (Y/N). I know you can.” You smile, letting yourself be pulled into a hug.

“Thank you, Uncle John.”

“It’s time.” Madison interrupts.

You walk to the table that Madison stands behind, where an unlit candlestick stands. She looks at you, not as a friend, but as your superior. You can see now why so many people are afraid of her, because now you’re a little scared of her, too.

“The first wonder that we will be attempting today is telekinesis. (Y/N), please move the candlestick.”

You take a deep breath before staring intently at the object that sits mere feet ahead of you. Suddenly, you hear Michael’s voice in your head, so clear that it sounds like he’s right next to you: “channel that feeling, and use it.” You grin when the candlestick glides into your hand easily, picking it up triumphantly.

“Good. Now, light it.” This comes just as easily as the telekinesis, and a small flame pops onto the wick. John Henry laughs at your excitement, and even Madison has to fight back a smile.

“Told you you could do it.” John Henry gloats. “Now calm it down, levitation isn’t one of the Seven Wonders.”

You’re momentarily confused until you notice that the table itself is floating in the air. It drops back down with a crash, and you grimace.

“Sorry.” You mutter, a little shocked that there’s no holes in the floor.

“It’s fine, it happens.” Madison smirks, strutting out from behind the table to stand next to John Henry. “Your next Wonder will be concilium.”

Your smile falters as you recall what concilium is.

“Mind control? I’ve never even attempted this before.”

“The core of each Wonder lies in what you were taught for your first two. It’s all about intention. Intend to control one of us.” John Henry instructs.

You think, trying to decide on something that neither one of them would do. You want to control your uncle, but he seems too obvious a target. Besides, who can say that they controlled the Goddess of Witchcraft herself? You look Madison in her eyes, silently commanding her to do what you want. To your delight, she starts doing jumping jacks, which is exactly what you had wanted her to do. She rolls her eyes and groans, but still can’t stop.

“Really, (Y/N)? I hate exercising!” She whines. You giggle, John Henry snickering next to her before you break the connection and look away.

“I’m sorry, I had to do it.” You say innocently. Madison sighs, smoothing out her now-mussed hair and pulling her dress back to where it’s supposed to be.

“This next task will be the last of the evening,” She gets right down to business, and the serious tone has you dreading what comes next. “Due to the fact that you must complete it before sunrise. Complete it successfully, and we shall take a break before reconvening in the late afternoon. Failure will result in stoppage of the tests and, unfortunately...death.”

“This can’t be the last Wonder?” Your voice shakes with fear.

“This is the order that the Wonders are traditionally performed in. We cannot change them around, I’m sorry.” You nod, clenching your jaw.

“Alright, then.” Laying down on the floor, you sigh deeply.

“Do you remember the incantation?” John Henry stares down at you, worry in his eyes.

“Yes, I do.”

“Once you descend, your time will begin. You have until sunrise.” Madison says in a tone that lets you know she’s not enjoying this anymore than you are. Breathing deeply, you start to recite the incantation you had learned from one of the many books the Underworld’s library offered to you.

“Spiritu duce, in me est. Deduc me in tenebris vita ad extremum, ut salutaret inferi. Descensum.” Your eyesight darkens as your soul leaves your physical body and you descend into Hell.

When your eyes open again, you’re in a room that’s starkly white, momentarily confusing you; aren’t you supposed to be unaware of the fact that you’re in Hell? Furthermore, shouldn’t you be living out your worst fears? If you had more time, you would try to figure out why this is so different for you, but you decide to use your soul being in Hell to your advantage. The door opens easily, and you smile at the familiar black hallway that contains the personal Hells of so many. The small light at the end lets you know which way to go, which you do gladly.

The castle looks just the same as you remember it to be, but you don’t stop to admire the paintings this time. Instead you run towards where you hope Michael will be, almost desperate to find him. If they’re confused or shocked, the guards of the throne room certainly don’t show it. They barely glance your way before opening the doors for you, allowing you to slip in. Sure enough, Michael’s sitting slouched in his throne, a glass of what you’re assuming to be absinthe, due to the green color, in his hand. He looks disheveled, which is entirely unlike him.

“Michael!” You yell out, making his once-closed eyes open. Although he’s annoyed at first, shock crosses his face when he sees you.

“I’m finally going crazy.” He mutters, knocking the rest of his drink back before rubbing his eyes.

“No, it’s me, Michael. I’m here.” You reassure, watching him stumble to his feet before crossing the room to get to you.

“But how? You...you’ll die down here. You need to go.” He reaches a hand out to touch your face, but it goes right through your form. “You’re not actually here.”

“I descended.” You say proudly.

“Like ‘descensum’ descending?” You nod. “Are you taking the test of the Seven Wonders?”

You feel a little bad for Michael, who looks like he’s on the verge of a mental breakdown right now.

“Yes, but there’s a reason behind it! My uncle summoned Madison to help us with these tests because they both believe that, with my combination of light and night magic, I can pass the Seven Wonders and become the ‘Supreme.’ This would allow me to return here long enough to defeat Satan, since there would be a part of me that is powerful. It’d take longer for the Underworld to reach my mortal soul.” Michael’s silent, and you worry that he’s going to be upset with you. Instead, a slow grin starts to spread on his face.

“You are absolutely incredible, (Y/N). You’ve completed the three Wonders previous to descensum, then?”

“I did!”

“And you descended like it was nothing. Did you even have a hell?”

“No, I was just in a white room. I was fully aware of where I was the whole time, too, which is weird because you told me that people didn’t realize they were in Hell.”

“That’s my girl.” Your heart swells at the endearing compliment he gives you, and you blush. “I wish I could touch you.”

“I wish you could too, Michael. I’ll be back though, I promise.”

“I know you will. Even if the last time we get to see each other is when we’re fighting my father, at least we’ll get to be together.” He smiles sadly, his hand twitching as his body goes to touch you before his mind can remind him that it’s just your soul that’s here. “You should probably be returning to your body now. You know how time passes differently.”

“I don’t want to leave you.” You sigh, frowning at his reminder.

“Remember what you said, though. You’ll be back.” Michael steps back, taking one last look at you before nodding. “It’s time to go now, (Y/N). I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.” You think about returning to your body, your vision slowly disappearing like it did when you were descending down to the Underworld.

You sit up with a loud gasp, clutching at your chest while you try to get some air. Madison and John Henry both look up from where they’re sitting, both rushing towards you now that you’re back in your body.

“You did it. I knew you could do it.” John Henry pulls you into his arms, hugging you tightly.

“What was your hell like?” Madison asks. By her expression change, she definitely wasn’t expecting you to smile upon recalling it.

“I didn’t have one. I woke up in a white room and knew where I was the whole time. I decided to leave and I found Michael.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, he...he told me how much he misses me, and that he knows I’m going to pass the rest of the tests.”

“You’re amazing.”

Although Madison said that you would be extremely drained after returning to your physical body, you feel more invigorated than ever. You want to test the rest of the Wonders out, but neither her nor John Henry will allow you too. Instead, you find yourself in one of the spare bedrooms, trying to sleep in order to please the two who are overseeing your tests. Sleep eludes you, though, and you don’t mind one bit. Sleeplessness is a million times better than sleeping if it means you can relive your recent encounter with Michael over and over again.

Tag List: @nana15774 @sammythankyou @queencocoakimmie @let-me-try-mom @trimbooohgodplsnoooo @lichellaw @sebastianshoe@pastel-cloudz @ultragibbycentralworld @grim-adventures58@dandycandy75 @alexcornerblog @dolceandchalamet @everything-is-awesomesauce @langdonslove @ccodyfern@consultingsnowqueen @readsalot73 @jimmlangdon @sloppy-little-witch-bitch26 @hplotrfan @omg-hellgirl @gallxntdean@storminmytwistedmind @venusxxlangdon @langdonsdemon@kahhlo @americanhorrorstudies @antichristwrites@xxxmaterialistic @forgetting5sos @sadsadiesworld

[oldladydatin]

Second Chances...

I’m going to share this because well this is a pretty anonymous blog for one so I feel comfortable and two every year at this time it’s something I think a lot about, it’s a part of who I am. I realize this is going to be some hokey shit. If someone shared this story with me I would think it was some hokey shit they made up to justify their beliefs. It doesn’t really matter to me, even if I hallucinated it, it made a huge impact in my life. Eight years ago today I was laying in a hospital bed, all alone, with Sepsis, not responding to antibiotics, and I was worried I was about to die..... 

A lot of things led up to this day. I had been struggling with depression and anxiety since middle school. I mostly self medicated, I’d been on antidepressants, I’d been to therapists, none of that helped. When I met my ex husband I was a drunk, honestly. I drank a fifth of gin in front of him and then we went driving on trails in the woods and I was barely buzzed, he kept asking if I was okay to drive and I was because I drank like that a lot. On top of struggling with depression and anxiety, I was raped when I was 17 by a friend I trusted and I just sort went off the deep end. I took drugs at parties and didn’t even ask what they were, I was okay with dying. I was angry at the whole fucking world. I never talked about being raped, I told my husband about it later in our marriage, but that was it until I was in my 30′s. I was embarrassed more than anything, I worried I brought it on, like how messed up is that? I worried it was somehow my fault that when I said no 12+ times he didn’t understand it, I didn’t want people to see me like that. All my bad behaviors escalated after that, I went from sort of caring to not caring at all. I used to cut myself and hide them with the like three dozen bracelets I wore all the time, that got worse and I didn’t even necessarily try to hide it. I went from partying once a week to whenever I could. I drank more, I did more drugs, I drank and drove all the time. I got in more trouble. I tried to drop out of school, I wasn’t necessarily struggling academically, I was smart, but I barely went because I’d have panic attacks and I had migraines all the time. I just quit caring. I wasn’t sexually active, I sort of hated being touched after that. I started seeing someone and I never had sex with him, I was too messed up and it was hard being intimate. My ex husband and I were intimate because I felt safe with him, I trusted him. However I wasn’t ever very affectionate towards him, I really struggled with that. My family wasn’t very affectionate, so I didn’t grow up with a lot of touching to begin with, it’s something I’ve struggled with as an adult and oddly being a nurse has helped me get past this, I hug patients all the time, and hold their hands. I was very affectionate with the Mark’s and I loved that feeling, they always made me feel safe and I trusted them, I think those things are important to me in a relationship. 

One day I got a speech from someone I really didn’t even realized cared about me, but he cornered me and lectured me at a party and he meant it, like it was heart felt and I listened. So at some point I was trying to fix myself, I wasn’t doing a great job but I was trying. I had just quit smoking and doing drugs when I met my husband, I was very slowly working on myself. By the time I met my husband our friends were getting into meth. I didn’t have a lot of sense but I had enough to know I didn’t want to do meth. We made the decision to move about an hour away from our friends to a town with more work, where I was already in school studying art. We got engaged and moved into together, yes in that order, I’m old fashioned. I struggled with depression more after we moved, I was very clingy and dependent. I struggled with being sober all the time. I was a mess. I tried different medications, I tried therapy, I tried being a workaholic, I tried any and everything. I never talked about being raped in therapy, I just tried pretend it didn’t happen and it wasn’t apart of me. I graduated with my art degree and we decided to start a family. It took years to get pregnant but I got pregnant. I was the worst pregnant woman on the face of the planet. I had hyperemesis gravida, it’s a real thing. I threw up so much I was chronically dehydrated, the people in the emergency room knew me by first name. I continually visited them for dehydration, migraines, UTI’s and for episodes of vomitting that didn’t stop for hours. By the third trimester I had quit school and I just laid on the couch and cried all day, I was so depressed it was unreal. We talked to the OB doctors about it and they started me on antidepressants that were safe during pregnancy. They tried to schedule a c-section because of my anatomy they already knew I wouldn’t be able to have her naturally. I insistent on a natural birth, I went 24 hours in labor after my water broke, no drugs, trying every damn thing I could and still ended up with a c-section. I felt like a disappointment as a woman, c-sections are viewed by some women as the “easy” way out. It was a major abdominal surgery, that took weeks to recover from and the experience emotionally damaging and I was already struggling. 

I had severe post-pardum depression, possibly psychosis, also a thing. I had panic attacks, I had a hard time even grocery shopping because I’d walk in the store and it would almost warp and seem so endless that I thought I wasn’t getting out. I was trying to load a trailer at one point to move things to our storage unit and I started hallucinating that bugs were crawling all over me. I never slept, when I did I had nightmares. Everything people said to me was blown out of proportion. If someone nitpicked the way I was holding her I felt like they were criticizing me as mother. I decided to kill myself. I picked a date, wrote a letter, it wasn’t me thinking about it, I had a very well thought out plan. My husband found out and we went to the ER and I spent 3 weeks in a half way house for psych patients, doing group and seeing doctors, the whole thing. After that it was psychiatrists and more pills and more diagnosis. My ex husband got laid off from his job and decided it would be best to try to live in another state. I was excited to go one an adventure, but for my health it was probably the worst thing we did. I needed what little support I had at home. In other states this just got worse until I was in another hospital, 3 more weeks I had gained almost 100 lbs between the side effects of the medications and stress eating, At times I barely got out of bed. I was actually in the process of trying to get disability because the panic attacks were so bad I was barely able to hold down a part time job. I was so desperate to feel better I even went to a therapist about the rape but talking about it was so overwhelming I only went to three sessions and quit. I was addicted to drugs that I was prescribed. They prescribed me ambien and ativan. I would pop ativan all day. I would get in an argument with my husband and just pop some ativan during the argument. I started out taking 5 mg of ambien and eventually I was taking 30 mg, I’d run out of pills and barter for more at the job I had. I would take them and black out and go do stuff. It was all very scary. 

I got what I thought was the stomach flu, I was throwing up all week. My ex husband brought home a pregnancy test and asked me to take it. At this point this man never touched me. I didn’t even remember having sex with him in the year before that. Partially that was my fault, because we had sex and I was on ambien and ativan and I didn’t remember it and that made him feel like he took advantage of me so he wouldn’t touch me. As it turned out I was pregnant, We had, had sex when we went home for Christmas, I was drunk and on drugs and I didn’t remember it. This pregnancy was worse, it started with detox. I called my psychiatrist multiple times to try to find out what to do about the medications because they weren’t safe to take during pregnancy. They never returned my calls, so I just quit taking them. I was so sick, I couldn’t sleep, I was sweating so much I was repeatedly changing my clothes, when I did sleep I was having nightmares. I was throwing up all the time. It lasted a few weeks. When I had my first OB appointment I was honest with them about this and they told me I was very lucky that I hadn’t miscarried because of withdrawals. I had the hyperemesis crap again. Migraines, anxiety, I struggled to breath because of my weight, UTI’s, I’m just not good at being pregnant. 

We made the decision for me to go home because I was too sick to take care of my daughter and my ex husband worked. My ex again decided we were moving to another state and I was already so stressed out and I just wanted to go home. But my Dad is extremely critical of me, especially about the weight. I had lost about 45 lbs during the pregnancy at that point and when I told him that he said good for you, you’re not supposed to lose a bunch of weight during pregnancy. We met my family half way because I was too sick to sit in a car for 12 hours, so we stayed the night and drove the rest the next day. I wore jeans that were too tight for this trip because I didn’t want my Dad to make fun of me for wearing sweat pants. They dug into my stomach and I was uncomfortable, I was sweating a lot during the trip. Within the next few weeks the area around the button where they dug in the most became red and started to hurt, and hurt a lot. It just kept spreading and swelling and I was too uncomfortable to sleep. It felt really hot so I’d put ice packs on it at night trying to get comfortable. At my first OB appointment there she diagnosed me with cellulitis and started me on antibiotics. It continued to spread. My parents kept down playing it they didn’t really think I was sick or that it was anything serious. My Dad made comments about how I was just fat and needed to get up and move more. They even took me to a mall because I needed to walk around and then they were going to take me to Apple Bees for my birthday, even though I didn’t like Apple Bees, because they had a lower fat menu. I could barely move I was so uncomfortable, I told them I didn’t want to go and after the mall we just went home. The next day I went to the ER with my daughter, I borrowed a car and lied about where I was going. Within 3 minutes they admitted me, they had medical students in and out of my room to see this infection. Within two weeks I had my son 5 weeks early, he was immediately put on bipap and shipped off to the nearest NICU. I didn’t see him for 4 days and then they transferred me to the same hospital because I had gained 70 lbs from swelling and the infection continued to spread. What started out as a nickel sized red area now wrapped around my entire abdomen to my back. They tried not to do a c-section because it was close to the infection by then but I ended up with an emergency c-section anyways and they were afraid of it spreading to the incision, so they transferred me. I continued to not improve at the other hospital. It wasn’t until I was transferred that I ever heard the term sepsis. I freaked out, I didn’t know anything about it but I knew it could kill you. I had sepsis and I was not responding to antibiotics and they would discuss this in the hallway outside my room. I still insisted on getting up to shower everyday but I couldn’t do it by myself. My ex husband would help me shower and I would stand there and cry. I couldn’t wipe when I went to the bathroom. The entire thing was embarrassing. Eventually I was on oxygen and they were discussing survival odds outside my room, I had no idea what any of it meant. 

One night I was awake in my room alone in the dark, I was worrying because it had been like 4 weeks and I was just getting worse. This light came on in my room and I was able to relax. I felt better, even the burning, throbbing feeling in my stomach felt better. I felt like I was being comforted. I don’t know how to explain it but I felt like I could just go in that moment. I felt like all the pain and suffering could be gone if I wanted it to be. I considered it. I considered leaving the world behind for a split second, just letting everything go. Then I started to imagine this whole life, where I was happy, where I was a good mom, where I didn’t hurt and not just the hurt from the infection, but the hurt in my heart that I had been struggling with my whole life. I thought about my daughter and my baby who I was so in love with already. He was let out of the NICU after only 7 days and he was doing great. He would smile and laugh everytime he heard my voice, nobody in the NICU had ever heard a baby that little laugh. We had a really strong bond from day one. I missed my daughter, I missed cuddling with her on the couch and listening to her stories. I felt like I had so much to live for and I wasn’t ready to die. I made a promise that if I lived I was going to live. I wasn’t going to run from life anymore. I was going to make better choices and work towards being happy. I made a promise to change. The light faded and I was alone in my room again. But I felt hopeful, I wasn’t worried I was going to die anymore. Within 2 days with no explanation at all the swelling improved, the infection was going away and I was responding to antibiotics and they didn’t change them. My labs were coming back better. They started me on lasiks and the weight was coming off and I wasn’t on oxygen. Within four days I was going home after a month long nightmare, I was taking my baby home. I just continued to improve. 

I wake up everyday and chose to be happy. I make better choices, I started working on myself. My ex husband hated that, I think he actually liked me being codependent. and suddenly I wasn’t, suddenly I was going out and doing things alone, or with the kids. I was painting and drawing, when we got settled I started taking art classes. The instructor wasn’t sure why I was taking her class and convinced me to help teach painting at this community center. We moved again and we ended up homeless. I had such a good attitude about this I was like well we’ll just camp until we figure it out. My kids and I lived in a tent for an entire summer, and it was fun. My ex worked and they provided him with hotel rooms. The kids and I hiked, swam, rode bikes, made art, we did all kinds of cool things. To this day my kids think we were on vacation. I changed my whole attitude and when we got settled I went back to school for nursing. I wanted to help people the way people helped me. I wanted to make a difference and I am. I still struggle sometimes but I think about that one moment and the promises I made and I shake myself out of it and get moving. I don’t take drugs, I’ve been offered Vicodin, or ativan by doctors but I’d rather struggle. I drink socially maybe once a month and never when I’m struggling. I’ve been struggling the past month and went to three metal shows and only had water. Every year around this time I think about where I was at 8 years ago and I count my blessings. I think about my life and the promises I made that day and take a look back and try to decided if I’m living up to them. If I’m not I try to decide how I can do better the next year. Some of the best things can come out of the worse days, and that’s what happened 8 years ago. 8 years ago today, I got a second chance. 

[ellewritesfiction]

Never Say Never for @sciencebrosweek

Day Four: Pierce (ten hours post brain death)

They all stood there, watching the video feed of Bruce on the bed. He’d stopped talking to them over an hour ago, but they had come to no conclusion on what exactly to do. Instead, they lapsed into a hopeless silence no one seemed able to break.

Nat chewed at her lower lip, eyes locked on the screen, clearly uncomfortable with her maintained position that it was far too uncertain to open the door, that the bacteria may have evolved, that this may be a stage they’d not seen yet, but unable to change it.

Peter, their young med student consult, looked like he’d rather be thrown to a pack of walkers than be in that room with them, his eyes darting from the screen to Nat to Tony to Fury and back to the screen again, oozing uncertainty.

Sharon seemed impatient, her eyes flicking to Peter every so often, waiting for him to say something, waiting for someone to say something so that she could act on what she as a former EMS responder clearly felt was the best plan – going in and getting him out.

Steve was there for no other reason than moral support and it grated on Tony’s nerves that he stood there puppy-dog-eyeing Nat like she was the one in that room.

Fury, their unofficial leader, sat in the back, looking over each of them, unable to make a medical judgement but willing to lend his weight to a favorable decision – if such a decision was able to be reached.

And Tony? Tony had his arms crossed over his chest, glaring down that video image, scared and angry and pained that Bruce was being forced to sit there locked in a room, unsure if anyone was hearing him, unsure what was happening to him, alone and likely terrified.

He just – he sounded so sane. He sounded just like Bruce. There must be an immunity, he’d said. I feel – I hurt and I’m sure I’m still infected but I’m fine. I’m fine. And what was Tony supposed to believe? What if there was an immunity? They couldn’t just ignore that possibility.

They’d watched as he’d gone from asking to be let out to angry that no one was responding to terrified that they were all dead to completely despondent. But it had been hours and none of those seemed like strange human responses to returning from the dead and being locked in a room and ignored.

Yet they had argued around it the whole time, watched and waited for something ‘definitive’ to ‘prove’ he was immune, sat there in the observation lab safe and scared shitless all while Bruce was in there suffering and Tony was no longer convinced there was anything to be afraid of.

“He’s either immune – or he’s not,” Tony finally said, breaking the lengthy silence so suddenly Peter actually jumped. “The only way we’ll know is to get a sample.”

“We’ve been through this,” Nat began but Tony cut her off immediately.

“And if he’s immune you’re willing to let him starve to death in there!” he shouted, voice shaking at the end, wound up so tight he thought he was going to explode.

“Tony,” Fury warned in that dad voice Tony was coming to hate.

“I’m not going to sit here and let that happen,” he stated categorically. “We have an obligation to him and we have an obligation to humanity. I’ll go get the blood sample.”

“We don’t even have a comparison case,” Nat argued, knowing it was futile but beside herself with fear.

It was true they didn’t take any samples beforehand – knowing what was going to happen, Bruce refused them, an out of character move for him but then he was dying. But still, Tony didn’t care. He needed to know something.

“Then we’ll start here,” Tony said, storming out to get a hazmat suit and supplies.

He could hear Fury telling Nat to let it go and he could hear the door shutting again behind him and he grit his teeth. He’d already wasted enough time listening to her – if she tried to talk him out of it one more time he’d –

“Tony.”

It was Peter’s voice, shaky and breathless, and it stopped him in his tracks.

“Peter?”

“His arm needs to come off – soon,” he said, nervous but sincere. He’d brought it up earlier – it was the whole reason Peter was in there, even though he'd only been in his second year of residency – but it was low down on the list of reasonable arguments to be made for opening that door. “Especially if the pathogen is dying, if he is immune – the sepsis that must be festering in that arm will kill him anyway.”

“Then you’d better get ready to amputate, doctor,” Tony replied and it was the first time Peter had shown any sort of relief since he’d been called into that room.

He explained to Peter where he might find supplies and where he might proceed with the amputation as he put on the hazmat suit and grabbed a sample kit, leaving Peter to get to it as he headed down to meet Bruce – and possibly his own death.

It was easier not to think about it when it was Bruce, easier to think that there was some immunity, something – even though it made no sense. How, out of all the people infected, would Bruce somehow be immune? But hope was a stupid, stubborn thing, and it really didn’t matter how – Tony wanted it to be true.

Still he found himself taking a deep breath before unlocking the chains on that door, unsure what he was going to find.

But all he found was Bruce – shaken and in pain and trying to stand to meet him but leaning heavily on the bed, face a wash of emotions Tony couldn’t begin to guess at – and he couldn’t care. It was Bruce.

In five steps he was at his side, holding him as he collapsed in his arms, sobbing and shaking, weak fingers clutching at the hazmat suit. Tony thought his chest might collapse with how badly it hurt, knowing he could've been in here sooner, knowing the man he loved was alive.

“I thought you were going to let me die in here,” he struggled out, chest heaving, and Tony stroked his hair through plastic gloves, wishing he could feel him, feel the warmth of his skin and know, know he was human.

“Well, we kinda did,” Tony joked, unable to help himself, his grin unstoppable, relief pounding through his veins.

Bruce didn’t have the strength to be angry but he muttered out a half-hearted “fuck you” anyway and it didn’t matter, none of it mattered – Tony knew, he just knew Bruce was okay.

“Sorry buddy but I gotta get a sample. You understand, right?

He nodded as Tony helped him back on the bed, trying not to grimace at the way his left arm dangled uselessly by his side, not to think about how Peter was going to have to cut it off without much in the way of anesthetic.

“It hurts,” Bruce started as Tony spread iodine on his arm, listing symptoms, clinical, professional. “Not really pain but it’s like – everything is difficult. Moving, breathing... like I should be dead.”

“Stop,” Tony asked, piercing his skin with the needle, drawing out perfectly normal looking dark red blood, not really wanting to think about how Bruce should be dead.

“It has to be an immunity,” he continued anyway. “My parents were missionaries – I was sick with everything as a kid, my mother died of Cholera for fucks sake but my dad...”

He trailed off then, watching the needle in his skin as Tony filled a few vials.

“I’ll probably need a couple more before they’ll let you out of here,” Tony admitted, staring down into his eyes as he stared at the ceiling, giving in to the temptation to stroke his temple under the guise of getting his attention.

“I know,” he answered with a sad sigh, eyes moving over to look up at him through the plastic screen of the hazmat suit.

“But before that, Peter’s going to have to cut off your arm.”

There was no delicate way of saying it and Bruce took it pretty well considering he’d just died and come back to life, simply closing his eyes and resigning himself to it.

“I know.”

“I’ll be there though, I mean –” Tony swallowed, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed even in spite of the fucking miracle before him and the whole damn apocalypse outside, “if you want.”

Bruce opened his eyes again, piercing straight through Tony, straight to his heart.

“Please?”

[timclymer]

High Blood Pressure and Smoking – A Deadly Combination

Over the past couple of years I’ve written and published quite a few articles about natural methods to lower blood pressure. One article that has been very popular with my readers on my blog is “9 Steps to Lower Your Blood Pressure.” In this, as well as other articles about lowering blood pressure, I mention one of the most troublesome habits a human being can follow-smoking cigarettes.

Of course it isn’t just me that lists tobacco, and the nicotine it transports, as a contributing cause for hypertension. Many of the world’s leading health organizations like the National Institutes of Health (NIH), Mayo Clinic, Johns Hopkins, American Heart Association, etc., all strongly suggest that if you are serious about keeping your blood pressure under control-you must quit smoking.

Easy for you to say, Bubba!

Actually it is not easy for me to say “quit smoking.” I have been saying it to myself for nearly 50 years… and with little hope of quitting. Yes, I have high blood pressure, having been diagnosed some 46 years ago. And there’s a very high probability that smoking contributed heavily to the problem.

Testimony of a long-time smoker

I have managed to keep my blood pressure under control for these many years, but I wasn’t using natural means to do it. I have been taking two medications that control my high blood pressure-but they will not cure it.

But now I am ready to begin paying more attention to what the Mayo Clinic and others have been trying to tell me… you see I did quit smoking! And I am already seeing the benefits in lower blood pressure readings.

I used to think it would take a bolt of lightning to get me to quit cigarettes. The truth is that what did happen to me may have been just as deadly.

My Near Death Experience

I’ve read several accounts from people who relate that they died and went to heaven-or were well on their way. A personal friend tells her story of how she was unconscious on the operating table when she found herself floating above the table and watching the doctors and nurses scurrying around in an attempt to revive her. Well… she did suddenly awaken and heard one of her attendants say, “We thought we had lost you.”

My near death experience was nothing at all like that. But I did come within a very short time of dying. It began as a urinary tract infection. It was a Saturday morning and my wife Margie drove me to the Emergency Room at Rex Hospital In Raleigh, NC. A nurse inserted a catheter into my urinary tract and the relief was instantaneous. I was given an antibiotic and a prescription for more-and was sent home.

I was exhausted from a sleepless night so I tried to take a nap. In about an hour I was awaken by chills that seemed to radiate through every part of my body. I was trembling all over and was having considerable difficulty breathing. I didn’t learn until the next day that my usually high blood pressure was down around 75/50.

Meanwhile… back in the ER

Back in the ER at Rex I heard one of the nurses mention the term “sepsis.” Another catheter was needed, but this time it was inserted into the jugular vein in my neck. The powerful jolt of drugs I needed to elevate my blood pressure back up to normal was pumped directly into my heart. An hour later I was sitting up in bed eating my dinner.

This condition is listed as “Septic Shock,” a condition with only a 40% survival rate. It occurs when an infection (bacteria) gets into the blood stream and the body’s immune system cuts loose with a vengeance in an effort to kill it. In the process the usual scenario is for internal organs to shut down. Apparently mine were on the verge of doing that.

The next couple of days were in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU), and one of the ER doctors told me that had we delayed any longer getting back to the hospital, I would have died at home.

Now if I could only have a cigarette

I spent from Saturday to Tuesday afternoon in the hospital. And at some point I realized that I really needed a cigarette. But that was not to be.

I had tried different methods to quit smoking over the years. At one point I went 10 full years without a smoke. This time a decided that I would try those nicotine lozenges. After going through two batches of them, I decided it was time to get off the nicotine all together.

No… it has not been easy. The septic shock left me in a much weakened physical and mental state and recovery has been slow. But I am determined to free myself from the clutches of tobacco once and for all. And you know what… I haven’t had a coughing fit in over a month. I am still taking my BP meds but plan to quit them after consulting my personal physician. Right now my normal blood pressure reading is averaging around 112/65.

I know this sounds kind of weird but I’m re-reading all the HBP articles I’ve written and am following my own advice and am making lifestyle changes in diet and exercise.

Source by Don Penven

from Home Solutions Forev https://homesolutionsforev.com/high-blood-pressure-and-smoking-a-deadly-combination/ via Home Solutions on WordPress from Home Solutions FOREV https://homesolutionsforev.tumblr.com/post/187959906265 via Tim Clymer on Wordpress

[homesolutionsforev]

High Blood Pressure and Smoking – A Deadly Combination

Over the past couple of years I’ve written and published quite a few articles about natural methods to lower blood pressure. One article that has been very popular with my readers on my blog is “9 Steps to Lower Your Blood Pressure.” In this, as well as other articles about lowering blood pressure, I mention one of the most troublesome habits a human being can follow-smoking cigarettes.

Of course it isn’t just me that lists tobacco, and the nicotine it transports, as a contributing cause for hypertension. Many of the world’s leading health organizations like the National Institutes of Health (NIH), Mayo Clinic, Johns Hopkins, American Heart Association, etc., all strongly suggest that if you are serious about keeping your blood pressure under control-you must quit smoking.

Easy for you to say, Bubba!

Actually it is not easy for me to say “quit smoking.” I have been saying it to myself for nearly 50 years… and with little hope of quitting. Yes, I have high blood pressure, having been diagnosed some 46 years ago. And there’s a very high probability that smoking contributed heavily to the problem.

Testimony of a long-time smoker

I have managed to keep my blood pressure under control for these many years, but I wasn’t using natural means to do it. I have been taking two medications that control my high blood pressure-but they will not cure it.

But now I am ready to begin paying more attention to what the Mayo Clinic and others have been trying to tell me… you see I did quit smoking! And I am already seeing the benefits in lower blood pressure readings.

I used to think it would take a bolt of lightning to get me to quit cigarettes. The truth is that what did happen to me may have been just as deadly.

My Near Death Experience

I’ve read several accounts from people who relate that they died and went to heaven-or were well on their way. A personal friend tells her story of how she was unconscious on the operating table when she found herself floating above the table and watching the doctors and nurses scurrying around in an attempt to revive her. Well… she did suddenly awaken and heard one of her attendants say, “We thought we had lost you.”

My near death experience was nothing at all like that. But I did come within a very short time of dying. It began as a urinary tract infection. It was a Saturday morning and my wife Margie drove me to the Emergency Room at Rex Hospital In Raleigh, NC. A nurse inserted a catheter into my urinary tract and the relief was instantaneous. I was given an antibiotic and a prescription for more-and was sent home.

I was exhausted from a sleepless night so I tried to take a nap. In about an hour I was awaken by chills that seemed to radiate through every part of my body. I was trembling all over and was having considerable difficulty breathing. I didn’t learn until the next day that my usually high blood pressure was down around 75/50.

Meanwhile… back in the ER

Back in the ER at Rex I heard one of the nurses mention the term “sepsis.” Another catheter was needed, but this time it was inserted into the jugular vein in my neck. The powerful jolt of drugs I needed to elevate my blood pressure back up to normal was pumped directly into my heart. An hour later I was sitting up in bed eating my dinner.

This condition is listed as “Septic Shock,” a condition with only a 40% survival rate. It occurs when an infection (bacteria) gets into the blood stream and the body’s immune system cuts loose with a vengeance in an effort to kill it. In the process the usual scenario is for internal organs to shut down. Apparently mine were on the verge of doing that.

The next couple of days were in the Intensive Care Unit (ICU), and one of the ER doctors told me that had we delayed any longer getting back to the hospital, I would have died at home.

Now if I could only have a cigarette

I spent from Saturday to Tuesday afternoon in the hospital. And at some point I realized that I really needed a cigarette. But that was not to be.

I had tried different methods to quit smoking over the years. At one point I went 10 full years without a smoke. This time a decided that I would try those nicotine lozenges. After going through two batches of them, I decided it was time to get off the nicotine all together.

No… it has not been easy. The septic shock left me in a much weakened physical and mental state and recovery has been slow. But I am determined to free myself from the clutches of tobacco once and for all. And you know what… I haven’t had a coughing fit in over a month. I am still taking my BP meds but plan to quit them after consulting my personal physician. Right now my normal blood pressure reading is averaging around 112/65.

I know this sounds kind of weird but I’m re-reading all the HBP articles I’ve written and am following my own advice and am making lifestyle changes in diet and exercise.

Source by Don Penven

from Home Solutions Forev https://homesolutionsforev.com/high-blood-pressure-and-smoking-a-deadly-combination/ via Home Solutions on WordPress

[healthybodymagazine]

How This Mother of 2 Made a Full Recovery After Almost Dying from Toxic Shock Syndrome

  Aimee Haller Follis hardly knew anything about toxic shock syndrome before she nearly lost her life because of it.

Besides reading the standard warning that comes on every box of tampons, Follis, 37, told PEOPLE she hadn’t really heard anything about TSS since grade school, and assumed it was “kind of an old wives’ tale.”

But in May 2017, Follis spent 11 days in the hospital after contracting TSS, an incredibly rare disease that occurs in only 1 out of every 100,000 people, but can can cause organ damage, shock, and even death in 50 percent of cases, according to the CDC.

RELATED: Model Lauren Wasser Had Both Legs Amputated Due to Toxic Shock Syndrome: Are You at Risk?

Follis told PEOPLE she first noticed something was off about her health after moving to a new house in May with husband Matthew and her two boys — James, 5, and Luke, 3 — but at the time she chalked it up to run-of-the-mill exhaustion. Even when she developed a fever a few days later on May 4, Follis still wasn’t concerned, thinking she had most likely come down with the flu.

However, once her fever spiked to 104.2 degrees the following night, Follis knew there was something more serious going on — but she still decided not to seek medical treatment right away.

“Quite frankly, like most women, especially moms, you kind of worry about everybody else and put yourself second,” she told PEOPLE, explaining that she “didn’t want to go to the emergency room on a Saturday night” and thought she’d “tough it out until the morning.”

She also said that she didn’t think much of her fever at the time because “I have two little boys who get high fevers and ear infections all the time and have been fine.”

“Now I’ve learned that adults shouldn’t have that high of a fever,” she added.

But when Follis woke up on Sunday morning, her situation had turned from bad to worse.

“I woke up, and I had trouble walking and I was vomiting,” Follis told PEOPLE, adding that her fever had climbed up to 105.6 degrees. After getting discharged from a nearby urgent care center, Follis and her mother “immediately went to the emergency room,” where doctors quickly realized she was septic and had an infection in her cervix.

But the doctor’s didn’t have such an easy time figuring out what had caused the infection. After two hours of tests and intensive questioning, somebody though to ask whether Follis could be suffering from TSS, after which an OB-GYN was called in to perform a physical exam.

Although the OB-GYN confirmed that TSS had caused Follis to go into septic shock, she says doctors never “found any remnants of a tampon.”

“They have an educated guess that it was from a tampon, although one was never found. Because the infection was in my cervix and I had recently had my period [and used tampons.]”

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RELATED VIDEO: How Model Lauren Wasser Overcame Suicidal Thoughts After Losing Her Leg to Toxic Shock Syndrome — and Found Love Again

After Follis found out she was suffering from TSS, she still “had no idea what that meant,” nor did she realize “how serious it really was,” but during her first 48 hours in the hospital, doctors “told my family to fly in” because they weren’t “sure whether I was gonna make it through.”

“Through that first night I was admitted, my fever was still so high, and I was packed in ice, and I was freezing, but they couldn’t put blankets on me because they didn’t want my fever to raise any more because they were afraid I was going to have a seizure,” the mother of two explained.

So for the entire night, her parents, husband, cousin and one of her brothers rubbed her hands and feet — which were the only parts of her body that were exposed — to try and keep her warm.

“That was probably the worst day of my life,” she said.

After four days in the ICU — where she went on to lose her vision after being pumped with so much fluid — doctors told Follis she “was out of the clear as far as possibly dying,” but couldn’t say whether she would make full recovery.

In an effort “to not overwhelm my parents and husband,” Follis’ best girlfriends created a Facebook page for her called “Inspiration for Aimee,” which allowed Follis to receive “countless messages and pictures of support” throughout her stay in the hospital, even though she wasn’t allowed to have that many visitors.

“I looked forward to all of their loving and supportive messages, and they truly lifted my spirits and kept me going,” she continued. “If it weren’t for my family and friends, I truly don’t think I would be here today.”

Although the next 7 days in the hospital were full of their own problems, on day 11 of her stay, Follis was discharged “without being on any medicine whatsoever” — and without “real guideline” about when she could expect to feel normal again.

Following her release from the hospital, Follis couldn’t drive for a month, had trouble sleeping, and then the skin on her hands, feet, and “around my eyes” began to peel off. Two months later, her hair began to fall out in clumps, and she eventually lost 50-60% of her hair.

RELATED: 15-Year-Old Who Suffered from Near-Fatal Toxic Shock Syndrome Is Now Walking and Talking Again: ‘It’s Really Amazing,’ Says Her Father

Although she had been warned by her primary care doctor that these side effects were possible, Follis said “no one could tell me it it was ever going to stop.”

Her primary care doctor also explained why she was continuing to feel side effects of TSS, even though she had been home from the hospital for a while.

“He basically just said, how quickly this infection comes on is essentially how quickly it can leave your body, but because of that, your other organs are the first things to repair themselves and your tertiary type things, like your skin and your nails, or your hair are the last. Because they’re not as important to your body, that’s why there’s such a delayed reaction,” she added.

While Follis said her hair stopped falling out and began to grow back at the end of 2017, in September she and her husband got some happy news: they were pregnant.

“We wanted to have another baby, but we ceretainly weren’t planning it because of the year that we’d had,” she said.

But about 10 weeks into their pregnancy, Follis suffered a miscarriage.

Although doctors said there wasn’t a medical link between her TSS and the miscarriage, Follis said she felt like it was her body’s way of saying it still needed time to recover.

RELATED: What Toxic Shock Syndrome Survivor Lauren Wasser Wants Women to Know About Tampon Safety

As she continued to recover from TSS, Follis said she felt “isolated” because not only did it feel like “nobody else had been through this,” but some people who had the disease went through “even more tragic experiences than I did” she explained, referencing Lauren Wasser, the model and activist who lost both of her legs to the disease.

Asked what she wants others to know about TSS, Follis explained that people should “pay attention” to their bodies because timing is important when it comes to sepsis.

“You can be essentially fine and several hours later you can be dead,” she remarked, adding that she had been told if she “had gone back to bed and waited another hour to come in, then I wouldn’t have survived.”

She also encourages those who have dealt with TSS to share their stories.

“I’ve had so many people reach out, strangers from all over the country and even other the world to say, ‘I knew somebody who had this story, thank you for sharing’ or ‘I had no idea.’” the mother of two said, adding that before her own experience with the disease, “I had no idea either.”

In fact, Follis didn’t think to share her story until she happened to see a TV special about TSS survivor Audrey Leishman — wife of professional golfer Marc Leishman — and her Begin Again Foundation.

“She was talking about her battle three years ago and it was almost like I was looking in a mirror,” Follis said. “I was so moved and so touched by it that I immediately called the organization and said, ‘this same thing happened to me — what can I do to help and raise awareness?”

“If it weren’t for someone else sharing their story, I would never have been able to share mine,” she said. “If I can help save somebody else, that’s what I was meant to do.”

source http://www.health.com/syndication/pennsylvania-mother-toxic-shock-syndrome-recovery

[cangeesurviveclinicalyears]

Lonely death

Hello. It has been roughly 8 months. Since forensic, I have done psychiatry, obstetric & gynaecology, neurology, opthalmology, and dermatology. Right now I am doing internal medicine.

I haven’t been updating this blog at all LOL I guess in a way clinical years don’t really “stress” me out as I thought it would. It’s tough yes, but it is manageable. In a way. I have done many things I’m not proud of.

But right now, I want to just write what i feel just to rant and destress. And this is about the experience during my night shift in internal medicine just a few days ago.

There was a patient. An old lady of 85 years old. She had been sick for months, and she was admitted to the hospital do the depressed consciousness with suspected sepsis. She was not doing well. During my night shift, her condition deteriorated and when I took my friend’s shift at midnight, her vital signs had progressed to worse. High temperature of 40C, tachypnea of 48/min, decreasing heart beats and lowering of blood pressure. I have seen this before. I know that she was dying and it was only a matter of time. 

Previous to that, I have only seen death directly like that once before and it.. was.. eye-opening in a way. But that one didn’t hit me like this one I witnessed. Maybe this time it was because I was dehydrated and sleep-deprived, or maybe it was for some other reason, but this time, as I was monitoring her vital signs every 15 minutes, what I felt was sadness.

Because it is sad to witness her on her deathbed, only being surrounded by one grandchild and another young man that was not even her blood-related. It is sad knowing--according to the grandchild presented--that she had other grandchildren other than him who don’t live farawar. I guess I just feel sad that she passed away only being surrounded by so few of family with additional of two health personnels (me included).

I was talking about this with friends, and one said that he preferred to die alone. And of course I don’t know how she was when she was alive. maybe she was a cruel person. Maybe she was mean. But like, wasn’t it just sad that you lived and then you died without presence of loved ones? or that you lived such life that you had to die alone. Maybe I was overthinking this. She probably didn’t feel it, nor did she think about it (since she was already deep in coma when she died), but.. it was.. just heartbreaking to witness. For her. For everyone out there who died alone. For those who died alone due to the life they have been living.

My emotion was a mess. 

[warriorrunforsepsis-blog]

Sepsis Training at Worthing Hospital

A few weeks ago Mank and I went to Worthing hospital to a training session on Sepsis. It was run by the Intensive Care Unit registrar, for senior nurses in order to train them in the signs of sepsis so there's more chance of an early diagnosis and treatment of antibiotics within the first how of displaying symptoms. We know that if the doctors, nurses and paramedics who saw Caz in the days leading up to her death had been able to spot that she was showing clear signs, it's very likely she'd still be here. We were approached by a senior nurse at the hospital (coincidentally someone I went to school with) to see if Mank would attend and tell caz's 'story' as a personal account of how quickly sepsis can take hold and the consistencies of missing the symptoms. Mank explained the events of the few days before Caz was admitted into hospital and took a few questions from the hospital staff. This not only was a clear example of how ill and distressed Caz was feeling and how difficult sepsis is to spot but also the impact it has had on the lives of family and friends who are effected after she died.

The doctor and nurses were extremely supportive while we were there and commented on how helpful it was to have a real life account from a family rather than a slide show presentation. Hopefully they will remember Caz when they are looking after patients in the hospital and 'think sepsis' with anyone who they may suspect are showing similar symptoms.

Obviously it was a tough day for Mank (and I) as we approached the second year anniversary of Caz passing but this felt like another positive thing we could do to help raise awareness of the condition to stop other families going through what Mank, the kids and all Caz’s family and friends have been through as an impact of her misdiagnosis.

It was also an interesting morning for us as we were able to sit in and listen to the presentation the doctor gave which explained in detail what sepsis is, how it occurs in the body, who are most prone to developing it and how it can be stopped. You may have noticed there's been a huge public awareness campaign in the last couple of years to help people recognise what sepsis is and that it should be treated with the same urgency as a heart attack. The ICU Registrar explained that more people are dying from sepsis now than ever before and while they don't really know why or have discovered a more direct way of diagnosing it, there is a huge drive within the NHS to make it more prevalent. As a result we’ve offered to talk at future training sessions to give a personal perspective on this condition and hope that it will be an effective way of raising awareness with front line staff.

If you’ve not looked at the symptoms of Sepsis please take a look here - http://sepsistrust.org. Amongst the fever, increased heart and breathing rate, confusion or an altered state of mind is one to watch out for and can be really key for family members to inform medial staff about.

[ktkski2017-blog]

On the Wards

February 1, 2017

Today we completed our third day of working at PCEA Chogoria Hospital. Jen and Lena have been rotating on the pediatrics and women’s inpatient ward with Dr. Jason Brotherton who trained in the US as an internal medicine-pediatrics physician. I have been working with our attending Dr. Clark on the mens inpatient ward with the plan that next week I will trade with Jen/Lena so I have time on pediatrics working with Jason. The final two weeks I will likely serve as an attending covering rounds on one of the medical services.

As expected, it has been a sharp learning curve. While I know a lot about medicine, we do not have the same resources or staff training here in Chogoria. I am also not as familiar with tropical diseases and their treatments as would be expected having trained in Traverse City, MI. Prior to rounds we were introduced to the hospital community at Chapel – a 30minute church service including sermon that occurs every Monday. After Chapel we went to morning report and heard about the admissions and discharges over the weekend as well as the number of deaths. This was a time to give updates on hospital medication shortages or other concerns. One major topic was the physician strike (this was week 8or9 of the strike). This has reduced the number of residents and clinical officers (COs) at Chogoria by almost 75%. Currently the COs and residents that are still at Chogoria are paid privately by the hospital which is why they still have a few people. Of note: The COs and residents typically run the hospital. They admit patients, order labs and medications, perform the procedures (other than more advanced surgical procedures), run the outpatient clinics, and take overnight call. Because of the strike there are 2or3 clinical officers taking call that previously was covered by just residents. Right now there are only 3 residents and one is almost due to deliver her second baby and will be on maternity leave.

Day 1 of rounds we were getting to know the approximately 35-40 patients and meeting Musa, a family medicine resident who completed medical school and internship in the Democratic Republic of Congo (equivalent to a second year resident in the US), and Janet, a clinical officer (equivalent to an intern NP or PA). We also have the occasional nurse who completes our rounding team; he/she rotates with us and from what I can tell takes notes on some of the things we plan for the patient that day.

[Warning: Medical discussion – may be boring or TMI]

We saw a 27year old with advanced nephrotic syndrome and no obvious cause for whom we are discussing dialysis. A 22year old with refractory heart failure. A guy with suspected gonorrhea vs disseminated syphilis. Several patients with cancer on palliation therapy; several patients with end-stage HIV/AIDS (called ISS locally, as HIV has a large stigma). This is just to name a few. By the time we got to the end of rounds at the back of the room (in the “isolation” section where they put tuberculosis patients although the separation from the rest of the ward is just a half-wall), we found several sick patients. One HIV patient was confused and had a new suspected TB lesion on the brain as well as white out of his left lung from a loculated pleural effusion. I was able to tap his effusion (pus) and we started him on treatment for TB, PJP (a common infection in immunocompromised patients), as well as community acquired pneumonia. As of today he looks much the same –no better, no worse –his lung tap confirmed Gram positive bacteria, which correlates with the sloughing of the skin on his feet. Another patient had sepsis with an oxygen saturation of 84% with known HIV and recent treatment for TB. We asked that he be moved to a bed that has oxygen available (he was eventually moved there appx 1 hour later – which I have found is record time). Three days later he is looking much improved and no longer requiring oxygen.

We were able to take a lunch break mid-day when all of the patient’s families arrived for visiting hours. I had lunch with Luke back at the apartment and met back up with Jen and Lena on break from their rounds for the day. After lunch is when we typically complete rounding if we haven’t done so yet, and we complete any procedures that need to be done. These are typically done by the clinical officers and/or residents so I have been joining them to learn how they do these procedures with their limited resources. There is certainly modification of the various medical supplies to meet the need (for example attaching IV tubing to a urine bag to serve as a paracentesis receptacle and drain fluid off of the abdomen). I hope to later help with these procedures especially since the hospital is short staffed with the physician strike. Dinner was made by Dr. Clark – peanut curry over basmati rice.

Day 2 of rounds began with me giving a lecture on pediatric dehydration. I tried to make it interactive with the COs and residents but the crowd was mostly crickets. [Sidenote: This is not uncommon I think – I recall during morning report in Malawi, the students are residents would go to great lengths to not say anything even when asked a direct question for fear of appearing underinformed or wrong. In fact when they would speak it would be so quiet that I guarantee no one else knew that they were saying – however the attendings couldn’t tell what they said so they didn’t get reprimanded]. Rounds were unfortunately eventful – we started on our rounds at the front of the room and by the time that we made it near the end we noticed a patient who had previously been well, start seizing. He was “new” having been admitted the previous evening. Casualty (the equivalent to the ER) had not yet ordered any labwork or imaging studies and in fact it took some time to figure out the patient’s name. We needed to give him STAT medications to stop the seizure but they needed to be ordered and brought over from central supply. We moved him to oxygen ASAP as he was agonally breathing (although no longer seizing) and got a point-of-care echo within 10-15minutes that showed ventricular fibrillation. We placed defibrillation paddles, however realized that even if we shocked him we would not be able to reverse the underlying problem as he primarily had respiratory failure from suspected increased intracranial pressure from infection. He was a known HIV positive patient that we later suspected had cryptococcal meningitis which is 50% fatal when there are signs of increased pressure, even with the most efficient hospital resources. PCEA Chogoria Hospital does not have ventilator capabilities so we were unable to support his respiratory failure and possibly allow his infection to be treated by antifungal medications. So we made the group decision to not shock the patient as this would only add pain and harm to a patient who was already dying. While this was a very difficult event to experience, we learned a lot. We debriefed after the event (when involved parties gather to talk about what went well and brainstorm for the future) and while there were a lot of things that went well with the Code, we came up with a few game-plans to improve our rounding in the future and hopefully lead to faster treatment of sick people.

After lunch and after the afternoon procedures, Luke, Clark and I went to the market outside of the hospital. This was our first venture in to the market so we wandered around and purchased a lot of fruit and vegetables (Luke and I mostly got non-perishable food items in Nairobi). Luke and I then made lentil soup with avocado tomato salad for dinner. After dinner Luke and I played cards and watched Blood Diamond before heading to bed – at 9:30pm. The earliest I’ve gone to bed in at least a year.

Day 3 of rounds began with meeting the new patients first. Unfortunately this was interrupted by a patient who had been stable after previously being admitted for chest pain/heart attack. He developed renewed chest pain, left arm pain, sweating, nausea/vomiting, shortness of breath – classical for myocardial infarction. He likely had advancement of his previous heart attack, however in Kenya (and in most African countries from what I hear), cardiac catheterizations are not done. There are no specialists that perform this procedure, nor facilities in which to perform them. Therefore they manage all patients with heart attacks with medications. We offered him oxygen, morphine, aspirin, clopidogrel, imdur (nitro is not available). We grabbed the crash cart and figured out how to place leads – this revealed normal sinus rhythm. Derek brought over the portable ECG machine and we got a 12 lead – no obvious ST elevation but subtle signs of ischemia were present (actually improved from prior ECG). He eventually started to feel better, however he had a new heart sound by the end of the day so we plan for echo tomorrow. Rounds continued with new challenges. New lab results (ordered from several days ago and finally being returned to us) revealed many patients with new renal failure, leading to many changes in medications and management. Other labs and Xrays were not yet completed despite having ordered then several days ago. After lunch we returned for a lumbar puncture on a newly diagnosed HIV patient with suspected TB versus cryptococcal meningitis and chest tube placement on an otherwise healthy 20year old with white out pleural effusion on his right lung field. This guy spoke English, had designer jeans, a large version of iphone 6 and earbuds – not a typical Chogoria patient. The “outpatient theater” had a clean sheet on the table however the previous patient’s blood was still on the ground. We used sterile technique and performed a chest tube placement without sedation, simply using injected local lidocaine. It was very uncomfortable for the patient however he did not move/flail his arm during the entire painful procedure. We were able to get over 1liter of fluid out of his chest with less than 1 minute, we clamped the tube for transport however I suspect he has at least 4liters in that lung. We sent the clear yellow fluid for culture.

Luke had a Skype meeting today which was successful over our pay-for-data internet plan. He has been pretty bored at home while we are off at work, however has been reading, working, and researching safari plans. We plan on working this weekend (12 day stretch of work) so we will need to find him something fun to do! For dinner Lena and Jen made spaghetti with vegetable tomato sauce, avocado tomato salad, and I chopped some pineapple for dessert. Tonight I plan on reading about more tropical disease management in preparation for tomorrow’s rounds.