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missymurphy1985 · 3 years ago

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The Medic (Part 2)

Warning - injury / accident / bit of flirtiness

Authors Note - I'm not medically trained in the slightest - forgive me for any inaccuracies!!

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @namelesslosers @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @cilleveryone @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni @heidimoreton

You looked round, hoping to see him standing to the side, but no. He must've been under that rubble.. and the rigging...

You shouted for everyone to stay back to reduce the risk of any further collapse and slowly stepped onto the set, checking above you to make sure no more debris was going to drop. Once you were sure it was clear, you slowly edged onto the rubble, stepping where you could see the floor, careful not to dislodge anything.

"Cillian?! Cillian, can you hear me?" You called, hearing no response as your heart skipped a beat. You composed yourself and stood as still as possible, looking through the debris. You spotted his hand, sticking out from between the rigging.

You could just about make out his body, he wasn't moving. You could see his chest rising and falling, but the motion of it massively concerned you.

"Anto, call an ambulance - his breathing isn't right! Someone come help me move this stuff off him, slowly!" You called, not taking your eyes off him. His chest was moving up and down irregularly - all your years in A&E, you recognised a punctured lung when you saw one.

Three of the crew came over and following your strict instructions, they lifted each piece of ceiling off the pile, revealing more of Cillian's body. The movement and noise roused him, you saw his eyes flutter open.

"Cillian, do not move! Stay completely still until I've checked you over, say YES if you understand?"

"Y-yes...." He groaned, clearly in pain. Each item lifted caused him to cry out.

"Do not move..." You warned, making your way to him now a path had been cleared. Anto had brought your bag over and placed it at your side as you moved into Cillian's line of sight.

"An ambulance is on its way - you're fine, okay? I need you to tell me where it hurts."

"Chest... Right side..." He coughed and winced. You knew there was a small piece of rigging resting on his ribs and now you were closer you could see it had clearly broken his lower ribs.

"Breathing?"

"Can't.. get.. air..." He was struggling. Really struggling. You didn't have time to wait for the ambulance, he'd lose too much oxygen. Taking a deep breath, you took out a scalpel and plastic tube, along with bandages, a syringe and antiseptic spray.

"Cillian, I need to reinflate your lung. If I don't do it now, you'll suffocate. Paul, can you hold him still please?" Paul came over and you put his arms across Cillian's upper body.

"The... Fuck?" He gasped, seeing the scalpel in your hand.

"I need to do this. If I don't, you won't be able to breathe in around 2 minutes time... Trust me. I've done thousands of these.." You didn't give him time to argue. You injected a numbing agent into his side, and immediately sliced into the skin. He tried to scream but the sound didn't leave his lips, too breathless to make any noise. He struggled against Paul, and Anto came over to help pin him down. You ignored his whimpers as you inserted the tube, immediately feeling the rush of air escaping it. You inserted a syringe into the top of the tube and slowly pulled to release the air into it, closely monitoring how much came out so as not to pull too much.

Within minutes he took deeper breaths, his skin losing the blue tinge you'd noticed moments after arriving at his side. You removed the syringe but kept the tube in place, bandaging tightly around it. Your fingers moved to the back of his neck as you checked his spine.

"I need you to tell me if you feel any pain, or if you feel nothing. Okay?"

"Okay.."

You fingers moved down his neck, he confirmed he could feel it but no pain. You moved to his legs, the same response. At that moment, paramedics arrived.

You handed over to them, explaining what you'd done, and they took over as you stepped back. Your hands started to shake.

"Drink this..." Kate was next to you suddenly, handing you a cup of sweet tea. She wrapped her arm over you to comfort you as your whole body shook. "You're in shock, drink that. You'll be fine."

"I can't believe I just did that... I've never done one before!"

"I thought you said -"

"I lied, I didn't want to scare him.. I've only seen other doctors do them.. what if I've fucked it up?"

"y/n, he's breathing. You didn't fuck it up, I think you just saved his life! Shit me, y/n, have you seen your leg?" You looked down and saw blood - you must've caught your shin on a stray piece of rigging, a huge gash ran across it. Kate got to work checking it out, confirming you definitely needed stitches and let the paramedics know. They said you could jump in Cillian's ambulance.

Once you'd been stitched up, you asked the nurse about Cillian. She had left around ten minutes ago, promising to find out for you. Instead of the nurse coming back, it was a doctor. A doctor you knew from medical school, he'd been your teacher.

"Dr. Taylor?"

"I knew it was you when the paramedics told me! Y/n, you saved that man's life - he would have suffocated if you hadn't intervened when you did!" The relief flooded through you.

"I was so scared I'd done more damage... Is he going to be okay?"

"He's discharged himself - he just needs monitoring in fairness. Broken rib that will heal in time is the worst of it. He said you were the onset medic - can you take it from here?"

"Yes of course. I'll make sure he heals properly. Do you have any supplies?" He nodded and handed you a bag containing antibiotics, bandages and antiseptic lotions and creams.

"He's waiting outside for you. As soon as he found out you were here he refused to leave until you did." You smiled at his gesture. He must've been dying to get back to his hotel.

Heading into the family room, he was waiting. He looked exhausted, blood on his white shirt. Standing gently, he pulled you into a hug.

"Thank you. For what you did. Wouldn't be standing here with you now if you hadn't."

"Just doing my job."

"Don't be so modest. I owe you.."

"Well you can pay me back by taking this medication, resting for a few days and let me take care of you without giving me another death stare?" You smirked.

"Yeah.. it's not every day someone stabs you in the ribs!"

"All in the name of saving your ass Murphy!"

You got back to the hotel and followed Cillian to his room. He had to pause every so often to catch his breath and wince from the pain of his broken rib, to the point where you eased yourself under his arm and helped him across the hallway.

"Are you sure you should have left the hospital?"

"I hate hospitals, and I kinda hoped you'd take the reins."

"That's what I'm here for. Give me your room key." You took the key from him and opened the door, easing him through gently and sitting him slowly on the sofa.

"When can I get back to work?"

"You'll need a couple of days before your lung inflates back to full capacity, and your rib won't heal fully for weeks yet. I know you're on a tight schedule but I won't clear you for work for three days minimum Cillian." He rolled his eyes on frustration, slowly lying down on the sofa.

"Fuck..."

"I know, I'm sorry.. listen my room is just down the hall. Here's my mobile number. If you need me, just call okay?"

"You're going already?"

"You've taken your meds, all you need to do is rest now. Get some sleep if you can?"

"Fat chance of that, my ribs are on fire. They gave me paracetamol, like that's gonna do anything..."

"You allergic to anything?" He confirmed no, and you promised him you'd be back, quickly running to your room.

"Tramadol," you smiled, handing him one of the pills and a glass of water when you got back. "Only take one - it'll help you sleep. Come on, you need to be in bed."

He took the pill, and once it had kicked in a few minutes later he let you pull him up and lead him to his bed. His feet unsteady underneath him as the drug entered his system, you had to help him undress, chuckling slightly watching him attempt it himself.

"You look like a drunk old man!" You laughed, taking over from him and unbuttoning his trousers. Pushing them to the floor, his crotch in your immediate eyeline, you tried to remain professional - the temptation to look was too much though and you couldn't stop yourself stealing a small glance.

"Like what you see y/n?" He smirked, noticing your eyes widen and your cheeks flush. He wasn't even hard, but the outline was clear as day through his boxers - if he was that big soft, Jesus...

"What? Oh no, I uh..."

"No? Hmm. Might wanna tell your face." You looked away quickly, standing up to unbutton his shirt. Slowly easing it over his bruised shoulder, you couldn't help looking at his toned, hairless chest, the ripped muscles in his arms. You cleared your throat, and involuntarily bit your lip, you could feel your core throbbing and mentally scolded yourself.

"Look at me," he lifted your chin and your eyes met his.

"Once I'm healed, and able to move - I'll make it up to you my own way. Deal?"

"Your own way?" His hand caressed your cheek softly, eyes never leaving yours, as he gently leaned in to kiss you. As much as you tried to fight it, you couldn't, and you returned his kiss. You could tell he wanted to ignite things further, but the tramadol you'd given him was coursing through him, making his legs unsteady. You pulled away, easing him down into bed and pulled the covers over him. Quickly grabbing his mobile phone and putting it on his bedside table, along with the note with your phone number, you noticed he was out cold. You pressed your finger to your lips, a slight jump in your heartbeat at what had just happened, but remembering quickly that he was high as a kite on painkillers and wouldn't remember a thing come morning.

"But I'll remember, and that's enough for me," you thought out loud, smiled and headed out into the lounge area. You called Anto and updated him on what had happened.

"I'm gonna stay until he wakes up - Tramadol can have weird side effects, I'm going to keep my eye on him, if that's okay?" You asked, not wanting to annoy your boss on your first day.

"Y/n please - you're needed there more than here right now. Stay with him until he's healed up, we can film everything else while he's resting. Three days you say?"

"At least. I need to know his lung is back to normal before I can clear him for work again."

"Not a problem. His health comes first. Thank you for taking care of him y/n."

"Anytime. I'll keep you in the loop."

You hung up, and immediately heard him groaning. Knowing what was coming, you grabbed the washing up bowl and ran into his room just in time for him to throw up into it.

"Looks like I'm staying here until the Tramadol wears off at least..."

#cillian murphy #cillian smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian fanfic #cillian x smut #cillian murphy x smut

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drake-the-incubus · 3 years ago

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Post Note: This is long and I’m sorry.

I want to expand on what I mean but not use that post to do so.

Believe it or not, “x is a sign of y” isn’t as harmful as everyone is screaming about.

For example, my knees. I intermittently use a cane. Recently I haven’t had to use it- or I’ve forgotten it- but I have had days where I needed it.

I’ve had bad knee pain for a long ass time. Issues with pain in my legs in general.

But a lot of the time it would be a dull throb and I was fairly active as a kid and teen.

I also have a joint cracking problem. And I don’t mean I’m purposefully cracking my joints- though I do- I mean I’ve earned the nickname, “snap, crackle and pop” and “rice krispies”.

And my mom, when I was 12, went in for osteoarthritis and after years of pain finally found out she had a degenerating back that caused her back to create shards and she had a pinched cyatic nerve.

Forgive me as I’ve never seen this written down.

I’ve also had a problem with being incredibly sick as a child. Bronchitis to Bronchial Pneumonia almost yearly, and a couple of gland infections.

Do you know what mom tells me and I do?

Warning signs. Very common and not at all unusual warning signs.

I’m at risk for arthritis. In fact mom and I are both certain if it’s not there in my knees it’ll develop at some point.

In fact, earlier this year, I had back pain. God awful back pain. It ran down one leg at some point.

So I asked my mom because these were the symptoms for her issues. She told me to immediately see a doctor.

To most, that’s an overreaction. But it’s not.

I’ll round back to my sickly childhood.

I have a devil of a cough, I’ll hack up a lung if I have a fit. In fact if I’m ill I have the chance to seriously damage my throat- Halls my saviour.

I’ve had colds turn into serious medical issues because they don’t go away on their own, and what was considered a cold turned out to be an infection.

So now I’m hyper vigilant. A cold that last three days with medicine, I go to the doctor. If it’s just a cold, I’ll refuse their medicine, if it’s bronchitis, I’ve caught it early and now can avoid an emergency room visit.

Because of this sickly thing I’ve had for over two decades of my life- since I was an infant/toddler- I now have to tell people I live with, “hey if I’m sick too long tell me I’ll need to see a hospital”.

COVID came around and I literally got messages from multiple people worried I was going to die if I caught it, and I’m going to say, I’m terrified. I’ve been in the hospital multiple times due to illness, days away from being hospitalized.

The virus fucking terrified me. I’ve had more than ten scares of having it, with no idea what I should do, so I treated myself with care, waited for day three, when it didn’t come I was relieved.

I’ve nearly died twice to an allergic reaction, to this day, I’m deathly allergic to two things and I don’t know what they are.

I’m also allergic- but not even close to severe- to other things I can shrug off.

I’ve also had a negative general allergy test. It’s where I found out my blood type.

But I’ve had my throat slowly close up as I took a specific anti depressant. I didn’t notice until my tongue had started swelling in my mouth, that I had more itchy skin than usual and I was having breathing issues. I got told I was a few days out from actual death.

For mental health. I have very weird applications of symptoms.

I can tell if someone is angry or not, I can have genuine conversations with someone and notice minute details.

I’m also traumatized and was forced into recognizing emotions.

But I don’t know when to stop a conversation. I don’t know when to interpret someone’s polite way of ending something. I don’t know the social etiquette to not embarrass people. I can be sociable, but I hate people and I never seek them out myself.

I’m not the model someone looks to for an AFAB with autism.

My trans status really pushed the diagnosis.

But I do have the symptoms, they’re just not presenting in ways that make people scream autism- more like scream freak.

And as a teen I never knew I had it. But I found people who related to me outside of a psychological textbook who explained my issues and gave tips that worked for once.

I was Fourteen before it clicked in my parents were abusing me. That it wasn’t normal to stop and listen to make sure those were their footsteps. If they were coming to my room. How heavy? Is that anger?

I’d explain normal life things and get people telling me it wasn’t normal and I needed to be away from it. That the behaviour was terrifying.

That if my parents were threatening to beat me black and blue, I should be trying to get out.

Trauma causes memory issues? How would I know that as a teen going to the police and not being able to say anything other than, “they threaten me when I brush my teeth”.

A terrified seventeen year old, describing how they were punished and the police couldn’t take them seriously, as they sobbed and begged to not go back.

In a week I had to return because there was no where else to go.

I couldn’t tell the police office my parents threatened my life that night.

I couldn’t remember why I was convinced by my friends online to run away.

My teachers got mad: “Did you think of your grades, you’re graduating this year”

Not even thinking about how I was suffering so much I got sent to the councillor- and then dumped- multiple times for suicidal ideation and the absolute terror I had in ever speaking of my issues.

It took meeting someone who was traumatized to learn I had panic attacks.

“Go take Your medication they give you for anxiety, you’re having a panic attack”

I’ve had them since I was a child and it took frantically talking in a chat room to figure it out.

I got half my diagnoses from the people around me before medically getting them. And that’s not a joke.

I had abnormally painful periods for my entire childhood, and it took a friend telling me it was probably bad I needed my mom’s painkillers for her back sometimes to even exist.

And do you know what, extremely painful periods is a sign for something really bad. And about 1/3 of afabs have that experience.

It’s considered normal. And yet it can lead to a deadly disease if you’re not careful.

A painful boob can be breast cancer.

A cough and fever could be COVID.

People relatively will explain their experiences in a way that people see is normal.

Making it Hard to actually convey how these experiences are normal for US but they’re not normal.

“Haha I Just found out reading a lot as a kid was a sign of PTSD” isn’t someone taking the piss abt PTSD, it’s a common experience due to escape fantasies. I know a lot of people, most who hate reading now, that explained how they’d read for hours as a child to get out of life, sometimes pretending to be something better.

And so in good conscience, I can’t say that post is great.

TDLR; The post that insinuates “x is a sign of y” comes off as ableist, as my lived experiences I know where this comes from.

Sometimes minor things can be a sign of something major and ignoring it doesn’t help.

Physical and Mental health are hard to convey, and most of the time someone doesn’t have the language or forethought to in depth describe their experiences.

#abuse tw #child abuse tw #period tw #near death tw

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av-ryan · 3 years ago

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TEXTS; AV & RONAN

JULY

Ronan Ryan

How do you feel about arcade games and singing animatronic birds?

AV Ryan

Sounds like heaven, why?

Ronan Ryan

There's a couple places here I want to check out. Somewhere called Tropicz, and then a Mr. Cheezies?

AV Ryan

Sounds sublime, I'm in. I'm not gonna lie tho, Mr. Cheezies sounds like a broke Chuck E Cheese.

Ronan Ryan

That's exactly what it is actually

I'm not sure there's anywhere else with an arcade here though

AV Ryan

Hey, I'm not complaining, can't be be worse than the actual Chuck E Cheese we used to go to back home

Ronan Ryan

Exactly!

I'm excited to see how many games I can destroy you at

AV Ryan

I guess there's only one way to find out

Ronan Ryan

I guess so. You busy tomorrow yet?

AV Ryan

You ask that like I have a life.

I'm not busy and we should definitely hang.

Ronan Ryan

Just making sure. Let's go tomorrow then! Maybe hit up a bar while we're out?

AV Ryan

You sure you’ll survive someone else making our drinks?

Ronan Ryan

It's for a job application

AV Ryan

Well you can apply, I’m going to drink.

Ronan Ryan

Sounds good! You need a DD anyway

What do you think of the place so far?

AV Ryan

I mean I’m not allergic to walking, The beds are nice? And the campus isn’t bad? What about you?

Ronan Ryan

If you want to walk, we can walk

that's fine. It's okay. It's weird being out of Texas but I'm surviving.

AV Ryan

Yeah let’s walk, it’s nice outside. I don’t you just love summer? We need to get you past surviving and into thriving ASAP.

Ronan Ryan

Cool, walking it is then. Summer's alright, I'm excited for it to cool down though. The beach is so fucking nice though. There's a stretch of it on campus.

I'll get there, AV. But thanks for caring.

AV Ryan

I haven't been yet, but I'll take your word for it.

Well we look out for each other right?

Ronan Ryan

Always.

AV Ryan

See you later for dinner. Don't forget my cigarettes.

Ronan Ryan

[ loved this ]

Ronan Ryan

I'm gonna need you to come remove the gum from my bed frame.

AV Ryan

I didn't fucking do it.

Ronan Ryan

I'm not blaming you for Simon's actions but he was in my room last night because you triggered him out AV.

AV Ryan

That's fair. Fuck. It's been sitting there all night?

Ronan Ryan

It has.

it's gross

AV Ryan

I guess I'll come now to take it off. And raid your pantry since I know you went shopping yesterday

Ronan Ryan

Fine but don't touch my soda bread.

Let me get my roommate to open the door, I'm not in right now.

I really should just give you a key.

AV Ryan

Fine I won't take all of your soda bread. Okay, cool. But yeah, you really should just give me one.

Ronan Ryan

We'll see

excited for later?

AV Ryan

What's later?

Ronan Ryan

Ouchhh.

I'll direct your attention to the top of the thread.

AV Ryan

I know, I'm just fucking with you. Hell yeah I'm excited!

Ronan Ryan

I know

Me too. I wonder if they'll let us on stage with the birds.

AV Ryan

I'd love to see them try and stop us.

Ronan Ryan

Let's do it

AV Ryan

Fuck yeah. So how was Sloan & Co last night, did I fuck up?

Ronan Ryan

Sloan & Co

Uh, it was fine. I think. Aside from the gum. Simon insisted on sleeping on the floor but when Sloan fronted they actually got in bed.

AV Ryan

I should copyright that shit.

Okay cool. Sierra cussed me out this morning first thing

Ronan Ryan

Fuck

I'm glad I slept through that. She made me coffee

AV Ryan

As long as Sloan's not actually mad at me, I think I'm good.

Ronan Ryan

I think you're good, don't worry about it.

You just wanted everyone together.

AV Ryan

See? I knew you fucking got it.

Ronan Ryan

I did, yeah. From now on we'll just keep family activities to things everyone wants to do, to avoid a repeat.

AV Ryan

That's cool with me. I was not feeling the strip club anyway. In retrospect - fuck them strippers.

Ronan Ryan

Lmao. Still pissed about the alien conversation?

AV Ryan

It might still be a touchy subject but I’m 83% over it

Ronan Ryan

Aliens 10000% exist.

There's no way they don't.

AV Ryan

I just wanted to talk, I don’t care if they agree or not. But like I said I’m over it. 91% now

Ronan Ryan

That's fair. Cool you're over it though. It was fun debating it

AV Ryan

I’ll be at 100% by the time we go out later.

Ronan Ryan

Cool, sounds good. Thanks for getting the gum off for me.

AV Ryan

Yeah no problem.

Ronan Ryan

Did you know there are people that actually want to be benchpressed?

AV Ryan

Is this a trick question?

Ronan Ryan

No, I didn't know that was a thing

AV Ryan

People especially love it when it's from a person in uniform

Ronan Ryan

Oh, okay. That's strange. Anyway, ready to head out?

AV Ryan

Why does someone want you to benchpress them?

Yep. I'm ready.

Ronan Ryan

I don't think they want me to do it specifically.

They just mentioned asking someone before and getting turned down

AV Ryan

Well mentioning it randomly is kind of weird.

Ronan Ryan

Feeling okay today, AV?

AV Ryan

I’m amazing today. You?

Ronan Ryan

I'm great

had a little bit of a headache earlier but the gym and some painkillers helped that.

AV Ryan

Last night was super chill Roe

Ronan Ryan

It was a nice time! I enjoyed it.

We should do it again

AV Ryan

Mr. Cheezies? Not so much, Tropicz hell yea! Those birds are my jam!

Ronan Ryan

Not a fan?

The birds were so cool. It's so stupid they don't let you on stage. I wanted a picture

AV Ryan

Next time we jump on stage we need to take a picture right quick, before they’re able to tell us to get down

Yeah I’m good on the Cheezies

Ronan Ryan

Absolutely. We'll do that next time.

I'm hoping the Flag is somewhere I'll be comfortable working though, and with better quality top shelf

AV Ryan

Fuck yeah. We’ll find out tonight, right?

Ronan Ryan

Yes! I'm excited

I'll sneak you free drinks and everything.

AV Ryan

You ain’t gonna get any complaints from me

Ronan Ryan

I know

all the more reason to come by right?

AV Ryan

If my codependence wasn’t enough? Yessir!

Ronan Ryan

That's fair

AV Ryan

It’s just been so long since I’ve been around everyone. I didn’t realize how much I miss you guys.

Ronan Ryan

I missed you too, and I know the others did too. If you need to talk or anything I'm h We're all together again now though, and that's what matters.

AV Ryan

That's all that matters.

Ronan Ryan

Hey, AV. How are you?

AV Ryan

(shrug emoji) you?

Ronan Ryan

Shoulder hurts a little but otherwise I'm good

AV Ryan

Sunburnt?

Ronan Ryan

Yes

Which is beyond me.

AV Ryan

Oh come on, you knew that was gonna happen.

Ronan Ryan

I thought two layers would be enough

I'll just wear a shirt next time

AV Ryan

Or stay in the shade

Ronan Ryan

I'd rather get a sunburn

The beach is meant for swimming

AV Ryan

You’re just a glutton for punishment are you?

Ronan Ryan

I guess you could say that

AV Ryan

Especially doing this perfect match thing. Though I’m not gonna lie, I was going to do it but forgot

Ronan Ryan

Listen, I ran five miles this morning

I'm so nervous

You should have done it

AV Ryan

Well you literally get to him pick your partner right? At least there is not gonna be any surprises right?

I bet the run was gorgeous as fuck though

Ronan Ryan

It's more rejecting and/or being rejected

It was, it was right at sunrise

AV Ryan

Oh that’s easy, if someone rejects you I’ll just kick their ass. And if someone gives you grief for rejecting them, I’ll just kick their ass. It’s as simple as that.

Ronan Ryan

Thanks, AV. I'd kick someone's ass for you too.

AV Ryan

Oh I fucking know you would. It’s a good thing I taught you how to fight

Ronan Ryan

It is. Easily one of my favorite memories.

AV Ryan

You've got a mean right hook

Ronan Ryan

We should get together in a boxing ring together sometime

AV Ryan

I've been off my game, but I can still kick your ass

Ronan Ryan

I've been on my game, and I'm very sure you can't.

AV Ryan

We could always make it interesting

Ronan Ryan

What are you proposing?

AV Ryan

A bet for the winner of a boxing match

Ronan Ryan

Alright, I'm in. What's the bet?

AV Ryan

Winner gets to choose the other's phone lockscreen for a month

Ronan Ryan

Deal! I'll go ahead and start looking.

When do you want to do this?

AV Ryan

I don't have shit to do so whenever

Ronan Ryan

Let's do it today, before that barbecue thing. We can use the ice water for any bruises.

AV Ryan

I heard there's a whole ass boxing ring somewhere on campus, let's do it there

Ronan Ryan

There is, it's in the gym.

You're on.

AV Ryan

Fantastic

Ronan Ryan

[ backdated ] Hey, AV! Is it cool if I give Miriam your number? She wants it.

AV Ryan

Your roommate? Yeah, I don't care

Ronan Ryan

Yup. Cool.

Ronan Ryan | 🔵

Sea Kayaking is scary

the entire time I was doing it, I kept planning an escape in case it turned over.

But anyway, how was your day?

AV Ryan

But it was also a good time? Productive. But now I’m tired but at least I took care of my VA things and hopefully my benefits start rolling in again, then I won’t have to keep asking you for money. How was your day?

Ronan Ryan | 🔵

Yeah! It was a lot of fun.

I give you a hard time, but I don't mind AV.

I stocked up on cool ranch doritos too, so help yourself.

It was good. One of those match things hit me up.

AV Ryan

You had me at cool ranch Doritos, thanks Roe Yeah? How’d it go?

Ronan Ryan | 🔵

You're welcome. How do you feel about the school so far?

It went okay. He seems nice.

AV Ryan

I don’t think my opinion has really changed since we first got here like the rooms are fine and the food is fine. I guess we’ll see how classes go once they start… you?

Ronan Ryan | 🔵

No worries. I just wanted to make sure you're good. Mine's still the same too.

AV Ryan

I’m supposed to be having dinner with someone later this week. She’s someone I knew in Hawaii. Think you can help me make something?

Ronan Ryan | 🔵

Yeah, of course. Always. Does she have any allergies? Or is there something you had in mind to make?

AV Ryan

To be honest I don’t know and I kind of don’t want to ask? Let’s just like go with the safe options no seafood, no nuts, yada yada yada

Ronan Ryan | 🔴

Alright

I got you. When do you need it by?

AV Ryan

Tomorrow, I think.

Ronan Ryan | 🔴

No problem

AV Ryan

Thanks, Roe

Ronan Ryan | 🔴

[ loved this ]

Ronan Ryan | 🔴

Do you want to come over for a movie later? Just us?

AV Ryan

Sure, what movie?

Ronan Ryan | 🔴

Um, maybe a comedy? Step Brothers?

AV Ryan

Yeah alright. You good?

Ronan Ryan | 🔴

I'm doing great. Are you?

AV Ryan

Not great, but fine

Ronan Ryan | 🔴

Do you need to talk? We can skip the movie? I'm here for you, AV. We all are.

Ronan Ryan | 🔴

croc poptarts.jpg

I wonder if these actually exist

AV Ryan

The flavor looks awful

Ronan Ryan | 🔴It does

good thing it's fake!

Along with a lot of other grosser flavors.

AV Ryan

It's funny as hell though

Ronan Ryan | 🔴

It is. There was another one called Swamp with Shrek on it.

AV Ryan

I fucking love Shrek

Ronan Ryan | 🔴

I haven't seen Shrek in forever

AV Ryan

We should watch that next time.

Ronan Ryan | 🔴

We should, definitely! Which movie is your favorite?

AV Ryan

Besides Love Actually? Probably Speed. That’s a classic

Ronan Ryan | 🔴

No like, which Shrek movie?

AV Ryan

Oh. The first one, definitely

Ronan Ryan | 🔴

Good to know about Speed though. I haven't seen it, so maybe that's something else we could watch too.

AV Ryan

Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves before their careers really took off. It’s amazing.

AUGUST

Ronan Ryan | 🔴

Hey, AV. Want to go out together again, when I'm not working? I kind of miss the birds, strangely enough.

AV Ryan

Yeah whenever, you know me always free

Ronan Ryan | 🔴

Cool. Did you see the new list of locations too? There's a Texas food truck

AV Ryan

Oh no I didn’t hear that. It’s like Brahma heard and answered my prayers

Ronan Ryan | 🔴

It's down at the beach, but it's going to be on campus every Friday!

AV Ryan

Well see if they serve authentic Mexican food too

Ronan Ryan | 🔴

Hey, they might. Want to go check it out with me tomorrow?

AV Ryan

[backdated] Yeah, I’m down

#ronan #texts: ronan #( siblings are what best friends can never be ; ronan )

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voice-oftheempire--archived-blog · 7 years ago

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//Today we are going to make a long post about my health, which is going to catch you up on where I have been and why I haven’t been posting as much lately in comparison to my norm. For some of my friends, you will be aware that for the past few months I have not been doing so well. For others, this information will come as a surprise, as I didn’t make this very public at any time beyond vague allusions to or the occasional complaint about being near a hospital again.

At this point, I’m exhausted, waiting on my medication to start working to keep me held over, and just really hoping for something to start working, so you get to hear everything.

Warnings for: Discussions about menstrual bleeding, hospitals and hospitalisation, mental health, and some pretty frank feelings on everything. LONG POST. Also feelings.

Something has been terribly wrong with me. In December of 2016, I started bleeding and just didn’t stop. And it wasn’t light either: I was losing upwards of 80mL of blood a day. Every day. In July of 2017 I still hadn’t stopped and giant clots the size of my hand – yes, the full hand from fingertip to palm – began dropping as well. Sometimes I would just be sitting and they would…fall out of me.

It was humiliating. It was painful. I was eating painkillers like they were candy to try and keep myself in order. I was missing work and ruining clothing. I was dizzy most of the time from bloodloss and life was horrible. I started seeing a gyno as my health insurance finally kicked on, got ultrasounds done, discovered that my endometrial lining was 14mm thick (for relation: directly after your period, the lining should be 1 – 4 mm thick. I had been bleeding non-stop since December and mine was 14mm. It was as thicker than some people who are pregnant), and I was slapped onto Minastrin birth control to take care of it, along with an antibiotic to deal with a mild infection found in the uterine lining during the most painful test I have ever had performed in my life (Endometrial Biopsy).

One month later in August of 2017, my heart began palpitating out of control. I began experiencing neuropathy. Cold sweats. Chest pain. I couldn’t breathe. Everything was wrong and bad and I was steadily freaking out. I began looking at symptoms and everything was telling me you could be having a heart attack. Worried, I spoke to my manager who told me I could either leave and go to the hospital right then or she was calling a stretcher and I was leaving that way. So off I went to the hospital, now terrified that I could be dying. But why? What had I done? All that was wrong was that I was fat and stressed, so why?

I arrived at Hugh Chatham hospital and was immediately rushed back to check for heart attack. They ruled that out quickly, but my blood levels were all over the place. No one knew what was wrong, precisely, but there was a fear about a blood clot in my lungs because of elevated d-dimer levels. They couldn’t bring my blood tests up high enough, though, so I was given a choice: overnight stay to bring them up and perform a CT Scan to rule out the bloodclot, or take blood thinners and hope for the best. Unwilling to stay, I opted to fill the bloodthinners and go home.

Mistake. I was back in he hospital the next day, as the symptoms got worse. My chest began squeezing, I broke out in a cold sweat, I had a sensation of everything pulling together and then dropping and I was more terrified than ever. I returned to the hospital, wasn’t given a choice this time about overnight stay, and boarded up in the room for observation. To make the longest story short, it turns out I was in the 1% of the population that suffers an allergic response to birth control and is unable to take it. Go me.

I was discharged the following day, but something new had happened: my bleeding had mysteriously stopped without hormone treatment (I would be put on medroxyprogesterone to continue regulating it), but a cough had appeared. I thought little of it and went about my way.

Until that cough got more severe and I couldn’t even deep breathe or laugh without wheezing and coughing. I rolled into a FastMed within a week and was diagnosed with Bronchospasms from potential asthma, given prednisone and an inhaler to take care of it, and sent off.

This story goes quickly as well: suppose who began suffering heart attack symptoms again after a week and a half of prednisone? Guess who is allergic to steroids? With this knowledge, the drug was tapered and stopped in order to keep from having even worse symptoms present themselves, and off I was escorted to an Allergist and Asthma doctor to take a good and critical look at what was going on with my lungs.

I was quickly informed I was allergic to everything (this I already knew), and I was given a corticosteroid inhaler to treat my asthma. This was bad – allergic to steroids, I was very hesitant to take it, but was reassured that everything would be fine. Different class of steroids, everything should be good. I trusted and began taking my Arnuity Ellipta inhaler along with a myriad of allergy medications. The asthma didn’t calm down. I was boosted onto Dulera instead – a stronger steroid inhaler. Again, the steroid allergy was repeated and again it was discarded.

**A beginning note before we continue this story: It is under no uncertain terms that we should note that I am an overweight individual. During this time I have had no changes in habits, am on a medication that does stand a chance to have you drop a little weight, but not massive amounts each week at the low dose I am on.**

Flash forward to November, and I am back in the Emergency Room because of – you guessed it – chest issues. Palpitations, pain, back pain, abdominal discomfort (including lancing pain radiating from my upper right side), can’t catch my breath correctly, everything is just fucking up and I was freaking out. So I had my husband transport me to the closest hospital to get that under control. Wilkes Regional ran all the basic tests, assured me I wasn’t having a heart attack, and bounced me. I discovered too – at this point thanks to my primary care doctor at the time – that my weight had dropped by 21 pounds from 9/28/2017 to 11/09/2017 (and 6 lbs more by this hospital visit on 11/28).

I just kept deteriorating. My appetite continued to decrease. My abdominal discomfort continued. Within twenty minutes of consuming food I would be in pain and have to go to the bathroom where I would have diarrhoea. I started getting to where I would want to be violently ill after eating. My appetite decreased. My breathing was becoming worse. Chest pains were coming back, but then would leave. And there was this constant, constant pain between my shoulders that was just getting worse all the time.

I caved and returned to an ER on 12/15. Again, no heart attack, but I was told, “Something is wrong with you, but we don’t know what.”

More bloodtests. Negative for H. Pylori. Negative ANA results. Negative for simple things. Remarkably good results in other testings, but some things just didn’t add up. Some scores dropped rapidly, while others climbed. My father’s CVID (Chronic Variable Immune Deficiency) diagnosis began looming in all of our minds. We got worried. We stayed worried. My weight dropped more – now almost to 50 lbs gone (Where has it all gone? How can anyone lose that much without doing anything? Where has it gone? Why is it gone?)

“We don’t know.” “We don’t know.” We don’t know.

The pain is unbearable. I cannot sleep. Most recently, I began getting to the point that the pill I was given to help me eat has failed me. I try to eat but I see it soon after. My abdomen is in agony. My back feels broken. It’s spreading. My chest varies between feelings like I’m having a heart attack or the worst asthma attack of my life. I feel like the ERs are laughing at me now from how much they have seen me this month. I am humiliated. I am afraid. I am sick. I am in pain.

I am lost.

On 12/27 I went to Forsyth ER, hoping a bigger hospital might be able to help more, but I got the same results as always. Another CT, another “you’re not having a heart attack and everything looks fine.” Another “we’re only here to help emergent situations stop coming.” Another “follow up.” Another we can’t help you go away. I broke. That night at 1:00 in the morning I called my mother sobbing in pain and begged her to take me back to a hospital – take me somewhere and please fix me because I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t lie down on my back or my side without my heart immediately beginning to climb into the 90s – 100s and just RACING out of control. I couldn’t breathe. I was in agony. My chest hurt too much. My back and abdomen were terrible. Surely I was dying.

God bless my mother. My husband drove me to her and she took me back to our local hospital where she brought hell down on the doctors who had not listened to me before but they listened to her. They gave me my first anti-anxiety medication and for the first time I could lie down without my heart racing too uncontrollably. I actually slept for an hour that night. I got a referral for an ultrasound on my abdomen for my organs that I had desperately needed since the CT scan had mentioned a slightly enlarged spleen and since all of my symptoms sure sounded a lot like gallbladder issues too. We were getting somewhere. I took painkillers and went to sleep with a gameplan.

This all promptly went to port.

My symptoms grew worse. On 12/29, I began vomiting more than ever. Yellow bile was all I passed. Bright yellow. Performing an experiment, I had ceased my iron and Vitamin C pills to see how this would change the colour of my stools, and they have promptly begun turning clay-coloured. And my skin? Beginning to yellow slightly. My upper eyes under the lids? Soft yellowing. I mentioned this to my husband and mother, but we agreed to monitor and just kind of…go through the day. I had work, I had DSS I needed to visit. It was a day. I had him call to ask about the anti-anxiety pills my GP had prescribed me because they didn’t work for me like the hospital ones had (resting BPM does not need to drop below 60).

In the middle of my DSS work, I received call after call from my husband, and then a text stating my doctor wanted me in the ER immediately. Forget my appointment for an ultrasound, go to the ER and get it now because the yellowing meant gallbladder failure. Well, aye, I knew that, and thank goodness because I was feeling like total crap at that point anyway. My mother and I went – with me getting progressively worse and worse and in more and more pain.

The doctors gave me morphine because I hurt so much, okay? Morphine.

The ultrasound came back with no visible stones. My blood tests “did not support gallbladder issues” and I was discharged (which is wrong – the trend shows clear: Bilirubin is used to check for jaundice. In 24 hours, mine had increased from .5 to 1.2 – the maximum acceptable number. How can it raise that much in 24 hours? That’s not good. And Lipase – a blood test often used to check for gallbladder problems – was showing as <20. For reference, on 11/28 I was 32, then 11/28 I was 21 [the lowest acceptable should be 22], and then 24 hours later I don’t even have a scorable number?).

I was told to follow up with a Gastroenterologist. I’ve been told to check with my OBGYN (Jan 4th). I’ve been given a Cardiologist appointment (Jan 11th). At some point I will see a Rheumatologist, but they haven’t called to schedule an appointment yet.

No one seems to know what’s wrong (though the evidence clearly seems to support gallbladder, imo), but all I do is get shuffled around and suffer and I just

I hurt. I am always in pain, I can barely sleep, I can’t eat well, I have problems even drinking water. I lost the only job I have ever loved because of this, I am suffering, I’m terrified all the time because I can’t tell if the chest issue I’m having is something okay or is this the time I need to go to the hospital because it’s definitely a heart attack or am I just going to waste everyone’s time again and just

This is what has been going on in my life. This is where my health is. So it’s definitely made me a bit slow here on Tumblr, because I’ve either been too exhausted or too de-motivated to write lately, and I’m sorry that it’s suffered, but I hope to catch up again soon. The medications I’ve been given to help stabilize me in the meantime help decently, but they do make me really dizzy and tired, so it’s kinda like I’ll get some burst-time and then I have to rest, so we’ll see.

Anyway, just…thanks. <3 Thanks for working with me, sticking around, and being awesome. I love you guys.

#ooc #faust comments #cw: health #tw: health #I might delete this later I'm not sure #But this was really therapeutic to actually write down for once #and just look at and go 'ah yes that has been what has happened'#cw: long post #tw: long post

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turqrambles · 4 years ago

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I watched all 26 episodes of an obscure Australian cartoon in one week and I’m not okay - My journey with Wicked! (2001) PART 2 - The Actual Review

Hello again! I just checked my watch and I noticed that it was time to talk about the cartoon with the apple-headed guy some more!

When I last talked about this delightful piece of obscure media, I went over the origin story of how the show was created, introduced the cast of characters, and then talked about the main draw of the cartoon that makes it unique of other cartoons of its quality.

And then, at the end of the blog post, I mentioned that I think that the cartoon is merely “Okay” rather than anything Amazing. It has a great idea but ultimately, it really is just an alright show.

So now, after introducing this beautiful cartoon and explaining to everyone just what the hell is going on, it’s time to break this whole thing down.

The Good, The Bad, and The Apple-Flavored

Wicked! is a weird show to grade. The animation itself fluctuates in quality and there’s some very obvious cut corners from how frequently animation is recycled in some of the episodes, scenes can have weird editing or continuity errors, and sometimes they’ll even recycle sound bytes like insults that Dawn and Rory shout at each other or Gramps reminding everyone about Normandy. I feel like I heard The Appleman mention that something was “100% real nightmare” like five times while watching this whole thing in quick succession.

Information for this cartoon is practically nonexistent, but my theory is that this happened because the animation was all produced in a single in-house Australian studio rather than shipping bits of it overseas to get tightened up. Again, I could be wrong, and if anyone has any better information, please send me an ask, but a lot of the techniques that Wicked! use reminded me of Filmation, which also famously kept everything in one studio.

Just be warned, similar to when someone watches He-Man and go “oh hey, I recognize that talking animation from the second episode”, there are shots that get reused often to save time. Get used to that one scene where Appleman is laughing and running across the steel walkway suspending over the refinery vats, it’s used a ton.

That being said, when they give them the budget to add a little polish to the show, they do a pretty good job!

Don’t be fooled by my talk of He-Man - this show actually looks pretty great. Most of the time the animation is pretty fluid and the decision to constantly use shadows to wrap around the characters really works in its favor and gives it an extra layer of moodiness.

It just reuses animation on top of that.

I think that, in many ways, Wicked! is carried more by the strength of its ideas over its actual execution. Even if this show gets super goofy at times (this is a show where the Appleman literally infects the Internet by taking a piper and dropping glowing green goo on a CD-ROM), there is a definite horror undertone to the show that gets carried through its entire season.

Dare I say it, the show actually gets a little scary at times. That scene where the kids discover that their pets are nothing but empty skins with all the organs and bones sucked out in the first episode actually sets the mood really well and feels extremely faithful to the original books.

Plus the concept of The Appleman being able to tinker around with a living virus and create something that can mutate literally anything is a fun as hell idea, even if it doesn’t make sense most of the time and seems like a weird mutation (hah) of the conflict from the books. It’s just fun that this guy can create literally anything out of thin air as a weapon just so long as he goes to his lab and makes something that allows him to do so.

The Pros

*The Appleman. Yeah, there’s a very good reason why the only thing people remember about this show is The Appleman. He’s just a fun character and a fun villain. His design does takes a bit to get used to on account of how uncanny he can be, and there are times when they draw him off-model and make him look just horrendous, but once you see how far they go with the apple-theming, you kinda start to vibe with the apple headed monster.

Sure, he’s basically your run-of-the-mill cartoon villain but with a bonus tragic backstory, but his vocal performance by Bill Conn really sells the whole package. You can tell that he’s greatly unhinged and that he’s not exactly playing with a full deck. It’s only until the last episode that they flat-out say that he’s being controlled by the same virus that he’s been using to infect other creatures, but I’m pretty sure your average cartoon-watching kid is able to guess that just from the small hints that they drop.

Also all of his vehicles are apple-colored and I love a villain that takes the time to make sure he has a proper theme.

(The “starting out with an island with apple trees on Animal Crossing: New Horizons” moodboard)

*The Family. I liked that, since this show is about terrorizing one particular dysfunctional Australian family, all five family members of this show get enough character development that the mom and dad feel like they’re more than “the mom and dad character”. Save for that one episode where Gramps was constantly bragging about how back in his day, he didn’t need electricity, he was a fun, lovable grandpa, and I like that the kids get someone to talk to about mutant frogs and such.

They’re definitely dysfunctional and, as I mentioned in the previous post, Rory and Dawn constantly insulting each other in every single episode can be grating at times, but I like that their level of dysfunction is not because of the mom and the dad having an emotionally abusive relationship. If anything, the mom and the dad have the most stable relationship in the whole show! Eileen and Jack love each other and I hate that I’m at a point where I see this husband and wife genuinely enjoying each other’s company and I go “Yes, this is something refreshing”.

Also, gotta give the show points for having the family be two single parents from past relationships finding each other and getting married and for having Eileen be totally cool with her new in-law Gramps.

*The Slobberers. Expanded from the first creatures from the books, I like that the apple-headed monster has giant worms for pets (again, gotta aggressively keep to the apple theming) and, while there’s a couple episodes where they’re just something to give The Appleman something to talk to, their designs are fun. Gives the animators an excuse to draw slime.

In a later episode, he mentions that he considers them his only friends and boy...that’s rough, buddy.

*There’s an episode where characters travel into the Internet and fight a buff video game avatar of The Appleman in a late 90′s dungeon crawler computer game. I looooove late 90′s Internet imagery in cartoons, what can I say. You even see the dial-up pop window and a clunky late 90′s webcam!

*This is a show where a divorced man keeps bugging his own son and ex-wife while sometimes trying to kill his ex-wife’s new husband - all while keeping to a strict apple and virus theme - and honestly, this is a pro on its own. The Appleman is such a petty bitch at times and I love it.

*The Appleman is allergic to medicine. Minor touch, but I like that, since he’s a virus-themed bad guy, they apply “Revive Kills Zombie” logic on this guy and he literally can’t take painkillers because it’ll only cause him more pain and agony. This comes up in an episode where he’s screaming in pain and wishes he could make the pain go away but just can’t.

*The Title Cards. This is one of those shows that freezes on eye-catching artwork for each episode title before they continue with the rest of the episode and they’re really nice.

*The Accents. Forgot to mention this anywhere else, but since this is an Australian produced cartoon that aired primarily in Australia, everyone is rocking a very noticeable Australian accent and say things like “Oi, you two! Come and get a wriggle on!”. It’s fantastic.

They were definitely at the level where, if this show ever did make it to the states, they would’ve dubbed it to sound more American. And probably flip the animation so that the characters are driving on the opposite side of the road.

The Cons

*The Reused animation and sound clips. This is unfortunately the show’s biggest strike against it. Once your brain picks out which scenes get reused and which voice clips get reused, you’ll notice that some of the episodes have a noticeably smaller polish than others. The episode “Decayed” in particular felt like 50% footage from previous episodes and boy, did it stick out like a sour thumb because of it.

That being said, I didn’t mind too much (watching a lot of B-list anime and Filmation shows will do that to you) and I feel like you would’ve noticed this a lot less if you weren’t blazing through all 26 episodes in a short period of time like I was. But it is definitely a bummer that they had to cut corners like this because again, when they don’t cut corners, this show looks utterly fantastic.

I guess the lesson here is that the animators of this show didn’t get paid enough, but really, you can say that about literally every animated project in existence.

*Weird continuity inconsistencies. This goes into a weird nitpicking “you probably only noticed this because you’re an adult with too much free time/boy I sure hope someone got fired for THAT blunder!” territory, but sometimes this cartoon does a thing where something minor is established and then the cartoon subtly retcons it.

Mostly I’m using this space to complain about how Dawn explicitly mentions that they don’t own a cat, but then in the “character shrinks to the size of an ant” episode, they have a pet cat! They have a pet cat that lasts a grand total of one episode and no one says anything!

What happened to the cat, Rory? What happened to the cat?!

(my theory is, like his father, it ran away from this family)

*Some episodes use stock cartoon plots. There is an episode where the main characters shrink to the size of an ant. There is a camping episode. There is a school dance episode. There is a Halloween episode. There is an episode focused on teeth. There is an episode that talks about the dangers of too much fast food.

Like the reused animation issue, depending on the episode, you end up not minding too much about this on account of how utterly bonkers The Appleman is when he’s concocting his evil schemes. The “characters teleport into the Internet” episode ended up being one of my favorites, as did the school dance episode.

But at the same time, two of my least favorite episodes are the stock episode plot episodes, so it’s definitely a mixed bag.

*They use real photographs in background shots and it bugs me. Come on, guys. Just have the blank wall or scribble in some posters. Anything will look better than this cartoon character standing right next to a still image from Alfred Hitchcock’s North by Northwest, especially when you clearly had the time to draw that cartoon skull on the door.

*The three plot-heavy episodes unfortunately have weaker animation. This just seems like weird planning on their parts, but Episode 1, Episode 4, and Episode 26 are all episodes that deal with backstory of The Appleman and this wacky dysfunctional family and, for some reason, they didn’t bring their A game in regards to actually animating these episodes.

I feel like if you’re dealing with heavy backstory, you need to make the episode look good, because that’s going to be the stuff that the audience remembers. You need to have the flashback of The Appleman’s horrific transformation while he was working at the old refinery look amazing, but instead it just....doesn’t.

(picture unfortunately related)

Just to make a note, the episodes with the most fluid animation are the following: The one with the mutant plants, the one with the mutant sheep, the Halloween episode, the episode with the dinosaur bones, and the episode where The Appleman learns how to make clones. None of these episodes are important to the overarching plot.

*One of the episodes is unfortunately popular because it depicts animation that caters to the inflation fetish. Just...noting this for posterity. It makes google image searches of this cartoon a bit awkward. I’m not going to elaborate much further.

*There’s a minor transphobic joke in one of the episodes. In the episode “Decayed”, The Appleman dresses up like a nurse, tries to adopt a more feminine voice, and puts on makeup and fake eyelashes. Thankfully, this only happens for like three seconds and is never mentioned again.

The rest of the show otherwise passes the “can this still fly in 2020″ test. I’m just making a note here because it is pretty shitty.

Closing Thoughts

Wicked! is not the best show in the world, and I struggle to call it “great”, but it is a solid and enjoyable one and honestly, the things that it has going for it are unique enough that I recommend giving it a shot despite its shortcomings.

If anything, my main takeaway from watching this whole show is that this show does not deserve to be as obscure as it is. At the very least, the concepts and characters introduced here are strong ones - the villain is a bitter divorced man transformed by a hate-feeding virus after all - and I feel that, in a more fair world, this show got the small but dedicated fanbase it so woefully needs. It doesn’t deserve a huge following of fans, but I say it definitely deserves a Fanfiction.net tag with 200 fanfics total and a lot more fanart than what it does.

While I’m not sure I could recommend it as one of the great obscure cartoons that everyone missed, I think it’s definitely worth checking out for anyone looking for a fun time. It’s definitely a hidden gem, even if the hidden gem has a few imperfections. If anything, this show is a definite wild ride and I think it’s time for everyone to give this cartoon a shot.

Anyway I got to see The Appleman playing Second Life and moving the muscle slider all the way to the right, so I obviously had a blast.

Next time, I talk about the actual episodes!

#Turq watches a cartoon #Turq Reviews #Wicked!#Wicked! (2001)

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saintheartwing · 4 years ago

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May the Force Be With You, Part 1

I’ve been meaning to do a story with my character Kendall for quite some time now, and at long last, I finally got a chance. So here’s the beginning of my little story. Enjoy!

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The noose is tight and heavy around his neck, feeling like a heavy snake constricting harder and harder with every passing moment. Jeers fill the air, foul, rotten smiles, disgusting-looking grins on face after face. How can a smile make someone look so, so much uglier? And it kept getting harder to breath. His lungs were burning, it’s as if someone stuffed newspaper inside them and set them on fire, and now they’re just slowly watching him die...and, well...they are. They tore off his beautiful blue jacket when he tried to run, and not a single one of them stopped to ask why someone like him had so many scars and cuts on his body.

Why would they? People like them...even some OF these “fine folks” had given him those ugly marks on his frame. He’d almost made it into the house to close and lock the door when someone got lucky and actually lasso’d him, yanking him down the front steps, and now...now they were hanging him in front of his own home. If this was only just a month ago maybe his father would be rushing out to save him, but no he’s on his own. He was vulnerable, and he had made it clear to others in his community he was gay.

This was something they couldn’t accept. To them, it meant he’d been born morally blackened. It went against their beliefs in a just, fair God. And so such a blackened thing had to be gotten rid of. HE would have to be gotten rid of. God forbid his very presence make them question their faith a little. And God forbid some of them perhaps found the red-haired young man attractive, with his well-built frame. They had to kill their shame.

Kendalll can’t breathe.

He can’t breathe.

He can’t...breathe…

Can’t...head...swimmy...spots...flaring up...before his...eyes…

Is that...a barbeque he smells…? Something’s cooking nearby? Why does it feel so much hotter all around-

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

The red-haired young man awoke with a horrific start. His hair was a mess, even more fringe flopping over his face than normal as he groaned and held his head in his hands, taking in deep, long breaths, trying to calm himself down. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the mouth, and think of some calming scenery. A beach, long sand, the ocean stretching out before you. A huge, grassy valley. Fields of flowers. A soothing clearing in a deep forest with cute little woodland critters.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

“Okay...okay...okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Zachary Archimedes Cadence Kendall reached across from his bed, his thick, grey and white comforter blankets he slept in utterly soaked in sweat from his body as he grabbed hold of a bottle of water on a nearby bedstand, and a small bottle of pills. He popped the top open of both, and tossed a couple of little, tic-tac-sized, pastel blue pills into his mouth and sloshed them around with the water before giving a loud gulp. Then he put both the bottles away and stood up, walking to the bathroom and deciding to pour himself a relaxing bath.

He tossed in a “bath bomb” from the little cupboard he kept his medical and bathroom supplies in, and the bath began to fill up with soothing blue crystals as the water finished pouring and he eased himself in, taking a deep, long sigh. He felt disappointed in himself. He was sure he’d had the PTSD symptoms under control, he’d been taking the medication every single night and he hadn’t had a dream like that for months now.

But...evidently not. He supposed that it was a relapse. He didn’t know what he expected, an attempted lynching wasn’t something most people would get over, not ever. But he should look at himself as lucky, he was alive. And despite the many scars and cuts and worst of all, the ugly, FOUL garroted ring around his neck that made it clear what had befallen him...he was alive. He was ALIVE.

And he had a big day today. Today, at long last, was his first day as head nurse at the free clinic on Nar Shadaa.

He let out a yawn as he rose out of the bath and got himself dry, getting his clothing on. His favorite dark blue jacket, big and thick and kinda floppy, his camo pants, black shoes, he looked himself over in the mirror, his blue eyes a-shining. His kind, Logosian, were very similar to humans, save for the rather unusual shine in their eye. A white geam that faintly brimmed around the pupil, and when the light caught it, it seemed to make the pupil itself turn white. There were, of course, other advantages to being Logosian, including a tremendous control over every single part of your body in a way few others had…

It was that control that made him such a good nurse and a great assistant to Dr. Morgan, who ran the free clinic. Kendall was soon making his way down from his apartment, and down the street, the towering, dark structures of the back alleys of Nar Shadaa rising high around him. Occasionally a window would gleam as a light turned on, but for the most part, it was early morning and all was dark, almost like night itself. The streets were a dark grey color, only a few people walking around as hovercars soared overhead, streaking like small, gleaming little boxes.

The clinic was in a building a block away in a rounded-top little place, with a large sign that read “Morgan Medical Clinic” on the front in bright neon during the night. When the day came, it switched to a slightly gaudier color scheme, but it got people’s attention all the same. Through the revolving door Kendall went, passing by a few people in the waiting room outside, the secretary sighing as he looked over a chart that a black-eyed, green-skinned alien with small spikes a-jutting from his head and bulbous-tipped fingers had given to him. The secretary got a small pair of pince-nez glasses off his desk with a tentacle, the rather octopus-esque being examining the chart.

“Okay, this all looks good. You should be warned though sir, Rodanian medicine isn’t Dr. Morgan’s specialty.” “Luckily I know a lot about them.” Kendall remarked aloud as he stopped and turned back to pat the patient on the back. “I’ll be happy to help you, sir, once I get my uniform on.” He nodded and turned to the secretary. “It’ll be fine, Orville, I’ve got it.” The Rodanian’s tubular-esque mouth turned into a smile as he sat down, Orville giving Kendall a nod of his big, slightly rubbery head. Orville was a really sweet guy who’d worked at the Hutt palace for a good decade before losing his job because he was caught sneaking snacks the Hutts were allergic to into work. He’d been lucky to get away with all his tentacles intact. Now he worked for them, and thankfully, none of the nursing staff nor Dr. Morgan were allergic to “Poofy Bites”.

Eager to get to work, Kendall headed into the small closet, getting on his uniform. Nice white gloves, shirt, pants, a facial mask, gloves, the whole shebang. And, of course, his little nametag. “Hi! I’m Kendall!” And TODAY...underneath that…

“Head Nurse”. Not “Nurse Practioner”. Head. Nurse.

“I got a good, good feeling about today.” He thought to himself as he walked back to let the Rodanian from before come on inside the clinic officially, into one of the patient rooms. Dr. Morgan waved at him from across the way, in the next room. He was, at the moment, tending to a normal human teen who had some very unpleasant wounds. Luckily, the Killik doctor was very skilled.

Like all Killiks, he was insectoid in appearance, looking like a mix of coleoptera and hymenoptera. Big sort of beetle-esque backside, a faintly hornet-esque head with a mandibled maw, four arms with sharp claws, several antannae sliding back from his skull and with deep orange eyes with dark black pupils as he looked the brown-haired young woman over. “These are some very unpleasant wounds indeed, how did you say you got them?” He asked aloud. He couldn’t “speak” with his mouth, like most Kiliks, he communicated with a mixture of methods, inlcuding pheremonal and electromagnetic transmissions to similar aliens to his kind, and outright telepathy to others. “I...fell in the shower.” The woman mumbled. Dr. Morgan knew she was lying through her teeth. You didn’t have to be psychic to know when someone was lying. He had seen this sort of injury many times before. It was, without a doubt, abuse. But since she was so young, being only 13, he had to ask. “Is everything alright with your parents?” “My mom isn’t handling my father’s death well.” She said quickly. “He got killed at those protests a while back, the Dyad’s men found him at work and...look, can you just patch me up?”

“It would appear you actually have some internal injuries, based on the scans. I will have to take more time than a simple application of Bacta.” He told her.

Luckily for Kendall, HIS patient didn’t need internal surgery. He smiled at one of the other nurses, Nurse Therra, who helped him get the Rodanian into the chair in the patient room, the twi’lek’s floppy head tentacles sliding down past her red-skinned cheeks as she adjusted the chair. “There. Is that good?” “Yes, it feels very nice.” He said as she took the Rodanian’s temperature and Kendall looked over the chart the patient had.

“Okay, we’re going to do a simple blood test.” He told the Rodanian. “We’ll find the right dosage depending on the results we get back.” He added as he held up a small injector that would take a little blood from the patient just by pushing it onto his skin. “Now, you’re going to feel just a little PINCH. Are you ready?” He inquired softly.

The Rodanian nodded as Kendall patted his shoulder and then knelt down and applied it to his arm. Soon he was analyzing the blood as Dr. Morgan called Therra into the room with him, as well as Nurse Jane, “Painkiller Jane” as Kendall liked to think of her as because she was so good at applying anesthetics, and Nurse Lomi, another Gran like Jane. The two almost coulda been twins, it was scary how much the multiple-eye-stalk-having aliens looked alike. Nice, big, muscular build, same smile, they even wore similar clothing.

It was a good thing that a lot of people came to the clinic lately. It showed a real need existed, that their work here was important. Especially with those awful protest injuries. People exercising their most basic of rights, the right of free speech, had been attacked. They’d first done meetings in the privacy of their own homes, then loosely organized gatherings, then finally in Nar Shadaa, out in the open. But the reactions from those who ran Nar Shadaa weren’t really pleasant at all. In the Outer Rim territories, dissent against people like Grakkus the Hutt or his compatriots was not tolerated.

It didn’t help that the place was already a haven for outlaws who were just fine with the Hutt Clan offering money to basically beat the shit out of unarmed protestors...or to kill them. Hey, if your money was good...free speech, schmee speech. Luckily, most of the protestors had gotten away, much to the local commandant’s embarrassment. But just because most got away it didn’t mean they got away scott free, a lot of them had been very badly hurt.

Thank goodness for this clinic, and for Dr. Morgan. It was good work they did there, Kendall thought to himself. Had he still been on Logos, his people might have said he was doing God’s work, but Kendall didn’t much believe in God at all. He never really had, and never really would. Kendall put no real stock in things he couldn’t truly verify, be it a god, be it the Force, be it the innate goodness of people. He put his trust in those who earned it, and Dr. Morgan had earned his ten times over by being a wonderful employer and just a great, decent person.

That wasn’t to say that Kendall didn’t sympathize with the protestors and their causes. He understood the philosophy of nonviolent resistance. And the strategy tended to work in the long run. The problem was the “long run” could take years, maybe even decades, and millions could die in the meantime. Yes, nonviolent resistance required more courage than combat, but honestly, armed resistance would be, in the end, what brought people like the Hutts and their compatriots, the “Dyad”, down. Kendall sometimes wondered if he should contact the resistance directly and get more involved, but he had a pretty good job here, and he was doing good work. So if it wasn’t broke...don’t fix it.

“Okay, based on the results of the blood test, you definitely have a mild case of Nobliar’s Syndrome, so here…” Kendall began looking through the cupboard up above the table in “Patient Room 3”. “You’re going to want to take several of these. Two a day ideally, if you feel even worse, three.” He handed the Rodanian a bottle of pills and nodded. “Now listen, these will combat the symptoms and, also ideally, will allow your body to fight Nobliar’s Syndrome off. But if it gets worse, we’ll have to bring you in for a hardcore Bacta bath, and we’ll take the next necessary steps.” Kendall told him as he showed off a small little tank of Bacta, the colorless, viscous fluid slopping about in the tank. “What’s IN bacta anyway?” The Rodanian wanted to know as Kendall beamed, his eyes practically glowing.

“Oh, it’s fascinating! It’s a mix of red alazhi and kavam bacterial particles. You mix them together with ambori, and the particles seek out wounds and promote rapid tissue regeneration while preventing the emergence of scar tissue. It really is astounding.” “Miraculous, really.” “Nah, just science, my friend.” Kendall chuckled. “The “miracle” of modern medicine and thank goodness we use it over kolto. Kolto’s less effective, takes far longer to heal you. A kolto for your cuts, sure, but no more than that.”

“Have you ever considered trying to get your throat healed with bacta, sir?” The Rodanian asked Kendall as Kendall inwardly cringed. He knew that, when people asked about his throat, most of them meant well, and were just legitimately concerned about what appeared to be a really awful, horrible injury. The tenets of the Logosian way of life had stressed that to forgive was divine. God, if you were willing, forgave all your sins. Well...he wasn’t God. So he didn’t have to forgive those motherfuckers who’d lynched him.

“Thanks, but...I actually want to keep it. Sometimes you want the scars.” He remarked as he led the Rodanian out of the room, and down the hallway to the waiting room, noticing something very odd. Orville was slightly quivering in fear and emanating a clear sense of nervousness, all the other patients were gone, and a slightly irritated-looking human woman with brown hair tied back into a small ponytail with dark brown eyes and two earrings in her left ear was standing there in the doorway. She had her hands on her hips and she looked very impatient indeed, and was wearing a white shirt with a dark brown vest, a pair of pants that didn’t reach all the way down to the top of her darker boots, a thick belt loaded up with various pouches, and a small pack on her back. She had armbands on as well, the same color as her dark brown belt, and she tilted her head a bit as she looked at Kendall. She looked VERY familiar, and yet, Kendall couldn’t quite place her. He was good with faces, but not with names, a problem he’d had for years and years.

“You’re a nurse? Ah, Head Nurse. Can you let the doctor know I need to see him immediately?”

“Oh, uh...he’s rather busy with a patient who has internal injuries. I can treat you though, depending on the nature of your injury, ma’am.” Kendall offered as the Rodanian headed out the door and Orville gulped.

“Kendall, she really, REEEEAAALLY wants to see the doctor.” “Indeed. Still…” The woman looked him over. “You might suffice. I happen to have my own internal injuries, I was regrettably badly wounded in a fight and my stomach feels as though it’s on fire.” She said, her voice having a faint, almost fancy-sounding accent to it. Kendall thought, very faintly, he could feel a strange, weird tingling sensation in the back of his head, that was creeping over his fingers as he led her into the patient room. She put her little pack down as she sat in the chair, and he began to scan her over

“Oh my, this is terrible!” He proclaimed, looking mortified. “Yes, your...your stomach and your intestines are…” Kendall was positively stunned. “However are you still alive, ma’am?” “I’m a very skilled healer in my own right, Logosian. Its not a miracle, it’s my own skill. But I can’t do THIS, unfortunately. I could only keep myself alive through sheer...well, I suppose you’d call it willpower. But there’s a limit even to that. So, I need your assistance posthaste.” She insisted as Kendall nodded and quickly got out an anesthetic from the closet. “No. No, no, I want to be AWAKE for this.” “Ah, I wouldn’t call it a miracle, ma’am. I don’t believe in the like. As for the medicine here, I can...ease the dosage so it doesn’t knock you out, but you’ll still feel a lot of pain even with the dosage level.” Kendall admitted. “I mean, if I don’t use a full dose, it’ll feel like your insides are being squeezed and kneaded...because, frankly, I’m going to have to do that to get them back in their proper place!” The woman looked surprised that Kendall was atheistic, most of the galaxy knew the Logosian people as ridiculously religious. This was very unusual. But before she could ask about this oddity, the pain flared up in her anew as she cringed. “No higher dosage. I want. To be. Awake.” She insisted as Kendall nodded and held up the injector, giving her a smaller dose of the anesthetic. The woman’s eyelids fluttered as she laid back in the chair, Kendall quickly getting his facial mask on, and pulling out tools from the nearby drawer built into the counter to his left.

A laser cutter would be what he’d use to open up her body to begin repairing the internal injuries. He bit his lip, carefully, slowly making the proper cuts as the woman chewed on her own lip, gripping the handles of the chair tightly and cringing. “ERGH...k-keep it up…” She insisted. “I can...take it.” The stomach was soon opened up, layers of flesh peeled back. It was truly terrible, obviously someone had tried to stab the woman and as a result of her attempt to heal the injury, her organs were where they shouldn’t be. It was as if she was trying to stop the bleeding by making a tourniquet within her very body. This was going to be immensely tricky.

He got his Bacta ready as he began slowly, carefully unwinding the intestines, spraying Bacta every once in a while. His grip was astoundingly steady, his eyes slightly narrowed as he peered into her insides. Gently does it, he thought to himself, her frame shuddering as she cringed, sweat dribbling down past her cheeks, her forehead. She was moaning in pain, and trying in vain to hold back the clear tears she wanted to shed.

Luckily, he was nearly done, after what seemed like HOURS, he’d finally gotten the organs in their proper place as he applied the Bacta spray again, and then pulled out the clear culprit...a knife, foul, twisted and with little spikes atop the blade. Ah ha, that’s what had done it. “C-Careful, it’s got a trap on it, don’t hold the handle close to the bottom-” The woman began to say. Kendall let go of the knife, but too late! SPLORGHK! A foul, wet nose rang through the air, his hand had been cut...cut right off! The woman stared in surprise, Kendall cringing, gripping his stump as he looked down at the ground and the ugly trick knife, an extra blade popped out of the end. “It got me that way too.” She muttered.

“Oh my, look at that, that’s no good. Hold on. You may want to look away.” Kendall said as he held up his stumpy hand section, the woman stunned. It...it wasn’t bleeding. The wound was clearly open, but neither the arm nor hand were bleeding. Kendall focused a bit, and the hand then “walked”, skitting over to the knife, “kicking” it to the far side across the ground. “I’ll pick it up later.” He remarked as the hand leaped up, onto the chair, then THWUMP! Attached itself back onto his arm.

It was as if it had never been cut off. The woman stared as Kendall smiled back at her. “I’m from the planet Logos, ma’am. An advantage to our bodies is that, if someone cuts a body part of, well, we can control such parts, and force them right back to us. It’s quite helpful, really.” He told her. “I’ve learned how to do operations and the like with one hand whilst the other goes to get supplies from the next room or tends to Dr. Morgan.” “Very intriguing.” The woman said as she cringed and rubbed her forehead. “At any rate, I need to be going. I seem to be just fine at the moment and I need to meet my girlfriend at a restaurant to celebrate our anniversary together-” She looked up at the clock on the wall. “Oh shit. OH SHIT. I’m going to miss brunch if I don’t get there NOW!” She yelled, immediately bolting out of the room, down the hall and out the door, Kendall sighing as he began to take off the gloves and to wash his hands, removing his facial mask before noticing that the woman had left behind her little pack. She had taken it off when she’d sat down.

Maybe she had her wallet in there, some way to identify her so he could give her things back. At the same time though, it was his break! He’d been working at the woman for a long time and he could finally take a little break. He peeked outside…

Ah, Dr. Morgan was still hard at work. Guess he would be eating alone. Kendall took the bag with him after he took his uniform off in the bathroom nearby, and he entered the little lounge room, going to the replicator they had to order himself a little something for brunch as well. He sat down with his usual mixture of eggs, a fruit or two, some strips of bacon and a few nice slices of cheese but then he felt that odd, strange, tingling sensation rise in him.

He turned, looking at the little dark brownish/black pack the woman had had. Hmm. He was so tempted to look in there right now. Then again, the woman would probably be back once she realized she’d left it behind.

...maybe just a tiny peek. Just in case she didn’t come back. He wasn’t going to rob her, he’d never do anything like that. He’d just look for her wallet, maybe she had a phone in there and he could call her girlfriend up from that and say “Hey, your girlfriend left her stuff at Dr. Morgan’s clinic”. So he reached inside the pack, and-

He stiffened. He felt something. Something in a specific shape, a shape he had read about, seen in books, seen on the news and in movies and in plays and in games. A very, very familiar shape that was positively legendary.

Kendall slowly lifted the dark black cylindrical thing out of the pack. It was about...30 centimeters long, a pommel cap at the bottom, a ringed top, a silver streak going down the middle of the cylinder, with an activating button, an adjuster for the length of the blade and for the power, and when he turned the thing on...out it came. A distinctly reddish blade of pure power. This was not a knife. This was not a simple sword.

This was a lightsaber.

He held, in his hands, an actual lightsaber. He could feel a sense of real, true energy pulsating off of it, a reddish glow that coalesced and danced around the blade, and...the humming. It was faintly humming as he held it, almost...in a musical way? Such a strange note it was holding, strange, but not...not a bad sound. Just...different.

He felt so...strange holding it. He felt...good. He felt real good holding it. At peace in a way he’d never been before. It was as if he was hugging an old friend.

Then he realized what he should have thought of five minutes ago. A red lightsaber meant one thing and one thing only. This was not a Jedi weapon. This was a Sith weapon. He had unknowingly treated a Sith, and had probably saved her life. And he was damn, DAMN sure she’d be back for this lightsaber. She may have been in a rush to see her beloved, but no Jedi or Sith worth their salt was going to just abandon their lightsaber by accident, once she realized it was gone, she would come back for her pack, and her weapon, especially.

What was he going to do? Maybe he should just put it back into the pack, put it back where it had been, and pretend he’d never gone into it. Maybe he should give it to the secretary, have Orville give it back to her, be all “Oh, you left this in our office, here’s your pack back” and she wouldn’t be the wiser-

Then he heard a distinct voice yelling loudly. “I know I left it here, where is it?”

Oh crap.

She was here.

Crap. Crap. CRAP.

Kendall tried to calm himself as she raced into the room she’d been in, looking around before turning to see him, holding the lightsaber up. She stared at him, her mouth agape.

“I just...thought I’d take a peek inside for your phone to call you up and…” Kendall trailed off as the Sith’s eyes narrowed and her mouth became taut.

“You’re going to give me that lightsaber NOW, and then you’re going to take that knife and stab yourself in the eyes. I know it can’t REALLY hurt you, but you need to be punished anyway for picking it up. And then you’re going to forget you ever saw me!” She said as a sensation of deep, hard crushing weight seemed to barrel down on his skull for a brief moment before Kendall spoke up.

“No.”

The woman stared at him. Now her furious, sinister visage was one of sheer, dumbfounded stunned surprise. “...I SAID...you’re going to give me my lightsaber, stab yourself with that knife on the table, and then forget you saw me!” “...no.” Kendall said again. “No, I don’t think I will.” He remarked as he frowned a bit. “...what the hell are you talking about?” “...so you’re immune to mind tricks.” She murmured aloud. “...well...that changes things a bit. Yes...yes, I can tell, you’ve got a distinct Force presence in you. It’s...rather marginal compared to me, really, but...it is most definitely there.” She intoned as she shook her head, and then she held up her hand. THWOOSH! Everything in the room that wasn’t bolted or nailed down in some way now was floating up!

Kendall could no longer treat the Force as just a legend. While he knew some species were telepathic and telekinetic, finding the lightsaber and this sort of power, combined with that odd sensation he’d had on his skull and how he’d been feeling since he found the saber now made him more prone to believing that all he’d heard about the Force was real. And he needed to do something, and quick, if he wanted to survive against someone who could use the Force so easily.

She flung all of the objects at him, and it was as if all of time stood still. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears as he let loose a loud, terrifying, furious roar, and suddenly there was red slashing and slicing all around him with a swift series of motions. The humming melody from the saber throbbed in his ears as he felt his heart pumping all the more swiftly, and then, an instant later, the Sith was gazing at him in sheer, absolute shock.

Every single thing she’d tossed at him had been cut into pieces. Now there was a real sense of fear faintly visible in her eyes that glimmered a bit, but her mouth became a taunt line as she reached into her vest, pulling out...another saber.

With a KRSSSH noise that rang through the air, she activated the red blade and held it up at him. “So you’ve got some blade skill. Not bad. But let’s see how you handle against a true Sith!” She proclaimed as she launched herself at Kendall. Kendall barely got the lightsaber he had up in time to block her blow, a loud SSSSSSZTTT sound ringing through the air as the two sabers met.

They tried to force the other back, both Kendall and the Sith cringing, gritting their teeth, circling around each other. They broke the lock of blades, then swung again and again! Over and over the blades met each other, loud, hissing cries echoing as the lightsabers struck one another. The Sith did a backstep, flexing with one hand, trying to yank Kendall towards her, but his resistance extended even to that, he cringed hard, biting his lip as he held his ground.

She kept trying to yank the blade out of his hand, it was as if Kendall was straining against a mighty tornado that was trying to yank him off his feet! But it wasn’t working. Then all of a sudden he sliced at the floor, and sent sparks flying up. She reeled back to avoid being blinded, and he leapt through the air, spinning, landing and doing a kick to knock her off her feet.

The Sith leapt up, avoiding his leg sweep, slashing with her saber. “HA!” She cried out, slicing his arm off, but then she remembered, a moment later, after a brief fleeting sensation of triumph slid into her…

Logosian.

His free hand grabbed hold of the nearby chair and he swung it at her as she, in turn, sliced down to cut it in half...as his arm, still holding the saber, tossed the lightsaber. SCHA-THWUUULPP!

It soared right through the air, stabbing her clear in the shoulder, and she let out a howl. It was the same shoulder on the same arm she held her current saber in,and Kendall leapt up into the air, catching the thrown saber, holding it up at her face as his arm hopped on back to him, and reattached itself with a faint POP. “A good thing these sabers cut so good and clean. I didn’t even get a BIT of shock from losing that off my body.” He remarked aloud. “Now. You’re...going to get out of this clinic. You’re going to leave. You’re going to forget you ever saw me. And you are never, ever going to come back.” “Oh, I don’t need to come back.” The woman snapped as she headed for the door. “...I can have my associates do it for me!” She proclaimed, as Kendall wiped his brow, his chest no longer feeling like his heart was screaming to leap free of his ribcage. Kendall made his way back to the waiting room, Orville fearfully looking over in his direction.

“Kendall...do you not know what you’ve done?” He inquired softly.

Kendall stared. “I know she’s a Sith. But I don’t think she’s going to come back. And if she does and with help, I’ll just report her to the authorities, I’m sure they’re not interested in Force wielder shenanigans causing trouble in their little corner of the galaxy, being a threat to their authority. After all, most Hutt HATE force-wielders.” “Not the Dyad!” Orville squealed as Kendall turned pale, and it felt like an icy knife was stabbed into the back of his spine. “Kendall, that was one half of the Dyad! I recognized her from when I used to work at the Hutt palace in the capital! She used to call me “Fishbait” and everything!” He squeaked out, covering his head in his many tentacles and groaning. “She’s Darth Raize! She and Darth Furiosa are the Dyad Sith that control Nar Shadaa along with the Hutts, and you just...you just tossed her out and stole her stuff, man! She’s going to come back with a whole squad of troopers and they’re gonna MURDER US!”

Kendall looked down at the lightsaber in his hand. So THAT was where he’d seen her. What a moron he’d been. What a total brain fart, how did you just FORGET the Dyad, he thought to himself. And now what?

The answer came in an instant.

“...well. Then I guess I’m just going to have to do something about the Dyad.” He decided in a quiet, scary tone, as a glint came to his eyes that had never been there before...

#Star Wars #fanfic #drama #action #Kendall #LGBT #gay representation

0 notes

1989dreamer · 7 years ago

Text

Who Will Remember Your Last Goodbye--Excerpt 2

Chapter One

Chapter Two:

Long after the officers had finished asking questions, and after they had collected skin and saliva samples for DNA from all of them as references for Riley’s apartment, Ben, Abigail, Emily, and Patrick settled in the waiting room.

Ben wouldn’t let anyone else touch the paperwork covering Riley’s medical history. It was something he should know. And he did; he’d had Riley sign a waiver when he’d first joined Ben’s treasure protector team detailing everything Ben should know should he end up having to drag Riley to a hospital. He just couldn’t remember it right now.

He thought of sending Abigail after it, but she hadn’t stopped pacing long enough for him to say anything to her, and his parents had absolutely no idea where the important papers were kept.

“I need to go,” he said, absently, but still watching them to gauge their reactions. No one said anything, but he caught the disapproving looks his parents shared and the angry one Abigail sent at him. “Unless someone,” he emphasized, “wants to go get Riley’s medical history from my filing cabinet in the study so I can finish filling this out.”

“Fine,” Abigail snorted. “Call me if you hear anything,” she said to Emily, but conceded a kiss for Ben before she lifted his keys from the table next to him where he’d laid them and marched away.

Frustrated, Ben set the paperwork down. He ran his fingers through his hair. “I know he’s slightly allergic to dogs,” he said, staring up at his parents. “We ran into a dog walker in England.”

“He likes pizza,” Patrick volunteered. “Didn’t seem to matter what it was.”

“Oh, it matters,” Ben smiled. “It just matters more who’s around him when he’s eating. With us, he probably wouldn’t make much of a fuss, but whenever Ian or the others would order pizza, he always complained about it.”

He smiled again, remembering an argument with Shaw about bacon pizza. Riley had been mad that they hadn’t consulted him before ordering it, but in the end, he’d managed to eat half of it by himself when no one else liked it.

“Ben,” his mother said, and he shook himself. A doctor was approaching.

Ben grabbed the paperwork again, holding it like a shield in front of him.

“Family of Riley Poole?”

“Present,” Ben stood up. “Do you know what’s wrong with him?”

The doctor nodded. “I’m Dr. Sanjova.” He waved at all of them, ignoring Ben’s outstretched hand. “We believe he has suffered from some form of radioactive poisoning. We have begun a panel of several tests, and have taken the liberty of asking a more well-equipped medical facility to assist us.”

“But you don’t know the exact poisoning.” Ben couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. Sanjova shook his head.

“Ben!” Abigail called, running up to him, a thin manila folder clutched in one hand. She took in Sanjova and Ben’s long faces. “You don’t know what’s wrong with him?”

Ben took the folder from her, and she went to his parents for comfort. He began filling out Riley’s medical history.

“Mr. Gates,” Sanjova spoke up again, “I have informed the CDC of the potential terrorist attack. They will want to question all of you, but first, we need to determine if Mr. Poole was the only one who was poisoned.”

“Wouldn’t it be easier to find out what Riley was poisoned with and then test the rest of us for it?” Ben asked, looking up briefly. “Did you know Riley is allergic to mild painkillers?”

“We are working on identifying anything Mr. Poole may have come into contact with in his apartment,” Sanjova continued as if Ben hadn’t even spoken. “We will need as complete of a timeline from the rest of you as to his whereabouts so we may further determine what he may have been poisoned with.”

“Yes, well,” Ben hummed, rubbing his chin. “He’s been under the weather a lot since around the time of the Cibola discovery.”

“How long ago?”

“Nearly three months?”

Emily nodded, and then wrapped her arms around herself. “Do you think he’s been poisoned this whole time?”

“No,” Ben said, back to rubbing his chin. He stopped, snapping his fingers as something occurred to him. “A few days after Cibola, the day after his birthday, he complained that someone hacked the CIA.”

“How’d he know?” Patrick’s face shifted from surprised to suspicious in less than two seconds.

“Riley has…talents,” Ben said, glancing at Sanjova. “He doesn’t use them for evil. In fact, he told me he was recruited by the CIA right out of high school. He turned them down because he got a full ride scholarship to the University of District Columbia.”

Abigail sat down next to Ben, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “Did they try again?”

“Several times. He turned them down right out of college to work on a personal project. Then, he turned them down again to help me search for the Templar Treasure. As far as I know, he’s turned them down five or six times.”

“Could the CIA be behind his poisoning?” Abigail looked doubtful, but Ben saw real fear in her eyes.

He shook his head. “I highly doubt that they would have tried to get him for so long if they just intended to poison him when he said no.”

“So, what?” Abigail prompted him. “Someone hacked the CIA and stole his information?”

“I don’t know, maybe.”

“Ben,” Patrick said, an edge in his voice, and Ben stared at his father. “Riley is not a treasure, there are no clues.” He sighed then, seeing the determination in Ben’s face. “Just be careful.”

“Riley may not be a gold-and-scrolls treasure,” Ben said, an edge in his voice, “but he is certainly precious enough to be considered a treasure nonetheless.” Patrick inclined his head and at least looked a little chagrined.

“When can we visit him?” Abigail asked Sanjova, who was still standing there watching them talk with thinly disguised interest.

He shrugged, “We need to determine how much poison he ingested before we can ascertain if he is safe to be around.”

“Why wouldn’t he be safe?” Abigail was quicker than Ben, spitting out the question almost before Sanjova had finished speaking.

“Most of the time, radiation poisoning can be passed on through contact. Nearly all of Mr. Poole’s symptoms point specifically to thallium poisoning. Depending on the concentration, we think it is treatable. At this stage.”

“You’re waiting for confirmation? Of course you are.” Ben walked to the nurses’ station and handed the woman on duty the clipboard. He turned back to Sanjova. “Thallium poisoning is an odd way to try to kill someone.”

“That is why we informed the CDC. It seems unlikely that Mr. Poole would be the only victim with something such as thallium.”

“Additionally,” said another voice, and Ben turned to stare at Special Agent Peter Sadusky, “this attack is considered a terrorist act, and as such I have been tapped to investigate. Who wants to go first?” He looked pointedly at Ben.

“Fine,” Ben sighed, motioning towards a couple of chairs. He sat, waiting until Sadusky was seated before leaning forward. “I do not know why Riley was poisoned. I do not know if anyone else was caught in the fallout, but I can assure you, I will not rest until I know what’s happened.”

“Really, Ben,” Sadusky said. He fingered his tie, smoothing out imperceptible wrinkles. “We’ve already searched Mr. Poole’s apartment. The milk container was indeed the source of the thallium.”

Sanjova made some kind of noise in his throat and quickly walked away. Ben watched him go, and Sadusky touched his arm.

“You’ve all been tested already.”

“How?” And then Ben remembered the cops taking swabs of all of them. “You tested our sweat and saliva. How did you get a pure enough sample to realize what was wrong?”

“We tested for the presence of thallium. Ben, no one had as high of levels as Mr. Poole. You were the second highest, and your exposure barely tipped the scale at all.”

“How’d you get involved anyway?”

“We had information that something was going to happen. We didn’t have all the pieces until the CDC was called regarding a potential radioactive poisoning.” Sadusky pulled his glasses out of his breast pocket, sliding them on carefully and pulling a folded piece of paper from an interior pocket. He handed it to Ben, nodding when Ben began unfolding it.

“That’s Riley,” Ben said, staring at the picture of his friend. Obviously, it was from before he’d known Riley because the kid was sporting a hairdo he’d never seen on him. His glasses were cracked, taped together at one bow, a scratch over the other cheek. “What happened?”

“He was abducted by an underground recruiter for the CIA,” Sadusky took the picture back, tugging it gently from Ben’s fingers. “He managed to escape by sabotaging their compound. Ever since, they’ve been stationed on an island off the coast of Boston. Have you ever heard of the Graves?”

Ben shook his head. “Riley may have mentioned it once or twice in one of his conspiracy rants, but I wasn’t listening to him.” Over twenty million books and they’re all saying the same exact thing: listen to Riley.

“It’s where the recruiter has gone underground. He’s financed a compound that specializes in persuasion.”

“Has Riley ever been there?” Ben was thinking about the small vacation Riley had taken after the Templar’s Treasure and before he wrote his book.

Sadusky shook his head, “We do not believe so. However, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t had interaction with the man.”

“Do you know who the underground recruiter is?” Abigail asked, and they both turned to stare at her. “What? It would help to know Riley’s enemies.”

“His name is Markus Fillier. We do not have a current photo. In fact, the only picture we have is a sketch based on the description Mr. Poole provided when he escaped.”

“Could he be targeting Riley now?”

“Not likely,” Sadusky said, “but we want to keep an eye on Mr. Poole just the same.”

“And how do you plan to do that?” Ben asked. “Riley doesn’t trust you, or anyone else, really, enough to be ‘watched.’”

“Exactly,” Sadusky said. “Which is why you are going to convince him to let us.”

“I don’t think that’s something I can do,” Ben laughed. “He’ll just feel betrayed by me if I do it.”

“So convince him it’s for the best. Surely you can do that?” Sadusky pinned Ben with a knowing look, “After all, you got him to help you with the Templar Treasure.”

If it’s any consolation, you had me convinced.

“It’s not,” Ben said. He stood up, dusting off his hands like the distasteful thing he would have to do was something so easily rid of. Riley’s life was worth it, but Ben wasn’t willing to lose his friendship for it yet. “Give me some time,” he said, heading for the doors to outside. There wasn’t enough air in the room anymore.

ooOoo

Riley was bored. He’d been awake for maybe half an hour and the deep ache in his bones wouldn’t let him drift off again. He kept his eyes closed, hoping to fall asleep through sheer will. The heartbeat monitor beeped every few seconds, and he realized his heart wasn’t beating as fast as it normally would have if he were awake. Curious, he cracked one eye, prying it up with an effort since the lashes had become glued to his cheek.

The light coming in from the window was dull, gauzy, and altogether rather depressing. There were no other lights in his room. He glanced around, his other eye coming unstuck too.

An IV was situated in the opposite arm from which they’d drawn blood, a half-full bag hanging from a hook on the stand. The monitor was on the other side, and he watched the peaks of his heartbeat for a few moments.

The door to the room was shut, the bathroom door next to it ajar. Seeing it reminded him he had to pee, and the more he thought about it, the more he really had to go.

He struggled out of the bed, shivering as his feet settled onto the cold floor. Using his thumbnail, he scraped the monitor’s pads off his chest. He grasped his IV pole, using it as a stand and trying not to roll it too fast as he shuffled to the bathroom.

The light was too bright when he turned it on, and he could hear the heart monitor screaming, the long sustained beep accusing him of some treachery. He ignored it and pulled up the edge of his gown so he could aim at the low-set toilet.

In the middle of his stream, a nurse entered the room, and she immediately knocked on the door. Unfortunately for Riley, the door didn’t have a lock, and she pushed it open before he could respond.

He finished as casually as he could despite the heat he felt rising in his face, washing his hands as deliberately as he could.

“Mr. Poole,” the nurse said, pointing back at the bed. “If you would?” She grabbed his arm and steadied him on the way back. He felt the roiling of nausea start up again, and he groaned.

Riley sat heavily, letting her reattach the leads on his chest. “I’m gonna be sick,” he mumbled. She looked up at him from where she was checking the IV in his arm. Without a word, she moved to a closet he hadn’t noticed, and removed an oddly shaped basin.

“Use this,” she said kindly, and she returned to checking his IV.

“What’s it called? A bedpan?”

“It’s an emesis basin,” she said, her tone amused if a little sarcastic.

“Fantastic.” He heaved then, choking on the acid that raced up his throat. He began coughing, spitting as saliva filled his mouth. She stepped away to wet a washcloth, and when she returned, he’d expelled a couple mouthfuls of bile.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, keeping his eyes on the emesis basin. His eyes were watering and his stomach was still unsettled.

“Hey,” she said, “you’re fine. You’re allowed to be ill.”

“Do they know what’s wrong with me yet?”

“They know you were poisoned. They’ve got agents going through your apartment now.”

A doctor entered the room, a nurse following and pushing a cart with a pitcher, a cup, and a small container. “I am Dr. Sanjova,” the doctor said, and Riley recognized his voice from the first room. “This is Prussian Blue.” Sanjova’s demeanor was icy, and he kept his arms crossed over his chest while the nurse handed Riley the container, two deep blue gel pills clicking against the sides. She poured some liquid from the pitcher into the cup and handed it to him, too. “It will help with your poisoning.”

“Okay.” Riley fixed him with a steady gaze as he tipped the pills, one at a time, into his mouth and swallowed them with a mouthful of water. He finished the water and handed the cup back to the nurse. “What about my rash?”

“Ah,” Sanjova said, and his posture changed. He smiled, bleached white teeth shining in a tanned face. Riley still didn’t trust him. “That is simply an allergic reaction. You are allergic to horsehair. And possibly some other chemicals used to treat the couch.”

“Okay, so can I take any allergy meds with the radiation meds?”

“Not advisable,” Sanjova shook his head, his friendliness dropping away again. His eyes were dark with something Riley thought was anger. He left quickly, and Riley got the distinct feeling that he didn’t want to be around him at all.

The nurse who had come in with the doctor followed him out, while the nurse who had helped him with the emesis basin sat next to him on the bed.

“Prussian Blue can cause constipation and mild stomach discomfort,” she said, a piece of paper offered to him. “If the pills become too difficult to swallow, they can be mixed into your food.”

Riley scanned the page, finding the line she was talking about. “It’s dye? So, I’ll turn blue?”

She smiled, and shook her head. “Not entirely, just your mouth and everything in it, or just your fecal matter. And, yes, we have to analyze your stool samples, so please buzz a nurse if you have the urge.”

The page trembled in Riley’s hands, and he cleared his throat a few times. “So, I’ve got to take the dye six times a day every day for thirty days?” She nodded, giving him a smile that was genuine. He grabbed her hand when she moved to stand up. “Can I have another doctor? I don’t think Sanjova likes me much.”

“I’ll look into it for you,” she promised. “Now, I really should go.” He let her leave, and settled back on the bed, a little reassured that his heart rate seemed up again.

His eyes drifted closed, and he hummed softly, feeling his body relax as sleep crept over him. He wasn’t sure when he finally did fall asleep, but it was swift and deep and dreamless.

ooOoo

Sadusky settled into his chair, leaning back, a coffee mug set off from his left elbow while he scribbled nonsense over a blank page in a small notebook. He had doubts that Ben Gates would actually tell Riley Poole about the surveillance he was supposed to be under, and as such was going over every piece of dialogue he’d had with Gates.

Something was bothering him, but he wasn’t quite sure what it was.

He continued running his pen over and over the paper, pressing harder and harder until he was scratching through several sheets at once. And still, he didn’t know what was wrong.

He knew it was something he’d heard. But, maybe Gates hadn’t been the one to say it?

And, then it struck him and he sat up quickly: the FBI knew what type of radiation Poole had been poisoned with, and they had destroyed all of the tests, placing one of their own doctors to administer treatment to him. How then, had Sanjova known that it was thallium?

He grabbed his phone, dialing a number from memory. “Sir,” he said, when the deputy director answered, “we have a breach.”

ooOoo

Abigail had a cup of coffee in her hand when Ben returned from his excursion. He didn’t seem any calmer, but at least he wasn’t scowling like he’d been when he had run away almost two hours ago. Sadusky had left shortly after Ben and hadn’t reappeared as of yet.

“A nurse stopped by to tell us Riley woke up for a bit,” she said, offering him the cup as he dropped into the seat next to her. He took a sip, made a face, and gave it back. “We can go visit him as soon as he wakes up again. We might have to be careful how much we touch him, but they think he’s not radioactive anymore, if he ever really was.”

“That’s good,” Ben murmured, letting his head fall back to thump against the wall. Emily and Patrick, sitting a few seats down, glanced up at the noise, although Abigail wouldn’t put it past them to have known exactly when Ben came back.

The silence that followed was terrible. Abigail hated silence, especially ones that were shared mutually because of something bad.

“You know,” she said, and her voice seemed too loud, but she powered on, “Riley once base-jumped.”

Ben shot her an unreadable look and then deliberately turned away. Angry, Abigail moved chairs until she was next to Emily.

“Base-jumping?” Emily smiled. “Riley really doesn’t strike me as the type to voluntarily put himself in a position of either danger or height.”

“No, he doesn’t. But, he said he was paid to do it. And there is nothing Riley wouldn’t do if he got some kind of reward.”

Abigail spent the better part of an hour telling all the Riley stories she knew, which was admittedly far fewer than he probably knew about her, and certainly less than any of them knew about Ben. Emily either laughed or smiled in all the right places, but her eyes grew worried.

“I can’t believe anyone would have any reason to target him,” she said, finally, when Abigail stopped talking. “He doesn’t seem to have done much to put himself ‘on the grid,’ as he calls it.”

“Mom, the CIA has a file on him,” Ben said. “Who knows, maybe someone did hack in and steal his file. They’re not impenetrable. Riley’s hacked them at least half a dozen times.”

“And why would he do that?” Patrick said, voice tight and vibrating with anger. “What the hell is this kid wrapped up in?”

“Riley only wanted to know why they wanted him,” Ben said, but he didn’t sound certain. They lapsed into another uncomfortable silence, and Abigail had nothing left to say.

Luckily, Dr. Sanjova approached them soon after. “Mr. Poole is awake, however, I would like to suggest a limit on the number of people who visit him.”

“We’ll go,” Abigail said, pointing at Ben and herself. She gave Emily an apologetic smile while Patrick looked relieved. “We were told not to touch him?”

Sanjova nodded. “We have been unable to find any readings of radioactivity on his body, but his internal organs are saturated, and we have cause to believe that if he were to have extended contact with anyone, he would invariably infect that person.”

“So, limited contact,” Ben said, and he sounded as relieved as his dad had looked. “Good thing Riley’s not so touchy-feely, eh, Abigail?”

She just glared at him before following Sanjova down the hallway to an elevator. Ben kept pace, and thankfully kept his mouth shut. The ride was quick, going from first to third. Sanjova pointed at the first room on the left, a clipboard bearing Riley’s name resting in a clear plastic file holder stuck to the wall beside the door.

Abigail glanced at Ben and then knocked firmly. A muffled “Come in” sounded, and she pushed the door open.

“My favorite two people!” Riley called out as they stepped into his room. He was propped up, with the headboard raised and a mountain of extra pillows behind his back. A tray was over his lap, and he was holding a spoon in his left hand, scooping green jell-o towards his mouth. He only had a little of it on his shirt and the tray.

“Sit, sit,” he invited them, motioning towards the chairs under the window. “I’ll be done with this in a bit, if you don’t mind?” He didn’t wait for an answer, another bite already on its way to his mouth.

A few quiet minutes passed as Ben and Abigail inspected the room. Riley stopped eating, shoving the tray away and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Here,” Abigail offered, using a napkin she’d found tucked in her pocket to clean off the mess. She ignored Ben’s warning glare as she deliberately dabbed Riley’s lips longer than was strictly necessary.

“Thanks,” he said, a puzzled expression on his face, then he brightened abruptly. “So, what’s new with you?”

“We’re all clean,” Ben blurted suddenly, fixing Riley with a stare. “I had the next highest concentration to you, but it was trace. Someone deliberately poisoned you, Riley.”

“Oh, I figured.” Riley fidgeted, tapping his fingers together, nervously folding and unfolding them.

“Are you okay?” Abigail asked him. “Has anything unusual been happening?”

“Hey, you know me,” Riley said, a bright smile plastered on his face. It looked fake to Abigail, and she raised an eyebrow to tell him so. He dropped the smile. “Okay, fine. Yeah, more and more people have been demanding to see my wallet. It’s gotten to the point that I don’t even carry my I.D. anymore. Too many people know where I live.”

“And how exactly are you protecting yourself?” Ben demanded. “Are you taking any self-defense classes?”

“Yes.” Riley leaned back on the pillows. “That, and I’ve taken to carrying pepper spray. I find it’s really effective if I spray it directly into a vulnerable area, particularly the mouth or eyes. By the way, I think I’m out. Ben, will you get me more?”

“Certainly,” Ben said.

“Is there anything you’d like me to get you?” Abigail reached out to brush some hair from his forehead, but Riley dodged her hand. “Come on, you’re not contagious.”

“Actually, I am. I can infect you by touch, so don’t.”

Abigail looked to Ben, and he just shrugged. “Fine. Let me know when you’re not allergic to touch anymore.”

“Oh,” Riley said, and his smile was warm. “I’m allergic to your couch.”

“Seriously?” Ben said, and Riley nodded.

“We’ll get rid of it,” Abigail said, peeking at Ben who was nodding. Riley’s smile drooped a little, and he sighed.

“You spent so much time and money restoring it. I’m sure I can avoid it.”

“Riley, your wellbeing is more important than a simple couch.”

He looked doubtful, so Abigail took the opportunity to trace a line down his arm. He jerked away but not before she felt him lean into the touch. She would not have thought Riley was someone who needed touch, in fact, Ben had said he wasn’t, but the toll of no contact must seem steep.

“I don’t want to be trouble,” he began, and Ben spit out a “Shush!”

“You are not trouble, no matter what you think,” he explained, a hand also dropping onto Riley’s arm. “We’re not going to abandon you no matter how inconvenient it seems to be for us.”

“Sure, just wait,” Riley snorted, “I’ll make you regret that promise.”

“I’m sure you’re going to try,” Ben said.

“Now,” Riley leaned back, effectively pulling himself free from their grasp. “The nurse that keeps visiting me, at least until she gets off duty in a couple minutes, said if I have minimal supervision, a doctor should let me leave pretty soon.”

“Are you sure it was ‘minimal’?” Ben said, an eyebrow raised. Abigail giggled into her fist while Riley pulled a face.

“Fine, she said I could go home if I was supervised. Happy?”

“Fine, and you’re supervised. Abigail or I will always be with you.”

“Ben, that’ll take a toll. You’ve got lectures, and Abigail has her job at the archives. And you can’t ask your parents either because they both have jobs too. Although, I’m not sure what Patrick does. Ben, what does your dad do?”

“He writes grants,” Abigail said. Ben shot her a look, and she shrugged. “I’ve used his services before. He makes excellent points, and I’ve never been turned down for a grant yet.”

“Excuse me,” someone said, and they all turned to look at a mousy-looking woman with straight brown hair and thick-rimmed glasses. “I’m Doctor Solina. I am Riley’s new doctor.”

“Hey!” Riley bounced. “I’m not Mr. Poole anymore. Yes!” Abigail held up her hand and he high-fived her lightly.

“If you’ll excuse us, I need to examine Riley to determine if he can leave soon.” Solina pointed at the door.

“We’ll be back soon,” Ben promised.

“Yeah, okay,” Riley said. “Bye.”

Ben pulled her from the room before Abigail could say anything. “We’ll have to go back to the waiting room and let my parents know they can go.”

“You go,” she said. “I’ll stay here. I think the exam’s going to be quick, and I think Riley will want someone with him pretty soon after.”

“Okay.” Ben nodded. “See you later. Love you.” He walked away before she could respond, but that was okay. She had a few pamphlets she wanted to read before Dr. Solina let her back in.

ooOoo

#Fanfiction #Nat'l Treas #Riley Poole #My Story/My Writing

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morgan-drake · 8 years ago

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long time no see || self-para

“Get up,” the hunter growled.

Morgan’s stomach twisted into knots. Every time the cell door opened, a sickening fear overcame her. She didn’t know when was the last time they came to her cell -- her sense of time was long gone -- but it wasn’t nearly enough time to recover from her last session with the huntress. After the sleep deprivation and starvation had little effect on Morgan -- in fact, Morgan would say the sleep deprivation was the easiest part of her time here, as she became so out of it that she wasn’t aware of any pain or anything in her environment -- the huntress decided to go back to more physical means of torture. Hence why her fingers were currently wrapped in blood-soaked bandages. One by one, with heated forceps, the huntress had ripped out each of Morgan’s fingernails.

Who knew losing your nails would be so painful?

The bandages were as merciful as the hunters would get. It would be laughable to think they’d ever give her painkillers for the pain throbbing where her nails used to be. Even when the huntress had broken a rib just last week, Morgan was forced to stick with the pain. Needless to say, even though sleep deprivation was no longer forced on her, Morgan didn’t get the best sleep with all the pain she was in. Her face was still swollen and bruised from all the beatings -- though compared to her rib and fingers, it was the place on her body that hurt the least. She couldn’t say she was getting used to the pain either. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to lie down, it hurt to sit, it hurt to move, it hurt to scream, it hurt to cry. It just hurt. All the time. Like a bitch.

Morgan looked up at the hunter. There was no point in resisting, either she got up herself or he would drag her out. And with a broken rib the former was a more appealing option. Clutching her left rib with a grimace, she stood up and walked over to the door. The hunter grabbed her and roughly pulled her out of the room, making their way down the hall. Morgan was immediately confused. This was opposite the way to the room where they interrogated her. A new fear crawled out. Where were they taking her? Did they finally give up trying to get anything out of her? Was this the end?

She was taken into a lab of sorts. It was more makeshift than anything official, just a table and some standard lab equipment shoved in a corner of the room. In the middle of the room stood what Morgan assumed were the other prisoners. They looked worn out and half-dead, probably more than she did if she was able to look at herself. There weren’t many, only four others that she could -- wait.

At the far end of the line was a young brunette. Her unkempt hair covered most of her face, but the one lifeless eye she could see she recognized immediately.

Camden.

Morgan’s eyes widened. She nearly ran over to her, but it took what little strength she had not to. She couldn’t let these hunters know that her and Cammie were related, they would use her sister as leverage and Morgan wasn’t entirely sure she could keep her mouth shut when it came down to it. Her sister didn’t seem to notice Morgan, she was staring off into nothingness. Morgan didn’t know how to catch her attention without the hunters noticing.

She was placed at the other end of the line. She looked around the lab. In front of the group was a man in rubber gloves, and next to him two other hunters also with gloves. In the man’s hands was a brown bottle with something white inside. Morgan couldn’t quite see.

“Okay,” one of the hunters began. “So what the fuck’s this supposed to do again?”

The man in rubber gloves sighed. “Did you not hear a word I said fifteen minutes ago?”

“No. You were spewing some science-y shit like you always do. I barely passed high school, why the fuck did you think I’d understand you?”

“Honestly Matt...” The man opened the bottle and pulled out a white pill. A pill? What the hell for, Morgan wondered. “The idea is for this pill to only react to witch DNA. The witch takes the pill, then bam, dead. Like a cyanide pill but only for these wretches.”

That seemed to wake up all the other witches, because they began to look at each other in complete terror. Morgan finally met Cammie’s eyes. Time stopped at that moment. Cammie’s lifeless eyes lit seeing Morgan, probably the brightest they’d been since she’d gone missing. There was hardly any fat on her cheekbones -- these hunters did a horrible job keeping her fed. She looked like a stick figure, ready to break at any moment. Morgan was furious beyond words. How dare these monsters do this to her sister. She never wanted someone to die so badly. They were going to pay. She wasn’t going to die like this.

“We’re just going to kill all of them?” the dumb hunter asked.

“No, these in particular are only meant to cause an allergic reaction --” Relief fell over all of the witches. Morgan flashed the hint of a smile to Cammie. “ -- The final product will be poisonous but we just need some sort of reaction out of them to know we’re on the right track. But, when we do get this pills working, just imagine what we could do with them. We could make tons of powder and dump it into water sources. Reservoirs, rivers, lakes, anywhere. We could poison cities-full of witches with this stuff. Humans wouldn’t even know.”

Those fucking bastards.

“Damn we’re going to be out of a job then.”

“Not for some time. Who knows how long it’ll take to get to the end goal. For now though, let’s stop fooling around and get to work.”

The hunters were just short of shoving the pills down everyone’s throats. They checked each witch’s mouth thoroughly to make sure no one had avoided swallowing it, then stood back and waited. Morgan had no idea what to expect. She didn’t have any allergies so she didn’t know what an allergic reaction felt like.

Nothing. No one else reacted, minus someone sneezing. They all stood there for a few minutes, before the man in gloves clicked his tongue in annoyance.

“Well, great, these pills fucking suck. Bring them all over here, I need blood samples so I can get to work.”

So, this was how they developed their tech. At least that’s what Morgan could surmise. Experiments. That explained the kidnapping, the tech that worked so well against magic, everything. These hunters reached a new low Morgan didn’t even think it was possible. She was afraid to know what else they were developing. She needed to get out of here and tell the others. She needed to bring back as much information as she could, hopefully information that could tear these bastards apart once and for all.

Morgan looked over at Cammie. They knew they couldn’t say anything to each other out but their eyes talked plenty for them.

Hey there. I missed you. I’m so sorry this happened to you. We’re going to get out of here. I love you.

Seeing Cammie was the boost of strength Morgan needed after all she endured thus far. If Cammie could make it so many months with them, so could she, if need be. As she was dragged first to get her blood taken out, she felt for the first time unstoppable. She could keep going. She would get her and her sister out of there.

And she would make sure someday these sons of bitches would pay.

#i have rewritten this over and over and im still not happy with it #para #para: long time no see #cammie #self para

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lightecojak2004 · 8 years ago

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Que Sera, Sera Chapter 59 summary

Chapter starts from the last one with Sun saying Ran and Joon have the same blood type with Hani taken aback thinking what did she say? Hani tries to dismiss it as a coincidence since a lot of people have the same blood type. Sun says "Yeah, it is" and makes Hani stop cleaning her pants. Sun Gyeong says that she forgot to do something and that they'll eat another time. Sun leaves and Hani looks worried.

Sun's driving home wondering if it's true and then keeps telling herself there's no way. She thinks about the phone call she had with Joon where he asked why can't he be together with Hani and why can't he be Ran's dad? She thinks that it's impossible because it was over 4 years ago when Ran was conceived and then thinks about the man Hani was with when it happened. Then she remembered when she called Hani 4 years ago pestering her about the men's clothing she found next to her washing machine which made her realize that she was seeing a guy that night. Joon drunkenly chimed in to ask Hani for more soju (alcohol) while calling Hani noona. Sun couldn't recognize his voice then, but knew that being called noona meant that she was seeing somebody younger than her at the time. Sun screeches to a halt and it dawns on her that it was likely Joon's voice and he would have been the younger guy Hani was with that night, but she's still in complete disbelief that it's possible. She thinks about her promise to her deceased father and tells him in her head not to worry and that she'll make sure to keep her promise to him.

The next day at Sun's place, Duk Jin feels sick and was wondering if there was shrimp in the buffet? He asks Sun if she can take a look at him and Sun's thinking to herself and muttering "No, I don't think so." Duk Jin asks where did she put the painkillers and Sun tells him he can look for them because she has a headache as well. Duk Jin asks what's wrong with her because she's been acting *nervous*? Sun says she's not nervous and to just leave her alone and storms off while Duk Jin is wondering where he put the medicine box? Sun is in the bathroom frustrated and knows that all the evidence she has is just circumstantial at best, but still wonders if it's the truth? Then she sees the toothbrush Ran used (it's hers given that it's smaller than the other one along with the color) and decides she needs to be certain. She starts looking around for Joon's old toothbrush he used there when she hears a loud thud and sees that Duk Jin collapsed.

Hani and Joon see Duk Jin in the hospital. Apparently Duk Jin had an allergic reaction to the shrimp he ate at the wedding and was gone for the weekend. Hani was worried because he didn't come to the office and Sun Gyeong wasn't picking up her phone. Duk Jin says that except for the hospital food, he's fine and asks about Ran. Hani says she's still at daycare. Joon notices that he hasn't seen his sister yet and wonders where she is? Duk Jin says she was feeling frustrated and said she needed some fresh air. He suggests checking the break room.

During that weekend, Sun Gyeong sent in Joon and Ran's toothbrushes for a DNA test hoping to confirm if Joon was actually the father based on their saliva. The results will be given to her soon and she tells herself she can't start doubting the eventual results. Hani finds her and asks why didn't she answer the phone since she didn't even know Duk Jin was in the hospital? Sun doesn't respond and Hani asks why is she acting this way and Sun interjects to ask Hani if she's living with Joon? Hani's stunned and can't answer while Sun asks since when? Then she wonders "Since when have you deceived me?" (It's written in red, likely to show that Sun's incredibly angry right now). Hani's heart is beating loud and says that she planned to tell her everything during Chuseok, but she's wondering to herself how much does Sun know? Sun asks what did you say? Then Sun asks if Hani thought she'd ask for permission in front of all the adults and if Hani thought she'd just automatically accept Joon and her being together? Hani says she wants to bring Joon in and they'll talk about everything after Duk Jin leaves the hospital. Sun slaps her hand away and says she doesn't want to listen and even though it might be hard for her with raising Ran, end things with Joon immediately. Hani's stunned and thinks that "as expected, it hurts." (I'm thinking the reason for her reaction is that she's in love with Joon at this point and doesn't want to separate). She tries to tell Sun that it was never too hard to raise Ran and that she never tried to force Joon to be with her. Sun asks if she's not going to get rid of Joon and lose *her friendship with her forever?* Hani's wondering *if she really wants to go that far?* Then she says she'll tell her everything, but doesn't she care about Joon? Hani says that she thought of Sun Gyeong as family. Sun agrees and said she thought they all had a relationship like siblings and that Hani betrayed her trust. Hani says she didn't mean to and that she used to think of Joon like he was a brother. Sun asks if she felt the same way about him now, but Hani can't respond and says sorry. Sun Gyeong then says Joon is moving out immediately and that he'll move in with her again, but Hani says that choice should be up to Joon. Sun tries to get a rebuttal, but her phone rings.

It's the laboratory that did the DNA test and they can say with 99.99% accuracy the paternity is a match which means that Joon's the father ($500 says somebody will post a Maury Povich gif in the comments when this gets translated on the site). Sun Gyeong nearly collapses in shock with Hani asking if she's okay? Sun's thinking "they didn't, how did they?" (she's wondering how could Joon and Hani have had sex?). Sun's furious and tells Hani that she crossed the line and that if she won't leave Joon, she needs to leave the company. Hani asks what and Sun yells at her to get out now!!

End

#que sera sera #translations #summary

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acrackinthebell · 6 years ago

Text

Very long post about doctors and my personal experiences with healthcare.

I don’t like doctors.

But I suppose that isn’t exactly true. I don’t think doctors are intentionally bad or not doing very well. In fact, where other people are concerned, I really trust doctors. I just don’t trust them when it comes to me.

I had the same pediatrician as my siblings when I was younger. My brother and sister are fine. They had perfectly normal experiences with our doctor. I didn’t.

When I was in the fourth grade, I got really sick. Sick enough that I collapsed onto my bed after school without removing my backpack, shoes, or socks, and slept for two hours. According to our home thermometer, I had a fever of 103 degrees. I was entirely lucid and could answer questions properly, but I was exhausted, so my mom took me to the doctor. She called ahead, told them what was happening, and they said they’d see me before they close. We went there, went into an observation room, and waited. I fell asleep. My mom woke me sometime later, and we left. I couldn’t clearly remember what happened. All I knew was that I definitely didn’t see a doctor.

My mom told me that we left because the office was empty. We were left in the observation room. No one else was in the office. No patients. No nurses. No doctor. We found out the next day that my doctor left early so accept an award. What was the award for? Attentiveness to her patients.

I never saw that doctor again.

I have had good doctors, all of them specialists. My dermatologist was amazing and recognized all the issues I bought up. They took care of all my skin-related problems. My gynecologist would do as much as they could for me. Outside of regular examinations, they checked on my sciatic pains, figured out that I have acid reflux, and would hear any complaint I raised.

My other doctors... Well, I live with chronic pain. It started when I was 12. I was in a lot of sports, so years of soccer, dance, and swim wore on me. The pain started as a pinching sensation in my hip, mostly when I was stretching for dance. I thought I was doing the stretch wrong, so I just adjusted until it didn’t hurt anymore. Then, I played water polo and swam competitively in high school. That didn’t help. The pain got worse and was constant. I could ignore, so I did. When I mentioned it to my doctor, they told me to take ibuprofen. Every. Single. Day.

I also happen to get a lot of kidney stones. My first passed just after I turned 17. The emergency room doctors gave me painkillers, and other medicines to help my pass the stone, but they recommended I catch the stone and give it to my primary doctor. I did. He said, “Yup, that’s a kidney stone,” and offered literally nothing else to prevent future ones or even wonder why a 17-year-old girl had kidney stones in the first place.

I left that doctor to seek another primary care doctor. My first visit there, I ended up in the waiting room for 2 hours. Then, I was in an observation room for another hour. The doctor came in, and this time, I made a list. I handed her my list and told her what I wanted checked. She glanced at the list and barely addressed the first two issues before saying she’d see to the other things later. I tried to get her to stay so I could tell her about my problems with anxiety. She had a hand on the door the entire time. We were both on our feet. She didn’t ask any questions about it or even bother to refer me to a specialist. She just prescribed me a medication and sent me away. I was almost late for work because of the ridiculous wait. Then, the office never bothered to call me when I left my medical papers there. They kept them. When I went back to ask for my copies (when I was collecting materials to find a new doctor), they said that they’d be archived and it’d cost me $25 to get my own records back.

I can’t see either of those doctors anymore because of my health insurance. I was without health insurance for a couple years because I couldn’t afford it. That meant that when I ran out of medicine for my anxiety, I was screwed. That lapse led to me having 4 anxiety attacks in 2 weeks, a long string of nightmares, and sleep paralysis. Those might actually not be related. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never seen a specialist.

The only reason I sought out health insurance and doctor was because my prescription for birth control was running out. I hate everything about having a uterus. I don’t want it. For some reason, I can’t actually do anything about that except pay a lot of money over my lifetime to avoid having my uterus do anything. My anxiety was also becoming more of an issue. Attacks were frequent, and I couldn’t get myself to function properly. Throughout that time, it infuriated me that I had to pay lots of money just to make my brain function like everyone else. That still bothers me.

So I bit my tongue and went through the process of trying to get a new doctor.

This, of course, gave me a lot of anxiety. But I made another lists, filled out all the forms, and tried to get through a doctor’s appointment like a normal person. It didn’t work. Doctors give me so much anxiety that I broke down in the office. My doctor appeared to be patient while I blubbered my way through all the problems I was having, but they still didn’t address them properly. She also recommended I continue to live on a steady regimen of painkillers instead of trying to figure out what’s wrong with my hips and knees. At my request, some x-rays were done, but all I received in return from those was “Your x-rays were normal” with absolutely no other information. They didn’t even show them to me.

By sheer luck, I happen to be tutoring a chiropractor’s daughter. When I went over limping one day, they checked up on me. After a simple examination of my reflexes, they immediately noted that I was showing signs of hyperreflexia. They said that some people are just wired to have stronger reflexes, but it might be that my vertebrae are crushing my spinal cord and causing pain. I found this annoying because literally every single doctor I’ve ever had has banged on my knees and told me that they were huge reflexes, but not a single one of them ever deigned it necessary to investigate further. The chiropractor was kind enough to recommend some short-term solutions and suggest specialists for me to see. However, since I wasn’t seeing them as part of my health insurance, I had to go back to my doctor and forward the message myself.

The doctor didn’t listen. I told her exactly what the chiropractor told me. I even showed her the note they wrote. She didn’t even read it. Instead, she asked me report my pain, which was significant at the time. Even though I stated that my hips were hurting the most, she recommended me to a back specialist. I told her that it wasn’t my back, but she just brought in a nurse to help me make the appointment. So I did. What did it matter anyway? I was just being shipped around the healthcare system to more and more people who didn’t care about what I was telling them. I assumed that I would eventually get lucky and find a doctor to listen, but I had to continue seeing doctors for that to happen.

The back specialist was really nice. He was really confused when he asked what was wrong and I said “hip pain,” but he looked over me anyway. He found the hyperreflexia, as the chiropractor did. I then had to explain my anxiety because I was hit by a wave of tears. It’s not that I’m sad. I’m frustrated. I’m frustrated that it took 14 years of consistent pain and 26 years of doctor’s visits to properly diagnose something that every doctor has commented on. I want to be mad and scream properly, but I can’t. It’s not his fault. He was just doing his best. He recommended me to a neurologist to make sure nothing was pinched, and for me to get an MRI.

There, I met a great nurse. He was actually helpful. He was only trying to help my gauge the pain of what would be happening, but at the mention of having passed 7 kidney stones, started offering advice. He used to work with a urologist. He said that ibuprofen can lead to kidney problems. You know, like my doctors have been recommending me to stay on for forever? It’s okay, though, because I’m allergic to ibuprofen now. He recommended some other ways to combat stones, and then the neurologist saw me and deemed my nerves healthy.

I can’t go get an MRI, though. I literally can’t afford it. So who knows when I’ll be able to figure out what’s actually wrong with me, or if that will ever happen? I figured everything would be fine, because my doctor had everything set up okay enough that I just had to continue to live how I had been. It wasn’t the best, but I was surviving.

At least, until my birth control ran out. I would launch a personal war against my uterus if I could. Remove it myself, even. It’s best use would be giving it to a trans woman who really wants one. She can have my eggs, too, if she wants them. (Though, I wouldn’t recommend it because I’m a medical mess.) Anyway, without proper medication, my uterus would start acting up again. But that was supposed to be fine because my doctor said that she put in a prescription for me and I could just fill it. However, when I message her to fill it, a nurse responds and says that I can’t until they know there’s no chance that I’m pregnant.

First of all, no. Medical professionals do not get to take over my personal autonomy. My body might not be functional, but it’s the only thing that I have any control over. I am paying money to continue to maintain this control. The sheer thought that I wouldn’t be able to obtain medication that I need simply because someone else wants to protect whatever parasite might be growing in me is appalling. After crafting a very terse response explaining what I had already told my doctor (that I was on birth control prescribed by my previous gynecologist), I was very near in a rage. Did my doctor not note that down? I told her explicitly because I knew I would need more. She told me to message and tell her when so it would be filled. That’s exactly what I did. And now, suddenly, there’s a new loophole that would try to make me miserable for a week. That’s unacceptable. The only possibility I can see here is that someone lied to me. I don’t know who it is, but it is not something I will tolerate from someone who I am paying.

Completely unrelatedly, no, I am not pregnant. It’s something I would like to never happen, hence the desire for birth control. This is something I’ve worked to control for years because the thought is so horrific. And what would they even do if I was pregnant? Probably not listen to my desire to keep parasites from growing inside of me.

When no one replies for a full day about my (now urgent) need for birth control, I call the pharmacy. The doctor said I could fill it. The pharmacists explains that he can’t fill it without a note from my doctor which should be there. But, of course, it’s all been lies, so it’s not there. For some reason, he asks if it’s okay that he’s going to contact my doctor to fill the prescription, but it probably won’t be done for another two week. I don’t respond because there is nothing that is more not okay. I can’t yell at him, though. He doesn’t understand that his bodily autonomy might be in jeopardy from some policy he has to enforce. I know he is not at fault. I can’t punish people for doing their jobs however miserable it will make me. So he hangs up, and I have a good and proper cry because there is no action for me to take.

I cannot function without the help of medication. I cannot get medication without the approval of doctors. Therefore, doctors have complete and utter control of how I function. It’s all for them to decide. And record shows that a grand majority of them have worked to do the sheer minimum. They will not go above and beyond because it is not their job to. Regardless of the fact that I am paying for this care, I am not worth it.

That is the only logical conclusion.

If doctors provided proper care and assistance to everyone and if I have been continually denied this over the course of my lifetime, I am literally not worth the proper care to make my brain function properly or to live a life without pain.

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lighthouseofthewanderess · 6 years ago

Text

Death

Did I tell you I was supposed to die at 10? My stars stated it. Then it became 20. My universe swore by it. My grandma fretted about it every year. She used to tell me secretly whenever she visited me. Said that the minute she found problems in my mother’s marriage, she checked out my kundli too. And it wasn’t good news. It stated I’ll be living on borrowed time in an interval of 10 years, throughout my life. Every decade the time will come when I either just brush past death, or submit to the design of the cosmos. I am not a bit religious, but this is a thought I was invested in. Not because it was about my time running out. Just because it made me realize how I feel about it inside and how I go about its counterpart, life, knowing that bit. Death wasn’t a big scary monster to me, it was always right around the corner. I see people take time to get where I am, and that’s okay. Maybe they’ve been scarred, maybe it is a distant worry. But I’m very aware of it. You just know, that when it’s time, it’s time. Kind of like Final Destination.

Mala Mami was a friend of my mothers. We met at a bajan party; they were more about networking than the music. I would tag along as well. Her family had been living in the US for about 10 years. In that stretch of time, they had bought a beautiful house at the end of a cul-de-sac. Here is where I first learnt to fold a saree -- in the basement with Mala Mami in one end instructing me with yards of cloth in between. Here is where I was awestruck by solar lanterns.They way they saved up light to shine in the dark. I want to be a solar lantern. Every time we visited, I would pay special attention to the walkway, saying hello to the lanterns on the way in. Mala Mami’s husband could be a hero in a movie. He scrapped bits to make his education work here. He put his mind to it, pushed on, and on. At the end of that struggle, he made it into Boeing and gave the life he wanted to his wife and two kids. I still remember how his wife spoke about him, doted on what an amazing life they’ve built. Through the long introduction, I found uncle stand on the backyard porch, watering the garden with a hose. One arm was locked on his hip and he scrutinized the flowers in the afternoon light. Hmpf he used to go when the flow of water was interrupted. His belly would stick out more at that. He didn’t like a single thing to go differently than expected. And when he laughed it sounded like it was coming from a distant place, heaven maybe. This was a Friday.

The next Friday we met them, I couldn’t see uncle on the porch. He was like clock-work, it seemed unusual. Mala Mami opened the door and ran off to finish off some chores. Inside sat uncle, wrapped up in a blanket. He had been diagnosed with cancer. His wife waited on him at all hours, and his two children tried to process that their perfect life would now have a wrinkle. The third Friday, Mala Mami’s face looked like she had tanned horribly. Her little eyes had lost the spark and her frizzy hair framed her into a look of dissonance. She smiled too wide - Thank god you’re here. Come see my husband. I didn’t know if she was relieved, or happy that we made it in time to see him. It looked like both. Uncle was on the bed, he couldn’t even get up a little to see who had come visiting. And the fourth Friday, well, they weren’t even home. The solar lanterns came on while we waited, and then we left. He had gone into coma. Mom called up to find out and Mala Mami was barely keeping herself together. She said her kids weren’t with her and she felt alone for the first time in her life. She cried over the phone that God didn’t give her enough strength for this part. The next Friday, was the last time we would see him. We went to the hospital, my mom holding my hand and tightening it every now at then. I could see the apprehension on her face. I was too young to see this, but what was she going to say instead? That people just switch to a new world? It was always tough love with her, always the bitter truth. It was better finding out years later that the stork never delivers the baby. That death isn’t the last stop on the bus ride.

The doctors were counting minutes. A group of 6-7 people were with him. All the painkillers had been given to make sure he was in no pain. The amount of weight he lost was shocking. The bed looked too big for him. His dark, frail body was just the same as a breathing corpse. Mala Mami still searched for her kids but they were nowhere to be found. He died without knowing. His wife returned home. Only now, it was a big scary building. The garden was browning, the weeds had grown out over the 2 weeks. The solar lanterns were the only things that looked like they had life. We were with her then. Inside, the house felt cold. Mala Mami sat down beside the table lamp. Her daughter walked in, said hello to us and walked right off to her room. She didn’t even look at her mother. The long silence that followed was broken by her son. As he crossed us he mumbled to her ‘get drunk, it will help’. Those last words got to Mala Mami who was holding herself strong for this whole time. She wallowed in memories, of how her kids had no heart, how there’s no place for her in their life anymore. In all of a month, her life had taken a sudden turn. We saw the woman before us curl into a child and cry night after night. Others saw a rich widow who could live out her days without having to work a single day. They were oblivious to the cold-carpeted floors, children who became strangers, and a dead garden. All they saw were the solar lanterns that lit up cheerfully. I have seen what time can do. It heals, it breaks, it teaches. I see it in the stories the people I’ve crossed paths with, I see it. The 4-year old twin who was bitten by a snake and couldn’t reach the hospital in the right time. The boy who crossed a pumpkin patch at the wrong time. The life of a suicide survivor. Of a simple slip in the bathroom ending up in organ failure. An existence that lasted all of 12 minutes. In all of it, I see how wrong we are about time. It isn’t a human-invented thing. Sure, days, years, and minutes could be. But a moment to the universe is the same as any other moment and if something is meant to happen, it just will.

Towards the death of my first relationship, I was standing on my balcony with a phone in hand. Crying to a boy I thought was my life. And if he wasn’t mine, I didn’t want my life either. No, I’m not that person anymore, that girl was plain stupid. Anyways, I stood near the railing, half climbing as I waited for him to say something, anything. The midnight air was cool on my tears as I started shivering. I tried to imagine my body hitting the gate below, or getting scratched by the rose thorns on the 3rd floor first. Would I just be a broken body or would I die? Who would find me first, the watchman or my mom? What would others say about my selfish decision? I was nearing 20, it didn’t mean anything. But if I were do to it, I knew it would work. My mom heard my sobbing, got the door open and pulled me in. She tried to save the relationship for me and then after the call ended she looked at me dead in the eye and said ‘this isn’t the boy you’ll marry. I won’t allow it.’ It wasn’t anything unexpected but the shame of having her find out, of seeing me in the balcony all made me wish I could disappear at wish. Borrowed time ticks from now. The next year, I was on my bike in front of my gate. I was fishing out my phone from the bag when my earphones fell out. I heard a grumble and saw that a truck with iron rods was reversing straight into my back. I quickly accelerated and at the same time the truck braked. I sent a prayer up to whoever made my earphones fall out. Not a long time from then, I took the stairs up because the lift wasn’t working. It was when I left home, odd. I had gone to buy eggs to make myself some nice breakfast. Mom wasn’t at home, I was free to do whatever I wanted. I misplaced my left foot. The floor was wet from the morning cleaning. I slipped and fell 4 steps backward, hitting my skull on another stair. I saw stars, gathered myself up and felt my head. It was perfectly fine. The eggs however, had broken. Borrowed time. Everything started feeling like it could be the end of me. Doing ballet in the bathroom, well that’s risky. Me standing on a chair putting up mango leaves for festivities. Why go that far, even crossing the road is a potential suicide mission. What can anyone do? You certainly can’t live in fear, within 4 padded walls and bright light. Well, my way was to accept it. Yes, I might just die today. What’s my next plan of action. Live today like there’s no tomorrow? Not particularly. In case I do die, when they find me, let me wear my Sunday best. The days I put effort into my outfit are the days I feel a funny bone go ‘tick-tock’. Then the face people remember seeing the last wouldn’t be that bad as me on a normal day with zero cares given. Yes, I dream of dying very often. My grandpa butchering me with an axe in the backyard, in the moonlight. Blood draining into the clean chlorine water from a cannonball gone wrong. And yes, sometimes in the middle of what I’m doing I look up and check the time. Maybe it’s that one vulnerable moment where something could happen. I try being alert and true enough an odd thing would occur. Someone randomly handing me a peanut shake when they knew I was allergic. A coconut crashing and splitting open right after I take a pause.

The good side of borrowed time is that it is true to everyone. You’re never singled out -- for good or worse -- in the eyes of the universe. And embracing it has made me grateful for people, things, and feelings almost every day. To sit at a bus stop and see the city run about. To step out when the first drops of rain hit. To just look at the person in front of you and take them in your memory. What if this is the last thing I see, worth seeing? It makes me leave a note on someone’s desk just to tell them I miss them, that they’re pretty, that it’s going to get better. It makes me send that text without overthinking how I’ll face them the next day. What if I don’t get to tell them? Multiply that into 100 and that’s a good enough reason to haunt people after my unexpected yet inevitable death.

#nanowrimo #nano 2018 #nano writing #writing #writedaily #wrimo #loveforwriting #death #life story #anecdote

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vandalsandvagrants · 7 years ago

Text

"He won't even look at me anymore," Suzy sobbed into the phone.

"Oh, stop it. You just delivered and you're hormonal. He's probably afraid you'll bite his head off."

"Gee, thanks."

"Oh, hell. Look, I'm at work. Freddy hasn't exactly been the man of steel of late, and I know where you're coming from. When I delivered Fred Jr., I put my teenage daughter to shame. And you know what a cock hound Rachel is."

"I'm dying, Brenda. I'm in such need of a good....fucking."

"Christ, Suze, what do you want me to do? Lez out on you or something?"

"No, I just wanted some sympathy, damn it!"

"Look, we got ten admissions going on, Doc Ritigliano is cursing me in Italian, the nurse just ran out in tears. The trash hasn't been emptied in a week. I can't spare you any sympathy right now. It's not that I don't care, but I'm not in a position where I can play girlfriend right now."

"All right."

"Oh, fuck, don't even give me that wounded puppy voice. I know Freddy and Steve are off to Lake Pickwick for a weekend fishing trip. I get off at ten, if I'm lucky. What say I grab a bag and I'll spend the weekend with you and the baby?"

"Mom has little Jimmy."

"Even better, I'll bring a fifth with me."

"I can't drink."

"Of course you can. You aren't pregnant any more."

"But I'm still breast feeding."

"So what? You got a pump. It'll all be out of your system before the rugrat is back."

"Brenda!"

"Oh, fuck. Look, I gotta go. See you around eleven."

Brenda Miles hung up and let out a big sigh. Being the admissions nurse at Baptist was bad enough, but on a Friday night, with a gang war going on and the janitorial staff on strike, it was sheer hell. She just didn't have time to stroke Suzy's ego tonight. Not that she felt bad about blowing her off, Suzy could be a real pain in the ass when she was in JAP mode. Which was all too often since she got pregnant.

Actually, Suzy was a high maintenance pain in the ass most of the time. She could also be the most kind, considerate and generous of friends. The problem was, she was strung tighter than a wasp waist corset. Brenda kept up the hope that she would eventually let her hair down and learn to enjoy life. It was a fading hope, as Suzy had become insufferable after the kid was born, obsessing over her weight, the kid, the house and Steve's seeming disinterest. Brenda hated to admit it, but she had been avoiding her friend. Suzy was just more emotionally draining than Brenda could handle at the moment.

She knew from Freddy that Steve was having his own problems with his wife. Brenda had coaxed Freddy into taking Steve out and giving him a talking to. The boy was getting desperate, and she couldn't deal with Suzy going through a divorce. But if the girl didn't lighten up, she was gonna drive Steve to it.

Brenda laughed out loud, causing several people to stare.

Good old Freddy. King of the horn dogs. His solution had been they try wife swapping. She wasn't that into Steve, but she had to admit, if anything would loosen Suze up, Freddy's cock would do it. Not only was he fantastically hung, but he knew how to use it, and imagining little Suzy with Freddy's black dick slamming her pussy was about the funniest thing she had thought of in a long time.

Actually, it wasn't just funny, it was kind of hot. Suze was a dish, even if she didn't know it. Back in their early swinging days, Brenda had been pretty naïve. Once she got started though, she had gone a little cunt crazy. She told herself it was just a passing thing, she hadn't been with another woman in a couple of years. The couples they regularly partnered with were pretty much straight. And none of the wives really did much for her anyway, but Suze? She had to admit, she could get into that.

Of course, it was all the more funny because Suze would never go for it. Steve would, Brenda had seen him surreptitiously checking out her tits and ass when they had pool parties. But Suze? Not with all the rum in Jamaica in her.

Brenda paused in the middle of her admission paper work and frowned. No, you couldn't get Suze liquored up enough. But what about drugged up? She pushed the thought from her mind and went back to her paper work, but it kept coming back. On her break, Brenda slipped into the pharmacy and perused the shelves.

Most of the tranquilizers were just too strong. And she wasn't real knowledgeable about the psychoactives. Several painkillers might work, but they might also make her sick. Brenda had only entered on a lark and was about to leave, chalking the whole crazy thought up to the bad idea column, when she saw the bottle of Cainockflorin. It was a new drug, and only Doc Ritigliano used it. He was still heavily loyal to the old country and the fact that an Italian firm had developed it made it good enough in his estimation.

He only gave it to the real whackos, but it really seemed to work on them. She had seen him calm a Schizoid-affective down from homicidal rage to sleepy and fuzzy with a single shot of the stuff. Curious, she grabbed the work up on it and took it back to the break room.

She read through all the cautions first and was surprised to find there were very few. She noted pregnant or nursing women wasn't among the proscribed patients list. The side effects were interesting as well.

Common side effects include: Drowsiness, dizziness, weakness, impaired judgment, impaired vision, confusion/disorientation, short term memory loss and impaired concentration.

Rare Side effects: Enhanced Tactile sensation (particularly in the extremities), Muscle soreness, breathing difficulty, Somnambulism, Hallucinations, Incontinence

In clinical trials one patient in 100,000 experienced an allergic reaction, which resulted in coma. Of these reactions .001 percent resulted in death. This side effect must be treated immediately with epinephrine delivered intravenously as well as antihistamines and oxygen.

Cainockflorin should not be administered to patients with Asthma or other breathing difficulty, taking Corticoid-steroids or opiate painkillers as either could result in breathing arrest.

Pretty powerful stuff. Brenda immediately discounted the coma and death warning. She had come to realize that was more legalese then medicalese. All the big pharmaceutical outfits were covering their asses now with such disclaimers. Even her birth control pills had such a warning, but when she asked, Dr. Palmer told her no one had ever died from them that he knew of. Suzy didn't have any breathing problems she was aware of, but it wasn't like Brenda knew her full medical history.

Brenda decided it was just a nutty idea and on her way back to the nurse's station, she stopped into the Pharmacy to return the paperwork to its cubby. She had intended to just leave, but she found herself alone and eyeing the two bottles of Cainockflorin. It only came in two oral doses, a .25 mg maintenance dose and a .5 mg intervention dosage. Anything more had to be given intravenously under a physician's supervision. The Doc eschewed the .5 mg dose, preferring to give the .25 incrementally until his patients calmed. Thus the .25 bottle was three quarters empty, but the .5 mg bottle was almost full.

Brenda found herself doing some quick arithmetic. Five hundred tablets, of which, maybe twenty were gone. That was over the roughly six months it had been available. Last inventory had been in April, so...roughly five more months till the admins got their panties in a wad or the state came in, necessitating a new inventory. Her hand was on the bottle and she was spilling two tabs out before she even really realized it. Stashing them in her coat pocket, she returned to the admissions desk and spent the rest of her shift debating the consequences of her crazy plan. ***

"Hey babe, miss you," Freddy's voice came over the line.

Brenda had just gotten in and was still half dressed when the phone rang. "Yeah, like I'm buying that. A weekend of fishing, lying and getting drunk is your idea of paradise," she replied, but there was no venom in her voice.

"Damn, woman, I can't even try to be nice to you, can I?" he chuckled.

"Sure you can, if Viagra is on sale."

"Ouch. Low blow there."

"You know I'm full of shit, babe."

"Yeah, but the dick jokes gotta stop. A man has his pride."

"So how's it going?" Brenda asked, as she tossed her eighteen-hour bra into the hamper.

"I....Look, I know she's your friend and all, but Stevie's mine. She's killing him, babe. She can't even loosen up a little bit. Even when he can get it, the sex is missionary only and she acts like it's a chore. It's just destroying his self-esteem. He loves her, but he's at the end of his rope."

"Damn."

"I even approached him about some swappin', but while he was hot as hell to get into your pants, he said there was no way she'd try it. I don't think this marriage is going to make it, babe. I'm sorry for that, she's a sweet girl sometimes, but I can't try to convince him to stay. Not after all he told me on the trip up."

Freddy..." she said, her tone turning icy.

"Awww, shit, don't do that, babe. I'm not gonna egg him on to leave her, but I just can't lean on him to stay. I know I'd be outta there in a heartbeat."

"If she loosened up some, do you think they would make it?" she said after a deep sigh.

"Sure. He's still in love with her, and he's about the proudest papa I ever did see. If she dropped the Princess crap and was even close to normal, he'd gut it out."

"All right, you tell Steve to hang in."

"I've heard that voice before. You about to read her the riot act?"

"No. I'm going to cut some corset strings and see what busts loose."

"Uh oh."

"What?"

"Nothing. I love you to death, babe, but I've heard that tone before. I know I wouldn't want any part of it. I'll keep Steve-o from bolting, but you have to tell me if nothing happens. I ain't sending the poor boy home to any more of what he's been gettin'."

Brenda pulled into the potholed parking lot and killed the engine. She checked her purse for the .32 she habitually carried, and took a deep breath. Getting out, she approached the garishly lit entrance and passed through the dilapidated door. Just inside, a kid with more tattoos and body piercings than a sideshow freak looked up from the book he was reading. She glanced at the title and laughed, Plato's the Republic. College kid, she decided.

"ID?" he inquired in a bored voice.

Brenda showed it to him and passed through the dark curtains and into the interior. She hadn't been to an adult store in ages, but they were all the same. She had picked this one, despite the bad neighborhood, because she knew one of the clerks. She just hoped Dana was on. She spotted her friend, helping a fat man in conservative business attire select a butt plug. Dana looked up, smiled and winked and went back to her customer. Once she had made the sale she came over and gave Brenda a hug.

"Fancy seeing you here, Freddy not living up to his rep?" the tall girl said as she hugged Brenda.

"He's still the man of the house," Brenda said with a laugh.

"So what brings you to Homo central?"

"I need some help."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I got a girlfriend who needs to get her ass laid, but good."

"You planning on doing the laying?"

"Yeah."

"Bren, I don't mean to be bitchy, but you aren't a top."

"Tonight I'm gonna be."

"Cool, what do you need?"

"Damned if I know, that's why I came to the expert."

"Well, tell me a bit about this girlfriend, then."

"She's a good girl, Dee. But she's about to loose her husband and a lot more. She's got some hang-up that keeps her from enjoying sex, and I think that's what has her so fucked up. She's a ball of stress and she won't relax or loosen up even a tiny bit. She's been playing princess for the past year or so, and it's just worn thin on everyone. I think she even knows it, but she seems incapable of stopping herself."

"So how you planning on bedding her? Think she might be a closet dyke?"

"No."

"Look, Bren, ain't none of my business, but if she's that fucked in the head, how you planning on getting her into the sack? I've bedded a few happily married women, but it's a damned frustrating deal getting them to lose the panties."

"She's going to lose them whether she likes it or not."

"Ooooo-Kay. I take it you aren't taking no for an answer."

"Damned skippy, I'm not."

"All right, well, let's see about some restraints then. You got a stick?"

"No."

"Well, we got some good harnesses," Dana said, leading Brenda over to one wall.

The tall butch selected a box and handed it to Brenda, who examined it curiously.

"How do you use it?"

"Self explanatory, no more difficult than putting on a pair of pants. It'll handle most any cock you choose."

As she spoke, Dana indicated a huge and bewildering array of dildos on the racks along the wall.

"Jesus H. Christ," Brenda whispered.

"Don't let the selection intimidate you. A dick's a dick's a dick. Choosing one is all about knowing what you want to do with it. Once you're clear on that, it practically picks itself," Dana said with an encouraging squeeze of Brenda's shoulder.

"I see."

"Just tell me what you want babe, I'm here to help."

Brenda thought about it for a few moments.

"I've gotta rock her world, Dee. She's gotta cum like she's never cum before, and she's gotta end up liking it."

"Petite girl? Big Girl? What?"

"Petite. Really petite."

"Experienced?"

"No. Not really."

Dana went to the rack and grabbed a monster dildo. Even Brenda, who was used to Freddy's horse dick balked.

"Most have funny names, puns and the like, or are modeled on porn stars. But this one, they just call it the Bitch Tamer. If you're dead set on fucking up her world view, this is the one you want."

"I don't think she can take that," Brenda said, hefting the thick and heavy dildo.

"Bullshit, Bren. Get her hot enough and she'll be begging for it. Unless you plan on some ass fucking, that's my recommendation."

"Hadn't thought about any ass fucking, but it might be just what she needs," Brenda said, still awed by the huge dildo.

Dana laughed and moved down the row, she came back with a long, thin and strangely shaped cock in clear latex. While she was away, Brenda considered the big dildo. It just looked too ridiculously large, but she decided she would trust Dana's judgment. She would only have one shot at this and it would be a shame to fail because she wasn't hung well enough.

"This will do for her backdoor. It was designed by a flaming queen of a doctor. It's scientifically contoured to give the most pleasure without doing any damage, so you can tear her up and not have to be worried about it." "All right. Dee?"

"Yeah?"

Brenda held up the Bitch Tamer and smiled.

"Does it come in black?"

***

Despite her detour, Brenda made it to Suzy's place with fifteen minutes to spare. She shouldered her overnight bag, but left the special bag on the car seat. She still wasn't sure she was going to go through with it, but she was prepared to take drastic action if discussion failed.

She knocked on the door and Suzy answered.

"Hey, Babe," Brenda said, barging in and giving her a peck on the cheek.

"Hey," her friend replied.

Brenda deposited her overnight bag on the sofa and hurried upstairs. She locked herself in the couple's bathroom and quickly scanned the medicine cabinet. When she had satisfied herself neither was using a rescue inhaler or taking anything more dangerous than aspirin, she relieved herself and went back downstairs. She smiled at Suzy and moved to the bar.

"So what's the plan?" Brenda asked as she fixed herself a rum and coke.

"I don't know. I can't get my mother on the phone to make sure the baby is all right and Steve hasn't called. I swear, I'm starting to think he's having an affair."

"Men are like that. If they aren't getting it at home, they go bird doggin'," Brenda said carefully.

It seemed like a good lead in. She was going to try to reason with Suzy first, but if that failed, she was now pretty much prepared to try the second option.

"That's not very nice."

"Oh, hell, Suzy. You gotta keep your man happy. I'm not going to lie to you."

"I've tried."

"Really?"

"Yes, really," she said defensively.

"So what have you tried?"

"The usual things."

"Get some sexy lingerie?"

"No, of course not."

"Meet him at the door naked and on your knees?"

"Brenda! There's no need to be so crude."

"Men like crude sometimes. You should try it."

"I'm not a whore!"

"I meet Freddy naked at the door, with a beer and a blow job at least once a month. You sayin' I'm a whore?" Brenda replied, her voice icy.

"No. You know I'm not. Let's change the subject, 'kay?"

"No, not yet. Just what have you tried, Suze?"

"Just regular stuff. You know, letting him know I would let him if he wanted to."

"Did you ever tell him you wanted to?"

"No, I'm not like that," she said blushing.

"Girl, a man's got a fragile ego. He has to feel wanted."

"I want him. I really do."

"But have you ever told him that?"

"No."

"Suze, you gotta loosen up. Nobody wants to be married to his mother in law."

"Bren, you're really pissing me off. Let's just drop it, okay? You just don't understand."

Oh, I understand perfectly, she thought. The only question is, can I make you see the light?

"All right, girlfriend, we'll drop it. I brought some flicks, you wanna make some popcorn?"

"Sure," she said, smiling.

That was the thing about Suze, Brenda mused. The redeeming quality that made putting up with her bullshit worth it. She had been hurt and upset, but she instantly forgave Brenda. She didn't have a vengeful bone in her body and didn't carry grudges. Beneath the puritanical attitude, she was genuinely sweet and loving. But that wouldn't be enough to save her marriage, and Brenda knew it.

"What can I get you?" Brenda asked, as casually as she could.

"Vodka Martini."

"That shit will rot your guts. How bout something less toxic?"

Brenda really didn't have anything against martinis, but she wanted something with some color to it.

"I dunno, have something you think would do me good?"

Oh yeah, that I do, she thought.

"How bout a Harvey Wallbanger? I see Steve picked up some Galliano."

"Never had one of those, sure," she replied.

"What kind of flick you feel like?" Brenda called.

She kept her eyes on the entrance to the kitchen as she mashed up the Cainockflorin into a powder and mixed it with the sugar she was adding to Suze's drink. She had it done and was carrying both drinks to the table when Suze came in with a bowl of popcorn. Brenda popped in a girly flick and sat back, sipping on her rum and coke. She watched from the corner of her eye as Suzy sipped the drink.

"Wow!" she exclaimed.

"Like it?'

"Yeah, it's sweet and kinda...I dunno..."

"Don't try to explain," Brenda laughed, "There are no words for how Galliano tastes. You either like it or hate it."

"I like it," Suzy said, taking a much larger sip.

Brenda paid no attention to the movie, but watched Suzy closely. At first there seemed to be no effect, but after a while she started to sway and her eyes dilated.

"Suzy?" Brenda asked.

When she didn't respond, Brenda put down her drink and moved next to her friend. She waved her hand in front of Suzy's face and snapped her fingers.

"Suzy!" she shouted.

"Huh? Ummmm... I'm feeling woozy...Feel..." her words trailed off into an incoherent mumbling.

"Feel like some serious fucking?" Brenda asked.

"Mmm...fucking..."

Well, the first part of her plan seemed to be working. Brenda knew she would have to hurry though. She had only used .5 mg and while the effects were stunning, she knew the intervention dosage was meant to be applied to someone who had already had a serious IV dose in their system. Left to her own devices, Suzy would fall asleep and wake with nothing worse than a drug hangover, and maybe some sore muscles. Brenda had no intention of leaving her to her own devices, however. Brenda hurried out to her car and got her gym bag. By the time she returned, Suzy was slumped over on the sofa and curled up. Brenda opened the bag and pulled out the restraints. She glanced around the room, her eyes finally settling on the coffee table. It was a stout piece of furniture, fashioned to resemble an old style cedar chest. The legs were squat, stout ovals and looked to be sturdy enough to handle the most violent struggles.

The restraints Dana had suggested were thick leather bands, with a double row of holes running down the length. One end held a heavy, stainless steel clip, the other a buckle. Their best feature, besides being incredibly strong, was their versatility. It took Brenda only a few minutes to attach one to each of the table legs and she left only about an inch of play in each. She looked in her bag, looked at Suzy's limp form and did what she promised herself she would.

She took a step back and really thought about what she was about to do. She wasn't too worried about the consequences if she failed. Suzy would never, under any circumstances, go to the cops. It might ruin their friendship, but Brenda was resigned to that anyway. If she took no action, Suze would move back to Peoria and her parents after Steve divorced her. They already hated Brenda's guts, for being black and their daughter's friend, among other things. So she would loose her friend in any scenario that didn't save her marriage.

If she succeeded, Suze would probably save her marriage. Of course, she might not be Suzy anymore. Realizing sex was fun did strange things to people. But that was a chance Brenda was willing to take.

Brenda kicked off her sandals and sat next to her friend. Her hands were shaking just a bit as she undid the pretty buttons on Suzy's blouse. Beneath it she wore a simple, white, full coverage, front closure bra. Brenda shook her head and unclasped it, her eyes sparkled as she got a good look at her friend's tits. They were small, but perfectly formed, and capped with small dusky aureoles and thick, stubby nipples. They were pert, rode high on her chest and the skin was creamy and flawless. Even with her pregnancy they were still barely a handful. Quite a contrast to Brenda's own dark bra busters. "Hmmm? Wha? Hmmm?" Suzy groggily moaned.

"Just relax, baby, just getting you a little more comfy. Nothing wrong with that, is there?" Brenda said in a soothing voice.

"Comprable," Suzy said, and then giggled.

Brenda slipped the bra off her shoulders and unbuttoned her jeans. She was hoping for something sexy, but as she tugged them down she saw Suzy wore simple white cotton granny panties.

"Damn, girl, why do you insist on wrapping this hot little body in such ugly underwear?"

Brenda didn't wait for a response, sliding her hands into the waistband and pulling the panties off. Suzy's pussy was very trim, the mount of Venus barely discernable. Golden red pubic curls hid her lips from view. Brenda tossed the panties and used her fingers to part the soft pubes. She felt a bit nervous when she saw that Suzy's lips were very delicate. She had the smallest, most dainty pussy Brenda had ever seen, and she wondered if taking Dana's advice on the bitch tamer had been a mistake after all.

"Nakey?" Suzy giggled drunkenly.

Brenda could see she was coming around. Already she had progressed from semi functional to that stage where everything was funny. She quickly removed the drinks and magazines and used Suzy's ugly panties to wipe down the tabletop. It took some effort to get the petite girl onto the table, she was small, but in her drugged state, her body was almost dead weight. Brenda stuffed a couch cushion under her tummy with some difficulty.

From her bag, Brenda grabbed four cuffs and tossed them on the floor. These were all made of thick black leather and lined with soft white fur. Each was adjustable and held closed by two thin leather straps and buckles. A heavy metal D ring was set into each.

Brenda attached one to each of Suzy's wrists and ankles, and then hooked the D rings into the straps. She stood back a moment to admire her handiwork. She hadn't started out with any thought of particularly enjoying what she was going to do, but the sight of petite little Suzy; naked, helpless, with her perfect little ass up thrust and her pussy exposed sent a thrill through Brenda that was undeniable. She was mildly surprised to realize she was getting damp. Even more, she was surprised to realize she was going to enjoy the hell out of this.

"Maybe I'm still a little cunt crazy," she said to herself.

"Cunt. Cunt, cunt, cunt," Suzy repeated in a little girl voice.

Brenda smiled and headed upstairs. She wanted to give Suze a little more time to come around and she also wanted to satisfy herself of a few things before she committed to this. In the bedroom, she breezed past the big bed and pulled open Suzy's dresser drawers. Beautiful clothes, expensive, carefully folded and neat. Dior, Ann Taylor, Talbot's. And fucking ugly underwear. All cotton, all granny cut. Bras all the same. Just fucking unbelievable, she thought. No nighties, no negligees, no outfits for role play, no stockings or garter belts, just control top hose. As if Suzy had anything that needed controlling. There was barely a hint of fat left from the pregnancy.

It was almost like she intentionally refused to wear anything even mildly provocative. The only exception to the procession of blah white panties was a pair of red cotton bikini briefs. These were laundered, but Brenda could tell they hadn't been worn much, if at all. She suddenly had an image of poor Steve, trying to get his wife something a little sexy and her never wearing them. No wonder the poor guy was ready to call it quits.

She padded through the rest of the house, to find everything immaculate. No dust anywhere, no clutter, a place for everything and everything in its place.

"Donna fucking Reed," Brenda said.

Heading back downstairs, she shed her blouse. The investigation upstairs had sealed the deal. Brenda unbuttoned her jeans and wiggled out of them, taking the black thong with them. She kept her bra on, for the present. From her bag, she grabbed the harness and gingerly shook it out. It looked for all the world like an oversized pair of edible undies. She stepped into the leg loops, and snugged up the Velcro of the waistband, then gave each of the tabs a pull, until she felt the leather cod piece settle over her pussy. She wasn't really sure she even had it on right and she had no idea of how tight it should be. A little experimentation followed, but she found herself sweating it more than she thought she would.

Brenda took out the Bitch Tamer, then eyed it. There was a small hole in the base, which seemed to be meant for the stud at the front of her harness. She lined them up and pressed it firmly to the stud that was seated over her clit and jutting out. With three audible clicks the huge toy seated and when she let it go, it simply drooped under its own weight. She jogged her hips, feeling the exciter on her side of the harness rub against her clitoral hood and watching in fascination as her cock bobbed and bounced. She felt a really weird sense of power and she could see why men were so fascinated with their willies.

"Well, Mrs. Cleaver, it's time for you to meet the neighbors," Brenda said, smiling at her own joke.

From her bag she took a thick tube of high tech lube. It was called Hyperglide, and had been developed by NASA as a waterproof lubricant for high performance equipment. Brenda squeezed a good amount into her hand and began to slick up the toy at her waist. It took two more squeezes of the tube and both hands, but she finally got the whole thing coated. From the bag, she then pulled out the set of kneepads Freddy wore when laying tile. She wasn't as young as she used to be, and she had anticipated the need to ease the pressure on her knees. She buckled them on, picked up the tube of lube and squeezed a good glob of it onto her hand, while kneeling at the foot of the table.

She put the kneepads up against the wood, and then cupped Suzy's pussy and began to work the lube in.

"Huh? What? Brenda?"

"Relax babe, it's just some lube."

"Lube?"

"Yeah, to get you all slick and ready."

"Ready for wha..." her question faded into a soft moan as Brenda found her entrance and introduced two slick fingers. She felt another pang of doubt as Suzy's pussy gripped her fingers. She was so tight Brenda had to muscle her way in, and that worried her. She hoped the Hyperglide would do the trick. At least she was sure Suzy hadn't been lying about one thing, her tight little pussy was gently massaging Brenda's fingers and it was obvious that she was in need of a good fucking.

Brenda eased her fingers out and used both hands to grip the shaft of her cock and hold it on target. This proved to be far more difficult than she had anticipated. While she had a good line of sight, the lack of feedback from the toy left her nervous and she moved with extreme care, lest she hurt Suzy. When it finally seated, she began to lean forward, letting her weight slowly settle in behind the thick toy. Suzy groaned raggedly.

"Stop! It hurts. Please, Brenda."

The dark-skinned woman ignored her and put more weight behind the toy. She was fascinated at the way it was stretching Suzy's pussy.

"Brenda? What are you doin..." her words were cut off by an 'oomph' as the head slipped past her outer ring of muscles and into her quivering pussy.

"Giving what you said you needed. A good hard fucking!" Brenda crowed.

Suzy seemed to become more aware and began to struggle, but the bonds held her fast. Brenda pressed forward slowly, then rocked back slightly, just like Freddy did with her. As she watched, an inch of the thick shaft, then another slowly sank into Suzy's tight channel.

"Stop it! This isn't funny," Suzy panted.

"You're right there, babe, it's hot as hell, but it damn sho ain't funny."

"Brenda, please, this is wrong!" Suzy cried as more of the thick intruder invaded her secret place.

"Shut up. Just shut up and enjoy it. You've been crying for days that you needed it, and now you're gonna get it in spades."

"Not from you!"

"Yes, from me!" Brenda said, thrusting forward to punctuate her words.

"Ohmigod! Please, it hurts," Suzy sobbed.

"Hurts so good, you mean. Don't try to lie to me. I can smell your pussy from here."

Brenda removed first one hand and then the other, eventually grasping Suzy's hips. All but the last inch of the wide base was now inside her whimpering lover, but Brenda wouldn't be satisfied with half measures tonight. She slid her knees out a little, to widen her base and get some purchase and then drove forward with all she had.

Suzy screamed, a piercing, keening cry that split the silence of the room. Brenda's hips bumped up tight against the bound woman's ass. She held still then, letting Suze adjust. Brenda could see the muscles in her butt and back twitching beneath her fine, alabaster skin.

"Take it out. Take it out, Please. Pretty please?"

"Sho thing, baby," Brenda said, withdrawing it by rocking her hips back.

She loved the way Suzy's lips seemed to be hanging on, like they were reluctant to let it escape. When she was about halfway out, Brenda drove it back in.

"No!" Suzy shouted.

She wiggled frantically in her bonds, plunging and rocking the stout table, but Brenda ignored her and continued trying to get the hang of it. Suzy screamed and shouted and threatened, but it made no impression. Brenda was having a ball. She had always assumed fucking was easy. After all, she had never had trouble mastering rhythm and stroke in femme superior, but she found life wasn't so easy from the other side of the dick. She could keep up a fairly even stroke, by alternately hunching her back and straightening up, but it was far too much work and didn't produce any of the variation in stroke she knew was so enjoyable. Not that little Suzy was complaining, she was huffing and puffing, whining and biting back on moans now. Only occasionally mustering a protest.

Over time, Brenda found, to her amusement, that it was all in her hips and legs, despite what "felt" right. She had always thought it felt like a pistoning motion and thus that it was all in your back, but the truth was, she got a smoother flow by rolling her hips. This method gave her a much smoother action, but in no time the muscles in her ass began to burn. Brenda then tried a more jerky motion, using her legs to drive, while keeping her ass out of it.

She drew back for a long stroke and the dong popped out of Suzy's pussy. Brenda was already thrusting back so her hips smacked Suzy's with an audible thwack. Brenda burst out laughing and grasped the toy with both hands. It was still a tight fit, but she had far less trouble getting it in this time.

She laughed in delight as she was able to watch her cock and how the different methods produced different visuals. She was so caught up in it she failed at first to even hear Suzy, but as she was contemplating the exact mechanics of the little rolling flourish Freddy sometimes used, the girl's words penetrated.

"Brenda? Please. Something's wrong. I f.f.f.feel strange."

Brenda didn't need more than a moment to ascertain what the strange feeling was, but it left her troubled. The muscles in Suzy's legs and back were rippling and tensing, the aroma from her pussy had become much stronger and her juices now coated the toy hammering into her. Her labored breathing, and the frequent squeaks all pointed to an orgasm. It was hard for Brenda to comprehend those wonderful warning signs being scary or strange.

"Suzy? Haven't you ever cum real hard?" she asked quizzically.

"N...n...no..."

"Well, get ready girl, cause you're taking a trip on the Nirvana express," Brenda said, grasping the girl's hips more firmly and reverting to the rolling of her hips.

"No, please, this isn't supposed to happen," she whined.

Brenda ignored her, using her legs now and her back, throwing herself forward with each lunge. The big cock made obscene slurping noises as it slammed into Suzy's soaked pussy.

"Cum for me, baby," Brenda urged through clenched teeth.

Sweat poured off her forehead and burned her eyes. It also rolled down her chest, soaking into the silk demi cup bra she had neglected to remove earlier. The muscles in her ass were burning, like they did near the end of an aerobics class, but she kept on pounding into Suzy. Kept on delivering the stimulation, even thought she could see Suzy was fighting it with all she had.

Brenda could have warned her it was useless to fight, but she didn't. She knew the longer Suzy held out, the better it would feel when it came. With that in mind she slowed her stroke, and lengthened it, letting some of the tension in her captive dissipate. And thus it went for well over an hour. Brenda was experimenting, getting comfortable with the motions and the physics. Poor Suzy was struggling just to cope with the relentless pounding her tender pussy was getting.

Brenda decided she had built it up enough. She wanted the first one to rock Suzy's world, but she also knew that the first was never the best and she intended to orgasm her friend until she passed out. Brenda pulled herself tightly to Suzy's butt and began to use short, rapid strokes. Suzy was grunting and groaning, but as time passed, she still hadn't come. It suddenly occurred to Brenda that perhaps, Suzy's problem was a medical one. Maybe she just couldn't orgasm. It would certainly explain her seeming aversion to sex for fun. It would also mean this had been a monumental mistake on her part.

Spurred on by that fear, Brenda threw everything she had into it. The muscles in her stout thighs stood out, as did those in her ass. She could feel the fire, the burning sensation that told her she was pushing past the point where her body was comfortable, but she ignored it. She was really worried now and she began to will Suzy to come. Gritting her teeth against the discomfort as she slammed the thick cock into Suze.

Suzy was making the most incredibly sexy noises now, little whimpers and moans, punctuated by occasional squeaks and barks. Her body was tensed and Brenda found almost as much relief as she did satisfaction when Suze cried out and her body came unglued. She plunged and jerked, thrusting back as best she could to meet Brenda's lunges. She screamed, the sound raw and feral, but softening towards the end into a delicious moan.

Brenda kept driving into her, until Suze lay still. She was babbling now, soft incoherent murmurs. Brenda pulled out, and sat back on her heels, breathing a big sigh of relief. She caught her breath, let her heart rate get back to normal and then carefully stood. Her legs protested, but not badly, and she wandered into the kitchen where she began to rummage around. She found exactly what she wanted in a drawer, a wooden sauce spoon. It was light, but sturdy and stung when she slapped it onto her palm.

She returned to the living room and took up a place behind her bound friend. Suze's ass was still up turned, ripe, pale and vulnerable. Brenda brought the spoon down on it hard. The resultant sound was neither a smack, nor a splat, but a mixture of both. Suze screeched and threw herself forward, actually sliding the table a few inches along the carpeted floor.

"No!"

Brenda ignored her, watching the skin become pink. She smacked the other cheek and Suze reacted violently again. Satisfied that the spoon wasn't doing any real damage, she began to rapidly spank her smaller friend. Brenda applied the spoon to each cheek, alternating and aiming for any spot she hadn't hit yet. Suzy's skin went from pale, to pink to rosy and then to an angry red. Protests, threats and curses gradually gave way to pleading and begging. Brenda ignored it and continued, until she could place her hand near her friend's ass and feel the fierce heat radiating outward.

Suze drooped in her bonds, letting the straps go slack as Brenda put the spoon down. Her victim was panting, and sobbing now, but Brenda was too busy to worry about it. It took a lot of work to get the slippery toy to disconnect from her harness. Her hands kept slipping off and she found there wasn't really anything to hold onto. Eventually, she hit upon getting her fingers under the base, and with some effort, it finally came free.

From her bag, she took the anal toy and attached it with little difficulty. More hyperglide was used as she slicked it up. Brenda scooted behind her reluctant lover and slowly worked some of the lube into the crack between Suzy's scarlet cheeks.

"Ohhhh."

"Feel good, baby?" Brenda said in a soothing voice.

"Yes, it's so cool," Suzy sniffled.

Brenda smiled, applied some more and let her finger settle on Suzy's rear entrance. With infinite care she worked it in, pushing a gob of the hyperglide before it.

"What are you doing?" Suzy cried in alarm.

"Just getting this fine ass ready for some action," Brenda replied.

"Action?...Oh No! Brenda you can't!"

"Watch me," the novice top replied, scooting into position and holding the toy before her.

Brenda was unprepared for what happened next. Suzy went absolutely apeshit. She screamed for help, threw her body violently forward and struggled mightily against her bonds. Brenda actually released the toy and tried to calm Suzy down. She was afraid the girl would hurt herself in her wild bid to escape. The table held, as did the bonds and after a while, Suzy wore herself out. As she lay there, panting Brenda took the opportunity to line her cock up and press it forward. The flared tip penetrated and Suzy went berserk again, bu When Suzy's hysterical strength failed a second time, Brenda was able to get her weight behind the toy. She had both hands on Suzy's trim waist, bearing down with her weight, which kept the girl from wiggling.

Brenda had intended to go very slowly, she knew how painful anal could be if done wrong and she had no intention of hurting her friend, but she hadn't counted on the design of the toy, nor had she factored in Suzy's strong reaction to the muscle relaxant in the drug. The thin toy shot into Suzy's ass in a rush, driving deeply enough that Brenda's hips bumped the girl's ass.

"Ow!" Suzy cried, but it was almost as if she was more surprised than hurt.

"Did that hurt?" Brenda asked.

"Yes."

"You okay?"

"No."

"Suze, unless you want another ass tanning, don't fuck with me. Now are you all right?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

The reply was so soft it was almost inaudible, but Brenda smiled.

"It gets a lot better, girlfriend," Brenda said, as she began to carefully fuck Suzy's gorgeous ass.

The experience was grand, but frustrating. It was a whole new angle, a whole new approach, and it took her much longer to establish a rhythm she liked. Once she did, Brenda really poured it on and Suzy's moans and cries let her know it was a mutually enjoyable cadence. When she got really comfortable, she reached around Suzy's hip and began to tease her clit. The small woman gasped, but moved slightly to give Brenda better access.

"Feels good, don't it?' she whispered.

"Yes," Suzy replied in a sexy, breathless, but somehow sheepish voice.

"You're about to cum again, aren't you?"

"I think so."

"Don't fight it, babe, just let it come."

"Okay," she replied unsurely.

Brenda was unsure if Suzy's sudden acquiescence was a product of the drug's side effects or of her monster orgasm. Whichever was the case, the dark girl decided to take full advantage of it. Her questing fingers found Suzy's little bud and began to really work on it as her hips kept the dildo working in long, even strokes. Suzy moaned, then gasped and with another wild lunge she came. Brenda was a little taken aback, she wondered if all Suzy's orgasms were going to be so violent. Her own experience was that they ebbed and flowed, some strong, some weak, but maybe that didn't apply here.

Or maybe she's just so frustrated that she's built up a lot of need, Brenda thought.

Brenda kept plowing into her lover's ass and continued to manipulate her clit. A second orgasm quickly followed, and a third and then.

"Wow" Brenda said in amazement as Suzy went into another paroxysm while gurgling happily.

Sensing the time was right, Brenda pulled out and fought her way out of the harness. She hurried to the dinette, grabbed a chair and put it right next to the head of the table. She ten straddled the table, lowered her ass to the edge of it, and leaned back on the chair. This placed her pussy right in Suzy's face, while giving her some stability.

The small girl looked up dazedly and wrinkled her nose.

"Bren?" she asked.

"Eat my pussy, baby," Brenda coaxed.

"But...."

"No buts. Just do it, baby,"

She looked confused, but shrugged and closed her eyes. Brenda nearly came when she saw Suzy's little pink tongue slip from between her lips. Brenda used her hands to pry her sticky lips apart and scooted a little closer. The first contact of Suzy's velvety tongue on her pussy sent a jolt though her like none she could remember. It only got better as the small girl began to lap at her pussy like a kitten would.

Brenda had always loved getting head. Male or female, it made no difference to her enjoyment. She found women usually had better technique, but it was far from an absolute. Suzy had none. In this case though, that lack of technique had absolutely no correlation to the pleasure. Just watching her was driving Brenda to distraction. As the bound girl got used to the aroma and taste, she seemed to lose some of her hesitancy. When Brenda began to moan and grind her hips, Suzy became bolder and more vigorous. Brenda held off as long as she could, but when she finally gave in and came, the orgasm was astounding.

It wasn't as physically powerful as some she had experienced, but in her head, the mental turn on made it uniquely pleasurable. The bursts of pleasure soon carried her away and when she looked down she was holding Suzy's head tightly to her pussy. She let go and found Suzy watching her curiously.

"What?" Brenda asked.

"Why?" she asked, tears forming in her big brown eyes.

Brenda smiled as encouragingly as she could and leaned in close. She had possessed herself of Suzy's body by force, but she dreaded this, the really brutal part.

"Steve's going to ask you for a divorce, baby. Not because he doesn't love you, but because you've become an insufferable bitch since you got pregnant. You're wound so tight I couldn't force a nail up your ass with a trip hammer. You're alienating everyone, with your constant whining and need for attention. God love you, baby, you're as sweet as the day is long, but you couldn't be destroying your life any more thoroughly if you were trying."

"I'm not trying," she said, tears streaming from her eyes.

"I know, baby."

"Besides," she sniffled, "What has that got to do with this?"

"You suck at sex. I felt like that was the root of your problems. You were frustrated, and afraid and your lack of desire for him was causing Steve problems that were just adding to the overall stress level around here. You didn't know how to enjoy getting down, and no matter what happens now, you can't say it ain't good, can you?"

"No," she admitted, "But you didn't have to give a demonstration, did you? You could have just told me."

"I've tried to just tell you. I've tried to help, but every time I go there, you clam up or get pissed."

"So you think that's an excuse to rape me?" she cried.

"Ouch. I probably deserved that, but I won't apologize. Desperate times call for desperate measures. I only saw one chance to keep you from making a huge mistake. I did what I had to do."

"So you're saying this was a public service? That you didn't enjoy it?"

"No, baby, I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it," Brenda admitted.

Suzy's face went from furious to relieved before Brenda's stunned eyes.

"Good. At least it wasn't a chore," she said softly.

"What on earth would make you think it was a chore? You're dead sexy."

"Am I?"

"Of course you are," Brenda replied.

She hadn't anticipated the conversation going like this and it was rapidly taking on a surreal quality she couldn't fathom.

"Do you mind letting me up? I'm starting to cramp."

"I will, if you promise to let me tie you down again," Brenda said with a half smile.

"Deal." ***

"That's some fucked up shit," Brenda said as she sipped her coffee.

"I guess, but if you're raised in it, you don't know any better."

"So when your momma gave you the birds and bees speech all she told you about was the pain and suffering?"

"Yeah. Scare tactics, I guess. Or maybe she really believes it. God knows she and Daddy never showed any interest in each other."

"I can't believe that shit still goes on in the modern day."

"You haven't ever left the city, Bren. There are communities out west that might as well still be in the last century. And there are some where people like Pastor Wiggins are God on earth in all but name."

"Why didn't you tell Steve?"

"Because I didn't know! I was raised that way. I just assumed everyone was that way."

"Everyone 'cept me."

"You're black," she said apologetically, "you're supposed to be depraved."

"Damn."

"Give me a little credit. I got past that part of my upbringing without any help," she said, sipping a bottled water.

"Sounds like some kind of cult or something."

"Not really. Just a very insular community. It got better when we moved to the city."

"Peoria's a city? Since when?" Brenda asked sarcastically.

"It's a lot bigger than Wigginsville."

"So this fucked up religious guy owns the whole town?"

"Not all of it, just the good parts. His father bought all the property up and laid out the town. Some kind of commune experiment back in the sixties, I think. The son got into fundamentalist religion and ran all the ex-hippies out when his dad passed. He owns the whole commercial district, so if you want to have a store there, you play his way. Same for the subdivisions. If you want to buy a house, you have to meet his demands. He won't allow any other church to move in and he's Mayor, as well as Pastor and Chairman of the board and Justice of the Peace and...you name it."

"Someone ought to sue."

"They have, but he's a big contributor to all the local and state politicos. Someone will get around to filing a federal suit, but you gotta understand something, Bren. The people who live there like it just the way it is. My folks only moved cause Daddy got a better job and they were forever pining for "home". They'll move back as soon as dad retires. Some people just like it all laid out for them."

"All right, so you're upbringing was fucked, still, you had to have known, girl. I mean, you watch the tube, go to the movies, read magazines. You just can't possibly have been totally in the dark."

"No, not totally, but you have to understand. This was something I was raised to believe. It takes a lot to get past it. Even harder than the race thing. At least there, I had the evidence of my experiences to help me take the blinders off. With this...Steve was my first and only. And my first time was just as painful and awful as mom said it would be. I really wanted to believe it was fun and romantic and wonderful and all that, but every time we tried it, it wasn't."

"You have to put something into it for it to be fun."

"You tell me that now and I've got....some pretty incredible proof it can be fun," she said with a pretty blush, "If you told me that last Friday, it would have been against my experience."

"That's just too out there for me, like something from the twilight zone or the outer limits. The girl who couldn't cum or some shit like that"

"Yeah, well. Getting fucked silly by my best friend is pretty out there for me," Suzy observed.

"Fair enough. But you ain't pissed at me or nothing, right?"

"I'm not real thrilled that you decided on this method. It's pretty humiliating," she said archly, but her face softened, "On the other hand, I don't think anything short of cumming like I did would have given me any chance of getting past it. Now that I've experienced what it can feel like, there's really no way I can go back to believing it's an unpleasant obligation. So I should be thanking you, but I'm not there yet. I still feel like I ought to be pissed, but what I really feel is relief."

Brenda had to smile at that, and Suzy smiled back.

"So now what?" Suzy asked.

"Well," Brenda said, drawing the word out, "We got till Monday before the boys get back and I was just starting to enjoy having a dick."

"So, what?"

"So, I think it's time to take your hot little ass upstairs and get back to fucking."

"I guess I could use some more practice," she said gravely, but Brenda could see the smile in her eyes.

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vaccinenumber9-blog · 8 years ago

Text

My kidney and how it failed me

It was back in the summer last year I was having a happy long run along the Blackwater Valley Path. I was almost an hour in when I had the most horrific pain in my stomach. ‘Bleughhh’ I thought. Stopped. And threw up into the stream. I felt awful. I looked at my phone. I was 5 miles in but 3 from home. I knew I couldn’t run 3 miles feeling like I did. Sweat prickled my forehead and I began to shake. I sat down. The path was narrow. One side bordered by the stream, the other a high fence, the A323 the other side. I would have to carry on and at least get to my gym which I calculated was just a mile away. I could get a drink, go to the loo and call Pete for a lift. A mile equates to just 10 minutes of running. I could do it.

And I did.

I got the gym and was shaking terribly. I went to the loo and packing no punches here I weed pure blood. 'Shit’ I thought. I wasn’t surprised. It had happened once before and that time I was referred to a urologist Mr Barber. I had a whole load of tests which yielded nothing and was told in all likelihood I had foot strike haemolysis. This is when you burst so many red blood cells in the soles of your feet running you wee blood. It’s common after long runs. As long as it was the only incident and it returned to normal on the next wee I was told not to worry.

But it happened after every run. Yet by bed time all was ok. I was puzzled. I tried not running and it stopped. As soon as I ran a mile it was back. A friend told me to get some of the dip sticks we used as VNs to see if there was still microscopic blood when it looked clear. There wasn’t. It was literally only the wee after my run.

So I let it ride. Such a mistake. Crow had gone missing and I was more worried about him. I was spending a lot of time looking for him.

Over the next 6 weeks my running took a nose dive. I was slow, I was struggling by mile 5. I was sticking to one route I felt I could manage. But as long as I was doing my daily 10k I convinced myself I was ok. Pete joined me on one and remarked how quiet I was.

'I’m concentrating on getting half way so I can stop. I’m really struggling Pete’

'What’s making you stop?’ He asked

'I don’t know. It’s like utter exhaustion. Like someone is pulling me backwards’

I was getting back ache too, high up on my left hand side. I kept slapping on heat patches before I ran. I was getting dreadful stomach ache. 'Irritable bowel’ I told myself. One time I ran to the pharmacy and stuffed a load of semeticone in my mouth and carried on running.

I turned a blind eye to the fact I kept throwing up and felt sick. That I was falling asleep at 5pm for hours, that I kept waking up in the night confused and wandering about. During those episodes my whole body felt weird. Like my muscles were crawling.

I got worried as soon I was weeing blood continuously. I was exhausted. I went to my gp in the end and she reassured me nothing was found on all my scans but she’d refer me back to Barber. She put me on antibiotics, she said I had an infection. Nitrofuratoin. It was a disaster. By day 2 I had an allergic reaction. I’m already allergic to penicillin so I knew straight away. I stopped taking them and waited for my appointment. One evening Pete took me to an ooh GP. He read Barbers report, said nothing was wrong. I specifically asked him if my kidneys were ok. I showed him a pot of my wee. I said to him I was a VN, if a dog was pissing like that I’d put it on a drip. He laughed.

Little did I know but in 3 weeks I would be back in that room in kidney failure.

I went home. Over the next week protein showed up in my wee as well as blood, ketones, glucose, white blood cells. 'My kidneys are failing’ I said matter of fact to my husband. I still ran that day.

I went to see Barber. 'Ah! It’ll be your kidney stone!’ He said

'My what?’

'I’m sure I told you’

'You didnt’ I said, mixed emotions, relief it neatly explained everything and anger that had I known I would have arranged to see him weeks previously.

'It’s tiny’ he said. 'Just 2mm’ surprised you didn’t wee it out. 'We’ll scan you tomorrow’

Scan me he did. The next day I saw a friend, came home and felt a bit off. I started throwing up uncontrollably. The pain in my back was worse than labour pain. I became delirious. I thought Atticus was talking to me. He had, apparently, lost his hat in the garden. Had I seen it? It was a tartan golfing hat with a bobble on the top. Evie rubbed my back. Pete was worried sick. I said I was fine. I got it together and emailed Barber. A few hours later his secretary called. He had looked at my scan and I needed to go in immediately.

With that I kind of then realised it was serious and I had a tiny panic.

I went into his office and jokingly said 'you aren’t giving me bad news are you?’

He said he was. He said my stone was 12mm blocking my whole kidney, which was ulcerated and had failed. He needed to operate that night to put a stent in to save it. I giggled and said thank god I thought I was dying.

He got stern at that point and told me to stop it and listen up. He needed to ask a colleague how on Earth they were going to get it out. That if I liked it or not this was going to interrupt my life for a while.

'It can’t’ I said. I have to walk my dogs on Monday. I’m self employed.

He told me to go home back my bags and Jeanette his secretary would call me.

I tiptoed out. Thinking 'tits and arse’.

I was to go in the next morning at 8. I got up at 6 and ran 6 miles to prove I was just fine. My sister took me in.

So I have the luxury of private healthcare and I was shown to my room. I felt just fine. My sister and I giggling over some magazines and in walks Barber.

He looks at us puzzled for a minute as we say in unison 'we’re sister’

'You don’t say!’

'She’s the older sensible one’ I say

'Yes I don’t run’ my sister says.

We both giggle

He drew a big arrow on my left thigh explaining he wanted to get the right kidney. Which was the left one. As he departs my sister giggles 'for fuck sake Kate you could have warned me he was that gorgeous’

'I know it’s nothing short of disastrous really’

It wasn’t long before I get taken to theatre. And of course one minute I’m telling the anaesthetist where all my piercings are and the next I’m waking up pulling my own et tube out. Yick.

I get taken back to my sister. They give me a sandwich. I can’t leave til I’ve eaten it only the local anaesthetic they use in your throat means I can’t actually swallow. I tear it up a bit, move it around and declare I want to go home. Pete’s arrived with Evie, I know I feel awful but I’m not letting anyone know. I walk out. Trying to walk desperately. The pain in my kidney is like I have a knitting needle in my back. I’m going to be sick by the time I’m at the parking meter. I don’t want Evie to know. I focus on getting into the car, the front door, to my box of painkillers. I find codeine, paracetamol and ibuprofen I take them all and fight back the tears.

The next day I’m a mess. The pain is like labour pain, coming in waves and I can’t stop crying. I’m so confused. By 6pm Pete gets me to an emergency doctor. He propels me into the waiting room. I slide off the chair onto the floor. The receptionist helps pick me up, she’s lovely and I get laid down on a bed and all manner of pain killers injected. My body is rejecting the stent. The pain is over whelming. They keep me there a few hours and as the morphine kicks in I feel better. I need a cup of tea so they suggest I try going to the cafe. If I’m ok I can go home with pain relief.

I am absolutely off my trolley by now but pain free. Pete gets me tea and some biscuits. I find some funny books in the second hand book stall in the reception of the hospital.

I can do this’ I muse.

But I can’t. I get home. My friend Meg tells me I’m just following in the footsteps of my ancestor Samuel Pepys. I manage a giggle and read up all about it. It makes grim reading. He had his stone removed without anaesthesia. He was so pleased every year he threw it a party on Its removal anniversary, March 26th. My nephews birthday.

I feel sick reading it. They killed him in the end. His left kidney ulcerated and the stones adhered. A grim way to go.

At 6am I creep into the garden, hot and shaking I sit on the railway sleepers and silently cry. I can’t endure the week I need my kidney to drain and heal. My whole body feels in shock. I remember sitting there with Bean wrapped in an old cardigan holding him the day he died. At that thought I start crying and I can’t stop. I literally can’t control it. I go inside and tell Pete something is really wrong.

So he takes me to A&E. it’s from this point I can’t remember much. Just episodes of vomiting and sleeping. They sedated me and admitted me. I slept and vomited for a week. I forgot I had children. I had lucid moments. Anger at a nurse who was exasperated I wasn’t weeing and I kept telling her that was the problem I had kidney failure. Stupid woman. It was unfair of me. I recall Andy messaging me. He was in the Sun. Page 20 and not naked. Pete brought up a copy, it was all about how great he had done on his experimental chemo drug, he was cancer free. I remember smiling and then vomiting missing his picture by inches. I messaged him back saying I’d thrown up all over him. It was a comfort, if anyone knows how to survive a hospital situation it’s him and this was nothing compared to that.

I remember a guacamole sandwich that looked like poo. An older lady patient rubbing my back one night as I threw up hour after hour. My mouth was ulcerated by now and I was exhausted.

All I wanted at this point was for them to remove my kidney. I begged and pleaded. They were trying to get hold of Mr Bott who would eventually operate but he wasn’t about. I was kept on morphine, diclofenac, paracetamol, cyclazine, a host of other anti sickness stuff and a constant drip.

Eventually Pete emailed Mr Bott in desperation. The nurses were saying I needed to go home but I could barely cope on morphine so I was just stuck there.

Then on Friday evening a nurse handed me a phone and said 'it’s for you, it’s your consultant’

'How are you feeling!’ He bellowed down the line

'Like death. Please can you remove my kidney. I want to sell it on eBay’ I whisper

'I’m transferring you to my private suite, I’ll operate first thing’ he said.

I let out a strangled sob. Within minutes a porter arrived and wheeled me off. The nurse in the private wing was glorious. She cuddled me, ran me a hot bath, made me something to eat. Injected me with a whole load of stuff that felt great. I ate for the first time in a week. She put on the TV. She made me feel human.

The next day I had my op. It took ages. I didn’t recover well. They had trouble waking me up. I vaguely recall them trying and desperately wanting to sleep. I was so weak and exhausted it was hardly a surprise. I had been injected with heparin all week as well as the worry was that going from running 6 miles daily to this I’d get a deep vein thrombosis. My stomach was a mess of bruises. My piercings had all got infected, my mouth was so ulcerated. I felt like shit.

Mr Bott called Pete to tell him he had got it all out but he had to put in another stent as my kidney was a mess.

But the stone was out.

I decided to be brave and went for the option of stent removal without anaesthesia. I was worried I wouldn’t wake up at all third time round. He took it out the next day but warned me to stay a while as I’d get colic about 2 hours later. I did. I needed more morphine. Kidney colic isn’t nice.

Pete took me home after I had a bath. I made myself look as normal as I could. I looked scrawny and I felt awful. I put my boots on and walked out. They gave me a bag full of pain killers and a number to call in an emergency. Pete got me home. I curled up on the sofa and slept. 2 hours later I heard the gate go. I got up and opened the front door. Seth and Evie hurtled into my arms. They had been at my sisters and Pete had collected them and a Christmas tree. We spent that afternoon decorating it. Seth spent that day cuddling me.

Fast track a month later and I’m back having more scans (no more stones) and I’m told it was made of Uric Acid. I am Botts first ever case of a vegetarian with a stone made of animal protein. He suspects it’s a metabolic problem. Do I have gout? I tell him about my child hood arthritis how I still get flare ups in my big toe joints but I know how to deal with it. I just cut the sides of my running shoes open and run on the outside edges of my feet. He looks at me long and hard and silently.

I start talking 'my dad has gout, and he had a kidney stone’ I ramble. 'It’s all his fault!’

I tell him how my arthritis kind of went when I became a vegetarian. That my mum treated it gently, no steroids, no ops, lots of rest and heat. I did ok.

He tells me I need to drink more water, to modify my diet. Cut out as much purine as I can. If it’s metabolic he’ll put me on allopurinol.

As I scuttle out his room I text my dad and ask him if he’s still on meds for his gout and what is it called??

'Allopurinol’ he says.

Bloody Bunkers. It figures. His brother and sister had the same problems, trace it back through his mum and you land at Mr Pepys.

So here I am still having tests done but confidently knowing my dads ok and I will be too.

'It’s funny’ my mum says 'your dad was 45 too when he had all his problems with his stones and gout’

You can’t defy your genetic path it would seem. These things are written in, but I’m in good company at least. As my dad slops in his slippers (drives my mum mad) towards 80 he’s in fine fettle. He moans about his feet as much as I do, but he still has all his teeth, selective hearing and all his beautiful snow white hair.

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