#medical fears

[valdevia]

2 cases of watermelon seeds sprouting inside human intestines were reported in a recent article. Both resulted in a serious bowel obstruction that had to be cleared with surgery.

It is unknown how the plants were able to survive and thrive inside the digestive tract, with the authors suggesting a previously unknown facultative parasitism in watermelon plants.

[fatedwithmbc]

Ibrance, party of one… Ok, that’s kind of lame, but I can’t sleep. I don’t know if this is a legitimate side effect or a psychosomatic one. I was not thrilled to be beginning a new line of treatment tonight (or in general). Line ONE should do the trick. It should be most effective. It’s the gold standard according to every second opinion doctor I met with prior to treatment even beginning. It’s supposed to kill the cancer proteins. Starting a second line, especially one that comes with all of the same side effects as the first line of treatment is like being back at square one. I’m scared I’m going to lose my energy and go right back to sleeping and being in bed all day as the meds kill the cancer proteins. Fuck, I STILL have to use the words “cancer proteins”. It doesn’t get easier almost a year later.

I had an appointment with my primary care physician yesterday. The last one ever. She is leaving the practice because of the rules Penn has placed on their doctors to see “X” amount of patients in “X” amount of time per day. As a physician, I am sure it’s frustrating to be told how much time you can allot to one patient, especially when they have a significant illness or complications. She did have some different insight on my back pain which I was happy about— because “ghost pain” sans an amputation wasn’t cutting it with me. The hypothesis is that I likely have some nerve pain in my back, or a pinched nerve. This explains why sitting and standing emphasize the pain, while laying down alleviates it. She ordered an MRI, but the first available appointment is for August 3rd. “A shortage of technicians” is what the scheduler stated. I immediately contacted my Jefferson care team to see if there was anyway this could be expedited. The last thing I want is to miss out on Colorado because I can’t sit or stand. I left a message with my oncologist not expecting a response until today (06/29/23), alas, he called me last night and is getting an appointment STAT.

Side note, I love saying ��STAT”, it makes me feel official.

I finally return to therapy and psychiatry tomorrow. These will be my first appointments since my 10 day hospital stay (sang like the words “3 hour tour” from the Gilligan’s Island theme song (And speaking of older shows, the man who plays the character Herman Munster is also the judge in My Cousin Vinny… look it up, you’re welcome)). I’m both excited and anxious for these appointments. Excited because it’s been too long for me to be without these services and anxious because I am not sure if I am going to be told my progress sans anti-depressant has been some type of mania. To me, it’s progress, although, I recognize the need for my antidepressant and am looking forward to restarting it. I am hoping the adjunct I have been taking can help me find a middle ground in life. A nice easy place where I sleep regular hours and have motivation to do the simple things like laundry, versus returning to the world of sleeping all day and accomplish nothing because I don’t wake up until 4pm. YES! That was my normal. I don’t want to go back there. Especially after enjoying English Muffins each morning with my Mom-Mom while we discuss our plans for the day.

I suppose that is enough for my medical fears and updates.

Outside of these “developments”, I have attempted a reconnection with my estranged family as my uncle has an incurable Glioblastoma and is in hospice care. I feel terrible for this man who was intelligent, determined, loving and stubborn to a fault (which he learned from his father). He was a good father to his children, and even to me when I was a child and spent many summers at his home or on vacations that he and his wife lavished upon me. We used to be so close. It’s funny how estrangement happens and no one wants to be the owner of the reason. In the end, I will eat the blame, just so I can have a chance to say good bye. Is that right? No. And frankly, I’m more than a little pissed off about it. How do you put adult responsibilities in a child’s hands and then shame them for being unable to meet your expectations of them. I have a distinct memory of baby sitting for my other aunt and uncle for a week during the summer in high-school. At the time, they lived about a mile away from my ill uncle. I spent the money I earned to buy my aunt a birthday present and she snubbed me for weeks over not coming to see her despite the gift. Why? Because I didn’t come see them while I wasn’t babysitting. I was 15, I had a boyfriend and friends who, at the time felt more important, as those things do at t hat age. Emotional maturity never seemed to be a strong suit for that side of the family and I recall it causing many rifts and hurt feelings for many. Especially “S” children. At the end of the day, I just want to do the right thing. But as I have said before, why does the right thing always mean I’m eating the blame? It hurts. I loved them all once upon a time and thought the sun shone out of all of their asses. Little did I know that my father was giving me the best upbringing I could have had in life. One with just the right amount of hardship to teach me how to earn things for myself, how to be a decent human and to love where it was deserved.

Newsflash: Money does not equal everything, nor does it equal a happy life. Though I am sure it doesn’t hurt.

Why did karma decide I could have a long life with a stage IV diagnosis, while others I love have a stage IV diagnosis and quickly deteriorate and die? I can’t reconcile it with anything I have in my heart.

I’m starting to get teary eyed while typing this, and at 3:35am, I should probably try to get some sleep for my body’s sake. As always, thanks for listening (or reading). El Fin.

[hercarisntyours]

transformers go go is reviving me after transformers one tore my heart to shreds, taped it back together, put it in a kiln and threw it off a cliff where those pieces then get destroyed by corrosion and smashed into by a blind shark, WHY ARE THESE SO SOUL SUCKINGLY CUTE

[creedei]

Some old and some new doodles

[cherry-pop-elf]

Kiss It Better

Curly (mouthwashing) x reader

AN: No one asked for this but CURLY DESERVED BETTER-!

Sum: You were taking care of Curly, your partner, when you just had to ask him a question that was burning you as much alive as the cockpit burned him. Did he actually crash the ship?

Warnings: 18+, gore, medical situations, Jimmy, violence, just mouthwashing in general, ablism, lots of medical stuff (from someone that knows way to much about medical shit because of being in and out of the hospital all her life)

“Morning honey.” You would force yourself to smile. You had to. You had to for him. To give him hope like he always gave you. To be a little bit of real sunshine through the day. Just wanted to take care of him. Give Anya some kind of break.

A wheeze was your greeting.

Wasn’t like it was his fault. He couldn’t really speak right now. You wondered if he would ever speak again. You would miss his voice but it’s worth it for him to live. He will live, you knew he would. You would make sure of it.

“Let’s have a look at you.” You would grab the clipboard that Anya left for you and took a look over. The small little list to help you understand how to care for his issues. When to wash him, what time his medications were, whatever routine was needed for that day. Was your Bible so to speak. You followed it to the last ink splotch.

“Your bandages don’t look to need to be changed yet, your IV bag needs to be changed, I’ll check your catheter, and yada yada yada. Wanna try and swallow today? Maybe if you can swallow some water I can grind up the pain pills into powder for you. Wanna try?”

He gave two distinct blinks for yes.

“Wonderful. Let me do this routine, so you can mentally prepare.” You would explain, as you went to slip on the latex gloves. Didn’t want to risk transferring some kind of infection. He’s already fighting for his life as it is. No need to make it harder.

You would first change out his IV bag, since he needed to stay as hydrated and fed nutrients as possible, before working on the awkward catheter. Luckily Anya made it very easy to use. She had opted for a condom catheter since she didn’t want to put himself at anymore risk to infections, and pain, as possible. Seemed the trauma made it rather impossible to control his bowls anyway so it worked out. All you had to do was drain the bag, wash it, and reattach it to the side of the table. Wasn’t like he was going to be moving around much anyway.

“So Daisuke was showing me his gameboy. Teaching me about how the lore works and all that. I really had no idea what he was talking about, but it’s better than Swansea snoring.” You laughed, and did your best to keep yourself peppy. To help Curly feel somewhat involved with society. To not just be trapped in the med bay alone. Daisuke and Swansea would visit, and Anya did what she could medically, but sometimes you just need someone to talk to.

“Think it’s a rouge like game. That’s nice. Helps keep you entertained with wanting to break through more and more dungeons in one session.” You rambled, before reattaching the bag. Had you sigh in relief to see you didn’t mess up the chord. Some urine had already started to fill the bag. Must have been triggered by the new IV. Good good. Everything was correct.

“You ready?” You asked, as this was always the hardest part. Getting medication in him. Anya would do her best but you couldn’t blame her for struggling. It’s such a mental tax to try and take care of someone but it results in more pain. You were willing to take that burden. You were his partner after all. You felt it’s only fair you take care of him. Gave Anya some breathing room to actually care for herself. She deserved to take care of herself to.

With two clear blinks you would get to work.

You would slip your hand under his back, and forced him to sit up. He groaned in pain, and tried his best to keep his head upright, as you two tried to work together. To survive this. To try and fight through.

“You are doing so well.” You reassured, as your brought the water bottle up to his open mouth. He was able to let his head hang back, and did what he could to open his throat. Was awkward, but he managed to do it. He took a proper swallow of water. You could hardly hide your excitement.

“You did it! Oh my god you did it!” You couldn’t help but kiss his cheek. It hurt, of course, but he very much felt it was worth it. He had his own pride in being able to do some kind of basic human function again.

You would lay him back down, and was quick to grind up medication to put in the water bottle. You couldn’t wait to tell Anya his progress. You were positive the rest of the crew would be happy to hear the progress.

Well…..Most of the crew.

You used your anger towards Jimmy to help you grind the pain killers into powder. Oh how you hated him. You knew deep down he was responsible for the crash. You knew he was. You weren’t sure why he would be, but you just knew that Curly would never. If he had to, for whatever reason, he would have come on to the intercom to inform everyone to prepare for a crash. He would have done something. Anything.

What purpose would there be in crashing the ship?

Jimmy was his copilot. He would be the only other person to have access to the cockpit. He had to have been involved somehow. There had to have been something going on. You just knew it.

You just wish you had proof.

You sighed, as you would shake up the powder in the bottle. Made sure it was fully dissolved to avoid any issues with it going down his throat.

You just couldn’t understand.

Why would Jimmy crash the ship?

You would return back to curly, and do the same routine again. Slow, and small, drips into his throat. Would take a while, and would make your arm beg for death, but this would make life easier for Curly. That’s all that mattered. A arm cramp is worth it to help Curly survive.

“Curly…..Since you are more lucid now I….I just gotta ask something.”

The way his eye darted towards you said he knew what you were going to ask. Knew that it’ll be asked. He knew, and he couldn’t help but try and look towards the door. As if afraid someone would walk in.

That had you very concerned.

“…..Jimmy crashed the ship, didn’t he?” You whispered. Tried to be as hush as possible, in case someone did overhear. Was just the slow drips of the water into his dry mouth, and you.

One blink.

Two blinks.

“I fucking knew it.” You gritted your teeth, as you felt stupid to ever even have the slightest doubt that any possible reality there would be that Curly would do such a thing.

“I wish I could ask you why. Do…Do you know why?” You had to ask. You just needed to know. Know if Jimmy was as dangerous as you thought.

One blink.

T-

“How’s the captain doing?”

You would turn your head sharply, and saw Jimmy. Just standing there. God you were terrified how long he had been there. Did he hear what you asked? Didn’t seem so. Jimmy was a very aggressive person. He snapped at the slightest tone shift. If he heard you ask a question like that you wouldn’t be talking now.

“He’s….Alive.” You were caught rather off guard. You didn’t know what to say. You were scared of him. You had to be brave, though. You had a better chance at defending yourself. Curly couldn’t.

You would hear his heavy foot steps come closer, and out right feel his body heat against yours. Just looking over your shoulder. Was like this burning shadow over you. Made you feel like you’ll be squashed like a bug.

“Has he been able to talk yet?”

That’s a weird question to ask. Why not ask how he’s feeling, what progress he’s made, how his vitals are. Why is him talking on the front of his mind?

Because Curly knew something he shouldn’t.

“No. I think he’s lost his voice for good. I don’t think he’s ever going to speak again.” You lied, as you finished the test of the bottle. Returned your partner back on the table, and spun around. Nose to chest to the man. Had you terrified, but you must be brave. For Curly.

“Damn. Rough for him. No more barking orders, huh?” Jimmy tried to joke, but you could only give an awkward laugh at. Mostly to keep from pissing him off.

If he’s willing to crash a ship what else is he willing to do?

“Did you need something?” You managed to force out, as you grabbed the clipboard. Just trying to find an excuse to not look directly at Jimmy. To have a motive as to why you would stay in the med bay longer than most. Just anything to get Jimmy to leave you two alone.

“Hey, I give a shit to about him. Is it criminal to care about my friend?” He snapped at you, and it made you grab your clipboard tighter. You swore he seemed to smirk at seeing you so startled. Like he got off to the idea that he got the captains sweetheart scared.

That he’s the new boss.

“Never said that. You are the co pilot and new captain. You-“ “Pilot now. As if he’s ever going to steer a ship again. Not even a wheelchair with those stumps.” He snorted, as you wanted to smack him across the face.

“Yes….As the new Pilot and Captain I would figure you would be swamped in work. Like finding a way for us to contact help. Kinda the biggest priority after Curly. Anya and I are busy with him. You, Daisuke, and Swansea can handle the rest.”

You noticed how he seemed to roll his eyes about Anya. As if he couldn’t care less about the woman. Made you curious on what kind of beef he would have with her. She’s Anya! Who hated her?

“Yeah. Guess you are right there.” He muttered, as if it was never on his mind. Never an option that they could escape. Oh how you were getting chills.

“Keep on trucken then. Take care of our Captain Cripple. His ass needs all the help his stumpy limbs can get.” He would give him a once over, before looking at you. You made sure to keep your eyes to the clipboard instead. All you did was nod in acknowledgment, before he left.

“What are we going to do, Curly?” You sighed, as you would just lay next to him in defeat. What can you do? You had no idea. Curly was always such a good captain. Made you regret never paying more attention to how he worked the cock pit. Maybe if you did you could be more useful.

As you were full of worry and regret, Curly would weakly try and turn his head. Naked teeth were against his cheek. A attempt to kiss your cheek the best he could.

You smiled at the gesture, and made sure to be careful with snuggling your face into his shoulder.

“I’ve got you, and you got me. We can do this. I know it.” You reassured you both, as you closed your eyes. There to wait until his pain medication kicked in, so he could sleep.

As you relaxed, you couldn’t help but swear something was strange about his breathing.

It was like….He was saying words.

You would focus as hard as you could on your ears, as he would drift in and out of his buzzed state. Fighting to stay awake, but sleep coming for him.

“A….a…n…ya…..Kn….ows……”

[cupofsharks]

Something something... I forgot.

[glyphalodon]

this GODDAMN video has been absolutely rotting my brain recently because WHY does he look so HANDSOME IN IT, GODDDD..

[rawmune]

Magna Medicinal

Anatomy of Daan

[luck-of-the-drawings]

THIS THING IS SCUUUFFED AS HELL & ITS ALSO THE BEST THING I HAVE ANIMATED THUS FAR. IM SO IN LOVE WITH EMIZEL. JUST WISH I GAVE HIM MORE STUPID TATTOOS. NEXT TIME THO. NEXT TIME. I ALSO LOVE VEX&VIV SOOOO MUCH. charlies flavor of Deranged is my FAVORITE!!

[triptychofvoids]

coloring a few of @vaxxman's drawings for enrichment and whimsy!!

[incognitopolls]

I've deleted this poll and turned off reblogs because it was full of ableism. I apologize for the lapse in judgement. I've preserved the text of the poll below, as it stood at the time of removal.

–

What kind of medical problem do you most fear developing? (Not including death.)

Terminal illness 15.7%

Chronic illness 3.7%

Coma 2.2%

Serious injury 1.9%

Limb loss 4.7%

Dental problem 4.1%

Brain damage 13.3%

Dementia or another form of memory loss 31%

Another psychological condition 2.3%

Unwanted or unviable pregnancy 13%

Something else 3.9%

I have no strong fear of developing a medical problem 4.3%

2370 votes

–

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[potatoescanbesadtoo]

corpse bride

[whump-galaxy]

Thinking of some kind of lab/prison whump.

Every day blurring into the next for the whumpee(s).

Sterile white surfaces covered in blood or scribbles.

Stainless steel doors that lock automatically throughout the day and if you’re not inside, you’re punished.

The amount/kind of outside things they’re allowed dwindling over time because they’re used for violence.

Barely knowing the name of the subjects around you.

Or having one roommate that may or may not like the whumpee.

Giant lunchrooms giving insight into how many people may be kept here, but it’s always near empty when the whumpee is there.

Hard beds with thin, cheap sheets that are changed too often or too little.

Lights out always comes too early.

[lar-mx]

writing prompt #5

The room fell silent, Steph wasn't expecting the pain filled look they were giving her. The question repeated itself in her head a couple of times as her mind searched for a way to save the situation.

"I see you don't have an answer." The silence was still palpable in the room as well as the cold she felt when she saw those beautiful blue eyes lose their shine. "I should have known it was too good to be true, tell bru… Mr. Wayne that if he wanted to know about the projects so much, he could come ask for them himself instead of using a sugar trap." Steph tried to say something before an alert went off on Danny's phone, at which point she saw the panic that took over his eyes, before he ran to an adjacent hallway that led to a room, in which she was not. I had had the opportunity to enter. As she followed him she could see how Danny took a series of vials and several injections. She hesitated a moment before walking through the half-open door. At that moment she saw how he proceeded to apply several of the injections to a girl of about 5 or 6 years old. Steph knew just by seeing her that she was Danny's daughter. and some of the things they discovered while investigating the Nightingale medical company made a lot of sense.

[deadscell]

[rebouks]

The first day of the new school year began much the same as any other; being accosted by the hallway monitor for dawdling, having inappropriate footwear and daring to possess yet another pair of headphones, only for them to remember who he was and abandon any hopes of receiving an explanation, or an excuse.

Robin thought he would’ve outgrown his selective mutism by now, but apparently, it didn’t work like that. He’d eventually seen a therapist a few years prior, but the poor man didn’t exactly have a handbook for “strange child who can’t speak sometimes due to other people’s overwhelming head voices but won’t/can’t explain himself to anyone other than a ghost who’s stuck in his attic” so, it’d fallen a little flat. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself; but the older he got, the more he started to think he’d been using his gift as a convenient excuse for some of his issues. Maybe. Possibly.

Much less bombarded than when he was little, Robin could usually tune out the everyday chatter within surrounding minds, though he rarely did. He’d become far too accustomed to being nosy, and at this point it was weirder NOT to hear everyone else’s thoughts. It produced an intense itchy feeling that was almost impossible to ignore, as though he’d miss something important the moment he stopped listening.

As a result, Robin struggled to live in the moment, and for himself; constantly juggling other people’s thoughts and emotions as well as his own. Sometimes he wondered if he’d understand his brain better if it belonged to someone else, like if he could observe it from a distance as with everyone else, it’d make more sense-.. or maybe paying more attention in Mr Fitzherbert’s biology classes would help. He supposed he was still overwhelmed after all, just better at hiding it.

Either way, he wasn’t about to admit to all this nonsense out loud, especially not if it landed him in Doctor Abbott’s office again. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to find out how weird he actually was, least of all a psychologist. Think of all the experiments they’d want to do, all the prodding and poking-.. or worse. Robin shuddered at the thought. No, thank you!

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