#medical journey tw

[herleaf]

[ruporas]

dragon meat, you, and me

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XIX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWO is here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here PART FIFTEEN is here PART SIXTEEN is here PART SEVENTEEN is here PART EIGHTEEN is here...nineteen...oy vey.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... THE BART RETURNS! The earth rejoices! 🥳🎉 Physical therapy can be fun, even if it usually isn't!

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

Danny learns a few more words with practice.

Foda is simple. If Danny is hungry, he can ask for foda. It sounds exactly like food, and when he asks, they feed him.

…Or they up his IV. Which. Danny’s tongue might still feel sore and nasty, but the doctors and nurses and millions of minders don’t seem that mad when he sticks his tongue out at them. Sometimes they even laugh.

They don’t even sound all that mean.

It takes Danny a good chunk of waking time for him to realize that he…probably is hooked up to something he doesn’t want to think about, since all the efforts of lifting and moving him haven’t resulted in a single bathroom trip since he woke up here.

Firstly: horrible.

Secondly: his legs are super, absolutely, positively immobilized, and if someone doesn’t give him enough medication quickly enough after it wears off, Danny is very aware that something is deeply wrong with them.

So. Uh. That’s…gross.

He learns bealo just as quickly. He isn’t sure what bealo means, per se, but when he says it, they up his medication until Danny can pretend he doesn’t have any legs again.

God niht is goodnight, unless Danny is feeling snippy, and then it’s just niht.

…The one lady who minds him always says the whole thing, though. Even when Danny’s mean. Like the one time he threw his rocket at someone.

Or the time he started ignoring everyone when they tried to touch him.

…Or the one time he tried to freeze his IV bag, and put everyone on alert because if he’d been human, that would have seriously hurt him.

“Sorry,” Danny’d whispered, even if it wouldn’t mean anything to her.

She’d patted his hand and meant it. Danny’d had to dry his eyes with his wrist. “Eall es wel.”

Anyway.

Danny hates being in the freaking bed every hour of every day. So when his “sitting up” exercises turn into “hey, let’s try the wheelchair” practice, Danny gets so excited-slash-nervous that he kind of feels like he’s going to throw up all the liquids he’s been injected with.

None of the regular people try to lift him. Instead the lady does it herself, scooping Danny up in very strong arms, the golden cuffs on her wrists weirdly warm on Danny’s skin. When Danny’s settled, his legs sticking out real weird and his back kind of sore, he’s…out of bed.

He’s. He’s not in bed anymore.

And. Sure. It’s temporary, but it’s not the bed. Danny can wriggle, and he can sort of palm the wheels underneath him with the heels of his shaky hands, and he can see so much more of himself than he has in ages and ages.

For one. Both of his legs are in casts. That’s. Not good. He can’t feel it right now, but the sight of fully encased legs…

Well. If he can transform that won’t be a problem. If. If he has to escape. But it is…it’s super scary. He mostly remembers being captured, but the…the other people had been focusing more on his thoracic cavity and his face and head.

…So why are his legs so bad? Did something else happen?

(It did, didn’t it?)

(…Didn’t it??)

His hands shake, but there’s something to all that grip training, or else Danny wouldn’t be able to paw at his neckline to look down his own shirt. Or, well, his cloth nightie, anyway.

It’s good that he looks, since, well…his chest is glowing a solid green.

Whatever should probably be scar tissue. Uh. It…isn’t. There’re gouges down his chest and a crater where his heart should be that probably should be healing over, considering, you know, he’s not freaking dead at this exact second (mostly??), but. Instead of, like, healed flesh, or, say, his insides, there’s a transparent green…jelly… holding him together.

He can see how the green bounces with his heart beat.

...Danny drops the neckline of his gown. His breath comes in choking bursts, eyes pressed into his eye sockets—he feels sick.

He is sick. He has been sick.

The humans are keeping him here because he’s a freak of nature and he’s broken from head to toe and the Guys in White carved his flesh out of his body and opened him up like a can of cranberry sauce.

He presses his hands to his chest, to his stomach, just trying to breathe for long enough that he doesn’t throw up his oatmeal and occasional juice and IV nutrition onto the pristine floor of his sickroom. The people around him all make sympathetic noises that don’t help because he doesn’t know what they mean.

And then he feels something weird.

Not all the sensation in his fingers are back. It’s easier for him to feel impediments than it is to feel textures—something that blocks him from moving, rather than anything sensory-specific. He can usually tell when he touches fabric, because when he moves too far, it pulls tight around his hand. He can tell when he’s on something solid when his hand fails to go through it.

There is something solid sticking out of him.

Danny’s heartbeat quickens. It’s not. It’s. There’s something in him.

And it’s not—it’s so solid. When Danny brushes his hands against it, he can feel his skin and his flesh move with it, trying not to dislodge the thing embedded in him. It pulls at his skin. He doesn’t know what it is.

His fingers tremble as he tries to brush over the object through his gown, trying to figure out its shape from faulty touch alone. It’s like waking up to find himself jammed with needles all over again.

People are talking around them. Danny doesn’t try to listen in. He’s scared. He’s so scared. Something’s happened to him, and he didn’t even notice.

Some of it is—hard. There’s a crinkling sound when he moves. Danny manages to pull his gown neckline back again to catch something of a glimpse, and all he sees is plastic.

He doesn’t know what it is.

He doesn’t know who to ask. He can’t understand anyone and he doesn’t know if he trusts them.

They put something in him. There’s something embedded in him.

He thinks he’s going to cry.

Something touches his arm—Danny flinches. His core tightens with stress as he puts a metaphorical hand on the button, ready to run and hide at any notice.

It’s the lady. He knows her.

No, he doesn’t. He doesn’t know her at all. He can’t talk to her in any way that matters. She’s not a doctor. He doesn’t know why she’s here, or why she’s keeping him here.

She’s nice. She fed him. But is that all it takes to trick him? To make him compliant? Pliable?

She stops touching him when he gets scared, her eyes worried. She kneels—closer than Danny would like, probably, but she keeps her hands to herself. Danny’s heart races faster, out of order, starting and stopping and starting again like a bad engine.

“Eow eart wel?” she asks from his left arm rest, a common question, so softly. Danny doesn’t know what it means. “Eall es wel. Ænlic eow, ænlic me. Bruce bræð wið me?”

She takes a big, deep, breath. Her hand rises slightly over her chest, following an exaggerated movement. Don’t panic. Breathe. Breathe like me. One, two, three.

Danny’s breaths are more choked. More panicked.

But when she breathes, he breathes with her—even with every stutter in between.

“Hwæt es woh[O3] ?” the lady asks, so gently it’s almost a whisper. Her pointer finger hovers over his body, but doesn’t touch—and eventually, Danny figures out she probably wants to know where he’s hurting.

But he’s not hurting. He’s scared. There’s something inside him, and he isn’t sure what it is. He presses the heel of his hand to the object. He feels something rigid refuse to bend inside his flesh.

There’s something of recognition in the woman’s face. “Inne cwic tima,” she says, more certain of answers outside the room, and darts away,

Danny wants to bounce his bound leg. He feels awful when anyone is in the room with him, considering how little of them he knows, but, somehow, it’s so much worse when he’s actually alone.

When she comes back, there’s a second person who walks through the double doors with her, in blue scrubs with ducks on them. They wave to Danny.

Danny…blinks. He feels numb. It’s kind of a problem.

They take it in stride, though; in their hands is a blank board and a chunky marker. The cap comes off, the new person scribbles for a minute or so, and then turns the board around so that Danny can see.

It’s a…person. A rudimentary outline person, sure, with some visible bones and organs to fill in the person-shaped outline. Danny can recognize most of them from anatomy class, although those memories are more…personal, now. A little more painful.

The person taps on the board. The person points to Danny.

Danny frowns.

The person turns the board back around and makes some Pew, Pew, Pew! sounds with their mouth, occasionally opening and closing their hand over the board to match the noise. There’s some more scribbling. When the board turns back around, there’s a violent smudge of marker on top of the drawn person’s drawn intestines.

The person takes their covered pinky finger and erases a little neat circle of marker in the intestines, mostly favoring one side. They draw a little arrow from the hole to the general outside-of-the-person blank area. Then another circle, with a thicker circle inside.

Danny recognizes the object jutting out of him. Oh. This is how he got it.

The person—probably a doctor, Danny guesses, or the surgeon who did this to him—do these people even need credentials, actually?—hands the board over to the lady. They hold out ten outstretched fingers, marker under their arm, and make a show of counting every one of the outstretched fingers with the opposite hand. Then they take the board back.

And then, when they write on the board, Danny can actually understand what they say.

Or, well, it’s numbers! The numbers are the same as his—the line and a circle is clearly meant to be a ten, and the little x is a multiplication symbol— they draw a 10, as clearly and a brightly as it could be against a stark white board, and add a little x 7, probably to indicate a week; the result is ten suns times seven, or seventy suns.

Danny feels his heart bounce in his chest. Danny would bet a whole lot of money that the number is meant to be seventy days. There is an end point. It’s not that Danny is free to be subjected to random anatomical whims—there’s a goal here. This was purposeful.

The little circle-within a circle gets erased. The hole is scribbled through as if it was never there, and the person makes a weaving gesture with the marker that Danny is certain is meant to be sewing.

Tears prick at his eyes. The lady gets close by him again, but Danny lets her. His hands aren’t good enough for wiping tears the way he wants to, yet. Help and company are good.

She gives him a tissue from Danny's bedside table. He takes it with a whisper of a grip.

“Seventy?” Danny rasps, tearful. Hopeful. Terrified of hope. He practically jams the tissue into his eye sockets.

The lady’s eyes go wide. “Seventy,” she repeats, marveling.

It’s enough. Nothing is perfect, but it’s enough. And if Danny's allowed to spend so long in front of the space window that he falls asleep in his wheelchair, well. It's not like he was in charge of where they went.

[genderqueerpositivity]

TW: hysterectomy, periods, and medical talk

As an update I guess, last week I cleared the next hurdle in the process of getting my hysterectomy. The good news is that I got the referral I needed to the exact trans affirming provider I want to see and I have an appointment set for a consultation in December.

The less awesome news is that I am impatient, December is still months away, and given that the appointment is right before Christmas I will almost certainly end up having the surgery some time after the New Year. Which isn't ideal for insurance purposes dammit but there's not much I can do there.

On one hand, I am nervous because this may still not work out for a bunch of potential reasons. I'm afraid of being turned away over some nonsense reason like my weight, or that the hospital system I'm going through will end gender affirming care and that will prevent me from having the surgery. And I am also nervous because I've never had surgery before, but that is absolutely not going to stop me.

On the other hand, I am delighted and I can't help but feel happy every time I think about this. I am finally so close to this working out. No more hormonal birth control, no more fear of pregnancy, no more random ass cramping reminding me of the existence of these organs it feels like I should have never had, no more breakthrough bleeding, no more nightmare hell periods ever even if I end up losing access to HRT (I intend to keep an ovary just in case of this, but everything else I want gone).

I can't even express how important this is to me. I've wanted this for years, from the moment in 9th grade health class where I first learned that removing a uterus is possible, and long before I even knew what nonbinary genders are or fully understood what gender dysphoria is.

I need this to happen.

A surprise to me, but it looks like I might even be going into this with support from my family; I wouldn't say they're as happy as I am, but I've received no negative comments or push back. No one I've told so far is surprised at all that I am doing this. My dad tells me that I was all of 10 years old the first time that I told him that I would never have children. So it's fair to say that this process has been over 22 years in the making. I think I can wait 4 or 5 more months.

[yrfemmehusband]

"it's just your anxiety/depression." No, and I can prove that.

At the start of my second diagnosis journey, I was well aware that my doctors would be happy to blame all my symptoms on anxiety, depression, and PTSD. so, I asked my psychiatrist to evaluate me again to confirm my symptoms are unrelated to mental health (as unrelated as they can be when your debilitating pain causes depression), and he wrote me a doctors note stating that for me.

I really highly recommend this to anyone on their diagnosis journey, even if you don't use it it's amazing to ease your medical anxiety. And if your doctor does suspect they interact, you have grounds for a psychosomatic DX/treatment, and if the treatment doesn't work you can suggest you've already tried the psychosomatic route and that you want to exhaust all diagnostic and treatment options.

Bit of a ramble, but I truly think everyone should do this!

[sirquacklesdefoof]

I lived bitch

[kinkykinard]

It’s over.

It’s finally over.

I’m free.

Had my final appointment at the cancer clinic today.  It was a pelvic exam and colposcopy to make sure that I was all healed up inside after the hysterectomy and that there were no traces of any abnormalities.  I’d been anxious about the appointment for WEEKS.

It wasn’t my surgeon who saw me, it was one of her associates, but she was so kind and understanding and empathetic that I felt good about it going into the procedure. The procedure itself was super un-fun given how one of the symptoms of menopause is vaginal dryness/atrophy.  All the lube in the world didn’t make that speculum go in any easier and it hurt like hell, but once it was in place it was fine.

After a thorough look and feel and a LOT of anxiety on my part, the doctor pronounced me fully healed and fit to return to all activities.  She said that there is no need for them to see me again, that this is it, but that if I have any concerns come up or any questions in the future or issues related to any pelvic health, to give them a call back and they’d take me back on without question.

That said, though, I never need another pelvic exam.  I never need another pap test.  I never need to deal with all of the menstrual bullshit again.  I can bid cancer goodbye and good riddance.

It’s actually, finally over.

[smokedvultures]

One thing that really sucks about being fat and having anorexia is that I literally have to self treat my eating disorder. I've had doctors think I'm delusional for thinking that I am anorexic and they never believe me when I tell them my diet. I get told that it's not a big deal cause I'm "Obese". My body has always been fat and I've never been able to loose weight, I grew up in food scarcity and starved myself thru my growing years so my metabolism had to slow down to a snails pace just so I don't fucking die. But this means that no matter how much I starve myself, even when I lost all the muscle in my arms legs and core, even when my stomach couldn't handle anything remotely greasy or fatty or high cal without me passing out, even when I am obviously struggling with body dysmorphia, it's never enough to be taken seriously! All cause of genetics poverty and childhood neglect! And now I'm sitting here, stuck trying to fight a serious and deadly disorder on my own lest I get laughed out of the ER again. I weighed myself today and saw that I've lost 13 lbs since the lat time I've weighed myself. I hope to god it's my metabolism finally healing and not the ana winning, cause I know I will die before I get the help I need.

[arwenkenobi48]

Meds, Job Hunting And Summer Plans

Hi everybody! Apologies for the lack of updates, I’ve just been focusing on irl stuff atm, as well as adjusting to life on antidepressants. It feels like I’m truly able to think and feel and experience life without it being exhausting for my brain and while it is beautiful, it’s really taken me by surprise.

But there is some outright good news as well; I’m finally employed! Sure it’s only as a part time cleaner at a hub for local charities but nevertheless, it’s a start. And something even more incredible has happened. I’ve managed to sign up for a work experience training course with a major TV network and I’m not only going to be taking virtual masterclasses on the TV industry, but I’ll also get to be on the set (and behind the scenes) of a popular TV series! *squeee*

Because the course puts an emphasis on unscripted TV, it’ll most likely be a reality show or a talk show or some kind. I’ll have to check for an update from the admins so I can get all the details. But yeah, this could actually be my big break into the media industry! I could actually begin to build the network I need to bring my passion projects to life!

One final update: I don’t wanna jinx anything, but I’m pretty sure that by the time my 23rd birthday rolls around, my financial troubles will finally be over once and for all (at least for a good long while). As a result, if all goes to plan, I shall have the summer holiday of a lifetime. I’m already planning a couple of week-long holidays - to Canada and Glastonbury specifically - and trying to get my passport sorted out (bc I don’t actually have one atm).

Oh and I could possibly get a chest reduction surgery at some point this year so yayyyy I’m gonna pass way better 💖💖💖💖💖

All in all, things are really looking up. I think my Ramadan prayers have been answered. I’m still a little anxious about the Earn It Act but in the meantime I’m gonna try and keep writing what I love and won’t let my fears control me anymore. I can’t believe that only a month ago, I thought my life was over. But I know better now. My life is only just beginning. I think the saying “it’s darkest before the dawn” really holds up.

I’m so excited to be 23 as well 💞💞💞💞💞

Me and my boys are gonna party like rock stars 💖

[healthfitnessguide247]

Ozempic For Weight Loss

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

the idea of equivalence in gender is kinda funny though because that is how te/rfs like to view me: not man enough to be considered a real man but still enough of a man to be considered lost and evil.

[nychthemeron-rants]

TW: Talks of weight loss and (injection) weight loss drugs, gastrointestinal distress of all flavors (see tags) No Images, Just Text

My experience on weight loss drugs so far: 2 weeks in

Firstly, I'm writing this as a journal for myself and partly to give my honest experience on it in case anyone else was considering it. I know that this is not the right call for everyone for a large number of reasons, and I'm a strong supporter of body positivity. I'm doing this because weight loss felt right for me, and after talking to my doctor, we agreed this would be a good way for me to do that. My only hope in sharing this is that someone who was already considering or curious about these medications can see what starting out looks like.

So I just did my 3rd injection of semiglutides (the active ingredient in Ozempic and wegovy for weight loss), and it's been a trip. It's too early to actually see any results, but I've definitely noticed the differences.

I can only eat one actual meal a day, one small meal, and a snack, which is fine, if a bit annoying. I've had to start packing tiny lunches for work because if I make too big of a sandwhich, I won't want dinner then have like a pb&j at 10 pm. And I hate having my most substantial meal of the day being the one I eat at work.

Another annoying thing I've noticed is that because I'm not hungry very often, I've not had the energy to make myself a real meal. I've been living on peanut butter, chips, and easy heat meals because I dont have the willpower to make good food if I'm not hungry for it. (Probably an adhd problem being made worse). But I'm actively working on balancing out my diet again, so I am getting veggies and fruit, at least.

That being said, I dont crave sweets nearly as much. Dont get me wrong, I still want them (and eat them), but its easier for me to go without if I'm too full instead of pushing myself beyond what's comfortable. (It also helps that I learned the hard way what happens if I DO push myself beyond my appetite. Dessert stomach no longer exists.)

I've still been eating whatever I want, but paying extra attention to protein and water as that's what my doctors told me to do. However, my tastes have changed slightly. Some foods simply dont sound as good anymore, and others are always good (for me, its that eggs are no longer that appealing, and peanut butter is an always safe food).

I will say, I got nausea meds with my prescription, and I am VERY glad I got them. I typically get nauseous on new meds, but in two weeks, I've had to use 3 or 4 nausea pills because I felt like I was going to be sick. Also, until you get used to it (about a week), your stomach will be unsettled, and the bathroom may become your friend for a while (going down, not up). Over eating beyond being full will result in diarrhea, as gross as that is, but I've only experienced that once.

Overall, its been a big change but its definitely making a difference in my eating habits and I am excited to see the difference in 5 months!

[littleprincessfawn]

tw. leukemia, cancer, medical & emotional side effects post

1 week on Dasatinib for chronic myeloid leukemia (in the chronic/earliest phase)

Side effects:

* nausea

* vomiting

* headaches

* migraine headaches

* skin rash like when you try to wax your legs but do a bad job and all those little red bumps come up? Yeah that, but all over my arms.

* fatigue oh my lordy I am tired

* dizziness

* muscle weakness, I guess this is part of the fatigue but just doing a bit of housework I need to rest way more, it's harder to open jars and bottles

* insomnia - probably from emotions/stress though

* anger - that I'm suppressing the heck out of because I feel->

* guilt - extreme feelings of guilt that others have it worse than me, that I get to have medicine that will save me, that others died and probably won't, guilt at not being truly grateful and positive 24/7 though I'm trying to be, I feel like being ungrateful is bad but holy moly this whole thing is a lot

* awkwardness - it's really embarrassing and socially awkward, a lot of people have started avoiding me which I understand, no one knows what to say, I don't know what to say, I'm constantly trying to reassure everyone and look after everyone else's feelings about my leukemia and paint a silver linings picture and I just feel so awkward and embarrassed about the whole thing.

* hair loss? - I've noticed more hair coming out from my head BUT that being said I do have very thick hair so it might just be normal shedding.

* itchiness - my skin is so flippin' itchy sometimes but because my willpower is like iron when I'm being stubborn about something I still haven't scratched even once

* a few weird pimple-like things on my skin that wouldn't normally be there since I'm a grown woman in my 30's I don't get pimples anymore.

* decreased appetite but increased want for comfort food

That's it for now. Just putting this up in case other CML patients find this and find it useful and to know you're not alone and yes it sucks and it's okay to acknowledge that it sucks (I'm still working on that personally)

[raepritewrites]

It may still be too early to tell, but I think this new med might be working. I'm noticing how much more positive I feel in general, even when my body isn't feeling 100%. It's like my brain isn't hyperfixating on it anymore.

It's a weird (but good!) feeling when you realize you feel normal. Like, is this how I was supposed to be feeling all along?

I mean just as an example, I've lived by the ocean for years and always felt indifferent to unhappy here (I think mostly bc the move was not my choice and it happened very suddenly), but just now I was watching the sun reflect on the calm waves rolling in and it made me happy, it looked beautiful to me.

Tldr: weird but good

[fairiencarnate]

Day three no sweets ✔️ Intense hunger cramps this morning, worse than yesterday, I noticed this happened last time I quit too? I swear sugar changes my entire gut ecosystem and it has to relearn how to function without a fix every hour or so. I had a tiny scoop of dark choc chips this evening but that falls under the daily rec so it shouldn't have spiked my blood sugars. Been looking at a choc mousse recipe with no sugar, v sceptical but open to trying