#medical monitoring

[bpod-bpod]

Stretchy Needlework

A stretchable and customisable microneedle electrode array for sensing electrical signals in skeletal muscle with other potential applications such as targeted drug delivery

Read the published research article here

Image from work by Qinai Zhao and colleagues

Department of Aerospace and Mechanical Engineering, University of Southern California, Los Angeles, CA, USA

Image originally published with a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY-NC 4.0)

Published in Science Advances, May 2024

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[batwynn]

I’ve been awake since five am so take this with a grain of salt but why is there this weird assumption that depressed people want to be depressed? That we’re intentionally staying depressed, or choosing to be, or even sabotaging our mental health by choice?

I’ve tried 20+ antidepressants and 50+ different therapists over the years with varying degrees of success and failure. When something works, I hold on for it as long as I can. It’s never my choice to stop using something that works. It is always a really bad side effect, a therapist leaving the profession, insurance changes, etc. I have never, in my entire life, knowingly, intentionally tried to sabotage my health. I have always tried my best, in spite of everything working against me.

I try to tell every new doctor some version of this when I rate high on the depression test they do at the start of every appointment. I also try to explain that four of the questions are rated the way they are because I have ADHD and chronic illnesses that make eating and having a good attention span difficult. That I have anxiety, and my life is one stressful situation after another. I also lie every single time about being suicidal, because doctors do not understand that it’s a chronic, back-of-the-mind state of being and the fact that I’m Still Here means I know how to fucking manage it. (Hint: that therapy for intrusive thoughts helped!)

And every single time, they treat me like I’m doing it to myself. That I’m not Trying Hard Enough. That I’m making a choice to ‘not get help’. They never, once, consider that the record in front of their faces proves that all I’ve always done is try to get help. Or that I’m still here. Or that I’ve survived every deep depression I’ve been in. Or that I’m still visiting doctors at all after years of medical abuse.

The assumption is and always will be that I am intentionally making myself unhappy and not ‘fixing myself’. That I just don’t want to be happy.

And honestly? Fuck y’all for that. Because that right there is a high-tier reason people who get those suicidal thoughts get one step closer to death. That makes you ten times more dangerous to our health than anything we could fucking do, or not do.

[midwest-chainsaw-massacre]

boss makes a dollar i make a dime that's whiy i tf2 shitpost on company time

[dinosaurcharcuterie]

It still kind of blows my mind that it's 29 years ago since my grandfather, two aunts, my mom, my uncle, the pharmacist and her treating doctor had to harass state health insurance to testify that my great-aunt would benefit from an at-home blood sugar meter, even if she didn't have type 1, as opposed to going to the doctor 3-5 times a day to have it measured. The thing was the size and weight of a brick, took several drops of blood to read, and the test strips were the size of my grade schooler pinky. It was accurate...ish. Text was gray on Nintendo screen green, and about the size of Arial 10. Three people were schooled on how to use it, in case it was necessary while she was unconscious. She had to pay for it herself as a pensioner who had never worked, and the entire family chipped in to make it happen, before they got on more of a first name basis with the ambulance drivers than they already were, what with there being just-in-case pastries in the house daily to "make sure those boys ate lunch".

Today I have my own blood sugar meter that I bought for less than 10 bucks "just in case". I've lost test strips down the back of the sofs and never had to be horrified about how much money I'd just wasted. My doctor just read out my hb1c value from a pinprick of blood in less than 2 minutes. The second I need constant monitoring, I'll get CGM sensors that work with my phone, paid out by insurance.

Most millennials are older than the concept of all kinds of diabetes being able to be monitored reliably, easily and affordably at home. It feels kinda unreal.

[ecgekg]

an ecg is part of this doc's routine medical exam

[phleb0tomist]

+

[evalab]

Another evening under the electrodes.

[alltubedandwiredup]

Tubed

Another short story i hope you all kinksters enjoy ;)

Tw: pretty sexual, lots of medical fetish

(Again, male protagonist and not self insert… or maybe yes hahaha)

Everything was foggy and distorted as i opened my eyes heavily. Took me a while to focus my gaze, i could only feel a thousand sensations going on in my body. When my heavy eyes finally cooperated… al i saw was a mirror above me.

What i saw was my naked reflection, completely covered by every apparatus you can imagine. My bare scalp was a mess of taped wires, i had tree tubes going into my nostrils plus a large nasal cannula also connected to it, three other tubes were in my mouth, it was all beauyifully taped to my cheecks and around my mouth. My chest was equally wired but it was definetly not as hardcore as what my sex looked like. My penis, with various stimulation electrodes sticked to it and a catheter, and my ass… my poor anus was connected to a huge electro plug, and equally tubed by another two tubes coming out. Surrounding the bed there were like a million different machines, all of which i was connected to. It was looking at the equioment when i realized there was a girl laying in a bed next to me. She looked exactly like me, tubes and wires and tape and machines going everywhere, i saw her pussy and anus in the reflextion, with the same electrodes stuffed into them. Just two big plugs with four wires hooked up to them base, plugging those sweet pleasureholes.

A voice came suddenly out of somewhere.

- so, now that we are prepped, ill start your treatment. You are going to receive different currents of electicity through the pleasure machines you are connected to, all while we study your fluids and adminidter different drugs. You are expected to be orgasming for a while during the duration of the trearment.

- EVery orgasm you have connected to those machines is a step for science.

I could very much feel the pleasure in my holes. I quickly achieved orgasm, same as the other subject. I could see that all the tubes that came out of our bodies were interconected above us, wich i knew what meant, our fluids were being recicled.

A nurse came as i achieved my fourth orgasm, high from the drugs. She runned a soft hand theough the wires in my hair. I barely registered tho, everything felt far away and disconnected

- mhm such a good job… you are soo good… keep it going, juuust like that.

- mmmhm, your little pucker pulsating, she said tapping down into the wired plug.

She came back to my head, caressing me with a soothing hand, fixing the tubes in my nose, and adjusting the equipment around me.

I could clearly hear messy moans from my partner, laying in the bed next to me… that only got me even more aroused.

- Uuuu ill go to check on you now pretty girl, are those dry orgasms??? Sooo good, very good.

She left my side, going to attend the orgasming girl, just as my eyes rolled back and a wave of convulsions hitted my weak and drowsy body, loosing it everything in the pleasure.

#

[snarp]

We are Urgently issuing a Voluntary recall of the sensor embedded in your body?

[bear-boi-5]

My Hear me Out Cake

No I have no regrets

[duckyfann9871]

Bitches be like “I hate drama” and then their romantic vs Dramatic points is like

It’s me, I’m bitches