#medical system tw

[cascigarette]

the way the medical system treats mentally ill people is so so fucked up

[syrren]

“The artist becomes the canvas!” - TMAGP 002: Making Adjustments

[thementalhealthdisaster]

List of ways my life is fucked:

- Friend A has been having a medical problem that causes him to loose the ability to control his muscles since April, still untreated

- Friend A was in hospital since September (got out yesterday) and they gaslit him and didn't accommodate his Deafness and very likely have misdiagnosed him

- I lose my glasses

- I try to go on T and the doctor says I need a diagnosis and won't do informed consent. I find out later that he does... He just mustn't have believed me.

- Friend B had his boyfriend make him choose between him and his close friend. Causing them to break up.

- Said close friend self harmed in our home and triggered me so bad I started self harming at least once a week.

- Friend B's ex became increasingly abusive and same with his close friend

- Said ex, who was my friend too, starts belittling me and begins hanging out with a toxic ex friend who specifically hates me.

- We find out that we're going to be homeless in 26 days on my birthday.

- We had been househunting since March

- We become homeless in July

- Still homeless

- I get new glasses paid for but they're the wrong prescription and I don't go back to get them fixed

- I try to get an autism diagnosis and the doctor tells me he can't tell either way and don't even use the full time. $100 out of pocket I'll never get back.

- Friend B commits suicide in September

- He had attempted in the past and once I had to call the ambulance while I was suicidal

- Between him, his close friend badly self harming, and Friend A's condition, we get used to calling an ambulance

- I had several aborted suicide attempts and never had therapists treat them seriously.

-Last therapist misgendered me and told me I should try to get a job.

- At Friend B's funeral, his ex and the close friend he'd broken things off with got to speak

- So many people that hurt him were there and they deadnamed him at the funeral

- In September, I move into my old room at my parents with Friend C sleeping on the floor.

- My little sister has a friend who is suicidal in an abusive household and I have to tell them I can't help because thinking about it meant I was having a panic attack all day.

- Friend C and I try to organise moving states to be away from everything and closer to his family. But it takes months.

- My mum's brother goes missing and I learn he definitely has some sort of psychosis

- Which means I'm more genetically at risk than I thought (in terms of how this is still affecting me now that he's found)

- Being at my parent's becomes so unbearable I frequently struggle not to attempt or self harm

- And that's just this fucking year. That's just one fucking messed up year. And I was doing shit BEFORE all this. Fuck.

[destielmemenews]

Dragoneer died of complications from a lung infection. His last social media posts detail a frustrating ordeal with his insurance and have ignited criticisms of the US healthcare system.

source 1

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[schizopositivity]

It sucks so much that as someone with a severe and persistent mental illness it's MY responsibility to jump through hoops and be proactive in contacting people at limited times of the day just to get MY MEDS THAT I'VE BEEN TAKING CONSISTENTLY FOR YEARS

[shares-a-vest]

@steddielovemonth Day 25: Love is… Asking, “Do you want a blanket?” (Prompt by @thefreakandthehair)

wc: 952 | Rated: T | cw: Hospital setting, mild descriptions of injuries and general hospital stuff, physical pain, one mention of blood

Tags: Post-s4, Fix-It, Eddie Munson Lives, Hospital

'Hospital Blankets'

“Steve? Hey, Steve?”

Steve is pulled out of a restless slumber by Eddie’s stage whispering. A twinge in his back fully rouses him as he remembers exactly where he is – in Hawkins General, bent up like a pretzel on what is quite possibly the world’s hardest chair, wearing nothing but a hospital gown and his underwear. He blinks harshly, his vision blurry as he looks in the direction of the chattering, dark-headed form lying in the bed in front of him.

“Huh?” he grunts, his voice thick with sleep as he becomes very much aware of the overall pain radiating over his whole body.

His throat burns too, even from a single word. He instinctively reaches a hand up to the reddened scar there – already a formed habit – only to scratch himself with his patient wristband.

“Do you want a blanket?” Eddie continues, his weakened voice indicating he is barely conscious, let alone aware of Steve’s discomfort.

Steve arches his back this time but it causes his chewed-up sides to ache, the bandages stiffening and contorting. Their tacky borders pinching at the already tight skin and scar tissue.

He gives up and slumps back in the chair, clutching the armrests for dear life as a twang shoots directly up his spine to his head. He runs a hand through his hair, impossible to keep from flopping in his face considering all he can do is give himself a goddamn sponge bath these days.

He should have just listened to Robin (and more than a few disgruntled nurses) when they begged him to stay in his own room.

But his room feels empty. Big and dark, just like his family home but a little more white and clinical smelling. It gives him nightmares. If he manages to settle enough to sleep that is…

It’s kinda hard when your friends are scattered throughout the bowels of the local hospital, all in varying states of distress meanwhile, outside the world has half caved in.

“Steeeve,” Eddie whines this time as he repeats, “Do you want a blanket?”

He half dry-sobs his query and Steve has no choice but to shimmy upright – thankfully, the slippery cover of his stupid seat helps him up this time.

Blanket… he finally considers and finds himself stifling a shiver.

He didn’t think to bring a blanket with him as he was much too focused on getting out of bed and down the hall to Eddie’s room. A room that is much colder than his own, which the occupant clearly knows.

Eddie’s fist is balled up in his blankets, offering them up as he raises his shaky arm.

“No,” Steve says softly, shaking his head and waving him away.

Eddie needs it more.

With a herculean effort, Steve moves the chair a few inches closer to the bed, hoping it isn’t scraping the floor or tangling up any of the wires and tubes hooked up to beeping machines – god knows where they each begin and end. His sides all but seize up as he sits back down and forces himself to correct his posture.

“But you’re cold,” Eddie frowns, his voice impossibly small.

“I’m fine,” Steve protests.

Eddie’s weak hand punches at his banket in a haphazard swish motion.

“Get into bed with me…” he mumbles, closing his eyes, “Rest with me, sweetheart.”

His head lolls to the side and Steve huffs out a laugh. Eddie is certainly on one hell of a cocktail of meds, mixed with the overall exhaustion that must come from almost dying. Steve can barely keep his own eyes open and he wasn’t anywhere near as close to it.

His heart thuds in his chest as thoughts of Eddie’s almost lifeless body rush back to his sleepy brain.

Dustin’s sobs… Robin scrambling to tear up clothes and sheets from the Upside Down version of the Munson’s trailer to make bandages… Nancy forcing everyone to focus as she devised a game plan, stopping every few moments to shoot down undead bats…

Steve screws his eyes shut and stands, bracing his arms on the sides of the chair before swiftly moving them to the bed for purchase.

At least Eddie’s right side is a little less banged up – but only just enough, Steve thinks as he hikes back the three warm layers of blankets enough to sit himself down on the bed. He swings his legs up next, clenching his jaw as every muscle in his body aches and pains from what transpired however many days ago.

The bed is a tight fit, but Steve doesn’t mind. The mattress is perhaps a fraction more comfortable than the chair, but he soon warms as he settles down and rights the blankets, smoothing them out for good measure and double-checking he hasn’t disturbed Eddie too much.

His body warms almost instantly as he rests his head beside Eddie’s on his pillow, positioned close enough that he can feel frizzed dark curls tickling his cheek. Eddie’s wispier than he expected and smells of the generic hospital soap – but at least the dried and caked-up blood is gone.

“That’s good…” Eddie coos, turning his head to face Steve, those tickling tendrils now replaced with a soft woosh of his breathing.

He can see the scar on Eddie’s cheek now. The bandage patch has been removed, exposing raw stitches today. Steve sighs, relieved by the smallest of steps forward.

Eddie can’t do much more than reach his hand out. And Steve takes it, interlacing their fingers despite the heart monitor clipped onto Eddie’s right index finger.

“Blanket’s... warm…” he mutters, nodding as he feels slumber tugging at him once again.

Eddie hums in agreeance and lightly squeezes his hand.

[intotheelliwoods]

This is part 2! Part 1 can be found here~

Masterpost

[aniseandspearmint]

Thought about a SVSSS AU.

Everyone seems to have settled into very similar backgrounds for SY, right? He's a rich young shut in, with a family that consists of unknown parents, and an older brother or two (often mirrors of SJ and YQY), and a little sister.

And he's got SOME kind or chronic or ultimately terminal illness.

But what if it was more COMPLICATED than that?

What if all of SY health problems were caused by Fictitious Disorder by proxy? Also called Munchhausen by proxy.

This is when a carer, usually a parent, deliberately causes an injury or illness in their child (or partner, but in this case, CHILD) in order to reap the attention that caring for such an ill child gets them.

I'm not sure how this would be discovered and addressed in china, but given Rich People TM, being pretty similar everywhere, i can see the whole thing being discovered and the rest of the family maybe quietly sweeping SY and the scandal under the rug?

Like, hmmm, okay, say it was SY's mother doing this for attention. She developed the disorder as a form of pathological attention seeking after the birth of her third son, who maybe did have something minor wrong at first. Maybe he was born a bit prematurely, and needed extra support for a while, and that got her a lot of sympathy and care from others.

So she convinces herself that oh, it's not really HURTING him if she slips a little something in his formula that makes him a bit sick. Then in his food as he gets older.

And SY, well he's a smart kid. He maybe figures it out. When his little sister is born and gets sick too, despite being full term and otherwise healthy at first. Maybe he sees his mother slipping something in her food. And he didn't know what to do when it was HIM really, but that's his baby sister.

Or, maybe SY isn't involved in the discovery at all, maybe a maid or a nanny, or one of his brothers, sees something that prompts them to look deeper at the situation.

However it happens, it happens, and his mother vanishes into a family home up in the mountains, or near the coast, and his sister gets better. But him? his mother had been poisoning him for his entire life. He's a bit better now, that he's not ACTIVELY being poisoned, but there's not a fix for him.

He moves out to a fully paid apartment as soon as he's old enough. Maybe even a little sooner, really. His father won't look at him. And his brothers fuss but will hardly look him in the eye either. His little sister, doesn't really know, at first, but then maybe she feels guilty, that it took her getting sick for anyone to realize something was wrong.

He'll NEVER be better, and its all over their faces when he sees them.

Cue shut in behavior, cue obsessing over silly stories, cue transmigration.

I wonder what little differences a SY with that kind of medical trauma and abuse would cause?

[coyotecoining]

SICKITIS

@ T3R|\/| FOR VVH3|\| U R S!CK BUTT U DO|\|'T K|\|OVV VVH@T VV!TH!

(translation: a term for when you are sick, but you don't know what with!)

hi ho! galaxy actually coined this term, i'm just helping her post!

-kermit

[batwynn]

Ok quick question before I go in to a new doctor in an hour.

How to I describe that I have felt really unwell like I’m actively dying every day for over a month now in terms that make sense. I’m constantly dizzy, faint, nauseated, entire body pain, feels feverish but no fever, headaches every day, blood pressure up and down, exhausted, heart feels weird, body feels weird??, etc. Like in general how do I explain this feeling other than just saying ‘I feel like I’m dying and I know what that feels like because I’ve been here before.’ 🥲 Any added ass-kissy lingo welcome because doctors are fucking ego monsters.

[glacialswordsman]

so, i am gonna be honest and mention i will be a little scarce here and there. might pop in to do the odd reply here or there, or send in random inbox prompts or ask to plot, because things are admittedly very difficult right now but i still feel like i need to do things in order to ground myself a bit, but... it's so fucking hard.

explanation is under the cut, but you are 100% not obligated to look. just know that the same above still applies.

tw medical stuff and also death mention.

point blank, my nephew is dying.

he's been battling cancer since he was two or three years old. he's only seven now.

the cancer/tumors fortunately went away after extensive treatment, but it left his lungs irreperable and so, so weak that he's had to be put on oxygen. despite this, he was doing so well, and we thought he would've been able to make it through a few years to qualify for a lung transplant...

but, things suddenly took a turn for the worse a week or two ago. his heart had stopped, and they were fortunately able to bring him back—but since then he's had constant desaturations, and each one takes upwards of 10 or more to stablize him. his o2 has gone below 27. we know he's had tremendous damage to his brain because of this, but we can't even do a CT scan because he's been hooked up to so many machines including an oscillator/ventilator.

there's no chance for him, and right after i went to sleep, one of his lungs fully collapsed. it gave out completely. now it's just a matter of waiting for his heart to stop.

i'm sorry for putting this all out here. i just... sorry.

[the-fictive-haven]

Proud of ourselves rn chat. We got up, took our meds and ate breakfast, played a game for awhile, did a bit more practice in procreate, AND actually cooked a meal for ourselves for lunch!!

It's 2pm and we're tired, we're lying back down possibly for the rest of the day, but you know what. We did something. We deserve to rest now.

Take care of yourselves as best you can too, y'all.

[disabled-sysboxes]

[TEXT ID: this system definitely has a physical disability of some kind but doctors refuse to diagnose it due to the systems weight]

[IMG ID: an orange-yellow rectangular box with the mobility aid wheelchair icon to the left, and the text 'this system definitely has a physical disability of some kind but doctors refuse to diagnose it due to the systems weight' to the right.]

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[syscultureis]

Sys culture is opening up about your DID in the hospital and getting put on anti-psychotics

.

[antiendovents]

so,, I've somehow managed to injure a rib while coughing and moving around— have no idea if it's broken, dislocated, ect. All I know is I felt a pop now it hurts and my mother refuses to take me to the hospital because she doesn't want to wait in the waiting room + the nearest one might not even do scan so for now I'm just resting in bed and waiting to see if it gets any worse or any better, in the meanwhile there might not be any content, for a while sorry—

[lefluoritesys]

I was going to answer a post about alters using deadnames a couple days ago, but I lost it, so here's a separate post about it.

It really depends on the circumstances and your unique situation when an alter wants to go by your body's deadname. And it's very nuanced, so there is no, "alters should(n't) go by your deadname."

We have three alters who go by variations of our deadname.

One of them goes by it because they are a little who formed with it during childhood and carried it for decades.

The other formed during a tough time medically and had to deal with one of our worst triggers every day for months. Our DN (deadnam) is not only all they knew of who they are, but since it was our legal name at the time, it's what doctors knew us by.

The third carries our proper DN, though we haven't met them yet and only know about them from gatekeepers.

We still have issues with our DN in English, but we've learned to accept those alters and their names through a bunch of reflection, getting their sides of the story and their reasoning, and learning to see our DN as a legal label to our body rather than something that shapes us.

Our advice is: have a sit-down conversation with the alter(s) who wants to go by your deadname and figure out why they want to use it. See if you can come to a compromise via a nickname, a different spelling of the name, etc. And also look at the factors such as, how long have they had it before, if at all? How old are they? How personal is it to them? Does it help their healing journey? Do y'all have issues with your name that you can solve and/or would benefit from solving, or not? Stuff like this matters. Communication is key.

-host, memory gatekeeper