#mentions of cystic fibrosis

[monkabonka1]

I hate having cf cause every time I zerk it, I loose like 20% of the salt in my body and I immediately have to eat something salty

[sarahreesbrennan]

Thank you for writing Long Live Evil.

I'm no cancer survivor, so I haven't been through the horror that that must've been, congratulations to enduring and surviving, and my sincere condolences that you had to go through it.

But I am chronically ill (cystic fibrosis, genetic defect) and have so far lived for 5 years longer than my prognosis allowed. My health's been good and stabile for a long time now, but I remember times where I couldn't walk alone, had a 18/6 nasal cannula and a 24-hour IV drip instead of school or a future.

Now I'm working at university, an archaeologist, chipping away at writing stories for years and years, and incredibly glad and privileged to see the world. All this to say that seeing how hurt Rae was in the beginning (and again throughout the story, while also never truly forgetting her true roots and motives) and how she grew around it like a gnarled tree, was like catharsis for me. Having miraculously given a second chance, no matter how hard the fight to keep it will be; I haven't ever read any story talking about this in a way that made me feel seen and understood like this. Thank you also lots and lots for taking the time to mention Rae's appreciation for Rahela's curves — it's been the same for me, since I've managed to get out of the underweight-trap. It means a lot to me, and I guess to many others in similar situations, including you of course. Thank you for sharing this with us, it must've been hard to touch on a deeply personal experience like this in writing that's simultaneously removed from oneself through fiction (at least that's what I'm imagining).

Thank you, and I wish you nothing but the best, health, and lots of good days to come. Deeply curious to see how Rae's story will continue!

Thank you so much for this.

I am so glad you are alive. Thank you for that, too - for living on even when you couldn’t see a way forward and everything was helpless despair.

I haven’t been through what you’ve been through, either, but it’s a privilege to have shared adjoining experiences trapped in darkness, and to share gladness and the wide world with you now. I’m so sorry it happened, and so happy you have archaeology and stories, and the world has you.

I will be totally honest and say it has been hard sharing Long Live Evil with the world, and I’m so grateful to you for knowing that, and for sending this message because you knew. This book is highly personal to me, but it’s also meant to be a wild celebration of messiness, escapism, and finding humour in art and darkness. And that means to some it’s just a joke, and in the words of Joanna Russ, ‘she’s not really an artist and it’s not really art.’ And so it gets dismissed, and it does hurt to see my most important story dismissed sometimes.

I was with other writers in a public space at one point and they were talking about how their books were about serious issues while ‘Sarah’s book is just for fun, and that’s fine too!’ (I had to take a minute before I could lean into my microphone and say ‘My book is about cancer’ in a cheery tone.) I’ve seen readers saying ‘this book’s just fluff, just silly, I’m ashamed of myself for reading it, there’s nothing to it’ about the book I wrote about almost dying.

My Rae, while of course she has bits of me in her (every character I’ve ever written does), and evil queens I’ve loved, and characters with wild hubris going on in the Greek plays I mention often in the book, and readers I’ve seen and I’ve been who are blithely confident they know what’s going on without doing more than surface reading and while forgetting key details… she’s also bits of women and girls I’ve mentored, been mentored by, befriended. And some of them are dead. So seeing the bits that were them particularly scorned or judged, seeing her pain dismissed or the discussion of her body sneered at…

That has been hard.

But.

In the end I believe I am really an artist and this book is really art, and art is there for the wide world to judge - to be mocked and dismissed, yes, as a price that comes with the opportunity to also be truly seen and appreciated, to get to influence real people’s real lives. Art is the gold that comes from the crucible in which we put all our pain and all our love and all our joys. I believe it deepens and transforms.

I wrote this book about how deeply unsympathetic people actually are to sufferers of illness, chronic or otherwise, and especially to women expressing pain. How the world villainises imperfect victims—which means all victims. How the world villainises bodies, and robs us of our joy in them—even when there’s horror in a body, too. I did know that by putting this book out into this world, that attitude would be reflected back by the world onto the book. And that attitude has hurt me in the past, and hurts me when I see it now.

I still think it’s worth calling out that attitude, even if it means getting more of that attitude reflected back onto me - because it means readers like you see it, and know others have been through this, and it was never okay, and you were never alone. While I know there will also be readers with chronic illnesses and/or cancer whose experience doesn’t overlap with mine at all, that only means there need to be more stories. So everyone who needs it gets the map into fantasy lands.

And I do hope some able-bodied readers read it, and think twice about adopting the world’s attitude to the people in their lives who are already going through enough. Some readers have told me the book helped them sympathise with and understand the cancer sufferers in their family and friend circles, and that’s meant a great deal. What do we write for, if not to learn to love each other better?

Long Live Evil has also given me my life back, as truly as chemo did, in a way that makes the pain worthwhile - I think I would have kept telling stories in some form, but Long Live Evil was my last throw, for as far ahead as I could see. Now since the book’s done well so far I’m hoping I can write more books, and my life can be the storytelling shape I always wanted it to be.

I read your message and I regretted nothing. I remember the pain and the way so many of us laughed or tried to laugh our way through it, and I know this was my way. Jokes, like stories, are the golden thread we follow through the dark labyrinth of our own agony and incomprehension.

It really has been hard, and it’ll stay hard. But like living, it’s worth it.

Please know two things.

I am so happy I wrote this book. Ultimately more than any other feeling I had so, so much fun writing it, and I’m having even more fun seeing the book be read by the people it was meant for.

2. This book was written for you.

[scientia-rex]

Good morning! I have a question. When I look up info about vitamin D, I come across many claims that people generally don't get enough of it. In a recent episode of Maintenance Phase, however, the hosts called it a "scam" or overblown, at least (I don't remember the exact wording). So, like, what's the deal with vitamin D? Do Americans get enough of it?

Probably, mostly. At the very least, people should be tested before starting repletion. It probably has a role in osteoporosis treatment and prevention, BUT how much to take and what form and when is HOTLY debated and frequently conclusions are changing.

Just to take you on a spin through the most recent Cochrane reviews (THESE ARE NOT SINGLE STUDIES, in case any of the research-naive out there want to get pissy about them; look up what a Cochrane review actually is before trying to shit on it; also note that I did NOT say this will cover every fucking person and every hypothetical they can come up with, jesus CHRIST):

No role for vitamin D in asthma

Insufficient evidence to recommend it in sickle cell

Raising vitamin D levels in cystic fibrosis patients is not beneficial

No evidence of benefit of vitamin D in MS

Supplementing vitamin D in pregnancy may have small benefits but also risk of harms

No clinically significant benefit from vitamin D supplementation in chronic pain

Insufficient data on vitamin D in inflammatory bowel disease, but no evidence of benefit

No evidence of benefit of vitamin D supplementation in liver disease

Vitamin D does not appear to prevent cancer in general population

No evidence for benefit in supplementation of vitamin D in premenopausal women to prevent bone density loss

Possible small mortality benefit of D3, but not D2, in elderly patients, but also increased risk of kidney stones and hypercalcemia

Vitamin D alone ineffective, but combined with calcium may be effective, in preventing bone fractures in older adults

Insufficient evidence for vitamin D improving COVID-19 outcomes

Now, vitamin D plus calcium in people who have post-menopausal bone density loss does seem to prevent fractures. This is why doctors routinely recommend it. However, dosage and formulation are still debated as data are insufficient, and uncertainty still large.

So, do you need to supplement? Probably not. There is some fairly weak evidence that vitamin D supplementation may help with depression, but I would argue that it's going to be most relevant in people with pre-existing deficiencies, which Medicare is just hellbent on not letting me test for anymore. They've narrowed the coverage codes for testing so now even know vitamin D deficiency isn't considered a good enough reason to test. So Medicare has very clearly decided it's not relevant, for whatever that's worth, I spit on their graves, etc. Of course, then you get into the question of what counts as a deficiency, which we also really don't know.

And to be clear, I wasn't looking through the Cochrane review results with an angle--those are most of the first page of search results on their site, with the only one skipped being similar to another one I mentioned, and I stopped when I got bored. These should not be paywalled, as I am not logged into anything and I can read it all, so try clicking the side menu on the right if you have trouble getting into the weeds.

If anything, running through this little exercise has made me less likely to recommend vitamin D supplementation, so do with that what you will.

[chin-up-and-drown-slower]

Today marks 10 years since we lost my cousin. He was 24. It feels surreal.

“Heroism consists of hanging on one minute longer.” Norwegian Proverb

The final photo taken of Wesley, less than 48 hours before cystic fibrosis claimed his life.

[i98pm]

oneshot #1 — i will make a masterlist soon ^ ^ summertime sadness a seongjoong oneshot.

tw : mentions of death , pretty heavy angst , major character death , terminal illnesses mentioned , mentions of cystic fibrosis , sad ateez ensemble. summary : two years after the tragic death of his first love, kim hongjoong, park seonghwa returns to their small coastal hometown for a summer with friends. every corner of the town is haunted by memories of hongjoong – the laughter they shared, the dreams they built, and the love they lost. seonghwa spends his days revisiting the places they used to go, each one stirring a deep sense of melancholy and longing. a/n : i posted this on ao3 also , so if you've seen it before — you know where! ^ ^

the sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the small coastal town as seonghwa stepped off the bus. the salty breeze greeted him like an old friend, bringing with it a rush of bittersweet memories. it had been two years since he last set foot in this town, two years since he lost his first love. he had left to escape the pain, but now, returning for the summer, he realised that the town was filled with memories he could never escape — not until he faced them. their old friends had been the ones to convince him to come home, promising him that the summer would be a good chance for him to heal. 

he was supposed to meet his friends at the bus stop, but as soon as he stepped off the bus he was making his way towards the lighthouse. he didn't know why, he just knew he was aching to be there. as he walked through the familiar streets, every corner seemed to whisper hongjoong’s name, the cafe they used to eat breakfast in was closed down. he wasn't surprised, it should've shut down decades ago. his feet carried him to the lighthouse almost on their own.

climbing the winding stairs, seonghwa felt a lump in his throat. he reached the top and looked out at the vast, endless sea, just as they used to. the sight of the waves crashing against the rocks below brought back a flood of emotions. 

hongjoong used to say the waves were like their love – powerful and unending.

seonghwa closed his eyes, letting the memories wash over him. he could almost hear hongjoong’s laughter, feel the warmth of his touch. the pain of his loss was as raw as ever, a constant ache in his chest. he had hoped that coming back would bring closure, but now he wasn’t so sure.

~~~

“come on, hwa, we don’t have all night!” hongjoong’s voice was full of excitement as he grabbed seonghwa’s hand, pulling him up the steps of the lighthouse. it was a warm summer evening, and the sky was painted in hues of orange and pink.

seonghwa laughed, trying to keep up with hongjoong’s energetic pace. “what’s the rush, joong? the sun isn’t going anywhere.”

“but the perfect moment might,” hongjoong replied with a grin, though a shadow of exhaustion flickered in his eyes. seonghwa noticed, but said nothing, not wanting to dampen the moment.

they reached the top, breathless and laughing, just as the last light of day kissed the horizon. hongjoong turned to seonghwa, his expression softening. “this is it,” he whispered. “our perfect moment.”

seonghwa felt a surge of affection, his heart swelling with the intensity of their love. “kiss me before you go,” he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of sadness. the phrase had become a part of their private language, a reminder of the bittersweet nature of their time together, with hongjoong being terminally ill, it was only a matter of time before a kiss they shared was their last. 

hongjoong’s smile was radiant as he leaned in, capturing seonghwa’s lips in a tender, lingering kiss. everybody around them knew. they knew too. it wasn't long before hongjoong would be admitted into the hospital, and then who knows how long they'd have left. 

pulling back slightly, hongjoong rested his forehead against seonghwa’s. “i just wanted you to know,” he murmured, “that you’re my everything, truly."

seonghwa’s throat tightened. “i think i’ll miss this forever,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “fuck, joong... i think i'll miss you forever.”

hongjoong’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and he took seonghwa’s hand, intertwining their fingers. he didn't say a word, not a single thing.

they spent the rest of the evening wrapped in each other’s arms, watching the stars appear one by one.

~~~

seonghwa could hear strained breathing behind him, pulling him from his daze.

"i'll meet you at the bus stop, huh?" 

he turned to look at the man who's voice he knew all too well, "wooyoung...i'm sorry, i started walking before i could even think about it," seonghwa murmured while he scratched the back of his neck, "how did you find me?"

"well, the cafe is closed...and the others went to your house, but i didn't think you'd be there." wooyoung said, a hint of worry in his eyes, "what are you doing here hwa?"

seonghwa sighed before leaning against the railing, looking out at the sunset, "thinking, woo, just thinking."

he heard some shuffling before a set of arms were draped over the railing next to his, and a head was weighing down his shoulder. 

wooyoungs presence was comforting...he hadn't felt comfort in so long.

"you know," wooyoung began softly, "hongjoong wouldn't want you to be alone like this...living so far away with none of your family..none of your friends..he wouldn't let us get away with it if he found out we let you go alone."

seonghwa swallowed hard, his throat tightening. "i know, woo. but it's hard not to be when everything here reminds me of him."

wooyoung lifted his head, looking at seonghwa with a small smile.

seonghwa turned to face wooyoung, the setting sun casting long shadows across his face. "it's just... being back here, it feels like he's everywhere. every street, every corner, every sunset... it's all him."

wooyoung nodded, his expression slightly amused. "maybe that's not such a bad thing. it's okay to remember him, good to remember him, even."

seonghwa sighed deeply, the weight of his emotions pressing down on him. "i just - i miss him so much, wooyoung... it's like there's this constant ache that never goes away."

"i know," wooyoung said quietly. "but hongjoong wouldn't want you to be stuck in this sadness. he would want you to find a way to live, to be happy again."

seonghwa nodded slowly, the truth in wooyoung's words sinking in. "you're right. it's just... hard to let go."

"you don't have to let go," wooyoung said with a small smile. "just learn to live with it, to carry him with you in a way that brings you peace."

they stood there for a while longer, watching the sun dip below the horizon in a comfortable silence. 

"come on," wooyoung said eventually, breaking the silence. "let's go back to the others. they're worried about you."

seonghwa simply nodded, pushing away from the railing and heading down the lighthouse steps with wooyoung.

~~~

the night was clear, the sky dotted with stars as seonghwa and the rest of the group sat around a crackling campfire on the beach. the warmth of the fire and the company of his closest friends brought a sense of comfort to seonghwa, a welcome contrast to the ache in his heart. the flames danced, casting flickering shadows on their faces, and the sound of the waves provided a soothing backdrop to their laughter and conversations. he was still a bit upset despite the atmosphere, the conversation from earlier weighing on him slightly.

wooyoung, sitting close to san with their hands intertwined, poked at the fire with a stick. "remember that time hongjoong tried to build that makeshift tent at the beach?"

san chuckled, leaning into wooyoung. "oh god, yes! he was so determined to make it perfect, but it kept collapsing on him."

yunho, sitting next to mingi with their arms around each other, nodded enthusiastically. "he spent hours trying to get it to stand, even using driftwood and seaweed as extra support."

mingi laughed, "and in the end, we all had to sleep at my place because the tent was a crumpled mess."

seonghwa smiled, the memory warming his heart. "he was so proud of his 'engineering skills,' though. he even called it 'rustic charm.'"

jongho, with his arm around yeosang, added, "or that time he decided to surprise seonghwa with breakfast in bed but set off the smoke alarm instead."

everyone burst into laughter at the memory, the sound echoing across the beach. seonghwa felt a pang of sadness mixed with joy, grateful for these moments they could share together. he could see tears falling down yeosangs cheeks, sans too. it wasn't long before he was crying too, though he still had a smile on his face.

"he tried to make pancakes," san said, wiping tears from his eyes. "but he ended up burning everything, including the 'backup toast'."

yeosang groaned, though a smile tugged at his lips. "and then he insisted on serving the burnt food with a big, proud smile, saying it was 'extra crispy.'"

jongho chuckled, looking across at seonghwa. "you were so kind, pretending to enjoy every bite just so he wouldn't feel bad, i couldn't do that."

yunho grinned, leaning forward. "what about the time he convinced mingi to join him in starting a garden on the rooftop? they ended up with more weeds than vegetables."

mingi rolled his eyes playfully. "hey, we were just trying to add some greenery to the place. who knew gardening could be so complicated?"

seonghwa listened, a bittersweet smile on his face. "he always knew how to make us laugh."

wooyoung nodded, his expression softening. "he had that special way of making even the silliest moments unforgettable." "seems we're sharing joong stories..."

~~~

the summer sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the rooftop where seonghwa and hongjoong had retreated to escape the bustle of city life below. they sat side by side on a patchwork quilt, the skyline stretching out before them like a painting.

hongjoong leaned back on his elbows, a contented smile on his face as he gazed at the horizon. "isn't this perfect, hwa?" he said softly, breaking the comfortable silence between them.

seonghwa nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "it really is," he replied, his gaze following hongjoong's towards the setting sun. "i'm glad we decided to come up here."

they had stumbled upon the rooftop garden by chance, seeking a quiet place to unwind after a long day of rehearsals. surrounded by potted plants and fairy lights, with a gentle breeze ruffling their hair, it felt like their own secret sanctuary above the city.

hongjoong turned to seonghwa, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "remember that time we tried to stargaze up here, but ended up having sex and falling asleep?"

seonghwa chuckled, slapping hongjoongs arm. "yeah, we woke up to the sound of pigeons cooing in our ears."

hongjoong laughed, his laughter contagious. "and then we had to sneak past the security guard as quietly as possible!"

seonghwa shook his head fondly. "we were lucky he didn't catch us. i don't think we would've lived it down."

they sat in companionable silence for a while, watching the sky shift from blue to pink as the sun dipped lower. the city below them buzzed with life, but up here, they were cocooned in a tranquil bubble of their own making.

"you know," hongjoong said softly, breaking the silence once more, "i'm really glad you're my fiance, hwa."

seonghwa turned to him, a warmth spreading through his chest. "me too, joong," he replied sincerely. 

~~~

seonghwa stopped the story there, looking down at the ring on his finger. "fuck cystic fibrosis for taking him from me before we could even get married..." his voice cracked with emotion, his eyes welling up with tears. 

seonghwa took a deep breath, wiping away a tear with the back of his hand. "sorry," he murmured, his voice steadier now. "i just wish we had more time together."

the group fell into a solemn silence, each lost in their own thoughts and memories of hongjoong. the crackling of the campfire and the gentle lapping of the waves provided a comforting backdrop to their shared grief.

it was wooyoung who finally broke the silence, his voice soft but filled with determination. "we may not have more time with him physically, but he's still with us in every memory, every laugh, and every tear."

seonghwa looked around at his friends, their faces illuminated by the flickering firelight. "thank you," he whispered, his voice catching with emotion. "for being here, for remembering him with me...and for getting me to come back to town."

jongho squeezed yeosang's hand to keep his voice steady, his expression tender. "that's what family does," he said quietly. "we're here for each other, through everything."

his friends nodded solemnly, their agreement unspoken but understood. around the dying embers of the fire, they made a silent vow to keep hongjoong's memory alive, to cherish the moments they had shared, and to find happiness for him.

~~~

it was a warm summer afternoon, the sunlight filtering through the curtains of their small apartment. seonghwa sat by hongjoong's bedside, holding his hand gently. hongjoong's breathing was laboured, each breath a struggle against the illness that had slowly weakened him over the months. the hospital couldn't do anything, new lungs would be near pointless. 

"i love you, hwa," hongjoong whispered, his voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

tears welled up in seonghwa's eyes as he squeezed hongjoong's hand tighter. "i love you too, joong," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion.

they had known this day was coming, had prepared themselves as best they could. but nothing could truly prepare seonghwa for the moment when hongjoong would slip away from him.

hongjoong smiled weakly, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before opening again. "thank you for loving me," he murmured, his voice barely audible now.

seonghwa leaned closer, pressing a gentle kiss to hongjoong's forehead. "always," he whispered back, his heart breaking with each passing second.

they sat together in silence, the only sound in the room the soft hum of the ventilator and the distant murmur of the city outside. seonghwa held onto hongjoong's hand, unwilling to let go even as he knew he had to.

suddenly, hongjoong's breathing became more erratic, his chest rising and falling in shallow gasps. seonghwa's heart clenched in his chest as he watched helplessly, tears streaming down his face.

"hongjoong," he whispered desperately, willing him to hold on just a little longer.

hongjoong's grip on seonghwa's hand slackened, his breathing slowing until it finally stilled altogether.

time seemed to stand still as seonghwa sat beside hongjoong's lifeless body, the reality of his loss crashing over him like a tidal wave. he pressed his forehead against hongjoong's, his body shaking with silent sobs.

"i'm sorry," seonghwa whispered brokenly, his voice barely audible. "i'm so sorry, joong."

the room was filled with a profound sense of emptiness, the absence of hongjoong's presence a gaping hole in seonghwa's being.

[anexperimentallife]

Turning 61 is wild when you never expected to make it to 13.

See, thanks to being misdiagnosed with cystic fibrosis as a child, no one--including me--expected me to live until my thirteenth birthday. (That kind of fucks a kid up, ngl.) Even after I found out I'd been misdiagnosed, the odds were stacked against me--allergies so severe that I've literally been rushed to the ER on numerous occasions, undiagnosed autism, adhd, and bipolar disorder, and so many accidents and injuries that @thesurestthing jokes that this is the only timeline in which I'm still alive.

In 2018, after yet another string of personal tragedies that included the loss of my adult sons--one to physical illness, one to mental illness--an especially hurtful breakup, and too many other things to mention, I took a flight to the Philippines, sight unseen, intending to remain single, and not really caring if I lived or died.

A few months later, a woman from California began messaging me asking questions about my experiences here. When she revealed she had a romantic interest in me, I said no (for her own good), and she DEBATED me until I gave her a solid maybe.

Now, nearly six years later, after several more life-threatening episodes (I got COVID for the first time right around the time we found out we were having a baby, and have had it a total of four times now), I wake up to my sweet, brilliant, funny, beautiful wife, and the most wonderful daughter I could ever imagine. Best birthday ever.

[mariacallous]

In 2010, three months before her seventh birthday, Ella Roberta suddenly developed a chest infection and a severe cough. Her mother, Rosamund Adoo-Kissi-Debrah, took her to the local hospital in Lewisham, South East London, where she was initially diagnosed with asthma.

In the following months, she got worse and began suffering from coughing syncope—coughing episodes so violent that they caused her to black out due to a lack of blood supply to the brain. “She had one of the worst cases of asthma ever recorded,” Kissi-Debrah recalls. “They didn’t really know what was wrong as she didn’t present as a normal asthmatic. They tested her for everything, from epilepsy to cystic fibrosis. Her condition was extremely rare.” So rare, in fact, that Kissi-Debrah couldn’t find a single case of a child suffering a cough from coughing syncope in the scientific literature. “It was only common in long-distance lorry drivers,” she says.

In the next three years, Ella was admitted to hospital about 30 times. On February 15, 2013, shortly after her ninth birthday, she suffered a fatal asthma attack.

Her original death certificate stated that she had died from acute respiratory failure. “At the inquest, it was established that some of it might be due to ‘something in the air,’” Kissi-Debrah says. None of the medical experts consulted had mentioned the possibility that air pollution could have triggered Ella’s syncope. That possibility came to light only after Kissi-Debrah was contacted by a reader of the local newspaper who had read about her story and suggested that she check the air pollution levels on the day Ella died. Indeed, that day the levels of nitrogen dioxide caused by the traffic on heavily congested South Circular Road, near where they lived, had far exceeded set limits.

With the assistance of her lawyer, Kissi-Debrah applied to the High Court to quash the verdict of the first inquest and request a second one, which was one granted. “My lawyer, Jocelyn, outlined on a graph all the times Ella had been admitted to the hospital, and then she got the data from the monitors near the house,” Kissi-Debrah recalls. The pattern was clear: There was a spike in air pollution prior to Ella experiencing coughing syncope. “Twenty-seven out of 28 times. As far as I’m concerned, that’s scientifically significant.” Furthermore, they showed that, on average, dioxide emissions and particulate matter levels in Lewisham far exceeded World Health Organization (WHO) guidelines.

After nine days of deliberation, the inquest concluded that “Ella died of asthma contributed to by exposure to excessive air pollution.” It added: “Ella’s mother was not given information about the health risks of air pollution and its potential to exacerbate asthma. If she had been given this information she would have taken steps which might have prevented Ella’s death.” The cause of death on Ella’s death certificate was amended. To this date, she remains the only person in the world to have air pollution on her death certificate.

Given the evidence at the inquest, the coroner also issued a Prevention of Future Deaths Report, which had a series of recommendations, such as ensuring that national air pollution levels be in line with WHO guidelines, that the public in England and Wales be made aware of the risks of air pollution, and that health professionals be educated on the health impacts of air pollution and inform patients accordingly.

“The coroner felt that other children were at risk of dying,” Kissi-Debrah says. “He made it very clear, actually, that unless the air was cleaned up, more children would die.”

Currently, 600,000 children worldwide die every year from breathing polluted air. In London alone, a quarter of a million children suffer from asthma. “The only time in this country no child has died from asthma was during the first lockdown,” Kissi-Debrah says. Ten years on from the death of her daughter, she continues to campaign for the legal right to clean air. As part of her campaign, she is lobbying for the approval of the Clean Air Bill in the UK, also known as Ella’s law: a parliamentary bill that establishes the right to breathe clean air.

“It is our right to breathe clean air, and it is the government’s duty to clean up the air and ensure that the UK targets are in line with WHO targets, as currently, they are not,” she says. “This isn’t a party political issue. It’s about our health. It’s about our future.”

[script-a-world]

Submitted via Google Form:

I'm building species for my world and I want to know the difference between human races and variations vs animal breeds and variations biologically. Also, why is selective breeding humans called eugenics and gets a nasty rep, but selective breeding animals is a good thing? Is that just 'humanity' talking? Like killing animals is just nature although nasty stuff moves into cruelty, but killing humans is just straight up murder?

Wootzel: This isn’t really a worldbuilding question the way you’re asking it, it’s an ethics question. However, since it has come up a few times on this blog, we’re going to try to break it down as we’re able to and address the implications of thinking about humans using the terms in the ask. It should go without saying, if you’re thinking of a made-up species with human-level intelligence, everything said here should apply to them as well.

Discussions of eugenics, humanitarian atrocities, and racism under the cut.

People cannot be forced to reproduce or kept from reproducing by other people without ethically horrible results. Full stop. The only exceptions to this are people who do not have the cognitive ability to understand child-rearing, either because they are children themselves or because they have cognitive impairments that result in them being in another person’s custody in adulthood.

This DOES mean that people who are not fit to be parents raise children. This DOES mean that people can have children who are physically or mentally incapable of taking care of them. This DOES mean that sometimes debilitating genetic problems are passed on. There is no ideal solution to any of these problems, and there never will be.

If people can be kept from having children based on any criteria other than individual cases, there will always be opportunities for abuse, and there will always be abuse. Humanity is too complex for us to ever draw lines between those who “should” be allowed to reproduce and those who “shouldn’t,” because a line that would be beneficial in one case will be a violation in another case.

To make this clearer, I’m going to include some examples. These are not based on any individual case or person, but do reflect real-life scenarios. Reader, if you’re a member of a group that is often threatened with eugenics and might find these discussions distressing, proceed with caution or skip the next two paragraphs.

Genetic Cognitive Impairments, such as severe learning disabilities and autism, are often mentioned in conversations about eugenics. Some of these conversations can even seem well-meaning, because there are absolutely people in these diagnostic groups who would be entirely unable to parent a child. They’re still wildly unethical because these people exist on a spectrum, and there are people with every mental condition known to man who make wonderful parents. If one person’s autism diagnosis could be used as a reason that they aren’t a fit parent, then what’s to stop that precedent from threatening every other person with that diagnosis? Where does one draw the line? ADHD has some similar symptoms to autism, and in some cases it can make parenting difficult, too. So can depression or anxiety, which in most cases are not genetic. NONE of these conditions can ever be used as an indication that a person is not fit to parent. I have ADHD and know several autistic people, and most of us would not choose to trade in our weird brains for a neurotypical one, even though they can cause us difficulties. There is joy to be had in life at every difference and level of functionality, so no argument against letting children be born with these conditions holds validity, either.

There are lots of heritable conditions with primarily/only physical symptoms that might be the target of eugenics discussions as well. I don’t know enough to touch on all of these, but I can still break apart some arguments here as well. Some conditions, like Sickle Cell Disease and Cystic Fibrosis, can be debilitating and no parent could ever want their child to inherit them, but most conditions that are this severe are recessive (must be inherited from both parents) and without genetic testing (which is not even possible for all conditions due to the complexity of genetics), it’s difficult or impossible to know if a child might inherit a condition. Many other conditions, for example Diabetes and Migraines are associated with multiple genes, and most of them aren’t well-understood yet, so even the presence of a group of genes isn’t a guarantee. A possibility of passing on a genetic condition is not a good enough reason to restrict someone from having children.

End of real-world-condition examples.

The argument of “no genetic condition is bad enough to justify eugenics” is only part of the picture. Another issue is: How would this ever be enforced?

There is no form of preventing someone from reproducing that is ethical to do to a human due to our highly developed sense of self, sense of agency, and comprehension of our circumstances. 

Preventing access to reproductive partners is way too much restriction of freedom and would probably result in social needs not being met.

There is no form of temporary birth control that’s effective and safe for everyone, and there are probably some people who can’t use any form without suffering. Many of these can easily fail or be sabotaged. Forced medication is a violation of bodily autonomy, which comes with trauma, and there’s no way to force someone to use birth control without restricting basic freedom as well.

Permanent sterilization involves surgery no matter what gonads you have, and surgery is inherently risky. Forced surgery is also a massive violation of bodily autonomy, which is deeply traumatizing, and might have long-term unintended consequences on bodily health.

Legal consequences to reproducing would not change the outcome: A child was born. They would also result in children being separated from fit parents. This would probably also result in people--children and parents alike--having a lower quality of life because of legal or social consequences of existing.

If someone has a condition they don’t want to pass on, but they could have a healthy child with the help of something like IVF, they should be free to make that choice just as much as someone without any known genetic problems.

The third side to this problem is that if there’s precedent for restricting someone’s reproductive rights against their will, people in power with shitty intentions will use it against groups they don’t like and fall back on a medical excuse, even if one doesn’t exist or is invalid. This is not a hypothetical: women of minority groups have been sterilized against their will while in surgery for a condition that didn’t require them to be sterilized to survive.

The only thing that can ethically be done to prevent the passive of heritable genetic conditions is education and access to medical care. LOTS of people with genetic conditions will go to great lengths to avoid passing them to their children, and these choices should be available to everyone.

To wrap it up: Humans have a greater capacity for understanding than other animals, and we can make our own choices. Removing those choices and removing the potential for parenthood is enormously damaging to individuals, and can even result in genocide on a larger scale. There is no way to adequately draw defensible lines around the people who “shouldn’t” be allowed to reproduce, or to prevent those lines from being crossed if there were to be drawn.

Tex: This is historically a hotly-debated topic, so I’ll be adding a lot of reference links for your perusal that I recommend reading, in order to add an appropriate level of context to my answer. Very broadly speaking, eugenics involves a group of people deciding that a selection of characteristics - usually phenotypes but now the argument has begun to include genetic code - that are allowed to reproduce. This is usually enforced by killing, sterilizing, and/or maiming anyone (via bad medical practices) that does not get approval from this group of people. Who these people are matter very little, as it changes according to era and geographical region - they share the common characteristic of violent enforcement of their ideals, which often leads into things like war and the accompanying war crimes.

Animal husbandry typically does not include humans, though only by the slightest framing of definitions - we still have plenty of similar actions taken against other humans, such as human trafficking, forced births, and arranged marriages. The domestication and rearing of animals is generally used for agricultural purposes, such as meat, dairy, and egg consumption, when it does not also include textile, leather, and sundry product production.

“Killing” animals implies that an animal died for purposes other than the above listed purposes. This would include social habits such as trophy hunting, which is frequently frowned upon as the people participating in such hunting do it for obtaining social status among their peers rather than subsistence.

Predation - which often includes but does not only include animals - is when one species preys upon another species (I use “preys upon” in the literal sense, here, not the metaphorical or euphemistic). When this happens, for various reasons such as energy conservation in the predator, impatience due to hunger, and need to prevent injuries from the prey fighting back  - the prey is usually killed rather quickly. Predation establishes trophic levels, and the differentiation of species from autotrophs to detritivores.

Humans are omnivores of varying degrees, obtaining their nutrients from a variety of food sources. I bring this up because it impacts both reproductive habits within human societies and the development of food resources by community. As the following links will inform you, there is a gradual, shifting line between the definitions of “who” and “what”.

Across many, many different cultures and across many, many different eras there has been debate upon what is human, and therefore, who is human.

Is a human merely that which is part of the community? If so, is a pet dog human? If not, why so? What lines are being drawn? A pet dog would, in some parts of the world, not be considered a source of food - some places have both considerations in hand, where the animal we know of as a dog can be both a pet residing in a household as well as a component in a dish. The same goes for cats, birds, horses, and any other animal - or non-animal - one could conceive of rearing and caring for within the boundaries of one’s home. Is a human who is not a member of your household - and thus, your community - a person? There are varying degrees in nearly every part of the world that changes whether one answers “yes” or “no”. In which case, if you define a human not part of your community as a “who” rather than a “what”, even if another community holds this same human as a “what” rather than a “who” - who is correct? Who is more correct? On what grounds can these opinions be enforced?

By that same metric, if another community considers you a “what”, does that mean you cannot be referred to as a “who”? On what basis is this defined, and “who” gets to enforce these definitions?

If someone is a “who”, can their reproductive habits be dictated by another? If something is a “what”, can their reproductive habits be likewise dictated? Can a human be treated like an animal? Can an animal be treated like a human? To further articulate, which of these is a person? Can a person only be a human? Can an animal - or other species - be considered a person? What is the definition of personhood? What is the definition of humanity? Who gets to decide that? What gets to decide that?

Further Reading

OpenStax Introduction to Philosophy

OpenStax Introduction to Anthropology

OpenStax Introduction to Sociology

OpenStax Concepts of Biology

Charles Darwin’s On the Origin of Species By Means of Natural Selection

Wikipedia Deductive reasoning

Wikipedia Abductive reasoning

Wikipedia Inductive reasoning

Wikipedia Existentialism

Wikipedia Philosophy

Wikipedia Infinite regress

Wikipedia Value theory

Wikipedia Outline of philosophy

Wikipedia Problem of universals

Wikipedia Subject and object (philosophy)

Wikipedia Selective breeding

Wikipedia Animal husbandry

Wikipedia Culling

Wikipedia Eugenics

Animal Cognition (tw: contains images of spiders on home page)

 Addy: Tex and Wootzel put in some absolutely fantastic stuff, so I'm just going to share a bit on why I think we generally differentiate between humans and animals when it comes to genetic lines… and animals as working animals (plowing, herding, meat, livestock guardians, etc) vs animals for aesthetics (pugs, Scottish fold, pets).

Golden retrievers were bred for a strong retrieving instinct and for soft mouths, that they'd cause less damage to waterfowl carcasses. Collies have generally been bred for intelligence and herding instincts, for obvious reasons. Draft horses are bred to pull loads. In a working animal, you don't get the severe health issues you get in aesthetic animals. They're bred to do a job, and if they're sick or ill, they can't do that job very well.

I think there's something about being responsible and something about being careless with genetic lineages in animals. We have a degree of control over these things (re: domesticated animals that are born for the purpose of human use), like it or not. It's what we do with it that matters.

Many animals will happily commit incest. Dogs from the same litter, for example, will happily mate with each other. Do you stop it (either by separating the animals or by neutering/spaying), or do you stand by and let it happen? Animals, just like humans, carry recessive genes that can cause health issues. Responsible breeders keep all sorts of records to keep genetic issues out of their lines. Irresponsible breeders don't care.

Think about the practice of fixing (neutering/spaying) animals in general - it's common practice to get an animal fixed once they're old enough, to keep them from reproducing. These animals don't live in a wild environment, where their populations are kept in check by other factors. We domesticated them, and they live in our spaces. If we let them breed willy-nilly, their populations will grow out of control and ruin/imbalance local ecosystems. They live in a human environment, and they're our responsibility.

On a tangent, mules used to be a whole industry

When it comes to making decisions re: the reproductive habits of other humans, the power imbalance of domestication isn't present. Other humans (and their reproductive habits) are not my responsibility. It's their business. 

You do get some laws in some places about letting first cousins marry, but – on the whole – if someone with a genetic issue thinks about having children, I am not part of that discussion. That person is allowed to make their own decisions about what to do with their genetics. Since their genetic code is theirs, having an outsider mess with that (eugenics) is seen as a human rights issue. It takes the autonomy of that choice away from them.

Also…. The other side of selective breeding isn't just culling, it's breeding. With animals, that generally isn't an issue. If it is, there are all sorts of strategies to make animals more likely to be willing to do to the do with each other. But humans? If you have a human that doesn't want to have children, who doesn't want to reproduce, eugenics would say that that doesn't matter. That you want to push forward certain genetic lineages, even if the members of the population with those desired traits don't want to comply.

And that, for obvious reasons, causes issues.

[loversj0y]

HELLO! first of all, i TOTALLY adore your fics, and i LOVE reading them, and i really love your writing style! i was wondering if u can do a fic of wilbur and reader having cystic fibrosis? it's a lung disease, and ya know.. i have it, it could be based off of taylor swift's song "Soon You'll Get Better." i was reading your fics and they bring so much comfort, that's one of the reasons why i adore them! KEEP WRITING, NEVER STOP DOING WHAT YOU LOVE!!!! i support it!✨️✨️✨️💗💗

soon you'll get better

event masterlist

pairing: wilbur soot x gn! cystic fibrosis! reader

tws: hospitals, illness, brief death mention, hypochondria

notes: this one was a bit of a challenge but i did a lot of research on cystic fibrosis to hopefully get an accurate portrayal, but im sorry if it isnt! also i absolutely love this song, its devastating but so underrated imo

word count: 1.6k

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @core-queen / @zooone / @lillylvjy / @melunnek

When you and Wilbur got together, you were quick to let him know about your Cystic Fibrosis. He was nervous, a consequence of not knowing much about it and his own hypochrondria. He never got totally used to it, the coughing and shortness of breath, especially on bad days. But he got better about it. He did so much research he almost seemed to know more about it than you did. He was alway particularly cautious with everything he learned, disinfecting the house as often as he could, always wearing a mask in public to protect himself. His biggest fear was getting you sick.

But illness wasn’t inevitable. In fact, it was something of a constant in your life. 

The first sign was the fatigue. It usually wasn’t good, but it was far worse today. You could barely leave bed, and Wilbur was immediately concerned. 

“Darling,” he asked softly as he came in with some soup he’d made you for lunch, “are you sure you’re alright?”

“I should be fine, Wil,” you smiled, sitting up and gently squeezing his hand, “Just a bit of a flare up. Thank you, darling.” 

He gently carded his hands through your hair and nodded, though he wasn’t totally satisfied with your answer. You weren’t totally able to stomach the soup, eating a few bites before feeling overly full. Wilbur tried to get you to eat more, but you couldn’t be bothered. He did help you get into a bath, which was wonderful since the steam helped ease your irritated sinuses and lungs, as well as your tired muscles. 

He helped you get out of the bath after, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead as he helped you into bed once more. He brought you your medicine as well, along with a glass of something orange. 

“What is this?” You chuckled softly, broken up by a bout of coughing. 

He bit his lip out of concern, handing your medicine and the glass to you once you’d calmed a bit. “It’s, uh, one of those immune drinks. Orange flavored. Figured it may help with the flare up.” 

You smiled softly, “That’s sweet of you. Thanks, love,” you took the glass and quickly took your meds, drinking the rest of the slightly sweet liquid to help ease Wilbur’s worries. It was a mostly quiet night, though broken up with coughing a bit harder than usual. 

It wasn’t a usual flare up. Two days later, and you were seeing a hyperactive version of Wilbur hypochrondria as he sat with you in the hospital. You were quite weak for a lot of the initial conversations, but you managed to catch a few quick words. Notably, ‘infection’, ‘treatment’, and some bacteria name that truthfully sounded like someone speaking another language. You put the pieces together easily. It wasn’t uncommon for you to get respiratory infections, especially when you were younger.

Wilbur handled it worse than you seemed to. When you came around fully, Wilbur was watching you. It was clear he hadn’t slept. 

“Hey, love,” you smiled softly, “fancy seein’ you here, eh?” You spoke around and tried to ignore the cannula in your nostrils.

He didn’t laugh. “How-” he cleared his throat, “How are you feeling? You,” he was tense as he spoke, clearly uncomfortable by the hospital lighting raining over you both, “You’ve been out for a day and a half.”

You sighed, and your response was cut off before it began by a round of coughing so hard it felt like your lungs were trying to escape you. “Believe it or not,” you hummed out weakly, trying to clear your throat a bit, “Not the worst. Probably, on a scale of one to ten, a four or five.”

He sighed, and you took his hand, squeezing it tightly, “I’m alright, love. This has happened before.”

“Is it alright?” He almost whined, “Darling, the doctor said if we’d waited any longer to get you here, it could’ve been deadly. You could’ve died if I didn’t decide to stay home that day. You could still die if the bacteira doesn’t clear out fast enough, I-” he was breathing quickly, clearly panicking.

“Hey, hey, Wilbur,” you held his hand a bit tighter, trying to sit up and pull him close. Once you tried to move, it was like he snapped into action, moving his chair closer and keeping you from sitting up. You coughed, a bit lighter now, and he frowned again, holding your hand once more.

“Don’t move around too much, please. You need to save your energy.” “God, Wilbur, come on. I’ll be alright. I know you’re worried, but this is new for you. This is not new for me. I know it’s serious, but I promise you, I’ll be okay. I’m stronger than I look.”

Wilbur looked at you like you were delusional, but he didn’t respond. You reached your hand forward, lightly fixing his hair.

“You haven’t been taking care of yourself,” you noted, gently placing your hand on his cheek.

He chuckled sardonically, “You are possibly the only person who would literally be hospitalized and worry more about me instead.”

You smiled fondly, “I’m used to all this,” you gestured at yourself and the hospital equipment scattered around you, “I’m also used to being there for you. And that’s not changing just because I’m here. C’mon,” you shifted, and Wilbur whined, standing and trying to help you.

“What are you doing, darling? Let me help.”

“I want to scoot over,” you shifted again, another round of coughing hitting you strongly, “‘n give you space to lay here with me.”

“You shouldn’t-” he sighed, not even really bothering to continue arguing. He moved his arms under you, gently moving you over, “I’m not supposed to be in there with you. The nurses-”

“I don’t care what the nurses say. I’m the ill one, so they have to let me do what I want. Now, come here. I want to hold you.”

He chuckled softly, carefully lying down next to you. He was a bit too tall for the bed, feet hanging off ever so slightly. But regardless, you curled up against his side, kissing his chest lightly. 

“I know you’re scared for me,” you spoke quietly, “but I promise you, it’s just a bad deal. I’ll be out sooner than you think.”

He nodded softly, kissing the top of your head. He managed to fall asleep a few minutes later, and you went with him. 

You were not out “sooner than you’d think”. It took a week before you were released. It was a grim week, doctors telling you about “Pseudomonas aeruginosa” and trying different things, from oxygen masks to humidifiers to loosen the mucus, to numerous medications. Wilbur wasn’t allowed to stay in bed with you the whole time, but he was always by your side.

“You know,” you’d told him one day, both of you eating some random cafeteria food, “I think when we get back home, we should paint the kitchen.”

“Oh, yeah?” He smiled, but the tenseness surrounding his opinion of hospitals and illness in general didn’t fade away, “What color?”

You smiled cheekily, “Well, now, hear me out. I’m thinkin’ like… a neon pink.”

He laughed, sputtering a bit, “Neon pink? Why?”

“I just think it’d be a good way to brighten our days. I mean, imagine,” you paused, coughs leaking into your words, “we wake up, it’s raining outside, right? We go to make coffee, and bam! Instead of a normal, boring kitchen, our days have gone from cold and gloomy to bright and exciting.”

He laughed a bit, gently playing with your hair, “Hm, maybe. We’ll consider it, once you’re back home.”

You smiled at the note of him acknowledging that you’d be coming home. 

That night you hadn’t been able to sleep, body wracked with coughing all night as nurses and doctors alike worked to try and find a solution.

The next day was better. Mid day, you sat halfway down the bed, Wilbur sitting behind you. He’d brought some hair products since you’d complained about how dry your hair felt from the hospital’s shampoo and conditioner. He carefully combed through your hair, helping apply a leave-in conditioner to help your hair. A nurse walked in with your medication, but you smiled upon seeing her. She was one of the nicer nurses, went by the name Puffy. She never made Wilbur move out from bed, and you quickly preferred her to the other nurses. 

“Alright, it’s meds time, kiddo,” she joked lightly, bringing in your medication and a glass of water.

You reached for it, Wilbur briefly stopping his hair brushing. The medicine wasn’t hard to take, thankfully you’d gotten quite used to it over the years. She smiled, speaking while you took it.

“Last night was a scare for sure, but, you’re getting better. I suspect a few more days before they get you out of here.”

You smiled at her, “Hey, if we give it a bit longer, I could hit a new personal record.”

She laughed at that, but Wilbur clearly didn’t appreciate the joke, one hand coming to wrap around your lower waist. 

She left shortly after, but Wilbur didn’t move from his place against you. 

“You’ll get better,” he murmured softly, placing a gentle kiss on your head, “Soon, you’ll get better.” He kissed your head again, wrapping his arms further against you. You leaned back into him fully, sighing and letting yourself relax.

When you did get released from the hospital, Wilbur was there for everything. He got your medications, making sure he had a timer set for exactly when you needed to take the antibiotics. He took care of you every step of the way, making sure to be by your side. With his help, it wasn’t long before the infection cleared up, and his earlier words, his notion of getting better, were soon a reality. 

[the-empress-7]

Idk if you’re still onto the blake/justin drama. I don’t know them personally. Obviously. But I liked Justin from his previous work on JTV and he has always been open about communicating serious subjects and uses his films/production co. to do that like 5 ft apart with cystic fibrosis, this movie about DV. Maybe it’s all an act, who knows? But he seems a lot more sincere than Lively who doesn’t mention her movie is about DV at all, and instead talks about hair care

I don't know Justin that well. However as a woman, I do recognize a mean girl when I see one.

[monkabonka1]

Good morning! You are the blogger who runs @siren-by-the-sea, yes? First, I wanted to tell you I admire the character you've designed in Monika! Very unique and memorable, and she is the first OC I've encountered to have cystic fibrosis. Bless her, and bless you as well!

Second, I wanted to ask more about her relationships. You've mentioned Monika struggles to get along with other women and has more friends who are men. Yet on her profile, you name Abigail as her love interest. How did that come about in universe and out of it?

Now that I'm thinking about it again, it does make some sense already given Abigail's personality. She is a textbook tomboy! Of course that would appeal to Monika's sensibilities. Or at least as I've understood them.

Thank you for your time, and be good to yourself. 💚

monika grew up with guys and has been on reddit since she was 13. Monika is basically a fictional reflection of myself so shes kinda like a sona, but she is free from the social expectations that I'm in. She obviously has been surrounded by men her whole life and has little experience with women, basically the lesbian version of beer guys that go "heh, women"

The reason I made Abigail the love interest in the farmer meme chart thing is because that's who I married in my save. it doesn't reflect on the SDV ask blog at all

EDIT: i didnt see the last part of the first paragraph. yeah both monika the character and monika the me have CF and were diagnosed at 16. when you hear about CF you usually hear about people who were diagnosed really young. My diagnosis wasn't like that, and it was a hard transition. It took me almost 2 years to try to get used to the medication and treatments, and even then, I'm not quite there. You typically hear about Trikafta being a "miracle drug", and yeah, it is for some, but not me. I have mild CF, which is something people don't usually hear about in media. Trikafta is more like a chore to me, yeah it helps with symptoms, but man is it frustrating. It requires a lot of fatty food intake to not tear up your stomach and since its a strong medication, you can imagine how much weight I've lost, painfully at that. With the ask blog, I wanted to portray someone who just suddenly learnt that they had a chronic illness later in their life than is normal, and how fucky wucky that transition is lol. Not even gonna mention family and friend pressures since they think you're a ticking time bomb or an exotic popularity booster lol.

[candy8448]

Biology paper 2

Gcse rambles

(I do triple higher)

Wow... i dont know how i feel about that

On one hand all that revision did help, on the other....

What the HECK was that question 7???? That was a dumpsterfire and a trainwreck of a question! Why on EARTH was it 5 pages long?!?!? I probably lost all of the marks on it, 7.1 was litterally just a maths question but with too many variables! I hated that!!!

And i was worried about the nervous system and hormones cuz they are like 2/3 of the bio paper 2 ciriculum, but i studied them WELL and was confident in them but they were all for some reason lumped into one question with like 3 pages and im so mad about that! Why did 7 get 5 pages?!?!?

Also the cystic fibrosis question was... i didnt know what to do, i said it was recessive and that there was a 1 in 4 chance of it coming up so that will get me 2/6 marks, but then i just yapped for the rest cuz i didnt know what to do i hope i got another mark.

But then i was talking to my friends about it qhile we were still on school ground just walking out, i realised what i had to do and i was SO MAD about that! Cuz i could have gotten it!! 3 ressesives are needed for it to most likely show up, so you need a homozygous and hetrozygous parent and so you do 50X4 for the likelyhood of it coming up, X3 to get 3 alleles, then X4 again for the 25% chance of the kid showing CF, and ajhagdsjahJagajay i could have gotten it!! (I think i did mention needing a het and homo parent so maybe a mark is there? Hopefully?)

Anyways so that happened. I hope i get a 7 since i got that in my mocks. In the end it doesnt matter cuz i need a 6 in physics and chem but i want to keep that 7 for my prides sake

Hehe maths is next then i dont have to do it forever!!!

Memes:

[georgiapeach30513]

I'm sorry but I don't get people complaining about the fact he smokes, it's not like he has the cigarette in his mouth 7/24. However, (since we're on the topic) an old friend of my uncle d*ed of natural d*th and he smoked like a chimney throughout his life...

To me it’s not a shock. I guess because he mentioned he quit smoking awhile back ago. I mean it is what it is to me.

Most the people in my family are smokers, so far none of their deaths have been caused from smoking.

I just have several people that I love dearly that have cystic fibrosis, and one that passed in 2019 with complications from CF. I don’t want to damage my lungs. But to each their own. It’s not illegal, and Chris is of age.

[peachycrime]

Hi, I remembered your HC about Spider with cystic fibrosis and I was wondering how you think this situation would affect the Quaritch recom? I mean his thoughts and feelings, maybe he would pull the strings to get Spider new lungs?

ohhhh my gosh, i definitely did make a post about Spider having cystic fribrosis,

to recap this au, spider has CF, he lives on Omaticaya land in a local clinic created basically for him? When he was around 2 years old they found out and Norm pulled some strings to get not only the materials but the needed personnel to take care of him. Mo’at weaved a bag for his nasal cannula which is always on his hip. He grew up in the clinic since they deemed it too dangerous for him to be outside too much. He met the Sully’s while still young, Neytiri was of course hostile at first, but how long can you go being angry at an innocent, chronically ill child before you feel guilty?…. for Neytiri, pretty damn long but she got there. he still loves to climb and do superhuman shit . At first he was extremely reckless bc he undervalued himself but some scoldings and tears for the Sully kids after his actions caught up to him. He started being more delicate about his health.

Now for this ask, this would be him having CF in the canon universe. Oh boy. Lots of neglect on that part, adults always willing to scold him for being reckless but never willing to step up and look after him. especially being on Pandora where getting a lung transplant literally isn’t an option…not for the faint of heart. He came to accept his own mortality, had he been on earth, he probably wouldn’t had gotten a transplant due to overpopulation(longer waiting list) but he would’ve atleast had treatment. Here? i’m a world where he had it constantly push his body and organs to keep up? yea it’s not easy.

The recons at first thought he has using the cannula as an alternative to the mask. A visit to the lab and some blood samples later they find out that it’s not the case. Quaritch feels oddly guilty, he knows it’s a genetic condition, meaning the he was partly at fault for it. The other numbnuts don’t really care if i’ll be honest. They’re shocked Spider survived as long as he did, and lowkey respect it but that’s it. Not much pity or sympathy, it doesn’t really affect them since none of them carry the gene.

Spider let’s his guard down and mentions how he’d never be able to get new lungs in a moment of vulnerability. So Quaritch mentions the possibility of new lungs to one of the lab guys bc he’s a bit of a softie but mostly also wants to use to his advantage. Get the wild child to live you by giving him everything g he desires yknow. But of course, the general hears about it through the grapevine.

General Ardmore tries to bribe him with new lungs, it’s cruel. It’s something Spider had wanted since childhood and now it was so close but so far away too. He’d never betray the Sully’s but it still hurts to turn away everything he ever wanted. Quaritch tries to get him to accept which leads to a huge argument with Spider something like this,

“Fuck off,”

“You don’t t know anything about me, you I’ve been living with this for years, you think I’m that naïve? Fuck you, your general— and your lungs.”

“Get away from me, stop trying to be something for me. You were made in a lab, you’re not my father— you’re the reason I’m like this anyways.”

The words hurts more than Quaritch wants to admit, he realizes that he cares for the kid, his kid.

Sorrows, sorrows, prayers.

[shion-yu]

False Alarm

Sometimes, it’s just not meant to be. An early Cliff and Theo/Al story, mostly fluffy banter and then some angst. 2,810 words, no TWs but CWs low intensity hospital setting, transplant talk, mention of internalized homophobia.

Cliff wasn't sure what to make of Theo, the lawyer he was doing his summer internship with before he started his first semester at NYU. When Cliff thought about what a lawyer should look like, he had certain expectations. A lawyer was extremely formal, never smiled or laughed, never asked questions, and always wore a suit. The only one of these qualities that Theo possessed was the suit wearing, and even then he could occasionally be caught wearing khakis and a button down. 

The craziest thing about Theo though, was that he was openly gay and no one seemed to care. It floored Cliff. His mom had always looked down on gay couples they saw in public. She looked down on everyone, but especially people who "chose" to stand out. Yet here Theo was, with a big office overlooking the financial district and an incredible case record under his belt and nobody ever seemed to disrespect him. He even had a picture of his partner on his desk where anybody could see, including the clients who came for consultations and business partners whose opinions really mattered. Cliff didn't understand how Theo got away with it, but he did. It definitely left an impression.

This particular day though, Theo seemed frazzled and distracted. Cliff was sitting across from him in Theo's office just having his weekly check-in with the lawyer. Theo usually seemed very put together and focused, but today he kept checking his personal cell phone on his desk like he was waiting for something. "So Cliff," Theo said, "Still think you'd like to go to law school after your first month here?"

"I think so," Cliff said. He tried not to watch as Theo glanced at his phone yet again. "I like the research. And I like going to court."

"You've certainly got the brains for it," Theo said. "When you're at NYU, take lots of diverse classes. Everything can always tie back into law and make you better at practicing it."

"Thanks," Cliff said.

"No problem," Theo said casually, but he was immediately distracted when his phone buzzed with a call. He looked at the caller ID and nearly jumped out of his seat. "Sorry Cliff, I've got to take this," Theo said hurriedly. "You're fine here, just, hey, pour yourself a coffee or something." Theo motioned to the full coffee pot on one of his other desks and then stopped paying attention to Cliff.

Cliff tried not to be nosy and listen, but it was hard not to when they were in the same room. He made himself a cup of coffee even though he preferred tea and sipped awkwardly. He hoped it gave the impression he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation Theo was having that clearly was not about work. "Are you sure that's all it is?” Theo was saying, his voice concerned. “Tomorrow? What time? Does he need to stay overnight? NPO after midnight? Okay. Yes, of course. Thank you Doctor."

Theo set his phone down, took a deep breath and then sat back in his office chair. "Sorry Cliff," he said. "You can come back now."

Cliff awkwardly returned to his seat a cross from Theo, placing the steaming cup of coffee on a coaster at the edge of Theo's desk. "That was my partner's doctor, I've been waiting for that call, sorry to be so distracted," Theo said. "He's going to the hospital for a minor procedure tomorrow, so I probably won't see you for the rest of the week." 

"Oh," Cliff said. What else was he supposed to say? "I hope he's okay."

"He's fine, thank you," Theo said. "He's got a port, I don't know if you're familiar, it's like an IV in his chest. Anyways, it got infected so they're replacing it with a new one." Cliff honestly had no idea what Theo was talking about, but it sounded serious. It seemed Cliff wasn't very good at hiding his expression, because Theo added, "He's got a disease called cystic fibrosis, so he's in and out of the hospital a lot. I don't want to say it's not a big deal, but well, it's not an emergency. Don't worry." 

"Okay," Cliff said. He nodded to the framed photo on Theo's desk. In it, a slightly younger Theo had one arm slung over the shoulders over a guy with curly dark hair, thick glasses and dimples. "That's him, right?"

"Yup," Theo confirmed. "His name's Al. He's a good guy." The way Theo was smiling as he said this was different from the way Theo usually smiled at everybody else. Cliff didn't know how to define it - fond, perhaps? "Next time he comes around I'll let you meet him. You'd like him." Now Theo had a weirdly knowing look on his face, as if he understood something Cliff didn't. 

"Sure," Cliff said. He was so confused. 

His confusion didn't abate even when he did meet Al about three weeks later. Al was shorter than Theo and wore very casual clothing that stuck out in the law firm. His cheeks were pink compared to the rest of his olive skin, which Cliff soon realized was from coughing. Al coughed the entire time he was in the office to drop off a lunch for Theo, and he dragged a metal cylinder on wheels behind him that connected to clear oxygen tubing in his nose. Cliff was startled; the oxygen hadn't been in the picture, nor had he expected Al to sound quite so sick. But everybody else in the office seemed to know Al well and think nothing of it. Al himself seemed energetic and cheerful, which was not how Cliff pictured somebody sick in his head.

Still, Cliff wasn't used to sick people, even if Al was apparently not contagious. He was sort of hoping Theo had forgotten about his promise to let him meet Al, but Cliff had no such luck. "Al, this is my intern, Cliff Barrows," Theo said as he led Al right to Cliff's desk.

Obviously unable to hide when his boss stood right in front of him, Cliff stood up and forced a polite smile. "Nice to meet you," Cliff said, sticking his hand out to shake.

"Nice to meet you too! I finally meet the famous Cliff," Al grinned, shaking Cliff's hand. His grip was firm and sure, not weak at all.

"Famous in a good way," Theo reassured Cliff. "I told him all about what a good kid you are."

"Uh, thanks," Cliff said, trying to keep a questioning tone from creeping into his voice. He felt awkward standing right there in front of the two of them under scrutiny. "Um... I'm just gonna get back to work then," he said, sitting at his desk and typing something nonsensical into an open word document until he was sure the pair was no longer looking at him. 

Cliff tried to look subtle as the two men walked away. Theo led Al towards his office with one hand around Al's back, Al coughing as they went, but he was also laughing. Cliff had no idea how he could seem so happy. Cliff had googled cystic fibrosis when Theo had mentioned it and it didn't really sound like a laughing matter to him. It sounded incurable and painful. Then again, Cliff supposed they couldn't be gloomy all the time. Or maybe even most of the time, since Al and Theo seemed to be normal unlike Cliff who could indeed go around with a perpetually serious look on his face. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Al sat heavily in the chair on the client side of Theo's desk, coughing until Theo handed him a glass of water to sip on. "Thanks," he croaked, smiling up at his partner gratefully. 

Theo sat across the desk from Al in his chair. Although Al got to see Theo in his formal attire every day before and after work, seeing him wear it at work always felt different. Theo carried himself so confidentially and spoke with such a professional tone, it honestly made Al want to grab his tie and kiss him right there in the office. Theo's desk had definitely seen some action after hours before.

"Stop looking at me like that," Theo said, opening up the salad Al had brought him.

"Like what? I don't know what you're talking about," Al said innocently.

Theo mixed a packet of dressing up with his salad. "Like I'm a piece of meat."

"Aren't you?" 

Theo shook his head with a smirk. "You're so damn predictable," he said. "You keep your hands to yourself mister, I've got court later today. Thanks for the food." 

"You're welcome," Al said. "By the way, you were so right about that Cliff kid." 

"Right?" Theo said around a mouthful of lettuce. "He's definitely gay."

"So gay," Al agreed. "And adorably awkward.”

“He’s actually a better speaker than you might think,” Theo said thoughtfully. “When it comes to work stuff anyways,” he added, seeing Al’s incredulous look of doubt.

“He gave me the ‘wow, you must be dying’ look,” Al said. “You should probably tell him I’m fine. And that his face is an open book." 

Theo shrugged. “I don’t know how reassuring ‘My partner’s fine, just waiting for a double lung transplant’ is, but sure, I’ll tell him.”

Al rolled his eyes. “Thanks a lot,” he said sarcastically. “Anyways, I’m heading home. What do you want to eat tonight?” 

“Anything. Shake Shack. Anything."

"So... Shake Shack," Al said. 

"How did you know?" Theo grinned. "Okay, be careful on your way home baby. Wear your mask on the train."

"Ugh, Theo, it's July," Al whined, but Theo knew he would behave. Al was usually great about taking care of himself, but especially now when he couldn't risk any illnesses lest it ruin his chances of being on the transplant list. It was also why he tried not to leave the house much these days, but he'd had a doctors appointment a few blocks away so had taken the opportunity of already being out to visit Theo. 

Theo kissed Al goodbye and watched his partner walk down the street from the windows in his office, dragging the wheeled oxygen tank behind him. He shook his head, wishing Al would just take a cab, but Al hated wasting money if he could do it the cheaper way and Theo suspected it was far more about independence than cost at this point in their lives. 

They'd been together about five years now and had lived with each other since day one, having met as roommates. Theo had been in his last year of law school while Al was struggling after the death of his husband. At first they were just friends and that was enough. Right person, wrong time Theo thought, because it didn't seem like Al was ready for anything more. But then Al had gotten really sick and although he insisted Theo didn't need to worry about it, it was impossible. Theo spent every day studying at the hospital so that Al wouldn’t be alone until feelings became inevitable and Al made the first move. The rest was history. 

Theo smiled to himself thinking about Al, absently eating his salad until he was interrupted by his phone ringing. It was Al, which was odd because Al had only just left his office. "Babe? You okay?" Theo answered.

"Meet me at the hospital," Al said in a breathless rush. "I’ve got lungs."

Theo was speechless. This was the moment they'd dreamed of for months, and it was happening now. Right now. "Theo?" Theo realized he hadn’t said anything in response.

"Holy shit. Holy shit, I love you so much. Yeah, okay, I'm coming."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

False alarms for this sort of thing should be illegal, Theo thought to himself angrily. The doctor had just left the room and explained he was so sorry, but the lungs weren't a perfect match after all. They were going to someone else - someone who wasn't Albert. Al had been congenial about it, nodding as if it didn't bother him. But Theo was livid and could barely contain his anger as the doctor closed the door. 

The silence in the room was heavy. Al had been changed into a gown, given CHG bath and gotten labs done, and had his port hooked up to fluids. He sat there in the hospital bed where they'd waited with excitement for the past two hours, now lost for words. 

"It's not fair," Theo said finally. His hands were balled into fists, which were shaking. "How can they do this?" Al was quiet. He looked out the window with a calmness that Theo didn't understand. "You're not mad?" 

"No," Al said softly. "I'm not mad. Can we go home though?" He was already going for his clothes, unbuttoning his gown. "Hey, if you hurry you can still make it to court this afternoon." 

Theo shook his head. "I don't care about court. I already told work I didn't know when I'd be back. They're going to be more surprised when I say nevermind." 

"Sorry," Al said, as if he’d ruined a casual date and not lost the opportunity of a lifetime after it was crudely dangled in front of him.

"Don't apologize," Theo said. "If anything, this place should be apologizing to you. How are you so calm?"

Al shrugged. "Someone else is getting lungs. Someone who needs them. I'm not going to be mad about that."

Theo sighed. "You're right, but I'm still pissed. Can I be pissed for you?"

Al seemed to consider it for several seconds and then nodded. "Yeah. You can be pissed for both of us, okay?" 

"I gotcha, baby," Theo said. He forced a tight smile at Al, who gave a tired smile back. 

Al was discharged and they arrived home around dinner time. Theo was starving, but Al said he didn't feel like eating. Theo didn’t feel like seeing anybody else for the rest of the day, even a delivery driver, and ended up throwing a frozen pizza in the oven. He called Al to the table when it was ready, hoping the smell would entice him. "You should eat just a little," Theo said. 

"I'm really not hungry," Al said quietly. "I just want to go to bed and have this day be over."

Theo felt a pang of pity and sighed. "I know. Just a few bites?"

Al finished half a slice and then shuffled off to bed. Theo ate the rest of the pizza alone, letting all the negative thoughts he was having get to him for just a few minutes. He chewed the pizza like it had personally done something offensive to him and then scrubbed the dishes clean, his stomach aching from eating too much. Then, he took a shower and forced himself to let all the tension leave him. He imagined it swirling down the drain with the soapy water, leaving him exhausted but calm. As upset as Theo was, Al was the one these things were happening to. He had to be strong for Al. 

Theo went to the bathroom, now in fresh pajamas and ready to be there for his partner. Al was lying on his side but not asleep and peeked over his shoulder at Theo. Theo sat next to him on bed and rested a hand on Al's arm. "Should we talk about it?" He asked.

"Nah. What is there to talk about?" Al said in his usual gentle tone. If Theo didn't know any better, he'd think Al didn't care, or was totally fine. But he also knew that wasn't possible and Al hid his feelings well. 

"What happened today was kind of crazy," Theo said carefully. "Crazy and honestly... not okay. It was like the biggest news of your life and then the biggest let down. It's a lot to take in."

Al sat up and looked at Theo. His green eyes were always so forbearing. "It is a lot," he said. "But ya know, I'm not as upset as I thought I'd be. Coz when I got the call, I didn't think, 'I'm going to live.' All I could think was, if I die, I'm not ready. So... Maybe today just wasn't the right time."

Theo hadn't expected Al to say anything like that. He swallowed down the lump that had risen in his throat and took Al's hands in his own. "You're right. It wasn't meant to be, and maybe it was for the better."

Al nodded in agreement, leaning forward to press his forehead against Theo's. "I love you, Theo," he said. "Thanks for being there for me." 

"I love you too," Theo said, taking Al’s hands in his own and squeezing them. "And next time you get the call, it's going to be the right match."

[kyra45]

https://www.tumblr.com/qualitymagazinepersona Cystic fibrosis scammer is back again in case no one else has mentioned them.

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