#minimal incision
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
Advances in Minimally Invasive Spine Surgery Techniques
Medical science has advanced in a few decades. Our researchers work day and night to help us attain optimal health.
We usually read and listen about the invention of a new drug to cure critical problems. For example, we recently heard that Russian scientists are close to developing a cancer drug, which would be great news if they were successful.
But today, we will not discuss the trends in drugs but the advances in minimally invasive spine surgery techniques.
So, letâs get started!
What is Minimally Invasive Spine Surgery?
We usually hear cases of people suffering from back injuries and conditions that cause them pain. Sometimes, these problems are minor, and people resolve them by taking drugs. However, people who suffer from severe back pain usually end up undergoing spine surgery.
The surgical process, traditionally, was quite painful. If we talk about traditional spine surgery, surgeons have to create long incisions to gain access to the anatomy and view the area to be operated on.
But the advancements in medical science have given birth to minimally invasive spine surgery. So, what can you expect from Minimally Invasive Spine Surgery?
Minimal incision
Little or no muscle-cutting
Less bleeding during surgery
Shorter hospital staysÂ
Smaller risk of infection
Less pain after surgery
Faster recovery
Less scarring                                                                                 Â
Conditions Treated Using MIS Procedures
Degenerative disc disease
Herniated disc
Lumbar spinal stenosis
Spinal instability, including spondylolisthesis
Vertebral compression fractures
Spinal tumors
Spinal deformities such as scoliosis
Spinal infections
After gaining the basic of minimally invasive spine surgery, letâs move further to see the recent Advances in Minimally Invasive Spine Surgery Techniques:
Robotic-Assisted Surgery: We see the use of robotics in almost every field to guide doctors to perform work with precision, and medical science is no less.Â
We can understand this better by seeing the scenario where using Robotics and AI medical science has expanded the capabilities of surgeons, helping them to have fine motor control during intricate procedures. Additionally, robotic-assisted systems, guided by AI algorithms, allow surgeons to execute precision, which was not possible previously with traditional techniques; this affects not only surgeons but also patients. It is now easier for patients to recover postoperatively because they feel less surgical trauma.
Virtual reality (VR)/Augmented reality (AR) in Spine Surgery: Recent technological advancements have given spine surgeons the power to plan surgical operations in a virtual 3D environment, which helps them create a surgical blueprint for each patient by ensuring the precise placement of devices.
Endoscopy: In the past few times, great technological advancements have driven the minimally invasive revolution in spine surgery.
And spinal Endoscopy is the next enhancement that has gained enormous traction over the past decade.
Following elective spinal surgery with endoscopy, fewer permanent biomechanical alterations occur.
Additionally, endoscopy causes less collateral damage to the surrounding tissues of the spinal column. That generally means a less painful procedure and a shorter recovery period. Which means patients can return to activities more quickly.
Spine surgery is one of the most popular subjects among postgraduate students, and those who aspire to know every little detail of Minimally Invasive Spine Surgery must enroll in the Spine Surgery Course!
Why Should You Enroll For this Course?
This course is not like any random course available online. The course is a complete package for students because it has been created by a team of faculty members with extensive teaching experience.
The course consisted of a collection of spine surgery video lectures, which are helpful for students and even for orthopedic surgeons and neurosurgeons to learn new techniques and procedures in spine surgery. These video lectures contain more than 50 different spine operations, including spinal deformity and minimally invasive and neurosurgical procedures performed by eminent and experienced surgeons.
Not only that, you will also get the notes, which means you cannot miss any topic.
#Spine Surgery Course#Invasive Spine Surgery Techniques#Spine Surgery Video Lectures#minimally invasive spine surgery#spine surgery#minimal incision
0 notes
Text
musing in the tags about the view two years out from my hysterectomy and the shifting nature of neuropathy. i asked my PT for recommendations/resources pertaining to pain science and that's been a very helpful lenses to have. i'm still not back to normal, will never be unmarked by this experience or return to my pre-op self, but my baseline has been gradually increasing over the last few months, and it feels good to look back on the last two years and say "i have no idea how i managed to function while living with that, but i did!"
#meatsuit renno#chronic blogging#ctxt#at first post-hysto pain was a deep burning ache#and eventually that lessened on my left side and settled in for the long haul on the right#after a couple weeks it had started to feel like a small carnivorous creature scrabbling and gnawing at the inside of my abdomen#nestled into the hollow of my pelvis and reaching up with its raking claws#about 6 months in and the creature still chewed occasionally but had shrunk to the size of a tennis ball under my right incision site#it clamped its jaws down and went to sleep and i perpetually felt like someone had pinched a fold of my insides with a large binder clip#this constant awful twisting tug every time i moved that kept me from straightening up or breathing fully#this is about a year into recovery and my original surgeon has blown off my requests for follow-up treatment three times now#i carried on as best i could. fatigue and brainfog getting worse & worse as the pain wore on unrelentingly#about a year and a half into recovery it worsened again. searing lancing pain like i'd been impaled on a piece of white hot rebar#couldn't hardly move. couldn't think straight. couldn't sleep#finally checked myself into urgent care & then the ER just to try to get someone anyone to take me seriously and help me#finally got a referral to a new surgeon who immediately pinned it as extreme neuropathy#started gabapentin end of december last year and the relief was immediately#i never thought i would welcome the gritted teeth vice grip of my little feral pain creature#but when i felt the molten spike slide out to be replaced once more by its worrying jaws#the intermittent spark and fizzle of that pinching squirming pain was a dramatic improvement#then i started PT in march and slowly so slowly the creature's hungry grip is loosening#it still clamps down occasionally. maybe once every week or two i'll have a day when i just accept#that there will be a horrible little creature chewing on my right side from the inside#but nowadays with the gabapentin doing as much as it can and an exercise routine i must stick to religiously to supplement PT#the pain is more of a little pearl of dark matter shifting around under my skin#it's incredibly dense. the heart of a black hole of disabling agony. all that white hot fury condensed into a slick heavy marble#as i recover some of my strength and energy i can feel my body coating it in nacreous layers to minimize its influence#my hysterectomy was 2 years and 4 days ago today and i feel like i can finally finally say i'm beginning to truly heal#i suspect i'll always carry this pearl in my side like shrapnel. product of damaged nerve tissue that went untreated for far too long#i wish my original surgeon had been more competent more attentive less lazy & indifferent to my pain. but i still don't have any regrets.
14 notes
·
View notes
Text
got a good grade in top surgery, something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve :^]
#my stitches are out and my incisions look great and my swelling is minimal#and my surgeon and his husband the anesthetist are very pleased and proud and excited for me#and so am i!!! im so glad i did this!!! ahhh!!!!#just gotta take it easy the next couple weeks and then iâm good to start scar care and return to normal activity.#izzy.txt
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Percutaneous Nephrolithotomy (PCNL)
 Percutaneous nephrolithotomy (PCNL) is a surgical procedure to remove kidney stones that are too large to pass naturally or by other non-invasive treatments. In this procedure, a small incision is made in the back to create a tunnel through the skin and tissue to access the kidney. Then an endoscope is inserted through the incision to find and remove kidney stones.
 PCNL is usually performed under general anesthesia and requires a short hospital stay of 1-3 days. This procedure has a high success rate and is considered safe and effective in treating large or complex kidney stones. This procedure is recommended for patients with kidney stones larger than 2 cm or located in areas of the kidney that are difficult to access with other non-invasive treatments. PCNL is also used in patients with other medical conditions that make other treatments less safe or effective.
 Prior to the procedure, the patient may need to have imaging tests, such as a CT scan or ultrasound, to locate kidney stones and determine the best method for their removal. Patients are also advised to stop taking blood thinners such as aspirin and warfarin before surgery to reduce the risk of bleeding.
 During surgery, the patient lies on their back and a small incision is made in their back. A guidewire is then inserted into the kidney through the incision and tunneled with a series of dilators. A nephroscope, a thin tubular instrument with a camera and light source, is inserted through a tunnel to locate and remove kidney stones. After the stone is removed, a tube called a nephrostomy tube is inserted into the kidney to drain any remaining fluid and debris.Â
 After the procedure, patients may experience pain or discomfort in the back or abdomen and may be given pain relievers to manage these symptoms. Patients are also advised to drink plenty of fluids to wash away any remaining stone debris. In some cases, patients may need to undergo additional procedures to completely remove all kidney stones.
 Overall, PCNL is a safe and effective surgical procedure for treating large or complex kidney stones. Patients should discuss the risks and benefits of this procedure with their doctor to determine if this is the best treatment option for their individual needs.
For more information Visit: www.drmayurdalvi.com
#surgery#urology#PCNL#kidney stones#percutaneous nephrolithotomy#healthcare#medical procedures#minimally invasive surgery#surgical techniques#anesthesia#imaging#nephrology#patient care#recovery#post-operative care#stone removal#surgical instruments#surgical incision#back surgery#abdominal pain
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Micro-Incision Cataract Surgery (MICS): A Minimally Invasive Option for Treating Cataracts
                           Micro Incision Cataract (MICS)
Cataracts are a common condition among older adults, characterized by the clouding of the eye's natural lens. This clouding can lead to blurry vision, difficulty seeing in low light conditions, and eventually, vision loss. Cataracts can be treated through surgery, with one popular option being micro-incision cataract surgery (MICS).
MICS is a minimally invasive cataract surgery technique that involves creating a small incision (typically between 1.5 and 2.2mm) in the cornea, which is the clear outer layer of the eye. Through this tiny incision, the surgeon removes the cloudy lens and replaces it with an artificial intraocular lens (IOL).
There are several benefits to MICS over traditional cataract surgery techniques. Firstly, the small incision means less trauma to the eye, resulting in less inflammation, faster healing time, and reduced risk of complications. Additionally, because the incision is so small, there is less induced astigmatism, which can lead to better visual outcomes. Finally, MICS can often be performed without the need for stitches or sutures, further reducing the risk of complications.
MICS is typically performed under local anesthesia, with the patient awake but numb around the eye. The surgeon will make a small incision in the cornea and use specialized instruments to break up the cloudy lens and remove it from the eye. The artificial IOL is then inserted through the same small incision and positioned in the correct location. The entire procedure usually takes less than 30 minutes to complete.
After the surgery, patients will need to use prescription eye drops to prevent infection and reduce inflammation. It is also important to avoid rubbing or touching the eye and to avoid strenuous activities for several weeks. Most patients experience improved vision within a few days, with full recovery typically taking several weeks.
MICS is a safe and effective option for treating cataracts, with high success rates and low risk of complications. However, not all patients may be suitable candidates for the procedure. Your ophthalmologist will be able to advise you on whether MICS is the right choice for your individual case.
Summery
micro-incision cataract surgery (MICS) is a minimally invasive technique that can offer many benefits over traditional cataract surgery techniques. By creating a small incision in the cornea, MICS can reduce trauma to the eye, improve visual outcomes, and speed up recovery time. If you are experiencing cataracts, talk to your ophthalmologist to see if MICS is right for you.
For More information  please Visit: https://www.shrikrishnanetralaya.com/
#MICS#micro-incision cataract surgery#cataracts#eye surgery#minimally invasive surgery#intraocular lens#cornea#visual outcomes#recovery#ophthalmology
1 note
·
View note
Text
Sapphire FUE Hair Transplant: A High-Tech and Minimally Invasive Solution to Hair Loss
What is Sapphire FUE Hair Transplantation?
The Sapphire FUE (Follicular Unit Extraction) hair transplant technique is a minimally invasive procedure that involves extracting individual hair follicles from the donor area and implanting them into the recipient area using a specialized tool made of sapphire.
The sapphire FUE method uses a sapphire blade to create small incisions in the scalp, which allows for more precise and controlled implantation of hair follicles. The blade is made of sapphire, which is a high-quality material that is known for its durability and sharpness. This allows for a more efficient and accurate implantation of hair follicles, resulting in a higher success rate.
Advantages of Sapphire FUE Hair Transplantation
Minimal Scarring: The Sapphire FUE method is a minimally invasive procedure that does not require any incisions or stitches. This means that there is minimal scarring, and the recovery time is much faster compared to other hair transplant techniques.
High Success Rate: The sapphire FUE method has a high success rate, with most patients experiencing natural-looking results. The use of a sapphire blade allows for more precise and controlled placement of hair follicles, resulting in a seamless blend between the transplanted hair and the existing hair.
Faster Recovery: The Sapphire FUE method has a faster recovery time compared to other hair transplant techniques. Patients can usually return to their normal activities within a few days of the procedure.
Versatile: The Sapphire FUE method can be used on all hair types, including curly or wavy hair. It is also suitable for individuals with a limited donor area, as the sapphire blade can extract hair follicles from areas that may be difficult to access with other techniques.
Conclusion
The Sapphire FUE method is a high-tech and minimally invasive hair transplant technique that offers many benefits over other hair transplant procedures. It has a high success rate, minimal scarring, and faster recovery time. The use of a sapphire blade allows for more precise and controlled placement of hair follicles, resulting in natural-looking results. If you are considering a hair transplant, the Sapphire FUE method is definitely worth considering.
#Sapphire FUE#Hair transplantation#Hair loss#Hair restoration#Minimally invasive#Natural-looking results#Precise placement#Scalp incisions#Recovery time#Donor area#Curly or wavy hair#Cosmetic surgery
1 note
·
View note
Text
Writing Notes: Wounds
Wound
Occurs when the integrity of any tissue is compromised (e.g. skin breaks, muscle tears, burns, or bone fractures).
May be caused by an act, such as a gunshot, fall, or surgical procedure; by an infectious disease; or by an underlying condition.
8 Categories of Acute Wounds
Generally used by emergency personnel & first aid workers.
Abrasions. Also called scrapes, they occur when the skin is rubbed away by friction against another rough surface (e.g. rope burns and skinned knees).
Avulsions. These occur when an entire structure or part of it is forcibly pulled away, such as the loss of a permanent tooth or an ear lobe. Explosions, gunshots, and animal bites may cause avulsions.
Contusions. Also called bruises, these are the result of a forceful trauma that injures an internal structure without breaking the skin. Blows to the chest, abdomen, or head with a blunt instrument (e.g., a football or a fist) can cause contusions.
Crush wounds. Occur when a heavy object falls onto a person, splitting the skin and shattering or tearing underlying structures.
Cuts. Slicing wounds made with a sharp instrument, leaving even edges. They may be as minimal as a paper cut or as significant as a surgical incision.
Lacerations. Also called tears, these are separating wounds that produce ragged edges. They are produced by a tremendous force against the body, either from an internal source as in childbirth, or from an external source like a punch.
Missile wounds. Also called velocity wounds, they are caused by an object entering the body at a high speed, typically a bullet.
Punctures. These are deep, narrow wounds produced by sharp objects such as nails, knives, and broken glass.
Symptoms of a Wound
Include localized pain and bleeding.
Specific symptoms:
An abrasion usually appears as lines of scraped skin with tiny spots of bleeding.
An avulsion has heavy, rapid bleeding and a noticeable absence of tissue.
A contusion may appear as a bruise beneath the skin or may appear only on imaging tests. An internal wound may also generate symptoms such as weakness, perspiration, and pain.
A crush wound may have irregular margins like a laceration; however, the wound will be deeper and trauma to muscle and bone may be apparent.
A cut may have little or profuse bleeding depending on its depth and length; its even edges readily line up.
A laceration may have little or profuse bleeding. The tissue damage is generally greater and the woundâs ragged edges do not readily line up.
A missile entry wound may be accompanied by an exit wound, and bleeding may be profuse, depending on the nature of the injury.
A puncture wound will be greater in depth than in its length, therefore there is usually little bleeding around the outside of the wound and more bleeding inside, causing discoloration.
Some Terminology
Butterfly bandageâNarrow strip of adhesive with wider flaring ends (shaped like butterfly wings) used to hold the edges of a wound together as it heals.
PlasmaâThe straw-colored fluid component of blood, without blood cells.
TourniquetâA device used to control bleeding, consisting of a constricting band applied tightly around a limb above the wound. It should only be used if the bleeding in life-threatening and cannot be controlled by other means.
Traumatic shockâA condition of depressed body functions as a reaction to injury with loss of body fluids or lack of oxygen. Signs of traumatic shock include weak and rapid pulse; shallow and rapid breathing; and pale, cool, clammy skin.
Whole bloodâBlood that contains red blood cells, white blood cells, and platelets in plasma.
Source â More: Writing Notes & References More: Writing Realistic Injuries â On Anatomy â Poison â Fight Scenes Part 1 2
#writing notes#wound#writeblr#dark academia#spilled ink#literature#writers on tumblr#writing reference#poets on tumblr#writing prompt#poetry#creative writing#writing inspiration#writing ideas#light academia#writing resources
301 notes
·
View notes
Note
hey, love! sooo i have a request (and im more than willing to wait for it, absolutely no rush). i'm having surgery in a couple weeks and it's nothing like life threatening or super serious but it's still a little scary and it's something that's going to make my very stubbornly independent self need to be dependent on other people for like two or three months. so i was wondering if you could do stubborn/independent reader in recovery, being taken care of by remus and or regulus cause i know they'd be very sweet and maybe a bit too helpful, like maybe reader even tries to do things that they aren't ready for yet because it's frustrating needing to rely on others but theres reassurance that it's fine to need help and it's better to take the help in order to have a quicker and better recovery. wanted to keep details vague so you can work your magic but i hope at least a little inspiring
lot of love!!! đ«¶đ«¶đ«¶
best of luck with your surgery, love! hope it all goes well <3
poly!moonwater x fem!reader who is recovering from surgery not at all gracefully
CW: reader is stubbornly independent, discussion of surgery/post-op aftercare/stitches and incisions, fluff and comfort
By some absolute twist of fate, youâd actually been left alone for the first time in nearly five days.
You were unbelievably thankful for your two sweet, sweet boyfriends and the amount of care they treated you with.
But however thankful you were for your two sweet, sweet boyfriends, you were also quite fed up with their coddling.Â
Youâre not sure what exactly it was that finally got them to leave you alone; it could have been your sharp tone when you told Regulus you didnât want your pillows fluffed again, or the withering glare you gave Remus when he poked his head in to ask if you needed âanything else at all, sweet girlâ, but you were almost certain it was when you finally dissolved into frustrated tears.
And so, five days after your appendectomy, you were finally, blissfully alone.Â
You had tissues on the bed beside you, the largest bottle of water Regulus could find on the bedside table, your books, the TV remote, and some crisps at your disposal.Â
It was heavenly.
But you know what would be even better? Ice cream.Â
In the two days you spent in hospital following your procedure, Regulus had to have spent nearly half your monthly rent on food, snacks, blankets, and other âpost-surgery suppliesâ - which included the largest refillable water bottle youâd ever seen in your entire life.Â
It also included ice cream.Â
And while the boys had left the majority of your post-surgery supplies within your reach upon their retreat from your bedroom, ice cream could not, for obvious reasons, be left in your bedroom for your easy access.
But what were you going to do? Call them? Ask them to come bring you ice cream? And have to live with their smug âhaha, see, you do need usâ faces? Well, that certainly wouldnât do.Â
It had been four days since your surgery which left you with perhaps nothing more than a few teeny incisions along your stomach that they slapped a measly piece of tape over to keep shut - like hell that was going to slow you down.Â
So, you pushed your blankets off yourself with minimal effort. You took a deep breath and held it as you swiveled your hips so that your legs were hanging off the bed, letting it out as you twisted your torso to realign your body correctly. Not so bad, right?
You braced yourself again as you slid slowly off the bed, once again letting a lung-full of air out as your feet hit the ground.
Feeling quite chuffed at your accomplishment and unjustifiably confident that the hardest part was now over, you started on your task of retrieving ice cream.Â
You reminded yourself as you shuffled down the hallway that the doctor had said that walking each day was in fact good for your recovery, though you were certain that supporting yourself along the wall and unsupervised isnât exactly what she had in mind when she gave you those instructions.
No matter, you were completely capable!
So capable.
The most capable.
And a measly case of stairs wasnât going to change that.Â
You tried to recite the aftercare instructions the doctor had given you prior to being discharged, though you were admittedly still feeling a little drowsy at the time and it had been Remus who took dutiful notes as Regulus packed your bag.
Staring at the case of stairs that threatened your master plan of retrieving your well-deserved ice cream - in your most humble opinion, you did sacrifice an organ for it - you decided that if you couldnât remember the doctor saying no stairs, that stairs were probably fine.
Likely fine.
Mostly fine.
Except the very first step you took had you flinching at the sensation of the tape tugging uncomfortably at your skin.
But once your other foot joined your first on the step, the feeling went away.
Okay, see? That was fine.
Not so bad.
Now you just have to do that⊠thirteen more times.
ThirteenâŠthat felt like a lot.
But you werenât supposed to look at obstacles in terms of wholes; you just needed to look at the next step.
Which was exactly one step.
You had already taken a step! Surely you could take one more!
Except a small whimper escaped your lips as you took your next step, your second foot joining the first rather quickly and clumsily in a hasty attempt to relieve you from the tugging of your taped up abdomen.Â
You had managed to wash, rinse, and repeat those steps for exactly six stairs before you started to wonder if the ice cream was really actually worth ripping your stomach back open.Â
You were eight steps away from the lower level of your townhouse, and six steps from the upper level where your salvation came in the form of your bedroom.Â
You had three options here:
1) Continue in your trek down the rest of the eight steps to your ice cream - dreams of ever returning to your bed be damned 2) Retreat to the safety of your bedroom and figure out how to haul yourself up onto the mattress 3) Ask for helpÂ
Still feeling rather petulant over the fact that you were very close to having to live through Remus and Regulusâ âI told you soâ faces, you opted for option two, and pivoted on the stair in an attempt to retreat back to your bedroom.Â
Which would have been fine if the action of lifting your leg didnât actually leave you feeling like the rest of your organs were about to spill out onto the staircase (which was very dramatic considering you werenât even sure you could fit your own finger into the tiny holes dotting your abdomen if you tried; but thatïżœïżœs how it felt, okay?)Â
So, in the face of failure, you opted to choose a secret fourth option:
4) Sit on the staircase in defeat and accept your fate (death, probably)Â
âIâll check, but if she throws a book at my face, youâre in charge of dinner.â You heard Remus call as he rounded the corner and started for the stairs.Â
You had your forehead resting on the spindles of the railing and watched as Remus made it up the first section of stairs to the landing before pausing when he turned and noticed you.
âDovey! Are you okay?â He whispered in abject horror, bending down (causing his knees to crack audibly which made you feel even more wretched for worrying him) as he considered you.
âIâm fine.â You whined, hoping to gain some sympathy in your current state.
âWhat are you doing here?!â He continued, rubbing his thumb along your shoulder.Â
âWanted ice creamâŠâ You admitted rather reluctantly; shame prickled at your skin as Remus paused in his movements and his expression shifted from worry to one of shock.Â
His mouth flattened into a terse smile. âYouâre kidding me.â
âI really, really wish I wasâ you thought to yourself.
Apparently, your response read loud and clear on your face as he let out a tired sigh. âReg!â
You felt your own expression morph from shame to one of betrayal. âNow, why would you do that!?â
Remus barely had a chance to roll his eyes at you as Regulus appeared around the corner.Â
âMon Dieu! Ce qui sâest passĂ©?! Are you okay!?â He exclaimed as he spotted you sitting dejectedly on the stairs.Â
âIâm fine.â You answered at the same time Remus replied âSheâs stuck.â
âWhat were you doing?â Regulus asked again, looking between you and Remus in bemusement.Â
âBeing a brat.â Remus hissed quietly; his tone bordering frustration in a way you werenât accustomed to being directed at you even as his touch remained loving and dutiful.Â
Horrified, you felt your sinusâ fill painfully as you hid your face between the spindles of the railing, blocking both boys from your view.Â
âIâm tired of being useless.â You whispered; your voice pinching audibly as your words nearly got stuck in your throat.Â
Remus let out a sigh as he let his one hand slide from your shoulder down to your hand, and the other rubbed at your knee affectionately.Â
âYouâre not useless, mon amour; youâre recovering.â
âFrom a pretty major surgery, at that.â Remus added, earning him a derisive scoff from you.
âItâs not major surgery! Itâs a very routine procedure and it barely left a mark on me.â You spat; recounting the doctors words from before your surgery nearly word for word.Â
âĂa suffit. An entire organ tried to kill you, amour, and it had to be removed.â Regulus offered.
âIt was a stupid organ that we donât even use anymore.â You added petulantly.Â
âAnd it was ripped from you nonetheless, dove. Listen,â Remus continued, taking your chin in his hand and directing your eyes back to him. âI know, I know you hate feeling reliant on us, and I also know that we like letting you rely on us perhaps a bit too much.â He paused to raise his eyebrows at you and you took in a shuddering breath. âBut I think right now is one of those times you have to let us.âÂ
You let an embarrassing sound escape the back of your throat as you tried to avert your gaze, but Remus strengthened his hold on your chin.Â
âYou have to let us, baby.â He whispered again.Â
âMy love, if you insist on doing things before youâre ready, youâre only going to hurt yourself which is going to mean you have to rely on us even longer.â Regulus continued as he sat beside you on the step, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear and trailing his finger down your neck.Â
âYou wouldnât want that now, would you?â Remus asked teasingly; one corner of his lips tilting upwards and pulling at the scar that you loved to watch dance across his face when he was most expressive.Â
You lifted your hand to run your finger along it, delighting in the slight blush that flooded Remusâ cheeks as he closed his eyes and relished in your touch.Â
âQuâest-ce que tu voulais?â Regulus asked you then.
You let out a sigh in resignation and tilted your head to rest on Regulusâ shoulder. âIce cream.â
Your head jostled from the gentle chuckle that left Reg at your admission as Remus beamed at you.Â
âWell, why didnât you just ask?â He teased as he stood quickly - telling yourself that you werenât jealous at all by his ability to move quickly and freely. âWanna help our princess back to bed, my love?â Remus asked Regulus who was already standing and offering you his hands.Â
They both helped you stand and allowed you a moment to catch your breath and confirm you were alright before Regulus moved two steps below and got into position to give you a piggy-back-ride.
Remus waited until the two of you got to the top of the stairs safely before hurrying to the kitchen to procure your long awaited ice cream.Â
What would have likely taken you all day (had you been successful in your venture) took Regulus and Remus perhaps six and a half minutes before the three of you were propped up in your bed, each with a bowl of ice cream as Remus queued up your favourite movie.Â
âMerci, amour.â Regulus whispered into your hair before pressing a kiss to your head.
âWhat for?â You asked.
He smiled softly at you as he examined your face. âFor letting us love on you.âÂ
âIt really is our favourite, you know?â Remus added.
And fortunately for you, you did know.
#marauders era#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#reader insert#self insert#remus lupin#regulus black#moonwater#moonseeker#poly!moonwater#poly!moonwater x reader#poly!moonwater x you#poly!moonseeker#poly!moonseeker x reader#poly!moonseeker x you#poly!moonwater fluff#poly!moonwater hurt/comfort#poly!moonwater imagine#poly!moonwater fic#poly!moonwater ficlet#poly!moonwater blurb#fem!reader#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#regulus black x reader#regulus black x you#remus lupin x regulus black#ellecdc fics
674 notes
·
View notes
Text
Part 7: The Summer Filter
Teen Wolf : Multishot
Stiles Stilinski x Reader
Word Count: 11.3k
Warnings: series rewrite, season 1 {aka 2011}, slow burn, friends to lovers, Stiles pining, usual teen wolf levels of violence and gore, heart conditions, talk of scars {good and bad}, character death, CPR, hospitals/surgeries, ANGSTY AS HELL
Request: This just came from my own head đ Â
A/N: I may or may not be sorry for this
Part 6: Orange Cream and Peachy Sugar
Part 7: The Summer Filter {You Are Here}
Part 8: The Favor
It was the night of the dance. You were in your room sliding on sandals with thick black straps; they sparkle as you admire the inky polish on your toes. Standing in front of your long mirror, you inspect the outfit.
Still as starry and beautiful as you remember â little dazzling specks of light against a deep navy sky. The heart-shaped neckline gave your chest shape while revealing your battle scars. You didnât feel the need to put concealer on the discoloration of them.
This was the real you.
Your hair was pinned up in an elegant bun with a few curled strands framing your face. It mightâve taken you fifteen minutes, but you were finally able to put eyeliner on the way you like. Other than that, your makeup was relatively minimal.
It was time to show your parents and wait for Scott to come pick you up.
Since he wasnât telling parents that he was banned from the dance, he was free to escort you without suspicion. Once at the dance, youâd have to find other friends to mingle with.
âOh, sweetheart,â your dad says at the bottom of the stairs, âYou look amazing.â He looks proud as your mom appears with a camera.
She snaps a picture, âAh, you are stunning!â she takes another picture of you laughing. âI love everything about the dress.â
Your mom pulls you aside for a posed picture next to the front door before she gives you a hug. One of her hands lingers on your shoulder, her thumb grazing the edge of your 3-inch incision scar.
âYou are so beautiful,â she whispers, âAnd so brave.â
âWeâre proud of you, sweetheart,â Tom says next to his wife. âYouâre right â a girl needs to go to at least one high school dance in her lifetime.â
You snicker, âEven if I am going with just friends.â
âRemember to take breaks if it feels too overwhelming,â Angela frets, âGet some water and sit down for a few minutes.â
âAnd you have friends and teachers there that can help you,â Tom adds, âDonât be all stoic and pretend youâre fine.â
You wave them off as you hear a car pull into the driveway. âDonât worry, everything will be great.â
You suddenly have an inkling of the fear Stiles must feel with his dad. Your parents donât know about the target on your back from a bloodthirsty supernatural creature. They donât know how in danger you actually are. And if anything were to happen, you would feel immense guilt at keeping them in the dark as they fret and worry.
Scott knocks on the door and you open it to reveal him holding three large daisy flowers. âHello. Oh, wowâŠâ he looks you over, âYou look amazing.â
Your cheeks go pink, âThank you, Scott. Iâm loving you in a suit.â You give him a hug and he presents the flowers.
âAt least one of these is from Stiles because heâs upset I didnât give him a chance to contribute,â he laughs, âI know theyâre not much, butâŠâ
âI love them. Theyâre a wonderful surprise.â You take the flowers from him, and your dad takes them quietly while your mom takes a few pictures. âMom!â
âJust a few pictures for the album,â she says, âI want you to make sure you get more with your friends tonight.â
Scott feels a little tense standing next to you, a gentle hand on your lower back as you smile. âIâll have her back before two.â
âOne,â Tom says, still holding the flowers.
âOne,â Scott agrees, âWeâll send you pictures.â
Angela beams, âPerfect, have fun you two!â
The walk to the car was full of tense giggles. Scott holds the door open for you and he clambers into his seat a few moments later.
âThank you for driving me,â you smile, âI know tonight is going to be a little stressful.â
âIâd rather drive you and make sure youâre safe than just appear on the roof somewhere,â he shrugs, his knuckles pale where they grip the steering wheel. âYou are one of the main targets tonight.â
âDonât remind me,â you say, âStiles was still bummed when I said he couldnât drive me.â
âHeâll get over it.â
You smile, âIâm sorry you couldnât take Allison.â
Heâs quiet for a second, âMe too. But sheâs not alone either. And it would be harder for me to explain why I wanted to drive with them when Iâm not allowed at the school dance.â
âWell, Iâm grateful anyways,â you say, âI didnât realize how nervous I would be.â
âAbout the Alpha?â
âAbout the dance,â you laugh, âIs that ridiculous? Thereâs a psycho werewolf terrorizing us and instead Iâm nervous about who Iâm going to dance with and how Iâll look compared to everyone else.â
Scott smiles, âThose are the things you should be worried about. And you really do look amazing â I donât think you have to worry about that one.â
The drive there feels quick with nerves fluttering in your stomach. Your heart rate is elevated, but you focus to keep a handle on it.
Ironically, the front of the school is decorated with stars, just like your dress. Blue and white balloons stand like statues on either side of the front doors while projections and strands of light wind around railings and stairs. Youâre dazzled as you watch hordes of students make their way inside.
Scott looks guilty as he says, âI canât be seen on the grounds.â
âI know,â you say, unbuckling your seatbelt, âIâll walk the rest of the way. Good luck trying to get in,â you laugh.
Crossing the parking lot was like a never-ending runway. You feel many eyes on you, whispers being said about your scars or your outfit, you werenât sure. You suddenly wish you brought a purse so at least thereâd be something for your hands to hold. Right now they were clenching and unclenching at your sides.
Your heart was starting to beat a little faster as you near the entry table. All these eyes, dozens of people, loud music and strobing lights, andâŠ
â(Y/N)!â
You whip around to see Stiles tripping over the sidewalk curb. He has on a crinkled suit with a black plaid tie. He looks rosy as he straightens himself in front of you, âI, uh⊠woah.â His eyes are stuck on you â your dress, your chest, your face. His mouth hangs open; he is completely speechless.
You pull him into a hug, âYou look handsome in a suit.â
He giggles awkwardly, still choking on words as he looks you up and down. âI â I um⊠you lookâŠâ He looks into your eyes, very warm and sincere when he says, âYou look beautiful.â
You try to hide your smile, âSee, thatâs why we donât invite boys to go dress shopping. Their reactions are so much better at the dance.â
He shakes his head, acknowledging your rightness, and extending his elbow. âMight I escort you inside?â
âSure,â you smile, holding onto the crook of his arm.
The inside of the gym was loud and boisterous. Hanging chandeliers and blankets of shimmery star fabric hang from the ceiling. Lights of pink and purple fly around the room, complimenting the live band in the back center.
Your hand tightens around Stilesâ arm, and he stops instantly.
âToo loud?â
You try to take a deep breath, âI just need a second to adjust.â
âLetâs sit down then,â he guides you to one of the round tables and pulls a chair out for you. âIâll get you a drink,â he says as he tucks you in.
You smile your thanks, trying to relax enough to breathe steadily. You take the time to look for friends around the room. It didnât take long to find Jackson huddled with Danny and other lacrosse players. He was pouring something clear from a glass bottle into the punch cups. You roll your eyes â well he was coping in his own unique way.
You continue to people watch, seeing your classmates and the dates they came with. Behind you is Scott hiding next to the bleachers. You pinpoint where Coach is and decide that thereâs enough distance between the two.
Allison comes sulkily to your table, sitting down and groaning, âI told you I had a feeling Jackson would be a shit date.â
âHeâs not in the mood, is he?â you grimace, watching him across the gym drinking straight from the glass bottle. âWe could report him.â
âLet him be stupid,â she sighs, leaning back in the folding chair, âHeâll regret it enough in the morning.â
You grab her hand and squeeze, âDid you see that Scott is here?â
Her eyes light up, âI saw him sneaking in through the roof.â
âA flair for the dramatic,â you huff, âI bet you anything heâll try to dance with you even with Finstock watching.â
âIf not, we can just dance together,â she laughs, âAs long as I get to lead.â
You hold up your hands, âWhatever you say.â You nod your head across the gym, âDid you see Lydia and Ben?â
Lydia was aggressively dancing with Ben Manley, the pair of them treating the school dance like a nightclub. Allison shakes her head, âSheâs trying to get over Jackson.â
âShe canât hide that sheâs hurt forever,â you say, âJackson isnât going to care that sheâs grinding on some other guy at a dance.â
âWeâll be there for her when she needs it.â
Stiles reappears with two cups of punch, âOh, hi Allison. You look nice.â He hands you a cup.
âAre you sure these arenât spiked?â you say comically, âJackson has been passing around the bottle.â
âOf course he has,â Stiles grumbles, âYou okay, Allison?â
âWeâre waiting for Scott to make his move,â she says. But a loud commotion in the crowd has caught your attention, âOr maybe he is right now?â
You hear Coach yelling a few things in the center of the crowd that you canât make out. The audience and band go quiet for a second as he yells for everyone to keep dancing. The band picks up with a soft slow dance song and Scott appears a little out of breath but smiling from ear to ear.
âHow did you manage that?â you ask.
He only has eyes for Allison as she says, âYes, I would love to dance with you.â
Scott looks like a lovestruck puppy as Allison drags him onto the dance floor. You smile after them, happy that theyâre reconciling. You donât even notice how long Stiles has been looking at you until he asks:
âHowâs your heart?â
âStill a little elevated,â you sigh, âBut nothing I canât handle.â
He nods, looking afraid and hopeful when he asks, âDo you wanna dance?â
You turn to him with warm eyes. You are completely endeared by him again. âSure.â
His smile comes on quick and fast, standing and letting his chair topple to the ground. You accept his outstretched hand, laughing, and follow him to the dance floor. It was full of couples slowly dancing with their arms wrapped around each other.
The quieter music and lack of raving students was easier on your nerves. Stiles was timid in how he puts his hands on your waist, waiting for you to make the deciding move.
When you wrap your arms around his shoulders and force him to stoop so you can reach, he finally sinks into you. His head rests beside yours, pulling you close by the waist and swaying to match the rhythm.
You have to tilt your head up so you werenât smothered into his shoulder. âThis is better.â
His fingers twitch on your sides, âSlow dancing?â
âItâs less chaotic,â you agree, âIt feels⊠safer. For my heart.â
He leans his head into yours, âIâm glad you still came, (Y/N).â
âMe too.â You put a hand up his neck, grazing the edge of his hairline, âLetâs just forget all the werewolf business tonight.â
âWe can until something happens,â he agrees, âI just⊠I like holding you like this.â
Your brow puckers, face shadowed by pink and purple light. Something warm enters your chest and dribbles to your stomach. âWhat else?â
Stiles grips your sides, âI like⊠being this close to you. And smelling that wonderful fruity stuff on you.â
Nervous butterflies were fluttering in your stomach, teasing your lungs with their wingbeats. âYouâve said that before.â
He smiles, âI like you in this dress. I like that your scars are out. I like the fact you came without a date because I get to dance with you like this. And I like knowing youâre smiling right now without me needing to look because I can feel it against my cheek.â He pulls away to see proof of that smile. âI like you, (Y/N). Like a lot.â You giggle and it eggs him on, âLike a lot a lot.â
You smile and shake your head, âI think Iâm a little late to the game. Everyone seems to know that but me.â
His expression starts to dip. He wants to hear a similar confession from you. But you donât have a real answer yet. âYouâre not surprised?â
âI think Iâve been in denial,â you say, still swaying to the music but getting lost in the motion. It was making you feel dizzy. The decorations on the gym walls were blurring behind Stilesâ head. âI think IâŠâ
Stiles looks like heâs on the edge of desperation. His cheeks are flushed with oncoming embarrassment, and you can see the hurt behind his eyes. You move a hand to his cheek, feeling the heat there, âI think I feel⊠faint.â And your head falls to his chest, still conscious but on the verge of passing out.
Stiles holds you tightly to him, still swaying despite your limp legs, âIâve got you.â He holds you up by the waist, a hand going for your neck to check your pulse. âI got you â I wonât let you fall.â
You dance like this for the remainder of the song, you breathing in his sweet woodsy smell and grounding yourself in his hold. He carries you gently, running his free hand in soft patterns along your back and arms. It was incredibly soothing and if your head wasnât pounding like you were about to faint, you wouldâve fallen asleep.
The song ends and youâre still swaying with Stiles. It takes everything in him not to force a word out of you. It was killing him waiting for you to speak.
You were in the throes of dissecting your feelings. How did you feel about Stiles? You remember the sleepover. The blue handprints on the car battery. The fries in the hospital cafeteria. The mac and cheese with the Sheriff. The suit jacket searching the woods. The garden trellis and rocks thrown on the tulips. The peachy light of your room and Ollie asleep between you two. The way he bandaged your shoulder. The panic in his voice from the video store call. The hugs when you cried. The truth about his mother. The gas station candy in the parking lot. The lessons in kissing.
You feel warm all over, blood still trickling to your legs and leaving your head heavy with cotton. You finally push him away, âI need to sit down.â
Heâs compliant, âOkay,â guiding you by the hand and waist to the round tables. âUm⊠Iâll get you something to drink. Do you want to find a place to lie down?â
You put a hand to your temples, shading your eyes, âLetâs try the drink first.â
He swallows hard. His question about if you reciprocate any feelings for him left in the air. Itâs eating him alive. But he leaves to navigate the boisterous dancing crowd to find the punch bowl and maybe something for you to snack on.
Youâre left in your sticky feelings about Stiles. You had promised yourself no serious relationships. It would hurt less when you inevitably had to leave them. Therefore, there had to be no serious feelings.
But what you felt around Stiles. It was safe and warm and natural. And after the kissing in the jeep? Puzzle pieces were falling into place everywhere.
It was going to be dangerous liking him back. You would have to be honest with him about your prognosis. You would have to tell him why it wouldnât work. It would cause him more grief than joy.
You pinch the bridge of your nose â would you allow yourself to like Stiles back?
Your phone in your dress pocket dings with a message from Lydia.
âI canât find Jackson.â
You whip your head around to find Ben Manley sulking on the bleachers. Of course Lydia couldnât let Jackson go. She still cares about him.
âHe was crazy drunk last I saw him,â you reply, âHe mightâve left to blow off some steam.â
âIâll check the lacrosse field,â she says.
You feel a tinge of panic, âNo, you shouldnât go out there alone. Come back and weâll think of something together.â
Lydia doesnât reply and you feel that panic grow. She was on her way to being the most vulnerable pack member tonight. You stand up and will the shakiness from your drained limbs. Scott and Allison are still dancing, Jackson is missing, and Stiles is swarmed with thirsty students at the refreshments.
You were wasting time trying to get backup. If Lydia had at least one more person with her, sheâd be safer.
You are quick to leave the gym and find a path to the lacrosse field. All the stadium lights are on and call to you like lighthouse beacons. You decide sending a text to both Scott and Stiles was the safe course of action.
âLydia ran off to the field. No time. Iâm going to get her.â
The grass was damp and uneven. You were grateful for wearing sandals beneath the long dress. Even more grateful when you notice a limp figure on the ground and another towering over her.
âLydia?!â you cry, running for the pair in the center of the field.
There was blood painting her pale skin, a horrible contrast in the stadium light. Peter Hale was crouched over her, a trickle of blood running from his lips.
âAh, (Y/N),â he says with his sinister smile, âI was wondering who would show up. Turns out it was the masterpiece coming to the rescue.â He stands and wipes at his lip, âNow, gauging the relationship between pack members, I do believe you are the more invaluable one.â
He speaks with a calm tone, but the blood on his face and the hunting nature of his eyes was unsettling. Your bare arms erupt in goosebumps, and you watch him take a sniff in your direction.
He grins, âYour fear is delicious.â
âOthers are coming,â you squeak, blood pumping in your ears. Your eyes keep flickering to Lydia, searching for her chest moving with air. âA fight will break out.â
âWe donât want that on your special night,â he says in a terrifying coo, âI just need to find Derek.â
Your face scrunches, âAnd how would we know the answer to that?â
âOne of you does,â he smirks, âAnd Iâm going to make sure there is plenty of incentive.â He walks over Lydia and in your direction.
In a split second Peter is swiping at you, sending you flying to the ground in a mass of shimmering blue fabric. A thrill of pain like nothing else explodes in your side and you know his claws are out.
You gasp in pain, too sharp to cry out.
âI can hear the unevenness of your heart,â he growls, fangs lengthening in his mouth, âI can smell the sickly symptoms of death.â He bows to take hold of your neck, the tips of his claws digging into the soft skin there, âLet me speed up the process.â
And he lifts you into the air, his nails sinking further into you. This time you cry out, hitting him pathetically with your arms. He throws you back into the ground and pins you beneath his body. His jaws are inches from your jugular when a frantic voice screams across the field.
â(Y/N)!â
Peter lifts his head and watches as Stiles sprints across the grass like his life depends on it. He slides the last few feet, getting on your level. His hand rises to touch you, but Peter growls at him â protective of his prey.
âDonât kill her,â Stiles says in a shaky voice. His eyes stay on you, avoiding the gaze of the Alpha. âPlease.â
Peter hums, âI might find it in me to spare her; if you tell me how to find Derek.â
Stiles stammers, âWhat?â
A clawed hand grips into your already damaged side and a sharp cry of pain comes out of you. âTell me how to find Derek Hale.â
Stiles is losing control of his breathing, digging his fingers into the grass to stop himself from getting killed. âI donât know that. How would I know that? Leave her alone!â
Peter removes his claws, each dipped in the dark red of your blood. âYouâre the clever one, arenât you? And deception has a particularly acrid scent, Stiles. Tell me the truth or I will rip her apart.â
You feel weak and faint as Peter trails his fingers along your bare skin. Tears are streaming from your eyes and into your hair. The tears to your side are searing with pain; with every breath youâre hurting.
One of your ribs must be broken.
Stiles was panicking, unsure of how to help you. âOkay, look⊠I think he knew.â
âKnew what?â
âDerek, I think he knew he was gonna be caught.â
âBy the Argents?â Peter was staring at him with a hunters mark.
Stiles struggles to look between him and you bleeding on the ground. âYeah, and when they were shot, he and Scotty⊠I think he took Scottâs phone.â You wince in pain and he pounds a fist into the grass.
âWhy?â Peter asks lowly.
âThey all have GPS now. So if he still has it and if itâs still on⊠you can find him.â
âThen lets go.â
Stiles is still frantic, fingers in the grass and tears of frustration burning his eyes. You were writhing on the ground in clear agony.
âNo, Iâm not just letting you leave them here.â
âYou donât have a choice Stiles; youâre coming with me.â Peter bends down to fish in your dress pocket, producing your cell phone, âHere âLydia is hurt on the field,â happy now? Sent it to a friend chat.â
âWhat about (Y/N)?â
Peter searches his pockets for a handkerchief, âSheâll be coming with us.â He wipes superiorly at his chin. Stiles begs from his place on the ground.
âYou canât drag her around with us! Sheâs bleeding out; she needs a doctor!â
âThen I suggest you donât waste my time trying to find Derek,â he straightens his leather coat, âBecause the longer you take⊠the longer she suffers.â
âShe has a bad heart,â Stiles pleads, those frustration tears building in the corners of his eyes. âAny more stress could kill her.â
Peter squats beside you, making you whimper. âThen donât cause her any more stress by fighting me.â He sinks his claws under your arm and drags you effortlessly across the field.
You cry out in pain, your legs too weak to flail. Blood leaves a trail behind you, Stiles scrambling to his feet, âStop it! Thatâs hurting her too much. Her heart will give out before we find Derek â and there goes my incentive.â He yells the last part, âI wonât care after that!â
Peter grumbles and wraps his arms around your waist and legs, carrying you the rest of the way to Stilesâ jeep. Youâre placed in the back, panting and hissing with pain as Peter and Stiles sit in the front.
You try to think of a way to prolong your consciousness. You gather the extra fabric from your dress and apply pressure to your side. The punctures to your neck and arm are less of a concern. At least he didnât bite you.
âI forget how long it takes for humans to heal,â Peter huffs a laugh, âYouâd be perfectly fine by now if you were a werewolf, (Y/N).â
Stiles sets his face as he drives away from the school. He keeps checking his rearview mirror to see how youâre coping.
You elevate your legs, take deep breaths, and keep pressure on your largest wound.
âDonât feel bad,â Peter says, âIf Lydia lives, sheâll become a werewolf. Sheâll be incredibly powerful.â
Lydia had been bitten, you realize horribly.
âYeah,â Stiles says sarcastically, âAnd once a month sheâll go out of her freaking mind and try to tear people apart.â
âOh, the bite isnât so bad,â Peter laughs, âIt might actually save (Y/N)âs life if she canât surpass her own wounds.â He directs Stiles to a parking garage further into town, âI could grant her a bite.â
âAnd make her a raging monster every month? No, thank you.â
Peter smiles wickedly, âNot even to save her life?â
It was quiet after that, the jeep making its way into the hospital parking garage and to a certain level. They park near a small gray car and leave you there.
The wounds to your side were pulsating with rhythmic pain and heat. Blood continues to soak through the fabric you keep bunching over it. You can hear Stiles being frantic and you canât imagine how he must be feeling.
The longer he takes the more you suffer.
He was probably going out of his mind with worry. But you know instantly that you would forgive him for however long itâll take to appease Peter.
Thereâs a loud bang and the back of the jeep is torn open. You tumble out at the momentum, crashing to the asphalt in a painful heap. You gasp at the cascading amounts of aching hurt.
Peter grips you by the hair and lifts you from the ground effortlessly. You scream, bundles of bloody fabric leaving your hands to claw at Peterâs hand.
âI can be very persuasive, Stiles. Donât make me persuade you.â
âOkay, okay!â Stiles yells, âPut her down!â
You sob on the asphalt, the effort to breathe between cries is putting strain on your heart. It doesnât take long for you to fall into a limbo between pain and unconsciousness. Stiles began to frantically type on a laptop. You couldnât understand what they were saying.
The hurt was too loud.
âI canât breathe,â you gasp.
Peter goes to stand over you, urging Stiles to focus on the computer, âIâd suggest typing faster there, Stiles.â
âGod. Fuck. Shit. God. Damn,â Stiles keeps messing up the keys and needing to refresh, meanwhile hearing you gasp for air behind him. âWait! Here, look⊠theyâre keeping him⊠at the Hale House.â
Peter gives you a good kick to the back as he steps over you, âNot at it. Under it. I know exactly where that is.â His ears perk up, âAnd Iâm not the only one. Give me your keys.â
Stiles is practically bouncing on his toes to get to your struggling figure. âCareful, she grinds in second.â But his keys are returned bent and unusable. âWhat⊠how am I supposed to get her to the front of the hospital?!â
âYou have a cell phone,â he says, âNow, because you did me a favor, Stiles. Iâm going to offer this only once⊠do you want me to give her the bite?â
âThe what?â Stiles is unable to focus with you quieting behind him.
âDoes she want the bite?â Peter asks more clearly, âThis is her one chance to get a cure all for her wounds. Of course it might kill her either way, but⊠thatâs a risk youâd have to take.â
Stiles is at a loss, quiet as he considers. âNo. She wouldnât want that.â
âVery well,â Peter slides into his car without another word.
Stilesâ dress shoes squeak as he reaches your side, ignoring the way Peter speeds out of the parking garage. He kneels at your head, terrified that your lips were going purple. âOh my god,â he mumbles, â(Y/N)? (Y/N), can you hear me?â
Your eyes barely flutter open before closing again, unable to breathe. He puts his head to your chest, one hand on your neck, searching for a pulse. Your heart was giving out.
âNo,â he says, âNo way. Not today. Youâre not supposed to faint when youâre not breathing.â He pulls out his phone and puts 911 on speaker. âThis isnât how itâs supposed to go.â He brushes the hair out of your face, revealing road rash from where you fell from the trunk.
911 instructs him to start CPR and wait for personnel to pick you up. Being in the hospital parking garage meant that help would be there soon. Stiles has his hands over the scars on your chest, smeared with blood from your side. He tries to keep his arms straight as he attempts to pump life back into your body.
He gives you a kiss of life, two breaths that would hopefully keep oxygen moving throughout your body. This was not how he envisioned your next kiss. Your lips were lifeless and soft. They were still purple.
You couldnât die now â not when he still needs to apologize. Not when it would be his fault for not getting you help sooner.
Not when he had just confessed having feelings for you.
~~~
Stiles sits in the hospital hallway, legs bouncing and arms shaking with the movement as he leans on them. His head is bowed as the Sheriff comes speeding towards him.
âYou know what?â Noah says as he approaches, âItâs good that weâre in a hospital because Iâm gonna kill you!â He speaks firmly, âIt has been a madhouse trying to find all you kids.â
Stiles finally looks up and the Sheriff stills.
His son is red-faced from crying. He rubs at his eyes, sniffling loudly as he tries to speak past the lump in his throat. âIs she going to be okay?â
The Sheriff looks behind them at Lydia, âThey donât know, partially because they donât know what happened.â
âNo⊠I mean, is (Y/N) going to be okay?â
Noah looks at the sorrow in his sons face. âYou havenât gotten an update?â
âNo,â Stiles says in despair, âShe went back there not breathing and I donât know if theyâve gotten her back!â
âListen,â Noah sits beside him, resting a hand on his back, âLetâs handle what we can control first. Now, these girls were attacked by the same thing, right? Did you see anything? I mean, do you have any idea who or what attacked them?â
Stiles licks his lips, hesitant in the truth. He still needs to protect his dad. âNo,â he says, âNo, I have no idea.â
âBut why was (Y/N) with you and Lydia with Jackson?â
â(Y/N) was dragged off the field by whatever attacked them,â Stiles lies through his teeth, âWe split up to protect them both. (Y/N) was closer to my jeep.â
Noah clenches his jaw, unsure of how to help his son. âAnd she was still breathing when you made your way over here?â
âIt wasnât until we reached the parking lot,â Stiles mutters. He runs his hands over the short length of his hair. âGod, dad⊠what if I was too late?â
The Sheriff looks disheartened. âYou did everything you could.â
The wait was agony. Agony that only gets worse as Chris Argent comes to interrogate him and Jackson. Heâs barely able to keep it together long enough to help create some Molotov cocktails. He instructs Jackson to take them to the Hale House and help.
Your parents appear a few minutes later.
âOh my god, Stiles,â Angela cries, as red in the face as Stiles was half an hour ago. âHave they said anything?â
âNo,â he says, âIâve been waiting here for nearly an hour.â
Tom runs for the nurses station, âMaybe theyâll give her parents the news.â Angela follows with Stiles on her heels.
A nurse was trying to calm Tom down, âSir, I understand â let me call into the OR and check.â She makes a call to a different part of the hospital and speaks quietly.
Stiles stays a foot away, not wanting to intrude but needing to hear the news just as badly. Angela was stifling sobs as Tom holds her close to him.
âOkay,â the nurse replies, placing the phone back on the receiver. âSheâs currently in surgery.â
âSo sheâs breathing,â Stiles says loudly.
âYes,â the nurse continues, âThe lacerations to her side are being stitched and some were deep enough to puncture the abdominal wall. Thereâs been lots of damage and blood loss. So far so good, though,â she consoles. âShe did come into the ER not breathing and spent a lot of time without oxygen. But they were able to restart her heart.â
Angela continues to sob into Tom as he says, âThank you. Please tell the doctor her parents are here waiting for updates.â
They walk back to the waiting room, sitting on the hard cushioned seats. Stiles was slow to follow them, unsure of how to be included in their fretful waiting. It was his fault you were kept from help for so long.
âStiles,â Angela says, her voice thick with emotion. âYour dad said you were with her when it happened.â
He scratches the back of his head, afraid to look them in the eyes. âI found her after the attack. I tried to get her here as quick as I could.â He licks his lips, âShe⊠she couldnât breathe as we parked.â
Tears continue to leave Angelaâs eyes, âHer heart?â
âIt just⊠gave out,â Stiles breathes, upset that he felt like crying again. âI g-gave her CPR⊠in the parking lot um â while the doctors came for us.â
Tom is getting teary too as he listens. He leans his elbows on his knees and covers his face. Angela looks horribly between being grateful and being resigned. Like she knew this would be her daughterâs fate, but glad you werenât alone.
âThank you for helping her, Stiles,â she pats the seat beside her and he sits. âShe wouldnât have made it to surgery without you.â
He gives her a painful smile. Yes, he got you to the hospital. But he couldâve gotten you here in better shape.
She puts a hand on his arm and rubs soothing circles with her thumb. The burning in Stilesâ eyes was quickly making them water again. He sniffs and leans into his hands like Tom. Angela moves her hand to his back, rubbing the expanse between his shoulders.
They sit like that for another hour before a doctor appears, âWestbrook?â
The trio stand eagerly.
âHow is she?â Tom asks. He hadnât said a word the entire hour.
âSheâs stable,â the doctor says calmly. âWe were able to repair the lacerations to her side and a few punctures elsewhere. We did have to restart her heart once at her arrival and once during the surgery.â
Angela swallows hard, eyes red but out of tears, âCan we see her?â
âTheyâre setting her up in a room now. Give it another twenty minutes.â He looks uncomfortable as he prepares himself to say something more. â(Y/N) went without oxygen for over five minutes. When the brain goes without oxygen for that long it results in the death of brain cells. We call it an anoxic brain injury.â
âWhat does that mean?â Tom crosses his arms, âWhat would that do to her?â
The doctor clears his throat, âWe wonât know for sure until she wakes up. She may be comatose for a few hours or a few days. She may experience some coordination issues, communication problems, amnesia, or other impairments.â
âOh my god,â Angela whispers, covering her mouth, âCould all that be permanent?â
âIt depends on the severity of her brain injury. All minor impairments can be corrected over time,â he gives them all his reassurances.
Not soon after your parents were called back into your room. Stiles stays behind, bouncing his legs and waiting for something â anything â to happen. Everyone he loves is in some kind of danger and he has no idea where they all are.
Heâs trying to get comfortable in the hard plastic chairs when Scott and Allison appear. Theyâre holding hands and running into the waiting room.
âHow are Lydia and (Y/N)?â Allison asks.
Stiles slides off the chairs and awkwardly straightens himself. âLydia is going to be okay,â he nods to the middle room with windows, âHer woundsâŠâ
Scott squeezes Allisonâs hand. âAllison knows. She knows everything.â
âAlrighty then,â Stiles hums, âShe was bit, but the bite hasnât fully healed, and she isnât dead so⊠whatever that means.â
âAnd (Y/N)?â Scott asks, looking at every sign that his best friend has been crying.
Stiles swallows, âI donât know. Her heart gave out and she went without oxygen for a long time.â He licks his lips, rubbing hard at his eyes, âThe surgery went well, but we donât know how bad her brain damage will be until she wakes up.â
Allison, already having lost much that night, was exhausted by the news. She leans into Scott who holds her tightly. Stiles watches it with a pang in his chest.
They talk about the events of the night. How the cocktails Jackson brought weakened the Alpha and Derek delivered the final killing blow. He was now the Alpha. Kate was dead and the Sheriff was at the crime scene. It was a distraction that Stiles was grateful for. It made the time pass quicker than just stewing in his own guilt.
âIf it werenât for you I think Peter wouldâve killed a lot more,â Scott says as a way to cheer his friend.
âJacksonâs the one who delivered,â he replies.
Allison looks worried at the obvious disregard of his contribution. âStiles⊠you have been a hero tonight.â She shakes her head, âA lot of people are alive because you helped.â
âAt what cost,â he mumbles, thinking of your brain injury. âI donât know.â
âHow about we go home,â Scott suggests, âYou need some sleep and the Westbrooks would call with updates.â
âNo,â Stiles chews on his lips, âIâm not leaving until she wakes up.â
Scott looks at his friend seriously, âAre you sure? That could be a long time.â
âIâm sure,â he waves them off, âIâll wait for my dad.â
They leave with plans that sound a lot like ârooftop cuddling,â and Stiles is again left to wonder the âwhat ifsâ of the night. What would have happened if he had never left your side to get that drink? What if he hadnât found Scottâs location in time? What were you going to say about his confession of feelings?
It hurt too much to think.
~~~
Sheriff Stilinski had spent the majority of the night managing the crime scene at the Hale House. The bodies of Kate Argent and Peter Hale were removed, and the property was taped off while forensics worked.
It was nearly daybreak when he left to pass out on his living room couch.
Several hours later he awoke for a finger of whiskey and a sandwich. He was just layering the turkey and cheese when he yelled for Stiles to come down for a talk.
When there was no reply, the sheriff went searching the house, turkey in hand. Stiles was nowhere to be seen.
âDamnit,â he curses, âThat completeâŠâ He searches for his phone, dialing and forgetting about his sandwich. âTom?â
âYeah, Sheriff, is everything okay?â
âFine, fine. I just canât find Stiles. Is he still at the hospital?â
Thereâs a pause where Tom has a breathy laugh, âYeah, the kidâs still here.â
âThank god,â Noah sighs, âIâm sorry, Tom â has he been pestering you guys?â
âNo, heâs⊠well heâs actually just been stuck in the waiting room this whole time.â Tom sounds exhausted. âThe times Iâve gone out for drinks heâs been there waiting for an update. I just tell him (Y/N)âs still comatose.â
âGod, Iâm sorry,â Noah rubs at his eyes, âShe still hasnât woken up yet?â
âNot at all,â Tom swallows, âNot even a twitch.â
The sheriff searches for his keys, âWell, Iâll come grab my son. He needs a shower and some sleep at least.â
âSure, and Sheriff, we would call you if she woke up,â Tom adds softly, âI know she⊠she cares about you and Stiles.â
An unexpected twinge of sadness envelopes him, âThank you, Tom. Sheâs a special girl.â He clears his throat, âIâll be there in a sec.â
It takes him another twenty minutes to get to the hospital. On the right floor, he finds Stiles slumped in a hard cushioned chair with his feet propped on a coffee table. He has several magazines open and covering him like makeshift blankets.
His face looks swollen from frequent tears and his eyes look irritated from wiping at them so much. Noah looks at him with a quickly softening heart. The last time he had seen his son cry this much at a hospitalâŠ
âStilesâŠâ
The boy turns his eyes to his father, hidden beneath the blanket of magazines.
âRead anything good?â
He gives a half-hearted smile, âNo, but this Victory magazine is actually thick enough to help retain my body warmth.â
âI see youâve found ways to entertain yourself.â
âI got tired of being stuck in my thoughts,â he sighs, scratching at his head. âYou should see the towels the nurses let me fold.â
Noahâs eyebrows raise, âMan, you mustâve been really bored. Did you not sleep at all?â
Stiles shakes his head, âI was afraid of missing when she woke up.â
âAnd howâs the Martin girl?â
Stiles shrugs, âSheâs been able to get up and down with some help. But sheâs been sleeping a lot. Her parents are taking turns sitting with her. You know⊠tension with the divorce.â
âYou should get some sleep too.â
âI donât think I can,â Stiles says, shifting until a few magazines fell to the floor. âI canât sleep knowing that (Y/N) could still be seriously hurt.â
âAnd she could be seriously fine.â
Stiles scoffs, âAnd itâd be all my fault.â
âHey,â the sheriff goes to sit by his son, knocking a few magazines off his chest. âNone of this is your fault. You had nothing to do with the attack.â
â⊠but I couldâve kept them inside the school. I couldâve stopped them before anything bad happened.â
Sadness creeps into the sheriff, âLetâs get you home. You need to get cleaned up and have a rest.â
âNo,â Stiles was quick to reply, âIâm not leaving until I know sheâs okay.â
âThe doc said it could be days, Stiles. Youâre not going to be able to stay awake for days.â
âI can try.â
Noah stands, âNo. Youâre going to come home for a few hours. Iâm gonna be honest, son, you look terrible. And I know you donât want your little reunion with (Y/N) to be memorable because you smell like musty teenager and look like youâve got a head cold.â He waits for a few seconds while Stiles pouts like a child. âAfter you get some sleep Iâll let you stay at the hospital as long as you want.â
A silent battle rages between the two. It takes only one more nudge for Stiles to stand from his uncomfortable chair. âStiles, youâre not the only one whoâs worried about her,â the sheriff gives him another look of concern.
âYou have to wake me if I sleep through a call from the Westbrooks.â
âDeal,â Noah claps a hand around his son, leading him to the front doors. âGod, do you even own a deodorant stick?â
Stiles jabs his father in the side, âAnd an antiperspirant spray, jackass.â
Noah slaps the back of his head, âYou need to actually use them for them to work, smart alec.â
The entire car ride back has Stiles nodding off against the window. Thereâs a wet, foggy mark where his mouth rests open. He stumbles into the house and starts stripping as he climbs the stairs.
Noah follows and gathers the clothes, catching the bent ring of keys as they fall from a pocket. It makes him sigh, memories of his wife handling those same jeep keys⊠then he saw the random sets that had to belong to places Stiles shouldnât be.
A key to the police station, to the school, to a few neighbor houses.
He would arrange to have the proper keys fixed, and the others confiscated.
Stiles stands in the shower for longer than usual. He lets the hot water run down his head and work at the knots in his shoulders. He feels cramped from being stuck in an uncomfortable hospital chair for nearly twelve hours.
It takes the thought of seeing you again to make him scrub himself clean. His father was right, he wants you to see him fresh and sane. And right now he was anything but.
It feels good to be in a pair of pajama pants and a simple black shirt. He collapses on his bed without much thought. He was more desperate for sleep than he realized.
He drifts into dreams â dreams that he will hold onto in the days to come.
~~~
He walks along the path of a lake, grand berry bushes grow wildly there. Large, tart blackberries and deep, rich blueberries bloom along the leaves. Bushels of ripe berries are everywhere, halfway picked with plenty more to go. He picks a handful of plump raspberries and delights in their sweetness.
The trees overhead protect him from the sun, welcoming him with their shimmering leaves and singing birds. The berries leave sticky sweet juice on his fingers, each delicious as he sucks on them.
Ahead is the path leading to the boardwalk atop the lake. He grins as the summer sunshine appears to warm his skin. He admires the shiny red strawberries growing in twisted strands near the picnic tables. A cutting board is laden with freshly cut lemons and red berries â a pitcher containing sour pink lemonade beside them.
All the colors seem brighter, like a summer filter overlay everything. Stiles picks up an already prepared glass, ice cubes clinking and submerged in the pink drink. After a sip he promptly eats a few cut strawberries, smelling them with an air of familiarity.
He loves the smell of strawberries and summer fruits.
In an open cooler beside the table, half-buried in chunks of melting ice, are bright orange creamsicles and bubbly sodas. A candy tray holds caramel chocolate, sugary peach rings, and sticky gummy worms.
He was quick to sample everything, his attention catching something floating in the lake. A girl was lounging in a large nectarine orange floatie, sunglasses on her face and sunscreen on her shoulders.
Stiles smiles wide, running for the boardwalk. It was all so vibrant and warm. The red of the berries, the lemon yellow, bright orange creamies, shimmering green trees, sparkling pink lemonade, and the brilliant blue of the lake water.
It smelt of sugar and sun warmed earth and fresh berries. It smelt like (Y/N).
He stops on the edge of the boardwalk, shading his eyes to see you lounging in the floatie. â(Y/N)!â he calls to you.
You look up at him, cheeks peachy pink from the sun, âStiles?â You sit up, swimsuit beautiful with lavender purples and sage stems. âWhat are you doing here?â
âI donât know,â he shrugs, âBut Iâm glad to see you.â
You float closer to the boardwalk, moving the sunglasses to your hair. âDo you even own a swimsuit?â
He laughs, âProbably buried beneath a few camp shirts.â
âFigures,â you smile, lifting a hand bangled in rose gold, âHelp me up?â
He swallows, âYeah, sure.â He bows to take a hold of your hand, but thereâs resistance. You yank on his arm and manage to flop him onto your floatie. He flails as you try to balance the giant inflatable.
It makes you laugh to see him so frantic, âYouâre going to tip us!â He lands on you, your hands wrapping around him in a fit of giggles.
He holds onto your sun warmed skin, pulling you too close to the edge. Side heavy, the floatie tips over with a scream from your lips. A splash makes the water ripple as you tread to the surface, spluttering water.
âI told you to calm down,â you laugh, splashing at Stiles.
He splutters more, making ridiculous faces as he wipes the lake water from his eyes. âIt was getting hot anyways.â He splashes at you next, causing you to squeal with laughter.
The splash battle was short and intense, Stiles mimicking his favorite water benders in sending waves your way. You dive for the ladder at the boardwalk, scaling it to make a quick getaway.
Stiles curses, following your dripping figure. âGet back here!â he runs across the boardwalk to meet you at the picnic table.
You are eating a plump strawberry, tossing one at his head for good measure. He ducks and gives you a sly smile, opening his mouth like a target. You promptly aim a large berry, laughing hysterically as he jumps and catches it in his mouth.
Both his arms go in the air, triumphant, âDid you see that?â he cries between loud chews. He runs to you, tickled by your laughter. He wraps you up in his arms and soaks you in.
This is you. You remind him of summertime. The vibrant colors of life. The sweet berries that grow wild. The sun that warms whatever it touches. The water cooling sunburnt skin.
The orange cream and peachy sugar.
He spins you once and sets you down, still inches from you. The pair of you are laughing like summer will never end.
Then you lock eyes.
The laughter dies slower, smiles never leaving your faces. But your eyes are entirely too warm to be just mirth. Heâs looking at you like the sun itself. He was embracing the embodiment of color and sweetness and warmth.
He looks down to your berry stained lips.
With one second of hesitance he leans down to your mouth. He devours the sticky sweetness of your berry lips. He kisses you hungrily, desperately, like it was the one and only time heâd be able to kiss you.
You respond with holding his face, fingertips digging into his cheeks. His hands drift down your sides to the backs of your thighs. In an upward motion he picks you up, your legs wrapping around his waist.
A sigh of surprise escapes you, taller than him momentarily so you have to angle his face up to yours. He groans in delight as he carries you to the picnic table. He sets you on top of it, moving his hands to your thighs, searching for that moan of satisfaction from your mouth.
He nips at your lips, loving every sound you make. He nuzzles into your neck, finding that sweet spot to kiss. He has to pull back to take a breath.
You look tired. Your lips are purplish-blue. His brow knits. â(Y/N) youâreâŠâ He lifts a hand to your chin and finds that itâs coated in bright blood. Brighter than those red berries. âOh my god!â He pulls back to see a fresh wound to your side, soaking the lavender swimsuit in rich blood. âOh my god, (Y/N) â what do IâŠâ
Your chest stutters and choking sounds come from your throat. A strained redness enters your eyes as you reach for him, puncture marks along your neck. Stiles is frantic at your absence of words, âWhatâs happening?â he yells, âWhat did I do?â
You fall back onto the table, dull lemonade spilling and mixing with your bright blood. Berries and lemons roll to the ground. You choke and flail as Stiles cries his panic.
And he sits straight up in bed, sheets tangled between his legs and pillows on the floor. Heâs sweating and cold, the sun setting outside as he scrambles for breath. He throws his legs over and bows over his knees.
~~~
With no word from the Westbrooks, Stiles finds himself wandering the neighborhoods until he finds your house. He looks longingly at your window, dark as it was with the recent sunset, he could just make out the cat staring back at him.
âOliver,â he whispers, finding something else to distract himself with. He goes for the front door, hoping that in the commotion of getting to the hospital, your parents left it unlocked. He was right.
The cat was there to greet him, mewling loudly and rubbing his head against Stilesâ legs.
âYou hungry, little buddy?â he closes the door and makes his way to the kitchen. Inside the pantry he finds a container of dry food shaped like little fish. âI would think (Y/N) made you gourmet cat food.â
Ollie stands on his back legs and stretches his front paws up Stilesâ leg. It was super cute. âI guess maybe just for special occasions, huh?â he sighs, taking a scoop and pouring it in the food bowl by the back door.
The cat purrs and flicks his floofy tail as Stiles sits at the dining table to watch him. It mustâve been ten minutes when the front door opens again.
There was Melissa and Scott, holding keys and a duffel bag embroidered with the hospital logo.
âOh! Stiles, what are you doing here?â
âUm, I⊠well, I knew Ollie needed to be fed.â
Scott shuts the door while Melissa continues to look discontented, âWhoâs Ollie?â
âThe cat,â Stiles gestures to the fluffy animal, â(Y/N) would kill me if he went without food for this long.â
âYou broke into the house to feed the cat?â Scott smirks, hands in his pockets.
Stiles lifts his arms, âNo! The door was unlocked.â
Melissa laughs, âStill strange, Stiles. You still entered without permission.â She walks to the stairs with the duffel bag; Scott makes his way to the dining table.
âWhat are you guys doing here?â Stiles asks in a low voice.
Scott slumps into a chair, âThe Westbrooks need clothes and stuff, so mom volunteered to pack a bag.â
Stiles crinkles his brow, âDid you do something with your hair?â
âMaybe,â he wipes a hand up and catches the gelled back fringe, âIâm trying something new.â
âI didnât realize you had a forehead,â Stiles smirks.
Scott mumbles a retort. âI thought you were going to camp out at the hospital.â
âI was until my dad decided to drag my ass out,â he grumbles, âBut there hasnât been any news that sheâs awake, soâŠâ He plays with the hem of his shirt, feeling a little empty of conversation. âHow are you and Allison?â
âGreat,â Scott smiles an idiot smile, âUntil her dad hunted us down and nearly killed me.â
âYouâre kidding,â Stiles grimaces, âAfter everything thatâs just happened?â
Scott shrugs, âIâm still a werewolf, I guess. He let me live, but I have to stay away from Allison.â His smile grows more subtle, eyes on the floor, âAt least, I have to pretend to.â
âGreat plan, Scott. Letâs remember how this guy hunts and murders the supernatural for a living. He has a literal collection of the best weapons money could buy, with â let me add â special werewolf ammunition that can work around your little healing superpower.â
âYeah, but I still get to see Allison.â
Stiles slumps a little further down his chair, Oliver snacking on his dinner in the background. âYouâre impossible.â
âI could say the same about you,â Scott retorts, âYouâre just as hopeless.â
âYou know I told her how I feel about herâŠâ Stiles speaks quietly, avoiding his friends gaze.
Scott measures the rhythm of his friends heart, âAnd?â
âAnd she got faintâŠâ
âMade her weak at the knees, did you?â
âAnd she ran off to be attacked by the Alpha.â
âOuch,â Scott hisses, âNo return confession?â
Stiles clears his throat, âThere wasnât time for her to.â
âThen I guess thereâs still a chance that she does,â Scott says softly, âIt could be the first thing she says when she wakes up.â
Melissa comes down the stairs with a heavy duffel bag full of clothes and toiletries. She huffs at the boys, âYou two coming?â
âBack to the hospital?â Stiles asks, standing quickly.
âYeah, weâre going to drop off the supplies and maybe grab a late dinner.â
âCount me in,â he replies, scratching Ollie behind the ears in goodbye.
~~~
Stiles had been wandering the hospital hallways all night, refusing any sleeping aide from Melissa as she left. Sheâd be back for her day shift in a couple hours.
In a pathetic attempt to see you, he creeps past the night nurse to stand awkwardly at your window. The blinds are drawn and he wails silently, upset that itâs been so long since he last saw you.
He falls to the ground and slumps against the wall. Past the point of tears, he just melts into the floor. Until he hears a sneaker against the tile.
His eyes fly to the door to see Angela standing there with dark circles under her eyes. âHello, Stiles.â
He clambers to his feet, rubbing his shaved hair flat against his head, âH-Hi front desk Westbrook.â
She smiles at that, âHave you been here the whole day?â she leans against the door frame as if she were hiding whatever was inside.
âNo, my dad made me go home for a nap.â
âThatâs good,â she says, âUm⊠Tom is asleep on the couch, but if you want to see herâŠâ
âYes, please!â he says entirely too loud.
She shushes him, âAgain â her dad is asleep. Letâs try not to wake him; itâs the first sleep heâs gotten since the accident.â
Stiles nods vigorously, straightening his jacket and pulling on his hoodie strings. âYep, I got you. Roger that.â
She refrains from rolling her eyes, endeared by him much like her daughter was at times. âShe hasnât moved an inch, but if you hold her hand long enough I swear she squeezes back.â
They step into the darkened room, only a lamp in the corner providing some light on the machines at work. You lay stone cold on the hospital bed. Dressed in a white gown and layered beneath a scratchy cotton blanket, you would look asleep if it werenât for the numerous machines tracking your vitals.
Stiles goes into shock for a second, standing rigid by the door while Angela goes for her usual chair by the couch. She gestures for him to move, afraid speaking would wake her snoring husband.
With shuffling steps, Stiles makes for the chair beside your bed. Many stickers were on your chest, each connected to wires that lead to a machine. A thin yellow tube goes into your nose and is taped at your cheek. A monitor is attached to your index finger and the back of your hand has an IV stuck there.
He can see little stiches beneath your chin where Peter stuck his claws, and he knew your side was heavily bandaged with surgical tape. The right side of your face, the side that fell onto the asphalt as you tumbled out of the trunk, had road rash. Bloody scrapes were at your forehead and on that cheekbone. They were both covered with a shiny ointment.
âYou can sit down,â Angela whispers, nodding to the chair, âShe wonât bite.â
Stiles gives her a stiff smile, sitting in the chair. It was much more plush than the ones in the waiting room. He scoots closer to your bed and ponders your face. You look peaceful â not at all how you looked right before losing the ability to breathe.
It was making his dry eyes burn. Your lips werenât purple anymore. They had the soft pink color he saw in his dreams.
âHi, (Y/N),â he says softly. It put a lump in his throat âI â Iâm⊠godâŠâ He bows his head and finds that the warmth that usually took hold of him when he saw you⊠it ached and burned in his chest. âIâm sorry.â
He reaches for your left hand, closest to him. It was free of wires and tubes, but it had hospital tags around your wrist. Your fingers are cold, and he wraps both his hands around them.
Angela tries to mind her own business, pulling a book from the side table to read. Or at least give her eyes something to look at.
âIâm so sorry,â Stiles continues, he holds the mess of hands to his mouth, âIâm sorry for everything.â He tries to compose himself, tired of crying. âUm⊠donât worry I fed Oliver before I came over.â
He misses the smile that Angela has on her face.
âAnd Iâm pretty sure he deserves some fancy gourmet fish cake for the trouble,â Stiles deflects, rubbing his thumbs across the back of your hand. âHe was worried sick about⊠about not eating.â
Angela huffs a laugh behind her book.
âThatâs why dogs are better, you know. They freak out when their owner is sick. Cats just freak out when they canât find their next meal.â He tries to swallow past the lump, âI was⊠I was freaking out there for a second.â
His fingers become light and lazy like they were the night on the preserve when you got drunk. âI felt hopeless again, seeing you like that.â He sniffles and clears his throat, âWhich would make it super awesome if you would wake up soon,â he laughs sadly, âPlease wake up soon. Please be alright.â
He holds your hand for another half hour, searching for that squeeze that Angela mentioned. Until Tom stirs on the couch and Stiles stands abruptly, suddenly afraid of his intrusion on a family matter.
He waves goodbye to a saddened Angela before returning to his hallway wandering. He walks and walks until the shift changes and the sun begins to rise again. His eyes feel dry and droopy, like he was in need of another emergency nap.
He slumps against the nurses station as Melissa appears in her scrubs, âYou hanging in there, kiddo?â She rubs across his shoulders and he groans. âYou didnât sleep last night?â
âI napped all afternoon,â he says into the station counter, â(Y/N) still isnât awake.â
âIâm sorry, kid,â she sympathizes, âSheâs a part of my rounds today. Iâll make sure to give you updates, alright?â
He gives her a silly smile where his face was squashed into the counter, âThanks, McCall.â
He wanders until he finds the gift shop open. There he buys a foil balloon covered in smiley faces and says, âGet well!â It stays tied to his wrist as he makes his way back to the waiting room by your door.
Getting as comfortable as he could across three hospital chairs, he starts to fall asleep. It only takes five minutes for him to be lightly snoring, chair arms digging into his shoulders and lower back.
He fidgets there, balloon bobbing above him as he fights the stiffness of the chairs. Heâs so exhausted that it doesnât even wake him from the dreams he was diving into. Dreams similar to the summer day at the lake with you.
Ones where he got to hold you and kiss you again.
Melissa checks your chart by the door before sneaking a look at the snoozing boy.
âOh, just like that. No, no â you first,â he mumbles, âMe first?â he drools in his sleep.
Melissa shakes her head and smiles, returning the chart and being startled by Tom walking out of your room. âOh, Mr. Westbrook, you scared me.â
âSorry, Melissa. And itâs Tom, please.â He stretches his arms, looking at the same thing she was moments ago. Stiles is stretched out across the chairs making kissing noises at the thin air. âHas he been here all night?â
âHeâs been here all weekend,â Melissa folds her arms.
âThatâs⊠concerning.â
Melissa pats his arm, âHeâs one of the good ones.â
âYou sure about that?â Tom winces at the dream kissing, âHe seems like a load of trouble.â
âOh, heâs plenty that,â Melissa laughs, âBut heâs got a good heart. He cares a lot about your (Y/N).â
Tom folds his arms, âSpeaking of which, she was twitching a bit in her sleep just an hour ago. Would you mind checking on her? See if she wakes to some stimulus or something.â
âOf course,â Melissa says, following his lead into your patient room.
Stiles wakes as the custodial service empties a garbage can by his head. Rudely woken at a really good part in his dream, he groggily smacks the balloon tied to his wrist. It floats back to hit him in the face and he falls out of the hospital chairs.
âOh my god!â a muffled voice yells from your patient room.
Stiles flies to his feet, throat bobbing as he listens for something else. â(Y/N)?â He walks to your windows, blinds open now that the sun was out. His knees wobble at seeing your eyes open and mouth smiling.
He jumps to the door, creaking it open slowly as to not disturb the sudden commotion inside.
âOkay, lets run through basics,â Melissa says, âCover one eye for me.â She measures your sight, dilating pupils, and your depth perception. âSo far so good. Lift both arms for me and smile.â She checks for any signs of one sided weakness, but you pass with flying colors.
âIs she fine?â Angela holds onto her husband, âIs anything wrong?â
âOkay, (Y/N) â I need you to wiggle your toes. Good. And can you feel this?â Melissa checks for any numbness in your extremities. âPerfect. Now can you repeat this for me? Sally sells seashellsâŠâ
You lick your lips, âSally sells seashells.â
âAmazing,â Melissa claps. There wasnât an immediate speech impediment. âAlright, now tell me your name.â
â(Y/N) Westbrook.â
She nods, âAnd do you have any pets?â
âI have a gray cat named Oliver.â
âWhere were you born?â
âIn Palo Alto,â you say, still with confusion in your brow. âWhatâs going on?â
Melissa holds up her hands, âWeâre just checking for any brain injuries. What surgery did you get last summer?â
âI had a device put near my heart,â you point to the 3-inch incision on your chest. âWhat the hell?â You move your left sleeve to look at the claw marks on your shoulder.
âAnd where do you go to school?â Melissa asks.
You shake your head, touching the scars, âUm⊠I go to school at home, I guess. Iâm homeschooled.â
The room goes silent.
Melissa tries to maintain the calm, â(Y/N), do you know why youâre in the hospital?â
âIâm assuming because of this,â you point at the claw marks, âCause I have no idea where they came from.â You scoff and find a hitch in your chest â a pain in your side, âOr maybe thereâs another thing by my ribs. That actually hurts a lot.â
âOh my god, she doesnât remember,â Angela whispers, terrified.
Tom rubs a hand down her arm, âJust give them a minute.â
âDo you know who these people are?â Melissa points to your parents.
It makes you laugh, âYeah, thatâs my mom and dad.â
âAnd what about me?â
You lick your lips again, âYouâre Melissa McCall. You always help when Iâm in the hospital.â
She looks stiff, contemplating the next move. She looks behind her to see Stiles standing frozen at the door, balloon stuck behind him. Melissa grabs him by the sleeve and drags him into your view, âDo you know who this is?â
Stiles gives an awkward wave, balloon bouncing along with his hand. âHi, (Y/N).â
You squint your eyes, a frown growing, âNo, Iâm sorry, who are you?â You miss the way the room steels over with fright. âHow do you know my name?â
~~~
Taglist: @assassinsasha23 @tasty-book-fans @lovelybaka @the-fandom-queen @runs-with-sciss0rs @iamaslytherin0 @n3muru @bethsvrse @taylorbrooke-0912 @iloveyou2mia @everrrsincenewyork @gisellesprettylies @dullypully @taylordaughter @greenoliveslover @nataliambc @anehkael
143 notes
·
View notes
Text
I've never done a full breakdown of everything that happened to my version of Vincent while he was under the knife (although there is a partial breakdown from like 12 years ago on Ask Vincent Valentine), but @spinejackel tagged my recent Vincent doodle gushing about autopsy scar (Vincent Has a Y-Incision headcanon supremacy!) so I figured it was probably a good time. This is also probably the best method, since I can apply the right tags and trigger warnings to hopefully keep it from hitting the people who would be disturbed.
For anyone who doesn't know, figuring out the fucked up physiology of victims of science is like my entire jam. I think this is what happens when you let a chronically ill child watch Akira and the original Bubblegum Crisis OVA and most of the works of Masamune Shirow. All that before FF7 even existed. This means that the explanation under the cut may seem excessive, and this post is very long. I've been building it over over a quarter century, I don't think there's any avoiding it at this point.
Warnings for body horror, nonconsensual body modification, medical horror and torture. Basically, if there's anything you can think of related to becoming a victim of science under the rule of an unethical sci-fantasy oligarchy, it's probably in here to some degree. It's explained plainly and simply, in clinical but not visceral detail.
My headcanons for what Hojo did to Vincent are pretty specific, albeit not precisely comprehensive; 27 years later I still don't really have a particularly solid concept for how he turned Vincent into a shapeshifter, although at least we know it's not something entirely specific to VincentâHojo repeated that facet of the experiment in Azul, but not in any other SOLDIER operative even in DeepGround, implying that it's only possible if very specific physiological conditions are met. The minimal concept I do have involves a twisted application of the concept of incarnate summoning as it appears in FFXIII-2, but it's very vague and also not the topic of this post. Maybe later.
Regarding the Y-incision/autopsy scar, my headcanon is that once Hojo tweaked Vincent into being able to regenerate from any injuryâan enhancement that is confirmed to be entirely Hojo's work in Dirgeâthe professor of course felt it necessary to run various tests quantify the usefulness of his handiwork. He did this first by inflicting various surface injuries, then by causing more extreme bodily trauma, which eventually culminated in Hojo removing the majority of Vincent's internal organs in order to measure how long it took them to grow back and, assuming they did grow back, how the new ones compared to Vincent's original parts.
To be able to observe this as closely as possible, Hojo kept Vincent's torso open for the entire processâwhich he repeated twice more in order to check the weight, size and structure of the newly-grown organs in comparison to the originals. This study proved that most of them did grow back, but the majority of them stopped developing much earlier than was appropriate for Vincent's age and size. The difference was consistent, Hojo just never figured out why most of them grew back smaller and less-developed.
The reason this happened is based the fact that most of the organs in the human trunk are used in digestion and other related processes, and Vincent's regeneration means he doesn't need to eat or drink anymore. His body only expended as much energy as was completely necessary to develop those organs to the point of being functional rather than normal, because they're not really necessary. Vincent is glad he still has them, though, because he does still occasionally eat (usually in social situations) and also he'd be really sad if he couldn't even have coffee.
Vincent's brain activity remained normal during the entire process, although that may have something to do with Hojo driving a bunch of fluid lines into his head and flooding the inside of his skull with mako to keep him awake the whole time even while deprived of oxygen. (Rebirth spoilers, but seeing the bit in the Nibelheim Protorelic questline where Hojo does something super similar to this, after this has been my headcanon for decades, was a trip.)
Two organs didn't grow back at all: Vincent's appendix and one kidney. This was also the result of efficient energy expenditure, as the human appendix isn't necessary for survival, and only one kidney is really required. (Each time Hojo removed the new kidney, the one that grew back would be on the opposite side, which bothered Hojo to no end.)
His lungs grew back a little larger, possibly because his skeletal structure never quite recovered after his first transformation into Galianâhis arms and legs are noticeably too long for his body, although not to the point of looking impossible, and likewise his ribcage settled to breadth that would allow for larger lungs. He doesn't really need these anymore either, related to his brain being exposed to so much mako during the process that it can now operate without oxygen if necessary, but switching himself over from aerobic to anaerobic respiration is really unpleasant and Vincent tries to avoid it when he can.
His heart was pretty normal by the time Hojo was done with him, although his heartrate had dropped to like 20bpm even when elevated. Again, if respiration isn't necessary, there's not much reason for the system to be active. (By the time Lucrecia was done this had dropped to around 5bpm on average, although it's completely arrhythmic and jumps all over the place when he's not either particularly active or on the verge of a transformation.)
This was the experiment that left Vincent susceptible to degradation, which Hojo didn't realize until after finally closing him back up. Upon realizing that Vincent's body wasn't responding properly to a different test (a repetition of an earlier experiment related to the regeneration of external tissues and features), Hojo just kinda threw him in a tube to be disposed of at a later date, kinda like that scene in Arrested Development where there's that dead dove in a bag in the fridge. The incision healed at some point during the period that Lucrecia was working on him, but early enough in her work that the tissue couldn't flawlessly regenerate (like it does in the present), leaving him with one more gnarly scar on top of all the rest.
Vincent is self-conscious about all the physiological changes brought on by what was done to him, often to the point of loathing. His left arm is the worstâit rotted off while he was in the throes of degradation and grew back as something that he hesitates to call his armâbut Vincent hates that Y-incision scar almost as much. Some days they tie.
(It has come up in appropriately horrified conversation with Shalua that, considering how his regeneration works, Vincent could probably get rid of all the scars on his chest if he somehow peeled the skin off his torso in a single swath. He will not be doing that. Besides, it might grow back the wrong color/texture/etc, like his left arm. Not worth the risk, much less the suffering.)
Also I gotta finish off this entry with the extremely stupid headcanon reveal that Vincent's (honestly fairly impressive) dick was cut off during the first round of bodily trauma regeneration testsâand Hojo has never felt the sort of rage he experienced upon discovering that it grew back bigger than before. This occurred early enough in the experiments that Vincent was not awake for it, and thus has no idea how the fuck this happened, and does not want to talk about it ever thank you very much. I've never mentioned it in public anywhere because it is extremely stupid, but I hope someone out there finds it as funny a concept as I do.
#vincent valentine#headcanon warning#body horror tw#torture tw#medical torture tw#it's all described in scientific detail#not visceral at all#but it's still very much horror#so please be aware#and do not engage if you're not into that#fandom ramble
98 notes
·
View notes
Text
SAPPHÄ°REHAÄ°RCLÄ°NÄ°C - DEVASA+ (2)
Sapphire hair transplant turkey is a popular method for hair restoration, offered by many clinics in Turkey. This technique involves using a special type of blade made from sapphire to create incisions for hair follicles, resulting in less trauma to the scalp and a faster healing time. The procedure is often painless and delivers definite results. On average, the cost of a Sapphire hair transplant in Turkey ranges from. It's important to consult with a reputable clinic to ensure the best possible outcome. Fue hair transplant turkey, or Follicular Unit Extraction, is another common method for hair transplant in Turkey. This technique involves removing individual hair follicles from the donor area and transplanting them to the recipient area of the scalp. FUE is a minimally invasive procedure that results in less scarring and a faster recovery time compared to traditional hair transplant methods. The cost of a 3000 graft FUE hair transplant in Turkey ranges from. It's important to note that the cost may vary depending on the clinic and the number of grafts needed. Beard hair transplant turkey is a specialized procedure offered by some hair transplant clinics in Turkey. This procedure involves transplanting hair follicles from the scalp to the beard area to achieve a fuller, thicker beard. The procedure is performed in a special operation theatre by a specialized medical team that takes extra precautions for undetectable HIV+ patients. The cost of a beard hiv hair transplant turkey varies depending on the number of grafts needed and the clinic, but it is generally more expensive than a traditional hair transplant. It's important to choose a reputable clinic with experience in performing beard hair transplants to ensure the best possible outcome.
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Kleroterion â Because âPower Corruptsâ
This Kleroterion was a device used by the ancient Athenians during their period of Democracy, over 2,500 years ago, to randomly select citizens for state councils, offices, and court juries.
Athenian Democracy developed in the 6th century BC and the process of Sortition was their principal way of achieving fairness and equity.
Sortition is the process for the selection of a few state officials, on a random basis, from a larger pool of candidates.
The fundamental principle behind the sortition process originates from the firm belief that âpower corrupts.â
For that reason, when the time came to choose people to be assigned to empowering positions, the ancient Athenians resorted to picking randomly by a lot.
The state positions were highly accountable and only for a limited period, to minimize abuse and corruption.
Sortition was used to pick most of the magistrates for their governing committees, and their juries. Thucydides has Pericles make this point in his Funeral Oration:
âIt is administration by the many instead of the few; that is why it is called a democracy.â
The Athenians used a selection procedure with purpose-built allotment machines like this Kleroteria to avoid the corrupt practices used by oligarchs to buy their way into an office.
Those selected through lot underwent an examination to prevent incompetent officials. The Kleroterion was a stone incised with rows of slots and with an attached tube.
The citizensâ token was placed in the slots, and the container was filled with different-colored dice. The dice were released one by one, and each of the die corresponded to a specific row of tokens.
The color of each die determined whether the owners of the tokens in the corresponding row were selected. The selection decided who was given a seat on the citizenâs council or juries.
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
Kintsugi
A self-portrait honouring the scars of my top surgery.
Most representations of trans men post top surgery depict them as having scars from double incision surgery as this is the most common performed. As a trans man who was very lucky to be able to receive periareolar, I can feel a little left out of that representation.
While the scars are minimal, they can still be something that I'm hyper conscious of and still signify to me an incredibly important part of my life and who I am.
53 notes
·
View notes
Note
Buckshot Anon here! At long last, it is time to talk about Alastorâs recovery period after the events of the Spawn of Evil AU (for all those who donât know what that AU is, it basically involves Alastor suffering an ectopic pregnancy by Roo, and Lucifer helping to keep him alive. I got asked its logistics a while back, and now that's a constant).
The recovery on this is interesting because it is simultaneously pretty simple and complicated. The best place to start is with the surgery itself, because delivery would not be able to happen in a natural way, and would need to be done through surgery, though not a cesarean in the traditional way. Because the part of the small intestine the parasite child latched onto would be incredibly damaged by virtue of the warping necessary for the child to grow (which would have caused a rupture unless angelic blood has medicinal properties), the procedure would be treated as an intestinal resection surgery, where the effected area of the small intestine would be outright removed. Specifically an open surgery, making a cut of about 6-8 inches in the stomach. A cesarean would have 4-6 inches normally, so if youâre going with a happy medium, an incision of 6 inches. After the damaged area and the child are removed, the healthy parts of the small intestine on either end would be stitched or stapled together. This whole procedure would probably not take more than two hours, but could go upwards of four hours if there is damage in the surrounding areas of the intestines and other organs.
Once the surgery was finished, Alastor would on average stay in the hospital for a week, both to recover and make sure there had been no complications or damage to other organs. Some people can go home within three days, but due to the nature of the situation, he would be asked to stay longer. He would need to receive nutrition through an IV for a period of time before being allowed to go on a liquid diet. I will elaborate on that more in a minute, but there are some other things that should be brought up.
After being discharged from the hospital, Alastor would not be allowed to continue work at the hotel for another 4-6 weeks. There is some wiggle room in this, he may be able to return to work within 2-3 weeks provided that work is strictly paperwork, but anything physical he would need to wait a while to avoid reopening the stitching on his intestines and the incision area, or causing a hernia. He will also be encouraged to walk regularly every day, for reasons including:
Boosting blood flow, which helps to prevent blood clots.
Lessening his chances of illness.
Preventing a buildup of excessive abdominal scar tissue that could hinder movement and cause more blockages in the intestines. Scar tissue is something that will happen and in itself isnât a problem, but scar tissue can and will become excessive if given the chance, and being sedentary while it is building up can make that worse.
Regaining muscle mass he would have lost from months on bedrest.
Avoiding constipation. Awkward to talk about but that is an important reason. Â
Alastor also would not be allowed to have sex for 2-6 weeks. I doubt he would be heartbroken by this information.Â
If angel blood truly does have a medicinal property that could heal him, he can mostly skip this part, and go straight into the complicated part.
Remember when I said I would elaborate more on the nutrition IV and the liquid diet? Thatâs where this comes into play. Alastor ate minimally if at all for the majority of the estimated 7.5 months (30 weeks, give or take) of pregnancy, and that makes the situation more complicated than it traditionally would be. Being generous and saying he was able to eat solids for the first 6 weeks, after which the blockage would make that very painful, and another 2 weeks would make even a liquid diet technically doable but difficult, Alastor would be living off of angel blood and nutrition IVs, specifically Total Parenteral Nutrition (TPN).Â
That in itself is doable. People can be TPN-dependent for upwards of three years and still have a 65-80% survival rate. It can replace eating for as long as necessary. However, there is a caveat to that. Surviving TPN-dependent is one thing, but once someone is taken off it and needs to adjust to eating again, they can be at high risk of what is called refeeding syndrome.Â
Refeeding syndrome is an interesting topic with a lot of complicated factors, but the main thing to know is the body adapts quickly to having little to no food. Metabolism drastically changes, and certain organs will begin to function differently as a result. Alastor canât immediately begin to eat like he did before all of this because his body is no longer equipped to do so. If he were to try binge-eating or even just eating something normal after being discharged from the hospital, the symptoms he would suffer vary but consistent ones tend to be seizures and coma, sometimes even cardiac arrest or respiratory failure that result in death.Â
To get around this, the best way to go about it is to very gradually reintroduce food into his diet over the course of 2 weeks, starting by eating about 14-28% of the calories he would normally need, and building upwards over those few weeks. Reteaching his body how to digest food and restore a healthy intestinal tract can usually happen within 2 weeks, but when accounting for how long he wasnât eating solid food and the damage he needs to heal from, he might be recommended to do this for 3 weeks to be on the safe side. His best bet would be light soups and maybe yogurt.
Most of this would be handled in the hospital, the process of weaning him off the TPN, by the second or third day reintroducing liquids, then soft foods. Doctors would still want to keep tabs on him for this process once discharged, and would be able to make a better judgement call with his situation specifically on when he can return to eating normally. Normally, as in a reasonable meal, not eating multiple people or even one person in one sitting, that would have to wait the 4-6 weeks after discharge.
He would need to have multiple check-ins with his primary doctor for various reasons to make sure everything is going smoothly, make sure his physical therapy and regaining of muscle mass is going well, and that he is eating properly and healing. Doctors would also be searching for any signs of stress and psychological distress that may negatively impact Alastorâs health and cause thoughts of harming the child, which would result in a postpartum depression screening and/or a post-traumatic stress disorder screening. Debates on if Alastor would even consider the child as one aside, that does not change the need to carefully monitor his mental state and try to improve his quality of life as well as prevent any loss of life or actions he may regret. Â
In summary: Alastor would have an open intestinal resection surgery, spending his first week in the hospital and after that point focusing on resting while recovering muscle mass, as well as slowly reintroducing his body to food after being taken off the IV. He should be able to eat regularly (in moderation, don't eat a person) within 2-3 weeks, with the rest of his healing taking somewhere between 4-6 weeks. He would not make a full recovery for a few months, but provided his recovery goes smoothly while monitored, he could return to his daily life with minimal issue within 6 weeks.Â
(Note: The stress and trauma of the whole experience could hinder recovery severely because an increase in stress causes wounds to heal significantly slower and weakens the immune system. If this happened, it would increase Alastorâs recovery time by roughly 25%, but could be increased by up to 60% depending on the severity of that stress. Prioritizing a stress-free environment would be crucial to his recovery.)
(Another note: The pregnancy duration was estimated at give or take 30 weeks, the reason for that is pregnancy weeks are weird. Itâs calculated from the date of the last menstrual period, not the date of conception. Alastor does not have the equipment for having it traced the normal way, thatâs half the problem, so it would be based on the objective weeks since conception. Unlike the average pregnancy where itâs a gamble if the mother knows the conception date, Alastor would undoubtedly know.)
đ
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
Happy last day of feeding tube awareness week, and for my last trick I will spill maybe the hottest take:
Feeding tubes aren't a big deal.
Its a plastic tube to your stomach or intestines that gives you nutrition.
Nasal tubes can be placed bedside. Uncomfortable? Hell yeah. Dangerous? No.
Surgical tubes are 1-2 incisions and a week of "ouch, fuck, dammit." Does it hurt? Yeah. Is it that big of a deal? No.
I don't understand the terror that doctors have around placing them. They keep this tool as the LAST resort for literally no reason. I know plenty of doctors who will wait until your organs are shutting down to even think about it. Mine did. And I have permanent liver damage because of it.
Starving is dangerous and serious and fucking terrifying.
A feeding tube is just a piece of plastic. Sometimes it rubs in annoying ways. You have to get it replaced. Some people get infections at the site. The tubing gets caught on door handles...
But none of them are being left to starve.
Truthfully, doctors withholding a treatment that is minimally invasive, with massive life-saving benefits to a person who needs it, is absolutely malpractice. That would be like refusing to give a heart attack patient treatment until their heart stops. The insanity is unreal.
#chronic illness#chronically ill#gastroparesis#central line#ehlers danlos syndrome#chronic pain#ceds#classical ehlers danlos syndrome#invisible illness#feeding tube
60 notes
·
View notes
Text
today's update is i feel fine, minimal lingering pain getting up, coughed and it only hurts a little bit at the end (not enough to make me completely avoid doing such things anymore) and I can almost fully bend down to pet cookie without discomfort. Its just the Struggling With Clothes Touching Incisions part to deal with neow. Oh and I still cannot wear pants or anything over my waist, and still need seatbelt barrier (small pillow) in car
#ive been needing to pull out old unworn dresses from the closet to wear for least amt of pressure if i need to go out....#i still have not taken any pain meds since the day and night of surgery. smooth sailing (for neow)#i still have to keep an eye on the incisions and healing just in case...#talkys#the surgical Glued is becoming more crackly so maybe is preparing to start falling off soon#surgery#bisalp
38 notes
·
View notes