#pain management clinic new york

[parkavenuemedicine]

The Growing Demand For Pain Specialists In New York City

10 percent of people in New York City have chronic pain. This discomfort can have a major impact on your daily activities, productivity, sleep cycles and overall life. Moreover, it results in low work productivity and hurts the society and the economy. Consider knowing about the scope of the problem and make pain management plans with the specialists. This problem is vital to boost productivity and overall well-being in the metropolitan settings. 

Read more.

https://empirenewswire.com/the-growing-demand-for-pain-specialists-in-new-york-city/

[cherri-tomato]

Venomous.

Pairing: SpiderMan x fem!venom!reader

Chapter Summary: y/n visits an abandoned lab to find some good photos for a class assignment but finds herself in over her head when she comes face-to-face with a creature calling itself venom.

Chapter content: Near death experience, descriptions of injuries, angst, potential body horror (its venom soo), brief mention of animal death, brief mention of vomiting (non-graphic), mention of assault (not to reader)

Series masterlist

The old Oscorp laboratory that sits on the outskirts of New York wasn't exactly the place most college students expected to spend their Friday night. Even y/n, who usually spent her time alone or developing old photos in her university's old darkroom instead of hanging out with nonexistent friends, didn't make a habit of visiting dilapidated buildings alone with only a camera and a flashlight. 

The lab was in the middle of the forest, surrounded by a rusting chain link fence—a ‘CAUTION! ELECTRIC FENCE!’ The sign was on the ground beside said fence, having long since fallen off. Normally this would have made y/n turn around and try to find a less dangerous place to take pictures for her photography class, but it just so happened that a large, y/n sized hole had at somepoint been cut into the fence, leaving the perfect entrance for curious (and borderline suicidal) university students to slip through with relative ease. 

The laboratories walls were covered in vines, the plants wrapping themselves around anything their tendrils came into contact with. The door to the lab was gone, leaving just a gaping hole as an entrance, and y/n entered easily, snapping a few pictures of the outside as she did. The inside was, much like the outside, a complete mess. The walls, once a pristine and clinical white, now a dirty, greenish-gray, with splatters of what y/n could only hope was just some random chemical and not blood. Blue double doors lined the hall, a small rectangular window on each one. After opening a few doors and taking some photos of the old science equipment, she finally found herself standing in front of the last door at the end of the hallway. Through the small windows she could see it was a stairwell, and pushed the door open, entering the well and taking some pictures of the eerie stairs leading into the complete darkness of the second floor. 

Pointing her flashlight up the stairs, she began to climb. She stopped at the second level door which was marked with a large ‘2’, and gave the handle a rough shove to push the door open. The hallway itself was much the same as on the first floor, though it was certainly worse for ware. The walls were covered in an oozing black, ink-like substance, and a couple doors were completely gone. y/n took a step back, only managing to snap one or two pictures of the bizarre scene before she felt something under her begin to shift. The floor below her made an awful cracking sound and some debris crumbled from the ceiling above her. She took a shuttered breath and was about to turn and run when the ceiling suddenly gave out, and everything went dark.

A heavy pressure was the first thing she felt. Then, an excruciating pain shot through her entire body. She tried to scream, but the ruble covering—or rather, crushing—her made any noise impossible. All but her head was trapped. Above her, she could see the hole she had fallen through just barely in the dim light and dust filled air. She coughed, and felt the pressure compress her chest. She wondered, in a hazy and distinctly concussed way, if she was going to die here. Alone, crushed by the heavy cement ceiling of an abandoned building she was never meant to be in. Tears welled in her eyes, and she let them close for a moment before she felt something drip onto her face. ‘Blood?’ she wondered. Her eyes fell on the hole she'd fallen through to see that the inky black stuff was dripping down from the floor above and landing directly on her face.

If she could move, or even feel, her arms, she would have immediately tried to wipe the strange goo off her cheek, but she was immobilized and could only watch in disgust as the black sludge dripped onto her. Then, she felt the inky stuff move. And she froze. The slime wriggled against her skin and she could only hope it wasn't some sort of poison as she felt the thing be absorbed into her skin. 

Something changed at that moment. Y/n couldn’t tell what, but something did. She felt her arms twitch, and then her legs—which she was certain were completely broken—seemed to snap back together. She cried out in pain as her body's bones corrected themselves, her scraped skin gluing itself back together before she felt the same black sludge engulf her entire body.

Something was definitely wrong with her. That's the first thought that passed through y/n's mind when she felt herself standing, the rubble that was crushing her now light, and her body, which had previously been torn apart by the fall and subsequent cruising of all her bones, now felt strong, mended and somehow improved. She moved, though she felt as though it was both not her own movements and completely of her own volition. She lifted her hand and- oh. Yes, something was in fact very, very wrong with y/n. Her own hand was gone—or rather, covered by a longer and, well, sharper one. Her skin was instead a black inky mass of sorts—the inky sludge that had covered her no doubt—and her fingers were longer and clawed. She looked down at herself and was met with the same sight. An inky black mass was now replacing her once distinctly human form.

She must’ve passed out then, because when she finally came to, she was once again in the forest, laying on her back and staring up at the stars. She lifted her hand, which was shaky and scratched, but no longer broken or made of slime, so she supposed that was an improvement. 

“It's about time you woke up.” 

A voice said, and she sat up, looking around frantically for whatever had spoken, but found only forest. She tugged at her sleeve nervously. “Jesus, I must be losing it..” she muttered, trying to steady her rapid heart beat. 

“Think again, kid,” the voice spoke again, this time accompanied by a…head? It seemed to be emerging from her back. She turned, but there was no one behind her. That was, apart from the head, now grinning. Its mouth, which was put on full display thanks to that damned smile, was large and full of sharp teeth. its eyes were white and angular, staring into her very soul. 

“

“W-what…” She could feel herself break out in a cold sweat, goosebumps covering her skin. “What the fuck are you…?” She asked, because what else could she even say? 

“We are Venom.” it said, and her brow furrowed. 

“We?”

“You and I, kid. We are Venom. And we are hungry.”

She shook her head, forcing herself onto her feet. “For what? People!?” She stared at the head. 

“You learn quickly.” it—Venom—replied, and y/n’s heart dropped to her feet. 

“No. Absolutely not.” She took a step back, but Venom, of course, wasn’t exactly going anywhere. “I'm not doing any of this little shop of horrors bullshit!” She was practically screaming at this point. ‘this whole thing is crazy!’

“You owe me, kid. I saved your skin; now it's your turn.” Venom said, its grin growing impossibly larger. 

“I-i never asked for your help! I didn't even know you were…alive.” She shuddered at the memory of the inky slime covering her.

“Come on, y/n. You scratch my back, I scratch yours.” 

she froze, her blood running cold. “H-how do you know my name…?” She asked, and Venom made a noise that was probably supposed to be a laugh.

“Oh, I know everything about you, y/n l/n. I'm inside your head.” She flinched as venom leaned closer, its black tendrils brushing against her skin. “I know you want power. You want to be seen. I can give that to you.” 

she shook her head. “No, no! You’re… you‘re not real…” 

She turned and began to walk, ignoring the voice that continued to speak.

“Come on, kid. I know you want to.” 

“Shut up! You don't know anything about me!” She forced herself to walk faster, stepping over logs and roots as she finally made her way out of the forest and onto a street. “This is fucking insane. I’m losing my god damn mind…” She muttered to herself, walking down the sidewalk. She didn’t recognize the part of town she was in, but that was the last thing on her mind. She must've been walking aimlessly for quite a while, because when she stopped, she realized she was in the middle of the sidewalk in an area of town where a young woman definitely wouldn't want to be alone at such an hour. 

“Don't be scared kid, you have us now.” 

She startles, glancing around to try and spot the head of Venom, but not seeing any sign of it. “God, don't do that shit!” She hissed, rubbing the nape of her neck as though to remove Venom from her all together. 

She moved to start walking again when a noise stopped her dead in her tracks. It definitely sounded like a cry of some kind. She looked around, and wrapped her arms around herself nervously. Y/n slowly walked forward, not making it very far before she heard the noise again, and turned to stare into an alley. 

She narrowed her eyes; somewhere in the darkness she can see the form of two people, one cowering on the ground and the other standing menacingly over them. She bristled. ‘A mugging?’ That was probably the best case scenario all things considered.

“We could help.” venom said, its tendrils curling around her arm. “You want to. Just give me control.” 

She took a sharp breath. She could save them, but would the cost be worth it?

She didn’t get to finish thinking, because the looming figure pounced causing the person on the ground to shriek, and then something inside her snapped and she became Venom.

The fight, if you could even call it that, didn't last long. Venom wasn't lying when it said it was hungry, and the assailant was no match for its jaws. The person huddled on the ground—a woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties—had run the second the person attacking her was distracted. Good. 

Y/n tried not to think about what just happened, even as venom retreated back into her and she ran from the alley, not stopping until she was standing in front of her dorm building. She unlocked  the door, stepping inside and letting out a sigh of relief as she collapsed onto her creaky bed, burying her face in her pillow, and then promptly getting back up to go vomit in her toilet.

Venom was quiet for a while, and she hoped it was because it knew she needed time, but maybe it was just digesting. She didn't sleep much that night.

────────────

Spider Man landed on a roof near the alley he had heard the screams from. It was quiet now, but he knew that wasn't necessarily a good sign. He dropped into the alley, looking around for any signs of someone in danger, and froze. A puddle of blood, some black, inky looking substance, and a woman's purse were the only things in the alley. He picked up the bag and cracked it open, retrieving a wallet and then an ID. He looked around—whoever left the blood was gone, but they obviously weren't looking to rob anyone, considering the wad of cash still in the woman's purse. He was about to investigate further when he heard sirens and carefully placed the purse down; they would have an easier time returning this to its owner after all. He swung out of the alleyway, still unsure what exactly went down in the small amount of time it had taken him to get to the scene.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Long COVID continues to evade diagnosis through lab tests - Published Aug 12, 2024

NEW YORK, Aug. 12 (UPI) -- Blood and urine tests are ineffective for diagnosing long COVID -- a constellation of long-term symptoms such as chronic pain, brain fog, shortness of breath and intense fatigue, a new study shows.

Without a clear tool to detect and treat the lingering illness, it remains "a major public health burden," researchers noted, affecting millions of people worldwide and significantly altering quality of life.

The new study, funded by the National Institutes of Health Researching COVID to Enhance Recovery (RECOVER) Initiative, was published Monday in Annals of Internal Medicine.

Because few large studies looked at standardized laboratory tests as a way to help diagnose long COVID, researchers decided to examine results of 25 measurements in more of than 10,000 adults enrolled in the RECOVER trial. Launched in 2021, this trial received $1.15 billion in congressional funding. At the outset, participants underwent blood tests and were deemed eligible whether or not they had a previous infection of SARS-CoV-2.

Researchers followed them with surveys every three months and laboratory samples at six, 12, 24, 36 and 48 months after infection or the date of a negative test result.

In comparing responses to questionnaires and routine test outcomes, researchers assessed whether SARS-CoV-2 resulted in repeated laboratory abnormalities regardless if participants had symptoms.

The findings basically revealed little, said the study's lead author, Dr. Kristine Erlandson, a professor of medicine and epidemiology at the University of Colorado Anschutz Medical Campus in Aurora. That's because the laboratory results were inconclusive.

However, she and co-researchers recommended in their study report that clinicians still perform routine clinical tests to rule out other treatable causes of the symptoms in post-acute sequelae of COVID-19, the scientific name for long COVID.

Researchers also uncovered evidence to bolster the notion that SARS-CoV-2 could contribute to the risk of diabetes independent of long COVID -- a link found early in the pandemic.

Individuals with prior SARS-CoV-2 also had higher urine albumin to creatinine ratio. This indicator of early kidney disease has shown an association with cardiovascular conditions in other populations.

Continuing inflammation may be a possible explanation for smell and taste disruptions and post-acute sequelae of COVID-19, researchers said.

"The diversity of symptoms may be one of the reasons that we have difficulty in truly understanding why some people develop long COVID and ultimately how we can treat it," Erlandson said.

"Long COVID is a condition currently defined by symptoms and physical exam findings, not by abnormal routine laboratory measures," she added.

"Similarly, providers should certainly not dismiss a diagnosis of long COVID based on normal clinical laboratory values."

In an accompanying editorial, researchers from Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine in Baltimore noted that most significant unsolved enigmas of the COVID-19 pandemic pertain to the knowledge, diagnosis and treatment of long COVID.

"When [it is] severe, long COVID can be disabling, resulting in job loss or inconsistent ability to perform other roles, such as caregiving. Even in 2024, long COVID remains common," Drs. Paul Auwaerter and Annukka Antar wrote in the editorial.

"Approximately 1 in 20 U.S. adults reported persisting symptoms after COVID-19 in June 2024, with 1.4% reporting significant limitations The incidence of long COVID is 3.5% among immunized people in the Omicron era, and it can occur after reinfection."

The editorial's writers added that "importantly, acknowledging symptoms with empathy and creating a symptom management plan provides a basis for trust and hope amidst uncertainty."

Read the rest of the report at either link!

[arminsumi]

FLEUR

Oneshot | Eren | ♪

Eren works as a florist at his mom's flower shop, and just next to it is his dad's clinic. After your check ups, you browse the flowers. Eren always glances over at you longingly.

But he never manages to work up the courage to talk to you, and it always gets him down.

⚠️Cws; fluff, light angst

Notes; black!fem!reader

"Ah, Eren." Armin sighed pitifully at his friend.

Eren lowered his chin onto his forearm, and let his gloomy eyes flutter closed.

"You really need to do something about this." Armin said.

You had yet again come into the store, bought a bouquet, and vanished from sight. All Eren managed to say to you were simplicities, hello how are you that will be $6.99 thank you see you again.

Eren sighed heavily and rubbed the tension out of his face with his hands. "She'll come by for another checkup at some point again; I promise to really talk to her then."

"Uh-uh! You said that last time!" Armin shook his head.

"Well, this time I really mean it."

"You also said that last time."

Eren let his head fall back and groaned. He always became lethargic at the end of a long working day, especially when this happened.

His mom descended the stairs from the upstairs apartment. She didn't need to even ask what had gotten Eren in this mood, it was all too familiar.

"Eren?" She called out, but he closed his eyes and rested his jaw heavily in his palm.

"Yeah?" He mumbled lamely.

"Get off work early for today, okay? You two go out and stretch your legs, take your mind of things." She spoke gently.

She sighed and turned to Armin after Eren was unresponsive, "Armin, take this poor boy out somewhere nice." She asked.

"Yes ma'am." Armin clapped his hands together, "Eren, let's go, come on." Armin encouraged, and tried to move Eren by his arm, but he wouldn't budge.

He let out a throaty groan, like he was in pain at the sight of embarrassing memories in his mind. There they were, projecting onto his eyelids like a movie.

At that point he was being so dramatic that it became comical.

Armin laughed, and tried to move him again, "Come on, big boy, we'll go get some food and bitch about life, how does that sound?"

He gave Eren another encouraging tug on his arm, "Come on! Move, move, soldier!" He shook him playfully.

"Alright." Eren sighed heavily, and finally moved. Though, he moved as if his whole body was made of lead.

They exited the flower shop together and headed out onto the sidewalk. The winter sun gave the street a sharp, crisp quality.

Eren had such a heavy mood all around him, so Armin tried to be funny to make him feel better. But all of Armin's work didn't pay off because Eren's gloom was stubborn.

"Wanna get some takeout?" Eren suggested lamely.

"Eren, you've had takeout every day for almost a week now." Armin looked over at him pitifully, "Let's get something good to eat, okay? My treat."

"Alright, fine then." Eren agreed.

They ambled down the street, talking while window shopping down the block.

During midday time in the city, it felt like a beehive. The incessant rumbling and buzzing of cars, the unnecessary hooting, the sighs of braking buses rolling to a standstill at the gleaming red stoplights.

Even babies were crying somewhere in the distance. It felt like New York. No, it was worse than New York. A city like this was a nightmare.

Still, it's home. And Eren felt happy to live in the same city as someone like you, even if he only ever got to see you and not talk to you.

If there were god above, then they took great pity on Eren that day, and cast a spell of luck over him and you. In this beehive rush at midday, Armin and Eren wound up at a secluded restaurant.

It was one of those restaurants that the eye easily skips over unless you're really hungry. The only reason you visited there was because your mom and grandmother ran it together.

It had been some time since you'd been to visit, though, so really... this was a truly lucky day.

The doorbell chimed, it sounded rusty, and Eren entered with Armin at his side. The latter scanned his environment with bright eyes, but his best friend didn't have even a trace of light in his gaze.

That is, until he caught a glimpse of your hair from behind.

"Armin, three o'clock." Eren whispered into his ear.

"I saw, I saw." Armin nodded, noticing you an instant after Eren did. He had a lopsided grin on his face.

You were cheerily talking to your mom, by chance, about the boy who works at the florist's down the block.

"Sounds like a match." Your mom teased, "Why not talk to him?"

You shrugged, "He doesn't seem to be interested. I mean, otherwise, wouldn't he have talked to me by now? I always visit after checkups, you know, like I said."

Eren and Armin took a seat by the window near the entrance. A soft light filled the restaurant. Each time Eren took a glance at you, he felt like he was laying eyes on an angel.

"Eren, go on." Armin encouraged, "This is prime time to introduce yourself."

Eren pursed his lips, folded his arms on the table, and shook his head slowly.

"Come on, if you don't do something, I will."

"Don't even think about it." Eren snapped.

Armin leaned back in his seat and let out a sigh. His best friend was always stubborn like this.

When your mom came around to take their orders, Armin asked her where the bathroom was. Eren didn't pay much attention, but his friend was brewing a little plan to help him out.

Very smoothly and swiftly, Armin weaved through the tables, went to the bathroom to fix his hair and practice what he would do, and then emerged confidently.

Eren looked over and saw Armin talking to you. At first he felt this confused jealousy, but then watched as you laughed and rose from your lonesome table and walked over to the table he was sat at.

It was all quick, and before Eren could stutter out a confused hello, Armin introduced the two of you.

He did it with a smirk, "This is Eren. Oh, Eren, hope you don't mind, I thought she looked lonely and might want to join us for lunch."

Armin gave Eren a wink.

Hearing your voice once more, and viewing your dark complexion in this angelic light, it had Eren's heart panging nervously in his chest.

But Armin threw jokes around, and lightened the mood, so Eren's tensed shoulders relaxed and he finally eased into the conversation.

Though, you noticed, he stuttered and spoke quietly when you asked him questions.

"Your dad runs the clinic, right?" You asked.

Eren nodded, "Uh, yeah, he does. And my mom runs the florist where I work..."

"You help your mom's florist business?" You tilted your head adoringly at him, "That's so sweet of you. I love that."

Armin pursed his lips to keep from smiling, watching as how Eren's face grew extremely red at your compliments.

"Oh, I just remembered, I've got to return that library book." Armin lied.

"What library boo – ohhh, yeah, you do that..." Eren played along.

Armin rose from his seat, "I'll be back in a bit, it's a long walk." he got to his feet.

"Alright! See you, Armin." You kindly waved goodbye.

And so he left, and left the two of you alone together in that golden light. Good conversation and subtle flirting filled the air between you and Eren.

Clearly this was the start of something good.

[whileiamdying]

An Ingrid Bergman News Crisis

How much is a baby photo worth?

By Janet Flanner March 31, 1950

March 27

It’s almost certainly a fact that when, with bewildered Italian help, the thirty-odd American newspaper correspondents and press photographers regularly operating here started what proved to be their unsuccessful twelve-day February siege of Ingrid Bergman, while she was lying abed in the Villa Margherita Clinic, she was, however unwillingly, the leading news story in the world. She and her infant, an invisible pair, pushed even President Truman and his hydrogen bomb onto the second page of hundreds of American newspapers that evidently were more interested in love. Now, eight weeks after the peak days, when an exclusive picture of her with the infant was enthusiastically calculated to be worth five million lire, or about eight thousand dollars, to anybody able to snap it, by hook or crook (nobody managed it), an unexclusive picture of the baby, solo, is rated by New York agency editors to be not worth the thirty-seven dollars and fifty cents it would cost to transmit it by radio. All babies, especially on second editorial thought, look alike, and a photograph of Robertino can be sent more cheaply and fast enough by air mail. So the Bergman news crisis, which started with its vital statistic at 7 p.m. on February 2nd in the Villa Margherita Clinic, on the Via di Villa Massimo—a crisis in which hundreds of thousands of cabled words were ticked out from here, in which Miss Bergman said nothing, and in which Rome seemed closer to Hollywood than to the Anno Santo—has finally died down, and the Roman American press is awaiting other statistics or events, such as the wedding and the baptism. Right now, or so American newspapermen have said to this correspondent—and Miss Bergman has said to this correspondent that she believes what they said to be true, because she has looked carefully out the windows of the Rossellini apartment on the Via Bruno Buozzi, where she is living, and can see no loitering cameramen—she could walk out of her apartment at any time without being met by a battery of photographers or reporters, such as were stationed at the hospital. Today they would have to be alerted.

Miss Bergman does not subscribe to any clipping service, but friends and enemies, known and unknown, have supplied her with what must be a fairly complete file of the evidence of her incredibly widespread newsworthiness. It runs into millions of words, most of them silly. With more patience than rancor, she says that nearly all of what has been printed is trivial, inaccurate, and distorted, except, of course, the three or four major facts. In the vast, rather empty salon of her apartment, her clippings, whose bulk grew steadily as she and Rossellini made more and more intimate revelations in the year following her arrival in Italy, form a sort of cheap, extra upholstery laid out over the divans and chairs. She seems to have preserved them as a painful phenomenon that, she realizes with Nordic realism, was inevitable. Over most of the past three months, she received, in addition, two hundred letters a day. Since the excitement over the baby’s birth died down, the number has dwindled to about fifty. Eight out of ten letters declare that she is “wonderful” or “courageous.” Most of these are from movie fans, and often verge on the illiterate. Eight out of ten also mention Christ and casting the first stone. Some are obscene, a few threaten death, and quite a large number of the recent ones complain about the nosiness of the press.

On April 13th of last year, Hearst’s society columnist, Cholly Knickerbocker, announced in the New York Journal-American what society columns call “rumors” of a Bergman-Rossellini romance. The rumors had been rampant, Knickerbocker said, ever since she flew to Rome in March—or somewhat earlier, Miss Bergman says, than they knew about the romance themselves. On December 12th, Hearst’s movie columnist, Louella Parsons, announced in a special I.N.S. story, which appeared in most Hearst papers, including the New York Journal-American that it was rumored Miss Bergman would have a child in March. On that day, cameramen began to encamp before Miss Bergman’s home, and she has since left her apartment only three times, the last time in February, to have the prophesied March child. On the night before Christmas Eve, she went to the Fono-Roma studio to do some belated dubbing in of sound on “Stromboli.” And on January 22nd, a fine, bright Rome day, seeing no cameramen, she ventured out to wait in the sunshine for Rossellini, who was going to drive her into the country for a pleasant, salubrious walk. As she reached the street, an ambushed photographer rushed toward her, snapped a couple of pictures, and pursued her as she ran toward the nearest corner, thinking to hide behind a newspaper kiosk there. She circled the kiosk one way and he circled it the other, so he was able to take another shot, while she burst into tears and he “smiled at her ironically,” a phrase contained in a charge the furious Rossellini preferred against him at a police station. The Italian Civil Code’s Article X, which deals with photographs taken and published without permission, forbids the publication of photographs of people “as a means of indicating some fact about their personal life.” Two of these pictures, which showed Miss Bergman’s condition, were copyrighted by the A.P., and one or both of them were printed in the Milan weekly L’Europeo, in Life, and in a number of A.P. newspapers in the United States, including the Los Angeles Mirror, which published one over the caption “Is she or isn’t she?” These pictures are notable, being considered the unique, sizzling news scoop of the whole complex Bergman-Rossellini journalistic campaign. On being advised of Rossellini’s angry police-station complaint and Miss Bergman’s tears, the A.P. management gallantly sent her flowers and a note of apology, which quaintly explained that the photographer was just an Italian. By then the police had dropped the charge against him.

Oddly, there were no photographers on the sidewalk at four o’clock in the afternoon of February 2nd, when Miss Bergman hastily crowded herself—a tall and by this time heavy woman, in a heavy coat—into a small car belonging to her physician, Dr. Pier Luigi Guidotti, and started for the clinic. The press pack, caught off guard, didn’t get on the scent till seven hours later. Most of its members had by then had a busy evening. They had been invited to a lavish gala première, at the Fiamma Cinema, of “Volcano,” the eruptive competitor to “Stromboli,” starring Anna Magnani, whom the American press had long tagged as Miss Bergman’s arch-rival in Rossellini’s personal and professional career. The evening’s entertainment had been diverting because it had been so strange. Contrary to expectations, Signora Magnani had not turned up. Warned that the baby had been born and reportedly commenting that this was Rossellini’s supreme sabotage of her film, she stayed at home. Soon after the film started, a bulb in the projector burned out, and while a boy was sent across Rome on a bicycle to forage for another, the author of the film, Renzo Avanzo, unexpectedly entertained the spectators by doing a tap dance before the blank screen. It was also strange, the press thought, that on the same night, in a private projection room across town, a preview of “Stromboli,” which has still not been released here, was being run off for several bishops and four hundred priests; the reason was that the Vatican is interested in the film’s salvational religious climax, which has been cut in the American version.

By nine o’clock that evening, the Italian news agency Ansa had informed its subscribing newspapers that the baby had been born, and when, where, and what it weighed. The American press didn’t catch on until later. When it did, the reporting of the Bergman-Rossellini news became a mass assault upon the principals in the case—mother, father, and child. By ten-thirty, some of the American and British news offices had been alerted by private individuals. The U.P. apparently got its news from a Belgian Dominican monk, Father Félix Morlian, who is rector of the Università Pro Deo, one of the churchmen interested in film propaganda, and an intimate friend of Rossellini; Reuters from a friend of Rossellini’s musician brother Renzo; the New York Times from another Rossellini family friend. The A.P., perhaps as punishment by Providence or by Rossellini’s friends for the offending January 22nd photographs of Miss Bergman, got no tip at all. The U.P. thought its story was the first in New York by a few minutes—at 4:48 p.m.Eastern Standard Time (10:48 p.m. in Rome). According to Hearst’s I.N.S., its Rome correspondent’s dispatch was received in Manhattan at 4:35 a.m. In his follow-up story, the I.N.S. man said it had been easy to find where Miss Bergman was going when she left the apartment, since she was traced “by prearranged telephone communication set up along the route” to the hospital—an idea as fanciful as it was unpleasant, for the buildings are three kilometres apart, and Rome’s maze of streets offers as many paths as the opening of a chess game.

It is to be noted that none of these early world-shaking press stories, of a few hundred words each, were based on official announcements by the Rossellini family, who spent a sleepless night, between the telephone-ringing and their denials, or by the two doctors—Dr. Guidotti and the accoucheur, Dr. Giuseppe Sannicandro—or by those in charge of the clinic, who had hastily locked its openwork iron garden gate on the crowd of newspapermen collecting outside and said they knew nothing. Through this garden gate, one of the unfortunate A.P.’s reporters had managed to ask a nun, one of the hospital staff who went down to try to quiet the racket, if she would swear on the Bible that Miss Bergman was not in the hospital. The nun, who had doubtless never been to a movie in her life and apparently had no idea who anybody was, including the mob of reporters, declared in good faith that there was no Signorina Bergman there. There was a Borghese, a Principessa Borghese, who had given birth that evening, but it was twins. So all night the A.P. continued gloomily filing bulletins to New York that the news of the birth remained unsourced, except by Ansa, and naming all the sources of denials—family, nun, clinic, friends, e tutti quanti. The rival New York editors began querying Rome was it true, wasn’t it true, and what on earth was going on there? This confusion added to the press’s job and also to its irritation. At 9 a.m., the A.P. chief here finally got an official source—one of the two doctors who assisted at the birth. Beaten by nearly eleven hours by the hares, the tortoise A.P. nevertheless won, in its exhausting, protocolar fashion. The A.P. chief was later complemented by some staid Middle West newspaper editors for the “restrained way”—the unrestrained way had already stirred disapproval in some breasts—in which he had handled the news. By papers that enjoy the unrestrained, such as the New York News, the New York Mirror, the Los Angeles Examiner, and the Los Angeles Herald & Express, the brief, unsourced stories were carried under blaring four-column and six-column heads. The Rome press, dazed by all the American hoopla about one more baby on earth, dutifully gave the story a biggish, if kindly and unsensational, play—except for the Demo-Christian organ, Il Popolo, and the Vatican’s L’Osservatore Romano, both of which practically ignored the event. This is an outline of how the siege began. There were, of course, dozens of minor incidents, such as the Hearst reporter’s referring, like a man in the know, to Miss Bergman’s tears and laughter after the baby was born. As a matter of fact, when she heard the child’s first cry, she asked, “What time is it?”

By midnight, Miss Bergman, as well as the other patients in the clinic, could hear the reporters and cameramen clamoring at the garden gate and trying to climb over the stone wall at both sides of it. The clinic called the Celere, Rome’s jeep riot police. As time passed and it grew chillier, the press nipped branches from the live oaks and the pines of the park that had once belonged to the princely Massimo family, built a fire, and settled down for the vigil. (In lesser force, this was to last twelve days.) The clinic director was outraged by the American hunger for news, but the next afternoon he began to realize that it could give his hospital, which is new and self-conscious, publicity. On the street, crowds had collected and a radio van had arrived. At 5 p.m., newspaper reporters—Rossellini had warned the clinic that press photographers could mean havoc—were invited in to see the clinic’s reception rooms, with a view to some public praise. Cameramen streamed in with them, their cameras hidden under their coats. A mild bedlam broke out. Photographers, pursued by truculent nuns and angry attendants, raced through the corridors and kitchens and into private rooms. A Life photographer, who had used an emergency back staircase, was collared on the second floor, and right where a man at the head of his profession should be—before the locked door of No. 34, Miss Bergman’s suite. The carabinieri were called in to guard her door and to eject all members of the press from the building, and the cameramen (for photographs were what was wanted; news could be made up) started really organizing the siege. They hired a room across the street from the clinic, set up a battery of cameras in the window, stationed men to cover the back exit of the clinic, and arranged among themselves for a round-the-clock schedule of watches, refreshments, and so on. The majority of the photographers were Italian free lances, hastily hired by American and Italian agencies. They thought the siege was absurd, and were more interested in the pay than in the news. One of the Italians has said that the siege cost the agency that hired him a quarter-million lire. It produced no pictures of Miss Bergman and the child.

Being a very healthy woman and recovering splendidly in a room in which, during her fortnight there, the iron Venetian blinds were kept pulled down (except for the last two days, when the electric light began to hurt her eyes) to prevent photographers from taking telephoto shots from trees or walls, Miss Bergman was soon strong enough to know, and feel trapped by, what was going on. The nuns who were her nurses reported, shocked by the wickedness of the world, that they had been offered a million lire to open the door a crack so that a photographer could snap a picture. An Italian cameraman with a conveniently pregnant wife took a room upstairs in the clinic, but as her time was found to be weeks off, both of them were thrown out. A free-lance photographer for L’Europeo, which disclaimed all responsibility if he fell and broke his neck, shinnied up a rain pipe to the balcony of No. 34. The rival weekly Oggi, which also wanted a picture, at least got a picture of the Europeo man, halfway up. In addition, Oggiphotographed photographers walking teeteringly in single file, cameras in hand, on top of the walls surrounding the clinic, but it missed getting a shot of one who fell off and broke his arm.

Since no legitimate photographs of Miss Bergman or the baby were forthcoming, improvised photographs began to turn up. A midwife in the hospital, who, like the director, enjoyed the publicity, willingly lent herself to the photographers’ needs. The New York Mirror published a picture, which it ran as an exclusive but which had already been flashed all over Italy, of the midwife weighing a baby “born yesterday.” The self-cancelling caption read, “Is this Ingrid’s Little Roberto? Exclusive picture shows midwife who attended Ingrid Bergman at birth of her son Thursday weighing a child at Villa Margherita Clinic in Rome. Although midwife said not, photographer was led to believe baby was Ingrid’s.” A still from “Stromboli,” showing Miss Bergman sad-faced and in coarse pajamas, was dug up and used variously, one caption reading, “In the Villa Margherita, Ingrid is not smiling now!” Another picture, taken off the “Stromboli” set, and showing Miss Bergman in the striped bathrobe used in the picture and looking dreary, with curling pins in her hair and Rossellini standing by, was captioned, “She is well protected in Villa Margherita.” An old shot from her film “Notorious,” showing her sick in bed from poison given her by German spies, was titled “Ingrid at Rest.” A news photograph taken of Miss Bergman last year at the Ciampino Airport—her eyes wide with alarm, for she was being almost crushed by the crowd—was dragged out and captioned to indicate that she had looked frightened while “en route to the clinic.” Rossellini was the subject of fewer improvisations, because he was irate, and he had already taken a swipe at a Life photographer in the clinic (and apologized). However, one picture of him was sent out, captioned as the latest shot of him in the hospital. The picture was taken before, he says, he became “fat, balding”—as certain sections of the United States press have described him for the past year. Another photograph of Miss Bergman, taken in 1949 outside a Trastevere restaurant, showed her in the sort of loose coat she apparently wears year in, year out; the caption implied that this was a maternity garment, and the picture was represented as one “taken a few days ago, for which our cameramen patiently waited a long time”—possibly because it was felt that the weary photographers by now needed at least a little praise. The siege group across the street from the clinic did get a real photograph of Rossellini’s ten-year-old son by his former wife, and it was run with a supposed statement by the boy: “I hate the new baby. It has blond hair.” Actually, the lad came out of the building excoriating the photographers, in an excellent imitation of his father.

On the evening of February 6th, the voice of Dr. Sannicandro, the accoucheur, was projected on the Italian government radio, answering a series of questions on the birth, stating that the anesthetic that had been given shortly before to Rita Hayworth in similar circumstances had been used, but adding “credo” to everything else he said—stale news about the child’s weight, the hour of birth, and so on, which, after all, had been announced by the clinic director the morning after the birth. The interview had been recorded at the clinic. Dr. Sannicandro was indignantly criticized by Rome medical men for being publicity-mad.

Some of the cameramen-besiegers stayed on duty through the twelfth day, but the American Acme agency pulled its man out early, having reached the intelligent conclusion that nobody was going to get even a peek unless Rossellini wanted him to. Besides, Acme had shrewdly got Rossellini’s permission to go to the hills near Lake Bracciano—where, when he had time for it, he was working on his film on the life of Saint Francis of Assisi—to take some snapshots of him there. The A.P., discouraged, also shortly withdrew its photographer from the weary battle group. Oggi, the most powerful weekly in Italy, which thought it was going to get a world-beating picture of mother, father, and child for its cover the week after the blessed event, delayed its appearance on the stands from Saturday to Sunday and came out with a picture of a trio, all right—a warmed-over photograph taken in the Farfa displaced-persons camp, where the opening “Stromboli” incidents were filmed, showing director Rossellini with star Bergman, who held a two-year-old D.P. in her arms. La Settimana Incom, an Italian news-and-picture weekly, came out, in desperation, with a frank photomontage of a Villa Margherita hospital group, posed by models, on which the faces of Miss Bergman, Rossellini, the accoucheur, and the obliging and ubiquitous midwife had been pasted. About this time, one of the American agencies started the rumor that Rossellini was going to auction the baby’s photograph to the highest bidder. A visiting American photographer for one of the big American weeklies wrote to Miss Bergman quoting another rumor—that the reason no one was allowed to photograph the baby was that it was a monster who would be hidden away and substituted for. He begged Miss Bergman, in her own interest, to permit him to photograph her son and scotch this rumor without delay. At the end of the twelfth day, since force and ruse had failed, the photographers worked out a plan by which one man, drawn by lot, would take one picture of the baptism, whenever it should occur, this to be shared by all. Rossellini approved the idea, but the Hearst picture agency refused to come in, and the scheme, and the siege, collapsed. Miss Bergman, Rossellini, and the baby had won.

The writing part of the press was no more successful than the cameramen were, but at least the writers were soon allowed back in the clinic lounge, where they could the better think things up. It is incredible that, beginning a day and a half after a woman had been through childbirth, reporters of two of the largest American news agencies should have sent her whining, wheedling, or inciting letters, and in some cases—of all things, for up-to-date reporters—handwritten and running page after page. The agency men used different psychological approaches. On February 5th, one tried to butter up Miss Bergman by sending flowers that purported to come from Maxwell Anderson, in whose “Joan of Lorraine” she appeared. The man claimed he had recently seen Anderson in New York, and, of course, there were flowers from himself, too. He also said that since his wife had had two daughters in two years, he realized that briefness in bedside visits was necessary, so would she give him a two-minute bedside interview? On February 7th, another man from the same agency tried the helping-hand angle. He opened by mentioning the rising swell of opinion in the United States, which he thought was being misled about her; then, with all due respect, Miss Bergman, it was his sincere conviction that now was the time for her to state her true position; you are much loved, Miss Bergman, but in the eyes of millions this sentiment is becoming clouded; it is my suggestion that you could remove the clouds by issuing statements—three paragraphs of them, which he asked her to sign. On February 8th, a reporter sent Rossellini his New York editors’ five pages of cables, in cablese jargon, deploring the unfavorable American attitude toward Bergman, which could be counteracted if permission given us to take human-interest photos of the new family soonestly, as you know how American public reacts to baby pix. Two days before that, one of the original botherers had been at Miss Bergman again, stating that she might like to see what was being done to distort her in the eyes of the world and enclosing a cabled agency report on the Mirror’s baby-on-the-scale photograph, which he called a fake. He soon came back once more, with a new suggestion: that she jot down what he called a quick yes or no to fifteen questions. He wanted to know if she was planning to go to America, Paris, or Sweden; if she was planning to be married; if she was planning to make another picture; if she hoped to be reunited with her daughter Pia. Question No. 15 was “The nurse says your new baby smiles all the time. Is this an accurate report?” However, one of his colleagues had already taken the panhandling prize with a two-page handwritten letter in which he whined as probably few men with good newspaper jobs have ever whined. He said that he was sure Miss Bergman had had struggles when young and knew the bitterness and hardship that come from defeat; he was in the same position in Rome, dependent on obtaining a few comments from her. He begged her to consider the position she had put him in. He said he understood her desire to be alone with her loved ones at this time (not quite forty-eight hours after childbirth), but couldn’t she spare him a moment to tell him how she felt? He ended by respecting her courage to live and love with her heart.

Altogether, Miss Bergman has during the past year received between thirty thousand and forty thousand letters on her so-called private life. They make a strange library, to judge by a few hundred random examples. Ninety-nine per cent came from America, usually air mail, and often registered. Most of them were addressed just to Rome. There were hundreds of those gay American congratulation cards for a baby’s birth, and hundreds of sacred medals. Many modest sums of money were enclosed to buy the baby a present. One letter, piously dated “February 6th, the Feast of Saint Titus,” was from a young seminarian studying for the priesthood, who said he was praying for her intention and thanked God for a new young soul on earth. One Negro woman expressed her appreciation of Miss Bergman’s stand on segregation in Washington theatres. There was a kind note, in German, from Austria, which had been opened by the censor. There were thousands of enthusiastic letters from New York Italian-Americans. One of many angry anti-Italian letters contained a photograph of Rossellini on which a mustache had been sketched and the words “Wop wolf” had been written. There were two letters from Canadian farmers and a fantastic one from a female miner out West, which began, “Well, Ingrid, I bet you’re surprised to hear I sold my old mine and am in a new shack now.” There were begging letters. One woman in the Middle West sent a huge envelope containing the deed to her house, her husband’s old-age-pension card, her Social Security card, and other personal documents, and a request that Miss Bergman pay the mortgage on the house. A retired colonel wrote a courtly letter of good cheer, closing it, “I beg to remain, dear lady, respectfully yours . . .” An elegant old American expatriate in Nice wrote that he was thinking of Cosima and Richard Wagner and wished he could order a little orchestra to serenade Miss Bergman with the “Siegfried Idyll.” Several letters mentioned Hawthorne’s “The Scarlet Letter” and deplored puritanism. There was one note of congratulation from the boss of a modest Madison Avenue dress shop, and on the back of it the names of his eleven employees, each name being preceded by the word “Sincerely” or “Love.” Several letters threatened Miss Bergman. The most vicious threat of death was typed with a red ribbon, in impeccable French, and was sent from Alsace by “Un Homme Nordique,” who ended with “Craignez la justice divine. Je me sens l’instrument de cette justice pour vous châtier.”

A great number of the letters contained criticisms of the press—references to “filthy scandal sheets in our land,” “the disgust and outrage I feel for the press,” “contempt for a press which thinks we have to know all.” There was a letter from a former Time writer, deploring what he called the disgraceful American press, “against which those who wrote for it were usually unable to rebel.” One angry grandmother said, “I told Louella Parsons a thing or two about her nasty tongue.” Along with hundreds of letters of insult, there were cables of friendship and kindness from public figures, among them Cary Grant, Phil Baker, Georges Simenon, John Steinbeck, Ernest Hemingway and wife, Billy Rose and wife, and Helen Hayes and Charles MacArthur, and one from a Canadian Member of Parliament and wife, both unknown to Miss Bergman, that ended with “Cheers.”

The Swedish letters were unanimously harsh, as the Swedish press was. More than one Swedish newspaper dubbed Miss Bergman “a blot on the Swedish flag.” Swedish journals had never been especially flattering to her as an actress until the birth of her son, when suddenly they claimed that she was a great artist who had been destroyed by an Italian. In discussing her now, they invariably bring in the fact that the Italians bombed a Swedish Red Cross truck during the Ethiopian War. One paper has started a campaign to get the Swedish government to abandon its attitude of neutrality on the question of the return to Italy of her African colonies and to side instead with Haile Selassie. This paper concludes that if the Swedish delegate in the United Nations General Assembly votes against Italy on the colonial question, as he should, it will be all Roberto Rossellini’s fault.

The private element in the making of “Stromboli” has been of much less interest to the serious Roman newspapers than the treatment of the film in the American version. Editorials have appeared denouncing R.K.O.’s cutting and switching around of the film as punishment and sabotage. The Church has been particularly exercised about the fact that the final speeches of the actress, in which she calls upon God for help, have mostly been put into the mouth of an unseen announcer, as if they were a news report. Rossellini’s repudiation of the Hollywood version of “Stromboli” (the original version may be either good or bad, he says, “since, like all directors, I have made both kinds in my time”) was one of the big stories about him in the Roman newspapers during the American journalists’ Bergman-Rossellini Roman holiday.

For two months, the American journalists in Rome were hot to find out what Miss Bergman’s plans were. It is noticeable, in conversation with her, that she keeps repeating (in her strongly accented Nordic English) the earnest statement “I am healthy. I am still young enough. I can work.” To Rossellini, harried, frequently enraged by the tensions and intrusions of the past year, and known among Romans as a volatile temperament in any circumstances, an American newspaperman recently said, looking puzzled, “What are you kicking about? You got five million dollars’ worth of free publicity.” ♦

Published in the print edition of the April 8, 1950, issue, with the headline “Letter from Rome.”

[olet-lucernam]

A Hollow Promise [1] chapter i, part i

{_[on AO3]_}

main tags : loki x original character, post-avengers 2012, canon divergence - post-thor: the dark world, canon-typical violence, mentions of torture

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summary: In the aftermath of the Battle of New York, the Avengers need a few days to build a transport device for the Tesseract. With the Helicarrier damaged and surveillance offline, SHIELD sends an asset to guard Loki in the interim: a young woman who sees the truth in all things, and cannot lie.

Even long presumed dead, her memories lost to her, Loki would know her anywhere.

And this changes things.

Some things last beyond infinity. And the universe is in love with chaos.

(Loki was never looking for redemption. It came as an unexpected side-effect.)

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chapter summary : awaiting his return to asgard after the battle of new york, loki unexpectedly encounters a familiar face.

recommended listening : death and the maiden, franz schubert

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[MASTERLIST] | [NEXT]

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There was nothing worse, Loki decided, than a prison walled with glass.

The world beyond the holding cell was a control room, plated in dark steel, secured in the sunless depths of the lower decks. The silence was underscored by the low, electronic hum of technology corded throughout the Helicarrier, monitoring his every breath and motion, tracking his heat signature and heartrate with detached efficiency. The glass cage was flooded with sterile white light from the ceiling and floor, a brightness so antiseptic that he tasted it in the back of his throat like ethanol, in a sickeningly, frustratingly clever design.

The cell was an observation tank. There were no corners, no edges, no chinks, nowhere to begin or end in order to break it, yet the walls left him exposed at every turn, pressing into the corners of his vision, as though he were a specimen trapped under the plate of a display case.

It was, quite possibly, the worst kind of trapped- of seeing, and being excruciatingly seen, cracked open and vivisected with clinical cruelty.

Loki paced, twisting in place like a corkscrew, the muted echo of his footfalls shadowing each step, gnawing at his heels. The writhing slurry of horrors that had found him after his fall from the Bifrost were absent- but the aftershocks lingered, like a phantom pain.

He was still readjusting to the luxury of being able to think without his mind folding into itself, bending and creasing along lines that he couldn't follow, sloping into compulsions he couldn't entirely trace. Extricating himself from it- finding where his mind had been frayed and spliced into something other, peeling away the false veneer over his memories like splitting open a nerve, scouring the residue of foreign fingerprints from his thoughts until they ruptured into lucidity- was arduous and thankless and painful. He could barely differentiate between which parts belonged to him, which parts were real but magnified until they distorted, and which were grafted into him like a transplant- even with the scarce few that he had managed to keep uncorrupted.

Loki held fast to every inch of ground reclaimed. The beast had knocked something loose in his assault, snapping the psychic connection tethering him to the distant asteroid field, shocking Loki's system and jolting him back into himself.

It was a crude antidote, but not one he was inclined to disdain. Lying in a crater of skate tile, as clarity seeped back in, the bruises taking root and beginning to bloom, he had seized the opportunity, mustered his freshly unconstrained magic, and began swiftly stitching over the breach in the back of his skull.

He was both bitterly amused and vaguely grateful that the hastily-assembled Avengers had not deigned to interrogate him following his defeat.

It was hardly surprising. Their failings had played to his favour since the beginning- far too well, at times, Loki thought resentfully- and continued to be of use, as he had little energy to spare for maintaining the act.

Loki was alone, and the solitude was an unbearable relief.

It didn't last.

Tension pulled between his shoulder blades like a thread as the security door slid open.

Loki threw a practiced, indifferent glance in its direction- enough to judge that it was not one of the Avengers, nor the curt-tongued Midgardian whose hubris had given him a route into Midgard. Instead, he spied the durable navy of a standard SHIELD uniform, concluded that the intruder was precisely no one of importance, and continued to pace, measured as a metronome.

There was a pause, a moment of quiet, like a held breath.

Their footsteps were measured, cautious but even, resounding against the black plate steel, haloing around him. They ascended to the platform that bridged across the chasm to his cell, vibrations shivering through the mesh walkways, and coasted to a halt at the glass.

Loki halted, back turned to them, curious despite himself.

A beat passed.

Then another.

Another.

Interesting.

It wasn't quite what the spy had done, when she slipped into the chamber, waiting until he reacted to her presence, twisting and leveraging the underestimation of her abilities to gain the upper hand before she even spoke a word; that Romanoff thought he hadn't seen through her was laughable, especially given that he had used the exact strategy himself, but he supposed that Thor was both lacked the knowledge and forethought to have warned his new comrades.

By contrast, this newcomer had made no pretence at stealth. They let him hear their approach, a naturally light tread compromised by heavy boots, the scuff of fabric unmuffled.

He knew that they were there.

And they knew that he knew.

It was either a power play, or courtesy.

Perhaps both.

Sufficiently intrigued, Loki looked a second time.

And the universe stopped.

It was a fever breaking, a dagger slamming through breastbone, a gasp after almost drowning.

SHIELD had sent a young woman.

She was a similar height to Romanoff- average, for most women of Midgard, but diminutive for an Asgardian- standing a full head shorter than him, her crown skimming level with the hollow of his throat. Her oak-blonde hair was braided and coiled up at the back of her head, an unusual contrast against the summer-gold of her skin, jarred within the synthetic fabric of her streamlined jumpsuit, the front zip dipping her neckline. There was a restrained strength in her lines, like a stroke of a pen rendered with just slightly too much pressure; it sang like struck metal in the slope of her shoulders, in the sharpness of eyes cut by strikingly dark lashes and eyebrows, in the subtle slant of her hip.

She was a ghost, a memory- a mediocre forgery. Her colours were rinsed out, tresses dulled into flaxen, irises diluted into hazel- but the way she looked at him, lucent as mirror-glass, was so familiar that it almost wrenched a startled, broken noise from his chest.

For a brief eternity, they simply stood there, facing each other.

Loki swept his gaze over her, forcing his expression into a mask of calculated appraisal and cool accismus.

"Well," he purred out, thickening his voice with dark, seductive menace, "hello, darling."

A frisson ran through her, almost imperceptible- before dissolving into a slight, cloudless smile.

"Hello- Prince Loki."

Her voice was a balm, crisp as mountain air.

Loki's breath hitched, caught in his chest, like silk snagging on shrapnel.

This is not real. It's a lingering symptom- a delusion. A hallucination, a falsehood, a trick, an obscene lie-

"SHIELD sends me a lone agent," he mused softly, ignoring the way his breathing constricted under the matrix of leather and tarnished metal of his armour. "Are they not afraid of losing you?"

The corner of her mouth sharpened, like the curve of a boning knife.

"I can't say that they are particularly concerned," she answered slowly, her enunciation delicate and precise, each word laid down like pieces on a chessboard, "no."

Whether it was confidence or carelessness, Loki could not quite tell.

She eased away from the glass separating them, a deliberateness in her gait that killed any impression of a retreat.

Stepping backwards, she turned and slid into place to access the translucent screen mounted above the terminal, keys lighting up under her touch as she deftly pulled various data feeds onto the screen.

Loki canted his head, observing her.

"May I ask why you are here?" He said, consciously and disarmingly civil.

"You may."

With a flick of her fingers, she filtered through the graphic data displays onscreen, lingering over a thermal image from the cell.

"The Tesseract requires a housing device, to stabilise your transport back to Asgard. Dr Banner and Dr Stark are working on it now. In the meantime- the Helicarrier sustained extensive damage in the assault, and the surveillance feed from this deck is intermittent. So I am-" she paused, "ostensibly- here to manually check the security system and sensors."

Loki's eyebrows clenched. "Ostensibly," he echoed tonelessly.

She kept her eyes on the screen. "In a few minutes, I'll receive a call from the bridge. They will tell me that there is no change to the feed, and I should remain down here as a precaution."

A wicked smile suffused across Loki's features. He might have been affronted by how she was refusing to look at him, had he not been distracted by the way she spoke about her superiors- with a frigid distance at odds with her apparent position of trust, if they had sent her to watch him with no one else to question or countermand her.

Even while preoccupied with dissecting the implications, Loki felt himself react to the prospect of more time.

A stray functioning braincell snarled that he knew better than to reach for an obvious illusion and expect it not to dissolve.

Defiant, his pulse was still tripping over itself in the tender hollow beneath the curve of his jaw.

Loki crushed it mercilessly.

"Ah. Then, am I to understand that we will be spending some time together, agent?"

"I'm not an agent."

"No?" Loki flicked a sceptical glance at the stylised eagle emblem on the upper arms of her jumpsuit, embroidered into stiff badges as broad as the palm of her hand. What self-respecting secret intelligence organisation would set their seal on every available surface and item of gear was beyond him, but that was beside the point- while her statement should have rung false, given the blatant evidence to the contrary, finely honed instinct told him that it wasn't a lie. "My apologies. But in that case, I require another name by which to call you."

She glanced at him, lips lightly parted as she hesitated upon her answer, otherwise inscrutable.

"You can call me Alethia."

He refused to feel disappointed.

"Alethia," Loki murmured through the syllables, rolling them across his tongue like hard candy- then exhaled a short, low laugh. "That is not your true name."

It was a half-bluff, and Loki knew that she could tell as soon as he had spoken.

"I didn't say that it was my true name." She replied lightly, "I said that you could call me Alethia."

Amusement bubbled on the blade of his tongue, like champagne spiked with cyanide. It was enough to ignore that she had sidestepped the point- it was a neat, brazen esquive- inclining his head slightly in acknowledgement.

"Very well. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Alethia."

The young woman looked up, overhead light spilling into the satin of her hair and across the curve of her cheekbone.

The corner of her mouth pulling into a wry, phantom smile, she answered with a surprising sincerity.

"Likewise."

She turned away, one hand braced against the terminal, scrolling through the windows and typing something into the command bar. Her deft precision blended strangely with what Loki identified as idle indifference, directionless as a compass needle drifting on its pivot.

Loki surveyed her shamelessly, scanning for chinks in her armour. She was pretty, he acknowledged, clear and light as morning, her fair hair pulling loose of its confines to soften her face.

"You're staring," she observed without raising her eyes from the screen.

Suppressing a jolt at being caught, Loki weighed his response.

"I was simply wondering something. May I ask you another question?"

Her fingers strummed on the terminal.

"I might not answer."

"Then I lose nothing."

The corner of her mouth quirked.

"Why exactly were you selected as my warden?"

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. The internal debate rippled across her face, like threads of sunlight splintered through shallow water.

Finally, the tension between her eyebrows cleared slightly.

"I see the truth in all things, and I cannot lie."

The answer punched the breath out of him.

The wording was exact- her cadence falling into the rote and rhythm of a phrase worn comfortable with use, to the point of losing conscious meaning.

"Is that so," he uttered numbly.

Loki's head spun, light and swirling as a tempest of white clouds, as though he had just become aware that he was dreaming and found himself pulling away from slumber, tilting on the cusp of waking.

Coincidence, he thought wildly, a quirk of fate, happenstance, cruel irony-

"Mm. No one can lie to me, no one can deceive me, no one can conceal the truth from me. I know when something is true, and when something is false."

Loki hummed low in the back of his throat, affecting an air of serene disinterest. "An intriguing gift."

"SHIELD seems to value it." Her inflection was oddly blank.

"Hardly high praise," Loki retorted with a muted scoff. "Anyone who does not is a fool." He turned away, tossing a brief look over his shoulder, as glancing as the skim of a throwing knife across a cheekbone. "Particularly as the truth is often snarled about its own intricacies and contradictions. Anyone who can accurately perceive the truth is all the more impressive for their ability to track the refractions that a seemingly simple truth casts."

Her fingers twitched involuntarily, above the touchscreen.

Loki smirked.

Aha. I have you, darling.

Not many would have caught the caveat in her ability- that the truth was rarely straightforward, and a shallow glance could only offer shallow insight.

Her gift was effectively worthless, without an agile, tireless, insatiable mind to wield it. She would have had to train herself to doubt and question and think with nigh obnoxious tenacity- looking deeper without letting herself drown in the deluge of raw data, pulling apart the nuances without losing herself in minutiae, sifting through everything offered to find the answer that was counterpart to the question.

Knowing was a fine blade. Thinking was swordsmanship.

Which, Loki guessed, she already knew judging by the piercing look she was directing at his back.

She also probably knew what Loki could infer from it, and how he could use it against her: that she was an adversary who he could engage on his preferred field of battle, that they were both armed with a common weapon and had both honed it to a subtle, hidden edge, and that in that regard they stood as perfect equals, in equal power.

In a single stroke, Loki had pulled her into the game.

She could ignore him and refuse to play, of course. But then, there was the aforementioned insatiable mind, and perhaps some of the vanity-verging confidence he had detected in her earlier.

And besides, if he knew her-

Which you don't. Loki cut the throat of the traitorous thought before it could begin to speak. This mortal is a stranger. Less than nothing.

Loki spun on his heel to face her, the drape of his surcoat swirling in his wake in a flare of leather panels and emerald lining.

"Am I wrong?" He pressed, eyebrows raised placidly.

She stared into him, a muscle in her jaw flexing.

Then she straightened, never breaking his gaze, resolute.

"Do you have any other questions for me, Prince Loki?"

En garde.

Loki flashed his most charming smile, pearly and cold as a crescent moon.

"As a matter of fact, yes."

Prêts?

He wasn't truly asking for permission, but Loki still waited for the slight, consenting dip of her head- a courtesy easily afforded by both parties, even in the midst of bladed words and the snick of quick ripostes.

He hesitated into the question.

Allez.

-

[MASTERLIST] | [NEXT]

[ppttherapyppt]

Physical Therapy Clinic in New York City

Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (EDS) is a group of rare genetic connective tissue disorders that affect the body's ability to produce collagen, a key protein that provides strength and elasticity to various tissues. People with EDS often experience a range of symptoms, including hypermobility of joints, skin that is easily bruised and hyper-elastic, and various complications related to weak connective tissues.

Pain management for individuals with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome can be complex and require a multidisciplinary approach involving medical professionals such as rheumatologists, geneticists, pain specialists, physical therapists, and more. Here are some strategies that might be considered:

Medications: Depending on the type and severity of pain, various medications might be prescribed. Nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs (NSAIDs) can help manage joint and muscle pain. For more severe pain, opioid medications might be considered, though their use should be carefully monitored due to the risk of addiction.

Physical Therapy: Physical therapy can be extremely beneficial for individuals with EDS. A physical therapist can provide exercises to improve joint stability, strengthen muscles, and enhance overall body mechanics. Aquatic therapy might be particularly useful due to the buoyancy of water reducing stress on joints.

Bracing and Assistive Devices: Depending on the specific type of EDS and its impact on joints, bracing or assistive devices might be recommended to provide support and reduce strain on joints.

Pain Management Techniques: Techniques such as heat or cold therapy, massage, and acupuncture might provide some relief for certain individuals.

Lifestyle Modifications: Adopting a healthy lifestyle can help manage pain. Maintaining a healthy weight can reduce stress on joints, and staying active within the limits of what your body can handle can also be beneficial.

Counseling and Psychological Support: Chronic pain can have a significant psychological impact. Counseling, mindfulness, and relaxation techniques can help individuals cope with the emotional aspects of managing pain.

Nutrition and Supplements: A balanced diet rich in nutrients that support collagen production, such as vitamin C, might be helpful. Consultation with a medical professional or registered dietitian is recommended before making significant dietary changes or starting supplements.

Pain Management Specialists: Depending on the severity of pain, a pain management specialist might be consulted. They can provide more advanced interventions like nerve blocks, epidural injections, or other specialized treatments.

Genetic Counseling: Since EDS is a genetic disorder, individuals and families might benefit from genetic counseling to better understand the condition, its inheritance pattern, and potential implications for family planning.

It's important to note that each individual's experience with EDS and their pain management needs can vary widely. A personalized approach that takes into account the specific type of EDS, its symptoms, and the person's overall health is crucial. Always consult with qualified medical professionals who are experienced in dealing with Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome for proper guidance and treatment.

Types of EDS

The Ehlers-Danlos syndromes are a group of genetic connective tissue disorders that are currently classified into a system of thirteen types. Despite this grouping and their common name, each type is a distinct condition caused by a different gene mutation. This means that a child cannot inherit a different type of EDS from the one their parent has. It also means that one type cannot later turn into another, and there is no increased risk of having another type just because you have one – they are simply not connected. It is also extremely unlikely that one person would have more than one type, given the rarity of most of these illnesses.

Recently some of the criteria used to diagnose the Ehlers-Danlos syndrome and some of the terminology describing them changed, in order to reflect scientific research from the past twenty years. The 2017 EDS International Classification recognizes thirteen types of EDS and defines for the first time some related conditions, hypermobility spectrum disorders (HSD) which have similar symptoms to hypermobile EDS (hEDS). The term joint hypermobility syndrome (JHS) is no longer used.

The most common type of EDS is thought to be the hypermobile type (formerly known as the hypermobility type or type 3) although the exact prevalence of this condition is not currently known. The medical literature states that it affects 1 in 5,000 people however this statistic is based on research that is out-of-date and hEDS/HSD frequently go undiagnosed or are misdiagnosed as other conditions. HSD and possibly hEDS are likely to be common. The classical and vascular types are rare, with other types being rarer still. It is probable that all the types are underdiagnosed to some degree.

[k2spicespray]

Administration Of Ketamine

Ketamine can be administered through several methods, each with specific applications, effects, and considerations. Here are the primary routes of administration:

1. Intravenous (IV)

Description: Administered directly into the bloodstream through a vein.

Onset: Effects are felt within minutes.

Uses: Commonly used in hospitals for anesthesia and increasingly for therapeutic purposes in managing depression and pain.

Advantages: Allows for precise control of dosage and rapid effect.

2. Intramuscular (IM)

Description: Injected into a muscle, typically in the thigh or upper arm.

Onset: Effects generally start within 10-15 minutes.

Uses: Often used in emergency settings and for outpatient depression treatment.

Advantages: Easier to administer than IV, especially in non-hospital settings.

3. Nasal Spray

Description: A formulation that allows for administration via the nasal cavity (e.g., Spravato, which contains esketamine).

Onset: Effects usually begin within 15-30 minutes.

Uses: Approved for treatment-resistant depression.

Advantages: Non-invasive and convenient; can be self-administered in a clinical setting. Buy ketamine online

4. Oral

Description: Taken in pill or liquid form.

Onset: Effects can take longer to manifest (up to 1-2 hours) and are often less intense.

Uses: Sometimes used in research settings or for chronic pain management.

Advantages: Easier to self-administer and can be more accessible for some patients. Ketamine in New York.

5. Sublingual

Description: Placed under the tongue for absorption through the mucous membranes.

Onset: Similar to oral but may act more quickly.

Uses: Sometimes used in experimental or alternative treatments.

Advantages: Provides a middle ground between oral and IV/IM administration.

Considerations for Administration

Dosing: Doses vary based on the indication, route, and individual patient factors. In depression treatment, lower doses are often used.

Supervision: Administration in a controlled environment is recommended, particularly for mental health applications, to manage potential side effects and ensure patient safety.

Monitoring: Patients should be monitored for side effects, including dissociative experiences, nausea, and changes in vital signs.

Overall, the method of administration can significantly impact the effectiveness, onset, and overall experience of ketamine treatment, making it essential to choose the right approach for each individual’s needs.

[usafibroidcenter]

Fibroid Embolization Near Me: The Safe, Uterus-Sparing Treatment You Need

Uterine fibroids are a common issue for women, and finding the right treatment is crucial for managing symptoms and improving quality of life. One highly effective and minimally invasive option is fibroid embolization, also known as Uterine Fibroid Embolization (UFE). If you're searching for “fibroid embolization near me,” it's important to understand why UFE is becoming a popular choice for women seeking relief from fibroid symptoms without surgery.

What is Fibroid Embolization?

Fibroid embolization is a non-surgical procedure designed to shrink fibroids and alleviate symptoms such as heavy bleeding, pelvic pain, and bloating. It works by blocking the blood supply to the fibroids, causing them to shrink over time. Unlike hysterectomy or myomectomy, UFE allows women to keep their uterus intact, preserving fertility in many cases.

The Benefits of UFE for Fibroid Treatment

If you're considering fibroid embolization near you, there are several benefits to this treatment:

Minimally Invasive: No incisions are required, reducing recovery time.

Faster Recovery: Most patients return to normal activities within a week.

Uterus-Sparing: UFE preserves the uterus, making it an attractive option for women planning to have children.

Effective Relief: Many women experience significant relief from fibroid-related symptoms within months.

Fibroid Embolization: Personalized Care Near You

Choosing fibroid embolization near you ensures that you receive care tailored to your unique needs. At USA Fibroid Centers, we specialize in providing advanced fibroid treatment at multiple locations across the country. Our specialists are skilled in performing UFE, ensuring you get the best possible care close to home. We understand that convenience matters, which is why we have numerous clinics available to treat patients without the need to travel far.

UFE vs. Surgery: Why Fibroid Embolization May Be Right for You

When weighing your options, you might ask, “Why choose fibroid embolization near me over surgical treatments?” UFE offers many advantages over more invasive procedures. Unlike hysterectomy, UFE does not involve the removal of the uterus. For women who are not ready to undergo major surgery or who wish to avoid it, fibroid embolization is a sound choice that provides results with minimal disruption to your daily life.

Convenient Fibroid Treatment Near You

By choosing a clinic near you, you can access fibroid embolization quickly and easily. Whether you’re in New York, Chicago, or California, USA Fibroid Centers is committed to delivering high-quality care in a location convenient for you. Our experienced team of interventional radiologists will work with you to create a treatment plan tailored to your specific condition.

Find Fibroid Embolization Near You Today

If you're dealing with painful fibroid symptoms and looking for a minimally invasive solution, fibroid embolization may be the answer. With USA Fibroid Centers' nationwide locations, finding "fibroid embolization near me" has never been easier. Schedule a consultation with our experts today to discuss how UFE can help you live a symptom-free life.

[snehalblog]

Virtual Reality in Medical Simulation Market: Enhancing Precision, Patient Safety, and Medical Education Worldwide - UnivDatos

North America has shown its potential in several arenas, and virtual reality (VR) in medical simulations is one of them. Virtual reality (VR) in medical simulation allows both healthcare professionals and patients to interact with simulated environments tailored for medical education, pain management, or rehabilitation. Simulators can be customized to address the specific needs of various healthcare professions, from surgeons to nurses, paramedics, and anaesthesiologists. The growth of VR in medical training is fuelled by ongoing research and development, leading to the creation of more advanced and realistic simulation scenarios.

The integration of artificial intelligence into VR simulations enhances the adaptability and responsiveness of virtual patients, creating more dynamic and challenging learning environments. There have been significant collaborations between pharmaceutical organizations to facilitate the exchange of resources and knowledge to provide enhanced medical simulators in the nation. For instance, in June 2023, Laerdal Medical and U.S-based SimX, a virtual reality (VR) medical simulation platform, announced to build a partnership to help increase patient safety with a VR simulation training solution that prepares providers to deliver optimal care.

Access sample report (including graphs, charts, and figures): https://univdatos.com/get-a-free-sample-form-php/?product_id=55067

One of the pivotal areas of growth in the U.S. virtual reality (VR) in the medical simulation market is advancements in medical simulators. Traditionally, the U.S. has chased up accessibility and affordability issues concerning medical device services, but the presence of a telemedicine system that will more efficiently and uniformly promote distant consultations is still a challenging factor.

The U.S. pharmaceutical sector is known for its significant contribution to innovative healthcare services globally and is slowly stepping into the arena of innovative simulation procedures through multiple ongoing clinical trials to provide appropriate therapeutics. For instance, in September 2023, Weill Medical College of Cornell University initiated a study as a randomized proof-of-concept study to assess the efficacy of Virtual Reality (VR) vs standard of care in adult patients in the New York Presbyterian Burn Unit. Virtual reality in medical simulators supports remote and global training, enabling healthcare professionals to access educational content and participate in simulations from different locations. This is particularly valuable for international collaboration and addressing training gaps in various regions.

Here are a few recently started clinical trials in the U.S in the year 2023:

· In December 2023, the University of Texas Southwestern Medical Center initiated a clinical study to compare virtual reality (VR) to non-VR for decreasing preoperative/procedural anxiety.

· In November 2023, the University of California initiated a clinical study to evaluate the effectiveness of virtual reality (VR) distraction in patients undergoing interventional pain procedures in the prone position.

· In August 2023, the University of Pennsylvania initiated a clinical study to assess the utility of an augmented reality virtual ruler during the placement of peripherally inserted central catheters.

Click here to view the Report Description & TOC : https://univdatos.com/get-a-free-sample-form-php/?product_id=55067

Conclusion:

The research focused on virtual reality (VR) in medical simulations has reached the final stages in North America. Uncountable exciting developments in the U.S. virtual reality (VR) in the medical simulation market have increased participation in technological development. Collaborations in the nation are facilitating developments in healthcare. These partnerships promote the transfer of knowledge and technology, fostering advancements in virtual reality (VR) in medical simulations. Government policies and improvisations play a crucial role in shaping virtual reality (VR) in the medical simulation market in North America. Policies aimed at improving virtual reality (VR) in medical simulations' access and affordability are gradually transforming the landscape. Additionally, increased investment in healthcare in the nation further propels the market's potential. In conclusion, virtual reality (VR) in the medical simulation market in the U.S., while confronting unique challenges, is making encouraging strides toward improved features in the virtual reality (VR) in the medical simulation sector.

As this emerging market continues to evolve and mature, it carries the potential to make significant contributions to global efforts in combating virtual reality (VR) in medical simulations. According to the UnivDatos Market Insights analysis, the associated surge in the demand for virtual reality (VR) in medical simulations will drive the global market of virtual reality (VR) in medical simulations and as per their “Virtual Reality (VR) In Medical Simulations Market” report, the global market was valued at USD 2.36 billion in 2022, growing at a CAGR of 31.25% during the forecast period from 2023 - 2030 to reach USD 28.2 billion by 2030.

[parkavenuemedicine]

Why Are New Yorkers Turning to Pain Management Clinics for Chronic Pain Relief?

Many people with chronic pain are trying to find a remedy through complementary therapy. Traditional techniques like surgery and OTC drugs often fail. Patients at specialist clinics are individuals who seek treatment for the underlying causes of their pain.

These clinics offer comprehensive solutions aimed at long-term pain management. Their capacity to provide customized treatment regimens has sparked many people's interest and contributed to their appeal. But why do people increasingly seek pain management treatment in clinics?

Get insights:

https://parkavenuemedicine.blogspot.com/2024/09/why-are-new-yorkers-turning-to-pain.html

[tallmantall]

#JamesDonaldsononMentalHealth - The NFL’s Latest Approaches To #MentalHealth

By JENNY VRENTAS Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com One of the first questions asked was a simple but important one: Where do you put the office of your team’s mental health clinician? In a conference room with about 100 medical professionals and NFL team employees, one club shared its answer: On the first floor of team headquarters, near the locker room and the cafeteria, where the players spend much of their time. It’s the only office in the building without windows, for privacy. Another attendee raised his hand and asked about tips for how to connect players with the help they need, while also maintaining their privacy? A different NFL team’s director of player engagement explained that once he shares the cell phone number of the team clinician with a player, he doesn’t ask for or receive any further information, unless the player signs a release form. He also tells players he has a list of several other names, including clinicians of multiple genders and races, so they can talk to whomever they are most comfortable with. JamesDonaldson notes:  Welcome to the “next chapter” of my life… being a voice and an advocate for #mentalhealthawarenessandsuicideprevention, especially pertaining to our younger generation of students and student-athletes. Getting men to speak up and reach out for help and assistance is one of my passions. Us men need to not suffer in silence or drown our sorrows in alcohol, hang out at bars and strip joints, or get involved with drug use. Having gone through a recent bout of #depression and #suicidalthoughts myself, I realize now, that I can make a huge difference in the lives of so many by sharing my story, and by sharing various resources I come across as I work in this space.  #http://bit.ly/JamesMentalHealthArticle www.celebratingyourgiftoflife.com One morning last week, Nyaka NiiLampti—a licensed psychologist hired in December as the NFL’s vice president of wellness clinical services, after three years working for the players union—was leading this discussion about how to address the mental health needs of the NFL’s 2,000 players. The agenda for this day-long Player Health Summit, hosted by the NFL and the NFL Players Association in New York, included hot topics like a 25-minute “CBD Update” and a session on concussion treatments. But the primary focus was implementing the new measures to address behavioral health and pain management that the league and the players agreed to in May. The summit gathered head team physicians, head athletic trainers and directors of player engagement. Also present were the behavioral health team clinicians and pain management specialists that new joint agreements between the league and the players require each team to retain before the start of the 2019 season. As of last week, Allen Sills, the NFL’s chief medical officer, said “virtually everyone” had filled both positions. In the context of the ongoing labor negotiations toward a new collective bargaining agreement this summer, the fact that new provisions to protect player health were added to the current CBA in May reflects the two sides’ ability to work together. In introductory remarks at last week’s summit, Sills introduced his counterpart at the players union, Thom Mayer, as “a real partner.” In turn, Mayer pointed to the meeting as a sign of progress over the last few years. “The idea that we would have had this meeting previously,” Mayer told the room, “is inconceivable.” Solomon Thomas was also in New York last week, spending part of the summer break from the #NFL calendar on a media tour along with Christine Moutier, the chief medical officer for the #AmericaFoundationforSuicidePrevention. After Thomas’s older sister, Ella, died by #suicide in January 2018, the 49ers defensive end began to use his voice to speak about #mentalhealthandsuicideprevention. About five months after losing Ella, Thomas and his family participated in an overnight walk for the AFSP in Dallas, one of his first steps in becoming a #mentalhealthadvocate. “I realized what I can say can really help other people, or really help myself, or get a conversation started,” Thomas says. He’s been part of a growing conversation about #mentalhealth beyond the #NFL, but also within it. Last season, Vikings defensive end Everson Griffen spent five weeks away from the team to focus on his #mentalhealth. Thomas’s 49ers teammate, Marquise Goodwin, sat out for two weeks as he and his wife, Morgan, processed the grief of losing twin baby boys 19 weeks into her pregnancy. And midway through last season, the 49ers helped Thomas address his own #mentalhealth in the wake of losing his sister. GM John Lynch, who drafted Thomas and once took a class with him at Stanford, told him that if he needed some help, they could connect him with a therapist. “He could kind of tell, I was probably putting a mask on in front of my teammates,” Thomas says. “That was really helpful, really powerful for me, to have John reach out to me like that and help me continue to get mentally healthy and to continue my walk through my grief process.” The increased spotlight on both #mentalhealth and the use of painkillers, both inside and outside the #NFL, played a role in the new guidelines being adopted for the 2019 season. Over the past several years, the NFL and the Players Association have worked to establish #mentalhealth resources for both current and former players, but these have varied team to team and many players have said they aren’t aware of everything that is available. Now with regulations written into the CBA, which could thus be grieved or penalized if they are not met, the bar has been raised. About 90 percent of teams were already working with a clinician in some capacity, NiiLampti said, but those clinicians were at the clubs an average of three hours per week. The new agreement mandates they must be available to players at the team facility a minimum of twice per week, for at least 8 to 12 hours—a significant increase. And while past education included steps like an hour-long module for rookies or a slide-and-a-half during training camp, clinicians will now conduct at least two #mentalhealth education sessions per season. Teams have emergency action plans for other serious health concerns—cardiac emergencies, heat illness and severe neck and spine injuries—and now they will each create a plan for #mentalhealth emergencies, to be reviewed and rehearsed annually. The question about office location is a common one, because teams are trying to work through the best way to fully integrate the presence of the clinician, most of whom have not been listed among the “medical staff” on team websites. One team at the summit in New York said that the clinician is the first meeting rookies take as part of their orientation; another club said that they make sure the clinician is visible, on the practice field, on the team plane and in the lunchroom, to normalize his presence. At an identical summit in Las Vegas—teams picked one of the two to attend—one club said its head coach put his arm around the clinician while meeting with players and said, “I use this person. My family uses this person.” But even with these steps, there are hurdles in getting some players to feel comfortable seeking them out. “Some guys won’t sit at the same lunch table as our team therapist, because they are like, I don’t want anyone to think something is wrong with me,” Thomas says. “I have heard guys say out loud, ‘Oh, I can’t sit at that table.’ I’m just like, why? There’s a huge #stigma about that; people are still afraid of therapists, still afraid of getting help, because they don’t want anyone to know that anything is wrong with them.” Men overall are less likely to seek out #mentalhealth resources than women, studies have shown, but there are specific stressors in the #NFL compounding that. Players are taught not to trust fully anyone in the building, because they can be cut or traded at any time. “Guys are fighting for their job every day,” Thomas adds. “So they don’t want to have anything seen as a disadvantage or a reason to not be the one chosen. ‘Oh, both of them have the same amount of yards and TDs, but he has #mentalhealth problems.’ That’s scary to some guys, I guess. But, it’s something that needs to change.” For these reasons, during the #mentalhealth discussion at the summit, NiiLampti described confidentiality as the “lynchpin” to making the program work. One team clinician described how he keeps a case file totally separate from the team for every player he sees, as if they were a patient at his private practice. Another clinician said he has never been asked by management about any interactions with players, which is why he continues to work for his team. It’s customary in clinical medicine for mental health records to be separate from all other medical records, and the joint mental health agreement includes stipulations for that, according to Sills: The only #mentalhealth information that should be entered into a player’s electronic medical record is any psychotrophic medicine he is taking, to avoid his being prescribed a drug that could interact. Teams were also encouraged to have a referral network of multiple #mentalhealthprofessionals, both to address specific topics such as substance abuse or family counseling, and to ensure that players have options beyond the team clinician. One team’s director of player engagement simply posts their names and contact information on a bulletin board outside his office, so players don’t even have to ask him for a referral. Thomas says he chose to see a therapist who is outsourced by the 49ers, rather than an in-house employee, which made him more comfortable talking about both on- and off-the-field stressors. He started meeting with her once a week in a room at the team’s headquarters in Santa Clara, Calif. Before he started working with her, Thomas says he didn’t know how to talk, who to talk to, or where to start. She worked with him on acknowledging all the emotions he was feeling after losing his sister, how to release his anger and different coping mechanisms and outlets for his grief. By the end of the season, Thomas began to see a difference in his play on the field, too. He began to recognize the player he was watching on film again. “I honestly felt like I was running in sand sometimes, or running in mud,” he says. “Then just being able to feel that twitchiness again, that explosiveness. … That’s all due to my head clearing up, or being able to freely live, I guess.” During OTAs this spring, 49ers coach Kyle Shanahan brought in a group of Navy SEALs for a training session focused on the mental side of the game. After a team-wide discussion about how to cope with stress, they opened up to the floor to anyone who wanted to talk. Thomas stood up and talked about how mental health affects physical health, and that he deals with his mental #stress through seeing a therapist. If his teammates see him coming back from a session with his therapist or finishing up a phone call with her, he’s open about telling them what he was doing, hoping they can see it as he does—just a normal part of his routine. “If our brain’s not working, our bodies aren’t going to work. I said one way I dealt with that was through therapy, and so I hope that motivates guys … Just trying to let them know that nothing's wrong with it—it’s a good thing, it’s for help,” Thomas says. “If guys do it more openly, and the culture of #mentalhealth changes in the NFL, I think that is going to change a lot. Because we are a very masculine, tough sport. If we start that change, it will echo throughout the whole league and society as well.” When Sills was hired by the #NFL two years ago, he says Roger Goodell asked him for the major health issues he believed needed to be addressed. After concussions, Sills listed behavioral health and pain management. Around the same time, in the spring of 2017, the players union filed a grievance alleging that the #NFL and its teams conspired to violate the terms of the CBA regarding the use and dispensation of opioids and other prescription painkillers; it cited a federal lawsuit filed by the widow of former #NFL fullback Charles Evans. “We had significant concerns,” Mayer says, “but I truly feel this is a great example of something good coming out of a disagreement.” What stole the headlines when the health and safety agreements were announced in May is that the #NFL and the players union agreed for the first time to work together on studying alternative pain management therapies for players, including marijuana. They’ll do so as part of two new joint medical committees that will make recommendations on policies and practices for pain management and #mentalhealthandwellness. A new prescription drug monitoring program will also track all prescriptions issued to players, reviewed by both the league and the union. At last week’s summit, team employees listened to a 15-minute presentation on alternatives to opioids, followed by the CBD update led by Kevin Hill, an addiction psychiatrist and author of Marijuana: The Unbiased Truth About The World’s Most Popular Weed. (The MMQB was only invited to sit in on the first hour of the summit, including introductory remarks and a session on the behavioral health practices.) Sills said the joint pain management committee has already met with a couple of experts about the current state of research and will explore ways they might be able to further ongoing research into marijuana and its derivatives. Several players have advocated for the NFL to change its policies to permit marijuana use for pain management, but Goodell and medical advisors on both sides continue to indicate that more information is needed. “My opinion, and there are a lot of us who share it, is that opinions and attitudes are far outstretching the science behind CBD right now,” Mayer said. Added Sills: “We are open-minded to look at every aspect of how we can better treat pain, but it’s from a data-driven perspective. … We will let the science take us where we need to go.” As players begin reporting to training camps this month, teams will start sharing information on the new #mentalhealth and pain management rules. It’s not a coincidence they’ll be addressed together; one affects the other. The goal, NiiLampti said, is to work with players to prevent an emergency or crisis stage, and that these services can help in optimizing player health and performance. Some clubs, like the one that has a “prevention team,” to this end, are farther along. Others are still figuring out the clinician’s office location. “Guys care about that,” Thomas says. “I think we will have some … where there’ll be some players who maybe are held out, or missed games or practices for ‘medical reasons,’ That'll just be the end of it,” Sills says. “And we should all be comfortable with that reality.” • Question or comment? Email us at talkback@themmqb.com. Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com Read the full article

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive (That's right: We do more than just covid!)

By Lisa Schnirring

Genetic sequencing has identified a second cluster of tecovirimat-resistant mpox infections in the United States—the first of its kind involving interstate spread. Researchers from the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) and partners from five affected states reported their findings yesterday in Morbidity and Mortality Weekly Report.

The first Tpoxx-resistant cluster was identified in California in late 2022 and early 2023 in people who hadn't previously been treated with the drug. The new report describes a new unrelated cluster among 18 people with no previous treatment across multiple states.

Sequencing identified a unique combination of resistance mutations in 20 specimens collected from 18 patients between October 2023 and February 2024. The patients were from five states: Illinois (8), California (5), Louisiana (2), Texas (2), and New York (1).

Of 16 patients with an available treatment history, one had received the drug before the sample was collected. Of 17 patients with available clinical data, illnesses were mild and similar to standard clade 2 infections, though two were hospitalized for pain management.

Findings likely underestimate spread of resistant variant In vitro testing of seven samples showed resistance to Tpoxx. Whole-genome sequencing showed that the resistance mutations came from a common ancestor but were distinct from the earlier California cluster.

Researchers said because not all viruses from mpox cases are sequenced, the findings likely underestimate the prevalence of the newly identified drug-resistant variant. They added that more surveillance is needed, as well as adherence to CDC Tpoxx use protocols. Also, they wrote that the findings underscore the need for more treatments for mpox, along with smallpox biothreat preparedness.

Study link: www.cdc.gov/mmwr/volumes/73/wr/mm7340a3.htm?s_cid=mm7340a3_e&ACSTrackingID=USCDC_921-DM138236&ACSTrackingLabel=This%20Week%20in%20MMWR%3A%20Vol.%2073%2C%20October%2010%2C%202024&deliveryName=USCDC_921-DM138236#contribAff

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Life Coaching vs. Therapy: Which One's Right for You?

In the fast-paced environment of New York City, managing personal challenges and seeking professional help can be a game-changer for your overall well-being. Whether you're facing stress, struggling with self-doubt, or navigating career or relationship issues, you might wonder if life coaching or therapy is the right option for you. While both life coaching and therapy aim to help individuals improve their lives, the approach, focus, and goals of each differ significantly.

Here’s a breakdown of the key differences between life coaching and therapy, and how to decide which one may be right for you.

1. Understanding the Key Differences

Life Coaching Life coaching focuses on helping individuals set and achieve specific goals, whether related to personal development, career advancement, work-life balance, or relationships. A life coach acts as a guide, offering support, motivation, and actionable strategies to help you reach your full potential.

Life coaching is future-oriented. Life coach New York City work with individuals who are generally functioning well in their daily lives but want to improve certain areas, achieve higher levels of success, or overcome challenges like procrastination or lack of clarity. Life coaches are not licensed therapists and do not address mental health disorders.

TherapyTherapy, also known as counseling or psychotherapy, is a treatment aimed at addressing mental health issues such as anxiety, depression, trauma, or unresolved emotional conflicts. A licensed therapist helps individuals explore their past experiences, emotions, and behaviors to understand and manage their mental health.

Therapists are trained professionals who use clinical methods to treat emotional and psychological challenges. Unlike life coaching, therapy can focus on healing past traumas and addressing mental health concerns that may be affecting your current well-being and relationships.

2. Focus: Future vs. Past

Life Coaching: Goal-Oriented and Forward-Looking Life coaching is focused on helping you identify where you want to go in life and creating actionable steps to get there. If you feel stuck in your career, need guidance on improving work-life balance, or want to develop stronger interpersonal skills, a life coach can help you make progress by concentrating on solutions and strategies for the future.

Life coaches don’t delve deeply into past traumas or unresolved emotional issues. Instead, they help clients stay motivated, focused, and accountable for reaching their goals. For example, if you're in New York City and struggling to find direction in your career, a life coach would work with you to develop a clear plan and help you implement it step by step.

Therapy: Healing and Reflecting on the PastTherapy, on the other hand, often involves exploring your past to understand how your life experiences affect your current mental and emotional state. Therapists aim to help you heal from psychological wounds, such as trauma or childhood experiences, that may be hindering your well-being.

Therapy also addresses unhealthy patterns, negative thought cycles, or emotional pain that could be holding you back from living a fulfilling life. For example, if you’re experiencing persistent anxiety or depression, therapy would help you uncover the root causes and provide tools to manage and overcome these feelings.

3. The Client's Starting Point: Wellness vs. Struggling

Life Coaching: You're Functioning Well but Want More Life Coach New York City is ideal for individuals who are generally functioning well in their daily lives but want to push themselves to the next level. Whether it’s about improving personal productivity, building better relationships, or achieving career success, life coaching is designed for those who are seeking to optimize and enhance their life rather than heal from emotional distress.

For example, if you’re a professional in New York City and you feel that you’re underachieving or need support in making a major life transition, a life coach will work with you to define your goals and stay accountable throughout the process.

Therapy: You're Struggling with Mental Health IssuesIf you’re struggling with mental health issues such as anxiety, depression, PTSD, or deep-seated emotional pain, therapy is the more appropriate choice. Therapists are trained to diagnose and treat psychological conditions that may require deeper introspection, behavioral interventions, or medication.

For instance, if you're dealing with recurring emotional stress, past trauma, or mental health concerns that are affecting your ability to function in daily life, therapy would provide the emotional support and tools necessary for healing.

4. Methodology and Techniques

Life Coaching: Practical Strategies for Immediate ProgressLife coaches use motivational techniques, goal-setting exercises, and strategic planning to help clients move forward. Coaches help clients identify obstacles, challenge limiting beliefs, and create practical steps toward achieving their desired outcomes. The process is highly collaborative, and clients are encouraged to take responsibility for their actions and progress.

Coaching techniques may include:

Setting SMART goals (Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, and Time-bound)

Accountability practices

Time management and productivity tools

Visualization and mindset work

Therapy: Deep Emotional and Psychological ExplorationTherapy employs clinical techniques to help individuals address emotional and psychological issues. Therapists use evidence-based approaches such as Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT), Dialectical Behavioral Therapy (DBT), and psychodynamic therapy, among others. Therapy often involves understanding how past events impact present behavior and developing coping mechanisms for emotional regulation.

Common therapeutic methods include:

Talk therapy for emotional exploration

Cognitive restructuring to challenge negative thoughts

Trauma-informed care

Behavioral therapies for coping strategies

5. Duration and Commitment

Life Coaching: Short-Term FocusedLife coaching tends to be more short-term and goal-oriented. Many clients work with a life coach for a set period, typically anywhere from three months to a year, depending on the goals they want to achieve. Sessions are often scheduled weekly or bi-weekly, with a focus on immediate action and results.

For instance, if you’re working with a life coach in New York City to advance your career, you may only need a few months of coaching to get clear on your goals and start seeing progress.

Therapy: Long-Term ProcessTherapy can be both short-term or long-term, depending on the client's needs. For individuals dealing with deep-rooted issues, therapy might be a continuous process that extends over several years. It’s not uncommon for people to seek therapy for ongoing support, personal growth, and emotional healing over a long period.

Therapy sessions can be weekly or bi-weekly and are often less structured than coaching, allowing for more organic exploration of emotional topics.

6. Which One Is Right for You?

Choose Life Coaching if you are:

Seeking clarity in personal or professional goals

Looking for accountability and motivation to achieve specific outcomes

Generally functioning well but want to level up in areas like career, relationships, or personal growth

Focused on future achievements and solutions, rather than addressing emotional pain from the past

Choose Therapy if you are:

Struggling with anxiety, depression, or other mental health conditions

Looking to heal from trauma or emotional pain

Experiencing difficulties that are negatively impacting your daily functioning and well-being

Interested in deep self-exploration and understanding past experiences to improve your mental health

Conclusion

Both life coaching and therapy offer valuable support, but they serve different purposes depending on where you are in your personal and emotional journey. If you're feeling stuck, need guidance, and want to push forward toward your goals, hiring a life coach in New York City can help you achieve personal and professional success. On the other hand, if you're dealing with deeper emotional challenges or mental health concerns, therapy is the right option for healing and growth.

Take time to assess your current needs, challenges, and goals to determine whether life coaching or therapy will serve you best. Either way, you're making a positive step toward improving your life.

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Discover The Best Acupuncture Clinic On The Upper East Side, New York For Lasting Wellness

Acupuncture, a centuries-old practice rooted in Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM), has gained widespread popularity in modern times as a holistic approach to health and wellness. For residents of New York City, particularly those on the Upper East Side, finding a trusted acupuncture clinic is essential for addressing various health concerns, from chronic pain to stress management. Advanced Acupuncture Health PC stands out as one of the best acupuncture clinics in the area, offering personalized treatment plans to promote lasting wellness.

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Even more exhausted today as the sleep debt mounts, and the storms keep waking me up. Oh, to be able to sleep at night when the storms and motorcycles are much less likely to disturb me.

I crashed around 3:00, but just two hours later, we had a power failure for the second day in a row. After waking up from a dream where the good Kim was telling me she was worried about getting fired from her job—maybe she was some kind of whistleblower—I managed to fall back asleep.

Then the thunder began, and I was up for hours before finally dozing off again. By that time, my lungs were tight, and my back hurt like hell. When my lungs get really tight, I sometimes feel pain between my shoulder blades, as if I were karate chopped there. Good thing I just got a new inhaler because I needed it. I took half a melatonin and a couple of ibuprofen for the pain.

As is usually the case when my sleep gets interrupted, I finally dragged myself out of bed shortly before 2:00 a.m., utterly exhausted. I tried to nap a few times but couldn’t, despite being so tired.

The last time I got up, it was after dreaming that it was 2029. In 2026, I had a scary medical event, and I was thinking about how it had already been three years and how time was flying. I don’t think anything could scare me as much as what happened in 2014.

When the thunder wakes me up again tonight, I’m sure I’ll be even more exhausted. I swear, every time I seem to get on a roll with energy, storms or nightmares knock me off track. I’m so sick of this and not being able to take up any other form of exercise consistently, knowing I wouldn’t be able to stick to it often enough to really benefit. I can’t go into strength training like this, I can’t get back on the vibration platform, and I can’t walk or jog consistently. The glider is better than nothing, but I don’t think I’ll have the energy for that today. I only got a few miles in yesterday too. Finished the New York and UK rides and just started Australia.

I was thinking back to the times in my 20s and 30s when my sleep would be broken up by asthma attacks before I quit smoking. For the most part, once I settled the attack, I was able to go back to sleep and usually felt okay once I got up. Why has it gotten so hard for me to handle broken sleep? I swear the NHA or jail would literally kill me these days. Literally. I just don’t get why it’s gotten so hard for me to handle sleep disturbances and sleeping in chunks. I know I’m older, but still. Perhaps sleep apnea and my thyroid really do affect me more than I gave them credit for, and they’re just throwing fuel on the fire. I wish I could know if the Inspire would help.

I still wonder about the possibility of something cursing my sleep. If that’s the case, it’s going to bypass anything I do to try to help myself.

I’m even more convinced there’s no God. With each passing year, I’m more and more convinced of this, and I figure I’ll eventually become 100% convinced. I’m at about 90% now. That’s because I prayed to whatever may be out there to please not let my sleep be disrupted since I was so tired and needed to catch up.

Okay, help me out here. If there really were a God, why would He say no to that? Why would He be like, “Nah, fuck your sleep. I don’t care if you get woken up; I’m going to let it happen.”

So yeah, I’m a little more convinced nothing’s up there and that the stories I’ve heard about people who claim to have been in the afterlife while they were temporarily clinically dead are just hallucinations that seemed so real they believed what they saw was real. The brain is a very weird and complex thing that we don’t fully understand.

Anyway, Tom is slowly fixing the wall tiles I messed up and is doing a much better job of it than I ever could. I’m great at home decorating, but not at home improvements.

We took out the center leaf of the table, and it really opens up the kitchen. It’s so nice to be able to walk around the table to get to the cabinets and shelves.