#pain relief medicine
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size difference where the one afraid to fuck you is simon. he thinks you soft. which is what you are. soft. fragile. small.
you're not like him. nothing like the guys. battle-scarred. muscles carved by relentless missions, scars that speak of duty.
your skin divots under his fingers, yielding to his weathered touch and if he squeezes hard enough, you'll have marks by morning. (he needs to be careful, he can't hurt you, won't—)
and so simon watches you touch yourself in the beginning, clever fingers swirling over your slippery clit with practiced movements even though his cock is straining against his trousers painfully. he can hear you mewl his name through bitten lips and it takes all of his self control to not tug his jeans off, slot himself between your spread, inviting thighs and push— stretch open your fluttering walls, so hot and slick, until he meets resistance, until he can push no more but—
he can't. you'd hurt. and he'd hurt because he hurt you. he won't.
after, when your eyes are heavy lidded, mouth slightly parted in exertion, you remind him that you aren't made of glass. that you won't break. you'll shatter— in the way you do when his tongue replaces your fingers— but not break.
"not a virgin either, for christ's sake," you groan.
maybe he's thinking too hard about it. he knows your teeth have edges, knows your bite is swift when deserved. but all he's truly good at is making things give. biology made it so with his bulky frame and raw mass.
his eyes trace the contour of your collarbone. delicate. then it darts to the pulse on your wrist. vital. his hands, the size of dinner plates don't coax. they demand. he'd snap you like a twig, leaving nothing but splintered remains in his wake.
you don't seem to mind, however. it slightly alarms him. where's your self-preservation? do you enjoy pain? is this some masochistic thing?
he looks at you, all glassy eyed and dewy skinned (ethereal; you're practically glowing under the soft light of the full moon that paints the room silver) and he thinks of how it's going to take work to make it work. his cock is large (he's seen the guys' eyes pop out of their heads in the showers once they caught a glimpse of what's between his legs) but you're persistent in the end. one too many nights of having him without having him.
he understands. simon knows better than most what it's like to yearn. to want and not have. he'd cause you pain by not giving in, and cause pain by giving in. damned if he does, damned if he doesn't.
so he caves. promises to go slow. careful.
"i can take it," you bravely say but he's barely pressing himself to your entrance and you're already making noises that tug at his pathetic little heart. the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip-- you look so pretty, how'd a twisted creature like him get someone like you to come home to-- as his cock fills you has him feeling lightheaded. it takes every ounce of self control to not sink into your heat, to hook your legs around his thick waist and let gravity do the rest.
an unsteady hand weaves its way down to your stuffed cunt, fingers splitting into a vee, feeling how he splits your puffy lips, and the view makes him buck his hips involuntarily.
his hands tighten around your calves when you keen, a high pitched noise that swells the lust he feels burning white hot at the base of his spine, tips of his fingers, deep within his loins. he feels ready to burst.
and he's only halfway in.
your voice cuts through the ringing in his ears. "m-more, simon, c'mon," the n is low and drawn out.
his fingers bite into your flesh as he pushes slow, oh so slowly, until your vise-like cunt envelops him completely. the sibilant hiss you let out makes his hair stand on end. (shame pricks at his nerves like a thousand tiny needles when his cock twitches at the sound of your slightly pained moans)
simon doesn't move, feeling your swollen walls around his cock ripple, tighten and slacken, like it's got a pulse of its own. he could be here, in you, cock deep in paradise for the rest of time.
"fuck me," you warble out, hand rubbing your swollen clit to well up the pleasure that's being smothered by the searing pang of discomfort.
when simon cants his hips back, he watches his cock come out of you, glistening with slick. his jaw aches from how hard he's clenching it. control. got to keep it slow, gentle. slow, simon, slow, slow--
"harder."
he feels the sudden sharp sting of your nails and jerks forward in surprise, filling you completely in one fast movement.
your moan this time is needy, thick with want, arousal dripping from your voice as it does your pussy, coating him in creamy white, a frothy ring at the root.
simon can see the barest of bumps below your navel, or maybe he's seeing things, your hot cunt putting him in a state of delirium but the way you take all of his cock and continue to beg for more, beg him to fuck you like he means it even though he's twice if not thrice your size well...
you'll just have to forgive him on the finger-shaped bruises they're going to be on your body after.
(you'd looked so cheeky before he flipped you onto your knees, grabbing onto your delicate neck like a lifeline as he pulled your hips to meet his. you'd taken him easier here, cunt sodden with slick but the angle had him reaching a devastating depth no one else could ever dream of reaching and even though it'd sprung tears to the corners of your eyes at the pinch, "mama ain't raise no bitch.")
#someone give our poor reader a bag of ice#and pain relief medicine#the dr recommends 2-3 days of bed rest to recover from that pussy slaughter#call of duty#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley smut#simon riley#simon riley x f!reader#simon riley smut#cod smut#simon ghost riley x you
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(Ibuprofen, NS, and Aspirin are all NSAIDs)
I am both curious and trying to figure out if what I use is typically most effective.
#chronic pain#spoonie#pain reduction#pain relief#medication tw#med tw#tw medicine#tw medication#pain medicine#pain medication#ibuprofen#acetaminophen#naproxen#aspirin
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your art makes me wanna start testosterone
i can't read tone well, so this is either an incredibly touching ask, or an extremely funny one, and in the absence of confirmation: both!
i'm in a chatty mood, so i'll share some thoughts about testosterone and my art.
i liked being on testosterone a lot. i had an IM injection every two weeks (on tuesdays!) and because that's a sizeable dose every 14 days that slowly disperses, it can cause some mood fluctuations (every other friday i would have a crisis about not feeling like the world had a place for me in it) but even those were far more manageable than the ones that would come with my previous and current monthly hormone cycle (every month i spend a solid week thinking the world will never have a place for me in it)
It gave me a patchy little bit of scruff on my chin and a whispy mustache under my nose that still struggles on, despite adversity!
It redistributed my fat a little bit, but that's long since gone back to pre-T shape.
it lowered my voice! that hasn't changed :^)! even if i never go back on t, that won't change. it was the thing i most wanted, and its the one i'm most grateful for. Pre-T, I didn't speak much. I'm getting better and better at talking and getting more and more comfortable communicating with people because of it.
having been off t now for 3 years, i don't pass anymore—not as a cis man, or a cis woman, certainly not as anything approximating straight. if people look at me and see anything, i'd hazard a guess that they see me as A Queer (the noun—for all it's complicated connotations).
i'm not surprised that my art might make somebody want to start testosterone! a lot of my art was made out of the aching grief that came with being kicked off of testosterone, and how neatly that loss of autonomy over my own body knits in with yamato's loss of autonomy over his own.
how my body started doing things i disliked, how i didn't have the support necessary to access the healthcare i needed—how my inability to give myself what i needed made me feel as though i were trapped inside of myself and abandoned (by both myself and the world at large)
when i write comics about yamato as a trans man, i don't take away his testosterone, because that hits a little too close to home for me. for Ninja War Town Reasons, he has plenty of access to all the HRT he could ever need and nobody questions his need for it—instead, i project my own horrors onto the way Danzō defined his identity for him as a child, the way that Kabuto and Obito dehumanize him as an adult in their war efforts, and reduce him to the thing his body holds (the Mokuton). I give him a kneejerk compulsion to dehumanize himself (out of a feeling that he has a duty to his community to do so) and I give him a slow-growing resistance to that impulse (which comes out of a feeling that the people he loves would frown upon seeing him reduce himself like that)
it's dysphoria! it's not gender dysphoria, but it's a loss of self, and a need to reclaim it. it's a war between the hollow shell of a thing he thinks he has to be, and the vibrant and messy person beneath it that he is. it's a desperate need to say "this is who i am—only i can say it"
I enjoyed HRT a lot. it was a really useful tool in helping me feel like my body was my own, that i didn't have to fight it, that we were the same entity. It's not the only tool, but it was a really good one, and one day I hope to use it again.
(as for the being off of it—it's unpleasant, but i'm enduring! being somebody who now doesn't really pass as anything has put me in a weird and interesting position, where I'm constantly having to declare myself to people, because nobody knows what to make of me on any front. they don't know if i'm a man, a woman, nonbinary, nor even what age i am (Augh!!!!) it forces me to be brave and vulnerable more than I'm comfortable with—if I tell somebody I'm a man, there's no way that they will believe I'm cis, but I'm not about to recloset myself—and I don't think I could at this point anyway.)
(there's something fascinating about the position i find myself in, and while i'd leap back on t the moment that an opportunity presented itself to do so, i do feel like i'm experiencing something interesting and important in this weird zone i find myself in)
#yamswers#anonymous#dysphoria discussion#q slur — only because i literally use it in the noun form most associated w/ dehumanization#i love that u asked this on a tuesday. thank u for asking this on a tuesday#happy testosterone tuesday to all who celebrate#i also got top surgery a while ago—which is responsible for about 50% of my average suicidal idealizations vanishing#because my chest was my second biggest site of dysphoria after my voice#it was far less painful than i dared imagine. and far more satisfying. i had an excellent and lucky recovery#my results aren't perfect but oh man. the joy of being able to press my hand (flat) to my chest (flat).#the way that a binder mimics the exact squeeze around my lungs that a panic attack stimulates—#not feeling that when i'm out in public? thank you modern medicine. thank you. oh my god. no more false flag panic attacks#i had to fight my insurance for two years and all the health providers i contacted told me the hoops i was being made to jump through#seemed utterly ridiculous. and it was still gobs of money but i got it. so grateful u cannot even imagine#a lot of people describe their feelings post op as “relief—finally i could see myself”#but i experience...more delight than relief. joy. is joy the absence of pain or the presence of happiness? can i tell the difference?#on my worst days i can lay a hand on my heart. and i can lay a hand on my heart. and i can lay a hand on my heart. and i can lay a hand on
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Holy hell it's finally done
I underestimated the herculean efforts that animators put into making things because this thirty second clip took so much out of my feeble illustrator hands. Anyway here you go! I added a few details that might make things fun I think
#nathanieltag#amontag#seraphinatag#vincenttag#soniasanderstag#we get to see them interact and move around ehehe#Sera acts like Nate's nurse a lot because medicine is absolutely not a one-man effort#buhhh the art is wonky but Idk#In Amon's defense#he thought Nate was lollygagging when his leg was broken in several places. In Sera's defense#she thought he was gonna go jurassic park.#Nate was waiting for the pain relief to kick in before he tried moving him anywhere. He also stabilizes the injury offscreen#art#artwork#digital art#illustration#my art#my artwork#drawing#my OC#MY OCs#original character#god i feel wack for tagging with all of this lolol#ark_systema
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May Allah cure all those who are sick and those who are battling through an illness they find no cure to, for He is As-Shafi, the creator and provider of Shifa.
Ameen.
#the cure#cure#as shafi#pain#suffering#illness#ill#stress#mental illness#physical illness#sick#shifa#sunnah#sabr#astaghfar#repent#repentance#sadness#stress relief#medicine#muslim#allah#islamicreminders#deen#muslim ummah#tawakkal#dawah#allahuakbar#deenoverdunya#islamification
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Going to keep an eye on things while on a newly prescribed medicine for my heart, but occasionally I've been feeling like crying from joy/relief. I didn't know it was possible to live with little to zero chest pain and other issues on a daily basis.
I started feeling its improvements on day 2, and then all day yesterday has been like a literal weight off my chest. Slept a bit for the night, woke up around 4am and I'm just... Breathing so comfortably. I feel relaxed. That feeling of pressure in my chest is hardly there anymore.
This cardiologist said I'd notice changes after just a day or two if it helps. And it's happening!!
Guess it's very much confirming I've had pericarditis for who-knows-how-long. Could've been overlooked since having my cardiac ablation in 2019. Been so freaking rough living with this stuff. All my symptoms were assumed to be part of my WPW Syndrome ('cause the ablation didn't get all of the accessory pathways.) This sort of inflammation can be caused by heart procedures though. -sigh- Why didn't anyone watch out for that or suspect it earlier?
I'll be having a new echo done in a month or two (forgot which appointment date it is among other tests coming up). Crossing my fingers I don't have the pericardia effusion there anymore too if the pericarditis is getting tackled by this new med! 🤞
#for some reason no one could confirm the pericarditis part with all these test and checkups I've done since-#-the WPW diagnosis and emergency procedure in my 2019 hospital stay#everyone assumed my symptoms were from WPW syndrome and that this random bit of fluid around my heart sac was just idiopathic#but this cardiologist I went to on Tuesday questioned me on a few things and got VERY suspicious about my condition#so she took a huuuuge guess of confidence in letting me try a safe dose of some med for pericarditis and other heart diseases#I let myself test that theory too... 'Cause something about my symptoms haven't felt all the fault of my WPW#it's been frustrating for so long man#if this relief and recovery keeps up I might actually get to feel safe exercising again and keeping my heart healthy without pain#I NEED to do physical activity and cardio especially with all the heart diseases that run in the family#but also I genuinely like exercise and wanna do strength training... I've felt so empty and dead inside without my fitness lifestyle I had-#-before my heart problems got so bad at the end of high school#that's how long it's been dude#that in itself is a long story uuughhh#wk speaks#feelings#personal#medicine#physical health#cardiology
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'Nothing gives you more relief than Bayer. Nothing.'
Advertisement for Bayer aspirin (1981).
#vintage advertisement#1980s#bayer#aspirin#medicine#cold#flu#pain reliever#pain relief#aches#fever#usa
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What if the muscle spasm stopper actually cured me because it was all due, truly, to super stressed body freaking out?
#rant#my health issues#what IF#i know its unlikely but im going to indulge in wild optimism for 20 minutes as stress relief lol#what IF somehow the gastroparesis ibs-c type symptoms really WERE all just inexplicably only ibs and#my muscles stopping spasming suddenly made my gi tract willingly digest and use the bathroom again??? how wonderful that would be#i got a new medicine for pain and i feel fucking GREAT#its usually for ibs-d so im surprised they gave it to me but i suppose risking making my motility Worse when its as bad as it is already...#my doctors were willing to risk it. so far it hasnt worsened my motility (yay) but it has helped pain A LOT LIKE BY 80% DEAR GOD#i FEEL SO GOOD. SO NOT IN PAIN. I FEEL LIKE A NORMAL PERSON FEELS ALMOST#ITS GREATTTTTTTTTTTTT#WHEN I TELL U MY GI TRACT HASNT FELT THIS GOOD SINCE 7 YEARS AGO
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i've been thinking about it and i'm not cursed at all i'm just living in struggle county and poor. no one here is doing their job correctly. nothing ever works out. groceries are through the roof because of the monopolies the local stores have and when there are sales they don't update their system so you don't even pay the sale prices. i tried to get a dent in my car fixed through insurance and had difficulty reaching the insurance office, then difficulty reaching the body work places, then never got a callback after my appointment so i stopped pursuing it. i had weird lights on my dash a different time, took it in. they wiped the warning readouts and told me to take it somewhere else and when i did the readouts were no longer present so they couldn't do anything. that all took 3 hours out of my day for nothing. i bought new tires but they weren't a certified dealer so i don't get the brand warranty in its entirety, which i hope never becomes relevant. when i went to the doctor they gave me the wrong dosage on my script then wouldn't fix it without another appointment that i couldn't afford so i just quit taking it. the local pharmacy will run low on a med and edit your script to accomodate their shortage but then you run out early and don't have a script anymore and the pharmacy says it's your problem not theirs. mail often runs late so you'll miss important appointments and deadlines because if the office itself is 4 business days late sending out their mail and then the postal service is 3 business days late bam. that's you getting your mail a week and a half late. it's unlivable. you're not meant to live here.
#some of the indignities i have suffered in the past 2 years are unspeakable#but if i think about it this sort of thing has always been happening it's just now it's happening constantly and impacting me 10x worse#i'm planning my appointment with the bank and i realised i need to wear rich people cosplay to subtly indicate#that i have the funds to utilise out of county legal resources#and am not afraid to do so#because their angle—and it's all of these business' angle—is that they can get away with this bc there's nothing i can do about it#what am i gonna do switch to the single other bank in town#drive 30 minutes further for my medicine#or my medical care#or my automotive services#they can all do whatever they want because people with no other resources will still have to rely on them#i saw a woman in the doctors office last year who was using a cane and could barely walk and she was at the nurse's counter CRYING#bc they were treating her like she was a dealer bc she needed pain relief & the doctor had left the appointment without giving her an rx#that woman left empty-handed and has probably been back to that office since because what else can you do.#i'm not cursed i am living in an uninhabitable space. i am not wanted here. these people will not help me for all the money in the world.#they are doing their jobs properly for the people in their church groups and for their families and their friends and i am none of those#so why would i expect them to do anything for me#i gotta get outta here#adam yaps
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despair cancelled (for now), the ointment I picked up at the drug store is helping with the most annoying pain immensely 🙏
#brb crying with relief#i'm zinc ointment's number 1 fan fr!!!!!!!#gonna keep a tube of that stuff stocked in my personal medicine drawer from now on#really need it with how often my body keeps betraying me in this particular department#(still sucks that even the experts in that field always tell me i need to wait it out whenever there's a reoccurrence)#(at least drugstore zinc ointment works just as well as the overpriced stuff at the pharmacy)#(taking care of myself as best as i can without going to the doctors and getting berated for things i cannot help)#(not my first rodeo. also trying my best to not let it get as bad as the one time the pain sent me to the ER)#(where i got belittled and laughed about over my issues by several doctors and nurses after waiting to be seen for hours lol)#(they literally just told me to suck it up and take some ibuprofen. cool)#anyway sorry for the ramble it's still a sore subject#really sucks that my connective tissue is fucked in some way and i'l always have to deal with this issue for the rest of my life#because each reoccurrence makes the issue a little worse each time. coolio. go me.
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Here's a little secret about me: despite recieving a medical education, I hate being a patient. There are a lot of reasons: medical trauma, the general assholery of the medical system, the fact that noone explains you shit, the fact that doctors mean time, and effort, and sometimes money, and every single time I feel like I shouldn't be taking their attention from patients that are more "worth it".
When I was seventeen, it took me throwing up 14 times, nearly blacking out and falling into an almost-crisis state before I agreed to be hospitalised. And, as I was lying in bed, a litre of saline solution being deposited into me asap because the dehydration was that bad and two ambulance personnel holding me down, I still tried to get up to pack my things to get to the hospital.
I spent five days there.
I don't remember much of the first two ones, constantly blacking in and out of consciousness.
This year, I had to face something even more uncomfortable than being the asap hospitalisation person - and it was... Planned medical care. A planned surgery, to be exact.
I wasn't nervous about the procedure itself - when you spent like, a year constantly talking about pre-op and post-op and assist in surgery during practicals and see people cut open and cut open some stuff by yourself, the idea of someone rummaging around inside of you with tiny knives looses the typical "oomph" it has. I mean, I was being put in a special facility that's specifically for situations like mine, with a team of surgeons who spent years honing their craft. I knew what was going to happen. There would be anaesthesia, for god's sake.
But everything around the whole thing was just... Ugh. Doctors, nurses, tests, more tests, even more tests, the lack of communication leading to a nervous breakdown happening due to me not knowing when to come in... And, to top it all off, the damn tumour, like it knew it's days were numbered, was causing more and more pain by the day. Life lost it's colours. I spent day after day stopping, freezing up when another pain wave hit, coming home exhausted after having to mask it, slowly slipping away from socialising.
I have to leave, I've got an appointment.
Sorry I skipped your class, I had to get some tests done.
I'd love to go with you, but I need to clean my apartment; I doubt it's gonna be on my mind when I get back with a cast.
The only thing that kept me going was a deep, grim understanding: this is miserable, but continuing to live with that... thing growing inside me is worse.
... It's all over now, of course: nearly a week of school missed, a hazy experience, - god, they really overdid it with the drugs, - stitches, and a cast on my hand.
And it doesn't hurt anymore.
...No, I mean, it does, but compared to before? Piece of cake.
Nearly a year of constant worry and pain, gone.
Soon, all I'll have to show for it is a neat little scar on my hand that'll show that one day in the past, little old me was scared enough - and brave enough - to take the first step.
And as time slowly marches on, the colours that bled from my life, taken over by increasing pain, slowly turn bright again.
I'm just.
I feel like the joy came back into my life.
Like things have purpose again.
Like I can live.
I can live.
I don't have to feel pain anymore.
#i've cried so much from stress and pain and worry recently that it feels weird to cry from relief#the entire experience also completely restructured the way I think about the medical field and my future practice#and how little we truly spend time on learning about chronic health conditions and managing them#....and how I definitely should be stricter about my own health boundaries#aight#tw med talk#tw medicine#tw surgery#i mean‚ on a worse note#my mother was a poisoning experience throughout the whole thing#she treated me GETTING SURGERY FOR HORRIBLE PAIN like it was her own amusement and actually had the gal to get offended at me#for saying that I 'had nothing new to say to her' and for quote on quote 'not telling her the details '#BITCH DO YOU THINK THIS IS FUN???? THAT I SHOULD TREAT IT AS AN EDUCATIONAL EXPERIENCE?!?!?! it's a TUMOUR FOR GODS SAKE!!! A TUMOUR!!!#like Just because I'm a med student doesn't mean that this wasn't deeply raw and traumatising
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The Natural Wonder: Stinging Nettles - Your Solution to Arthritis, Gout, and Rheumatism
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‘Antalgina - one tablet is enough’
Advertisement for Antalgina, a painkiller, spasm and fever reliever, and anti-inflammatory medicine (c. 1950).
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