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frances-baby-houseman · 4 days

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I would have bled out in the parking lot

Amber Nicole Thurman's death is on Trump's hands

Bess Kalb

Sep 17

In 2019, about six weeks after my first child was born, I found myself on the bathroom floor in a small, but nonetheless unsettling puddle of blood.

“Oh no,” I remember thinking. “I just did the laundry.”

I called out my husband’s name, but the sound caught in my throat. The pain I felt inhaling to get enough air out of my lungs to yell the two syllables in “Char-lie” jabbed my guts like a bicycle spoke to the abdomen.

So I was quiet, trying to keep breathing in a way that didn’t move anything inside me, and the pain pulsed a bit, then steadied, then dulled, then evaporated into whatever hell ether it came from.

Because there is no G-d (unless there is, in which case I abbreviated His name so as not to desecrate it, and also thank you, King of the Universe, for subscribing to this newsletter) this was the one time in my life I hadn’t brought my phone with me to the bathroom.

I decided to sort of slither-lumber to the door like a lame harbor seal, because I didn’t want to stand and loosen the spoke that had just stabbed me. I reached for the knob and let the door creak open.

The cat was there, looking at me right at eye level, keenly aware what was happening, and completely unmoved by it.

“You are dying,” he blinked, “Pity. Have a nice time.” He sashayed away.

Fortunately, our house in Los Angeles was small enough that from the bathroom door one could see everything. My husband was sitting on the couch with our infant, and I knocked on the open door to summon him. Within one one thousandth of a second, he set the baby on the (since-recalled) donut pillow and was holding my head.

I sat up. I breathed. No pain. I took a picture of the bloody mess on my husband’s phone, texted it to myself, he found my phone, then I texted the picture to my OBGYN.

Apologies for being graphic, but within the puddle there was something roughly the size and shape and color of a fig.

“Is this ok?” I said to my doctor, the bicycle spoke scraping lightly at my insides again from all the lumbering.

“Come in,” she replied.

Within two hours, I was in the waiting room of her office, accompanied by my terrified but SMILING mother, who was still, as is the Jewish custom, in town for “a few days or so” after the birth.

An ultrasound which felt like the finger of Satan himself revealed there was retained placenta in my uterus. If I hadn’t come in, there would have been more hemorrhaging, then sepsis, then whatever the cat foretold.

The next day, I was in surgery getting a Dilation and Curettage.

I went home, pumped the anesthesia milk, then fell asleep perfectly fine, my sweet newborn cooing merrily in the bassinet next to his alive mother.

Amber Nicole Thurman’s story was the same as mine, but it happened to her in Georgia in 2024, not California in 2019. She was a Black woman in a healthcare system that disproportionately kills Black women, especially postpartum. In 2021, the Black maternal mortality rate was nearly three times the rate it is for white women. Post-Roe, the toll is and will continue to be staggering.

Because post-Roe, the procedure that saved my life, the D&C, is something doctors cannot perform in states where matters of life and death have been left up to non-medical Christian-supremacist superstitions.

I know the pain Amber Thurman felt when that placenta dislodged and carved its tiny, treacherous hole in her uterine wall. I know the terror she felt when she saw the blood, and the rush of dread when she thought of what her child would do without her.

And when I vote in November for Kamala Harris and every progressive down-ballot candidate, I will do it because she can’t. And I will do it so that women in Georgia and Idaho and Texas and North Dakota and South Dakota and Utah, Arizona, Nebraska Iowa, Missouri, Arkansas, Louisiana, Mississippi, Alabama, Tennessee, Kentucky, Indiana, Florida, South Carolina, and West Virginia won’t have to meet the same completely preventable doom.

This election isn’t just about Amber Thurman. Every day of my lucky, breathing life is about Amber Thurman. Because the only thing that separates us, is one of us bled out under the right Supreme Court.

Let’s raise absolute federal hell about it.

-- From Bess Kalb's newsletter The Grudge Report. I pay for this substack -- though it's free-- and think this is a message worth sharing far beyond her newsletter.

#bess kalb #the grudge report #abortion #abortion rights #abortion is healthcare #kamala harris #amber thurman

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pronoun-fucker · 1 year

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IN 1986, Sophie Ottaway was born with a very rare condition which required immediate surgery.

Cloacal exstrophy happens when the organs in the abdomen do not form correctly in the womb, resulting in babies born with organs such as the bladder or intestines outside the body.

Doctors had to operate to save her life.

Sophie was actually a boy, with a tiny, damaged penis but healthy testes.

But doctors advised Sophie’s parents that their baby’s male genitalia should be removed to avoid further complications.

The baby had to be registered by the following day, which meant they had to decide whether to tick male or female on the form.

Sophie’s parents Karen and John followed the surgeons’ advice.

“They were told not to tell me,” says Sophie, a warm and friendly 37-year-old who has since fully forgiven her parents for their decision.

“We are very close,” she tells me, “despite going through some rocky times in the past.”

Life changed for Sophie, who grew up in Beverley, East Yorks, when she was 22 years old and visiting her GP surgery for tonsilitis.

She says: “I saw on the computer screen that I had XY chromosomes, had been castrated hours after birth, and an incision was made where a vagina would be.”

Although Sophie exploded at her parents in the moment, she buried her feelings about it all until 13 years later when, hospitalised during a Covid lockdown, it was discovered she had developed sepsis that had ended up in her intestines.

‘I went into 13 years of absolute denial’

This was what led her to decide to speak out.

Sophie was already aware that many children and young people were being groomed in gender ideology, persuaded to take puberty blockers, then set on a medical pathway for life.

She says: “At age 11, as I approached puberty, they put me on oestrogen because there’s no ovaries, and no testes to produce testosterone.

“This is what doctors are doing now to kids who wish to change gender — putting them on blockers.”

It was a lie when Sophie was told she had to take oestrogen for life because her ovaries had been removed at birth as a result of damage.

Sophie was born biologically male. “So obviously there were never any ovaries,” she says wryly.

She adds: “The time to tell me and try to get informed consent was at the point we introduced the endocrinologist. This is the time puberty blockers are being offered to kids, so I make that connection with what’s happening today.”

When feminists and others critical of the medicalisation of children with gender dysphoria have said that these drugs and interventions are harmful, we are often labelled bigots. But Sophie is speaking from personal experience, in the hope that she will be listened to rather than dismissed and vilified.

About five years ago, Sophie chose to stop taking the hormones, because “I was adamant that many problems in my life were being caused by them.

“I was about 4st heavier than I am now, and I wasn’t eating badly. I was having bladder pain beyond belief.

“I had fatigue and was quite angry a lot of the time.”

By then, Sophie had been taking oestrogen for 20 years, and decided enough was enough. She was told she should keep taking it because it was for bone density, to which she replied that she would have regular bone scans.

Sophie had no choice but to go on oestrogen, because the doctors prescribed it to her as a child — but surely she should be listened to when she warns of the effects cross-sex hormones have on the body?

Now that she no longer takes it, all her symptoms have improved.

She says: “We’re selling this idea of perfection in the guise of changing gender. You’ve got all of these problems and might be struggling because you don’t fit in at school, or because you like boys’ toys and you’re a girl, or vice versa. As someone who knows all about decisions made under time pressure and who has paid the price, Sophie’s understanding of the sales pitch being made to children before puberty is crystal clear.

She says: “You’ve got a sale based on a time pressure.

“We’re going to push you through this for the puberty blockers, we’re going to make that sale.”

Keen to stress that there is a big difference between a girl behaving “like a boy”, wearing boys’ clothes and haircuts, Sophie adds: “Puberty blockers are a different level to how we dress and which toys we favour.”

The idea being sold is that gender reassignment is the answer to all your problems, but Sophie says: “What you get is genital mutilation, castration, and a lifetime of dangerous hormones, which was my experience.”

As she points out: “Children can’t vote, they can’t drink, can’t drive.

“But you can choose to do something life-changing.”

Sophie hopes that by speaking out and telling her unvarnished truth, some children — and parents — might make a different choice.

She says that when she found out that she’d been born male, “I obviously knew I had urological problems, and I knew that I had no vagina because of the surgeries.

“I didn’t address it at that point. I was 22, in second year at university.

“I had a plan of my life. And dealing with this monstrosity was not in the plan. I got up the next day and went to university.

“I still had the same connection with my friends. I was still the person I was 24 hours ago.

“But I went into 13 years of absolute denial.”

She never told anyone about it, not even close friends.

‘When I came out of hospital I was raging’

Then, during the pandemic, Sophie found herself in hospital a couple of times, and it all came crashing down.

She recalls: “They thought it was a kidney infection, but they couldn’t get to the bottom of it.

“When I was born they had fashioned some female genitalia. Brown putrid fluid starting leaking out of the hole and it would not stop.

“I presented at the hospital and I had to tell them for the first time about what had happened to me.”

When doctors examined her, they saw that there was something very wrong.

It turned out there was a mass in her abdomen, which was the neovagina — inserted when she was a baby — and left to rot.

Sophie says: “I found out from my mum that they had inserted it when I was two days old, and that one day it popped out and was found in my nappy.”

Surgeons replaced it during a later operation, sealed it up, and left it, which is why it led to sepsis many years later.

“No one had been told it had been put back in,” says Sophie.

Up until this point she had thought that the surgeon had simply operated to save her life — “which he did, but he also did a hell of a lot of other stuff that was unnecessary.”

What’s more, the doctors failed to do something that was necessary — namely, address the complex urological problems that have plagued Sophie all her life.

She says this “is one of the things that has the biggest effect on having any kind of intimate relationship. And yet the one thing that they could have fixed is my incontinence.”

She tells me: “When I came out of hospital, I was raging at that point.”

And she thought that by speaking out, she might be able to help those who think they are in the wrong body.

Sophie says: “A lot of them are being groomed to feel that way or question those thoughts in the first place by the school and the system and the media. Those kids need help.”

A much better solution, she argues, would be to divert funding currently being used for puberty blockers, cross sex hormones and surgery and allocate it to children’s mental health services and counselling.

Sophie says: “We can work with that person to find out why they are feeling like this.

“Then, maybe when they become an adult, they might be mature enough to be properly informed and consent to any changes to the outer body.

“It is often assumed I am transgender, but I really don’t like labels. I am just Sophie.

Poised for a backlash from the more extreme trans activists, Sophie makes it clear that she respects any adult’s decision to choose that path — so long as they are properly informed.

But she is clear that this is never appropriate for children.

“I don’t want this to happen to any other baby born with this condition,” she says.

“We have to find better ways to support kids to live in the body they are born with.”

Link | Archived Link

#radical feminism #radfem #gender critical #gender #trans #transgender #Julie Bindel

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jasmines-library · 11 months

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Safehouse

WHUMPTOBER 23 DAY 13. Prompt: “infection.”

Fandom: Supernatural.

Summary: after sustaining an injury on a hunt, you and Dean are forced back to the safehouse, however the wound festers and becomes infected, leaving you very ill. With Cas MIA and without the proper equipment to treat the wound, you are left clinging onto life.

Warnings: infections, sepsis, cleaning wounds, pills (painkillers), cursing, blood, gore, stitches.

Word count: 2.1k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

“Come on sweetheart. Not much further.”

Dean’s arm was slung around your waist, pressing tightly on the wound just above your hip. Although the bleeding had slowed town to a trickle, the blood still slipped between the gaps in his fingers. It had been caused by a rogue kitsune out in Minnesota, her claws had driven deep into your side when she managed to catch you off guard. It was a moment of weakness that made you cringe. The pain was blinding as the three long digits carved away into your flesh. You hadn’t even been aware that you were screaming from pain and collapsing to the floor until you realised that Dean’s face was above you, not next to you. His eyes were wide and he bit down on his bottom lip as he tore off his flannel and pressed it firmly to the cut, eliciting another cry of agony from you. He mumbled reassurances as you rose shakily to your feet. Supporting your weight, Dean rushed you towards the car. That was when everything started to go wrong.

After easing you into the car, Dean whipped around to the driver's seat and shoved his key into the ignition. The engine rumbled before stuttering to a halt. Dean furrowed his brow, twisting the key into the ignition and pressing his foot on the gas. Again, the car refused to move.

“Come on, Baby.” He uttered, sparing you a sideways glance.

Again, no result.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean slammed his hand down on the wheel hard, throwing his head back in frustration. The damn thing must have messed with the car.

With no time to waste, he clambered back out of the car and wrapped his arm back around your waist to begin the trek to the safehouse. In normal circumstances, the walk would have only taken an hour at a stretch. It was one of Bobby’s that he used to use for hunting back in the day. That was, hunting before the supernatural. It was a cosy shack-up, large enough for all three of you to stay, but Sam had decided to stay back on this one. Dean mentally cursed himself for not forcing his brother along. He was always the more diligent one, much better at stitching people up. It was possible that with the extra backup, you might not have even gotten hurt in the first place. Though, Dean made a mental note to call him once you were situated to get him to come and collect the two of you asap. Though the drive was over 10 hours long, Dean knew that the chances of his brother reaching you were higher than the chances of getting the car fixed soon. Even with Cas MIA, Dean had tried praying to the angel, but he knew that it was almost hopeless.

With your injury it had taken well over an hour to get within a mile of the house. You were slow trying to navigate your cumbersome body, forcing one foot to move before the next. Relying heavily on the tall man to support your weight, you trudged forwards, leaning heavily onto your side. Dean thought that had he not been there, you would have keeled right over and dropped to the leaf-strewn floor in the middle of the woods. It was then that your head dropped to your chest and your knees buckled, causing Dean to lose his footing. He cursed, stumbling to keep his grip on you. When he righted the both of you, he noticed the way that your eyes drooped so much that they were practically shut.

“Sweetheart?”

You barely registered his words through the ache in your side. “Mm?”

“You gotta stay with me. We’re so close.” He pleaded. “We’re so close.”

“Hurts.” You mumbled.

Dean pushed up the hem of your torn shirt to take a look at the wound. His green eyes dilated at the sight.

It was angry and red raw, oozing substances that he didn’t want to know. Infection was surely on its way. With a new sense of urgency, he lifted you into his arms and ran the last stretch to the cabin.

Your head lolled against his chest as he reached the house and flung the door open. Your eyes were closed, but he could tell from the way your breaths hitched and how you stirred uncomfortably in his arms that you were still clinging onto consciousness. He placed you down tenderly on the couch before moving towards the bathroom and flinging open the cabinet. He breathed a sigh of relief when his hands grazed over the white medical box.

Rushing back to you, he tipped the contents of the box on the floor, scattering the contents by his feet. Kneeling down beside you, he rummaged for a bottle of antiseptic or something to clean the wound with. When he picked up the bottle, it felt too light in his hands, but he unscrewed the cap and tried to tip the content onto the wound. A dismal drop fell from the cap. He flung it across the room. You furrowed your brow when you heard his footsteps retreat again, only to return moments later. Dean returned with a bowl full of soapy water and a rag.

You grimaced at the contact of the cloth as he began to wipe away the blood and dirt from your skin. Your skin felt hot to the touch which only worried the man more. Once he was done cleaning, he tore open a gauze and bandage which he secured tightly around your body. He couldn’t stitch you up whilst infection was prominent. Then, he scrounged for something to help with your pain, unable to stand the way your face was scrunched tight. He slipped it between your lips and got you to force it down with a sip of water, half of which dribbled down your chin.

Sam’s on his way. He's coming. Dean reminded himself.

He had called Sam straight after you had fallen asleep. He told his brother that he would leave as soon as he could, but he was tied up with a small case. That was over 12 hours ago and in that short amount of time, you had gotten much, much worse.

A sheen of sweat had broken out across your brow, plastering loose hairs to your forehead. Your body trembled with violent shivers as you tried to cling to the small blanket that Dean had laid over your body. He kept a constant eye on the gashes above your hip. They had begun to clot, but were swollen and oozing. Dean could tell by the way that you groaned that your whole body ached too. He furrowed his brow, the infection was taking over and he was worried that without the proper equipment to treat it you would lose the battle. The bags around his eyes were dark and dragged down his face.

He hadn’t stopped once since you had gotten injured, spending his time rummaging through all of his cupboards for something. Anything. But he found nothing but a few cans of tinned soup and spam. When he wasn’t mindlessly searching or cleaning your wound, he was st by you clutching your hand. He sent many silent prayers to Cas, but the familiar flutter of wings were never to be heard.

He studied you as you breathed hard, gazing off into nothingness with hooded eyes. Picking up the round bottle of pills, Dean tipped out a few into his hand.

“Y/N?”

You rolled your head.

“Come on sweetheart. Drink up.”

Slowly and with help from Dean, you took the small pills and forced them down. You'd barely finished drinking before he placed a heavy hand on your forehead.

"The fever is too high," He said. You hear footsteps walking towards the kitchen door and then the door itself opening. Dean stepped out, leaving you in semi-darkness of the room where the light no longer flooded through the windows. You heard cluttering from the other side of the house before he returned once more.

"I'm sorry, this may hurt." He placed a wet cloth on your forehead. The coolness of the water felt wonderful against your clammy skin, but it also sent a chill through your whole body. You shivered uncontrollably.

Dean bit his lip, watching you nervously.

The room is uncomfortably hot. Your clothes were soaked with sweat and you couldn’t seem to catch your breath. You felt dizzy and nauseous, the room spun around you. Closing your eyes, you tried to try to relax and separate yourself from the pain. You breathed in and out slowly, counting to five on each inhale and exhale. But it seemed to make no difference.

Your droopy eyes caught Dean’s from across the way and your heart leapt in your chest. He was dishevelled and torn. You open your mouth to speak, but all that came out was a feeble groan.

Dean tilted his head and smiled, a tired, sympathetic smile that could easily have been mistaken for a frown. He was blaming himself once again. "I'm sorry sweetheart. I’m so so sorry…”

“Dean?” you whispered, letting the name roll off your tongue. It was really the first coherent thing you had said in the slow hours that dragged by.

“Yeah sweetheart?”

“Stop it. Not your fault.” You told him, trying to be authoritative, for you knew the man too well, but your weak body wouldn’t give you the authority to order him around.

He gave you another tired smile. "Get some rest, Y/N,"

You closed your eyes and let yourself drift off.

Your eyes flew open. You couldn’t say why, but you had a strong sense that you were being watched. You turned your head towards the door to see a figure silhouetted against the light from the doorway. He was tall and lumbering with hair that hug down by his shoulders.

You blinked and the figure vanished. You blinked again, and now the room was empty.

You lay there, listening to the sounds of the house. They were hard to make out in your barely coherent state, but if you focused hard enough, you could make out the heavy footsteps passing back and forth in the hallway, the distant murmur of voices, and the creak of old boards. There was a sudden warmth next to you as your shirt was peeled back, followed by the bandages the Dean had not long changed. You groaned at the contact of the fabric against your wound.

A thin film of blood had already formed over the surface of the wound. At some point, most likey during your relentless shivering Dean suspected, you had torn the clot on the wound and it had begun to bleed again, leaving a trail of scarlet on the bandage. Since then the blood had congealed and begun to dry around the edges of the wound. The flow had slowed almost to a stop, but the bleeding continued accompanied by an oozing of nasty fluids from the infection. Dean gulped. This meant that not only was the infection a problem, but they had to deal with more blood loss.

Sam felt a little sick from the sight and smell of the wound, he couldn’t begin to comprehend how it felt for you. He took a deep breath as he uncapped the bottle of antiseptic before pouring it onto the wound.

Your body bucked and you let out a shrill cry of pain, eyes flying wide open. Dean gripped your hand so tight that his knuckles turned white. The disinfectant worked quickly, killing off much of the bacteria, and slowing the rate of blood loss. The redness around the wound brightened - a strong sign that it was working. For now, the blood loss seemed to have stopped, though the wound is still very serious.

Using the disinfectant to clean the needle, Sam worked his long fingers agilely to thread the needle. He then positioned it above the gash and plunged it into your skin. Despite how hard you tried not to let it, a scream tore itself from your lips.

“I know sweetheart. We’re sorry. It’s almost done.”

Dean had to hold your writhing body down so that his brother could finish stitching you up. “You’re doing so well, Y/N. so well.”

When Sam finished the last stitch and cut the thread, your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you melted into the couch.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<-DAY 12 ⛤ DAY 14 ->

🏷️ Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

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vulnonapix1234 · 1 year

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Despite the semi popular headcanon that Miles has the self preservation instincts of an wet paper bag, I truly believe that he is the only member of the spider gang that has any medical knowledge.

Like I seriously believe that 11 year old Miles Morales would watch "Grey's Anatomie", so he could talk with Rio about her Job.

(I imagine that Jeff would take Miles to the police station sometimes. Like he didn't want his tiny child to be alone and he really didn't trust Aaron. So Miles is more than aware about the job of the policeman. )

Rio wasn't amused. Like she was touched that her little boy wanted to know more about her profession, but these kind of series are trash.

So she included him more and teached him about applying bandages, injection and other medical stuff.

Miles is actually aware how important self care is. He knows how detrimental sleep loss can be. How his high metabolism could destroy his body and what he has to do against it.

He was pretty shocked when he realized that the other didn't even know how to bandage an small cut.

Most of them just "let it heal", because of their healing factor, as if the risk of infection wasn't there.

Miles made a whole ass PowerPoint after Noir nearly got a sepsis after he tried to pull out a bullet with a knife.

Now, you might ask yourself who is the worst at self care and who is the best.

I have made a list

Hobie Brown has the body of an sick Victorian child. He is homeless, doesn't have a stable income, not enough food and has to battle every day and night.

Noir grew up in the first world war. What fo you expect?

Peter is only alive because of his Wive. His Nutrition is a nightmare and he will get a heartattack if he continues like that.

Gwen is reckless and is horrible at self care.

Penny doesn't get hurt as much, but her mental health is in shambles after her Canon event.

Margo doesn't sleep enough and needs to do more stretching, but is fine otherwise.

Pavitr is the only one that sticks to his health care. He often visits miles when he has been hurt for bandages and "get better soon" kisses.

Spiderham doesn't even know how his health works. It just does and Miles doesn't know if he should question it

#miles morales headcanons #atsv #itsv #miles morales #hobie brown #peter b parker #spider noir #spider ham #atsv margo #atsv pavitr

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pineapplerightsideupcake · 10 months

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I’ve been struggling how to word this, and I’m sure it sounds terrible, but I don’t have much sympathy for de trans ppl. I’m not saying they deserve it or that I’m happy some suffered, especially if they’re young but it’s really difficult to hold sympathy and concern when most trans ppl are very obnoxious and delusional. Let me explain: I have a lot of trans friends that it’s very difficult to get them to listen and they’re very stuck in their mindset. I know a guy who looks like a man, calls himself nonbinary and has said he uses the woman bathroom. He takes estrogen and use to have a big beard. I asked him why he wasn’t shaving before and he said his beard doesn’t cause him dysphoria….it seems like a lot of trans ppl are very narcissistic and don’t listen anyway. It’s like when you’re trying to help someone and they keep rejecting you and falling deeper. I am worried one of my friends will definitely de transition in the future, and by then well, it’s gonna be too late, the testosterone has done its damage and she will suffer. I read the de trans subreddit, and I do feel sorry for some and most talk about isolating themselves from family and friends. sorry this is getting long. I feel bad about it, and I’m trying to hard to emphasize but many trans ppl make it difficult. It feels like a massive “I told you so” situation. Please give me advice on how to develop a kinder understanding so I can stop feeling guilty…..

So I wanted to take my time to answer this one because I think this taps into an especially heinous thing the modern left + social media has done to people and it’s the belief that a good person has endless empathy for everyone always and has special empathy for marginalized people.

But here’s the truth. You literally aren’t built for it. At the most basic psychological level you are not designed to have deep empathy for strangers. Your brain has a hierarchy of how much you care about others and a healthy mind prioritizes the people closest to you. More importantly, love and empathy are finite. You actually do have a limit on how many people you can truly care about. That’s not my opinion it’s proven science. We have a literal number (I think it’s about 80).

So it’s a beautiful thing when we care about people outside of our circle. It’s even more beautiful when we care about people far away that aren’t like us. But it’s beautiful precisely because it isn’t natural. It’s a conscious effort to care enough about earthquake victims on the other side of the planet to donate and raise awareness.

My point being that it’s okay that you don’t overflow with love for a group that is hostile towards you AND is full of narcissistic trenders. You can have sympathy for the people that regret surgery without absolving them. And maybe I intuitively understood this because I had to love so many addicts growing up. But empathy doesn’t mean never holding people accountable. It breaks my heart that my aunt has emphysema but she brought that fate on herself, one cigarette at a time. You can have sympathy for people with genuine dysphoria and still think they’re deluded. You can have sympathy for people that were brainwashed as kids and still expect them to examine their values. And you can think others are just self absorbed assholes. You can condemn the patriarchy for convincing so many young that they are worthless that they are choosing the Trans man path and still hold them accountable for throwing around homophobic slurs. You can have sympathy for trans women that are fighting sepsis from bottom surgery and still regard most of them as sex pests.

Empathy is finite. It is not on or off. It is not something we owe to a person because they are struggling.

Treat the people around you with kindness and respect. Pour your energy into a few meaningful things instead of dozens of empty ‘causes’. Torturing yourself over if you feel nice enough on the inside is so…Catholic. It’s female socialization.

Breathe. You’re a good person.

#radical feminism #radical feminist safe #radical feminist community #radical feminists do interact #radical feminists do touch #radblr #radical feminists please interact #feminism #radical feminists please touch #anon asks

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haverdoodles · 2 years

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Sanctuary

— (Caerwyn & Te’lise)

TW// brief descriptions of treating wounds.

It was a quiet afternoon in Skyhold’s Apothecary.

The room was alight with the sun’s glow, turning the specks of dust floating past the windows into glittering gold. Te’lise might have admired it, as she admired all simple beauties in the world, had her attention not been so entirely focused on the comatose man currently lying in her bed.

His arrival the night before had been frightening and unexpected, heralded by a pounding at the door that had Te’lise lurching out of bed before her brain had even fully awakened. Bewildered, she had allowed a somber procession of ten Inquisition soldiers to come streaming in, at the front of which her patient was swaddled in a blanket and being gently carried. It hadn’t taken her long to snap out of her daze and into her Healer’s mindset, and she had ordered him to be set down on the heavy oak table in the middle of the room.

What followed was a long, exhausting, stressful night of trying to keep her patient alive. His right hand had recently been amputated after a battle wound had infected it beyond saving, according to one of his comrades, who had been filling her in as she rushed to and fro gathering armfuls of medicinal herbs and supplies. It seemed that the infection had now made a nasty reappearance, throwing his body into a state of sepsis. One of his comrades had found him lying unconscious outside of his tent, and they had immediately rushed him to her.

His name was Captain Caerwyn of Regiment Six, according to his worried companions. If he has a surname, they had no knowledge of it. According to them, he was a fine leader and an even finer gentleman, as well as their friend. It had taken much soothing on her part to convince them to leave her to work. It was clear that they cared a great deal for him, providing only further incentive for her to succeed.

Te’lise had spent the next four hours stabilizing Caerwyn’s condition. She had rubbed Royal Elfroot essence into the skin above his lymph nodes to reduce inflammation, applied cooling compresses to his forehead, neck, and torso, and placed a bowl of steaming water infused with Embrium extract nearby to clear his airways. Simultaneously, she had worked tirelessly at undressing his bandages, painstakingly cleaning out the infected mess that was his amputated arm, removing the necrotic flesh, sewing up the exposed tissue, and finally lathering the angry red skin with a soothing Elfroot salve. By the time one of the soldiers had managed to return with one of the free mages assigned to the Healing Ward, Te’lise had Caerwyn’s wounds cleaned and wrapped with fresh bandages. The mage was able to remove the infection in his blood after that, and he was successfully brought back from the brink of death.

Te’lise had proceeded to stay up at his bedside for the rest of the night and long into the morning, doing everything in her power to bring down his raging fever.

Presently, Te’lise sighed tiredly as she poured a fresh pitcher of water into the wooden bowl she had been using to wet cloths for his burning skin. Her eyes ached, her hands were shaking, and she had a headache that profoundly soured any bright mood she might have had on such a beautiful afternoon.

“Sylaise, preserve me,” she whispered into the silence of the room. “Falon’Din, have mercy. Let me save this man.”

A faint rustling came from the bed. Following it was a hoarsely whispered, “Is this the Beyond?”

Startled, Te’lise nearly upset the full bowl in front of her. She whirled and stopped short as her eyes met those of the wounded man in her bed.

“Oh!” She gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth.

The Captain blinked at her wearily, then slid his gaze around the Apothecary, taking in its cluttered interior with a hazy awareness. “Where…”

The sound of his voice snapped her out of her shock. “Hush, Serah, you must save your strength.” She hurried across the room to the tall shelf housing rows upon rows of vials of varying shapes and sizes, and selected one that she knew contained a healing tonic. “How are you feeling? Still feverish? Wait – do not answer that. Oh dear, you still seem so flushed… a cooling tonic too, then, perhaps…”

Te’lise shuffled over to the bed with an armful of vials and carefully placed them on the wooden stool beside the bed. When she glanced up, Caerwyn was watching her with the most peculiar expression. She felt herself flush, and offered a sheepish smile.

“Where am I?” He whispered hoarsely, observing as she worked at removing the stoppers of the vials.

“Well, certainly not in the Beyond,” Te’lise said warmly. “You are in Skyhold’s Apothecary. Your companions brought you in last night, when you were in critical condition.”

“Am I to presume… that you healed me?”

“I helped in healing you,” she acknowledged, raising the vial to his lips, “But I cannot solely claim credit for your recovery.”

“And yet you are the one who remains. For that, I am grateful.” He whispered, accepting the few mouthfuls of potion. Te’lise started at his words, and watched in surprise as the skin around his eyes crinkled in a faint imitation of a smile.

She took the vial from him and set it aside, searching his face. “How do you feel, Captain Caerwyn? Is the pain troubling you?”

“What I feel now is a blessing compared to the agony I endured before,” he assured her. “It is only—“

Caerwyn lifted his right arm and stopped abruptly, his face whitening. Te’lise followed his gaze to his amputated limb.

“Your hand had to be removed in order to stave off mortal infection,” she reminded him gently. “According to the Surgeon, it was the only way to save your life at the time.”

“I had forgotten.” He said.

There was terrible bleakness in his voice that squeezed at her heart. Without thinking, Te’lise reached out and gently placed a hand upon his shoulder. He stared down at it, then up at her with the expression of a man who was lost, and did not know how to find his way.

“What troubles you, Serah?” She asked him gently. Te’lise knew what troubled him, of course – she only wanted him to say the words.

Caerwyn exhaled, bitterly tossing his head back against the pillows. “What doesn’t? I am a soldier, a Captain in the Inquisition. I am to rally forces and lead warriors into battle under the Inquisitor’s banner. How am I to do this now that I am – I am –” He grimaced and turned his face away, but not before Te’lise caught a glimpse of the silver lining his dark lashes.

Te’lise watched him quietly for a moment, allowing him the time to compose himself. He was a strong, handsome man, she observed, and there was a gentleness in his face and demeanour that contrasted fascinatingly with his warrior’s physique.

‘What an interesting, beautiful person,’ she thought to herself, and began to speak.

“Did you know that I live with a chronic illness?” She said, and smiled when he looked over at her with a muted flash of surprise. “Indeed. It is a bit ironic, no? A sick Healer? I am also a mage, though most are never able to guess. This is because the illness that I live with prevents me from using magic extensively, for that would require more stamina and endurance than I physically possess. To do so harms me more than it helps.”

“But… is there not magic to…?” He asked tentatively.

“Perhaps there is,” Te’lise acknowledged. “But I have not encountered it in my lifetime. Perhaps I never will. Until recently, I had spent so long dreaming of a day when I could be cured. When I could be ‘whole’. That is how you feel now, isn’t it? You think yourself to be incomplete, because when mere days ago you had two hands, now you have only the one.”

“Yes,” Caerwyn whispered. “I cannot help it.”

“You are not incomplete because you are one-handed, Caerwyn,” Te’lise told him softly. “Just as I am not incomplete because I am ill. Someone wise once told me, ‘A tree does not derive its strength from its branches, but from its roots.’” She squeezed his shoulder gently, and whispered, “And now, just as a man does not derive his strength from his hands, but from his heart.”

She smiled at him as his eyes widened, patting the coverlet with her hand. “Your life will be a little different now, but it is far from over. Should you find the will to do it, you can ensure that your life is as rich and full as any other man’s, even one-handed. You are still capable of love, laughter, and thought. The sun is still shining, and the tall grasses still dancing in the wind. Shall we not enjoy these precious things while we can, instead of lamenting over what might have been?”

“You are wise, Healer,” he finally breathed, his jewelled eyes dancing across her face. “When but mere moments ago I was troubled, I now feel soothed. Can you heal with your words as well as your hands?”

Te’lise tipped her head back and laughed. “I used no magic here, Captain, only sound advice bestowed upon me by another.”

“Such modesty,” he said softly, and there was a tender, inquisitive note in his voice that made her face feel oddly warm. “Moments ago, you called me by my given name. ‘Caerwyn.’”

Te’lise blanched. “Ir abelas… that was entirely improper of me–“

“I took no offence to it, Healer,” he assured her, his eyes crinkling in a smile. “I only wanted to know your name in return.”

Te’lise lowered her gaze to the flowery coverlet, brushing a freckled hand over its surface. “My name is Te’lise,” she said softly. “Once, Te’lise Lavellan.”

“Te’lise,” he whispered, and suddenly her vision was filled by leaves dancing in the wind, and the sun’s glow as it bathed the sloping valleys of Alhan’amelan in golden light, the echoes of long-faded laughter caressing her face and falling away.

“I owe you my life,” Caerwyn said now, his eyes searching her face. “And now, I find myself thinking that I could not find a finer soul to owe my thanks to.”

Te’lise flushed and withdrew her hand, suddenly finding it difficult to meet his gaze. “You are very generous in your praise, Serah.”

Caerwyn cleared his throat. “I apologize. Normally I am not this… ah. Well. ‘Generous in my praise,’ as you put it.”

“Perhaps the medicine has loosened your tongue,” Te’lise said cheekily, and the two of them exchanged tentative smiles.

The months since Solas had left her shattered and bare in Crestwood had all but destroyed her, and her heart was only beginning to mend. But as Te’lise sat at her own bedside now, watching over the wounded man with gentle, jewelled eyes, she felt a knot in her heart hesitantly loosen, and a tender leaf on a barren branch began to unfurl.

In that moment, the world no longer felt as unbearable, and the realization made her smile.

New oc :) 👀 the piece features Caerwyn’s pet wolves in the background, Alifalon and Alhannon. I hope to draw more of them soon!

#caer’lise #te’lise lavellan #captain caerwyn #alifalon & alhannon #haverdoodles #art #dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age 2 #dragon age inquisition #haverdoodles oc #digital art #quite proud of this one!

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nomsfaultau · 3 months

Note

Daily ask №22

Sickness edition!

1. Can each one of them even get sick in the first place? I mean, Phil is a god, the Blade is a.. furry?? And Wilbur is a.. void person. And Tubbo is bees.

2. Assuming they do get sick, how do they handle it?

3. How do they handle other people getting sick and having to care for them?

4. There's this myth in my culture that, I kid you not, breathing above boiled potatoes helps with a cold. Rank how likely it is that I would be able to convince them to breathe above boiled potatoes.

5. How is Phil theoretically very knowledgeable in science and stuff but also still believes in blood-letting??

1.All of them can get sick, which is an overhanging threat in part 2 given the survivalist genre. Like literally Tommy gets a power up that’s just hand sanitizer and it’s a game changer. That said, they’re a little…odd about it.

Phil is trying to be a person, warts and all, and that includes getting ill. Now, does it work like a normal person? Not in the slightest. He gets sick when he thinks he’s supposed to, which included inaccurate theories people have had over the years such as displeasing the gods or being cold and wet. In the little more than a century since germ theory has been proposed he mostly gets sick in a normal way now. Phil is absolutely ecstatic about vaccines, though in all fairness home remedies with no scientific basis also work on him. He is observed using fire to burn out void sepsis in Tommy and Wilbur, though unclear if that worked because void or bacteria. And if we dig into that we’re back to germ theory with Tommy and questioning what an individual even is.

The Blade gets animal diseases, and pigs and humans share a decent chunk of illnesses.

Tubbo deals with bee illnesses, mites, fungal problems, all manner of things. Dysentery according to Wiki? They do have the advantage of having the awareness to guaranteed symptomatic bees to limit contagions tho.

Wilbur can’t get food borne illnesses since it devours All, and also I speculate that it doesn’t have normal organs ? Fault never says either way. External diseases from mouth, nose, dermis, etc work perfectly fine tho even if Wilbur can get away with eating rotten food.

Tommy might be the least likely to get sick of any of them thanks to Red acting as a germ killer.

2.Tommy complains and demands pampering. Philza takes a self care day but it isn’t very relaxing bc mentally he’s like I can’t take care of my kids oh gods- Wilbur ignores it if he can. If not is like welp guess I’m dying since if it’s bad enough he can’t get food or medicine or fight and so it was a near death sentence as a kid. Tubbo depends on where they are in their arc. Normally they’d be very normal drink tea maybe try some home remedies. During their spiral they’d just ignore or dissociate through it like they did with their injuries. And The Blade is NOT sick. Nope. Nah ah. Perfectly fine. Buuut every time he sneezes it triggers The Blood God since he thinks it’s an attack.

3.Phil grins and offers to balance their humors if it’s not serious. Other than that is very accommodating and spoiling and totally not thinking about his countless loved ones lost to illness. He can gauge what is/isn’t fatal very well, but though the spark of terror is buried deep it’s still there. Rhodes fully comes out of Tubbo, do you have enough pillows here have another cookie that’s quite the fever kiddo. Lots of home remedies, often involving honey cause well good for sore throats and antibacterial/good for infections. Tommy dithers since he really wants to be useful but Red contamination and so he mostly sits beside them and tells a bunch of stupid jokes to lift the mood. Wilbur is also going to take massive care of anyone who’s sick since that’s something it never got. More distant though, more like going on supply runs for lots of extra food and medicine, but is cautious so it doesn’t get sick too. Only The Blade is fully like like nah. I’m not catching a cold thanks. Good luck bro. He also dealt with the no medicine or support thing Wilbur went through, though wasn’t worried about losing fights and can eat pretty much whatever and actually get nutrition from it unlike Wilbur. Plus he isn’t keen on the chance of it giving The Blood God better access to control.

4. Philza: has heard it before, has tried it, and it probably works for him. Stupid metaphorical man. If asked how he thinks it works he’d probably shrug and reply something about vitamins.

Tubbo: they don’t believe it. But they also don’t not believe it. This is less that they aren’t a little superstitious about home remedies, and more that they haven’t heard about it and they know ALL the home remedies so it clearly can’t work or else they’d’ve already used it. But they would still use it. Again this is pure Rhodes, because he wants to take care of his kiddos and Tubbo heavily associates sick days with him staying home to look after them. I can too write a healthy paternal figure! (We’re ignoring chapter 13 it can’t hurt us if we don’t acknowledge it).

Tommy: I mean he’s a lil dumb, maybe. He’d definitely poke fun while trying it just in case he’s getting pranked.

Wilbur: doesn’t believe it for a second. It’s more a mixture of trust issues than the fact it understands how medicine works. Actually wait. How does Wilbur think that works. Because a lot of it is eaten/swallowed. Like Wil tends to be the unofficial healer of the group alongside Phil, but his experience is purely ‘birthed from the crucible of need that forces experience whether one is read for it or not’ or however that one line goes. Cause it’s gotta be a mix of reading the back of pill bottles and Foundation stuff and void trivia so I gotta imagine that man has no idea why what it’s doing works.

The Blade: has already eaten the potatoes before you even get around to explaining.

5.Phil’s knowledge of science is filled with a LOT of misinformation and it’s hard for him to keep track. Plus if utterly convinced something would heal him it genuinely will, and confirmation bias is a hell of a drug. I also believe he suggests blood-letting 100% to mess with people. There’s a deleted scene where he almost convinces Tubbo he can’t write in English because he ‘didn’t think it would be important’ and ‘clay tablets are going to come back any day now’. I think (aside from the murder) Phil often gets pigeon holed as the well adjusted mentor figure. Sort of a Kermit the Frog thing where the crazy cast of colorful characters kinda drowns out the fact that he’s the crazy nut job who decided to hire them all, and subtly thrives on chaos.

#Wlwdwtys ask #Ask #fault au #tommyinnit #philza #technoblade #tubbo #scp philza #scp tubbo #scp wilbur #scp tommyinnit #scp technoblade #sbi #dsmp #sbi scp au #sbi au #something to nom on

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nightmaretour · 8 days

Text

(This is the fully screen reader friendly version of the post found here. However I would prefer that you spread and share this one, as this is information that could save anyone's lives and alt text descriptions aren't compatible with all screen readers.)

[ID: The words "September is sepsis awareness month" and a red awareness ribbon on a red background that fades to white at the center. The words "September is" are written in a cursive font, while the word "Sepsis" is in a large, bold font in red below it. "Awareness" is written in a clear font in bold capital letters, and "month" is written in the same font but less bold. These are all stacked vertically. End ID]

With everything going on, it's easy to miss that September is sepsis awareness month. As a sepsis survivor myself, I feel a great responsibility to spread awareness of this greatly underestimated killer.

[ID: An infographic on a background that fades from purple to pink. At the top it reads "World Sepsis Day Infographics" in bold pink text, and below it "World Sepsis Day" in bold black text. There is a black logo in the top right hand corner that looks like a splatter facing to the left, with the words "stop sepsis save lives" stacked vertically to its right. Below that is a lighter coloured box that contains text, with the shape of the world map cut out in the middle to show the gradient behind it.

"September 13th- World Sepsis Day" is written at the top of the light colored box in pink cursive. The rest of the writing is in a plain black font. It reads:

"Sepsis is the final common pathway from most infectious diseases.

Despite being a medical emergency and having direct ties to all other World Health Days, sepsis is still not getting the attention it deserves.

Awareness saves lives.

Learn about sepsis AT

WWW.WORLD-SEPSIS-DAY.ORG"

In the bottom right corner of the box there is a pink circle that fades to white at the center, with the word "Sepsis" written inside it in various black, white and pink fonts.

Below the box is a white logo of a stylised white globe in the bottom left corner with the words "Global Sepsis Alliance" beside it stacked on top of each other in a white font. In the bottom center are the web addresses "www.world-sepsis-day.org" and "www.global-sepsis-alliance.org" in bold white writing. The bottom right corner has the words "September 13 2019" in white stacked on top of each other, with a line separating them from the words "World sepsis day", also stacked vertically. End ID]

Sepsis is a disease that affects around 49 million people worldwide every year, and responsible for around 20% of all global deaths, claiming approximately 11 million lives per year. It's estimated that one person dies of sepsis every 2.8 seconds. Around half of those who survive sepsis are left with physical or cognitive disabilities for the rest of their lives. On top of that, it's the most vulnerable of us that are most likely to develop sepsis.

[ID: An infographic with a purple background that fades to pink, with the words "World Sepsis Day Infographics" in white text, and the "stop sepsis save lives" in white to it's right. Below this is a lighter box. At the top it reads "Risk groups" in bold black text. Below it in smaller text it reads "everybody can get sepsis- certain people are at even higher risk"

Below that are five circles cut out of the lighter box, three on the top row with two underneath. Each has a stylised sillhouette-like image in it corresponding to the text below it. None of the images have facial details.

The first circle has a light skinned woman with black hair wearing a plain white shirt and black leggings. She has a red circle around her torso, where stylised lungs are shown. Below it reads "People with chronic diseases e.g lung, liver, heart"

The second circle contains the same woman with a red crossed out circle around her torso, where a black silhouette of a spleen is shown. Below it reads "people with no spleen"

The third circle contains the woman with a red circle around her torso, which has a red awareness ribbon on it. Below it reads "people with weakened immune systems e.g AIDS, diabetes"

The fourth circle contains a baby with brown skin and dark hair, wearing blue one piece clothing and a white bib with a blue star on it. They are sitting with a light brow teddy bear in one hand and a white and blue patterned blanket in the other. Below it reads "children under 1"

The fifth circle contains an older man with light skin and light grey moustache using a walking stick and wearing semi-formal clothing, with his arm around an older woman with light brown skin and light grey hair, wearing a navy blue dress. Below it reads "Adults over 60"

Below the lighter box in the bottom left corner is the Global Sepsis Alliance logo, and in the center are the web addresses "worldsepsisday.org" and "globalsepsisalliance.org"

end ID]

Despite being one of the global leading causes of death, very few people know much about sepsis or how to spot it, which is what makes it all the more deadly. Sepsis kills approximately 1 in 6 people who contract it, but spotted early, patients with sepsis are around half as likely to die as those who have been allowed to develop into the later stages.

Sepsis is always the result of an existing bacterial, viral, fungal or even parasitic infection, usually due to a serious infection such as pneumonia or meningitis, but it can also be caused by something as small as an infected papercut or bug bite. Almost half of all cases occur in children.

[ID: An infographic with a white background, containing sections of text in boxes. The box in the top right corner is pink, with the words "Sepsis facts" inside. All of the other boxes are light grey with black text, separated by white lines. The box beside the pink one reads:

"Sepsis arises when the body's response to an infection injures its own tissues and organs. It may lead to shock, multi-organ failure, and death- especially if not recognised early and treated promptly. Sepsis is the final common pathway to death from most infectious diseases worldwide including viruses such as SARS-CoV-2."

The second row has three boxes. From left to right they read:

"47-50 million cases per year¹"

"At least 11 million deaths per year²"

"1 in 5 deaths worldwide is associated with sepsis³"

The three boxes on the second row read:

"Sepsis is the number 1:

Cause of death in hospitals⁴

Cause of hospital readmissions⁵

Healthcare cost⁶

(e.g. $6.2 billion is spent on sepsis healthcare costs in the US alone)"

"Up to 50% of sepsis survivors suffer from long-term physical and/or psychological effects⁷"

"40% of cases are children under 5⁸"

The third row of three boxes read:

"80% of sepsis cases occur outside of a hospital⁹"

"Sepsis is always caused by an infection such as pneumonia or diarrheal illness¹⁰"

"Sepsis is a medical emergency- if you or someone you know shows signs of sepsis, seek medical care immediately. Every hour counts.¹¹"

Below it is a single box that spans the whole width of the infographic. At the top, it is titled in bold pink writing, "These signs may indicate sepsis:"

The following have each first letter emphasised in a large pink font, spelling out "SEPSIS", with a black and white picture of a woman representing the symptoms behind them.

"Slurred speech

Extreme shuddering or muscle pain/fever

Passing no urine all day

Severe breathlessness

It feels like you're going to die

Skin mottled or discoloured"

Below this are two boxes. The left one reads:

"September 13

You can help

#stop sepsis

and

#save lives

www.worldsepsisday.org"

In the last box, in the bottom right corner:

"references:

¹,²,³,⁸,¹⁰ Rudd et al, https://dol.org/10.1016/50140-6736(19)32989-7

⁴Rhee et al,

https://jamanetwork.com/journals/japanetworkopen/fullarticle/2724768

⁵Torio et al,

https://www.hcup-us.ahrq.gov/reports/statbriefs//sb204-Most-Expensive-Hospital-Conditions.pdf

⁶Buchman et al,

https://journals.lww.com/ccmjournal/Fulltext/2020/03000/Sepsis_Among_Medicare_Beneficiaries_3_The.4.aspx

⁷Prescott et al,

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nlh.gov/PMC/articles/PMC5839473/

⁹Rhee et al,

https://jamanetwork.com/journals/jama/fullarticle/2654187

¹¹Seymour et al,

https://www.nejm/doi/10.1056/NEjMoa1703058

end ID]

But most importantly, it's all about time. If you or someone you know is experiencing any symptoms that you suspect might be sepsis, get to a hospital. It's far better to be wrong and live than it is to be wrong and die. I hope that you will never have to use this information, but if you do, hopefully it will help you to save a life.

[ID: An infographic with a red background and white text. The Sepsis Alliance logo is in the top left corner. It has a red circle shades to look like a dome with the letters "SI" inside it in a stylised font, with the words "Sepsis alliance" in a white times now roman like font. Below it in italics is the slogan "Suspect sepsis. Save lives.

Below this, it says in white lettering "When it comes to sepsis, remember, IT'S ABOUT TIME. Watch for:" the words "it's about time" are in larger, black writing, and have a trademark symbol.

Underneath are the letters "TIME" spelled out with each letter inside a white circle, all connected with a white line. Below each respective letter it reads:

"TEMPERATURE

Higher or lower than normal"

"INFECTION

May have signs or symptoms of an infection"

"MENTAL DECLINE

Confused, sleepy or difficult to rouse"

"EXTREMELY ILL

"I feel like I might die," severe pain or discomfort"

At the bottom of the page in a lighter red stripe it reads "watch for a combination of these symptoms. If you suspect sepsis see a doctor urgently. CALL 911 or go to a hospital and say 'I AM CONCERNED ABOUT SEPSIS.'" The last phrase is in bold black capital letters. End ID]

Sepsis is incredibly time sensitive, even a few hours could be the difference between life and death. If you spot any of the signs in yourself or someone else, do not delay. Seek emergency treatment immediately.

For more information, visit:

Worldsepsisday.org

Global-sepsis-alliance.org

Sepsisresearch.org.uk

#described #world sepsis day #sepsis awareness month #sepsis awareness #sepsis survivor

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