#so this med drops my blood pressure. so i tried to treat low blood pressure

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Delighted to say that I fixed my illness through normal means, which were not what I tried first

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Ig it was closer to 7 years ago? 8 years ago? if I check the actual timeline.

They were like oh shit it looks like you have graves disease really bad we gotta run all these tests, you could die!... For symptoms I had been having on and off since my 20's and telling them about only to be ignored.

Then they were like, no haha it's just the first stages of your immune system tearing your thyroid to shreds and letting it spill all the hormone at once. At this rate there's no need to remove your thyroid because it will die completely within 5 months and fully atrophy.

Are we going to try to stop my immune system from doing that?

No. haha.

What happens when my thyroid dies?

Oh you'll need to be on hormones for life or you'll slowly get so hyperthyroid you can slip into a coma and not wake up. haha, but it's like having and managing diabetes, people live full lives with it.

I'm having severe cardiac symptoms and etc from the obscene thyroid levels, and am unable to sleep for up to 72 hours at a time, can we check back in before 5 months? Maybe do something about the heart symptoms that isn't just knocking me unconscious for 3 days at a time with this blood pressure medication since my blood pressure is still somehow dropping to 60/45 despite the high adrenaline and cortisol and thyroid levels? [my resting heart rate was 120 at the time]

No haha, not necessary, prommy :)

So I took that for the news it was. Within 5 months my continued survival depended on the whims of whether someone would want to give me my meds or not, someone who probably didn't fully understand the severity of the issue, and like many people who rely on insulin, I could be killed by medical neglect at any time. I only had 5 months to live for sure and those 5 months were going to be hell.

I kept having the grave's disease-like symptoms until I figured out on my own to restrict b vitamins and iodine... Off the back of them telling me to slat load for the low blood pressure WITHOUT telling me to avoid iodized salt...

I tried to tell them this had been happening on and off since my early 20's, they told me that "wasn't possible" and "doesn't happen"...

I had one hope and it was that I was right and this had been happening on and off since my 20's and getting better in between.

5 months went by.

Your thyroid is doing fine actually :)

You said it was being torn to shreds. You said I had 5 months.

Yeah but it's fine and your levels are too.

Because I haven't eaten a food with iodine since 5 months ago other then a splash of cream in the morning and have stopped having b vitamins, but my neurologist says I really should be taking extra b vitamins, so just avoiding them in all foods to avoid going hyperthyroid isn't sustainable, so can we maybe entertain removing part of my thyroid so I can have some b vitamins in my diet and don't have to keep myself on the very edge of developing goiter to function?

No. haha. If your immune system keeps attacking your thyroid, it'll just die. You'll notice the symptoms and we'll put you on hormones. If it doesn't keep attacking your thyroid, you'll be fine :)

7+ years and my thyroid just keeps healing itself and taking beatings from my immune system so I have to live on the very edge of having goiter so I don't develop the symptoms of advanced grave's disease at any given time. ... And I had been living that way untreated for gods know how long because the hyperthyroid phases kept getting "diagnosed" as "maybe some kind of mania?" by doctors who don't seem to know what mania even -is- since my teens.

[hint: people who are manic or manic depressive don't generally -stay- manic for 2-6 months at a time without crashing, and aren't as psychologically stable as I was about it all, I was going hyperthyroid periodically and they were brushing it off as a mental health issue, which they also weren't treating because the treatments didn't help... because I wasn't 'manic' I was being flooded with adrenaline, cortisol and unregulated thyroid hormone, and it was getting slightly worse every time]

They have it diagnosed as "hashimotos thyroiditis" because -by mechanism, if not result- that's what it is. I haven't heard of anyone else that doesn't progress to the hypothyroid stage of that and stays stuck in the initial storm of thyroid hormones... But here we are. Hyperthyroid at all times because of *checks notes* aggressively recovering from the hypothyroid disorder, while it's still happening, in perpetuity. [there are two forces inside me]

They effectively gave my 5 months to live independent from care and that was when I was in my mid-late 20's. I am about to be 37.

Every time they catch a level of something actually acting up they go "holy shit more tests that organ seems to be dying!!!" And then when it doesn't and I get better they grasp for an explanation that doesn't -require- they do anything about it, like "you must just have gilbert's, haha" or blaming my personal habits for causing a 'temporary problem'.

I'm like the guy with the liver and the eagle, but the eagle is my immune system and all my tissues take turns.

Did I steal fire from the gods?

The pattern is that my immune system seems to just take turns attacking every system and tissue I have, and in doing so gives each a break long enough to heal in between. But it also means I have this rotating roster of autoimmune symptoms that's ever changing and an ever changing "hey I might qualify as having a kidney disorder this week and I won't know unless I do something to upset it" cycle of trying to figure out what tissue or organ needs my support the most at any given time.

Mostly it means doctors won't believe me, because the symptoms and tests results that were there even two weeks ago are gone now. And when they do believe me, how do you even treat that? Suppress my immune system when doing so will cause 1 of nine specific viruses to re-activate if it's already in my body and near immediately kill me?

I haven't met a doctor willing to acknowledge the genetic lack of proper immune response I have to specific viruses and offer to put me on an anti-viral -like other people with that condition are- at the same time as the immune suppressant. So I won't take the immune suppressant because I don't want to die suddenly and horribly of meningitis or encephalitis the way my mother almost did the moment covid crashed her immune response.

So I just live with it. Legitimately getting very dangerously sick with one autoimmune condition or organ failure problem after another and then bouncing back.

No fucking -clue- what this is doing to the cell lines in my body. Super curious really.

I know the perpetually high bilirubin plays some role in protecting me from aging, tumors and damage because it's an antioxidant. So there's that?

That's kind of why I'm not worried. This has been my reality since my 20s and beyond, and it hasn't killed me yet. Also no doctor has managed to do something useful about it yet other than run tests and give me the results. When they do find something concerning they always end up coming to the conclusion that their best course of action is to do nothing anyway. Especially since the fast metabolism and an additional mutation that makes me process some meds super fast and some super slow makes it kind of challenging to medicate me for anything at all.

[bishiglomper]

Every few months I end up back down the rabbit hole investigating POTS

I have Inapropriate Sinus Tachycardia which can be diagnosed with it... and just that took 3 cardiologists over a couple years to figure out. 🙄

What's super annoying is I'm already taking a lot of the things they'd use to treat it. Which is why I'm so unsure whether I have it or not. Everything is just borderline or comes and goes

Also unsure because some things feel contradictive. Like I'm on a shit ton of beta blockers to control my heart rate but isn't pots a drop in blood pressure? Are my meds just pushing me too low? I used to have a BP of literally about 120/80. Nowadays it's about 10 less.

I also read caffeine helps since it dilates the blood vessels. I have a cup every day. and SSRIs help which I'm also on.

I had a poor man's tilt table test once but if I'm already on all the things I'm not going to exhibit symptoms very much am I 🙄

Another thing that makes me question it is that one time I donated blood I spent an hour trying not to pass out. When I finally tried to get up and was ALMOST released, my BP went wonky. I started dropping then, just standing there waiting for the car. The paramedic was very intrigued by that. 😂 But POTS is like a blood volume thing, or a bad distribution of it. It makes sense to me removing that much blood would aggravate that.

And I know, if I'm already on all the things then what's the problem? I wanna fucking record of it. Validation!!

I may have PCOS or something too but once again, I was told there wasn't any point testing for it since I'm already on all the things. 😑

The nearest POTS specialist is like 3 hours away 🥺 I don't wanna make people deal with that if they're just going to do the same thing.

I wanna be tested without being on all the things for a pure result. I don't wanna go all that way just to be like "welp it's being adequately managed so just keep doing that"

No. Fuck you. I want a diagnosis D<

I want the doctor to test me without the meds. But I don't want to stop taking my meds unless we're absolutely doing that, and I want it to happen as quick as possible so I'm not just dying for a few weeks for no reason. But the doctor won't communicate with me before hand.

I just want to be more efficient than driving there for a 20 minute talk and having to come back later to actually do things. Like delay doing things so i can stop the meds first.

Am so exasperated with all this 😓

[thespiritoflife]

Hi Love, I hope you're doing alright. I saw both of your posts about not doing well and getting medicine for your panic disorder.

And I wanna say. I'm so proud of you for taking that step. The first step of getting a doctor and getting the meds is always the hardest.

I do have a few tips, although I don't have a panic disorder. I have severe depression, anxiety and adhd.

(Down below is quite a bit of info. Perhaps even scary/nervewracking. And I'm not trying to scare you so I'm so sorry if I do. I just want you to know some things that I didn't personally know when I first started taking meds)

I want to note though. Keep your head up. Don't stop trying. The first medicine doesn't always work for everyone. The whole process is trial and error to find the one that works for you. So if it doesn't help, don't feel too bad yeah?

I know that for me, it took 5 different types before getting to Zoloft which works for me. And I'm currently on my 4th attempt to find one for my Adhd.

I read in your thing of if get weightloss from meds. I'm sure your doctor mentioned it but I want to mention it. If you're someone whose weight fluctuates and you find your self lose or gain 10 pounds. It's not bad. But keep an eye on it, make sure it's not a constant and only a sudden one and done.

For me. Zoloft made me gain 15 pounds. And after trying so many times to get a med to work. I honestly don't care. I'd rather be mentally okay. Ofc it's different for everyone but just know it's normal.

Something my doctor never mentioned, was be absolutely careful when it comes to missing your meds. Some meds it's totally okay to just drop it. But others like Zoloft and high dosages, If you cold turkey it, it can Hurt a lot.

If you get any symptoms of feeling sick within first two days of taking a new med. Stop. Idc what a doctor says "you'll get used to it" or "it's a gradual thing" absolutely not. The pain and suffering of getting sick from a medicine is not worth it. I tried powering through once before and I severely regret it.

There's good doctors and bad doctors. Good who actually do the research on meds and bad who go based off of old informational packets.

Idk about most meds. But if a doc says "this used to be used for this. But it's not anymore cause it doesn't work" DONT. if you get prescribed it. Research it before taking one.

I got prescribed blood pressure meds that my doctor said "isn't used to treat that anymore" and said it will help me sleep. I probably almost died cause I already have low blood pressure and got given meds to lower blood pressure.

That's all I can remember at the moment. But If you have any questions, you're more than welcome to come to my DMs.

I really hope you have a safe experience and find something that helps you. We all care for you and wish you the best.

Hello my sweet kind anon🤍 Whoever you are, this means lot to me, you coming into my askbox to encourage me. You're sweetheart🤍🤍

No worrries, you didn't scare me at all !! I am thankful for these tips!!

Yes, you're totally right!! I know, mental health is more important than number of your weight and I need to learn that. If I will be heavier but happier, I won't care too!!

Oh my, I didn't know that!!! That it isn't good to feel sick when taking meds! My doctor didn't tell me about it😶 Thank you so much for telling me, oh my god!! I just need to talk about my doctor about it! And I need to change my meds probably too! 🤔

Oh my god, I am sorry for you that you almost died!!! That's horrible but it's doctor's fault!! How could this happen??!! This stuff shouldn't NEVER happen. Some doctors really should think before saying!!!

But you know what, I am happy for you that you found meds - Zoloft and that it helped you!!

i just had phone call with my doctor, i am gonna take other meds!!

Thank you so much sweet nonnie, you're an angel!! And I am here for you too, if you needed me, anytime. I'll try to help you. I love you so much!

And you're damn strong!! Know that

We all can do that!!!!

[sinningismywinning]

“I’ll See You At The Finish Line”

Requested One-Shot : Shelby Sister! x Shelby Brothers

Prompt: The boys have gone to war, expecting you to be there for when they come home. Little did they know, you were recruited as well.

   Tight chests. Anxious ticks. They were leaving. You couldn’t force out your words. You were worried that you wouldn’t say everything you needed to say. Afraid that you’d kick yourself in the ass later on for not saying enough. Did they know you loved them? That you were praying for a safe venture?

   “Don’t cry,” Arthur was never this affectionate. His arms held you tightly. “Don’t go, please don’t leave.” Your voice was hoarse from sobs. They were recruited. You had known about this day for weeks now, but you couldn’t believe it was already time for them to go. Polly looked to Arthur as she stood behind you. It was a joke between everyone, that you were the fifth Shelby brother. You were always closer to the men, than you were to your aunt and sister. 

   Arthur wasn’t afraid of dying. He was afraid of hurting you. Scared to hurt Ada, Pol, and little Finn. He was even more afraid to see his brothers die next to him. “Al-Alright,” he tried to coo as gently as possible. Tears were threatening to spill from his eyes. Ada was a wreck in the kitchen. All of the Peaky women were.

   John hushed you softly as he helped Arthur pry you off. “You’re coming back right?” You pleaded to John. “You wont leave, yeah?” Your words weren’t convincing. Three men, same war. You knew the possibility of all three coming back were low. You just didn’t know which one had the odds against him.

   “I’m gonna come back, I promise.” John smoothed your hair. He was always the stronger one out of both of you. More reserved, more laid-back. He knew how to calm you. Arthur made his rounds of goodbyes, as he embraced Polly. Ada was pleading to Thomas in the kitchen. 

   They haven’t seen you cry like this before. They were use to it with Ada. She gave them a soft-spot for emotions. She made them more understanding of women in general. Pol was very head-strong, and tried her hardest to not break down in front of the boys. But you, they haven’t seen you cry since your father left.

   You shut your eyes tightly as he pulled you into his chest. Your breathing was shaky. His hands trembled on your back. John closed them to fists, trying to hide his nerves. It was no use. He was as scared as you were. 

   “Don’t worry,” his time was running out. He inhaled sharply through his nose, and regretfully pulled away from you. “They’ve gotta go love,” Polly softly remarked. Her words burned like an iron. 

  You shook your head in defiance, but you knew they had to leave. Your family couldn’t afford more Shelby men in prison, and they couldn’t spare money for a fine.

   You let go of John. Your chest knotted and you picked at the fabric of your sleeves. Don’t break down. Keep it under wraps.

   Arthur and John said their tearful goodbyes, and grabbed their items. They headed to the front door. The room was too tense. There was nothing you could do to stop them.

   You had to see Tommy. You turned to the kitchen and he was already walking out. He stopped walking, just to look at you. You were never this weak, this fragile, this afraid.

   “Don’t cry, please.” Before the war, his words could melt a room. He set down his bag and approached you. He was the one that would hurt the most. You and Tommy had a different bond than anyone else in your family. You both had a mutual understanding for each other.

  He was always honest with you about family affairs. He never spoke down to you, or dismissed you as an annoying younger-sister. He treated you like a best friend. Your minds clicked. He always confided in you before any big change in the company.

  His hands wiped away your tears. He was the only one you didn’t want to cry in front of. His hands moved to your cheeks as he held your face. “Don’t break my heart now,” he said lightly with a smile. You didn’t want him to change after the war, but you knew that they all would.

   You felt as if you wouldn’t have any direction without them. No sense of mind. Polly was helpful, but you had a tendency to rebel against her suggestions.

   You could only shake your head in response to his words. You felt your lip tremble and you knew you were close to losing it. His hands kept you steady. “Please be safe,” was all you could muster. You were going over the things you’d remember him for in your head. His bar-fights, slick jokes, willingness to help people. You were going to hold onto that, and hope that he did the same. “I will.. I will,” he mumbled reassuringly, pulling you into a hug.

   Your tears burned hot as they drenched his shirt. You held onto him tightly. No one in your family was this affectionate. You weren’t use to it, and neither was he. Situations like this made most of you uncomfortable. This was different. You didn’t want to let go. Tommy didn’t either. “I’ll make my way back to you,” he promised. You couldn’t stand the thought of being alone without him. No one else picked your brains quite like he could. 

   “I guess I’ll see you at the finish line,” you spoke into his shoulder. He knew it was time to go, when Polly walked near and shot him a knowingly-glance. He couldn’t be late to the station. There was love between all of you in that house. It went unspoken. 

   “That you will,” he said pressing a kiss to the side of your head. He backed up and firmly clasped your shoulders. “No more crying. When I come home, you better have not snuck any boys into the house. And if I find out, its your ass.” he threatened to lighten your frown. “No promises, I’ll just have them sleep in your bed,” you laughed through stinging tears. Your face was red from distraught, but you mustered a smile. His hands dropped from your shoulders. All he could do was nod with tight lips and fake a smile. Now it was really time for them to go. He picked up his bag from the floor.

   You couldn’t move. You stared at his back as he walked to the door. Arthur and John had been waiting outside. At least they would all be together. They weren’t by themselves in all of this. “Oh and another thing,” Tommy called back as he opened the door. “Don’t fuck with my things,” he said pointing a finger specifically to you. “No promises,” you responded once again. He shot you one last weakened smile, and with that, they were gone.   

   The months to come were hectic. Getting into the swing of managing the business, and gambling accounts was rough. Pol knew what she was doing, and helped earnestly to guide to and Ada. Yet, she had more of a knack for it than you did. 

   The house was quiet. It was also clean. You began to realize how messy the men in your family were. It didn’t take long for you to register that you had no purpose in the house. You didn’t contribute to womanly duties, and quite frankly, you never intended on doing so.

   When you first caught wind of more nurses being needed in war, it quickly became a thought in the back of your head. You were never ill at the sight of blood, and have always wanted learn proper stitching methods. You’ve closed up wounds, but no one’s ever said you’ve done the prettiest job.

   Polly rejected the idea of you going into war. She refused to let you leave. “Too many of us are gone. I don’t want to risk losing one of you if it’s not necessary.” Ada on the other-hand, understood your need for it. She knew you were passionate about it. Which is why she went with you to the train station.

   When Ada came back without you, Polly knew she had lied. You didn’t go to the market, you had sold yourself to the government. She didn’t speak to Ada for days. She felt betrayed. Almost all of her children except for two, stayed back from the war. Finn was just a child, and Ada knew better to partake. She never really forgave you for leaving.

   The sights you saw. The amputations, the deaths, the burns. War was a cruel thing. All the men fighting were just pawns in a game of. It was always in the forefront of your mind. What if one day Arthur was rushed in with no legs? What if Johns tore-up body flat lined in front of you? What if they never got the chance to find Thomas’ body on the field. He stayed an unnamed corpse. These were the thoughts that kept you awake in your cot.

   The hospital never slept. The noises of agony and pain rang through the halls. The pleas for mercy, the cries for death. You could never get past the smell. Sleep was off the table. Most times, you figured yourself mad. Shadows running down the hall. Shaking hands whenever someone would die in front of you. It was your fault. No matter how battered, you always blamed yourself for the deaths of soldiers. The ones that were too far gone. You’d close their eyes and wheel out the body.

   Your mind was numb. Emotionless.

   Many nights you’d spend your moments of peace crying your eyes out in the cleaners closet. You knew you were saving lives. You couldn’t help but imagine your brothers suffering the same fate as the men down the hall.

   When the war was over, infantry was sent home first. Then the back-ranks, and finally the med teams. 

   When your brothers came back from war, they were all changed. Arthur wasn’t loud and boastful. He was quiet and shut-off. John didn’t talk much within the first hour of being home, and Thomas no longer smiled. The color was drained from their faces. Polly tried to grab all of them in her arms. Arthur flinched at first, and John weakly hugged back. Thomas didn’t budge.

   Ada stood behind Polly with Finn on her hip. They were almost unrecognizable. “Just a long trip back,” Arthur muttered for a false explanation.

   “Wheres Y/N?” Thomas quipped. Polly’s face dropped, and John looked up from the floorboards. Something wasn’t right. “Well she..” Ada tried to start.

   You weren’t dead, and you weren’t missing. That much was obvious. “Spit it out,” Tommy spoke coldly. His eyes didn’t break from Adas. The pressure to answer resided heavily in the room. John sheepishly looked to Thomas.

      Polly felt the snap in him. “About three months after you all left, she did too.” Her voice was calm as possible.

   Arthur’s brows furrowed with confusion. “Moved out? Fuck happened?” He questioned. John still kept his mouth shut. They were already asking what he was wondering.

   “No, you’re not understanding me...” Polly chimed. Thomas was thinking long and hard. He saw the expression on Adas face and pieced it together. “Then say it in a way we’ll understand,” He snapped, hoping to be wrong.

   “She went to war..” Ada spoke up. Johns ears started to burn. His baby sister joined the fight? “She enlisted as a nurse. Wrote one letter telling us she was assigned to the field medics..” Her voice dropped with each word.

   Thomas couldn’t believe this. His eyes were wide with rage. “You fucking let her join?” Arthur shouted, setting his bags on the floor. There was a timid aggression that had grown in all of them. Ada felt the weight of her assistance, breaking down her shoulders.

   “You know how she is Arthur,” Polly grew defensive. “Shes stubborn and-” “And naive!” Thomas finally broke. “She left on her own Thomas!” Polly snapped back, covering up for Ada.

   John ran his hands through his hair and moved to sit near the dinner table. He still hadn’t said a word. “Are you fucking mad!” Thomas boasted. He never yelled at either of them before. Not like this at least.

   Polly saw the deep issues that grew within all of them. The fear, the aggression, the passion to hate. She took his anger. Let him get his punches out.

   “She’ll be back in a few weeks. The paper said there weren’t enough trains to send every one home.” Her words did the opposite of calm him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need a fucking smoke,” He muttered walking back out of the door.

   Arthur shook his head in disbelief. The women didn’t expect this kind of reunion. The men didn’t either. 

   Thomas sat down on the curb outside. If he didn’t leave the house, he’d put a hole in the wall. His hands were shaking as he pulled out a cigarette. It was too cold outside for his current attire, but he didn’t care.

   He lit the flame and stared at the carriages trotting by. The people on the streets embracing one another. He looked down at the cobblestone. Fucking unbelievable. You were suppose to be there when he came home. He was suppose to take comfort in knowing that you’d be there to help him through this. He couldn’t imagine what you must have seen. 

   He inhaled smoke, letting it burn his tightened chest. Now the tables have turned, and the cards were switched. He was going to have to be your support system as well. He held his forehead in his hands. He shut his emotionless eyes, and sat in thought.

   “At the end of the finish line,” he hummed to himself. His mind was still in France. Fighting a war that no one else could quite see. Yet his empty shell of a body was back in Birmingham. Broken, scarred. He inhaled, and sighed through his nose. 

   Despite his disappointment and inner rage, he knew he had to be strong to distinguish your fire that would burn brighter than his. He was just hoping you’d make it home in one piece.

@captivatedbycillianmurphy

[janelevy]

dr. bekker & the infection

requested by @thena0315 - feel free to send me an ask/message me with any ava bekker related prompts! i’ll take anything non-nsfw, platonic or romantic, with or without any other med characters.

summary: my take on what ava’s role might have been if she was around for the “infection” crossover. this definitely got longer than i intended, but i got to write ava punching a man so... i’m pleased! enjoy <3

warnings: just some icky description, and swearing.

Ava held her hand out. “Scalpel.”

The assistant pressed the tool into her hand, and Ava carefully made a cut down the center of the infected tissue. “Ugh, this is a mess,” she muttered. And it was; the patient’s skin was completely eaten away, the flesh grayish and curled in on itself. She had never seen anything quite like it, and now suddenly this bacteria seemed to be all over Chicago.

“Tell me about it,” Crockett replied. He was at work on the patient’s other arm, which also had a rotting patch on it, though not quite as deteriorated. Ava spared him a fleeting glance. Despite the nastiness of the situation, Dr. Marcel didn’t appear to be disgusted at all; if anything, he was deeply fascinated. His face was mostly concealed by his surgical mask, but she could detect the slant of his brows, the concentrated glint in his eyes.

She had just emerged from a surgery with Connor on a different infected patient when she was called into this one. In actuality, both of their pagers had gone off at the same time announcing two different emergencies that needed either one of them. Normally Ava didn’t stray from her specialty, but the hospital had started the day short on surgeons and they were grabbing anyone who knew how to use a scalpel. Ava barely had time to drop a quick kiss on Connor’s cheek before they were back in heavy-duty scrubs and off to separate operating rooms.

Ava continued slicing deeper into the patient’s arm, but it wasn’t looking good. She had been told in passing while washing up it was a young girl, only fourteen or fifteen. Secretly Ava was relieved she hadn’t been told the patient’s name; that always made things too personal when it came to dire emergency operations like this. That meant if Ava failed, she would recognize the name in the obituary in the paper, and she wasn’t about to let that happen today.

“Blood pressure’s getting a little low,” the anesthesiologist said. Instinctively, Ava stiffened but she tried to keep her movements fluid as she proceeded cutting and removing, cutting and removing. Soon she would be seeing bone.

“Well, that’s not good, now is it,” Crockett said. Ava rolled her eyes. When he switched over from the night shift to the day shift last month, she hadn’t been sure what to make of Crockett at first. Her initial impression of him was that he was quite flippant about his patients, even irresponsibly so. By now, however, she knew better; below the surface, he was just as caring and competent a surgeon as any good surgeon was. He just liked to hide it behind a spicy southern accent and overly casual demeanor.

Right when Ava thought she saw something promising - actual living tissue - she heard “Blood pressure is tanking!” right as the machines began to angrily sound their alarm.

“Pulse?” Ava demanded.

“There’s still a pulse, but it’s weak.”

“She might be septic,” Crockett pointed out.

Ava closed her eyes; her head was pounding. This shift seemed to be endless. The machines kept beeping, and she kept slicing away at this girl’s arm, and nothing seemed to be improving. She faintly heard Crockett order a dose of ephedrine, then the next second she opened her eyes and it was over.

It had been an hour since she got out from the surgery and the image of that decimated arm was still floating through Ava’s head. She had let Crockett be the one to determine if amputation was necessary, and she hadn’t stayed behind to hear what he thought. It was just too much. Now, she sat in the doctor’s lounge with her forehead pressed into her palm while she nursed a coffee mug full of lukewarm water.

This whole ordeal was viciously reminding her of when she was a second-year medical student at Chris Hani Hospital in Johannesburg. There had been an outbreak that was relatively tiny compared to what Chicago was potentially facing now. Even so, it forever scarred her mind in the same way the people she helped treat were permanently physically scarred all over their bodies. It was utterly terrifying how quickly bacteria could be transmitted, could start off nibbling away at one person then end up on a completely different arm, leg, chest, scalp.

The door to the lounge was cracked open, welcoming in the noise and chaos from the E.D. Ava was on her way out when she overheard Will walking past with an unfamiliar doctor.

“We’re going to need more samples if we want even a slim chance of cracking down on this,” the woman said.

Will nodded, a grim expression on his face. “I know... this is spiraling out of control. I think we also need more help trying to find this treatment. Three people can only do so much research. I could ask--”

Ava slid in front of them, stopping them in their tracks. “Dr. Halstead,” she greeted him formally. She turned to the woman and shook her hand. “I’m Dr. Ava Bekker, nice to meet you.”

“Hi. Dr. Andrea Danover,” the stranger said, returning the handshake.

“I couldn’t help but overhear what you were both talking about... and I think I may be able to offer some background knowledge.”

Though the situation certainly wasn’t any less stressful, Ava privately felt relieved getting to shelter behind the closed doors of the quiet lab. Will and Andrea took her to meet Dr. David Seldon, and the four of them resumed shuffling through countless slides and petri dishes under the microscope.

After testing yet another possible treatment, Will and Andrea announced they were going to collect more samples. Ava was enthused; this treatment looked promising, more promising than literally everything else they had looked at so far. It had been hours, though, and she needed a breather from the sterile air of the lab. She told Seldon she’d be right back before stepping out.

Ava took a minute to page Connor real quick, since she figured he would long be out of that surgery by now. It was a little thing they had come up with: one of them would page a short but sweet “love u,” then wait for a response. It reminded her that he was still out there, in the same building as her, healthy and breathing and okay.

Two minutes after her “love u,” she received his identical response. Trying to suppress a smile, Ava reentered the lab but right away froze in her tracks. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

Seldon was contaminating their samples, and he even wore a self-satisfied little smirk while doing it too.

“Hey!” she shouted, marching up to him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What? Oh, I’m just preparing these.” He maintained his composure, but she saw right through it.

“Preparing them for what? The trash?” Ava scoffed.

At that, he dropped his casual facade. “Listen, Dr. Bekker, you don’t want to get in my way. Why don’t you step aside and--”

She wasn’t in the mood for any bullshit, especially not from this man. She already had her sleeve rolled up, and in a few seconds Ava drove her fist into the side of his face and had him on his ass on the ground. “The lives of millions are at stake,” she spat, leaning over him. “And you’re willing to gamble them away? Fuck you.” Ava moved away from him, and he crawled back on all fours like the little rat he was. She massaged her aching temples. “Ugh, I’m too tired for this.”

[jenniez-tv]

HIPEC surgery (warning - photos of my abdomen after surgery will be shown)

The night before surgery I was on clear liquids only.. that was hard when all my family members kept talking about food and dessert.. the stomach growl was real. Haha. I spent the night playing mahjong with my family up until I had to pack and get ready to leave the house. An all nighter. Weeee. I really didn’t care to sleep since I don’t usually sleep til the morning anyways and I would be sleeping a lot in the hospital so it was whatever.

My aunt, mom, and I leave to go to the hospital around 4am (super early). We arrive, I’m sent to preop to get ready and I am super nervous.. I realized I forgot to take my anti anxiety Med before leaving the house.. UGH. I ask the nurse if she can ask the doc to give me one while I’m waiting and she said the Anesthesologist can give me something when they are ready to wheel me to the OR. Like wtf? How is that helpful? Why would I need anxiety meds right before I go to sleep for the freaking surgery?!? I need it for the 2hrs of waiting!!! She didn’t even bother to ask! Ughhhh.. like why? She is supposed to be an advocate for me.. Was not happy with her.. then she told me to relax.. HAHA. Glad I won’t see her again. Rude.

Me waiting at preop

Anywho.. next thing I know I’m awake in PACU. I’m groggy and in pain.. and of course felt myself up all over my abdomen to make sure I didn’t get a ileostomy bag. Thank god I did not! I did have a jp drain though. The Dr said he removed the organs he planned on-the uterus, ovaries, omentum, gallbladder along with 3 small things he found in my abdomen. I have no idea where and how big they were. They don’t think they are tumors but the pathology results have not come back yet.. feels like forever waiting for results.. either way, im glad it was found and removed. (Update- the results came back benign! Negative for cancer!)

I’m moved to the ICU and get hooked up to so much equipment. I stayed in the ICU for 2.5days. I had 2 iv’s, an arterial line, Foley catheter, NG tube, JP drain and a wound vac. My throat hurt so damn bad.. every time I swallowed it hurt.. that NG tube fked up my throat. I was also a not allowed eat or drink anything for 2 days until they took it out. I could not wait! Post op day 1 was a killer for me. Just trying to sit up made me cry. They wanted me to walk down the hall while pushing the wheelchair. I literally looked like a old person who has the hump back and couldnt stand straight while walking. The poor nurses were pretty much holding my weight lol. Even helping me scoot up on the bed hurt. My family said my entire body and face was super swollen . I just pictured the scene in Willy wonka and the chocolate factory where that girl turned into a huge blueberry. 🤭 I think the most annoying part of ICU was when they kept giving me blood pressure medication and IV fluids to increase my blood pressure. I normally have low BP like 80-90/50-60 told everyone. Apparently the Med surg unit (Unit I would be at until I get discharged) doesn’t like BP’S under 90. I mean seriously, I can’t be the only one with normal low BP’s.. With all the fluids during and after surgery.. I was 15lbs heavier. Ahh! I know it’s all water weight but damn that’s a lot of water weight. They also gave me potassium and it was so uncomfortable on my veins. Anyone can tell you it hurts..even when it’s diluted. It fked up my veins where on The last night in the ICU I had to get one of my IV’s replaced because anything that went through it (even saline) hurt . It was hurting even if nothing was running.

Anyways, I get cleared and transfer up to the medsurg unit. I was actually feeling pretty good considering just having surgery. I get my NG tube removed and am allowed teeny bits of water/ice. FINALLY. My throat can now get better! By the time I transferred I was making laps around the unit. I also get my wound vac removed. It was so painful because I developed a lot of blisters on the edges of the tape from the wound vac. It looked pretty gross. (Picture below). When they removed it, all the blisters broke and they even rubbed over it pulling the skin off. Then, one of my ivs stopped working so it had to be taken out. Luckily this unit only requires one IV not two like the ICU so I didn’t need it replaced.

Picture of the blisters

Picture of my incision with the wound vac and the jp drain.

Picture of my incision and blisters after wound vac removed

The next morning is where everything went downhill. I got super nauseous and eventually threw up 900cc of bile. My temp was around 101 degrees, and eventually got up to 103. I also had other signs/symptoms that showed that I got septic to something. I had to be transferred back to the ICU. Because they were not 100% sure where the infection came from (they had 2 guesses) I got 2 antibiotics that would treat both areas. My white blood cell count also dropped dramatically to 0.98 and my anc 0.74. This means that I was very susceptible to getting more infections. People had to wear a mask when they come to my room and I had to wear one when I left the room. The good news is my fever went away pretty quickly and I started feeling better. My wbc kept going up and down... I’m hoping it keeps trending up because I cannot leave the hospital until my wbc goes up and becomes stable. EEP.

While I was back in the ICU I had to get a second iv placed.. so now I have had 4 iv’s so far not including the arterial line). I’m connected to all the machines again and it takes forever for me to get to the bathroom since they have to disconnect all the monitors and attach it to a portable one so they made me use a bedside commode instead. Bedside commode?!?! The thought is just gross. I’m peeing and pooping in a room with just a curtain blocking the view. What if someone walked in to talk to me in the middle of my session? It was so nerve wrecking. I’ve cleaned up patients bedside commodes before and it’s fine but now can say that I really understand why patients apologized all the time.

After another 2 days in the icu and being septic.. And another iv needing to be replaced bc it infiltrated.. (apparently my veins are mad weak from all the meds and chemo) (now iv #5) I am finally better to go back to the Med surg unit. I’m transferred back and it feels so nice to use abnormal bathroom again. I’m still only allowed clear fluid and honestly.. even that was hard to do. I had to drink a minimum of 800cc a day and it was a struggle. So many days of not eating and drinking screwed me up. Plus I kept having this underlying nausea that just wouldn’t go away. It turned out I had a small ileus as well- A complication that can happen from abdominal surgery.

Everyday I got blood drawn twice a day.. and lovenox which is a blood thinner to prevent blood clots. Prior to lovenox, they were giving me heparin (which is 3 times a day..). My body was full of bruises all over.

Picture of some of the bruises on my arms. I had a bunch on my thighs too..

Anywho, I’m finally allowed to eat.. and man that was more of a struggle than drinking.. I would take one or two bites and be done.. it didn’t help that the hospital food was completely disgusting.. even simple foods you think they can’t mess up on.. was just gross. I was asked by family what I felt like eating so they can bring it.. but honestly I had no appetite at all. Completely different from when I was on steroids and eating nonstop.. lol. But I tried.. hard.. to eat and drink enough. They wanted to start me on tpn which is the total nutrition through a central line.. and I was not about to have it. I gave a hard hell no.

I could barely sleep.. it just felt like my stomach was being pulled or stretched apart when I moved.. was woken up non stop for meds/ vitals.. when I was able to doze off.. my days pretty much consisted of eating, taking a couple laps around the unit, napping, and repeat. I was still getting some iv fluids to help keep me hydrated.. and of course.. another iv infiltrates.. and another iv had to get started... I had a total of 6iv’s and an arterial line.. it was utterly ridiculous.. I had no more places for ivs! And I freaking hate ivs and getting poked.. but that’s all I got during this stay.. so many I lost count.. sigh..

On and off during my stay but especially the last couple of days, I had severe lower right abdomenal pain that was sharp and jabby. I prevented me from moving at all.. it was downright horrible and worse than my incision.. no one knew what it was from but I guessed maybe the drain that was inside.. I got a ct scan done and it didn’t show anything there but the drain so I got it removed.. the pain immediately disappeared!! It was such a relief!! No pain meds helped at all.. not even the slightest.. so having that relief felt so good. The drain coming out though.. felt like so much pressure and it felt like the spot that hurt was getting pulled on. I swear that drain was stuck there or something.. it was a good amount in my stomach.. I didn’t realize how much of the drain just sat in there.. kinda gross. And yes, I watched the whole thing... hahah.

Another complication I have is that my left upper thigh is numb.. and has been numb.. it never got and still hasn’t gotten any better.. I thought it was the duramorph I got during surgery but after a week it seemed unlikely.. the dr says that it’s most likely because the retractor they used to hold my abdomen opened was pressed on my thigh nerve since I’m smaller than the average patient and dmged it from it being compressed for 8hrs.. he says it will take weeks to months for my leg to return to normal.. hopefully.. but that there is a chance it won’t.. god I hope it comes back. It feels so weird and annoying to have the top of my thigh permanently numb ...

Finally my wbc is stable and continuing to trend upward (although still low) and I’m allowed to go home.. I could not wait to see my babies (my dogs), my family, and just sleep in my own bed!!

Sorry, I know this post was all over the place... i wrote parts of it at different times.. which is why some seems present and some past tense.. and I’m honestly not in the mood to go and fix it all. I will post again how my recovery is going at home soon.

Thank you all for your love and support. ❤️

[thepipsqueakery]

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So what is deadly about a little stasis? Your animal can "go into shock". In this case it would be hypovolemic shock. This means they are so dehydrated that even their blood is underhydrated. The blood volume shrinks from lack of water, and this decreases blood pressure as all of the underinflated blood vessels go slack. Many important organs such as the brain, kidneys, and heart require a certain minimum blood pressure to operate. If they don't get it, cells start dying from lack of oxygen. This is why taking a temperature with a thermometer right away is important if you suspect stasis. Any drop in temp means your animal could be hitting the "shock" stage, and it's an emergency. Keep your animal warm until you can get help. The pretty brown bunny in these videos is named Tabitha. She has quite the backstory with us. She was dumped in a park near Las Vegas that has been famous for years for being a dumping ground for domestic rabbits. Hundreds live here while a local rescue tries to round up as many as possible and other rescues send resources or accept transfers in an attempt to clean up the mess. Tabitha was found in this park by a volunteer who noticed her back legs were paralyzed. The cause of the paralysis was unknown, but they knew who to call. We accepted her and offered to pay for treatment and boarding with a Vegas vet. They started treatment for infections and injuries that could cause paralysis. If none of them worked, we'd be adding another disabled bun to our herd. Luckily, her health turned around, and she regained full use of her legs! She ended up coming here and found a home in Bloomington with a wonderful woman who volunteers at the Bloomington animal shelter. About a week ago, she noticed Tabitha was acting strange, and turning down food. She immediately called her vet (who is on our board) and brought Tabitha over to our place. I took Tabitha's temp, and it was low, so we started fluids, and I kept her under a comforter with me and some hot water bottles. Luckily, with warmth, early action, some pain meds, and a big tempting salad, she was able to turn her health around again and went home after a day in my lap with unlimited treats. https://www.instagram.com/p/B0hUzLIHwke/?igshid=j5kjharh6qwp

[mimimariet]

hi, im depressed.

but i’m also happy.

that’s probably a weird combination to have, but it’s normal really. i’m sure everyone knows that. and im just really open about a LOT of things which i’m sure anyone else with a mental illness wouldn’t be this open where as they should be open with like. a professional. but i don’t care.  as everytime i vent and cry i gotta say my disclaimer of the usual: people have it worse, i am seeking help (on meds rn), not looking for sympathy or pity, not trying to normalize the negative parts. though anyone out there if theres a hard relate or looking for hope or just plain bored reading my content. hello. i’m depressed. but i’m also happy.

when i say that i mean my hearts pretty happy.

when i’m depressed i mean my situation living here. my coworker is a piece of shit who constantly antagonizes me. he’s been talked to but he dismisses everything ever said. he’s also a huge transphobe and racist. instead of being educated he rather argue and say “offensive humor is just humor, not everyone will like it.” that’s not a defense to have. he’s also a huge trump supporter so you already know he’s a lost cause. dunno why his mom bothered popping him out.

not to mention the already been before mentioned of my family degrading me. just florida in general is shitty and i’ve expressed it for a while now -- i hate living here. the people suck, my job sucks, the weather sucks. i dunno i’m not happy here and i haven’t been in a while. i dont think there was a point where i said I LOVE FLORIDA. shits expensive. i’m 24 years old. i can’t even afford to rent some place. and i’m still walking, i don’t have my license.

it’s just frustrating that for like a year now i’m finding myself crying every night. well. almost every night. do i deserve to be treated like dirt? i dunno. is this karma for being a shitty person? i’m honestly neutral with people. but i’m fed up. and i want to fight. if i fight though i’ll be the one in trouble.

coworker sprayed me in the face by accident with glass cleaner. which causes irritation in the eyes or skin. i reported it but he’s still harassing me. and he’s been threatening me. claims “i only mess with you cause you mess with me.” yeah it’s a reaction. theres consequence to action. you’re gonna get smacked. you’re gonna get a bruise from me. i’m tired of it.

other than that though.. i’ve had some pretty great support by my side. like. i dunno. my hearts happy. give credit where credit is due. i’m so grateful for isaac. i feel so so so loved and i love him so much.

and i’m terrified cause he’s visiting in 56 days. he’ll actually be here. bought the tickets in november. and i just hope it goes well. i really do.

lot of personal issues i have to work on but a lot of them are really vanity along with mental problems. shit i can’t really afford right off the bat. take years to fix this mess. why im so nervous.

just ready to be with someone whos got that unconditional love for me and i really hope he still likes me upon seeing me at the airport LMAO.. ughhh. i’m miserable i’m so so miserable.

i’m worn out. there was a week where i was unbelievably exhausted. i’m a workaholic. i’ll draw constantly. i’ll have manic moments where i’ll literally draw the whole day and miss meals. (i’m not healthy lol) but for 2 days i slept. for 12 hours each. and i hated myself. i quite literally took days off. and i hate doing that cause i’m left with guilt of UNPRODUCTIVITY. which is something i need to work on.. Giving myself breaks.

My body’s falling apart tbh. almost 2 weeks ago my knees started giving me issues. and i just laid in bed. worn out. and isaac told me i needed to like make this doctors appointment (which is in 12 hours) to see what i need to do to get healthier. (he isn’t the only one concerned but he’s definitely the one pushing me.) i dunno if anyone’s long time followed me but 2 years ago i was diagnosed pre-diabetic, weighed 196 pounds. went off my medicine in a dangerous fashion and dropped nearly 30 pounds. dunno my status though. never checked up on that. that’ll be today’s event. if not the next appointment. new patient shit y’know. being that low-key suicidal type of person i just didn’t care about myself and i’m really paying for it now by giving myself anxiety issues out the daily. wonderful. good job me. like. for one my teeth have been fucked since childhood. so that’s an expense on its own. but high blood pressure and i almost thought i was having a heart attack (got laughed at) and just figured it was panic/anxiety attack so whatever. i’m not doing so hot. that’s apparent. ah well. making the steps.

again i’m so grateful for this boy and there’s no way for me to truly express that enough. i’ll take the fucking bullet for him. he’s my ride or die.

often worry about being a cling on. i like the attention of one person at a time. i attach so hard to people and i’m paranoid i’m gonna push them away cause being clingy is “toxic”.

i dunno my preference isn’t to isolate myself. i like being a loner but i like being a one on one person. i like being alone but i dont like being lonely.

a workaholic with a liking of like 5 people max really.

and i’ve tried doing this reassurance thing where if i’m feeling like garbage for just existing my mind says “youre human, you’re kind, you dont deserve this shit you deserve respect you deserve love”

but i got so fucking annoyed with myself that i just stopped doing it. it’s ANNOYING AS FUCK. I HATE IT. I hate myself. but i’m all i got. i’m entertaining and loving as all hell. til i depersonalize which happens often enough to stress me out even more. oh well. this is my life. i gotta do better..

sigh.

tired.

still alive.

[thedistantstorm]

A Shipwright Worth Her Salt Chapter 08

In which: Everyone has to deal with their choices.

“Do I even want to know why you're here? Where is Zavala?” Ikora can't help the sharpness of her tone.

Cayde sidles up next to her and laughs. “Listen, there was a slight hiccup in a mission, Zavala came to clean up, and now we're here to help you out while he ties up some loose ends in the field. Nothing crazy.”

Ikora arches an eyebrow. “You do know I have an entire network of operatives who can find out just about anything about anyone, yes?” Her voice is low and predatory, and Andal puts a firm hand on the other Hunter's shoulder. They're friends, but Ikora is married to her work and has been since long before she became the Warlock Vanguard officially.

“Don't worry about Zavala, Ikora. Cayde has been kind enough to take on my tasks, and I will manage Zavala's.” The hand on Cayde's shoulder becomes crippling when he looks back at Andal with that ‘I didn't sign up for this’ look of his.

Ikora sits back in her chair at the Vanguard table, looking for all the world a queen. “So, what makes you two so generous all of a sudden?” Andal thinks that the picture would look more complete if she had a glass of wine in her hands. She looks away from them with a certain smugness about her. “Certainly it doesn't have anything to do with the little girl in med-bay alpha.” Looking back at dual-guilt stricken faces, she sighs, gesturing that it's time to get everything out in the open. “I'll have the details now.”

The Hunters fold. Nothing gets past Ikora.

She motions for them to sit and sends a message on her tablet. Sloane appears immediately afterward, like she's been waiting in the wings this whole time. “Ma'am?”

“Sit. These two were just about to explain why you've been doing all of Zavala's work for the last two days. I figured you would want to listen in.”

Cayde fidgets and Andal scoffs. “I'll not have this made known through the Tower, Ikora. The man is entitled to due privacy, just like you are. Traveler knows I look the other way enough for you. I realize you are his second, Sloane, but-”

“Anything you say will be kept private,” Sloane says, sitting rigidly in a seat beside Ikora. “The Commander was not himself when he left. I'm… concerned.”

Would wonders never cease, two Titans with the warm and fuzzies in as many days. Andal and Cayde exchanged looks. Things kept getting weirder and weirder around here.

Ikora nods. “We cannot help unless you tell us what is going on.” The predatory gaze wanes, and she takes on a more motherly demeanor. “Start at the beginning.”

Andal grins. “Been hearing that a lot lately.”

-/

It's late when Sloane dips into the room. Aashimah is hovering quietly between Guardian and child. The girl is hooked up to several monitors and has a machine breathing for her.

If she did not know the man in the chair, his back to her, she'd assume it to be the girl's parent.

“Ahem.” She cleared her throat quietly. “Sir?”

He jolted, obviously woken by the address. His Ghost turned her optic toward Sloane, irritation plainly visible.

“I have been trying to get him to sleep for hours now, Deputy Commander,” She snarls as Zavala puts a hand atop her shell.

“It’s alright,” He cautions her, blinking back the sleepiness from his eyes. “Sloane. What are you doing here?”

She toes at a scuff on the floor, clearly not sure what to say.

“Better yet, how did you know where to find me?” The whoosh-click of a ventilator is the only sound in the room. It almost sounds like hydraulics if she doesn’t look at the body in the bed.

“Ikora pressed on Andal and Cayde.” His eyes narrowed at the confession. “They didn’t give specifics, but Ikora put it all together.”

“So you saw fit to come down here to investigate yourself.”

“Actually,” She bristled at the accusation in his tone, “I came to see if you needed anything.” After a pause, she added, “Sir.”

After a momentary staring contest, he motioned for the other Titan to sit. “Sit-rep?” He asked, after she dropped a folding chair beside his own and lowered herself into it.

“Everything is fine. Nothing new, unless you count the increased number of Fallen in the Outskirts.”

Despite lowering her voice, a pair of hands come up toward the tube going into the girl's mouth while Sloane gives her account of recent events. Zavala moved quickly, hands taking hers gently.

“Don't touch,” He soothes, as green eyes open and track his luminescent ones in the low light. There’s a soft gurgle, the ding of a machine, and what seems like a silent conversation. He puts a palm on her forehead. “Easy now. They’ll take it out soon enough. Rest.” Her eyes close for a moment, and then open again. She’s no longer fighting the ventilator to breathe, though her eyes water from being awake with it down her throat. She blinks and looks to the newcomer in the room and then back, the question in her eyes.

“Sloane,” Zavala’s ghost chimes, her voice almost melodic in the silence. “She's a friend, Little One.” Optic settling upon the off-duty Guardian, she continues. “Come over and say hello.”

Sloane stands rigid, surprised to be addressed by the Commander’s normally silent partner in such a conversational manner after irritating her. She approaches the other side of the girl’s bed so that she’s in decent view. Zavala withdraws the hand from her forehead and Amanda blinks over at Slone with curious, tired eyes.

“I know we’ve worked together before,” She hums in her alto voice, “But it’s nice to meet you in person. The name’s Sloane.”

Zavala looks over at his second in command with a scrutinizing glance. The girl raises her right hand toward the Deputy Commander. Sloane smiles and grabs it with her own. The girl’s handshake is firm. When they release each others’ hands, she puts hers back to her side and allows her eyes to drift closed again, accepting of the newcomer.

Both Titans return to their seats as she falls back asleep - evidenced by the decrease in heart rate and blood pressure on the monitor above her bed.

“Cayde mentioned an ambush,” She ventures, quieter than before. “But he said it was a building collapse that injured her. Is her prognosis-”

Zavala sighs at that. “She’s going to live,” He says softly. “But she is rarely alert for more than a few moments at a time, or wakes confused and combative, hallucinating. The physician says that it is a part of the infection, from the field amputation. Most injuries like this have the propensity to be fatal, but they believe she received treatment in time.”

She looks over at the girl, noticing the wide, large bandage that distinguishes her right leg ending significantly short of the other. “They didn’t say anything about that.”

He gives her a sharp glance, and she puts her hands up. “I suppose not. Cayde and Andal,” He breathes, taking a moment to compose himself. He supposes he should speak on the subject, as it will likely be common knowledge soon. “Were attempting to rescue her from a Pike Gang. She was attempting to raid their vehicles. A ruddy salvage mission with pisspoor intel.”

“Alone?”

He allows himself an irritated grunt of affirmation. Composing himself, he says, “We assume it was one of the Servitors that collapsed the building she was in. Her leg was… crushed. Andal and Cayde did what they could to allow us to extract her. The cost...”

She puts a hand on his shoulder. “If I may, Sir,” She says, sure to meet his eyes. “You don’t need two legs to fly.”

He shakes his head. “I suppose not. But none of this would have happened if I-”

The dinging resumes, drowning out the sound of a gag. Both of them look up. The blonde’s sitting up straight in bed, shaking her head despite the tubes connected to her. She’s trying to tell him no, it’s not his fault, and her general inability to communicate - and the fact that she’s choking herself trying to do so - is only getting her more worked up.

“Should I go get someone?” Sloane asks tentatively.

“No. Leave us,” He says, turning back to the girl. “She’ll calm.”

She nods, and sees herself out. Immediately, the girl flops back against the pillows and holds both hands out to him, seeking to comfort him. She only relaxes when he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, and she’s turned on her side, bad leg kicked out behind her so that it rests on a pillow, the rest of her curled around him, and her hands holding his atop his knee.

He can’t understand it. If he had made a different choice that day, had tried to take on both his obligation to the city as well as the one he refused to acknowledge he had to her…

None of this would have happened.

-/

Amanda has her good leg pulled up so that her chin rests on her kneecap, her stump kicked out in front of her. She's trying to lift it, but her muscles throb and burn with the cramping pain of a limb that's no longer there. She grunts and feels her body shake before she overtaxes herself and flops back against the couple pillows behind her back, limply.

She absolutely should not be moving this much, but she’s so tired of being stuck in this stupid bed. It hurts beyond measure when she finally scoots back down under the covers, pulling them up to her armpits and reaching for the tablet left for her on the side table.

“You know,” Comes a smooth tenor voice from the doorway, “It might not hurt so much if you actually took the meds they gave you.” Cayde sashays into the room and plunks down next to the bed in a folding chair that he turns around and straddles. “How ya doing, kid?”

She scoffs. “Up until this happened, y'all treated me like an adult. What gives?”

“You're kidding, right?” He gestures to her leg. “You nearly died. That first night - ah, okay. Not going there.�� Awkward head scratch. “You discuss this with Zavala at all? You seemed pretty okay with him treating you like a kid.”

She flushes hotly at that. “I was outta my mi-”

“Is it because I'm an Exo? Just because I'm silicone and metal doesn't mean I don't have feelings, Amanda,” He mock pouts.

That earns him a giggle. “I know you gotta heart in that shiny body a'yours, Cayde. And I haven't seen Zavala since…”

Cayde shrugs. “...Since you were having fever dreams and had to be heavily medicated?” She looks away, embarrassed. “Aw, c'mon. Don't be upset, he'd never hold it against you. Besides, I think he liked that he was the only person you'd let comfort you. Made him feel special, not that I appreciated it very much. I thought I was your favorite.”

“Cayde-6, you are not making me feel better.” Her cheeks are rosy - more embarrassment related than from her lingering fever - and she refuses to look at him, still.

“Deal with it, kiddo. You know who'll be back sometime tomorrow and you know he's going to come check on you - heaven forbid we acknowledge personal matters on the comms, Vanguard matters only, yadda yadda, I'm sure he's beside himself. Anywho... it's kinda good that he won't be back ‘til then. Gives us some time to...” She sneaks a glance at him. He's got that look on his face, and his hands make a vague gesture. His ‘mano-a-mano’ discussion face.

“What is it?” She shifts uncomfortably to get her stump in a less painful position, but ends up lifting her leg with her hands to move it where she wants. Everything is sore from falling several stories, and most of her backside has bloomed into shades of black, blue, and a curious greenish-purple.

Cayde gets up and shuts the door to her room.

She blinks. Must be serious.

“What do you remember about all this?”

Amanda frowns, crosses her arms. “About this?” She gestures down at her leg. Cayde nods, but stays silent. Patient.

Too patient.

“I r’member you guys findin’ me, but it's all a little foggy. I say somethin’ stupid to get you in trouble?”

“No! No. Not really. I mean, you didn't. It's more of something Z - er, we told him to do, and you kind of - I mean, you didn't really handle it well, and-”

“Just spit it out, Cayde.”

The words come out in a hurry. “We didn't know how else to keep you from moving, and I totally didn't you'd relive that or I never would have had him hold you down like that and I'm just, I'm sorry. I never even thought about it, I just wanted the most efficient way to...” He rambles.

Her fists twist in the blankets. “By reliving ‘that,’” She air quotes, “You mean-”

“Yeah.” Cayde bows his head.

Breathing gets heavier. She grounds out, “I don't remember it.”

“It's probably for the best. I can, y'know, handle it for you and we can just-”

She's furious and ashamed, and it's rolling off of her in waves when she interrupts. “Who held me down, who did I think was… was-” Her voice cracks and she can't force the rest of it out.

“Amanda, I'm-”

“Just fuckin’ tell me! If it was you we wouldn't be-”

“Zavala. It was Zavala, okay? I've been avoiding him like the plague since, er, all this, but he wants answers and I don't know what you want me to tell him!” His voice escalates as he keeps rambling and she keeps drawing further in on herself as he does. “He's going to come back here and sooner or later I'm going to have to-”

“Get out.”

“What? Amanda, don't be-”

She's shrieking now, inconsolable. “Get OUT!”

“Kid, please, I'm sorry.” He reaches his hand out and she flinches hard. “I never meant for-”

“I, know,” The words come, forced. She's staring at the wall, body pitched away from him. “Leave me alone. I can't,” She pants through panic, “be ‘round anybody right now.”

He dips out without a word, but she hears the slamming and banging out in the hall. He's upset, too. It isn't his fault she couldn't control herself. She pulls her good knee up to her chest and tries to stop breathing weirdly.

When Sloane enters her room later, Amanda's got her breathing mostly under control, though she hasn't moved from her spot mostly crowded against the head of the bed.

“Is there a reason Cayde-6 is sitting on the floor outside your room looking like a kicked puppy?”

The blonde startles, meeting dark eyes. “He's,” She breathes, forces herself to speak calmly, “still outside?”

The Deputy Commander nods.

“Cayde?” Amanda says louder. “It's been a really long time.”

Shuffling and two treads of warn boots later, Cayde lingers in the doorway. “Is it okay if I come in?”

Sloane looks temporarily mortified. “Was it okay that I came in?”

Amanda pats the expanse of empty bed by her stump for Cayde to come and sit. He complies, moving slowly. Sloane watches intently, analyzing as her question goes unanswered. It isn't a refusal, and the girl had acknowledged her when she came in so Sloane stays where she is.

“I'm not mad at you,” She drawls quietly, green eyes focused on her hands folded in her lap now that she's set her good leg straight. “I just can't believe that I did that.”

“Did what?” Cayde shakes his head at Sloane, but Amanda puts her hand on his gloved one and squeezes.

“Just a panic attack,” She says slowly. Convincing enough. “Guess this whole leg business was a bit more traumatic than I thought.”

Her hand is shaky, but Cayde flips his palm over and rubs his thumb over her knuckles. It's not Sloane's business why this actually came on. No one speaks for a bit, and her hand gets heavier as she starts to fall asleep even though though she's trying to fight it. “You should try to rest. Those always tire you out,” The scout intones at a volume just above a whisper. He doesn't look at her, just keeps smoothing his thumb over pale skin. Sloane's deep eyes smolder as she regards them both.

“'M sore,” She whispers back. “Can't get comfortable.”

Sloane rises. “I'll get someone to give you something.” Amanda nods.

“She's been reporting to Zavala,” Cayde says softly. “I hacked her tablet.” Amanda giggles - it pulls on pseudo-heartstrings in his mechanical chest, how young she sounds(how young she is). “It's all super rigid Titan-speak, but he's been checking in at least twice a day.”

She hums. “He'll be back in the morning, yeah?”

“Yeah, should be. Want me to stick around until then? With the,” Vague gesture, “y'know. You might, uh, not sleep great, even with meds.”

She pulls their joined hands toward her with surprising force for a young girl. “You're a good friend,” She says, embracing him with lanky arms. “I don't deserve you.”

The Exo's vocal process clicks - going off and back online. It's the only indication that her words have made him emotional. He doesn't move to hug her back, even if he wants to. It's a bad day. He won't make it worse. “You deserve so much more than this, kid.”

When the Titan returns with an orderly and pain medication, the girl finally sleeps. Sloane and Cayde do not. Never friends and rarely colleagues, the Deputy Commander shakes her head at the thought of her commanding officer throwing down with the most rambunctious of Hunters.

Cyan optics flicker. “What?” His voice is a low rumble. Between them, Amanda shifts but does not wake.

“This girl has more than half the Vanguard - and you - eating out of the palm of her hand. She's a cute kid and a decent pilot, but it's not adding up.”

Cayde chuckles. “She's special. Makes Golden Age tech sing. You break it, she's got it working in seconds.” He releases her hand when it twitches in his grasp. “And that heart a’hers is so big, even when this world's done nothing but try to break it.”

“People - humanity face adversity, Cayde. Plenty of the refugees face similar things.”

“They do,” he agrees.

Sloane holds her hand out in a gesture that says his point makes no sense.

“So, why her?” He taps his metal chin thoughtfully as he asks himself the question. “I dunno. Maybe it ain't supposed to make sense. She's just some girl, right? And we're just dead people reincarnated to fight - to protect her and everybody else. She's a metaphor for what we're fighting for. One who's been dealt a shit hand but makes the best of it.” He puts a hand on the back of his head and stretches his synthetic spine with a groan. “Anyway, you'll probably like whatever Zavala's answer is better. I'm sure it's more eloquent.”

Another waving gesture. She hummed thoughtfully after a time, “Yours was eloquent enough. I'll take your word for it.”

-/

[sanderssides-fics]

Regret (a warning fic of the during and aftermath)

Plot: angstiety Tw: suicide,suicide attempt, attempted overdose, alcohol consumption, suicide note, CPR, hospital mention, A/N: give me honest opinions please Tags: @the-prince-and-the-emo @analogically-prinxiety @softlogic @dan-yuna @princey-and-hottopic @princeyandanxiety @the-sanders-sides _________666_________

Ann stared blankly at the wall adjacent to him, as he had been for 5 days. He didn't sleep, eat, or move other than a few blinks. Ann's thoughts were tearing at him, too busy fighting them to do much else.

"You're worthless"

"Just kill yourself"

"No one needs you here"

"Jump out the window face first"

"You're a waste of oxygen"

"You're nothing"

"You're an illness"

"You're the bad guy, and that's all...you'll ever..be"

"You've lost"

"You'll never be loved"

"Nobody would care if you're gone"

"If anything they'd be happier"

Anxiety blinked hard, bringing him back to reality "nobody would care" He repeated, tears in his eyes but he didn't cry. He wasn't scared, he was determined as he walked to his attached bathroom. 3:00...3:00...3:00 the clock blinked the early hour, Anxiety quietly searched the cabinet before finding what he needed. Serepax, oxazepan, the anxiety medication the doctor had prescribed for his worst anxiety days. He peeled the back label to seek instructions.

'An overdose of oxazepan can be fatal, please seek medical help if you suspect you have overdosed, symptoms may include:  extreme drowsiness, confusion, weakness or tired feeling, muscle weakness, loss of balance or coordination, feeling light-headed, fainting, or coma' The label read and Anxiety popped the container open, lulling out 15 pills into his hand. 'Do not consume with alcohol' caught Anxiety's dazed eye before he waddled over to his dresser and dug in the sweater drawer pulling out a bottle of gin and filled his mouth with the harsh alcohol before dumping all the pills in his mouth at once and swallowed. Anxiety returned to his bed and sat quietly 3:15...3:15...3:16 the clock flashed next to his bed. "Blink." Anxiety spoke before each flash and then he noticed he was feeling light-headed. A small disoriented 'oo' dwelled in his mouth as he also felt weak and dropped casually on to his bed. Struggling to the pull the bed covers over himself.

3:20..3:21... Anxiety didn't know where the clock went, it had melted into the pitch black room like everything else. Anxiety felt sleepy, his eyelids to heavy to hold anymore as they fell. Limp body, limp mind, 6:30..beep..6:31 Patton opened Anxiety's door and smiled seeing Anxiety was finally sleeping, didn't think twice before closing the door. He got Roman to fencing practice, soon after and Logan left for work. 

2:46..2:47 Anx's eyes blinked open and he began to cry,  he was still alive and he hated it. 

"Good job, you failed"

"You can't even kill yourself right!"

"Those are meds designed to destroy Anxiety how are you still here?!"

"Such a waste of oxygen"

Anxiety let the tears and sobs go freely, his eyes let tears go until they were dry and his throat sobbed until it burned.

He had failed, he'd try again later.

_-_

A week later, Roman had a fencing competition out of town and Anxiety offered to watch the house. Roman didn't care, he never cared what Anxiety did..at least that's how Anxiety viewed. Logan, Roman, and Patton were all gone for the weekend. Anxiety took his Blink 182 cd and put it on on that Saturday night, the family would be home around noon Sunday morning. Anxiety held the rope in his hands, a montra of encouragement in his head, the evil gremlin voices replaced with that of his family. He whimpered as he tied the noose and then secured it on the closet rod. The note he had wrote placed on his dresser beneath his phone. Adam's song played through the house as Anxiety stood on a few shoe boxes in the closet and slipped the rough thread spiral around his sensitive neck.

'Final words?' A voice in Anxiety's head spoke and Anxiety whispered how much he loved his family. How this was for them, for all of them, to keep them happy and not broken. A chain is stronger without its weak link. He let his hands drop to his sides.

Just as the boxes slipped from beneath him,  Anxiety regretted this and regretted ever thinking of it. He clawed at the rope and shook in desperate need of release as the thick thread pulled tighter around his thinning throat. A sickly gasp and breathless, soundless scream for help coming from his blue lips as Anxiety's face turned red and then purple, then pale as it dropped to meet his chin to his chest, arms falling to his sides and legs dangled like Christmas streamers.

Gentle loving embraces from Patton. 

Verbal battles ending in tackle hugs from Roman.

Debates and discussion with Logan.

Sweet memories and some bad ones floated through Anxiety's mind as he viewed his past. Swallowing his final breath and all was black, all was gone, nothing lasts forever. Anxiety didn't want to feel nothing forever.

12:00...12:00...12:00

The first to run to see Anxiety that next sunny Sunday morning was Roman,  wanting to show his first place trophy to his favourite baby brother. "ANXI!" Roman smiled bouncing to Anxiety's room until he stepped inside. His voice cut short and his mouth ran dry. "A-Anx? Thi-this isn't funny!" Prince was scared. Anx was just dangling there, feet swaying gently as the rope was almost breaking Anxiety's neck in half. The entirety of his body was pale and his eyes were shut. Roman slowly approached the hanging frame and poked Anx, the body swung back but no other movement was made. A blood curdling scream emitted from Roman, calling the attention of Patton.

When the father figure reached the door of Anxiety's bedroom he too froze. "God no! Please no!" He sobbed and broke out of his trance, running to the closet to cut Anxiety down from thread leash. The rope shredding in Patton's shaky hands as he threw it behind him and listened to Anxiety's mouth for any breath... Nothing. 

Tears claimed his face and Anxiety's shirt as Patton desperately began CPR. "Anx please, it's not your time. Oh my God come back now please!" Patton spoke, low on his own oxygen as he pumped Anxiety's chest and tried to get his lungs going with warm breaths filling Anxiety's cold mouth. Roman had ran to get Logan to call the paramedics. Patton didn't stop, he wasn't going to just let his 'son' slip away so quick... so young. Patton screamed and sobbed for Anx to wake, to respond, to breathe... to live.

Roman cried in his room, it all was too much for the prince, his mind playing tricks on him. Voices saying if he had been there more, had been a better brother, been a better person. Anxiety would be alive, he'd still have a brother to be there for.

Anxiety's pale skin, blue lips, and red throat were embedded in the Imaginative traits mind, panning views of Anxiety dangling in his closet door way. The bang of a trophy hitting the ground, the bang of his heart was some how louder. Roman pulled at his hair and screamed loud with eyes clenched shut as he realized all the warning signs Anxiety had given them of this... they could've stopped this.

Logan felt his chest tight, a heart beat was not how to deceive this rapid tempo in his chest. A bass drum of a sped up rock band, ears ringing louder than ever before. Patton's sobs and Roman's screams filled the house as Logan tried to stay calm on the phone. He knew something had been wrong but ignored it. Now their beautiful Anxiety was gone and that thought killed Logan worse than he had ever before.

Paramedics rushed in, white coats and blue masks. They checked Anxiety and pulled Patton away from the unresponsive body. Hoisting their little emo on to a stretcher and taking him away on that wheeled bed of seemingful hopeless death. Sirens in a white vehicle sped off to a far away building that released the desperate sense of out of reach help and pointless breaths stolen by demon thoughts.

Patton dropped to his knees in sobs and broken cries. Deep, shaky, staggered breaths filled the air more than the stench of death. Sobs and whimpers emitted from a darkened once lively room of the imaginary optimism that protected a hyper boy, but today these bright walls were darkened and suffocating like that dreaded rope. 'Leave me alone!' 'No one cares!' 'You're so needy!' Things once said from the royals mouth towards the fallen trait came to Roman's mind resulting in another cry of helplessness and self blame. How could he? Treating such a young soul like that? Logan lain on the couch, a Dizzy vision and headache kept him from leaving the cushions of defeat. His heart felt pressurized and painful as his ears rang louder than before, glasses fogged in his fearful cold sweat. Unable to drive, he awaited the call. Whether Of Anxiety's untimely demise or relieving survival.

One hours time lead all the boys into Anxiety's room cuddled into Anxiety's bed wuth tears on their face as they found the letter and opened it in fear of the words the boy might have wrote. Broken souls could write many things. Nothing could have prepared them for what they read though.  

"Dear family,

_____I'm sorry, I know that you tried. Those times when we were young and you were all so excited when we'd find eachother at night. Cuddle in the dark watching Disney movies with the protections of each other's necks at scary parts. 

____But there's no neck to hide in from the scary parts of life, face them head on and get knocked down. You're supposed to get up and fight your battles to win your wars and hold on to your life like a child does to their hand when their finger is sore. Tears unfolding down your face. Suck it up, was so popular as we grew up. I never liked growing up with those realizations.

____No escape from what's wrong for years on end and sometimes it just felt like nothing ever ended. There's always something wrong and nothing is ever okay and nothing is ever easy. They told me when I grew up I'd amount to something but I never did, I was only ever pain and only ever darkness. I'm the bad guy and that's all I've ever been.

____Everything is too hard these days. It hurts, it hurts a lot. I tried and it's not your fault,  it's never been your faults. I'm doing this for me because I'm selfish and stubborn,  that's what suicide is. Selfish and stubborn.

____Adding up to your expectation was too much I'm sorry. I wanted to be okay and be happy and be who you wanted me to be but I never could and I never would and I never did. Maybe when I'm gone, maybe things will be better.

____I'm sorry, I'm so sorry but it's too hard and it hurts so much. These thoughts are too loud and these words are too little. You're the best family you could have been, but I'm not worthy of it and I'm not worthy of life. Read the first two words of each paragraph and then the final sentence of this note.

_____I l♡ve you, goodbye. "

[thran-duils]

Hormones (Negan P13)

Title: Hormones (Negan Part 13) Pairing: Reader/Negan, Reader/Daryl Summary: Reader volunteers to go into Negan’s compound willingly to get inside information. Eventual Negan smut. Implied feelings between Reader and Daryl. Words: 2,231 Warnings: Language

Part 12 || Part 14 || Masterpost  || Fanfic masterpost

“You’ll need help getting up soon,” Amber laughed a little, looking down at your stomach. At six months, you were starting to really show.

You snorted and nodded. “I need to stop looking at myself in the mirror.” You snuck a look at your hands that you were keeping folded up in your lap. They had been swollen this morning and you hadn’t been able to bring it up to Negan because he had left early to go meet the men working on making bullets.

Sherry shot you a look and said, “I think you still look beautiful.”

Smiling at her, you insisted, “People feel obligated to say that to pregnant women because they don’t want to hurt pregnant women’s feelings. I look like an elephant. Or at least approaching that stage.”

Sherry rolled her eyes and disagreed, “I think there really is a bit of beauty in growing life.” You rose your eyebrows and gave her a knowing look. “I do!”

Interrupting the two of you, Amber commented, “At least they found you some cute maternity dresses.”

“Like Negan would allow her to wear a potato sack of a dress,” Sherry replied, going along with the subject change. You smiled but looked down at your hands again. Sherry noticed this time and furrowed her brow immediately. “What’s wrong? Why are your hands swollen?”

You snuck a look down at your feet and mumbled, “My feet are too.”

Unlike Sherry, Amber didn’t look that concerned. She leaned forward looking at your hands closely and your feet before inquiring, “Doesn’t that normally happen?”

“Not your hands usually,” Sherry told Amber and then said, “And even if it normally happens elsewhere, you should have it checked out. They weren’t like that yesterday.” You looked at her worriedly and she quickly added, “I am sure it’s an easy fix. And it’s nothing bad. But just to make sure. Come on.”

Following her off the couch, you stood up and went after her.

From behind the two of you, Amber threw her magazine down and got up as well. “I want to come,” Amber immediately said. She fell in tandem behind the pair of you, following the two of you out of the room and towards the elevator.

<> <> <>

Negan walked up the stairs with Dwight towards the wives’ room, readying to drop off a bag of new dresses for them. Dwight was of course carrying the bag, Negan following alongside carrying Lucille. He whistled while they ascended the stairs, joyful considering how well production was going for the bullets. He decided to unload the bag of dresses on the wives early. He had been keeping it for a later time but he was in a good mood and felt like giving them a gift.

Upon reaching the floor, Negan asked Dwight seriously, “How do you think we are doing, D?”

“With what?” Dwight asked, slightly confused.

Negan gestured around, “With rebuilding society.”

Dwight pondered on how to respond for a few moments before saying, “You’re leading well. You’ve taught us to lead well. Of course there are some fuck ups but that’s expected in trying to make something work.”

“Is it a good place to raise a kid?”

This question caught Dwight by surprise for a second. “Um… I mean the whole damn world is dangerous isn’t it? This place is more secure than others.”

Negan looked contemplative, not answering him.

Dwight felt like he knew what Negan was getting at. Negan had been talking more and more – off handedly and also not straight forward – about his baby. The closer it got to the date, the more Negan seemed to be letting on he was concerned about it.

Clearing his throat, Dwight added, “Soon you’ll have a small baby that looks like you – and more than likely will act like you too – running around. And if it’s anything like you, I think it’ll be fine.”

Negan smiled a little at the thought of it as he rounded the corner into the wives’ room. Upon entering, the girls straightened up, making themselves look presentable as always. There were missing bodies that he noticed right off the bat.

He threw his hands out a bit, demanding of the whole room, “Where are Sherry, Amber, and Y/N?” Negan demanded, looking around the room. His eyes landed on Natasha.

“They went down to see Carson.”

“For?” Negan inquired, sounding annoyed.

Natasha shrugged and said, “Y/N was swelling up or something.”

“The fuck you mean swelling up?”

“Her hands and feet. Sherry and Amber took her down. They haven’t come back yet.”

Negan inhaled deeply before snapping, “Christ! Dwight, just leave that bag. Girls, look through this and find dresses. Share them. You’re going to be all sharing them anyway. But, just pick out the ones you think you’ll all wear.”

And with that, he left the room.

<> <> <>

“I think it’s preeclampsia,” Carson informed Negan.

The trio of you had just finished discussing it with Carson when Negan had burst into the room looking for the three of you. Carson had not taken long to diagnose what was going on with you. You were having higher blood pressure than normal which meant an excess of protein. He said it was treatable. You just needed a few days to get balanced again. And after that, you would need to monitor it closely.

“It can be serious but since she came here immediately, I can get it under control.”

“The hell is it?”

“High blood pressure,” Carson explained to him. “It happens with some women. She will be alright. I’m helping her get it down with some meds that we have on hand.”

“Do we need more of those meds?” Negan asked, his voice tight.

Carson shrugged, “It would not hurt if you did find some to replace the ones we are using. We might have someone coming in who has chronic high blood pressure and they made need them.”

Negan shook his head before saying, his voice tight, “I meant for her.”

“I have enough for her. But like I said, if you want to replenish it, that’s probably smart.” Negan just gave a curt nod and Carson tried to console him, “She just needs to take the meds, drink a lot of water, and get rest.”

Rounding on you, Negan pointed, “You’re staying inside and getting rest. Go back upstairs now.”

“I was going to…” you said slowly.

“I’m making sure you don’t get distracted with Moe and Curly on your way back up. I want the three of you to head back up now.”

Amber furrowed her brow and asked, “Who are Moe and Curly?”

“Jesus Christ,” Negan said under his breath. Impatiently, he snapped at her, “Amber, it’s a fucking TV show! The Three Stooges! Now get your ass out that door and get Y/N back upstairs!”

“You don’t have to be so rude,” you mumbled turning and grabbing the pills off the table and following Amber and Sherry out of the room. Amber still looked slightly confused by what Negan had said but you didn’t have the energy to explain it to her.

Negan called after you, “Stop talking back to me, Y/N! You know I hate that fucking shit!”

Rolling your eyes, you walked up to the elevator, waiting for it to open so you could go back upstairs.

<> <> <>

The next day, you walked out of the Sanctuary coming into the yard. The walkers were background noise. You rubbed your stomach, moving down the stairs to do a lap around the building.

Negan was coming around the corner with Simon, Dwight, and Daryl. He looked put off instantly seeing you outside – especially without someone with you. You knew he was going to lecture you the instant you saw the look on his face.

Approaching you, Negan looked down at you concerned. “Y/N… baby,” Negan started in, his voice low. “How about you go back inside and rest up a little?”

You didn’t want to go back inside. Being inside all day yesterday and most of the morning was honestly making you grumpy. It was stuffy inside. “I’ve been resting all day. I want to walk around.”

“You can walk around inside.”

“Where it’s stuffy and full of annoying shitheads?”

Negan’s lips went into a thin line, peering down his nose at you. You would not be deterred from this easily and he was seeing it was going to be a challenge. “I know you’re hormonal and shit and –”

“This has nothing to do with hormones, Negan! I am tired of being inside!”

Negan retorted, “Because being out here is good for you with those dead motherfuckers walking around?”

“Maybe you should take me back to Alexandria where there aren’t dead motherfuckers walking around inside or anywhere I could see?” you spat back at him, losing your temper. Negan looked pissed off at the mere mention of you leaving to go back. You knew you were making a mistake but you did not care. Daryl did care though.

“Y/N...” Daryl warned you quietly from behind Negan, which went ignored by you.

“Christ! I could be outside all the time and not be cooped up inside a stone building!” You continued. “I need some goddamn sunlight every once in a while! You can’t just leave me inside because you’re worried I’m going to trip or one of the walkers is going to get lose or I BLEED or any other bullshit like that! It could happen inside too!”

“Y/N!” Daryl said with more force.

Negan turned to look at Daryl and spat, “Butt out, Daryl. Let her dig her own grave!”

You rolled your eyes, “So you’re gonna kill me because I’m pissed off you’re treating me like a child?”

“I’m not treating you like a fucking child. Jesus fucking goddamn Christ!” Negan shouted, losing his temper as well. “Get back inside!”

(gif)

“NO!”

“Don’t fucking tell me no!”

“You’re being an asshole! And you’re giving me high blood pressure!”

Negan inhaled deeply and shakily, looking like he was trying to control his anger. “You think I’m giving you high blood pressure? Sweetheart, you have no idea how much I want to take Lucille and bash someone’s head in to release the fucking goddamn fucking frustration you’re instilling in me right now!” You narrowed your eyes at him, not backing down. Scoffing loudly at your impertinent demeanor, he shook his head. “Asshole, huh?” he asked you, his voice eerily calm from a few moments before. You said nothing, staring him down angrily. Negan clicked his tongue before looking over at Simon who was standing nearby. Simon merely looked back at him, his expression unreadable. Negan’s eyes flicked to Dwight. “Cut the rations down for that kid and his mum,” Negan ordered Dwight. Your mouth fell open and he noticed, looking at you with satisfaction. “That get your damn attention?”

“That’s unfair! They didn’t do anything!”

“No, they didn’t. But they’re gonna pay for your actions. Now how does that make you feel?”

Negan’s nose was inches from yours, his voice low and threatening. “How is that for being an asshole?” You stared back at him, your jaw clenched tightly. Negan scoffed before telling you, “Now, you’re gonna go back inside like I fucking asked ya too or I’m really going to lose it.”

Clenching your fists at your sides you huffed before turning on your heel and walking back towards the door.

“You really want me to do that?” Dwight asked him as soon as you were back inside.

Negan shot him a look and snapped, “Of fucking course not! I just wanted her to follow what I was fucking asking her to do!”

“You probably should let her outside,��� Simon chimed in and Negan rounded on him looking murderous. Dwight and Daryl watched the pair warily. Simon was the only one who could stand up to Negan like this and one, not be afraid and two, not be worried his head was going to get bashed in. “She’s right. She needs to be out getting fresh air.”

“She can get fresh air tomorrow! Christ! She just had a problem yesterday!” Negan told him angrily.

“Tomorrows fine,” Simon continued calmly. “Just letting you know what I think about it. And I’m sure Carson would agree. She’s going to get cabin fever if you keep here in there. And she is in a rotten mood and she should have watched her mouth. But, even you acknowledged she’s not feeling like herself.”

Negan scowled, “I don’t need relationship advice, Simon!”

“I’m not talking about your relationship. I’m talking about her well being. Fresh air. Vitamin D. You want her healthy? She needs both of those.”

Rolling his eyes, Negan scoffed, “Tomorrow! Like I said! She just needs some damn time to get her blood pressure down again and then it’ll be better.”

“You’re going to have to apologize to her.”

“Are you going to give me some pointers?” Negan taunted at Simon, annoyed to high heaven as he began to walk again.

“If you want them!” Simon replied, a half smirk playing on his face.

Negan waved him off. “I can woo my wife fine, thanks,” he muttered under his breath. Over his shoulder he called, “Go collect those bullets! I have something else to deal with!”

~~~

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[braindamageforbeginners]

Warlocks

Week 4, Day 28, Radiation dose 18, serum infusion #4

I am feeling awful - as I usually do on these days that make me bring me slightly closer to being Captain America, but, I’m still eating and seeing Liam Neeson movies (one of those is a good thing), and I can still recall my blood pressure and heart rate - 144/77, and 68 bpm, so things aren’t too bad. Which is also due in no small part to the mind-numbing amount of drugs and/or black magic holding me together. Which brings up the title of this week’s post; it would not surprise me to learn that my current physicians are dark mages. Faithful readers will recall my constant, obsession with keeping up-to-date and fully-supplied with any necessary medications at any given moment (also, lest anyone think I’m being needlessly addicted to chemicals (although I fully intend to keep a salt-lick of zofran near me at all times, should I survive this), I’m getting weekly, very expensive blood panels - today, my kidney function’s in the low-normal range, as is my potassium)(which might be due to the fact that my alarm didn’t go off and I only had 30 minutes of time to gulp down several cups of water, forget breakfast). And the warlocks here have surpassed expectations on that front. In this particular case, due to a series of mishaps, I was running low on anti-seizure medication, and, before freaking out and calling the original surgical team that prescribed the meds, I figured I’d let the wizards handle it. Good call, that. The entire conversation was: RESEARCH COORDINATOR (who, it should be pointed out, is not one of the Warlocks, just their administrative gate-keeper): You mentioned you needed a prescription refill earlier? SELF: Yeah, uh, keppra, 500 mg twice daily. I can try and get ahold of the charge nurse who originally prescribed it. RC: I think we can handle it. How much do you have left? SELF: I’m good until Thursday or Friday, if you don’t want to call it in until then. RC (giving me a dirty look): No, we like all of our patients to have a weeks’-worth of their meds at any given time. I’ll make a call. Your infusion’s done in - what, two hours? Check the pharmacy in three.

Now, to understand how very spectacularly Twilight Zone-y this all is, you have to realize that I’ve spent sixteen years in the medical industrial complex - usually on the receiving end, but I do have a little insider’s knowledge of the rule book. I have never - ever - heard of getting a prescription that was originally prescribed by one clinician getting renewed by another clinician in less than a day. That just does not happen, in the same way that water has a hard time running uphill. However, in two unrelated episodes within two weeks, the Warlocks have delivered the goods. That is, administratively, the equivalent of spotting a hippogriff and a unicorn in the same month. I’m toying with the idea of asking them for a heroin prescription, but, given how quickly they stomped out my medical marijuana request (not that I’m a major fan, but it helps a lot with those nasty suture headaches), they’re not enablers. But, that is neither here nor there; I walked out with that warm radioactive glow that comes from knowing you are paying people buckets of money to blast you with dangerous, rare forms of radiation in the foolish hope it’ll keep the brain demons at bay (the best those morons in Beverly Hills can manage are colonic cleanses, the pansies). That feeling quickly faded and I started to wilt, so I did head on for a low-dose of deccadron and lots of coffee (pro-tip for anyone reenacting the Cancer Survivor Trail; there’s a Philz Coffee Shop in Encinitas, which, conveniently, is half-way from where I write these tales, and where the magic happens. Thus fulfilled, Dad and I turned East, to see the latest mayhem from the philosopher Neeson. The best that can be said is, if I didn’t suffer a seizure whilst watching this film, it seems unlikely that I’ll suddenly succumb in the middle of a grocery story. Also, it’s nice to see Hollywood treating their aging  action heroes gently and cautiously.

Thus deprived of intellectual sustenance, Dad and I invoked the law of averages and dove into the closest dingy Mexican place we could find, and it did not disappoint. I have no idea how I lived so long without California Burritos (also, it’s possible that The Donald will recognize Mexican Americans as human if he just tries one). Of course, by that time, the early side-effects of the serum infusion were showing up (namely, pain at the injection site spreading along the muscles in my right arm and chest).

And I am, sadly, leaving out many fun and/or horrifying parts of the day in my haste to finish this before I drop into a stupor. That’s another good, recent development; I’ve actually started sleeping again (sort of)(maybe), which is critical for brain health. I slept 18 hour days after my first neurosurgeries, and that just hasn’t happened until very recently; probably due to having to tread water in a rapidly-filling septic tank, lest I be drowned. I don’t know whether it’s the drugs I’ve been prescribed, my adaptation to my situation, such as it is (bearing in mind that my situation is evolving faster than I rationally adapt to it). When you get a cancer diagnosis, you’re forcibly expelled from the human experience, in many ways; it’s only been the last four or so days where my first rational thought of the day hasn’t been, “I’m fucked.” Don’t get me wrong, I’m still scared beyond the capacity for rational thought, I’m sill paranoid I’ll lose some important neurocognitive ability, but I’ll settle for “mostly-intact right now” and “not completely overcome by blinding terror.”

So, tune in tomorrow (unless the experimental super soldier serum turns me into the Hulk or kills me) for discussions on how awesome sleep is, my plans to use technology to improve myself (or at least make myself normal), and the possibility I’ll get some sort of horrific news (or, God forbid, Radiation Oncologist ups my decadron dosage).

[ultrageekydesigner]

My Bipolar Journey

It has been five years since I was diagnosed with Bi-polar disorder. I was 24, which from what I am told is about the median for the age of onset for most people diagnosed with this disorder. It took me those long five years to get stable enough to where I can function in society and not be terrified all the time. It has been a long road and I feel that it is time that I reflect on that road and share my story so that others may not feel so alone. First let me tell you about me. I haven’t quite told my story on this blog yet and in order to understand where I have come from we need to start at the beginning. I was born in Portland, Oregon. My dad was a pastor most of my life and as some of you may know it is not fun being a pastor’s child. You are expected to be the perfect well behaved child and heaven forbid you should ever speak out of turn or do anything “unholy.” I’m not saying I had a bad childhood, I am just saying that Organized Religion can produce some very cruel and judgmental people, especially in small towns. Most of my childhood was spent in Ely, Nevada, as small of a town as you can ever get. Everyone knew me and my brothers and we couldn’t get away with squat. Heck, it was so small that my mom was my teacher’s aide in third grade. But, with all of Ely’s faults, with the judgmental church people and the minimal amount of freedom, I loved that town and I hated when we had to move. In 1998, when I was ten years old, my dad finally decided to quit pastoring and he packed us all up and moved us to Reno, Nevada and that is where things started to go downhill. One year after we moved to Reno my parents divorced. It seemed like the worst day of my life at the time but there was more to come. Shortly after my parents divorced my mom married her second husband. I turned 14 and started having my periods and that’s when it all started. I don’t know if he thought that it was ok to do it because I had “become a woman” but my mom’s second husband molested me from the ages of 14-17, when I ran away. The man did everything he could to isolate me from anyone I could tell what was going on. He kept me out of school, claiming mental problems were to blame, that I was too mentally unstable to go to school. Maybe I was, but lying to the psychiatrists and  having them put me on meds that made me feel drugged up is not the way to go about making me stable. He banned me from seeing my best friend, claiming that she was a bad influence on me. He tried to discredit me by saying I was telling lies and stealing money from his money collection. He succeeded too. My own mother didn’t believe me when I tried to come forward with the truth of what was happening. I was hospitalized 2 times because I had suicidal thoughts and plans. I was too afraid to say anything. So, I had to run away. Here’s how things played out that day. He found a rather unflattering picture of me and said he was going to put it on the fridge for everyone to see. I took it off the fridge and said I didn’t want it up there. He ordered me to put it back and I refused. He told me to get out of his house so I went to my room, packed up the most important things I had and I left, just like he told me to. I walked six blocks to my best friend’s house and she put me up for the night. I called my dad and he immediately bought me a ticket the next morning on the bus to Elko, Nevada where he was living, and my best friend’s family helped me get to the bus stop. My mom had called the cops and reported me as a runaway so when I got to Elko there were six cops at the bus stop waiting to take one scared 16 year old girl to Juvenile hall for running away. I got to Juvenile hall and they were going to send me back to Reno so I told them everything about what my mom’s second husband had done to me. I filed a police report, talked to the detectives and nothing was done. We did not go to court, I did not testify against him, it never made it that far. Partly because my dad had gotten a job up in Canada and we moved up there. We were up in Canada for a year and when I came back the police said that they couldn’t convict him because he couldn’t take an accurate lie detector test because of his heart condition. That’s where it ended, I tried to move on but that didn’t happen till we found an article on line saying he died in 2011. After Canada we moved to Las Vegas and got into one of those “pay by week” motel/apartment things. My dad ended up getting pulled over because the tags on my older brother’s car were expired. And of course they ran dad’s driver’s license and it came up that he had a warrant for his arrest in Elko County for a traffic ticket that his former company was supposed to have been taken care of. He was in Jail for 2 weeks. By the end of it, we had no money for the rent, we were low on food. We had to call my mom and her current husband to come pick up my younger brother who was still a minor at the time. My older brother had a place to stay with one of his gaming buddies but I had nowhere to go. I called my online boyfriend at the time and he bought me a ticket to Indiana to stay with him and his mom. I barely knew him, we met through an only Star Trek RPG site. I had only met him once before when he came up to Canada to see me. But, like always, I was head over heels for him and I excitedly moved out there. I started going to school at Purdue University-Calumet in Hammond, Indiana and everything was fine, until his mother started snooping into my bank account. We got into a huge fight over it at the end of the Semester and I ended up calling my mom for help. Luckily my ex paid for my ticket to Phoenix, Arizona where I went to live with my mom. And here is where the Bi-Polar sets in… Everything was fine for about a year until my very best friend, who means the world and beyond to me, introduced me to her then boyfriend. Around Valentine’s Day of 2009 she ended up dumping him and he came to me for help. We started talking and got a good connection going. After about a month of talking I, again, fell head over heels for him and around May he asked me if he could come visit, and a few weeks later, before he came to visit, he asked me to come up to Canada and live with him. This moment is the most manic I have ever been. I jumped at his offer. I dropped all my classes, had a huge argument with my mother and her partners about it. Ended up having my younger brother come pick me up so I could get a place to stay with my dad and him in Vegas. I even called the police on my family because they were refusing to give me my belongings. It was the most stupid and ridiculous move of my life and I regret it immensely. He came to visit me in June, around my birthday, for a day and he proposed to me in front of the Bellagio fountains during “I hope you dance.” I moved up to Canada when he came back in July. On, September 21, 2009 we married on the Capillano Bridge in Edmonton. It was just a small ceremony with just his family and only my very best friend, my maid of honor, for my side. Even now I still consider it one of the happiest days of my life. Things were great until we ran into some financial trouble and we had to move in with his mother. Our relationship was strained for the second year and in June of 2011 he told me that it was time I returned to the states. I later found out that he was cheating on me with a girl from his work but the divorce wasn’t all his fault. I now recognize the bipolar moments that I had been exhibiting that may have pushed him away. I didn’t help to clean our room or do the dishes. I just sat there and played video games all day. I spent money that we really didn’t have on things like pizza. But that didn’t mean he had to cheat. On June 22, 2011 I flew back down to Phoenix. Afraid that my family would still be mad at the way I left in 2009. They weren’t at all. They helped me figure out what was going on with me. I ended up getting a Job at Michael’s and it was the best job I ever had. I could work at my own pace and they didn’t need me to interact with customers too much. In January of 2012 my step dad found out that he was being relocated to Reno. With all the stress of moving and trying to transfer my job to a Michael’s in Reno, I ended up having the mother of all breakdowns. I actually felt like I wanted to hurt my younger siblings… That alone scared me and I told mom that she needed to take me to the hospital. I called work and told them what was going on and they let me go. I ended up in Banner Behavioral Health in Scottsdale, Arizona. That is when I was first diagnosed with Bipolar. They put me on Lithium and released me. We moved to Reno and I started getting services at Norther Nevada Adult Mental Health Services (NNAMHS). We adjusted my meds here and there and I tried to work at several jobs and I failed at all of them. I couldn’t keep a job more than a year and I kept having panic attacks at work. After about three or four trips to NNAMHS’s mental ward for work related anxiety they told me I couldn’t work and I filed for disability, six months later I was approved without a fight and I have been working on getting stable ever since. January of 2015 they started me on a new drug called Latuda and it made a world of difference.  I was calmer, less argumentative and prone to anger. I actually started helping out around the house without being told. But the Anxiety was still there. I was still skittish about going to new places or social events. I switched mental health providers to Mohave Behavioral and they put me on a drug called Propanolol. It is actually a blood pressure medication that they use to treat Anxiety. It also has made a world of difference. I am more social now. I look forward to going out and doing things. I’m not as introverted as I used to. I missed my own high school reunion because of my anxiety last year but this year I am going to the reunion of the class after me where most of my high school friends came from and I am so excited about it. I have returned to school and am actually making good enough grades to warrant an honor society’s attention. I am currently attending Truckee Meadows Community College for an Associate’s Degree in Graphic Communications and I am going to start going to school half-time next semester. I am doing great things for myself and if you are like me and you struggle with this disorder just know that you can do great things too, no matter what is in your way in the past or the present.