#something something immunosuppressants

[quaranmine]

dear god i think i'm sick again

[nyxtickled]

not me having arthritis at 30 years old LMAOOOO

[mrehkka]

Dib meets one of the tallest in person and uh... is actually rather awed. He kinda gets it now. Zim is like "see?! the tallest are great!"

The story that goes with this is that Dib becomes ill, but oddly, with a somewhat rare Irken disease (stemming from a long term complication from when Zim's PAK attached to him way back when, it messed with something internally in Dib's body). So Zim takes Dib along with him to meet Red, to get Dib some Irken medicine/cure. Red has a huge crush on Zim so he tends to give him whatever he asks for (or gives him SOMETHING anyway, if he can't give him what he wants), and Zim knows this, although maybe a little in denial about the actual crush part.

aka: the "Dib gets to visit Irk and experience a bunch of Irken Culture" fic :D

[felixferitas]

incredibly slow + hiatus for the foreseeable future because i'm job hunting and just got the flu / covid shot double whammy

[cassandralexxx]

Actually no I am so pressed like it is actually absurd the number of times I have had to say “well English is my first language” while up here these past few years. to a point it’s like kind of insulting like people seem to ignore all of my background and greater details about myself and focus in on half of my ethnicity.

[reserwrekt]

I hate having an autoimmune disease that can have the most random variety of side effects of inflammation everywhere I have veins (so everywhere) and not ever knowing which are viral or just my condition.

Like for example, since I started having symptoms of my condition I've had unusual side effects that no one else with my condition gets because we all have different shit going on, but my tonsils ALWAYS SWELL no matter if its viral or just me.

So basically my partner and I wait around to see if she gets a sore throat or a fever, too, but most the time it's just me..

[ragingbookdragon]

A Guardian For All

TFP Optimus Prime x Reader

Word Count: 1.1K Warnings: None

Author's Note: Okay look, OP has a chokehold on me in all forms. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

She’d somehow managed to become the in-resident mom, even though she was just in her junior year at college, after tracking down the three teens to the silo. To say it had been a surprise, to see and learn of the Autobots and the multitudes that came with the robots, would be an understatement. And yet, she fit right in, even with Miko’s constant, “She’s like a mom!” complaints.

Fortunate enough to be able to focus solely on schoolwork and not juggle a job, she was able to spend more time with the Autobots and learning about them. When the teens were there, she spent time utilizing the kitchen that was seemingly untouched by the Autobots—and why would they use it? They didn’t even consume human food. Often times, she made the three meals they had skipped in order to come to the silo and be with their guardians.

Guardians.

Jack had Arcee.

Miko had Bulkhead.

Raf had Bumblebee, and at times, Ratchet.

She didn’t have one.

Not that she needed one, of course. While she worried about the others running around with Decepticons, she felt it was the best course of action to not leave the silo all that much on missions. Typically, she stayed behind and helped Ratchet, well, when he decided he “needed” the help. She thought it didn’t bother her as much as it did until she was sitting up on the higher level, watching as the three teens played games and laughed with their guardians. Even Ratchet was smiling along with them.

“Are you in need of assistance?” A voice sounded beside her, and she blinked, looking over to meet Optimus’s gaze.

“Huh?”

He smiled easily. “You’ve been stuck on that page in your book for almost ten minutes.” His optics scanned the paper. “If I am correct, the answer for the question at the bottom is, ‘D. Administration of immunosuppressive medications.’”

She smiled, laughing with slight embarrassment, and shook her head. “Oh, no, the questions aren’t trouble.” Her eyes found the teens again. “I’m just…thinking.”

Optimus looked at the others with a calm look, an almost peacefulness. “Do you worry about them?”

“Sometimes,” she answered. “But I know that they would never let anything happen to the kids.”

He looked back at her. “Then it is not the thought of them that is occupying your mind. What troubles you?”

Looking away, she scratched at her notebook. “It’s…not important, Optimus. Silly even.”

“If it is causing you this much time in thought, perhaps it is not something silly.”

Optimus was always the voice of reason, a testament to the eons of troubles he’d seen and experienced.

She let out a sigh and met his gaze once more, a bashful look on her face as she admitted, “I just sometimes think of what it would be like to have a guardian like they do, y’know? I mean, I don’t need one like Jack or Miko or Raf do, but…I don’t know, sometimes I just think it’d be nice to have that companionship, no, friendship like they do.” She waved a hand. “Just wishful thinking, Optimus.” When he didn’t respond, she looked over. “Optimus? Is everything okay?”

He seemed to be in deep thought himself but shook from it with a smile. “I’m fine, and I understand what you mean. Thank you for letting me know what troubled you. I am honored to have that trust.”

“Oh, you’re welcome, Optimus,” she murmured with a flush and grabbed her things as Raf started calling for her. “Time to head home for the night.” Reaching out, she gently laid a hand on Optimus’s shoulder. “Thank you for listening to me, Optimus. Maybe when Wheeljack gets back he can be mine,” she joked and grinned when Optimus chuckled along and helped her down to the ground level.

“Perhaps.”

***

As the Christmas season reached its peak, schools had started letting out for the winter break. Most of her class at the local university had all left early for vacations out of state, but since she had no plans to leave Jasper for the holidays, she stayed through the end of the school week.

As she joked with the few remaining friends and acquaintances as they exited the building, one friend stopped and pointed at the truck parked by the street. “Woah,” they admired. “Whose ride is that?”

Her gaze turned to the truck and widened. “Optimus?” she quickly waved and hurried to him, opening the door and climbing in, shutting it behind her. “What are you doing here?” she asked, then she started worrying. “Oh no, are the kids okay? What happened? Who’s hurt?” frantically, she took out her phone, checking for missed calls or unseen texts. “Was it the Decepticons? Or was it MECH? Or was it—”

“Peace,” Optimus calmed as he pulled onto the street and drove through the town towards the base. “No one is hurt. No attack has occurred.”

Curiously, she looked at the steering wheel. “Then why…?” then it hit her and she sighed fondly. “Oh, Optimus, you didn’t have to do this.”

“I believe it is unfair to you to feel such a difference between the others when there are more than enough guardians left to be one of yours.” His voice was calm and easy like always. “It is…also nice to spend time with you outside of missions.”

She shifted into the driver’s seat and curled her legs underneath herself, leaning against the window. “That sounds like you like me, Optimus.”

“…Your companionship is desired long after you leave base,” he murmured and she smiled, looking at the steering wheel.

“I…feel the same,” she said and gently traced the Autobot symbol at the center. “Y’know Optimus…there’s a Christmas lightshow in the next couple cities over.” She shrugged slightly. “I think the others could hold down the base for a few hours while we were out…don’t you?”

He let out a hum. “We really shouldn’t stray too far from Jasper without them.” Just as she was about to sigh and nod, he added, “But I agree, they could survive without us for some time. Besides…I have never seen Christmas lights. I wonder if they’ll be as beautiful as you are.”

She felt her cheeks warm at his words and she looked out the window with a giddiness in her chest. “You’re just pulling my leg.”

“It would be dishonorable to lie, even more so to lie about the beauty you possess,” he replied, and she could just hear the grin in his voice. “Now, what was that city, and which way to it?”

[cripplecharacters]

I'm nonblack and writing a comfy slice of life alternate future story featuring characters dealing with various personal things like disabilities and mental illnesses. One of the characters I'm writing is black with inherited type 1 diabetes who eventually goes through stem cell therapy to treat it, where there was meant to be a long arc of the character staying alone for a year because of temporary immunosuppressants yet having their best friends make sure to keep them constant company. It was a completely random trait that I thought would fit the character and their story entirely unrelated to their race, but I had no idea that diabetes was one of the most common conditions black americans are diagnosed with until today, and I worry it could be insensitive of me to go through with the idea. Should I stay safe and rewrite the character? Or am I in the clear as long as I'm still careful to not perpetrate other tropes?

Hello,

So I see you've already taken this to creatingblackcharacters, great job because that was going to be the first thing I told you to do. You might also try @type1diabetesinfandom, and we're also opening this one up to feedback from our followers. Black people in real life do sometimes have diabetes and there's nothing inherently wrong with a Black character having diabetes, but there are sensitivity issues in that diabetes is heavily stigmatized as a moral failure and the fault of the person who has it, and that combines with racism in a truly ugly mix that makes life hard for Black people with diabetes, as they're seen as "even worse" than non-diabetic Black people and non-Black diabetics, as if their "moral failing" (there is no moral failing in having diabetes, the pancreas is unrelated to the morals) is even worse purely because they're Black. It's a complicated thing to depict and you need to be mindful of it. Do a lot of research on the issues impacting Black people with diabetes

Also, keep in mind that the stem cell therapy you mentioned is currently extremely experimental. There have been a few cases where it worked really well but also cases where it didn't, and early trials are still ongoing. Your character would need to be part of a trial group, they aren't offering this treatment in the average doctor's office. I'd recommend doing a lot of research into the experiences of the people who've tried this treatment and maybe into the experiences of people who have been in other experimental treatment trials to make the depiction as accurate as possible. This is not a miracle cure at this point, not even close, it's barely a step up from the Milwaukee Protocol, and it's entirely possible that this stem cell research will not work or will need years upon years of research and modification before it can be given as a standard treatment.

Plus, the character's status as a Black person will likely impact their quality of care and could even impact their ability to participate in drug trials and medical experiments, something else to keep in mind.

My advice here is to do a lot of research and be careful, and to see if the comments and the other linked blogs have anything to add. Thank you for the question

(Just so you know, you're also supposed to capitalize Black.)

Mod Aaron

[fandomsandflyingstingrays]

Some arthritic Telemachus headcanons, because I love projecting

His first flare happened when he was two, and it scared the daylights out of Penelope. She spent hours poring over Polites's old medical texts and writings for any solution (because I'm definitely in the camp of him being a healer)

I know they didn't have immunosuppressants in Ancient Greece, but they also didn't have jetpacks, so let's say the combined brain trust of Polites and Penelope managed to figure something out. Telemachus's fevers came further and further apart, the aching in his joints became manageable, the fatigue no longer kept him bed- bound, but things were never the same again

For one thing, because of the aforementioned immunosuppressants, Telemachus got sick all the time. He felt increasingly guilty about it the older he got, fearing it was keeping him from being able to defend Penelope from the suitors. Penelope, however, just spread rumors that everything from a cold to an infected toenail was actually a deadly and very contagious illness that only she should take the risk of tending to, so those episodes actually ended up being a defense of their own

In addition, while Polites had notes on some things that helped with symptom management- stretch and strength exercises, warm blankets and baths- fatigue and pain were common enough in Telemachus's days that learning how to fight proved difficult

That is, until Athena showed up

Telemachus had absolutely no plans to tell her about his condition, having hidden it from the suitors his whole life, until he walked into his first day of training with her and she handed him a spear with a grip she'd designed specially to help his fingers

He'd fully assumed she wouldn't want him as her warrior if she knew. But she not only did she continue to train him, she put all her goddess-of-wisdom prowess into doing so in the most accommodating way possible. She hounded Apollo about what exercises Telemachus should be doing to warm up and cool down, always kept their sessions short, and crafted his Warrior of the Mind outfit with his joints in mind: boots with extra arch support, wrist and knee braces built in, gloves to protect his fingers, etc

That's how he became such a competent fighter so quickly between Little Wolf and Odysseus: for the first time, he had a teacher that knew how to work with his limitations

Training with Athena was a major confidence boost, but when Odysseus came home, Telemachus still begged Penelope not to tell him

Obviously she refused, never having lied to Odysseus and not about to start now, and never having seen arthritis as a weakness the way Telemachus had growing up trying to keep up with the suitors

But the argument was rendered moot when Telemachus got an infection from Melanthius's blade, because come on, the man definitely never cleaned that thing

Obviously, Odysseus freaked ("this is Poseidon's fault, I know it, he still hasn't gotten over the stabbing thing-") but Penelope was just like "don't worry this happens all the time"

"What do you mean this happens all the time"

Odysseus didn't leave Telemachus's bedside until his fever broke, lying next to him and singing the lullabies he used to sing to him when he was a baby. In his delirium, Telemachus just assumed he was dreaming Odysseus was there the way he often had in years past, and he cried with relief when he was well enough to remember that his father really had come home

Then he wiped his tears away and saw the way Odysseus was looking at him

"Mom told you, didn't she"

He waited for the disappointment that was surely coming, for the legendary hero to bend under the weight of realizing that it was impossible for his only son to ever measure up to his legacy

Instead, Odysseus took his face in his hands and said he couldn't believe how lucky he was to have a son stronger than he ever could have imagined

It still took a while for Telemachus to stop trying to perform around Ody, trying to be the son he thought he expected even though they both knew it was a struggle

But there came a day when they were at the base of one of the palace stairwells and Odysseus could just tell it was a bad enough day for Telemachus that they would cause him a lot of pain. He could also tell that Telemachus would insist no matter what that it was fine

So Ody just. Scooped him up and carried him up the stairs

When he set him down, Telemachus was blank-faced, and Odysseus began to worry he'd overstepped. He started to apologize, but Telemachus cut him off. "It's okay," he said, and then, "thanks, Dad."

It was the first time he'd ever called him dad. Odysseus cried for half an hour

After that, Odysseus became the first person that Telemachus was fully able to let take care of him. He'd grown up trying to protect Penelope, and he never totally stopped wanting to please Athena, but Odysseus was so genuinely delighted to be a caretaker that it was easiest for Telemachus to fully relax when he was with him

He knew he'd never be the warrior Odysseus had been, never be able to stand the relentlessness of war, but his parents and his patron were doing everything in their power to make sure he'd never have to. By the time he took the throne, he was the king the new world needed: able to lead with empathy and to keep his battles short

[fearwasalwaysanoption]

Mouthwashing Fix-it

supplement to these posts

very long explanation under cut (content warning: mentions of surgical procedures, stillbirth, and suicide attempts)

Curly- Skin grafts, rehab, right eye removed due to extensive damage. Has to take immunosuppressants for the rest of his life so his body doesn't reject the massive amounts of synthetic tissue. Eyelids were restored but have to be manually opened and closed, uses eye lubricant drops for any additional dryness.

Took the brunt of the blame for the crash, now a permanent stain on his reputation. The publicity of the incident died down in less than a week, but still makes it hard to find work (especially with his disabilities). Massive survivor's guilt and internalized ableism. Now that he can do most things himself, he hates asking for help. He doesn't want to seem weak, he wants to seem in control.

Hops around from job-to-job, typically in a management position but leaves once it becomes too familiar.

Anya- Treated with acetylcysteine, but liver damage was too extensive and had to be replaced robotically with a synthetic one. Embryo died in utero from paracemetol poisoning and was removed. Also has to take immunosuppressants so her body does not reject the new liver.

Somehow acquired a job at a clinic despite not at all having the credentials and is dreading the day they figure that out. In the meantime living paycheck-to-paycheck and swimming in debt.

Went through one painful and traumatic suicide attempt and would not want to take the chances of having to go through that again. Still incredibly anxious and not in a good place but clings to that hope she can get herself out of this rut. One of the only things keeping her going is the knowledge that she is helping people and in some little way making life better.

Daisuke- Skin grafts and extensive biodegradable stitching, especially in his face. Minimal reconstructive surgery to fix his nasal passage. Right eye is completely opaque from traumatic injury.

Not as joyful as he used to be, a lot more dark humoured but retains his optimism. Cautious, has matured quite a bit and is just trying to live his life. The collective trauma from the Tulpar makes it hard to connect with his peers and he only really wants to hang out with his former crew. Trying to make a name for himself and do something with his life, co-founded his and Swansea's independent mechanic business.

Does more manual labour on the side to help keep the business running.

Jimmy- Bullet and bone fragments removed, entered zygomatic bone barely avoiding the eye and exiting through the left mandible. Damaged tissue and teeth removed, in a coma for several months with reconstructive internal surgery to his skull.

Charged with attempted murder, reckless endangerment, and sexual assault. However the court deemed him unable to stand trial and committed him to a psychiatric institution for high risk individuals. Has been sent to solitary more times than he can count or cares to and is on suicide watch.

He's forced to take antipsychotics and has no control over anything in his life besides doing what he is told so he can get the hell out of this place. In the meantime he can reevaluate and be alone with his thoughts (a punishment i would not bestow upon my worst enemy).

Curly and Daisuke visit him sometimes because they still genuinely care about him and want him to get better. But their visits get less and less frequent every time. When they finally stop coming... who will he have left to blame for his circumstances?

Swansea- Bullets and fragments removed, right eye was too badly damaged to save and was removed. Clavicle plating applied to help solidify the shattered bone.

Similar case to Daisuke. Owns the independent mechanic business as well as doing random jobs to get more money. Family life is in pieces and is on the brink of a divorce with his wife but too drunk to really care. Preoccupies himself with work and alcohol to forget his miserable situation and money troubles. The only thing keeping him from drinking himself to death lying in a gutter is that he'd leave such a burden on Daisuke that the kid does not need any more of.

[breaking-binary-system]

So, especially with it being disability pride month, I've noticed something more and more: A lot of people, disabled and able-bodied, give a TON of hate to us ambulatory wheelchair users. So, I decided fuck it let me tell people a story about one.

There was this boy. He grew up with a disabled father and a mother who had a ton of chronic pain. He could see the effects. By the time this boy was 5, his father walked full time on a cane.

When he turned 11, he started suffering from severe debilitating leg pain. To the point he would miss school for days and would spend all day every day sobbing his eyes out from how severe it took, even after taking the max amount of ibuprofen and Tylenol he could. He eventually got into seeing a rheumatologist out of fear it was something rheumatology related.

For 6 years, the boy was constantly in pain and the most he would get told is "well your double jointed that's why you have this much pain, just go do physical therapy". That never helped him. When he turned 17, everything changed.

He went to go see a different doctor at this office, one he had to wait years for since she saw adults and, well, 17 was just close enough to be tolerated. She looked at his blood tests and did a physical and came to a realization.

"It's not that you're double jointed, you have rheumatoid arthritis. It's why your shoulders grind, they lack cartilage now from years of this disorder. Let's do our best to treat it"

That started a year's worth of trial and error before she finally decided to give the boy an immunosuppressant that had worked for his father who also had the disorder. He wasn't cured but, quickly, his symptoms started to go away more and more.

This boy, from the age of 15 on, had to use mobility aids frequently if not all the time. It started with a simple cane and while it helped, his hands couldn't take the pressure on his nerves. So, he tried a walker. And that helped too. Forearm crutches were best to get him still able to have some ability to walk. He found something that made his life a lot easier however.

His grandfather had a multitude of issues, many of which required him to have a wheelchair before he passed. So, his grandfather made it known that any mobility aids the boys father didn't use, the boy was more than welcome to have. So, he decided one day to try and use the wheelchair.

Suddenly things were so much easier. He couldn't walk all the time yes and he didn't need the chair 24/7 but it meant that when his POTS was acting up or he was in a arthritis flare up, he could use a wheelchair and still be mobile. It changed his life. However he wasn't free from shame and hate on how he shouldn't use one.

He was told repeatedly it wasn't that bad and he was being dramatic and was taking away from people who actually needed them. This boy was 18. He had a disorder that was seen as an "old person" disorder. His body was literally attacking itself. And here was a ton of people attacking him for needing a wheelchair or, if he was in a store with them, a mobility scooter.

This boy took months of steady therapy to be willing to even go in public with the wheelchair again. A lot of it took support from his boyfriend and his father who encouraged him and reminded him that it was OKAY to use a mobility aid, even if he didn't need it 24/7.

If you haven't caught on now don't worry, I'll just say it. I am that boy. I still need reminders from my boyfriend or my father that it's okay to need my wheelchair and I'm not stealing anything, my body has day's of different intensities. Take today.

I thought all I would need is forearm crutches and I'm typing this in my wheelchair and I feel a lot better now that I've used it since, due to the fact this chair is meant to be sat in for someone with a disability not just a regular every day chair, my legs are feeling a shit ton better.

My left knee has been in an awful flare up for about a month and a half at this point. Today it got unbearable so I just sat in the wheelchair my dad keeps at his job for me. I can move now without wanting to cry.

This is a really long post and I'm not entirely sure why i started it to be honest, blame the whole "oh yeah I have a CDD" and the fact that, well, I've been diagnosed with ADHD, specifically attention deficit part.

Something I wanna end this long post on. Don't think just because you saw someone walking yesterday or even 10 minutes ago and now they're in a wheelchair that they're faking or something. Shit can change in a matter of MINUTES.

[poeticlark]

769 words, my own au i call "doll au", inspired by cyberpunk. everyone is a cyborg yah whatever. enjoy, and yes i accept questions on the au.

Part Two

-.-.-

Captain Curly’s medical file is 13 pages of technical jargon, schematics, therapy notes and several police reports. It's the longest in volume, outmatching even Swansea’s extensive age and habit of replacing livers when they fail him. 

Before completing a trimonthly diagnostic on each crewmember, Anya must read through their medical records to prepare. All restricted files on the Tulpar are paper, unable to be downloaded or accessed through any cyberware. Locked away in cases and drawers for select crew.

She opens Curly's file on the desk, organises the paper's with a soft shuffling. Slides her glasses on, so the eyestrain of the contacts doesn’t overwhelm. 

Her radio comforts, cello solos for reading while she drinks the Pony Express tea. Tea is a liberal interpretation of dust swept from the factory floor and stuffed into rice paper pouches that dissolve into the water, leaving behind a starchy taste. There’s only 100 packed for the whole trip, and she hates them.

Alas, the urge to drink tea while studying, self-ingrained through her schooling habits, is too strong to beat. Anya sips at her starchy dust water and tries to comprehend what a Systematic Ram Reshuffler is.

The Captain’s body is full of things, full of wires and chips. His files are full of complications from those wires and chips. She reads through the reports from his biomonitor, the watch embedded in his wrist, the bracing on his hand where he broke it in a warehouse accident. The optical enhancements he has, top market for his line of work. The maintainer attached to his heart. A diagram of his brain overflowing with neuralware, stretches of cabling stretching along the rippling tissue.

She jots down a note to monitor Curly for complications, and more stringent psychological evaluation. No wonder he’s so indebted, she thinks to herself. These implants must cost tens of thousands.

She stops in her shuffling, turns the radio down when a note rings out like a squeal. Surely, she misread it. Misunderstood. 

The fourth page is an extensive report of the process of installing a Morpheus Behavioural Chip from Projekt Industries. 

Something's kicking in her chest, something scared. A Morpheus.

The report is not as dramatic as maybe it should be, size twelve lettering on slightly creased paper. Perfectly normal language, probably typed out by a surgeon eager to rush off to their lunch break. Nauseatingly mundane and impassive. Totally typical of a post surgery report. She’s unsure that it’s about Curly, until she doubles and then triple checks his full name at the top of the page.

26th September, 1984: The implant was installed into the client’s frontal lobe. Surgery was 7 hours and 42 minutes. There were no complications.

28th September, 1984: The client woke up from anaesthetic and attempted to decannulate himself. The nurse on duty prevented this from happening, and he quickly regained composure.

29th September: 1984 The implant appears to have integrated with the client’s nervous system and frontal lobe without complication. No inflammation beyond standard medication. Diagnostics by a software engineer shows full functionality has been achieved.

13th October, 1984: The client will be discharged tonight, and return weekly until the end of the month for monitoring. Prescription for courses of medication sent electronically: immunosuppressants, antibiotics, antiinflammation and antiemetics will be supplied in courses  

A Morpheus chip in the frontal lobe of Captain Curly. Anya leans back, spine slamming into the back of her chair as her vision seems to fizzle at the edges. Curly, in charge of The Tulpar and the wellbeing of every single person on board, has a behavioural chip. Curly is a doll. 

Scolding herself for that kind of language, she lets the paper down on the desk like it stings to touch. Curly’s a person, a person with independent thoughts. Not some meat machine, and she’d be able to tell if it wasn’t him. His opticware is connected to the implant, an alert to anyone he talks to if it's active. Curly is himself, and himself is a person. A Morpheus chip doesn’t mean anything.

The cup of tea, wobbling precariously in her unsteady hand, tips onto her. It scalds, soaking into her uniform’s trousers and the pants underneath that.

“Fuck!” 

She stumbles to her feet, stumbling to get out of her uniform and shoving the papers across the table. It burns, bringing angry tears to her eyes as she stumbles to the sink reserved for handwashing. At least the medical room can lock, she bitterly recalls while stripping down to her underclothes and splashing water onto her angry, red skin. 

She's lost her appetite for pony express tea even more, now. Behavioural chip interfaces with all programs in functionality tests, the report read, and the dead pixel flashes at the back of her skull insistently.

[cauchesque]

there should be something drastic i can do to rid myself of allergies. how dangerous are immunosuppressants

[fireheartedpup]

Okay. So. Ashwaganda.

I lost the post about the supplement from a troll company that was marketing it as hormone replacement therapy. The doses were high enough to send you into serotonin syndrome, and it doesn't replace estrogen. It encourages your body to make the hormones it's already making.

This was in 2023, and the website quickly vanished after backlash.

The thing is, ashwaganda is a mood stabilizer. I'm wondering if it's possible to feel better before the serotonin syndrome. Is the dosage high enough that you feel funny immediately, or does it seem like life is so good that this miracle pill couldn't possibly be bad for you?

Once it starts, it sounds like torture. I'm just wondering about the lead up. The poster who was quoted on that post said that ashwaganda taken in that dosage could cause it in "as little as a month," so what does the lead up feel like?

I don't take medication, so I haven't worried too much about interactions. That said, it's good to know that it can conflict with medications for blood pressure, thyroid, sleep, immunosuppression, and diabetes.

This is mostly because it has similar effects--so again, too much can tip you over from "this helps" to "this is a threat to my safety."

There are other natural things that raise serotonin levels, like ginkgo, and I thought they were mentioned in one of links I included but I can find the paragraph I'm thinking of.

...this could be due to the fact that ginseng can also raise serotonin levels, and I might have misremembered it.

Probiotics, vitamin D, and fish oil can also raise serotonin, as can tryptophan and exercise. Rhodiola is another adaptogen that can help with things like ADHD, and St. John's Wort is also on that list.

There's a lot. I actually left out green tea and turmeric. Oh, and 5-htp. That one I'm careful with. It makes me feel drugged.

Coffee and artificial sweeteners can decrease serotonin, so I'm not terribly bothered. If it's not consumed in high doses or alongside something it shouldn't be combined with, it should be okay.

I'm also not consistent with anything, and in the case of the supplements where it's better to take breaks instead of simply continuing to take them every single day for a long period of time, this works for me.

The thing that made me take a second look at adaptogens in general is that my period is almost a week late.

Remember how it adjusts your hormones? Yeah, a lot of people have this reaction--and it can make your period lighter. I'm mostly finding anecdotes from reddit, but there is a study about it helping with perimenopause.

My periods have never been super consistent. I have a rough idea of when they're going to come, but the cycle isn't exact. So this doesn't bother me a ton, but it's enough for some people to want to switch to an alternative method of controlling things like anxiety.

I'm already questioning whether my hormones are out of whack or not, so that's part of it.

I just think it's interesting. "Natural alternatives" are marketed as safer, without side effects. My experience has been that no matter what you do, you're throwing spaghetti at a wall to see what sticks--and you still need to look up everything you take to see if it's going to interact with anything else.

It would be nice if going to a doctor fixed this problem. Unfortunately, I've read too many stories about patients having to look things up for themselves, even after going to doctor after doctor.

It's like the pegboard with red string.

Anyway. My takeaway is still that what will fix your problems is appropriate treatment for your body. Unfortunately, this is different for everyone, and pretty much requires you to make a lifelong study of what to take and what the side effects are--no matter if you're taking supplements or drugs.

I'm still on the adaptogen train because I don't have to beg a doctor for help or make an appointment or beg a doctor to listen to me when it turns out that I need a change in my treatment plan or get registered as "really, she needs this" in order to get the thing that will help me.

I'm just. You know. Wondering. About what this is going to mean for my period going forward.

(And I'm going to have to research every single other thing I'm taking to see what the crossovers are.)

IMPORTANT: Ashwaganda can cause spontaneous abortion. Do not listen to anyone who says that adaptogens are safe to take during pregnancy. CHECK FIRST.

[batwynn]

Oh cool. My ‘doctor’ just tried to gaslight me to cover her negligent ass and then told me to get a new primary care doctor because she was so offended that I said I didn’t appreciate her risking my health with her pretty serious ‘mistake’ of telling everyone I wanted to stop taking the immunosuppressant that keeps me alive when I’ve spent half a fucking year and twenty something messages and visits talking about how I need someone to take over the script so I don’t rot and die please fucking help me. Lmao. Guess what I’m adding to my 12 page report to the board of nursing about you, asshole? 👏

Then again… You’d think 26 something pages of visit notes of her constantly writing complete bullshit and lies would do the trick, especially when most of them are completely insane and make no sense in reality and/or directly contradict info from other professionals or sometimes even herself! But I know from experience that absolutely nothing will ever happen even when she ✨kills someone! ✨Because this is America and doctors and nurses can do anything they fucking want.

[where-your-eyes-dont-go]

Sue, a senior who lives with rheumatoid arthritis, says her other chronically ill friends want to know why masks must be the visible disability delineator. “An immunocompromised friend who uses a wheelchair pointed out to me: ‘Mask bans, for me, are like banning my wheelchair. Masks have been part of me, my health care, and my life, for decades.’” Sue’s rheumatoid arthritis attacks her joints, as well as her lungs and other organs. She takes two different immunosuppressant medications, which alter her immune function and increase her risk for viral, bacterial, and fungal infections, so she often wears a mask while in public. “Even a seemingly minor threat, like the common cold, can lead to a serious illness in someone with a compromised immune system,” she said. “These medicines also suppress my immune response to vaccines.” For Sue, who also asked to only go by her first name, a mask ban would only compound the wider discrimination she faces in a society she feels has already left her behind. As it stands, Skoufis’s bill, which lawmakers are hoping to advance as soon the legislative session begins in January, affects the right of people like Sue to go to protests or large public gatherings when we are not in a declared public health emergency. The proposed law dictates that it will be illegal for people to wear a face covering at a lawful or unlawful assembly or what the police consider to be a riot “unless they are wearing personal protective equipment during a declared public health emergency.” Since this is no longer the case, anyone who wears a mask for health reasons at a protest or large public gathering could be breaking the law. The health exemption language of the Nassau County law, which applies to facial coverings worn anywhere in public, meanwhile, is vague: “This law shall not apply to facial coverings worn to protect the health or safety of the wearer.” This has its own problems, namely that it will be on individual police officers to interpret both the law and the reason why someone is wearing a mask. Back at the public hearing in August, D’Esposito said the law would be “enforced by one of the finest police departments in the country,” but residents were not so sure. “Ultimately this law will be carried out based on one person’s judgment,” noted one resident. “More simply, is this masked person doing something I like or do not like?” Many activists see the bans as retaliation for pro-Palestine protests that have swept the country in the year since Israel invaded Gaza in the wake of October 7. At protests people often wear masks either to support the health of their community, or to protect their identity from getting doxxed. The health exemptions prompted by lawmakers treat the issue as two dimensional: You are either a protester, or someone with ongoing health issues. Why can’t you be both? It shouldn’t be surprising that a person concerned with preventing the transmission of a potentially debilitating disease might also be concerned about the genocide in Palestine. In their proposal, The Manhattan Institute had already thought of this: “Someone who wears a mask for health reasons probably should not be congregating in large groups of people.” Aside from ignoring the otherwise healthy people who mask to avoid exacerbating underlying conditions or contracting Long Covid, the document makes it clear that anyone who has a chronic illness or disability is expected to stay out of public life.