#stem cell donor
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my-dark-happy-place · 3 months ago
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I got notified today that I'm a potential stem cell donor for someone with leukemia.
After a long phone call where we went over my medical history and all that jazz, I now have to wait for a doctor to call me back and to tell me if I'm still a potential donor. So now I just have to wait (which totally isn't anxiety inducing haha..)
So I would like to take this opportunity to say:
Please register to be a stem cell donor! You could save lives, and it's free!!!
Register here if you're in the US (DKMS USA)
Register here if youre in the UK (DKMS UK)
Register here if you're in Germany (DKMS DE)
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koifishart · 9 months ago
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A window is a luxury for many patients. For many of them, instead of a window, video calls must suffice as the only contact with their family during many weeks of therapy in lockdown. Isolation, watching the changing, professional faces of the staff, a different drip every now and then connected to a tube sticking out of the arm. Solitude in the sterile whiteness, limited to a room with a bed and a bathroom. This is what the world of people with leukemia looks like. How do I know this? Because over a month ago, one of the most important people in my life received just such a diagnosis: acute myeloid leukemia. He has already undergone a series of chemotherapy, is slowly regaining strength, and is mentally and physically burdened. In the meantime, a donor of hematopoietic stem cells is being sought, which will hopefully bring him home permanently. We all wait, enjoying the smallest successes, such as getting out of bed or a successful game of ship games.
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I would like to be a donor, but my health does not allow it. Therefore, I can only believe that somewhere in the world there is a person who is a genetic twin and will be willing to help. To register in DKMS, a cheek swab is enough. Just enough, and more than enough, to join the group of people who can give others a second life.
If you are out there somewhere, Twin, know now that I am very grateful for your help ❤️
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ur-mag · 1 year ago
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Girl with ‘one in a billion’ condition meets stem cell donor who saved her life | In Trend Today
Girl with ‘one in a billion’ condition meets stem cell donor who saved her life Read Full Text or Full Article on MAG NEWS
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deathsmallcaps · 1 year ago
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If you start getting offended when people are wrong, there’s a good chance that it’s also bedtime
#I’m literally so hormonal and tired rn#I think my period is about to start thank god#it’s been 9 weeks usually it’s 6#it’s a family thing that we think is linked to our history of breast cancer#it’s also been a very hard past two weeks#and frankly besides the blood and loose bowels and the easy crying and the slight cramps (I don’t do caffeine so they’re pretty much just#an ache) my PMS is literally so much worse than my period#I literally have trouble comprehending anything serious brain fog#and I’m so angry and I can’t sleep (it’s literally a thing) and I’m also sad and I turn so mean and shorttempered#that might be linked to the inability to sleep but still#literally I think if I reach 30 and still feel happy with the idea#of never having bio kids#(I want to foster older kids)#I’m gonna get them removed and fucking make serious bank on all my eggs#stem cell this research up!!!!#you get an egg you get an egg you all get eggs#if you have trouble with your eggs and get a donor egg? *smirks* it’s probably mine#idk how they’d split that up but trust me#I’m going to get PAID for this shit and well#literally when I’m PMSing it’s like#autism intensifies#adhd intensifies#murderous rage intensifies#trust me I’m going to be looking up baby animals and crying very soon#if that doesn’t happen then guess what! I’m the new mother of Jesus because I HAVENT HAD SEX AND THERES NO FUCKING REASON#I HAVRNT HAD MY PERIOD YET#ooo don’t get my started on the horniness#I really don’t get it#human bodies either need to commit to having a heat or stop having horniness as a PMS symptom
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reasonsforhope · 2 months ago
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"A 25-year-old woman in China is the first person worldwide to have type 1 diabetes reversed through stem cell therapy.
The therapy used the patient’s own cells to create personalized stem cells, which were then used to grow fresh insulin-producing islets.
This breakthrough offers hope for millions with diabetes, potentially eliminating the need for daily insulin injections and reducing complications.
In a groundbreaking medical achievement, a 25-year-old woman in Tianjin, China, has had her type 1 diabetes reversed through a novel stem cell therapy. This marks the first time such a feat has been accomplished globally, offering new hope for millions living with the chronic condition.
The patient, who had been struggling with type 1 diabetes, underwent a pioneering treatment that involved converting her own cells into personalized stem cells. These stem cells were then used to grow fresh clusters of ‘islets,’ the hormone-producing cells in the pancreas responsible for regulating blood sugar levels.
As Nature reports, this therapy’s unique approach of transplanting the newly created islets into the patient’s upper abdomen near her pancreas sets it apart from previous islet transplant methods. This strategic placement allows for easier monitoring via MRI, a significant advantage over traditional liver transplants.
“I can eat sugar now,” the woman said on a call with Nature. After over a year since the transplant, she says, “I enjoy eating everything — especially hotpot.” The woman asked to remain anonymous for privacy reasons.
Experts are astonished at the results, according to Timesnownews. “They’ve completely reversed diabetes in the patient, who was requiring substantial amounts of insulin beforehand,” said Dr. James Shapiro, a transplant surgeon and researcher at the University of Alberta in Edmonton, Canada.
The implications of this breakthrough are far-reaching, as it could potentially revolutionize the way we treat diabetes. By using a patient’s own cells to create personalized stem cells, this therapy bypasses the limitations of donor islet shortages and the need for immunosuppressive drugs, which have hindered the success of conventional transplant methods.
‘If this is applicable to other patients, it’s going to be wonderful,’ diabetes researcher Daisuke Yabe of Japan’s Kyoto University told reporters via Daily Mail.
As the world watches closely, the success of this case sparks hope for the millions of individuals living with type 1 diabetes. It represents a significant step forward in regenerative medicine and paves the way for further research and development in the field."
-via Gadget Review, September 30, 2024
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hometoursandotherstuff · 11 months ago
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This image shows a decellularized heart, stripped of all native cells, leaving behind an intact vascular system and a scaffold that has been infused with stem cells.
One of the greatest limitations to organ transplantation derives from organ rejection caused by antibodies of the transplant recipient reacting to donor antigens on cell surfaces within the donor organ.
By re-cellularizing an decellularized organ with a patient’s own cells, the adverse immune response is eliminated.
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temeraire · 1 year ago
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my fucking blood was too strong it dislodged the needle from my vein and spurted all over the place
the unbeatable high of the blood bank nurse telling me i have great veins
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covid-safer-hotties · 3 months ago
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Also preserved on our archive
By Kelly Betts
People can’t see my disability from the outside. I worry that in this current political climate and with the new law, it may not end at the comments and harassment I already face.
On Thursday, officials in Nassau County, New York, where I live, signed a mask ban into law, one of the first of its kind in the country. And while to most healthy adults it doesn’t mean much, to those with serious health conditions, like me, it makes getting out into the world a lot harder.
The ban was touted by lawmakers as a public safety measure after reported antisemitic incidents and protests at various New York universities, many involving people wearing masks. Those who violate the new law face a misdemeanor charge punishable by up to a year in jail and a $1,000 fine. And while there are exemptions for people with religious and medical reasons, it’s not dealing with the law that I’m afraid of. It’s dealing with the “citizen cops” of the world who will be using their discretion to enforce it.
I was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia in February 2023. It’s a fast-growing type of blood cancer. I underwent more than five rounds of chemotherapy, and the following July, thanks to an amazingly generous donor, I had a stem cell transplant, something I knew nothing about until I got sick. I was given some of the most powerful chemotherapies to kill my old immune system and any remaining cancer cells. Then I was given my donor’s stem cells to help build a brand-new immune system.
There are a lot of risks that come along with the transplant, especially in the early stages as the stem cells are engrafting and you have no immune system. The first 100 days are the riskiest, and you must watch everything from what you eat to how it’s prepared, and most of all the people around you. Your body is starting from scratch, so you have almost no immunities. Any vaccinations you’ve had over your lifetime have been wiped out. For the last year since my transplant, my immune system has slowly been getting stronger. But building a new immune system takes years, and I have a long way to go. So, wearing my face mask whenever I go out is essential.
That brings me back to the new law. I wear a medic alert bracelet and would hope that showing it to the police, should it ever become an issue, would be enough. But that’s not guaranteed, because anyone can just order one. Would I be forced to show up in court to prove my medical condition to a judge? And what cost and time could that take, all to protect my health? And what about my family or people who act as caregivers, who don’t technically have medical conditions of their own, but still wear masks to protect me? Would there be an exemption for them?
Most of all, I worry about those who have strong feelings against masks. As we know, many people read headlines and not always the full story. And just reading most of the headlines, all someone will know is that there’s a mask ban in Nassau County. Even at the height of my illness, with no hair and really looking like I had cancer, I still got comments like “Covid is over” or “that’s not protecting you.” And while the few comments hurt, especially while I was battling for my life, I could shake them off. I had a bigger fight ahead of me.
Now, healthier with hair again and 43 years old, the comments continue. But I worry that in this current political climate and with the new law, it may not end at that. People can’t see my disability from the outside. It’s been hard to get back out in the world, as many can relate to after going through a global pandemic. Even being as careful as I am and just starting to let my guard down a little in outdoor settings, I caught Covid. And it took my body and immune system down hard. Luckily, I’m recovering and back to wearing my mask diligently, even outdoors.
I want to be able to return to my normal life. And go out with friends, see a Broadway show, and one day get back to my office in the city. But now with New York City considering passing its own mask ban, I don’t know when I would feel safe enough to do that. Is this law really protecting the masses?
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vide0-nasties · 1 year ago
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Going to be rambling insanely about Ghost and probably what his feelings on the monarchy would be, coming from one deeply damaged povo to another.
Anyway, specifically around the time the parasite in chief in her idiot hat (thanks Eccleston lub u) died and passed said idiot hat on, I was seeing a lot of (fun and gentle-ribbing, mind you!) posts about Ghost getting razzed about the queen croaking and maybe him being sad about it or something - I don’t really remember bc I have shit for brains and I just latch onto what bits my adhd will allow.
SO. I really don’t think Bruv Innit gave two shits about Liz buying the farm, bc he grew up working class in a working class town to a drug addicted, drug peddling dad, and a fairly nondescript mom who likely didn’t have a way to get her and her kids out of that shit situation (per ‘09 MW lore and some presumption). I imagine dude was dragged around a shitload of council estates and his dad’s friends’ shitty crash pads, no stability whatsoever, where food insecurity was a big ass forever-looming deal, mom had no idea if her 20 year old vauxhall was going to make it another trip to her minimum wage part time job, and school was forever on the back burner bc when it came to school supplies/trips vs eating and keeping the lights on. You can guess which one won.
If we’re also going with him being about 35-40ish, he would’ve been 10-12ish or so around Diana’s divorce and then her death. So, here’s this starving, horrendously abused kid, with his starving, horrendously abused mother and little brother, drowning in a system that is pretty much just letting them sink to the bottom, nothing is being done about the evil sperm donor that ruins everything for them, and he’s obliterated constantly by TV coverage and tabloids and radio DJs talking about this goddamned family’s stupid fucking drama. Charles cheated, Diana left, her poor boys in their fancy private schools with their endless wealth and glowing skin and brand new clothes that don’t stink of consignment shops are sad.
Sorrows - sorrows, prayers. 🫶
It’s a story he’s seen countless times, the only difference is money and coverage. And, realistically, the women in the stories he knows aren’t killed in car wrecks, they’re killed by their infuriated husbands who think they’re owed something catching up. Maybe that’s why his mom doesn’t leave the cocksucker that trapped her, she could’ve ended up another council house Diana that no one gave a shit about.
He grows up, becomes a butcher’s apprentice, joins the army. Straightens his brother out, makes sure his mom is set up nice, finally beats the shit out of his dad. And all the while, there looms the most fucking pointless, parasitic family in England: living off taxes taken from the public, god knows how much land and how many castles, even owning all the fucking swans on the island.
Relics, vampires, leeches.
But, you know, twenty years down the road, he’s pushing 40, his services to the country are done in the dark, the family he tried so badly to save were brutally cut down anyway, and when he goes to Tesco, the price of a fifth of piss Smirnoff is insane, and he’s still got Soap swimming in his head mid-rant bc his mam’s fucking knee replacement appeal has been denied for the third time and she can’t even walk anymore, Gaz is moving for the second time in a year bc he just can’t afford to live close to his parents even on his salary, meanwhile there was a stretch where it looked like Philip was surviving solely by being pumped full of virgin blood and straight stem cells.
So, yeah, if anything he probably said cheers when the news broke and cracked a couple extra jokes that day.
“What d’you call one dead Windsor? A good start.”
Edit: This is picking up some traction. @50cal-fullauto-astarion is my CoD blog if you like my Call of Bullshit stuff, this is my main and I don’t really go into CoD here
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loslentesdepedrito · 1 year ago
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I'm Your Wife- Chapter Seven
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Javi gif by: @skyshipper Jack gif by: @javier-pena My Masterlist
Pairing: Jack Daniels ‘Agent Whiskey’x Spanish-speaking f!reader and Javier Peña x Spanish-speaking f!reader (Spanish translations are provided.)
Previous Chapter: I'm Your Wife- Chapter Six
Word count: 9.2k+
Chapter summary: It's time for Ángel's surgery and the transplant preparation. Following the procedure, Jack visits his son, providing some closure regarding your marriage.
A/N: This chapter concludes the final installment of the series and stands as my penultimate post on this blog. Next week, hopefully, I'll be sharing one more post—a Din piece—officially wrapping up this blog. I intend to maintain my writing for another two weeks before ultimately closing my account. Thank you to everyone who has supported me!
Rating: 18+ No explicit content, but this is an 18+ page. Warning contains spoilers, but please read if you'd like!!! They are below the cut, but if you don't want to read them, the story starts after the Whiskey bottles. Also, Jack's texts are in bold.
CW: angst is back again, but a happy ending is guaranteed, some science, mentions of surgery, chemotherapy, and stem cell transplant, Jack cannot use an iPhone, Javi and Jack tension, jealousy, pregnancy, divorce, and childhood disease.
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Your conversation with Jack three hours ago left you drained and exhausted, and now you're perched on the chair in the corner of your son's hospital room. You're engrossed in watching Ángel and Javi talk about an upcoming soccer game and the probability of their favorite team winning the match when your phone vibrates underneath your thigh. With a subtle shift, you reach for it and once it’s in your hand, you flip it over. Your phone is illuminated with a family picture of you with your husband and son in the background and there’s a message on your Notification Center. 
Jack Daniels: HI. TEXTING YOU FROM MY NEW PHONE.
Another vibration follows, prompting a second message.
Jack Daniels: WHY DID THE TEXT SEND IN UPPERCASE?
The sequence of messages from Jack continues, each notification accompanied by a vibration.
Jack Daniels: HOW DO I TURN THIS OFF?
Jack Daniels: HELP me. Wait, I figured it out. Sorry.
You haven’t clicked on the messages to take you to the chat. Instead, you hold and press, sending him a brief response:
Hi, Jack.
He doesn’t send anything back, and you turn off your phone. As soon as the screen is black, it lights up again.
Jack Daniels: I went to the store and picked up a new phone.
A second later, an image comes through.
You hover over the message once more, and it’s a front selfie Jack took. Well, it’s not quite a full-face selfie. It only captures just beneath his eyes, and his eyes and face are not looking directly at the camera, so you guess he was looking down trying to take a picture of something else.
You’re proven correct when a second picture comes through. This time it’s a box of an iPhone.
There’s a bubble on your text chain, and this time you fully click, opening the message thread with Jack.
Sorry, I don’t know how this phone works. I just didn’t want my phone to fail, and you didn’t have a way to contact me, so I got a new one. Did I miss anything?
You reply back with:
Ángel is already ready to go, we’re just waiting for a room to open up in the OR. Could take hours, though.
How did he take the news?
Very well, actually. Saying he’s excited to go home is an understatement. He sensed that we were worried about his surgery and he kind of gave us a lecture on how important it is to listen to doctors and gave us a small list of the benefits of chemo ports. When we asked him how he knew about the port, he said, and I quote, "some light reading."
Jack doesn’t take long to reply:
Smart boy. He definitely got that from you.
A smile graces your lips at his message, but you decide to shift the conversation:
We never talked about it, but do you want us to tell Ángel that you’re his donor?
Your nerves are on edge, and waiting for Jack’s response heightens your anxiety. Glancing up from your phone, you see Ángel still in deep conversation with Javi. Your phone vibrates again, and you look down at Jack’s response:
No. I don’t want him to want a relationship with me because of the donation. If he wants a relationship with me, I want it to be because he truly wants it, not because he feels any obligation.
You exhale, relieved, and reply:
Okay, we won’t tell him.
Thank you.
A text bubble appears:
How do I send the accent on his name?
Suppressing a laugh, your fingers glide over the keyboard:
Press the letter A for a good two seconds, and a whole lot of options should appear. Click on the third one.
It doesn’t take Jack very long to send a single:
Á
He follows with:
Be honest, does it sound a bit funny when I pronounce his name?
You weigh your options, lie or be honest. You decide to go with the latter:
A little bit.
I remember when you used to make fun of my accent…
Liar. I didn’t make fun of you.
I miss that...
Oh, God, not again.
You’re about to reprimand him when, by some divine intervention, a fist knocks on the door, followed by a man in a polo and khakis. Quickly, you turn your phone off, redirecting your full attention to the man.
You’re about to reprimand him when, by some divine intervention, a fist knocks on the door, followed by a man in a polo and khakis. Quickly, you turn your phone off, redirecting your full attention to the man.
“Hi, I’m Will. I’m with patient transport services, and I’m here to take Ángel down to the OR,” he says.
“Come in,” you invite.
Javi stands up and retrieves your thick to-go bag from underneath the sofa. It's filled with water bottles, a variety of snacks, sweaters, sweatpants, and a few changes of clothes—because, as Javi says, uno nunca sabe (one never knows).
Will walks over to Ángel and looks at his hospital bracelet. He takes out a phone with a bulky blue case and scans the ID barcode. Will asks to no one in particular, “Can you please confirm his full name and date of birth.”
Javi does that for you.
Will nods and types something onto the phone. After a moment, he looks at Ángel, “Hey, little man, how are you doing?”
Ángel smiles, “I’m good, sir. I'm just waiting to get my chemo port. After that, I can get chemo and then a transplant so I can go home.”
Will chuckles, “That's a great plan, buddy. We’ll get you down to the OR, and they’ll take good care of you so you can go home soon. Ready to go to the sixth floor?”
Ángel nods enthusiastically, his eyes filled with trust.
“Great,” Will says, glancing at you and Javi. “If you guys are ready, we can head downstairs.”
Javi, lifting the heavy bag over his shoulder, nods in agreement. He glances at Ángel, a mix of tenderness and concern in his eyes, and then turns to Will.
“He’ll be under anesthesia, right?” Javi asks, his voice a bit gruffer than usual.
Will offers a reassuring smile, “Yes, sir. That's what his chart says.”
Javi nods, visibly swallowing some of his worry. “Okay, let’s get him down there.” He moves to help his son get up from the bed. Will positions the wheelchair closer to Ángel's bed, and together, they carefully lower Ángel onto the wheelchair. You reach for one of the blankets—a gift from your father-in-law—and drape it over Ángel. Will takes the IV wire and secures it on the designated hook at the back of the wheelchair.
"Are we all set?" Will asks.
"Yes," you affirm, and then Will wheels Ángel toward the door. Javi, anticipating the need, beats them to the exit, opens the door, and holds it wide open to let them pass. Stepping into the corridor, Javi instinctively reaches for your hands, intertwining fingers not just for your comfort but for his own solace as well. Together, you trail behind your son as Will expertly steers Ángel's wheelchair through the hallway. 
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Descending from the tenth floor via the patient elevators, you and Javi follow Will, who scans his badge to usher you through the double doors into the pre-op room. 
Guiding Ángel to the left side of the room, Will selects a quiet corner and draws back a side of the arctic blue diamond-print curtains, revealing an unoccupied bed. Positioning the wheelchair beside the bed, he assists Ángel in transitioning onto the soft mattress.
"Alright, good luck, buddy. You'll do great in there," Will encourages, raising a fist. Ángel meets it with his own, and as their fists connect, they both playfully mimic the sound of an explosion.
"Thanks, sir," Ángel replies, his voice carrying gratitude. Then, in a quiet and unsure tone, he adds, "I'll see you after?"
Will's smile is reassuring. "Absolutely. I'll be the one taking you back up."
With that, Will takes a step back, giving Ángel some space. He turns to you and your husband, saying, "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Peña, Mrs. Peña. Someone should be with you shortly."
"Thanks for everything, Will," you say, watching as Will, with a warm smile, exits and closes the curtain, providing you with some privacy with your son.
With only one chair in the room, Javi insists you take a seat, not wanting you on your feet.
"¿Y tú? (what about you?)" you ask, concern etched in your voice and face. Maybe it's because you went so long without a partner prioritizing you, or because in the time your son has been in the hospital, Javier has really taken care of almost everything. Sometimes you can't help but feel guilty that he always puts your comfort above his own.
"Me paro (I’ll stand)," Javi shrugs his shoulders as if it's the most obvious choice in the world.
"Papi, you can sit here," Ángel offers, patting the mattress.
"Está bien (it's okay), mijo, I can stand for a while," he smiles, loving that his son is always considerate.
"Baja ese bolso (put down that bag), at least," you plead with him.
"I'm good, someone should be here soon," Javi reassures.
"Pero, Javi- (but, Javi-)" You're interrupted when you hear a woman asking if she can come in.
He smirks and whispers, "Ves (see)." Dropping his cocky look, Javi opens the curtain to let the woman in.
"Hello, my name is Dr. Gaddi. I'll be Angel's anesthesiologist. Can I please get a full name and a birthday?"
Your son happily responds to the doctor's requests while she verifies the information on the computer.
"Great, thank you, sweetheart. Mom or Dad, I'll need your signature on the consent forms. If one of you will please follow me," she says.
"I'll go," Javi says, and to your relief, he finally drops the bag from his shoulder.
"It's just straight this way," the anesthesiologist says, motioning past the curtain where the nurse station is in the middle of the big room.
Javier nods and follows the doctor. "Ya vengo mis amores (I’ll be back my loves)," he says with a big smile before closing the curtain.
Once on the other side of the curtain, where you and his son can't see him, he exhales a shaky breath. The fear is there, gnawing at him, although he doesn't want to show it. He wishes he could share it with you, as he normally would, but you're pregnant. The stress is already too much, and he doesn't want it to affect the baby. That thought terrifies him, and he can't risk it. Through the course of your marriage, he's come to understand that sometimes, marriage isn't a perfect fifty-fifty. There are moments when one partner has to carry more, and right now, he knows it's one of those moments. He must bear the fear and shoulder some of yours. While he wants to share these worries with you, a deep-seated commitment to putting family first holds him back. His protective nature takes precedence, always prioritizing his family.
Javier raises his head back up and quickly turns around to follow the doctor, who is waiting for him.
Once he catches up to her, she tells him the forms are for consent of treatment. The doctor reads the online document, informing Javi about the procedure, the benefits, and the risks it entails.
Dr. Gaddi must have seen the look on Javier's face after she listed the risks and the way he nearly crumbled when she said "or death" because she stopped and turned to him.
"But... everything will be okay, right? He’s in good hands?” Javi asks, his voice cracking as if he's on the verge of tears; even speaking those words makes his throat ache, causing a noticeable strain in his voice.
"Sir, I can't make any promises. Every surgery does come with risks, but my team and I have successfully done this procedure multiple times.” 
Javi tries his best to remind himself that everyone in the OR is experienced and has done this procedure before.
"Where do I sign?" he manages to ask, his voice slowly regaining its composure.
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While Javi is with Ángel's anesthesiologist, a nurse, and another doctor come in to check on Ángel. He had only managed a short nap, so now, as he rests, you take out your phone and send a text to Jack. 
Hey. We're in the Pre-op area. There's a room in the OR now, and I've met his doctors. As soon as the anesthesiologist comes back, they'll take him.
Jack replies instantly as if he's been sitting by, waiting for his phone to ring:
Thank you for letting me know.
He sends a follow-up: 
His surgery is only supposed to take an hour, right?
That's what the doctors said. I'm sure he won't be in there for too long.
As Javi, Dr. Gaddi, and a nurse approach, you text Jack:
The anesthesiologist will be here soon. I'll send you any updates I get, and I'm going to send you Javi's contact info just in case.
After adding Javi's phone number and hitting send, your husband and the surgical team arrive.
Dr. Gaddi approaches, “Hi, Mom, everything is ready on our end to take the patient to the OR."
“Okay,” you say, rising to your feet. The staff gathers around the bed and begins to move it. Ángel stirs at the movement, calling for you and Javi before opening his eyes.
Javi quickly rushes to your side, closer to your son, and reassures him, "It's okay."
"Oh, am I going to surgery?" Ángel asks.
"Yes, you are, Angel," the nurse responds as he releases the brakes on the left side.
"Oh, okay, yay," Ángel smiles.
The nurse chuckles at his excitement, "You know, not many kids are excited for surgery."
"I'm excited because chemo ports look more comfortable than the IV. It gets in my way when I do, like, anything," Ángel explains with a huff.
"Well, I've heard from other patients that they prefer the port, so hopefully you will too," says Dr. Gaddi as she stands to the side, waiting to wheel Ángel out of the room.
She turns to you and your husband, saying, "You guys can follow us until that red line, and then you'll be taken to the waiting room."
You start feeling more anxious, and Javier senses it. He begins to rub your lower back, his warm hand moving up and down, offering comfort.
"Okay, ready," says the nurse.
With the curtain open, they go through first, and you and Javi are right next to your son’s bed.
You're so hyper-focused on your son that you don't realize you've made it right before the line that you can't cross.
"Love you, Mommy, love you, Daddy," Ángel says, reaching out for your hand.
You take his little hand in yours, and Javi covers both of your hands with his.
"Te amamos más, mi niño (we love you more)," Javi tells him in a soft voice. Everyone can hear the love pouring out of his words.
Ángel knows this and doesn't try to contradict his dad because he knows it would be in vain. Instead, he simply says, "Nos vemos en un ratito (We’ll see each other in a little bit)."
"Okay, mijo," you say, fighting back tears.
The doors open, and Ángel is wheeled in. You think the tears are coming, but when you hear the light sound of your son's laughter, you're able to compose yourself.
"Would you like to be taken to the waiting room now?" a non-surgical nurse asks.
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Thirty minutes pass, and you and Javier are seated in the waiting room, the only occupants at the moment. Purple chairs surround you, and you're on a blue seat cushion against the wall, your attention fixed on the TV opposite. It's a modest 35-inch screen designed to keep you informed about the ongoing surgery. Your son's name is displayed in green, and the message changes from ‘Surgery in progress: Incision and Pocket Creation’ to ‘Surgery in progress: Port Implantation.’
"They're placing the port-disk-chamber thingy inside the incision they made on his chest," Javi says matter-of-factly, pointing at the text.
You turn your head toward him, an amused smile playing on your lips. "'Port-disk-chamber thingy'—is that what the doctor said, Jav?"
He bursts out laughing, placing his right hand over his chest, realizing he was mimicking the tone doctors use when imparting information: authoritative. "Casi me cago del miedo (I almost shitted myself from fear) when the doctor told me step by step what they would do, so I don't remember exactly what he said," he chuckles.
Javier's laugh is contagious, and you can't help but laugh too. Your laughter fuels his, and vice versa. The only thing that interrupts your laughter is when you feel the baby kick.
"Ay, me pateó (oh, he kicked me)," you exclaim happily.
Javi instantly stops laughing too and shifts his hand to rest on your bump. As soon as you feel the weight of his hand on your stomach, your son responds with another kick, right where Javi's palm is placed.
A boyish look crosses your husband's face. He always loves feeling the baby kick, reminiscent of the first time he felt his first son kick.
"¿Hola, mijo, ya te despertaste? (Hi, my boy, have you woken up yet?)" he hums softly.
In response, the baby kicks again.
"He loves your voice so much. I swear he only kicks so you could talk to him. A mi no me quiere, nomas le gusta que le cantes y le leas (He doesn’t love me, he just likes it when you sing and read to him),” you huff out in fake annoyance.
"That's not true. The second-born is always the momma's boy. So the baby loves you the most," Javi says.
"And the youngest loves daddy the most, so no," you refute.
"He won't be the youngest for long," he grins suggestively.
You gasp, “ya me embarazaste, sinverguenza! (You already impregnated me!)"
"But if it was scientifically possible..."
"Shut up," you playfully scold him.
With Javi's hand still over your stomach, your son kicks again, this time much lighter.
"He's upset you told me to shut up," his gaze shifts from looking at you to your stomach as if he could see the baby, and he lowers his voice, “¿verdad, mijo? Dile a tu mami que no sea mala conmigo (right, mijo? Tell your mom to stop being mean to me).”
He looks back up at you, "te acuerdas cuando Ángel hizo eso por primera vez? (Do you remember when Ángel did that for the first time?).”
“Jesus Christ, he scared me, and he made you cry,” you laugh, a smile on your face remembering.
"Oh shit! I forgot to update Jack," you realize and scramble to get your phone. As you start typing to let him know what's going on in the OR, you tell Javi, "By the way, I gave him your phone number."
Javier lets out an unenthusiastic and dry, "Yay."
“Mira (look),” he says while you’re still typing. You look up to where Javi is pointing, and the TV changes to Surgery in progress: Catheter Insertion.
You wince, "They're in his vein now."
"The catheter is the tube that delivers the medicine to his body, right?"
"Yeah," you mumble, typing the next update to Jack.
Javi reaches for one of your hands and rubs soothing circles, “Deja de pensar en eso. Él está bien con ellos (stop thinking about it. He’s safe with them).”
He removes his hand and turns his body to the to-go bag. Javi reaches for the zipper and undoes it. He digs in the back, and you see him pull something out. "Do you need a blanket?" he asks, with a large fuzzy blue blanket in his hand and his soft brown eyes looking at you tenderly. Before you can reply, he places it in your lap and goes back to the bag. Javi fights a little and finally tugs a pillow out of the bag, "a pillow?" he asks with the same puppy eyes.
“I- thank you," you accept both items. You put the pillow behind you so you won't rest your back against the hard and cold wall. You take the blue blanket from your lap and extend it to drape it over the both of you.
"¿Tienes hambre? (are you hungry?)" Javi asks adjusting the blanket.
"Sí" 
He goes back to the bag and pulls out some snacks: Goldfish, Chips Ahoy, granola bars, fruit snacks, dry plantain chips, and a pack of assorted nuts.
"Sorry, I don't have any actual food," he looks at what he's offered you and feels guilty at the limited options. Javi gets up quickly, "I can go get you real food. Are you craving anything?"
"Hey," you wrap your fingers around his wrist and grip somewhat tightly. You look up at him and push him to sit back down. "No. I don't want you to leave."
"Okay. I'll stay," he says softly, kissing where your hair and forehead meet.
A knock reverberates in the room, and a nurse comes in. "Hi," she says, closing the door to come closer to you. "Everything went well. There were no complications. They're ready to transfer Ángel to the Post-op room if you guys would like to follow me."
Both of you look relieved at the news, and you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.
"Thank you," you tell her, and Javi can't get any words out. His eyes are watering, and he tries his best to not let them fall.
He starts hurriedly putting away the snacks, just keeping the bag of nuts, while you fold the blanket back up into the neat roll Javi had it in. After the snacks, blanket, and pillow are in the bag again, Javi helps you get up. You send Jack a quick text informing him that everything went well, and you're on your way to see Ángel. Javi puts the bag over his shoulder, and you both follow the nurse to go see your son.
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Next morning - Day 1 of Chemo:
Hey, Jack. Ángel is awake and doing well. He asked about having visitors and hoped you would come see him. We explained that it's not possible right now. He understood but wanted to call. Would you like to FaceTime?
That's great. What’s FaceTime?
It's a video call.
Yes. How do I do that?
Instead of texting him back, you initiate a FaceTime call and hand the phone off to Ángel when it starts to ring.
As soon as Jack accepts the call and his face takes over your screen, Ángel's little face lights up. "Mr. Jack!"
Jack's face mirrors Ángel's: a smile so wide, eyes so soft looking at his son.
"I just started chemotherapy," Ángel blurts out just before Jack greets him.
Jack's heart glows watching his son's face. "How are ya feeling?"
"Mmm... I feel okay. Oh! I got the surgery last night, and look at my chemo port." Your son takes one hand off your phone and pulls his hospital gown just enough to show Jack his port. "Look! You can see the bump of the port under my skin. Eww, it looks gross. It's so cool."
Jack laughs, and that makes Ángel move the phone back to his face.
"Does it hurt?" Jack asks.
"Nope. It was a little bit like... sore when I woke up, but it doesn’t hurt now. I had chemo in the morning, and it pinched for a second, but it's wayyy better than the IV."
"It's not a pain to use the restroom, huh?"
"It's easier and faster to go now," his brows pinch in the middle, "I almost peed myself once 'cus I had to wait for the wires to detangle from the bed." Ángel trails off, tilts his head to the side, and squints. "What do you have behind you? Is that a needle?"
Jack turns his head behind to see what his son saw. He had picked up the prescription he needed to be Ángel's donor from the pharmacy the previous night. Jack opened the box out of curiosity and took out a needle to look at, but then he got caught up texting you in the morning and forgot to put the small vial and needle back in the pharmacy bag.
"Umm... yeah?" Jack says uncertainly, not knowing how to explain it to his son. He doesn't want him to know that he's his donor, at least not yet. "That is some medicine I have to take in two days," Jack says, trying to keep it vague.
When the words come out of Jack's mouth, Ángel's eyes show pure concern, "Oh, are you sick?"
"No, buddy," Jack blurts out immediately, "I'm not sick. I'm just takin' them for... to... Just takin' them to stay healthy. They're like vitamins."
"Maybe I should take some so I could be healthy. What's the name of the medicine?"
Jack's heart drops at his son's words. His mind starts spinning, but he takes a deep breath. He'll be healthy soon, he tries to remind himself. "You can't take this one, buddy. It's for adults."
"Oh," he sounds disappointed, but his voice goes back to normal, "Well, that's okay. I can't take vitamins on chemo either way. I think. Vitamins can affect chemo because of cancer cells, but I don't have any so I don't know. I can ask later. How are the horses?"
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Donation Day - Day 7 of Chemo:
Jack sat comfortably in a green chair, his right hand extended over a pillow, squeezing a small blue ball as his blood cycled through the machine. Two hours had passed since he settled into the chair. He arrived at the hospital early in the morning with the last dose of his five-day filgrastim prescription, and for the first time, someone other than him administered the injection. Throughout the morning, he had been texting you, checking in on his son, and, though he wouldn't admit it, checking in on you.  Of course, he cared about his son and wanted to know every detail of what he was going through, but this had been the only line of communication he had with you for years, and he wanted to take advantage of the opportunity while you were willing to entertain his conversations. From you, he learned that Ángel's last day of chemo had gone smoothly.
Jack's head spun when he heard a knock against the door. His heart thumped wildly in his chest at the thought of seeing you. When the door opened, a wave of disappointment washed over him. It wasn't you who set foot in the room; it was fucking Javier.
Jack instantly tenses and clears his throat as Javier walks over to him.
"Hi."
"Hi."
Javi crosses his hands over his thick biceps, "How's the donation coming along?"
"It's goin' well. They think in 30 minutes we'll have enough for Ángel," Jack fills Javi in.
"H-how are umm... how are you feeling?" Javi gets the words out, although with much effort. He sounds physically pained asking a simple question to Jack.
"You sound very concerned for my well-being," Jack quips sarcastically.
Not really, Javi wants to say. Instead, he tells Jack, "I’m trying really hard to not hate you.”
It doesn't faze Jack one bit. "Same."
"So just don't do anything to piss me off. More like don't do anything else to piss me off even more," Javi lowers his voice more, "She's my wife; she tells me things. Don't you ever dare call her ‘baby’ again. You're lucky she's not that uncomfortable with ‘sugar’, but if she ever shows one ounce of discomfort, you will stop."
"She never minded all those names before," Jack challenges, glaring at Javi."
Javi smirks, wearing a shit-eating grin as he nonchalantly shrugs. "Yeah, she never did lots of things before me."
Jack is furious. All he sees is red, and just as he begins to rise from his chair to get up, the nurse walks in.
"Oh! A visitor," she exclaims.
"Hello," Javi greets the redheaded nurse in blue scrubs with ducks all over them.
Seeing the nurse enter, Jack comes to his senses and sits back down. Subconsciously, he squeezes the ball so tight in his hands that his knuckles turn white.
"Mr. Daniels, are you okay?" the nurse questions with concern. All she sees is her patient gripping the ball so tightly that his nails are about to rupture through the material. She moves to him and checks his arm to see if there are any signs the needle is causing pain.
Jack's glare tears from Javi and shifts to the nurse. "I'm okay, thank you for checkin’ in on me," he tells her and moves his hand to signal for the nurse to release his arm. "Nothin’ hurts," he smiles up at her.
The nurse understands and checks the progress of the donation. While looking at the machine, she decides to make small talk with her patient and his visitor. "Are you Mr. Daniels' brother?" She turns to ask Javi innocently.
"No," Jack's words drip with disgust.
Javi smiles at how fast Jack denies the nurse's initial thought and says "Not related," under his breath, mumbling, "Thank God."
The nurse doesn't seem to pick up on their animosity and comments, "You two look alike, what a coincidence. Best friends then?"
"No, nothing like that. My wife and I know him, and he's giving our son a gift," Javi says 'our' while looking at Jack.
Suddenly, Ángel crosses their minds, and they both feel some shame for their earlier behavior. They know they can't go on still hating each other because it'll eventually turn into a fight. They just don't know how to set aside their differences.
"I'll call the doctor to get her thoughts, but it looks like we have what we need for the donation," the nurse says, taking note of the blood volume. "In a few hours, one lucky little boy will receive the cells, and he’ll be one step closer to being healthy."
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After Jack was hooked up to the machine for two and a half hours, the staff deemed the collection enough and sent the blood bag to the lab to confirm that Jack’s procedure had collected enough stem cells. Four hours later, it was confirmed that there were the desired amount of stem cells, and the team took the cells to Ángel’s room. Due to your son being immunocompromised, he isn't allowed to have visitors other than legal guardians. So, you and Javi update Jack on the transplant.
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Day 11 post-transplant:
Remember how I told you he started grafting on the tenth day?
Yes! How his body was accepting the stem cells, and the cells were growing and making new cells.
Mhm. Well, if everything keeps going at the speed it’s been going, Ángel gets to go home in four days!!
Oh, wow! It’s just day 11 after the transplant, and the doctors estimated it wouldn't happen until closer to day 25! Can I go see him then? I know I was cleared to go five days ago, but because I wasn’t feeling well, I didn’t go. My fever’s still here, but I’ll continue to monitor myself.
Sure! You need to be cleared of a fever for 24 hours and have absolutely NO symptoms.
You have my word, sugar.
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Day 14 post-transplant:
You're packing all of Ángel's belongings to take home. It's been 14 days since your son's transplant, and he's cleared to go home. You don't know who's happier— you, your husband, or your son. But that doesn't really matter; all that matters is that your family is together. Just as you're collecting your son's toys and getting them ready to shove into the white personal belongings bag, someone knocks on the door. Javi stops placing Ángel's books into a box and hurriedly opens the door. He was expecting the doctor to come in with discharge papers, but it was Jack waiting on the other side.
"Oh, right, you said you'd stop by," Javi remembered.
When you saw Jack standing there not quite stepping inside the room with a red gift bag, you gasped. "Sorry, we forgot you were going to stop by." You turned your neck and saw Ángel reading the book Jack had gifted him, One Hundred Fun Facts About Horses.
"Come in," you usher Jack in. "Mijo," you call, and Ángel looks up from the book he's got his nose buried in.
"Mr. Jack!" Ángel's face lights up like a Christmas tree. He pats a spot in his bed as he tells Jack to sit down next to him. "I want to show you something," Ángel puts the book aside and lowers his shirt to show Jack that the port is gone. "They took my port out!"
Jack almost reaches out and touches his son's scar but settles for examining it with his eyes. "Are you sore?"
"Not really. I'm just excited to go to my house. Did my mom tell you I'm leaving the hospital today?"
"Yeah," Jack chuckles, "she mentioned it. And here I brought you this," he lifts the gift bag onto the bed.
Ángel tears it open and begins to pull the items out. The first gift he reaches is a book, Her Right Foot. "Oh, my God!"
You see the title and direct your question to Jack, "He's wanted that book for a while, how did you know?"
"Really?" Jack's smiling ear to ear. "I just went to the bookstore and thought he'd like that one." His heart feels like it could rip right through his chest because he feels like he knows his son. Jack had browsed many children's books and read the synopsis of every last book. The one he had purchased was the one he felt his son would love, the book his son is currently holding, and Jack was right.
The little boy takes out the next item, which is a box. "A Lego set!" Ángel flips the black box to the front, and he sees that this particular set is one of horses. The horse in the center looked similar to Andor, one of Jack's horses his son loved the most. "Is this an Andalusian?" Ángel looks to Jack, his eyes sparkling."
Jack nods his head, "It is, buddy. It's like a mini Andor."
Ángel seems pleased with Jack's answer and moves on to the last gift. It was another box, but this one was a shoebox. The little boy lifted the top off, and he was met with boots—dark brown leather boots with beautiful and intricate stitching all throughout.
“Is that a longhorn?” Ángel points at the center of the boots. He doesn’t wait for an answer before speaking again, “My grandpa has longhorns on his ranch. Do you have them on your ranch, Mr. Daniels?”
"I don’t have any longhorns, but umm... I have the same boots," Jack looks down at the floor like he’s suddenly interested in the simple pattern of the hospital floor. He wasn’t sure what reaction he expected, but when his son's sweet voice reached his ears, Jack looked up.
"You do?" Ángel was beaming, a smile brighter than the sun. He leaps to move sideways so his legs would hang from the bed. He took his left boot and put it on his baby blue non-slip sock-clothed feet and did the same for the right boot. When both boots are on, he pinches the tip to feel where his toes are. Ángel drops to the floor and begins to walk, showing all three of you his new footwear. 
"How did you get his shoe size?" You're amazed at how they seem to fit perfectly.
"I asked him," Jack nods his head towards your husband, who is smiling broadly, showing his perfect teeth. Javi squats down to Ángel's level and presses his fingers on his son's boot toe box to feel if they're pinching Ángel's feet. "Perfect fit," Javi smiles up at his son, dimple on display, still on the floor.
Once Javi's hands are removed from Ángel's boots, he runs to Jack, "Thank you so much, Mr. Jack," he says, jumping up and down. Ángel runs back to Javi, who is now standing up straight, "¡Papi, quiero una foto! (Daddy, I want a picture!)" Javi complies and takes out his phone from his back pocket.
You turn to Jack, and your voice falls to a whisper, "We're hosting a dinner in a few nights to celebrate Ángel coming home, and we'd love it if you'd join us."
Jack's head reels at the prospect of seeing you and Ángel in a few days, but beneath that excitement, there is fear, "Is your family going to be there?" he asks.
"Yes, and Javi's too."
"It's your family I'm worried about," he confesses, looking into your eyes.
You take in the way his face pales slightly, his eyes widen, and his eyebrows shoot near his hairline. "No. You're more than worried; you look genuinely scared, but you'll be fine."
"'Course I'll be there, Sugar," he says, looking at his son laughing while Javi takes his pictures. If Ángel was a happy and giddy boy before the transplant, Jack now sees how his innocence is amplified now that he's healthy, and Jack can't wait to see more of his son's childhood joy outside the hospital.
"Hey, can I talk with you alone before you leave?" Jack asks you, hoping you'll agree.
"Um, yeah, we can go outside," you agree, noting his urgent tone.
"Javi, Ángel, I'll be back soon. I'm just going to walk Jack out," you say, moving to the door with Jack on your heels.
"Okay, we'll keep packing, amor," Javi tells you, brushing his hand with yours. You lean into your husband for a while until Ángel and Jack say their goodbyes, promising they'll see each other at the dinner.
You and Jack exit the room, and you take him to a little corner further down the hall.
"What did you want to discuss?" you ask resting your back on the wall with brown and cream diamond wallpaper.
Jack's nervous to tell you what he wants: a father-and-son relationship with Ángel. You two never went into detail on how you would tell Ángel the truth about Jack and he's terrified of asking you for something this big so soon after a big weight of stress has been lifted off you. 
"Jack?" 
"Sorry," he clears his throat, "I wanted to talk to you about telling Ángel that I'm his dad- biological."
"Oh," you sound surprised. "Yeah. We didn't really discuss that, did we? I haven't thought about it in so long, I'm sorry. Maybe we can get some pointers from Ángels counselor?" You suggest. "Javi and I thought about making an appointment with a child therapist because of this entire hospital stay. We were hoping to get your opinion on that actually."
It's Jack's turn to be surprised. "I think that's wonderful, Sugar. Thank you for including me in the decision." 
"Of course. I think it would be great if we could get the counselor's opinion on how to best handle the situation. And we too can figure out how this new dynamic would work. For example, medical decisions moving forward. We'll tell Ángel about you and I have no doubt he'll want to have the relationship you want to have with him. We can talk more about the appointment in a few days. We haven't set an exact date for the dinner but it will probably be this upcoming Sunday." 
"I'll clear out my entire schedule," Jack says sincerely 
"We'll have food for you that won't send you into a choking fit," you tease. 
Jack covers his eyes with his hands, "God, 'M so sorry." 
You laugh at his embarrassment, "No, it's okay. I understand the food we serve can take some getting used to."  You continue to tell him about the plans for the dinner that is slowly turning into a party and he just stares at you while you keep talking he gets lost in the moment. He thinks about your laugh and the consideration you still have for him and suddenly Jack blurts out, “I love you."
The smile you had vanishes.
“Jack,” you warn dangerously. “We were doing so good, Jack.” You don't want to—can't see him now, so you close your eyes. The words only needed to be said once for them to threaten tears to spill. "How dare you say those words to me now?” You hiss, your tone now angry but more than anything, filled with frustration and pain. You thought you could handle seeing him, so you open your eyes. "What do you expect me to do with that? I won’t leave Javi if that’s what you’re hoping for.
"S-" Jack opens his mouth, but you cut him off immediately. "No, Jack, let me speak."
"Once, those three words would have made me the happiest person in the world, but now? They’re only causing pain,” you pause, exhaling a shaky breath. “You humiliated me, Jack. Time and time again. Even if I didn’t have Javi, I wouldn’t go back to you.” You sound defeated, your voice carrying the pain of past wounds, and it crushes you to keep thinking about the past.
“I did love you, through everything,” Jack whispers, his eyes searching yours. They are watery and dazed.
“I think…” you run your tongue over your lips and then purse them, “I think you loved me in your own way. But that’s not how I wanted to be loved. During our engagement, and more so during our marriage, I never really felt loved by you. Can you blame me for that if I can count with my fingers the amount of 'I love yous' you gave me?” Your words are like shards of glass, cutting through the air with the sharpness of your pain.
“When you did show me your love, I was so happy, Jack. So happy that I thought, hoped, you would give me more love, so I stayed with you. I longed for the morning you woke up and things would be different, better. Because that’s exactly what happened. You woke up after the night of our engagement, and you were a completely different person, and I couldn't comprehend what I did wrong. I was willing to stay with you forever for the odd chance one day you would feel for me how I felt for you.”
“And I stayed because I always hoped you would go back to your old self. Sometimes there were indications that you were going to become the old Jack. Well, I don’t know if I fooled myself, but sometimes I thought you were happy. Like right before I told you I was pregnant, you had this smile on your face….” Your voice trembles with the weight of those memories.
“Other times I genuinely thought you hated me, and then I thought that’s not possible. ‘Why would he ask me to marry him if he couldn’t stand me?’” 
“Did you always think that?” He sounds sad, a quiet plea for understanding. But your heart, scarred by the past, struggles to find solace in his remorseful gaze.
“Yeah. When… when we were together, it was rare you would look at me in my face. The majority of times you had me face down. How do you think that made me feel? You made me feel used and disposable.” 
“I wanted to be loved by you," you continue, your tone a mix of vulnerability and strength, "and you always made me feel like I was the other woman. Then I decided I should stop trying and let you go.” 
“What changed?” Jack's question hangs in the air. Everything you’ve revealed up to this point has felt like glass shards embedded in his heart. He knows you still have a lot left to say, and it will continue to hurt him, but he owes it to you to hear everything you went through.
“I was at a park one day after you didn’t come home," you recall, emotion tinging your words. "I came across this older man, and he showed me pictures of his family. When he talked about his wife…” you pause, emotion catching up with you. “It was beautiful. And I realized that would never be you. You wouldn’t talk about me that way. Since that day, I took off my rose-colored lenses and thought everything through."
"I thought about your behavior but also about mine. I hated who I was because it sounds ridiculous, but I was jealous of someone who wasn't here anymore. And I swear I never wanted to replace her or erase her from your life, I just wanted you to love me too. I loved you so much; I would've settled for half the love you had for Allison, but you couldn't even give me that. I never told you you couldn't love or mourn Allison. She was your wife, I get that... but I was your wife too, and knowing you would never love me like you did her was slowly killing me.” 
"I thought about one night, which I don't know if you remember," you confess, the vulnerability in your voice palpable. "But one night on her birthday, you got extremely drunk, and you kept slurring your words. I couldn't understand half of what you were saying, but I heard loud and clear when you yelled at me that you didn’t choose to stop loving her; you were forced to. And you said that you would’ve never looked at me otherwise. That you wish she came back and I disappeared… That we s- switched places,” you confess, exposing the scars engraved into your heart, and the pain of that night that is still etched in your memory—a wound that refused to fully heal. You were surprised that you weren't sobbing, because the night he told you those words, you felt your world had ended.
Jack was appalled, his face reflecting the shock and guilt that surged through him as he listened to your words. The heaviness of the past, the pain inflicted, all rushed back to him as a floodgate of memories suddenly opened, each carrying the weight of its own hurt.
"I always felt I was the third person in our marriage. You made me feel things I hated, and maybe even worse, I became someone I didn't recognize. After that day in the park, I was going to ask you for a divorce because I didn't want to be the person you settled for… then I found out I was pregnant. I wanted to give us one last try, and well, you remember what happened after I told you the news,” you say, the bitterness of the past lingering in your words.
"You kept hurting me, and you're smart, Jack. Did you not think I would leave you?" 
Jack exhales, the reminder of his own mistakes heavy on him. "I think I couldn’t let ya go, so a part of me hoped you would leave me if I treated you horribly. Every day I fought with myself to treat you like you deserve, but I wasn’t strong enough to open up to you."
The silence lingers, and Jack takes the opportunity to share a piece of his truth. "The night after I proposed, I had a dream about Allison. She told me I was replacing her, and I dunno, instead of working out through my issues, I took it out on ya.”
“Over a dream? You... you let our relationship go to waste because of a dream,” you say, a mix of disbelief and frustration in your voice. You want to be angry at him because such a trivial thing ruined the chance of happiness, but then you put yourself in his shoes. "Oh, Jack," you add, this time with a tone of understanding and sadness. 
“Have you been to therapy?” you ask him, your tone a mix of curiosity and concern.
“Yeah…” Jack admits with a small, self-deprecating laugh.
“Can I be honest?” you tilt your head, your fingers playing with the collar of your shirt.
He nods.
“I don’t think it helped.”
Jack smiles, a sheepish expression on his face, “If we’re being honest, I went in for two sessions and never saw my shrink again.”
“Well, your therapist probably knew what they were doing,” you playfully scold, but then your voice softens, "Please see a therapist so Ángel can get to know the best version of you. When I knew that Jack, he was amazing, and that's the man I want my son to know."
A sad smile greets Jack's face, "Yes, Sugar."
There's another thing you've always been curious to know but never had the stomach to ask, and this seems to be your window. "Can I ask, did you, um, did you ever sleep with someone else while we were married?"
"God no," the words tumble out of his mouth.
"Well, that's something, I guess," you say, a sense of relief evident in your voice.
"I'm really sorry about everything, sweetheart. I can't believe I ever hurt you. I just miss you so much. I’ve never regretted anything in my life as much as I do not telling you I loved you when we had a chance," Jack confesses, the weight of regret heavy in his words.
"It’s okay, Jack. I’m not your wife anymore, but we had some good times. Sometimes love doesn’t work out how we thought,” you tell Jack, your gaze turning when you hear footsteps that are familiar to you. 
And Jack would forever kick himself for driving you away and not accepting your love. The only piece of solace is that Ángel will have a happy and full life, and you finally got the love you deserved and dreamed of.
Javi starts calling your name, and you answer him so he can walk over to where you are. Once Javi comes into view, he tells you that Ángel’s been discharged and that they're ready to go home.
Jack looks at you once more, his gaze lingering, as if trying to capture every detail to hold onto. He sees the love in your eyes for your husband, a love he once had the chance to cherish but let slip away. It hurts, but at the mention of his son, it gives him the slightest glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, he has learned from his mistakes, and he'll find a way to be a part of your lives, even if it's not in the way he once dreamed. The love of his life and his son are happy and healthy, and that will have to be enough for him.
"Bye, Jack. I'll let you know what time we're having the dinner," you say, while Javi wraps his arms around you—a protective gesture that Jack once held the privilege of doing, but did so sparingly.
"Take care," Javi tells Jack over his shoulder, his voice firm but not unkind. He then leads you to Ángel's room, leaving Jack standing alone in the corridor, grappling with the ache of what could have been.
You both start heading down the hallway, and Javi pauses halfway. His eyes search yours, concern written all over his features. 
"Are you okay?"
"I am now," you lean into him and smile. "Jack and I were talking about when we were married," you begin, and Javi tenses involuntarily.
"Hey, no, you don’t have anything to worry about," you reassure him, cupping his face with both of your hands. "Our talk was more about what went wrong, and the bottom line was that I‘m okay with the fact that he wasn’t the one for me."
Javi takes a deep breath, visibly trying to control the surge of emotions within him. "It’s just- me cae mal ese - (I don’t like that-)” You can't help but chuckle lightly at your husband's choice of words.
"As stupid as it sounds, I wanted to make it work when we were married. I saw it in his eyes, I felt it in his words and actions; he didn’t love me, and I couldn’t stay in a marriage like that. I wanted a life with him... It didn't work out, and it's okay. Everything I dreamed of having, I found it with you. I'm the happiest I've ever been at your side. You’re the love of my life and I love being your wife, don't ever doubt that, okay?" Since the beginning of your relationship, you always repeated your love to Javier, not because he was insecure, but because you knew how it felt to be second place, second best, a consolation prize, and you never wanted Javier to think that you settled for him after Jack.
"Say it again," Javi requests, a genuine smile softening his features as he looks down at you.
"What?" 
“That you’re my wife," Jack wants you to repeat the words that make his heart flutter.
“I’m your wife," you say.
Javi, still reveling in the warmth of the words, spins his finger in a playful circle, silently requesting you to say the words again.
“I’m your wife," you repeat, the pride evident in your tone. You take Javi's hand and begin walking to your son’s room.
"Again," Javi insists, stopping you in your tracks.
“I’m your wife.” 
“Otra vez," he requests, this time in Spanish.
You comply, “Soy tu esposa," you tell him and drag him further down the hall to your son's room.
When Javi playfully asks you to say it once more, this time it's you who stops. “Por dios, Javi, ¿en cuántos lenguajes quieres que te lo diga? (My God, Javi, how many languages do you want me to say it in?)” you feign annoyance.
He shrugs, answering with a mischievous grin, “En todos (in all of them).”
Amused, you grab him by the collar of his blue button-down shirt and bring him to a level where you can whisper into his ear, “Ay, Jav, apenas y hablas español (Oh, Jav, you barely speak Spanish).” You kiss his cheek and pull back, leaving him slightly offended but oddly proud. He had hoped for a different outcome when he saw you pull him down; the glint in your eyes made him believe you were going to kiss him on the lips. But, to his dismay, you chose to tease him instead.
"Take it back!" he demands as you stand right outside the door.
“Si lo dices en español (if you say it in Spanish),” you tease with a grin. Javier contemplates for a moment, and in the brief silence, Ángel's laughter and Dr. Navarro's voice echo from inside the room.
"Please?" Javi implores, wanting to savor one more of those heart-skipping phrases before joining his son. Unable to resist his pleading eyes any longer and mindful of the precious moments with Ángel, you relent.
“I’m your wife.”
END
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Extended Note: The end! Thank you, everyone, for your kindness throughout the series. I truly appreciate every interaction 🥹.
As for my departure, I'm unsure whether I should deactivate my account or just private my writing. There's one post I received only positive comments on, especially from people with SPD who found it relatable. Apparently, there's a shortage of such stories, so I'm conflicted. Hopefully, I'll have a definitive decision next week.
I'm planning to post the Din story next Thursday; it's just one part, a sex pollen with Virgin!Din, titled 'Paleta.' I'm a fan of El Alfa, and I recently discovered that a song in his new album was sampled from the one I used for the Din story. It got me thinking about what I had written, and I wanted to share it with y’all before I bow out.
Thank you for reading 🫶🏽!
Taglist: @kchavez666 @ttupelohoneyy @mishasminion360 @ilovetaquitosmmmm @stileslvr @pedrostories
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edelfan · 2 years ago
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Jake just got off the phone with the doctor. He would have never expected to receive this kind of call. It still seemed kind of surreal...
They were still on their extended leave after the Uranium Mission, so at least he didn't have to get clearance for all the upcoming medical tests and the procedure itself. And from what the doctor had just told him, he assumed it shouldn't take too long afterwards to get cleared for flying again.
Jake hadn't really thought much about it when he had ticked that small point on one of the many questionnaires during a mandatory medical check a while ago. But now that there was the chance to save yet another life, it made Jake feel proud of himself.
Growing up without a father, tossed into the foster care system at twelve due to his mother's overdose, he still seemed to have turned out a decent man somehow.
He was just about to pull out his phone again and text Bradley about the news, when he heard the front door of his current rental home being unlocked... Speaking of the devil...
Jake walked out of the living room to greet his boyfriend - another mission accomplished in the last few weeks - already having been swept up in the older man's arms, who was laughing joyfully.
Smile turning into a suspicious grin, Jake kissed Bradley swiftly on the lips before asking: "What got into you today, birdie?"
Bradley slightly pulled back and looked at Jake with so much love, and what seemed to be deep relief.
"You remember when I told you that Pops, well Maverick's husband, had a set back in his treatment and that it wasn't looking good due to this rare genetic thing he has? Guess what, baby! They actually found a donor, a matching stem cell donor."
Thinking about turning this into a one-shot...?
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justkidneying · 2 months ago
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Why you can't actually transplant eyes (yet)
This one didn't win the poll, but someone specifically asked for this topic, so I'll write about it anyways. Also, as someone who is working towards being a trauma surgeon, this is a topic I'm really passionate about.
So, I think a lot of people have a misconception about whether or not it is possible to transplant eyes. We transplant a lot of other stuff, so why not eyes? Well, you can transplant pieces of the eye, like the cornea, the clear part at the front of your eye (which is avascular). You can also replace the lens with an artificial one (the lens is also avascular). This is how you can fix cataracts, just taking out the old shitty lens and putting in a clear new one. That procedure can be done in a clinic in like thirty minutes (which is fuckin crazy if you ask me).
But what we're talking about here is taking out the entire eyeball and replacing it with a donor eye. It sounds cool as hell, so why is it so hard? First off, the eye is a part of the central nervous system (the first two cranial nerves, are in fact part of the CNS, not the PNS). So the optic nerve (CN II) is what carries special sensory information to the dorsal brain (occipital lobe). To control eye movement, you have CN III, IV, and VI (oculomotor, trochlear, and abducens nerves). The oculomotor nerve controls eye movement, pupil constriction, and the upper eyelid. The trochlear nerve controls movement of the eye downwards, outwards, or to the nose. The abducens nerve moves the eye outwards. Several other nerves are involved in keeping the gaze level with movement, visual tracking, and parasympathetic/sympathetic functions (rest and digest vs. fight or flight). The point is, eye nerves are complicated as hell.
The blood flow to parts of the eye is also very complicated, and is very difficult to properly reattach for full perfusion (esp the retina).
Now, onto the good parts. So the eye is what is called "immune privileged." This means it has protections against the immune function of the body (to avoid autoimmune attacks). The eye has no lymphatics, few immune cells, and immune suppressing chemicals. This makes it a great place for implants, as it is unlikely that the body will attack the foreign tissue (stem cell implants are becoming more common).
The first whole eye transplant was done about a year ago (November 2023), and so far the eye is still there with adequate blood flow. However, the guy can't actually see out of it. The surgery took 21 hours and involved a huge team of some of the best surgeons in the world. It was not an easy thing to do. They also implanted some stem cells with the optic tract in hopes to regenerate it, but that still hasn't restored vision in the eye. So, while this case is a major win in the area of eye transplants, there is still a ways to go.
So why do we even need to do so many eye transplants? Well, all kinds of things can lead to the loss of the eye, whether it be disease or trauma. Surgeons try very hard to keep the eyes in a patient, but that isn't always possible. Sometimes the tissue is too destroyed for repair or the damage causes permanent pain. Enucleation is the removal of the eye. Usually, as much of the optic nerve is left as possible, as well as the musculature. Possible options after healing include fake eyes (like glass ones), which can be crazy realistic and can be moved with the eye muscles.
I hope this was an interesting read, and thanks for reading my ramblings. I didn't feel like the typical post format would work for this one, and I like to imagine it like a bonus since it didn't win the poll, lol.
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whirligig-girl · 5 months ago
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This is just a what-if from one possible future--Guz's fate is not set in stone. Consider this like All Good Things or Endgame... just one possible way things could go.
Commander Eaurp Guz and Captain D'vana Tendi's children. The eldest, a mellanoid slime worm, is 6 years old, and the youngest, a human orion, is 3 years old. They are D'gathlia Tendi and Astrea Tendi III.
(Tendi wanted to hyphenate their names as Guz-Tendi, but Guz insisted that that's just not how mellanoid names work, since both first name and last name are personal names)
D'gathlia is of course an offspring of Guz, but concerning Astrea, it went like this: Cmdr Tendi: hey Rutherford me and Guz have decided to have another child. Cmdr Guz: a meat baby this time! Cmdr Tendi: We wanted to know if you would be willing to be a genetic donor? Cmdr Rutherford: woah hey that'd be so cool! The Cerritos is halfway across the quadrant though, so I'm not sure when I'd be able to visit. Cmdr Tendi: oh that won't be necessary, I've already started the archival stem cells thawing. Cmdr Guz: she was gonna make it a surprise. Cmdr Tendi: apparently it's "unethical" to surprise your best friend with genetic parenthood.
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drwcn · 3 days ago
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now im reaching that stage in my medical career where... they let me review files of potential-filled youngling trying to get into my specialty. today i read a file where the applicant put "stem cell donor" under their volunteering history...
....and not much else.
this kid is really hurting for points yall
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reasonsforhope · 2 years ago
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"The “Düsseldorf Patient”, a man now aged 53, is just the third person worldwide to have been completely cured of HIV via stem cell transplantation.
As in the case of the other two patients, the so-called “Berlin Patient” and “London Patient,” the transplantation was undertaken to treat an acute blood disease, which had developed in addition to the HIV infection.
The Düsseldorf Patient received a stem cell transplant used to treat leukemia in 2013 and has shown persistent suppression of HIV-1 ever since, including during the last 4 years after the patient stopped taking anti-retroviral medication.
“I still remember very well the sentence from my family doctor: ‘don’t take it so hard,'” the Düsseldorf Patient, who had leukemia as well as HIV-1, said in a statement. “‘We will experience together that HIV can be cured!’ At the time, I dismissed the statement.”
Allogeneic hematopoietic stem cell transplantation (HSCT) is a procedure used to treat certain cancers, such as leukemia, by transferring immature blood cells from a donor to repopulate the bone marrow of the recipient.
Scientists now understand that individuals with two copies of the Δ32 mutation in the gene for the HIV-1 co-receptor CCR5; are resistant to HIV-1 infection. The two previous cases of both the London patient and the Berlin patient involved receiving a stem cell transplant from a donor with these unique mutations.
Björn-Erik Jensen, a specialist in infectious diseases at Düsseldorf University Hospital, lead the treatment and subsequent research, revealed today in a peer-reviewed study in Nature.
The patient was diagnosed as having acute myeloid leukemia and proceeded to undergo transplantation of stem cells from a female donor in 2013, followed by chemotherapy and infusions of donor lymphocytes.
After the transplantation, anti-retroviral therapy was continued, but HIV was undetectable in the patient’s blood cells. Anti-retroviral therapy was suspended in November 2018 with the patient’s informed consent, almost 6 years after the stem cell transplantation, to determine whether the virus persisted in the patient.
“I very much hope that these doctors will now get even more attention for their work,” said the patient. “I have now decided to give up some of my private life to support research fundraising. And of course, it will also stay very important for me to fight the stigmatization of HIV with my story.”
The authors conclude that although HSCT remains a high-risk procedure that is at present an option only for some people living with both HIV-1 and hematological cancers, these results may inform future strategies for achieving long-term remission of HIV-1."
-via Good News Network, 2/20/23
VERIFIED 10 YEARS ON, PROOF THAT HIV IS CURABLE
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hornedcapybara · 9 months ago
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Join the bone marrow donor registry! It's easy, free, and could save a life!
NMDP, formerly the National Marrow Donor Program/Be The Match, is a nonprofit that holds a registry of potential donors of healthy bone marrow and blood stem cells, matches donors to patients, and organizes and facilitates the donation.
Why is this important?
Every year thousands of people are diagnosed with blood cancers, and often the only hope is a donation of healthy bone marrow or blood stem cells. This requires a much closer match than a blood transfusion. 70% of patients will not have a match for donation in their family, and will need to find one on the registry. Depending on the patient's ethnic background they may have as little as a 29% chance of finding a donor who is a good enough match on the registry. The only way to improve these odds is for more people to sign up and increase the number of potential donors on the registry.
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How do I sign up?
Signing up is easy! If you are between 18 and 40 years old, you can visit their website and sign up. They will send you a cheek swab kit in the mail, you swab your cheeks, send it back, and that's it! You're now on the registry, and if they ever find you're a potential match for any patients, they'll contact you. If you need to travel for your donation, they'll cover any related expenses, meals, and your time off work.
Making this post because I completed a donation last year, and started volunteering with them in my area. So if any of you have any questions about the donation process or anything else, feel free to reply or DM me! If you're interested in helping in other ways, you can find information about donating money or volunteering your time on their website.
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