#still recovering from my spinal surgery | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

zoeykallus · 2 years ago

Note

hi i hope you’re doing amazing ! i recently discovered your account and have been blessed to see such amazing work🤩

recently i had to get a spinal fusion surgery. which also means i have metal rods and screws in my back :( it’s been tough for sure and most days i’m fine but there are days where i can’t just stop thinking about everything that happened before my accident and how this will change how i do things in the future. i know this may seem like a long shot but i was wondering if you could do a little one shot with echo about post surgery and how supportive he would be during the recovery process and those hard days ? he really is my comfort character and i know he would just be so understanding😭

Aloha!

How are you doing by now? Wishing you a speedy recovery, strength and love to deal with this new situation 💚

Echo is indeed a perfect comfort character, especially for something like this, I assume. Let me see what I can do for you.

Echo x Reader One - Shot - By Your Side

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort/Reader Recovering From Surgery After Serious Injury/Accident

___________________

You slowly open your eyes, you are still hungover, everything feels strange and as if you are wrapped in absorbent cotton, at least for the moment. You feel dizzy, sleepy, the anesthesia hasn't really let you go yet. Blinking, you try to get used to the light and immediately realize that you don't like your surroundings, but you didn't expect that. Hospitals are rarely pretty to look at. "Finally awake, sleepyhead?" Echo's soft tone with his deep voice, immediately creeps under your skin, to your deepest core, like soothing balm. You want to say something, but your mouth is so dry that you barely get your lips apart. Not a second later, you see Echo's hand, a cup and a straw. "Drink slowly," he says gently, "The doctors say your stomach might rebel if you take in food and liquids too quickly." You are incredibly thirsty, but you force yourself to take small, careful sips. "That's it," Echo says with a satisfied smile. Finally, you can speak again. "You're here," you state, smiling at him. Echo raises his brows. "Of course I'm here, by your side. Where else would I be?" He puts the cup back down and gently clasps your hand with his. "How do you feel?" he wants to know. You think for a small moment before answering with a sigh, "Fine, I guess, considering the circumstances. Tired, groggy from the anesthesia, and I'm not very comfortable in hospitals in general, but I guess that's beside the point." You glance at an imaginary point on the opposite wall and drift off in thought for a moment as you feel Echo's hand apply gentle pressure to yours, and he asks, "What's wrong? What are you thinking about right now?"

You look at him thoughtfully and reply, "About my recovery, the healing process, the physical therapies needed, and how everything will change in the near future." "That worries you?" You nod tentatively. Echo smiles at you, unperturbed. "You don't have to go through this alone, you have me. Don't worry, I'll help you with everything, support you. It will all seem hard at first, but it'll go away in time, you'll see." And Echo keeps his promise. He is always there when you need him, whenever he can, he is by your side, at doctor's appointments, therapeutic measures and in everyday life. You never once hear him grumble or complain. The only times you see him upset is when you neglect yourself or want to go too far too fast. He reprimands you now and then, but he does it out of affection and genuine concern for you. Echo makes sure you are always taken care of, even when he can't be there himself. He calls regularly from the road to hear how you are doing and to make sure you are recovering well. Still, of course, you worry, fearing that all this might become too much for him or that he might see you with different eyes than before. One day, when he comes back from a mission, he goes straight to you, carrying shopping bags with ingredients for a delicious dinner. The moment he walks in the door and smiles at you, all the fears and doubts that plagued you in his absence vanish. The genuine joy on his face to see you again, tingles under your skin, every time.

"Did you miss me much?" he asks with a grin, kissing your forehead. "Hell of a lot," you say, beaming at him. Echo lifts his bags in the air and says, "I'll be in the kitchen making us a decent dinner, then we'll take some time just for us" "That sounds wonderful" Echo takes care of everything, you don't have to ask him for anything, he does all these things by himself. He has a sense of what you need and what needs to be done. He has a talent for calming you down, taking away your fears and making you relax, even in moments when you don't think it's possible. As you become thoughtful again over dinner, Echo gently but firmly tells you, "Love, look at me. I know what you've been through is scary and healing is exhausting, but there's no need for fear or doubt. You are still you, still the person I love, don't let your gloomy thoughts take away your joy for the future. And above all, enjoy the good food." He smirks at you, and you automatically smirk back. "What would I do without you?" you ask, amused. Echo laughs softly and says, "Eat much worse for sure."

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@starwarsnerd111

#echo x reader #tbb echo x reader #echo fanfic #echo fluff #arc trooper echo #bad batch echo #echo bad batch #echo x fem reader #echo x female reader #echo x you #clone trooper echo #echo tbb #tbb echo #swtbb #star wars #fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #echo oneshot #the bad batch

133 notes · View notes

fleet-off · 1 year ago

Text

Hey--since I’ve been pretty inactive and a few folks have checked in now, I figured I should maybe make a quick personal post:

I recently learned that I will be needing surgery on my skull, likely sometime in the next few months. It is not an emergency. The surgery is invasive but pretty low-risk--it is on my skull and first spinal vertebra, not my brain. I should not lose any cognitive ability or mobility. It might even make my hands feel less hurty and numb, which would be fantastic!

So I am okay and will be okay, I’m just adjusting to the info and dealing with the unfortunate arthritis flare-up the extra stress has caused, especially given timing (we also had a vet emergency last month, and my mother’s still recovering from her recent much-more-invasive brain surgery, though she is doing well). Your patience is much appreciated. ^^

#personal #medical

27 notes · View notes

queenoffishingandcookies · 2 months ago

Text

Thinking of Noctis is Tenebrae.

Specially, when he was in Tenebrae.

Noctis was born on August 30th, and was eight years old during his time in Tenebrae.

Lunafreya, who was born on September 4th, was twelve.

Considering the main game generally takes place over the course of a year (I think? Don’t quote me on this, all I know canonically is that it starts May), in the year of M.E 756 and he visited twelve years prior:

M.E 744.

I’d guess very late winter, early spring. Possibly late January through February - maybe to early or mid March, at the latest.

Why so early in the year?

In the Kingsglaive movie, the prologue when we see the fall of Tenebrae and Queen Sylva’s murder, several characters are wearing clothes that seem suited to chilly weather - namely Ravus, Lunafreya, and Noctis.

Ravus and Noctis are, respectively, wearing a padded jacket or padded vest. The puffy sort you wear when it’s getting cold out, but not big-puffy full blown winter coats.

Also, Lunafreya is wearing a shawl or capelet with a hood, and it looks like it has a fur collar(?). Her dress looks, at least to me, like a thick fabric - wool, maybe. She’s not wearing stocking or leggings (or maybe she is and I didn’t notice), so again, it’s not winter-levels of cold.

There’s no snow either, which means either it’s before winter has fallen or afterwards - and I am inclined to believe the latter.

(That’s dependent on the general climate of Tenebrae, though)

We don’t know when Noctis was attacked, except that it was after he turned eight years old - in other words, some point after august. Possibly early September 743 at the earliest, and March - July 744 at the latest, since he was out catching fireflies, which usually appear most often in spring and summer.

We know he was comatose for a period of time following the attack, but not how long.

He possibly had been afflicted by the starscourge in canon (I don’t know if this was ever confirmed).

We also know he was paralyzed, or his body was still recovering from his injuries to the point where he was still wheelchair bound in Tenebrae.

My idea is this:

Noctis is attacked some time in late M.E 743. He is rushed into emergency surgery in an attempt to save his life, no doubt after Regis had used his magic to keep the Prince alive on the way to the nearest hospital (he’d probably be transferred to the Citadel later? He woke up in the citadel in Brotherhood, at least).

Noctis is possibly comatose for a month, maybe two. As a result of lack of movement, his muscles - on top of the damage done to back and legs - begin to atrophy.

(The symptoms of starscourge infection are stymied, because starscourge adapts differently to the body of a Lucis Caelum, and makes Noct effectively asymptomatic for a time).

When he wakes up, and probably even before that, immediate therapy begins. When possible, rehabilitation in regards to spinal cord injuries begin as soon as possible, I believed.

For a time, I think it would be…not okay, not happy, but workable. Regis would be there every step of the way, and if not him - a team of nurses and doctors ever on standby.

But at some point during his rehabilitation, from the Acute and Sub-Acute phases which will stretch over into the new year, which can generally (and I mean this broadly, every spinal injury and situation is different) take around six to eight months, he begins to show signs of the starscourge.

Regis can’t do anything to help with the appearance of the scourge, and then the realization that it must have been there for a while, that this was why Noctis’ healing was so slow - even, and especially, compared to a normal person.

The crystal, the LC magic, would have been straining to heal him - but it was almost sluggish, unfocused, as it coursed through Noctis’ body.

Regis could feed Noctis magic, take the burden of how it pulled at one’s lifeforce so that his son already so close to death did not have to.

He couldn’t take away the scourge which corrupted his son’s magic, which was just as much as the family’s magic eating away at his son’s life. The doctor’s could give estimations and exams and exercises on how to help Noctis walk again, if he ever could, and even an inability to do so was not an impossible fact - not in the long history of the bloodline -

But the starscourge?

Sooner or later, it was fatal. Regis knew of no known member in the bloodline who had gotten it - most who died to daemons died outright in battle, or as a result of injuries, long before the scourge could set in and take them - but no one had ever survived the scourge.

And only one bloodline could do anything against it.

The House of Fleuret, The Oracle.

And that meant heading to Tenebrae. Even if it was an autonomous ‘kingdom’, Tenebrae had long since been annexed by Niflheim - just like Accordo.

To bring Noctis there would be like to deliver all of Lucis into the jaws of a snarling best.

If it had simply been Noctis’ back and legs maybe, maybe Regis wouldn’t have done it. It’s a big maybe, considering how much he loves his son, but maybe.

Starscourge, though?

Hell no, it’s off to Tenebrae. They have to fucking go. It doesn’t matter how dangerous it is, to go through imperial Territory. Noctis might die either way.

A route to reach Tenebrae has to be made, means for the two of them to leave the wall unknown, then travel to Tenebrae still unknown, also having Lucis ruled well - all the while, trying to keep Noctis as stable as possible? Things like that take time.

So, they arrive in Tenebrae some point in early 744. My personal headcanon is that the two are there for maybe a few months, around March, and then Niflheim strikes and everything subsequently goes to hell. It has to be before his ninth birthday.

#ffxv #random timeline thoughts #(this was actually from months ago and I just never posted it)

2 notes · View notes

whentherewerebicycles · 2 months ago

Note

If you are willing to share, I would be v curious to hear your experiences of "the fourth trimester" and your body post-birth? Honestly it is so rare to hear honest unfiltered details about the physical experience pregnancy and birth and I appreciate this blog a lot for that reason <3

hello! sorry I think you sent this ask weeks ago but I just now saw it 😅 I found recovery from birth itself to be pretty easy—I felt pretty good physically by the day after and was back to light walking two days out (recovering from my wrist surgery a week later was much more painful and uncomfortable than birth for me personally). I did have some pelvic floor + core issues for the first couple months after… the best way I can think to describe it was that sometimes when I walked around it felt like my spinal column was made of jelly and I could feel everything kinda wobbling around inside of me. I also threw my back out three or four times in those first three months and had some feelings of things Not Being Right in my lower abdomen (I suspect because my core muscles were still so loose from pregnancy). I did mean to do pelvic floor exercises but I just kept forgetting and idk now at five months out I feel kinda like my body is mostly back to normal? like I can tell my back and abs would benefit from some extra work but I also don’t feel as wobbly as I did. for me I’d say the most frustrating thing has been that I’m eating well and watching portion sizes but not dropping any more weight. I lost about 30 lbs in the first three weeks after birth but have an extra 20 still hanging on from pregnancy and the scale doesn’t budge more than .05 in either direction no matter what I do (which is SO weird because my weight used to regularly fluctuate 4-5 lbs from day to day or even from morning to night depending on where I was in my cycle or how much water I’d had that day). not really sure what’s going on there but I hope that when he goes to daycare and I can get in a little more exercise and strength training it’ll help me drop a little more weight and tune up that slight lingering wobbliness. on the whole though my body feels pretty good for being in my mid-30s and not that far removed from birth.

#pregnancy tag #postpartum tag

2 notes · View notes

thebiscuiteternal · 3 months ago

Text

I posted ancient fanart, now time for an ancient fic. I wrote this one in... hell, I'm not even sure. Before 2008 at least.

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, internal ableism, the constant feeling of the sword hanging over your head

----------------

He'd always heard that the closer you were shoved to death, the sharper everything in that moment seemed, but he'd never really put any stock in it. But now, as he stared vacantly up at the ceiling of the hospital room, he was rethinking that disbelief.

The heat of the explosion shockwave, the wood and glass burrowing into his back as he hit the window, the sense of knowing he was going to die as he hit the ground and felt bone snap and muscle tear in a blinding flash of agony.

A sudden sharp twinge of pain between his shoulderblades made him want so badly to roll over onto his side, but the casts and bars around and through almost all of his body were having none of it.

He hadn't seen anyone but doctors and nurses since he'd woken up six hours previous, and, to his annoyance, they had no interest in telling him a damn thing other than it had been almost a month since he'd been brought in. It wasn't a bad thing for him to want to know how serious the damage was, especially since-

-no, he wasn't going to think about that. Or so he told himself. Despite his efforts at forcing down the voices that brushed his semi-conscious memories, they insisted on being heard again.

He's as good as dead. Just leave him.

Iscariot didn't believe in no man left behind. He'd known that since the day he took his vows to join the order. But still, the memory made something in his chest constrict, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he struggled to keep his breathing even. The slower and more shallow, the less it hurt. Morphine could only do so much.

He'd just recovered control of his nerves when the click of the door opening made him glance over, expecting another nurse, and he blinked in surprise when Father Renaldo poked his head in. "Ah, you're still awake. They finally told me it was alright to come in. How are you feeling?"

Only the knowledge that it would cause unimaginable pain kept him from snorting at the obviousness of the question. "Have they given you any details?" he finally managed, voice more hollow and weak than he would have liked. And the uncomfortable fidget the older man made was a sign that he would like the answer even less.

"Well… it's quite the laundry list, my boy. Concussion, broken collarbone, four broken ribs… Right elbow's cracked, left forearm's broken. Various bruises and contusions, left leg broken in three places…"

There was something else, and they both knew he was skirting. "Anything more?"

Renaldo took a deep breath, and a wash of fear went through him. "I'm sorry, Enrico," the man mumbled, then quietly left.

---

Shattered vertebrae and a severed spinal cord. He stared silently as the doctor finally gave him the truth that Renaldo hadn't been able to bring himself to say.

"Meaning-?" he couldn't help asking after swallowing back the sudden dry feeling in his mouth.

"There are therapy options, of course, and we could try surgery if you wish, but it's very likely that you won't be able to use your legs for the rest of your life."

He felt his stomach drop as the doctor got up from his seat and left, and he suddenly wanted to throw up.

Paralysis.

God, was there ever any more obvious death sentence? Biting his lip and covering his eyes with his good hand, he tried to pretend he couldn't hear the familiar, if muffled, voices outside his door.

"Have you gone soft? He's a liability now, we can't keep him. Especially not in that position."

"I know that, Alex, but we have no choice at the moment. No one was expecting this, and we don't have anyone trained enough to replace him."

Now he really was going to throw up.

---

Everyone knew their days were numbered when they went into the order. After all, there was no such thing as demotion or resignation in Iscariot. You either lived, died, or someone else chose which one for you. And now the choice was up to everyone else and how long he was useful.

A painfully sobering thought when he'd spent the majority of his life trying to wrest control of it away from others.

Sighing, Enrico opened one of the many folders he'd been brought and started on yet another sheaf of paperwork.

When he thought about it, really, he probably had a few months at the most. For all Renaldo had talked about training, making assignments and filling out forms wasn't that hard.

He'd probably be dead within the year, and someone else would be doing this.

That didn't mean he had to give them additional reason to kill him sooner, though. Despite the protests of the therapists and his own body, he was getting to a point that he could be mostly self-sufficient. With any luck, he wouldn't have to ask for any special modifications at all, although making do would be considerably difficult.

Just the thought of having to sleep in his old bed alone made his spine –what he could feel of it- ache, and he inwardly swore about the common habit of higher beds before turning his attention back to the papers in his lap.

Right, time to stop thinking too much. Back to work.

As he was working on the last authorization notice –and trying desperately not to fall asleep in the middle of it- he glanced up as voices started up –as usual- outside the door. But this time, the conversation was a little more interesting than talk of medications.

“Well, Father, it looks like he’ll be ready to leave today. I have to admit, he’s been quite the surprise. It’s not often we get someone so gung-ho about therapy so soon after their accident.”

“He’s always been headstrong.”

He inwardly bristled at the tone and bit his tongue to keep from muttering something particularly insulting about Anderson’s heritage. Or at least more insulting than what people said about his own. Whether the man heard it or not, it wouldn’t exactly go far towards his inner resolution to earn temporary respite from his execution through good behavior.

Forcing himself to keep quiet, he went back to work, and was finishing the last page when the man came in.

“Ready to go?”

“Sure,” he replied, matching the lack of emotion as he closed the folder and put it on the stack, then swatted off the cursory attempt to help him as he wrestled himself into the wheelchair. It hurt, and he was exhausted by the effort, but he reminded himself that the less he asked for help, the less nuisance he’d be.

And was that the barest hint of approval he saw on his former mentor’s face?

Probably his imagination, but it made him feel better nonetheless.

---

“Are the itineraries ready, sir?”

“There aren’t any.”

Renaldo glanced up, a slight note of surprise in his expression. “Might I ask why?”

“Because they’re useless,” Enrico replied, tone a little more exasperated than the carefully cultivated vacancy that had been in place over the last months. “I can give them all the directions I want, and the papers will have been thrown away before they even leave the building. It’s less a waste of my time just to point them in the right direction, let them do what they please, and just clean up the mess afterwards, considering it seems that’s all I spend my time doing anyway.”

He briefly regretted the brief outburst when the man arched an eyebrow at him, but the only response was a slight pat to the shoulder. “I understand, sir. Do you want me to handle the debriefing today?”

“No… I’ll do it.”

So he’d said, but as he pushed himself down the hall, he felt physically and emotionally drained.

While forcing himself to stop thinking –as much as he could, anyway- about when the proverbial axe would fall had helped, other worries and realizations had risen up to take its place.

Enrico spent more time these days than he would have liked remembering the man he’d taken this position from in the traditional way. How he’d been smiling as he bled to death.

Was it because the old man had finally been burned out by the same lessons that were being learned now?

Like the fact that Iscariot neither needed, nor wanted a leader, just someone to handle the fallout.

Or the fact that agents only behaved once you’d broken down and did things their way.

He wished his mind hadn’t gone that route, because then it followed that line of thinking to Anderson. The man had been considerably less of a stubborn ass since he’d gotten out of the hospital.

Since he’d stopped trying to take control.

He couldn’t help a bitter little chuckle, but didn’t want to keep going on that train of thought. Shaking his head a little, he forced himself to continue on his way down the hall.

---

His nerves prickled just before he felt the blade at his throat, and he barely lifted his head. “I’m assuming you’ve found a replacement.”

They both knew it wasn’t a question, but an answer –question- came anyway in the form of a small nick of pain and Anderson’s familiar rumble. “You knew this was coming?”

Despite himself, Enrico laughed, the sound hollow in his own ears. “Don't act so surprised. I’ve known since you told the other agents to leave me behind at the church, so I suppose it’s fitting that they picked you to finish the job.”

There was a huff from behind him, and the blade vanished as he looked over his shoulder then turned the chair, unable to keep himself from inwardly being amused at the expression on his caretaker his mentor the other priest's face. “What’s wrong? Don’t want to kill me now that you know I’ve been preparing myself for it?”

“I don’t want to kill you at all.”

“Don’t lie to me now, Father. You were the one who was so eager to get rid of the liability to the organization.”

“It’s because you’re a liability that-“

“What?” he asked when Anderson cut himself off mid-snap and turned away.

As always.

A small spark of anger rose in his chest, and he couldn’t resist throwing the man’s words from months before back at him, goading him. “Have you gone soft? Can’t kill me now that I’m not screaming back at you at every opportunity? Now that I’ve learned to just give in?”

The look that got was mixed irritation and pity and something he couldn’t identify, and the older man crouched in front of him, touching his cheek with the same almost -not quite- affection that had been there when he was small and vanished as he got older. “Is that what you think I’ve been trying to teach you?”

His insides went cold for some reason he couldn’t explain, and he suddenly wished he could squirm away. “Isn’t it? You were always such a pain until I stopped fighting you and always talking about how I had no right to be angry at-“

“I never said you had no right to be angry at your parents,” Anderson chided, leaving him suddenly feeling uneasy and unbalanced and confused as though he were six again. “Anyone who was abandoned as you are would feel angry. I told you that you couldn’t stay angry at the-“

“It’s the same thing!”

There was a small ringing noise as the bayonet hit the floor, and hands squeezed his shoulders. “It’s not. Enrico, I wanted you to learn to grow past your rage. To be something that wouldn’t require it to sustain you.” He pulled away and straightened. “You never should have been in Iscariot in the first place, because you didn’t have the right reasons for it.”

“Then why let me get this far? If you never wanted to let me in this position, or be here at all, why didn’t you just kill me in the trials. It would have been easy for you.”

“Maybe physically.” There was that look again, the one that he wasn’t sure what it meant. “I never enjoy having to kill someone I raised. And I still hoped that one day, you would finally get it. That it wouldn’t come to the point that you would be a danger to the organization.”

“I wasn-“

“You were.” The certainty in Anderson's voice stung. “All that ambition and rage, eventually it would have caused more problems than you were worth. The signs were all there.”

And then the incident. And then he’d been broken. So many ‘and thens’ that set up what he was now, which was apparently what Anderson had wanted to be, even if not for the reasons he’d thought.

He swallowed past the knot that had formed in his throat. “But it doesn’t matter, because you’re going to kill me now anyway. There’s no such thing as resignation, remember?”

“I know.”

But Anderson didn’t pick up the bayonet he'd dropped, and Enrico made a noise of surprised confusion as he was lifted out of the wheelchair instead. “What are you-“

“Hush.”

Startled into silence, he bit his lip, and wondered where they were going as Anderson carried him down the hall.

---

This hadn’t been planned, he reminded himself as he looked about the tiny bedroom apartment, and that fact somewhat impressed him.

In just a few short days, Renaldo had gotten him declared dead with no body or blood to prove it, and his replacement had been instated with no problems at all. In less than that, Heinkel had found this little apartment and arranged for its rent and utilities to be covered before Anderson had even brought him here.

He would be earning them, of course. Renaldo’s mind was still sharp, but his eyes were continually going, and who better to read important documents to him than someone who had experience and nothing better to do?

He wouldn’t be allowed to leave the apartment either, to keep his continued existence hidden, but what reason did he have to?

He could do this, he told himself. A quiet little life was better than no life at all, right? He’d been expecting to have his throat slit and his body to be left for the cleanup crew, so this wasn’t so bad… right?

Pushing himself over to the window, he peered out.

At least the view was nice…

A hand settled at the back of his neck, and he glanced up at Anderson before basking in the reassuring squeeze.

In a twisted sort of way, he’d finally gotten the two things he wanted the most, a family and the approval of his mentor.

He could be content with the way everything else had turned out.

Really.

He just had to keep reminding himself of that when the walls of the apartment seemed far too close.

#hellsing #organization xiii #hellsing iscariot #father alexander anderson #father enrico maxwell #father renaldo #fanfic #alternate timeline

4 notes · View notes

thatfanficstuff · 1 year ago

Text

Sigh.

I'm going to go into detail below the cut but the TLDR is life sucks sometimes and takes the creativity out of you. Hope to write soon.

For those that want the nitty gritty...Hello friends! I hope your life is going fantastic and that you enjoy your holiday season, whatever holiday you celebrate.

This has been a horrible year for several reasons. Up until June it was mainly things happening to my nearest and dearest that didn't affect me other than empathizing with them.

In June my mom, whom lives with us, had spinal surgery. She was able to do more for herself than anticipated but she helps take care of my family due to my stroke. But it was fine. We got her recovered and things went better than anticipated.

Then the last day of July my husband woke me from a sound sleep at 3am in tears and said I needed to take him to the ER. It took four weeks of doctor appointments every 2-3 days, scans two ER visits and a hospital admittance to get him diagnosed and treated for shingles. It started internal then went external. He was in excruciating pain. Tomorrow is his first day back at work since August 2.

In the midst of that on September 13 I had ankle surgery. Non-weight bearing for 4 weeks.

But I started feeling better. I posted a couple of chapters. Asked for soulmate requests (which are all plotted out, btw). Was ready to put my head down and write.

The very next day we got a call from my in-laws. My FIL who has stage 4 cancer had decided to end all treatment. They live 3 hours away and we have been physically unable to visit. Once we could, he no longer wished for visitors. At this point he hasn't eaten in four weeks and grows weaker every day. We're waiting for him to die and god it sucks. I'm working on an obituary for a man that's still alive.

Needless to say the Christmas spirit is noticeably absent this year.

So if you've read all this...yeah. I want to write, I'm hoping to write but life. But I'm around and have no plans to disappear any time soon.

#kat says stuff #life sucks sometimes

9 notes · View notes

king-crane · 1 year ago

Text

INCURABLE / TERMINAL.

In light of more talk about Batman Beyond in the rpc (good, it's fucking peak), and talking with @2ndbat (FANTASTIC BLOG GO FOLLOW), I have revamped my Incurable/Terminal verses to go from just Old Man Crane to straight up Batman Beyond.

That said, I will be outlining the general setting and the differences in both verses here! Enjoy!

NAME: Professor Jonathan Ichabod Crane SPECIES: Metahuman AGE: 68 HEIGHT: 7’10” WEIGHT: 280 lbs. OCCUPATION: Professor of Psychology at Gotham University, Professional Therapist and Psychiatrist, Career Criminal (formerly), Supervillain (formerly) AFFILIATIONS: Gotham University (formerly and currently), Di Vaio Crime Family (formerly), Quorum (formerly), Secret Society (formerly), The Injustice League (formerly) PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION: A veritable colossus of muscle, Jonathan Crane’s rehabilitation worked out far better for him than any could have ever hoped. After finally receiving proper treatment and diagnoses, Crane’s medications and fear suppressants allowed him to finally regain some sense of routine beyond getting up in the mornings and putting his body through Hell. Eating, sleeping, and exercising regularly has enhanced Crane’s physique, to the point where even at 68, the giant still seems to be in his physical prime… “seems” to be, that is. Though his hair has begun to gray and his face is showing signs of his age in the form of wrinkles and laugh lines, Crane is no less gorgeous than he was two decades prior. Crane has gone completely blind in his right eye, and still uses a prosthetic left arm and right leg thanks to injuries suffered when he was 30. MEDICAL INFORMATION: McCune-Albright Syndrome, Sleep Apnea, Asthma, Fibromyalgia, severe burn injuries, blind in right eye, missing an arm and leg, severe brain damage and nerve damage MENTAL DISORDERS: DID, Bipolar Disorder, Autism Spectrum Disorder, Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Seasonal Affective Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

BIOGRAPHY: After a lifetime of pain and insanity, Crane's reprieve, ironically enough, only came about when the foundations of Arkham itself were shook to their very core, and he was finally assigned a new doctor. Instead of approaching Crane as though he were completely sane, the new doctor, Mannfred O'Malley (who had experience with Crane) immediately diagnosed him with DID, Bipolar Disorder, PTSD, Autism, and a slew of other diagnoses. CAT scans supported this, and Crane was immediately put on anti-psychotics, mood stabilizers, and anxiety relief medication. Crane had never been better in years, and at the age of 36, he was finally recovering. He began to sleep and eat much more regularly, and corrective surgery helped many of his physical maladies. Eventually, upon his release from Arkham, Crane stopped returning as frequently, and stopped completely once his prescriptions were moved to a regular psychiatrist in the city.

After 2 years living on his farm in good health, Crane gained an astonishing 100 pounds of muscle, no longer malnourished from his unhealthy lifestyle, and even had a growth spurt of 2 inches. Emboldened by his change, he applied once more to Gotham University, where he had taught so long ago, at the age of 40. It had been 15 years since his abrupt departure, but they still welcomed him back with open arms. At the age of 60, Jonathan Crane was now a tenured professor of psychology, winning multiple awards for his theories and experiments in regard to fear and the human mind.

And then, it all came crashing down.

On the eve of his 62nd birthday, Crane suffered from a horrible mental break - his hallucinations began to return, this time with a vengeance, and recognizing the pattern, Crane took an emergency leave of absence.

The news he received after returning to Arkham was horrid. After being physically examined, it became clear that Crane's spinal and cerebral implant, his constant companion for 55 years and a mark of Qorum's involvement in his life, had been spreading itself through his body, upgrading itself with cybernetic modifications. In addition, the fear toxin in his veins had irreparably damaged his mind, and he would suffer a complete and total cessation of brain activity soon. They could not give him an estimate of how much time he had left. Left only with the choice of how he would receive this news, Crane's path diverges.

INCURABLE.

SEEKING to prevent himself from repeating the mistakes of the past, Professor Jonathan Crane seeks treatment to prolong his life as much as possible, and experiments with the dosage on his medications, even against professional advice. Taking a sabbatical from Gotham University, Crane travels the world, looking for a cure for his condition. In distant lands, and lands not far from home, he dons the guise of a helpless old man, when in truth, he is far from it. After seeing the pain in the world, the same pain he once spent so much time contributing to, he dons the visage of "The Ward", a traveling alchemist seeking to protect the weak and the innocent, and to save problems. He frequently returns to Gotham whenever he can, even occasionally checking himself back into Arkham during particularly brutal episodes, but thanks to living frugally over many, many years, he has a good chunk of money saved up for his travels. Ironically enough, Crane is currently the closest he has ever been to activating his metagene, a feat which would completely halt his neural degradation and remove the implant, as well as halt his aging - if only he was even aware he was a metahuman.

ABILITIES: Vast intellect, resilient body, martial arts training, decades of experience, heightened awareness

WEAKNESSES: Frequent hallucinations, neural degradation, moves slow due to injuries and age

TERMINAL.

SOMETIMES it can be impossible to truly recover what one has already lost. Already cracked and fractured by his ongoing condition, Crane left his appointment with Doctor O'Malley a despondent and heartbroken man. Was this his reward, for trying to be better? He twitches, as though he can feel his body building itself up and breaking down at the same time. It isn't until his return to the city proper that he finds himself on the other end of a would-be-mugger, and he realizes nothing has changed. The Waynes, the di Vaios - even Zsasz's life had changed at the end of a blade. There was nothing to change for Crane, though. His hand shoots out before he can stop it. He breaks the criminal's hand - and then his neck. And he looks upon Gotham with a profound sadness. His past would only continue to haunt him, for as long as he let it. His mind fractures, and finally his metagene is activated... slightly. With enhanced strength, speed, and senses, but at the cost of his physical health and sanity, Crane dons the mask of Epimetheus, an amalgamation of all that he once was - Crane, Crow, Bones, Beast, and even Jonathan. He will slaughter his past, no matter how long it takes.

ABILITIES: Shapeshifting, heightened reflexes, enhanced speed, enhanced strength, semi-intangibility

WEAKNESSES: Complete loss of sanity, animalistic intellect, lack of higher thought (maybe)

#beyond redemption ( terminal. )#beyond regret ( incurable. )#tw terminal illness #tw violence

10 notes · View notes

valithiri · 5 months ago

Text

In the continuing saga of Rocky Is Recovering from Spinal Surgery, he still hates the kennel so much that he starts whining and chewing on the bars as soon as you close the door, so he stays up all night (and keeps me up with him 🙃) then sleeps during the day after you admit defeat and let him out. Meaning I only slept from 4-6 am yesterday and from 5-10 am this morning, and I'm officially Losing My Mind.

#hes my whole world but holy shit little guy #the vet keeps giving us different sedatives or upping his dosages but hes still doing this regardless somehow #personal

2 notes · View notes

snailsagere · 1 year ago

Text

Please read my dni in my bio before interacting

Life update #1

So you guys voted for the life updates so here we are :3

I'll post them whenever something significant happens and I'll include a trigger warning at the top of each post!

Tw- mentions of ED, talk about poor mental health, m*d!ca! mentions etc this post will pretty much be a brief rundown on why I am so not good haha, I'm not going to go into detail but still!

So I originally started my silly tumblr account in 2020 and definitely wasn't expecting to get as much attention on it like I did, obviously I appreciate it so so much but I wasn't expecting it, but I am mentally ill so it makes it hard sometimes for me to post-

1) I have anxiety so interacting with people is very hard for me which is why I think I may come across as rude sometimes, I really don't mean to but I just struggle talking to anyone because of my brain

2) I have depression so my motivation is usually not very good, I would like to be able to complete requests faster but I really can't and I'm sorry about that

As well as all this I have a lot of issues with my day-to-day life, I don't really talk about more serious topic but a quick run-down of my diagnosis' and extra stuff I guess-

I have been diagnosed with anxiety, depression, ptsd and autism

And I believe I had anorexia and am currently recovering from that, I also strongly believe I have borderline personality disorder due to childhood trauma which I don't really want to go into rn and I'm very certain that I have chronic pain as I have had constant back pain since I was around 12 after my spinal surgeries I had when I was 10 and 11 (I had really severe scoliosis), also I have come to the conclusion that I likely have these things based off lots of research! I believe you should always make sure to research anything before assuming you may have it! And I do want to talk to my doctor about a bpd diagnosis at some point but my ptsd is medical (from my surgeries) so doctor trips are not ideal so I've been a bit slow with it but as I said I have done lots of research into it!

In general lots of stuff in my life make everything really difficult for me so yea, but I'm trying my best!

I will post these little life updates whenever something significant happens etc as you all voted for me to post these so I will try my best to do so!

If you wanna ask any questions about anything really I'm fine with that! Obviously if I don't feel comfy answering I won't but I'm ok answering most things I believe! Just please be kind! :3

#snailsagere

11 notes · View notes

olkarrion · 1 year ago

Text

just a little life update:

ive been working with a pain management doctor and a physical therapist for the last few months. since then, I've regained a bit of strength and my pain has become more manageable.

my leg doctor still wont approve me for surgery because the muscle is too atrophied and the nerves are still too damaged. i have some senory loss in my leg that we're still not sure if it's going to come back.

for anyone who is wondering, I had a full work up of my spine, neck, and brain. they found a few slightly bulging dics/areas that experienced degeneration but nothing that would cause me to lose my ability to walk. I am very lucky and so fucking thankful. for months and months my doctors were looking for MS or spinal stenosis, I am so grateful to know my spine is okay.

I have another appointment with my leg doctor in three months for a reevaluation. before then, he wants to give me a gel injection to help with the pain from missing cartilage under the knee.

I'm working with my doctors and insurance to get a custom wheelchair, again thank you to everyone who helped! The wheelchair is one thing, but the dozens of appointments and phone calls and MRI's leading up to that point was also so expensive, I could not have done it without your help.

I'm applying for disability this month. I'm still getting all my shit in order, and truthfully, if I am able to get a job in IT before then thats what I'll do. I need to be financially independent because I'm living with my abuser who does not believe im disabled and I can't keep living in this vulnerable situation.

My insurance requires me to be a full time student so I'm doing college online now, studying computer information systems.

Im still struggling. I dont have a support system other than my mom, best friend, and my long distance partner. Im still in pain everyday. But Im also still fucking here.

If you have any more questions about what ive talked about here, please shoot me an ask. i vented a lot on here when I had only 10% of my ability to walk and i was getting my brain scaned every other week, so i assume there's some confusion about whats been going on.

as of now, i and my doctors assume joint instability due to hEDS caused the severe degeneration of my knee, the damage to my nerves, and is why I'm experiencing the loss of so many of my abilities. leaning on my wrists to walk caused some serious problems there too. im doing much better noe that im not using a cane everyday.

I am working my ass off to recover, but Im not sure if ill ever even get to half of how strong I was before. Im still trying, though. even though it feels hopeless. its not.

#disability #cripple punk #chronic pain #personal

9 notes · View notes

kkelenca · 1 year ago

Note

This is very much an anti-"Vote blue no matter who!" moment. Call your representatives. Tell them you will *not* be voting for them if they don't vote on this bill. Say you won't vote for Biden. NOT VOTING is also a tool in the box of electoralism - if the democrats face no pressure from the left to not do evil genocide then, then they will keep doing evil genocide shit.

Call and absolutely say all of that, and make clear demands for what they should be doing. I’ve been calling almost every single evening.

Recognize there ARE people like Tlaib, Omar, Ocasiao-Cortez, Bush, Bowman, Ramirez, Lee, Green, Carson, Jayapal, etc. running for these offices, House and Senate alike. Find the ones near you and support them if you’re dead set against voting for these current faces. Fight like hell to have them win.

Campaign for Dean Phillips if you’re dead set against Biden—I fully plan to vote for him in the primary myself if the field stays as-is. He’s currently saying he supports Israel’s right to self defense, but also saying he believes Palestinians should have self-determination and specifically wanting to help create a Palestinian state is a hell of a lot easier to push toward their desired unified, single, apartheid-free state than whatever secretive, genocide-abetting garbage we’re dealing with right now.

Put your time and money where your mouth is. I’m still recovering from my third spinal surgery and have physical therapy looming again once I’m no longer on narcotics and able to drive myself to bi-weekly appointments, but I already make donations to my candidate of choice for my representative on top of my 2 state-level people, and I actually reached out and we’ve spoken directly before.

I will personally always vote against the hungriest fascist I’m faced with. That’s the whole point of “lesser of two evils” in the first place. Yeah, sometimes they both suck ass, but there are still levels of awful.

You think a Republican would have any qualms about aiding Israel? We’d already be actively attacking the Palestinian people—sorry, would have “declared war on Hamas”—and would have sent way more supplies and soldiers than we already have on top of whipping the Evangelical christofascist base into a frenzy the likes of which we haven’t seen since the Republicans took the chance to do exactly that with impunity in 2001. But this time we’d be faced with someone ready and willing to engage in a violent coup here pulling those strings.

Only 4 Republicans were willing to not censure Tlaib just for being honest—the measure ostensibly citing antisemitism over use of “from the river to the sea” because some of the most powerful major Jewish organizations in the US are Zionist and have had the public and government’s ear on the situation for decades. Meanwhile, 191 Democrats voted against the measure. There’s an awfully big chasm between those two numbers. And it’s happened repeatedly, without widespread pushback, anytime criticism of Israel has come from a (progressive, Democrat) member of the house.

The vote for cutting IRS funding to give to Israel? 12 Democrats voted for it. 2 Republicans against it.

11 Republican members sponsored a bill to expel all Palestinians in the US. Landsman (OH) is a pro-Israel Democrat, was even one of the 22 who voted to censure Tlaib, yet he’s drafting his own bill against Zinke, the leader on the expulsion bill.

Breaking tonight, the Republicans have now proposed a bill to revoke scholarship money from college students speaking in defense or favor for Palestine.

That pressure from the left? That pressure is voting for progressive voices, donating and campaigning for them. That pressure is voicing your own opinions to those representing you, regularly.

Not voting at all? Considering that your way to send a message? All you’ve done is take your hand off the wheel and let all the pressure from the right take over the whole car.

2 notes · View notes

sunset-a-story · 2 years ago

Text

I have so many nice messages and asks--thank you for that! they've been such bright moments to see those pop up and I'm going to finally get back to today as a treat because, y'all, the last couple of days have been a lot fighting to get my brother-in-law proper care. I just need to have a rant post. (cw: mental health, American healthcare bullshit, threats of harm/SI)

We spent the last few days trying to get several hospitals to take us seriously to take care of my BiL. He's presenting as psychotic and two hospitals dismissed it as mental health and sent him away. He has NEVER behaved this way. One hospital kept him because he was threatening to harm himself and others. They held him for 12 hours and then discharged him because the doctor said he'd been calm since her shift started: from 3am to 6am. I'm also pretty calm at 3am. wtf. This is a man who used to work hazmat for the us military, combat vet, he works at ROTC, he took on parenting his best friend's children when needed. He's goofy but he's competent. They discharged him despite him not being able to identify numbers or colors. when asked what season it was he said, "Monday." He was babbling nonsense, banging on things with nothing behind his eyes, and couldn't keep his tongue in his mouth. He wasn't the man I know. He was like a toddler. And he was dangerous. Tricking him into getting into the car and driving with him in the car 45min to get him across the border to another state with a better hospital system was terrifying. If he had an episode, we could have crashed. I had pepper spray in my pocket the whole ride. Here's the thing. He had spinal surgery 11 days ago during which there was a spinal fluid leak that the surgeons couldn't find to close. He went back to the hospital with headaches 3 times and they kept sending him home saying it would resolve on its own.

But when he presented to hospitals like this, no one would listen to us begging them to CT his brain, check intracranial pressure, or check for infection. We were brushed off.

Once we got to a neighboring state, between me not backing down and my husband throwing his mental health care license around in a way that made him super uncomfortable, they finally looked for a medical cause. (Mental health IS medical but the ERs don't treat it that way.) He's now being treated for what they believe is an infection that spread to his brain. But we spent 12 hours yesterday trying to keep calm even when he didn't know who we were and then listening to him scream and fight when we couldn't. My husband was a hero. There's so much more but I'm tired. We're exhausted, physically and emotionally. We're still worried sick, waiting to hear if the antibiotics are helping. I'm furious with the medical system. I just hope he will be okay and recover to someone I've known for 20 years.

So thanks for listening to me rant and for all the lovely unrelated messages. I'm so excited to answer things and get my mind off of this for a little while.

#just personal stuff #not writing

11 notes · View notes

cinderpaw11 · 1 year ago

Note

📸

They were 15. It was a dark, warm, humid night, and they were rolling through the park. Anyone would be able to tell they were crying, if anyone were there at that hour.

"I don't feel the same way, I'm sorry," she had said. One crack.

"Well, fuck you too, then!" He had yelled, their mom taking his side. Two cracks.

"I'm so sorry, Finny. It's for the best," they had told him, their partner.

A heart snapped in half.

They would recover, if they gave it a chance. But they were only 15, and it was late, and what teenager knows how to piece a heart back together at 10 pm on a Sunday night?

So they left home, and went to the park.

Alone.

Except, they're not as alone as they think, because a young man on a bench calls them over.

"Hey, hey kid, are you okay?" He says in a soft voice. His hair is teal and cropped short, and they can't help but feel comforted by his likeness to their favorite Vocaloid. They roll closer and shake their head, throat too tight to speak.

"Wanna talk about it?" It's said so gently, they're almost startled by it. Their stomach twists as the memories refresh, but they nod anyway.

"I--" their voice croaks, and they have to let loose a few more tears.

"It's okay, take your time," he said, and it was a good few more minutes of sobbing before they managed to begin letting it out. The rejection, the nightly fights with their parents, the spinal surgery and how they no longer felt like a good enough trainer for their oldest friend.

Of course they knew not to talk to strangers, especially late at night. But... This was really the only adult who had bothered to listen to them about it all. So, against their better judgement, they threw caution to the wind - just this once.

"Wow, that's quite the story! I'm so sorry you had to go through all that. Your parents sound like the worst," he said, frowning sympathetically.

"Y-yeah," they sniff, pulling out a tissue from their side pouch.

"You know-- I mean, I hope this doesn't come across the wrong way, but, if you ever need a break from home? Come find me. I work in Veilstone, at a small tech startup called Galactic. You're welcome to hunker down and hang out with us any time - I can guarantee my coworkers won't mind."

He hands them a business card, dark silver cardstock with an address that glimmers in the lamplight. They pocket it with a wobbly smile.

"Thank you," they murmur, "for listening."

"Anytime, kid," and he reaches over to ruffle their hair. "Get home safe, okay? Don't let your folks get you down."

They nod, cheeks dry and eyes still red, and head home. A place that would soon become foreign to them, as they spend more and more time at Galactic - when they turn 18, they're hired on the spot, and with the warm encouragement of their new family, they cut their hair, cut off their parents, and they finally, finally fit in.

It's all they ever wanted.

#HEE HOO TEAM GALACTIC RIAN AU GO BRRRRR #ask game #ooc post #this version of them is so incredibly fucked up btw

3 notes · View notes