#think I need a feeding tube that surpasses my stomach

[arlo-venn]

Worried about how ill I’ve been, too afraid to be shrugged off by my doctor so I haven’t mentioned, it’s been weeks now. Complaining here instead

[radabadabing-bing]

Ruling Me

You ever get an idea, and then you realize how good that idea is? I dunno what overcame me, but I remembered an idea I had way back when I started the blog. Didn’t have a single thing written for it, but I sat down and crunched it out in like two or three sessions. However, couldn’t think of a title, so just slapped on a slightly fitting mediocre one haha

Anyways, that particular idea was that Michalis rubbed Niles the wrong way, and honestly you should know what comes next if you are following this blog. It also let me write dialogue for this which I love to do, I’m pretty pleased overrall with how it turned out. Enjoy!

Niles and Michalis were a little less than acquaintances. They were often deployed at the same time, sure, but to imply they were anything more than occasional coworkers was...generous. Neither had a personality that would particularly jell with the other, nor backgrounds that befitted such a thing. It was more or less a strict work relationship. So why Niles felt a need to approach him on that particular day was something of a mystery. Maybe it was just the convenience of the location they had passed by.

Niles had begun with a particularly tame conversation starter, especially by his standards. He had been loitering in a hall as Michalis passed by. “Well well, King Michalis himself. Nice to see you about-”

“Speak when spoken to, cur.” Michalis didn’t even let him finish, before turning to him with a disgusted look. He glared at the archer with a rather unwarranted disdain.

Somewhat flabbergasted, Niles could only say back- “Excuse me?”

“Did I stutter?” Michalis hissed. “I have no need to talk to you. I can barely tolerate your presence on the battlefield. Know your place.” He pointed a gloved finger at Niles, malice exuding from his continued grimace. “I can’t stand the sight of you. Begone.”

When Niles continued to sit where he had been at the first place, surprise still evident on his face, Michalis took his leave first. Storming down the hall, in his dark cloak. Niles was no stranger to such angers, but usually it took him actually doing something first. Sure, there were some haughty nobles in Nohr who would likely see him in the exact same light, but he wasn’t fighting alongside those nobles. Surely he was warranted a chance, a modicum of respect?

And that got under Niles skin. Just a bit. 

Now there were perhaps less extreme methods of annoying Michalis he could’ve gotten to, such as planting himself in hallways that the King of Macedon would certainly pass through. Not to mention, Michalis couldn’t exactly just attack Niles outright- The Summoner would have something to say about that. But just annoying Michalis also seemed a tad...Too gradual. After all, he had delved into verbal assault quite quickly. So maybe Niles could also jump to an extreme as well.

It had been three days since that incident. Michalis was walking alone as always. His face stern, like he had a good reason to be grumpy in an empty hallway. Though he would soon not be so alone, as someone grabbed his long red hair. He whipped around to see who it was, only spotting Niles’s face for a moment- Until an odd scent and sensation overcame him. It all went dark.

He awoke in a much different location. Brief sunlight was all that illuminated the room, as Michalis’s eyes darted around. They quickly settled on a particularly smug man, leaning against the wall. “Good, you're awake. Glad to know I didn’t overdo it.”

Michalis wasn’t even about to waste breath on Niles, until he realized that he was bound to a chair. He grunted as he pulled against the ropes binding his hands together, scuffing the chair across the floor a few inches, trying to free himself. Finally, he snarled. “Scoundrel. Release me at once!”

“Oh? And why should I do that?” Niles said back. “I don’t go out of my way to tie you up just so I can let you go. Besides, it’s not like you had anywhere to be fast, considering you spend most of your time brooding alone. We have time to chat.”

Michalis futilely struggled more. “So what do you want? To kill me?”

“No, not at all. I couldn’t get away with that, trust me. Besides, you are far too entertaining to simply kill.” Niles shook his head. “I just want to...how to put it...Knock you down a peg.”

“Humiliate me? Are you just going to leave me here...to waste away, left with you as my only mercy?” Michalis hated that idea. Left to rot in a shady backroom until this...lowly rogue...came to give him food and water.

“Decent guess, but also no. I’m moreso interested in your words...You couldn’t ‘stand’ to see me, right?” The smug look on his face seemed to grow ever more smug, much to the annoyance of Michalis.

“So what?! Are you going to break my legs? Paralyze me?! Stop toying with me! Get to the point!”

Niles decided to humor Michalis. “Yes, yes, fine. Look up.”

Michalis did, finding that there was some sort of jury rigged contraption above him, and also sitting behind him. Barrels, a tube cascading down...What was it?

“I don’t understand.”

“I figured you wouldn’t. I was inspired by a similar machine, made for filling troughs. A time saving machine for farmers, though I’ve made it a bit more...direct. As funny as the image of you eating out of a trough is, I’m rather impatient.” Niles went over, and grabbed the tube.

“What are you even prattling on about-” Michalis was silenced by the tube being shoved in his mouth. “Mmpf!”

“I told you, it was direct.” The proud King tried spitting out the tube, trying to uselessly speak as he did so. Meanwhile, Niles turned a valve, opening the barrels. A brightly colored liquid descended. “I’ll be honest, this stuff wasn’t cheap to get a hold of. So don’t waste it, okay?”

As the liquid got closer, Michalis tried harder and harder to spit out the tube- He wasn’t sure what the hell that stuff was, but he certainly didn’t want it in his body. Though it was for naught. Soon the substance was filling his mouth. It was sickly sweet in taste, nearly overpowering. He could feel it dribbling down his chin as he tried to keep himself from swallowing it, before giving in. 

He took a deep gulp of the liquid, feeling it sink to his stomach. He looked to Niles again, looking down at him with his sly grin. Michalis grunted in resistance as Niles ruffled his hair. “See? It’s not that bad. Now, I do have other things to do, so I’ll come back soon to make sure you’re doing well.” And like that, Niles slipped out of the room, leaving the feeding King alone.

Michalis grunted more, struggled more, even after Niles left. He wasn’t sure what this substance was, only that it was...honestly really good. The taste was amazing. Still, Michalis’s prideful mind forced him to keep trying to resist. Not to mention, his stomach would fill up and, and he’d vomit at some point...right?

His stomach certainly felt full. It gurgled and grumbled, feeling bloated. He looked down, surprised to see it actually bulging decently outwards. And further outwards. His regal wear and belt felt tight against it. It...was just bloated, right? Michalis’s angered glare soon softened into one of worry.

His stomach gurgled again, louder this time. He could see his belly begin to push over the belt, like it wasn’t stuffed full, but rather filling out with soft fat. As Michalis took another gulp, he swore he could feel his pants and armor filling out. Fabric and metal joints growing taut. Niles words...Couldn’t stand to see him. Things began to click in Michalis’s head.

He struggled against his restraints once more, but it was still pointless. Not to mention, he couldn’t even start trying to spit out the tube. Not because it was difficult, though that was certainly true, no, it was just too good to do so. And with each gulp, his clothes became tighter, straining further to contain his growing form. Uncomfortably tight, actually.

The first victim of his now burgeoning body was the belt. The sound of leather creaking, cracking, snapping apart. The metal buckle shot across the room, clattering on the floor. Michalis’s belly promptly flopped out, pale flesh laying upon his lap. Whatever muscular frame he had before had given away to his currently chubby one. He let out muffled groans as the seams on the sides of his pants split, more pudge spilling out. The chair slightly creaked under him.

His struggling had ended now, as he was starting to willingly drink the substance. His pride was beginning to lose out, as he slowly got lost in the taste. Unconsciously, he began to suckle at the tube- He wanted- No, he needed more. He wasn’t even watching as his clothes began bursting and tearing all over. How his pecs had turned into blubbery tits. His ass spilling over the sides of the chair, his thighs not far behind, as his pants tore further and further. His gurgling gut grew larger by the second, filling with the concoction, immediately turning it into more blubber to pack on.

His shirt was practically tearing down the middle, as his cravat became shreds. His thick neck and second chin wouldn’t fit it. Buttons popping, metal bits and bobs pinging off onto the floor. The chair’s groaning got louder as he surpassed the weight it was meant for. Truthfully, he had likely surpassed that weight far before the chair had begun to give out. 

Before the chair came apart, however, the restraints holding back Michalis’s fatty arms snapped apart. It was only rope, and the growth had managed to pull it far enough. If Michalis was still as bitter as he was the few minutes before, he would’ve certainly pulled the tube out. But that was long gone to this Michalis, who reached for the tube not to pull it out, but to demand even more. Though his arms were a tad too inefficiently large to reach it by now.

A snapping sound briefly brought Michalis back to some of his senses, as he fell to the floor with a slam. He looked down at himself, realizing his freedom- Though ‘freedom’ was a meaningless term when one couldn’t move. An anger welled up in his mind towards Niles- That vicious ne’er do well who was responsible for all this. How dare he do this to the King of Macedon!

But then, another thought- This was incredibly enjoyable. Ugh, how the thought of growing even larger brought him elation. And if he was King, he certainly deserved such a luxury! The thoughts of Niles began to fade once more as he returned to his guzzling, spreading further and further on the floor.

The only clothes that hadn’t ripped completely to shreds was his cloak, which covered very little of his body. The rest was coated in thick fat, spreading further into the room. More and more he encroached upon the room, his frame nearly immobile.

Though soon his growth came to a halt. He suckled the last drops of the potion from the tube. And Michalis definitely tried to get as much as he could out of it, and relaxing his head back. The tube was promptly spat out, a much easier feat now that it wasn’t feeding him the delicious nectar. Another rumble from his stomach, and Michalis let out a belch.

He was likely over six hundred pounds at this point, if not heavier. He sat on his titanic ass, under ripped fabrics and crushed wood. His gut similarly sat flat on the floor, two large rolls encompassing it. His man boobs laid upon it, plump and full. A chunky neck, a few additional chins, an all around chubby face. His long red hair and reforming scowl would be one of the few hints that this man was Michalis. 

The sunlight flitting through the thin cracks had turned to the orange shine of twilight. Michalis felt...dissatisfied. With? He wasn’t absolutely sure. Perhaps dissatisfied he was now immobile. That he was unable to flaunt his new form, away in this dank room. Or was it the fact he couldn’t reach down and pleasure himself? Or maybe it was the lack of that liquid elation, and how his form grew ever more expansive…

He had no time to consider that. There were noises. Footsteps. Michalis stood to attention- Well, his head did at least, focused on the sole entrance and exit. The rest of his body nudged and jiggled slightly.

“Is someone here? I heard a-”

Before the massive king stood Corrin, another not quite acquaintance. In more standard circumstances, Michalis would’ve been more neutral on his presence versus Niles. But now? Michalis face once again grimaced, though made less intimidating by his jowls and pillow like cheeks. Fists clenched as he looked down upon the young prince, who looked upon him, shocked at the transformation his teammate had undergone.

“Bring me Niles,” He huffed out. 

“N-Niles? Why do you-”

“Because,” Michalis didn’t feel like he had time for this. “I need more.”

[reflections-in-tea-cups]

Shadow

tw: pet death

We lost our beautiful, lively, shy, affectionate, panther of a house cat on Monday, March 25, 2019. While I hope the details of the past month fade from my memory, I know some of you are shocked at the news and want to know what happened. This story is still too painful to retell, so I’m putting it here.

It’s a long story with a tragic end. It’s not my best writing, but editing it further is beyond me right now. 

Shadow came into our lives on Feb. 13th, 2015. We went to the animal shelter to look at a dog – instead, we came home with an eight-year-old black cat. We thought he was a gentle old man, but as soon as he stepped out of the crate we realized they had sent us home with a panther. He was thirteen pounds of pure muscle, and the first thing he did was jump up six feet to hide on the top shelf of my closet.

Despite his size and athleticism, he was incredibly gentle and shy. He hid under the bed the first two weeks that he spent with us, only coming out after lots of cajoling. Even then, he’d often stop just at the edge of the bed so we could reach in and pet him. Once he was comfortable with us, he’d throw himself at our feet for pets and scritches, rolling around so we could get at his belly. He was always deferential to our resident female cat, despite having at least three pounds on her. He was playful and sweet, jumping up walls to catch at laser lights and crawling under the covers for morning snuggles. You always knew what his favorite toy was, as he’d leave it next to (or, more commonly, in) his food dish.

I’m not sure when he stopped eating. He still cried for food every morning and night, and he still went to the bowl and began lapping it up. We noticed that there was more wet food being left over, but that happens sometimes and it usually isn’t a problem – maybe one or both cats don’t care for that flavor of wet food, or maybe they got tired of it, or maybe they’re eating less because everyone is less active in winter. They always had access to dry food, so I didn’t worry.

I was shocked when I picked him up in late February and realized I could feel his bones. He was always a healthy, muscular cat – but suddenly he felt frail and old. Concerned, I made an vet appointment; the soonest available was two weeks away. Luck was on our side, and I got a call a few days later saying they could see us March 8th.

At the vet, we found our healthy-at-thirteen-pounds boy was now under ten. Blood work showed signs of pancreatitis, dehydration, and anemia. X-rays didn’t find anything surprising, just an empty stomach. He got anti-nausea meds, pain meds, and fluids. They sent us back home with some prescription food, instructions to monitor his food and water intake, and a blood recheck appointment set up for a week later.

His appetite increased for a few days. He still wasn’t eating enough to gain any weight, but any progress was hopeful. But by Wednesday (the 13th) he was back to barely eating anything and I called and got him an appointment for the next day. The 14th was terrifying – his weight had continued to drop, and as had his red blood cell count. They recommended hospitalization for IV fluids and medication, and to monitor his eating. I cried signing the papers to leave him there for the day.

When I went to pick him up that night, they said he hadn’t really improved and they recommended overnight hospitalization. Our vet isn’t a 24 hour clinic, so that involved transferring him to a local emergency vet. The ER vet reassured us that pancreatitis is often treated by a few days of pushing fluids, so we should remain hopeful. She also offered to do an ultrasound on his abdomen, to further look for anything else that could be causing his symptoms. No one really knew why he was so anemic, but maybe the ultra sound would see if/where he was bleeding internally.

After a sleepless night, the ER vet called to tell us Shadow had done well – they’d gotten him to eat a little, and the ultra sound hadn’t found anything too alarming or conclusive. The only thing they noted was an enlarged lymph node. We were told another day of hospitalization would be ideal, but we might be able to take him home that night. It was with a much lighter heart that we brought him back to our regular vet, giving them the overnight report and excited to get our healthy boy back soon.

However, our rollercoaster took a sudden dive. The vet reported that he hadn’t eaten and had only gotten more lethargic as the day progressed. The next diagnostic step they recommended was exploratory surgery, during which they would also insert a feeding tube so we could ensure he was getting the calories he needed. At this point, they were very worried he was about to enter liver failure from starvation.

We decided to go ahead with the surgery, which was scheduled for the next morning. We took him home that night for lots of cuddles – lapped up our affection all night. He was so happy to be back in his familiar environment, and our other cat also made it clear she was thrilled he was home.

Taking him to the vet the next morning was a tense affair. After finally being home, he wanted nothing to do with his cat carrier and let us know it. Three hours later I got a call from the vet – he’d done very well in surgery and was waking up comfortably! They had a new diagnosis based on the state of his liver and gall-bladder: feline triaditis. While they did take a couple biopsies, they were pretty confident we were on the right track. They said the prognosis was good but the at-home care would be intensive; not only were we responsible for his calorie intake through the feeding tube until he began to eat again, but there were also five medications that needed to be given once or twice a day. They still hadn’t found a source for the anemia, but hoped it would recoup with everything else.

We were thrilled to bring him home and dedicated to getting him back up to health. His food was specially prepared each day and given to him 4-5 times daily. He had to be quarantined from our other cat and dog for a while, so he was confined to the spare bedroom. Within three days, he was starting to eat on his own and was feisty enough to try and escape to the rest of the apartment whenever I opened the door. His stitches were healing well, and we got a onesie for him to wear instead of the hated cone (not that he liked it much better). The vet checked in that Monday, and was almost as excited as I was to hear how well he was doing. We started letting him explore the rest of the apartment with Leira and Kenai when we were home to monitor him, so he got more stimulation and got to hang out in all his favorite spots. Everything was looking up.

Unfortunately, it didn’t last. On Friday (the 22nd) I noticed that his eating was declining. We had just gotten him up to full calories through the feeding tube, so I figured it would take a while for his appetite to surpass what we were giving him. However, his appetite didn’t pick back up, and he began showing increased signs of nausea when I fed him. He also felt unusually warm. On Monday I called the vet, and left a message asking if this was normal recovery behavior. I spent the afternoon at home with him, waiting for the vet to call. They didn’t, so I called and asked again that evening – this time someone went back to talk to the vet in person. We were advised to take him to ER.

We went back to the ER where he had been hospitalized just ten days before. After a quick physical exam (where we saw he had lost even more weight, and he was feverish), they took him back for more bloodwork. He was extraordinarily anemic – his red blood cell count had decreased by half from its previous low levels. We could take him to a clinic that could do a blood transfusion – the nearest one was an hour away by car, and he’d have to stay there for at least 24 hours to make sure his body didn’t reject the blood. And since we didn’t know what was causing the anemia, it was likely the transfusion would only buy us a little time.

The next diagnostic step would be to test a sample of his bone marrow, a process that would involve putting him under anesthesia. There were three main suspects for his anemia at this point: a virus attacking his red blood cells and/or bone marrow, an autoimmune disorder (his body attacking his red blood cells), or cancer. We were advised that was a toss of the dice whether or not it was something treatable; even if it was, it would be extremely intensive and difficult for him.

We took some time to hold him close and think about our options. His options. For the last few weeks (and the last four years) we had discussed always trying to do what was best for him. And as he fell asleep in my arms, that most difficult choice became clear.

The vet told us we could take him home overnight if we wanted, but it we weren’t going to do a transfusion we should bring him back within 24 hours to put him to sleep. I didn’t want him to go through two more car rides (his most hated activity) and what would clearly be a painful and stressful night – we decided it would be best to let him go peacefully that night. He’d had a good day cuddling on the couch with me, Leira, and Kenai (one of the rare times I actually got a picture of him and the dog together). Luis and I held him for at least an hour, telling him we loved him and soaking in his sweetness.  Finally we knew we couldn’t delay any longer. Luis held me and I held Shadow as the vet administered the anesthesia, lulling him into sleep for the last time.

Shadow was so much more than we ever could have expected. I’ll never be able to describe him adequately, or what he meant to us. We will miss him forever, and cherish the time we did get to spend with him.

[seflora]

Part 1/

WARNING THIS IS ABOUT TO GET DEPRESSING

It’s been a while since I made an life update on here. And for now, I might use this as my online journal.

My mom passed away unexpectedly less than a month ago.

At first, I truly, whole heartedly thought she was going to be fine. That there was nothing that we could not work or surpass.

When she complained about a headache, I didn’t think it was bad initially. Then a minute later I thought she was having a migraine, so I wanted to give her Tylenol and have her lye down. But she didn’t want that so we compromised and got her an ice pack for her head.

She still looked terrible as the minutes passed by, so I got my blood pressure machine and started to take her pressure.

I never got to find out what her number was.

While waiting for the numbers, my mom started to feel nauseous and through up in the dinning room. She then went to the bathroom. I immediately followed her asking her if she need paper towels, water or anything.

After I left her and was going to start cleaning the throw up. But my mom in her typical, amazing and selfless way came out and told me to not worry about the throw up to leave it alone and that she will clean it up later.

When I didn’t listen and was still cleaning it, my mom helped me cleaned it. She unfortunately got sick again and threw up on the kitchen sink before going back to my bathroom.

At this moment I thought she had a stomach flu. Which is not uncommon, my mom had food poisoning just 2 months previously. So I left her alone in the bathroom as she threw up. I kept checking in, but didn’t want to bother her. 15 minutes later I went to check on her and I see her leaving her head against the wall of my shower glass door. She looked like she was taking a breather.

I decide to leave her alone and come back in 10 minutes. When I do she’s still in the same position, but I decided I want to start cleaning around my bathroom. I start picking up the paper towels and I decided I was also going to help clean her up. Because she had some throw up on her hands and mouth.

But as I clean her hands I had this chilling feeling. My mom is not responding or moving as I clean her hands or her face. She’s still breathing and sounds like she’s a sleep. But I start seeing foam forming on her mouth.

I start panicking and freaking out. My first thought was she fainted and she wants to throw up but she’s now choking. I pick her up and put her body over the toilet while I try to call her name.

Once I realize this is futile, I go and get my step dad, and tell him there’s something wrong with my mom. We then move my mom from the bathroom to the living room and call emergency number.

While on the phone with them, they have me to cpr. The fire department/ ambulance shows up 10 minutes later. They see her and tell me she probably had a stroke and will take her to the hospital.

When they said she had a stroke, I thought, ok, she’s going to be fine. People don’t die from strokes, it might be a long recovery for her, but she’s going to be ok. Because my mom is incredibly healthy, had no medical problems, exercise daily and she’s just so strong that she came back from anything.

My step dad went to the hospital following the ambulance and I stayed cleaning and making sure my dog was going to be fine.

30 minutes later I get a text from him saying the doctor says I need to see my mom. That it’s not looking good. Even when my step dad picks me up and is crying. I refused to believe that she couldn’t come back. That there was no other options or alternatives for her. Because my mom is super woman. She can get through anything.

When I finally make it to the hospital and talk to a doctor I find out that my mom’s stroke was massive and turn into a giant bleed. The most positive outcome was that if she wakes up her quality of life after was going to be in a nursing home with feed tubes, breathing tubes, and no recognition of anyone, she would be brain damage. She would need to be hooked up to life support 24/7 to keep her body working.

That’s not my mom. That’s not who she is. She’s amazing and strong. She’s not a lifeless body who goes through the motions but has no perception.

Though my family was not ready to accept it at that moment and was hoping for a miracle. I was starting to get a sense that my mom was not coming home with me.

Part 1