#tw gynaecology

[readingtheentrails]

Guess who is getting the lining of her womb lasered off and couldn't be more excited about it?

And also had a gynaecologist actually listen to her for the first time and be horrified when I corrected her and told her that I didn't have my previous procedure done under general anaesthetic and it was one of the worst experiences of my life?

It's me 😭😭🥹

And when I said I didn't have kids and wouldn't be having any (because after the uterine ablation getting pregnant is life-threatening) she just said "okay!" and didn't pull the whole "but you might change your mind" shtick.

I wanna cry, why am I 39 and having this experience for the first time? But I'm also so grateful to actually be having this experience at all.

And she's gonna knock me the fuck out while they do all their investigations with the camera, do their laser stuff and then fit the mirena. Unlike the last time when I just got two ibuprofen three hours before the procedure and had to breathe and cry my way through it (minus the laser part).

[thetriumphantpanda]

This is a PSA for anyone with a cervix (tw: medical, smear tests, gynaecology)

If you’re old enough to have a cervical screening… please do it. Mine recently came back with some nasty looking cells. I’ve had a follow up biopsy which, whilst unpleasant, was nowhere near as bad as I thought it would be, and thankfully it looks like I’ll be okay… but just… please go if you can - the short amount of time you spend being uncomfortable is worth it to catch things early if there’s anything wrong

[pseudowho]

I’m the anon who asked for the gynecologist advice: Haitch you literally made me feel so much better 💗 I HATE that it’s so pushed, and there’s always this weird feeling of shame or guilt if you put it off, which is dumb because why would I put myself through an invasive, uncomfortable and anxiety inducing exam for a societal/nearly cultural standard. The US is crazy, and I feel so much better now that I’m not the only one going 🤨 about it.

Thank you so much, I’m a body positive person but I question myself sometimes and having someone else help affirm that I’m not doing something wrong by not wanting to do that for shits and giggles is really helpful. Literally all the hugs in the world to you 💗

(Also, aside from the papamin au, blacksmith!Namami is by far my favorite of your works. Just to add a little compliment 🩵)

Hey! It's honestly my pleasure. My job is genuinely about advocating for women in scenarios like this, so I'm of course happy to advise.

The only time you should be accessing an invasive vaginal examination are: routine cervical screening (think you call them pap tests over there), irregular bleeding, suspicion of an STI, suspicion of a growth of some sort (lumps etc.), very irregular discharge (though arguably this doesn't necessarily require an intrusive internal examination), insertion of an intrauterine contraceptive device, or pregnancy-related examinations. This is off the top of my head, but I'm pretty sure it's quite comprehensive

I care for women with hip problems who cannot abduct their hips, and there are ways to do this that are comfortable and dignified for you. If these ways make it 'harder' for the medical professional, that's the medic professional's fucking problem, frankly, not yours.

I encourage you to examine yourself regularly to establish what 'normal' is for you, so you're more confident in noticing change and accessing timely care. Please wash your hands thoroughly before.

You are the most important member of your healthcare team.

The US gives me nightmares honestly.

All my love and hugs to you, too,

(and thank you for loving my writing, of course 💕 Blacksmith!Nanami may solve 99% of the world's ills)

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

[my-little-fandoms]

In todays disabled brutal honesty

Had a surgeon tell me to cut every single thing that helps me manage my pain because they’re “not the healthiest”. So I came home and immediately did all those things.

Heatpacks? Nope gotta use my tens machine that doesn’t work

Pain killers? Nope gotta use my tens machine and deep breathing

Sleep? Nope gotta do 15 mins of yoga every single day because the reason I hurt so much is because my body and mind are tense.

And by do those things I mean I ignored the stupid opinion of a stupid dr who isn’t educated on chronic pain. Because yeah they may not be healthiest? But lying in bed all day, not moving and being hospitalised two days later is much less healthier.

[aloeverawrites]

Tw for medical stuff, bigotry and gynaecology.

Remember to always ask for anaesthesia for gynaecological things like IUD insertion, biopsies or any surgical procedure. There's a systemic problem in the industry of people not being offered pain medication dude to outdated ideas that these procedures aren't painful. You shouldn't have to patch this gap in the medical system yourself, it's sad that I even have to say this but I do.

If they say it's going to pinch, ask for anaesthesia. Tell other people and make sure you're informed on your procedure, laws and medical consent before you go.

[tyrannosylasrex]

I forgot this is my personal blog as well and I can just vent So anyway,

TW//: under the cut are mentions of hospitals, ovaries, blood, surgery, vomit, suicide, whatever.

SO i tried going to bed at like 3 AM last friday. But my mission to eepytown was interrupted drastically by the worst stabbing pain in my lower abdomen that I'd Ever felt in my life. But I'm a stubborn son of a bitch, so I figured Ahhh It'll pass on it's own! Maybe it's just a fart!

it wasn't a fart.

After about two hours of squirming and groaning in pain, I took a buttload of painkillers and called my mom. She came running to my room immediately and called the emergency services. Meanwhile, I was busy spewing out the contents of my stomach. Including the painkillers. So I was back to square one.

Guess What The Emergency Fucking Services told us??

"Yeah nah just take some painkillers lol we can't do much for u now"

BITCH YOU COULD'VE PICKEd me UP. AND GAVE ME. SOMETHING STRONGER THAN FUCJING PARACETAMOL

We called back.

"Ah ye just try a suppository then!"

I was ready to kill them.

I didn't sleep. I couldn't sleep. My mom didn't sleep, she stayed with me the whole time, until the hospital opened and then she immediately drove me there.

The car ride was agonising. The waiting room was agonising. Hell, existence was agonising. I had two options in my head at that point. Either someone fucking helps me Right Now or I'll off myself somehow. I was in too much pain.

Finally, our doctor calls us and we go to their room so she can examine me.

SHE DOES AN INTERNAL EXAMINATION. HER FINGRS. GO INSIDE. MY [clown honk]. I SCREAMED IN PAIN. HOLY SHIt I HATED HER AT THAT MOMENT.

Anyway, she told us to rush to the emergency department. So we did. More questions, tests, etc. Sent off to gynaecology after receiving a very relieving injection of morphine (i'm gonna kiss the nurse who gave me that shit thank you so much)

ULTRASOUND :D WITH A ROD :D INSIDE MY [clown noise] more screaming.

They found a large cyst. I was admitted. I finally got a comfy bed and some IV fluids (i still couldn't hold down even one sip of water)

Hours pass. Have you ever been in excruciating pain while also being horribly exhausted? It's so fucking weird. You're writhing in pain yet simultaneously half-falling asleep.

OH and by the way, I hadn't eaten anything yet since dinner the night before. And now I wasn't allowed to, cuz I needed surgery.

I spent a total of 15 hours in agonising pain, some of which were soothed mildly by IV painkillers, until I finally got wheeled into the OR where they put me under for a laparoscopy. Pretty sure I told the surgeons to sleep tight when they put me under..

After only about an hour and a half, I woke up again as they were rolling me back to a room. I was immediately asking questions about the surgery, how it went, what they saw, what my insides look like, man I don't even know I was still out of it from the anaesthesia, but I was clearly Very Interested.

I was finally pain free. Apart from the surgical wounds, but that's a pain I could totally deal with compared to what I had.

Turns out, that large cyst they saw, (a very bloody one apparently) caused an ovarian torsion. My ovary had twisted. That's what hurt so much. What the hell, I didn't even know ovaries could do that. I'd heard about testicular torsion before but not ovarian.

Anyway, I could finally sleep and eat and I no longer had to puke. The next day, at around 2pm, I was discharged. I immediately rented a wheelchair so I could catch a glimpse of the pride parade that was going on in my town lol.

Jesus christ. What a weekend.

[animated-axolotl]

post ten gifs of you favorite movies, without mentioning them, then tag ten people

tagged by @clowngoths HELL yes thank you i fuckin love letting people know about my favourite movies

then i’ll tagggg @silenthillcoffeebeans @sombysomby @v-diggety @arodudejude and @cuntwasps don’t feel like you have to do this btw! it’s just for fun if ur bored

[seijorhi]

Hemorrhage

this one's a little different, but i hope you guys like it you did vote on it

Matsuno Chifuyu x female reader x Hanemiya Kazutora

wc 5.9k

tw: blood/medical trauma, yandere vibes, implied murder, kidnapping

p.s fuyu and tora go by fake names in this one <33

Hina’s two hours into a twelve hour shift when dispatch radios through.

Two incoming, a pedestrian and the driver who hit her, both in bad shape. A swarm of doctors and nurses flock to the receiving bay to wait on the incoming ambulance, the blood bank and radiology department put on standby, an OR prepped and waiting.  There’s a sense of anticipation in the air, every breath drawn out as the sirens approach.

To say that Hinata enjoys these moments is probably a stretch, but there’s something about the calm before the storm that reminds her of why she chose this – not being a doctor, but being a doctor here, in the midst of the chaos. Help where help is needed most.

Her heart thumps an even beat.

For her sweet face and soft temperament, many have assumed that Tachibana Hinata wouldn’t be strong enough to handle a job like this. 

Go into paediatrics, they’d tell her, or obstetrics and gynaecology. Pick a specialty where her nurturing disposition would be of use. And whilst in most cases, the sentiment wasn’t meant as an insult, it was always a challenge for Hinata not to take it that way.

You don’t have what it takes, she heard. You’re too weak. 

Hina might be on the gentler side of the spectrum, but she’s no shrinking violet, and she’s damn good at what she does.

She breathes, hands steady at her sides.

The ambulance pulls up, the driver jumping out from the front seat to open up the back hatch, and like a pin pulled from a grenade, that calm tension explodes into a flurry of activity. The first gurney is unloaded, paramedics barking stats and condition reports at the attending doctors, she catches bits and pieces–

Respiratory distress. Suspected rib fracture. Fractured leg. Head Lac. Someone yells for a FAST exam, worried no doubt about the possibility of internal bleeding.

–but her focus is pulled to the second patient; the driver, a man in his mid 50’s, dark hair greying at the temples. At first glance, his condition doesn’t appear to be as serious as yours. He’s conscious for one, fighting against both the paramedic and the oxygen mask on his face to sit up and speak as he’s unloaded from the ambulance.  

Face flushed and sweating, he wheezes for breath, “I didn’t see her! She–she came outta nowhere, I didn’t– I didn’t see–” The ECG monitor picks up and wide, panicked eyes meet hers. “She– she was ru–”

Hina is quick to push him gently but firmly back down to the gurney, grabbing the mask from feeble hands and affixing it back into place.

“Sir,” she tells him, “you need to keep the mask on.”

“He said his name’s Shunichi, he was in shock when we arrived on the scene, and lost consciousness as we were loading the girl,” the paramedic informs. 

The driver – Shunichi – clutches at her hand, trying again to pull back the mask enough to speak clearly. “S-she needs–”

He breaks off with a pained gasp. 

The heart monitor attached to his chest goes haywire, beeping frantically. Hina’s attention whips to the pulse oximeter, noting the rapidly falling number, “His o2 sats are dropping.”

And no sooner do the words leave her lips than the driver’s eyes roll backwards into his skull, his body giving way to unconsciousness once more. 

“Shunichi? Shunichi, can you hear me? Stay with us–”

Beside her, her attending curses, “He’s going into V-fib,” and yells ahead for a crash cart and a defibrillator, hiking himself up onto the gurney and straddling the patient to start CPR compressions. 

Grabbing the metal railing of the gurney, Hina and the others launch into action. Wheeling him into the ER, she’s single-minded in her focus, attuned only to the condition of her patient and the orders the attending doctor barks out.

None of them – not the other doctors or nurses, not even the orderly who sneaks out the sliding doors for his smoke break – notice the two motorcycles that pull up in the ambulance bay, the riders who silently sit and stare as the chaotic procession disappears behind the doors of the hospital. 

The ambulance driver, however, does. 

“You guys can’t park here,” is all she says, before she too dismisses them to ready for the next call.

—

It’s an old superstition long held by medical staff that under no circumstances is anyone – staff, patients, even visitors if they can at all help it – ever to utter the ‘Q’ word aloud within the walls of the hospital.

Quiet is the calm before the storm. Quiet bodes well for none of them.

Yet after the two patients are sent off to respective operating rooms, a sense of order returns to the ER. Patients still need to be seen; broken bones to x-ray and reset, pain medication to be doled out, sutures and ultrasounds and head wounds and stomach pain–

But no one’s crashing, no one’s bleeding out.

It’s as close to smooth sailing as the ER’s ever going to get. 

“Um, Tachibana?”

Mid-way through applying a bandage to a nasty cut above her patient’s eye, courtesy of a drunken brawl, Hina turns to find one of the younger nurses waiting on her, eyes shining, clutching anxiously at the clipboard held to her chest. 

“I’m sorry to bother you, but there’s two men out in triage who’re asking about the girl from the accident? They keep demanding to come in, but we were told that only–”

Hina raises a hand, cutting the younger girl short. She smiles patiently, waits for her to take a breath. “It’s fine, Enoki. Tell them I’ll be out in a minute.”

Breaking into a relieved grin, Enoki nods and hurriedly scampers back out. She’s a smart girl, and Hinata suspects that one day she’ll be an excellent nurse – as soon as she learns to stop getting so flustered and stand her ground around the doctors and combative patients, that is. 

Five minutes later the wound is bandaged, her patient left with a brief rundown of care instructions, and Hinata makes her way out into the waiting room. 

Enoki sits behind the desk, nudges her head towards two men in their late 20’s when she notices Hina’s arrival; one perched stiffly atop the plastic chairs, the other with his arms folded, leaning back against the wall beside the first, his boot tapping out an anxious, incessant beat.

Both heads jerk upwards and snap towards her at the sound of the double doors swinging open. As far as Hina’s aware, you’re currently a Yamada Hanako, an unidentified patient. If you had any personal items with you – a wallet or a phone – the paramedics didn’t pick them up, and the only person who was there while you were still conscious was Shunichi, himself mid-way through an operation on his weakened heart.

They don’t know your name, how old you are, where you live. Patient confidentiality aside, she has to be careful here.

A few years back, a busy train derailed during peak hour – hundreds were injured, dozens dead. Hina was only an intern at the time, but she remembers the absolute chaos that followed, the hoards of people who turned up at the hospital doors seeking any information on family and friends they suspected to have been caught up in the accident. 

It was well intentioned. Frightened families who only wanted reassurance latching onto vague descriptions and details, willing to convince themselves that their wife or son left the house that morning wearing a blue shirt rather than a white one – if only because the victim in the blue shirt, whilst in a critical condition, was still alive and breathing, and that was better than facing the alternative. 

Hina makes her way over, the duo rising from their respective positions and falling in together as a single, impenetrable unit. 

Neither one’s particularly tall – taller than she is, yes, but standing a touch shy of 5’2” that’s hardly an accomplishment – they loom over her all the same, bodies taut, tension radiating from matching pinched expressions. 

They make somewhat of an odd pair, she decides. 

The taller of the two, the one who’d been leaning against the wall, wears a wife-beater with a bomber jacket, black hair streaked with blond chunks falling to his shoulders, not quite hiding the sweeping calligraphic lines of the tattoo that curls along his throat and disappears beneath the collar of his jacket.

Hina knows better than to judge based on appearances, and it isn’t the tattoo, truly. Working in an inner city ER, she’s come across more than one yakuza thug bleeding out in desperate need of her help. 

Tattoos don’t scare her. Gang members don’t scare her. 

He doesn’t scare her, yet there’s an edge of something there – in his eyes maybe, or the set of his jaw – that has her guard lifting ever so slightly.

His counterpart meanwhile, the one dressed in a suit, watches her approach through cool green eyes. His jacket’s slung over the back of the chair, top button of his shirt undone and tie askew, the sleeves of his shirt hastily rolled up. Idly, she wonders whether the state of his hair – a tousled undercut, dark locks falling into his eyes – is a casualty of the stress he has to be feeling, or if that’s how he usually wore it. 

Hina’s all too aware of the critical gaze that appraises her, no doubt noting her white lab coat, the M.D. stitched before her name on the pocket. A doctor, rather than another nurse sent to placate them.

Emotions run high in the ER at the best of times and she’s no stranger to having to calm unruly patients and families alike. They’d sent poor Enoki running, and justified in their outburst or not, though, Hina won’t abide threatening or hostile behaviour.

The security guard stationed at the door seems to be of a similar mind, his attention lingering on the trio for a beat longer than necessary as he scans the waiting room.

And perhaps they notice it too, for both of them seem to deflate a little. Behind the animosity that slowly leaches from their expressions, Hina sees the fear, the panic. The overwhelming, all consuming worry, and feels a familiar tug in her chest. 

Schooling her features into a mask of polite professionalism, she offers the pair a short bow. 

“Hi, my name is Doctor Tachibana. Our nurse tells me that you’re looking for someone you believe may be a patient with us?”

“My finacée,” the one in the suit replies, swallowing thickly. “She… she was only supposed to be gone for ten minutes, we ran out of eggs–” he chokes the word out as if it’s some big cosmic joke. Glares at the speckled linoleum floor, shoulders trembling with the force of whatever tide of emotions he’s holding back.

And as his (she assumes) friend hooks an arm around his neck, pulls him close to murmur something in his ear too quiet for her to catch, Hina thinks of the necklace that lies beneath her scrubs, of the people she’s loved and lost and the days that disappeared to pain and regret in the wake of that.

It isn’t a fate she’d wish on anyone.

 “…One of our neighbours heard about the accident, and when she didn’t come back… Please,” he begs, finally looking up at her. “You have to let us see her. I have to know if she’s okay.”

“Do you have any pictures of your fiancée?”

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he pauses only long enough to flick up his camera roll and tap on an image before passing the device over. 

“She was wearing a blue dress, with white daisies,” he tells her.

A candid snap, the girl in the photo gazing not at the camera, rather at the black cat mid-way through trying to climb its way up the sofa and onto her lap. One leg dangling from the chair, an open book lying discarded on her stomach as she reaches to pat its head, it’s an oddly domestic scene. 

Hina was only with you for the span of a few minutes before you were wheeled off into surgery, and most of that time was spent focused on keeping somebody else’s heart beating. She remembers your face though, the blue dress with white flowers he described stained with blood, dirt and grease. 

Sighing softly, she looks both men in the eyes. “Why don’t you come with me?”

There’s better places to share bad news than an ER waiting room.

—

Holding a surgical mask to her face, Hina pushes through the doors of the operating room. “How is she?”

The surgeon doesn’t bother glancing up from his work, “We’re almost finished here. Repaired the ruptured kidney and the damage to the peritoneum, we just need to close up and we’ll have her out in recovery pending no further complications.”

Hina nods and quietly withdraws.

She’d gathered as much of a medical history as she could from the pair, which admittedly was limited at best. When she’d asked about family, however, the response she received was as clipped as it was absolute.

‘We’re her family.’

It hadn’t been your fiancé who’d said it, but his friend, flat pupils ringed in gold almost daring her to disagree.

And again, she’d felt that prickling at the nape of her neck, the uneasy twist in her gut. 

Despite it, she’d nodded, a short dip of her chin, and murmured an apology that she suspects went largely ignored. Hina’s lucky in that her family is her rock, that she was raised in a loving, supportive environment with parents who would've given anything for their children to succeed. Not everyone has that luxury, and it isn’t her place to question it.

The driver’s prognosis isn’t much better. 

Technically, he’s no longer her patient. For that matter, technically speaking, neither are you. The moment a patient leaves the ER – of their own free will, to be admitted or because they’re being rushed into surgery – they’re no longer supposed to be her concern.

At least, that’s how it is on paper; a clear cut line between departments. 

Hina’s never been all that great at stepping back and handing off responsibility, and in cases like this, with patients bouncing between the ER, trauma ward and the ICU, that clear cut line does tend to blur a little.

In any case, Morikubo, a surgical resident diligently studying the procedure from the gallery, doesn’t so much as blink when Hina strides in.

“One of yours, Tachibana?” he asks, sparing her only the briefest of smirks before turning back to the operation below. “The driver who hit that girl, right?”

He already knows, but Hina nods anyway. “How’s the surgery going?”

“His heart’s shot – they tried for an angioplasty, but the muscle’s too damaged.” A bypass then, she surmises, watching the surgical team work to methodically harvest a vein from his thigh.

Shaking his head, Morikubo snorts, “Sounds like it was a ticking time bomb. Either the bastard’s lucky as hell it gave out right after he almost killed some poor woman and ambulances were already on their way, or it’s karma at its finest.”

Medicine doesn’t work like that. 

Good people aren’t exempt from illness, accidents or disabilities, it’s not some proof of moral failing to be fighting for your life in hospital. 

“Don’t say such things.”

The words lack any true heat though, because Hina can’t get Shunichi’s agonised face out of her head, the phantom feel of warm hands scrabbling to hold onto hers. 

If they’ve tested his blood yet for a tox screen, she doesn’t know. Either way, the law is harsh on reckless drivers – whether it was his fault or not, it doesn’t change the fact that you’re lying in the OR across the hall having your insides stitched up and the blame will undoubtedly fall on him.

It doesn’t change the fact that he might end up imprisoned regardless.

– and still those pained, gasping words echo around in her skull like a broken record. 

‘I didn’t see her! She–she came outta nowhere, I didn’t– I didn’t see–’ 

For a moment, neither of them speak, watching the surgery play out below. 

And then, “… He stayed.”

Morikubo glances over, brow furrowing, “Huh?”

“The driver. He didn’t speed off and leave her there, he stayed with her until the ambulances came, knowing he’d get in trouble.” Hina swallows, burnt coral eyes meeting his, “Doesn’t that count for something?”

—

“The operation’s going well, they were able to stop the bleeding and repair the damage to her kidney and other organs. One of the surgeons should be out shortly to talk with you, and once she’s out in recovery you’ll be able to see her.”

Their relief is palpable; the duo collapsing into a tight, shuddering embrace. “She’s gonna be okay,” the shorter one mumbles – Chuuji he’d given his name as – the words barely audible from the way his face is half buried in his friend’s shoulder. “Fucking… she’s gonna be okay.”

And Hina swears that the other’s grip tightens reflexively in response.

It’s a sweet gesture, one that would usually bring a smile to her face. Try as she might, though, Hina can’t escape the feeling that she’s intruding on something private, a moment not meant for her eyes.

Shifting her weight slightly, Hina clears her throat and gives the pair a smile in spite of herself as they part, “She’s in excellent hands, I promise.”

“And the driver?” the other, Kageharu, asks.

Ice trickles down her spine, her painted smile faltering for a split second. 

It’s not the question itself – Hina imagines that if their situations were reversed, she’d probably want to know the same – rather the way he asks it; the softness of his tone betrayed by the strange not-quite-smile he wears.

His eyes, too, bearing down on her with an intensity that has her insides twisting into knots. 

“I’m sorry?”

“The driver,” he elaborates, as if that was where her confusion lay, “he was brought in too, no?”

Hina’s eyes flicker between the pair. If she’s hoping for some kind of support from Chuuji, she’s sorely disappointed; his own expression turns impassive. Cold, almost, as he too waits for the answer. 

Hina straightens, shoulders set. “I apologise, however we can’t give out information on other patients.”

The air in the room thickens, crackles with invisible tension. Neither man appears particularly pleased with her response, and mentally, she begins to prepare herself in case they decide to take issue with it. 

It’s a small mercy, then, when the pager at her hip beeps to life with an incoming alert. Hina spares the device only the briefest of glances – the test results for one of her patients are in. Hardly an emergency, but she runs with it all the same. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” she says, inclining her chin politely once more.

“Thank you, Doctor,” Chuuji calls out before she can disappear through the wide, double doors at the end of the hallway, and that, more than anything, serves to unnerve her.

—

“If I don’t eat something in the next five minutes, I might actually fade away into nothing,” one of the ICU nurses, Waki, groans.

Hina nods along, hardly hearing a word. The patient chart in her hands goes likewise ignored, her attention drifting to the bed on the other side of the nurses station. Any minute now and you’ll be coming to.

The lead surgeon has come and gone, satisfied enough with your post-operative condition to leave you in the care of the ICU staff. Your vitals are good, broken bones set, and you’re breathing on your own (aided by an oxygen mask, of course), all that’s left is for you to open your eyes.

Considering that you very nearly died this morning, they’re all excellent signs. 

Still, Hina lingers, watching from the corner of her eye. 

Seated on either side of your bed is your fiancé and his friend, Chuuji grasping the hand not covered in leads, holding it to his chin, Kageharu fixated on sweeping back a lock of your hair – mindful of the bandages wrapped around your forehead – his other palm resting on your uninjured leg. 

Waki, sensing that she’s now essentially talking to herself, follows Hina’s line of sight to the trio. “They haven’t moved since we let them in here,” she comments, “It’s sweet, don’t you think?”

Hina hums, her fingers subconsciously drifting to fiddle with her necklace, “Yeah, I suppose.”

“Well I think it’s sweet.” She sighs heavily, as if Hinata’s lacklustre reply has offended her deeply, “You know, Tachibana–” 

But Hina’s attention’s already slipped.

“Baby? Sweetheart, can you hear me?”

Across the ICU, you’re waking up. 

Hina’s feet move before her mind really registers it, carrying her swiftly towards you. 

Coming out from under general anaesthesia is never a pleasant experience to begin with, much less after going through a traumatic experience and waking up in a strange, unfamiliar place with no idea of how you’ve come to be there.

Both Chuuji and Kageharu are on their feet, looming over you, calling your name, squeezing your hand, touching your face, and Hina makes it over just in time to see your eyes sluggishly blink open and come into focus.

“Baby? Baby, it’s alright, you’re okay,” Chuuji murmurs, kissing the hand in his grasp as your attention flickers between him and Kageharu on your other side, “We’re right here, everything’s gonna be okay.”

Lips parting, Hina’s about to tell them that perhaps crowding over you right as you’re coming out from being under probably isn’t the best idea when the heart monitor behind you suddenly begins to race.

Wide eyed, chest heaving with increasingly quick breaths, you start to squirm, trying to tug yourself free from their grip, trying to sit up and pull off your oxygen mask, and Hina’s training kicks in.

Pushing her way past the taller man, she places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing firmly enough to ground you in the touch, to pull your focus back to her. She calls your name, her voice calm and authoritative.

“Look at me,” she says, and waits for your wide, distressed eyes to meet hers. They do, but only for a split second – darting around the room, from her to your fiancé to the monitors around you to your left leg, plastered in gauze and bandages. “Hey, hey, it’s alright, just focus on me. You’ve been in an accident, you’re at Tokyo Metropolitan Hiroo Hospital, do you understand what I’m telling you?”

Your movements only grow more panicked by the second, visible tears welling in your eyes. Still trying to weakly pull yourself up into a seated position, you fumble again for the mask.

As gently as she can, Hinata stops you. 

“No, no, no, don’t talk, you need that to help with your oxygen right now. You’ve been through a big surgery, you need to relax and breathe for me, can you do that?”

She might as well be talking to a brick wall. If you hear what she’s saying, the words simply wash over you, you’re too panicked, too frantic. Hina’s heard of cases before where patients have become delirious coming out from under general anaesthetic, but she’s never witnessed anything like this. You’re all but thrashing on the bed, crying – as if you’re caught between wanting to curl up into a ball or make a mad dash for the hallway.

“I know you’re confused and probably frightened,” she tells you, keeping her tone steady and soothing, “You’re okay, though. You’re safe, here, I promise, but I need you to try and stay calm, because if you keep moving like that you’re going to hurt yourself, okay?”

She waits for a nod, a noise, for any kind of sign that you’re listening. All she gets is an IV ripping from your hand, caught on the railings of your bed as you yank it away from Kageharu’s. 

Chuuji calls your name again, his face etched with worry and pain, and you flinch like you’ve been struck, a sob ripping its way free from beneath the oxygen mask.

Your eyes catch hers, this time holding her gaze.

Hina’s heart wrenches.

Lucid and clear, they burn with a desperation that rips through her defences, leaving her slack jawed and breathless.

It isn’t the look of somebody lost in the grips of a delusion. Raw, and biting and beyond all else, pleading, for a split second in time, Hinata’s paralysed, wholly caught in the wake of your panic. 

There’s a voice inside of her head that begs for her to comfort you – you’re scared out of your wits, and something is deeply, deeply wrong. All she needs to do is reach out and take your hand, get you away from here, and everything will be okay. She can fix this, you both can.

And then Kageharu touches your leg, cooing soft words no doubt meant to comfort you and without even thinking you try to wrench it away – wailing when the broken bones jolt.

Hina wants nothing more than to help you, but you’re only hurting yourself like this. 

“10 miligrams of droperidol,” she calls out to the nurse instead, and watches the words register, your expression collapsing into agony.

No longer do you writhe and thrash. As Waki passes her the syringe, you simply fall back onto the bed and sob louder – each pained, wretched cry tearing into her like a knife. 

The drug only takes minutes.

Hinata says nothing as she takes your wrist in hand and fixes the IV, laying it gently to rest at your side, patting the back of your palm for good measure. 

“Occasionally a patient will have a bad reaction coming out from anaesthesia,” she explains quietly, unable – or perhaps unwilling – to look either man in the eye. “It’s rare, nothing you should be worried about, though. We’ll give her body a little more time to recover and try again in a few hours.”

Her head pounding, thoughts an incoherent, jumbled mess, Hinata spares you one last, lingering glance, and turns on her heel to depart.

After everything she’s witnessed and seen this morning, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that they’re not happy leaving it at that. 

“Doctor Tachibana,” Chuuji calls, following after her. He catches at her wrist, yanking her to a stop – only to drop it, hands raised in a gesture of peace when she whirls on him with a glare. “Sorry, sorry. I just–” he breaks off with a heavy exhale. “I’m sorry.”

“I have other patients to see,” comes her clipped reply.

He doesn’t say anything immediately, shrewd green eyes sweeping across her stiff countenance, studying her. “I want her in a private room,” he says eventually, leaving little room for disagreement. “I don’t care what it costs, I don’t care who the fuck you have to toss out. I’m not having her freak out like that where everyone can gawk and gape at her like she’s some animal at the zoo.”

Hina weighs the comment in her head. “The chances of her experiences a similar reaction the second time around are incredibly low–”

“I don’t give a shit. She’s been through enough today.”

And Hina truly doesn’t have the energy to argue with him, conceding with a sigh, “I’ll talk to the nursing staff and see what we can do.” For your sake, not his.

The two stare each other down, neither willing to give an inch. Hina has nothing concrete, nothing but a gut feeling and an uneasy prickling at the nape of her neck. She’s learned to trust in her intuition these past few years. More than that, she’s learned not to ignore the warning signs, especially when they blare in her head, growing louder and louder by the second.

No, Hina might only have her gut, but she trusts that a hell of a lot more than she currently trusts the man standing opposite her. 

And he seems to realise that, a slow, insidious grin spreading across his face as he dips his chin in a bow, “Thank you, Doctor.”

She merely hums, eyes narrowed and lips pursed, watching like a hawk as he returns to his vigil at your bedside, saying something to his friend as he leans over to bestow a soft kiss to your cheek.

Waki comes up behind her, passing her back the chart she’d abandoned, “Everything okay?”

“The moment it looks like that girl’s waking up, you page me,” she says.

Waki has the good sense not to comment. 

—

Ten hours into her twelve hour shift, and Hina’s dreaming of sinking into the warm bubbles of her bathtub with a glass of wine.

Running back and forth between the ER, pathology, the operating rooms and the ICU has left her exhausted, yet it’s not so much the physical exhaustion that’s weighing on her. Try as she might, Hinata hasn’t been able to get your face out of her head, the terrified, hopeless expression that’s all but etched onto her consciousness.

The emergency room’s been inundated the past few hours, leaving her with barely enough time to think, let alone run all over the hospital. It hasn’t stopped her from religiously checking her pager, though, ready to bolt the moment she received word of your condition. Instead, an hour or so ago she’d gotten a page informing her that Shunichi had made it through surgery and was currently in recovery in the ICU. 

Finally with a moment to breathe, Hina’s almost at the elevator to go and check in on him when Enoki catches sight of her and comes running.

“Tachibana!” she shouts, ignoring the surprised and somewhat disapproving glances of their coworkers as she skids to a stop in front of her. “I apologise for bothering you again, I didn’t know who else to go to.”

The elevator doors slide open, and Hina steps on, gesturing for Enoki to follow suit.

“You’re not a bother,” she says, smiling at the younger girl. “Tell me what you need.”

Enoki nods, gulping down a breath of air as she pushes her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. “It’s about the girl from the accident this morning. We’ve been really backed up in triage this morning, so I’ve only just gotten around to putting the records into the system,” she explains as Hina presses the button for the third floor, a slight flush colouring her cheeks at the admittance.

“I was trying to enter the information her partner gave us and match it with her insurance record, but there was something wrong with the details they gave me because nothing was coming up.”

The elevator dings, metal doors sliding open once more and Enoki continues as the two step off, “So I tried her fiancé’s name instead, and nothing came up there either…” 

There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, “What are you telling me, Enoki? That they don’t have insurance?”

That didn’t make any sense, everyone was covered under the national scheme, unless you were only visiting Japan as a tourist… but even if that were the case, why wouldn’t they be up front about it?

Enoki shakes her head, the tips of her ears now flushing a bright red. “No, not… exactly. You see, when I couldn’t find any of them in the system, I got curious and I tried looking them up online–” Hina’s eyes narrow and flash, the beginnings of an admonishment forming on her tongue, but Enoki ploughs on ahead, “–I couldn’t find them. Any of them, not a trace.”

Fake names, then.

Chuuji and Kageharu never existed in the first place, which means–

Her blood turns to ice.

Stopping mid stride, she spins and grabs Enoki by her shoulders, forcing the wide-eyed girl to look at her. “Enoki, listen to me, this is important. I need you to go right now to the chief and tell him what you told me. Do not stop for anyone or anything, do you understand me?”

The girl offers a shaky nod, “Y-yes, Tachibana.”

“Go,” she says. Not waiting to see if she listens, Hina takes off in a sprint of her own, racing for the ICU.

She knows it in her heart, knows it with a sick, sinking finality before she even rounds the corner and all but barrels into a startled Waki.

“Tachibana, what the–”

“What room did you move her into? The girl from the accident.”

She frowns, “304, why?” she replies, a trace of worry seeping into her tone.

Hina doesn’t answer her, sidestepping the confused nurse, deftly weaving through the throng of patients, nurses and other doctors to reach the private rooms at the end of the ward, leaving Waki to chase along after her.

308… 306… 304.

Throwing the door open, Hina bursts inside, heart pounding violently–

Empty.

The bed sheets tossed back and rumpled, a few drops of blood splattered across the floor, the room’s utterly barren – no sign of you, nor your supposed partner and his friend.

Hina tries to find words as Waki slides to a stop beside her, confusion giving way to disbelief as the nurse takes in the scene in front of them. There’s nothing.

No condemnation, no explanation, just… nothing.

Gone.

“I don’t– she was just in here…”

And she knows what Waki won’t say; that with a broken leg, fractured ribs and freshly operated on kidneys, there’s no way you simply got up and wandered out yourself. 

Her stomach churns, throat suddenly dry, “Call security,” she rasps. “Right now.”

The moment the words leave her lips, a sharp, blood curdling scream rips through the ward, and Hina’s eyes squeeze shut, fingernails digging into the bed of her palms.

It’s too late.

Dark, empty eyes and a lilting tone, ‘And the driver?’

Head spinning, Hina doubles over, clutching at the edge of the doorway with a white knuckled grip as she gasps for air and chokes on the bile creeping up her throat.

A smiling Chuuji, head tilted in a mocking bow.

‘Thank you, Doctor.’

—

“Please, Naoto, I know I’m asking a lot,” she says, sliding her keys into the lock on her front door. “I just… she was so terrified, and– and I failed her.”

On the other end of the line, her brother huffs, “You didn’t fail her.”

Mindful of the late – technically very early – hour, Hina quietly slips inside her apartment, flicking on the light switch and locking the door behind her. “I did, though. I could’ve told somebody, or stayed with her. I knew something was wrong!”

“Hina–”

“I need to feel like I’m doing something… I need to help her, Nao.”

There’s a short pause, and then, “I’ll talk to the Captain tomorrow… Are you sure you don’t want me to come over tonight?” 

A small, affectionate smile tugging at her lips, Hinata assures him for the third time that making the trek across the city is wholly unnecessary. 

They chat for another minute or so – Naoto agreeing to meet up with her at the precinct first thing tomorrow to go over what happened, Hinata promising she’d call if she needed anything before then – and say their respective goodbyes, hanging up.

Slipping the phone back into her pocket, Hinata trudges wearily towards her bedroom. The bath she’d envisioned earlier all but a distant dream, she’s halfway through attempting to shrug off her scrubs when a soft click sounds behind her, the cold metal of a gun barrel pressed against her temple.

“Hello, Doctor,” a familiar voice drawls. 

[pseudowho]

Hi Haitch! So I have a health question you might be able to answer? Or maybe I just need some wisdom? I’m 24 and I need to go to the gynecologist because I’ve never done that before and I probably should. Im nervous for several reasons, but I found a good one that is super trauma informed so I think it’ll be okay.

Here’s where my question comes in: I’m disabled and I have bad hip dysplasia. Like there’s no way I can lay on my back and bend enough, or be on all 4s. it’s not happening. I’m also not wanting to do it under sedation because i feel like I won’t have autonomy and it’s really important that I feel safe and in control. I saw that it’s possible to lay on your side to have an exam done, but do you have any advice on how to handle it? The doctor knows I’m disabled but what do I do if she doesn’t want to do the exam on my side? Are there any alternatives? I know I just gave a bunch of requirements and obstacles, but it’s something I’m not sure what to about.

Hiya! There are lots of things to unpack here, so let's begin...

You're only 24-- you haven't mentioned any concerning signs or symptoms, why do you need a 'routine' gynaecology check? It always concerns me when I see American women talk about gynaecology checks, because there seems to be this unspoken understanding that you will be expected to undergo invasive internal examinations. So let me ask again-- why do you 'need' a routine gynaecology check? These are in no way routine in the US, and having looked up what I can see, gynaecological health and outcomes are actually worse on average for US women compared to British women, so your Gynae doctors there clearly aren't picking up much to save women's lives with all these routine invasive procedures.

As someone who performs very frequent internal vaginal examinations, there is little that a Gynae doctor could detect just from looking or feeling inside your vagina. Unless you need a cervical screening/pap smear, which yours on the young side for unless you have a family history of early cervical cancer, or symptoms, you don't sound like you need this, from the information given.

Internal examinations can absolutely be performed lying on your side. You would be lying on your side with your knees drawn up to a right angle. Any doctor that says they can't is ignorant or a liar and don't feel pressured to hand over your comfort, autonomy or dignity. Quite frankly.

Also ask specifically why you need someone to fiddle around inside your vagina, or I swear to god I am going to come over there and deck someone.

Now I'm worried about you. Wish I could help you out more.

Love, very much love, maybe hugs too,

-- Haitch xxx

[theclaravoyant]

soooo i haven’t ranted about my Uterus Saga for a while now but i have an update and i’ve p much forgotten how to experience feelings (thx depression) so i just need to... say... some things.... don’t mind me

(tw: medical, gyneacology/menstruation related discussion)

I’m now on the most intensive suppressant they can give me long term (ie for more than 6 months out of my entire life), and it’s not doing it’s job (which is to completely suppress all uterine activity ie. i’m basically supposed to have stopped menstruating completely), and my gyno has advised that while i can increase my dose of the most intensive suppressant they can give me that’s the only thing anyone can do for the next 5+ years until i can get a hysterectomy and also that the hysterectomy basically won’t affect any of my symptoms except the bleeding itself so essentially short of removing my ovaries (which no-one will ever do ever except maaaybe if they’re literally killing me) there is nothing anyone can do to stop me experiencing the bloating, pain, etc etc that comes with menstruation even if i’m not actually bleeding, which sometimes i also am just for fun :) so it looks like I’m going to be experiencing moderate to severe pain for days or weeks at a time on a semi regular basis for the next... ~40 years? because? i have ovaries?

literally the optimistic part of this appointment was that there’s a small possibility it’s actually not (just) gynaecological and that i have some kind of other pelvic chronic pain as well/instead

but sure i love my life, i’m excited for the future, etc.

[consultingsister-aa]

NAME: Dr. Cecelia Holmes AGE: thirty-six LOCATION: london + new york city OCCUPATION: fetal and neonatal surgeon RELATIONSHIP STATUS: single 

MISCARRIAGE TW. When Celia accepted a place at Cambridge University to study medicine, it wasn’t because she wanted to be a doctor, it was because she wanted to prove that she was as brilliant and clever as her brothers. However, at the end of her first year she miscarried her baby girl at twenty-eight weeks and it was awful, of course it was, but after a twenty five hour labour and an emergency surgery, Celia had it a little worse than most. She got through it all not with the help of her boyfriend ( he was lovely but inasmuch shock as she was ) but of her Doctor, a woman named Dr. Claire Wood who could not have been kinder or more supportive. Perhaps it was a mix of wanting to be a mother, knowing what it felt like to be without a mother in these situations or finally having a positive role model in her life, Celia returned to medical school with a purpose. She eventually specializes in obstetrics and gynaecology, then fetal and neonatal surgery. Blessed ( and cursed ) with a determined attitude and workaholic tendencies, she is an excellent doctor and surgeon however not great at the personal life bit. Now at thirty-six she is one of the most sought after private neonatal surgeons in London and New York, however is a little bit fed up of everyone but her getting married and having cute little babies, even if her past experience and her job makes the thought of having to actual carry and give birth to a baby herself totally terrifying for her. Also, dating? No. 

[punkclowngod]

TW mention of gynaecology and SH scars

i’m gonna go to my first gynaecologist exam today and i just realized she’s not only gonna have to deal with me having trauma moments, she’s also gonna see my cringy sh scars lmao

[mcnstres]

( casually slides onto the dash ) HEY THERE! i’m s, and yes, it does indeed stand for shithead, and i live in pst. i turned twenty just four days ago so that means three hundred and sixty-one more days until i can legally drink in the united states. cue the confetti poppers. but anyways, i’m v v excited to be here and can’t wait to plot with you all! that being said, hmu if uh, you know, you wanna like, plot or sumthin sumthin. my IMs are open but if that’s not really your style, i also have a discord that i’d happily give out if you ask. but yeah, below the read more is all that jazz, yadda yadda, ye. 

rape tw, abortion tw, death tw

*  ADRIA ARJONA  &  CISFEMALE  / /  here we’ve got BELLE MÁRQUEZ-ROSALES,  the  THIRTY-EIGHT  year old VAMPIRE  -  luckily, SHE  actually looks about TWENTY-FIVE years old.  with a reputation for being  BENIGN,  AUDACIOUS,  CREDULOUS, and  SELF-DEPRECIATIVE, it’s surprising we haven’t heard more about them.  BELLE has been around faulk hollow for 2 WEEKS, but they ain’t leaving anytime soon. you hear CONFIDENTLY LOST by SABRINA CLAUDIO? that means you’ll see ‘em soon.

she was born and raised in grand haven, michigan. her mom had her at 16 and idk where her dad went but uh, he wasn’t in the picture. her aunt was 27 when her mom had her, and she’d already been told she couldn’t have kids, so when belle was born it was kind of a blessing in disguise for her. the mom didn’t really want anything to do with the kid, she was a teenager at the time and was too wacked out over the fact that the baby-daddy vanished. so yeah, her aunt and uncle were basically her parents

never had a good relationship with her mom. also has a lot of half-siblings due to the fact that her mom just wouldn’t stop having kids lol

belle’s always been kind of, idk, perfect?? she was a good baby, quiet, barely ever cried, always sleeping; she was a good kid, remembered her abc’s and times tables in the first few weeks she learned them, never talked back to her tia; she was an exceptionally good teenager, didn’t drink or smoke like the other kids, kept straight a’s, did hella volunteer work, etc. you get the whole gist. she was just... good. she did everything she could to NOT become her mother, and so she worked hard and kept out of trouble

but then when she was 16, belle was raped. it happened after her sophomore homecoming football game; her friend wanted to go to a party to celebrate and belle didn’t want her to go alone so basically she only went to keep an eye on her. long story short, belle found herself locked in a room with a drunk guy and that’s when he took advantage of her. she ended up pregnant afterwards and got an abortion. at first, she was going to keep it because she was raised by a very religious family, that’s partially the reason why she has so many damn half-siblings, but her aunt supported her decision to get the abortion

despite what’d happened to her, belle continued to try and see the best out of her life. she used it as her motivation to get stronger, to get out of grand haven and make a better life for herself. she graduated high school as valedictorian and then ended up going to the university of michigan

she entered college as a human biology major. she wanted to get her phd in gynaecology and eventually join the msf, aka, doctors without borders

life seemed to be going well for her. she fell in love, got into med school, and she just felt like everything was on track

but you know, something bad always has to happen when she thinks everything’s good and dun dun dun she gets turned into a vampire!! she, tommy(da bf at the time), and his sister were ambushed by vampires. while tommy survived, she and his sister were turned. they decided to stay away from him and let him believe they were dead because one, belle couldn’t control her bloodlust for shit and she didn’t want to end up killing him or sumthin, and two, she was ashamed of what she was. she thought he’d see her as a monster. to this day, belle still hasn’t really come to terms with the fact that she’s a vampire

belle and tommy’s sister have basically been moving from town to town, living in a place until blah blah something goes wrong and they have to move again. the last time they had to move from somewhere was because belle almost killed someone, yay. they’ve been in faulk hollow for about 2 weeks now and she isn’t really aware that there are other things besides vampires out there??? like “ghosts??? ghosts aren’t real”

no daylight ring so ya girl stuck in da dark. BUT if there were some kind of witchy woo out there that’d make one for her... that’d like.. be a nice thing to plot out *eye emoji*

totes drinks blood bags. she a bambi lover and drinking from humans is a huge no-no for her because uh surprise she still has problems with her bloodlust

*  THEO JAMES  &  CISMALE  / /  here we’ve got ANDREI OVCHUKHOV,  the  SEVEN HUNDRED AND THREE  year old VAMPIRE  -  luckily, HE  actually looks about THIRTY-SIX years old.  with a reputation for being  ENDEARING,  VIGOROUS,  IMPETUOUS, and INTEMPERATE, it’s surprising we haven’t heard more about them.  ANDREI has been around faulk hollow for FIFTY-FOUR YEARS, but they ain’t leaving anytime soon. you hear GLORY & GORE by LORDE? that means you’ll see ‘em soon.

he was born into a family of farmers in early 14th century russia. he was the eldest out of six children and his parents were simple, kind people. they struggled to make a living out of their harsh environment but always remained optimistic

things only got harder after his father died of disease. he had to take on the role of the “man” in the house and continued to farm, which mind you, was not at all what he wanted to do. he wanted something more out of life, to be something more. he had such ambition but was tied down to a lesser living by his obligation to family

1351, the black death came to russia. the weakest and less fortunate were contaminated first, so it came to no surprise when one by one, his siblings began dying of the plague. first it was his youngest sister, then it was his brother, and so on. the last person to die was his mother. he’d been by their sides the whole time, not caring if he too would get infected, and took care of them all until their last breath

one night, when andrei was sitting alone in the empty little house, a stranger came knocking at his door. it was storming heavily that night and the woman was looking for shelter. he warned her that the plague still lingered in his home, but oddly enough, she didn’t care. he let her stay and during the short time she was there, andrei basically told her his whole life story. she was an unfamiliar face and he was in dire need of letting out all his pain, so who better to tell than a person he probably wouldn’t ever see again? the next morning, she turned him without permission and without hesitation

at first, andrei had doubts about his vampirism. he didn’t like the idea about having to feed off of humans, but after awhile, all those doubts and sense of moral faded away. he realized that being a vampire was what he’d wanted all along - the abilities, the immortality, all of it. he could get anything he wanted and soon that power started to get to his head. that, and the bad influence his maker was on him. they spent his first century as a vampire together, sometimes as lovers, sometimes not, but in either aspect, she always had some kind of hold over him. she introduced him to the wealthier side of life, to over-indulgence, luxury, all that sha-bang. she created the person he is today. but after awhile, things began to get strained between them and their companionship ended rather abruptly(probs pretty violently too ngl) and to this day, andrei still holds hella negative feelings towards the other

after three centuries of taking lover after lover, partying like the world was gonna end, surrounding himself with luxury and wealth, basically living as the dionysus incarnate, he met yelena vladimirovna. he found her absolutely breathtaking and it found it extremely hard to stay away, even after news of her betrothal got around. the night of her wedding, he seduced her with promises of immortality and ever since then, they’ve been together. that’s his boo yo.

they partied hella and lived an extravagant life for the longest, so when they decided to settle down in faulk hollow, it was a huge change for him. he didn’t really like the boring and subtle lifestyle, but let’s be real, he’d probs do anything for yelena so he dealt with it. but fifty-four years later and he’s starting to get real anxious, he might even start killing people randomly because he’s bored and needs something to do lmao

got a daylight ring wayyy back when. also probs gave one to yelena as some kind of “engagement” ring

can be seen strolling around town in gucci and versace because he’s #extra

[thesecondmate]

reading: week 49

this is my 3rd week of my obs&gynae rotation, so i rotated onto the gynae side having spent 2 weeks on obstetrics and absolutely loved my time there. am i converted to obstetrics? no, but i love the environment and the team. am i converted to anaesthesia? ...maybe. gynae is less my thing - my entire internal monologue all day every day is that quote about "all women do is bleed and suffer”.

spent a lot of time considering communication and how we as doctors speak to patients this week. spent a lot of time discussing how, actually, we forget that we are two people having a conversation - one side knows more about medicine, one side knows more about their life and how this condition impacts them. i think that too many doctors get caught up in ‘this is how to break bad news’ or ‘this is what i need to tell them’, forgetting that we are all humans having conversations. and also some doctors forget that their patients have feelings, and the docs and i had a good bitch about that too lol, comparing our experiences of being patients whilst also being doctors/med students.

~ under the cut ~

op-ed/essays clearing out some of my articles in my saved-for-later folder on fb, as i dislike reading on my phone; hence, some of these are kinda out of date.

✩ Oliver Burkeman's last column: the eight secrets to a (fairly) fulfilled life - Oliver Burkeman, The Guardian

✩ Glastonbury fence-jumpers: 'It was girls underneath, boys over the top!' - BBC this was just cute + i miss festivals

✩ How Germany remembers the world wars - BBC News

✩ The rape of Berlin - Lucy Ash, BBC News tw: rape

medicine

✩ Researchers say blood test can detect cancer years before symptoms - Nicola Davis, The Guardian research paper below - highly! exciting!

✩ Non-invasive early detection of cancer four years before conventional diagnosis using a blood test - Chen et al., Nature Communications nb: i know v little about genomics or cancer, as they are 2 of my least favourite things in medicine. that said!! this was super interesting!! v exciting - they can’t differentiate btwn cancers but honestly they used machine learning to achieve rly high sensitivity & specificity up to 4y before diagnosis, which is often v much too late - so exciting if they can apply this to a) differentiate different types of cancer and b) extend it to a screening programme that allows patients to be treated. vvv cool, but not without drawbacks of the potential of over-treating, etc!! but still so cool.

✩ NHS blood unit systemically racist, internal report finds - Amelia Gentleman & Denis Campbell, The Guardian

✩ Covid: Russia begins vaccinations in Moscow - BBC News

✩ Covid: Boris Johnson urges MPs to back tough tiers for England - BBC News

✩ Covid-19: No plans for 'vaccine passport' - Michael Gove - BBC News lots of chat about vaccines, trials, plans for roll-out amongst doctors & med students alike this week. many tweets consumed on the topic.

✩ Puberty blockers: Under-16s 'unlikely to be able to give informed consent' - BBC News absolutely furious about this. how on EARTH do we allow contraceptives to be given out - with much more serious potential consequences! - under Gillick competency (this is where under-18s can give their own consent for taking medications w/o need for parental consent, which is ordinarily required to treat under-18s in the UK) and NOT puberty blockers! which simply STOP puberty - it’s not hormone replacement therapy, which yes does have risks! and it’s much easier for people to transition, or continue with their biologically-determined puberty, after puberty blockers than to medically/surgically transition after allowing non-gender-affirming puberty to take place. oh my god i’m so furious about this.

✩ Essure: Women in England take legal action against sterilising-device maker - Sophie Hutchinson, BBC News netflix’s documentary the bleeding edge covers essure very well - highly recommend.

refugee issues

✩ E.U. Border Agency Accused of Covering Up Migrant Pushback in Greece - Matina Stevis-Gridneff, The New York Times

✩ Missing Migrants Project - Mediterranean focus - IOM this is a truly excellent resource for anyone looking to grasp the hard numbers of the refugee crisis + also great reference for anyone doing research.

✩ November summary - Aegean Boat Report ABR is a Norwegian non-profit dedicated to monitoring boat traffic in the Aegean Sea + upholding human rights, documenting injustices, and presenting these. they are running a fundraiser atm so please do donate if you can - their work is invaluable and really must continue!

environment

✩ Britain goes coal free as renewables edge out fossil fuels - Justin Rowlatt, BBC a few months old but so exciting!

culture

✩ To Understand Us, Pay Attention to the Outfits - Tanisha C Ford, The Atlantic the woman who did the costume design for ‘us’ also did it for THE MATRIX?!

books

✩ Kafka on the Shore - Murakami finished over the weekend! i love murakami’s style - describing each action the character takes, lists be damned, and the surrealism with light touches of comic relief. i still dislike kafka as i did the first time i read it - for someone supposedly so “introverted” and “introspective”, he really had a lot of misogyny to unpack, which i know is like tied up in the whole oedipus prophecy thing, but it didn’t quite sit right. i still loved oshima, though, and the setting of komura memorial library - my mental image is the same as last time and i just want to live there...also really appreciated hoshino this time! he brings so much levity to the book, even if his ~ epiphany ~ over the archduke’s trio feels a little rushed. overall: enjoyable re-read but will take my time before re-reading a third time.

✩ One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich - Solzhenitsyn another re-read from sixth form, finished! this book is really incredible - so short yet so evocative and transporting. solzhenitsyn does an excellent job of humanising the story, not simply making it trauma porn, which is the power of this book imo. other thematic analysis: non-existent as i am not an english student!!

✩ Obstetrics & Gynaecology - Impey & Child woo the joy!!!

tv/video

✩ The Source - documentary on ultrarunner Courtney Dauwalter

[transgenderteensurvivalguide]

I'm ftm, 6 months on T. I know you answered an ask like this in the past, but the asker was pre-t and I am not, not sure if it makes a difference. I have to see a gynecologist next week but I've never been before. I've never been able to insert anything in my vagina without immense pain and bad flashbacks so the thought of a pelvic exam terrifies me and is dysphoria inducing. Do you have any advice for me or information I should know or tell my obgyn?

Lee says:

I think you should be honest and open with your doctor. Tell them before the procedure starts you have experienced pain and flashbacks in similar circumstances. Dysphoria-wise, I’d recommend wearing men’s underwear!

These links might be helpful, so try to read through all of them:

A Trans Man’s Guide to Visiting the Gyno

Gyno Visit 101: A Step-By-Step Introduction to the Procedure

Help! I need to see a gynecologist

Tips for a gynaecological exam (tw: rape mentions)

Dysphoria Tips Masterpost

Coping with Flashbacks 1

Coping with Flashbacks 2

Coping with Flashbacks 3

Coping with Flashbacks 4

Coping with Flashbacks 5

Anxiety

Panic attacks

A Guide to Gynecological Exams: What Should — and Shouldn’t — Happen

I have also copied this source below with a few modifications to be gender neutral:

Find a health care provider with whom you feel comfortable and trust. You can search around and ask your other doctors and trans people you know to find a gynecologist that makes your comfortable, whether you’d rather have one of a specific gender, one experienced in treating trans people, or one with experience in patients with anxiety/pain.

Knowing your rights and your needs will help you be more assertive and confident. For instance, you have a right to refuse or stop a procedure or examination. 

Make an initial appointment to talk with the doctor about the procedure or examination, your concerns and difficulties, and what will help you get through it. You can ask questions ahead of time about procedures that will be performed (like what will be done, what you will see, feel, and smell). If you do not have an opportunity to have a talking appointment before your examination, tell your doctor that you find these examinations difficult. You do not have to disclose that you have a history of any trauma if that applies to you, although it might be helpful in explaining what’s going on. Use your best judgement with this.

Learn some stress-reduction techniques and coping strategies like deep breathing. Bring fidget toys with you, a stress ball, headphones or earbuds to listen to music with, and a treat for when you’re done, like a favorite snack.

Wearing something that has pleasant associations for you such as your favourite scent or clothes that help you feel more masculine may be helpful. Carrying something comforting, like a stuffed animal, might also help.

Before you get undressed, talk with your doctor about what you need to make the examination easier for you. Make an agreement beforehand that if you are too uncomfortable at any time you will ask, or give a signal to stop and the doctor or nurse will stop.

After your appointment, plan something pleasant for yourself such as meeting with a friend, counsellor, or support person. If you don’t have anybody available, go on a walk, buy ice cream or a treat, or do something you find calming.

What works for one person may not work for another. There is no right way of doing this. You are the best judge of what will be useful to you.

Remember, clearly discussing concerns you have about procedures with your health care provider should help ensure that you feel more comfortable and gain some sense of control over what happens to your body.

Ask to have the top of the exam table up so you can see the doctor or nurse. This may give you more of a feeling of empowerment.

If you think it would be helpful, ask to see a vaginal speculum and how it opens and closes. Ask the doctor to use the smallest speculum available.

Keep your eyes open to help keep you in the present and look at something on the wall, or close your eyes so you don’t have to see it, whichever you think is more helpful.

Ask the doctor to drape you so you can see her or him during the examination. Maintaining visual contact also helps keep you in the present.

Ask the doctor to explain what they are doing and why both before and during each part of the exam if you want to know what is happening, or ask them to just tell you when it’s over if you’d rather have no idea.

Use self-talk like “I can get through this. I trust this person”.

You have the right to have a support person with you during the exam, if that is helpful. You may have to arrange this ahead of time with your care provider.

Followers, is there anything that’s helped you cope with dysphoria, anxiety, and flashbacks when going to the gyno?

Followers say:

smolqueerkitty said: Something you can request if you fear it’ll hurt is for them to use some numbing gel. With the numbing gel you don’t feel it as much and if you have vaginismus like I do, it’ll hurt less.