#tw: surgery

[aworldinsideaperson]

Loss-Robert “BOB” Floyd

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x wife!reader

Plot: The worst day of Bob’s life.

Warnings: Critical injuries, medical themes (probably many inaccuracies), Angst, sadness, potential for death, car accident, talk of Carol Bradshaw’s death.

Word Count: 2,967

Robert Floyd had few fears. If asked, he would say the list of things that scared him was rather short. Spiders, talking to new people, and death. Though as he walked in circles around the hospital waiting room he wondered if the only thing that truly terrified him would come to pass.

He couldn’t tell if it had been seconds or hours since he arrived, a phone call he never expected to receive putting him in auto pilot; one moment standing beside his friends smiling to being in the faux comforting waiting area trying to piece together the words the doctor had uttered.

Accident. Bleeding. Severe. Surgery. Everything we can. Everything we can. Everything. We. Can. Bob Floyds one, true, debilitating fear coming to fruition. The loss of his wife.

He was hardly aware of his surroundings, pacing in a never ending circle, determined to walk a hole into the floor of this hospital. One by one his friends came, calmly laying a hand on his shoulder and taking a seat to watch Bob’s cyclical parade of one.

Phoenix stood from her seat, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder as he came to a stop. “Bob, why don’t you sit down.”

His head shook violently as the tears came to his eyes and his breath caught as he stuttered quickly. “I- I- I can’t. I can’t shit- sit c- c- cause they’re gonna- gonna be out any- ugh- any second and ugh they’re um- they’re gonna - they’re gonna tell me she’s okay and- and I- I just- I just- I gotta be ready. Cause- Cause if I'm standing they’ll know who to talk to and- and there won’t be any kind of um mix up with- with who to- who to talk to. So I’m gonna stand and I’m gonna wait and- and she’s gonna be fine. She’s gonna be fine and- and- and- and-” He could feel his heart beginning to race again and he found it difficult to get a breath as the panic began to rise in his chest once again.

Nat took his hand and squeezed to tightly in hopes of grounding him as she spoke gently. “What if I stand for a little while, you sit, take a breath, and I’ll stand. So they know.”

Looking into her eyes Bob took a deep breath and nodded. “Thank you.” He said softly as he squeezed her hand and moved back to the seat Natasha had vacated.

Bob sat between Bradley and Jake, taking a deep shaking breath, and Natasha stood. She took up post for her backseater, pacing in his place; half an hour she paced before Bradley took her place, then Jake after him. A change of guard every thirty minutes as each of his coworkers, his friends, his family, took turns standing and pacing and waiting. His people being there for him as much if not more than his wife.

As Bob stands, ready to let Maverick have the seat he’s vacating is when news finally comes. Striding toward the naval group was a tall man with a stoic look. “Mister Floyd?” Feeling as though the air has caught in his chest once again Robert Floyd only nods and takes a single step closer.

He tries to keep his head high with confidence as the man before him stands rigid and places his hands behind his back, his face still set without emotion. Bob is sure he’s about to get the worst news of his life, quickly playing out if anyone would be fast enough to stop him from walking into traffic. Then the doctor’s lips start to move.

“My name is Doctor Michaels, would you like to go somewhere more private?”

Robert Floyd looks around the room, filled with some of the people who cared about him most, people who’d kept him alive, people he’d kept alive, his family, and he shook his head as tears began to well up in his eyes.

Nodding, Dr. Michaels continued. “Your wife is on her way out of surgery and into recovery. Making it through the surgery was tough but she did make it. She is by no means out of the woods and I don’t want to give you a false sense of hope but you can come back and stay with her while we monitor her and get a room ready.”

Dr. Michaels began to walk away, leading Bob toward a double door as he continued to speak. “Over the next few hours we can discuss the extent of her injuries and what recovery may look like going forward.” He stopped beside a clear glass wall and Bob averted his eyes, keeping his focus on the doctor as he continued to speak. “She’s not out of the woods but making it through the surgery should be seen as a positive step.” Reaching out and placing a hand on Bob’s shoulder Dr. Michaels attempted a reassuring smile of sorts. Peaking for the first time at his badge he saw a yellow line across the bottom and the word ‘Resident’ in bold script. He wondered if this was the first time he’d had to deliver poor news. If the worst day of Bob’s life was a sort of milestone for the young man before him. “You can head in whenever you’re ready.” Squeezing his shoulder Dr. Michaels turned away and continued to walk down the hall.

Squeezing his eyes tightly Bob breathed deeply and finally turned to the door the opened automatically before him. Stepping inside the room he was greeted to a barely lit room, two nurses moving beside his wife tending to her. Tucking a blanket around her legs, hanging bags from her IV pole, quietly finishing and moving from her bedside. Both nurses gave him a small, sad smile as the left the room.

He couldn’t bring himself to move. He couldn’t bring himself to look up from the floor. The beeping. The pumping of the ventilator. He wasn’t ready to attach the surrounding sounds with an image. It feels like an eternity before he feels he can look at her. She doesn’t look like herself. Hooked up to machines, bags of medication dripping into her body, bruises and cuts marking every inch of skin he can see. It’s not until he sniffles that he realizes the tears he’s been bottling for hours have finally broken free. He moves slowly across the room, sitting in the chair beside the hospital bed. He reaches out to brush his fingers over her hand, fingers then slipping into her palm and drawing patterns on the soft skin. The only place that seems to be free from cuts.

Letting out a breath he trains his eyes on the face of the woman he’s loved for so long. “Hello there Mrs. Floyd, it’s me, Mr. Floyd your husband. I’m here darlin’.

Hours had passed, the sun long since set when a hand was once again placed on his shoulder. His fingers still drawing on the skin of his wife’s palm as he looked up at several staff members shuffling into the room. The woman holding his shoulder spoke gently. “We’re going to transfer her to the ICU now. The process of moving patients can be overwhelming for family so if you’d like to come with me I have some paperwork for you to work on; you can it back to the waiting room and I’ll come get you when she’s all settled?”

Bob shook his head, turning back to look at the woman he loved. “I’d much rather stay.”

“Truthfully Mr. Floyd-” She began before being cut off by Bob.

“It’s Lieutenant. Sorry she’s always on me about correcting that.” He didn’t have a habit of interrupting people. In fact if his mother had been in the room she would have attempted to scold him like he was a little boy again. But his wife was always addamet about correcting his title. Said he worked hard for it and deserved to have it recognized. She’s been so proud of his promotion she’d moaned lieutenant for hours that night.

“Lieutenant Floyd.” She began again. “Truthfully, she’s due for more sedation and there is a probability that she’s come out of it enough to experience some significant pain during the transfer. You need to take care of yourself too and you don’t need to experience that. Please. Let me come get you when we have her all settled.” She reached for the hand he had dangling over the armrest and squeezed it in her own. “I promise you if things take a turn in the time you’re away I will come and get you quicker than a flash.”

Bob looked into her eyes and as his shoulders relaxed he nodded. He squeezed wife’s hand once more, and whispered that he’d be right back as he kissed her forehead. Then he turned from the bed, following the woman out of the room and towards the nurse’s station. With a sad smile she hands him a stack of papers, a clipboard, and a pen.

“Here is that. Take your time with it. There is a lot of information and questions in there so don’t feel like you have to do it all at once.” Turning around she reached for a large opaque bag with the hospital’s name and logo printed on the front and handed it to him. “Here are her belongings. Most of the clothing was unsalvageable but everything is in there except…” Her eyes darted around the space in front of her as she searched for something. “Aha! This is the jewelry she was wearing when she came in, including her wedding ring.” Placing the small bag in his hand and wrapping his fingers around it as she squeezed his hand tightly. A feeling of comfort passed through him as she held it tightly. “I’ll come get you the moment she’s settled.”

Looking into her eyes Bob took her in for a moment. A short woman, early 50’s, graying brown hair and deep brown eyes radiating kindness. She reminded him of his mother and tears came to his eyes again. “Thank you.” His words hardly audible.

“Do you need help finding the waiting room?”

Shaking his head Bob slipped the small bag into his pocket. “No, I remember. Thank you ma’am.” She nodded and Bob turned to walk back to the room where his nightmare started.

Walking back through the double doors he looked up to find the waiting room still half full of faces he knew and a gentle smile came to his face. “What’re you guys still doing here?”

Mickey answered. “We wanted to be here in case either of you needed anything.”

Shaking his head Bob found two empty seats, placing the contents of his arms in one and plopping down heavily into the other. “You didn’t need to do that. It’s been hours.”

Natasha moved to the other side of her friend, draping an arm around his shoulder and pulling him in for an awkwardly angled hug. “We needed to be here for you. How is she?”

“Not good. Critical condition they say. They’re transferring her to the ICU and they’ll come get me when she’s settled.” He leaned forward, his forearms on his knees as he closed his eyes and tried to focus his breathing.

“How are you?” Jake asked, today one of the few times he’d been truly kind to Bob.

Looking up at him, his body still resting forward, Bob let out a huff that was reminiscent of a laugh. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” Leaning back again, eyes trained on the floor as he spun his wedding ring around his finger. “You guys should head home, it’s late and I’m sure we’ll still be here in the morning.”

“At least let us see her. Let her know that we’re here for her and that we’re with you. Whatever either of you need, we’re here.” Maverick insisted.

Looking around the room, the eyes of his friends trained on him as they all nodded in agreement so Bob nodded too. Tears filling his eyes at the love surrounding him. “Thanks guys.”

For 45 minutes the group sat in near silence; startling at every opening door or foot step rushing past. When the woman from earlier came into the room Bob made sure to take note of her name tag. Elizabeth. Social worker. She smiles warmly as she approaches Bob, taking note of the gaggle of people following along as they arrive on the 8th floor. Trekking down the hall in a single file line until they reach room 875. Directly across from the nurse’s station. Bob grabs Nat’s hand and squeezes tightly as the two of them walk into the room, everyone else lining up against the wall to wait.

He can hear Nat suck in a breath but to Bob it’s a better sight than before. The room is a little brighter, there’s a tv playing the Food Network attached to the wall, a wall of windows and they’d turned off the sound of the monitors so at least he wouldn’t have to hear the incessant beeping though the sound of the compressing ventilator still filled the room. His wife is still covered in bruises and cuts, but she looks like she’d been cleaned up. Most of the dried blood was gone, and it looked as though someone had at least attempted to smooth her hair. Sitting in the hard recliner beside her bed, Bob took her hand again and the tension in his shoulders eased. “Let everyone know they can come in when they’re ready.” Bob didn’t move as she left the room and returned with their flock.

For several minutes everyone just stood watching. Watching as her chest moved up and down. Looking at a woman whose face they knew but the could hardly recognize in the current state. Then slowly but surely they stepped up to her bedside one by one.

Fanboy taking her hand and whispering a prayer before kissing it and making a sign of the cross.

Rueben with a crack in his voice assured her that she’d be okay as he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

Jake had tears welling in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around Bob from behind and squeezed him tightly. “I live the closest. Call me if things change.”

Coyote stayed by her feet, his face hard as he gently patted her ankle and quickly left the room.

Maverick kissed her forehead, telling Bob he’d be back in the morning.

The last three in the room, Bob, Nat, and Bradley. The three of them sat silently for some time; Natasha in the chair opposite Bob and Bradley on the couch built into the wall beneath the windows. Eventually as the clock signaled the end of one day and beginning of the next Natasha stood, pressed a kiss to her good friend’s head and turned to Rooster.

“You comin’ Roo?”

“Actually Bob, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to stay.”

Giving Bradley a sad smile he let his head fall to the side as it shook. “You really don’t have to do that Brad.”

“I want to.” He assured.

Bob nodded and Phoenix said her goodbyes, hugging her backseater extra tightly and then leaving the men alone in the room.

Bob sighed, his hand still gripping tightly to his wife’s. He leaned back in the chair and turned his head to face Rooster. “So, why’d you want to stay?”

Bradley leans back slowly, running a hand through his hair as he looks up at the ceiling. “Um, my mom was in the hospital when she died. She had been doing pretty good and we were expecting her to get out soon so no one was there. Well, no one but me. One second we were laughing and talking about going on a road trip before I left for college and the next,” His eyes were now trained on the ground, emotions surfacing that he rarely let others see. “Well the next she was gone.” Standing up, Rooster took the seat on the other side of the bed and took her hand in his. “I was alone when my mom died and I know that Mrs. Floyd here is going to make a full recovery, but on the off chance that I’m wrong, you don’t deserve to be here alone.” Bradley looked over at Bob who’s tears were once again finally spilling over.

“Can I have a few minutes alone with her right now?”

“Yeah. I’ll go find us something to snack on, gotta be a halfway decent vending machine around here.” He stood and walked out of the room, the door closing behind him.

Bob sits in silence at first. His head devoid of thoughts as he watches his wife’s chest move up and down in time with the only sound in the room. He’s holding her hand, remembering the very first time their hands touched all the way back in the 7th grade. How her fingers had brushed against his so softly as they sat side by side in the library. It happened six times before Bobby swallowed his fear and took hold of her hand firmly. Their hands had been so small then but he remembered them fitting like puzzle pieces when their fingers interlocked. Their hands had grown but they always managed to still fit together perfectly.

Bob closed his eyes tight, lifting her hand to his lips he pressed a kiss to the back of it before he looked at his wife’s face and spoke firmly. “I don’t know if you can hear me baby, but if you can, don’t give up on me.”

[emilybeemartin]

[TW: joint dislocation/surgery talk]

Well, I wanted to have one more big finished piece for you, but I think my high expectations have gotten in my way, and now I'm out of time.

This whole Boromir kick started after I dislocated my shoulder for the fourth time back in June, and it was a bad one. My summer of swimming, hiking, and camping with my kids was taken over by wearing a sling, orthopedic referrals, MRIs, and ultimately, the reality that my cartilage is torn and is not going to heal. This Friday I'll be undergoing surgery for it, and I'll be in a bolster sling for weeks afterward. I should be able to type during that time, but I won't be able to draw.

I'm not sure why Boromir snuck up on me this summer, as I sat wearily sketching under an ice pack, trying to keep my arm loose, but it's been a blast. I had no idea that drawing a half-baked comic culminating with a feral raccoon becoming High Warden of Gondor would kick off such an all-encompassing dive back into LotR. I'm really grateful for all the follows, shares, interactions, and lovely comments from the Tolkien community---it really kept my spirits up and fueled a ton of inspiration. I can't remember the last time my art folder was so hyperfocused on a specific character.

Anyway, TLDR, I'll be quiet here for a while. Don't trust anything I might post for about forty-eight hours starting 8/18; general anesthesia makes me extremely stupid. I can only hope this surgery will fix things and I can go back to drawing niche comics and emotional thirst traps.

And send me your fics; not being able to draw is going to drive me OUT OF MY MIND.

[bambini-della-luna]

Lumpkin was a very good boy and helped keep us calm before surgery. The nurses gave him compliments for being so cute!

He was very worried and happy to see us afterwards. All the pets and cuddles for the best boi.

[fbfh]

okay, pretty odd request and i completely understand if you do not feel comfortable writing it; you can totally scrap it! so i just got my wisdom teeth removed and i am pretty miserable about it. i was kind of wondering how our favourite boy leo might react. i feel like, as repair boy, he would be pretty bummed to not be able to just fix it right away, y’know? thank you so much, whether you feel comfortable writing for this prompt or not, i love your work and you are literally my favourite writer for leo💋

awww babes!!!!!!! I got my wisdom teeth out like maybe a year ago???? ish???? while it did suck it wasn't quite as bad as I thought it would be so I TOTALLY understand both how much it sucks and the i feel like shit Leo cravings.

okay okay so first of all Leo would not leave your side for a minute. he is so sweet and attentive and gentle with you while your coming back from anesthesia like a motherfucking walking lime green flag. like this. if he's still in college at MIT or wherever he's collecting diplomas like pokemon he will not HESITATE to ditch all classes that day to take care of you with or without his school's permission. if you cry on anesthesia like I do he will be SO FUCKING TENDER with you. he gets every possible caring for someone hack from his mom and from the internet and every resource possible to make sure you're happy and pain free and comfy. He brings you ice packs for your cheeks with tongs so he doesn't accidentally melt them with his hands (it did happen once. you both laughed so hard.) and he always makes sure you eat enough yogurt so your antibiotics don't mess up your stomach. he stays close to you, helps take care of your hair and skin, watches cartoons and movies with you. if you like having your nails done, he will SO give you mani pedis. even if you normally get acrylics or gel or whatever, seeing the slightly messy, sparkly matching nail polish in your favorite colors Leo tenderly and carefully put on your nails and toes makes you so happy every time you see it. he pets your head and peppers you with kisses and tells you how brave you were in a soft voice. he gets you a "conradulations on letting them steal your teeth" basket full of plushies and juice and intricate little coloring pages and crossword puzzles and stuff to keep you busy. He plays cozy video games with you and builds the most insane shit for you in animal crossing. you post it online and some people speculate that he hacked or modded the game to do that but nope. Leo simply loves you to the point of invention. If your swelling or pain is real bad and you're also a demigod he'll check with Will (aka the entire demisquad's informal PCP) how much ambrosia or nectar to give you to help you heal quickly and take the edge off. He holds your hands while you take little walks around your house or apartment a few times a day, like your recovery instructions say to. he makes you what he affectionatley referres to as "gourmet baby food", aka soups and soft pates and purees that taste better than most solid food. he relays all get well soon messages from your friends, including how percy joked that getting your wisdom teeth out means annabeth has less competition for the title of group brain cell wielder. your kitty Jackjack curls up on your lap as soon as Leo initially brings you back from the dentist and doesn't leave your side for a minute. every selfie you and Leo send the group chat has Jackjack curled up on your chest, purring and drooling contently. You have no idea how Leo makes something like pulling teeth feel like a spa vacation, but he makes everything into such a warm, cozy, happy experience. but you guess that when you love someone as much as you and Leo love each other, it's not too surprising.

[rosellacwrites]

Healing Hands

summary: You’re facing something scary, but Steven helps you through it in more ways than one.

pairings: Doctor!Steven Grant x Reader (undescribed)

rating: nothing but fluff here, folks

warnings: sickfic, medical situation/discussion (brain surgery), flirting via infodump, post-anesthesia honesty

word count: 1.1k

author’s note: Written for the Moon Knight Spring Bingo @moonknight-events — entry #1 of hopefully many. Happy reading!

dividers by @firefly-graphics

“It’s definitely not cancer,” your neurologist had assured you. “Completely benign. But when it’s causing symptoms like this, it does need to come out, unfortunately.” Your face had fallen, and she’d looked at you sympathetically. “I’m going to refer you to the best surgeon I know,” she’d told you. “He’s — a bit odd, maybe, but he’s a genius. You’ll be in excellent hands.”

And now you’re here, waiting nervously to meet the man who’s going to be cutting into your brain, and it’s getting later and later and you’re about to run out screaming, when he walks through the door and smiles at you. And somehow, without anything having changed at all, you feel like you’ll be okay.

“Hello,” he says with a little wave, and oh God, he’s got a British accent, one of your known weak points, and deep brown eyes, another, and you absolutely cannot do this because it’s beyond inappropriate, but you’re melting anyway. “I’m Steven. Uh, Dr. Grant, that is. Dr. Steven Grant, with a V, and I’m probably not filling you with a lot of confidence here, am I?” He smiles ruefully, and that’s the third pillar knocked out from under you because he’s an adorable dork, and it all comes crumbling down. All you can do is stare at him as he comes closer and takes your hand in both of his and looks deep into your eyes. “But I promise you, I’m very good at what I do, and you’re going to be just fine.”

Steven — Dr. Grant, you have to remind yourself — spends a solid hour with you, patiently answering all your questions and making you wish you hadn’t turned down that 8 AM neuropsych class in college. Who knew the human brain was such a fascinating thing? Or is it only fascinating when you’re learning about it from a dark-eyed, sweet-voiced man?

“How big of a scar will I have?” you finally dare to ask him. You’ve been coping with the whole thing by focusing on the more minor aspects; whether or not that’s healthy is between you and your therapist, but this is the spot your anxiety’s decided to settle down and get comfy in.

A big grin lights up his face at your question, and he runs a hand through his disheveled curls, confirming how they got that way in the first place. “Absolutely nothing anyone will see,” he assures you. “I’ve had a good long look at your scans and there’s no reason at all we can’t do this the way we usually do these days. Do you happen to know much about Ancient Egypt?” The apparent non sequitur catches you by surprise, and you shake your head no. “It’s a bit of a — special interest of mine,” he says, smiling sheepishly, and you notice for the first time that his rumpled tie is patterned with hieroglyphics.

“What does it have to do with the surgery?”

“Right,” he says. “Your surgery. You won’t have a visible scar because we’re going to go up through your nose. I know it sounds unpleasant, but this really is the best way to do it. Better all round — minimizes the pain and the risk to you, and shortens the recovery process.” He grins at you, tilting his head. “And, back in Ancient Egypt, that’s how they removed the brains of those they were preparing for mummification — they’d go right up the nose, just like we’ll do. But fortunately, your brain’s going to stay right where it belongs, minus the little bit that’s causing you all the trouble.”

You can’t help laughing at his explanation. “That’s really helpful to know, actually. Thank you.”

“We try to be as non-invasive as possible.” His eyes twinkle, and you have a sudden urge to kiss the little creases around them. “We know you’ve got a life to get back to, after all.”

You start wondering about his life, then: there’s no ring on his finger, no happy family photos decorating his office wall. Maybe you’re imagining things, in your state, but you feel like he’s been holding eye contact with you just a little too long, leaning a little too close to you to point out something on his screen.

You don’t mind imagining that — not even a little bit.

And when the appointment’s finished, and he squeezes your hand and says he’ll see you again when it’s all over, you find yourself thinking about his hands, gentle and strong and capable.

For the first time in a long time, when you ask yourself what is WRONG with my BRAIN, you don’t mean it literally.

***

You’re still a bit groggy when Dr. Grant makes his post-surgery rounds. “Everything went brilliantly,” he tells you, squeezing your hand. He’s wearing a different Egyptian-themed tie this afternoon, one with little cats and ankhs, and it makes you smile. “No problems whatsoever, and you should have a smooth recovery, but once you’re home I want you to call me if you have any questions or concerns at all.”

The warmth of his hand and the last foggy wisps of anesthesia are suppressing your usual filter, and you blurt it out before you can stop yourself. “Can I call you even if I don’t? Like — for a date?”

The tips of his ears go red, and he clears his throat. “I — I’m flattered, really I am,” he says softly after a moment. “Immensely so. But… I can’t date a patient of mine. It’s not right, ethically, and I’d be in quite a lot of trouble with the hospital, and… and I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” You try to hide your disappointment, but you’re not doing a very good job of it.

He holds up a hand, a smile beginning to hover around the corner of his mouth. “But. What I was going to say is, you’ll have one more appointment with me in a few weeks, to follow up, and then you’ll officially be discharged back to your regular neurologist. She’ll handle all your care from then on.”

He’s waiting for you to cotton on, and you finally do. “Discharged — that means I won’t be your patient anymore, then?”

He dips his chin briefly in acknowledgment, and the smile turns into a boyish grin. “Nothing wrong with your brain,” he compliments you. “And I should know.”

“That’s good,” you murmur, suddenly feeling sleepy again. You settle back against your pillow and give him your most dazzling smile, or at least your best post-anesthesia approximation of one. “Wanna take you out after that, then. ‘S only fair — you’ve already been inside me.”

He chokes, and you fall asleep still smiling.

author’s note (yeah, you get two, suck it up): This is a piece of pure self-indulgence; last year, there was a point at which I thought I’d be facing the same surgery as Reader, and the idea of our lovely Steven as a doctor was a comfort to me. Fortunately, brain surgery was not required in my case, and this remained a fun thought until I dusted it off and wrote it up for the bingo event!

That said… while I was lucky, a very dear friend of mine was not, and I’m dedicating this to her. If you enjoyed reading this and you feel willing and able, please consider making a donation to the American Brain Tumor Association, or your local equivalent, to help fund research that aims to improve and extend the lives of people like S.

[diazsdimples]

hi james!!⚕️⚕️⚕️for the wip game please <3

Hi Newbie! Sorry for the monumental wait on this one 😅. Also a warning for descriptions of surgery

As gentle as he can be, Eddie gets a hand into her uterus and feels for the baby. It’s tiny, probably no bigger than a pound or two, and it’s completely limp when he delivers it. “Buck, are you ready for me?” Eddie calls, not taking his eyes off his work. “Yep, good to go.” As quick as he can without hurting the baby, Eddie clamps and cuts the cord, and turns to place the baby safely in Buck’s outstretched arms. Their eyes meet and Eddie can see the uncertainty in Buck’s eyes as he wraps the baby in the plastic film to help conserve its heat. You’ve got this. “Eddie, she’s crashing!” Eddie turns back to the table, cursing as he fumbles for his scalpel, intent on delivering the placenta as quickly as possible so he can stop the bleeding.

Tagging @daffi-990 @theotherbuckley and @inell who also asked about this wip

[chainslobber]

So, a few years ago, I had a tumor in the side of my neck that was hard as a rock. It would move a bit, so if I turned my head down or looked to the side, it would slide under my jaw and essentially lock my head in place. I'd have to dig out out and pull the skin with my fingers.

I remember it took two years of tests to figure it out. I had seen an ENT of 40 years in the business, the state's expert. He would look at the MRi and CT scans and the needle biopsies and hum and haw about it before telling me 'it's just a swollen lymph node' and told me one of his clients had something similar and she lived(s) a healthy, happy life with it.

I got a second opinion and the younger doctor took one look at it, raised his eyebrows, and went 'that's a tumor, that needs to come out'. I had surgery 2 weeks later. A 30 minute surgery became almost seven hours of the surgeons trying to scrape my tumor out of my nerves. It had grown into them during the time my other doctor sat on his hands. I bled out twice and needed emergency transfusions during surgery. To this day, the entire side of my neck is numb, and I have facial paralysis even eight years later.

Some gross side effects of this surgery are the fact that sour and spicy foods can make me drool from my *neck*, and if anything even lightly grazes my neck wrong, like my own hair, my dog's ear, a shirt collar--I get so violently nauseous for the next few minutes.

I lost my grandma to a cancer that took her when she was young. And I'm only writing this because I found out on my birthday, June 24, that my mom probably has cancer too. She was supposed to fly to come visit but the doctors found some concerning lumps and want to get her tested.

I guess I'm writing this because, as an AFAB, doctors always dismissed me. I was born extremely prematurely and I'm disabled to boot, so a lot of my medical issues get pushed under the rug. I'm begging POC and AFAB to get second opinions, especially if you're in pain. Especially if your doctor is male, even IF he's a professional in the field.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Spent the whole day at the hospital. Husband underwent a standard, non-urgent procedure, but it was under general anesthesia so it was still a day™.

I had my D&C at the same hospital four months ago, so I remembered all the procedures and knew my way around, which really helped put my husband at ease. I was so proud that I got through the day completely fine despite the memories.

But I know I’ve been building up to this moment. I’ve been feeling so much stronger this past month - I think this means I’ve processed the miscarriage, I’ve worked through my feelings, and I can finally look back on it without breaking down. I’ve come out the other side, and I’m so damn proud of myself for getting there ❤️

[timeguardians]

ooc: I'm going to be queueing replies as I can. I'll be headed for surgery. The current date is October 11th which is two weeks earier than anticipated. I'm on the cancelation list-so I may go in sooner.

[twistedhypersonicnavigator]

Guess who's back!

Well sorta. I went on a cruise for a week and then realized that maybe I'm overshooting my abilities here. I keep posting a chapter a week and honestly its beginning to feel like I'm throwing myself to far out there so I'll write chapters whenever I feel I can. this way I won't write short ones, I'll write longer ones and it'll give me a chance to think further then what I've got written.

I've been writing for 32 years now and this is the firsts real break I've given myself. Sounds bad I know, but I need some me time to think. Cheers!

[starseneyes]

Jaw Surgery: Six Weeks Post-Op

I’m one day off, but it has been mad, here, and there has been lots going on. But, I am thrilled to say I made the six week mark.

My surgeon said that as soon as the world opened up to normal food, the jaw starts to open more. He was right!

We are out of town, so I don’t have my own kitchen and ingredients at my disposal, but our friends recommended an Indian joint down the street.

Biting into a samosa was intimidating, but I did it. I know I looked to Matt with so much pride on my face! I did it!

The whole meal was so delicious—made all the moreso by the fact I was allowed to eat it!

Earlier today, my nose itched and I absentmindedly rubbed my knuckles against my nose as I’ve done most of my life to soothe it. And it worked.

It struck me that not only was my nose itchy, but that I could feel it and do something about it. Another step forward.

I am still dealing with some swelling and frozen face. I know good sleep would help, but last night was a rubbish night and I am unsure why because the night before wasn’t bad.

The good part about last night was four tonsil stones that I’ve been struggling with since surgery coming loose.

The pain from those things is pretty rough, and last night was the first night I could manipulate my tonsils and tongue enough to do anything about them since surgery. Huzzah!

I still can’t open my mouth fully, but it is much improved. I am still swollen and frozen, but that is also much improved.

This whole healing journey is a beast, but if I could go back in time, I would choose the surgery again in a heartbeat. Absolutely.

Onward.

[bloodywolfwings]

Goretober Day 10 - Medical

"Please... Stop"

[crybaby-bkg]

Physical therapist AU that popped up into my mind yesterday and I can’t stop thinking about them!!!!

Bakugou as the physical therapist that most people are kind of scared of. He doesn’t get that many clients, only because his methods are a little harsh and his words are a little mean, but it’s only because he wants the best for you and your body. He focuses solely on your upper body and arms, for when you have pains or surgeries. He’s such an ass, likes to pick up 20 pound weights and show you how to do your exercise, tuts at you when you complain that your two pound weights are too heavy. But on the days when he really sees you struggling, his voice is a lot kinder, and he’ll give you the one pound weights when he sees your arms shaking a little. But the next appointment, you won’t be able to slack off!

Kiri as the lower body and legs physical therapist in the studio. He’s all cheery and bright when he sees you, is a little imposing with the eye contact whenever he explains each and every muscle in your calf and how it aids you and why it hurts when you run without warming up first. He’s just so big, doesn’t realize his size when he climbs up on the tables with you so that he can bend and twist your leg every which way to show you how it should feel. You hate to disappoint him, watch that bottom lip puff out when you admit that you haven’t done your exercises the way you were supposed to. He must hang out with Bakugou too much, because he goes just a little harder on you those days.

Deku who focuses on the whole body. He’s much like Kiri, with his big green eyes staring holes into your soul as he over explains where the soreness in your flank comes from. His hands are big and soft when they guide you into the right position he wants to put you in, his voice soft. Always whispers a drawn out ‘goooood job’ whenever you can do something he’s instructed you without any hiccups. He turns beet red whenever he realizes how his hands have found themselves in a compromising position on your body, just gets so caught up in guiding you, and it’s the most adorable thing ever.

Denki as the therapist who focuses solely on hands. He’s amazing with his fingers, all long and slender and pretty. He talks your head off when you come in after surgery on your pinky and middle finger, and you can’t help but find it endearing. He shows you how to do your exercises and routines, all pretty smiles and golden eyes that you can’t help but admire with a sweet sigh when you stare at him. He also buys his own lotion to massage into your hands, and coos about how soft they are and how good they smell after, embarrassing you whenever he holds your wrists up for other passersby’s to smell.

Shinsou works primarily with feet and ankles, and he’s damn good at it. He always has a bored little look on his face, and you’re scared he might be too rough, but he’s the complete opposite. Asks you intermittently, does this hurt? is the pain right here? should I add more pressure? And he doesn’t huff when you complain about his hands being too rough. He does give you a stern talking to though when he doesn’t see any progression because you haven’t been keeping up with at home maintenance. But on those days, he also offers up heat with the electro therapy treatment, because he knows you prefer it over the ice.

Todoroki as the additional chiropractor there???? His monotonous voice gives no indication when he’s going to basically separate your spine from your flesh, but you can always see his little hint of a smile when you scream a little. And delinquent turned front desk worker Dabi???? who only works there because his annoying brother got him job, but he doesn’t mind it because he gets to flirt with the patients before they’re whisked off to the back.

[penumbramewtwos]

Short story around the time of Unova's capture, and of Okita's origins.

PLEASE READ THE TW TAGS BEFORE READING!!!

Hearing nothing but echoing corridors, Gary Oak was sure he was done for after his trip into an infamous Aunuran desert Trapinch hole. With his head bound, he knew he wasn't out of the woods just yet. He hears a familiar craggy voice address him as he's pushed onto a chair and bound in an unknown room.

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Said the unknown voice, Gary's ears piped up as the man continued.

"Just as nosy as your grandfather in the pursuit of knowledge, rest assured your nosiness ends here."

After the statement from the unknown man, Gary's head covering had been lifted off, revealing a dark room with a spotlight upon himself. He knows this man… Not only from the Kanto region, but as the head of Rocket industries in Aunura, Giovanni.

"tch, well well, I knew that old man stink was bound to be you. This whole place smells of retirement home and failed yakuza." Gary quipped.

Giovanni, looking the same as he did back in the mid 2000's aside from the hair dye running down his face, leaned in from his wheelchair towards Gary to offer a deal out of this place alive. "I know what you've been digging up… Our team has taken the liberty of confiscating your 'findings'. Rest assured, you won't be publishing any of them; in fact, you'll do as I say or you'll end up more dismembered than that arm you collected."

Giovanni leaned back in his wheelchair, with a large grin on his face creasing his crows feet even more. Gary was unphased by the threat and smirked back at the acquaintance as he spoke back in a nonchalant manner, "I heard on the grape-vine you're getting back into the genetics commissioning game, and had to check it out for myself! Seems like whichever geneticist you hired this time can't even get one of those creatures to form properl-"

"Enough talk!" shouted Giovanni. "There's one more thing, seeing as you're so interested in our development"

Giovanni leant forward once more with a stern look on his face, as Gary remained stonewalled. "Your skills will be needed here one day, 'Professor Oak', I know you've been collecting and studying Arceus plates for medical research for some time now."

Gary's eyes shuddered in anger, "WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I W-"

"You despise the thought of pokemon in pain, and I'm giving you an opportunity to t-"

"Yeah yeah… So you'll put them in pain so I can take them out of it… Sounds completely ethical to do that to an innocent creature, Artificial or not…"

Giovanni paused and smirked as he leant back in his wheelchair. "So you know of the pokemon Mewtwo, and it's origins"

Gary Squirmed within his bound state in a fit of fury, "Why are you making so many!??! Some of them are still alive out there! The ones your disgusting cronies buried and chopped!"

"It doesn't matter, those ones are merely unable to form, as you put it yourself, Gary… We're nearly there, and I will have one obey my commands if it's the last thing I do on this Earth!" Givovanni coughed loud and hoarsely at the end of his statement. No one would tell if it was just his talking or the musty dark room that caused it.

Just as Gary was squirming around in his bindings, he'd been slowly able to get a pokeball to finally drop from his pants pocket, unleashing his Arcanine. "Grrrrwaarrh!!!"

In what felt like a flash, Arcanine chomped it's way through Gary's bindings and shoved Giovanni backwards into the wall with it's hind legs with no hesitation. Gary grabbed a hold of his Arcanine before using a teleportation device he refers to as 'Escape rope'.

Two Team rocket grunts charge into the room to assist the frail Giovanni as his phone rang, "Sir you need to see the medic! You shouldn't take thuds like tha-"

"I'M NOT AS DECREPID AS YOU ALL THINK!? Nghhh…"

Groaning from the incident, Giovanni reaches into his inner jacket pocket and pulls out a black rotom phone, answering it in a huff. "This better be good news! Have you found more DNA from the Unovan experiment, Drake!?"

Through the video call is a bright, curly haired woman with a piercingly defiant voice. Some of the team rocket grunts refer to her as 'the clown', as a smile has barely ever wiped off her face. Except for those few who tell tales of a grim reality behind the mask… "It's always good news! You just don't know how to take progress, ahahaha!!!"

Giovanni stared blankly into the phone's camera as she cackled, before continuing, "ahah… Well, not only did we get the rest of the samples, but we got the main cretin themselves here! Well, we let it go after we t-"

"YOU LET IT GO!?!?!? THAT WAS OUR CHANCE TO CLONE HUNDREDS OR THOUSANDS OF THEM, YOU FUCKING IMBI- what!?" As Giovanni began to unleash his tirade, the clown, known formally as Professor Kana Drake, showed him a fogged up glass and metal chamber with what appeared to be a nearly complete foetus of a mewtwo.

"I hope you're read to listen or you wont get your kitty cats!" She widely grinned and giggled through her words.

"We let her go, as we still don't know how she even got pregnant in the first place"

"P-Pregnant!?" Giovanni spluttered, "They're pokemon? They are meant to have"

"Yes, Eggs! Ahahaha! We thought it best to let her go and hope that she is found again with another baby just for us, Gio!"

She laughed more and more maniacally before continuing "This one will be a sure thing, fuse it with a docile psychic pokemon or psychically gifted human and it'll be too indecisive to think for itself!"

Giovanni grumbled with reluctance, putting more faith in the eccentric genetisist. "Drake… Once you bring it back here, I'll take care of the other component…"

"Hahahaha!! Of course sir! I knew you'd understa-"

Giovanni had hung up before she even had a chance to finish. He leans forward again, almost lost in thought. A grunt goes to ask about his condition before they're cut off by Giovanni. "Have the Gym leaders of Symphony come to their senses yet?"

The grunt blankly stares at him before checking his watch in a hurry "a-ahh! sorry sir, right away! … … Their last email reads… uh…'Get fucked, we own the gym by law, no 'protection' money will be paid… Sincerely, Ai and Amare Spes… P S … How do you plan on forcing it from us? Your pokemon are undertrained and undervalued'."

Giovanni must have been infected with the clown's disposition as his smile widened, wrinkling his elderly face as he looked at an email on his rotom phone.

"Well, how about that… According to my intelligence division, they've frozen an embryo in recent days… How lucky for us".

[sporeservant]

On a personal note I’m getting oral surgery tmrw and I’m kind of freaked about it so any kind words would be appreciated! Ive been dreading this for months so I could use some encouragement

[fuckyeahpedropascal]

The Last of Us | Prospect

I’m still reeling from the episode. I’m sure someone else has already made this comparison of badass adoptive daughters stepping up, but here’s my take.