#unless you too are chronically ill and are reading my symptoms going

[kira-fluff]

reaction to finding out you have a chronic disease | fem!reader x haikyuu!!

this idea popped into my head in the shower. shower thoughts are the best. as a chronically ill person such as myself (mentally and physically, LOL!) i felt maybe I was a little qualified to write this. these are all diseases i experience! i can def write some that i am not diagnosed with :) i'm a biology nerd, so i love learning new things, especially about diseases! some of these are more serious than others. i tried to keep the disease symptoms/descriptions general so it can appeal to more diagnoses (for example, nosebleeds are indicative of several different diseases) that way more people can feel represented by what i write!

‼️warnings: mentions of blood, nekoma team being dorks, seizures, WAY too many ellipses (sorry I just love them), pointless bantering (oikawa), dramatic af, osamu described as "caked-up" (sorry not sorry), railing on atsumu for shits and giggles, deep hatred of the word moist

want to see a different haikyuu character's reaction? request here! also, if you want to read a specific disease represented, i can see if i can put it in there too :)

✿ kuroo tetsuro "hey when do you want to- OH MY GOD ARE YOU OKAY?!" blood dripped from your nose onto the gymnasium floor. "oh. another nosebleed. my bad, I'll clean that up..." you said apathetically. "hey, this is sort of a big deal, ya know? shit... yaku, I need a towel or something!" he shouted. they really weren't anything serious. ever since you were little, you had frequent nosebleeds. your mom wrote it all off as the cold weather (even in summer), so it wasn't really that big of a deal to you either (until a few doctor visits later). still, the apathy you felt toward your predicament remained. yamamoto had already rushed over at his captain's call. "does she need an ice pack, too? fuck, I don't know what to do...." "aren't you supposed to tilt your head up?" one member asked. "no, no i think you're supposed to tilt your head down...." another muttered. "GUYS, GUYS I GOT IT. GOOGLE SAYS TO 'sit down and tilt your head forward, pinching the top part of your nose above the nostrils for like, 10 to 15 minutes.'" lev sat back proudly, phone in hand. "can't believe you were smart enough to look that up..." kenma whispered under his breath. "hey, hey, look at me. you still with us?" kuroo said, a hand on either side of your face. despite the towel against your nose, you couldn't help but laugh. "oh my god, guys! it's not like I'm dying! this happens all the time." "but that's not...normal. did you ever get it checked out?" kuroo stared at you inquisitively, his brow raised. his fellow teammates nodded. you sighed. "look, unless there's a lot of excessive gushing or anything like that, they said i should be okay. yes there's a whole disease behind it all with a long-ass name that no one can pronounce and yes there are sometimes other symptoms that could result in death, but I'm totally fine, okay? I'm perfectly healthy!" "you poor, fragile angel..." lev said, a hand on his chest, distraught. "that... does NOT make me feel more relieved. at all. in fact, I'm more worried. should we go to the hospital? that one looked a little... gush-y...." kuroo said, pacing back and forth before setting his eyes back on you. removing the towel from your nose, you shook your head. "no. look, bleeding nose already gone, see? I'm not going to the hospital. I'm completely fine. relax, kuroo." kuroo stared at you for another moment, taking in your expression, searching for any signs of discomfort. at last, he sighed. "ok. fine. I concede. but if you ever feel the littlest bit unwell, tell me or one of us, okay?" after your agreement, and several more minutes of doting from both your boyfriend and all the other team members, you at last parted ways. as you got out of the shower that night, your phone lit up with a notification. tetsu 💕 [11:23pm]: I'm serious about what I said back there. please talk to me when you aren't feeling good. you mean so much to me that I can't imagine what life would be like without you. sleep well, babe. love you.

✿ osamu miya "damn are you o-- OKAY, YEAH, NO. SHE'S NOT OKAY." it was your average day as a supportive, amazing, fantastic girlfriend watching your iconic, sexy, hot, caked-up boyfriend play volleyball with his piss-haired twin and the rest of the team of inarizaki. unfortunately for you (and the entire volleyball team), inarizaki had a recent issue with their air conditioning units. even more unfortunate was the fact that the fans in the gymnasium were practically there for decoration, that's how useless they were. despite it being late march (still quite cool outside), the players and spectators were drenched in sweat. still, you weren't about to let a little (lot) bit of sweat deter you from cheering for your mans! so, you remained in the stands, cheering as loudly as you could (except for the times when you couldn't because atsumu was once again on his I'm About To Serve Power Trip). it was finally nearing the end of the game, and thank GOD it was because you were starting to feel reaaalllly light-headed. at the final score of the match, you stood up, but oh, was that a mistake. suddenly, you legs started shaking. the lights suddenly seemed to dim down and black spots were popping up in your vision. maaaaybe you should sit back down. wait. where is "back down"? it suddenly occurred to you that at this point, you couldn't see anything. beginning to panic, you started reaching out to find something to hold onto, thankfully finding the stair railing of the bleachers in your grasp. slowly, you blindly fumbled your way down the steps of what you hoped were the bleachers steps. you heard someone shout something along the lines of, "you good?" you were far too panicked and far too focused to give a reply. don't fall down. don't fall down. don't faint. don't pass out. you chanted in your head like a mantra. you heard the squeak of shoes against the ground and voices talking back and forth around you when suddenly a steady hand grabbed ahold of you just above your elbow. guess that was all you needed before your consciousness flickered, then extinguished.

-

"....cold like ice...." "...pale as hell...." you could only hear snippets of sentences, and your eyelids felt heavy. "....have something....with sugar, preferably...." when you finally opened your eyes, you were no longer in the gym, but in inarizaki's nurse's office. "hey..." you turned, now noticing the other occupant of the otherwise empty room. "'samu... did I faint again?" his eyebrows rose. "again? like, you've done this before?" "yeah. happens a lot. 's fine though. was a little scary back there for a minute, though." "damn, I'll say. I've never seen someone so pale. and sweaty. and that's saying something, cuz post-practice 'tsumu is disgustingly moist." "'samu, I love you, but never say that fucking word again." "what, moist?" you cringed, grabbing at your ears, "ugh, yes! I'm already dying here and now you're nailing the final mark in the coffin." osamu gave his signature half-smile. "I thought you said you were fine?" you scoffed, "that was just to make you feel better. I'm gonna need lots of cuddles tonight to wave off my near-death experience." he let out a light-hearted laugh. "okay. plenty of that for you regardless of whether you're on death's door or not." he said, giving you a small peck. you pursed your lips. "I need you right now, though." his face split in a full grin as he slid next to you on the small bed. "anything for you darlin'."

✿ oikawa toru "please... please be okay..." you had been enjoying your regular weekday study session. it always went as follows: meet up after class, head off to aoba johsai's library, study (and perhaps get slightly off-topic over some vending machine snacks and drinks), and at last, go to volleyball practice (perks of being a manager!). "ok, ok, we should probably finally look at what we're supposed to know for our next english exam," oikawa said, still in between chuckles. "but toru... i can't go on without a drink..." you clutched your throat dramatically. "must... have.... beverage.... dying of.... thirst!" oikawa laughed again, "geez, fine!" he said, attempting to sound annoyed by your request (and failing miserably). "I'll go grab us something to drink. on me." he winked. "wow. what a gentleman. you really spare no expense, spoiling me with luxurious drinks from the beverage box of wonders! oh how lucky I am to have such a supportive boyfriend..." you leaned back on your chair, drying a fake tear of gratitude, while simultaneously stifling a giggle. "damn, ok. fork out the yen, then, babe." "nooooo~~~ I was kidding! I'm sorry you're the best ever in the whole wide world~~~ my little piglet oinkawa~" "ok now you're paying for my drink too." "I'm sorry!!!! I won't call you oinkawa ever again." "thank you-" "to your face." after at least 15 minutes of more bickering (and no studying) oikawa was off to the so-called beverage box of wonders, also known as a shitty-ass vending machine that was probably last refurbished in the '90s. oikawa was still laughing to himself as he rounded the corner to the library, drinks in his arms. "hey babe, are you finally studying?" he smirked, finally nearing your small alcoved study area.

- thud, thud. the long-forgotten drinks fell to the floor as oikawa rushed over to you. there you convulsed on the ground, your eyes white and pupil-less, and your mouth foaming, turning a slight twinge of pink. you let out small grunts, completely unresponsive. "oh my god, oh my god, hey, hey listen to me." oikawa was already in full-fledged panic mode, tapping your face with his hand. "oh my god, SOME PLEASE HELP HER!" the few left in the library looked over at oikawa, then at you, before beginning to run about. one was on their phone speaking to a 911 operator, another rushed out of the room. one kneeled alongside oikawa, checking helplessly for a pulse. "protect her head." a girl read out from her phone. oikawa immediately shed his jacket, placing it under your head which was hitting the ground rapidly to the incongruent rhythm of your convulsions. "check her bag, does she have any meds?" "SHE'S MY FUCKING GIRLFRIEND I THINK I'D KNOW IF SHE HAD MEDS!" oikawa shouted. he didn't mean to snap, but he felt so useless. were you hiding this from him? how did he not know you had seizures? were they always this bad? despite what he'd told the unnamed student, oikawa, jumped up, grabbing your bag and nearly ripping the zipper with the force he'd opened it with. no medication. "no meds." he said, quieter this time. a hand rested on his shoulder. "it's gonna be okay, man. look, she stopped." oikawa whipped his head over to you, chastising himself for removing his eyes from you for even a second. you were still breathing, but it was like you were in a deep slumber. by the time the EMTs arrived, however, you'd begun blinking your eyes lazily at your surroundings.

- "hey oikawa." you said, smiling. oikawa said nothing in return, his head in his hands. you sat there for a moment, taking in your surroundings. "wait a minute, where am i?" you felt a tickling inside your nose. at the touch of your hand, you realized you had a breathing tube hooked up you. another glance around the sterile hospital room showed your heart rate monitor and other cords wrapped up around the hospital bed. you laughed, "...and what's all this stuff on me?" "you had a seizure." oikawa said sharply, though not unkind. you stared at him once more in disbelief. "...really?" "yeah. I came back from getting our drinks when...when I found you lying on the ground, shaking. the doctor says you bit your tongue, which explains why the foam that was coming out of your mouth was pink. they want to do an MRI on you." "oh." you gazed down, then met his eyes again. "you... had to deal with that all by yourself?" "other people in the library helped me... though I don't think I was the nicest guy to be around. its sort of all of a blur." you smiled, "for me, too. I can barely remember what we were talking about before I woke up." oikawa's eyes widened, "really?" "yeah... but I think I'll be okay, as long as you're here." "this hasn't happened before, has it?" "no, not really. I mean, I've always gotten light-headed easily, which is sort of how I felt before I, ya know... went down... but never like that. I don't think. then again, if I wasn't here in a hospital bed, I think I would've just thought I fell asleep or something. it just feels like I took a long nap. still kind of tired, honestly." oikawa shook his head. "I'm never letting you out of my sight ever again." "oikawa, seriously. it's gonna be okay. I'm fine. nothing bad happened, right? I didn't die." "BUT YOU COULD'VE!" he shouted. "...you could've.." he said again in a whisper. suddenly, he got up. leaning over the hospital bed, he pressed his lips to your temple, leaving a soft kiss in its wake. "I just... I don't want to see you suffering. I don't want you to get hurt." "but you were there." "but what if I wasn't?" "but you were." you slid your hand over his own. "oikawa, it's gonna be okay, I promise. I'm a little scared, too, but... I know we'll figure something out, okay?" he let out a mix between a sigh and a laugh, "why does it feel like I was the one who had the seizure? some boyfriend I am, making you feel worse." "oikawa shush." you placed you index finger over his lips. "you're not allowed to talk about yourself in that way in my presence." he rolled his eyes, but his dimples popped out in a wary smile. "you're amazing, you know that?" you imitated deep-thought, your finger on your chin. "hmm... no, doesn't ring a bell." a full grin bloomed across his face now. "then I'll spend the rest of my life reminding you."

a/n: romanticize the source of your medical bills girlies 💕 it works wonders

[obfuscated-abstract]

Medical literature is unnecessarily inaccessible

I am in the lucky position to be doing a degree through an institution that gives me access to a lot of medical literature that other people can't necessarily access. I'm also fairly practised at reading said medical literature because I am doing a degree that requires at least some ability to research.

I am an astronomy student, not a medical student, but I want to do everything in my power to make at least some of this research more accessible to people with complex illnesses.

If you have come across a paywalled study or something that you just can't seem to understand, send it my way and I'll give it my best shot!

Table of Contents

General questions under the cut

Can you give medical advice?

Absolutely not. And my summaries should not be construed as a perfectly faithful interpretation of the material -- they are a guide to finding the part of the article most relevant to your own research.

Can I ask you to do research on a condition or symptom for me?

No, sorry. I don't have the energy or time to do that as much as I would love to. Send me a study or piece of literature and I will be happy to access and interpret it. If you really can't find literature on your topic, you can send a question and I'll try to find a paper on it but no guarantees.

What can I send?

You can send any medical literature you want me to try and summarise (journal articles, studies, statements, etc), suggestions for accessibility improvements, questions about things I've posted (I'll link them to the orginal post), pointing out errors. Basically anything. If I can't access or answer something, I'll let you know!

Can I send something anonymously?

Absolutely! Anonymous asks are on. Unfortunately anonymous asks don't allow you to send links so minimum information I need to find the study is title, author(s), and publication date. The name of the journal it was published in is also useful! I will put the summary in the response to the ask so if you don't want to be credited and you don't want to ask anonymously, just put that in your ask and I'll accommodate.

How is this blog organised?

I have included a link to the table of contents above. I will tag all posts with the relevant condition so they show up in the archive. Each post will have a link to a second post that includes the article figures, and, if the article is not publicly available, some way of sharing important parts of it.

Are there restrictions on what disabilities/chronic illnesses the material can relate to?

I am going to loosely restrict this to conditions that have a physical component but of course if the study is on a link between a physical and other disability, that is perfectly fair game. Obviously I am more knowledgeable about the disabilities and chronic illnesses I personally experience (including POTS, hEDS, ME/CFS, and fibromyalgia) but if you send me something that I don't have experience with, I will give that caveat and do my best.

Edit: I'm actually happy to do non-physical conditions too! Why'd you restrict it, silly past me?

What language(s) can I send things in?

The language of the study must be English. If you come across something in French, I can do my best with that as well since I grew up biligual; however, all my medical treatment has been in English as is the degree I'm pursuing so I am much more comfortable with English language papers. If you want to send your question in French, go ahead but I will respond in English.

Can I help?

Yes! Of course! Just let me know how you want to help. One thing I absolutely need help with is image descriptions. I likely won't be including them unless I'm having a really good day since they're absolutely exhausting for me to write, so if you send me an image description for a figure, I will be adding it to the post immediately and crediting you if you want!!!

[the-insomniac-emporium]

RE8 Ladies + S/o with chronic pain HCs

Type/cause of chronic pain is kept ambiguous, but some of the hcs might seem geared towards migraines, since that's the main thing that I personally struggle with (and these are very definitely comfort hcs). Features Alcina, Bela, Cassandra, Daniela, Donna, Mother Miranda, and as a 'lil bonus Ava. Not particularly long, but the combined length of every character is enough to be put under a read-more (About 2,500 words in total).

Alcina:

It’s difficult for her to know that you are suffering, but be unable to deal directly with the source of the problem. Chasing off unwanted nuisances or hunting down threats to the castle was one thing, trying to solve complicated medical issues was another thing entirely. If only she could tear your condition asunder without tearing you asunder.

That being said, she’ll still support you endlessly, however she can. It doesn’t matter how expensive or hard-to-access possible treatments are. If there’s something you haven’t tried, and are interested in trying, she’ll find a way for you to get it.

The biggest, and arguably most helpful, thing that she does is set up a space for you within her office. She spends quite a lot of time there for her family’s business, but doesn’t want to leave you alone on bad days. So this was her idea of a nice compromise.

There’s a very comfortable sofa that folds out, a cabinet filled with the softest blankets, and several pillows of a few different sizes. Servants are instructed not to interrupt Alcina’s work without good reason, but she has a couple who ensure your snack cabinet is always well stocked.

If there are certain environmental factors to your condition, such as sensitivity to light and sound, she does her best to reduce their effects. Lights remain dimmed (or she’ll rely on candlelight), her music will be kept quiet enough to be soothing, and she’ll refrain from taking any calls while you are with her.

Bela:

To think that Daniela once tried to claim that Bela would “never need to know any of that (medical) stuff”! Sure, there haven’t been many people who have needed (and received) treatment from her, but that didn’t mean the skill was useless. Admittedly, she doesn’t know enough to replace one of your doctors, or try to create her own version of a cure, though no one really expected that much from her.

Still, she knows enough to help soothe your pain. Obviously there are different techniques for different kinds of pain, and she does research before trying anything specific. Bela’s also aware that you’ve been dealing with this for far longer than she has, meaning that you probably wouldn’t be pleased if she came in, acted like an expert, or assumed that you hadn’t really thought about the most popular remedies. So she’s tactful with how she approaches things, always checking if you’re familiar with a subject before she tries to explain anything.

Bela ends up surprising you with a lesser-known skill of hers: Massage. Studying anatomy has given her a decent idea of the body’s more sensitive spots, and the rest she’s figured out through her own, ahem, experiences. Regardless of where you’re in pain, your girlfriend can help reduce your suffering. Okay, well, if your pain is more internal than external, it’s a bit harder for her, but she can still help you relax.

One of her favorite things to do after giving you a massage is to just pull you in close for some cuddling. Preferably you’ll be in her lap, with her arms around your waist, her chin tucked on top of your shoulder. Then she’ll do her best to whisper you praises, reminding you how strong you are, and that she’s incredibly proud of you.

Cassandra:

She’s, uh, not great at this. At least not at first. Maybe she’ll never be more than good at it, though. But she’s definitely trying! And learning! By Jove, that’s something, right?

First things first, she’s always ready to try to distract you, primarily through kisses and gentle touches. Fingers softly trailing over your skin, lips tickling your neck, featherlight in all the right places… It’s not inherently sexual (though it can quickly go that route if you ask), just intimate. It’s harder for your brain to process pain when you’re also processing pleasure, so there is some science behind Cassandra’s methods, even if she herself isn’t entirely aware of that.

While she’s not great with words, there are certain things that she manages to articulate well enough. For one, she makes sure you know that you aren’t a burden. Taking care of you- no, helping you take care of yourself- is a labor of love, if a labor at all. More than that, she knows full well that you probably don’t like feeling pitied, or coddled. That, over time, being sick ends up being beyond frustrating. She never wants you to feel like your condition defines you, or like it puts any strain on your relationship.

That said, she’ll avoid telling her family any specifics unless you do first, and ensures that the staff know how to accommodate you (without telling them why, because it’s none of their fucking business, and she’s their boss, and for fuck’s sake it’s their job to do what she tells them. Maybe she gets a lil bit overzealous with it). At no point will she ever complain about helping you, or otherwise indicate that your needs are “troublesome”.

At the end of the day, the best comfort she brings you is her presence, simply being near you, endlessly loyal, tireless in her affections. Especially considering she gets clingier the worse your symptoms get.

Daniela:

Hope you enjoy cuddling. Seriously. There’s nothing Daniela loves more than curling up with you, and that goes double for bad pain days. Some adjustments will be made position-wise if you need, but she’ll still hold you as close as possible, for as long as you need. Although she might eventually fall asleep (because damn are you comfy), she’ll play with your hair or run her fingers along your scalp until she eventually dozes off.

If you want a little more from her than light snoring, or if she feels like going above and beyond, or honestly just if she’s thinking about how much she loves you (so all the effing time), she’ll do something she’s always loved in movies/books: Reading to you! She’ll pick special books that neither of you have read before, so you can experience them together on your sick(er) days. Which does, of course, mean that it might take months to finish even a single one. Surprisingly, Daniela won’t even briefly consider reading any without you. Even if the plot is really good.

But, uh, if you wanted her to read to you on a day where you aren’t bedridden? Hell yes, my friend, she’s absolutely down for that!

On days where she’s too busy to spend hours upon hours in bed with you, or days where her ADHD is just particularly bad, she tries her best to leave you with a “substitute”. AKA a massive fucking teddy bear, in a reddish brown color, with a green bowtie. Custom ordered (The Duke did not dare tease her for it). There’s a heart stitched onto the stuffed animal’s chest, which features your first initial alongside a D for Daniela.

Additionally, she has a blanket she only brings out for you, which she periodically sprays with her favorite perfume. That way you can hold it close when she’s not around, as if you were cuddling her. For her sake, though, don’t hold the teddy bear or blanket too tightly when she is around. Homegirl here will get jealous of inanimate objects, even ones that she gave you.

Donna:

“I think I have a tea for this…” Damn right she has a tea for this. Donna has a massive garden, with dozens if not hundreds of different plants, including a variety of herbs/spices. At least one of them has to be a little helpful for you. Whether it relieves pain, helps you nap off some of your misery, or just distracts you by tasting bloody-well delicious! Besides, few things make you feel quite as loved as holding a cup of freshly brewed tea in your hands, knowing your lover made it just for you. Like a hug in a mug, it is!

Similarly to Alcina, Donna will also try to create a comfortable space for you, but isn’t likely to put it downstairs with her workshop. Instead she’ll let you take over one of the larger guest rooms, customizing it to suit your specific needs. There will be some easy to care for plants for decoration (ones that won’t mind potentially missing out on natural sunlight), a couple relaxing paintings, and a shelf near the bed with things to help you pass the time, mainly books.

Furthermore, she’ll do her best to keep you company as often as possible. She’s naturally a fairly quiet person, so you won’t have to worry about sound if that’s something you’re sensitive to. While she prefers using a sewing machine, she’ll do things by hand while you’re in pain, just to reduce the chances of you getting irritated by the sound.

Speaking of potentially irritating sounds… by god can Angie be difficult to be around when you’re ill. Thankfully, Donna is perfectly understanding of this, and, as the only person Angie ever listens to, makes sure to give the doll a stern talking to about your health. To your immense surprise, it actually works. You’re not exactly sure what was said, but Angie certainly becomes a lot more compensating afterwards. She’ll keep her antics to herself, and usually even on another side of the house from where you rest, but only for as long as you’re tucked away in your room. As soon as you set foot outside, her restraints are metaphorically removed. All hell breaks loose (as is her universe-given right as the physical embodiment of both Chaos and Entropy).

Mother Miranda:

If the two of you weren’t lovers, there’s a decent chance you would completely misinterpret her actions. She might come off as irritated, like she has bigger concerns than your health, you fragile little human. After all, she is a goddess (well, practically). But the truth is that she’s aching inside every time you have a bad pain day, knowing that (for once) she cannot cure your ailment. Maybe if she had infinite subjects with the same condition as you…

But, at the end of the day, that’s the problem. There’s only one of you. One of her beloved, her little human darling, so dangerously fragile in comparison to the scale she works on. Even with all the time in the world, which she most certainly has, she cannot cure you without taking incredible risks. With your life at stake… It is a gamble she refuses to take. You are hers, and while she hates to see you suffer, the truth is that she’ll always be selfish enough to let you endure on your own.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t help, though, just that she doesn't do a full-out experiment on you. Instead, she keeps notes. She’ll track your activities, bedtimes/when you get up, dietary habits, when you have pain, what you do to treat said pain, how effective the treatments are, etc, etc. All of this can be very useful in establishing patterns (a skill she’s gotten very good at, in her many decades of being a scientist), which can in turn lead to less pain days.

(For example, many people with migraines find that certain foods seem to trigger a migraine, or at least increase the chances of getting one. Though admittedly they don’t always end up cutting the food out of their diet. I mean, come on, you want me to give up chocolate? You want me to drink normal milk, like an adult? Kidding, kidding, I don’t have any food triggers. Nor do I particularly enjoy chocolate milk, nor do I dislike it.)

Moving on! While her work seemingly takes precedence over your condition, Miranda is not heartless, and she does do some things to lend you more direct comfort. Specifically, she tries to work in the same room as you when she can, normally while making electronic copies of physical documents, or while looking over the details of a finished experiment. She’s not always one for cuddling, so she won’t often get in bed with you during the daytime. But at night? Yes, fine, she will wrap her arms around you, maybe one of her wings too if you like how soft they are.

Just don’t think that she secretly loves every second. It’s not like she’ll spend half an hour whispering about how sweet and adorable you are as soon as you fall asleep, or anything like that. It’s twenty minutes at the most.

Bonus!Avaskian Caldwell:

“Oh, fuckin’ mood!” Followed by a solid thirty seconds of pure regret. Seriously, though, Ava has spent xer entire life (starting at age 10) dealing with chronic migraines. For a while xe also dealt with POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome), which meant lots of chest pain, but that (thankfully) faded as xe grew into an adult, as is fairly common with the condition. If anyone in Castle Dimitrescu understands unrelenting, unexplainable pain, it’s xer.

That being said… Ava never really managed xer chronic pain, at least not when xe was at xer worst. Xe had to drop out of school because of it. Hell, xe didn’t have a “real” job until xe was almost 23! Didn’t have a chance until things just calmed down for xer. So xe gets anxious whenever you talk about your health, worried that things are (or will at some point be) as bad for you as they were for xer. Other than that, though, you might initially think that xe doesn’t care, or didn’t understand the conversation.

Truth is, xe knows how absolutely fucking ANNOYING it can be to have to explain your health to every new person you meet (like the dozen different doctors you’ve met over the years, possibly every nurse who takes your pulse and thinks it’s a little bit high). So xe did a shit ton of research on your condition, in order to reduce how much you need to explain. Sure, xe will still have questions, and there are always aspects that only you can tell xer, but it’s a nice gesture.

As for helping you destress, xe’s pretty much a mix of Bela and Miranda. You’ll get plenty of massages (because Ava has learned from personal experience what sort of touches help with which sorts of pain), but also some scientific insight on any noticeable patterns. Lots of holding you close and telling you that you’re the coolest person in the world, and that Ava feels beyond lucky to have you.

[philosopherking1887]

I’ve been feeling increasingly unmotivated to do just about anything recently, other than reading fanfiction and dicking around on Tumblr (which doesn’t really count as doing anything). I have been meeting work deadlines (mostly, sort of), but anything that doesn’t have a hard-and-fast deadline... nope, unless someone sends me a reminder to guilt me into it.

This feels like a depressive episode, though I’ve been dealing a lot more with anxiety than depression in recent months. I think it’s because I’ve been starting to despair of my long Covid symptoms ever going away, after more than a year of being sick. More and more, I’ve been seriously contemplating the possibility that this is a permanent chronic illness, and I’ll have to adjust my expectations of what I’ll be able to do for the rest of my life.

I’ll have less energy, and less time during the day because I need to sleep more. I can’t talk for long periods of time without incurring severe fatigue and chest pain -- and that includes lecturing, leading discussion seminars, participating in meetings. Will I need to ask for modified job responsibilities for the foreseeable future? Will the department be OK with that? I’m still officially on probation. It’s probably illegal to fire me for not being able to perform as expected due to chronic illness, but I’m not the investment they expected to be making when they hired me.

And then there’s social life. Whenever I spend too long talking to friends on Zoom or on the phone, I pay for it. Add the energy drain of traveling, or being in a crowded place -- and the fact that talking to people in restaurants and bars requires raising one’s voice to be heard over the noise -- and it will be very costly for me to go out to spend time with people. I might never be able to sing in a choir again (after catching Covid at a choir rehearsal... oh, the irony, or poetic symmetry, or something). Or things at the intersection of work and social life, like going to conferences. Giving talks will be really hard. I won’t be able to spend much time hanging around with people at bars after talks, which is how you make new friends in the profession, and where you sometimes have the most productive and valuable conversations.

I hope this isn’t insensitive to people on here who already have a chronic illness or disability that restricts what they’re able to do. I do know that it’s not all doom and gloom, and you can learn to adjust and find happiness in the activities you can do without hurting yourself too badly. But... it’s still an adjustment, and not for the better, from my current perspective. I seem to be losing the ability to do things that I enjoy, or that are important for a career I value.

I might be despairing too soon; it’s possible that one day the symptoms will just go away, or that someone will finally diagnose me properly and tell me what I can do to get better. But I’ve seen so many people on the Covid Long-Hauler support groups saying they’ve been sick for more than a year, or that they thought they were better and then relapsed after trying to do too much... and I am naturally pessimistic.

[shook-snatched-and-sad]

so i binged a show called ‘the owl house’...

and to say the least, i am OBSESSED! 

(this contains spoilers so don’t read if you haven’t finished the show yet!!)

aside from the fact that i’m a big old lesbian simp for Eda the Owl Lady, i really loved her storyline. it reminds me a lot of my day to day life as someone with a chronic illness. I want to focus on episode 4 ,“The Intruder,” where we learn of Eda’s curse and later episodes where it’s a prevalent point.

in the beginning of the episode eda’s exhausted to the point where king and luz end up carrying her to her bed (nest). she was already tired, but tried to show luz more magic bc she wanted luz to be happy and let her sleep. sometimes when you’re tired and want to lay down you still try to make others happy, and that can be too much for your already sick body. i am guilty of this 10 times over!

she has her elixir, which is almost like pain meds for me and others with chronic pain (or other meds for others in the chronic illness gang). her elixir has a tag reading, “an elixir a day keeps the curse at bay.” if she doesn’t take it, she transforms into something she doesn’t like. and i mean,,,, yeah, it REALLY DO BE LIKE THAT. even tho i’m still trying to find the right medicine for me, i feel like total GARBAGE when i forget to take my meds. i get snappy and irritable and anxious and everything hurts beyond comprehension; that’s all part of my “curse.”

she also took a little while to reveal her curse to luz, and king didn’t even know but has lived with her for a while. some people i’ve known most of my life don’t even know that i sometimes need a cane or that i even have a chronic pain disorder! you don’t want that judgement or others feeling like your condition is too much for them to handle (which is shitty, but people do say this); you can see that eda has had this happen to her time and time again and that it really left a mark on how she feels about trusting others. 

she also doesn’t remember who cursed her, and this fleshes out in my mind a few different ways:

1. it adds to her trust issues. she doesn’t consciously know who did it, so it could be anyone she interacts with and that’s scary. to her it’s traumatic, and she lives with the aftermath of the event everyday

2. not remembering? mega brain fog! sometimes you just have bad days where your brain is so cloudy that you low key forget someone’s name or a simple word to something (i once forgot the word “tv” and it’s technically not even a word). it’s almost like a tip of the tongue type thing. also, the figure kinda looks like fog

3. sometimes you don’t know what causes your illness. i have fibromyalgia and it’s just one of those complicated medical conditions where there is no determined cause for it. trauma? yeah, maybe. a few people in the fam with rheumatic stuff? could play a part. god spun the wheel and had to add whatever wacky thing it landed on? hell yeah, baby! 

later in the season eda needs some more of her elixir (her meds) and the guy at her usual place doesn’t have it in stock for another 2 weeks. she has to go to the boiling isles’s version of the black market to get it. when she gets to the black market guy, the price is outrageous and he just proves that this show is TOO SELF AWARE FOR ITS OWN GOOD. IDK WHO GAVE HIM THE RIGHT TO SPIT SUCH FACTS ABOUT CAPITALISM BUT GODDAMMIT SOMEONE HAD TO SAY IT!! sometimes you can’t get the name brand version of your meds bc insurance doesn’t cover it (even if that’s usually what you get) and you have to get the generic version but IT’S STILL WILDLY EXPENSIVE. and it’s worse if you don’t have insurance. i know other chronically ill people who just ended up smoking w**d for their symptoms until the insurance company stopped playing games, and honestly that says something about the wack ass healthcare system of america *sips tea*  luckily the rude mf that wouldn’t give eda her meds got his stand destroyed and that’s on performing magick without parental supervison

and what i especially like about this show is that they gave this character a curse (illness) and didn’t make it her entire identity for the show. any other time there’s a chronically ill/disabled character, it’s their only personality trait and exhaustively used throughout as a lazy ploy too add diversity. yes, eda has this curse and she lives each day treating it, but she has so much more substance to who she is: she’s a businesswoman, a friend, a mentor, a goofball, a badass, a powerful woman in her craft. eda had said her self at the end of “the intruder,” “no one likes having a curse, but if you take the right steps, it’s manageable.” and that’s exactly what it’s like being a chronically ill person who is able to manage their symptoms with medication and still do certain things that bring them joy. without her elixir eda wouldn’t be able to perform magick and have her business; without my meds and some physical therapy i wouldn’t be able to go to school full time for my photography degree and have a job as a photographer. 

could i possibly be projecting this metaphor onto a character that makes my little gay heart go uwu? maybe but that’s none of your business (unless you feel it too. in that case it’s our business <3). but i seriously cannot wait to see what else is in store for our #1 bad girl in the rest of the series!

(my attention deficit ass wrote this while being distracted from one of my final papers thank you for attending my TEDTalk)

[whumpywhumper]

Consequences

There is a section before this that I’m finding impossible to finish, but there’s nothing that would make this impossible to understand. It’s a lot of world building/story building, but hopefully you guys like it? I literally live on feedback so drop me a note :)

It’s set in the Investigation section of the timeline, following New York Part 2.

Masterpost 

Tagging: @misspelledwitch @insanitywishes @imagination1reality0 @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @voidwhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @captivity-whump @liliability @muumimafia @fanastywhump @elisabethrosewrites @unsure-but-alive-752 @jeverest00 @texdoeshalo @quirkykayleetam

I legitimately would not write without the hype of these three ladies: @0idril0 @rosesareviolentlyread @walkingchemicalfire 

TW: Some medical talk but let me know if I need to add a warning

V***V 

“This is my least favorite part of this job,” Clint sighed as he looked over the amount of paperwork that was still waiting for review in the impromptu command station.

“Yeah, I find myself missing my TAC suit and a stand off when I’m facing a mountain of paperwork,” Ben mumbled around the pen between his teeth.

Clint chuckled, looking up as the door to the conference room opened.

From the corner of his eye, Clint caught Ben’s frown as Kincaid entered the room, immediately catching something in his partner’s demeanor that concerned him. Kinciad’s  normally genial face was solemn, and Clint got a bad feeling himself as he caught the concentrated smell of antiseptic and multiple sick persons over something warmer, softer.  

“You okay, sweetheart?” Ben asked, straightening from the folder he had bowed over, nodding at the doctor that followed, the flap of air from the man’s white coat explaining the smells that had concerned Clint. “What happened?”

Kincaid swallowed, walking robotically as he moved to sit next to his lover, who only became more concerned, dropping his pen and reaching for his hands. “You guys need to hear this. Go ahead, doc?”

Raising an eyebrow at the doctor, who was shooting him a quizzical look, he nodded his greeting and held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Clint.”

“Right, sorry Clint,” Kincaid huffed, rubbing his hand through his hair. “This is Dr. Decker, Dr. David Decker, he’s the head of the team on our John Doe. David, this is Clint Erickson, a consultant we’ve brought in on the case. He’s been read in, and we've already been given carte blanche by the social worker, so you’re free to give him any information like you would us.”

Dr. Decker took his hand in a firm grip, the tall, willowy man giving him a tight smile. “Good to meet you, you guys mind?” he asked, motioning toward the table.

“Not at all,” Ben murmured, his arm tight around Kincaid’s shoulders. “What’s going on, David?”

Setting the chart he’d been carrying under one arm on the table, the doctor sighed as he took the weight off of his feet, hissing as he stretched his legs. “Nothing good,” he answered, looking at Clint, “as Kincaid just informed you, I’m the lead intensivist treating the John Doe that was brought in. We are treating him for critical injuries, chronic sickness, and long term abuse. He’s been in one-on-one ICU care.”

He turned his gaze back to Ben and Kincaid. “I’m going to be blunt now, and I’m sorry cause I know how you’re taking this, Kincaid. He’s not getting better. He’s getting worse, a lot worse.

“When he was admitted, he was unconscious and in rapid decline. He was incubated in the field—“ he nodded to Kincaid and Ben, “—because he wasn’t able to maintain his airway. He was rushed to emergency surgery as soon as he arrived.

“Apparently, some fucking amateur of a surgeon attempted to make repairs following penetrating and blunt force trauma, but, with his lack of healing, those repairs didn’t hold up to the transport. Since the emergency surgery, we think he’s begun bleeding internally and has required transfusions to try and keep ahead of it—he’s just too weak right now for a follow up surgery so we’re trying to maintain without more invasive measures.”

David sighed, flipping open the chart and staring at the information there. His eyes didn’t move like he was reading, just looking through the information like he could find answers. “His labs are looking worse with each draw, he’s having unexplained seizures, and he’s just not healing the way that he should be. He’s going into organ failure, and he’s septic.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, David swallowed, not as unaffected as he wanted to project. “There’s only so much stress and pain that a body can take, and we don’t know how long this guy was held in that place. Nothing we’re doing is helping, and I don’t know how long he’s going to hang on like this.”

The doctor’s words rang in the following silence of the little room, both of the detectives leaning heavily on each other. Clint felt like he’d swallowed ice, the cold sitting heavily in his stomach.

“Fuck...” he muttered, hand rasping over his beard. He’d been doing this a long time, but it never got easier to rescue someone that wasn’t going to be able to enjoy their freedom again. That he couldn’t help.

“Look. . . I know I’m not supposed to know what’s going on here, what you guys are investigating. But there’s only so many fangmarks I can look at before I draw a whole hell of a lot of conclusions.” He huffed, re-crossing his arms, and glared at the chart in front of him. “None of the others brought in had this many, and—” he grimaced out the next words, “—you only work in this field for so long before you hear some rumors about ‘vamps and witches.’

“I can feel it, there’s something—and I can’t believe I’m saying this—supernatural going on, and I don’t know how to treat it. I’m fumbling around in the dark here trying to treat symptoms without the knowledge base to help, without even the knowledge base to know how what he went through affected him, and he is too sick for this.” He pressed his lips together, flicking his eyes up to catch Ben’s.

“Can you help me?”

Clint sighed as the two detectives turned to him, the doctor’s gaze following with barely a blink of surprise.

Of course, just when I would call Markus.

“The witch that I would normally contact about this has. . . passed away,” he said, rubbing his hand through his hair, “but let me call someone who might be able to help. Do you mind talking to someone else?”

David shook his head after a confirmatory nod from the two detectives. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Clint thumbed it open and pulled up Evan’s contact.

Putting the call on speaker, he left it to ring on the table, hoping the vet wasn’t too busy to take his call. After a few interminable rings, he answered.

“Hello?” Loud rustling accompanied the greeting, and Clint could hear the yips and barks of the clinic.

“Evan, it’s me.”

“Clint? What’s up? You okay?” A door slammed in the background, and the animal noises cut off.

“Yeah, man, I’m fine. In New York working a vamp ring, I could use your know-how.”

“I mean, sure, but I’m not sure what I could tell you about vamps that you don’t already know...?” The beastmaster trailed off, confusion plain in his tone.

Clint grimaced, avoiding the other’s concerned gazes. Evan wasn’t going to like this next part.

“It’s not really the vamps I need your help with, man. There’s a witch here that got caught up in the ring, he’s not doing well, and I need—“

Evan cut him off before he could even finish, anger making his voice snap over the line.

“No, Clint, damnit, I’ve told you. I’m not trained for people, I’m a damn vet—“

“Evan, listen—” he tried to break in, but the other man wasn’t to be deterred.

“—I don’t need that responsibility, and I don’t want it. Did you even listen to what Deanna or Illyn had to say?”

Clint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He really didn’t want to get into this in front of three practical strangers, but the beastmaster was adamant about not treating people unless absolutely necessary. “Deanna won’t take my calls anymore after Markus—none of his coven will—and Illyn isn’t educated enough or in a place to be of any use in this situation. If anyone else would get back to me right away, I would be calling them, not you.”

His friend was silent on the other end of the line, and Clint suppressed a strangled growl. “This guy is literally dying, Evan, please.”

A huff answered his plea, and Clint could practically see the other man’s face creasing into a pained frown. “Goddamnit,” he muttered, “fine, but you owe me.”

Something released in Clint’s chest, and he let out a shaky breath. “Thanks, man.”

He turned to the other men in the room, trying to give a hopeful smile that was probably more pained than anything. “You’re on speaker phone; I got two detectives here with me and the lead doctor on the case. Hopefully they can answer any questions you got.”

David introduced himself without any more preamble, repeating what he’d just told Clint but including more technical jargon than he had with him or the detectives as laymen. He listened with half an ear as Evan asked questions of the doctor, Ben and Kincaid filling in what they’d deduced about the witch’s captivity and treatment, the majority of the wolf’s attention set on what kind of hell the guy had gone through.

Evan’s voice pulled him back from imagining the guy’s broken body and the reactions of his family if they were ever found.

“So, let me set this out: this witch was fed on vociferously by a vamp; held above ground, away from the earth, in a concrete box with no sunlight for who knows how long; critically injured and ill; and, now, he’s not healing.”

“That about sums it up, yeah,” Kincaid deadpanned, a dark look on his face.

“Was there any evidence of iron use?”

Clint felt a cold hand grab hold of his sternum, and he dropped his head down, scratching his nails down the back of his neck. “Oh shit,” he hissed, a growing realization dawning, “I should’ve thought of that.”

Evan hummed in acknowledgement. “Probably, but there’s a reason you always called me or Markus after you’ve found someone. Treatment isn’t your area of expertise.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Ben cut in, the three men leaning forward with identical looks of agitation.

“It sounds like, on top of everything else, he’s going through something commonly called magical exhaustion.” The vet had his educator’s hat on, his calm voice rumbling through the speaker in tinny waves. “It doesn’t always happen, but a part of a witch’s physical make up is magic. If they use too much without the opportunity to recharge then they can get really sick. Depending on the severity, it can be fatal.”

Clint continued for him when Evan hesitated over a sigh. “In a case like this one, where the witch is being given the opportunity to recover without interference, then you have to be on the lookout for something that’s blocked that ability to do so.

“Iron, cold wrought iron, is like poison to a large number of supernaturals. It’s in all of the fairy tales: for example, it can burn a Fae like a motherfucker and makes controlling a were’s shift or were-state...let’s just say, problematic.”

Clint suppressed a snarl at a decidedly unpleasant memory, his eyes flashing a very brief yellow. He felt a stab of contrition when David flinched backward in alarm, his eyes widening, and pulled himself back with some difficulty before continuing.

“For witches, it interferes with their ability to naturally produce or access their magic, and with such a critically injured witch, one who was trying to cope with long term trauma and magic drainage, shrugging that block off would’ve been an astronomical impossibility.”

If he’d even wanted to, Clint thought darkly.

“So it’s like he’s not producing the chemicals his body needs,” David interjected, still giving Clint a wide side-eye after seeing his eyes change, his fingers drumming on the table. “How do I fix it?”

And that was the real question, wasn’t it? God, what he wouldn’t do to have Markus or his coven’s help.

Evan’s sigh was like static over the line. “It would be too much to ask if you found his grahm anywhere, wouldn’t it?”

Catching the twin looks of dejection from the detectives, Clint shook his head as he answered. “You’d be right about that, Evan.”

“Damnit,” the vet cursed. “The only thing I can think of is something I would recommend for one of my patients—get him in nature, bury him in dirt and sunshine and hope that it would break the block down.”

Like he could sense David’s horrified expression, Evan cut off the doctor’s objections. “I know that’s not possible in this case, so I’m going to recommend the next best thing. Get a house plant, one of those that has a really strong root system, and bury his hand in it. I bet you his magic will latch onto it, maybe it’ll help. If his room has windows, give him as much natural light as possible.”

Clint heard Evan shifting in his seat, a small, sad laugh coloring the line. “I guess you guys don’t let animals into your ICU wards, right?”

“I’ll authorize whatever you think might help,” David corrected, “I already told these guys, but we’re out of our league here, and we all know it. These nurses are protective as hell, and this guy has no one but our boys in blue here and an overworked social worker. If I don’t do something to try and help cause I’m scared of administration then I’ll face a damn mutiny.”

“In that case, get a therapy animal in there. Familiars are a real thing and witches use them for a reason—it won’t be as effective as if it was this guy’s actual familiar, but it won’t hurt.”

Ben and Kincaid shared a look before the latter opened his mouth. “I’ll give Justin a call, and have him bring in Delta. She’s well trained enough, and he seemed to positively respond to her when he was conscious.”

David nodded his assent. “Olivia’s a hard-ass about her being on the floor, but she’ll feel better about Delta than any other animal.”

“What about getting him a grahm?” Ben asked. “You mentioned finding his, surely we could get one for him.”

Clint and Kincaid were already shaking their heads.

“Too personal to each individual witch,” Clint answered, “A healthy witch can channel through someone else’s grahm, but I doubt it would do more than muddle the waters for someone in this guy’s position.”

Humming in affirmation, Evan explained. “I mentioned this guy’s grahm because it might have acted like a jump start, but anything this witch wasn’t involved in making or wasn’t made specifically for his magical pattern might hurt him, and you can’t get a read on his magical pattern if he’s not producing magic.”

Silence reigned at this information, the catch-22 of their situation not settling well with any of the people in the room.

“That’s all I can think to do right now,” Evan stated after a moment, frustration evident in his voice. “I’ll give Deanna a call, see if she’ll give me any more insight.” He didn’t pause before continuing, not giving Clint the opportunity to cut him off, even if the other men heard it. “She’s hurting, Clint, but she doesn’t actually blame you for Markus. She won’t refuse to help this guy just cause you’re working the case.”

Evan knew him too well, but even his words didn’t do anything to soothe the pang of hurt in his chest, his guilt resurfacing. “Thanks, Evan,” he said, voice rough, “let us know if you find anything out, okay?”

“Yeah, man, I’ll let you know.”

David didn’t stick around for much more discussion after the line went dead, walking out of the command station with a mission in his step.

Ben and Kincaid were silent for a few minutes though, leaning into each other’s spaces. A string of envy wrapped itself around Clint’s ribs, pulling tight. What wouldn’t I do to give Nico a hug right now?

Clint sighed, ruffing up the back of his hair as he pulled out his phone. “I’ll send Holland a text updating him on John Doe’s condition and what Evan recommended. Kincaid, you update Justin, I think the faster we get Delta in here the better.”

Nodding, the younger man pulled his phone out and started typing. “He and Delta should be on their way back in, I’ll let him know to hurry.” His face twisted on his next words. “Man, I can’t get the image out of my head-“ he looked at Ben, eyes sorrowful, “-when he was petting Delta. . . “

“Yeah. . .fuck, this case sucks.”

Eyebrows furrowing, Clint cocked his head. “You said that he was conscious at one point, you weren’t able to get a name out of him?“

They both shook their heads, starting to pull more files over to work on. “No, he was too sick,” Ben answered. “Tried to talk, started coughing, and his vitals just tanked. It couldn’t have been ten minutes later, when we were getting him in the ambulance, that he stopped breathing on his own and we had to intubate.”

All three of them sighed, shaking their heads as they tried to shake the depressed atmosphere. It would be a good time for a dark joke, the life blood of career law enforcement, but he couldn’t find the energy.

Turning back to the transcript he’d been reading when David came in, his phone buzzed as Holland texted him back. He cracked a grin as he read the message. Trust Holland to not disappoint.  “You old bastard,” he chuckled.

Ben made a quizzical noise, glancing up from a morbid photograph of blood streaked concrete.

Clint held out the phone, grinning wildly at the man’s snark. “Holland asks if he needs to pick up any essential oils on his way back. Apparently his wife really likes Blue Chamomile before bedtime.”

Ben grinned as he took the proffered phone, reading the text from Holland before shaking his head and dismissing the notification. “He just likes to be contrary, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” Clint leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head and stretching. Closing his eyes blissfully as the tension released in his shoulders. “Stubborn old bastard will be doing this from the grave.”

“This looks like a fun crowd, these your friends?”

Releasing the stretch, Clint blinked his eyes open in confusion, and saw Ben examining his home screen. An uncomfortable curl of sadness turned over in his stomach, but he smiled and nodded. “That’s the group back in Louisiana. We got Markus’s coven and the rest of the pack together for a going away party. It was a good time.”

Ben paused as he examined the photo closer, turning the screen away from Kincaid’s curious gaze and shaking his head. The edges of his perpetual smile formed into a frown on his next question.

“. . . Clint, didn’t you say your witch friend, Markus, was . . . gone?”

“Yeah, uh. . . yeah he is.” Heart sinking in his chest at the unexpected question, Clint swallowed past a sudden lump, words coming carefully. “He. . .uh, he went missing several months ago in Massachusetts.”

Hands shaking, he took the phone back from Ben and doused the screen, placing it face down on the table.  He felt his shoulders try to hitch up around his ears, but he forced them to relax as he curled his hands around themselves. “We knew, uh. . . fuck,” he muttered, already feeling some tears forming on his eyelashes, “we knew that he was taken—violently taken. He called Illyn, said that he’d been shot. That he was scared.”

Kincaid frowned with him, a sympathetic hand tapping the table between them. It made the wolf smile, sure as anything that he’d been welcomed into these men’s pack; that knowledge was a comforting weight fitting snugly around his heart.

Clint cleared his throat, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, and breathed out slowly. His talk with Holland was too fresh for this conversation, but it didn’t help anything to pretend it didn’t happen. Plus, he felt like these guys deserved to know after the discussion with Evan.  They’d pull him out of it if he got too low or distracted to help with the case.

So, he forced himself to continue.

“We could never pin down who took him. It’s an unusual M.O. for a supernatural to use a gun like that but. . . there just weren’t any other leads.“

Fuck. . . fuck, it’s such an unusual M.O., and I still can’t find a goddamn suspect. Still haven’t found him. What kind of fucking investigator am I?

What kinda friend?

I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Markus.

“Did it have to be a supernatural?”  Ben drew Clint back from his spiral with the question, putting a stilling hand on a confused Kincaid’s shoulder as he gave him a warning look.  

Clint huffed a strangled laugh, looking down at the table with a humorless smile. “Yeah, yeah, it woulda had to have been. One ‘a the few things Markus told Illyn was that he had to use a lot of magic to get some distance. Markus is. . .” he sucked in a pained breath through his teeth, “was, a very powerful witch. Even though he didn’t have his grahm on him, it woulda been hard, damn hard, for some supernatural to take him if he had the opportunity to use his magic. No way a human could have.”

Ben nodded in the corner of Clint’s vision. “That makes sense, no idea what kind of supernatural did it?”

Clenching his jaw around the residual anger at Illyn and himself, Clint shook his head. “By the time I was called in, the scene was 40 plus hours cold. I couldn’t even be there for the first week, I was in Montana wrapping up the investigation on a child-trafficking ring. Roxanne, the friend I called in to investigate, suspected a vamp, but she couldn’t get much of a read on the scene with that much decay and the foot traffic that came through it. All of her leads eventually ran cold.”

Both officers grimaced, knowing intimately how difficult it was to investigate a scene like that, putting together the pieces of his guilt. Clint shared a commiserating smile with both of them before studiously examining his thumb nail, continuing the story.

“Illyn,” he sighed, the gust of air shimmying the papers on the table, “Illyn was able to get a brief limited-telepathic link within the two days after he was taken. All she got was that he was in pain and that he was being kept in a concrete room with fluorescent lights. She stated that he couldn’t have been 50 miles from where he was taken at the time of contact, so that’s where we concentrated our search. There wasn’t any further contact.

“We never found a body, but with the violence of the attack, the amount of pain that he was in. . . “ He felt a shudder crawl down his back, his esophagus trying to curl up into a knot before he could clear his throat. He kept his gaze locked on his hands, not wanting to see the looks on their faces. “Statistically speaking, even in a normal case, it’s unlikely that he would have survived this long, but a witch of his caliber. . .”

“They don’t tend to last very long when they’ve been taken within the supernatural community,” Ben finished for him. Clint nodded, biting his lip, fighting the urge to rub at his face. “Clint. . . Do you mind if I have a second look at that picture?”

“Nah, ‘course not.” He slid his phone back over, not quite feeling the bewilderment growing in his stomach at the request.

He watched Ben pick the phone back up like it was a bomb, taking a deep breath before tapping the screen. He nodded to himself, biting at his cheek before turning the screen toward Kincaid. “Tell me what you see, Kin’,” he all but whispered.

Clint froze as he watched all of the blood drain from Kincaid’s face.

“Oh, fuck. . .”

[mental-mona]

On Chronic Illness Part 1

You ask me how I'm doing. I plaster a smile on my face, say "Ok, how are you?" and we make small talk. But what I really want to say is, "I feel like crap. My head is killing me and I'm coming off a bipolar episode. Every day is pain. It's making me irritable, and what I really want to do right now is go home and collapse. Now, unless you want to help me in some way, would you please leave me alone so I can do that?" Except that you would be completely taken aback by that and not know how to respond. Unexpectedly telling someone that life isn't so great is not a socially acceptable thing to do; unless the person is a really close friend I'm supposed to just pretend everything's fine as we exchange the usual pleasantries. Besides, opening up and admitting that I'm having issues leaves me far too vulnerable, and who wants to be vulnerable?

If you are more than a nodding acquaintance, at this point you probably stop me and say, "But I do care! I do really want to hear about what's happening with you!" To which my response is, no, you probably don't. If I were to complain to you about how much pain I'm in as often as I want to, i.e. as much as it hurts, you would soon think that I'm horribly whiny and try to distance yourself. If I were to complain about how much this is killing my life and my ability to do anything, you would think that I'm being lazy and self-centered. Maybe I am being a bit self-centered, but let's see how well you function in this position and then we'll talk.

Let me try to help you understand. Have you ever read about spoon theory? If not, read it here. I'll wait. Do you have a little more perspective now? Good. Would you believe that Christine left out a crucial aspect of how spoons work? She touched on it, but didn't go into it. See, I can start off the day with 20 spoons, and then in the middle of the day when I've already used 8 spoons get a wave of pain or a massive mood swing that knocks off 10. Basically what happens then is that either I "borrow against tomorrow's spoons," as she put it, and guarantee that I'll be nonfunctional the next day, or more likely I ask my husband to help me out because there is no way I'm up to making dinner. Also, in addition to every little item on the day's agenda being broken down into multiple spoon-stealing pieces, some tasks may cost more than one spoon. For example, driving to class or work might be one spoon, but spending a day actually in class or at work is more like 5 spoons.

Christine talks about starting off with 12 spoons and making them last through the day, using a somewhat simplified explanation of how every tiny aspect of every task costs a spoon. Personally, due to the need to break everything down and the reasons I described above, I'd be happy if I could manage self-care on a day when I woke up with just 12 spoons, never mind do anything that you'd consider an accomplishment or even just a routine part of normal life. Imagine a day like that, where you wake up with so few spoons that the most you can expect of yourself is to put food in your stomach a few times and maybe change PJs, and that's assuming that the pain doesn't knock you out even worse than it already has. Now imagine an even worse day, one where you're so depressed that all you can do is curl up in bed and cry, or you're paralyzed by anxiety, or you're in such physical agony that you can barely move. What would you do on a day like that? Ask a loved one to come take care of you? Suffer through it with nothing but a water bottle and the tortilla chips you found in that brief moment when you managed to pull it together enough to go foraging? Now imagine having days like that on a regular basis for weeks, months, or even years. Getting the picture?

It's not just the pain itself; it's the emotions that accompany it. If you're male, you've probably been socialized to be a provider for your family and to be stoic about your physical and emotional pain, correct? If you're female, you've probably been socialized that you're supposed to take care of everyone around you, and though you're allowed to be emotional, you're also supposed to be able to move on after a good cry, right? Well, now you can't fulfill either of those gender roles. You're knocked flat, and until your doctors figure out how to cure you or at least get your symptoms under control, you will continue to be out of commission for the foreseeable future. Good luck being stoic about your pain or quickly moving on from it. If you weren't already depressed, you probably will become so now. Think about it: unrelenting pain and debilitation, inability to function as a normal member of society, needing someone or a rotating group of someones to take care of you...for your average fiercely independent adult, this is an incredibly painful prospect in and of itself.

You'll notice that in addition to pointing out how pain can depress you on its own, I've been treating physical and emotional pain as equal in terms of the definition of chronic pain. That's because to the sufferer, they are equally debilitating and feel equally horrible, even if they affect functioning in different ways. If I'm in constant physical pain then my body's run off with my mind, and no matter what my brain wants to take on, if my body isn't up for it then it's not going to happen. If my mood's gone haywire then my mind has basically run off with my body, and I won't have either the energy or the emotional wherewithal to face my life. Please don't brush off my depression or whatever debilitating thing is going on with my mind as me just being melodramatic and/or lazy. The thought of trying to face life is genuinely exhausting and overwhelming; I just can't do it. The thoughts in my head and my screwed up mental biochemistry won't let me.

Similarly, don't write off my complaints of constant physical pain as malingering or melodramatic. It really does hurt too much for me to function, and it really is a constant thing. If I say I can't do something one day, I mean it. I may have a migraine so bad that my head is throbbing in time with my heartbeat and I can't see straight, or abdominal pain so bad that all I can do is double over with a hot pack and wait for it to disappear, or all-over muscle pain so bad that I can't find any comfortable position whatsoever, or all-over joint pain that makes something protest every time I move...the list goes on. Depending on my condition, I may also be completely exhausted and fog-brained.

Remember, these are things that I feel to some extent even on good days when I can more or less function. On bad days I'm completely incapacitated. I've tried to help you understand what I'm going through, but if you've never been mentally ill or in chronic physical pain, you will never quite be able to fully get where I'm coming from. So, now do you see why you really don't want to listen to me complain about the pain as much as it actually hurts?

[alisamaefawn394]

Following up last nights post, disabled and chronically ill people are a lot more prevalent than you may think. And I’ve never been even read a normal book about a chronically ill person, which is why I’m having to write one myself.

Many Chronic illnesses are invisible disabilities, but at the same time, a lot of people end up in wheelchairs too, mostly ambulatory. Others get chronic illnesses from their paralysis and other reasons to use wheelchairs. It all fills in.

I personally have a spinal cord injury on top of collagen dysfunction, heart problems, my entire nervous system not working, chronic pain all over, and one of the most debilitating conditions in the world that gives its sufferers less than half human function to live with.

A chronic illness is a long term, life long health condition that has no treatment and no cure. This means that we’ll have it from when it develops, usually in teenage years, up until a natural death. Sometimes these conditions can kill us, too, but doctors don’t research that. Yes, some conditions have meds they can hand out to make symptoms manageable, but even then so many of us cannot work whatsoever, struggle to bear children, are too much of a burden to find love - or so we’re told.

I spend my days reading and watching films. And the disability representation I see is appalling, so in all fairness no wonder the government and the world and people in general and fandoms are completely ableist.

I mean some of my favourite books are TFIOS, five feet apart and Me Before You and from experience they did a pretty decent job at portraying these conditions, especially me before you which is my favourite book ever written. My only comment is how they cast completely able actors when they should’ve cast Augustus as an actual amputee, and they should’ve cast Will as an actual quad, or at least a paraplegic or someone who has lived life in a wheelchair. This is called DISABILITY ERASURE.

Harry Potter and Marvel are just as ableist. There are no disabled or chronically ill characters in the Harry Potter books or films at all (unless you count Remus my babe who’s condition in the muggle world would be ME/CFS and not aids), however I think the corporation is a little redeemed by adding Murphy into the game, a wheelchair bound quidditch commentator. And one awesome fan fiction author Fhreya added a paraplegic character into one of her books for the last part which was really cool rep.

Marvel is just as bad. In the films, unlike some comics, Hawkeye isn’t deaf, and the only people who have ever been sick or disabled have been miraculously cured. (Spoilers) Dr Strange w his hands, the other geezer who tells him where to go with his paraplegia, Tony’s heart, and then Rhodey who learns to walk in a completely fantastical way which can never happen in the real world. It’s horrible to see because a disabled avenger would be suuuper sick with one of Tony’s cool wheelchairs.

It’s the same with all other fandoms this way, and I do not see why disabled and chronically ill people get zero representation in fandoms and in franchises, not to mention the normal world. It needs to change, ableism needs to die, but we can’t protest for ourselves so we need people to do it for us. It may be a start for writers to simply include disabled characters in fan fiction.🤷🏼‍♀️

Please make a change. 🦼❤️

[makimakikun]

Maki Katsuragi: The Autism Theory

Maki Katsuragi could be on the autism spectrum. Here’s why! TW: Abuse mentions/references, mental disorders/disabilities in-depth, child abuse, psychological aspects, and childhood conditioning. 

I think the common conception of mentally ill/disabled people not being confident in nature or never being able to fit into a setting isn’t entirely accurate for everyone or a good way to sum up such a wide variety of people. 

Let’s go into maki’s personality. His most noticeable quality: he’s confident. He’s confident enough to shape the environment he enters if he wishes. He’s confident enough to make people bend or even change their entire perspective on things. 

Did you notice everyone had false misconceptions about him? Everyone was surprised when he said certain things, like they weren’t expected of someone “with his personality”. For example, what he told Itsuki after he hit the boy with the racket, what he said when Tsubasa held the racket, what he told Yuu after confronting them, what he said to Touma after the matches, etc.  There are so many examples of people misconstruing Maki. People thinking he’s not as smart or as considerate as he actually is.

Why? I think it’s because he comes off a certain way. He seems too confident; too formal; too anti-social; too whatever. Everyone has misconceptions of everyone else, but these are things I heavily related to: the ways everyone saw Maki. 

To add personal experiences-- in the environment I was raised in, I had to be confident. I had to learn how to confront opposition with a calm war face. I had to learn how to speak; how to stand; how to stare into people’s eyes despite being uncomfortable with it; how to seem like I did things with little thought to them, despite the fact that I overthought constantly. This made many people think I was an airhead, or just generally not as smart as others.  I’ve had many people be really surprised that I was insecure, that I had issues, that I was smart & analytical. it’s happened to most people I met. These same misconceptions are bred when people see Maki, just because he’s confident and makes talking/moving/doing anything look easy. While we can see he’s smart as the audience, the other characters cannot, and this is important to remember.

Living while mentally disabled in a situation where you have an assigned job (like mediator & provider, which are Maki’s jobs) and huge responsibilities (both household chores/jobs and/or emotional support, which are also Maki’s jobs) is different from living while ill in a situation where your responsibilities are limited (like Touma’s).  There are many reasons why Touma’s issues seem more relatable and noticeable to the audience than Maki’s, and it has to do with the familial and outside dynamics they experienced throughout their life, as well as personality and disorder conflicts.

By personality and disorder conflicts, I mean that Maki and Touma have a lot of differences, both in upbringing, personality, and in the disorders I believe they have. Maki contrasts from Touma’s Autistic relatability most likely because he seems to have both ADHD and Autism, in my opinion. It’s a combination that can leave you a lot more jumbled and harder to relate to than just having Autism or ADHD alone, like I headcanon that Touma only has Autism.

Circling back to Maki’s personality. He seems to have a case of Chronic Chillness, outside of his obvious impatience issue, which I think is an indicator of his trueness as a person. In that respect, I mean that his impatience may be an indicator that he’s not as nonchalant as he seems. This is a huge part of my own mentally ill experience, so I felt the need to mention it.  It doesn’t mean I never look anxious or that I’m never anxious; It’s that no one sees it or suspects it. Sometimes I even convince myself. I have lax shoulders, I make lazed movements, I speak confidently & a lot of the time with slang or curses. Maki exhibits these qualities as well, aside from the cursing. However, I become starchly formal with people I don’t plan on befriending or becoming close with - esp in a professional setting (I.E. how Maki acted with the teacher and meeting the team, as I’ve concluded his original belief was that he wouldn’t attempt to attach himself to the team emotionally at first) - and I add formality to most newer people unless it’s a casual setting and I want them to feel comfortable/welcome. 

I create environments where either respect is expected or people feel obligated to bend in their hatred, whether it be out of insecurity, fear, or genuine appreciation. Maki does speak confidently and calmly, and he does all that I listed, in my opinion.  Let’s talk about the symptoms and symptom portrayals.  ♡ First up on the list: Intensive focusing/ Hyperfocusing/Interest in specific topics alone, with a habit of losing interest or not showing interest in other things. This is one of the most talked-about symptoms in processing and learning disorders from my experience.  One could say Maki is the definition of this symptom. He shows little interest in school, clubs, or any other subject besides astronomy. Specifically, as of most episodes, his book given to him by Ryouma, which he seems to continuously read despite it being a small book. We can assume he may be reading it over and over again.  The only club he now focuses on is soft tennis. That began from a place of obligation, not genuine interest. He seemed to have felt morally obligated to join after receiving a promise to money and a racket. However, we can assume he’s more emotionally invested in this team now, after rekindling his friendship with Touma and meeting the club members.  His focus on the club is obvious. He allows it to be a part of his daily life, and seems to even spend his off-time putting together schedules for their play, as seen in the episode where Rintarou and Touma speak privately. He also speaks of soft tennis during breaks within the school or dinner at his own apartment, as seen in the episodes where Yuu, Kanako, and Touma visit.  ♡ Moving on to the second symptom. Tics, like repeated motions, phrases, or movements. These movements or phrases can vary in frequency and noticeability. It can be shown subtly or as a common and known action that this person does every day. Maki Katsuragi seems to have a catchphrase - saying “I see.” or “naru-ho-do”, but since this isn’t your typical anime and the characters are portrayed as a lot more realistic than troupes, we can assume this could be a sign of a tic. He also tends to make strange movements while thinking, which is a sign that he’s trying to process what he’s about to say or what he’s thinking of.  This scene, in particular, stood out to me. While thinking, Maki idly swung his hand in circles. This is something I do personally as well. I tend to circle my hands while thinking to either enunciate my words or figure out a way to explain what I’m about to say, as well as try to process things I’ve heard. 

♡ On to the third symptom, which is - in my opinion - a very important one. Trouble showing or expressing certain emotions well or clearly. This can range from ways of speech, to expressions, to body language, and so forth. This can be both subtle or severe, depending on the case. Maki seems to be the type that wears smiles on his sleeve in good situations, but... let me ask you a question. Did anyone see the ending coming? I can’t say that I did, but I can tell you that I don’t think it’s unrealistic for it to happen. What I noticed about Maki is that he’s not the best at showcasing emotions outside the scope of positive or neutral, which is a huge indicator of many things. Two of them are some of the main issues in his life. Physical and mental abuse (from his father), and an overly cheerful and somewhat neglectful parental figure whose nature most likely makes him feel obligated to keep up a facade and not vent his frustrations (like his mother). In truth, many of the scenes where Maki was happy in recent episodes could’ve been motivators for him to pick up the knife. The looming threat of his father never went away, and when you’re in a happy situation, while there’s a threat still lurking, it can leave you to wonder when all these good things will be taken away. His mother possibly being hurt or even kidnapped are huge solidifiers for his resolve. I’ll be addressing this motivation-driven argument further in another post. Moving on now! Maki shows very few expressions. One of his most common being a blank face that looks a touch angry. It doesn’t mean he is angry; I think the intention behind his facial expressions is that he has trouble showing a relaxed neutral expression as well as having what many would call a “resting bitch face”. Most of his expressions range from constant neutral, curious, scared, happy, or the occasional mad. His voice tone is also key here. He often speaks around the same keys. His voice is quiet and calm, with the occasional hint of playfulness. However, it rarely rises or falls drastically, unless in a serious situation. Even then, Maki still doesn’t sound very different from his usual tone.  He also moves very directly and with purpose. It’s rare for him to show hesitation or anxiety, which may be a product of Autism, ADHD, and/or living with his father, where any sign of fear, sadness, or anger could cost him. ♡  Here’s a fourth symptom. Not remembering information, especially information not regarding hyperfixations or general interests. This is common in many illnesses but is hugely prevalent in both Autism and ADHD.  This is shown especially in the scene where he meets Kanako Mitsue for the second time canonly. He didn’t even remember her face, name, or room despite just meeting her yesterday. This is a huge indicator of a memory problem regarding information his brain considers “not important”, as he seems to remember most things about his interests and chores clearly. 

This is getting increasingly long, so I think I may be ending it here! This is a subject I could go on and on for, but I think I made some good and valid points here! It took me a long time to finish this, as my motivation is lacking.  Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it! 

[kathleen-meyer-lyme-survivor]

DISCLAIMER:  I have signed a waiver and become a contributor to an upcoming book by a fellow, healed Lyme patient. Some or all of this story may be published in the coming months. I have added and updated some of this information 9.12.2020, so hopefully I will not violate any copyright laws. 

 

NOTE:  Do not assume everything I write here or on my Facebook Lyme page will help. Everyone heals differently. Working with a knowledgeable, sincere doctor and finding the right combination of medication, herbs, personal lifestyle and diet changes will help. One size doesn’t fit all for Lyme disease treatments. Don’t be afraid to research and consult with your doctor. Get a notebook and write down EVERYTHING; diet, exercise, symptoms, dates, times, and ANY physical or emotional stress-causing events. Stress seems to be the biggest culprit of all diseases. Hypocrites stated, “All disease begins in the gut”. HE WAS RIGHT!! 

 

NAME:  Kathleen Meyer 

I live in Northern VA. I am a retired, 60+ year old Grandmother. I am widowed, and I was living alone when Lyme hit. Symptoms began between September 12-14, 2012. 

 

BACKSTORY:  September 12, 2012. I felt something prick my lower back. When I reached around to check, the area was very hot to touch. This was in my car in Reston, Virginia, on a 90+ degree day. I had left the car windows open slightly during the work day. 

The previous two weeks, I had been on vacation to the Pacific Northwest, to visit my Sister. While there, I visited a national park, which is highly populated by deer and other furry animals; large and small. There was hiking and a few photo ops while sitting on a rock wall. Deer roam around freely in the town where my Sister lives. 

After going to my family doctor almost daily between 9/14-10/12 to complain of strange symptoms, I was finally tested for Lyme, West Nile virus and Rocky Mountain Spotted fever. My doctor was skeptical at first, but I kept insisting the symptoms weren’t normal for any flu I had ever had. When I mentioned living by woods and recently spending time in a national park, I was taken more seriously.  

 

I was diagnosed with Lyme on October 12,2012, (clinically by relating symptoms) and blood work. Side note: Because I had Mono at age 18, I was also diagnosed with Mono “exposed”. I was instructed to go home, stay on bedrest and get clearance from an infectious disease doctor, before returning to work. I was on sick leave and coworker’s leave donations between 10/15-11/13/2012. I was also instructed NOT to work or look at work email while out sick; which I now understand completely. The philosophy seems to be, “Being out on sick leave means you’re too sick to be at work, so don’t try to do any work at home”. Never mind that after two weeks of bedrest, going stir crazy and wanting to do something, is very normal. 

 

TREATMENTS:  I was immediately placed on Doxycycline 200 mg, by the family doctor, for 20 days. That didn’t work. Then Doxycycline 200 mg for 10 days. When that didn’t work, there was 30 days additional. When I ran out, I waited between prescriptions about a week or two, to see if symptoms would come back. Symptoms kept coming back. I was on/off Doxycycline for a total of 60 days. My insurance company wouldn’t authorize more than 60 days, so I was given Cefuroxime 500 mg for 30 days. 

 

NOTE:  At the beginning of the Cefuroxime prescription I doubled the dose for the first 4 days, just to see what would happen. I realize that wasn’t a very smart thing to do, but I wanted to kill what was making me so sick. After the 4 days, I used the prescription correctly. At the end of the 30 days, no symptoms returned.  

 

NOTE:  I always eat yogurt in between any oral antibiotic dose. The reason is because all antibiotics kill all bacteria, including the beneficial bacteria we need in our gut, where the main part of the immune system is located. The other part of the immune system is our brain. The brain and gut communicate with each other UNLESS we have an illness like Lyme. The brain is affected and doesn't communicate correctly with the gut during Lyme, and probably during other autoimmune illnesses. 

 

MYSTERIOUS SYMPTOMS BEFORE TREATMENT:  High blood pressure, cardiomegaly, chronic bronchitis, prolapsed mitre heart valve, GERD, Barretts esophagus, large hiatal hernia. Other symptoms; short term memory issues, difficulty with vision, floaters, reading, sensitive to bright light and sunshine. Difficulty walking, bumping into walls, problems with grip and dropping things. Insomnia, sometimes several nights in a row. Constant buzzing, tingling, pain throughout my entire body. Chest pain, head and neck pain, difficulty with bowels, difficulty swallowing and anxiety from feeling so ill for no known reason, except Lyme. I was able to swallow correctly again, after an endoscopy and scraping of webbed growth (non-cancerous). 

 

WHAT THE WORLD NEEDS TO KNOW:  ALL doctors, nurses including E.R. personnel need to be made aware of how many hundreds of symptoms Lyme can have. It is known to mimic at least 400 other illnesses and syndromes. Millions of people worldwide are being mis-diagnosed or given catch-all diagnosis out of frustration. Doctors have about 15 minutes per patient and don’t have time to research and address everyone’s symptoms. More research is needed and the patient’s symptoms need to be taken more seriously. The phrase “The customer is always right”, needs to apply to patients as well. Haphazard treatment of symptoms and covering up symptoms DOESN’T WORK FOR LYME!! 

 

NOTE:  Most medical schools are funded by big pharma. They do not provide enough education to upcoming doctors about Lyme and similar illnesses. They don’t stress enough on nutrition or healthy eating as a benefit to patients. I have asked my doctors and chiropractor about this, and they said the same thing. 

Do NOT listen to any doctor who tells you your child has “Growing Pains”. Find a doctor who is knowledgeable about Lyme, preferably a young doctor with a growing family of his/her own. My family doctor diagnosed and treated me correctly, was THAT doctor, not a specialist, a general practitioner. 

 

HOW HAS LYME CHANGED MY LIFE; GOOD AND BAD:   Lyme caused me to be bedridden for over 3 weeks, afraid to drive for fear of getting lost, and feeling like I had early onset Alzheimer’s. I now feel that it was an eye-opening experience, which awakened me to how poorly I had been managing my diet and exercise on a daily basis. I also believe the 2012 influenza shot might have been flawed, because I never felt healthy after that, and it possibly weakened my immune system so Lyme and Mono could sneak in.  

I went from quick and easy meals and very little exercise to self-improvement. I learned from the Lyme pages on Facebook from reading other people’s stories. It was almost like putting a really large jigsaw puzzle together, very slowly and not having all the pieces in front of me. 

 

SOMETHING I DO NOW THAT I NEVER DID BEFORE LYME:  I now pay closer attention to my physical and emotional health, what foods I eat and the amount of daily exercise I get. I also developed pre-diabetes type 2 during the Lyme period. I am now eating real food and watching my weight in order to keep the pre-diabetes under control, without medication.  

 

NOTE:  Doctor’s won’t tell you unless you press them, that medication for everything is NOT the best way to control anything, because you’re stuck on the medication for the rest of your life. Our bodies are capable of healing, with help by US.  

 

THE MOST FRUSTRATING PART OF LYME DISEASE:  I would have to say, lack of compassion for what patients are going through on the part of medical professionals, insurance companies, news media, and the general public. “Take these pills and you’ll feel better”. This doesn’t work with Lyme disease; trust me. However, I know many people who believe everything their doctor says and I hear, “My doctor says it’s__________. More research is needed and the actual CAUSE should be researched and treated instead of pills to cover up underlying symptoms. 

 

MY BIGGEST SUPPORTER(S):  I have a private Facebook page called “Where is Lyme Disease”, which has 249 members. I consider all of them to be my supporters; we support each other. I have been posting there since March, 2015, before any of us realized Lyme is EVERYWHERE!! I HAVE POSTED HOW I TREATED, HEALED AND WHAT I AM DOING NOW TO STAY HEALTHY. Those answers were not readily found using an internet search in 2012. Everything I post on the page is from what I went through. I am trying to help others with Lyme get through it and not give up. 

I give all credit to healing to authors of books about Lyme struggles. There are too many to mention, but “Cure Unknown” by Pamela Weintraub was the best one. I read it several times, because the first time I tried to read, the words ran together and blurred because of Lyme. I am now able to read again, and have re-read several books I couldn’t comprehend before. If there’s a diagnosis of ADD or ADHD, suspect Lyme!!  

 

BIGGEST DAILY STRUGGLE:  Praying it never comes back and thanking God for every day which I am granted. Experimenting with different diet plans and keeping healthy. Getting away from white sugar, white flour and other overly processed, easy to fix foods and getting real food into my body is a daily challenge. 

Continuing to learn about and helping others deal with Lyme. I have helped quite a few people NOT give up. I wish I could help everyone or was a millionaire so I could donate money for a cure.  

[haildoodles-writing]

endless

ONESHOT

Pairing: Connor x reader

Summary: You suffer with chronic pain — and today isn’t a good day. But Connor is there, as he always is.

Warnings: chronic illness, slight angst that turns into tooth-rotting fluff

A/N: Outside of readers having anxiety and/or depression, I haven’t seen a lot of D:BH Connor fics with a reader that has any other prominent health issues. This was created to bring more inclusion and awareness into the life of someone with lifelong nerve pain. The exact chronic illness depicted here is Fibromyalgia— my version of it, at least, as the symptoms, types of pain, and coping methods do vary from person to person. This oneshot was based on my own experiences living with it.

Dedicated to @thirium-bae, @moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown, @queefsofsilence, and many others who supported me in writing and posting this fic.

* * *

It was a bad day— a bad evening, to be more precise.

Occasionally this happened. Your nerve pain was sporadic, coming on too quickly and too randomly to decipher a proper pattern. Some days you were bedridden; other days you could deal with it and push through work. Sometimes the pain was direct and sharp, other times it felt like a body-wide ache. And on the worst days, even Connor’s hugs and rubbing and squeezes all weren’t enough to dull the pain. 

Either way, you knew Connor hated it. You knew that he always had, ever since you first told him about it.

Not only did he hate the fact that you had so many health issues the he couldn’t always help, he hated the fact that it was always so random. He couldn’t estimate a common time for when you would wake suddenly, crying into his arms. He couldn’t decipher exactly how you felt, as it was never the same. He couldn’t enter your problems into his systems and find a way to fix you, and it killed him. And the way he would sometimes hold himself responsible killed you, too.

That evening, Connor had called you after his shift at the DCPD. He had offered to pick you up and go to Jimmy’s Bar with him to celebrate Hank’s birthday — everyone at the precinct would be there. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you were currently in the bath, curled up and speaking to him through the phone that was teetering on the edge of the tub. The pain today wasn’t exactly bad; it was more of an aching and uncomfortable nuisance than anything. Still, though, the prescriptions from this morning didn’t do much. You figured that maybe the muscle relaxer salts would.

“. . . Love?”

You hadn’t realized you had zoned out and straightened, water falling from your back. The bruises that you knew weren’t there ached. “Yeah, sorry. Got distracted for a second.” You breathed, wondering how to tell him—

“Sick day?” he asked, ever so gently.

As if he could read your vitals and scan you through the phone, he knew how you felt. A smile tugged at your lips, despite how thick your throat suddenly became.

“Yeah.”

You heard him pause at the other end and could feel the breath he drew in your own chest. You could almost see his LED swirling yellow, watching him walk to a private corridor to drown out the noise. His hand likely itching to pull out his coin and fiddle with it.

“On the scale?” Connor eventually asked, his voice even lower and softer than before.

It was your thing: ever since you told him, ever since you sat him down and explained to him why you were “sick” every so often, the two of you developed a scale to rate the pain. One on the best day, ten on the worst. It was Connor’s own way to understand how you were feeling and to support you accordingly — still, you felt like a hindrance. But he would kiss you and show you just how much he loved you until you realized you weren’t, and the feeling would quickly fade.

You ached to the bone — but it wasn’t as bad as other occasions, right? “. . . Six,” you eventually decided. Six was probably accurate.

Connor breathed deeply again. “I wish I could help, my love.”

Despite his melancholy tone, you smiled anyways. “You always do, Con.” And it’s true — he always did. He loved you and you loved him, and that was enough.

A shuffle and a male screech in the background (likely Gavin), and Connor eventually spoke. “I’m leaving at the moment, but we’ll talk when I reach the cab, alright?”

You nodded — and then chuckled when you realized he couldn’t see you. “I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you,” and by the sweetness in his voice when he spoke, you always knew he meant it.

The line cut off, and you were stuck staring at the picture of the two of you from a few months ago: Your first anniversary. A heavy thump came from your chest and you grinned despite yourself.

Eventually, though, even the water grew uncomfortable. You ended up slowly standing from the bath, releasing your still-dry hair from its bun, and grabbing the nearest bathrobe. You had all but managed to drop onto your bed before the front door beeped, its security codes being entered in. Another click, a handful of footsteps, and then your husband was standing in the doorway.

He was in his dress shirt, shoes, and slacks from work — a habit he never managed to drop from before his deviancy. But he had grown his hair slightly and changed its texture years ago— he told you he liked it better that way — so now loose waves grazed his forehead. That single stubborn strand still remained prominent in his hair, however. Despite how often you run your hands through it.

At your soft smile, he took the invitation and sat beside you, pocketing his coin and raising your legs to rest them on top of his. You managed to lean forward slowly and steal a few kisses before your back began its insistent aching again.

“You didn’t call me in the cab,” you chided, the smile still tugging at your lips.

Connor tilted his head in the way he knew made you blush every time — every time — and winked. “Forgive me, my love. I had to make a few arrangements on the way home.” A stray hand rubbed up and down your calf and thigh, focusing on the places he knew were commonly painful.

“Arrangements?” You raised a brow.

You adjusted your position, moving your legs to fall off the bed — they began to hurt too much to be touched, despite how much you wanted them to. Instead, you opted to lean against him, raising a hand to trace his LED. Connor’s fingers then began to rub the length of your spine, and you nearly preened in relief.

“We’re staying in tonight,” he replied nonchalantly, pulling his synthetic skin back from the hand clasping yours and fiddling with the band on your finger. You nearly spoke up to refuse him staying — this was his father’s birthday after all — but he silenced you with a look.

“You never go higher than a five unless its debilitating,” he whispered. And then he raised his head to match your gaze and take you in — body and soul, in a way that made you warm all over again — and you froze.

Sometimes it marveled you how much he could love you. How deep within his lines of code and limitless intelligence and desire to solve every problem he touched, he chose you. Not just your best days and not just your worst, but you. All of you. And in return, you chose all of him. In his bad moments, when he would get too stuck inside his own head and nearly choke on his own guilt and fear, you were there to relieve him. You always would be.

You kissed the nearest patch of skin you could find, pressing your lips against the juncture between Connor’s neck and shoulder. If he noticed your watery eyes, he didn’t mention it.

“Hank will have his hands full with both the entire precinct and Collin and Nines celebrating with him,” he said. “I sent him our well-wishes in the cab. Besides, we can just stop by in the morning.”

You laughed. “He’ll be hungover, though.”

“But hungover Hank is better than drunk Hank, yes?”

“You’re not wrong,” you admitted. Connor smiled at that— a genuine, heart wrenching smile that made your chest burst all over again.

The two of you then sat there for a few minutes in silence, breathing each other in as he rubbed in between your shoulder blades. It was one of your favorite parts of the day, if you had to choose: when you were together, chests rising in sync and limbs intertwined and heads leaning against each other. It made you feel whole.

When you relaxed enough from his touch, he stood from the bed with you in his arms and headed for the doorway. You yelped in protest as the bathrobe began to slip from your shoulder, but Connor merely winked cheekily and continued on.

“Movie night?” he suggested, his signature puppy-dog look creeping onto his face. Trying to distract you, no doubt, to keep you from lifting the robe to cover your exposed shoulder.

But you laughed again and buried your face against his neck instead, listening to his thyrium heart pump. “Deal.”

And despite the fact that your body was throbbing and crumbling at the edges, he didn’t hesitate to kiss you senseless and love you so wholeheartedly that everything else became secondary.

And as he eventually fell into stasis later that night and held you so closely from his side of the bed, you took him in fully. You traced the freckles on his cheeks and the metal plates on his skin-absent palms, and it was then that you promised yourself that you would never cease loving him.  Never.

Until you were the dust of the earth and floated from place to place, you swore to yourself that you would love Connor endlessly.

[bourbonstreetdevil]

More Headcanon Ramblings

If you don’t like mental illness headcanons or in-depth talk about mental illnesses then there’s no need to read further. It’s all gucci, go about your business my lovelies!

DISCLAIMER: I’m not a professional in any way. I just have a special interest in the brain and its many quirks and afflictions. I tend to see these things in characters I see or play. Remy, Kurt, Cole, Tim, and Klaus especially. But right now I’m gonna talk about Remy! Since. This is a Gambit blog lmao.

So without further ado: here are some disabilities I think fit Remy pretty damn well. Ones that have Pretty Much Canon Evidence will be normal. Anything that’s purely my headcanon will have (HC) before it.

-

PTSD! This one is probably the more obvious one. I think most X-Men who’ve seen battle have it at this point, with all the fucked up things they’ve seen. Remy has likely had it since he was little. Canonically one of his earliest memories is being cuffed to a fucking patio fence while the Guild strapped up a gator to see if he could slip the cuffs in time. He was two years old. Well if that’s not traumatizing I don’t know what is.

(HC) Katrina. In my Remy’s canon, he was around 13 which is when most mutant powers kick in. Especially due to, you guessed it: Stress! I’d say being pinned down in a flooding building counts as stressful! He blew up the rubble and almost died. That’s definitely a ticked box on the Trauma Checklist.

Let’s see... What else...

The life in the Thieve’s guild couldn’t have been easy, especially trying so hard to impress the guild and his ‘adopted’ father. He had to grow up fucking fast if he wanted to live.

Killing a man at 18 after just getting married.

Getting A Fucking Lobotomy! (Side note his head was shaved for that which I think is a fucking crime)

Learning that all this work was to lead a group of murderers to an innocent group of Morelocks!

Getting Fucking Gutted By Sabertooth!

Misc. traumas from living on the run/getting into fights/Belladonna’s death

Most of his ventures with the X-Men!

MYSTIQUE, who regularly manipulated his issues with self-worth and self-loathing!

Apocalypse/Getting turned into the Horseman of Death, which canonically HURT SO MUCH HE HAD TO BE STRAPPED DOWN.

Numerous kidnappings/torture sessions by various villains!

BEING ACTUALLY BLINDED FOR SOME TIME.

Probably more from comics I haven’t read yet!

-

Depression. Self-loathing, self-worth issues, and self-harm specifically. It’s no secret that Remy LeBeau has had one hell of a fucked up life. Abandoned at birth over his mutated eyes, stolen into a family of thieves, basically used as a tool all his life. He’s been used and subconsciously trained to think he’s only worth something if he’s useful. Thus self-worth issues.

(HC) He had no outlet for his self-loathing, but he did have a neat power to charge shit with kinetic energy. Vibrational kinetic energy is, well, vibrational. He holds something and focuses, and it vibrates. He could manipulate an object to vibrate so much that it would heat up. Easy way to cause burns. Easy way to self-harm without being noticed. If people asked why he had burns, he could say he was trying to practice and the thing blew up. Nobody actually cared enough to ask, which made it worse. This is why my Remy has no feeling in his palms! He’s burned all the nerve endings out, whoops!

He outran his use to the Guild when he killed Belladonna’s brother, even in self-defense. The point of the marriage was to settle a feud between the two guilds, to bond them. While they still held the truce despite Remy killing the man, he was exiled from New Orleans. Abandoned for a second time in his life, by someone who likely convinced him he “Should be thankful he was taken in by the Guild.” and how Jean Luc “Stuck his neck out for him.” (Let’s remember I’m pretty sure he was 18 when they were married.)

Plus they abandoned him at a crucial part of his life: His powers starting to get too powerful for him to handle. This drives him to seek help. Unfortunately for him, that lands him with the Marauders. He almost dies trying to save the Morelocks after figuring out what the Marauders had been up to, but he pretty much fails. That’s a huge part of his life that he hates.

Right off the bat with the X-Men, he’s mostly tolerated instead of accepted. Nobody trusts him, so he gets bitter and self-isolates. That just kinda goes downhill from there.

-

Here’s the weirder one of mine... Borderline Personality Disorder! Remy shows pretty much all the symptoms of BPD which are as follows, at least from all I’ve seen. I’ll bold the ones that apply, and summarize some examples.

Fear of abandonment.  Already gone over this one.

Unstable relationships. *Will Smith meme at his numerous flings and escapades and also ROGUE.*

Unclear or shifting self-image.  At the beginning of the 2012 Gambit miniseries, he mentions he doesn’t feel like himself anymore. He has a lot of issues with it throughout the series. I’ve seen it in other comics too but he has a lot of trouble being torn between X-Men, the Thieve’s Guild, and his past with the Marauders.

Impulsive, self-destructive behaviors.  Thievery, reckless and numerous sexual encounters, pretty much no regard for his own health in battle, alcohol.

Self-harm.  Already went over this, still pure headcanon.

Extreme emotional swings.  He’s seen getting regularly frustrated with people, even those he loves. Especially with people that he finds annoying. Then other times he’ll be extremely apologetic or upset for almost no reason. The smallest thing can trigger it, like being called a thief too many times or being rejected by someone he cares about.

Chronic feelings of emptiness.  I’m not sure how to explain this one. It just shows, to me. Maybe the same instance as the shifting self-image.

Explosive anger. (haha get it) He’s actually really good at keeping his anger in check unless it has to do with people he cares about.

Feeling suspicious or out of touch with reality.  He’s really fucking paranoid. He’s paranoid that people will leave him or won’t trust him with anything. He’s suspicious of anyone new, wondering when they’ll leave him, etc.

Thanks for coming to the TED Talk no one asked for.

[mermaids-gypsies]

IBS the first

And here.. we.. go.. she says in the joker’s voice.

Sooo, I’ve decided to use this platform as a diary/blog about my truly miserable life as an IBS sufferer. Now before you get too far in and read more than you may want to. Let me tell you for anyone out there, that doesn’t know what IBS is. IBS stands for irritable bowel syndrome, and let me tell you, I have one VERY irritable bowel, which in turn makes for a VERY irritable lady.

It’s basically what it sounds like. You’ve got a bowel that goes crazy over random shit, no pun intended (but also a little bit intended because it’s for real a laugh or cry illness). Now, let’s be clear right from the get go, THERE IS NO CURE TO IBS! To explain it simply the doctors and scientists don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you. Which adds to the fun because they gonna put cameras up your butt, down your throat, get poop samples for what feels like the hundredth time and after each test you’re gonna get a little glimmer of hope going “oh my god, this might be it, maybe we’ve figured it out and they can fix me” only to go back into that doctor’s office, sit down and them tell you “all the tests came back normal”. Like okay, thanks doc, but I know this ain’t normal. It’s not normal to shit my pants after having dairy or to bloat to what looks like six months pregnant when I eat broccoli. DO NOT even get me started on stone fruits or garlic and onion.

Now, let me be real honest, my doctor is AMAZING. Every single time I walk into that office, she is there with me 100%, she’s listening to everything I say, and she is actually listening. But has she run many tests, found no answers and is she getting as frustrated as me, yes. She’s fucking right there with me. Only someone with a chronic illness is gonna sit here and be like “my doctor, she’s my ride or die”, but that’s me baby. I fucking love her. On another level, I also feel soo fucking bad for her, imagine being a doctor because you want to make people feel better, and you get this young girl coming in like “wah, I pass gas way too much and it smells, and I feel nauseous if I don’t eat but I can’t eat anything because it gives me pain, and I get diarrhea every day and then I don’t poop for like a week, and I’m tired all the time, oh and I get these intense pains in my side and I can’t get them to go away unless I take strong pain killers”, and it’s now been 8 fucking years of this! and sure we have a diagnosis “irritable bowel syndrome” but that literally is the name they give any digestive issues when they don’t know what’s wrong. So, really it’s little to no help in making my life any better in terms of treatment.

Hold on, “but there’s so many people out there with it so much worse”. Like, don’t get me wrong, I fucking know this and I feel for these people, I honestly do. If this is “just digestive issues”, I can only imagine how those people feel. But this brings us to a whole new problem with this illness, I’m going to have these issues for the rest of my life, this is a CHRONIC ILLNESS. So when people sit there and go “but it’s just digestive issues”, “you don’t look sick”. I wanna kick them, real hard, in a painful place. It’s not like I don’t get it. I don’t look sick, and a lot of the time, I hide my symptoms, I hide the fact I’m in pain and it’s not like I’m going to tell every tom dick and harry that I almost poop my pants on the daily. That’s not exactly an acceptable conversation topic, is it?But if someone tells you they have an illness, you do not downgrade it to make yourself feel better. Stop comparing people, EVERYONE IS DIFFERENT and so are their illnesses.

So really don’t get me wrong, I know there is people out there that simply don’t know that I’m sick or that won’t be able to understand what goes on with IBS and how it effects your life every single day. Do I want them to understand my point of view? absolutely! Do I want to go around constantly explaining it? Strong no. The most basic answer I can come up with for people who don’t have IBS to understand what it feels like is, imagine having a constant stomach bug or constant food poisoning. Obviously, these things vary greatly depending on the individual. So does IBS and the symptoms that come with it, but, this is really the easiest way for me to give people an insight into how I feel in a way that most people can actually comprehend.

We haven’t even got to the ANXIETY that comes with this illness. This is the fun bit guys. Some people won’t be able to fathom this, and some people will. Anxiety is completely different to anyone that has it, each person will have different triggers, they will have different feelings, they will have different methods of coping. Anyone who is living with anxiety knows, it’s not fun and it’s especially not fun to have to explain why your anxious about something. “I just don’t want to okay, leave me alone”. I’m that person that lashes out when I’m in an uncomfortable situation (I also getting gassy when I’m uncomfortable, and then I get uncomfortable because I’m gassy, and then I get more gassy because I’m more uncomfortable, and around and around we gooo). So yes, I push nice people away because I feel like fucking shit and someone asking me questions, even when I know they genuinely care and want to help, just annoys me when I’m in that head space. I just sit there like “can you shut the fuck up and let me fucking deal with this and like, I’ll get back to you in a minute or two. JUST GIVE ME A MINUTE.” Like, I just wanna go outside, fart like a hundred times, gather my thoughts, let the logical me take over my body again and then we can continue on.

The really fun thing about IBS is they know some things for sure, but it’s not anything overly useful. It’s all bullshit like “stress has a direct effect on the bowel and can make IBS symptoms worse”, well thank you science, I’ll try and keep nice and calm and not stress about the fact that there is no toilet near me and I’m probably about to shit my pants in the next two - three seconds.Or the fact I’m in a crowd and been holding in multiple farts for so long I now have a crippling stomach ache. Seriously, think for a minute about anything that you get excited or nervous about. Now, imagine pooping yourself nearly every time you got nervous or excited....... That’s alotta poop.

I could literally carry on about this all night. There is soooo many things I want to get out of my fucking head that I seriously cannot express because I absolutely suck at talking about my feelings *que nervous farts and poops at the thought of intimate conversation*

I said previously that this was a laugh or cry illness. I try my absolute best to choose to laugh. But, honestly, sometimes you need a good cry. Shout out again to my doctor that has to try and understand what I’m trying to tell her while I’m sitting in the appointment blubbering and sniffling like the complete emotional wreck that this illness has made me. 

For now, goodbye. I hope everyone has an amazing day and feels so happy and healthy.

Also, if you have IBS or anxiety or even just wanna get something off your chest, feel free to message me! :)

Much love, x

[conversationswithmybipolarchild]

#2: WHAT IS BIPOLAR DISORDER?

FELICITY: Bipolar disorder is a mental illness. Key word one: “illness,” meaning you are afflicted with it. Key word two: “mental,” it being a part of the brain. 

F: Mental health is as important as physical health. They are both very important, they go hand in hand. Bipolar disorder is a chemical imbalance in the brain. Whether or not it comes upon you after a traumatic event, or when puberty hits, or if it- if you show signs when you’re born, it doesn’t matter. it is all a chemical imbalance. 

F: You are born with it, no matter what. You can go...twenty five years without seeing any symptoms, simply because you never had anything to jumpstart your bipolar disorder. But, if you have bipolar disorder, were properly diagnosed with it...you were already born with it. It was already in your brain. 

F: Bipolar disorder is categorized by highs and lows in your mood. That’s why it’s called a mood disorder [edit: it can also be called a psychotic disorder]. Not just simple, everyday highs and lows like everybody has, it’s not just “oh, I feel sad today, it’s not just, “oh, I have a lot of energy.” It’s extreme. 

ANJA: That’s why they’re called poles. That’s why it’s bipolar disorder

F: Yes, it’s the two poles, the high and the low. 

A: The mania and the depression.

F: So mania, is when you...[trails off]...

A: It’s the high. 

F: It’s the high. Mania is the high, that means you have a lot of energy, you are very impulsive, can have a lot of aggression, rage, risky thoughts, risky behaviors.

A: Racing thoughts. 

F: Racing thoughts, absolutely. Nightmares, hallucinations, hypersexuality, violence, paranoia...

A: Also, I don’t think this is an official symptom, but coming from myself and a lot of other bipolar people, you get this feeling where you’re like, crawling in your own skin. 

F: Yeah. Definitely. I hear that one a lot. 

F: So, symptoms of a depressive episode is that you...well, you are depressed. Not just kinda sad, you feel really, really, down. When I’m depressed, and I have major depressive disorder, when I’m depressed I don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t want to take a shower. I don’t want to get dressed, I don’t want to do anything, I don’t want to be anything. 

A: There’s no motivation whatsoever. 

F: No motivation whatsoever. 

A: I don’t get depressive episodes very often because I have bipolar I, and I get manic more than I do depressed. I don’t really- I don’t have to worry about depression, unless I like, unless I have no stimulation in my everyday life. 

F: You have to stay busy in order to not get depressed. I’m the same way. If I don’t want to sit in that pit, I have to stay busy all the time. That’s why I’m constantly going, and going, and going, and doing, because if I just sit for more than a couple days, I’m in that pit and I don’t feel good. 

F: So, another symptom, another result, of bipolar disorder, is uh, suicide. There is a hefty suicide rate among bipolar people. That is- that is the worst part. And as a parent of a bipolar child, knowing the statistics around bipolar disorder and suicide, it’s enough to kickstart me into a depression. It is- it worries me. 

A: The, um, I’m not gonna say the only reason, but it is one of the biggest reasons why I didn’t try to kill myself when I was younger, was because I’m so afraid of death. Maybe not death, but what happens after it. 

F: To tell you the truth, me too. It absolutely terrifies me. 

F: So, some statistics from the NIMH, claim that 2.9% of thirteen to eighteen year olds have bipolar disorder, and eighty one percent of those kids have it severe. It’s bad enough to be hospitalized, and make their life really difficult. 

F: So I was reading earlier...about bipolar disorder, and someone asked the question, “can someone with bipolar disorder live a normal life?” And it says here, “people with bipolar disorder usually go ten years before being accurately diagnosed. Treatment can make a huge difference. It is a chronic health condition that needs lifetime management. Plenty of people with this condition do well, they have families and jobs and live normal lives.” So that ought to give you a little hope for the future. 

F: That’s...that’s the other thing. Meds...they are- in my opinion, they are a must. It’s beyond me how people aren’t medicated. 

A: I think it’s really funny how, um, how after I was diagnosed bipolar, the last thing you wanted me to do was be on meds. Now, we depend on it. We have to. There’s no choice. 

F: As you were growing up and you were being misdiagnosed all over the place, meds were the last thing on my mind. We tried every single thing else. We tried discipline, rewards, I tried diet changes, we tried all sorts of therapy, I tried changing the way that I parent! And none of it worked. 

A: Because you can’t just change those chemicals. Without medication. 

F: You can’t! Exactly. You can’t change those chemicals. Absolutely. I’m the same way with mine, my MDD. It doesn’t fix itself. I need medication to give me the right chemicals. To balance those chemicals in my brain. That is a must. 

F: So, we’ve talked about what bipolar is, now let’s talk about what it is not. It’s not learned. It’s not a discipline problem. It’s not something that you can beat out of a child, teach out of a child, train out of a child, It’s not something that’s going to go away. And it’s not something that’s just going to one day change. It’s an ever evolving illness...

A: But it’s always there. 

F: But it’s always there. And unless you’re treating it with therapy and medication, you’re fighting a losing battle. 

A: Chronic is the key word. 

F: Chronic is the key word. Bipolar disorder is a chronic illness. 

A: Which, that really scares me. Because I’ll have to live with this for the rest of my life. 

F: Let me tell you something. I’ve described severe depression as rain. Imagine you have to go out in the rain. And you have to change the tires on your car, you have to check your mail, you have to walk your dog, you have to go to work. You have to hoe your garden, mow your lawn. Daily things, but you have to do them in the rain. That’s what my brain is like every single day. I will always live doing everything in the rain. And that’s a daunting thing to think about. 

F: I can still do all those daily activities, but you know how when you go in the rain, everything’s just harder? And you’re just slightly more miserable doing them? That’s what it’s like with MDD, I’m constantly having to force myself to do things. And when I do them, I’m miserable. It’s harder for me. It’s harder for me to go take a shower than it is for other people. It’s harder for me to do things because it’s like when you’re out in the rain, everything’s just that much harder.

A: It’s like- I’ve said it before- but it’s like when you do anything, it would be much easier for a neurotypical person.   

F: It is much easier for a neurotypical person. They’re not fighting chemicals in their brain. 

A: They’re not fighting their own mind on a daily basis. 

F: Yeah! And I know that’s exhausting. I know your brain is tired. I know you’re tired. I know you are. But you can’t really think about it that way, because then you’ll get overwhelmed. I can’t think about how I will never not be in the rain. I can’t think about it...because that’s just gonna throw me back in that pit. And I can’t live my life, raise my kids, and take care of everything I need to take care of..if I’m in that pit. 

A: And it’s okay to be miserable. It’s okay to rest. 

F: As long as you don’t give up. I like Kevin Hines’s hashtag, #beheretomorrow. Today might not have been the best day, but as long as you’re here tomorrow, that’s what matters. 

F: Let’s touch on what bipolar disorder means for you- for us. What does bipolar disorder mean for you? 

A: I really hate to say this but...bipolar disorder is a part of me. And I can’t change that. I mean, sometimes I really wish I didn’t have bipolar disorder, but I don’t know what I would be without it. 

F: Absolutely. I completely agree with you. I feel the same way about myself. I don’t know who I would be. I don’t know who my father would have been, who my grandmother would have been, without mental illness. 

F: While I understand your sentiment, I think that because you’re medicated, and nobody else was, you are more you.

A: And less bipolar disorder. 

F: Yes! Exactly. When you were eight years old and running away and acting out, being violent and raging, I didn’t know who you were! I couldn’t buy you gifts, I didn’t know what you liked. I didn’t know your personality...all I knew was this child I couldn’t connect with. All I knew was this child that absolutely hated me. 

A: I was mostly bipolar disorder. 

F: One of the more prominent symptoms that you had was lack of motivation. Smartest kid ever, bad grades. It’s not that you didn’t know the work, you just didn’t turn stuff in. Soon as we got you on medication, that mostly changed. 

F: Super energy. 

A: Aggressive. Frustrated. 

F: Violent. Raging. Yeah, those were scary times. 

A: I had anger issues.

F: A lot. Yeah. You couldn’t focus on anything. I know a lot of that are symptoms of ADHD. 

A: Which is why I got misdiagnosed.

F: But its the hallucinations and the nightmares that sealed the deal. That turned things around. When we brought those up, it turned things around. That’s when the term “bipolar” came into play, and it fit. It fit you. 

F: I know that some of the symptoms in my family, that are or were mentally ill, were definitely instability. Never being able to stay put. Not being consistent. Inconsistency was huge.

A: Even me, now, medicated, I can’t stay on the same routine or the same surroundings for more than a month. I have to change something about my life, whether it be my room, or, hell, my Tumblr blog. There has to be something that changes. 

F: I agree. I’m the same way. I get very bored very easily.

F: Money! Money was a huge problem when I was growing up. You know, nobody could save. They would spend wildly. 

A: Money? You mean lack of!

F: Yeah. It was impulsive spending. That’s one of the bigger symptoms of bipolar disorder in adults. Impulsive spending. That was a huge one when I was growing up. 

F: My family was never very affectionate. They were always very distant. 

A: I don’t know what I would do if you weren’t affectionate.

F: Well, that’s the whole reason I am affectionate, is because I was starved as a child. I needed affection and I never got it. So, it was super important to me that I be an affectionate parent. I don’t know what I would do if I wasn’t affectionate either, because I thrive on being close to you guys. And I don’t want to raise you in the same situation. In an angry, distant, impulsive, unstable situation. I don’t want to raise you that way. 

F: So, what did we learn today?

F: That it’s a little scary.

A: It’s scary.

F: But it can be managed.

A: It can be managed.

F: And you’re doing a fantastic job. And I’m doing a fantastic job, and your team is doing a fantastic job. 

F: Do you remember the time we were standing outside Old Navy and you told me you wanted to buy a gun?

[blank stare]

[consulting-celiac-in-the-tardis]

What I Want Doctors to Know About Fibromyalgia That's Not in a Textbook

New blog post! As I'm writing this post, I'm going through a fibromyalgia flare up, so it only seemed fitting to cover a topic I've been thinking a lot about lately: what I wish more doctors (not to mention the general public) knew about fibromyalgia that can't be found in a textbook or most Google pages.

Because the truth is, everyone with a chronic illness is different...and that is true of people with fibromyalgia. Equally important, there are nuances of living with fibromyalgia that can't be found in medical textbooks...and therefore aren't being told to most doctors-in-training. I've been fortunate to have a decent amount of OK experiences with doctors while making medical visits related to fibromyalgia...but I've also heard comments from medical professionals that made me feel even worse about my chronic pain. So in hopes of educating others - and particularly, educating those entering the medical field - here are seven things I want future doctors to know about fibromyaliga that aren't in a textbook.

1. I'm used to telling my fibromyalgia story over and over, so let me know if I'm going too quickly and need to include more detail.

2. Because I live with fibromyalgia every day, I sometimes don't know a certain symptom isn't "normal."

Feeling cold and tired 99% of the time? That's my normal.

3.  I may be able to do more or less than another patient of yours with fibromyalgia...but that doesn't make either of our conditions "more real."

4. My pain and symptoms can change drastically between days or hours, and sometimes there is no clear "trigger" I can point to.

5. And I understand that you need to ask questions to learn what triggers my flares, but sometimes it can feel like I'm being told my flares are my "fault" and something that I caused.

6. Placing my pain on a traditional pain scale isn't easy because I'm not sure I even know what "pain free" feels like.

So I will totally do that when asked...but understand that it's somewhat of a guess.

7. Fibromyalgia affects my mental health, too...and I appreciate when doctors ask how I'm doing mentally instead of just physically.

8. Yes, I know I am "young" to be diagnosed with fibromyalgia...but that doesn't make my pain less real.

(Read more about my fibromyalgia diagnosis story here.)

9. A lot of times (maybe even most times), I don't come to an appointment looking for answers. 

I know that fibromyalgia is a chronic illness, and I accept that there isn't a "cure" right now. But I am always looking for empathy and respect.

10. Please don't say that you "understand" unless you have chronic pain. 

You can know the symptoms of fibromyalgia, but unless you have it, you can't "understand" how it feels. And I get that you are trying to emphasize with me, but statements like, "That must be difficult" are more helpful for me.

Source

11. Even though you may not be able to "cure" my pain, it does make a difference when you treat me like a "regular" patient.

It matters that you treat my invisible illness with the same seriousness as a physical disease. It matters that you ask about my physical and mental wellbeing. It matters that you respect the knowledge I have about my own body just like I respect your knowledge as a doctor.

What I Hope You Take Away From This Post

If you have fibromyalgia, I hope that this post made you feel less alone and maybe even gave you a different perspective on what emotions may run through you during doctor's visits. And if you don't have fibromyalgia - and especially if you're planning on going into the medical field or are already in it - I hope this post gave you some extra insight into what living with fibromyalgia is really like and the kind of support we actually need from medical providers.

Me from around the age of my fibromyalgia diagnosis...

I've worked with some amazingly knowledgeable and respectful doctors in my time...and I hope that one day, those doctors are the norm. What is one thing you wish more medical professionals knew? Tell me in the comments!

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[randomslasher]

Hey so I know you talk about your chronic pain a lot but I was wondering if you could tell me what exactly that is?? I’ve tried look it up but my brain immediately dries and doesn’t comprehend anything I’m reading bc it’s all science-y and I wanted to what it actually was from someone who could explain it first hand???

Chronic pain is just a blanket term that means ‘pain that doesn’t go away after a short while.’ There are about as many different types and causes for chronic pain as there are people who suffer from it. Everything from arthritis to migraines, degenerative disc disease to EDS, fibromyalgia to gallbladder disease to cancer–if it’s a condition that causes pain and doesn’t go away after a short while (meaning a few months or so), it’s considered chronic pain. 

Chronic in this context is basically the opposite of ‘temporary.’ It may go on all the time, or it may recur (ie there might be stretches of time you feel better but then it gets worse again). You’ll hear chronic pain sufferers talk about ‘flares,’ which are times that our pain levels suddenly spike for some reason (maybe we tried to do too much, or maybe the weather changed, or maybe we suffered an injury or illness that exacerbated our chronic condition somehow). But the underlying unifying thing about ‘chronic pain’ is that it sticks around and doesn’t ever go away for good, so we have to learn to live with it. 

Living with chronic pain is tough, because pain is really hard to deal with on a long-term basis. We’re not really built to tolerate it long term. Pain is the body’s alarm system–it should be a short intense alert that lets us know about something that is immediately wrong. But for some of us, there is no ‘off’ button on that alarm. At best, we might be able to hit ‘snooze’ sometimes (with medications or other treatment options that may help reduce our symptoms), but the alarm always turns back on after a little while. If you can imagine what it would be like to go through life with an alarm you can’t turn off strapped to your head, then you’ll have a reasonable idea what it’s like trying to function with chronic pain.

My personal chronic pain condition involves my lower back. I have issues with discs tearing and herniating, structural problems, and a lot of other things that cause my low back to hurt most of the time. I go through an average day somewhere between 3 and 6 on the pain scale, with spikes up to 7 or 8 on bad days, and occasionally I’ll have a ‘blow out’ that’ll put me at an 8 or 9 (or sometimes even 10) and leave me immobile and trapped at home for up to a month. So while there are days that are pretty reasonably tolerable, I’ve always got to factor my back into every decision I make, whether that’s when to stand up and when to sit, what activities I can do, or where and how I can sleep. Even decisions about what I can eat, or when, have my pain factored into them (sometimes I can’t tolerate to stand up for more than a few minutes so I have to have fast snacks on hand unless I want to just go hungry, and I often can’t tolerate grocery shopping for more than 10 minutes so I have to prioritize which food I need more urgently–or just eat fast food, which is expensive and unhealthy). 

So yeah, when I talk about chronic pain, it’s talking about the experience of living in a body that’s constantly sending you loud alarm signals and making day to day activities that other people take for granted difficult or even impossible. I talk a lot about it because it’s nice to connect with other people who ‘get it’ and because I want to educate people who don’t (because if there’s one thing that makes chronic pain harder to deal with, it’s the callous and often unintentionally cruel responses of people who don’t understand and don’t WANT to understand–the people who think that we’re ‘faking’ or ‘overreacting’ or who think that ‘all we need is to start doing yoga or drinking green tea’). Living with chronic pain is hard enough without factoring abelism into the mix, so I try to address it when and where I can. And that includes in myself–I may suffer chronic pain but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t socialized in an abelist society just like everyone else. Sometimes I have to check my own ideas and misconceptions about chronic conditions, too.

And sometimes I post about it just because I need comfort and support from my friends. I’m lucky in that I have a very strong support system online, both from other chronic pain sufferers, and from my friends who may not understand directly but who can sympathize and offer their love and kindness and encouragement.

I hope this helps you understand what I and others mean when we say ‘chronic pain’! :) 

I also hope this made sense. I’m a little out of it today. In addition to the regular back pain, I’m having severe side pain that means there’s a 99% chance I’ve got a kidney stone trying to pass, and it’s sort of hard to concentrate :(