#we are supposed to cover medically necessary treatment

[aymanfamily]

Evacuation of my Neurological Patient Brother 🥹🙏

Dear Friends and Supporters,

I’m reaching out to you today, on behalf of my husband, with an urgent request for assistance. My family is currently facing an unimaginable situation as I desperately seek to evacuate them from the ongoing crisis in Gaza including my brother-in-law, who is a neurological patient, and my mother-in-law who is 70 years old, and she is not only grapples with the challenges of aging but also shoulders the burden of chronic illnesses, including high blood pressure and diabetes. My brother-in-law's condition requires specialized medical care, as he suffers from a benign tumor in the cerebellum. He underwent two major surgeries to remove the tumor, and an internal valve was installed to drain the cerebrospinal fluid.

This operation led to a permanent disability in movement and stiffness in the muscles of the legs, especially the left side. He needs constant follow-up and permanent rehabilitation treatment, as he was receiving two physical therapy sessions weekly to relieve muscle stiffness, but since the beginning of the aggression on the Gaza Strip (more than 4 months ago), he has not received this service, and in the same context, he needs daily medication which is simply not available now in Gaza, as the healthcare system in the Gaza Strip has been severely impacted by the ongoing conflict, with limited resources and a shortage of medical supplies. It is crucial that we act quickly to evacuate him to a safer location where he can receive the necessary medical attention and support, in addition to the evacuation of 6 other members of my family.

As many of you may be aware, Gaza has been experiencing a devastating humanitarian crisis for years. The recent Israeli aggression on the Gaza Strip has worsened the situation, leaving innocent civilians trapped and in desperate need of help. Knowing that we live in Gaza City, but the Israeli occupation army forced us to evacuate our homes and move to the center or south of the Gaza Strip. We left our home on 13th Oct. 2023 and moved to the center of the Gaza Strip, which was supposed to be a safe area, but then the Israeli soldiers began military operations in the central region. Therefore, we were forced to move to Rafah, living in a house including 20 members. Currently the Israeli Occupation Forces are threatening to invade Rafah, where 1.4 million people are taking refuge in an area of 55 km2. If Rafah is invaded, more massacres will be committed in addition to the massacres that were and are currently being committed in all areas of the Gaza Strip. Note that our house was directly hit by a missile, and currently the Israeli army does not allow us to return to Gaza city and to our homes, in addition to the fact that Gaza currently does not have the minimum necessities of life, such as electricity or clean water, in addition to the scarcity of resources. So, in an attempt to save our lives, we are planning to evacuate to Egypt, but the cost of evacuation is exorbitant, far beyond what our family can afford, therefore I'm setting up a GoFundMe campaign to raise USD $59,000. Here is the breakdown of the funds: • A total of USD $49,000 is estimated to cover the expenses associated with obtaining permits to leave Gaza, as well as crossing fees at Rafah, at the Egypt-Gaza border. This amount breaks down to USD$ 5,000 - $7,000 per person (7 people). • It is estimated that USD $10000 will be sufficient to cover the basic needs of my family in Egypt, including their accommodation, food, and other essential. Every donation, no matter how big or small, will make a difference. Even the smallest contribution can help us an inch closer to our goal of saving our life. Knowing that times are tough, and the invasion of Rafah could happen at any time, noting that the crossing with Egypt is in the city of Rafah, and it is possible that the crossing will be closed at any time due to the invasion, so I hope you help as soon as possible. Many thanks in advance for your contribution to save our lives.

My gofundme link:

Thanks for your trust and support ❤️🙏

[mieczyhale]

Life updates! Mental, dental, and medical related nonsense 🪿

Mark helped me with my assessment call for Rogers yesterday, for their ocd program. The person who does the assessment call has to pass it on to someone else and I was supposed to wait for a call back

They called yesterday afternoon while I was making a trip to Appleton with @thebobcatspajamas and for some reason by phone screen kept turning around - so the listening part was where the talking part should've been, and when i rotated my phone to try and correct it it just kept being the wrong way. So i had the entire phone call upside down, trying to make sure I didn't miss anything while also trying to make sure my jeep wasn't drifting, which was stressful

BUT

I got in

Y'all

Y'all

I have been trying to get into this place since LAST. APRIL.

The ProfessionalsTM recommendation was that I do residential treatment for 30 days. That's literally the exact kind of treatment I was trying to get into. Not partial-inpatient, not inpatient, not zoom - residential. And i fucking got it. (they said the others would've been okay if i preferred those options, but that they weren't the top recommendation for me) (there is literally no way those would've worked so i was happy to turn them dowm)

It's currently a 3 to 5 week waitlist, which isn't as bad as we were expecting, so yay!

However

It's 31,500$ for 30 days

And my insurance will not cover it / Rogers does not accept my insurance

Because of course they don't

But I already knew this so it sucks but whatever

The lady on the phone said "I know that's a lot, and most people don't just have that kind of money lying around-" yeah no shit, "but we're going to have our financial department call you to talk about it". Which is great, because they'll know what the fuck I can do to help cover that absolutely insane cost

Like.. we could afford some of it, but the whole thing would take literally all our money, so finding a grant or a medical loan or.. fuckin SOMETHING is not only preferable, but it's necessary

I debated briefly on going the gfm route but whenever I try to raise money it literally never works. Doesn't matter what it's for. So why waste my time

This isn't, btw, the only "medical" related nonsense I have coming up. Thankfully at least some of it is covered by my insurance, like the physical therapy, and possibly some of the teeth implants i finally got a referral for, but none of the TMJ specialists take my insurance (because, again, of course they don't) so we're paying for the first appointment with carecredit (god bless and amen that that exists AND that they accept it)

Knocking on wood and sending out prayers but I hope nothing else comes up anytime soon

Josh had to have his jeep towed and fixed and either the towing people didn't charge him, or someone paid it for him, bc the invoice says he owes 0$.

Maybe I could get a little help??

God I fuckin hope so lmao

[caught-tumbling]

Since insurance companies and the cruelty they bring is so public right now, I have a story.

As a teenager I was dealing with the worst mental health of my life. Insurance chose not to pay for most programs, barely covered therapy, insisted I try medications that I and my doctors knew wouldn't work, and often stopped covering medications right when they started to work. They flat out refused many many many attempts I and my family made to better my life. So I decided to end it. I didn't see another choice. I gave it a good shot if I do say so myself. It took days to stabilize me and even longer for me to wake up.

Then my insurance chose to push the hospital to discharge me while I was still half delirious. Insurance chose not to cover anything else for the visit. The hospital complied. After I finished recovering physically the policy was to move me to the psych ward to recover mentally. Since I was moved too soon I don't remember everything that went on. But I remember I wasn't the only one insurance chose to move too soon. A woman still going through withdrawal symptoms that could have killed her. A man ripping stitches because he was still supposed to be on bed rest. A dozen people discharged far before they were ready. Others begging to be let out because being there was going to bankrupt their families. The funeral of a friend after insurance chose to discharge him too soon. Not exactly the best situation to find mental stability.

When I got home I got the bill. Weeks in the hospital, all the treatment I needed to survive, the treatment that was demanded by the hospital and the law. I could have bought a house for that much money. A nice one.

I didn't expect to ever pay that bill. I knew it would follow me for as long as it was legally allowed to. I learned a lot about medical debt and collection agencies. It didn't help my recovery a damn bit. Reading that number made me more suicidal than ever, but also more terrified of failing again.

It didn't have to come to that. Insurance could have paid for my therapy. Insurance could have paid for my medications. Insurance could have let my doctors prescribe what they thought I needed instead of what they had a contract with. Insurance could have kept me out of the hospital but they chose not to. And once I was there they could have paid for the time I needed to recover. When I got that necessary treatment my life improved immeasurably, I wasn't in and out of the hospital anymore, I got a job, I got my life on track. I could have gotten there years earlier if insurance just worked with me. But they chose not to. They could have given that help to my friend before he took his life. But they chose not to. It's a choice. A conscious decision to deny what we need to live. A choice to put money over lives. A choice that is inherently evil.

I won't mourn the death of an evil man. I won't judge a person who was pushed and pushed until they saw no good options. I won't cheer for violence. But I can certainly understand it.

[coochiequeens]

He kept what in the fridge?

Pontiac — A district court judge Wednesday denied a pair of dueling $6,500 small claims petitions that centered around a transgender woman's attempt to get her surgically removed testicles back after they were kept for months in her ex-boyfriend's refrigerator.

During a contentious small claims hearing in Pontiac's 50th District Court, Judge Jeremy Bowie ruled "it's a wash" after hearing testimony from Brianna Kingsley, 40, and her 37-year-old ex, William Wojciechowski.

Kingsley filed a handwritten small claims petition in August claiming Wojciechowski "retains possession of my surgically extracted testicles, preserved in (a) Mason jar, kept in (the) fridge next to the eggs. Demand immediate return of my human remains specimen and damages of $6,500."

Wojciechowski filed a counterclaim seeking $6,500 in damages because he said he had been "humiliated" by coverage of the case by "worldwide news outlets."

Bowie denied both claims, a decision he said Wednesday can't be appealed. The judge said Kingsley had an opportunity to get her testicles back when an Oakland County Sheriff's deputy accompanied her to Wojciechowski's Pontiac home in January 2023.

When the deputy escorted her to the house, Kingsley had just gotten out of the Oakland County Jail, where she'd been incarcerated for three days and fined $100 for violating a personal protection order Wojciechowski had filed against her.

"We allow a one-time visit with a Sheriff's officer in situations like that for people to go back to get their belongings," the judge said. "Ms. Kingsley failed to retrieve the testicles from the refrigerator at that time. ... If they were so important to her, she had the opportunity to grab them, and she didn't."

Wojciechowski said he threw the body parts away in July.

"They were rotting in my fridge, and it was disgusting — I've got food in there I wanted to eat," Wojciechowski told the judge. "She didn't keep them in a biohazard container like she was supposed to."

"Specifically why I asked you: I can put a dollar amount on, say, if you were missing work at $16 an hour," Bowie said. "But as to testicles, I can't really put a number on it."

Kingsley, who clutched a small black comfort dog throughout the hearing, said the March 23, 2022 surgery at Henry Ford Hospital cost $20,000, although she said because she's disabled, the state footed the bill.

But the state paid for that; you didn't," Bowie said. "You're not going to be unjustly enriched."

Kingsley replied: "They were my testicles. ... We're talking about my nuts. ... I wanted them in my fridge — not his. ... He denied me access to my own body parts. I don't think that can be quantified. The damages were the loss of these nuts."

According to the Michigan Department of Health and Human Services, "The Medicaid program covers medically necessary gender affirmation/confirming medical, surgical, and pharmacologic treatments and procedures for beneficiaries clinically diagnosed with gender dysphoria." Medicaid is the government health insurance coverage for mostly low-income residents.

At one point during Wednesday's hearing, the judge told Kingsley to stop interrupting him, saying, "I've been patient enough."

Kingsley and Wojciechowski said they met on Facebook Community in April 2020 and in the fall of 2021 they moved into a Pontiac house Wojciechowski bought.

After her surgery, Kinsley said she put her testicles in a Mason jar and stored them in the refrigerator "because I deal with trauma with comedy. Shakespeare did it."

The couple broke up in December 2022. Wojciechowski secured a personal protection order against Kingsley, which she violated a month later. After she got out of jail and was escorted by a sheriff's deputy to retrieve her belongings from Wojciechowski's home, she visited the house a second time about a month later.

Wojciechowski said he denied her entry the second time because he felt she was harassing him. The judge said he had a right to deny her entry, since she'd already been allowed to retrieve her belongings a month earlier.

Earlier Wednesday, Kingsley had a hearing scheduled on charges of destruction of property, after she allegedly damaged Wojciechowski's front door. Bowie said she didn't appear for that hearing and that it had been rescheduled for Feb. 28.

[dinosaurcharcuterie]

As someone working in private health insurance in a country in Europe where this stuff is regulated -- I still hate it.

Naturopathy, chiropractic included, got regulated to make these quacks have some accountability, be forced to look at an anatomy textbook and give people a sense of when they were being ripped off. In response, people assumed this was the government putting naturopaths on the same level as actual doctors and dentists. In response to that, you have actual doctors getting certified as naturopaths and "preferring" to give naturopath treatment unless "allopathic" medicine is "necessary". They say it has nothing to do with the prices for naturopathy being a bit higher, and definitely definitely nothing to do with them thinking their patients are faking things.

And, to be fair, direct injuries (as opposed to indirect damage done from delayed or avoided medical attention) from naturopaths are low and mostly limited to medication interactions where people fully believe herbal tea magically can't affect medication, or allergic reactions to massage oils... Except in one area. You get three guesses which.

So, chiropractic especially got regulated even more strictly when injuries kept happening. And it changed nothing much so far, half a decade later. They're supposed to send patients to a doctor if it's a more complex problem, but...

In my current caseload of chronically ill patients I've now got someone who got unlimited chiropractic approved. The original argument was that they'd need less physiotherapy (28-45 euro are covered per session, depending on diagnosis, of which 3 a week are necessary). They have since quit physio entirely, and their condition has gotten mysteriously worse, despite upping the chiro (70-90 euro per session) from twice a month to 3-4 times a week, and their doctors prescribing stronger meds and getting surgery.

I've got someone who has several all caps warnings to not pay out any chiro, as the professor of orthopedics who has been treating them for double digit months says it might be lethal. Their spine is so damaged, half the bones are misaligned and look like something out of a geode splitting ASMR video. After surgery. With half a hardware store worth of titanium screws and plates trying to keep their spinal cord straight enough to undo the nerve damage that kind of injury causes.

I wish those cases were rare enough that just describing them narrows it down to a small enough group of people to identify someone by, but I'm not.

Yes, we get sat down once every quarter or two and told what numbers look good and what numbers make the CEO so so sad. They're happy if a 70 euro chiro visit means the problem is fixed, instead of a 20 minute doctor visit (12 euro, 25 if they're feeling frisky, because regulated prices) with a prescription (3 euro) of 6 rounds of physio (usually the 28 euro/session kind, plus a one time 16 euro fee for non chronic issues or new therapy attempts). But that's only true if the doctor-cum-naturopath types are right and the patient is faking and just needs to whine a little and feel another human being touch them to feel better forever.

Statistics show it's costlier to pay out naturopaths in the long run. Because we can't cancel cover over here. We can't adjust what kind of cover someone has once they have the insurance. We can hike up premiums if costs rise, but that just makes all the healthy cash cows seek greener pastures. The limit to out of pocket pay is 5k annually, and most companies cap it at half that at most, usually just 1.2k.

So why is it covered under those circumstances? The same reason GSH dogs still get liability cover despite causing the most damage, both material and personal, of any dog breed, pit bulls included: it's part of the cultural landscape, and to exclude it would cost you customers and have you branded as a tyrannical, unreasonable company.

And to make matters worse: the fact that we are more or less forced by convention to accept naturopaths as legitimate physicians, means we ask about how often you've visited them in the past as a prospective customer. We can only adjust cover before anything is signed, after all. And because naturopaths have to pretend to be physicians to operate, they have to say what diagnosis they're treating. If they have a medical degree (most don't), that's not too hard and they tend to stay realistic. If they don't, they still have to write something down which they feel is plausible, but serious enough to warrant (further) treatment. Ideally they'd communicate with a physician over that, but that requires a treating physician. And also scary legal paperwork. And the cooperation of said physician, because they sure as fuck can't argue they're providing vital and necessary care beyond the doctor's skill level.

Any stab in the dark they take is now a pre existing condition. Not fixed in six months? Welp, that's chronic. And, yeah, private health insurance companies will refuse to accept you if your health status too egregious (with very few exceptions if you're not a newborn). Or maybe they will--and then be legally in their right to charge up to juuuust under double the usual premium until you can prove you don't have that diagnosis.

How? Easy! A physician needs to confirm (25-40 euros) through lab work (anywhere from 15-2500 euros), and your naturopath can't charge for it anymore if you do get in, or at least one of you will get sued for fraud. In which case you're now on the hook for all costs related to that diagnosis which you've incurred with an insurance company. Plus interest at the current rate of inflation.

So... Only healthy people and the naturopaths are harmed the least by this. Because--oh yes--they recommend healthy people get treatment prophylactically.

I'm not saying health insurance are the good guys (my job would be so much easier if there was universal, science based, tax funded health insurance) but this particular flavor of fuckery is 100% organic woo lobbying.

Periodic reminder that you should never trust a chiropractor with your body under any circumstances

[healthcare90]

Understanding Ambulance Services and Standards in India

Ambulances in India have come a long way from being just carts and makeshift vehicles to transport the ill or injured to the nearby medical facility. Ambulances now have integrated technology to improve medical services provided in times of crisis. Ambulance service in India is an integral part of the emergency system, providing swift emergency medical response and patient transportation. Vital to any quality healthcare system, the operation of ambulance service in India has not only proven its need in emergency times but also has brought about important healthcare education to the masses. 

In this blog, we will explore ambulance services and the various standards that have helped improve the healthcare system and operations of ambulance services in India. 

Types of Ambulance Services in India 

Emergency Ambulance Service: These are India's most common types of ambulance services. As the name suggests, an emergency ambulance service provides emergency medical attention, care, and treatment to those in need with acute or critical illnesses or injuries. An emergency ambulance service can either operate on the ground using ambulances like bike, boat, general van, etc. or on the air using air ambulances.

Patient Transport Ambulance Service: These ambulance services transport patients from one hospital to another for advanced medical treatment or, in general, transport dependent patients to their homes. This kind of ambulance service is usually for non-urgent medical cases.

Bariatric Ambulance Service: A bariatric ambulance service is an ambulance modified to accommodate severely obese patients. These ambulances are equipped with the necessary tools to help with the patient's condition. 

Hearse Ambulance Service: This type of ambulance service is used to transport the deceased. Ambulances used for this service do not generally have any kind of equipment. 

Safety Guidelines for the Operation of Ambulance Services in India

Safety guidelines are formulated by the Ministry of Health and Family Welfare and the government of different states for efficient operations of ambulance services in India. Following are some of the factors that guidelines cover. 

Vehicle Standards: Ambulance services in India must adhere to the standards set by the Automotive Research Association of India (ARAI), ensuring that each ambulance is properly equipped and maintained to provide the best quality service. 

Equipment: All ambulances must have the necessary medical equipment based on the kind of ambulance it is. For example, an advanced ambulance (ALS) must have advanced medical equipment like ventilators, defibrillators, multipara patient monitors, ECG machines, syringe pumps etc. 

Staffing: Ambulances are supposed to be equipped with qualified and trained emergency medical technicians or paramedics and an experienced driver. Ambulance services in India are to make sure that there is at least one EMT or paramedic in the ambulance. 

Sanitation and Hygiene: Operational ambulances are to have the highest standards of hygiene and sanitation. Regular cleaning and disinfection are important to avoid the risk of spreading an infection. 

Communication: All ambulances must be equipped with proper devices for communication. This can ensure smoother transport by coordinating with the emergency control rooms and hospitals. 

Response Time: Standard guidelines for emergency ambulance services focus on the importance of always reducing the response time and providing swift medical intervention in critical cases. 

Protocols for Patient Care: Specific protocols are included for patient assessment, treatment, and care during transport, as well as handover to medical facilities.

As India treads on towards a brighter healthcare future, its ambulances will continue to be the chariots of hope, care, and life with these golden operational standards set in place.

[nextsmileblog]

How to Pay for All-on-4 Dental Implants?

If you're considering All-on-4 dental implants as a solution for your missing teeth, you may wonder how to finance this dental treatment. All-on-4 dental implants are an innovative and effective full arch replacement option that provides a functional and aesthetically pleasing smile. However, the cost of All-on-4 dental implants can vary depending on various factors, such as the dental clinic location, the expertise of the dental team, and the materials used. In this comprehensive guide, we will discuss the options available to pay for All-on-4 dental implants in Australia and why Next Smile Australia is considered the best dental clinic in the country for this procedure.

Understanding All-on-4 

Before we dive into the various payment options for All-on-4 dental implants, let's have a brief overview of what this dental restoration entails. All-on-4 dental implants are a complete arch dental implant solution that uses four strategically placed dental implants to support a full set of teeth. The dental implants are surgically placed in the jawbone, acting as a stable foundation for a fixed dental bridge or denture. This treatment is typically recommended for patients who have lost all or most of their teeth in a single arch, such as the upper or lower jaw and are seeking a permanent tooth replacement solution.

All-on-4 dental implants offer several benefits, including improved oral function, shorter healing time, and no bone grafting. However, the cost of this dental treatment can be a significant investment, and it's important to explore different payment options to make it more accessible.

Payment Options for All-on-4 Dental Implants

Private Health Insurance

If you have private health insurance in Australia, it's worth checking whether your policy covers dental implants, including All-on-4 dental implants. Some private health insurance plans may provide coverage for dental implants as part of their extras or ancillary coverage. However, the extent of coverage and the waiting periods may vary, so it's essential to review your policy and discuss it with your insurance provider to understand the details of your coverage.

Dental Payment Plans

Dental payment plans allow you to spread the cost of your treatment over some time, usually with little or no interest. Many dental clinics offer payment plans to help patients finance their dental treatments, including All-on-4. These plans may require you to make regular instalments, making the cost of All-on-4 dental implants more manageable and budget-friendly.

Superannuation Release

The Early Release of Superannuation on Compassionate Grounds allows you to withdraw your age to cover the costs of medical or dental treatments deemed essential to treat a life-threatening illness or injury or to alleviate severe pain or disability. In Australia, you may be able to access your superannuation to pay for necessary dental treatments, including All-on-4 dental implants. However, you must meet specific criteria and provide documentation to support your application.

Personal Savings

Using your savings is another option to pay for All-on-4 dental implants. If you have been saving up for an effective dental treatment or have an emergency fund, you may be able to use these savings to cover the cost of All-on-4 dental implants. It's essential to consider the impact of using your savings on your overall financial situation and have a plan to replenish your savings after the treatment.

Credit Cards

Using credit cards to pay for All-on-4 dental implants is another option, but it's essential to use this method with caution. Credit cards typically come with high-interest rates. If you cannot pay off the balance in full within a short period, the interest charges can quickly add up and result in additional financial strain. However, suppose you have a credit card with a low-interest rate or an interest-free promotional period, and you can pay off the balance before the interest kicks in. In that case, it can be a viable option to finance your All-on-4 dental implants.

Payment Plans Offered by Dental Clinics

Some dental clinics may offer payment plans to help patients finance their All-on-4 dental implants. These payment plans may be structured differently from traditional dental payment plans and may have specific terms and conditions. It's essential to review the details of the payment plan, including the interest rates, fees, and repayment schedule, and ensure that it fits within your budget and financial goals.

Government Assistance Programmes

In some cases, you may be eligible for government assistance programmes to help cover the cost of your All-on-4 dental implants. For example, the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS) in Australia supports eligible individuals with permanent and significant disabilities, which may include dental treatments. Some states or territories may also have dental assistance programmes for low-income individuals or seniors. It's worth exploring these options and checking the eligibility criteria and application process.

All-on-4 dental implants can provide a long-lasting and effective solution for missing teeth, but the cost of the treatment can be a significant investment. Fortunately, there are various payment options available in Australia to help make All-on-4 dental implants more affordable and accessible, including private health insurance, dental payment plans, superannuation releases, personal savings, credit cards, personal loans, government assistance programmes, and payment plans offered by dental clinics. It's essential to thoroughly research and understand each option, including the interest rates, fees, and repayment terms, and choose the one that best fits your needs and budget.

Next Smile Australia stands out as a leading dental healthcare clinic for All-on-4 dental implants in Australia, with a team of highly skilled and experienced dental professionals who prioritise patient comfort and satisfaction. Focusing on patient education and personalised treatment plans, Next Smile Australia ensures that patients are well-informed and involved in their dental implant journey. They offer flexible payment options, including private health insurance, dental payment plans, credit cards, personal loans, and government assistance programmes, to make treatment more accessible for patients.

When considering financing options for All-on-4 dental implants, it's essential to carefully weigh the pros and cons of each option, understand the financial implications, and choose the one that best fits your financial situation and long-term goals. It's recommended to consult with your dental provider and financial advisor to make an informed decision and ensure that you can comfortably manage the payments while receiving the dental care you need.

[peachy-panic]

WHUMPTOBER DAY 3: “WHO DID THIS TO YOU?”

This is the next chronological piece of Do No Harm, continued directly from this chapter.

Tag list: @whumpervescence  @shiningstarofwinter @distinctlywhumpthing @whumptywhumpdump

WARNINGS: Medical procedures, referenced/implied noncon, slavery setting, the usual.

The young doctor seems a bit skittish and far less cruel than the other Facility employees, and that comes with the dangerous notion that perhaps he doesn’t plan on hurting him. But that notion requires a naivety of which Jaime is no longer capable. He, of all people, is aware that cruelty can disguise itself in many shapes and sizes. Just because it isn’t obvious doesn’t mean it isn’t there, and that only makes it all the more dangerous.

There’s no use in hoping either way, he decides. Dr. Tate will either hurt him or he won’t, will either touch him or he won’t, and Jaime can’t — won’t — react. He has already made that mistake once today and will certainly pay for it later in ways he doesn’t want to think about now. He would do well to remember that he doesn’t hold any power here. Not in this room, this building, this life. And that, despite any arbitrary written rules, Dr. Tate is free to do as he pleases. 

At least he had removed the restraints from his mouth and wrists. Jaime can console himself with this small mercy. 

Those had always been the worst part of nights with Mr. Torley, on the all-too-frequent occasions he decided to use them. He was clearly very into them, and even more into Jaime’s fear of them. In addition to the claustrophobia they stoked in him, the use of restraints in bed had always felt something like a mockery. What use was it to restrain someone who can’t fight back regardless? The binds on his wrists and ankles were nothing more than accessories. The shackles in his mind did all the work to keep him still. And Mr. Torley knew that.

He does his best not to think about that now. Not to think about Mr. Torley at all, since that was what had gotten him in trouble in the first place. Distantly, he wonders how long the influence of his first Keeper will continue to stain Jaime’s existence beyond the termination of their six-month contract.

Dr. Tate, who has been buried in the cabinets above the sink for several minutes, turns back to him sporting bright-blue gloves that adhere tightly around his slender hands. He meets Jaime’s eyes for half a second before his gaze darts somewhere just to the left of his shoulder. 

“We need to run a couple of tests,” he says in a detached, clinical voice, all notes of lightheartedness from earlier removed. “I’ll need to collect some samples from you.”

Jaime nods once in acknowledgement, squeezing his fingers tightly, unconsciously around the edge of the table. There’s an unnatural pause in his cadence, and Jaime when looks up, he watches a slight twitch of movement in the doctor’s jaw. 

“Please remove your pants and underwear,” Dr. Tate says, his voice taking on a lower pitch. “You can leave them on up to your thighs, if you’d like.”

The slight shift in demeanor sets Jaime on edge, but he doesn’t hesitate at the command, even as a familiar panic claws at the inside of his throat. He drops forward from the table, his legs taking his weight. His thumbs hook the waistband of the thin, cotton pants he had been returned in, and he doesn’t allow himself a moment of hesitation before pushing them unceremoniously off his hips. He takes Dr. Tate up on his merciful offer to keep them partially on his body. The cold, sterile air inside the clinic is sharp against his exposed skin.

Jaime’s eyes find the ceiling as he prepares for the touch he knows is coming. He doesn’t look to see whatever tools and instruments Dr. Tate is laying out on the silver tray beside the exam table. He doesn’t have to. “We need to run a couple of tests.”  Whatever foolish hypotheticals Jaime once held in regards to WRU — what they did and didn’t know about the treatment of their wards — had long been shattered. 

Of course they needed to test him for sexually transmitted diseases. They can’t have a Domestic Companion spreading something to the next paying customer that buys their time and exposing their innocent charade. 

There’s a pause in Dr. Tate’s movement, but Jaime doesn’t look away from his spot on the ceiling tile.

“I’m going to touch you, now.” Dr. Tate’s voice is low and measured. “I need to examine you for bumps or sores, any abnormalities.” He clears his throat. “And I’ll take a swab from your urethra. It might be uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t hurt you.” Another pause. “Please, tell me if it does.”

Jaime’s grip on the table tightens, but he otherwise doesn’t react. Distantly, he is grateful for the warning, the bare explanation, mortifying as it is. He knows that the doctors here are not obligated to explain anything to the Companion patients, to seek consent in any form. Their consent was implicitly given in the contracts they signed at intake. He just as easily could have left Jaime gagged and bound to the table and gone about the procedure without so much as a word to him. Jaime is glad he hadn’t. 

Instead, Dr. Tate’s touch is light and professional. His gloved hands don’t linger, they don’t poke and prod to get a reaction from him. It seems, even, that he touches him as little as possible. Almost as if he is as eager to get this over with as Jaime is, which doesn’t feel quite possible. 

The fluorescent strip of light next to his focal point on the ceiling burns at the edge of his vision, but he doesn’t look away, using the mild discomfort as an anchor to hold himself steady. He concentrates on that instead of the gentle touches, gritting his teeth against any traitorous urges his body might provoke. Mr. Torley had loved that about Jaime — his responsiveness to touch — but not as much as he loved using it against him. 

His stomach sours at the memory, fresh humiliation creeping into his cheeks at the idea of something similar happening now. He doesn’t think Dr. Tate would tease him the way his Keeper had, but he still doesn’t relish the idea of becoming physically aroused in front of this young doctor, who couldn’t have been more than a few years older than him and, in another life, Jaime might have found pretty. 

The thought is gone almost as soon as it comes, too painful to linger on. The idea of another life. A normal life. A life at all. These are thoughts Jaime is forbidden to have. The phantom sting of an electric shock lights up the column of his throat and Jaime winces.

“Sorry,” Dr. Tate said quickly, misunderstanding the movement and withdrawing his hand. Jaime’s eyes finally fall to his as the doctor takes a step back, inserting the long swab into a glass tube and sealing it with a cap. “The worst part is over.”

Jaime is numb all over, but he nearly laughs. He knows that having stepped foot in this facility again, the “worst part” has not even begun. 

“I’ll need to collect another sample from your mouth,” Dr. Tate continues, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves, and Jaime absently wonders why they even bother wasting extra product on the patients here. “And we’ll draw some blood—” 

Something catches his voice mid-sentence and Jaime’s eyes flick up to his again. Dr. Tate looks at him, and then pointedly, hurriedly away. Jaime swears he can see his pale cheeks reddening.

“You can— We’re finished with that part.” He stumbles out. “Feel free to cover yourself up.”

Jaime does as he’s told, finding it somewhere within himself to be grateful that the doctor had kept the procedure professional. He couldn’t say the same thing for every encounter he’d had in the facility clinic before. 

********

Sebastian knows what happens next, and that’s why he finds himself taking his time with the rest of the visit. As soon as he’s completed the mandated intake exam, he is supposed to mark the patient as cleared in his chart and alert the handlers to come collect him. To take him back into the part of the facility where Sebastian has never set foot; the “residential” wing where the unclaimed Companions are housed between contracts. On all the promotional advertisements, it’s depicted as a dormitory-like accommodation. Now that Sebastian knows just how little truth exists behind their lies, he can only imagine it’s nothing of the sort. 

His mind conjures images of iron-barred cells and concrete rooms, of medieval dungeons with chains and darkness and filth. It’s a sensationalized version of what he assumes is probably the truth, but that doesn’t mean the reality is any less horrible. After what he’s seen in his time here and everything he’s heard, he has no doubt that the people who are forced to reside here between Keepers are subject to the company’s own brand of horror. Frankly, he’s in no hurry to turn his patient back over to their hands a moment sooner than he has to.

The boy is silent and entirely pliable throughout the whole exam, allowing himself to be moved when necessary and not so much as flinching when the needles for the blood draw break his skin. Sebastian is glad when the more… invasive parts of the exam are over. The boy had been no less compliant during them, maybe even the opposite, but Sebastian hadn’t missed the subtle changes in his posture, the way the muscles in his hands clenched and released around the edge of the table as he touched him as little as possible. 

He had looked up at the ceiling instead of at the wall behind Sebastian, as he had done previously, and Sebastian had silently prayed that the position wasn’t intended as a way to hold back tears. He doesn’t know how he could live with himself if he made this kid cry.

When the blood has been drawn, the test samples submitted for lab processing, and a full physical performed, Sebastian has run out of ways to delay the inevitable. He closes out of the boy’s patient profile on his screen and turns to him, hands folded professionally in front. 

“I’ll need to alert the handlers that your intake exam is complete,” he told him, probably unnecessarily. He hadn’t looked to see how long he had been in the system, but from his behavior, he assumes it’s been long enough to break his spirit. He probably knows these protocols better than Sebastian ever wants to. “They’ll come and escort you back to the residential quarters.”

110750 nods once without looking at him. “Thank you,” he says flatly. Then, there is a moment of pause before he lifts his eyes and seems to level Sebastian with something more sincere. “Thank you for… for letting me get cleaned up.”

Sebastian feels like shattering into pieces all over the cold linoleum. Instead, he tries for a smile and lands somewhere in the realm of a tight, thin line at his lips. “Sure,” he says, a bit mortified to hear the crack in his voice. 

He watches 110750 take slow, measured breaths as Sebastian makes the call he desperately wishes he didn’t have to make. He tries not to stare as they wait in tense silence for the handlers to arrive. Of course, Sebastian could leave the room if he wants. The intake procedure is done, and so is his minimal obligation to patient care. But something feels wrong about leaving him. More than that, something feels utterly wrong about this boy being taken out of the clinic, away from his line of sight, where he can’t see what will happen next. He only knows it won’t be good. 

A split second before he hears the clinic doors whoosh open, Sebastian steps closer to his patient, lowering his voice to a quick, urgent whisper. “Keep an eye on that broken nose,” he advises. “If you have any trouble breathing as it heals, please don’t hesitate to let your assigned handler know that you need medical attention, okay?”

The boy hitches in a breath but doesn’t respond. Sebastian takes half a step closer. 

“Look, you have a right to medical assistance,” he says, the words feeling like treason on his tongue despite knowing their written truth. “Even here. Even now. You can always come see me here if you need to. They can’t legally prevent you from requesting care. Do you understand?”

Unexpectedly, something dark flashes in the boy’s eyes. Something less like the fear and dread he had witnessed earlier, and something much more akin to anger. Anger at Sebastian?

Before the interaction can go any further, they are interrupted by the unceremonious swing of the exam room door. The same two men who had brought him in - one with a fresh bandage on his face - push their way in, stepping between Sebastian and his patient. 

“Up you go, 7-5-0,” Handler Hernandez barks, and the boy is on his feet before he can finish the command, his hands behind his back, head bowed. 

“Oh, look who finally decided to behave,” the other one - Smith, maybe? - taunts as he sizes him up in a way that makes even Sebastian’s skin crawl. Just as he had prior to the visit, the man shifts his gaze to him, a sneer permanently embedded into his expression. “Does he get a lollipop for good behavior? Maybe a sticker?”

The boy doesn’t look up at him, but Sebastian thinks he sees his throat move. He feels a swell of rage rise into his throat, coming to a boiling point for the second time since he entered the room with this boy, but he swallows it back, keeping as level an expression as he can manage. 

“He was perfectly agreeable,” he responds tightly, refusing to play into whatever mockery he’s initiating. 

Smith answers him with a dismissive snort, turning his attention back to the boy like a predator who just found fresh meat. “What do you say, sweetheart?” He asks, the thick rubber of his boots squeaking against the tile as he takes a step too far into the boy’s personal space. “Think we can go the easy way back, or would you prefer to do things the hard way again?”

The beat of silence in the room is painful as they await his response, which comes eventually in a subdued voice, through slightly gritted teeth and with his eyes on the floor. “The easy way. Sir.”

A snort from Hernandez breaks the tension. “Yeah,” he says. “We’ll see about that.”

With that, he is escorted from the room and seems to take with him all the air in Sebastian's lungs. Naively, desperately, he hopes for the briefest moment of eye contact before he’s taken away from him. But his eyes stay downward, even as a large hand curls around his bicep and makes him stumble in his gait as he’s yanked forward. Sebastian watches helplessly as he disappears from sight, one singular thought slicing through his mind on a loop:

Who did this to you?

[thessalian]

Thess vs Cancer Treatment

So I just reblogged a thing and I know it’s supposed to be funny but my medical secretary is coming out so. NUCLEAR MEDICINE, CYBERKNIFE, AND GAMMA KNIFE. And basically how fucking vital they are to cancer treatment.

Nuclear medicine: Basically this will make you just a tiiiiiiiiiny bit radioactive for awhile, yes. What it does is use very small amounts of radioactive material, plus a carrier molecule, to travel around the body and see things that even CT scans and MRI scans won’t give you a really good look at. Yes, your average imaging can generally show a tumour mass if that mass is of a decent enough size, buuuuuuut you really don’t want to be waiting around until a fucking tumour is big enough to turn up on a MRI. And you also want to know if it’s malignant, and how far it’s spread if it is. So what that little bit of radioactive does is moves through the body and its structures, and is taken in (or taken up, in the parlance) by the various organs. If something’s not being taken up as expected in an organ, that’s a sign of badness that seriously precedes the kind of mass that can get picked up on standard imaging. It can be used for more than tumours, too - anything that’s affecting how organs are taking stuff in will show up as “Wait, that ain’t right” on a scan like this. Inflammatory diseases, abscesses, obviously tumours, and even how badly damaged someone’s heart is following a heart attack.

Cyberknife: A type of very specific radiation therapy, largely done by robots (hence the ‘cyber’). Basically, the thing about radiotherapy is that it needs to be targeted (which I’ll cover a bit more when I talk about gamma knife). And ... y’know, people move. They cough, they tilt their heads ... hell, they breathe. You have no idea how much your body’s moving until you need it to be absolutely still. So what this robot is programmed to do is move with the patient. Obviously you still want to be as immobile as possible, but if you still enjoy breathing, you need something that’s going to move with you, especially when the tumour’s small. The smaller the tumour is when you hit it with radiotherapy, the less likely it is that it’ll have metastasised before it’s treated. So this is seriously a huge deal.

Gamma Knife: This is a similar sort of deal, but it’s specifically for brain tumours. See, particularly if a tumour’s down deep, the radiation it would take to deal with it could also destroy some pretty necessary parts of the brain in the process. So what they do is they map out where exactly the tumour is in the brain, and then focus multiple beams so that they cross on that specific spot. That way, the only thing getting a harmful dose of radiation is the tumour, which is what we want in a situation like this.

Why am I so gung-ho about the latter two in particular? One of my temp jobs was one of the few gamma knife centres in London. Thing is, because the situations that call for that kind of treatment are relatively rare, it wasn’t available in NHS hospitals until fairly recently. When the technology was new, no NHS hospitals had gamma knife; just private clinics that specialised in it because they could afford the machines. Now, that wasn’t to say that people on the NHS couldn’t get gamma knife treatment without going private. It is, however, to say that the process of getting the NHS to pay for it was ... difficult. And it’s pretty much how cyberknife patients are being treated right now.

It was a lot of paperwork, basically. I handled a lot of the claims. And the criteria the NHS was looking for was ... gods help me, but ‘value for money’. Was this person with their brain cancer going to live a long enough and productive enough life for it to be worth the cost to the NHS? Also, was this person with their brain cancer strong enough to survive the cheaper but more taxing therapies (which generally had a lower survival rate, a higher remission rate, and took its serious toll on people’s health)? So an old and frail person with other health conditions, who probably couldn’t survive the kind of chemotherapy needed to take out a glioblastoma, just as a for-instance, was not deemed worth it because they would die soon anyway. And there was one, I remember - kid just out of her teens, whole life ahead of her - who basically got, “She’ll probably survive the chemo because she’s young and strong”. If you think that’s a catch-22, you’re right. Thankfully, at least some of those went to appeal, and most of those appeals were eventually successful, but that just leaves people suffering for longer than they had to, with a greater possibility of metastasis.

It was bad with gamma knife, but this was in the era of Tony Blair’s NHS ‘reforms’, which unfortunately set the stage for what the Conservatives did with it a few years later. I mean, like I said, a lot of the time with gamma knife, there’d be an appeal and the appeal would be accepted and the patient would get their treatment. These days, since gamma knife is a lot more common and less expensive now, there are NHS hospitals with gamma knife facilities. Cyberknife, on the other hand, is in the same position as gamma knife was back in the day - with a government with a reputation for slapping away any hands reaching for help. If the benefits people only get little pink cards outlining what to do if someone being denied benefits starts talking about suicide, I can’t imagine that the paper-pushers at the NHS are accepting appeals for people to get life-saving radiotherapy via cyberknife when some other treatment would maybe work, even if it would damage the patient.

So there you go. A little history on medical treatments and devices in the realm of oncology, and why I get really grumpy about it. I don’t imagine any NHS hospital in the country could afford a cyberknife rig right now, with the money they’re not getting from the government (even though that’s why we pay our taxes), and that means a lot of people are needlessly suffering or outright dying because they can’t get the treatment that would save their lives without poisoning them so much.

THIS IS NOT THE US; THIS SHOULD NOT BE HAPPENING IN A COUNTRY WITH UNIVERSAL HEALTHCARE.

[firstfullmoon]

Do you have favorite quotes related about the importance of small details?

“The precious intimacy of little things.”

— Daphné du Maurier, I Will Never Be Young Again

“On my windowsill when I got home, there was a tumbler with pink jelly in it, and embedded in the jelly, sliced strawberries and bananas… [my neighbour] cooks at odd hours. She must have made the strawberry jelly this morning. When I buy baklava, which is not often because I eat too many, I leave a few for her on her windowsill, with a headscarf over them so the wasps don’t come. For these little gifts we don’t thank each other with words. They are commas of care.”

— John Berger, From A to X: A Story in Letters

“I suppose I could spend time theorizing how it is that people are not bad to each other, but that’s really not the point. The point is that in almost every instance of our lives, our social lives, we are, if we pay attention, in the midst of an almost constant, if subtle, caretaking. Holding open doors. Offering elbows at crosswalks. Letting someone else go first. Helping with the heavy bags. Reaching what’s too high, or what’s been dropped. Pulling someone back to their feet. Stopping at the car wreck, at the struck dog. The alternating merge, also known as the zipper. This caretaking is our default mode and it’s always a lie that convinces us to act or believe otherwise. Always.”

“One of the woman was gently arranging an older woman’s collar beneath her sweater, freeing it from the cardigan’s neck, using both of her hands to jostle it free but also seeming to spend a little more time than necessary, creasing the fold of the collar, the other hand kind of resting on her shoulder, the two of them chatting the whole time, sitting there holding each other, nodding, my head twisting toward them like a sunflower as I finished the stairs and walked by, so in love was I with this common flourish of love, this everyday human light.”

“but her need to share the photo with me [...] smiling and looking at it, smiling and looking at me looking at it, me smiling and looking at her looking at it, which is simply called sharing what we love, what we find beautiful, which is an ethics.”

— Ross Gay, The Book of Delights

“He’s got a fever. He’s all alone. So I’m gonna buy him something to eat.” “The congee downstairs is quite good.” “He doesn’t want congee.” “What does he want?” “Can’t taste anything so he wants sesame syrup.” [...] “What are you cooking?” “I had a sudden craving for sesame syrup.”

“Why did you call me at the office today?” “I had nothing to do. I wanted to hear your voice.”

— In the Mood for Love, dir. Wong Kar-Wai

— Danusha Laméris, “Small Kindnesses”

“It all matters. That someone turns out the lamp, picks up the windblown wrapper, says hello to the invalid, pays at the unattended lot, listens to the repeated tale, folds the abandoned laundry, plays the game fairly, tells the story honestly, acknowledges help, gives credit, says good night, resists temptation, wipes the counter, waits at the yellow, makes the bed, tips the maid, remembers the illness, congratulates the victor, accepts the consequences, takes a stand, steps up, offers a hand, goes first, goes last, chooses the small portion, teaches the child, tends to the dying, comforts the grieving, removes the splinter, wipes the tear, directs the lost, touches the lonely, is the whole thing. What is most beautiful is least acknowledged. What is worth dying for is barely noticed.”

— Laura McBride, We Are Called to Rise

“I’ve never told you this,” she said. “But there’s something about taking the cart back instead of leaving it in the parking lot. I don’t know when this came to me; it was a few years ago. There’s a difference between leaving it where you empty it and taking it back to the front of the store. It’s significant.” “Because somebody has to take them in.” “Yes. And if you know that, and you do it for that one guy, you do something else. You join the world…You move out of your isolation and become universal.”

— Andre Dubus, “Out of the Snow”

“It’s true that, in Vietnamese, we rarely say I love you, and when we do, it is almost always in English. Care and love, for us, are pronounced clearest through service: plucking white hairs, pressing yourself on your son to absorb a plane’s turbulence and, therefore, his fear. Or now—as Lan called to me, “Little Dog, get over here and help me help your mother.” And we knelt on each side of you, rolling out the hardened cords in your upper arms, then down to your wrists, your fingers. For a moment almost too brief to matter, this made sense—that three people on the floor, connected to each other by touch, made something like the word family.”

— Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous: A Novel

— Ada Limón, from “The Great Blue Heron of Dunbar Road”

“I’m doing a balancing act with a stack of fresh fruit in my basket. I love you. I want us both to eat well.”

— Christopher Citro, from “Our Beautiful Life When It’s Filled WIth Shrieks”

“One of the primary ways we connect with each other is by eating together. Some of the connection happens simply by being in the same place at the same time and sharing the same food, but we also connect through specific actions, such as serving food to one another or making toasts: ‘May I offer you some potatoes?’ ‘Here’s to your health and happiness.’ Much of our fundamental well-being comes from the basic reassurance that there is a place for us at the table. We belong here. Here we are served and we serve others. Here we give and receive sustenance.”

— Edward Espe Brown, Tomato Blessings and Radish Teaching

“Attention is the beginning of devotion.”

“Now in the spring I kneel, I put my face into the packets of violets, the dampness, the freshness, the sense of ever-ness. Something is wrong, I know it, if I don’t keep my attention on eternity. May I be the tiniest nail in the house of the universe, tiny but useful. May I stay forever in the stream. May I look down upon the windflower and the bull thistle and the coreopsis with the greatest respect.”

“it is a serious thing

just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.”

— Mary Oliver, Upstream: Selected Essays / from “Invitation”

— Wendy Cope, “The Orange”

“After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: if anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately. Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she did this. I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu-biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—she stopped crying. She thought our flight had been canceled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late. Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him. We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother until we got on the plane and would ride next to her—Southwest. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out, of course, they had ten shared friends. Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering questions. She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, the lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies. And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—non-alcoholic—and the two little girls from our flight, one African American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice and lemonade, and they were covered with powdered sugar, too. And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing with green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere. And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, this is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped—has seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too. This can still happen anywhere. Not everything is lost.”

— Naomi Shihab Nye, “Gate A4″

“Then there are the things, if you are particularly lucky, that this person has done for you while you’re away: how in the pantry, in the freezer, in the refrigerator will be all the food you like to eat, the scotch you like to drink. There will be the sweater you thought you lost the previous year at the theater, clean and folded and back on its shelf. There will be the shirt with its dangling buttons, but the buttons will be sewn back in place. There will be your mail stacked on one side of his desk; there will be a contract for an advertising campaign you’re going to do in Germany for an Austrian beer, with his notes in the margin to discuss with your lawyer. And there will be no mention of it, and you will know that it was done with genuine pleasure, and you will know that part of the reason—a small part, but a part—you love being in this apartment and in this relationship is because this other person is always making a home for you, and that when you tell him this, he won’t be offended but pleased, and you’ll be glad, because you meant it with gratitude.”

— Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

[kay-emm-gee]

Can you if you feel like it write some hurt/comfort Bellarke where he got hurt doing something absolutely stupid (getting in a fight or smth) and she is mad tilting his bruised face to herself and huffing angrily in the season 1 verse? Or if not maybe some pregnant clarke in canonverse whichever season/scenario you'd like. I love your wriitng so much!!! I've missed it!

I looooved this prompt (god, I miss s1 bellarke), so thanks for sending it in (and for you kind words!!) Also, title is based on lyrics from Hard Work by Ella Henderson. 

***

my only working remedy

Clarke had just finished helping Monroe haul wood to the smokehouse when she noticed Bellamy. Or rather, she noticed the large bruise that covered half of his cheek. Sighing, she straightened her shoulders and headed for him.

He and two other delinquents were just securing a repaired section of the wall into place when she reached him. Hands on her hips, she watched him bang on it with his fist twice to make sure it was stable. Always double checking, she thought to herself amusedly. For all that he came off hotheaded and impulsive, she had by now realized he was thoughtful and concerned more than he let on. So when he turned, Clarke was not surprised to see a barely-there grin of satisfaction at a job well done on his face.

That grin dropped as soon as he spotted her, however.

“Bellamy,” she said evenly, lips pursed. “You should have come to see me about that.” She gestured to his bruised cheek.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered.

Clarke just barely held back from rolling her eyes at his stubborn tone. As she watched his jaw work, she glanced pointedly at the two teenagers helping him. They scampered off, clearly not needing verbal indication that they should get lost. The entire camp had witnessed enough of her and Bellamy’s standoffs by now to know that it was best to evacuate the area, lest they be caught in the crossfire.

“It’s not nothing,” she argued. “And you know the rule: anyone gets injured, they come to me. Most bumps and scrapes I can fix if I get to them early, but complications from untreated injuries...those aren’t something I can easily fix.”

“What are you going to do about a bruise?” He shot back as he gathered several of the tools the others had left behind. “It’s not like we have cooling gel down here. And besides, it doesn’t hurt.”

Clarke rolled her eyes at the obvious lie. “No, but I do have a needle and thread to stitch up that oozing cut on your cheekbone. Do you want that to get infected? Because at the rate you’re going, it will.” She glanced pointedly at his dirt-streaked...well, everything. “And do you know what we don’t have down here besides cooling gel? Antibiotics. So you are coming with me.”

Bellamy just snorted derisively and turned to walk away. She darted into his path, staring up at him. He glared back, then tried to push past her. Clarke was too fast for him though. She grabbed his arm and yanked him back close to her.

“Infections can turn nasty, Bellamy. I’ve seen it before in the clinic on the Ark. Do you want to risk it? And leave Octavia on her own if it does turn bad? If you’re that scared of a little needle…” She feigned a dismissive huff, shook her head, and then waited.

His eyes flashed with outrage, but he didn’t counter her argument. And when she felt the muscles beneath her hand relax, she knew she had won. Suppressing a relieved sigh, Clarke dropped his arm and headed for the dropship. Bellamy followed, though she could feel him glaring daggers at her back the whole way.

She gestured for him to sit when they reached the corner of the first floor that she had claimed for her medical treatment area. Bellamy plopped down on a makeshift stool without a word, but Clarke didn’t miss the way his shoulders drooped, as if in relief for the break. Frowning, she cast surreptitious glances at him as she gathered the necessary materials to treat the cut. He seemed more exhausted than usual. They all needed more rest and less worry, but she knew that was even more true for Bellamy. He took on too much. She knew it. Everyone knew it. But they also knew that he wouldn’t stop, and if Clarke was being honest, she knew they might not make it if he did.

Clearing her thoughts, she moved to his side. After rinsing her hands with moonshine, she took Bellamy’s chin firmly in her hands and tipped his left cheek up to examine it. She sucked in a breath as the harsh white light illuminated what turned out to be a very nasty bruise. It looked so much worse than it had outside in the light of the setting sun.

“How’d you get this?” She asked as she released his chin.

He glanced sideways at her, then muttered. “Does it matter how I got it?”

Clarke rolled her eyes. So stubborn and closed off, always.

“This is going to sting,” she said curtly, pressing a moonshine-soaked rag to the open cut.

Bellamy twitched and hissed, but he didn’t pull away. She dabbed at the wound a few more times before reaching for the threaded needle. She sterilized it once more, then began stitching. He closed his eyes and inhaled sharply at the first push and pull of the needle. Not for the first time, she wished she had some type of local anesthetic. She braced herself for him to flinch as she kept stitching, but he didn’t move a muscle. Clarke was grateful, because it made her work go easier and faster, but she knew it had to hurt like hell.

“Try to keep it clean,” she warned once she had finished. “And I’ll take them out once it looks like it’s healing up. If it feels hot to the touch or is leaking pus or blood, come to me.”

He stood, and she didn’t miss his eye roll.

“I’m serious, Bellamy,” she snapped.

“When are you not serious, princess?” His grin was mocking and razor-sharp as he turned away from her.

Anger bubbled up in her gut at his cavalier attitude. She threw the used rags back into the bucket so hard that moonshine sloshed over the edge.

“Do you think this is a joke? That what I’m doing here is that superfluous?” She shouted. “I may not be standing on that wall of yours with a gun, or going out to hunt for meat, but I am also working to keep us safe. To keep us alive. To keep you alive, because we both know what will happen to all of them if something happens to you! And I can’t...we can’t...”

A hollow quiet filled the dropship once her shouts stopped echoing off the metal walls. Taking in a shaky breath, she murmured softly, “Do you trust me so little?”

Bellamy just watched her with an intense expression. He seemed taken aback, and she just stood there, hands on her hips, glaring at him with her stomach rolling. The moment stretched, and she felt heat rising from her neck onto her cheeks. She didn’t need his approval, never would, but here she was, still waiting for him to say something, anything.

“We need you,” he finally said, voice low and rough but also sincere. “I know it, and they know it. And I do...trust you.”

He gave her a curt nod, then strode towards the exit. Clarke sighed, then plopped onto the stool he had just vacated, both embarrassed at her outburst and relieved at his reassurance. She was wiping her damp hands on her thighs when she heard his footsteps stop.

“Clarke.”

She glanced up. Bellamy had stopped in the doorway and turned back to face her.

“If anything feels off with this,” he gestured to his face, “I’ll come back.” He paused, then gruffly said, “And thanks for the stitches.”

She smiled wanly at him. “Anytime. And try not to stop a fist with your face again.”

He rolled his eyes and let out a snort. “I make no promises.”

She let out a laugh under her breath as he walked down the ramp back into camp. That was the best she could hope for, she supposed. Nothing was guaranteed on the ground, but somehow, in this moment, Clarke was starting to feel a bit less like the earth was constantly shifting under her feet.

[wanderinginksplot]

Nobody Listens to Kix

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Case 01245: Commander Bly

"Hold still, vod," Kix reminded gently. "The scanner can't get an accurate reading if you keep moving."

"Yes, sir," Commander Bly agreed, obediently fighting to keep still.

Kix refrained from reminding the commander that he in fact outranked Kix - and by quite a large margin. Bly was struggling enough as it was. He had been standing far too close to an explosive blast, and the burns covering the left side of his face and body were clear. The fire had melted large sections of his plastoid armor, adding to the damage.

Continuing to wear what remained of the armor had to be uncomfortable, but Kix had to complete a full scan before he could allow the commander to remove the outer layer. There was a possibility that some of Bly's skin had melted to the inside of the plastoid and he simply didn't feel it due to shock.

Finally, the scanner beeped to tell Kix that it had completed a full scan with no motion interference. Bly was lucky; there was no connection between his skin and the rest of his armor. Kix quickly informed the commander of this and they both worked to remove the plastoid from his singed body glove.

When Bly was free, his hand moved as though he planned on exploring the damage done to the left half of his face, but Kix stopped him with an extended hand and sharp shake of his head. "You won't want to do that, commander. Burns hurt worse than anything. You're in shock right now, but it won't last forever. The sooner you start feeling it, the more painful the treatment will be."

"I understand, Kix," Bly agreed softly, dropping his hand immediately.

"Let me do one final scan, then I'll start mixing a bacta spray," Kix told him, readying the scanner once more. "If we're lucky, we can get your treatment well underway by the time the pain really kicks in."

"Don't you mean 'Kix in'?" Bly asked, quirking a brow. Unfortunately, it was his left eyebrow and he hissed slightly at the new and painful sensation.

"I hope that was worth it, Commander," Kix told him dryly.

"It wasn't my best joke, but hey, laugh or cry, right?" Bly shrugged - carefully using his right shoulder this time. He fell silent again, watching Kix configure the scanner. "Can I ask why you need to do another scan?"

Kix eyed Bly for a moment, but saw no signs of impatience or mockery on the commander's face. "Scanners can work through plastoid, but the signal gets significantly weaker. That's fine if you're checking for surface-level injuries, but if you want to look deeper, you need to get under the armor. Now that we've removed the plastoid from this equation, this scan will show the full extent of the burns."

He began scanning as he finished his explanation, but the medbay door whipped open before the short process had ended. "Commander, how are you?"

Kix was tempted to turn so he could see the new arrival to the medbay with his own eyes, but the accented voice made Bly's spine straighten and his blood pressure ratchet up a few levels, so the medic knew who it was. General Secura had that effect on many a trooper.

Still, Kix always took care of his vode, so Kix silenced the scanner's alarm before it could play an audible arrhythmia warning. It was no business of the general's if her arrival had made Bly's heart literally skip a beat.

"I'm fine, General," Bly answered his commanding officer, voice steady.

It was an impressive show. Bly's feelings for his beautiful general were the worst-kept secret in the GAR… which was saying something. Still, his eyes were clear and his face serene, even as Kix watched his heart rate increase. As if he heard Kix's silent admiration, Bly's gaze slid to the scanner still held in Kix's hand and the medic hurriedly put it away. He had the information he needed, anyway.

Kix cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the general and the commander. "The burns don't appear to be deep. Commander Bly was lucky that he had his face turned away from the blast." He turned to address Bly directly. "The plastoid of your armor protected your body from the worst of the burns, but there will be some scarring on your neck and left hand."

Bly shrugged at that, but General Secura looked unhappy. "Is there nothing you can do to heal him completely? I could arrange transport to a medstation. Maybe some time spent in a bacta tank…"

Fighting not to furrow his eyebrows, Kix shook his head. "Not necessary, General. I'll make a bacta spray to help the healing process, apply some burn gel to pull the heat away, and administer some pain meds for the discomfort. Commander Bly will be all healed up in a few weeks."

As he went to assemble the components for a bacta spray, Kix smirked to himself. A kriffing bacta tank? Troopers went in bacta tanks for missing limbs, shattered skulls, comas… Putting the commander in one for a few mild burns would be insane. Kix’s motions slowed as he heard the quiet conversation taking place behind him.

"I have no skill for Force-healing," General Secura admitted, sounding unreasonably guilty about that fact.

"What are a few more scars?" Bly answered flippantly but his voice grew more serious as he added. "General, I don't care what I look like. What matters is that I can fight for the Republic. The best way to do that is to keep you safe."

Secura seemed to let out a sigh. "You were hurt protecting me- Protecting the Republic's interests, that is. I do not like knowing that you'll be scarred as a thanks for your efforts."

"I would gladly carry a few more marks if it means that you're alive, General," Bly said, tone genuine. Kix winced, thinking that he was cutting it a bit close to admitting having non-regulation feelings for a commanding officer. Bly seemed to feel the same, however, since he added, "Besides, scars will just make my tattoos stand out even more."

"Ah, how could I forget the importance of your tattoos?" the general teased. "No one should go without seeing them."

"Well, we'll try to minimize the scarring anyway," Kix told them both as he came back with the freshly-mixed bacta spray. He talked Bly through the process as he gently cleaned the burns, applied the bacta spray, and misted the burn gel from a special aerosol dispenser. He passed Bly some of the medbay’s strongest pain meds. Kix could tell that the pain was finally beginning to reach the commander and wanted to stop it as soon as possible now that the treatment was working.

"Now, I don't want you reaching around yourself to apply the spray," Kix said, finishing his explanation. "You wouldn't be able to get the right angle and distance, and it would stretch the burned skin more than we want. Take the spray and the dispenser with you and I'll transmit the instructions to the 327th's medic. Limit is still your main medic, right?"

"Yes, he is, but I would like a copy of those instructions as well, Kix," General Secura told him and turned to speak directly to Bly. Taking the hint, Kix moved a few steps away to give them a semblance of privacy - even if he could still see both medbay occupants and hear their conversation clearly. "If Limit is ever busy, comm me and I'll apply the treatments myself."

Bly shifted in the chair. "General, you've got more important things-"

"Hush, Bly," the general told him, lifting a hand to brush her fingertips over the tattoo on Bly's uninjured cheek. "There is nothing more important than supporting my men, especially the commander who kept me from being blown up today."

Obviously fighting a blush, Bly gave a single sharp nod.

Kix cleared his throat. "Feel free to make your way back to the Liberty when you feel able, Bly. General."

The two left the medbay, walking closer together than Kix thought was wise, considering the commander's injuries. When the room was silent once more, Kix pulled out a new patient treatment form and stared at it for a long moment.

Everyone in the GAR knew that Commander Bly had a weakness for his Twi'lek general. It was far from uncommon; the level of attention that Aayla Secura attracted from her appearance, strength, and grace made most of the 327th uncomfortable and ready to fight on a regular basis. However, none of the intel Kix had heard - and he had heard a lot, considering how chatty most brothers were - had suggested that the general felt similarly about her commander. Jedi weren't supposed to be attached, after all.

And yet…

Kix's mind played back the sight of General Secura brushing a delicate hand over Bly's cheek, putting the moment in an infinite loop. Even if she didn't harbor un-Jedi-like feelings for Commander Bly, there was certainly enough room for doubt that Kix could sympathize about how Bly may have gotten confused.

But General Secura had wanted to put Bly in a bacta tank. For mild, superficial burns, no less. And the warmth in her voice when she had volunteered to personally help with Bly's treatment…

Kix shook his head, feeling more confused than he had been since his first day of flash training. However, if there was one constant in his life, it was that paperwork needed to be filed. Kix turned his attention back to the medical form in front of him, checking the 'General Present' box and moving on to his other duties.

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(Clone Wars) Kix x Reader: A Trip to the Medbay

-Though you're injured, you refuse to get help because of a certain medic. Little did you know, this trip to medbay would change everything-

You kicked and tried to wriggle free, but there was no escaping Fives as he carried you to the medbay of the ship with his arms wrapped firmly around your torso, pinning your arms to your side. Troopers and other respected members of the GAR stared at you as you passed by. Not only did this look unprofessional, but you were trying very hard to avoid the destination.

“Fives,” you grunted. “Is this really necessary?”

He stopped in the middle of the hallway, arms still around you.“Well, if I put you down, will you walk to the medbay?”

“No.”

“Then yes, this is necessary.” He smirked. “Although, I do appreciate your honesty.”

“But- but the medbay is for people who need it.”

“And you need it. I saw you at the hangar. Don’t you want to get better?” Fives resumed walking, and you huffed.

“It’s nothing. There are so many soldiers and people out there who need it more than me.” While it was true you felt that way, it wasn’t the only reason you were so desperate to avoid the medbay- or rather, someone in the medbay. Feelings for a medic is what kept you away.

“Come on, ________,” Fives said with a sigh. “I know you’re not crazy about the medbay, but I hear Kix is on his shift. You know Kix. He’ll take good care of you.”

But that’s what you were afraid of.

In actuality, you and Kix were good friends. You’d gotten to know him well on and off the battlefield. You aided the 501st in many ways by helping to move or distribute weapons, gear, or other necessities on board the ship and on missions. On a few occasions, you had been an unofficial assistant to Kix when he was short on help in the heat of battle to get injured troopers to safety and give them the care or medicine they needed. You admired how good he was to the men. Sure, it was his job to ensure their survival, but it was evident that he truly cared about them. You were touched by the depth of his compassion, which was evident whether he was tending to troops or civilians.

You were determined to not let these feelings get in the way of your job, and they didn’t...until one day when Kix tended to one of your injuries. You weren’t used to the close contact with him, even if it was strictly professional. With pulse racing and skin growing warm, you fumbled over your words while answering his questions. You hoped to avoid another interaction like that.

Your heart dropped at the sight of the medbay doors. Fives walked you right in and finally released you from his hold. You winced from the movement. His hand rested on your shoulder, but it was pointless. Kix had already glanced up from his datapad. There was no turning back now.

“Hey, _______. Hey, Fives. What seems to be the trouble?” Kix asked, though he directed his question more towards the ARC trooper. It made sense, considering he was usually the one getting himself into trouble.

“_________ here has an injury she’s been neglecting,” Fives informed him. “I caught her wincing all day, but she refused to come see you. Had to drag her down here.”

Kix looked to you, brows furrowing as he went into medic-mode. He motioned for you to follow him to the nearest empty gurney, which wasn’t far since things were slow in the medbay. You quietly took a seat. Kix noticed your silence and offered a small smile.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get you checked out, and you’ll be out of here in no time.”

His efforts to ease what he thought were nerves about the medbay made you feel guilty for being a little distant, yet seeing that smile simultaneously thrilled you.

“Well, my work here is done.” Fives gave you a casual wave. “I’ll see you later.” As he left, your nerves grew. There was no one here to buffer your interaction with Kix.

“So, what’s going on, _________?” Kix asked, eyes meeting yours. This was what you feared...Having his undivided attention in a moment of vulnerability.

“I, um...was… I was moving some supplies in the hangar, and I-I think I pulled something,” you said. “I’m getting sharp pains when I lift anything now” You failed to mention it was an injury you sustained lifting very heavy gear during the most recent battle, and it was reinjured because you hadn’t received the proper treatment or rest since then.

His brows furrowed again as he thought. “I see. First thing we’re going to do is locate the source of pain.” He leaned forward and put a hand on your shoulder. “Does it hurt here?”

“No.”

Kix’s hand travelled to your shoulder blade where he pressed. “Here?”

“No.” Your cheeks were burning.

He carefully lifted your arm, and a sharp pain jolted in your ribs. Air hissed through your teeth, and Kix looked at you apologetically. “Those muscles don’t pull easily, but when they do, they hurt. You must have been really exerting yourself.”

Unable to think of a response, you simply nodded.

“It’s nothing that a little pain-dulling stim won’t help, but you’ve got to rest. I’m giving you a note to excuse you from heavy-lifting for a while until you recover.” As he began to administer the stim, his eyes found yours again. “________, is everything okay? You’ve seen me do this a hundred times with others. You know there’s nothing to be afraid of, right?”

You took a deep breath, and the pain that was usually there already started to fade. You figured it was time to at least give him a little insight as to what was going on in your head. “Actually, I guess I’m just a little nervous being treated by...you.”

“Me?”

“But it’s not because I don’t like you or anything! It’s quite the opposite. I mean…” You cleared your throat. “You’re my friend, and I guess I’m not used to you being my medic.”

He nodded, that small smile returning to his face. “I think I get where you’re coming from.”

“Really?”

Ugh, he was handsome, strong, smart, compassionate and understanding. This wasn’t helping the situation with your feelings, but you were glad he didn’t take offense.

“If I’m being honest, I feel the same way sometimes,” he continued. His gaze was on the datapad again as he typed some notes. “Being that you’re a female.”

“But you deal with female civilians, and you never look nervous,” you pointed out curiously. “Why am I different?”

He stopped typing, but didn’t meet your gaze. “I suppose it’s the same reason as yours, because you’re my friend. And a young, attractive female friend at that.” Then his brows went up. “But it doesn’t interfere with my work. I don’t want you to be in pain, and nothing hinders that.”

Your heart nearly melted in that moment. “You think I’m attractive?”

“I was hoping you didn’t notice that part,” he muttered, giving a shy sideways glance. “But yes. You’re attractive, smart, caring...”

You suddenly noticed that the medbay was empty, save for the two of you. Good thing, too, because you had gathered your courage. “I, um...The feeling is mutual. I think you’re attractive. You’re kind, intelligent, compassionate.” Kix’s gaze snapped up to meet yours. Something was communicated in that look between you two. In the next instant, he had left the datapad behind and walked over to stand in front of you. You were still sitting up on the gurney, legs dangling over the side. There was nowhere to go as he leaned in- not that you wanted to go anyway.

Kix’s hands rested on your shoulders as he quietly asked, “Does this hurt?”

You took a breath. “No.”

His hands moved to rest on each of your arms. “This?”

You shook your head.

Finally, he wrapped one arm around you to pull you off the gurney and to your feet, his other hand tipping your chin up. “And this?”

“Not one bit,” you whispered. You leaned in the rest of the way to press a kiss to his cheek, pausing to gauge his reaction. He returned the gesture on your cheek, and then all at once your lips captured his. Kix leaned into the kiss gently at first, as if getting used to the feeling. Then, he took control and pulled you tighter into his embrace as he kissed you over and over. Your arms wrapped around him, just as you had wanted to do many times. It felt safe there. Secure. He pulled away momentarily before placing one last soft peck on your lips.

When you separated, reality started to hit you. You kissed Kix. He kissed you back. It was something you had dreamed about, and it happened in the empty medbay. At the same time, you felt waves of affection as you gazed into each other’s eyes.

“So this happened,” you said.

“Yes, it did.” Kix smirked. “You had it coming. You’re too beautiful, you know that?”

You smirked back, revelling in the newfound confidence in front of him now that your feelings were revealed. “And you’re talking too much.” You pulled him in for another electric kiss.

The moment was interrupted when the medbay doors slid open. Kix quickly turned to shield you from the view of whoever entered, quickly trying to think of a cover.

“Relax,” Fives’ voice echoed in the room. “It’s just me. And you’re lucky it is because if anyone else spotted you locking lips, you’d both be in trouble.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Had to say, I approve. I just wish it hadn’t taken the two of you so long to get together.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

He raised a brow at you. “So, did you at least get your injury taken care of, or was this whole thing a plot to avoid getting checked out?”

You laughed. “Kix took care of it. I have to tell my boss that I’m off the field for a few days. I’ve got a note and everything.”

“I’m sending it directly from my datapad,” Kix informed, releasing you to retrieve the device. “In the meantime, why don’t we hit the mess?” He glanced up at you.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to some grub,” Fives agreed. When you and Kix stared at him, he shrugged. “What? I feel like going to the mess hall too. I think I’m entitled considering I know of a little secret of yours.”

“You’ve got a point.” You rolled your eyes, smiling. “Fine, but you can’t come on our official first date.”

He held his hands up. “Like I’d want to. I’m going to have to rinse my eyes out after catching you swapping spit the first time.”

Kix clapped a hand on the ARC trooper’s shoulder. “You certainly have a way with words, brother.” You and Kix held hands on your way out of the medbay, and Fives led the way. At the sight of the first trooper in the hallway, you and Kix let go of each other’s hands and put some distance between you. You caught Kix’s gaze out of the corner of your eye, and he smiled knowingly at the secret the two of you shared.

This was going to be difficult, but you knew you could do it together.

[clatterbane]

I really haven't had the mental energy yet to start talking about that long-awaited gastroscopy appointment this Monday. Hoping I can in some more detail later.

But, I'm still on liquids for now! 🙃 Turned out that King George Hospital's pediatric scope was broken, and I had needed it before since part of the stricture was so narrow. And, if anything, it's closed down further since then.

Also, the main doctor who ended up talking with me was A SURGEON, who was there to have a look at the situation to further decide on options.

There was apparently a multidisciplinary team meeting back in December, and it was decided that the biodegradable stent they were going to install last time (if the one on hand hadn't turned out to be defective) was probably not the best option after all. So, that installation was never in the plans for the most recent appointment, contrary to the last thing I heard back in October I think it was now.

Some terrible communication all around, yeah. And absolutely nothing I heard Monday inspired much confidence, other than that surgeon being much more forthcoming with actual information about my condition and what was even being discussed on the medical professional end of things.

[ETA: He also said he would copy me on the report letter to the GP's office, and include his contact information so that i would at least have someone I knew I could get in touch with if needed. Which I really appreciated!]

(Why would a patient even need to know what type/size of stricture they even have, right? 🙄👿 Much less any of the rest of it. )

None of that sounded good, tbqh--and it's looking even less great the more I have tried to look into what the potential options from here might even be.

Apparently, it basically looks like I was chugging bleach, and did not get prompt treatment afterwards. Which is why they were having continuing trouble believing that the issue is totally a product of one DKA episode.

The surgeon seemed very surprised too after looking through my records--but again he wasn't here while I was basically passed out in the bed with gastric stasis, spewing up straight stomach acid for like two days straight. 😬 As Mr. C who was indeed looking after me then said, "It was A LOT of acid."

But, it's definitely better to know more, and have some better idea of where we even stand now.

One of the reasons I have not been able to talk about this much yet? The whole situation is overwhelming. And I am also very angry about the continuing treatment delays, Plague Time or not. While treating me like a mushroom, up to this point.

They have not been following their own guidelines there, and there is very little doubt that my condition has indeed turned more serious because of it. And it seems like they're being overly quick to jump into more drastic, poorly tested measures now--after not giving safer, well-supported treatments a fair trial and keeping The Lowly Esophagus Owner in the dark up to this point.

I am not even going to rant more right now. It's hard to stop, and that really won't help me when I am already trying hard not to get totally overwhelmed.

But yeah, that's the very short version of what happened, and roughly where we are in GI Fuckery Land right now. Consulting with surgeons. 😩

Who say that little planned look-see session will be rescheduled ASAP if they have to get the right scope from the another hospital.(He did also say they can hopefully do another dilation then, since I just can't eat.) But, I am really not holding my breath for that.

That surgeon also sounded particularly concerned that I've been on a DIY liquid diet for months, with no input/help from a dietician. So, I am supposed to get an urgent referral for another freaking phone appointment. He also seemed to think I should be getting Ensure, etc.--any special nutritional stuff deemed medically necessary--covered through the NHS. So, at least there's that. It's not like I have to follow any stupid-ass recommendations that I don't think will help me. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[wonderful-writer]

14 - Mount Weather

Summary: Y/n finds herself in a new place, becoming suspicious of it and it’s motives very quickly. Clarke shares the same suspicion, and both become weary about the safety of the people that didn’t make it into the dropship.

Word Count: 3.90k

Based Off: 02x01, “The 48”

Your eyes fluttered open to an all white room, the brightness stinging your eyes. You closed them tightly again and put your hand over them to block out some of the light, adjusting your eyes to see what was in the room. You sat up in the bed, noticing that you were clean and no longer caked with dirt and blood. Your clothes had been changed, and there was no pain or knife protruding from your backside. 

The room was all white. The sheets, walls, floors, couch, and door were the same shade. However, the only thing that was different was the painting hung up on the wall. It was one of the paintings you recognized from art class as the very famous painting of Napoleon Crossing the Alps. You looked at the painting for a few seconds longer before moving to the door, which had a window showing you the hallway. 

The thing that had caught your attention was the sign on the opposite wall, which read “Mount Weather quarantine ward”. You looked at the door opposite to you to see the window was empty, but it looked like someone was in there because of the messed up pillows on the bed. 

As the memories of the previous night flooded back to you, you began to panic. Bellamy and Finn were gone, possibly dead, and whoever brought you here fixed your stab wound and possibly took the others as well. You couldn’t see any of the other 100, and the thought reached you that you were the only one left. 

If there really was no one from the Ark left alive and you were the only one, how was everything going to go after this? How were you going to get out of wherever you were and live without the grounders attempting to kill you at every turn? 

Everything blurred and you felt tears filling your eyes as you stumbled, pressing yourself against the nearest wall and sliding down it, gripping your hair, which was no longer in braids, and attempting to control this raging panic attack with no one to help you. Your breaths came out shakily and your eyes remained squeezed shut, forcing yourself to think the exact opposite of what you just were in order to get your mind to stop racing. 

You felt time slipping away as you stayed there, before the rage of being all alone and without information took over. You slammed your hands on the floor and pushed yourself up onto your feet, breathing heavily. 

You grabbed the first object you could, that being the IV drip, and throwing whatever bags were on it at the door, the saline spilling down it and pooling on the floor. Then you kicked the tray of medical supplies over, the instruments clattering to the floor loudly, and you made swift movements to the room separator, throwing it to the ground, listening to the loud clunk it made when it hit the linoleum floor.

In the small break of silence you faintly heard glass shattering, but chose to ignore it. You grabbed the pole that the IV bags were hanging off of and ran to the door, shattering the window as your feet stepped in the puddle of saline at the door. You hit the doorknob multiple times, to the point where both the metal rod and the doorknob were dented. 

You moved back, taking a running start at the door, trying to ram it open with the IV pole. You, however, slipped in the saline and glass puddle as you were running, causing you to knock all of the air out of your lungs when you fell over, and feel the familiar ripping of stitches; along with a brand new horizontal cut on your forearm, near the scar Murphy gave you, from a large shard of glass that you landed on.

The IV pole in your hands fell on top of you as you fell, hitting you on the forehead and blurring your vision, as well as sending a dull throb through your head. You watched the bright room grow dimmer, your vision fading back into black as you passed out. Again. 

You woke back up in a different room, one that wasn’t white. You tried to cover your eyes with your hand to block out the light as they adjusted, but your hands were restricted. 

“Y/n?” You heard Clarke’s voice.”Y/n wake up!”

You opened your eyes and saw that you couldn’t move your hands because they were tied down, one restraint just barely overlapping with a bandage they put on for your new cut. You looked to your left to see Clarke sitting on the bed next to you, also restrained, but sitting up.

You did the best you could to do the same, the restraints holding you back. You heard the door hiss open on your right, watching as two guards, a woman in a lab coat, an older man, and a girl came in, along with another guard. 

“Hello, Clarke,” The woman greeted. “How’s your arm?”

Clarke didn’t say anything in response. The woman took a glance at you to see you also awake. “Hello, Y/n, I see you’re awake, too. How are you feeling?”

You did the same as Clarke and just stared at the woman. 

“They’re not very talkative, are they?” She commented. 

“A skill they picked up from the savages, no doubt.” The elderly man said. “Maya has something to say to Clarke first anyway.”

The girl that came in with the rest of them looked up at Clarke, almost scared of her. “You were the next one to be cleared through quarantine. Another 10 minutes and you would’ve-” She was cut off by the older man clearing his throat.

“And then it was supposed to be her.” She looked at you for a second and then turned back to Clarke. “I’m not pressing charges.” “Thank you, Maya.” The old man said. “You can get your treatment now.”

The doctor directed Maya to a bed and the older man looked to the guards. “Restraints aren’t necessary. On either of them.” 

One guard came to untie you and the other went to Clarke. Once the restraints were off, you came to sit at the edge of the bed like Clarke. 

“Dante Wallace,” He introduced himself to Clarke, extending a hand for her to shake. She grabbed it to inspect the black smudges on his hand.

“Oil paint,” He said. “That’s right. You’re an artist too.”

Clarke stood up and asked him who told him that. 

“Your people.” He said. “They also said you and Y/n here were their leaders.” You stood up and went to stand beside Clarke.

“Looks like you two and I have a lot in common, kiddos.” You looked apprehensively to Clarke, who looked back at you the same way. 

“Where’s my watch?” Clarke asked. It was then that you noticed the cool metal of your locket wasn’t present on your chest. 

“And my locket?” You asked. “What did you do with it?”

“I’m sorry, but we can’t let contaminated items inside Mount Weather. We couldn’t risk it.” He told you. “Our protocol is very strict. We prioritize safety over sentimentality.”

“That was the only thing I had left of my mother! The only picture of her and my father are both in there you asshole!” You started to get angry again, but Clarke’s assuring yet sad eyes stopped you from going any further. 

“How many of us did you capture?” Clarke asked, pulling her eyes away from the machine that Maya was hooked up to. You kept your gaze on it, too, curious.

“48, including both of you. But, Clarke, you’ve got it wrong. You’re not prisoners. We saved you.” Dante assured her.

“Well, in that case, you won’t mind if we leave.” You said. “If there are 48 of us here, we still have people out there.”

“The patrol brought in everyone they could find,” Dante told you.  

“What about the Ark? I saw it come down last night.” Clarke asked.

“We saw it,” Dante said. “There were multiple crash sites over 100 square miles. If there were survivors, we will bring them in, too. You have my word.”

“We want to see our people.” Clarke decided. 

“Of course, you do. I would too.” Dante motioned for two guards behind him to roll forward a crate, opening it to reveal an array of clothing and jewellery. You and Clarke marvelled at the sight as Dante spoke again.

“Change and meet me in the hall.” He and the guards left the room, leaving you and Clarke to choose what clothing suited you. 

She chose a pink shirt with a turquoise sports jacket over it and some blue pants that didn’t quite reach the bottom of her calf, along with some simple sneakers. You, however, grabbed a white shirt and some black leggings, with a jacket that was similar to Clarke’s but was black instead of her turquoise and running shoes similar to hers.

She ran her fingers along the shoes before she put hers on, picking up a pair of heels and handing one to you. You followed her actions by snapping off the heel and slipping it underneath your jacket sleeve, ready to use when needed. 

You pushed open the door and saw Dante waiting for the both of you with about 4 guards standing by. The room was very noisy as you walked up to him. 

“Sorry about the noise!” He yelled as you started walking. “Hydroelectric power from the Philpott dam. Fresh water from our own underground reservoir.”

“Fresh food from our hydroponic farm,” He said.

“I don’t understand,” Clarke shook her head. “You’re on the ground, you know it’s survivable. Why would you stay here?”

“It’s not survivable for us,” Dante told you. 

“The grounders seem to have managed.” You said. 

“Natural selection works,” Dante replied. “The grounders who couldn’t survive in the radiation didn’t. Those who could passed on their DNA. For better or for worse, here, we never went through that process.”

“Well, neither did we,” Clarke said. “We’ve been on the ground now for…”

“Solar radiation.” You continued her sentence, coming to the same realization.

“Very good.” Dante smiled. “Your DNA ran the same gauntlet as the grounders. Only because radiation levels in space are even higher, your ability to metabolize that radiation is even stronger.”

You stopped at an elevator and waited for it to come up, Dante still speaking to you and Clarke. “Truth be told, our scientists were blown away with the efficiency of your systems. If not for that, your friends would still be upstairs in quarantine.”

“I have a question,” You said. Dante looked at you and nodded for you to continue. “I wasn’t with the others. I was near the front gate with a knife sticking out of my back. How did I end up here?”

“Well,” Dante responded. “Our patrol found you outside the gate not long after we got there and bought you in with them. And it was a good thing that we did, too. You were almost dead when you got here.”

You nodded and the elevator doors creaked open, Dante allowing you and Clarke to enter the elevator. You both entered hesitantly, watching Dante as the doors began to close. Dante stopped them and held out his hand.

“First, give me the heels.” You looked at Clarke in shock, but reluctantly pulled the heel from your sleeve, pressing it into Dante’s palm with Clarke.

“You’re not fighting for your life anymore, girls. You’ve made it. Welcome to Mount Weather.” The elevator doors closed and brought you both to level 5, the guards escorting you. Clarke began to walk towards the small crowd, where you heard a woman talking. 

“Your packet contains everything you need to know about Mount Weather, which I promise isn’t as confusing as the map on page one makes it out to look. You came from level 3, which houses our medical facility including…” 

The woman's voice was drowned by your Monty’s, saying yours and Clarke’s name. He ran towards you and enveloped Clarke in a hug, while Jasper came to you. 

“I thought you were dead,” He whispered. Once they both let go of you, you hugged Monty and Jasper hugged Clarke, the other delinquents coming to greet you. 

“Finn?” Clarke asked.

“And Bellamy?” You asked. 

“Y/n they uh… they didn’t make it.” Jasper whispered.

“We don’t know that,” Clarke assured everyone. “What about Raven?”

The silence was enough of an answer, the crowd breaking to let the woman you heard before come to meet you.

“Welcome Clarke, Y/n.” She greeted you. “If you have any questions, I’m Keenan.” 

She handed you both packets and walked away with a smile. Your head was spinning. You didn’t know what to think, what to do. Things felt weird around here and you just wanted to go back to the dropship. 

Clarke opened up the packet and looked at the map. You took a glance at it from her packet, not bothered to open your own, the map confusing you.

Later in the day, you were back in the dining hall for lunch, which was the best food you’d ever eaten. While the food was nice, you were still on edge about Mount Weather. Something seemed off. You sat next to Monty as he and Jasper ate dessert, Jasper offering his pie to Monty to try some. 

“My turn,” Jasper said, pointing to the cake on Monty’s plate.

“This? Nah. You won’t like it. The pie is way better.” Monty brushed Jasper off and you giggled under your breath, knowing he was keeping it to himself because he didn’t want Jasper to have any.  Jasper eyed Monty’s plate and tried to take it, but Monty was quicker. 

“Really?” He asked and Monty nodded, fighting a smile. 

They both stood up, dishes clattering, ready to fight for the chocolate cake. Monty moved to the left and Jasper copied, then they both moved to the right and stopped abruptly, seeing Clarke approach the table.

“Hey, Clarke,” Jasper greeted.

“Sit down and pretend you’re happy to see me.” She whispered, sitting down next to Jasper.

“We are happy to see you,” Monty told her, mouth full of chocolate cake.He offered some to Clarke and you laughed as your brother put on a look of fake betrayal.

“I’m not eating their food.” Clarke told him, her eyes on Dante at the head table. She pulled out her packet and showed the map to the three of you. 

“Look,” She said. “They gave us a map with no exits. I need you to tell me everything you’ve seen. Every room, every hallway, every way out.”

“Way out?” Jasper asked. “Look around you, Clarke. There’s no one hunting us here. First time in our lives we’re not hungry. Why would we want to leave?”

“Because we have friends out there who need our help.”

“They’re looking for survivors,” Monty assured her. “And they’re way better equipped to find them than we are.”

“I think she’s right,” You jumped in. “This place, it’s too good to be true. I don’t trust it.”

“You guys are bumming me out. I’m-- I’m gonna get more cake.” Jasper laughed lightly and took his plate as he stood up, making his way to the dessert table. 

You watched him interact with the girl that Clarke attacked earlier, a smile making its way to your face. Clarke watched him, too, an idea springing to her head. She took her packet and looked at you, motioning her head for you to follow her. You both stood up and walked over to Maya and Jasper. 

“Hey,” Clarke put her packet on the table. “It’s Maya, right? I just wanted to say sorry, for this morning. I was scared and worried about my friends; I hope you can understand that.” 

Maya smiled and nodded, still anxious to be around Clarke, who picked up her packet and walked away, the both of you smiling at Jasper and Maya beforehand. Clarke discreetly revealed that she had swiped Maya’s keycard when she left, slipping it in her pocket.

Not long after you left, alarms started blaring throughout the white hallway you were walking down, bright yellow lights flashing at the door behind you. 

“Not a prisoner, huh?” Clarke muttered as you both took off down the hall. 

You came to an intersection, looking to your left to see armed guards running towards you, and even more coming from your right. You kept running straight, zig zagging to throw off the guards, until you reached a rusty door. Clarke swiped Maya’s card on the keypad and you helped her pull open the door, slipping inside and pulling it shut.

You looked around and were met with stairs going up and down, you starting to go up as Clarke disabled the keypads and followed after you. You stopped at the first level, opening the door and coming to a stop at the beginning of a hallway. There was a large, round door at the end of it, and you and Clarke ran to it.

She tried pulling the lever beside it, but to no avail. She smacked the concrete wall in front of her and you looked at the door, seeing a hatch on it. You both moved to it and began to turn it, hearing a loud clunk after a few turns. 

Clarke moved back to the lever and you put a hand on it as well. Just as you were about to pull it and open the door, Jasper and Maya stopped you.

“Clarke, no!” Jasper yelled. “If you pull that lever, these people will die. Even a little radiation could kill them.” 

“Don’t make me shoot you,” Maya said, shakily holding a gun up to the both of you. 

“Wait,” Jasper said, standing in front of Maya with his hands out, walking up to you and Clarke. “Don’t do this.”

“I don’t believe them,” Clarke shook her head.

“Why would they lie?” Jasper asked. “Listen to me. We are safe here. Because of you guys, we’re safe.”

“Not all of us,” You said. 

“I’m the one that fired the rockets, should I not have done that?” Jasper asked. “Clarke, when you pulled that lever, you saved lives. Don’t throw that away by pulling this one.”

You and Clarke let go of the lever, sniffling and trying to prevent the tears from escaping your eyes. Bellamy was out there, he was out there with Finn, and you couldn’t get to him. The guards came barrelling in, Jasper raising his hands and moved to the side to let the guards through.

You put up no fight as they shoved you to the ground along with Clarke to handcuff you. Two guards guided Clarke down the halls, while another two guided you, a hand on each elbow as they brought you into Dante’s office. 

“Lose the handcuffs,” He instructed the guards as he painted. “There’s a blank canvas if you’d like,” He offered to Clarke, who shook her head. 

“I used to paint the ground, too.” Clarke told Dante.

“It’s not just the ground,” He said. “It’s a memory.”

“You’ve been outside?” You asked curiously.

“Yes. 56 years ago, for 5 minutes.” He said. “I was 7 when the first of what we call the outsiders appeared. Before that, we thought we were all there was. Imagine our surprise.” 

“We don’t have to imagine,” Clarke replied. 

“My father- this was his office at the time- believed it meant that the earth was survivable again, and so he opened the doors.” He recalled. “Within a week, 54 people were dead from the exposure. My mother and sister among them.”

He turned to put his paint brushes and pallet away, facing the both of you. “Loss… pain, regret. Time eases these things, girls, but the only time it’s ever truly gone is when I’m painting.”

He took off his jacket and placed it on the chair as Clarke looked around. “You didn’t bring us here to talk about painting, did you?”

“I’m afraid I have bad news.” He stopped on the other side of his paint cart. “Our patrols have swept the area and found no evidence of survivors, either at the camp or from the Ark.”

“How can they be sure?” You asked, shaking your head.

“They can’t,” Dante replied. “I’ve ordered them to keep searching.”

“We need to see for ourselves.” Clarke demanded.

“I’m sorry, I can’t allow that.” Dante denied. “I’m doing this for your own good, girls. It’s not safe out there.”

“Radiation has no effect on us. “ Clarke rebutted.

“It’s not the radiation I’m concerned about,” Dante motioned for the guards to come back in. “You need time to grieve. These men will show you to your room.”

“And if we try to leave?” You asked.

“Please don’t test me, girls.” Dante said.

Sighing, you turned and followed after Clarke, who left the room just before you. You tried not to think about the patrols not finding any survivors, but there was nothing you could do but that. The silent walk to the bedroom tore you apart on the inside as your thoughts collected and got worse and worse by the minute.

Soon after you were brought back to the room where the rest of the 48 were sleeping, you were brought back to the dining hall for dinner. Everyone stood at the table and joined hands, you between Clarke and Jasper as everyone said a prayer.

“For the past and the future we serve,” Dante said.

“We give thanks.” The room replied.

“Good health, good food, and good company. And the blessing of new friends.”

“We give thanks.” Everyone sat down to eat, digging into a wonderful beef stew. The thoughts of Bellamy and Finn loomed in the back of your mind, but you pushed it away and focused on talking with Jasper and eating. 

Afterwards, back in the shared room, you sat on a bunk with Harper, who talked about how amazing everything was in here. “They have actually tasteful food, here, Y/n! I mean, the clothes could be a little nicer but I’m not complaining.”

You nodded absentmindedly, and Harper caught on. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I am, it’s just…” You trailed off.

“Bellamy?” 

“Yeah. It’s worrying me that I don’t know where he is, or if he’s even alive, I just-- I need to know if he’s okay.” You ranted. “And these people haven’t found anything yet but I need to go look for myself but they won’t let me.” 

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Harper put a hand on your arm. “He’s Bellamy, the guy can survive anything. You will see him again, Y/n. But for now, we need to get some sleep.”

You smiled at Harper and gave her a hug. “Thanks for that, Harper. I needed it.” 

You got up from her bottom bunk and climbed the ladder to the top one, slipping under the blanket as Harper did. Your hair splayed across the pillow and you tossed and turned, trying to get to sleep. 

“May we meet again,” You whispered into the air, tucking your hand under your cheek and closing your eyes, hoping for the day you reunite with Bellamy to come soon. 

Taglist:  @soullessbabee​ | @hyperion-moonbabe-art3mis​ | @dummythiccwitch​ | @sireddobrev​ | @gxvrielle​ | @hurricane-abigail | @holyhumorliteraturelight

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 20

(This will be my generic gif if I don’t find one I like for the chapter, but seriously does anyone have the Supreme Council gifs? They would be most helpful.)

Warning, if it hasn’t been obvious in the movies there is Nazi symbolism within the First Order. I will expand on this much more throughout the story. If this is something that bothers you, please just exit the story. The author does not condone any Nazi ideals, this is just for fictional uses only.

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 20: Healthy and Happy?

A/N: The men's video Personal Hygiene for soldiers U.S. Army does contain brief nudity. It is age-restricted on youtube. Watch at your own risk. Also, there is some outdated info in the women's one on feminine hygiene, just ignore the powdering of the pad and the discussion of douching.

“Shall we start with a difficult topic and work our way to something easier,” asked Dr. Dabrini.

The three Earth Health officials nodded in agreement.

“Now understand that when we talk about the reproductive health of your planet that the First Order understands that civilians are not soldiers. They do not necessarily have to abide by the same rules. As is such there are things they will have to abide by like STD testing,” said a First Order doctor.

“So the two-child policy will not take effect on this planet,” asked the WHO director.

“Not unless absolutely necessary. If we get those who do not wish to have children on birth control it will help any unwanted children from being born. Now we are not saying that birth control will be mandatory but we would like it highly encouraged among the sexually active and potentially sexually active fertile population. Children are a precious resource when properly taken care of,” said Dr. Koroban.

“And this birth control is regulated how,” asked the director of the CDC.

“The First Order issues standard implants, different and more effective than the ones you have available to your population. Currently, it has had no pregnancies during its implementation the First Order has been using it for the last 10 years,” said Dr. Koroban.

“So this is something you want all our women to commit to, willingly and not mandated,” asked the CDC director.

“Yes, it would be free and available to all those who want it. We highly encourage the use of this to control any unnecessary population. We will not budge on the STD testing. Now we understand the majority of your population already participates in monogamous relationships, we would like to encourage this as much as possible to again reduce the population and the chances of STDs spreading,” said Dr. Dabrini.

The health officials seemed to take this in. You were unsure about how they wanted to proceed with the First Order’s recommendations. The three officials turned to each other and started discussing the outcomes. You just sat back and waited for the deliberation to end.

“We would like the narrative to be that women may choose to take the contraceptives. We agree with the STD testing and the emphasis on monogamous relationships. The two-child policy will not be accepted outside of China, unfortunately. So this is something you will have to encourage but not mandate,” said the Surgeon General.

“Good, is there anything else on reproductive health that you would like to discuss,” asked Dr. Dabrini.

“Will the First Order provide medical treatments for STDs and STIs,” asked the CDC director.

“Yes, we provided all needed medical care to our citizens regardless of the situation,” replied Dr. Koroban.

“Is that everything,” you ask the health officials who nod in response.

“Next is dietary needs. The First Order is used to providing meals to all its personnel. We understand that this most likely not agreeable for the civilian population. We have considered rations like during your war times, something that allows the civilian some freedom but allows us to ensure they have a healthy diet,” said Dr. Dabrini.

“We understand how meals work in the military. I know that no citizen will like having their diet fully controlled by any government. You will have to find another solution, I believe there may be riots around civilians not being able to have a choice in the matter,” said the CDC director.

“I see. How have your current healthy eating campaigns gone? As I understand it a large portion of the U.S. population is obese, whereas there are many countries where large portions of the population are malnourished,” asked Dr. Koroban. “They have not gone as well as hoped. What you pointed out is correct. That the health campaigns that they have seemingly failed in the U.S. but in countries with high populations of malnourishment we are not able to distribute food and water in the quantities necessary for good public health,” said the WHO director.

“Well you might not be able to provide food and water to these areas but the First Order can. Would you be opposed to us regulating food in those areas and in areas where food and water are available to have a reeducation on what to properly eat and drink,” asked Dr. Koroban.

You could see the health officials were a mix of stunned and confused by this question. You wondered if they were really going to deny food to those who need it.

“Might I suggest that this be a route that we take. Surely those who need food will receive it and those who need to be re-educated and informed on healthy eating will do so. It would be better for the overall health of the planet that this would happen. We may want to focus on those who need food first. This would have an overall positive impact on those who question the First Order’s motives as they are providing for the needy first. I may also suggest that any food given to those who need it may be foods found here on earth as I am sure they will be more comfortable with it,” you said trying to ease the unease in the room.

The three health officials began discussing again. The Surgeon General asked, “Is there anything in the dietary aspect that will be absolutely mandated?”

“Yes, currently all personnel and citizens of the First Order are required to take a multivitamin supplement, but of course that is adjusted region by region. For example vitamin D absolutely mandatory in the diet of anyone on board one of our ships as they will not receive any vitamin D from any star, like your sun,” said Dr. Koroban.

“So you would like to require a multivitamin to all citizens? Will you be transparent as to what is in them or are they just supposed to blindly take them,” asked the Surgeon General.

This time General Pryde spoke up, “No I believe we will have testing at every facility so each individual citizen receives a multivitamin that is adapted to their needs. The First Order prides itself on our personnel and citizens being the most knowledgeable in the galaxy. At any one of our data terminals, you may access what the First Order requires of its citizens and why. We like our citizens to be informed.”

“How will you test at each facility? Tests take at least a week to receive results,” asked the CDC director.

“Yes, well our military is not the only thing the First Order is more advanced in. Our blood tests take a matter of minutes. So by the time an individual is done with their health check-up, we shall know what pill to give them. We also have the ability to synthesize the pills at every station. The First Order is prepared and efficient,” said Dr. Dabrini.

You could see the health officials were now struggling to keep up with the First Order’s advancements and policies.

“Do you agree with giving out a simple multivitamin to every citizen? To benefit all citizens,” you ask them.

“Yes, I think that is something we can agree on,” said the Surgeon General.

“Good, why don’t we wrap it up there for the morning. I can help prepare a public relations campaign on hygiene before the day is over. Something along the lines of daily showering and handwashing, for now, to get things started. This is something the general public can improve upon greatly,” you said to the committee who all agreed with you.

“I may be of some assistance my lady, with what the Supreme Leader has me looking for in the Library of Congress. I have run across some things in my search that may be deemed useful to you in your endeavors.”

“Yes, if you could take me there that would be great,” you then followed the general our of the White House and into a shuttle that took you to the library.

You were immediately met with two librarians. One took the general to where he needed for his project and the other asked you about yours.

“I would like to see what videos and other documentation you have on proper hygiene. Only things within the last century preferably. If it’s old but still useful I would still like to see it, this lieutenant is assisting me,” you told her.

She set you up at a research table with a computer. You and Mitaka were there for what seemed to be a few hours before you had narrowed it down to a handful of instructional videos and posters:

‘Health: Your Cleanliness (1953)’ ‘Coronavirus | Vintage Hand washing steps from 1961'

And two vintage military documentaries that would be aimed well at adults:

Strictly Personal - War Department official training film U.S. Army Pictorial Services 1945. (For women.)

Personal Hygiene for soldiers U.S. Army (for men.)

These would be a great start along with some posters you found. Overall you might need to develop a few more posters, but for now, this would be your basis. You glanced at the clock and saw that it was going on 2 o’clock. You just remembered that you needed to message Kylo for your late lunch. Hopefully, he would be proud of the work you had just accomplished.