#we had to go BACK to the doctor's and get a new scrip

[jungle-angel]

😲 more prompts!! omg ❤️‍🩹 can we get 1 and 17 for bob, please?

Oh honey absolutely!!!!!!! I just watched The Caine Mutiny Court Martial and needless to say, it did very, very unholy things to me (lol).

Your poor husband hadn't stopped coughing since he had gotten home from the party at the hotel last night, the wetness having settled in his chest and offering him no relief from the bone cracking coughing.

"Still feeling terrible Admiral Floyd?" you chuckled, kissing his warm forehead.

"I think I need a doctor," Bob croaked, finally having a chance to take in a breath.

You kissed him again, not caring in the least if you got sick. Bob reached out, his gentle hand caressing your bump to feel the kicking of the baby boy who was just weeks away from being born. "Sweetheart, I don't want you both getting sick," he groaned.

"Bob I already checked with your sister," you assured him. "She said if it happens alot more than you think. The best she can do is keep an eye on it."

"I know, I'm just being overprotective," he told you before another round of hacking began.

You drew the duvet over him and wiped away the sweat from his forehead with a rag you kept in the bathroom. You should've known that winter was prime season for sicknesses if your students at Auggie and Patrick's Waldorf School had taught you anything.

"Do you wanna go to the urgent-care clinic up the road?" you asked.

"Maybe Mickey can bring me?" Bob asked. "Unless the doc's still doing house calls."

"Here," you said, pulling a pair of jeans, his blue button-down and his navy blue Carhardt jacket out of the closet. "Get these on and I'll call either Mickey or Jake to take you to urgent-care."

Bob hummed a weak response as he slipped into a fresh set of clothes. Sure enough, both Mickey and Jake had shown up while Phoenix had come by to keep you company.

**************

"Take another deep breath for me," the doctor told him.

Bob took another deep breath as the Navy doctor listened to his heart and lungs, the crackling in the airways obvious enough to indicate an infection.

"Well, the good news is that it's treatable," the doctor told him. "You'll have to be on antibiotics for a week, taken with food and absolutely no dairy until this thing has cleared."

"Damnit," Bob silently mouthed. Growing up on a ranch all his life had made him a fiend for milk, cheese and yogurt, but getting this infection cleared was top priority.

"Scrip will be available at the PX pharmacy and can be picked up anytime," the doctor told him. "I highly suggest you go home and get some rest in the meantime."

"Thanks doc," Bob said before gathering his jacket and the slip to leave.

He followed Jake and Mickey both to Jake's truck, wanting nothing more than to get home and rest and trying to suppress the cough that was still rumbling in his lungs.

"You sound like you need a shot of whiskey and bed," Jake chuckled.

"Fuck you Hangman," Bob groaned, laughing a little.

*************

"Mommy! Mommy! Daddy's home!! Daddy's Home!!!" Auggie chirped when he saw the truck pulling into Jake's driveway and letting Bob out.

You hoisted yourself out of the cozy window bench where you and Auggie had been reading, the fire crackling away in the fireplace while the snow fell outside and while Natasha had been preparing lunch in the kitchen.

Bob opened the front door and immediately Jock, the little black Scottish terrier, had jumped from Auggie's lap to paw at Bob's leg, his little tartan sweater keeping out the harsh winter cold that blew in through the front door.

"Hi sweetheart," you said, taking each other in your arms before he started coughing again.

You kissed his cold, reddened cheeks before Auggie came bounding in from the living room. "Daddy, you sick?" he asked.

"Uh huh," Bob answered, scooping up his son and kissing his cheek in return. "Gonna go lie down."

You helped Bob upstairs with Jock following you, letting him crawl right back under those covers, shuddering from the cold but brief walk into the house. Jock yipped a little before crawling in beside his master, licking Bob's cheeks and making him laugh a little before you kissed your husband.

"Auggie what are you doing?" you chuckled.

"I've gotta take care of Daddy," the bespectacled five year old announced proudly.

You laughed a little upon seeing Auggie in his little doctor's uniform that had been his Halloween costume, carrying a ziploc bag full of the first aid items you kept around the house.

"Ok now Daddy, open your mouth and stick out your tongue," Auggie demanded.

Bob playfully stuck his tongue out at Auggie but didn't open his mouth.

"No Daddy, stop doing that lizard thing," Auggie told him, pretending to be stern. "I gotta look into your mouth and see what made you sick."

You were biting your knuckles, resisting the urge to laugh.

"Yep!" Auggie exclaimed, shining the flashlight into Bob's open mouth. "You've got worms."

"Worms?!" you blurted out, unable to control your laughter anymore.

"Looks like we've gotta operate Daddy," Auggie concluded. "But before we do I gotta have you throw up into this."

Bob was laughing and coughing all at once as Auggie held up Jock's empty water dish near the bed he shared with Dolly, the little Pekingese puppy who was probably playing with Diedre in her room.

"Alright Doctor Auggie, out, out, let Daddy rest," you told him.

Bob pulled you in for another kiss, still laughing once the coughing had subsided.

"Daddy," chirped a quiet little voice from the three year old standing in the doorway in his little dark green turtleneck and denim overalls.

"What's up Patrick?" Bob croaked.

"Mommy said you sick, so I brought you Teddy," Patrick told him.

Bob was melting at the sight of the fuzzy, cuddly little teddy bear that Patrick had in his hands. It was the same one you and Bob had gotten when you had taken Auggie and Patrick to their very first Red Sox game, a fuzzy little vintage bear with curly fur and his own little red, white and blue Red Sox jersey and little wooden bat. Though the bat was still sitting on Patrick's dresser, the fuzzy little bear had been the one stuffie Patrick always snuggled with when he was sick.

"C'mere buddy," Bob croaked again, lifting his little son up onto the bed and giving him the tightest hug he could give him. "And thank you."

Patrick reached up with his little hands to grab Bob's face, planting a big wet kiss right on his father's cheek, jumping off the bed and waddle-running out of the room to go eat lunch.

"You ok?" you asked Bob.

"I'm alright sweet pea," Bob assured you. "I thought it was cute that they tried."

You smiled at your husband, gently caressing his cheek as he melted into your touch, only to be interrupted by the growling of his belly.

"You hungry now?" you chuckled.

Bob nodded. "Can I have some hot chicken soup?"

"Anything for you Bob," you answered, kissing his cheek before you went down to the kitchen to get him some of the hot chicken soup that Phoenix had made.

You returned just a minute later with the mug full of soup, steaming and hot for Bob and a thick crust of grainy bread for him to eat with it. When he had finished, you crawled in beside him, his hand pulling the duvet over the both of you as you turned out the lights and settled in with Jock having moved to the foot of the bed and warming your feet.

[littlethingwithfeathers]

What to do if you get caught by the Adderall shortage:

So, it’s not getting picked up by the news much (at least not that I’ve seen... NPR, BBC, AP), but there’s a pretty serious Adderall shortage happening right now. It’s been building for awhile helped along by the usual suspects (labor shortages, limited manufacturing facilities, shutdowns due to illness... blah blah) and some not so usual ones (More people getting diagnosed with ADHD... when you take away someone’s coping mechanism, which for some people it’s their in-person work environment and social activities, people start to have more issues!). And it looks like this could last until the beginning of 2023... so... what to do?

Please note, I’m not a doctor or medical professional of any kind. I just had to deal with this, and it’s worrying and a little troublesome to manage, so I thought I’d pass on some advice from my experience. It might not be one size fits all but it might help someone to know who to talk to and what to ask.

Also, if you’re going to use this as a moment to spout some drivel about “Maybe we don’t neeeeed all these meds, you guysssss!” please kindly fuck entirely, completely, and all the way off into the void. Same goes for people who are looking at this as an excuse to whine about “addicts” or drug related crime. Read the room. This post is not your soapbox. 

SO! You’ve gotten a call from your pharmacy that they can’t fill your Adderall prescription because your scrip is on backorder. Wat do??? Step one: Don’t panic. It is one pharmacy out of one version of a drug. You’ve got options, though it might take some legwork. If your prescription is at a chain like CVS, Target, Walmart, etc see if the pharmacy tech will call around to other stores in the area and ask about their stocks. Step two: 

Call your prescribing doctor, inform them of the situation, and ask for a paper prescription. Go pick up the prescription. Ask them for their advice and for information on which pharmacy to call (they might know of a pharmacy with the med in stock).

Step three: 

Start phoning pharmacies. Begin with the big chains. Places like CVS, Walgreens, Target, Walmart, and major grocery stores... places with multiple locations in town. Start here because they might be able to check with other stores in their chain to find out who has your prescription in stock, which will save you a phone call or three potentially. They also have more integrated supply networks and will have a better handle on their inventory. Fan out from your location with the help of Google. If you live in a big city, don’t be afraid to start checking in the ‘burbs or outlying towns. Also, if the pharmacy tech doesn’t seem like they’re in a rush, ask them if they’ve got other options... the generic form, other measurements, other types (long acting, short acting, etc). That will potentially save you this rigmarole a second time if you come up dry.

Step four:

If you call every pharmacy and have no luck, call your prescribing doctor back. Tell them you’ve phoned literally everyone and no one can fill your prescription and ask if there is a way you can change it by a few milligrams or switch to generic for this month? Could you get a shorter prescription (fewer pills, thus easier to fill)? Could you do short acting instead of long acting or vice versa for a few weeks until backorders get filled? In short, see if you can get an alternative to tide you over. Go get that paper prescription, and then start over (this is why asking some of those questions to the pharmacy techs could pay off).

Concluding advice:

-You do not have to do this by yourself. You don’t even actually have to do this yourself. Someone can do 90% of this for you. Other than the call to your physician for the script, a parent, spouse, friend, sibling or otherwise can help with this. They will just need the paper prescription, your insurance card, your name and date of birth, and your prescribing physician’s name and place of business. Get someone to help you if you can.

-If you’re not getting bit by the shortage, take this as a sign to stockpile your meds a bit. And this kinda goes for everyone, not just the ADHD/Adderall people. Shortages and supply issues are not going to go away any time soon. Next it might be blood pressure meds, or a particular steroid... who knows. Talk to your doctor about how to effectively plan for this with the meds you’re taking. Future you will thank you.

[notfknapplicable]

omg I am clearly in my 'dumb bitch' era

So I have been getting absolutely awful sleep for the past 10 days or so because my sleep medication scrip ran out. My psychiatrist and I were talking about scaling back my dosage since I'm getting older and I'm on the highest possible dosage for this highly controlled substance, so when it ran out 2 Saturdays ago and I have no refills, I just thought to myself okay here we go, time to cold turkey this shit even though I desperately do not want that ever! Convinced that I'd eventually get used to sleeping without it until I went to see my doctor again in August, I just soldiered on and it has been horrible. I mean, so bad that my therapist expressed serious concern for my well-being in our meeting last Thursday. I slept for maybe 4 very choppy hours last night - lots of waking up over and over again, and I'm pretty sure I never went back to sleep after 5am. I'm starting to feel that same disassociated feeling that was emblematic of my 20s and 30s - like I am watching everything on a screen as though I'm not really there. I'm irrationally angry at absolutely, positively nothing. Panic attacks, even.

So today I decided "fuck this, I deserve to rest and feel good, how dare my doctor suddenly cut off one of prescriptions like that" and I called up there to ask for a refill. Right as I was about to go into the whole "I know he wants me to scale back to a lower dosage, I'm happy to take the 5mg instead of 10mg, which I know is the highest dosage this pill comes in, but this feels cruel and I desperately need some good sleep" thing when she informed me that my doctor had provided me with a refill back when we met in the middle of May. So I called the pharmacy to let them know that there should be one on file for me and they were like "no, we never got that." So I called my psych's office back and told them that the pharmacy never got that refill. She reminded me that they'd given me the scrip and that I should have taken it to the pharmacy...and that's when I remembered that he had written me a new prescription (it's one of those that has to be on paper) back in May and that he'd given it directly to me AND THEN I LOOKED AND IT WAS STILL IN MY FUMCKIMG PURSE. I could have taken it up there after I ran out two weekends ago but I didn't because I forgot that I had a refill on paper in my purse.

Anyway I'll be picking up the refill after work today, and tonight I'll get a good night's rest for the first time in almost two weeks. And the refill is for my usual dosage, not a reduced one because of course my psychiatrist would not do me or any other patient so wrong. I still think I'll just take half of one tonight since I've been off of it for so long during this impromptu tolerance break. All's well that ends well, I guess.

[headstrongblake]

@thewholecrew: grant, octavia & nick | all american universe

as grant shifted toward octavia, dark hues quickly followed him, lips tightly pressing together as his brother then dumped the elephant right out in the open. for a second, octavia tensed as grant addressed nick's heroin use, but she met his gaze with sad eyes. whether now was the time to bring it up or not, she too wanted to know more about nick's drug use that extended beyond the medications he'd been prescribed. hesitantly, green hues shifted in time to see the fire flash in nick's gaze.

his jaw tensed as he clenched his teeth together, sharp hues staring into his brother. goddamn it. how fucking long have they been here? "shut up grant, aight, you don't know shit about what you're talking about." nick snapped at him, nostrils flaring as he spitefully brought his smoke back to his lips, sucking back the nicotine to keep his emotions calm. what good is his argument that he's fucking fine if he can't even control himself? "nick..." octavia started softly, but she fell silent as he explained the medications and the heroin was needed for his hands. that garrett had damaged him in a way they both couldn't comprehend. at least, she thought so until octavia brought her arms up to cross under her chest, shifting uncomfortably as grant spoke. despite the hell grant has put her through, when he admits in his own way that garrett also tortured him, octavia has to pull her bottom lip between her teeth, biting into the flesh to keep her lip from shaking. no matter how hurt she was by him, how destroyed she felt in the wake of his absence—none of it meant she wished any of this for him.

if he were in a proper mindset, nick might feel the same pain and compassion for grant that was so clearly shining in his sister's gaze. but instead, nick continued smoking, only finding himself angrier as he saw the scar on his hand every time he pulled the cigarette from his lips. "alright, see okay, you get it, so fucking get it and leave me alone— i just told you, i'm not dependent on shit, i need it because im still in fuckin' pain, i'm not using it for kicks grant!" nick's voice rose a touch, head shaking, "tavia i'm not using it to fuckin' party and get myself fucked up!" he explained, moving away from the two as he stubbed out his smoke in one of the ashtrays outside. "'sides, who the hell do either of you think you are going through my shit anyway? like i said, when i was gone my priorities weren't seeing a doctor at some free clinic to get a new scrip, so i got what worked. not that either of you need to know that shit."

octavi's grip tightened on her arms as nick's temper seemed to flare instead of being tapered by grant's commiseration, her heart still reeling from grant's admission about his time with garrett. but her head shook as nick did all he could to distance himself from seeing his use as the problem it so clearly is. "we are the people who care about you, nicklas okay? i didn't know if you were alive when i first got here!" she explained, a smidgen of desperation leaking into her tone. she took a moment, rubbing her fingers against her arm because yelling at him, hell, even caring about him loudly isn't going to get them anywhere. "that's great that you're managing your pain, and im so sorry that this all still hurts so much for you nick, but please, please you have to stop using. you didn't want to lose grant, right?" her chest tightened, remembering how desperately nick begged her to go after grant with him. "we don't want to lose you."

@headstrongblake: grant, octavia & nick. / verse: all american.

he didn't react to nick's challenging response, simply stood behind where he had stopped, watching him with that warning still in his honey eyes. he hadn't been patronizing nick by apologizing, he had truly meant what he said but grant could understand why it was taken as such after all he had said to the two of them it would be hard to trust he was truly remorseful. he was glad to be outside though, after the dark and dull feeling his home gave, how the air felt stale and smelled of cigarrette smoke. grant watched nick from the corner of his eye as he drew octavia in close for a side hug, explaining he hadn't meant to scare them.

i hear you. it was a start and had grant give a small nod in acknowledgement but he still kept himself tense and ready to interfere between the two once more if necessary. he was silent as the two argued, or rather octavia shared her concerns calmly, gently and nick scoffed them off. grant frowned at that, at how he said octavia was being dramatic, taking one protective step towards her. "nick, painkillers are one thing, but heroin...?" he pointed out with a small shake of his head. there was no way in which heroin could be used leasurely. that it was a slippery slope and that ODing was very much possible with that. he quickly glanced over at octavia, unsure if she hadn't wanted him to be as blunt about that as he was, but he wanted nick to know that she was not being dramatic.

when nick spoke of how his hands still hurt, guilt weighed heavy in the pit of grants stomach but the question he then was asked by his brother, about the known torture garrett had most likely alluded to, grant stiffened then for an entirely different reason. he shifted uncomfortably a moment, jaw clenching before he swallowed the lump in his throat. "it took time," he answered quietly, "but no, you're right, my hands were an asset to him so they never endured the same torture you have." his own hands flexed at his sides before tucking them back into his jacket, trying to ignore the flashbacks of such a time. "but i did have to simply endure the pain, there were no medications for me."

it wasn't a contest of who had suffered the most, they had all suffered more than any of them deserved, but the point was that grant could understand to an extent how the pain nick experienced could feel never ending, that it would never heal. that he needed something to dull it, to function. "truthfully, had i had the chance, there is a possibility that i would have become dependent on them as you have... but it's not just the pain medication that you've been taking, is it nick....?" he didn't really wish to talk about his time with garrett, but he made no attempt to correct or lie about what nick had assumed.

[elkian]

Some Tips To Get Your Best Experience At The Doctor’s Office

Just a collection of things I’ve picked up over time.

Write down your symptoms, including the dates. If you’re like me, it can be easy to forget every single life experience you’ve ever had when the question “What seems to be the problem?“ comes up. Write it down! Notes app, personal planner, old grocery list, anything you can bring with you and double-check. This carries the benefit of being able to look back and realize something was much worse/longer-running than you remembered it to be.

Have a goal. You’ve probably seen this one before, but it’s good advice! If you feel like the doc is focusing on the wrong things, open with your goal and specific problem. “My arm hurts“ is much more vague than “I’ve had pain in this arm for two weeks, and it’s making it hard for me to work, which is bad for my financial situation.“ Reinforce this goal if the doc seems to go on a tangent (you don’t have to be confrontational, you can open that with “I’m confused on how that’s connected to the arm issue I came in for?“ and give them a chance to elaborate).

If the doc refuses to do tests, ask for elaboration. Request that it be noted in your file that you requested the tests and the doc vetoed them. This one is from a post with support tips for Black women who often get ignored in the doctor’s office. If you feel that you are not being taken seriously, it may be time to pull this one. (I can’t find the original post, if anyone has that on hand please share.)

If you feel that you are not being listened to, find a new doctor. You have the right to health care from someone who takes you and your health seriously. If you find you are being dismissed by reason of disability, weight, gender, race, age, identity, or even just seemingly at random, it may be time to search for a new care provider. Medical workers who refuse to listen are not merely insulting, but can actively put your life at risk.

[naamahdarling]

Current events:

My back is messed up. Rare for me. Irritated my tummy with ibuprofen. Miserable there. It will pass. Doctor's appt next week, should all be covered by Medicaid.

Dental issue is not yet but may become urgent at any time. I have an appointment with my dentist for early May. Good enough, since I don't WANT to go elsewhere, elsewhere could be awful. Medicaid MAY pay for part of this. Won't know more for a bit. Will ask for help at that time if needed.

Bear had to buy new work shoes, and the ones he wears to keep himself safe are a little spendy at $100. He got some for $75 though, on sale. We could use help with that.

We need food money for next month. Some of you have asked if there is a household needs wish list for food. We are set on dry or shippable goods, tons of rice and beans and soup and the like, and what we need are things like produce and frozen food, stuff that doesn't ship. SNAP slashed me from $140 to $24. Less than 20%. It will take time to get this sorted out with the bastards.

The boys need scrip food, about $150 all told per month. It's...spendy, but like, what are you gonna do? NOT? DPM must reign over the Bog. Raleigh the Himbo Prince must piss well and freely.

So basically, this isn't dire yet but we do need an assist. If you can spare a few bucks, it can go to Bear, who is handling the extra expenses right now. His PayPal is sarahconley01@gmail.com.

Thank you and as a reward for reading, please see this picture of Raleigh being in love with his comb!

[chicago-geniza]

Hm. Don't like trying to pack all my worldly possessions and move in the next two weeks and also deep-clean the apartment and also konmari the apartment and also probably take Rugal to the vet for a sore on his hind leg that isn't healing and also take myself to the human vet for an X-ray of my hands and more bloodwork and a follow-up appointment and then schedule yet another abdominal CT my doctor ordered (hello barium contrast my old friend) and also go back to the cardio clinic downtown to get Holter monitor removed and schedule tilt table test and probably an echo, and also at some point I have to like. Get groceries? And do my usual Sunday commitment. I slept until 2 pm and I'm still too tired to get up, I had miso soup and cold cuts for lunch. I have to call my new building manager because they have four "Unit 1s (A-D)" and I don't know which one mine is and ComEd is giving me too many options and I need to transfer my utilities. Also need to schedule transfer of forwarding address with: USPS, the specialty pharmacy that delivers my Xolair, the regular pharmacy that delivers my other prescriptions, and get the address of the CVS near my new apartment for T and Concerta scrip forwarding, then input the info on MyChart. Need to give landlord a firm move-out date, and tell him to let M, the new tenant, know that he will have to restart gas in his own name and backdate it to the 26th even if he moves on Sept 1st. Updated address on all court materials, gotta send them from the Humboldt post office, also A1A test and Polish contract. Change address with bank, change address on invoice template for freelance, change address with Rugal's vet. Change shipping address default for: eBay, PayPal, medical supply bulk warehouse, ???. The antykwariaty have me do it manually each time so it's fine. Today we need to buy: a reptile carry case that will keep Rugal warm over 24 hours while I move and set up his tank, and a portable cooler for 4-8 syringes of Xolair so they don't spoil. Mom is being very good intentions but wants to get me, like, barstools when what I need is medical storage or a file cabinet, so send her links. Start looking at bedframes? Assemble the cardboard boxes. Refill pill case. SHOWER. Deal with dishes, mold, etc.

ADD TO INVENTORY FOR MOVERS:

Dehumidifier

Rugal's tank (glass)

More boxes of books

Meds cart

Couple of trash bags, just put your pillows & shit in there

Oh there is so much more to do but my brain is as soggy and disintegrated as the chunks of tofu in my miso soup

[hummingbird-of-light]

Post Tenebras Lux

PART 19 ~ Scotty

“Mr. Scott, please…”

This damn shirt! Why did it have to be so tight? Scotty bit his lip as he tried not to groan in pain. He closed his eyes tightly but eventually it was too much to take.

“Please…, let me help.”

The doctor’s voice had changed into something Scott could only describe as worry with a hint of… pity.

He wanted to protest, wanted to force himself into the shirt he had gotten for his last birthday. But he didn’t want it to get ripped either, after all it had been quite expensive.

So eventually the Scotsman gave in and sat back down. Dr. McCoy slowly stepped over to him and gently asked him to lift his arms which Scotty did without further protest.

“That’s right, nice and slowly.”

The fabric softly covered his aching skin, carefully he let his arms slip into the sleeves, before dropping them.

Scott didn’t dare look at the man in front of him. He was ashamed. Ashamed for lying… and for being so helpless.

Instead he grabbed his phone from the close by table and nodded once.

“Th…thank you, doctor. I will pick up the meds later.”

Scotty blinked away the tears in his eyes. He didn’t want to leave. A part of him just wanted to talk more to this man, wanted him to hold his hand again.

But he didn’t even get the chance. There was a knock on the door and it opened slightly.

It was the nurse who had taken care of him back then… Chapel was her name. Christine Chapel. And there was someone behind her.

“Uhm, are you finished, doctor? This gentleman wants to pick up Mr. Scott.”

The person behind Nurse Chapel stepped to the side so that Scotty could see them. Not like he hadn’t known who it was already.

“I guess we are finished. Right, Dr. McCoy?”

PART 20 ~ McCoy

McCoy wanted to move quickly, to jump up and down. That Mr. Scott had conceded to help with the shirt. His heart began to hope. It was a first step. Instead he moved slowly, and gingerly helped him into it. He spoke soothingly.

Then he stood still. He waited. The next move would be the Scotsman’s. Mr. Scott reached for his phone. He didn’t look up at McCoy.

“Th…thank you, doctor. I will pick up the meds later.”

McCoy watched as the man blinked back tears he thought he was hiding. McCoy didn’t know his heart could break again. This poor man. Finding someone in this situation always hurt, but somehow, somehow this time McCoy felt his chest tightening in a new way.

Before either of them could speak there was a knock on the door. McCoy quickly schooled his face back into doctor mode and turned to the door. From the corner of his eye he saw Mr. Scott quickly swipe his sleeve at his eyes.

Christine popped her head in.

“Uhm, are you finished, doctor? This gentleman wants to pick up Mr. Scott.”

McCoy couldn’t find his voice. He didn’t want to be finished with Mr. Scott. He hadn’t helped. He could sense that the Scotsman had been close. McCoy had almost broken through to him.

“I guess we are finished. Right, Dr. McCoy?”

McCoy nodded.

“Yes. Let me find your form and sign it.” McCoy turned his back on the door. He was standing out there. The one who had done this to sweet Mr. Scott. Behind Christine, looking for all the world like a caring, loving boyfriend.

McCoy knew he was protective of his family and friends, but he’d never felt it this intensely about a patient.

He found the form and signed off on Mr. Scott returning to work. Pushing his anger down and composing his face again, he turned and handed it to Mr. Scott.

“I’ll get the scrip sent in and you can pick it up later,” he said to the Scotsman.

“Thank you Dr. McCoy, for your care of my dear Montgomery.”

The man’s voice sent a shiver down McCoy’s spine.

“You’re welcome, just doing our jobs.” How he managed to get the words out neutrally was a surprise. Christine looked at him and he could see the question in her eyes.

“Let’s go Montgomery,” the man said in his cool, smooth voice.

“Yes Khan,” Mr. Scott said quietly. He moved slowly out of the room.

McCoy took a deep breath before he moved to join Christine in the hall.

‘Please look back… just once more…’

[ask-de-writer]

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 44 of 83 : World of Sea

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 40 of 83

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

copyright 2020

written 2007

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users   of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may   reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information   remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical   compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story?  Read from the beginning.  PART 1 is here

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Chapter 15: Old Crab

Kurin got to ride on a catamaran sailboat as she was taken to the Gathering rafts.  She watched everything with interest from leaving the Dark Dragon to arrival at the docking area.  As she was lifted up to the raft deck, Kurin realized that most of the ship booths were taken down and stowed.  Only the food booths and a few others were left.

The crowd around Marad’s booth showed that he still had his flair for dealing with the public.

“Let’s go to Marad’s for some food!” said Kurin enthusiastically.

Tousling Kurin’s hair, Sula replied, “You go eat.  I have to make my report to the Council.”  She strode off to the Council Pavilion. Kurin, supported by Doctor Worran and Seve, a deck-hand from the Dark Dragon, made her way to Marad’s and food.

Most people, seeing that it took two people to support her, stayed back and left Kurin alone.  She could hear the whispers, though.

“I heard that she lived through Ord poisoning.”

“Not what I heard.  Someone told me that they faked …” that one ended in a thud and a scuffle, with a “You take that back!”

“Weak as a new hatched bird, poor thing!”

And one that got her interest, “Get Roper, he’s got her trade chits!”

Kurin steered through the crowd and entered Marad’s booth, needing both Doctor Worran and Seve to keep her on her feet.  Marad brought out a chair, when he saw her coming.  “Good grief! Dragon Hair, it’s good to see you!  You look like bird breath smells!”  He paused in seating Kurin, to stare.  Kurin followed his eye and grinned.

“Doctor Worran, meet Marad, one of the best cooks around.  Marad, this is Doctor Worran, from the Dark Dragon.  She saved my life.  This good man is Seve, he’s from the Dark Dragon, too.”

“Now you’ve done me in, Kurin.  I’ll always feed you to pay you back for that tutoring, but you’ve gone and brought an exotic beauty and a friend as well.  If I don’t feed you all, I couldn’t live with myself, and there goes all of my profit.”

Belying his words, busy helpers bustled about his small kitchen, serving the hungry crowd.  “Now what can I get you fine people?”

“Do you have any crab or lobster left?” asked Kurin without much hope.

“No live ones, Kurin, but I have some steamed crab cakes, made from flake blocks.  They’re just about to come out.  There’s sweet or tart dipping sauces to go with ‘em.”

They were just tucking into the crab cakes, when Sula came striding up. Her business with the Council was done for now.  Marad saw her coming and had a crab cake waiting.

“This looks like it was a good place to come,” Sula said, eying her crab cake like a hungry sea bird.  She joined the group, and Kurin introduced her to Marad.

“I wish that we could have these on the way home,” Doctor Worran said wistfully.  She was industriously cleaning every bit of crab off the Strong Skin board that it had been steamed on.  “Unfortunately, crab just doesn’t keep very long.”  

Kurin and Marad looked at each other, nodding slowly.  He said, “That crab was over a Gathering old and nowhere near the end of its shelf life.”

Sula pounced on that, “How do you manage that, or is it Ship’s Business?”

“It is,” said Marad leaning on the counter and displaying a waxy looking block, a little bigger than a man’s hand, “but it’s Captain’s Discretion.  We were hoping to sell the process.  I can sell you up to two hundred of these one pound crab blocks that are surplus in our pantry.  We have a few tons in one of the holds, too, but I have no authority over them.  If folk in this fleet know that they are eating old crab or fish, they won’t touch it.  It doesn’t sell, and we need the pantry space.  You can put up almost any edible fish or other food the same way.  Keeps good for two to three Gatherings.”

Just then Roper came proudly up to Kurin. The grown folk paused and watched as the young ones did business. “I sold all of your toys, and got good prices, too.  I saved the chits for you, cause I was sure that you’d come back.”  He dumped a whole pouch of trade scrip in her lap.  “There’s thirty four skins, twenty two blocks and eighteen bits.”

Kurin, eyes wide, looked into the pouch, “And you put away my booth.  I saw.  You have been busy, Roper.”  She was counting from the pouch.

“Master Juris showed me how to fold it and where to put everything.”

“Then you have earned this,” said Kurin, handing him scrip.  

His eyes grew wide in turn. “Five whole skins and five blocks!  This is the most I’ve ever got!  I’ll go to Alor and put it in my account right away.” he scampered off.

Sula said, “I see why you trusted him with your booth.”

Just then, Captain Mord emerged from the Council Pavilion and Kurin, without thinking, tried to stand up and wave. She did call, “Captain! Over here at Marad’s!”  Sula and Doctor Worran caught her as her big muscles went lax, and eased her back into her chair.

Captain Mord, seeing her slump, came at a run.  “Are you OK, Kurin?” he asked in concern.

Before Kurin could pull words together, Sula answered for her.  “She’s fine, Captain Mord.  She is recovering nicely.  I’ve been Ord poisoned twice, so I know what I’m talking about.”

“We owe you thanks, Captain Sula,” he said, crouching in front of Kurin and looking her over to be sure the she really was there and OK.  He looked over her shoulder at Sula and said warmly, “Your account of her navigational ability in unfamiliar waters, turned the tide.  They were going to close the school and make us pay refunds because they thought she was too sick.”

“Were — — what do they want now?” asked Doctor Worran, curiosity alight in her eyes.

“Only to buy a master chart of the Naral - Cliftos current system — — Bottom and all — — Dragon Sea to Equator.”  He was grinning as he waited for his bombshell to go off.

Sula was the first to realize the magnitude of the task. Eyes shocked to wide green pools, she asked, “How many ship-Gatherings are they going to pay for?”

“Two, up front.  If they like the initial results, up to four more.  In total, a minimum of 50,000 skins and as high as 250,000 skins.  We will conduct the school as we make the chart.  That is a separate income.”

Kurin, dancing in her chair with excitement, said, “Captain, if you grin any wider your teeth will show behind you!”

“That’s wonderful!” exclaimed Sula.  “It’s enough to build a ship like mine!”  As she thought, she gazed at a long winged Sea Hawk soaring overhead, its shadow causing other, smaller, birds to panic into flight or swarm under awnings for protection.

“You might even have some left over.  It makes my business with you seem small.”

“Do you need to sell or buy?” asked Mord, instantly curious and guarded.

“To buy.  Both provisions and a process covered by your Ship’s Business.  I am told that it is available at your discretion.

“We have just become aware of your block preservation process for fish and other food.  We want to buy all of the block preserved food that you can spare, and the process itself.”

“What do you offer for all of that?” asked Mord, carefully neutral, preparing to haggle.

“I have the entire prepared hide of a nine tonne Hag.  It is already stretched and dried.  I will sign a non-revelation agreement for the nearby fleets, so long as it does allow us to reveal the process to the Winternight, Corlis and Barant fleets.”

Mord was shaken by the magnitude of the offer.  It was enough to equip five ships with the best of distillation equipment, kitchen fireboxes and the array of special pots needed for cooking over flame, and specialized fire boxes for their boat-shops as well.  Mord said, “You must want this very badly, to offer so much.  If the hide passes Master Juris’ examination, you have a deal.”  He shook her hand, and sent for Alor to draw up the necessary agreements.

Turning to Marad, Captain Mord leaned on the counter and asked, “You set this up, didn’t you?”

“Well, Sir, what I did was give them some crab cakes, and then show them a block.  After that, I told them that I could sell them some provisions but you had to sell them the process and goods in the hold.”

“You did well, and there will be a bonus for you, as well as shares for the whole crew.  Now, would you please get Master Murel so that he can explain the process and demonstrate the equipment?  Also, he needs to set someone to sorting which blocks we can sell, including the ones in the cargo hold.”

Turning back to Sula, he asked, “Why do you want this so badly?”

The circling bird became an object of extreme interest.  Sula, watching it, felt past pain and tears well up again.  Her voice shook as she answered, “There were twenty seven reasons on my ship alone in the last two wars.  Three of those reasons were children.”  She sat heavily and braced her arms on the table.  Her voice broke and she began to cry.  

TO BE CONTINUED

<==PREVIOUS   NEXT==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to World of Sea

[slightlykylie]

Bad things on this particular day:

-I have suicidal ideation beating at the inside of my skull and I have no solutions other than to distract myself from it with the Internet, which is hit-or-miss and also is not feasible every moment of the day when you have a kid and responsibilities and so on.

-My insurance mandated that we switch to getting our prescriptions through a mail service. The mail service told me they couldn't fill my antidepressant scrip because they thought it would be harmful to me and told me they needed to hear from my doctor. My doctor went on vacation or some other form of not being available without telling me, then responded days later to say the mail service never contacted her and that I needed to straighten it out with them. The mail service then said there had never been a problem in the first place, despite the documentation of the email they had sent, and that they had put a label on my scrip and it would be sent soon. They said they could not expedite the sending of the scrip, despite the two-week delay while there wasn't a problem and despite the fact that I had run out of it in that time, because it was already being processed - i.e., had had a label placed on it.

-I had a dentist appointment last week and they saw decay on a tooth, drilled half of the tooth out, then said I need a root canal, placed a temporary filling, told me not to eat on that side of my mouth until the root canal and then scheduled the root canal for three and a half weeks out. Today the temporary filling they placed fell out of my mouth. I had to cancel a TMS, aka depression treatment, appointment to go back to the dentist to get it fixed. When I got there the assistant first told me that it hadn't fallen out at all and that I had mistaken food for a filling. I told them it was a hard gray chunk of material and was not food, resisting the impulse to tell them that actually I have not been eating shards of concrete and therefore can tell the difference between that and the food I have eaten. She looked harder and realized it had in fact fallen out, then put a new temporary filling in and scolded me about how they knew it was hard but they needed me to not eat on that side of my mouth, which I have. not. been. doing.

-My three-year-old had a major meltdown because he wanted me to read him a specific book but couldn't tell me what it was. He kept pointing at the closet door, behind which there is nothing but clothing, and screaming that he wanted to read that book and eventually started hammering on the closet door and demanding to read it and the door is not a book and there are no books behind the door and what. is. happening. I have literally no idea. Anyway eventually he just started screaming that he wanted Mama (I'm Mommy) but she wasn't home and he was also not in a place where he could hear that. In the middle of all this my diabetic ass had a hypoglycemic episode.

-The house is a complete disaster and I have absolutely zero spoons.

Good things on this particular day:

-My wife has been doing everything humanly possible to take some of the burden off me and to get all this shit straightened out, as well as probably some stuff that's not humanly possible because she's a superhero.

-There was a further mixup with the antidepressant scrip that led to its being called in to our local Walgreens as well, and insurance wouldn't cover that but we have the financial resources to buy 6 pills out-of-pocket so hopefully that'll cover me till the mail pharmacy gets its shit together.

-Netflix still exists? I don't know.

[skerbango-blog]

More Military Slang I've Used

By SROD

Hello. 

The list goes on.

AMMO - slang acronym for USAF Munitions Specialists. They handle all sorts of non-nuclear munitions. They are known for being intense, on-the-edge personalities. Folks in other career fields give AMMO troops a wide berth.

Breaking Red - crossing the painted-red flight line boundary in a place other than the entry control point. Breaking Red will get you “jacked up” or have you “kissing pavement”. Never happened to me, but I saw it happen once. It’s swift, decisive, and kinda brutal.

Call Your Howdy - if you fart in a confined area, like a flight deck, courtesy dictates you alert others in close proximity. Many times this was shown by giving a thumbs up, rotating your elbow until your thumb touches your forehead. (Caution: do not poke your eye out.)

Chop-Chop Square - in many Muslim nations, in certain cities there would be an area where punishments would be executed. Some squares actually held beheadings from time to time. Before deploying to southwest Asia (SWA), some American troops brag about wanting to see it. Once they do, they immediately regret that choice.

Class B Bachelor - married guy whose wife is out of town. Also known as a Tomcat

Cleared the Option (official) - a flying maneuver permission granted by airport Approach Control. When granted, the pilot can perform a touch-and-go, a low approach, a landing attitude demonstration, or a go-around.

Cleared the Option (unofficial) - Sarcasm. When you see your buddy about to make a sketchy choice, and you’re washing your hands of the matter. (Note: this is normally used in non-dangerous situations that may result in a funny story.)

Deadhead - fully qualified crew member who specifically goes on the passenger manifest instead of the flight order, so he/she doesn’t have to help with the flying of the aircraft. Happens every so often on long deployment flights. Sometimes used as a derogatory term.

Early Release - a signed order by an authorized commander that attempts to mitigate troops leaving work early before a long weekend, holiday, etc. Example - Thanksgiving Wednesday, many troops may try to schedule late lunches, off-site meetings, etc, in a manner to make pointless returning to work. The boss tries to beat them to the punch by sending out a written order earlier in the week, specifying the exact moment folk can leave for the weekend.

(Note: there are actual real-world uses for early release. If the area around base is threatened by natural disaster, riot or other threatening issue, a commander may dismiss some folk for their own safety.)

Friday Debrief - after the end of the duty day and the full stop of the week’s last training sortie, the commander could authorize breaking open a cold one in the squadron ready room. There would be some flight-related discussion, but also some tall tales.

Goat Rope - a simple task made harder by “too many cooks in the kitchen”. Usually involves many people scurrying around inadvertently undermining each other. 

“DO Rap Session” - we called it “Yo, DO Raps” - during alert tours, the wing’s Director of Operations (DO) would spend an hour chatting with the crew dogs. Done right, it could be a great chance to talk with a senior leader off the record. On the written schedule each week, it would show up as “DO RAP S”. Of course crew dog humor would find the connection.

Helmet Fire - fighter pilot slang, meaning when the pilot is so overwhelmed by numerous external inputs. People joke about it, but it does need to be handled quickly.

Herding Cats - see Goat Rope.

Hurry Up and Wait - exactly as it sounds. A short-notice exercise gets called with an early show time. As troops arrive they’re told to stand by for further instructions. Those instructions are hours away. 

Intramural Superstar - during lunchtime over-30 basketball or other sports, that player who takes the game too seriously. He/she wears the latest, most expensive gear, tracks personal stats, and frets about on-base percentage in slow-pitch softball. (Confession - I was this person.)

Jet Noise - “the sound of freedom”.

“Looking Good Is A Full-Time Job” - mantra used by one of my former aircraft commanders. Meant cynically.

Mutawa, Mutawa'ah - Islamic, government-authorized religious police in Saudi Arabia. They travel in groups, enforcing the laws. They can be extremely harsh towards Westerners.

Non-Essential Personnel - in case of inclement weather or other circumstance, some individuals may be allowed to arrive on base later. Essential personnel include security forces, civil engineering, and some food service personnel (and others as required).

(Note: at one time in the ‘80s, I wanted to start a New Wave band, calling it Nonessential Person L. Yeah, I’m not cool.)

RTB (official) - return to (home) base.

RTB (unofficial) - “go home, you’re drunk”.

Shoppette - a smaller version of the Base Exchange (BX) usually open later than its larger counterpart. If you get to a base after other dining options are closed, the shoppette can save the desperate and hungry. And yes, the shoppette sells alcohol, in accordance with local laws.

Shooting Off Your Watch - when pilots start telling “there I was” stories, using their hands to show relative position of two aircraft in a dogfight. Distant bastard cousin of the U.S. Marine Corps “knife hand”.

Smoke Break - when a jealous non-smoker takes an unneeded break, just because smokers get sanctioned breaks.

SOFA - Status of Forces Agreement - a contract between Department of Defense and a host nation, explaining how American troops are to behave while in the host nation. Many troops don’t know the SOFA limits until they break a host nation law.

Stand By to Stand By - similar to Hurry Up and Wait. An order given, telling troops to wait until further orders come. I have been given this order, and been forgotten in this status. Hours later, as everyone else left, I just grabbed my gear and left. 

Stay In Your Lane/Swim Lane/Rice Bowl - know your job description, so you can focus on your job. You may know more about my job than I do, but that doesn’t matter. 

Stump the Dummy - when an instructor intentionally asks a student a question about material that hasn’t been covered yet in the class environment. It’s a technique to rein in a smartass student, or burn a lazy one. Sometimes, insecure instructors use it to re-establish hierarchy over students.

Touch and Go (official) - a flying maneuver where the pilot allows the landing gear to contact the runway surface while leaving engine power/RPM high enough to immediately take off within the confines of the runway.

Touch and Go (unofficial) - one-night-stand.

Unsat (official) - a failing grade in an evaluation. Short form of Unsatisfactory.

Unsat (unofficial) - “this sucks”.

Vitamin M - Motrin. Whether you had gout, a strained hamstring, a broken arm or a migraine, when you went to the base hospital you usually got a scrip for Motrin from the physician’s assistant. Of course if you had a follow-up with a flight doctor, treatment would get more specific.

Wanna Burn One? - Inviting a fellow smoker to go outside to smoke.

Thanks for letting me post these. They bring back good memories. 

v/r

[my1stgirlfriendturnedintothemoon]

So, I tried to reorder supplies for my insulin pump last week.

I use an Animas pump, which is no longer being manufactured because Animas went out of business in Dec. They transferred all of their customers to Medtronic, another pump manufacturer. They didnt transfer over any medical records, so I had to get them another copy of my prescription. I did the same thing in November when I last ordered supplies, and it took exactly one day.

So last Wed I call up the women's clinic at the local veteran's hospital, where my doctor works, and get the fax number etc. I call Medtronic and give them that, they send the fax, it's all cool. Friday I still haven't gotten a tracking number for my supplies. I call back. My doctor still hasnt signed the scrip. So I call the VA and have to leave a message explaining I need this signed ASAP so I can continue keeping myself alive. "Oh yeah we logged that we recieved the fax Wed, I'll put in a note for your care team."

Clinic is closed all weekend, so I check back with Medtronic on Monday. Still nothing. So I call back to the VA, "yeah we got this fax and it looks like they want the dr to sign it or something? So we put in a consult for you with the diabetes nurse." "Um. Why? I've called about this twice and explained that they DO want the dr to sign it. It's a prescription so I can legally receive the supplies I just paid 491 out of my pocket for. All they need is for her to sign it and send it back. Just like in November."

They check the system, yeah, there's the old scrip to Animas signed by my dr. They need this new one that specifies it's for Medtronic. They say they'll put in a note and let the dr know.

Yesterday I call Medtronic. "Yeah uh...they sent it back but no one signed it. We will send it again with highlights and arrows on the parts that need to be completed." Ok. Fucking. Alright. Before I can summon the energy to call the VA, they call me! ...to reschedule an appointment with this same dr who will not sign my fucking scrip for god knows why. So after I reschedule I'm like "hey yall get that fax?" "Nope looks like we didn't!" "Cool hold on." I call medtronic back, they resend the fax, then call me back a few hours later to tell me they tried 5 times and the fact wouldn't go through. At this point the clinic is about to close so I say fuck it.

Then I get a call from the VA, and it's a diabetes nurse who wants to schedule me for a glucose monitor class. I'm like....I've been on a pump for 2 years, why did they put in a consult for me to learn how to TEST MY BLOOD SUGAR. The nurse is also confused, and very horrified at my story of trying to order supplies. "Can I ask why you're paying for supplies instead of getting them through us for free?" "..............not a single fucking person at the VA ever told me I COULD get them through you, I don't have insurance, and i literally need them to live, so i buy them myself." So she orders me free supplies, but they will take weeks to arrive. I still need this goddamn hell prescription signed.

Today medtronic calls me and leaves a voicemail, I call back and they tell me there's a note in my file that says they called my clinic and "they said your doctor hadnt worked there in 4 years." "Really bc they JUST called me yesterday and made an appointment with her. The number you have is for the hospital directory, you have to call and ASK for the women's clinic, I have explained this three times when giving yall this number." "Ohhhhhh, ok let me put you on hold and I'll call them? ....ok so I had to leave a message with them but I sent the fax again, it went through, and o gave them the emergency fax number so it will come directly to us priority. If they get it back to us by 3:30 we can ship your supplies today." Great, cool.

So I get an uber to the clinic, and then wait AN HOUR for a nurse to tell me "oh she cant sign it, so the diabetes nurse you spoke to yesterday came and got the prescription and shes trying to get your new endo that you still have not met to sign it. So you have to go to the endo clinic in the main hospital." "But this fax has all her information on it including her medical license number. Can he even sign this?" "Oh he can just cross that out and write his stuff in." I FUCKIN! DOUBT IT! BUT OK! I hoof my ass to the main building, go to endocrinology, and try to explain to the clerk why the fuck I am there and the hell that has been this whole experience. A doctor behind the desk overhears and her face is a mask of "what in the fresh fuck". She calls the manager of the women's clinic, explains I need this paper signed TODAY and that my doctor CAN sign it, and that she WILL do so. "Shes gonna sign it now." God bless you random doctor! So I head back to the women's clinic.

It takes about 5 minutes for the nurse to call me back in, "oh yeah I dont know why she wont sign it since it's just supplies, she says its bc shes not in charge of your diabetic treatment." "Ok? But she is the only doctor i have that I've actually met and knows anything about my treatment, she signed it last time, and if she wont sign it now then she needs to write me a whole other prescription for insulin pens bc i cant fucking take my insulin without pump supplies." So she gets it signed, sends it off, and gives me a receipt to show it went through.

Great!! I call medtronic and the lady informs me they used the regular fax instead of the emergency line she gave them, so it will take 24 hours to even pop in their system. So I go BACK inside and give them the number and wait for them to send the fax again. It's now 3:12. No way is this going to show up in their system by 3:30 so I can get my fucking supplies tomorrow. Then medtronic calls and god bless them they were watching for it and caught the fax just in time.

Best part of this whole bullshit ordeal was when the diabetes nurse called me on my ride home to let me know she got my endo to sign the scrip and they faxed it out at noon, about the same time I was heading in to the hospital in the first place.

[trendingnewsb]

‘I dont know how they live with themselves’ artist Nan Goldin takes on the billionaire family behind OxyContin

The photographer became an addict after getting hooked on a prescription opioid. Now clean, she is waging war on the art philanthropists who have profited from the crisis

‘I dont know how they live with themselves’ artist Nan Goldin takes on the billionaire family behind OxyContin

Nan Goldin

‘I dont know how they live with themselves’ artist Nan Goldin takes on the billionaire family behind OxyContin

The photographer became an addict after getting hooked on a prescription opioid. Now clean, she is waging war on the art philanthropists who have profited from the crisis

Joanna Walters

@Joannawalters13

Mon 22 Jan 2018 01.00EST Last modified on Mon 22 Jan 2018 15.43EST

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Nan Goldin: I dont know how the Sackler family live with themselves. Photograph: Nan Goldin

Nan Goldin lights a cigarette and takes a puff. My dealer came here 24 hours a day, seven days a week. I was one of his best customers. She giggles sarcastically. He texted me when I was in rehab saying he was having a sale. He had dropped his prices in the hope of luring her back. She has since deleted his number from her phone and has been out of rehab and drug-free for 10 months.

I almost didnt leave this house for three years, she says. Goldin looks around the living room in her elegant Brooklyn apartment, paintings and photographs dotted around the walls, though none of her own, and Larry the stuffed coyote fixed in a permanent howl by the window.

Her most recent drug experience was very different to the old days, when she became one of the worlds most famous art photographers, capturing herself and those around her getting high, having sex and hanging out in downtrodden homes in the 70s and 80s.

This second experience began with a doctor in Berlin, where she has a second home. In 2014, Goldin was prescribed the potent narcotic OxyContin for painful tendonitis in her left wrist. She promptly became addicted, despite taking the pills exactly as prescribed.

The first time I got a scrip it was 40 milligrams and it was too strong for me; they made me nauseated and dulled. By the end, I was on 450mg a day, she says. Eventually she was crushing and snorting them. When, back in New York, doctors refused to supply her any more, she turned to the black market, and to cheaper hard street drugs whenever she ran out of money.

Emerging from a rehab facility in Massachusetts last March, she began reading about OxyContin and realised the branded medicine was prime suspect in the opioid crisis that has ripped through the US over the past 20 years. The epidemic has killed more than 200,000 people so far. Now she is declaring war against members of the secretive US family behind the invention of OxyContin, and behind the ingenious marketing strategy that was used to convince doctors it was harmless and patients that they needed it.

I dont know how they live with themselves, she says. Synthetic opioids mimic the effects of natural opioid drugs (which include opium and heroin), and their use, on prescription, is spreading in the UK and beyond, causing alarm among health experts. (The makers of OxyContin have subsidiary firms in Europe, Asia and Latin America.)

The name Sackler may ring a bell if youve walked across the new forecourt at the Victoria & Albert Museum in London, or noticed the arrival of the Sackler Gallery at the Serpentine in 2013. Or if youve visited the ancient Egyptian Temple of Dendur in the Sackler Wing of the Metropolitan Museum in New York, seen the Sackler Centre for Arts Education at the Guggenheim or a host of other arts institutions around the world with galleries or wings named after the family.

Dope on my rug, New York, 2016. Photograph: Nan Goldin

With charitable foundations on both sides of the Atlantic, the Sacklers, who are based in New York, have donated millions to the arts and sponsored faculties at Yale and many other universities. In each case, the familys name is displayed prominently as the benefactor. Forbes listed the collective estimated worth of the 20 core family members at $14bn (10bn) in 2015, partly derived from $35bn in sales revenue from OxyContin between 1995 and 2015.

But few know their wealth comes from Purdue Pharma, a private Connecticut company the family developed and wholly owns. In 1995, the company revolutionised the prescription painkiller market with the invention of OxyContin, a drug that is a legal, concentrated, chemical version of morphine or heroin. It was designed to be safe; when it first came to market, its slow-release formula was unique. After winning government approval it was hailed as a medical breakthrough, which Goldin now refers to as magical thinking.

It was aggressively marketed to doctors many of whom were taken on lavish junkets, given misleading information and paid to give talks on the drug while patients were wrongly told the pills were a reliable long-term solution to chronic pain, and in some cases offered coupons for a months free sample.

Goldin, 64, is incensed that no one in the Sackler family is being held to account. She has created a campaign to try to shame the family into paying for rehab and overdose antidotes instead of patios in art museums. Im not asking the museums to give the money back, she says, but I dont want them to take any more from the Sacklers, and I want them to put out statements in solidarity with my campaign.

A group of friends and activists have been meeting weekly in her apartment in a Brooklyn brownstone, brainstorming ideas for a forthcoming direct-action campaign. She first publicly revealed that she was recovering from opioid addiction last autumn, when she gave a talk in Brazil; then, in December, she wrote about it for the US periodical Artforum, saying of the Sacklers: To get their ear we will target their philanthropy. They have washed their blood money through the halls of museums and universities around the world.

In a New Yorker expos of the family ties last year, Allen Frances, the former chair of psychiatry at Duke University school of medicine, told the magazine: Their name has been pushed forward as the epitome of good works and of the fruits of the capitalist system. But, when it comes down to it, theyve earned this fortune at the expense of millions of people who are addicted. Its shocking how they have gotten away with it.

Goldin is now hurrying through a modern activist learning curve. First I wanted to go out with signs and picket a Sackler wing of something, because thats what we did in the Vietnam war and thats what we did with Act Up in the Aids crisis, she says. But she recently discovered social media I went on Instagram for the first time three weeks ago, she says and realised that petitions are online these days, so has set about organising one, which will be presented in due course to those Sackler family members on Purdue Pharmas board of directors. She is also now on Twitter, so there is a hashtag campaign, #ShameOnSackler, while her campaign overall is called Prescription Addiction Intervention Now (Pain).

Self-portrait. Photograph: Nan Goldin

Goldin believes that aside from the prestige of supporting high culture, rather than addressing the stigma of addiction the family isnt directing philanthropy to recovery and prevention because it would be tantamount to accepting culpability.

Three Purdue Pharma executives pleaded guilty in 2007 to federal criminal charges that they misled regulators, doctors and patients about OxyContins risk of addiction and its potential to be abused. The company settled for a record $600m. But no members of the Sackler family were charged or mentioned.

In 2010, after the showdown with regulators and many civil lawsuit settlements and with the original patent on OxyContin due to expire Purdue tweaked its product to make it harder to snort and was more explicit in its marketing about the risks of addiction.

There are rival drugs on the market, but OxyContin is widely considered to be ground zero in the US opioid epidemic. The federal agency, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, reported in 2017 that 91 people are dying every day in the US from drug overdoses, 60% of which involve opioids. Deaths from prescription opioids have quadrupled since 1999.

In the past five years, as prescriptions for opioids fell in response to the crisis, Americans didnt shake the habit or seek rehab; they turned to heroin instead. Four out of five people in the US who try heroin today started with prescription painkillers, according to the American Society of Addiction Medicine. Then street heroin started being secretly cut with the dangerous synthetic opioid fentanyl.

An overdose of fentanyl killed Prince in 2016, but last year medical documents showed that he had first become dependent on prescription opioids they mentioned oxycodone, the generic version and main active ingredient of the branded pill OxyContin. The family of Tom Petty revealed at the weekend that the singers death last October was caused by an accidental overdose with a cocktail of prescription drugs and pain pills, including oxycodone and fentanyl.

People are dropping like flies. I overdosed on fentanyl, but survived, Goldin says. She eventually sought help from a doctor she knew from the first time she got clean from hard drugs, in 1989. Before going into rehab this time, she detoxed at home. As she notes, there are many different types of rehab, and the care and therapy you receive after detoxing from the actual substance is just as important.

They look at the persons underlying problems, says Goldin. Potent opioids created a generation of addicts, with mass overprescribing in the US healthcare system. But many old-school street-drug addicts, as Goldin once was, turned to drugs originally as an escape from childhood trauma, loneliness, depression or poverty. She speaks of the doctors and therapists who helped her overcome her addiction as kind.

Goldin in Sweden. Photograph: Nan Goldin

In rehab last year, she also had to shake a long-term dependence on benzodiazepines one of the most well-known brand names for such sedatives is Valium. The company that became Purdue Pharma was started in 1892, but then expanded by three brothers, Arthur, Mortimer and Raymond Sackler, in the 1950s. All three are dead now. Arthur died in 1987, before OxyContin was invented, but he had once been responsible for brilliant advertising and marketing campaigns for drugs owned by other companies most notably Valium that focused on selling doctors and the public on using such wonder drugs for an inordinate variety of ailments.

Goldin herself was put on Valium when I was 19 because I was anxious, she says. Thats how widely it was prescribed.

After Goldins article in Art Forum, Arthurs daughter, Elizabeth Sackler, wrote a letter to the periodical, which will go online on 1 February, noting that her fathers one-third stake in Purdue was sold by his estate to his brothers shortly after his death and that neither she nor her children have benefited in any way from it, or from the sale of OxyContin. She calls Purdue Pharmas role in the opioid crisis morally abhorrent.

But although Goldin admires the Elizabeth A Sackler Center for Feminist Art at the Brooklyn Museum, she notes that it was the marketing prowess of Elizabeths father, in his approach to Valium, that provided a model for Purdues pushing of OxyContin. Shes not off the hook, says Goldin.

The 10 months since she left rehab have been hard. But I cant go back [on drugs], Ill die. Im staying clean for my doctor, for myself, for activism and the sake of other addicts. I feel that in my soul, it would be devastating if I relapsed. When I first went to treatment in 1989, I was motivated by the fact that Lou Reed and Dennis Hopper had gotten clean.

As a former drug abuser, Goldin in particular should not have been prescribed OxyContin as she was in a known high-risk group. The brain remembers, she says.

Her campaign is a call to arms, to fans of Prince, fans of mine, directors of art museums, doctors, anyone who has lost someone to opioids or knows someone who is struggling, which includes most people in America now, musicians and artists, a call for solidarity.

Goldin has not been taking many pictures recently, although she took some self-portraits while she was addicted to OxyContin, and some pictures of her drug gear. She has been drawing and painting, and in a small room next to the living room is a self-portrait, with her distinctive auburn curly hair and flinty look, but with the mouth sewn shut. I painted that over the new year, it was how I felt at the time. I was lonely, she says. She is looking forward to making a documentary on the opioid crisis. The project is in its earliest stages, but she says she got into photography originally, as a teen, because she wanted to make films. The closest she got at her creative peak was her many slideshows, most famously The Ballad of Sexual Dependency.

She is also known for photo-graphing the drag queens she lived with for three years in the 70s. They were so vivid, so beautiful, so funny. The humour ran riot. I think humour is one of lifes survival mechanisms; it was another level and I was in love with them, and I didnt analyse, I was just living, she says. And snapping. She has always said that her camera was merely an extension of her arm, although the undeniable craft in her framing, and the raw intensity, elevates it from documentary to art.

She captured such intimacy sometimes awful intimacy around the sex, the highs, rows, domestic violence and half-naked hanging out that was a way of life for her and her friends, many of whom she has now outlived by decades. But she points out that she would show her subjects their pictures and they could ask her not to publish them if they didnt like them. Integrity, integrity, integrity, she says. That word brings her back to the opioid crisis.

Purdue Pharma has no integrity, its the opposite, the evil manipulation of vulnerable people. Its disgusting, she says.

Goldin lights another cigarette and takes a swig of ginger ale. Her oil painting may have its mouth sewn shut, but the flesh and blood Nan Goldin will be heard.

Read more: https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2018/jan/22/nan-goldin-interview-us-opioid-epidemic-heroin-addict-oxycontin-sackler-family

from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2FRZIVk via Viral News HQ

[imsarahcate]

I’ve had a difficult history with doctors.  A few here and there that seemed to at least care about what I was dealing with, but for the most part, I’ve been shuttled around, disbelieved and disrespected.  I’ve been treated like an idiot and an oddity because of my weight.  I’ve been ignored and disregarded. While my oncologist and her staff are all amazing, and I *like* my existing PCP (her staff is NOT amazing), most of the doctors I’ve dealt with in my adult years have been super inadequate... to put it nicely. Particularly my neurologist who flat out lied about having ideas about how to try and find something to help with my pain.

.

Most recently, the nurse in my PCP’s office created a bunch of roadblocks for me when I tried to get my metformin re-upped.  Difficult enough that I gave up trying to get it and have been without it since June of last year.

.

So, after hearing rave review about this doctor in Plano both from a friend and then from online reviews, I called to make an appointment.  I called on a Thursday, there’s was an appointment open the very next Monday (yesterday).  And I have to take the time to talk about that appointment.  I have a lot of trouble getting around these days.  My pain is constant and if anything, getting worse as time goes on.  Getting around the UTSW hospital system can be exhausting and difficult and stressful.  Getting to my PCP’s office there is a nightmare for me.  It wipes me out for like 2 days.

.

Getting in and out of Dr. Duhaney’s (my NEW PCP) is a breeze.  Parking is good, the elevator is right inside the door and his office is down the very first hallway on the 2nd floor.  It’s easy to get in and out and around.  The staff was kind and genuine and caring. It’s a very small waiting room, but comfortable and calm.  At no time was my weight a discussion.  Aside from getting on the scale to begin with (and being shocked to find I’m back down to my post-chemo weight... holy shit) it simply was not an issue.  At all.

.

And when the blood pressure cuff came out I started my usual disclaimer- “it’s gonna be super high.  I’m really anxious, I live in constant pain, and I have doctor anxiety too. When I test it at home, when I’m calm and comfortable, I am almost always normal or high-normal.”  The nurse waved a hand dismissively, “Oh, I always figure it’s gonna be high when I take it here.  People get nervous.”

.

It’s the least judged I’ve EVER felt when having my blood pressure taken.  It was amazing.  (spoiler alert, it WAS high, but I’ve had higher!)  I gave him the chart I’d created at home (I basically laid out my major medical issues past and present, my meds, my surgeries/procedures and some notes on specific events).  His eyes got wide, he grinned and asked to make a copy.  He (and Dr. Duhaney LOVED it.)  

.

Dr. Duhaney was absolutely a phenomenal physician.  In a way that was almost... dreamlike.  You know when you’re a little kid and you get this idea that doctors are amazing, kind, caring people... who just want to genuinely help people?  Dr. Duhaney IS that doctor.  He’s a modern day Marcus Welby.  He listened attentively as I discussed and explained aspects of my medical history and timeline.  He asked questions that proved he’d been paying attention, asked questions that MATTERED.  He believed me, and treated me with an immense amount of respect.

.

He listened and paid attention to me when I talked about medications I’d been on.  And when we’d kind of exhausted the medical history portion he asked, “What specifically brings you here today?”

.

I said my visit was essentially 3 fold (aside from just needing a new PCP).  

-I fucked up my wrist -I want back on my metformin -I want to talk about options for my pain

.

By the time the appointment was over he’d had blood drawn and requested a urine sample.  I had scrips for my metformin (YES!), Naproxin for my wrist, and tramadol to help me sleep through pain flares.  I had an order for an xray of my wrist (did that today), and a follow up appointment scheduled in one month.

.

I should get a call about the labs before the end of the week, probably the wrist too.  

And for me, one of the most important takeaways was that when I brought up my pain he looked back at my little chart and listed off all the many meds I’ve tried through other physicians to treat my pain- to no avail.  And while we’re saving the full discussion for my follow up visit in February- he too seemed willing to discuss possibly shifting from anti-neuropathic meds to actual narcotic pain medications.  Something I’ve been denied either approval or access (or both) to for far too long at this stage.  Not only CAN he prescribe them, but he is willing to look into it.  To really finally help me find something that will actually HELP my pain in a way that is meaningful.

.

At no point did I feel rushed or hurried.  He spent almost an hour with me (on a 30min appointment to be honest).  And unlike seeing my PCP at UTSW, I didn’t feel like whoever was in the next exam room was getting an earful of my medical history.  And throughout it all, it was clear that he really genuinely CARED and wants to help me tackle my health issues in a way that will be most meaningful and have the greatest positive impact on my day to day life.

.

I walked away sort of in a daze to be honest.  It should be noted that he treats his staff with tremendous regard as well.  At one point (I have TERRIBLE veins, Thanks chemo) a 3rd nurse had come in to try and find a line for blood and he kind of chuckled and said, “I’m going to duck out and let him do his thing, there’s always more pressure when the boss is in the room and he can definitely do this without me looking over his shoulder.”  But it was said in a way that really sounded... so respectful and trusting of the nurse’s skill and ability,  It wasn’t “oh ho ho I’m a scary boss,” it was just... this acknowledgment that sometimes the best way to do what you do- is not to be watched while you do it.

.

It was just overall a really remarkable experience.  And then I went to the desk to collect my license and my medicare card.  I said, “and I probably owe you money too..”

.

The nurse smiled and handed back my ids and said, “Nope.  We send it all to medicare and they pay us.”

.

I won’t lie... I... teared up.  For someone as poor as I am, who struggles as much as I do financially (even WITH help), that was... just incredible.  I walked out to the hall and then tears did spill over.  I almost cried again today when I walked out of the xray... again... with no money due.  Even at a location that was covered by my old insurance, my copay could have sunk me for that xray.  Hell, depending on if my doc. was covered or not, the copay for THAT could have sunk me.

.

But thanks to my medicare because I’m on disability... I can still pay my phone bill this month.  Something that, 3 days ago, I wasn’t sure would be the case.

.

So now I have a new Primary Care Doctor.  One I can actually get an appointment with.  One who wants and has the actual POWER to help me.  And for the first time in literally YEARS, I am daring to feel hopeful again.  Daring to think maybe, even if he can’t... fix it... I might at least be able to sleep again, or even... spend time with loved ones, have the energy to get back to designing and creating and crafting.

.

Because I finally have a doctor who actually genuinely cares.  And has the power to do something about it.

[naamahdarling]

The Vyvanse prescription I basically had to fight a dragon to get is working great, but unfortunately it is also giving me chest tightness. It's bad enough I can't ignore it, bad enough that if I DID, I am concerned it could mask the symptoms of a genuine cardiac event.

So...I fought for a week to get put on a higher dose that it turns out I can't take because it feels like my ribs are biting my heart.

I am out of my lower dose pills, so I can't drop back down to those.

Any new scrip, whether for a lower Vyvanse dose or an entirely new prescription, is going to have to go through that SAME process that took them a week to sort out.

I will either have to go unmedicated or open the capsules, dump half the powder, and hope that works until I can get the new one sorted out.

In the meantime, this chest stuff is uncomfortable and scary. It was bad today.

I realize I have been SO DRAMATIC the past couple three days. I am sorry if it's annoying. I will get things sorted out, I will. I will be fine. It's just going to take some work to get there.

I should have known we wouldn't find the right thing right out of the gate. Like, that's not me moping or being negative, it's just that I knew that was extremely unlikely and yet I let my guard down when I did okay on the 10mg.

I'm just tired. And I may need to ask for some help from y'all. Bills next month are covered, we're good there thanks to an incredibly generous human, but we will need help to cover food as we have been relying on takeout because neither of us is up to cooking. I know that's bad or lazy or fat of me according to a lot of people, but I am under literal doctor's orders to eat SOMETHING every day, even if it is "unhealthy", and one burger and fries a day is SOMETHING, and honestly not as much as people really need.

I'm trying, guys. I really am. I am trying so hard. I want to be okay so very badly. I have worked so hard to get medical care for this mental health stuff, to get meds and take them faithfully and properly, to do my therapy stuff, to be more open and to trust my GF with my feelings more, to go to her for help instead of pushing through alone. I am using all the tools I have and working every day to try to use them better or learn new ones. I am PROUD of myself.

I'm also just freakin' tired. And the people who are supposed to be helping me on the medical side are just not holding up their end of the deal (except my therapist who is fine and all y'all who encouraged me to give him a chance were right). And it is SO HARD to be stable and functional when you know you can't trust your team.

I need to find somewhere else to go, I think. The thought is so depressing and exhausting but this is just awful.

[ask-de-writer]

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : World of Sea : Part 44

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

copyright 2018

written 2007

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions. All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story?  Read from the beginning.  PART 1 is here

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Chapter 15: Old Crab

Kurin got to ride on a catamaran sailboat as she was taken to the Gathering rafts.  She watched everything with interest from leaving the Dark Dragon to arrival at the docking area.  As she was lifted up to the raft deck, Kurin realized that most of the ship booths were taken down and stowed.  Only the food booths and a few others were left.

The crowd around Marad’s booth showed that he still had his flair for dealing with the public.

“Let’s go to Marad’s for some food!” said Kurin enthusiastically.

Tousling Kurin’s hair, Sula replied, “You go eat.  I have to make my report to the Council.”  She strode off to the Council Pavilion. Kurin, supported by Doctor Worran and Seve, a deck-hand from the Dark Dragon, made her way to Marad’s and food.

Most people, seeing that it took two people to support her, stayed back and left Kurin alone.  She could hear the whispers, though.

“I heard that she lived through Ord poisoning.”

“Not what I heard.  Someone told me that they faked ...” that one ended in a thud and a scuffle, with a “You take that back!”

“Weak as a new hatched bird, poor thing!”

And one that got her interest, “Get Roper, he’s got her trade chits!”

Kurin steered through the crowd and entered Marad’s booth, needing both Doctor Worran and Seve to keep her on her feet.  Marad brought out a chair, when he saw her coming.  “Good grief! Dragon Hair, it’s good to see you!  You look like bird breath smells!”  He paused in seating Kurin, to stare.  Kurin followed his eye and grinned.

“Doctor Worran, meet Marad, one of the best cooks around.  Marad, this is Doctor Worran, from the Dark Dragon.  She saved my life.  This good man is Seve, he’s from the Dark Dragon, too.”

“Now you’ve done me in, Kurin.  I’ll always feed you to pay you back for that tutoring, but you’ve gone and brought an exotic beauty and a friend as well.  If I don’t feed you all, I couldn’t live with myself, and there goes all of my profit.”

Belying his words, busy helpers bustled about his small kitchen, serving the hungry crowd.  “Now what can I get you fine people?”

“Do you have any crab or lobster left?” asked Kurin without much hope.

“No live ones, Kurin, but I have some steamed crab cakes, made from flake blocks.  They're just about to come out.  There’s sweet or tart dipping sauces to go with ‘em.”

They were just tucking into the crab cakes, when Sula came striding up. Her business with the Council was done for now.  Marad saw her coming and had a crab cake waiting.

“This looks like it was a good place to come,” Sula said, eying her crab cake like a hungry sea bird.  She joined the group, and Kurin introduced her to Marad.

“I wish that we could have these on the way home,” Doctor Worran said wistfully.  She was industriously cleaning every bit of crab off the Strong Skin board that it had been steamed on.  “Unfortunately, crab just doesn’t keep very long.”  

Kurin and Marad looked at each other, nodding slowly.  He said, “That crab was over a Gathering old and nowhere near the end of its shelf life.”

Sula pounced on that, “How do you manage that, or is it Ship’s Business?”

“It is,” said Marad leaning on the counter and displaying a waxy looking block, a little bigger than a man’s hand, “but it’s Captain’s Discretion.  We were hoping to sell the process.  I can sell you up to two hundred of these one pound crab blocks that are surplus in our pantry.  We have a few tons in one of the holds, too, but I have no authority over them.  If folk in this fleet know that they are eating old crab or fish, they won’t touch it.  It doesn’t sell, and we need the pantry space.  You can put up almost any edible fish or other food the same way.  Keeps good for two to three Gatherings.”

Just then Roper came proudly up to Kurin. The grown folk paused and watched as the young ones did business. “I sold all of your toys, and got good prices, too.  I saved the chits for you, cause I was sure that you’d come back.”  He dumped a whole pouch of trade scrip in her lap.  “There’s thirty four skins, twenty two blocks and eighteen bits.”

Kurin, eyes wide, looked into the pouch, “And you put away my booth.  I saw.  You have been busy, Roper.”  She was counting from the pouch.

“Master Juris showed me how to fold it and where to put everything.”

“Then you have earned this,” said Kurin, handing him scrip.  

His eyes grew wide in turn. “Five whole skins and five blocks!  This is the most I’ve ever got!  I’ll go to Alor and put it in my account right away.” he scampered off.

Sula said, “I see why you trusted him with your booth.”

Just then, Captain Mord emerged from the Council Pavilion and Kurin, without thinking, tried to stand up and wave. She did call, “Captain! Over here at Marad’s!”  Sula and Doctor Worran caught her as her big muscles went lax, and eased her back into her chair.

Captain Mord, seeing her slump, came at a run.  “Are you OK, Kurin?” he asked in concern.

Before Kurin could pull words together, Sula answered for her.  “She’s fine, Captain Mord.  She is recovering nicely.  I’ve been Ord poisoned twice, so I know what I’m talking about.”

“We owe you thanks, Captain Sula,” he said, crouching in front of Kurin and looking her over to be sure the she really was there and OK.  He looked over her shoulder at Sula and said warmly, “Your account of her navigational ability in unfamiliar waters, turned the tide.  They were going to close the school and make us pay refunds because they thought she was too sick.”

“Were — — what do they want now?” asked Doctor Worran, curiosity alight in her eyes.

“Only to buy a master chart of the Naral - Cliftos current system — — Bottom and all — — Dragon Sea to Equator.”  He was grinning as he waited for his bombshell to go off.

Sula was the first to realize the magnitude of the task. Eyes shocked to wide green pools, she asked, “How many ship-Gatherings are they going to pay for?”

“Two, up front.  If they like the initial results, up to four more.  In total, a minimum of 50,000 skins and as high as 250,000 skins.  We will conduct the school as we make the chart.  That is a separate income.”

Kurin, dancing in her chair with excitement, said, “Captain, if you grin any wider your teeth will show behind you!”

“That’s wonderful!” exclaimed Sula.  “It’s enough to build a ship like mine!”  As she thought, she gazed at a long winged Sea Hawk soaring overhead, its shadow causing other, smaller, birds to panic into flight or swarm under awnings for protection.

“You might even have some left over.  It makes my business with you seem small.”

“Do you need to sell or buy?” asked Mord, instantly curious and guarded.

“To buy.  Both provisions and a process covered by your Ship’s Business.  I am told that it is available at your discretion.

“We have just become aware of your block preservation process for fish and other food.  We want to buy all of the block preserved food that you can spare, and the process itself.”

“What do you offer for all of that?” asked Mord, carefully neutral, preparing to haggle.

“I have the entire prepared hide of a nine tonne Hag.  It is already stretched and dried.  I will sign a non-revelation agreement for the nearby fleets, so long as it does allow us to reveal the process to the Winternight, Corlis and Barant fleets.”

Mord was shaken by the magnitude of the offer.  It was enough to equip five ships with the best of distillation equipment, kitchen fireboxes and the array of special pots needed for cooking over flame, and specialized fire boxes for their boat-shops as well.  Mord said, “You must want this very badly, to offer so much.  If the hide passes Master Juris’ examination, you have a deal.”  He shook her hand, and sent for Alor to draw up the necessary agreements.

Turning to Marad, Captain Mord leaned on the counter and asked, “You set this up, didn’t you?”

“Well, Sir, what I did was give them some crab cakes, and then show them a block.  After that, I told them that I could sell them some provisions but you had to sell them the process and goods in the hold.”

“You did well, and there will be a bonus for you, as well as shares for the whole crew.  Now, would you please get Master Murel so that he can explain the process and demonstrate the equipment?  Also, he needs to set someone to sorting which blocks we can sell, including the ones in the cargo hold.”

Turning back to Sula, he asked, “Why do you want this so badly?”

The circling bird became an object of extreme interest.  Sula, watching it, felt past pain and tears well up again.  Her voice shook as she answered, “There were twenty seven reasons on my ship alone in the last two wars.  Three of those reasons were children.”  She sat heavily and braced her arms on the table.  Her voice broke and she began to cry.  

TO BE CONTINUED

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