#Bedridden

[wishful-seeker]

I think some people don't realize some of us HAVE to be chronically online unfortunately, especially if we are bedridden or housebound due to illness. Obviously this isn't great for many reasons, and I've definitely fallen into the habit of rotting my brain with 7 second reels or ending up in really petty online arguments because i have nothing else to do. Just try to take care of yourselves, maybe you have to be chronically online, but maybe you can look out a window for a few minutes, or actively not read comments you know will upset you, or maybe make an effort to take a break from watching reels or tiktoks every few hours. Its incredibly difficult to have an occupied life when you're stuck in bed or at home. Personally I've found eating or being on my phone while also outside helps, writing/journaling in the notes on your phone, rewatching a loved tv show instead of interacting on online discourse or watching mind numbing dopamine hit reels over and over. Anyways, i know its difficult and you aren't bad for being chronically online especially when you really don't have much of a choice, just try to be gentle with how you treat yourself and consume media these days. I frequently take breaks from Instagram and tiktok, i think i haven't used them in about 2 weeks right now. Its also helpful to find safe spaces online. I consider tumblr a much more tame and healthier media for myself to consume because there isn't much fighting and just more wholesome random info everywhere. It also helps to text/call friends, reconnect with them online, ect. I hope my fellow chronically online people have a nice internet day.

[marxm0703]

🌕

A poem I wrote after fainting at work and seeing the reactions of those around me. Someone had made an insensitive joke and inspired me to write this. I put a lot of heartache into this so I hope others who ache too can enjoy. I personally think it's some of my best.

-Michael

[blackrosesandwhump]

Whumpril Day 19: I Need You

CW: poison whump, sickness, fever whump

Your body is wracked with poison. You lie in a darkened room, delirious and sick, unable to lie still as the effects of whumper’s spell take hold and jerk you between shallow nightmares and fevered wakefulness. You can’t sense much beyond the dim light, terrible pain, and caretaker’s presence.

Caretaker bends over you and drapes a cool cloth over your forehead. For a moment, the cool sinks into your skin, and you feel a degree of relief. But whumper’s poison spell is too powerful and the relief is swallowed instantly. A whimper escapes you.

If only it would stop. If only the poison would stop.

And then, caretaker seems to disappear. Weakly, you manage to raise a desperate, shaking hand.

“Please...don’t leave me…I need you.” The words come out raspy. They don’t sound like your voice at all.

Caretaker appears again, smiling despite their furrowed concern. “I won’t leave you. Don’t worry. I’ll be right here as long as you need me.”

You slip back into a dream with caretaker’s reassurance echoing in your mind, and this time, the dream isn’t quite so bad.

[chronicallycouchbound]

A Prayer From Bed / Bound

My bed is a shrine to stillness, to rest, to warmth, to intimacy, to love, to relaxation. In this space, I practice rituals of devotion. Here, I set down my worries. I create art. I sit with my pain. I share in pleasure. I say prayers in every action and every inaction. I honor my bedridden body in all of its glory. My disabled body is a temple, I am a humble priest. I will tend to it dutifully— by doing nothing.

[gothhabiba]

do u have any hygiene tips for ppl that have physical disabilities? sometimes showering is a struggle

keep a stash of everything you need in a nightstand, potentially including:

a toothbrush (possibly electric) and safe-to-swallow toothpaste

disposable / re-fillable dental floss picks

perhaps some mouthwash tablets (n.b. I have done no research into what health claims these tend to make)

no-rinse shampoo

no-rinse body wash

a cloth and bottle of water

if you're able to make it to the shower, consider a shower chair.

if you can, wear breathable fabrics such as linen or cotton and change your clothing every day; at least try to change anything that directly touches your skin. this will keep you cleaner for longer.

if you have long hair, keep it in braids or some other protective style so that it doesn't tangle in between washings.

remember that you don't need to do everything all at once. you can wash part of your body now, and another part later; your body now and your hair later; &c.

check out this post about brushing your teeth while lying flat

another post about showering or washing while physically disabled (note that not all of these tips are feasible if you're bedbound)

[vivilingriphyn]

Since I'm bedridden from the recent cosplay competition I've competed in, I drew this since I might as well and i might even make another version where he looks back at viewer with different emotions maybe fondness next, or maybe even sadness, guilt, shock.

idk this makes me wanna brand storm tho i think the only difference would be the 2nd and 3rd panel and the 1st one having only slight changes... Idk, my brain just works its magic when I'm alone and in bed and i love and hate it.

[campgender]

my gf was reading me an article about plant philosophy (several weeks ago according to when i drafted this post) which said that since they’re fixed in one spot, their behaviors are largely how they grow rather than how they move. some sort of homebound resonance there.

[longlivethewhump]

Hakuoki : Demon of the Fleeting Blossom - Ep 12

[letthewhumpbegin]

House of the Dragon, s1e4

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

I haven't eaten in 2 days because I've been bedridden with a horrible fever (not covid, thank God). I'm starving, but something tells me I probably shouldn't give into my cravings and order a 1200 calorie steak burrito the size of my head with double portions of refried beans and tortilla chips with creamy jalapeño sauce. This would ruin me, I know it, but it's all I can think about...

[wishful-seeker]

Nvm ketamine is the best

Today i

1. Made homemade Pico de gallo

2. Went to the park

3. Walked around a lot at the park harvesting native wild plants and digging some up to take home (I took a very small amount dw)

4. Swung on swings

5. Went home and planted the plants and had to pull up grass by hand because it's a very tough kind of grass I couldn't get with the shovel.

6. Played minecraft with a friend for a few hours.

Normally I wouldn't be able to do any of these, without ketamine I couldn't have done any of these things, ever. Not just on bad days. No, not being able to do any of these things was my normal. Today I spent hours out of bed, thats unheard of for me.

[isamajor]

June of Doom : day 21 to 25

Penultimate batch of drabble before closing @juneofdoom !

21 . “Let’s play a game."

The faint glow of the blue orb in the center of the room caught everyone's attention. The Dragonborn, cautiously, reached out to touch it. In an instant, a metal cage trapped them and the light began to circle around the group, emitting shrill sounds.

“What the hell did you do?” Kadain muttered, his eyes wide with worry.

Instinctively, everyone gathered in the center of the cage, ready to draw at the first threat.

But before anyone could react further, the orb sank into the pedestal. The ground beneath them shook, then gave way, and the cries of surprise turned into screams of panic. (102)

•

22 . “What’s the bad news?” 

The Dragonborn was bedridden, feverish and pale.

“The bad news?” they asked in a weak voice.

Xelzaz, holding a dagger that he heated with his flames, looked grim. "The wound is infected. It needs to be cauterized."

They grimaced. “There’s nothing else you can do?”

Xelzaz shook his head. "It's the only way to stop the infection from spreading. It's either this or..."

The Dragonborn swallowed hard.

"Nebarra, Lucifer, I need you two to hold them tight."

As Xelzaz pressed the red-hot blade to the wound, the burning pain made the Dragonborn scream, eyes wide with agony, struggling violently against the guys grip. (103)

•

23 . “You’re doing great.”  

Lucien looked at his trembling hands, remnants of magic still crackling at his fingertips. The battlefield was littered with the charred remains of their enemies. His heart was pounding, fear and horror twisting his guts. Inigo approached, his eyes shining with admiration.

“Lucien, it was incredible!”

Inigo placed a reassuring hand on Lucien's shoulder, his eyes filled with admiration. "You're doing great, my friend. That was some impressive magic."

Lucien looked down at his hands which wouldn't stop trembling. He was certainly proud of his mastery, but having to use his magic in such circumstances left a bitter taste in his mouth. (104)

•

24 . “Let’s get you cleaned up.”   (Stitches/Bandages)

Nebarra's hands shook as he slowly removed his helmet, revealing the wound and his face beneath. Taliesin tried not to stare too much into the mercenary's youthful face. He knelt beside Nebarra, and carefully cleaned the wound, then began to stitch it up with precise, but delicate movements. Nebarra winced, but didn't flinch away, allowing Taliesin to finish his work. The silence was heavy, full of unsaid words.

"Done." Taliesin said softly, carefully wrapping Nebarra's head with bandages. He then handed Nebarra his helmet, and their eyes met briefly.

"Thank you." Nebarra muttered, his voice hoarse. (100)

•

25 . “I should have listened to you.” (Guilt)

Lydia took a dim view of the fact that the Dragonborn was pillaging the offerings in the funeral urns. These ruins were the burial grounds of her ancestors and she felt guilty for following her thane on these kinds of adventures. She had tried to reason with them on this point, but the lure of the treasures that these ruins could abound were the strongest. Lydia didn't dare look into the blue eyes of the Draugr, as she imagined the looks of her ancestors full of disapproval for what she was doing : disturbing their age-old sleep. (98)

[blackrosesandwhump]

June of Doom Day 22

“What’s the bad news?” | Poison | Bedridden | Cauterization

CW: 2nd pov, poison, agony, death wish, psychological whump

“…the bad news?” you hear someone say. The voice reaches you from far away, across a vast gulf that yawns open between you and—everything. Your entire body—lungs, heart, limbs, eyes, even your mind—feels disconnected and strange. Numb. Blank. At least you can still hear. For now.

“…nothing we can do…poison has to run its course.” A different voice. It fades out, then filters back in, a moment, or days later. Time has no meaning in this blank nothingness. “…let them rest until it’s over.”

What’s wrong with me? The words form, desperate, on your tongue and die there, trapped and unspoken. Nothing works. Nothing feels real. Nothing except—

Briefly, horrifically, your senses return. You lie in a lake of fire, your body flayed and disintegrating as you gasp for air and find only ash. It creeps into your lungs, choking you. A scream builds up in your scorched throat.

Please, kill me.

But instead of death, something cool washes through your mouth. A moment of small relief. You gulp it down, before everything turns blissfully numb and blank again. The vast abyss splits open and swallows you, grateful, into its depths.

“…bedridden for now,” comes the familiar voice across the expanse. “…don’t know how long they’ll take to recover.”

@juneofdoom

[chronicallycouchbound]

A Guide for Coming into Disability

Note: While this is meant to serve as a guide for people who are becoming physically disabled and people newly recognizing their existing experiences of disability (including chronic illness), I feel that this guide is helpful for anyone, disabled or abled. No guide is one size fits all, but I hope this can help supplement other resources that exist.

Recognizing Disability

The first aspect of coming into disability is conceptualizing what disability means for you. Some initial questions to consider are:

What is disability?

What does it mean to be disabled?

How do you identify disability in yourself or others?

Only you can define what these mean for yourself, but many definitions and models of disability exist.

Loss & Grief

As you begin to transition into a disabled body, the first sign of that change is often the experience of loss. Loss of ability, access to the world, hobbies, community, loved ones, and your sense of self are just some of the types of loss you might be experiencing. Additionally, when being a part of any marginalized community, you are now not only beginning to experience the trauma of discrimination that you’re personally facing but you are also exposed to a communal trauma of systemic marginalization.

Due to the ableist society we live in, every single person is internalizing ableism. Everything we see on the news, in movies, in classrooms, etc. is absorbed subconsciously to create a personalized narrative of the disabled experience. Weather or not that ableism is externalized doesn’t matter, because if you’re not actively dismantling internalized ableism and practing anti-ableism, then that ableism will hit you much harder when you transition into disability. The work to navigate this is constant, evolving and will change with time.

All of this is very heavy. Always unpacking, always processing, always grieving. But it does get easier to navigate, especially with the proper supports. To cope with this, I highly recommend seeking out appropriate support groups (many are online, Facebook, Discord, The Mighty are some great places to look) and considering grief counseling. Through this, remember to be gentle with yourself, cut off people if you need to, set boundaries, and do what you need to to support yourself and keep yourself safe.

Spoon Theory in Practice

A large portion of my disabled experience is simply just learning. Learning about my body, treatments, my limitations, and what I can still do. This dynamic learning often requires more language to explain complex concepts. This brings us to the spoon theory. If you don’t yet know about spoon theory, here’s the original essay by Christine Miserandino.

Spoon theory works to help explain the energy limitations of chronic illness and has been widely adopted by the greater disabled community. Essentially, it is a metaphor that uses spoons as a metric to showcase energy levels in a tangible form. Over time your spoons will change, different activities might require more or less spoons, and recharging your spoons may also evolve. This is why it’s important to use the concept of spoon theory to help you set boundaries with yourself and others.

For yourself, being able to identify your spoon levels and use them appropriately to ration energy can help you avoid falling into pitfalls like the “Boom-Bust Cycle” and better pace yourself. I put this into practice by creating lists rating activities by spoon levels. I have a master list of meals I can eat, categorized by how many spoons it usually takes to make the meal. This way, I can plan out in advance on low spoon days, like when I have PT, and know I won’t have the energy to cook a meal that takes three spoons to make, I can meal plan for the week and buy what I need for a one spoon meal that day. This can also be applied to things like chores and hobbies. I sort my to-do list by priority, and then by how many spoons it will take to do the activity. Knowing your spoon levels can assist in setting boundaries with others as well. I always have a standing appointment on Tuesdays, so I never make plans that day. I always ask for help with certain chores because even if I physically can get them done, I won’t have spoons for the rest of the day or even the week.

Accepting Disability

In order to cope with the loss of certain activities, finding accessible alternatives can go a long way. You might be able to find an adaptive way to still participate in a hobby, like adaptive basketball. There are also so many options for hobbies in the world, and you might be surprised by what works for you now! This is a good time to start to focus on what you can do, with adaptations, vs what you used to be able to/now can’t do.

Mobility aids are a beautiful tool. My advice is if you think that an aid might help you, you should at least try it! If it ends up not helping, or you don’t need it, you can always donate it. I also like to say (and my physical therapist likes to remind me) Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.

And, of course, ask for help before your body demands it.

Disabled Liberation & Disabled Joy

If you have the spoons and time, you should prioritize learning about our history as a community (Crip Camp on Netflix is a great place to start) Additionally, you can learn about disability theory, models of disability, ugly laws, cripple punk movement, and our rights.

Disabled Joy is a concept that considers our joy to be a revolutionary act in and of itself. I use ‘joy’ here, rather than happiness, because while similar, happiness is based in the root word ‘hap’ meaning chance (as in mishap and happenstance), meaning that the experience itself is based in luck and external factors, and focus instead on the sensation associated with it– regardless of your situation, which is joy. Disabled joy looks like my partner sprinting while pushing me down the sidewalk with the wind in my face. It looks like a perfect day in Sims 4. It comes with safe foods and the healing power of accessible plauygrounds. You find it where it comes, and I hope you can find it in yourself.

Finding Community

The best part of the disabled experience, for me, is our thriving community. When it comes to community building, I always suggest online options first because they’re available 24/7 for most people, and you can reach community from your home. I’ve already mentioned online support groups, but also, online content creators are a great way to find community. If your social media following list is primarily able-bodied creators, especially ones who focus on activities that aren’t accessible to you, it can be really damaging to your mental health. This can help you to find friends who get what you're going through.

Self-advocacy and systemic advocacy resources from our peers and organizations can give you the tools and feel empowered to create change. Seeking resources by and for our community can be lifesaving. You’re reading one right now.

Welcome to the community.

♿️❤️ (wheelchair emoji, heart emoji)

[thewhumpcaretaker]

Whump Word of the Week: Bedridden

It sounds so extreme - what happened to rob someone of the ability even to walk? Even to get out of bed? God, that sounds pretty bad; they might be dying. Or what if it’s purely because of misery? That would be even worse. Either way, someone should sit at their bedside.

(…and at the same time it’s vaguely sexual. The bed…is being ridden?? Maybe even as a form of comfort for the bedridden person??? 👀)

[whump-about-it]

Bedridden/ Semiconscious/ Light Sensitivity

@whumpril day 28 

CW: capture, implied torture, implied strangulation, concussion, prescription drugs (administered responsibly), abandoned whumpee, disregarded mental state. 

Caretaker woke up with a start. They hadn’t remembered falling asleep in the first place, but it had been the kind of slumber that had left them wondering where they were and what century it was. It took a few groggy seconds before they were able to recognize that they were lying in a bed in the infirmary, with Medic staring at them from across the room with an eyebrow raised. 

“Bad dream?” Medic asked sounding half amused, half concerned. 

“Did I pass out?” Caretaker ignored Medic’s question and rubbed the rest of the sleep out of their eyes. The lights in the infirmary were too bright. Caretaker had been awake for all of 30 seconds and they were already getting a headache from the harsh they were. Then again their whole body was sore. It felt like they’d been hit by a truck. 

“Only from exhaustion” Medic told them and put down the paperwork they’d been reading when Caretaker woke. “Though you do have a mild concussion. I finished your stitches and you were out like a light. I didn’t even get a chance to give you pain meds. You want any?” 

Right. They remembered the stitches, and the concussion. And last night. Whumper. The rescue.

“Whumpee!” Caretaker swung their legs over the edge of the bed in a sudden panic. The overly bright lights and their body pains temporarily forgotten. The panic was partially quelled though when they immediately saw Whumpee lying in the bed next to them. 

They didn’t look good by any stretch. Their entire face seemed to be one big bruise. One of their arms were in a sling, and the other was heavily bandaged from shoulder to wrist. There were shallow cuts on their neck, poking out from under a bandage Caretaker knew was covering a ligature mark. They had been with Whumper for less than a week, but they looked like they’d lost a significant amount of weight. And the very little unbruised skin they could see was pale and waxy. 

Whumpee did however, look alive. Caretaker could see their chest rise and fall as they breathed and a screen next their bed showed a steady heartbeat. 

“They’re still stable” Medic reassured Caretaker as they stood up painfully (one of their own injuries included a twisted ankle) and hobbled over to Whumpee’s side. 

“They haven’t woken up at all yet. But vitals have been regular and there’s no internal bleeding. They’re going to make a full recovery” Medic nudged Caretaker and held out a glass of water and few painkillers for them to take. Caretaker nodded absently and finished examining Whumpee before stumbling back to their own bed and taking the things from Medic. 

“Physically maybe” They mumbled. Medic hadn’t been there. They could see Whumpee’s injuries. But they hadn’t seen where they’d been kept. What Whumpee had been through. Or how Caretaker had had to beg them trust them to come with.

“Well, yeah. But that’s a bridge we’ll cross when we get to it.” 

Medic watched Caretaker take the pain medication and then took the glass back from them before speaking again. 

“Team Leader came in while you were asleep. They wanted me to tell you, that they’re going to skin you alive for going alone without their authorization, and to go give them a debrief as soon as you’re conscious again.” 

Caretaker groaned. They knew they had gone against Team Leader. Sneaking out to go rescue Whumpee. But all things considered they felt justified, and they weren’t in the mood for a tongue lashing about it. 

“In that case, I’m still asleep until further notice.” 

Medic hummed their understanding and went back to their paperwork. 

“You can’t hide here forever” They said nonchalantly.  

“I know, just give me some time to figure out how to nicely tell Team Leader “I told you so”“ 

“You act like you know Whumper.” 

“Nah,” Caretaker shrugged squeezing their eyes tightly closed. The lights really were bright. “But I know their type. Sadistic assholes, who have a grudge against the world, and need to feel powerful in anyway possible.” 

Medic looked up from their paperwork. Their eyebrow raised again. 

“I’m not about to unlock another tragic back story am I? I get enough of that between Whumpee and Team Leader.” 

Caretaker smirked and shook their head. 

“Nothing you don’t already know” They assured them “I used to be one of the bad guys, remember?”

“Hmm” Medic hummed then noticing Caretaker’s discomfort with the lights, reached out and dimmed them ever so slightly. Caretaker sighed in relief and opened their eyes again. 

The whole team generally ignored that specific part of Caretaker’s background. Normally they were thankful for it, but in certain situations, Whumpee being captured having been one of them, Caretaker would have been appreciated their expertise being taken into account. In this situation, they had known Whumper wasn’t merely going to hold Whumpee hostage. And the longer the team sat around trying to come up with a plan to rescue them, the slimmer their opportunity became. 

Caretaker and Medic were pulled from their individual thoughts when a strange mumbling noise came from Whumpee’s bed. They were both on their feet within seconds, crowding around Whumpee’s as they finally stirred after hours of complete motionlessness. 

“Caretaker?” Whumpee mumbled in a weak, breathy voice. Their eyes cracked open a bit, but it was clear they weren’t really seeing anything. 

“Yeah, Whumpee I’m right here.” Caretaker said trying to sound soothing. “What do you need?” 

Whumpee turned their head half way towards Caretaker, clearly trying to focus on them. Caretaker and Medic waited with baited breathe for Whumpee to try and speak again. However, instead of doing that, Whumpee suddenly sat up much in the way Caretaker had when they first woke up and started making a weak but obvious effort to get out of bed. The screen next to them began to show their heartrate rising rapidly. 

“No, no, no, no, no” Caretaker and Medic both began to say in near unison. Reaching out their hands to grab at Whumpee and force them back down as gently as possible. 

“Stay in bed Whumpee.” Caretaker insisted “don’t try to get up.” 

Whumpee fell back against their pillows heavily and almost relieved, but seemed confused in their semiconscious state. 

“But-” They breathed “You said we had to go” 

“Yeah,” Caretaker told them “But we did already. You’re safe now. But you need to stay in bed. Okay?”

Whumpee nodded, and their half lidded eyes slid the rest of the way closed. They reached out their better arm and tried to grab at Caretaker with almost no strength. Caretaker took Whumpee’s hand in their own and stroked the top of their head with their other. 

“Why?” Whumpee slurred after a moment. 

“Because it will make you better faster” 

Whumpee shook their head, but they seemed like they were loosing consciousness again. 

“Why... didn’t team come.” they slurred “Why... did they... leave me there?” 

With that Whumpee fell completely limp back into their pillows, slipping back into unconsciousness once again. 

Caretaker continued to hold Whumpee’s limp hand as they and Medic watched the heartrate display on the screen go back to a normal rate. The two then looked at each other. Medic’s eyes were wide, their usual snarky expression absent. Caretaker however pursed their lips with contempt. 

“Well, Medic” They said flatly. “Here’s the bridge.”