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reasonsforhope · 11 months ago

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"When bloodstream infections set in, fast treatment is crucial — but it can take several days to identify the bacteria responsible. A new, rapid-diagnosis sepsis test could cut down on the wait, reducing testing time from as much as a few days to about 13 hours by cutting out a lengthy blood culturing step, researchers report July 24 [2024] in Nature.

“They are pushing the limits of rapid diagnostics for bloodstream infections,” says Pak Kin Wong, a biomedical engineer at Penn State who was not involved in the research. “They are driving toward a direction that will dramatically improve the clinical management of bloodstream infections and sepsis.”

Sepsis — an immune system overreaction to an infection — is a life-threatening condition that strikes nearly 2 million people per year in the United States, killing more than 250,000 (SN: 5/18/08). The condition can also progress to septic shock, a steep drop in blood pressure that damages the kidneys, lungs, liver and other organs. It can be caused by a broad range of different bacteria, making species identification key for personalized treatment of each patient.

In conventional sepsis testing, the blood collected from the patient must first go through a daylong blood culturing step to grow more bacteria for detection. The sample then goes through a second culture for purification before undergoing testing to find the best treatment. During the two to three days required for testing, patients are placed on broad-spectrum antibiotics — a blunt tool designed to stave off a mystery infection that’s better treated by targeted antibiotics after figuring out the specific bacteria causing the infection.

Nanoengineer Tae Hyun Kim and colleagues found a way around the initial 24-hour blood culture.

The workaround starts by injecting a blood sample with nanoparticles decorated with a peptide designed to bind to a wide range of blood-borne pathogens. Magnets then pull out the nanoparticles, and the bound pathogens come with them. Those bacteria are sent directly to the pure culture. Thanks to this binding and sorting process, the bacteria can grow faster without extraneous components in the sample, like blood cells and the previously given broad-spectrum antibiotics, says Kim, of Seoul National University in South Korea.

Cutting out the initial blood culturing step also relies on a new imaging algorithm, Kim says. To test bacteria’s susceptibility to antibiotics, both are placed in the same environment, and scientists observe if and how the antibiotics stunt the bacteria’s growth or kill them. The team’s image detection algorithm can detect subtler changes than the human eye can. So it can identify the species and antibiotic susceptibility with far fewer bacteria cells than the conventional method, thereby reducing the need for long culture times to produce larger colonies.

Though the new method shows promise, Wong says, any new test carries a risk of false negatives, missing bacteria that are actually present in the bloodstream. That in turn can lead to not treating an active infection, and “undertreatment of bloodstream infection can be fatal,” he says. “While the classical blood culture technique is extremely slow, it is very effective in avoiding false negatives.”

Following their laboratory-based experiments, Kim and colleagues tested their new method clinically, running it in parallel with conventional sepsis testing on 190 hospital patients with suspected infections. The testing obtained a 100 percent match on correct bacterial species identification, the team reports. Though more clinical tests are needed, these accuracy results are encouraging so far, Kim says.

The team is continuing to refine their design in hopes of developing a fully automated sepsis blood test that can quickly produce results, even when hospital laboratories are closed overnight. “We really wanted to commercialize this and really make it happen so that we could make impacts to the patients,” Kim says."

-via Science News, July 24, 2024

#sepsis #medical news #medical testing #south korea #blood test #bacteria #antibiotics #infections #good news #hope #nanotechnology

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azzifudd10 · 6 days ago

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Chapter 28: To Your Hope I Tether

The next morning, the kitchen table was strewn with papers, notebooks, and a laptop glowing softly in the early light. Paige sipped her coffee, scrolling through profiles on the donor bank website while Azzi leaned over, brows furrowed in concentration.

“Okay, so this one has a PhD in biomedical engineering, loves hiking, and his family history is excellent — no genetic disorders,” Paige said, reading aloud.

Azzi nodded slowly. “And he’s 28. That’s close to my age... I like that.”

Paige clicked to the next profile. “Here’s another. Athletic, plays guitar, vegan, with blue eyes and dark hair.”

Azzi smiled a little. “Sounds like someone I know.” She glanced up at Paige, who caught her gaze and grinned.

They spent the morning comparing profiles, bookmarking their favorites, and debating traits that felt important — eye color, height, personality quirks, education, even favorite foods. It was surprisingly intimate, like piecing together a puzzle of hope and possibility.

After hours, they narrowed the list down to three donors. Paige printed out the profiles and spread them across the counter.

“Alright, it’s decision time,” Paige said, voice soft but steady.

Azzi took a deep breath and reached for the one that felt right deep in her chest.

“That’s him,” she whispered.

Paige smiled, squeezing her hand. “Then let’s do this.”

At the fertility clinic, the sterile scent of antiseptic mingled with the faint hum of machines. Azzi sat on the examination table, nerves fluttering like butterflies in her stomach. Paige stood beside her, steady and reassuring.

Their doctor, a warm woman with gentle eyes, explained the process again — the hormone shots to stimulate ovulation, timing the insemination, monitoring with ultrasounds.

Azzi felt overwhelmed but determined. This was a new kind of battle, but one she wanted to fight with Paige by her side.

The first shot was rough — a sharp sting in her belly — but Paige held her hand, whispering encouragement.

“Every needle gets us closer,” Paige said, brushing a strand of hair behind Azzi’s ear.

Days passed in a blur of bloodwork, ultrasounds, and anticipation. The clinic became a second home — a place where hope and fear tangled tightly together.

Finally, the day came for the IUI procedure. Azzi lay back, heart pounding, as the doctor gently inserted the donor sperm.

Paige held her hand through it all, their fingers entwined.

When it was over, Azzi closed her eyes and let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

“This is it,” Paige said softly.

The first day was filled with warmth.

After the IUI, they went straight home. Paige insisted on taking the day off practice — not because Azzi needed her to, but because she wanted to. She made tea, tucked Azzi into their bed with soft blankets and fuzzy socks, and put on their comfort movie: The Princess and the Frog.

Azzi rested her head on Paige’s lap, one hand on her belly like she could somehow will everything to stick, to bloom, to become.

Paige’s fingers threaded through her curls gently. “If you’re carrying our baby, I want them to hear my voice first,” she whispered. “That way, they’ll know I’ve been here since the very start.”

Azzi smiled, teary-eyed, and kissed the inside of Paige’s wrist.

Day Three

The calm didn’t last.

Azzi stood in front of the bathroom mirror, toothbrush hanging from her mouth, as her phone buzzed with another forum post update. She had joined three private support groups in the last forty-eight hours. One was hopeful. One was scientific. One was a spiral of overanalysis.

“Cramping on day three: good or bad?”

“Is it too early to feel anything?”

“Progesterone dreams???”

Azzi groaned, setting the phone down. “I’m going to lose my mind.”

“You can’t Google your way into a positive test,” Paige called from the bed, flipping through a baby name book she'd picked up at the bookstore. “You can’t even Google your way into peace anymore.”

Azzi walked out with toothpaste still foaming on her lip. “Don’t mock me, Bueckers. I am delicate right now.”

Paige just grinned and patted the bed. “Come on, delicate flower. I’ll rub your back.”

Day Six

Jazlyn came home from school with a macaroni necklace she’d made in art class and insisted Azzi wear it at dinner.

“You need it, Mommy,” she said sweetly, climbing into her lap. “In case the baby in your belly gets scared and wants to see something pretty.”

Azzi blinked quickly, holding her tighter.

“Thank you, baby,” she whispered. “That means everything to me.”

That night, when Jaz was asleep, Paige found Azzi sitting in the glider in the nursery. She didn’t say anything at first — just walked in and sat across from her.

“I’m terrified,” Azzi said finally. “What if it doesn’t work? What if this ends like last time?”

“It’s okay to be scared,” Paige said softly. “But this isn’t last time. And you’re not alone this time.”

Azzi’s voice cracked. “But it still hurts to hope.”

Paige knelt in front of her and placed her hands gently over Azzi’s. “Then I’ll hope for both of us. Every single day.”

Day Nine

Paige caught Azzi crying in the pantry over an open bag of chocolate chips.

“I don’t even know why I’m crying!” Azzi laughed through her tears. “I just… they didn’t taste right and I got mad!”

“Pregnancy hormones?” Paige said cautiously.

“Too early,” Azzi sniffled. “It’s probably just stress.”

She curled into Paige on the couch afterward, still sniffling.

“I’m doing everything right,” she whispered. “I eat the right things. I rest. I visualize. I don’t even drink iced coffee anymore. But what if it’s still not enough?”

Paige stroked her back. “Then it’s not about you doing something wrong. It’s just life. But either way… we’ll still have each other. And we’ll try again. As many times as we need to.”

Day Twelve

The box of pregnancy tests sat in the back of the bathroom cabinet, unopened. Azzi eyed it like it might explode.

“I could test now,” she murmured, pacing.

“Nope,” Paige said. “We promised to wait until day fourteen. No early spirals.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Azzi said. “You’re not my boss.”

“You’re right,” Paige replied, leaning in and kissing her shoulder. “I’m just the love of your life who wants to protect your peace and keep you from falling into a Reddit pit of ‘maybe it’s implantation bleeding.’”

Azzi groaned and buried her face in her hoodie. “I hate how reasonable you are.”

“You love it,” Paige teased, pulling her onto the couch. “Come on. I recorded a Chopped marathon. It’s the only thing that can distract you.”

Azzi gave in, letting herself rest in Paige’s arms. “Fine. But if I crack tomorrow and test early, it’s on you.”

“Duly noted,” Paige said, kissing the top of her head.

Day Fourteen

The morning was too quiet.

Azzi stared at the test sitting on the bathroom counter, its digital screen still blinking.

Paige was behind her, hand on her hip.

“I can’t look,” Azzi said.

“You don’t have to,” Paige whispered. “I will.”

Azzi nodded, eyes shut.

Then she heard it — a gasp, a breath sucked in like air had just become rare.

She opened her eyes slowly.

Paige was staring at the test, hand over her mouth. Her eyes were glassy.

Azzi stepped forward, voice shaking. “What does it say?”

Paige turned the test toward her.

“Pregnant.”

Azzi’s knees gave out and Paige caught her before she hit the floor, cradling her like something sacred.

“Azzi,” Paige whispered, voice cracking. “You’re really… we’re really…”

Azzi sobbed into her chest. “Were having a baby.”

#paige x azzi #pazzi #azzi fudd #azzi35 #paige bueckers #pazzi fics

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science-hoes · 7 days ago

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Would you ever feel comfortable sharing more about your decision to go into medicine and what you’re hoping to do as your specialty in the future? Also, just how hard would you say the MCAT was?

Hi! I’d love to share about my journey to MD so far. To anyone who ever has any questions, please feel free to reach out!

I knew I was interested in medicine after watching Grey’s Anatomy in high school. I know this sounds so dumb and cliche, but the human body became interesting to me after that. Before, I wanted to be a music teacher because I played (and still do play semi-professionally and teach lessons) clarinet. My parents warned me about turning my biggest stress reliever (playing music) into my job. At the time, I was pissed, but I’m so glad I listened because now I can still play music to escape from the stresses of research and medicine.

I majored in biomedical engineering during undergrad. Med school was still up in the air for me because I loved the idea of working on medical devices. After volunteering in my hometown’s free clinic and shadowing physicians, however, I realized I didn’t want to be “behind the scenes” of medicine, so to speak. I wanted to be with the patients, to help them firsthand.

So, during my senior year, I made the decision to attend medical school. I was not ready AT ALL. I didn’t even apply my senior year. Instead, I got my master’s in biomedical sciences after graduating undergrad.

I struggled with the MCAT even then. Despite my master’s degree, there was so much material that I didn’t know for the exam for many reasons: online undergrad classes due to COVID, poor studying habits of my own, and just general material I had never learned. The MCAT itself, as long as you know the material, is just a comprehension exam. It’s a LOT of being able to focus on the main point of questions while absorbing a lot of material from passages. Much like trying to find a patient’s diagnosis when they give you their entire medical history and life story.

So I took a job in physiology research, continued to take grad classes, met the love of my life and got married, and kept studying! After three application cycles, I was accepted to my state’s MD school! I only applied to this med school. I know I could have been accepted at other med schools, MD and DO, but I wanted to attend my state’s MD school where my husband and I (and my parents and brothers) live.

It was a long journey, and I’ll be a couple of years older than more than half my med school class, but I believe everything happens when it’s supposed to happen.

I’m not 100% sure on speciality yet! Something procedural for sure, like surgery or interventional radiology. A lot of my friends and family who are in the healthcare field tell me that I would be a great OBGYN, so who knows!

Thanks for reading about my journey to MD! If anyone has any specific questions about med school applications (I learned every trick necessary to distract from my MCAT score lol), interviews, or anything at all, please feel free to message/inbox me!

#Kate speaks #med school #medical school #medical student #med student #medblr

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lifewouldbebetteronmars · 1 month ago

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The Full Beetee & Joule Backstory

‼️WARNING: Contains spoilers for SOTR & Feed Me Promises‼️

Beetee won the 34th Games at 15, the first Victor in six years, following Rosalind's victory in the 29th Games. He grew up an only child in an apartment in Three that was in the middle of six different electronics factories, his father (Isaac Latier; named for Sir Isaac Newton) was a foreman for one of those factories, while his mother (Leedee Crumpler; named for LED and Dr. Rebecca Lee Crumpler) consulted on electricity in all six factories. However, following his victory, he was disowned by his parents because they couldn't accept how he won his Games, they couldn't accept his "violent nature" because that wasn't the son they had raised. His parents never spoke to him for the rest of their lives and its presumed that they died at some point before or after the Second Rebellion. He lived alone in Victors' Village with Ada and Rosalind taking him in as their own, though he was very stubborn and determined to survive without the help of adults. He was practically a hermit before he met Joule, staying in his workshop and making inventions, day in and day out.

Joule Blackwell was a year younger than Beetee and lived in the "medical sect" of District 3, where her father operated an apothecary close to the medical factory, outside of the main town in D3. She grew up working in the biomedical device factory and helping out in the apothecary, due to her strong interest in medicine. If she'd been allowed to, Joule would've loved to go on to medical school and become a doctor. She was raised by a single father, Vikram Blackwell (named for Vikram Sarabhai, an Indian astrophysicist), following the death of her mother (Azure Blackwell; named for Azure Quantum Elements, a platform aimed at accelerating scientific discovery) in childbirth. She grew up with an older sister, Tera (named for “tera” the prefix that indicates a value of one trillion), who is three years older and highly overprotective of Joule. Joule suffered from clinical depression throughout her life, treating it with St. John’s Wort in her youth and then morphling in the later years of her life.

When Joule is 17, she comes up with the idea for some sort of medical device, but is unsure about how to go about it. She was more of the biology/chemistry science type, not the engineering type. One of her friends in the factory suggested that she write to Beetee Latier (18), D3's youngest victor, who was known to help others in Three with inventions and gain patents for those who couldn't.

Though he was known to be very picky about who he chose to help, Joule wrote to him anyway, not expecting any type of response. But she gets one and for the next few months, she and Beetee exchange letters, eventually growing close enough that he invites her to Victors Village.

Over the next year, they become a lot closer and eventually start a relationship. It's not the most romantic of relationships, more like a friendship with a high level of respect for one another and they also happen to have sex. They aren't in love with each other, not really. They're almost using each other in their own ways, Joule to further her device and Beetee to pretend like he's a normal teenage boy without a kill count.

There's a fondness in their relationship and like I mentioned above, a high level of respect between the two of them. They're both ambitious and working on important things in their own lives, Beetee with the Rebellion and Joule with her devices and experiments.

Joule likes Beetee, she admires him greatly for his brain and all of his quirks, though she doesn’t fully understand what he went through in the Games. But she enjoys his company. Beetee thinks Joule is probably the prettiest girl he’d ever met and bonus, she doesn’t treat him like a god or like he’s broken, she treats him like he’s some normal guy. And Beetee appreciates that, especially since after his Games, he didn’t have many friends in Three. They aren’t in love, but they’re happy with their relationship the way it is.

And it works for a while, until it doesn't.

They break up because Joule can't handle the idea that the Capitol will never leave them alone, their lives (her life) will belong to them and she wants a more normal life than Beetee can give her. And she realizes that as long as Beetee is in her life, so is The Capitol.

However, in July of 37 ADD, Joule finds out she's pregnant, right before her last Reaping. She doesn't tell Beetee until he returns from the Capitol following the Games. They get married in an effort to preserve both of their reputations and provide their child with a stable home. Joule’s reputation in Three would’ve been destroyed for getting pregnant by a Victor (Three is very protective of their Victors and puts them on this pedestal; therefore they wouldn’t believe Joule and claim she was lying for whatever reason) & the Capitol (Snow) wouldn’t react kindly to one of their Victors getting someone pregnant out of wedlock, which is what contributes to their decision to get married. Not out of love but out of duty, in a way. Joule is newly 18 and Beetee is still 18 when they get married, being 18 & 19, respectively, when Ampert is born.

Ampert was born the following March and he is the center of their world, they may not be in love, but they love him more than anything in the world.

Their marriage isn't the warmest, it's wrought with resentment and insecurity, there's love but it isn't always enough. They don’t always see eye to eye, but the one thing they always agree on is Ampert. He turns their world, their hearts beat for Ampert. He is their whole life, everything they do is for him.

Joule works for an apothecary in town, abandoning her factory and her dreams of helpful devices; as well as her father’s apothecary. She resents Beetee a bit, because she gave her dreams to marry him & raise Ampert, while he continues to invent and go off to the Capitol whenever Snow calls upon him, as well as his work with the Rebellion. Joule is heavily insecure in their marriage, convinced Beetee loves his gadgets and his patents more than her. Or that he’ll never love her the way she loves him.

Joule never really understands Beetee’s experience in the 34th Games (not that he would talk about it with her, because she’s asked and he refuses) and how it changed him or why he continues to work on rebelling against the Capitol. She has a very black-and-white view on it all, thinking it’s all a lot simpler than it truly was. They aren’t the most compatible of matches.

Joule’s relationship with her sister, Tera, was rocky after she married Beetee, as she didn’t agree with her sister marrying him. Tera thought Beetee would only end up hurting Joule and she just wanted to protect her, but Joule didn’t agree with her. They don’t talk for a while, until the death of their father (Vikram) in 48 ADD, where they begin to grow close again.

It takes years before their marriage is a lot happier, with them finally in a place where they love each other and focus all of their attention onto Ampert. Their relationship is at its strongest during & after the 49th Games, when Beetee brings home his first victor. Joule likes Wiress, the very smart, very pretty, and oh-so-weird young girl that has now become her husband's apprentice. They have an almost sisterly relationship, with Joule helping to fill the void Wiress had from having had four brothers and no sisters or close girlfriends growing up. Joule was the younger sister in her home and never got to experience being the older sister until Wiress.

She doesn’t hate Wiress, not even slightly. But she notices how close Wiress and Beetee become, how Wiress seems to understand Beetee better than she does. They have that shared experience of the Hunger Games, and the Victors Village was like a club she wasn’t allowed to join (as the only one who didn’t go to the Games in the Village). But Beetee seemed happier with Wiress around, as he finally had someone who understood the Games and his inventions. So Joule couldn’t really complain and for once, she doesn’t feel so jealous.

For once, Beetee and Joule are on the same page about themselves and their relationship. So they decide to have another baby, give Ampert the sibling he wanted so much. So they start trying and succeed in March 50 ADD, however, their joy is shortlived because in May, Beetee tells Joule about his actions months earlier and how he has found out that Ampert will be Reaped in the 50th Games.

Joule is beyond angry with him but sets it aside in order to spend their son's last few months with him not knowing anything different other than his parents loving him and each other.

However, they do fight a lot in the months leading up to the Reaping, as Joule becomes fed up with other things taking priority over herself and her children in their marriage. She begs Beetee to find another solution, to appeal to Snow, to the Capitol, expose other members of the rebellion if he has to; just save their son. No matter the cost, just save Ampert. Joule wouldn’t have cared if Beetee traded places with him, as long as it meant Ampert lived.

Joule refuses to talk to Beetee in the last week of Ampert’s life, talking to everybody but him, giving him the complete silent treatment.

They never recover from Beetee's actions in January of 50 ADD, Joule blames him for killing their son. This is the beginning of the end for them, leading us to the present, the time after Ampert dies & Wiress is tortured.

The distance between them just gets worse and worse until it's a black hole that sucks the life out of them and their family, in what should've been a happy time for all of them. But instead they were burying their son's bones and trying to heal from the trauma, not successfully, but they were trying. Not in their relationship, but in general

Which is how we get to Chapter 4, and everything else, you guys can fill in the blanks and make assumptions for yourself!!!

And to be fair, 16% of couples don't survive losing a child. Loss can either bring you closer together or tear you apart. Joule & Beetee just happened to be the latter

#the hunger games #sunrise on the reaping #sotr #feed me promises (keep my heart well)#beetee latier #joule latier (beetee’s wife)#ampert latier #wiress #wiress thg #beeress #beetress

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redfacedpalindrome · 2 months ago

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i think it's so cool that you're a biology researcher! if i may ask, how did you find yourself in that path and how did you know you wanted to go to med school? i'm not in college yet but i've been considering the possibility of clinical practice in the future but i am not too sure 🥹

hi!! omg that's so exciting i remember trying to figure it out as well. this is LONG because i have a lot of advice so i am vv sorry in advance!

so i spent most of my time in high school thinking i was going to be an engineer. i'm talking 4 courses of physics, multivariable calculus and self-taught diffEq, statistics, more calculus, two years of computer science, and I did a physics program at Fermi Lab. I was always interested in biology and medicine though, so in my head the best overlap was going to be biomedical engineering.

but when i started actually applying to biomedical engineering programs, i started to realize that if i went into bme, i'd end up just inches away from the job i actually wanted. like, i'd be developing the tools but i wanted to be at the physician-patient interface. and that kind of made up my mind for me, that i at least wanted to try to be in medicine.

so i hail mary'd and i applied to a direct-med program-

(sidebar, i don't actually know if this has come up so much as it has been sign-posted by my linguistic preferences but i'm american and studying medicine in america is one triple mega xl shitshow. in a direct-med program, rather than applying to undergrad, finishing, maybe taking gap years to build a cv?, and applying out to medical schools, then residency + fellowship which is a grand total of like 1 trillion years, you apply to med school and undergrad at the end of high school and then you kinda have a conditional admission to med school as long as you complete the pre-med requirements and it shortens the process to a conservative 0.8 trillion years.)

i've done an unfortunate job here of making this process seem horrible, but i will say two things: this process is long and difficult. you know what the interesting thing is though? life is usually both long and difficult. there are easier ways to make money, there will always be easier ways to make money – but if you love medicine and you love biology, the fulfillment you will have practically every day as you make your way through this process outweighs everything. i have spent twelve hour days in lab, come in on weekends, left at ungodly late hours all for minimum wage and felt blinding satisfaction that is rare to find in a lot of roles. and i've heard similar things from a lot of my friends. i will never pretend it's easy, but something being hard doesn't make it not FUN.

-and i got in! even then, i wasn't sure if locking myself into a med program was the best idea since literally months before that i was so committed to engineering. but i knew that if i put myself into that program, i would come out the other end a physician and i wouldn't regret it. and honestly, i'm extremely grateful for this because it surrounded me with a cohort of peers who all delusionally committed to medicine at the age of 17. they're the best :) and they were the biggest influences on my love for my intended career.

if you're from literally any other country (most do medical education differently), it will be a little bit of a different experience but i think broadly surrounding yourself with peers who can encourage you and inspire you to find ways to be fulfilled within the healthcare field and help you not second guess your decision is super important. i also think if you're interested in maybe being in clinical practice, taking a look at studying medical humanities (bioethics, medical sociology, health policy, the history of medicine) could also be an interesting exploration because it will get you in touch with both the art and science of medicine. the humanistic components are understudied by a lot of aspiring physicians but if you root your passions there i swear you never lose it.

when it comes to medical/biological science (and my now position as a vascular biology researcher), i started with bench science research in undergrad! i cold emailed a bunch of principal investigators to find if they had room for an undergraduate research assistant, and i found a lab that studies blood vessel growth and became insanely attached to the subject matter. i get to do a cool combination of hands-on science and data analysis, and they give me a lot of room to take charge of the project and present its findings.

i always thought i'd wanna do research 'curing' something, like research that specifically impacts a disease. my research, however, is basic science research – so i'm basically trying to figure out how a set of genes work and what they do because we don't know it yet! i never thought i'd fall in love with this project but i did! so my advice on research is to reach out to whoever you can, try to find good mentors, and keep on open mind. you never ever know what you'll end up with a passion for.

let me know if there are any other questions i can answer! but you're early in the process yet – you have a lot of time to explore :) i'm not sure all of this was actually useful advice cos the path i took was kind of a niche path, but i swear i can give better more applicable advice.

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lillwhy-is-ded · 5 months ago

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hii love your blog! sorry if this is a weird question and no pressure 2 answer but u seem to have a really interesting job, what do u work as and what do u enjoy about it?

hi sorry for answering this late you are sweet for asking

i work in clinical engineering as a biomed specialist but its basically a biomedical equipment technician role (pretty muchmaintenance and repairs on hospital equipment and telemetry)

i love it bc its fun and im learning a lot and its building my character a lot and the group that i work with are fun to be around and we are all educationally overqualified for the job so its a unique group compared to at other hospitals i guess from what people with more experience tell me

idk what i wanna do frm here

#diary

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biomedres · 1 month ago

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Nanoparticles as Antimicrobial Agents

Nanoparticles as Antimicrobial Agents in Biomedical Journal of Scientific & Technical Research

Microbial infections are still a challenge despite of the existing of numerous potent antibiotic drugs and other modern antimicrobial means, Bacterial infections are still a major cause of mortality. The problem is that major groups of antibiotics, currently in use, generally affect three bacterial targets: cell wall synthesis, translational machinery, and DNA replication. Unfortunately, bacterial resistance may develop against each one of these modes of action. In addition, the use of conventional antibiotics carries a major risk for resistance of viable bacteria. Nanoparticles as antibacterial agents complementary to antibiotics are highly promising and are gaining large interest as they might fill the gaps where antibiotics frequently fail. This includes combatting multidrug-resistant mutants and biofilm. Nanotechnology is a technology conducted at the nano-scale in the fields of fabric manufacturing, food processing, agricultural processing, and engineering, as well as in medical and medicinal applications. Over the present decade, several studies have suggested that nanoparticles are excellent antibacterial agents, thus nanomaterial applications for antimicrobial works have prime interest by many researchers. Several reports showed that some of the metal oxide nanoparticles have toxicity toward several microorganisms and they could successfully kill numerous bacteria.

For more articles in Journals on Biomedical Sciencesclick here bjstr

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#Journals on Medical Research #Journal on medical science #Journals on Infectious Diseases Addiction Science and clinical pathology #Journals on Biomedical Engineering #journal of biomedical sciences research review

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or-did-i-project · 3 months ago

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Or DID I? A DID-run project diary

Hello, everyone, V here. Howdy and welcome to “Or DID I?” A mental health awareness diary where I talk about my mental health journey as a healing process, as well as to foster understanding about mental health issues.

First I wanted to write a short story about my mental health, I am currently diagnosed with a couple of things I am trying to slowly heal, firstly since childhood I’ve been diagnosed with: Clinical Depression, Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), and Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), more recently Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). These are all the academic names as per the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (DSM-5).

I have struggled to achieve a neurotypical development all throughout my life, but little by little I strive to become a better person by trying to sew my holes and patches.

I want to talk to you about myself a bit. As an introduction; I have a deep passion for medicine, psychology, and technology. I even studied a bit in a biomedical engineering career… before realising it wasn't for me. Now I am starting a psychology degree and I want to share both how my experience around mental health has been shaped by my interest in humanities such as philosophy and psychology, as well as to share knowledge about mental health issues through informative talks.

First I want to talk about my personal experience with Dissociative Identity Disorder.

This is a heavy topic for myself, as I try to take an academic approach yet I am unable to completely understand it yet.

I recognize that I am but one human being, I possess one brain; for a long time I thought a brain was only capable of having a single internal identity, a single personality. Yet I find that untrue now, I am riddled with all the symptoms, (of course they come from my head, where else would they be coming from dipshit.) I learned of my dissociative amnesia by listening to my friends, I started realising that I didn't remember the thing I had done, that memories were inaccessible, almost like they weren't there.

I thought intrusive thoughts were just kinda normal, I’ve always been really philosophical so I always reasoned them when they came.

The impulsivity and emotional changes were more obvious to me. I try to be highly introspective. When I felt suddenly ecstatic, angered, saddened I really did notice, so I always tried to reason the cause.

I have yet to realise the cause of my affliction, disorder, maybe just abnormality or difference? I have yet to find that huge trauma or changing point where I started to realize the little signs.

Perhaps it was when I first named them, when I first named our Selves… All with the same motif, the letter V, my favourite. They are Vi, Vasco, Viri and The one currently writing this, Vince. I started accepting my fate around the time I ran away one night to smoke, despite having never done so before. I remembered all those times I told my therapist I felt “depersonalized”, “dissociated”, “Like a third person perspective of my own life”.

Now, after thinking a lot about how I can try to be a more stable, friendly, and all around better person to be around. I have a friend who supported me while I took time for myself. I kept investigating the material and I kept developing strategies, coping methods to deal with what I consider to be a complex situation in my own mind. Firstly, I thought about properly separating myself, mentally taking small chunks of what I considered to be; from my studies, dogmas and fallacies of thought.

I realized a way of maybe regaining control of the situation, being able to command my own thoughts instead of letting them command me, by well, just letting them be, I started letting my personality divide of its own accord and create individual markers for each part, I “sectioned” my own Self. After creating a distinction, I utilized my own thought patterns, the thought patterns that each apparent division of the identity from now referred to as “alters”, had.

I started to pretend to have these little philosophical debates with my alters, each one had a time to think how to solve the problem and the others debated on that, trying to reach a consensus, middle ground per se. This eventually helped me to create a visual image of my alters discussing in a round table inside my head, which so far has helped unimaginably, of course this is only a mental image, a representation of a series of processes of thought.

I sometimes really do say “Oh shit, I am really insane”, when I realise those thought processes did not occur, as they don't occur naturally, I have to put conscious effort to have that internal dialogue. I will suddenly get a memory of something recent that I had completely forgotten happened, forgetting a whole conversation I had two minutes ago is really weird. Recently, I’ve started dealing with the amnesia too, when I realise that I should remember something, I have managed to create internal dialogues where I try to reason which alter had the “missing” memory, after that I have been able to sometimes recall those memories after doing an internal “switch” with my alter, a process of thought that seems to come naturally to me now, by bringing back certain memories, feelings, attitudes, or thoughts I am able to better personalise my other Selves and somewhat force or take control of that process.

I always wonder if this was all the reading I DID, I have a statistical analysis and a spreadsheet on it, I really did read a lot, I wonder if I created characters in my head, to deal with the trauma for me, to take the heavy blows so that I could spread them amongst a larger area and endure more, I wonder if it's merely “the survival mechanism of the avid reader”.

I have taken to writing due to this, just as recently as I started to learn about self love; I have always written, I have always loved the written word, but only until now, can I finally say that, I love writing.

Enjoy this little diary entry. I am trying to make it into a sort of academic / poetic representation of inner thought, kinda thing. This is one of the ways I am trying to create representation for DID, and, as well, try to become healthier in my own head.

#DID #mental health #actually mentally ill #mental illness #transgender #trans #neurodivergent #actually autistic

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materialsscienceandengineering · 1 year ago

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Mineral coatings could enable shelf-stable mRNA therapies

A protective mineral coating identified by University of Wisconsin–Madison biomedical engineering researchers could allow powerful messenger RNA therapeutics like COVID-19 vaccines to be stored at room temperature, making them more accessible to lower-resourced communities across the world. In a paper published in the journal Acta Biomaterialia, Professor William Murphy and collaborators in his lab detail how using an optimized mineral coating composition can maintain mRNA activity for up to six months at room temperature. With that kind of preservation, mRNA therapeutics—vaccines against infectious diseases, but also emerging treatments for cancer and tissue regeneration—could be stored on the shelf at local clinics. The rapid development of mRNA-based COVID-19 vaccines was a game-changer in the pandemic. The vaccines employ mRNA to direct cells to produce a protein from the surface of the virus, triggering an immune response that preps our bodies for the real thing.

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silverspleen · 6 months ago

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Have officially been bullied (affectionate) into "auditing" the biomedical engineering class that our retired (world famous) doctor helps run. He is like my grandpa, this man is grouchy and we are mean to each other in a familiar manner. I need to take advantage of this man's wealth of knowledge and connections before he dies, he's very old and when he does die I will miss him so terribly. "How does knowing [redacted] go? He is famous, he helped develop the machine we use every day, his name is on so many of our textbooks... That must be so cool!" I yell at him when he is too mean and then he yells at me when the computer isn't working right and sometimes I buy him food from the cafeteria and then he makes fun of me for going to the wrong school. So.... you know it's good I guess?

The class is run by him, a doctor I helped train (this is still freaky as hell), and two of the college research guys, one of whom I tried to go open water swimming in a river with once and almost drowned (not really but I could have), and now mostly he just shares pictures of the dog shelter volunteering he does with me. Basically just a panel of old white men who are visionaries in their fields and whatever.

I have no idea what my responsibilities will be, besides teaching the biomedical engineering students about anatomy and how a clinic/hospital works and learning MATLAB. I don't think I'm required to do much besides ~open my mind~ so I can learn about how ultrasound works really good, which I can do. Apparently color doppler is NOT actually doppler and we learn what it actually is in this class. Idk. It should be fun and will look great on my resume. Only once a week, thank god, and ends before my big trips.

Retired Doc was like "I can't believe no sonographers are taking the class this year. It should be required to take the class. The death of critical thinking and teamwork is upon us I cannot believe how we have fallen. Anyway you especially should take this class."

Research Guy "oh yeah especially if you like education! We rely on the sonographers to give the biomedical engineering students an idea of the actual practical applications of their field, they really don't get a lot of that in their classes so it can be difficult for them to understand the impact they'll be making in the future"

Me (a sucker for being complimented and aware that being singled out like this is an indicator that I am thought highly of by a well respected man in my field)... FUCK. Ok fine. I thought we had no more slots left but I'll talk to the boss about it.

#the dragoon diaries #healthcare #medicine #cardiology

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darkheartbeats · 4 months ago

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„Resonance of Self"

In the soft glow of her bedroom, Clara, a curious biomedical engineer, contemplated an experiment blending her passions for anatomy and sensory exploration. She carefully selected a smooth, pill-sized Bluetooth microphone, designed for safe ingestion, and synced it to her surround-sound speakers. The device, encased in biocompatible silicone, was meant to pass harmlessly through her system. With a deep breath, she swallowed it, lay back, and tuned into her body’s symphony.

Hour 1: The Descent

The microphone’s journey began with rhythmic *thumps* of peristalsis—muscular waves guiding it down her esophagus. Each contraction echoed like a distant drumbeat, syncopated with her accelerating heartbeat. As arousal stirred, her pulse quickened, the dual cadence merging into a hypnotic rhythm. She noted the gurgle of air passing the cardiac sphincter, a hollow *whoosh* as the device entered her stomach. Acidic whispers fizzed like champagne bubbles, a prelude to digestion.

Hour 2: Gastric Sonata

Her stomach, now churning with enzymes, produced low, resonant groans—*borborygmi*—that throbbed through the speakers. The sounds deepened as her body responded to touch; visceral echoes mirrored the flutter of her fingertips. A crescendo of blood rushed in her ears, harmonizing with the stomach’s primal drone. She marveled at how her arousal amplified every gurgle, each surge of gastric juice a counterpoint to her swelling desire.

Hour 3: Intestinal Whispers

Passing into the small intestine, the environment shifted. Gentle, liquid murmurs surrounded the mic—a susurrus of chyme flowing through coiled channels. Soft, wet clicks marked villi absorbing nutrients, like raindrops pattering glass. Clara’s breaths grew shallow; her muscles tensed. The sounds grew intimate, almost conversational, as peristaltic ripples carried the device forward, each undulation syncing with her movements.

Hour 4: Echoes of Pulse

Near the iliac artery, the mic captured her heartbeat’s deep *lub-dub*, now thunderous with excitement. Blood surged in time with her climax, the artery’s vibrations thrumming through the speakers. Mesenteric membranes rustled like silk with each shudder, while distant colonic rumbles provided a bassline. She dissolved into the biomechanical duet, her body’s boundaries blurring.

Hour 5: Quietus

As the device descended into the colon, the sounds mellowed—a tapestry of slow gasps and fluid shifts. Fatigue softened her breathing; her heartbeat steadied. The mic, journey complete, transmitted final whispers: a sigh of peristalsis, a gurgle of transit. Clara smiled, spent and enlightened, her experiment a testament to the body’s hidden music.

Clara later presented her findings in a thesis on bioacoustics, anonymized and clinical. The microphone? Retrieved safely, its data a private ode to curiosity. She cautioned readers: *“The body’s poetry is best heard metaphorically. Leave the hardware to labs.”*

#cardiophile #female heartbeat #heartbeat #short story #cardiophilia #stomach growling #story

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mercyfuls · 1 year ago

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⊠ ɪᴅ . . . ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ ›› DOMNHALL MACRUAID ;

• fifty2 + cis man + he / him . • tactical agent ; on the payroll for thirty1 years . • agent merlin : probability perception .

mathematical equations scrawled across a blackboard, not one inch free of chalk ; a story before bedtime, read sitting in a beanbag chair with children curled on either side ; soft singing lulling you to sleep, a promise of a brighter future whispered and forgotten.

PERSONAL DETAILS ;

a. full name : domnhall alasdair macruaid b. preferred name : dom / domnhall c. aliases : none

d. age : fifty-two ( 52 ) e. date of birth : 5 october 1996 f. place of birth : glasgow, scotland

g. gender : cis man h. pronouns : he / him i. orientation : bisexual

j. hometown : glasgow, scotland k. current residence : apex city, united states

l. first language : english m. subsequent languages : scots gaelic, german, dutch

n. highest education : doctor of molecular and cellular medicine

EMPLOYMENT DETAILS ;

o. years employed : thirty-one ( 31 ) p. faction : tactical q. previous faction : biomedical r. codename : merlin

s. mutation : probability perception — the ability to view the probability of any particular outcome. t. strengths : mathematics, biology, strategy u. weaknesses : lack of empathy, ruthlessness, public speaking

FAMILIAL DETAILS ;

v. father : alasdair iain macruaid ( eighty-seven, retired surgeon ) w. mother : niamh o'neill ( eighty-four, retired history lecturer ) x. siblings : cormac eoin macruaid ( fifty-eight, aeronautical engineer ) ; aoife caitriona macruaid ( forty-nine, chemistry lecturer )

HISTORY ;

born in glasgow on a rainy afternoon, the second child of one of the glasgow royal infirmary's top surgeons, dom was a remarkably average baby. this averageness continued throughout his childhood, school marks just high enough to prevent his siblings taunting him, and extracurriculars — football & piano — only narrowly squeezed in to the family schedule between cormac's maths competitions, aoife's titration competitions and their parents' work.

things changed once dom started university. with aoife still in high school, and cormac having moved out to pursue his own career, there was less competition for their parents' attention, and fewer siblings to be compared to and found lacking. and dom had found something that genuinely interested him — medicine. though it was following in his father's footsteps, he did so at oxford, moving to england for his studies, and thus escaped the shadow of familial achievements.

dom was scouted while at university, a tactical agent recruited from the same faculty having visited to investigate whether there were any promising students. ( the answer to that question was obviously yes, because dom's here, isn't he ? ) it was his first year of the clinical portion of his undergraduate studies, and they saw something in him that they didn't see in others — maybe it was the way he handled patients, or his attitude towards dire situations, or something else entirely. dom doesn't know, and neither does anyone else, but the fact remains that he passed all the training as a junior agent with flying colours, moving to the role of a biomedical agent as soon as he had completed his doctorate.

he was part of the biomedical faction of mercy for fifteen years, something of a legend for his willingness to push the boundaries of what should be possible — all thanks to his mutation of probability perception. knowing what actions will and won't lead to worse outcomes is a very valuable skill in medical fields, particularly when working with an experimental drug such as solaris.

two years ago, dom was moved from the biomedical to the tactical faction of mercy. now, he uses his ability, along with those fifteen years of experience, to strategise and plan missions — as well as reviewing the work of his once-protegés, and investigating potential future recruits.

APPLICATION ;

⊠ ɪᴅ . . . ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ ›› [ david tennant / fifty2 / cis man / he/him ] mercy headquarters is pleased to officially introduce DOMNHALL MACRUAID. they have been apart of the organization for thirty-one years, serving as A TACTICAL agent and has been assigned the codename AGENT MERLIN. it's worth noting that their file indicates they have undergone the solaris treatment and host PROBABILITY PERCEPTION. according to our dossier, the agent exhibits a combination of JUDICIOUS and CALCULATING, fitting for someone reminiscent of mathematical equations scrawled across a blackboard, not one inch free of chalk ; a story before bedtime, read sitting in a beanbag chair with children curled on either side ; soft singing lulling you to sleep, a promise of a brighter future whispered and forgotten. prior to embarking on any mission, the find solace in listening to the song “weather with you“ by CROWDED HOUSE. ( thyme. twenty1. they/them. aedt. none )

#mercyorg:intro

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aikoiya · 1 year ago

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Encanto AU: Bruno's Kids Names 2

Bruno's 2nd child, his daughter, will have the power to revive the dead, but there are rules to this. 1) A person can only be revived up to 3 times & only if they want to be. 2) She can only bring someone back within an hour of them dying. 3) She can't revive anyone who's died of natural causes.

However, her power doesn't involve healing the person when they are brought back. As such, she tends to work a lot with her Tia Julietta, who she greatly admires. She's actually a bit jealous of her Tia's gift of healing people with food. At the same time, she's likely to get down on herself whenever she's unable to revive someone.

Which will lead to her running track & learning freerunning as well as parkour. As, to her, she sees herself as having a timelimit. As well as having an extensive mental map of the Encanto. One thing she does in her off time is figuring out the shortest paths to places. This helps her to be able to get to locations as quickly as possible.

I see her going through a bit of a goth phase as a result of her power & her tendency to be in close proximity to death, or the closest thing there was to being goth at the time without being a witch.

I could also see Bruno worrying for her a lot.

I see her as not typically being a worrier, but when she gets into that sort of headspace, she tends to become one.

As such, I see her becoming a doctor, possibly becoming an apprentice to the local herbalist before eventually leaving the Encanto to study pharmacognosy, paramedicine, & surgery, then returning to open up a small clinic & medical school for locals.

It'll be there that she will develop holistic, survivalist methods to the above. She will teach the students survivalist methods of medicine including, but not limited to, the ability to craft a sling, splint, or boot from available resources. And will also involve quick, critical thinking skills, resourcefulness exercises, basic biomedical engineering, paramedicine, emergency surgery, ect.

She figures that even though they have her Tia Julietta, she can't be everywhere at once & she also won't be around forever. The last thing she wants is for the Encanto to fall apart when her Tia's time eventually comes.

So, this way, they'll at least have ways to support themselves.

Remember that one of the options for Bruno's 1st son is Adriano.

Bruno's Kids 1

Bruno's Kids 2

Bruno's Kids 3

---

Walt Disney & Kingdom Hearts Masterlist

#encanto #bruno madrigal #bruno's kids #triplets #original female character

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succore · 1 year ago

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⊠ ɪᴅ . . . ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ ›› mercy headquarters is pleased to officially introduce SOCORRO QUISPE. they have been a part of the organization for twenty years, serving as A BIOMEDICAL agent and has been assigned the codename AGENT GAUZE. it's worth noting that their file indicates they have undergone the solaris treatment and host ENHANCED SPEED. according to our dossier, the agent exhibits a combination of GREGARIOUS and REFRACTORY traits, fitting for someone reminiscent of hawkeye pierce – life, liberty, and pursuit of happy hour. prior to embarking on any mission, they find solace in listening to the song “johnny b. goode“ by CHUCK BERRY.

FULL NAME. socorro ross quispe.

NICKNAMES + ALIASES. agent gauze. doctor quips. rock ‘em sock ‘em.

AGE. sixty. not feeling like it. very much not acting like it.

DATE OF BIRTH. 4 july 1989. the fireworks are always for him, thank you very much.

PLACE OF BIRTH. arequipa, peru.

PRESENT RESIDENCE. apex city, washington, the good ol’ u.s. of a.

GENDER. cis man.

PRONOUNS. he + him.

ORIENTATION. bisexual.

MARITAL STATUS. divorced.

EDUCATION. graduated from a great university with an avalanche of accolades (a biomedical engineering phd being his first) and a server-squashing amount of voicemails relating to affairs marital and/or martial.

OCCUPATION. biomedical agent for the mercy organisation.

NOTABLE FEATURES. a set of alcohol-stained teeth stiffened into a smirk. windswept hair greying at the temples. dark eyes that never find what they’re looking for. sneakers almost as bruised and battered as their owner. a rope necklace with his name written on in pink crayon. he retouches the text daily at 9am and 9pm sharp.

FACECLAIM. benjamin bratt.

+ TRAITS. conscientious + dutiful + intelligent + passionate + pacifistic.

- TRAITS. argumentative + blunt + egotistical + neurotic + obsessive.

LIKES. animals + beaches + cheap beer + deadlines + rock music.

DISLIKES. cars + combat sports + doctors + holidays + winter.

HOBBIES. coin collecting + crosswords + needlepoint + sidewalk chalk art + overly competitive jogging.

MBTI. entp-t.

MORAL ALIGNMENT. chaotic good. at least, that’s what he wants to believe. closer to chaotic neutral.

FATHER. santiago quispe guerrero. a small-town pediatrician whose overprotective nature made him a terrible match for a family of martyrs. died in 2040 at age 82 of shock and awe about certain mercy-related developments.

MOTHER. angela ross. retired photographer. any doomscroller worth their earth salt has seen her series on the 2007 peru earthquake. currently resides in an upstate nursing home where she lays waste to fellow widows in psychological warfare/sunday night bingo using her cutthroat casino tactics and her son’s choice in career.

SISTER. america quispe. an ironically named activist and journalist who would’ve despised her baby brother’s job had the genetic lottery rolled her half as much brain as she did heart. died in 2003 at age 22 of abstruse causes socorro has attributed to his own adolescent cowardice.

EX-WIFE. [redacted]. another woman he disappointed. another coworker he exploited. another love of his life lost to mercy in every manner that matters.

CHILD. he and [redacted] never could decide on a name. they’re old enough to be a junior agent now, though socorro’s done everything he can to stop that from happening, between making

A BRIEF HISTORY. warnings: adultery, alcohol, death, and divorce.

there’s an art to running that most folk don’t figure out until they’re running out of time, blood and bones and flesh full of rotting regrets reaching out for hands that aren’t there, facing the rest of forever by their lonesome on hospice beds that’d be softer had the mayor approved of replacing the mattresses with slabs of concrete. socorro quispe isn’t most folk. he’s been running stitches since the doctors at a clinic that was half debris and half distinguished medical professionals sewed his poor mother’s stomach back into one and a half and running in stitches since his sister taught him how to pick the lock splitting the measured-in-square-inches nursery room. the siblings, after all, were treated like strays by the rest of the family, like scraggly, parasitic denizens of their ancestral palace in arequipa tolerated only for a waning obedience to the elders. olive branches quickly snapped into backhanded scourges as cousins challenged them to climb that volcano, to retrieve that toy, to knock on that neighbour’s door. that volcano would take its cue, coughing out phreatic poisons, confining socorro to bed just in time for the school fair. that toy would be an appendage of violence terribly inappropriate to be caught with right after sunday mass, stuck in territory belonging to their cousins’ tormentors. that neighbour would be an irate fisherman with endangered itching to find new apprentices. so socorro learned how to run from his parents.

it was strange, that how they met was the one topic his mother never breached. his father was reticent from the start, hunched over his rubber mallets and patient reports as though his life was tethered to those he’d met mere seconds ago to assess whether they were healthy or healthier. before, the ever-odious offspring had assumed the rollicking renegade of the cathedral’s shame wall had been killed by expeditions to the distant wilderness to treat now socorro hypothesises it was some fear that sensitivity was contagious on an airborne level rather than a genetic one. his career day stories were ones of turning curtains into splints in the industrial bowels of a chinese province and cracking dislocated joints out the rocks of kilimanjaro, so permission from his wife to lull their little boy to sleep was scarcely appointed. if there had been a goddess of hypocrites, though, she’d blessed mrs quispe from birth. socorro was made to memorise lullabies about doomsday 2000 and other events of mass hysteria by his mother so he’d be prepared for anything.

why? because he needed to be prepared for anything.

why? because he needed to protect his sister.

why? because his parents wouldn’t always be around to protect them.

why? because his parents weren’t prepared to have him.

doctor quispe was a man of means, for any medicine dispensers with degrees to back such claims to life were rare in the region, never mind them being handsome, kind, and young. it was routine for parents of his patients to keep their home first aid kits fully empty so they might see mister santiago again, with his sickly tempting sense of style outside the office and sumptuous collection of memories spanning continents. little did they know that one such memory, situated in the recesses of the 80s recession after a sordid interview, had cast him in the leading role of renowned photojournalist angela ross’s life. he didn’t know that, either. therefore, he was content to serve his procreational purpose and marry that irate fisherman’s even crabbier daughter, to father a girl named after the nation he dreamed of returning to every night. angela still visited, though, when her publication company allowed her holidays, and most of her visits ended with the not-so-good doctor paying a hefty sum to the good laundromat. their supposed final meeting was followed not a month later by angela announcing that she’d be moving to peru to raise her child. their child, as he was informed during his daughter’s eighth birthday party. the fisherman’s daughter disappeared and everything was broken water under the bridge.

so socorro learned how to run from his parents. uncovering this information in the cookbooks of his senile grandmother was an experience, to say the least, and from then on it seemed the sun was always beckoning him towards a greater power, towards a greater purpose, towards the prospect of being better than everyone. morals-wise, muscles-wise, who minded the difference? having a half-and-half chance of accuracy in answering questions from teachers or relatives made him a better actor. spitting on the shoes of his asthma diagnosis and lacing up for football team tryouts made him a better sportsman. kicking the ball off the court to figure if he’d broken another player’s knee made him a better doctor. not that anyone ever acknowledged this betterment. the maelstrom within him looked like a light breeze to the rest of civilisation, for expecting recognition as an average sweat-slicked schoolboy who played football and wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps when it came to selecting a future trade was like expecting recognition as a speck of dust in the atmosphere.

better not dwell on the past or the future, young man, as america brought change. literally, as her admission to an ivy league on a full-ride scholarship was a welcome excuse to move into an apartment owned by angela’s parents in the heart of washington. the siblings, formerly locked at the hip, flourished into independence of a sort. while america studied writing as a weapon against empires built on battles they hadn’t fought, socorro studied speaking as a weapon against lives he hadn’t lived. no longer was he a confused jumble of limbs and unrewarded justice-seeking; he was the sole survivor of an earthquake at his old school, he was the documenter of the new decade’s first hurricane in his hometown, he was socrates’s namesake, he was the youngest person to learn cpr, he was annoying as all hell and he was loved by peers at last. before he’d looked to america for instructions when it came to even the easiest tasks. now he looked to her as a leech would lick its six lips upon seeing its next meal. before he was licking wounds that weren’t even his, sympathetic to a fault so large it could’ve cracked wide open into a canyon. now he was apex predator to the concrete jungle, a swaggering raconteur reselling his mother’s articles as his autobiography. the confidence did wonders for his grades, as did the copying of formulae and factoids inscribed into the bottom of his water bottles. four years after the fact he’d graduated to vandalism (and providing his friends with masks when they wanted to make more elaborate art, because it’s safe and responsible crime for them, thank you very much) and relished in the momentary notice he got from his parents, from the police. a slap on the back was schrodinger’s cat–admonishment or applause.

america, meanwhile, began and ended her history with local law enforcement after inviting her pathetic angel of a baby brother to assist in. it seemed logical, given that one of them had inherited their father’s surgical precision while the other had inherited her mother’s premature arthritis. it seemed safe, given that it was a peaceful sit-in. it seemed fun, given that all he’d have to do was cut some pieces of cardboard into catchy slogans and mope about acting all mysterious and brooding and applying snatches of his sister’s concealer to some unfortunately arranged acne. it was, as socorro’s very existence was to be forevermore, tortuous and torturous and in dire need of a tourniquet around the neck so as to induce amnesia. a blackout struck the street and the batons came buzzing after. socorro ran, never to see his sister again.

one in the morning, green day shirt stained by crimson slashes, coffee cup crashing on the ground as his parents finally pay attention to what he’s done, he says his last lie: she ran away.

socorro wasn’t the good kid but he was good enough to graduate, good enough to get into college, good enough to become better. he didn’t just clean up his act, okay? he sterilised it, plunged a syringe into his past until it was shriveled up like a tumour. the people at med school made jokes about it, how he probably spray painted an anatomy lesson on the mural a few blocks away when he was younger, and none of them ever found out how close they were to the truth. for once, forging friendships took a back seat in the already-crashed car. what he lacked in natural aptitude he concocted a cocktail worthy of iv bags worldwide with determination. he attended every lecture, annoyed every lecturer, got mistaken for a raccoon by every librarian in the region. using every dollar his sister had saved for his education, he passed the usmle and got accepted into an august honour society soon afterwards. the only way to be worthy to serve the suffering, he found, was to suffer even more.

obviously, the next step was to get married and have a kid. his extensive networking (read: bothering) thrust him into hands-on experience sharpish, and during preludes to plunging his hands into that chest or lackadaisically conducting that lobectomy, he regressed into the conjurer of charisma that had spent all of med school pounding at his heart’s enclosure. at thirty-six his promotion to clinical professor of thoracic surgery cinched the intrigue of a coworker, and at thirty-seven his bachelor status at last became unconfirmed. he wasn’t there for the birth of his child (heart bypass on an octogenarian over being screamed at for not bringing her pickled lucuma? it wasn’t much of a dilemma) but was determined to be better than his father. he wouldn’t be distant, that much was clear. after a life of arbitrary ambition, socorro needed to save people as much as he needed to control them.

an old student of his had the same idea. sort of. they both wanted to help humanity, that was what mattered. they’d approached him after his father’s funeral–never mind moving to peru and wallowing in mediocrity; with the student’s connections and socorro’s medical expertise, they’d never let the solaris drug fall in the wrong hands. he dithered. again he was in the crackling chaos of the protest. could anyone be prepared for such power?

the student defected. the wife divorced. now all socorro has is mercy and dive bars and stopping the heroes of tomorrow from dying. there's not much glory hound in him anymore. bloodhound's more like it.

PLAYLIST.

WANTED CONNECTIONS.

that old student’s mission partner pleek. i am on my knees begging for some not-so-amateur sleuthing content

drinking buddies. he will save you from the wall of shame by filling it up by himself i promise

biomedical agents. bffs or rivals or awkward acquaintances i want it all (but also a sort of beefing with your coworker because you think he should be happy with the pension plan and leave connection would be top tier)

frequent patient. his codename is gauze for a reason and it’s not because he’s boring and doesn’t get greek mythology. forget batman’s utility belt he has a first aid kit in his fanny pack 25/7

a sort of mentor/mentee thing could be fun. beware of many batman beyond bruce/terry parallels because his temper can flip like a coin at the slightest of slights

#mercyorg:intro #tldr hes mr miyagi with 50% less moral fibre

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