#CT Scan System

[dissociache]

Just received a $12,700 hospital bill from the worst and most traumatizing ER visit of my life from last month l m f a o o o

[industryexperts]

(via Global Medical Imaging Market Size, Outlook 2024-2030)  Global Medical Imaging Devices market is estimated at US$43.7 billion in 2024 and projected to post a CAGR of 5.7% between 2024 and 2030 to reach US$61 billion in 2030. The growth of the medical imaging market is driven by advancements in technology and the rising need for early diagnosis and effective management of chronic diseases.

[likitakans]

AI and Health: New Technologies Paving the Way for Better Treatment

Artificial intelligence (AI) is expanding rapidly in the health sector, and it is revolutionizing our medical system. With the help of AI, new technologies are being developed that are not only helpful in accurately diagnosing diseases but are also playing an important role in personalized treatment and management.

Quick and accurate diagnosis of diseases AI-based tools can now analyze medical imaging data such as X-rays, CT scans, and MRIs quickly and accurately. This helps doctors to quickly detect complex conditions such as cancer, heart diseases, and neurological problems.

Personalized medicine AI can help create personalized treatment plans for every individual by analyzing genomics and biometrics. This technology ensures that the patient gets the right medicine and the right dose at the right time.

Improved health management AI-based health apps and wearables such as smart watches are now helping people monitor their health condition. These devices regularly track health indicators such as heart rate, blood pressure and sleep quality.

Accelerating medical research The role of AI has become extremely important in the development of new drugs and vaccines. Using AI, scientists can analyze complex data sets and make new medical discoveries faster.

Accessible and affordable healthcare AI technology is helping in delivering affordable and effective healthcare, even in rural and remote areas. Telemedicine and virtual health assistants are bridging the gap between patients and doctors.

Conclusion Artificial intelligence is playing an important role in making healthcare more effective, accurate, and accessible. However, there are challenges such as data security and ethics in the use of AI technology which need to be dealt with. In the coming years, with more advanced and innovative uses of AI, the healthcare landscape may change completely.

[hewkii]

bitches say that trauma is hard i must be cracked bc that shit come easy af!!!

[spikeyjo]

Something bad already happened does that make you sad? im gonna burn it cause i dont get mad, I'm a modern dog <3

[randompiecesofwriting]

Wrong Name

Summary: Reader visits her partner Jack in the ED to drop off his lunch catching the excited attention of all of his colleges much to his chagrin

Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: None! Just super cute fluff

Author’s Note: My first Pitt Fic! Basically, a short simple grumpy x sunshine reader cause I had the idea. Everyone in the Pitt loves the reader and Jack pretends to hate that, but everyone knows better. Again my first Pitt fic so any and all feedback appreciated and I hope you enjoy!

Check out part 2 here!

To say Jack was surprised to see you at Dana’s desk was an understatement.

He had just left you a little over an hour ago, a silent kiss to your temple, a murmured I love you into your hair, a cup of coffee left in his wake on the countertop so it was cooled down by the time you got up, the same as every day. You were still asleep when he left could you have woken up with something? Did he miss something last night?

His head was so full of the hypothetical he didn’t take the extra second to acknowledge how at ease your body language was as you leaned against the tall desk, a soft smile on your lips as you nodded along to whatever Dana was saying.

Instead, he immediately crossed the ED in a few steps, sliding a hand to the small of your back to grab your attention, cutting of Dana’s story without a second thought.

��Hey what’re you doing here are you okay?”

Your eyes flickered briefly to his, the corners of your mouth pulling up slightly at his appearance as you grabbed his bicep and gave it a small squeeze. “Yeah don’t worry I’m fine” before immediately refocusing on Dana, silently signaling her to continue.

Dana, however, as she normally does, knew better, a look shared between the two women as she stayed silent and instead focused on Jack, the man himself having not moved his gaze from your form for a second.

Pinching your shirt at the waist softly he gave it a small tug, physically pulling your attention back to him as his eyes scanned your face “is it that headache you had the other night? Is it back? I can bump you up the CT line”

“Honey” you cut him off with that small laugh that always had his chest warming “I promise I’m fine I texted you like an hour ago to meet me in the parking lot, you just forgot your lunch”

He could physically feel the relief hit his system at your words, his shoulders dropping as he finally took a deep breath, his next words tumbling off his tongue before he could put any thought to them “you didn’t have to-“

But just as he knew you would, you cut him off with a shrug and the same words you always used when he tried to dodge being taken care off “I know but I wanted to”

He couldn’t have fought the fond smile off his face if he had tried, something he knew he was going to get shit over from Dana and inevitably Robby later. “Why didn’t anyone tell me you were here have you been waiting long?”

“No I’ve been talking to Dana” And it was so entirely you the way you stated it like it was obvious. As if this little act of kindness in going out of your way to get him food hadn’t hijacked your entire morning. He was nearly overwhelmed by the desire to pull you into him, barely registering the way you pivoted back to Dana at the mention of her name.

“A conversation we absolutely will be finishing” spoken like a threat that had the charge nurse chuckling, “drinks later? Location and time TBD?”

“Sounds good kid”

And maybe it was a little selfish of him to want you just to himself in that moment, to pull you out of the Pitt to get even just two minutes of you alone. But Jack had found over the past year that he liked being selfish when it came to you “Oh and Langdon was looking for you earlier if you haven’t seen him yet”

“You spoke to Langdon too” he’ll admit to only faking part of the exasperation in his tone that had you giggling.

“He’s got a new puppy” you protested with a grin “what was I supposed to do? Not ask to see photos”

“You’re right ridiculous question” he conceded easily, “now aren’t you supposed to be at work”

And Jack relished the way he knew what your exact reaction would be seconds before you made it, the way your eyes widened almost comically before you reached for his arm, pulling his watch specifically into your line of sight, Jack using the momentum to press a quick kiss to your temple before he could think any better of it.

“Shit I’m gonna be late” You groaned softly, Jack chuckling at the action.

“I mean it, you didn’t have to bring my lunch in today”

“Please we both know you wouldn’t eat anything if I hadn’t” you brushed him off thoughtlessly before brightening and exclaiming “oh before I forget”. Suddenly you were pulling back from him, reaching deeply into your bag and rummaging slightly before pulling out a fistful of protein bars “give these to Dennis”

“To Dennis” he repeated with a raised brow as you pushed them into his chest.

“Yeah Dennis, well except for the chocolate ones”

“You want me to give these to my med student” he repeated with another exasperated sigh.

Again you responded exactly like he hoped you would, a giggle and a teasing push against his chest “yes except for the chocolate ones he doesn’t like those he likes the fruit ones. He won’t tell you that though, he’ll gladly take them all but he’s just being nice about it because he doesn’t want to offend you”

He couldn’t help but appreciate how well you seemed to fit into his life. How you’d forged relationships with each member of the Pitt’s team that existed wholly outside of him. It was tough now to believe there existed a time when he had been hesitant to introduce you to the chaos of the Pitt given how you now had seemed to adopt each member of his chosen family on your own.

His train of thought was effectively cut off as he watched your gaze suddenly deviate from him to something behind him, the corner of your mouth ticking up as you took one of the bars back from his grasp and yelled across the room “Dennis”

The poor kid looked terrified for a brief moment as he spun around before breaking out into a relieved grin once his eyes landed on you.

That was all the acknowledgement you needed before you were throwing the bar at him, Whittaker to his credit only looking panicked for a brief moment before he was effortlessly catching the bar, grinning down at his new snack appreciatively once he had it “Thank you Mrs. Abbot”

“Not my name” you corrected breezily with a wave “but bug Jack if you want more I’m giving him the rest”

“Great now if you’re done upsetting the natural order of my ED don’t you have work to get to” Jack cut in with fake exasperation.

“Natural order of the Pitt” you scoffed “that’s an oxymoron if I’ve ever heard one”

Your comment had Dana snorting as she didn’t even bother to try hiding the fact that she had been eavesdropping on your conversation up to this point.

“Yeah yeah now get out of here” he rolled his eyes with a fond smile “one of us has to make sure our bills our paid this month”

“I’m going I’m going” you groaned with a matching eye roll, pushing up slightly onto your toes and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, pulling away much too quickly for Jack’s liking with a whispered I love you.

Then you were gone, headed back the way you came leaving nothing but the soft scent of your perfume in the air around him as Jack forced his eyes down to the chart in his hands, pointedly ignoring Dana’s gaze.

Just when he thought he was going to be trapped in the inevitable teasing of his charge nurse Dr. King came running up to the station, Jack more than happy to turn his attention to her and ready to distract himself with whatever case had her moving so fast.

Instead, however, Mel’s expression with brimming with barely contained excitement, her gaze searching everywhere around Jack but never properly landing on the man himself “Was that Y/N I heard? Is she here?”

With a disbelieving huff, Jack went back to his chart “you just missed her”

“No she’s by the door with Robby” Dana cut in with a smile, enjoying the way Jacks neck nearly snapped as he whipped his gaze across the ED to where you now stood with Robby, talking animatedly about something while the older man listened with  a smile on his face and hands in his pockets, looking much more relaxed than the two of them usually saw him within the department.

Mel peeled off without a second word to either of them, the pair watching the way your expression lit up once more as you recognized her as she approached.

“You gonna correct that” Dana nodded vaguely in your direction, her and Jack leaning onto the counter of the nurse’s station from opposite sides watching you give Mel an enthusiastic high five over whatever story she had rushed over to tell you.

“Probably talk to everyone at some point” Jack shrugged in response “the Pitt can’t afford to come to a screeching halt every time she so much as walks in the doors”

“No dumbass” Dana admonishes with a dramatic groan “it’s good the way everyone brightens up when she’s here. God knows we could use some positivity around here. I mean Whitaker’s comment about the wrong name”

“I mean she’s already told him to call her by her first name but I could talk to him-“

Dana silenced Jack with a glare, the attending turning his attention back to you from across the room as you eagerly talked to Mel and Robby.

“Was thinking about asking Robby to go ring shopping with me this weekend” he admitted softly “Scale of 1-10 how bad of an idea is that”

“Not where I thought this story was going but love is love so I support-“ now it was Jack’s turn to silence Dana with a glare, the charge nurse enjoying way too much the way the tips of his ears colored at the admission.

“a seven” she mused with a shrug, turning her attention back to you as you finally said goodbye to the two doctors “maybe a six” she let the silence settle around them and watched as Jack eyed her with a skeptical glare from her periphery “invite me along and I can keep it below a three”

Jack studied her for a second, crossing his arms over his chest before nodding softly “done”

Dana fought to keep the grin off her face as Robby finally started to make his way towards the two of them, Jack catching him slipping an awfully familiar looking protein bar into the pocket of his sweatshirt “Jesus how many of those does she have”

Robby shrugged with a chuckle, eyes casting up to the board above the desk as he did so “she mentioned something about having extra chocolate ones”

“I saw her slipping Santos bags of trail mix earlier if you’d prefer that” Dana chimed in with a smirk as Jack huffed dramatically.

“did everyone get to talk to her but me this morning?”

“You get her every day, stop being so selfish” Robby clasped his shoulder with a smug grin, giving it a soft shake.

 “Selfish” Jack repeated under his breath with a shake of his head, eyes going up to the board to pick out his next case as he did so “god forbid I want to spend time with my future wife”

He hadn’t even realized he said it out loud until the Pitt around him seemed to go unnaturally quiet. Casting his gaze back down he caught Robby and Dana sharing pointed, amused looks before turning their teasing grins back on him.

All he could get out was a simple “no” before he was storming off to the closest room, refusing to acknowledge the way Robby yelled out a threat after him “We will be talking about this later”

[lostinhistory]

A woman who says she was repeatedly denied adequate emergency care last spring is blasting the Newfoundland and Labrador health-care system, saying she's been left psychologically scarred after being told several times that her gangrenous appendix was simply anxiety or constipation. Joy Spence, 21, said she visited emergency departments at two hospitals in St. John's over the course of nearly two weeks this May. What began as weakness and abdominal pain on her right side quickly deteriorated into blacking out from the agony in her torso. But no matter how dire her symptoms got, doctors kept sending her home. "They would just tell me, 'Your bloodwork's normal, there's nothing we can do.' They would send me home, then same thing again," she said. "I would go back again. They would get me to do the bloodwork, say everything's normal." Ultrasound and CT scans apparently turned up nothing, but Spence, in such severe pain, says she had no option but to keep returning to the hospital, where she says she was eventually left screaming in a waiting room, ignored by hospital staff. "If somebody doesn't help me, I'm going to die," she recalls wailing, watching doctors and nurses pass her by. At one point, she was dismissed outright by a walk-in clinic nurse, she adds. "Somebody said to me, 'I don't know what you expect me to do,'" she said. "'You're a healthy 21-year-old young female.'" One night, she says, her boyfriend had to help her into an ambulance. Spence was in so much pain she couldn't stay conscious and stand on her own. "I remember the man in the ambulance telling me … how often he sees other young women going into the hospital and seeing them be misdiagnosed and not taken seriously," she said, speaking through tears. "He said that he would do his best to … get things going for me."

They nearly killed this woman by blowing off her symptoms. Other women have since come forward to say their symptoms were also ignored. One woman died because no one would listen to her. And yet the head of emergency departments insists that there is no sexism in the hospitals.

[northgazaupdates]

18 March 2025

Update on the recent IOF bombing campaign

From journalist Hossam Shabat on Twitter and Instagram:

Scenes of children with their torn bodies returned, the screams of mothers returned, the bombing returned, the massacres returned, the burning of tents over the heads of the displaced returned, everything we wished would never return returned.

IOF bombing has resumed throughout all of Gaza. North Gaza has only a single functional hospital, which is in a resource crisis. Hossam explains on Twitter and IG:

The Israeli aggression continues amid the destruction of the healthcare system in northern Gaza. Currently, only one hospital remains operational-the Indonesian Hospital-which is suffering from a severe shortage of medical supplies and equipment. It may no longer be able to accommodate the large number of wounded and martyrs, with essential imaging tools such as X-rays and CT scans unavailable, in addition to a critical fuel shortage. We are witnessing a healthcare system that has not recovered from previous attacks, leading to a humanitarian catastrophe by all measures.

A large portion of the ~200 Gazans murdered this morning were children. Footage from photographer Mahmoud Shalha in north Gaza is linked here for citation purposes, but please be aware that it is extremely graphic and upsetting.

Photographer Osama Abu Rabie reports via Instagram story that the IOF bombed Erbakan School, housing an undisclosed number of displaced people (likely several hundred) in Jabaliya al-Balad.

Please continue monitoring these journalists’ accounts, and those of their peers

Please don’t stop fighting for Gaza

From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free🇵🇸

[literaryvein-reblogs]

If it isn't inconvenient, do you have any tips on writing characters suffering from a concussion?

✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

Writing Notes: Concussions

Concussion

A blow or a jolt to the head can cause a concussion or traumatic brain injury (TBI).

An injury to another part of the body that transmits force to the head can also result in concussion.

Concussion Symptoms

These are symptoms of a possible concussion:

Physical

Bothered by light or noise

Dizziness or balance problems

Feeling tired, no energy

Headaches

Nausea or vomiting (early on)

Vision problems

Thinking and remembering

Attention or concentration problems

Feeling slowed down

Foggy or groggy

Problems with short- or long-term memory

Trouble thinking clearly

Sluggish reactions

Social or emotional

Anxiety or nervousness

Irritability or easily angered

Feeling more emotional

Sadness

Mood changes

Sleep

Sleeping less than usual

Sleeping more than usual

Trouble falling asleep

These symptoms may occur right away or may worsen over minutes or hours after an injury.

Symptoms may be stable or improve with various lengths of time.

Symptoms may last less than a day or may linger for months, or longer.

Causes

A concussion can result from a fall, sports activities, vehicular accidents, assault, or other direct injury to the skull.

A big movement of the brain (called jarring) in any direction can cause a person to lose alertness (become unconscious).

How long the person stays unconscious may be a sign of how bad the concussion is.

Concussions do not always lead to loss of consciousness.

Most people never pass out.

They may describe seeing all white, all black, or stars.

A person can also have a concussion and not realize it.

Exams and Tests

The health care provider will perform a physical exam. The person's nervous system will be checked. There may be changes in the person's pupil size, thinking ability, coordination, and reflexes.

Tests that may be done include:

Blood and urine tests

EEG (brain wave test) may be needed if seizures continue

Head CT (computerized tomography) scan

MRI of the brain (magnetic resonance imaging) of the brain

X-rays

Treatment

For a mild head injury, no treatment may be needed.

But be aware that the symptoms of a head injury can show up later. Your providers will explain what to expect, how to manage any headaches, how to treat your other symptoms, when to return to sports, school, work, and other activities, and signs or symptoms to worry about.

Children will need to be watched and make activity changes.

Adults also need close observation and activity changes.

Both adults and children must follow the provider's instructions about when it will be possible to return to sports.

You will likely need to stay in the hospital if:

Emergency or more severe symptoms of head injury are present

There is a skull fracture

There is any bleeding under your skull or in the brain

Alternative Names

Brain injury

Traumatic brain injury

Closed head injury

Signs: What to watch for according to your child's age

Infants, toddlers, and pre-school aged children (birth to age 4)

Irritability and crying more than usual

Seeking more comfort than usual, like needing to be held

Refusing to nurse or eat

Changes in sleeping patterns, like sleeping more or less than usual

Not wanting to engage in play or usual activities

Needing more help than usual

Showing behavior changes, such as more temper tantrums, sadness, or irritability than usual

Changes in speech, like speaking more slowly than usual

Vomiting right after the injury without other causes, such as a virus

Appearing dazed, confused, and more clumsy than usual or seeming unsteady on their feet

School-aged children and adolescents (ages 5 to 17)

Appearing dazed, stunned, or confused about recent events

Sudden difficulty remembering or concentrating, especially on topics or activities that would otherwise hold their attention

Answering questions more slowly than usual

Appearing more clumsy than usual, seeming unsteady on their feet

Vomiting right after the injury without other causes, such as a virus

Suddenly slowed reaction times

Mood, behavior, or personality changes

The following are emergency symptoms of a more severe head injury or concussion. Seek medical care right away if there are:

Changes in alertness and consciousness

Confusion that does not go away

Seizures

Muscle weakness on one or both sides of the body

Pupils of the eyes that are not equal in size

Symptoms in just one eye

Unusual eye movements

Repeated vomiting

Walking or balance problems

Unconsciousness for a longer period of time or that continues (coma)

Head injuries that cause a concussion often occur with injury to the neck and spine. Take special care when moving people who have had a head injury.

The above are excerpts from this previous post.

And these sources: 1 2 3 4 ⚜ More: Notes ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Concussions can present differently for different people, depending on the cause and other factors. Choose which of these references are most appropriate to incorporate in your story, considering your character, plot etc. Hope this helps with your writing! :)

[thehmn]

A lot of Danes I’ve talked to express guilt at “taking advantage” of our universal healthcare and I sometimes wonder if it’s based on the knowledge that it’s not a universal right everywhere? Because these people are never “taking advantage” of it. They feel sick so they go see a doctor who then tell them there’s nothing wrong and they can relax. Stress less.

I have to see the doctor every month due to other illness which I don’t feel the least bit bad about but I fell victim to this feeling too once. At one point I started feeling pain in my chest, arm and neck and got really worried I was experiencing a hart attack or blood clot. At the same time I worried I was overreacting but my housemate convinced me to call Lægevagten, which isn’t the alarm center but more like a group of on-call doctors you can call if you have questions or worries. I told her about my symptoms and suddenly she said “Are you calling from this address?” having clearly looked it up on some sort of location gps system from my phone. I confirmed and she just said “Okay, I’m sending an ambulance” and within minutes two paramedics were at my door. They decided to take me to the nearest hospital where I spent the night going through all sorts of tests, from blood work, having radiation pumped into my lungs for a CT scan and several other X-ray images.

Nothing. They found nothing.

I felt so SO bad but before I even said anything they assured me “This is good. We’d rather people come here and nothing is wrong than people not come here when something is wrong and they end up dying. Now you don’t have to stress about this”

A few days later I realized the pain came from a sliiightly dislocated rib that randomly popped back into place while I was riding my bike.

I felt so silly but my friends reminded me that I didn’t make a huge fuss about it at the time. I just told the doctor my symptoms and she set the whole thing in motion. Like the doctors said, this is what universal healthcare is for. People need to feel like they can call for help even at the slightest sign of illness so it can be caught early. This is how you keep a population healthy.

But yeah, it’s such a silly feeling. We pay taxes to have universal healthcare so there’s no reason to feel guilty about using it. We just can’t help ourselves I suppose. (Let’s not even get into the fact my doctor diagnosed me with early diabetes “just to be on the safe side” that seemed to vanish almost immediately but it still means I get free yearly vaccinations and I have very mixed feelings about it)

[humans-are-seriously-weird]

Hey all things have been wild and i havent been on a lot

I wanted to make this post to raise some awareness for the chronic illness Ive recently been diagnosed with, in the hopes that someone suffering something similar feels less alone.

Around Christmas i started getting very very sick. I would throw up 5-6hrs of the day, and it kept me from eating or sleeping at all. For four months straight i cycled between ER rooms and hospital admissions. Ive lost over 100lbs since Christmas due to a complete inability to keep any food or water down. After dozens of tests, I finally have been diagnosed with Cyclical Vomiting Syndrome.

Its a brutal disease. Essentially it’s a stress induced illness where the autonomic nervous system that controls the stomach becomes out of sync. When my body becomes too stressed, I start getting sick. And when I am out of the stress, my stomach and abdomen dont get the memo that we are okay now. It continues to have its own mini anxiety attack, contracting and twisting and forcing me to throw up everything I have inside, and keeps going after with dry heaving. This is called an abdominal migraine, and let me tell you, it is so much worse than it sounds. Once you are in an episode, it is difficult to get out of. Once the body is stressed, the sickness stresses it more, which makes me sicker. It is a vicious cycle.

I lost my job to this disease because I missed two full months. I collapsed at work and had to be rushed to the hospital. The worst part of this disease is that it is so uncommon most hospitals dont know how to treat it. Ive been labeled a drug seeker at every hospital within 10km of my home because of how frequently I had to go to the ER, severely dehydrated and in such pain I could barely stand. I started refusing strong pain meds in favour of antispasmodics instead. ER docs and nurses blamed cannabis and told me that was my sole issue. It wasnt, though it does exacerbate the illness. Ive since stopped smoking, even though it brought me some relief, just to be taken seriously.

I am one of the lucky ones who got diagnosed quickly. Most people take years to get a diagnosis, and I got mine within 4months, though it is only because of how severe my illness was.

I am finally getting proper treatment that gives me some quality of life. I have a new job that is very understanding of how many days Ive had to take off due to flare ups and episodes. Im doing well now, but for awhile, i truly thought this disease was going to take my life. I wrote a will. I picked out a grave plot.

This isnt a sympathy post. CVS is often misdiagnosed as chronic appendicitis or GERD. The odds of someone following me who also has this disease is high, and I want to make sure they dont feel as alone and unheard in this as I have.

There is no cure for CVS, you can only try to manage it and lengthen the time between episodes. The hardest part is everyone constantly saying “but youve been doing so well”. I may be doing well now, but tomorrow is not guaranteed, the next hour is not guaranteed. My episodes come quickly and with little warning, and triggers can only be found through trial and error. I still miss a lot of work, I still wake up in the night dry heaving. If i miss a single dose of medication, i relapse. It is a brutal road, and I have been fortunate that I have a supportive partner and friends who have walked it with me.

If this sounds like you, you are not alone. Find a doctor who will listen to you, and trust your instincts. Advocate for yourself, and accept nothing less. Once, when an ER refused to see me, despite the fact that I passed out on the threshold, I started just screaming. I absolutely screamed my head off as if i had been shot. That got their attention, and they said they would treat me just to shut me up. Make a scene. It sucks that that is what I had to resort to, but they finally agreed to do an ultrasound and CT scan. It started me on the path of getting a proper diagnosis. Advocate for yourself loudly and without reserve. And if you cant, find someone who can on your behalf. When i was flitting in and out of consciousness, my partner advocated for me, and refused to let them discharge me until they got the vomiting under control, even just for a day. Be loud, be annoying, do whatever it takes.

You are not alone.

[emeraldincandescent]

Post on my dash about medical debt reminded me of the time tumblr saved me two grand. I don't think I told y'all about it because I am out of the habit of posting everything I do on tumblr lol

So. Last December, I had a bad cavity filled, and about a week later, I woke up with half of my face paralyzed. Which, as I'm sure you can imagine, freaked me the fuck out. Fortunately I had some level-headed Discord friends who a) told me what Bell's palsy was so I could look it up and b) reminded me to call my dentist for an emergency appointment. Dentist was also pretty sure it was Bell's palsy, but urged me to go to the emergency room to get checked out, because one-sided facial paralysis is also a possible indicator of a stroke. And you don't fuck around with strokes.

Bell's palsy, if you, like me of 6 months ago, don't know, is a harmless paralysis/muscle weakness on one side of the face that can be caused by a variety of things. It usually goes away on its own after a few weeks but also you can speed up the process with steroids.

I was pretty sure I was not having a stroke, because I'm Red Cross first aid certified and I know the symptoms of a stroke, and while one-sided facial paralysis is one of them, I didn't have any of the others. Also, I had quit my shitty job in October, which meant I had a shiny new marketplace health insurance plan and hadn't even touched my deductible. But I called my parents from the car and they urged me to get checked out and promised to help me pay off the emergency room bill if I needed it, because they're good people and they love me even if they drive me crazy sometimes. So off I went to the nearest emergency room.

Emergency room staff also didn't think I was having a stroke, because I waited ALL AFTERNOON, periodically having a new person come up to me and ask me to smile, hold both arms out to the side, press down on their hands, and tell them what month and year it was. (They don't ask who the president is anymore. Hmm, I wonder why.) One guy had me drink a cup of water while he watched. I cannot stress enough that I did not have any medical tests other than a physical examination: no CT scans or MRIs, no IV drugs or blood draws, nothing.

I get diagnosed with Bell's palsy and given a prescription for Prednisone. And then they give me a phone number and tell me to talk to this person about administrative stuff. So I call, and the dude on the phone verifies my name and date of birth and insurance information, and then he says, "It looks like your copay today is going to be $2400. How would you like to pay?"

I am, to this day, kind of impressed that he didn't even stutter over that number, but I assume working in a medical call center drains your entire soul. At this point, it's about 7pm, and I've been in the hospital since 2pm, and I'm stressed because half my face doesn't work, and I know that I can't afford $2400 because I quit my shitty job with nothing lined up back in October. But, I still remember every tumblr post I've ever read about health insurance and the medical system and how you can negotiate down a bill. I am not looking forward to this process, it sounds like a pain in the ass, but the alternative is paying $2400, so I say the magic words: "Send me an itemized bill."

I kinda expected the guy to try and get me to pay up front, but he just says "Ok" and finishes up the process. I get discharged, go to the only open pharmacy at that time of night to get my Prednisone, have the pharmacist tell me the prescription isn't written right and he can't fill it, go home, and have a screaming sobbing meltdown because I have used up every single milligram of cope in my entire body. (I got my steroids eventually, and the Bell's palsy cleared up in a couple weeks.)

A few weeks later, I get the bill in the mail. I brace myself and open it...

$300.

Turns out, after going through insurance and processing and everything, they couldn't actually find $2400 worth of stuff to charge me for. Shocking! Who could have predicted!

I might have been able to argue it down even more, but I was fed up with entire thing, so I paid the $300 just to be fucking done with it. Sometimes the cheapest way to pay is with money.

What if I had paid that $2400 up front? Do I think they would have been like, "Oh, oops!" and refunded me $2k? Well, possibly, but I am not optimistic.

So, thank you to everyone who has ever posted about navigating the US healthcare system on tumblr. Because of you, I knew how to handle this situation even when I was tired and stressed.

Don't forget to ask for an itemized bill, folks.

[copingcatholic]

Please say a prayer for my dad.

The last 2 things I asked prayers for were my dad being unemployed since May and he had emergency surgery back in February for perforated intestine, infection, had a colostomy then in May had surgery again to have it reversed. He went to the hospital earlier this week because he was having nausea and headaches since starting a new medicine about 6 weeks ago.

He called to make an appointment with his doctor and the system wouldn't even let her schedule something because he had headache and nausea. It just told her to tell him to go to the ER. They did a CT scan and found a brain tumor a little bigger than a golf ball. Neurosurgeon and oncologist wanted to operate ASAP so they didn't even want him to leave the hospital. They had surgery yesterday so now he's recovering from brain surgery.

He's still unemployed and is not doing well financially. He was actually supposed to have interviews both yesterday and the day before but had to cancel.

He has been through a lot this year. 3 MAJOR surgeries, prolonged unemployment, continued health issues, such difficulty with trying to get our prototype functional enough to get investors and more.

Please say a prayer for my mom and my siblings and my wife and me as well. We've all had health issues, job and financial issues, car issues, and helping each other through crises this year.

You guys are the best and your prayers mean so much. I'm praying for you too! God bless and thank you.

[bitchface24-7]

4AM UNCERTAINTY - VIKTOR X READER

URGENT REQUEST for @arlekinos-ink due to their situation ☹️ (anyone can read this obviously but it’s a very specific situation)

synopsis: being chronically ill is exhausting. It makes up a major point in your life, and when something else occurs. An injury, an illness, whatever you can think of, care is postponed due to uncertainty regarding what techniques and medication can be used. You’re 99% sure you have appendicitis, but nothing can be done. At least, not yet. Good thing your partner Viktor is here to comfort you.

warnings: mentions of being chronically ill, appendicitis, frustration at life, feelings of powerlessness, comfort

genre: m/f or m/m

p.s. I’m trying to get through my requests as fast as I can (I’m close to twenty at the moment) but this DM was a bit upsetting, they asked for comfort through my work. I am here to deliver it in their time of frustration. Hope you like it!

You feel so unbelievably frustrated it’s not even funny. You got admitted to the hospital for possible apendicitis and can't get surgery until they decide it is actually apendicitis because of your other health complications.

You’ve been in the hospital for hours, like over half the day. You’re not allowed to drink, eat or go to the bathroom without permission. You’re currently getting most of your fluids through IV and you’re on the forth one so far.

The scream you want to let out is being contained in your chest as you breath deeply, trying to calm yourself. The only thing keeping you sane is Viktor, and how he’s holding your hand and stroking your knuckles with his thumb.

“Oh my love, I know how awful this is. But we need to stay, to fight it out.”

A groan escapes your lips. You don’t want to fight, you want to go home. You want confirmation that you’re having this surgery. Appendicitis can go really bad, really quick; and you’re not getting care because of your other comorbidities.

“I know! I know… but they could at least check me out! Touch my abdomen to see if it's my appendix, make me pee in a cup to rule out a UTI or kidney stones, check blood, or do imaging like an ultrasound or a CT scan. Anything! But no, I'm stuck here in limbo unsure if I’m getting surgery cause I’m an already sick individual. I can’t eat, I can’t drink— I can’t even take a piss on my own!”

Viktor brings the hand he's carasseing up to his lips and kisses your knuckles, “If I could change the system, I would. You know that. But I'm here for you, until the very end.”

Your irritation melts away as you smile at that, oh how did you end up so lucky?

“If I can't do anything, the least I can do is sleep. Mind reading something to me? You know how much I love your voice.” You say coyly, a mischievous look in your eye.

Viktor sighs fondly as he shakes his head, but he'd do anything for you. He scans the room and really only sees magazines. Some are about fashion, some are about cooking, the one that seems the most interesting is National Geographic.

He quickly grabs the magazine and flips it open, clearing his throat, he starts to read.

“Antarctica is, on average, the coldest, driest, and windiest of the continents, and it has the highest average elevation. It is mainly a polar desert, with annual precipitation of over 200 millimetres or 8 inches along the coast. About 70% of the world's freshwater reserves are frozen in Antarctica, which, if melted, would raise global sea levels by almost 60 metres—”

You look at Viktor with overflowing love in your heart. Here you are crabby, upset, and miserable; and he immediately does his best to cheer you up, even if it means reading about Antarctica.

With your mind at ease and your focus shifted, it’s almost as if the pain disappeared. You can feel your eyes fluttering shut as you hone in on Viktor’s voice, how his accent curls around the words and how interesting he makes it sound.

Viktor would be a good narrator for a documentary, or for an audio book you conclude.

Sleep slowly encases you as Viktor reads to you in a calm, quiet voice. You love this man, truly.

How’d you get so lucky?

Here ya go! I hope this little blurb/one shot has made you feel a bit better ❤️

And to anyone else reading this I hope this has comforted you in someway too, love you all xoxo ❤️

(I got the little bit on Antarctica from Wikipedia lol)

[easwan]

Hey, so, an important thing for Americans to understand about the tariff stuff:

This isn't just about trade and taxes. Trump has been calling our Prime Minister "Governor." That is immensely disrespectful, not just to Justin Trudeau but to our country's sovereignty and the entire Common Wealth's system of government. Saying we should be the 51st State isn't a cute joke; it's a blatant disregard of our autonomy as an independent country, a slap in the face to America's closest ally, and a direct imposition on our laws and values that are contrary to Trump's administration.

Canada is the second largest country on the planet after Russia--the largest if you include our water. We have ten provinces and three territories. My province, British Columbia, is 944,735 km2 (364,764 sq mi).

Reminder that Texas is only 695,660 km2.

BC alone produces 43,000 gigawatt hours of hydroelectricity annually and 6.7 billion cubic feet of Natural Gas per day. We have 11.7 million hectares of protected woodland (29 million acres).

That's just a sliver of this country. And Trump thinks he can make the entire sovereign country into a State?

This isn't 'cause "we're so similar that it wouldn't make any difference." Canada is culturally different, contrary to popular American belief, and we are very different when it comes to our laws and values. Like, marijuana is legal for recreational use country-wide, and possession of small amounts of harder drugs is decriminalized in BC as part of our Province's efforts to destigmatize addiction and encourage recovery. We have social services like the single-parent employment initiative and expanded disability income assistance, not to mention our universal healthcare.

I'm disabled and chronically ill. I get regular bloodwork, CT scans, iron supplements, iron infusions, clinic visits, and emergency room stays. I've had emergency airlifts, multiple ambulance rides, week-long hospital stays, ultrasounds, x-rays—and even given birth, and the only money I've ever had to spend on medical care (other than over-the-counter Advil) is my tramadol prescription, which is $50CAD a month. My friends and family consider that preposterously expensive. The only actually expensive medical costs I've had to deal with as a Canadian on the poverty line are dental care and my brother's HRT. (A 1000mg/10ml of testosterone was around $100CAD, which is pricey when cheques aren't coming in consistently)

I'm guessing that's not the experience of a disabled single parent on Welfare in America?

In a more prescient example, I am the legal guardian of my younger brother, a transgender teen. I had to go through the Ministry of Child and Family Development and attend two years of court to get permanent custody from our mother. But, during that time, my brother was placed in my care, and I was swiftly granted interim custody because our mother was a danger to him due to her violent transphobia.

You see, his identity is protected under the Canadian Charter of Rights and Freedoms, so I had legal protection and resources available to save him from a dangerous situation and get him the care he needed. His HRT is prescribed by a local registered nurse, and the social workers at the MCFD connected us with LGBTQI+ outfitters to get him a variety of chest binders. He is also now eligible for financial aid when pursuing further education after graduating through the government's safeguards to help former foster children thrive in adulthood.

Canada is far from perfect in these areas, but it is rated as one of the safest counties in the world for queer people, alongside Nordic countries such as Sweden and Denmark. If you want to say Canada is similar to any country, it would actually be more accurate to compare us to Scandinavian countries. Honestly, the thing we have most in common with the US is our over-dependence on cars.

But as far as legal protections for queer people? Night and day.

In fact, Canada has a long history of taking in LGBTQI+ refugees. Rainbow Railroads are very much a thing. American trans people can request asylum in Canada.

I imagine Trump, Musk, and their cronies don't like that.

Let's be very clear here, Trump is cozying up with other Imperialist War Criminals such as Netanyahu and Putin. The States has stalled international efforts to stop the genocide in Gaza, and now the States is extorting Ukraine while it's actively under attack.

I am Ukrainian. My grandmother is a First Generation Refugee. My mother's first language was Ukrainian. I have been following the slow colonization of Ukraine since before they annexed Crimea in 2014. Putin would call Ukraine "brothers and sisters" and say that Ukraine would be happier as part of Russia, and so on and so forth. Now I'm seeing the same warning signs in the way Trump is treating Canada.

This is bigger than some boos during hockey. These tariffs are the first step in weakening our country and desensitizing the American populace to the idea of annexation. He's normalizing flagrant disrespect towards our sovereignty, and popularizing lies about the dynamic between our countries to set the stage for annexation and the theft of our natural resources.

It has been genuinely gutting to see American leftists not taking this seriously. We're not just plucky lil' Canucks standing up for ourselves against a big bully. We're an independent nation and America's closest ally refusing to bow down to the new fascistic regime. What Trump is doing is not normal. It's imperialism. Call it what it is, and stand with us.

Canada is considering this a Trade War and preparing accordingly. The boycotts are country-wide—not just people opting to buy Canadian—but stores taking American products off the shelves and relabelling everything to make the boycotts easier. We're expanding trade with the EU, Mexico, China and South Korea.

Canadians are pissed and genuinely ready to fight. Sure, the US population is massive, and the country has an embarrassingly oversized military, but read up on what happens when Canada goes to war. There will be no victor.

Our government officials are treating this as an act of imperial aggression, and our Canadian political experts are calling it a prelude to annexation. We will not capitulate; we will not play. Canada is a sovereign country and part of the Commonwealth of Nations.

We will never be the 51st State. Canada is unceded Indigenous land that should be returned to the First Nations, not sold to a dictator and the billionaire Nazi who bought his presidency.

[casstheasswrites]

NO SAINTS, NO SAVIOURS (5)

pairing: frank castle x reader (female)

summary: wrong place, wrong time. he saved her life, she patched him up. that should’ve been the end of it. some nights, you survive. others, you change.

trigger warnings: canon typical violence including blood and death. ptsd, trauma, eventual smut. at times, you get soft!frank. at others, he takes no prisoners. we love the duality of man <3

chapter length: 4.2k

authors note: in case you want more of this story faster, i've got nine chapters posted on my AO3 (linked below). just going to start double posting here on tumblr too :) i hope you enjoy and pls pls send me a message with your feedback or thoughts, if you have any! thanks a million.

archive of our own / feedback appreciated!

An hour or two later and the hospital had gone quiet. Visiting hours had come and gone, the emergency room had mostly cleared out, save for those with non-urgent ailments or injuries, and the nurses station was reduced to the in-between skeleton shift. You hang around, all the same, some inexplicable pull to those men in trauma room six at the end of the hall keeping you rooted here, unable to head home. You know you should go— should have gone long ago, really— but you simply can’t. Since your moment outside their room with Max, you’ve only caught sight of him in passing, while you moved from room to room, treating your other patients or checking on the men who had their unfortunate run-in with Frank earlier in the night.

Max and his partner take turns stationed outside and inside their room, but even when you are alone with him and checking their vitals, he doesn’t speak to you. Instead, he watches you, the weight of his eyes tracking your back as you move enough to tell you everything you need to know. It seems he still doesn’t know what to make of your words out in the hallway; like you’ve become more of a mystery to him, now, than you were before. And you were probably plenty mysterious then, too, given that the two of you had never spoken beyond the walls of your workplace.

The men cannot be transferred to NYPD holding cells until their imaging results come back, and those typically take a few hours, even at the best of times. After you’d managed to catch up to Dr. Murphy, he had come along to check on the patients with you, echoing your concerns about the man with the head injury. He’d been moved up the list for a CT scan, but now, you were playing the waiting game.

At the thought, you refreshed the digital medical chart system in front of you at the nurse’s station, watching as the pinwheel spun and spun, loading anything new that had come through. After a few more seconds, the pinwheel disappeared. Still no results from radiology. You breathed out a harsh exhale, teeth digging into your lower lip. For one reason or another, you felt this heavy weight settled on your chest, like you needed to get these men discharged and out of here as soon as possible. It was itching at the back of your scalp, but each time you lifted a hand to try and quell the sensation, it disappeared.

With a brief glance at the computer screen that displayed each of the vitals for your patients, you confirm everything is sound, and excuse yourself to the break room on the far side of the ER. One of the older nurses, a no-nonsense woman named Pam, promises to keep an eye on things while you refill your water bottle and grab a snack. You need the fuel to keep going; you already know you won’t be heading home now until those men are transferred out and someone else’s problem. As you follow the familiar route to the break room and your locker within it, your thoughts begin to wander. Questions stumble to the surface of your mind, replaying on an endless loop.

Why had Frank let these men go? Did he see them as something less than evil, perhaps a complicated version of innocent-adjacent? The man who Max had questioned had admitted to nothing more than being a driver; if that were true, then perhaps they hadn’t done enough to meet Frank’s threshold of good versus evil.

But if that were the case... why had he hurt them at all, rather than warning them off and letting them go? This was an abnormality, where the Punisher was concerned. A grey area you didn’t know how to navigate.

You opened the combination lock of your assigned locker, pulling it open and rifling through your bag in search of the protein bar you’d packed that morning. The weapon you’d picked up all those weeks ago was not here with you; you’d never make it past the metal detectors in the hospital lobby with something like that. Instead, you’d tucked it beneath your bed, stored alongside your summer clothes and old shoes you didn’t wear as often anymore. It was an odd realization that a weapon capable of killing was beneath you every night while you slept, housed beside sandals and shoes with kitten heels. Finally, your fingertips landed on the familiar sensation of the bars wrapper and you pulled it free, making quick work of opening it before you took a bite.

Your thoughts had begun to spiral, the obsession within you taking over every second that passed. You knew it wasn’t healthy. Worse— you knew it wasn’t safe. But there was no fear here, in the quiet moments where you simply stood at your locker and pondered the why’s. There was only a desire to know more, to understand more, to find the answers you so desperately sought. Frank hadn’t wanted to tell you anything more than exactly what you needed to know that night.

What were the odds, then, that you could try and find some of those answers on your own?

In a few more bites, you finished the protein bar and slammed your locker shut. You tossed the wrapper into the trash and refilled your water bottle, pausing for only one more moment as you left the break room. Near the door that led back out onto the floor, there was a mirror affixed to one side of the wall. You caught a glimpse of yourself there, and the frown on your face only deepened at the sight. Beneath your eyes were deep bags, likely darker than they’d ever been; you’d stopped bothering with makeup a week or two ago, realizing that no amount of concealer was going to even out the darkness permanently embedded there.

But beyond the darkness beneath your eyes, you appeared normal. You looked like yourself. Dark hair pulled back in a long braid, a black headband holding the fly aways out of your face. You hadn’t noticed until now, but your scrubs hung looser than they used to. You were shrinking— and not just in size.

One of the lights behind you in the break room flickered, then, drawing your attention, and your stomach gave an uncomfortable twist.

You took that as your cue to move on and so you did, turning away from the mirror and stepping out of the breakroom. As you began down the hallway, clutching your freshly filled water bottle in your hand, you began to hear something familiar— it was the sound of a heartrate monitor letting out an alert. An alert that a patient was flatlining. Your steps quickened into a run, eyes flaring wide as you reached the empty nurse’s station. Where the hell was Pam?

Your head whipped towards the sound of the monitor, then, eyes falling to the end of the hallway, outside of trauma room six. Neither Max nor his partner were stationed outside the room as they should have been and the door was shut, no light bleeding from inside out into the hallway. That familiar sense of dread, the one that had become an unwanted passenger inside of you for these past few weeks, returned ten-fold. Your throat closed over. Something was very, very wrong. Your body wanted to freeze— but your feet were already moving. Your water bottle was forgotten at the nurse’s station, alongside any rational thought to alert someone, call for security, hit a panic button, anything. You were not operating on rational thought anymore. Now it was purely instinct in control.

Though the hallway had never felt longer, you reached the door to trauma room six in record time. The only sound you could hear beyond the racing of your heart was the incessant beeping of the monitor inside— the incessant reminder that someone was dying. That someone was likely already dead.

The door was pressed firmly shut and so you reached for the handle, pushing it open with no more than a moment of hesitation. As you stepped inside, you blinked a handful of times, trying to make sense of what laid before you; the lights had been switched off, the room bathed in darkness and a familiar scent had joined that of the antiseptic you’d used hours earlier to clean the men’s wounds— it was a metallic scent, one you knew too well.

Blood.

As you stepped further inside, one hand reaching blindly for the light switch on the wall to your left, your feet nearly fell out from beneath you as you slid on something wet and sticky. Anxiety ripped at the seams of your composure, a gentle squeak of surprise pressing past your lips as you reached back for the doorhandle to steady yourself. You caught yourself just in time, and as you did, your other hand found the light switch and turned it on. Your world was suddenly bathed in brightness, illuminating the room around you.

The first thing you saw was the blood. No wonder the scent of it had been so strong.

It was smeared across the linoleum floor in thick, uneven strokes. Even to your own eyes, you knew it was too much. Too much for anyone to survive. You followed the line of it a few more feet, your entire body beginning to tremble.

And then you saw him.

A broken sound caught in your throat, a scream that never made it past your lips.

Max was slumped against the wall, legs bent awkwardly, back bowed like he’d folded in on himself. His eyes were open— dark, unblinking. Unseeing. He was gone.

His hands rested in his lap, stained deep red. As if, in his final moments, he’d tried to stop the bleeding. Tried to hold himself together.

Tears blurred your vision. Your breath caught and your knees threatened to give out.

The high-pitched wail of the heart monitor dragged your focus toward the bed across the room, and for one suspended heartbeat, you forgot how to breathe.

Because you weren’t alone.

There was a hood pulled over the figure’s head, obscuring your line of sight to his face, and when your gaze dipped to the man who Max had questioned earlier in the night, you saw nothing but more blood. Crimson soaked the bedding and the pillow beneath his head, seemingly rushing from a long slash wound across his neck. A fresh one.

There was so much blood that it had begun to drip down onto the floor, creating a puddle near the side of the bed.

He, too, was gone.

The figure who had killed them both lifted his head, then, and you finally realized you hadn’t been able to see his face because he was wearing a mask. It obscured the entirety of what made him recognizable, the only thing left within sight were his eyes. From this distance, they appeared to be a cold, empty blue. A pit as bottomless as the depths of the ocean.

He didn’t rush in his movements; he simply stepped back from the bed slowly, methodically. Like he’d done this before— like he would do this again. Your heart lurched at the thought, because now, his sights were set on you. You stumbled backwards, sneakers sliding in the mess beneath your feet, nearly causing you to lose your footing again. This man was a killer, and in his hand, his weapon of choice— a long blade with a serrated edge, coated in the blood of the two men he’d already killed. You knew without hesitation that it was the type of weapon that would not only kill… but cause a whole lot of pain, too.

The gravity of the moment did not seem to dawn on you as it should have. Perhaps it was the weeks of immersing yourself in the Punisher’s world— the article upon article that you’d read, filled with graphic depictions of the types of people he often found himself at odds with. Or maybe it was because, deep down, you’d begun to lose some part of yourself… the part of yourself that had still had an ounce of spark left within her. A desire to keep on living.

The latter thought proved itself wrong— because as the man reached the end of the hospital bed that separated you two, your gaze flickered away from him, instead drawn to Max’s fallen body. The mere sight of him caused your stomach to roll with unease and nausea, but that’s not what had caused you to look down at him. Because there, as you followed the line of his belt, you spotted exactly what you’d been looking for.

What was that saying, again?

Never bring a knife to a gun fight.

You lunged towards Max’s body without a moment of hesitation, your knees sticking to the blood that pooled on the tile below. Your hands shook violently, in fact, your entire body trembled— your teeth clattered against each other, your chin wobbling as terror overcame every inch of you. But you didn’t want to die; you wouldn’t die, not like this. The words replayed over and over again in your mind, even as you heard the footsteps of the man approaching you grow closer.

He was overconfident, his movements were not nearly rushed enough. He didn’t think you were of any concern to him; an easy target to identify and eliminate. Rage burned a pathway through your midsection at the mere thought; you wanted nothing more than to prove him wrong.

You pushed Max’s arm out of the way and twisted your wrist, ripping the pistol free of his hip holster just as you caught sight of the shadow of the man rise above you, casting darkness over the wall before you. You shouted— raw, furious, terrified, and threw yourself backwards and away from Max’s body. As you slid backwards, you twisted at the waist, lifting the pistol out into the mere foot or two of space that separated you and the man who wished you dead.

Your fingers closed around the trigger and you didn’t pause, didn’t hesitate— your eyes pinched shut and you squeezed. Your entire body jolted with the momentum of the shot, your arms pitching in the direction of the ceiling. You’d never once shot a gun before, never once been at the helm of something so deadly and so dangerous. Your shoulder blades flared in protest, pain lashing down your right side. The sound of the heartrate monitor had finally ceased— but that made no sense. You hadn't switched it off. Your eyes slowly reopened, but you had to blink to clear your vision. Your ears rang. A pressure bloomed at your temples— sharp, hot, like a tension headache left untreated too long.

There was movement ahead of you. Your attacker was not dead. He had fallen to the floor a few feet away and as your eyes widened at the realization, you noticed that he was trying to hoist himself to his feet, though seemingly not with much luck. You’d wounded him, but he was not dead.

You bent your knees and began shoving yourself away, away, away, as quickly as you could, your arms trembling roughly, the gun rattling in your grasp. Your sneakers slid against the blood on the floor, causing you to slip once more. A curse spilled past your lips, involuntary. You did not want to shoot again; you couldn't bare the thought of doing that twice. Your sense of the moment was distorted, though— your vision still partially blurred, hearing fuzzy, the only real sound you could pinpoint was the screaming of your heart.

This time, when the attacker tried, he managed to stumble to his feet. He was unsteady, seemingly wounded, and as his figure rose above you, you caught sight of a bleeding wound on his left shoulder, blood pouring from it and causing the black of his shirt to darken and stick to his skin. The moment continues simply because you missed.

Your lip’s part and you scream— or try to. Your throat burned with the effort, but you can’t even hear your own voice. As the man stumbled a step towards you, you notice that his eyes have gone wild— they flash with a rage that burns so hot, you have no choice but to lift your trembling hands once more. Down the barrel of the gun you watch him approach, your index finger wrapping around the trigger again. You’ll do it again. You have to. The only choice here is him or you.

But instead, there is a flash that fills the room and you flinch as a hole suddenly appears in the center of the man’s forehead, blood instantly pouring from the wound and leaking down the length of his mask. He collapses backward, falling like a tree split clean through at the base. As his dead weight hit the floor, you flinched once more, aching shoulders rising towards your ears as you close in upon yourself. Your fingers are nearly locked in place, wrapped around the gun, and you settle it against one trembling knee.

Your lips are moving once more, whispering to yourself, as if somehow the words you cannot hear will calm the pounding of your heart.

“He’s dead,” you said, over and over again. An unending loop.

And as your gaze shifted from the man who had attacked you, instead turning to land on the lifeless body of Max, the words continued. Tears blurred your vision and you blinked hard, but it only made it worse. Grief swells inside you, sharp and hot— but it doesn’t come alone. Anger bubbled beneath your skin right alongside it, overtaking it with ease. Anger had always been easier for you.

You lifted one trembling hand— the one not still locked around the gun— and wipe at your cheeks. But the tears kept coming. They wouldn't stop.

You didn't know who you were crying for anymore. Him or you.

The ringing in your ears slowly began to fade; you only noticed because suddenly, you can hear the broken sound of your own voice— cracked and strained from the screams you’d released in the moments that led you here. You pressed your lips together and bit down on the inside of your cheek, trying desperately to stop the tears that continue to fall. You grasped for whatever strength you can find, pulling from a tank you’d thought was long since emptied. Somehow, you find a little more.

After another beat or two, the tears began to slow. Then stop altogether.

And then a hand landed on your back— steady, gentle, a palm pressed between your shoulder blades.

You jolt at the contact, adrenaline flooding your system all over again. You twisted instinctively, momentarily forgetting that someone else had ended this for you.

As you turned, he lowered himself to your level, crouching just a foot away. Shock of dark hair and eyes, an outfit of only black, a vest with a white skull affixed to the front. Well worn combat boots, laced tightly, all the way to the top.

The mere sight of him broke whatever fragile resolve you'd managed to scrape together.

Your face crumples, eyebrows knitting together in pain. Your eyes slam shut as another round of tears begins to spill free.

“You did good,” he murmured, the tone of his voice so soft, you believe for a moment you’ve misheard him. But when you find the strength to wrench open your eyes, he is staring directly into them, and you find an assortment of amber flecks within the coffee colour of his irises.

The hand at your back slides to your shoulder, fingers curling just enough to anchor you— to remind you: you’re still here. You survived. You overcame.

The same could not be said for many others. At the thought, you turn your head once more, eyes wandering back to the fallen body of Max. Funny, kind, gentle Max. He deserved so much more than this; so much more than whatever story would be spun from the web of lies you were sure would come from this night. Your lips parted as if you intended to speak, say something, but no words came. What could you say? What would possibly be enough?

You'd denied it to yourself, but the truth was, he was your friend. And now he was dead.

“You can’t save everyone.” Frank said after another beat, capturing your attention all over again. You tore your eyes from Max and looked at the man in front of you instead, gaze tracing over the hard lines of his face, searching for something— answers, maybe— that weren’t there.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, voice barely more than a whisper.

“We don’t have time,” he said, shaking his head. His eyes met yours, then flicked down. He lifted a brow, the tilt of it asking a question. You followed his gaze, coming across the gun still clutched within your grasp. You hadn’t even realized you were still holding it. Your brow furrowed, asking a question of its own. Frank raised one hand slowly, motioning toward it. You nodded once and handed it over, your fingers still trembling— not just from the weight of the weapon, but from the weight of what you'd done with it.

He took it gently and flicked on the safety. Then tucked it behind him, likely into the waistband of his jeans. Without a word, he stood, and there was something so clinical about his movements— so calm and practiced. You couldn’t help but watch, in awe. As he rose, he reached down, his hand finding yours.

“Come on,” he said, giving you nothing more than a gentle pull before you were rising to your feet, too. “We have to go.”

“Go?” you echoed, your voice verging on incredulous. “Go where?”

“The other nurse managed to hit the panic button before he killed her,” he said in a rush, his eyes darting out into the hallway, seemingly on edge. You could sense the tension in his body, too. He wanted out of here— and he wanted out of here now. “This place is about to be swarming with cops. I can’t be here when that happens.”

Shock flickered through you, settling at your core like a heavy stone tossed into shallow water. Pam was dead, too. How many other victims might there be, tucked away at the end of a hallway, or concealed in a room with a closed door?

Frank still had one of your hands clutched in his own and he gave your arm a gentle tug, causing you to stumble forward a few steps.

“I can’t just leave, Frank,” you insisted, shaking your head, your lips beginning to quiver. “I’ve been clocked in all day; there’s a record of me being here.”

He went silent, then; and you watched as his lips pressed together so tightly, they began to turn white. His jaw worked and his hand fell from yours, instead lifting to run down the length of his face, a rough sigh filled with nothing but exasperation falling into the air between you.

“What do we do?” you prodded, eyebrows furrowing, the concern in your voice evident as you stared at him, searching for answers.

“Alright, alright,” Frank said through a tight breath— no anger, just tension. His hand curved along the length of his jaw, fingers digging into his skin as he walked you through the next steps, calm and still, just as you’d expect him to be. “You talk to them, only as long as you have to. Give a statement and be as honest as you can. I wasn’t here— you killed him on your own.”

You flinched at the implication— that you would offer that piece of information up, admit to taking this man’s life, though you hadn’t been the one to do it. You would have— you could have. But Frank had saved you from that fate.

This time.

“It was self defense,” he said, voice soft, reaching back out towards you, his hand returning to your shoulder in that gentle, grounded way of his. He had caught the look on your face— noticed how your entire body revolted at the thought of implicating yourself in such a way. You leaned into his touch, eyes falling shut for just a few beats of your heart. This was the only reprieve you would have and so you clung to it, for as long as you could. “They’ll offer you protective custody while they do the investigation… you’ll have to work your way out of that somehow. You’re smart, you can figure it out.”

You weren’t sure. But the way he looked at you— the intensity in his eyes— it made you believe he was. And that was enough.

Frank removed his hand from your shoulder and you instantly grew cold, missing the point of contact. His shoulders rose and he reached behind him, retrieving the one item you’d be happy to never see again for as long as you lived.

“Here,” he said, offering the weapon back to you. His mouth curved, faint— almost amused. “You’ll need this.”

You reached into the space between you and, with great hesitation, wrapped your fingers once more around the grip of the gun. You pulled it towards you, your gaze focused solely on the black metal of it, and then you rolled over the bottom of your scrub top and began to wipe all along the weapon, trying to erase any evidence that Frank had been here at all. When you’d finished, you lifted your gaze back to him, noting that he was watching you intently. His dark eyebrows were raised, almost like he was impressed that you’d thought to do such a thing.

You wanted to tell him that you'd watched plenty of shows and movies, knew a thing or two, but the words died at the back of your throat.

His eyes scanned the room once more, and when he seemed happy enough with the state of things, he gave you a short nod and began to back away. You stumbled forward, following him, words rising up your throat before you could stop.

“I need to see you, after…”

“I know. I’ll be waiting.”

After one more moment of delayed eye contact, he turned away and disappeared down the hallway and out of sight.