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indecisive-hippie · 2 years

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My Experience with Endometriosis

TL;DR: After years of being called a crybaby, I do, in fact, have something wrong with my body.

I knew something was wrong about a couple of years after starting my period. I got my first period when I was 11. My mom used to say “suck it up, buttercup. No one likes getting their period”. At first, this step into womanhood seemed special and I was even excited to finally get my period like the other girls were starting to.

Boyyyyy was I in for a nasty surprise.

The excitement turned into dread by the time I hit high school. What had started off as minor fatigue and cramps that didn’t feel any worst than having too much caffeine or too many sweets slowly evolved into the kind of cramps that left me on the bathroom floor, crying, unable to walk as I waited on the maximum (sometimes a little more than that) dose of ibuprofen to kick in and do something for me. I’m 21 now (just turned 21 less than a week ago actually) and in the year leading up to the diagnostic lap I had yesterday morning, my symptoms began to escalate a lot more. I have a feeling a lot of people born with vaginas and uterus’ aren’t told what to look for when it comes to endometriosis (I know I wasn’t) or other issues with their reproductive systems so here’s what I can think of right now that were red flags: severe cramping in the vagina and clitoris, a “bloated” feeling in the vagina (for me it kind of felt like my vagina was going to fall out of my body), vomiting on your period, pardon my French but— feeling like your shitting glass on your period, pain when urinating on your period, excessively painful pelvic and lower abdominal cramps (you should not be consuming the maximum dose of ibuprofen like clockwork for 1-2 weeks out of the month— that is not normal), and pain when orgasming. Another red flag that popped up within the last year was cramping in the vagina and pelvis when I’m not on my period. I’ve also experienced chronic flank pain over the last 5 years which brings me to the doctor that failed me.

At 15, I sat in the ER for 8 hours with what we thought might be appendicitis. My mom was irate and told me I was in trouble If they didn’t find anything wrong with me and it turned out I was crying wolf. The ER doctor thought I was exaggerating my pain and looked at me with disdain every time (which wasn’t actually that often) he walked into the room. An abdominal CT showed fluid in my pelvis when the results came back and suddenly his attitude was different. He told my mom he believed I had an ovarian cyst that ruptured and that I would need to see my PCP and get a referral to a gynecologist because he thought it had to of been on the bigger side to cause that much fluid and pain. My mom took me to my PCP, a middle-aged African woman. I only include that she immigrated to Ohio from Africa because of her mannerisms and traditional beliefs. I always thought female doctors in general would be more open-minded about woman-related issues but she was not.

She had me point to where I was in pain (it was flank pain) and said “that’s not your ovaries, that’s your bowel”. My mom asked if we could get a referral (it turns out with our insurance you do NOT need a referral to see a gynecologist, we didn’t realize that until years later). She said I didn’t need a doctor poking down around there until I had a boy poking around there (that’s exactly how she said it) and referred me instead to a GI specialist at Children’s, who diagnosed me with IBS. I remember being in there with the GI doctor and she asked me to rate my pain on that day. I said it was a 5 or 6 and my mom glared at me. When the doctor left the room briefly, she said “you know how I know your exaggerating? If it was a 5 or 6 your vital signs wouldn’t be normal”. Mom is a nurse, by the way. What I wish I would have told her back then is that when you suffer from chronic pain, you get used to being in pain and it’s not a shock to your body anymore.

The GI doctor told me to change my diet and sent me home with educational materials. My PCP did order a pelvic ultrasound, to her credit, at my mom’s insistence, and it came back clean. No notable in size cysts. Endometriosis, most of the time, can’t be detected on ultrasounds. We didn’t know this, and we didn’t know anything about it in general back then. Throughout the last 10 years, I have been on more SSRIs, SNRIs, and atypical antipsychotics than I can name off, and the GI doctor said a lot of those medications can cause issues with the bowel and that I needed to take Miralax regularly and that should help. I could make a whole other separate post about how the mental healthcare system in America has failed me. Maybe I will, one day. A sneak peak: they were treating me for depression all those years. I’m bipolar. Anyway, miralax did help with my constipation (shout out to Miralax) but it didn’t make my flank pain go away or my god awful periods.

That was the last time for a while I was seen for my issues. My mom showed me how to alternate Tylenol and ibuprofen correctly when it came that time, and that worked for a while. I could be functional when I did that, and that was enough. Then I left for college, and my life entered a rapid period of change for about two years, and everything that went wrong with my lady parts got put on the back burner.

Until I started to get nauseous when I masturbated. Nausea turned into cramping when I had an orgasm and it scared the hell out of me. I’m still a virgin, but the thought of that happening when I do finally lose my virginity terrified me. I remembered my issues and googled it. Endometriosis came up on Google but I didn’t think anything about it because I thought Endometriosis meant you had to bleed between periods. While my flow was very heavy, I didn’t spot or bleed between cycles. I cramped, but it was on the milder side and I read that some women cramped while ovulating.

Then it kept getting worst. The mild cramping turned into more painful cramping and there was an instance at work where I almost hit the floor. It took me by surprise and for a second I thought “am I having a baby? Am I the next virgin Mary?” It’s crazy where our minds go when we are looking for an explanation. Four days after that instance I got my period and it was one of the worst periods I’ve ever had.

I decided to make an appointment with the gynecologist my mom sees. I didn’t tell her I was making an appointment. I called them and I asked if I needed a referral. They said not with my type of insurance. I asked when I could get in. About a month. I thought it was better than nothing so I made the appointment.

I began to research in the mean time and came across a TikTok with a girl talking about her experiences with Endometriosis. I can’t remember the username but I will forever be thankful she decided to share with the public her experiences because if I hadn’t seen that tiktok, I wouldn’t have gone into that doctor’s office and pushed to have a diagnostic lap done.

The doctor I saw was amazing. He listened, and he had a demeanor about him that told you he was giving you his whole attention and he wanted your opinion on what he was telling you. He listened to me for about 20 minutes and thanked me for being comfortable enough to tell me everything. He then went through our options. He said he personally suspected it was a prostaglandin problem (a hormone like substance your reproductive system produces). He thought my body was producing way too much and wanted to prescribe a form of birth control that would help. He then said another couple of things— fibroids and endometriosis. He said he wanted to rule out fibroids because they were more common in women who have had children or are in their late 30s/early 40s but said I could potentially be a candidate for having endometriosis, although he thought it was more likely it was the prostaglandin issue.

He said my options were to do the birth control for about a year and see if my symptoms got better and then look at getting a diagnostic lap done, or to get the diagnostic lap first and rule out endometriosis and then try the birth control (which I would end up needing anyway if it was endometriosis). I asked him if he thought I would be crazy for asking to do the surgery first. He said no, and by the way, he didn’t like to use that word when talking about female reproductive issues because most people who throw that world around have no idea what women go through trying to figure out their body and get help for their issues. We scheduled the surgery for May 19th. I told my family he was the one that pushed for the surgery because I didn’t want to be wrong and look like the girl who cried wolf.

I told my friends that too and I lied to everybody saying I didn’t actually want to get the surgery and I was nervous. I was nervous— nervous they would find nothing and I would have no answers.

I had the surgery yesterday. He got in there and found “a substantial amount of endometrial growths and excess tissue for someone as young as I am with the condition”. It had even started to spread to my bladder. We’ll talk more about it and what my options are at my post-op visit. When I came to and wasn’t near as loopy anymore, my mom told me what he said and said she was sorry for telling me to suck it up all those years. I started crying. I was so relieved to finally know what was going on after all these years and I was so relieved to not have been wrong. And I was proud.

I advocated for myself and I finally got the answer I was searching for. I advocated for MYSELF, and I have never been more prouder for going in there and pushing for that surgery. And I am so grateful that there are doctors like that man who LISTEN.

That’s all for now.

#endometriosis #women’s health #gynecology #personal #advocacy #advocacy in healthcare #american health system

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finnishhymn · 3 years

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2021 has not been kind to me. It’s been a rough year and my battle really isn’t over. I debated over and over again if I wanted to post this. The older I get, the less I care to put my personal business out there.

My problems started in September 2020. I woke up with a sharp pain in my back. It never went away. Several doctors visits later, I was getting nowhere and no answers. I was denied a CT scan by my insurance and told to live with it because I’m fine. At this point I can’t stand up straight, walking is difficult, it keeps me up at night. I’m definitely not ok.

January rolls around and I decide enough is enough. I set out to get a new doctor and that it was time to lose weight. I was 210 pounds at this point. I find a new doctor and have my first appointment in April. I also have a consultation with a chiropractor at this time. My doctor thinks I have a pinched nerve, the chiropractor agrees and also that my hips are tilted.

I continue seeing the chiropractor for 8 weeks. Some days I’m feeling better and thinking it’s helping but other days it comes right back. By this time it’s June and I’m having a follow up with my doctor. She wants me to try physical therapy instead. She hands me a referral and tells me to try that instead for 6 weeks.

June 28th I walk into work, slip on some oil in the shop, and slam my head into the concrete floor. I black out and am taken to the hospital by ambulance.

The next 5 weeks are filled with head pain, dizziness, and uncaring worker’s comp “doctors”. I couldn’t look at screens for long without it hurting. I slept a lot. I developed a head tremor where my head shook side to side uncontrollably. I suffered memory loss among other things.

My wonderful neurologist insisted that all these things were not related to my head injury. At my last appointment on September 11th he told me he didn’t know why my head was hurting, “maybe it’s the weather,” he said, before throwing my work release papers back at me. I didn’t get a chance to say or ask anything before he shut the door in my face.

He also had put me on medication that gave me the most amazing mood swings. Fits of rage, uncontrollable crying, etc. But hey it made me drop another 10 pounds so that’s all that matters right?

September 30th I see my doctor, a real doctor that gives a shit, again. I told her all about what’s been happening. She says I have a kidney stone. When I went by ambulance to the hospital, they did a CT scan of basically my entire upper body. Anyway she said it wasn’t large enough to really worry about, but told me what to watch for. She told me she wants me to go back to physical therapy and see if we can finally get this back pain gone for good.

October 5th I have my first physical therapy appointment. The therapist is cool. She thinks the back pain is because of my hip. Ok that makes sense. So we start doing exercises to strengthen my hips and legs. She also green lights all exercise. I’m thinking, “Sweet! I’m gonna do so much activities!”

October 21st I go to the ER with severe abdominal pain and a fever of 103 that won’t break. I’m in a ton of pain and hallucinating. I’m thinking it’s my kidney stone. They do a CT Scan, check for pneumonia, and Covid of course.

It’s not the stone. Turns out I had a massive infection in my abdomen that made its way into my bloodstream. I’m admitted to the hospital. I’m told if I had waited another day I would’ve died. I’m seen by a GI doctor and she tells me something is going on but I’m so full of infection she can’t see. She tells me I need to have a colonoscopy in 8 weeks. After 5 days in the hospital I’m released and I see both my regular doctor and the GI doctor for a follow up.

December 14th I have an endoscopy and a colonoscopy done at the hospital. When I woke up from the procedure the doctor tells me everything looks healthy and normal in my digestive tract. She says she took biopsies and will call me when those results come in. A week later I’m told all that came back normal too.

So here we are going in 2022 and I have less answers and more questions. Every time I try to chase a problem, something else pops up. I’m still having head pain. I can’t remember how to spell certain words. My once fantastic memory has huge holes. I have anxiety all the time and find myself panicking at random times. Usually when I get the next hospital bill. Oh and I still have back pain. But hey I’ve lost over 60 pounds, so….yay?

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weebsinstash · 4 years

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hey dude, im sorry for how shitty things have been with entitled anons and the ER stuff. It sucks. Idk if it helps, but your symptoms sound sorta maybe like a genetic condition? Idk Im only saying this because my doctors could never find mine in tests and i had lots of weird circulation issues, symptoms, headaches, and joint pops too? Like I dont want you to freak out about it because it might not be that it at all but maybe do some research on Ehlors danlos syndrome or other similar disorders?

To be honest, after I developed the TMJ syndrome (technical term for the way my jaw is popping and causing me headaches) I started researching that, and it said TMJ can be caused as a secondary condition to things like auto-immune disorders/rheumatic diseases (often genetic), which automatically jumps out because an extended cousin of mine actually got diagnosed with ulcerative colitis recently (poor kid is only 16), and I was diagnosed with IBS very young (like literally i was around 8 or 9 i think), and I was reading there are several auto immune disorders that can cause digestive issues and even stomach ulcers, so I'm almost wondering if there are digestive issues in the family tree and also if I was misdiagnosed because uh like I will literally wake up sometimes and be in the bathroom for 10 minutes every other morning (though I also smoke a lot of weed and that can actually completely trash your stomach but like, I'm addicted to the feeling, getting higher than the ceiling)

Then I mention to my mother my stuff with like my heart jumping and making me gag and choke, she mentions "oh well your grandma used to have these things she called 'choking spells'" and im not shitting on religious people but that part of my family is Southern Baptist and they're uh not very knowledgeable on medicine or the doctor and some of them don't even believe in vaccines so honestly? I would not be surprised at all that my entire family tree is fucked up with genetic conditions

I also constantly get pain in my hands and a while ago I noticed these pains are mostly near or in my joints and there are auto immune disorders for bones and joints specifically

But it's like. I need to find it out because I've been sick since April and it really makes me feel like a whiny broken record. Like I have work today and the entire day I'm gonna be freaking out, wondering if I'm immuno-compromised, wondering if any of my coworkers are sick, so on, so forth. I hope to follow up with more specialists, not just to figure out this pain, but as a general check up too. A gastroenterologist or a rheumatologist is the next on my list, though because of covid, even though I actually really need to have certain things done, like I need a colonoscopy to check my GI tract because I was supposed to have that shit done like literally 10 years ago, but they're encouraging people to avoid procedures unless its an emergency just because of the potential risk of catching covid in the hospital

Anyways, I feel bad for riling up everyone's worries :( I was really worried when I was told to go to the ER and I didn't want to like... have an emergency and disappear, so whenever I get worried about my safety or whatever I try to let people know what's going on instead of potentially just disappearing without a word. So yeah I'm gonna hang in there and try and keep an eye out for my health. If it comes to it, my mom says it's totally ok with her if I need to quit my job because of my anxiety or if I feel like I'm getting too sick, so... yeah fingers crossed it doesn't come to that)

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crohnsawarenessproject · 3 years

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‘A Bloody Good Time’ July 12th, 2021 #abloodygoodtime © Outhouse Cartoons/C.A.P 2021

I’ve done it, I’ve been on one of the scariest medical adventures of my life to date. I’ve now sat in an ER watching bags of blood being transfused into my body after hitting a scary low red blood cell level due to chronic bleeding issues that snowballed over the last couple of months. Things were a mixed bag at first. Doctors worried the Entyvio wasn't working and instead could be causing my severe bleeding.

Let’s take a step back.

A few months ago, my Entyvio was adjusted from every eight weeks to every four weeks, which was around the same time my temporary GI had switched my standing blood work order from every month to every two months. Shortly after these changes, I started to see blood in my stool.

At first I didn’t think too much of it. A lot of us living with IBD have experienced blood in our stools. It’s not unheard of. A weekend went by, though, where it was just non stop. Everytime I went to the washroom, I would lose a fair amount of blood. Sometimes It would just be blood.

My initial reaction was that it was something I’d eaten. I thought about it, realizing my intake of beef had gone up that week and usually that would cause some issues for me. That had to be it. So I cut back on my beef.

Another week of constant bleeding went by without letting up. I was starting to feel it now. I was getting a bit scared. I reached out to friends and family and someone mentioned that, ‘women lose blood every month so [I] should be fine,’ so I let it slide again.

A few more weeks passed, no changes, I was really starting to feel it now and my blood work was finally in. I could show them what was going on. I had proof. The results show my hemoglobin sitting at 80 points and the rest of my profile being completely out of whack. This should light a fire, and I’d be the one to start it. '

I called the GI office asking for iron (this is all I knew to ask for at the time), stating what I was going through and how I felt. At this point I could barely stand and or walk. My heart felt like it wanted to race out of my chest. I was getting really scared now. I’ve never felt this bad throughout everything I’ve gone through. This was getting to be too much.

This is when they set up an emergency scope. Another week passed before scope day arrived. It was determined that my guts were pretty clean. They mentioned hemorrhoids but an ER doctor clarified that they were only level one which causes minimal issues. This proved a point that I had been trying to make previously, that my health was better than ever, where my Crohn's was considered. This was new. Is new. '

However at that exact moment I wasn’t feeling that great. I was also supposed to receive iron and/or a blood transfusion that day but it never ended up happening. This was a Friday and we all know what would happen over the next couple of days. Absolutely nothing. I knew the numbers everyone was working with were old. Too old. They didn’t have all the current facts nor did they understand how bad I felt.

I tried calling and leaving a message for the doctor just the same. Maybe I could make it to Monday and they could just get me into the IV lab real fast. Well, I barely made it to Monday but thankfully they got back to me first thing in the morning informing me that to get in for IV therapy would take over a week and that I should go to the ER if I believed I needed it sooner. That was an understatement, so we immediately started packing, getting me ready for the ER.

Once we arrived we managed to get through triage pretty quick. I told them what was going on and the moment I noticed a brow begin to furrow I reached into my bag, producing the blood work results from two weeks prior. The moment they saw the numbers things got moving.

Going back through my medical records, I’ve noticed that I’ve never really been in the normal hemoglobin levels but I rarely was under 100 points. When they did my blood work in the ER I was sitting at a cool 40, a number they claimed they hadn’t seen in some time.

Hey, at least I’m shaking things up. Going on new adventures. Like how when they moved me to the trauma ward to give me my IV. Something that normally goes pretty smoothly for me. I have big juicy veins, although they do roll, but as long as I bring this up, it’s usually accounted for. Not this time. No.

First of all, this was the most painful of any IV I’ve ever had, and it started when they accidentally blew a vein in my forearm, causing blood to squirt all over my leg and the floor, they then moved to my hand to put two more in. The pain was almost more than I could take, I wasn’t ready for this when I came in but at least the job was done and they were placed. I thanked my nurse as I always do and I was moved to another section.

I was still pretty chill at this point even though things weren’t the best. I knew why I was there and what I wanted, but there was one thing I wasn’t ready for. A new nurse came in to tell me what was on the docket. I was lined up for a blood transfusion. Three bags worth, but I was going to be admitted and the procedure states that you need to be COVID swabbed. My heart dropped, my smile disappeared and my heart which had slowed a touch since arriving began to pump faster. I had never had a COVID swab. I’ve kept home away from everyone and everything and always wear my mask while I’m out.

Now my thoughts were racing due to the things I had heard or read about in the past regarding people's experiences swabbing. I was so thankful for the fact that I had a very kind and patient nurse who talked me through the entire thing and after everything I had gone through getting the IVs in my arm, it was a piece of cake. It didn’t feel great, that’s for sure. But it was nowhere near as bad as I thought and not even on the same level as what I had gone through with the IVs. Teaching me that my years of experiences have helped me to build a thicker skin. Something younger me wouldn’t have been able to comprehend.

The rest of the night was fairly uneventful. They gave me my first bag of blood, during which the ER doc came to talk to me. They basically wanted a GI doctor to go over everything with me, but they were good after I told them that my Crohn’s was doing pretty good and that I had all of that under control with my GI/GP and that it was my GI’s office that had instructed me to come in for the transfusion.

Shortly after my first bag of blood, I was moved into my own private room in another section of the ER where I received another two bags of blood. I’d end up spending another 8 hours through the night watching my tablet, unable to get any kind of sleep due to the warm temperature of the room. Once the morning shift nurse arrived, I was up, showing how much better I was feeling, ready to go home but it’d be another hour before they’d make it to my room.

Luckily the ER doctor fully agreed with my self-diagnosis, releasing me to be picked up and taken home. We made sure to hit up my favourite diner on the way home, filling me up with a good breakfast after a long night.

The moment I got home I called up my GI office requesting to get the new monocyte iron infusion I was promised the week before as well as to have them revert my standing order back to every month as I was not comfortable with it staying at every two. I was put on Entocort to try and heal some ulcers and it seems that for now it has mostly stopped the bleeding. I’m not entirely convinced that we’ve solved the problem, but for now we’ve put a very good bandaid on it.

Have you ever had serious issues with your hemoglobin before? How’d you and your medical team navigate it? Tell us in the comments below.

#bleeding #blood #health issues #crohn's awareness project #cap #cap funnies #funnies #web comic #original comic #laughter is the best medicine #outhouse cartoons #crohn's disease #IBD #inflamatory bowel disease

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whatdoesshedotothem · 3 years

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Wed[nesday] 8 May 1833

5 3/4

12 1/4

F[ahrenheit] 67° at 5 3/4 and ver[y] fine morn[in]g - ver[y] hot - at my desk at 7 - wr[ote] and finish[e]d

Let[ter] to M- [Mariana] - ver[y] near[l]y 3 p[ages] somehow did not write readily - kind let[ter] of condol[en]ce

writ[in]g on the melanch[ol]y subj[ec]t ‘I can scarce[l]y wr[ite] of an[y]th[in]g else - b[u]t you will be gl[a]d to

‘hear, I like the looks of Thom[a]s, and hope and th[in]k he is ver[y] like[l]y to be the sort of serv[an]t I want

‘one for wh[o]m I shall forev[e]r rem[em]b[e]r my obligat[io]n to you - I shall be anx[iou]s for you to

‘see Eugénie - She nev[e]r wore a cap in her life - I f[ou]nd it will n[o]t do to ta[ke] h[e]r to Langt[o]n

‘w[i]thout one - I am cert[ainl]y n[o]t disap[pointe]d in her so far - are n[o]t men eas[ie]r to manage th[a]n wom[e]n?

‘at all rates, I am forev[e]r oblig[e]d to you for all the troub[le] you ha[ve] tak[e]n for me - adieu -

‘God bless you, my d[eare]st Mary! Ev[e]r ver[y] espec[iall]y and ent[irel]y y[ou]rs AL- [Anne Lister]’ h[a]d Eugénie at 9 -

and young Parsons to cut and dress my h[ai]r - d[o]wnst[ai]rs at 11 - Mrs. Ch[arle]s Robins[o]n and lit[tle] Hugh h[a]d just call[e]d

for 10 min[ute]s - br[eak]f[a]st - wr[ote] 2 p[ages] and end to my a[un]t and th[e]n Steph. D[octo]r B- [Belcombe] call[e]d for

1/2 h[ou]r - th[in]ks he c[oul]d manage ab[ou]t Miss W- [Walker] - could have her at Thorparch very comforta

bly fortnight and then see how she was told him all about the business between π- [Mariana] and me

very good friends but our ever living together at an end explained feared there

might be some pique in her feeling at my three several and serious times preventing her

leaving δ- [Charles Lawton] and some fancies about my better circumstances and society? he seemed sur

prised and sorry but behaved remarkably well told him it was all her own doing and how much

I had g[r]ived over it but Charlotte Norcliffe had done me much good she and my aunt the only peop

le besides himself who knew of it said I should not have thought of this experiment

with Miss W- [Walker] had π- [Mariana] and I been as formerly but no pique certainly on my part but I was dull without

having some interest if Miss W- [Walker] married I would take care she did it nicely and her children

would interest mentioned π-‘s [Mariana] having asked me to live at Speake he asked if I

might not sell Shibden if factories increased No said I not for millions I have

much family pride and sense of duty to my uncle said I should [have] provided more than amply for

π- [Mariana] yes left her a life estate in all I had had she been settled with me but two days but now as I

could not name her in my will as I should have done formerly I should probably not do it at

all I said she had been more worldly than I ever was in my life and less constant too said I would

rather have Miss W- [Walker] than someone of higher rank and more worldly if I did not take her might

do worse he laughed and said you are an odd person too and took his leave th[e]n finish[e]d

the 3[r]d p[age] and wr[ote] one long and finish[e]d my let[ter] to my a[un]t - told h[e]r so th[a]t she, b[u]t nobod[y]else

w[oul]d und[er]st[a]nd, wh[a]t I h[a]d communicat[e]d to D[octo]r B- [Belcombe] on the subj[ec]t of M- [Mariana] b[u]t n[o]t a word of wh[a]t

pass[e]d ab[ou]t Miss W- [Walker] announc[e]d my agreeab[le] journ[e]y und[e]r 6 h[ou]rs - and ask[e]d for Simmens[o]ns

and col[ou]r of draw[in]g r[oo]m curt[ai]ns to s[e]nd to Kendell for the chiffonier - then wrote to Miss W- [Walker] copied

yesterday from my notebook and wr[ote] so far of today - ‘York. Wed[nesday] 8 May 1833. Th[an]k you ver[y]

‘m[u]ch for y[ou]r let[ter] w[hi]ch I can on[l]y regret w[a]s n[o]t writt[en] in bet[ter] sp[iri]ts - I ha[ve] th[ou]ght oft[e]n, and m[u]ch

‘and anx[iousl]y ab[ou]t you - you told me my last let[ter] w[a]s like a sunbeam - may th[i]s let[ter] be like

‘anoth[e]r sunbeam, and a bright[e]r! I determ[ine]d n[o]t to wr[ite] till I w[a]s off fr[om] Shibd[e]n, and am now writ[in]g

‘in the ver[y] r[oo]m where you and I were so comf[ortabl]y togeth[e]r in Oct[obe]r - If you c[oul]d recall th[a]t ti[me], w[oul]d you?

swore Doctor B- [Belcombe] to secrecy both about Miss W- [Walker] and π- [Mariana]

102

1833

May

‘Consid[e]r four-and-twenty h[ou]rs - judge for yours[self], if you can; if n[o]t, ask y[ou]r sist[e]rs’ adv[i]ce,

‘and ta[ke] it - I still th[in]k th[a]t health and happ[ine]ss are w[i]thin y[ou]r reach, and, as I trust, by mo[re] ways

‘th[a]n one - I ha[ve] seen m[u]ch of y[ou]r a[un]t; and we are s[u]ch good fr[ie]nds, I do n[o]t fancy h[e]r opin[ion]s w[oul]d oppose

‘my own - I go to Langt[o]n tomor[row] (direct to me at Mrs. Norcliffes’, Langton hall, n[ea]r Malt[o]n,

‘Yorksh[i]re) and intend stay[in]g a fortnight; aft[e]r th[a]t, I m[u]st ret[ur]n to Shibd[e]n for 2 or 3 days, and shall

‘th[e]n ma[ke] the best of my way to the cont[inen]t - b[u]t, in the meanti[me], you may accomod[ate] y[ou]r plans to

‘mine, or mine to yours, if you please - I told you at part[in]g, th[a]t I w[oul]d meet you

‘on y[ou]r ret[ur]n, if you wish[e]d it - If you ha[ve] energy en[ou]gh to determ[ine], I will ta[ke] you up

‘at y[ou]r sist[e]rs’ own door at Udale ; and, as, dur[in]g the pres[en]t build[in]g operat[io]ns, it is

‘imposs[ible] to accom[oda]te extra peop[le], I c[oul]d, or, rath[er] I mean we c[oul]d, sleep at Inverness - I

‘th[in]k you w[oul]d like Eugénie, and f[ou]nd my man-serv[an]t all we want[e]d - If you dare gi[ve] a

‘fair trail, I am sanguine as ev[e]r ab[ou]t y[ou]r entire recov[er]y - wr[ite] in ans[we]r wh[a]tev[e]r

‘you th[in]k best; b[u]t wr[ite] it soon - Rouse yours[elf] whi[le] there is yet ti[me] - rememb[e]r th[a]t the

‘sun is ris[in]g so[me]whi[le] bef[ore] we see h[i]m, and th[a]t when hum[a]n ills seem w[i]thout remedy,

‘it is n[o]t bec[ause] th[a]t remedy really fails to exist, b[u]t simp[l]y bec[ause] we kno[w] n[o]t how to f[i]nd it -

‘my k[i]nd reg[ar]ds to y[ou]r sist[e]r, and Capt[ai]n Suth[erlan]d; and, be y[ou]r ans[we]r to my let[ter] wh[a]t it may. bel[ieve]

‘me ev[e]r sincere[l]y interest[e]d in y[ou]r welfare, and ev[e]r faith[full]y and affect[ionatel]y y[ou]rs AL- [Anne Lister]

‘am I n[o]t to ha[ve] the kneecaps?’ at 3 55/.. s[e]nt off my let[ter]s to my a[un]t Shibd[e]n, and to M- [Mariana] Lawt[o]n

hall, Lawt[o]n, Cheshire’ and to ‘Miss Walker, at Capt[ai]n Sutherlands’ of Udale Fortrose Ross-shire’

out at 4 5/.. - took Eugénie and b[ou]ght slippers, and silk for dress at Hudsons’, etc and th[e]n took h[e]r to Mrs. Belcombe’s

for Mrs. Milne and Charlotte to see - 1/2 h[ou]r in the minst[e]r court - th[e]n across the wat[e]r to the Duffins’ - 3/4 h[ou]r

and d[i]d n[o]t vent[u]re to go and see her - call[e]d on Mrs. Anne and Miss Gage - at din[ner] so ca[me] away - din[ner] at the hot[e]l

at 6 1/4 in 1/2 h[ou]r - at the Belcombe’s at 7 20/.. to go w[i]th Mrs. Milne to the amateur concert - tremend[ousl]y hot -

Miss Belco[mbe] and Miss Greenup and Miss Bagshaw and Hamlyn and Ch[arle]s Milne of the p[ar]ty - Mrs. Milne and I left th[e]m and walk[e]d

1/2 h[ou]r tow[ar]ds Monk bar - tea and sp[en]t the ev[enin]g at Mrs. Belco[mbe]s’ and ho[me] at 11 10/.. -wr[ote] the last 9 lines ver[y] fine

day - ver[y] m[u]ch cool[e]r th[i]s ev[enin]g F[ahrenheit] 66 1/2° at 11 1/4 p.m.

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zumester · 3 years

Text

just got out of a 4 day stint in the hospital.

keep reading for a small rant about the experience. of course, if medical talk bothers you, skip this post.

in the early hours of the 8th, we woke up with acute stomach pain and were throwing up. we threw up until it was nothing but stomach acid, which was painful and tasted awful. eventually, we were just sitting at the toilet crying.

so we called 911 and went to the hospital and they found out that our large intestine was super duper inflamed, and the CT scan showed a pattern of inflamation that suggested we might have crohns.

previously, we'd been told we had some mysterious but undetermined GI problem, maybe IBS, maybe something else.

so they sent us to a hospital an hour away to be treated by a GI specialist and get a colonoscopy.

now, it turns out that one of our medications that we'd been instructed to take twice a day for stomach pain was actually worsening our already-present constipation problem. so (and I'll warn you, this is unpleasant) we had to go through twice as much prep to empty out our entire system and it took twice as long.

at one point they called us down for the colonoscopy but we said we didn't think we were cleared out yet. but they said it'd probably be fine. so they sent us down anyway. we were prepped. we were put under. and when we woke up, they told us the procedure had been aborted because I wasn't cleared out.

We were like!!!!! fucking! I could've predicted that!

should have told them no. and then the next day, the doctor was like "are you ready to get this done?" and we were like "yes we're certain now" and he was like "well you said that yesterday"

and Eli was like "I did not say that. I told the nurses on duty that I was not fully prepped and they elected to send me anyway. You were not there."

he didn't apologize but whatever. let us add that we hadnt eaten since coming to the ER on the 8th. we didn't leave the hospital until 6 pm on the 11th, which means we went we went on an empty stomach for I think 90 hours. we were so desperate for food by the time we left that we accidentally forgot our full! pill bottles at the hospital an hour away and now we gotta find a way back

.....sorry this was not a short rant

- MM

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chickensarentcheap · 4 years

Text

Sanctuary -Chapter 51

Warnings: none

Tagging: @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007, @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @thunderintheshadows, @valkyrie-of-the-light

“I do not need a goddamn wheelchair.” Esme grumbles, five hours later, as Kyle pushes her out of the front entrance of their local hospital. “I can walk on my own.”

“Well considering you fainted once at mom's, and twice while you were here, I think it's safe to say you shouldn't be walking anywhere on your own right now.”

“People faint,” she shrugs.

“Pregnant women shouldn't faint. And they especially shouldn't faint three times. You heard what the doctor said. You're severely dehydrated, your blood pressure is sky high, and when you fainted, you managed to hit your head, give yourself a concussion, and receive seven stitches for your trouble.”

She frowns at the last part; gingerly touching the bandage that covers the injury in question that runs down some of her forehead and into her right eyebrow.

“So now you have a prescription he wants you to get, and you've got this handy dandy portable IV...” he nods down at the small back like device resting in her lap, the needle of the IV having been inserted into the top of her left hand and secured with clear tape. “A nurse will come every day to check on it. To change the bag and see if the line is still good. Just be thankful that you get to go home. If I had my way, I would have had you admitted for a couple of days at least.”

“Well good thing firefighters have no pull when it comes to those things. Because I do not need to be in the hospital. All I need, is to be as far away from mom as possible. Can you believe the things she said? Who says shit like that? Who wishes death on their own son in law? Or basically suggests her married daughter gets an abortion because mommy dearest doesn't like said son in law?”

“Look, what mom said was completely out of line and I think she's a huge bitch for saying any of it. But stop thinking about it. Because what she said and how you reacted is how you ended up here in the first place. So let's not talk about mom at all, okay? I'll take you home and keep an eye on you. You'll be more comfortable there than at my place. In your own bed, surrounded by all your stuff.”

Nik had assured them that it would be perfectly safe to return to the house; she and the security team would be there around the clock, and they were more than capable of both spotting and diffusing threats.

“Not everything,” she sighs. “My kids aren't there. My husband isn't there.”

“Well, he will be, Because he's on his way back.”

“Wait...wait...” she clamps her hands down on the wheels of the chair, preventing them from turning. “...what do you mean he's on his way back? You called him? You actually called him? Why the hell would you do that?”

“I didn't call him. Nik did.”

“Why? She didn't need to do that. Why the hell...?”

“Oh I don't know why she would do that, Esme. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you're his wife and you're pregnant with his baby and you nearly just got admitted to the damn hospital!”

“I just fainted. When did it become such a serious issue for someone to faint? It's not life or death.”

“Okay, first of all, it's never normal for someone to just faint unless there's an underlying issue. Second, you're having a baby. So there isn't just a concern with your health, but with the baby's health too. You're not the type that gets sick easily and you don't normally have health problems. But, you have to admit, with the twins and Declan, there were problems. A lot of problems. Especially with the twins. So don't you think it's better to get you looked at and see if there's something else going on? With either of you?”

“It's just stress. The doctor asked if I've been under a lot of stress and I have. Huge stress. And then mom started with her shit and...”

“Listen, it's just better if things are taken seriously. They did some tests and some blood work and if anything is wrong, they'll let you know. Better to be safe than sorry, right?”

She nods.

“If nothing is wrong, then great. If something is wrong, then at least they found it and at least they can do something about it. Why do you have to be like this? So damn stubborn? Of all the things you had to inherit from dad, it had to be one of the worst possible things.”

“Well you inherited his looks so the joke's on you,” she teases.

“Are you trying to say I'm ugly?” he grins.

“I'm trying to say when you were born, mom said 'what a treasure' and dad said 'yeah, let's bury it'.”

Kyle chuckles. “I should dump you out of this wheelchair for saying that.”

“You'd never. You love me too much. Since we were kids and you used to beat up the bullies that used to teased me because I liked to climb trees and play with Transformers and GI Joe's instead of dolls.”

“I tell you, you could throw a left hook better than any of the guys I knew. They were just jealous. Because you were cooler than they were and I liked to hang out with you more than them. I'll stay with you okay? Keep an eye on you. Make sure you're eating and drinking and taking it easy. I already called my boss and he said to take a couple days and call him if I need more time. I'll hang around until Tyler gets here.”

“I still can't believe Nik called him,” Esme huffs. “This is the last thing he needs on his plate. He's already got enough stress with having to go New Zealand and find those kids. He doesn't need to be worrying about me too. You should have just left it alone and not told him.”

“Kid, he's your husband. There was never an option of not telling him. I think he cares more about you and this baby than he does about some fucking job. I get its kids that are involved. I get how bad that sucks and how horrible it is. I really do. But someone else can finish the job. He's not the only mercenary out there.”

“He feels he needs to finish it. That he started it and it's up to him to get them.”

“Well he's obviously changed his mind because he's on his way home.”

“For good?”

“I don't know. I didn't talk to him. Like I said, Nik called him. And apparently he flipped his shit and told her to get him on the first flight home and that's what she did. So despite what mom thinks about him, he obviously cares more about you and the baby than he does about the job. If he didn't, he wouldn't have insisted that he was coming home even after Nik assured him that things weren't that serious.”

“And you call me stubborn? Tyler is way worse than I am.”

“He's not stubborn. He loves you. There's never been a doubt of that, that's for sure. I mean, if he can put up with your shit for this long, he must love you.”

“Or he's just a glutton for punishment.”

“Hey, you said it, not me,” he pushes the wheelchair as close as he can to the front passenger side door of his truck, and then sits the brakes and squeezes between his vehicle and the one parked beside to open the door. “Hey!” he scolds, when she attempts to stand. “I don't think so, kid. Sit your ass down. You don't do anything unless I tell you to, understand?”

“As much as I'm sure Nik will find your assertiveness insanely hot, you're my brother and you don't get to boss me around.”

“The hell I don't. Sit.”

“Fine,” she huffs, and plops back down. “You know, you are more like dad than I realized. He was bossy too,”

“Are you like this at home?” Kyle inquires, as he pops open the door and then helps her out of the chair, hands under her arms for support. “Do you get like this when Tyler tries to help? You get all obstinate and bitchy with him too?”

“Yep. And then he gets mad and we fight and then we have angry sex and things go back to normal.”

“You know what, some things I do not need to know. And that's one of them. Can you get up in there or do you need me to put you over my shoulder and drop you in to your seat?”

“I'm not an invalid, thank you very much. I only fainted.”

“Three times. And stop lying to yourself that there's just that wrong, okay? There's something going on with either you or the baby and it needs to get sorted out. Just let people take care of you, okay? You've spent five and half years either taking care of Tyler or taking care of kids. It's your turn now.”

“Oh just what I want. Sitting on my ass while someone caters to every whim and need...wait a second...” she frowns and cocks her head to the side. “...that actually sounds kind of nice.”

“You deserve someone to wait on you hand and foot, kid. Like the princess you are.”

“Princess? I'm the motherfucking queen, K.”

He just shakes his head and shuts her door.

****

While it's good to be home, it feels strange at the same time. It's empty. Lonely. Way too quiet. Nothing more than furniture and other belongings in empty rooms. No kids running around; no shrieking, no squealing, no giggling, no near constant demands for snacks and juice. No dog barking or following her from room to room, desperate for the attention he isn't receiving (yet definitely is) from the others. No husband out working in the back yard or the garage. While all of their things are there...in the exact places they'd been left...the house and its surroundings seem foreign. As if it belongs to someone else.

“Nik said the guys checked the place,” Kyle says, as he steps out onto the back deck, carrying a bottle of beer for himself, a steaming mug of tea -decaf, as the ER doctor had suggested-, where she sits in one of the oversized Adriondack chairs, a flannel blanket pulled up to her chin, legs stretched out and feet on the wooden railing in front of her. “No sign of any trouble. Maybe those Irish guys already came to town and scared the bad guys away.”

“Or at least chased them somewhere else,” she says, and gives her brother an appreciative smile as he places her drink in the chair's cup holder.

“It's getting pretty late. You should be getting some rest.”

“It's nine thirty.”

“At night.”

“It's nine thirty,” she stresses. “I haven't gone to bed this early since before I had Millie. Before I got too huge and too uncomfortable and I couldn't sleep properly anyway. You're getting a little too naggy.”

“I'm not naggy,” he argues, as he takes a seat in the chair beside her. “I'm worried about my kid sister. And my niece or nephew. Maybe both. Maybe there's two in there again.”

“Oh God, bite your tongue. Do not wish that on me for a second time. I love my boys to the end of the earth and beyond, that was the most brutal seven and a half months of my entire life. I do not want to go through that again. I'd rather have another nine plus pounder than two at the same time. Besides...” she reaches under her blanket and pulls out the ultrasound photo she's been keeping safe in her possession. “...looks like there's one baby Rake.”

Kyle takes the picture from her, squinting his eyes in an attempt to make out any distinguishing features. “What the hell am I looking at?”

She leans sideways in her seat and begins pointing out various things that the tech had circled. Heart, spine, kidneys, both eyes, nose, and mouth. The radiologist on call had said that everything looked 'perfectly fine' and 'extremely healthy'. All parts existent and working properly, from what he could tell. “I'm a lot further than I thought,” she says to her brother. “I thought maybe two months. Three at the most.”

“And?” he asks.

“Three months, three weeks and two days.”

“Do you know the exact hours and minutes too?”

She rolls her eyes. “I don't know that's the exact time. That's what the tech said based on all the measurements and everything. That's almost four months, K. I don't understand how it can be that far ahead. Nearly four months and I never showed any signs whatsoever? I mean, I missed a period and a half of one but that's nothing. Things have always been screwed up in that respect. That's never been normal.”

“Okay, you're my sister and I do not need to know certain things. Your...cycle...or whatever...is not something I need to know. So it's a bad thing you're this far ahead, or...?”

“It's not that it's bad. It's just weird. Look, when you get married and your wife starts having babies, she will know everything that goes on in her body. And I mean everything. I thought I did know everything that my body is telling me. I mean, I've only been through this three other times, right? Oh no. This time is totally different. I thought I was just run down and stressed and worried and all that crap that comes with Tyler doing what he does. And you know what? He was the one the one who thought I was pregnant. Way before I did. You know what that means?”

Kyle frowns. “What?”

“It means he was right. And when I tell him just how far along I am and that he was right, he will hold that over my head for years. Decades. Because that's what Tyler does. Because Tyler isn't used to being right and when I have to admit he is, he makes my life hell. Well maybe not hell. But he makes it very annoying. And I am not in the mood for that kind of shit. I'm cranky and I'm hormonal and it pains me inside to know I have to admit he was right.”

Her brother laughs. “You two are perfect for each other, I swear. He practically says the same stuff about you.”

“Excuse me? He does what? Have you been talking about me?” she gives an excited gasp and sits up, then asks “ Do you have a bromance going on?”

“We talk,” Kyle admits.

“When?”

“When you don't realize it's happening. What? You need to know everything?”

“I think it's a big deal when my husband...the black sheep of this family, through no doing of his own...is having a bromance with my favourite brother. It makes my heart happy. What's wrong with that? And what do you guys talk about?”

He shrugs. “Guy stuff.”

She stares at him pointedly.

“What? Guy stuff. You know, going to the gym, cars, trucks, work shit, girl shit.”

“Girl shit? He's talking about girls with my brother?”

“He doesn't talk about girls. I talk about girls. He talks about you.”

“Oh really...” her eyes narrow. “...and what does he say? Don't hold back. You can tell me. Don't protect him.”

“Nothing bad, I swear. He has never once said anything bad about you. The total opposite, actually. Trust me when I say that after five and a half years, that guy is still wildly and crazily in love with you.”

She smiles and sips her tea. “He's lucky.”

“It's just random guy shit we talk about. I mean, every so often we'll talk about how big of a bitch mom is and how ridiculous the shit she says is. Sometimes we talk about sports. He really hates hockey by the way but I won't hold that against him. And every so often he'll talk about shit that's bothering him.”

“Really?” she's genuinely surprised. “He talks to you about that stuff?”

Kyle nods and sips his beer.

“What has he told you?”

“Esme, it's kind of personal, don't you think? If he's telling me and not you...”

“I'm not asking to be nosy and I don't expect you to betray his confidence. I'm asking because I'm worried about him. He's been having some really hard times, K. Mentally. And not just the depression and the anxiety. But with the PTSD and the brain fog and the memory issues. Have you noticed any of those things?”

“I've noticed a couple things, I guess. Nothing major. I just figured that whatever he'd been through had done a real number on him, you know? I mean, now that I know exactly what he went through, it's no wonder the guy has issues. That would fuck anyone up.”

“Has he told you about any issues? Anything specific?”

“Esme....”

“He's my husband. Kyle. And I'm worried about him. I don't know what to do for him. I don't know if he needs more therapy or if he needs different medication or if he needs both. I just want to help him.”

“I know. But right now, you're the one that needs help. I know you're used to being the mother hen and the one that babies everyone, but you've got your own shit going on, kid. You do not need to be stressing out over this. If you want me to, I can talk to him. See if he'll tell me anything else other than what he already has. But you can't be worried about this. Especially now. Not with your own stuff going on.”

“I fainted, K. That's it. I fainted.”

“There's way more than that going on and you know it. You need to take it easy and let people take care of you for a change. Stop trying to solve everyone's problems and just worry about yourself. That's why you're having issues in the first place. Because you stress yourself trying to fix everybody. Just...stop...” he reaches out and gently squeezes the back of her neck. “...stop trying to save everyone.”

“That is not what I'm trying to do. I'm worried about him, Kyle. Legitimately worried. He isn't himself and he...”

“You just said he was stressed and had a lot on his plate.”

“It goes way beyond that.”

“Is he drinking again? Back on the Oxy?”

“He was drinking but he says he's sober and staying sober. And no. He's not on Oxy again. He doesn't even like taking Tylenol. Which is a problem all in itself because he's in all this pain and he doesn't want to take anything for it.”

“And I said I would talk to him and see if he'll tell me anything else. Look, he's not coming home so you can take care of him. He's coming home to take care of you. Would you let him do that? You always have this need to take care of him, maybe he feels like he needs to do the same thing for you. So give him that, okay?”

“You promise you'll talk to him?”

“If you're that worried about him...”

“I am. And this isn't my usual worrying about stupid shit. This is serious. There is something going on up in his brain and I don't know how to help him. And I know he hates telling me things because he hates me worrying. So maybe he'll tell you instead.”

“I will talk to him,” Kyle promises her. “You've had a long day. Lots of time on a plane, the excitement at mom's, all the poking and prodding at the hospital. You need sleep. That baby's counting on you, kid. You're the only one that can keep him or her safe and sound in there. So go. Go inside and lie down and sleep. I'll be on the couch if you need me.” okay?”

“Where's Nik going to be?” she teases, as she pushes the blanket off of her and stands up, immediately feeling light headed and having to place a hand on her brother's shoulder to steady herself.

“I knew you should have been admitted,” he huffs.

“I'm fine. I just got up too quickly. Relax, dad. Jesus.”

“Don't get lippy with me. Because I will fireman carry you upstairs.”

“Is that how you're going to get Nik into bed? Seduce her with your fireman abilities?” she tousles his hair, presses a kiss to his cheek.

“How do you know she's not going to seduce me?” he counters.

“If you're going to have sex, I just ask that it's not in any of my children's beds. And stay out of Ovi's apartment. Go and do it somewhere else if you have to. I don't want to be hearing the two of you bumping uglies, okay?”

“It's only fair. I've had to hear you and Tyler before.”

“That's because Tyler was trying to teach you how to do things properly,” she teases.

“You're a smart ass, you know that.”

“I do,” she says, and then disappears into the house.

***

The traffic is terrible; hampered by a steady rain and strong winds. And he sits in the passenger seat as Yaz drives, elbow on the door, hand rubbing his chin and mouth repeatedly, both legs shaking nervously. The call from home has him on edge; brain running through all worst possible case scenarios, nerves completely shot, desperately yearning for something to take the edge of. To at least calm him enough to stop fearing the worst. The assurances from Nik that there wasn't something seriously wrong hadn't worked; she'd insisted that he didn't need to return home and that things were 'under control' and he needed to just stay where he was and concentrate on the job at hand. He'd snapped on her. Telling her to shove the job up her ass and get him a way home. Sooner. Not later. That she'd set this bullshit in motion the moment she decided that ratting him out was a good idea. Had she not done that, Esme would still be in Ireland. Not half way around the goddamn world, dealing with issues with the baby all by herself.

“You need to calm down,” Yaz says.

“You need to fuck off,” Tyler retorts.

Yaz sighs. “You won't miss the flight. The guy's waiting for you. So...”

“I fucking hate traffic.”

“Okay, I get that. But like I said, they're waiting for you...”

“I don't give a shit. I need to get home. But instead I'm stuck in this fucking bullshit,” he angrily gestures out the windshield.

“”You heard what Nik said. Everything is fine. They didn't even admit her. If there was something wrong, she would have been admitted. “

Tyler sighs, and closes his eyes; trying his best to block out his friend's voice. The last thing he fucking needs is someone trying to tell him just where his concerns should lie and where his priorities should be. There'd been no hesitation when Nik had called; he'd already been throwing clothes and other personal belongings into one of the suitcases before she even got to the part where things 'weren't that bad'. It didn't matter how goddamn bad things were; he was going home and no one was going to stop him.

“It isn't that bad,” Yaz says. “Can you stop shaking like that? It's annoying me.”

“Just fucking drive,” he responds, and shakes his legs even harder, just to be spiteful.

“Would you just calm down? What are you so freaked out about?”

“If you tell me to calm down one more time...”

“Being this worked up isn't solving anything. I'm getting you to the airport, they're not going to take off without you, Nik said that things are that bad and....”

“I don't give a fuck what Nik said. I need to get home. To my wife. I don't care if things are 'that bad' or not. She shouldn't be going through this alone.”

“Isn't her brother with her?”

“What the hell does that matter? I should be with her. And I would be if I never took this goddamn job. If that fucking asshole never showed up in Colorado.”

“Well technically, he's been after you since Guatemala, so...”

“Yaz, we don't need to get fucking technical. If we really want to get into it, none of this would be happening if your sister didnt' fuck up and hire Jason Andrews' brother. Which is who hired McMann to take me out. And if I really want to be a petty asshole, I'd say we also wouldn't be in this situation if your sister hadn't have ratted me out to my wife in the first place.”

“I get you're pissed about that, but...”

“I am more than pissed. I am so far past pissed. She should have just kept her fucking mouth shut. There was no reason she had to go to Esme. What good did it do?”

“Other than get you to knock your shit off and start getting your head on straight? She did the right thing, and if you'd calm down long enough, you'd realize that.”

“Stop fucking telling me to calm down!” he snaps. “I will knock you the fuck out, Yaz, I don't care if you're driving. I am on my last shred of sanity and my last nerve is hanging on by a thread. This all could have been avoided if your sister kept her mouth shut. If she'd minded her own business, Esme would still be here. With me. And that way if things went wrong with the baby, I'd be with her. Not thousands of miles away.”

“If you hadn't have decided to take matters into your own hands and drug and kidnap someone, it wouldn't be happening either.”

“Do I need to fucking remind you that you were on my side? That you agreed McMann deserved to suffer? That you agreed to help me? And then as soon as your sister showed up, you fucking bailed on me and threw me under the bus. That was a bitch move, Yaz. You fucking coward.”

“It was getting out of control. You were getting out of control. We've been friends a long time, Tyler. Even longer than you and Nik. I'm the one that got you into the job in the first place. And believe me, every day I want to kick myself in the ass for that. Because if I'd never done that, this wouldn't all be happening. And Dhaka never would have happened.”

“A lot of good things came out of Dhaka,” Tyler says, and can't even believe the words came out of his own mouth.

For years he's been dwelling on all of the bad things that happened in Bangladesh; Mahajan Senior screwing them over, G being killed, Gaspar betraying him, everything that took place on the Sultana Kamal Bridge, the fact that Esme had to see and hear the things she did. Even those long months in the hospital and the lingering, life altering after effects. Maybe it's the meds in his system; allowing him to think clearly and rationally instead of turning him into a zombie.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“My wife, for one. My kids. My chance at a normal life. Which I keep fucking up in the most epic ways possible.”

“It's hard. You've been doing the job for a long time. It's hard to just let it go,” Yaz reasons. “Even though you've got half a dozen reasons to walk away, you just can't. Somewhere along the long, the job stopped being something you do and you became the job.”

Tyler snorts. “Ain't that some shit.”

“You never meant for it to happen. It's not like you intentionally became that way. And it's not like you wanted to put it before your wife and your kids. You didn't even realize it was happening. It just did. No one is going to fault you for that, Tyler.”

“They don't need to. I already hate myself enough for it.”

“Esme doesn't. She's still around.”

“Until she's not one day. And I don't want that happening. I can't let that happen. You ask why I'm going home when things aren't that bad? Because that's where I fucking belong. It's where I've always belonged and I never let it happen. Home was never enough until I realized how close I was to losing it. So maybe you're not a coward, Yaz. But I am. I was a coward when I left when Austin was dying and I've been a coward for the last five and a half years.”

His head hurts. Even worse than his knee and his shoulder, for once. And he reaches into one of the pockets of his flack jacket and pulls out a bottle of prescription meds; twisting off the cap and dumping three small pills into his palm.

“Thought you took your meds today,” Yaz comments.

“You keeping tabs on me now?”

“Thought you were only supposed to take one Valium a day? What the fuck...?”

“It's ativan, dumb ass. For anxiety. I'm a little fucking anxious right now.”

“A little?”

“Don't make me hurt you, Yaz.”

He places the pills under his tongue, waiting for them to fully dissolve before reaching for a bottle of water sitting in one of the cup holders.

“Are you coming back?” Yaz asks.

“I don't know.”

“When will you know?”

“When I get home and see how bad things are. Can I get home first? Can I get to see my wife and talk to her before you start asking me these things? Fuck the job. She has to come first.”

“I get that. I do. But we're supposed to leave for New Zealand in two days.”

“So leave for New Zealand in two days. Mark and his boys will be with you. What? You need me there to hold your hand? You need me to spoon feed you and wipe your ass after you take a shit?”

Yaz smirks. “You can be a real dick.”

“If...and that's a big if right now...I come back, I'll meet up with you guys there. You don't need me there to gather up intel and find where the kids are. You just need me to get them out.”

“Exactly. We need you. You. Not some random fucking Marine that's never done shit like this before. And definitely not Mark. If anyone would fuck things right up, it's that guy. You're the one with the experience. We need you.”

“Nik can find someone else.”

“There is no one else. And you've been on this since day one. You know the history. I don't want some newbie just walking in and screwing things up. You're the only one that can do this. Properly. Don't fucking bail on me, Tyler.”

“It's what I do, Yaz. I bail on people. You don't realize that by now?”

“You didn't bail on Ovi,” he points out. “Even when you were told to.”

Tyler sighs.

“So? Are you?” Yaz presses. “Coming back?”

“I don't know,” he admits. “I honestly don't know.”

#tyler rake #tyler rake fan fic #tyler rake fan fiction #extraction #sanctuary #chris hemsworth character

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scowlowl · 4 years

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Hi c: I remember a post, I think it was from you, about long covid and getting it? Was that you? A friend of mine is struggling and I was wondering if you had any advice about what she can do :< Thank you!!

Oh no, I hope your friend feels better soon! That might have been me, I think I posted about it here a few times and there have definitely been twitter threads.

Standard disclaimer stuff: I am not a doctor. What I found helped me might not help someone else. Long covid is kind of fucked up to deal with because it seems to hit everyone in different ways, in different areas, and months later something that wasn't a problem before can suddenly become one. The long haul groups talk about it as something that feels like it moves around the body, like a total shit gremlin.

The thing that helped me the most initially was joining the facebook groups with other people figuring shit out. This was back April/May for me but they're still very active and full of people sharing resources.

Survivor Corps is I think the big one and they've been the ones reaching out to media and doctors to try to gain some recognition with the medical community initially (as far as I know, all kind of a blur tbh). There's also a long covid group here, and if your friend searches for like, long covid + the country they're in there are usually more local/regional ones for resources closer to home too.

Because we don't really know what specific mechanism is triggering a lot of the long covid stuff yet, most of us are just treating symptoms. Some people have been diagnosed with mast cell activation syndrome (MCAS) and I don't know diddly squat about that but it might be something for your friend to look into. My whole thing has been inflammation and my immune system basically attacking itself because immune systems are both very complex and compellingly fucking stupid. Not to victim blame the immune system or anything.

What helped me depended on what was going wrong at the time, obv, but it means it's a long list.

This is just going to be a brain dump, sorry.

- I never had pneumonia. Mine started in my throat, probably damaged my vocal chords, but never turned into pneumonia. I still had shortness of breath, pressure in my chest, and my oxygen levels dropped. I could breathe but with great difficulty and described it to the EMTs as "breathing is like work." It took all of my energy and focus to breathe in enough. If you are that this point, ever, like, literally fucking ever, call an ambulance.

- Tylenol for a fever.

- Blood thinners if necessary, I never had any but we know now that a lot of problems are blood clot-related. Tbqh my blood is more thin now than anything but I always had anemia and some sort of “your blood is too small actually?” problem and we don’t know why. I just bleed a lot and bruise easier now.

- If they try to tell you it's anxiety or in your head or you're not that bed, tell them to go fuck themselves and go to the hospital. Get tested if you can. A lot of the problems long haulers ran into was that we got sick before tests were available, or we were talked into staying home by the emergency workers, and we never got tested. This opens the doors for doctors to tell you it's all in your head, psychological, anxiety, allergies, etc. Just. Go when you first feel sick if at all possible. Get tested before it turns into long covid.

- I was not sure in the beginning what "shortness of breath" or "pressure" actually felt like, and it made me delay calling for an ambulance for a few days as well. For me, it felt like there was an elastic band of pressure around my lungs. I couldn't fully inhale. My diaphragm was fucked in ways I still don't understand. My lungs also felt heavy, like there was a weight on them or like my lungs themselves were too stiff to inhale. That all counts as pressure/tightness/shortness of breath. So does air hunger, or feeling like you want to be swallowing air.

- I know I'm being super obvious but seriously shortly before I got sicker, I hit up twitter to ask what "pressure" was supposed to feel like because I couldn't tell if what I had "counted."

- Breathing: lying on my stomach with my chest propped up by pillow, in bed helped. So did pursed lip breathing: here.

- I was prescribed salbutamol initially, which did help with the worst of the wheezing and opened up some of my lungs so I could breathe easier. When I went to the ER again a couple months later, they gave me like 5x the usual dose and sent me home.

- I'm also taking Flovent/fluticasone twice a day for asthma maintenance.

- Histamines are a problem for a lot of people. Some develop a histamine intolerance, which can be helped by eating a low histamine diet.

- Antihistamines helped me the most. I was taking Allegra-D daily. Pepcid AC also helps, because it targets a different kind of histamine. There was such a run on Pepcid when this started that it was actually impossible to find in my area and I had to order some online.

- I was recently prescribed Singulair and it has been life-changing this past week or so. As far as I know it's not really an antihistamine but blocks/inhibits a particular receptor involved in inflammation that comes into play when allergies do.

- Electrolytes. I don't know why, but my electrolytes are permanently fucked and too low now. If I don't go through like a litre of gatorade a day (or whatever, pick your brand of supplements), I am even more tired and brain foggy than usual. Helps a lot.

- Inflammation is a major problem all around. Sometimes I go for the naproxen or advil and it will help any really major acute flare-up now (like, I can feel when my gallbladder is getting inflamed and about to spasm and I can cut it off sort of), but mostly it's also daily maintenance. I take cucurmin and black pepper daily.

- Other supplements: vitamins A & D, a multivitamin, NAC.

- CBD oil. This worked wonders for me for a lot of the side-effects of covid, costochondritis and shingles pain especially.

- Diet. I mentioned the low histamine one above. Other people have had some success with a low inflammation diet. Some folks also have so many GI problems that they basically ate chicken and rice and slowly reintroduced foods to see what would trigger something. I appear to get super fucked by nightshades now, e.g. Alcohol is an absolute no. I had to cut caffeine for months because of my heart. (No caffeine/alcohol/red meat was my doctor's first and best advice for heart stuff at the time.)

- Speaking of the heart stuff, if your friend is dealing with that: electrolytes again. I have pedialyte freezies that I would suck on whenever heart palpitations started and it helped calm it down some. My heart was so, so fucked for months that whenever I ate or stood up or sat down it would hit like 140bpm and I had to spend an hour moving as little as possible or I'd just about pass out. There are a LOT of long-haulers now dealing with POTS and I can't really speak to what helps that in particular but if your heart is messing up at all: call a doctor. I still don't know how damaged my heart is from all of this because doctors and wait lists, etc. Get a jump on that.

- Insomnia was absolutely the worst I’ve ever had and I’ve had lifelong, “I’m awake for three days wee” insomnia. The Singulair knocks me right out at night, so that's a bonus, but there has not been a single night since getting sick where I didn't have to take something to help me sleep. I was on Zopiclone before getting sick, at least, but seriously talk to someone about insomnia if necessary. The sleep deprivation alone was making so many things worse.

- Brain fog? Brain fog. I don't have any or many answers for this. My short-term memory is wrecked and usually I'll remember something 2 weeks later, so I live my life on a 2-week lag now.

- Related to brain fog, fatigue. Don't fuck with it. Do not. Chronic Fatigue and Myalgic encephalomyelitis are both brought up often with long covid. I am dealing with it but don't know what to say about it yet because I haven't had a single doctor give a shit thus far. I've spoken to a relative who's an occupational therapist about it and her most helpful advice was about "energy envelopes," which is basically spoon theory. If you feel tired: stop. If you don't, or if you try to push through, we relapse hard and fast and you can pay for one day of walking 10 minutes too long with weeks of being stuck in bed. It's miserable. It will take longer to get back to normal. Some of us can exercise and feel amazing after; others are exercise intolerant and it wrecks them. (I feel best after like, 10 minutes of walking and sunshine right now, which is after months and months of being bedridden.)

- Treat mental exertion the same as physical. Doctors told me to drink Gatorade after mental work because it's still work, and it has helped a lot for whatever reason. It also helps to work on one thing at a time, take a break, switch gears, take a break, etc. I can't multitask anymore anyway.

- Eliminate whatever stressors you can. Stress will make everything worse.

- It comes and goes. Every relapse was a bit shorter and a bit easier for me, so that now when I fuck up it's like 2-3 days instead of weeks, but it's a rollercoaster.

- It can be random as hell. For about two months my gallbladder just decided to up and die, basically, and we were talking about having it removed. And then it was fine. Hasn't bugged me again lately. I know I said it's symptom management, but it's also like... symptom chasing and trying to figure out what's happening every time the sun rises. This is also exhausting. Everything is exhausting.

- Brain shit. Some of us have serious trouble reading. Sentences swim together. Letters wouldn't turn into words. I took this as a Challenge and started reading children's books and then Animorphs again, like... slowly, as much as I could do without pushing it, and it's still not perfect or great but it was an okay place to start. Honestly the hardest part was the embarrassment and going from a PhD program to reading kids books, but. Do what you have to. Do what you can.

- Sticky notes and labelling things around the house so I could see them when I needed them. I am not fucking around when I say brain fog. I can open the fridge, know I have milk, know it is in the door, and literally not see it to find it. I will put the cream in the dishwasher. I will spin in circles in the kitchen remembering and forgetting and remembering why I’m there again. Sticky notes. Also: journals, index cards, write literally everything down if you need to remember something. Put it somewhere obvious. I like writing on the bathroom mirror for the important shit. (Don’t use lipstick.)

- Unsurprisingly, a lot of us are struggling with anxiety and depression. Don't let doctors get it backward: it's not anxiety making us sick, it's being sick and ignored and fighting to be helped that's making our mental health worse. So many doctors tell us it's all in our head. I did not move across the country because I was too sick to take care of myself because of ~allergies~ or ~anxiety.~ Fuck off.

- So, so many people report that they relapse whenever they menstruate so if your friend is in that group, they might want to prepare to feel like fucking trash every 4 weeks no matter what they do. I don’t have any advice on this one, I’m sorry. There are a lot of people discussing it in the FB groups, though, and those are searchable for symptoms.

- So... a tl;dr list of things that might help: anti-inflammatory diets, anti-histamine diets, pepcid AC, allegra or other allergy meds, vitamin A/D/E, multivitamins, electrolytes and gatorade, albuterol, fluticasone, zopiclone (or anything that helps with sleep), CBD oil, singulair, anti-nausea meds (buscopan), muscle relaxants (spasming gallbladder). Rest, so much rest, do not fuck with The Rest if you can help it. I also encourage just getting high and edibles as much as you can because it sure helped me chill out big time and I think was a big factor in my recovery, at least as far as helping me calm down and helping my heart were concerned.

- The actual most helpful part outside of what to take or do was other people. Friends would go out and get me things when I could not, including like, cat food deliveries and all. I had co-workers ready to step in to take over my work on days I could not. I had friends calling doctors because I was too tired to fight them or self-advocate. I don't think it's an exaggeration to say they helped save my idiot life this year. Literally. It's a lot to ask of anyone but it's also that level of support that some of us need, and there shouldn't be any shame in it. (I still feel bad about it anyway but what are you gonna do.)

Depending on where you live, some places are setting up long-haul covid clinics to help people. Reports are mixed: some demand you had a positive test even if you were sick before tests were available. Some people are getting a lot of help regardless. Some are being sent home and told not to come back anyway. It’s kind of a gamble right now but either way, there’s at least some medical recognition making headway now so my fingers are crossed.

Anyway you basically sound like a good bean and your friend is lucky to have you asking around. I have absolutely forgotten something at some point in here because, well, brain fog and no memory, but if you have any questions or want something clarified please just ask. Stay safe!

#replies #covid-19 #long-haul covid #long post #looooooooong

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exeggcute · 4 years

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glad to know you are mostly recovered from covid! if i may ask, could you describe how where your symptoms or at what pace you got them? the information i've got from both medical / govermental sources in my country is contradictory at times. also, what would you recommend drinking if i found myself to be with covid?

first off: WATER!!! drink water!!! I mean you can probably drink whatever as long as it’s moderately healthy and you’re staying hydrated (my drink of choice while sick is red gatorade. it has to be red or it doesn’t work though) but water is always a safe bet

also I’m happy to share my experience, just know that (1) I am not a doctor, just a professional Sick Person and (2) I never officially got tested thanks to a shortage of coronavirus tests in my area, but I’m pretty damn sure my symptoms were aligned with covid-19, so take that as you will

the first thing I noticed was a sore throat... but I have sore throats allll the time because of my other health issues, so I didn’t think much of it. I did start to notice my sore throat was getting better (from a previous mystery illness that knocked me out for a few days, and which I initially thought was strep but was probably just a bad cold) before suddenly getting bad again. I also had a day where my sore throat was especially pronounced and I had that Really Tired Feeling you get when you’re sick. I guess we can call that day one, but at this point I definitely didn’t think I had corona

that night I noticed some chest tightness, which I initially wrote off as an anxiety attack (and considering my extremely anxious personality and the fact that we were battening down the hatches for a pandemic, that seemed like a fair assumption) but using my inhaler didn’t help--in fact, it made the pain worse! but it did pass eventually, more or less, and I forgot about it

(side note here that if you think you have corona, do NOT use your albuterol inhaler or any kind of steroid inhaler unless you’re having a legit asthma attack with wheezing and all the works. using your inhaler can make the corona symptoms worse, but obviously if you need to use it then it’s important to keep using it. consult your doctor. also another similar note: if you think you have it, stay away from most NSAIDs if you can, as those can also make things worse. tylenol is okay though as long as you’re careful about the dosage--not as a corona thing, you just always need to be careful with tylenol dosage. and it’ll help keep your fever down, which is important!)

then over the next day or two I noticed the chest pain flare-ups but wrote those off as well. they were short-lived and mainly seemed to happen at night, but the inhaler always made them worse. around this time I also started experiencing some general GI upset for a few days (not to get too into that...), but I have a very touchy digestive track and was taking antibiotics at the same for other unrelated reasons, so I was like “well it’s probably nothing” but was starting to get worried.

then about five days later, the chest tightness really made itself present. like, it lasted all day and was constant. I was concerned but not immediately freaking out, and it was really windy that day so I kind of chalked it up to allergies, but as a very allergic person I’ve never had chest tightness like that from allergies (and my other allergic symptoms have improved considerably since I started allergy shots, so it would be weird to have a new symptom crop up out of nowhere like that).

then the next day, and the next day, the tightness wasn’t going away. this was clearly not allergies. I started to seriously think about corona tests, and I even called my primary care doctor, but she was extremely dismissive (all she did was call in a prescription for an old allergy drug that never even worked for me in the first place) and it was downright impossible to get tested. I was freaked out, but not entirely sure.

it’s about day seven at this point, and the chest tightness is in full swing. when I first wake up, the pain isn’t really present, but after about an hour of wakefulness my chest starts to get tight, congested, and kind of has that rattle-y feeling when it’s full of mucus and crap from the postnasal drip. not much congestion otherwise, but I’m so hopped up on antihistamines at all times that I don’t really get congested in general. the best way I can describe the chest tightness is that it feels like when I exert myself and my asthma makes my chest seize up and it’s hard to catch my breath (aka every single PE class I was ever forced to take as a kid), but my inhaler doesn’t do shit. my throat is still hurting pretty bad too and I feel vaguely fevery, but I don’t have a working thermometer at home. overall I just feel shitty, like that feeling you have when you know you’re sick (and I get sick a lot so I’m pretty well-versed in that lol). for quarantine purposes, this is the day I’ve been counting as the “first day” of having obvious corona symptoms, but it was really predated by the things I described above.

several days pass like this, I keep trying to get tested and call all sorts of places but it’s all dead ends. I also develop a slight cough, which mostly comes in bursts or when I speak/eat. by day twelve I manage to get a primary care appointment, and they do an EKG to make sure it’s not cardiac pain (the EKG came back fine) and a throat swab to see if it’s something bacterial (it’s not). they do confirm I’m running a slight fever, although my body temperature is usually so low that even a fever of 99 is high for me. my primary care doc basically tells me to fuck off and stay home, which I was already planning on doing. she also didn’t even wear a mask or gloves to look into my throat, despite the fact that all the other nurses in the practice were wearing masks and gloves when they interacted with patients... so I’m not exactly full of confidence in her judgement here.

the night of day thirteen, the day after seeing my doctor, I have a night where I can’t sleep because my airway feels restricted (both in my chest and my actual throat being swollen from pain). I used my inhaler, like a fool, and when the inhaler didn’t help the first time I tried using it two more times. big mistake! I ended up lying awake gasping for air, taking huge gulps just to feel like I was getting the teeniest bit of oxygen, and feeling stabbing pain when I took these deep breaths. I was too afraid to sleep and almost made my girlfriend drive me to the ER but I hate going to the ER so instead I just tried to calm down until I got exhausted enough to fall asleep around dawn. I also kept alternating between sweating buckets and shivering to death, no matter how I kept adjusting the temperature and my blankets, so I assume I was having a crazy fever that night.

the next day, roughly day fourteen, I decided to suck it up and go to the ER to get a chest x-ray. they said my x-ray looked fine, which was encouraging (hopefully no permanent lung damage there), and they took a flu swab and a strep swab just to rule those out (both negative, of course). at least two other people were there with me in the ER complaining of similar symptoms, but they didn’t have any tests for us so the doctor just told me to go home, act as if I had it, and keep taking tylenol and drinking water. this doctor is also the one who told me to stop using my inhaler--and the fact that my inhaler kept making the pain worse is one of the things that really tips me off here that I probably had it.

things are pretty much uneventful for the next week: still having a tight chest, a fever that seems to come and go, sore throat, cough. no more crazy attacks like that one night.

by day nineteen (yesterday) I start to notice a bit of improvement in my chest pain. it’s not gone, but it’s not as bad and I’ll have slight reprieves from the tightness. today is day twenty (more or less, my numbers are a little rough here) and I actually felt okay most of the day. by the evening the tightness returned and I’m still coughing every now and then, but far less often. I think the fever is gone and my throat doesn’t hurt too bad, either! I’m well past the point of being contagious, so I actually went to the grocery store today and got a few things. I’m not totally out of the woods yet, but I think (knock on fucking wood) the worst has passed.

anyway, I hope my anecdote is helpful for you, and I hope you stay safe and healthy!

#long post #Anonymous

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newhologram · 3 years

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Now that I’m home, I expect Keith will be back to say that I only pretended to be sick for the dRuGs. Random hospital stuff:

(tw for suicide attempt mention a bit below)

This was my first time being admitted, surprisingly. I’ve never been hospitalized like this, only had short ER stays. I realized that it was the longest I’d stayed at a hospital since I was born and had to stay in the incubator. I took a walk with my IV and wondered what the halls of the hospital looked like in the late 80′s.

Two weeks ago during my first visit, the poor receptionist had to ask so many people to put their mask on. They’d just march right into a hospital with nothing covering their faces?? One of them put a mask on (wrong) and then sat to charge his phone and grumbled to the person next to him about “oOOooo we’re supposed to believe this place was just FILLED with dead bodies a few weeks ago” wat

These past two times the ER had some splashes of chaos that I had not experienced before. It’s usually quiet every time I go. The first time there was a teenage girl in so much pain and then having a screaming panic attack. I felt so bad for her. Eventually both of us were in wheelchairs in the lobby awkwardly facing each other. We were both so tired and slumped in our seats.

(TW suicide attempt) A while later two people brought their friend in. They couldn’t stay because of the patients-only rule for covid, but they were very thorough and provided pictures of bottles for the staff. This young man ended up in the same room as me and so I heard them pump his stomach. Sounded absolutely miserable. I hope he’s okay.

A guy was wheeled in at like 6am with a broken ankle from a skateboarding accident. I heard them behind the curtain getting him to sign a form so they could knock him out and pop the bone back in aaaaaaaaaaaa

The man next to me was admitted for hearing voices. He sounded very distressed and they brought in a remote robot-doctor to talk to him. They could barely get him to focus enough to talk about medication.

I was running to the toilet so much during the colitis attack the first visit so I had to unplug the IV/monitors constantly. The nurse said she could bring me a thing to go in (not the sample hat) but I was so worried I would make a mess or something. I’m sure they deal with that kind of stuff all the time but I didn’t want it to be me T_T

All of my nurses were awesome but especially the first and last ones. The first one very cheerfully got the blood thinner belly-shot ready for me. I was nervous because my belly is so sore already obviously but I asked, “this can’t be worse than a butt shot, can it?” and it wasn’t. But she was still apologetic and asked if I was still her best friend when she injected me. xD

This same nurse helped me with the enema before the scopes. It says a lot about how desensitized I am to having to constantly deal with butt stuff that we were able to do my enema, painful and bloody and all, while having the nicest conversations. She trusted me enough to ask about certain things like gender identity and vocabulary around queer stuff. It’s so nice to talk with adults who are accepting and supportive. She told me that she believes in things being meant to be and she expressed that she was happy that she was meant to be my nurse. BAW

I was having a hard time waiting in the GI lab for my scope. I was just feeling awful, physically and emotionally. But the team that did my scopes was awesome and instantly cheered me up. The doctor was like, “so I hear you’re a gamer?” and I was surprised he knew (learned from the nurse lol). He asked what my fav game is and he told me excitedly his was Pong. The anesthesiologist was getting ready to knock me out and she said regarding my pick, “aww, I never got to play that one, but I played 1-3!”

She also asked about my cervical spine issues since it was on my file and so she made sure that they were really gentle with my neck for the upper scope. I appreciated it so much, the last thing I needed was a neck flare up on top of this. They put my mouth guard in and she began zonking me. I said “byeeee... seeee yaaaa” and next thing I knew I was concerned about Anna Nicole Smith in the recovery room.

As usual I was incredibly raw and sore after all the biopsies. The swelling and abdominal pain persisted and so I was calling the night nurse a lot. Eventually he stopped waiting for me to ping him and just came in every 4 hours to give me more morphine which only seemed to give me like 20 mins of relief each time. It was a really rough night and I didn’t sleep much at all. Lots of night sweats and waking up gasping, which is a problem for me anyway, but I had hoped the drugs would help. I think the stress was just overwhelming.

Eventually I asked if they had toothbrushes because I felt nasty and I joked that I hadn’t even thought to bring my 12-step skincare regimen. The night nurse laughed and said “ohh, that’s why your skin is so nice, we were wondering about it. What brands do you use?” and so we had a nice chat about skincare which is always welcome :D

My last nurse was really spunky and fun. She kept my spirits high and even went out of her way to find me a heating pad which finally allowed me to get a much needed nap in.

Overall, unpleasant because hospital stay, but all of these good people really made a big difference. I felt heard and cared for.

#teku #personal #long post

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maren-as-an-adult · 4 years

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The 2020 Experience, Part 2

When I flew back to New York a few days later (yes, I braved the airports and a plane) I could not stop crying. What should have been a loving and heartfelt reunion between myself and Graham turned into an awkward situation for him, with me bent double in the front seat of his car sobbing inconsolably.

And suddenly I had to adjust back to life more or less on my own. I couldn’t have friends come over, my family who lived in NYC were too far for me to get to them without public transit, and Graham’s mother was immunocompromised so we couldn’t spend much time together. I was back to sitting at my computer, taking online surveys for the promise of money and sending out application after application. Jena and Julia, my other two roommates, were still not back, so it was just me and Polina.

Things started to get a little better though. I had applied for Medicaid so I had some health coverage again. I scheduled an appointment with my new doctor, I started talking to a therapist again in August, and I stopped budgeting for birth control and got it for free. The after school program was up and running again, this time remotely (only one of my schools was able to host their program though, so my work hours were still cut). I looked forward to every other weekend, where Graham would drive out and pick me up to spend a few nights at his place. Jena came back and announced she was moving out, and our new roommate Michelle moved in. Michelle and I had a lot in common, and I found it easy to talk to and connect with her.

I even got out to see my family. I braved the subway to see my family up in Astoria, and Polina told me about the ferries I could take that brought me to my family on the Upper East Side.

One day in late September, however, I woke up with abdominal pain. It was pretty mild at first, but it kept getting worse. As someone who has periods, I assumed it was just week-early cramps brought on by stress combined with a poor diet that didn’t include much fiber. I tried to assuage the feeling by eating an apple, but after a quick trip to the bathroom it made a reappearance coming back up the way it went down. I decided to do what most people do (and what doctors hate) and look up my symptoms online to try and self-diagnose. The two big contenders for what I was suffering from were IBS or an ulcer. I texted Graham and told him what was up, and he asked what I was going to do. My current plan was to try and wait it out, and if things still felt bad in the morning, I would go to the ER.

If it wasn’t for Graham’s suggestion that I go to an urgent care center (which I had completely forgot existed at this point in time) I may have died.

At 7:12pm I grabbed my bag and walked three blocks to the urgent care center closest to my apartment. Unfortunately, they were no longer taking walk-ins for the day, but told me that another urgent care center was open until 8 and would take walk-ins.

It was 17 blocks away.

I walked 17 blocks with severe abdominal pain to this urgent care center just to be seen and tell a health professional I wasn’t feeling well. I knew there wouldn’t be much they could do, but maybe they could give me a better idea of what was wrong with me. I called Graham and gave him the address of the urgent care center, asking that he come out to be with me. Whatever was happening to me, I did not want to go through it alone.

I made it to the urgent care center fifteen minutes before they closed. I was taken to an observation room where a brusque young Russian woman took down my vitals and information as we waited for the RN to come see me. When he finally did come in and I started telling him what was wrong, I barely finished explaining what happened after I ate and failed to keep down the apple that he interrupted me saying, “You need to go to the ER immediately, because what you described sounds like you have a GI bleed. You’ll need an endoscopy, where they take a camera on a long, thin tube and feed it down in through your stomach and into your intestines to see if you’re bleeding internally.”

It was getting late, I was alone, and I was TERRIFIED.

I was told where the nearest ERs were, was given a printed referral, and then dismissed for the evening. All I could do was wait for Graham and tell him what was going on... and then call my mother and tell her.

I love my mom. I’ll likely never not love my mom for the rest of my life. But sometimes she takes a bad situation and makes me feel even worse. When I told her I had called Graham to come get me, she pointedly asked why I didn’t call any of my family who lived closer than Graham. Well, of my family who live in the greater metropolitan area of New York City, we have:

- My Aunt Barbara and Uncle Danny, currently NOT in NYC and instead staying out in Milford, PA

- My Uncle Brian, Aunt Corinne, and cousin Nikki up in Astoria. My aunt cannot drive and gets panicked easily, my cousin only has her learner’s permit, and my uncle (though I love him) would not be the most comforting presence to me at the moment, being VERY pro-Trump Republican and a FIRM anti-masker

- My Uncle Mike, Aunt Gloria, and cousins Maura (and her husband Andrew), Brendan, and Kevin. Maura, at this point in time, was nine months pregnant and due to give birth any minute, and I was not going to be responsible for pulling my aunt or uncle away from the birth of their first grandchild

With this information presented to my mother, she did concede that calling Graham had not been a terrible idea. Continuing to fret, however, she said I should at least have called them to let them know what was happening. She took it upon herself to do that, and additionally call my father and tell him (dad was on the road at that point and so missed my initial call of “Hey, jsyk, I’m going to the ER, wish me luck!”). Graham pulled up, I ended my mom’s call telling her I’d keep her posted, and headed off to the unknown.

As we were driving to the closest ER, my dad called. Thankfully, he gave advice that calmed me down. He listened to my symptoms, told me it was likely an ulcer, and told me what would happen when I went in: I’d be admitted to the ER, they’d take my vitals, I’d explain my symptoms over and over and over to multiple people, they’d probably admit me overnight, knock me out and do an endoscopy, and in the morning I’d be sent home with a prescription to help with the ulcer. I felt better.

Graham and I made it to the ER at about 8:45pm. I was admitted immediately, my vitals were taken, I was given a cup to pee in, an IV was placed in my arm, my blood was taken, and I told my story to two different doctors and a few different nurses. I went in for an ultrasound to rule out pregnancy, endometriosis, and ovarian cysts. I waited, with Graham by my side.

The doctor came back at about 11:30pm and told me my urinalysis and ultrasound came back unremarkable, but my bloodwork showed a high white blood cell count, which meant my body was fighting off an infection somewhere. This is absolutely something I did and did not want to hear in the middle of a global pandemic. On the one hand, go immune system! Keep me safe, you beautiful, hard-working bitch! On the other hand, what was it my body was fighting off?

The doctor said if I wanted to leave at that point, I could, because nothing obvious was found. “But,” she said, “I would strongly recommend we do a CT scan just to be safe.”

It was late, both Graham and I were tired, and my abdominal pain wasn’t awful to the point where I was bent double anymore. I could stand and walk around with only a slight discomfort. The thought of getting out of the ER, a frankly dangerous place to be in these COVID times, was deliciously appealing.

“What the hell, lets do the CT scan.”

I was given almost two liters of fluid to drink to prep for the scan. It didn’t taste bad, actually, kind of like a flat lemon La Croix that had been left in its aluminum can too long. At 12:30am I went in for the scan. Two hours later, Graham and I were still waiting for the results. At around 2:30am Graham turned to me and said, “Honestly, I’m ready to go. I won’t leave you here alone, but I’m exhausted and ready to get out of here.” I responded, “Honestly, I am too.”

At that moment, a doctor walked around the corner into our area and said, in a too cheery voice, “Hi there! You have appendicitis.”

I swear in that moment I could feel the cosmic force of the universe tremble with suppressed laughter at this finely crafted moment of ironic timing. My only response to the doctor and Graham was, “Well... I guess I’m staying here for the night?” Remember when I thought it was IBS? Couldn’t we go back to that?

I’ve mentioned before the idea of surgery scares me. I’d hoped I’d only have to experience anesthesia from getting my wisdom teeth removed. I fully expected to break down in hysterics then, but I guess I was just too tired and overwhelmed to react in such a big way. I called my mom and told her what was happening, and the first suggestion she made was for me to come home and heal in Chicago.

...mom, I love you, but getting on a plane immediately after major surgery in the MIDDLE OF A GLOBAL PANDEMIC FROM AN AIRBORNE VIRUS is frankly the DUMBEST IDEA EVER.

After realizing that would be a bad move, she suggested she come out to be with me while I heal. While an appealing process, it ultimately wouldn’t be of much use, because she’d have to quarantine for two weeks before seeing anyone at that point. Eventually, she offered to book a hotel room for me and Graham for a long, extended weekend to help me recover. It was extremely generous of her, and I’ll forever be grateful she did it.

I was hooked up to antibiotics to prep for surgery, and the attending surgeon explained the procedure to me. Everyone was so calm and sure of themselves that I felt okay, and the inevitable wave of panic was held off. At 4:30am, I was wheeled up to the operating room. Graham stayed by my side as long as he could and walked all the way to the doors of the OR hallway with me and the attending. I made sure he and my mom had each others’ phone numbers so he could give updates. I was wheeled through the doors, and met with my operating team.

The anesthesiologist and practicing surgeon assured me that they felt fine, well-rested, and at the top of their game, and I was able to relax some as I moved off of my gurney onto the operating table. Once I was on the table, clad only in a thin hospital gown and gripper socks, my body started to shake. Whether it was from the cold or the panic had finally set in I wasn’t sure, but I calmly told the doctors that I thought my fight or flight response was kicking in, and they might need to consider restraining my shaking limbs.

They did, and they also put a heated (and somewhat weighted) blanket over me which relaxed me so my limbs weren’t shaking so violently. An oxygen mask was placed on my face, sealing my nose and mouth into a thick plastic chamber. I tried to breathe deeply and evenly, forcing myself to think of pleasant thoughts and not spiral into a headspace of worst case scenarios. I think what helped most was actually an attending nurse reading out loud my patient chart for posterity and recording’s sake, and he said, “Patient is a twenty-seven year old female named Maureen Ford.”

The annoyance I felt at being misnamed (again as Maureen) cut through the second wave of panic buildup, and my only goal was to correct him. The oxygen mask muffled my voice, but I like to think if you were to listen to the audio recording of my surgery, you would hear, very faintly in the background, me indignantly stating, “It’s pronounced MAREN!”

My last thought before I went under was that I need to make sure that nurse was corrected.

When I woke up, I felt more comfortable than I had in a very long time. The only thing that kept me from being in a total state of comfortable bliss was the slowly incoming knowledge that my mouth was drier than the Sahara desert at noon in July. Despite this, and the residual effects of the anesthesia still in effect, I was pleased to find that not only could I clearly hear and understand the conversations happening around me, I could also coherently speak and communicate with people. I asked for water as soon as I could, and the nurse told me that they’d have to work me up to water. We’d start with a lemon swab in my mouth, followed by ice chips, and then I could get water. The attending surgeon came in to tell me the surgery went smoothly without complications, and I asked her if she could make sure whoever called me Maureen was corrected on my name pronunciation.

I really hope it wasn’t written off as a sleepy patient’s delirious request, because I was absolutely serious about it.

After eating some very powdery eggs and drinking an apple juice, I was discharged and told to get my medications, rest up, avoid lifting anything over 15 pounds, stay away from submerging my sutures in water, and to schedule a one week post-op follow up with my primary care provider and a two week post-op follow up with the attending surgeon.

Graham drove us back to Bay Ridge, and I gave him my keys to go grab some essentials from my apartment. I gave Michelle and Polina a heads up that he was coming up (and I had let them know what was happening before I went into surgery) and that I’d be gone recovering through the weekend and partway into the week. They both wished me a speedy recovery, Graham grabbed a few essentials for me, and we drove up the street to pick up my meds from Rite Aid.

For some reason, they had only filled two of the four prescriptions. One they didn’t fill because it was a controlled substance and the hospital hadn’t submitted the proper authorization for it, and the other prescription (one of two laxatives) I have no idea why it wasn’t filled. Eventually, I got both my pain medications and one of the laxatives, with the other laxative to be filled and picked up at a different Rite Aid, closer to Graham’s work.

Exhausted, sore, hungry, and (in my case) in desperate need of a shower, we made it back to Graham’s to spend one more day there before going off to the hotel my mom had booked us. Graham had been scheduled to work that day, but after calling into the office was told he should only come in if he thought it was absolutely necessary. He ended up catching a few hours of sleep before going in for the late shift at work. I managed to take a shower and fell asleep on his couch as his bed was too soft and sent my abdomen into absolute agony. I blinked in and out of consciousness for the next few hours, waiting for Graham to come home with my last bit of medication. In that time, my dad called to check on me and ask how I felt, what I was prescribed, and what was expected of me. As we were talking Graham called, and I excused myself so I could answer the call. Nothing could have prepared me for what Graham was going to say to me.

“I was just hit by a truck.”

*click*

#part 2

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