#Surgery tumour removal | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dilemmaontwolegs · 10 months

Text

The Bucket List || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader Summary: Life changes in the blink of an eye with a diagnosis and you are forced to face your mortality with the help of Charles Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, implied smut, grief, implied character death.

WC: 5.8k

Story || Death Scene || Two Years Later || Bucket Moments || Five Years Later

The winter break was meant to be a time for Charles to relax but one simple act had put an end to those plans. It had been a little joke between lovers while you were getting dressed. Charles had seen an opportunity and taken it, cradling the swell of your breast in his palm and giving it a quick squeeze.

“Honk, honk!”

You gasped at the sudden pain that flared and rubbed at the aching area. Charles was immediately sorry, apologising profusely as he brushed your hand aside and massaged it gently for you.

“It’s ok, Cha, this one’s been a bit tender lately.”

“What do you mean?” His concern was palpable and his hand flattened so the palm was pressing into your flesh. You couldn’t hide the wince at the spot he touched and he couldn’t hide the fear in his eyes.

“What?!” You stepped away and grabbed your breast, almost immediately feeling what he felt as your heart began to hammer hard in your chest. “It’s probably nothing, boobs are lumpy all the time.”

“Yeah…” he murmured distractedly. “We should probably check just to be sure. Right?”

You tried to nod casually but it was too hurried. “I mean, just to be sure.”

Everything moved quickly after that. The exhaustion was no longer jet lag. The low red blood count was no longer anaemia. The lump was no longer just fatty tissue.

“What happens now?”

You looked at your boyfriend, but his eyes were fixed on the doctor who had been explaining the test results. Charles had done all of the talking while you sat in a state of shock. You didn’t even feel like you were inside your own body but floating somewhere in the room and watching from outside.

“We could take a biopsy to be certain but the tests so far are quite conclusive and I wouldn’t recommend waiting. We could fit you in to remove the tumour in the next couple of days and have you home for Christmas.”

You knew this already. He had spoken about removing the lump. You couldn’t bring yourself to call it a tumour because, benign or malignant, it made it too real. Removing the lump was the extreme simplification of what he really meant. Mastectomy. Double to be precise. The risk was too great to leave the other breast untreated, apparently.

“We’ll take the surgery as soon as possible.”

You blinked at Charles, waiting to see if he would even look in your direction before making such a decision but his chin was resting on the tip of his steepled fingers. He leaned forwards, digging his elbows into his knees as he always did when he was deep in thought.

“No,” you rasped. “I can’t do it.”

“Yes, you can,” Charles replied without even looking at you. He had hardly looked your way since the first appointment a week ago.

“I’ll give you two some time to talk,” Doctor Hall said softly as he rose from his chair and left the room, the click of the door closing too loud in the heavy silence.

“It’s my body, Charles,” you whispered, your throat too hoarse to manage anything louder.

“I know that, but this is your life we are talking about.”

“We don’t even know for certain that it’s…that it’s…”

“It’s cancer,” he said with a sigh, “not saying it doesn’t change the test results.”

Your eyes burned, your tear ducts working overtime all week. The harsh lines on Charles’ face softened as he saw them well on your waterline before spilling over. Pulling you into his lap, he cradled your head to his chest as you ruined yet another one of his shirts with your makeup and tears.

“Mon amour, we will get through this but we have to trust the doctors.”

“I won’t have boobs,” you whispered as your voice broke.

Charles curled his finger under your chin and tipped it back as he searched your eyes for the answer. He found what he was looking for and dropped his forehead to yours with a shake of his head. “You will still be the most beautiful woman in the world. And I need you in the world, mon amour, do you understand that? I need you to fight this.”

A few days turned out to be just one after the oncology department received a large, anonymous donation. The private room in the hospital was filled with bouquets from friends and family, their floral scents were almost able to erase the tart smell of bleach. You still felt numb to the entire experience and Charles watched on with concern as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror.

Your reflection was the same, yet it wasn’t. Permanent marker pen lined the skin that would soon be permanently marred. The outlines accentuated what would be taken from you and you turned to your side profile, trying to imagine waking up without the pieces of your body Charles had loved.

“The surgeon said there are options, if it’s really that important to you,” Charles said as he pushed off the doorway he had leaned against and walked into the room. “But you don’t have to think about that now.”

You let him drape the surgical gown over your arms and they fell limp at your side while he tied the bows to keep your modesty. “Come and lay down with me,” he murmured as he took your hand and led you to the bed. You hadn’t been sleeping well, neither of you had.

It was narrow but Charles made space for you to lay in his arms with his chest pressed to your back. Monaco was alive outside the window you faced but the sounds didn’t reach you. Instead of watching the cars on their journeys you turned your eyes up to the cloudless sky and spotted the gulls that danced in the salt air.

“I lo-.”

Charles’ chest shuddered with the breath he took before he kissed your temple and whispered, “Don’t.”

“I need to tell you.”

“We promised, not until you wake up.”

“But what if I-”

“Don’t,” Charles begged, a wet drop falling into your hair. “Please.”

A knock sounded at the door but you kept your eyes firmly only the white feathers of the bird that landed on your windowsill outside. Charles pressed his lips to your temple once more before releasing you from his hold and climbing off the bed.

“I’ll be right there when you wake up, mon amour.”

“I…I’ll see you soon.”

He smiled sadly as you caught yourself from saying what you wanted to say, that sad smile remaining while your bed was wheeled away. You craned your neck as you were taken further down the hall, wanting to memorise the way he looked in case it was the last time you had the chance.

As promised, you woke up bleary eyed and groggy to those gold and green eyes, his hands holding yours tenderly as he sat beside your bed.

“Hi, beautiful,” he greeted as his smile brightened your day. It was a true smile, one you hadn’t seen for over a week, one that crinkled the corners of his eyes and revealed the dimples in his cheeks. “I love you.”

You felt drunk as the anaesthesia still circulated your body and you were sure you slurred the words you had been banned from telling him before. “I love you.”

You dozed in and out of consciousness until the pain relief began to wear off and breathing itself hurt. The bandages across your chest irritated your skin and the stitches pulled with every little movement. Charles noticed it all.

“I’ll see if they can give you anything for the pain.”

You caught his hand before he could leave and winced as the IV line in your hand tugged uncomfortably. “I’m hungry.”

Charles chuckled, knowing you would be after eating nothing before the surgery, and cradled your cheek gently. “Maman’s on her way with your favourites. I’ll be right back, baby.”

Charles arrived back with a large bag of hot dishes from your favourite restaurants around the city and the promise that the nurse would bring some medicine around soon.

“We’ll have someone come and move you up to the ward shortly,” the kind nurse said after she had given you another dose of pain relief. “You’ll be able to see your visitors there.”

You thanked her since you knew your parents would have been waiting with Pascale, Arthur and Lorenzo too. Charles had been keeping them updated since you woke up and his phone was constantly going off with notifications from your friends.

“How are you feeling?”

You placed your fork down into the empty bowl and Charles whisked it off your lap and tidied up the rubbish with the need to keep himself busy. “I don’t know,” you admitted as your head began to clear from the anaesthesia. “Two weeks ago we were partying in Baku and now we’re here. I still don’t know how this even happened. What if they made a mistake? This was all done so quickly.”

Charles carefully tucked the sheet back around your body after helping you to lie back down. “Mon amour, this is one of the best hospitals, they wouldn’t have done this unless it was the right decision for your health.”

“I know, I know. I just don’t know how to feel anything right now, except confusion.” You took his hand as he sat back into the chair beside your bed and kissed his knuckles. “How do you feel?”

“Me?” His brows pinched together as if he hadn’t been thinking for himself, and he really hadn’t. All of his thoughts and feelings had been focused on you. “I’m relieved, I suppose. You are here, I get to kiss you and hold your hand. That is good.”

You smiled at the hope in his voice. “I don’t remember a kiss.”

“Ah,” he hummed with a nod as he leaned closer until his lips were so close you could feel the heat of them as he whispered, “This one.”

You were warned that day two would be the hardest. The hard drugs had worn off and what you were supplied with took away the dull throbbing ache when you were stationary but did nothing to prevent the sharp pain of moving.

Charles had just lifted you back into bed after helping you go to the bathroom when the surgeon arrived with a forlorn look on his face. Immediately you felt the air leave the room.

Doctor Hall started with the good news, that the surgery went as planned with minimal bleeding from the tissue removal, but then there was a pause. Your fingers tightened around Charles hand as the doctor flipped the piece of paper on his clipboard over and clicked the end of his pen.

“When we began the removal of the tumour we found that the shape wasn’t exactly as we expected from the ultrasound.” He drew an oval shape on the paper before adding webs spindling off in all directions and pointing to them. “We removed as many of the tentacles as we could find but they are invasive and so we would like to start chemotherapy as soon as you have recovered from the operation.”

Charles' knee shook the bed as it bounced nervously. “Chemo?”

“Does this mean it is definitely c-cancer?” you stumbled over the word as you said it aloud for the first time.

The doctor nodded. “We were quite sure before but pathology confirmed it with the sample we sent.”

“What about Christmas?” you asked. “Can I still go home for Christmas?”

The doctor nodded again and you exhaled in relief. Christmas had been organised to be held at your house for months and it would give you a chance to do something normal after your life had been thrown off the rails. You needed this Christmas.

“We will schedule you in for after New Years, but you wouldn’t want to delay it much further than that.”

“Thank you,” Charles choked out for the both of you as you fell silent and he left. “What are you thinking so hard about, beautiful?”

“The menu. It needs to be special. And I want to invite everyone.”

“What, slow down, what are you talking about?”

“Christmas, Cha, I need to start planning now.”

Charles knew you were deflecting, pouring yourself into a future task so you didn’t have to think about the present. You had already gone through enough, so he bit his tongue and took a second to clear the thoughts he wanted to voice. Instead, he asked, “who, exactly, is everyone?”

“Slow down, you’re meant to be relaxing,” Charles warned as you rushed around the house for a last minute tidy up. “Don’t hurt yourself, baby, let me help.”

“I love you, but please leave this to me. I know where everything is.”

“I do too,” he exclaimed, falling silent when you picked up a remote that had stopped working. You had asked him to get the batteries for it the night before, but he hadn’t been able to find them.

“Second drawer in the kitchen,” you said as you tossed it to him and folded the blanket you snuggled under with him every night. “But you knew that right.”

He sent you a charming smile as he backed out of the room. “Of course, honey.”

You chuckled at his retreating figure. “Thought so.”

You had just finished lighting the scented candles around the house when the front door opened and Arthur breezed into the living room.

“Merry Christmas, ma chére. Shouldn’t you have your feet up?” he tutted as he kissed your cheeks, careful not to hug you since your chest still hurt.

“Merry Christmas, Tuthur.” His smile lifted at the old nickname and it only grew as you said, “You know how well your brother cooks. Be glad I don’t have my feet up.”

Everyone arrived steadily after Arthur and as the night grew colder every seat in the living room was taken by your guests. You could have imagined it being just like every other family Christmas as you sat on Charles lap and listened to Joris recount how he had spent the winter break so far.

You could have imagined it being just like every other family Christmas, but it wasn’t.

You were self-conscious in a way you never were before. The dresses you had loved so much were now something you couldn’t bear to wear as it accentuated the changes in your body. You had taken one shopping trip with Pascale so you could buy some presents but by the time you had got home there was a photo circulating the F1 WAG pages. The comments had nearly made you sick as they compared your flat chest to that of a young boy, or joked that the championship wasn’t the only thing that was lost at the end of the season.

You knew it was only a matter of time before the truth came out but you doubted they would feel any remorse, anyone who could say such things through a keyboard didn’t have the emotional capacity to feel guilt.

When midnight came and went, so too did the guests. Tipsy and jolly, they said their goodbyes and well wishes until the house fell quiet except for the music playing softly from the speakers. Charles pulled you into his arms and gently rocked you side to side as you laid your head on his chest. “Merry Christmas, mon amour. I didn’t know what to get you this year, so I was absolutely selfish and got this.”

Charles stepped out of your embrace as he dropped to one knee and held a ring out. Similarly designed to his mother’s, the ring was timeless and elegant with a large princess cut diamond. “Will you make me the happiest man and marry me?”

You had waited years for the question but the answer that fell from your lips went against every fibre of your being. Your hands covered your mouth but there was no silencing the words as they hung in the air. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”

Confusion slapped Charles’ pink cheeks and he swallowed twice before his voice could work again. “Why not?”

“You know why,” you whispered.

“No, I don’t.”

“Because I’m sick, and I don’t want to make plans if I’m not going to be there to…I just don’t think now is the right time.” You took the ring from his fingers and sighed with longing. “It’s beautiful, Char.”

“Hold on to it for me,” he said as he stood up and closed your hand around it. “When you beat this, I’ll be waiting, mon amour, however long it takes. I’ll wait for you.”

You held the ring tight as you closed the distance and put all the words and emotion you couldn’t articulate into a kiss, deepening it until you were breathless and needy. “Come to bed,” you breathed against his lips.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He looked pained by the very idea, or maybe it was the weeks of celibacy after your surgery.

Lacing your fingers together, you took a step towards the stairs and gently tugged him to follow. “You could never hurt me.”

The moment had been weeks in the making as the chemotherapy took its toll on you. For days after the treatment you had been ill and Charles had been at your side with a bowl ready for when you emptied the contents of your stomach. Then your muscles ached and you could barely hold your own weight up to walk. Just when you thought the worst had come to pass you felt the first strands come loose.

“Hello, my dear,” Pascale answered your call, only to be met with a hiccup. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

“M-my hair,” you stammered as you looked at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. Charles had been out shopping but you saw his face appear behind you as you turned to show him what filled your gripped fist. “It’s my hair.”

“I’ll be over shortly, just let me lock up the shop,” Pascale soothed before ending the call.

“I just brushed it,” you hiccuped as you touched your hair again, more of it floating to the tile floor. “It won’t stop.”

“I know, baby,” he murmured as he took your hand and brushed the hair from your palm. “Maman will know what to do. We’ll get through this like we have everything else, together.”

Pascale promised she could have a wig made for you if you wanted one but it was already late in the evening and you knew she was exhausted from working all day. You did however accept her offer to shave the rest of your head so at least the patches of missing hair didn’t stand out as much. Charles had sat with you in the bathroom and held your hand the entire time before asking his mother to shave his next.

“No, I love your hair,” you argued as he pulled his shirt over his head to save it from getting covered in the short dark strands.

“I told you we are doing this together,” he replied as he kissed your knuckles and nodded to his mum to proceed.

It took a while to get used to the smooth feel of skin on your head but you came to prefer it to the wig that Pascale crafted, somehow finding hair that was almost the exact same shade and texture to your natural hair. The moment you got home from any outing you would pull the wig off with a grateful moan just as you used to do with your bra.

“Are you going to be alright? Maman said she can come and stay with you.” Charles sat on his suitcase so he could zip it closed before looking up to where you sat in bed with a book on your lap. “I don’t like leaving you here alone.”

“I’ll be fine,” you reassured him. “It’s only for two nights.”

His team had let him get away with having one extra night at home before going to Bahrain for the 2024 pre-season testing, but it was still too long away from you in his eyes. You would have been with him but you were due some follow up tests.

“You’ll be so busy you won’t even have time to miss me,” you teased, spurring him to climb onto the bed and cage you beneath him.

“I miss you every second we are apart.”

You recognised the number calling your cell phone because you still had nightmares from the last time they rang. A pit of dread was already opening in your gut as you hovered your finger over the green button. You debated not answering the call but if you didn’t answer it then he would try Charles’ number next - and he needed to focus on driving.

You wished you never answered the call.

You had been quiet the entire drive from the airport to the hotel Charles was staying at. He wasn’t one to push you to talk before you were ready but he was certainly worried when he reached across the gearbox and placed his hand on your lap. He spared a glance to you as he gently squeezed your thigh but still you didn’t react, or take his hand, or even blink.

You didn’t remember the walk from the car to the hotel room. You were busy thinking about how you were going to break Charles’ heart, something you had never imagined you would have a hand in. You never wanted to hurt him, you loved him more than life itself, a life that was going to be shorter than you had once thought.

Charles stood quietly in the doorway to the bedroom, your suitcase still in his hand. He watched as you pulled your wig off for the first time since leaving Monaco and listened as you sighed heavily. His feet only carried him closer when you pulled a piece of paper from your pocket and held it out silently.

“What’s this?” Charles asked as he unfolded the note you had written on the plane. You had almost 10 hours to think of everything you wanted to do while you could and his eyes scanned over the list. “Baby, what is this?”

“It’s my bucket list.”

“A bucket list?”

“It’s a list of what I want to do before I die.”

“I know what a bucket list is!” He took a breath and ran his hand over the fuzz that had grown back on his scalp before lowering his voice as he shook the paper. “Why am I holding yours?”

His green eyes blurred with tears as you bit your lip and looked at your feet. He was already shaking his head in denial, wet droplets soaking into the list.

“My results came back…”

“Non, non, baby, non…”

“I’m sorry, Charles,” you choked as he fell to his knees and let the paper fall to the floor. His arms encircled your hips and you cradled the back of his head to your stomach as he cried against you. You finally let your own tears fall, the tears you had held back since you received the news. “I’m so sorry.”

Charles missed testing the next morning as he held you in his arms. The tears had long run out but the sadness still remained. He had laid with you all night as close as your bodies would allow and together you had seen the sunrise over the desert. He had listened to you quietly recount the doctor’s words but most of it made no sense to him.

Metastasized. Stage four. Terminal. The information ruined him.

“How long?” he finally asked. He looked at the paper that was still on the bedroom floor before clearing his throat and trying again. “How long do we have?”

You didn’t know if answering him would help or not but he was waiting for an answer as you rolled over to face him. The last three months had taken a toll on him and dark circles rimmed his eyes and they no longer held the same brightness. They were only going to dim more at the news. “Six months, maybe a year.”

He was silent, but you knew it wasn’t because he hadn’t heard you. Emotions warred behind his eyes before he climbed out of the bed and walked into the bathroom, locking the door behind him.

You hated the silence but the screaming was worse. The painful wail echoed around the room and you felt it shatter something deep in your chest, before something shattered in the bathroom.

Pulling your knees up to your chest, you held yourself together while Charles fell apart.

You weren’t sure how long he screamed at the universe, how many times he asked it why, what he had done to deserve to lose someone else he loved. You weren’t sure how long it took him to clean the blood from his fist and wash his face of the tears before he unlocked the door and slipped back into the bed.

“Whatever you want, mon amour,” he promised as he unclenched your hands and curled his body around yours. “Anything you want to do, we’ll do it. We’ll do it all together.”

You stood at the edge of the lookout and smiled at Charles as he took the photo, another one for the memory box you were making together. Charles kept his promise, taking you everywhere around the world with him to tick off the items on your bucket list.

You had watched him win his home race for the first time and gone to a couples cooking class.

You visited all the Disneyland Theme Parks you hadn’t been to before: the Tokyo one when he raced in Suzuka, the Chinese one when he raced in Shanghai and the Floridian one when he raced in Miami.

Charles had taken you to Iceland to camp under the northern lights and to Pamukkale in Turkey where the blue waters were meant to work miracles. It hadn’t cured the illness that ravaged your body but each activity you crossed off cured some of the sadness in your soul.

“It’s bigger than I imagined,” Charles commented as he looked up at Christ the Redeemer. “What size shoes do you think he wears?”

“Well you know what they say about big feet.”

Charles’ head fell back with a laugh. “You cannot say that about Jesus.”

You fluttered your eyelashes innocently as he stepped closer to take a photo of you together. “I was going to say he wears big socks, get your head out of the gutter.”

“Of course you were, mon amour.” Charles’ lips curled up in amusement and you relished the way his eyes crinkled before you rose onto your toes so you could kiss him before the smile faded.

The flash of his camera captured the moment and you reluctantly pulled away as the sun began to set on another day spent living. The days were getting tiresome, your energy flagging as the medication changed from treating the illness to managing the pain. You had read enough to know that time was running out.

“We should get going, don’t want to miss our flight to Vegas.”

“About that…” he trailed off as he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and placed it in your hand. “I made a list of my own.”

Marry the woman of my dreams.

“I can only do it with you by my side.”

—

Pascale had created a beautiful headpiece for your wedding but when it came time to leave you hadn’t been able to place it on your head. A year ago you had only dreamt of the day you married Charles and in all those imagined scenes you had your hair styled up like she had crafted on the wig with pearl pins and a delicate tiara. But a lot had changed in a year, you had changed.

“Oh, sweetheart, you look beautiful,” she said as she wiped her eyes. Your own mother was speechless as she pulled you into her arms and held you tight.

“I’m going to ruin my makeup if you two don’t stop crying.”

“Honey, let her go,” your dad said softly as he placed a hand on your mother’s shoulder. “It’s time.”

Your throat felt as if it were closing and for a second you held on tighter before you both opened your arms. “I love you,” you said to them all as you looked at the proud but sad smiles on their faces. “Thank you for making this possible, for both of us.”

Your father grabbed the wheelchair you had been using, the exhaustion sometimes too much for you to handle, but you shook your head. “I’m going to marry him on my own two feet.”

You knew Charles had a lot of help organising the wedding because there was no way he could have done it on his own. The entire paddock had come to a standstill at the end of Media Day and you found yourself walking down a makeshift aisle on the grid to the starting lights.

Hundreds of friends joined your families on the track and you had no doubt that Charles had flown them all there at his own expense.

“When you said married in Vegas, I thought you meant the White Chapel,” you whispered with a giggle.

Charles' smile grew at the sound and he took your hands in his. “That’s something tacky Pierre would do.”

“Hey,” the groomsman objected beside Charles. “Elvis isn’t tacky. Focus on your own wedding, mate.”

You laughed at the exchange before Lorenzo cleared his throat and your eyes widened as you realised he was the celebrant. “Is this legal?”

“The online certificate I got says so,” he said with a wink. “But if you’ve changed your mind I can skip the legal bits.”

Your eyes lit up with amusement. “No way, I’m not going to miss having you as a brother-in-law.”

“And I thought we were here because you wanted to marry me,” Charles joked. He had waited so long to marry you but now that the moment was here he was in no rush for it to end. He wanted to stay in this moment forever, where you were lighthearted and smiling. Where you weren’t lost in thought but present in the moment, with him.

“I do,” you said with a grin before peeking back at his older brother. “Does that count, can I kiss him now?”

Lorenzo wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “I’m afraid it’s not quite, shall we get started?”

Charles could hardly keep still with his excitement. “Ready, baby?”

You reached into a hidden pocket in the dress and pulled out the engagement ring he proposed at Christmas with. Slipping it into your finger, you gave him a serious nod. “Now I am.”

—

“Good morning, Mrs Leclerc.”

You smiled as Charles kissed your shoulder blade and rolled you over to face him. He had already showered and dressed for the day before climbing back into bed with you and you peeked at the clock to see he would almost be late.

“You should be at the track already,” you hummed between the sweet kisses he peppered across your skin.

“Wasn’t going to miss watching you wake up as my beautiful wife for the first time.” His smile wavered as he kissed your forehead before pressing the back of his hand to it. “How are you feeling?”

“A little tired, but last night was worth the lack of sleep.”

He smirked and traced your lips longingly with his eyes. “Definitely worth it. But you don’t feel hot or cold?”

“Focus on FP1, Cha,” you said with a little push for him to get out of bed. “You’re going to be late.”

He playfully nipped your collarbone before getting off the bed and blowing you a kiss. “Rest up, mon amour, I’ll come back between the practices.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, more than the moon and the stars.”

“Hopeless romantic.”

“Love of my life. Fire in my loins. The apple of my-“

“Go away!” You tossed a pillow at him before falling back into the warm blankets with a laugh that turned to a yawn. “Profess your love to someone else and let me sleep.”

“Never,” he chuckled quietly as he watched your chest rise and fall into a steady rhythm. “It will only be you.”

Your health deteriorated rapidly after Vegas and your doctor urged you to return to Monaco, but you weren’t ready to leave just yet. There was only one thing left on your bucket list and it was within your grasp. Charles and Max were neck and neck in the championship but you had faith your husband would triumph in the end. So instead of heading home you remained by his side in Qatar and Abu Dhabi, letting him hire a medical team as a trade off for ignoring your doctor's advice.

It wasn’t just the season coming to an end and you could both feel it as Charles prepared for the final race. You didn’t have the strength to go to the track and see him start from pole, the prime position for the championship deciding race. You barely had the strength to stay awake for the whole race but you fought against the heaviness in your body and scanned the screens that had been brought into your room.

Pride made you heart light as you watched the world through Charles’ eyes. The onboard camera was clear ahead, all his competitors in his rear view, and as the laps passed by his lead grew wider. Charles was flying and he was taking you with him.

Charles took a seat on the centre podium as confetti rained down and fireworks exploded overhead. He wiped the sweat and champagne from his face before reaching into his race suit and grabbing the pen and paper he had tucked away.

Putting a strike through the last line he held it up triumphantly to the camera. “We did it, mon amour, we did it.”

You smiled as if he would see it and closed your eyes as you lost the battle. “I’m ready to go home now.”

The Bucket List:

Sleep under the northern lights

Swim with sharks

Skinny dip (not with sharks)

See Christ the Redeemer

Bowl a strike

Go to every Disneyland once

Ride an elephant

Go to India for the colour festival

Win an escape room

Learn to whistle

Have a mud bath

Teach Charles to cook

Watch the Grand National horse race

Get a tattoo

Learn to use chopsticks

Throw beads at Mardi Gras

Have my palm read

Try absinthe

Ride a luge

Go to a rage room

Join the mile high club

Catch a fish

Make a will

Bathe in healing waters

Charles Leclerc - World Champion

Click here for the requested last day alive.

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #tw: cancer #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 rpf

1K notes · View notes

icarusredwings · 11 days

Text

This has been on my mind for NO Fucking reason so to make it shut up, lets talk about it.

"Why doesn't Wade just do chemotherapy?"

In this essay, I will explain the answer to that question, looking at Germ cancer cells and testicular cancer rates to decide-

Can Wade have biological kids?

Let's start with the basic facts.

What a germ cell tumor?

A germ cell tumor is a mass made of reproductive cells, also called germ cells. “Germ” is short for “germinate,” which means to mature. For men and people assigned male at birth (AMAB), germ cells mature into sperm. Related, germ cell tumors most often form where eggs get made (ovaries) and where sperm gets made (testicles).

[ https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/diseases/23505-germ-cell-tumor]

Testicular cancer.

Most testicular cancers start in cells known as germ cells and are called germ cell tumours. Germ cells in men produce sperm. Testicular germ cell tumours can develop from germ cell neoplasia in situ (GCNIS). GCNIS means that there are abnormal cells in the testicle.

[https://www.cancerresearchuk.org/about-cancer/testicular-cancer/types#:~:text=Most%20testicular%20cancers%20start%20in,abnormal%20cells%20in%20the%20testicle.]

More than 90% of testicular cancer start in the germ cells, which are cells in the testicles and develop into sperm. This type of cancer is known as testicular germ cell cancer. Testicular germ cell cancer can be classified as either seminomas or nonseminomas, which may be identified by microscopy.

[https://www.cancer.gov/ccg/research/genome-sequencing/tcga/studied-cancers/testicular-germ-cell-study ]

Treatments.

At the moment there is not a lot of options, the most common are:

Chemotherapy

Radiation

Surgery

Chemotherapy.

Chemotherapy works by stopping or slowing the growth of cancer cells, which grow and divide quickly. Because of his healing factor, this would probably not work and if anything cause Wade more illness seeing as Chemo causes

Fatigue

Hair loss

Easy bruising and bleeding

Infection

Anemia (low red blood cell counts)

Nausea and vomiting

Appetite changes

Constipation

Diarrhea

Mouth, tongue, and throat problems such as sores and pain with swallowing

Peripheral neuropathy or other nerve problems, such as numbness, tingling, and pain

Skin and nail changes such as dry skin and color change

Urine and bladder changes and kidney problems

Weight changes

Chemo brain, which can affect concentration and focus (serve mind fog)

Mood changes

Changes in libido and sexual function

And last but not least Fertility problems

[https://www.cancer.org/cancer/managing-cancer/treatment-types/chemotherapy/chemotherapy-side-effects.html ]

Radiation.

At high doses, radiation therapy kills cancer cells or slows their growth by damaging their DNA. Cancer cells whose DNA is damaged beyond repair stop dividing or die. When the damaged cells die, they are broken down and removed by the body. In theory this would work a little bit, for about 12 minutes and then he immediately would have all of those dead cells back because while the radiology killed one spot, cancer spreads. Quickly. With his healing factor its MUCH quicker too. All that pain for nothing.

Fatigue

Hair loss

Memory or concentration problems

Throat problems, such as trouble swallowing

Cough

Shortness of breath

Taste changes

Skin changes (such as burning and peeling)

Less active thyroid gland

Sexual problems

Fertility problems

Urinary and bladder problems

[https://www.cancer.gov/about-cancer/treatment/types/radiation-therapy]

Surgery.

I dont even need any sources for this. We saw what happened to his legs when ripped off. They just grew back. And if removing cancer cells makes newer cancer cells? That's useless.

Summary.

Wades entire body is cancerous. Yes. His ENTIRE body. Every arm, toe, and fingernail on this man is cancerous. His healing factor is literally just having rapid cancer growth (amongst other things)

Chemotherapy and radiation will not work on him. Chemotherapy works by killing cancerous cells in order to grow healtheir ones. Except Wade can only produce cancerous cells. Yes, while they are new and much more likely in the very early stages, it's still cancerous.

This being said, there is no cure or treatment for Wades Cancer (that we know of at this time) Its quite physically the only thing keeping him with super hero powers yet still remains even after his powers are taken.

Hate to say it.

I hate to say it but statistically removing older, more advanced cells to replace with newer, less progressive cells (aka removing or ripping off his limbs/ parts of his body so they can grow back as new and fresh) is probably the best 'treatment' Wade has right now. Radiology would work the same, right?

Yes, but A. Not as B. Too many side effects that he he'll have to deal with MORE making him even more crazy and sick. Why would he do that when he can just tease Logan into slicing a hurt leg off and go from there?

Will the treatment help him be fertile?

Realistically, without his powers, he probably would be dead in a week, perhaps less due to just HOW much cancer this man truly has.

Chemo would also make it worse. So much worse, in fact. Both pain wise and his chances at ever biologically having a child.

Result(s) Before the cancer was diagnosed, (66%) 79/120 couples who attempted to conceive succeeded within 1 year. After (Cancer) treatment, (43%) 38/88 couples conceived within 1 year.

[https://www.fertstert.org/article/S0015-0282(03)00335-2/fulltext]

Testical Germ Cell Tumors are associated with semen abnormalities before orchiectomy. This review shows an increase in abnormal semen parameters among men with TGCT even outside the treatment effects of orchiectomy, radiation, or chemotherapy.

[https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4270136/ ]

The way that TGCT affects the sperm is that it's very common for not only lower sperm count (obviously, it's hard to produce when you're fighting an entire body illness) but also changes the shape of the sperm which makes it very difficult to reach the egg. Sperm with crooked tails, double tails, double heads, or even broken sperm have a very hard time reaching the egg (think of it like natural selection) and die off before they get anywhere. If you already have low countage and most of them can't make it?

Well that's much lower chances of fertility.

In the comics.

In the comics, Wade has a daughter named Eleanor Camacho in which he was unaware of because her mother saw his face and ran away in terror. The entire thing is that her mother thought she was going to die and decided fuck it, if im gonna die Im gonna die happy so decided to spend these last moments with wade (who she literally just met- if that aint weird in itself idk what is).

She only ever found him to demand child support, and he refused to believe such a beautiful child could he his given his stance of insecurity and well- Just utter shock anyway, I think. He is right. Eleanor is gorgeous as a baby and as an adult.

(There's actually a whole comic where he's trying to fight death so his daughter doesn't die before him because he "couldn't bear the thought of living without her" so they activate a bomb "with the power of a black hole" and comit death together. It's very sweet)

TLDR

In conclusion.

Yes, Wade can have children, but he has a better chance at being successful if he removes his lower half and regrows it so that its *less* cancerous than before cells, therefore hes more likely to have normal shaped sperm and probably more of it during the process.

No, chemotherapy, radiation, and surgery would not be effective. Unfortunately, the most effective thing for him is ripping his limbs off sometimes.

"Forest- why the fuck did you write this?"

You know... I really don't know. I wanted to become a bio geneticist, and here I am. Writing about some bald guys' balls on the Internet. Siiigghh... anyway. Use this. however you want, I don't even care at this point.

#sources sited #fuck cancer #testicular cancer #deadpool and wolverine #poolverine #deadpool #wade wilson #deadpool 3 #deadclaws #wade has cancer #cancer awareness #what the fuck is wrong with me #in this essay i will #explain something NO ONE asked to know about #vanessa carlysle #wades daughter #eleanor camacho #for science!

182 notes · View notes

beecroft · 4 days

Text

Orthopedic veterinary surgeons in Singapore specializing in fracture repair, TPLO surgery, spinal surgery, hip replacement, and orthopedic procedures for dogs and cats.

#TPLO surgery vet Singapore #Surgery tumor removal #Surgery tumour removal #Ear surgery Singapore

1 note · View note

finelinevogue · 1 year

Text

family will get you through

summary - you go through a life changing operation but you have a strong family to get you through it

warnings: brain tumour, anxiety, self deprecation, swearing, kissing n fluff, hopeful ending, i wrote this 2 years ago so it’s not up to my usual writing standards unfortunately :(

word count: +6.8 k

pairing: husband/dad!harry x reader

Everything was occurring like normal. You were making the kids lunches for school as usual. You were cleaning the breakfast away as usual. Harry was on his last day of tour. Yet, somehow, within 24 hours, your life was going to be turned upside down.

For the worst.

During the hoovering of the carpet you heard your phone ring. After spending 10 seconds to find the bloody thing you finally picked up.

"Hello?" You asked, not recognising the number.

"Hi there. Is this Y/N Styles speaking?" The male voice asked, on the end of the line.

"Yes it is." You answer.

"Hiya Y/N. It's Dr Hughes here." He introduced himself, but it didn't comfort you any more knowing who was on the other side of the phone. Your doctor never calls you unless it's bad news. The last time they called, it was because Sofia might have had suspected appendicitis. She didn't, but still the doctors remained the bearers of bad news.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Dr Hughes?" You asked politely, with a hint of sarcasm dripping in your tone.

"Unfortunately I bring bad news, again, Mrs Styles." He began, making you gulp down your worries unsuccessfully. "The tests that we ran on you, a while back, came back and unfortunately there is a problem." Your heart relaxed slightly that there was nothing wrong with your children or your husband.

"Okay." You urged him to carry on, disliking all the tip-toeing sounds the problem.

"Mrs Styles, there is no easy way of me telling you this." Dr Hughes took a deep breath before announcing the news. "You have a brain tumour, Y/N."

Luckily you were stood by the sofa and were able to collapse on that, when your legs gave way, otherwise you'd have landed on the floor. You covered your hand over you mouth to muffle any noises that threatened to escape, as you were in pure shock.

"It's not an overly large tumour and it will be able to be removed, with quick and efficient surgery, which we can offer, but we needed confirmation that you are willing to go through with this first." Your head was spinning and you couldn't tell up from down for a minute. It took a few calls of your name, from Dr Hughes, to pull you back.

"Um... Sorry. Is there any chance I can come talk to you in person?" You sniffled, but cleared your throat to try and stay strong over the phone.

"I'm free all tomorrow morning, Mrs Styles. Please feel free to drop in at any time." He kindly offered.

"Thank you." You said.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Styles, but if we act quickly you'll be alright. I guarantee it." He assured you and with you final goodbye you hung up the phone.

With him no longer listening to you over the phone you were able to break down in tears. You never thought something like this would be happening to you, but yet here you were. With a brain tumour, no less.

Your cry's were starting to hurt your chest from how heavy they were. You couldn't calm yourself down and all you wanted right now was Harry. Harry... What would he think about all this? Would he leave you? You hated that your brain went straight to that question but that was the hard hitting reality of the situation.

You tapped on Harrys number and called him, hoping he wasn't too busy. He always told you, whenever you needed him, no matter what time, he'll always be there. But would he still want to be there when he finds out his wife has a brain tumour?

After two rings he picks up.

"Hi love, everything okay? You're lucky I was up otherwise I would've been asleep!" The soothing tones of his voice calming you down.

"Shit, H, i'm so sorry." You sobbed loudly down the phone, not being able to bravely hold it in anymore.

"Hey, hey. It's fine Y/N/N. No need to cry over it love." He coos, not fully understanding why you were having a full breakdown over potentially waking him up.

"No. No i-it's not that H." You lean on your knees and cup your hand over your temples to soothe some of the pain, from the headache that was forming.

"Okay then. What's wrong baby? You can tell me, it's alright." His voice slightly trembling, hating the sound of you heavily crying without him there to comfort you.

If you did ever cry like this either Harry was right beside you, hugging you like there's no tomorrow, or you'd get through it by yourself - if he was away. You felt selfish dumping your problems on him when he wasn't right there to comfort you through it. Today was even worse, though. Today was Harrys last concert for the Love on Tour, tour, in L.A. Not only did he have a duty to preform to his adoring fans, he was also thousands of miles away. He wouldn't be able to do anything, other than offer some calming words, but somehow, this time, you didn't see how that was going to be enough.

"I got a call from Dr Hughes." You began and taking a deep breath before continuing, only imagining where Harry's head was at with those words. "H, i'm so sorry. He - uh - he told me I have a brain tumour. He said, with surgery, it can be removed but I need to act quick. I-i'm going to see him tomorrow, but I just needed to tell you."

You expected Harry to cut in at some point, but there was only silence. He was only ever quiet when he was shocked or had nothing left to say, and it terrified you that he was feeling that way.

"Harry?" You trembled out, wondering if he was even still there.

You heard him clear his throat before talking. "Um, yeah okay."

You were taken aback by how little words he was using. You couldn't work out whether you'd rather have had him say nothing at all. Your heart strings started to break a little at the thought that he was, most likely, thinking of different ways to divorce you and so forth. His life was too precious for him to be left with a damaged wife. God knows what you'll be like after surgery, and Harry didn't need to be stuck with looking after you when he should be touring with his adoring fans.

"Sorry, H." You murmured before hanging up, knowing he wouldn't have anything to say back. You regretted not wishing him look for his last concert date tonight, but it wasn't at the forefront of mind right now. You knew he would smash it anyways - he always did.

What if that had been your last goodbye?

You placed your phone on the coffee table and hysterically cried to yourself.

••••

A few hours later and you had called your parents over, after telling them, to pick the kids up from school - seeing as you were too emotionally unstable to be doing so. It made you feel like such a disappointment not being able to be strong enough to pick up your children, but you were worried you wouldn't be able to focus when driving - and you wouldn't put your children in danger.

Your parents had arrived as quickly as they could and spent hours reassuring you that you'd be okay, and that Harry loved you too much to ever say goodbye. You had a hard time believing them though, considering Harry had said all of two words to you - none of which implied that he still loved you and was going to be there for you through it all.

It was times like this when all you wanted, and needed, was your Harry, but unfortunately that just couldn't be the case. If Harry were to leave you, you wouldn't know what to do. You have kids and you always promised Harry that none of your kids would be raised from a broken home - you just couldn't put them through that. Yet, now, it seems inevitable.

After the kids had got back from school and had dinner, which you sat around for but didn't have anything, you and your children had cuddled up to watch some Netflix. Your parents had gone home, telling you that you just needed some time alone with your children. They never questioned what was wrong, but they could tell something was up. It took watching 5 episodes of The Big Bang Theory until your children were all on the verge of sleep, and so you'd shuffled them all along to bed.

"Mummy?" Sofia asked as you turned off her main light and turned on her bed light. You walked over to her single-bed, that was decorated in princesses and flowers, and sat down next to her.

"Yes sweetheart?" You answered. Sofia had been quiet all evening, but you just assumed she had been tired.

"I missed you picking me up today." She told you with her sad eyes. You brushed her hair off her face and behind her ear.

"I know. I missed you too, but mummy had some news today that wasn't very nice and so I didn't want to upset you with me being upset." You told her, not feeling like you had to hide anything from your children.

"Are you going to be okay?" She asked sincerely, with a little wobble of her rosy lips to signify she was worried about you. You hated that your children had to check on you, and yet your husband hadn't, but you also appreciated it greatly.

You thought about how to answer her question, because it was hard to answer. Of course you were going to face complications and re-percussions, later in time, after surgery, but you also would if you didn't have surgery. It was just whether or not something went wrong in surgery, or it actually turned out the surgery was no longer viable. You wanted to tell her so badly that everything would be okay, but you also couldn't lie to her.

"Mummy's going to be just fine." You turn your head to see your gorgeous husband standing in the doorway, looking like he'd been crying due to the red puffy eyes. They were probably similar to yours, however you'd tried to hide yours from your children.

As soon as you made eye contact with Harry the tears fell freely down your face. There was no stopping them either. Emotions were flying all over the place, but the one that stood out the most was relief. You thought you'd have a runaway husband but instead he was right here. He'd flown all the way from L.A. just to see you. You had no idea what was happening with the tour but you couldn't think of anything other than the man stood in the hallway.

"Daddy!" Sofia screamed, like she'd just gained 100 pounds of energy, and jumped out of her bed to run to her dad. Her little legs could only make her run so fast but when she got there Harry was ready to scoop her up in his warm embrace.

"Ohhh I missed you, my love." Harry pressed light kisses all over her face and Sofia started squirming in his grasp, giggling as Harry continued to attack her.

"Did someone say dad is here?" You heard Will day from down the hall, but you'd buried your face in your hands, in disbelief and shock, to truly acknowledge what was going on.

You listened to the sounds of them reuniting and getting bombarded by kisses from Harry, until it got a bit too overwhelming. Harry was actually here and that was something you thought would be a distant dream, and hearing him play with your children was such a joyous thing to hear. You decided that you needed a minute away, and to yourself.

"Excuse me." You announce softly, working your way past the pile of people that were now on the floor. You wanted to laugh at how your children had tackled Harry down to the ground, but your tears prevented you from feeling that way.

You walked to your bedroom, and outside onto the small terrace that was attached to it. It let you have a stunning view of the city in the distant, but you could also had the pleasure of having the rolling hills, and stunning fields of gold, in the foreground. You shut the sliding door over, trying to get the atmosphere as quiet at possible. You rested your elbows on the stone railing and placed your hands on your forehead, before continuing your hardened sobs. Ever since the dreaded phone call this morning, you don't think you've had a second, after it, where there hasn't been a teardrop on your skin.

After 5 minutes, give or take, you heard the sliding doors open. You didn't need to turn and look to see who it was to know who it was - his comforting presence alone telling you.

You turned around quickly to see he had been stood infinitely close behind you, probably apprehensive about touching or comforting you. The way you immediately brought your arms around him, to give him a hug, took him by surprise, but within seconds he was embracing you back and tighter than ever. You buried your face in his chest as the tears continued, but he didn't seem to mind at all.

After a minute or two, hugging in comfortable silence, you tilted your head up and looked from his eyes to his gorgeous lips. He noticed you looking and started to lean himself down slowly, still being wary of how you were feeling towards him. You couldn't take being away from him any longer, and so cupped the back of his neck to bring him down faster.

The feeling of his lips on yours made you feel invincible. You forgot about all yours worries when he was pressed close against you. It was as if nothing else mattered, but only you two. He made you forget that he had been a jerk on the phone. He made you forget that you had a bloody brain tumour. He made you forget every small detail you'd been worrying over for the past 14 hours or so. Even though it only lasted for a minute; he made you forget.

The sound of smacking lips detaching one another allowed you to breathe again. He was good at making you feel breathless and savouring every minute moment he had with you. You both stared in to each others eyes and let them talk to one other. You could tell by his emerald, doe, eyes that he was unimaginably sorry, and he could tell from yours that you forgave him no questions asked.

"I thought you'd left me." You honestly let him know.

"Never, baby. I promised i'd always be there for you, and some fucking tumour, isn't going to change that." You loved that Harry could find the light in a situation like this. It's one of his charming qualities that never ceases to amaze you.

"I have th—"

"Daddy?" You hear from behind you both. You see Sofia standing there, in her cute lilac polka-dot onesie, looking at Harry with adoring eyes. She hasn't seen him in a month or so, and so seeing him, earlier than expected too, has turned her into a little sheep to follow Harry - wanting to spend every spare minute with him.

"Sof." Harry sighed, reluctantly detaching himself from around you. "I told you, sweetheart, that I need to make sure mummy's okay for a bit, alright?" He reminded her, his words filling your heart with so much love and happiness you thought it might burst.

"But daddyyy..." She whines, stomping her foot delicately on the floor.

"No Sof. It's not fair on mummy is it?" He crouched down to her level to caress her soft cheeks.

"H, it's alright. I'm alright. Go and see to her, and the boys too if they want you. I can wait."

Harry stands back up, after seeing how his daughters expression changes to a much more excited one. He walks over to you and cups both your cheeks with his large, veiny, hands.

"You're so annoying, you know that right?" Harry teases you, probably frustrated that your intimate moment, that could've turned into something more intimate, had been interrupted. He gives you a quick kiss on the lips and you pushed him along to go sort out his children.

An hour and a half later you and Harry were sat in the bath together. You were layed back against his chest and his arms, along with yours, were resting on top of your stomach. Your legs were interwoven and your head was back against Harrys shoulder, his cheek to the top of your head. You'd argue that this is more intimate that anything else - to be so desperately close to one another, and yet still hold back from all pleasurable interactions. Sure, the moments leading up to you both needing the bath had been beautiful and raw, sending all kinds of sensations flying through your body, but this was something special.

If you could freeze time, this is where you'd like to be frozen.

"Will you get angry at me if I apologise again?" Harry asked, nodding his cheek further into your hair - which apparently smelt like 'heaven' according to Harry.

"Most likely." You chuckled, knowing that you wouldn't but you'd become irate about it. You'd lost count of the amount of times that Harry had apologised to you this evening, but he said he couldn't ever put a number on how many times he should apologise because it would be too big. He vowed to use the rest of his life to show how he'll love you till the end of your time, and prove he never intended to leave you. You thought he'd proved himself enough over the past few hours he's been back, but you weren't going to stop him from showering you in more love.

"Sorry." Harry buries his head in your shoulder to hide away from your pretend wrath.

You move around in the warm, soapy bath water until you're straddling his legs. The bath water sloshed around as you moved, but luckily you were agile enough to not let any spill overboard. Harry couldn't take his eyes off your mesmerising body, and you had to tilt his chin up for him to lose contact with your chest and gain contact with your orbs.

"You're the worst." You tease him for apologising to you, again, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your chest up against his - hissing at the cold contact against your boobs.

"Don't I know it." He rolls his eyes and gives you a smirk, holding on to your back tighter.

"But I couldn't love you any less." You tell him, kissing his lips quickly but enough to send butterflies through your body.

"Hmm. Well that could be a compliment, depending on how much you love me already?" He asked, pointing out the flaw in your nonsense.

You thought for a minute before answering. "I love you more than you love me." You slyly smirk, knowing how badly he hates comparing your love. He's such a sore loser and finds it bruising to his ego when you say you love him more than he does you. He belly laughs at your statement, not being able to control himself.

"Not only did you just deflate my ego, and boost your narcissism, but it's cute that you actually believe what you said." Harry starts of lightheartedly but you can tell he became more serious towards the end.

"But I—"

"I don't think so Mrs Styles." He brings you even closer, which you thought was impossible.

"I love you H."

"I love you... even more." Harry returns, and you drop your head, giggling, on to his shoulder from giving up with him.

•••••

2 months later and surgery had been successful.

The day of the surgery you'd never felt more nervous for anything. The nerves you felt that day even beat your pre-wedding nerves. It was such an intense and overwhelming feeling, and none of it would have been possible if it weren't for Harry being there for you the whole time. Your children were all superstars too. They continuously showered you in love, and although it was Harry buying the gifts, they treated to you flowers whenever you were down. Whether it was a bunch of roses, a bouquet of different flowers or a single sunflower to plant in the garden, it always managed to cheer you up.

You had surgery a couple of days ago and you were still in and out of sleep, not having spoken a word yet. The morphine dosage that they gave you, along with all the other concoctions of medicine they gave you, had been really strong. The doctor had explained to you, after surgery, how you might not come around, properly, until a few days after surgery. No doubt Harry stayed by your side through all of it.

Lying subconscious in bed allowed you to think a lot. It terrified you as to how you were going to be after surgery and how dependent you were going to have to be on other people for a while. Apparently your legs and arms become really weak, because you brain has been out of action and a small proportion has been attacked by a tumour, and that scared you. You didn't want your children to see you helpless - what kind of example would that set to them? You probably would have to be fed for a small amount of time, and either use crutches or maybe a wheelchair, and you, being the strong and independent woman you are, hated that.

Today was different. You could feel it.

You woke up, from your light slumber, with a heavy presence on your hand. If you hadn't become so accustomed to the feel of Harrys hand you probably wouldn't have known what it was, but you'd recognise that soft, bony, feel anywhere.

You open your eyes slowly, letting your eyes adjust to the light in their own time. You noticed you were in your own private room, something that they had very limited numbers of in hospitals here, and it was no doubt due to Harrys constant nagging and persistency that you were here. Looking to your right you confirmed that it was Harry holding your hand. He was slouched in a chair, facing your direction, sleeping, but holding your hand nevertheless. It took another second to realise Sofia was asleep in his lap, looking like the princess she was. There was another few chairs in the corner of the room and you realised your sons were all sat on them. Thomas and Eric resting their heads on each other and Will sat with his hood pulled up over his face.

It was beyond comforting to know your family was still here and waiting patiently for you.

You softly ran your finger over Harrys hand, trying to cause a disturbance. You'd attempted to voice your actions but nothing came out, due to your throat being so dry. You noticed a cup of water next to your bedside table and decided to help yourself. You turned the best you could, with Harry still holding on to your hand, and then moved your arm to the water. It was hard, really hard, but you managed to do it. You held the plastic cup as firmly as you could, with your trembling fingers, and sat up a bit further to take a sip. You managed a few sips before your fingers gave way and you dropped the plastic cup to the floor, spilling the rest of the water on the floor.

The noise wasn't loud but obviously loud enough to wake people up. Everyone except Harry - whom didn't wake up for anyone. He could sleep through an earthquake if he tried.

"Mum!" "Mummy!" A chorus of your children's voices echoed throughout the room, eventually waking Harry up in the process. Thomas and Eric came over to stand next to your bedside, taking your hand in both of theirs. Will rested on the end of the bed, giving you a soft smile which you returned. Sofia jumped across from Harrys lap on to your bed and engulfed you in a hug.

"Umph." You let out the noise when she jumped on you, still feeling a little sensitive all over your body.

"Hey, hey. Sof. You need to be careful with mummy, alright?" Harry comes and removes her slightly off of you, so you don't have to carry as much weight.

"Sorry mummy." Sofia apologises, going to sit next to you, her little legs dangling off the bed and miles from the floor. You gave her a small smile to signify you were okay and that you didn't need her apology. Harry stood nearby her in case she fell.

"How are you mum?" Will asked. Even though Will acted like he was too cool to get involved, you knew that he did honestly care and his question warmed your heart that he was taking an interest.

"A bit achey, not going to lie. I also find it really hard to move my legs and arms, but that was to be expected." You try and say with a strong and brave voice, but you didn't even convince yourself that it was.

"Will, buddy?" Harry asks, catching Will's attention. "Could you maybe take Sofia and the boys to the vending machine?" He hands over a handful of loose change. "Just get some crisps or chocolate for yourselves, please?"

Will obviously understood that his dad was asking for a couple of minutes alone with you.

"Sure. Cmon Sof." Will cheerily spoke, holding out his hand for her. Harry helped her off the bed, and Thomas and Eric both squeezed your hand to show they were here for you. Once they all left, Sofia rambling on about her favourite chocolate bar, Harry came and sat down by you.

He wrapped both his large hands in your smaller, and frailer, one. He leant down to plant a long-lasting kiss to your forehead, the sparks remaining even after he'd moved away. He then rested his forehead lightly on yours, looking in to your eyes the best he could from this angle. You had a feeling he just wanted to be as close to you as possible. You'd be lying if you said you didn't want the same thing.

"I missed you." Harry whispered against your face, your lips ghosting each other.

"You've been here the whole time, H." You remind him.

"But it wasn't the same. Not being able to see these beautiful, dreamy, eyes. Not being able to annoy you whenever I want. Not being able to cuddle up next to you in bed every night. Not being able to hear your angelic laugh." He stops to look down at your lips. "And not being able to kiss these pretty things." He nudged his nose against yours.

"Well nothing's stopping you now." You smirk.

Harry lets out a small chuckle before rushing down to meet your lips with his. It was as if it was the first time he was getting to do it. He was so excited and you could feel the happiness radiate off him as his lips moulded against yours. You had to pull away to catch your breath.

"Yeah. Definitely missed that." Harry stated, making you chuckle.

You tried to move your hands up to cup his cheek but it was difficult to raise it past a certain point, your muscles being too weak to allow it. You sadly sighed to yourself and flopped your arm back on the bed beside you, closing your eyes in disappointment.

A second later you feel Harrys hand lifting your arm. You open your eyes to glance at him and he's reading your facial expressions to make sure what he's doing isn't hurting you in any way.

"Together." Harry firmly tells you, finally resting your palm against his cheek. He leans against it and you can feel the warmth radiating off his skin. Harry makes sure to hold your hand in place so you aren't doing all the hard-work.

"Sorry." You look at him through your sad eyes.

"For what, darling?" Harry looks deep in to your eyes, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

"For all this." Your nod your head down to your body, referring to how you were semi-immobile. "I know it's not what you signed up for, but—"

"But I love you no matter what." Harry finishes your sentence for you, not wanting to hear your criticise yourself any more than you already had. "This isn't your fault, baby. You know that. I know that. Everyone knows that. We're going to get through this. You're not alone. That, I can promise you."

His words brought as tears to your eye but Harry manages to kiss it away, leaving him with salty lips, before it can truly fall.

••••

2 weeks later, you were out of the hospital now and back home. It was been very overwhelming the last couple of weeks.

You still were unable to walk properly without the support of crutches, or a wheelchair and sometimes Harry. It was a blessing in disguise that your children were still at school, because it meant that you were able to have a lot of time to yourself, and with Harry, without constant interruptions or fussing over you.

Your children had been brilliant. They helped around the house when necessary, and every weekend, when they didn't have school, they delivered you breakfast in bed. Sofia made your cards, that had messages inside that were all spelt wrong, and drew family portraits for you. Sometimes you'd end up with a blue face and green hair, but you didn't love it any less.

As for Harry. Well he was just another level of amazing. He cleaned around the house, even when you insisted you could. He was very firm and layed out the ground rules early on. You weren't to move without his assistance and it had to be with good reason. I.e. apparently getting yourself a glass of water isn't good enough. He picked up the kids from school and dropped them off, sometimes you'd come along if your medication hadn't made you too drowsy. He did allow you to help cook dinner, what with stirring the pan, to let you feel like you were doing something, but he didn't want to overwork you.

Harry and yourself were currently out in the park, and it was very amusing.

You were in your comfy clothes, whilst Harry was in his running gear. He was running laps of a swimming-pool-sized pond, whilst you were walking indescribably slow with your crutches to assist you. Every time he jogged past you he would joke about how you were 'catching him up', but that was far from the truth. You'd barely gone around half of the pond, whereas Harry had done four laps of it, so far. You found the whole thing hilarious.

Harry was catching up to you again and you attempted to go a bit faster to make it seem like you were racing him.

"Oh I see. You're trying to get away from me now, huh?" Harry shouts from behind you. You laughed to yourself as you continue to place the crutches out in front of you before moving yourself forwards. "I don't think so.." Harrys voice becoming more apparent now, from obviously being able to move faster than you.

You suddenly feel his arms wrap around yours and he twirls you around in the air.

"Harry!"

"I've got you. I won." He attacks your neck with kisses, probably leaving a mark or two. Acting like this with him makes it look like you were still falling in love with each other, not being married and have four kids already. You wouldn't want it any other way though.

"You only win because you're a sore loser." You tease him as he places you back down on the floor.

"Shut up." He mumbles.

You go down to pick up your crutches, which you'd accidentally let go of, but are stopped by Harry.

"It's alright love i've got them." Harry tells you, knowing how hard it is for you to bend over and multitask by picking something up.

"No. It's okay. I want to try." You shyly tell him, feeling stupid that you're even requesting it. Harry proudly smiles at you before you lean down to pick them up.

Harrys hand ghosts over the small of your back, just on stand-by for support in case you need it. You let out a groan half-way down, not wanting to give up but realising that this was more difficult than anticipated.

"You've got this baby. Keep going." Harry comforted you to carry on, even when he knew you were struggling, because he knows you can do it. The mere thought gives you enough strength to keep going and power through the ache.

With one final push you're able to pick them up and stand back up. Harry slinks his arms around your waist and picks you up so he's carrying you around his torso. Your legs instinctively cross over his back, and your arms find way to his neck.

Without any words Harrys lips press against yours passionately, and you know that he is proud of you.

••••

A year later had come another milestone for you.

You'd successfully managed to drive the kids to school, and back home. Harry had sat in the passenger seat, making sure to help you with the wheel or change of gears, throughout. You were both anxious. You, more about ending up having an accident and Harry more for wanting you to prove to yourself that you could do it. But you did it.

The kids had been over the moon to hear that their mum was driving them to and from school, complaining that their dads jokes were getting too old now. Harry was mildly offended and continued with his jokes as punishment.

You'd forgotten the route and ended up at a pig-farm, upon trying to get to school, but Harry found it funny and it made you relax. Minor-amnesia was a product of the surgery, and it was times when you were trying to drive somewhere that it became an issue. Other times it was actually quite useful. For example when you'd genuinely forgotten someones name, you can blame it on the surgery, or if you were meant to collect something and had forgotten you'd be politely excused.

After having dinner with the kids, which was an Indian takeaway from your favourite, you made sure they all went to bed before spending some time with Harry downstairs. He'd mentioned how he needed to talk to you about some things this evening.

Both of you were snuggled up on the sofa, with you practically lying on top of Harry. Harry had a can of beer in his hand and your glass of water was carefully placed on the floor. You'd been advised not to drink alcohol for a while, just until the migraines settle down.

"H? You alright? You've been very quiet." You asked, as you kept your eyes on the TV where the BBC News was playing. You weren't really watching it, but it was just there to fill the background noise with anything other than silence.

"Um, yeah." He clears his throat. "I've been thinking a lot lately."

"About?" You ask, not exactly being able to read Harrys mind.

"Life. You. Kids. The future.." He answers, but you can sense he his nervous as his heart is beating considerably faster than usual.

"Okay?" You press for him to continue.

"I'm going to give it all up." He just blurts out, catching you if guard and making you stop breathing for a few seconds.

You twist around so you're sat crossed legged over his legs. "W-what do you mean?" You ask, confused over his proposal.

"I mean, I quit. I'm done with that part of my life." He answers as a matter of factly.

You close your eyes and shake your head to try and process what's actually happening right now.

"H? What are you doing?" You ask, flabbergasted. "Music is your life.."

"No, Y/N. You are my life. Those children, sleeping soundly upstairs, are my life. Music is a passion and a relaxation. It is a way to express my emotions when I don't have you around."

"But—"

"I know, I know. I'll miss the touring and meeting all the amazing fans, but leaving you is just something i'm not willing to do anymore."

A few tears slip down your cheeks when you realise what you're doing.

"This is all my fault." You begin to cry, covering your face with your palms to hide yourself from Harry.

"Hey, Y/N/N, no it's not. You hear me? It's not." Harry tugs your hands away from your face so he can see your beautiful face. "Look at me, darling." He tells you more than asks you.

"Sor—" You start.

"Sshh. I don't want to hear it. I mean, you having surgery is part of the reason, but there are so many other things that are bigger than that. Y/N/N, I love you so so much. More than you could ever believe and I just want to spend the rest of my life with you now. Of course i'll continue to write, produce and publish music, but i'm just not up for touring, like I did, anymore. From now on I want to become the family man. I want to be there every day for our children, no matter what. I need them so much more than they could ever need me."

"But money H..?" You sigh, even though your spirit is so happy from Harrys insight into the future.

"That is not for you to worry about, right now, alright? I've been planning this for a while now and I have things in place and such. I just needed to tell you, because your my other half - my better half - and I felt you deserved to be involved."

It went quiet for a little bit as you let everything Harrys told you, so far, sink in. You'd stopped crying, mainly because Harry wasn't giving your tears a chance to run down your face. You started to smile to yourself at a life where 365 days of a year you can wake up next to your husband.

"What you smiling at, gorgeous?" Harry chuckled, caressing your cheek.

"You." You cheese. "And how I get to be with you for the rest of my days."

"I can't wait to start living the rest of my life with you." Harry softly says, kissing your nose briefly.

Rest of your lives. You could get used to that.

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fic #harry styles fic rec #harry styles husband #husband!harry #dadrry #dad!harry styles #dad harry styles #masterlist harry styles

1K notes · View notes

auro-cyanide · 2 months

Text

Dad is finally having his surgery next week to remove his tumour. Hoping for everything to go smoothly!

90 notes · View notes

allthecanadianpolitics · 2 years

Text

Ron Smart was a baker in the Okanagan for many years before doctors discovered a tumour that was located six centimetres into his brain near his brain stem in 2018.

It was possible for the doctors to remove most of the malignant tumour, but a small part of the brain tumour remained.

“It was a very large tumour, and on my medical reports they wrote, ‘non-survivable’,” said Smart.

But Smart survived the surgery and now he and his wife live in a quiet Penticton, B.C., neighbourhood

He is unable to work, though, due to the intense surgery. He has been living off both federal and provincial disability funding which totals just under $23,000 a year.

“Once your spouse hits $15,500 you’re cut off,” Smart said/

“The way that the government explained it is that it’s based on your spouse’s income. Because we did everything by the book, by the rules, we got the impression we were being punished for being married on disability.” [...]

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

#cdnpoli #ableism #disability benefits #Disability funding #cancer tw

934 notes · View notes

cy-cyborg · 1 year

Text

Writing amputees: Phantom limb sensation/Phantom Limb pain

This was something I got asked about a lot whenever I made videos about amputee representation, so let's talk about Phantom Limb Sensation (PLS) and Phantom Limb Pain (PLP).

TW: Description of surgical amputation process. section with this content can be skipped and the start/end will be clearly marked.

What is it and what causes it?

Phantom Limb Sensation is when you can feel a limb, even after it's been amputated. This phantom limb is a VERY common side effect of amputation, one that almost every amputee experiences at some point. Depending on how the limb was amputated, how old the person was at the time and the condition of the limb before amputation, it can last for as little as a year to being a life-long condition.

it's caused by the part of your brain responsible for proprioception - the sense of where your body is in space. Your brain has an internal map of your body and specifically your nervous system, and it uses this to determine where certain body parts are in space, even without input from your 5 main senses, meaning you don't need to look to know where, say, your leg or hand is (usually, though other disabilities like autism and ADHD can affect this and make it less accurate). Usually, the brain senses where your body parts are using a combination of this map and input from nerves. But if something happens to your body part, that internal map can have a lot of trouble updating, and when the internal map and the nerve inputs don't match, it can cause your brain to panic and fill in the gaps from the missing input signals, creating the sensation that a lost body part, usually a limb, is still there. For some, the limb light be locked in place, other might have the sensation of the limb "growing back" (though as I understand it, this typically only happens to very young children) and others feel as though the limb is perfectly fine and moving along with the rest of the body normally.

This sensation isn't unique to people who have lost limbs mind you: some trans people who have had top or bottom surgery, people who've had mastectomies, and even people who have had growths or tumours removed often report a similar sensation of their removed parts still being present, though it's not usually as intense and fades after a few months to a few years on its own with minimal intervention, leading to it being categorized as a separate phenomenon to Phantom Limbs in these cases.

Phantom Limb Pain is an extension of phantom limb sensation, caused by the body's more extreme reaction to the same phenomenon. The exact reason why it occurs isn't known, but in many people, instead of feeling a persistent pressance of a limb that's no longer there, they will feel discomfort or pain radiating from the lost limb. For some people, it might be an itch on the phantom limb they can't scratch, for others, the pain can feel like intense "pins and needles" all over the lost limb, others feel an electric "zap" running through the non-existent nerves, live they've grabbed a low-voltage electic fence, some people feel a dull, pounding pain, like the lost limb is being crushed or pushed into positions it shouldn't be able to go into (e.g. someone who had their knee amputated might feel the joint bending in the wrong direction). Some people experience all of these, some only experience one. Everyone will be different.

How is it treated?

Like with many things in life, prevention is better than a cure. certain measures can be taken to lessen the intensity of PLP and PLS before it can even start.

Gore TW: description of the process of surgical amputations, skip to the "----" divider to avoid.

People who have had amputations in the last 10 years will go through a slightly different procedure than those who had amputations before then. Historically, the limb would be amputated by cutting directly through the limb and either sewn shut or by having a skin graft where tissue is used to create a "cap" at the end of the stump. These methods worked, but left nothing for the nerves to connect to once everything was healed, leading the brain to think the reason for the lack of signal from the limb is that the limb was simply broken. Not only can this cause added intensity to the nerve pain, and increase the risk of something called a neuroma, where the nerves attempt to mend the "break" and continue to grow until they hit the surface of the skin, causing them to bundle up and get tangled, creating a feed back loop and amplifying any signal from the area to unbearable levels (including phantom sensations).

Today though, when conditions allow, amputations are done by cutting through the limb as before, then once the skin layers are reached on the other side, surgeons cut downward, creating a long tab of skin which is pulled over the bottom of the stump and reattached to the front. This allows the major nerve pathways in the limb to connect with each other during the healing process, creating a loop in the nerves and tricking the brain into thinking it's still receiving signals from the amputated limb.

Those who had their amputations prior to this change in the procedure can have a similar operation done to achieve a similar effect, though in both cases, it doesn't always work and can lead to the brain producing very very strange phantom limb sensations. In my personal case, it creates a sensation that I can feel my own skin in the region as though it was something separate from the rest of the body, almost like I'm wearing a sock. Very odd, and honestly kind of cursed lol.

------------------------------------------------------

If prevention isn't an option though, different treatments exist.

One popular method is through compression. what's left of the amputated limb (called the stump) will be either wrapped in very strong compression bandages or the person can wear a fitted compression sock on the stump. This is usually done for the first 6-12 weeks after the amputation, though it can be done for longer under the supervision of a rehab specialist in some circumstances. After 6 weeks, 6-12 weeks, the stump will have healed enough for a prosthetic to be fitted. After this point, the person is encouraged to wear the prosthetic or at least the liner, usually made from silicone in modern prosthetics instead of a compression sock/bandage. The liners of the prosthetic offer milder compression, as does the socket of the prosthetic itself, and the "snug" feeling can, for some, make the phantom pain more bearable and the phantom sensation less frequent (though some people experience the opposite and will have increased PLP/PLS while adjusting to the prosthetic, though it usually subsides eventually).

For leg amputees specifically, they are encouraged to walk on their new prosthetics as much as possible, as the action of walking with the prosthetic will often trigger the phantom limb to start moving in time with the rest of the leg, and the sensation of walking can essentially trick the brain into using the phantom limb sensation to help the person walk more naturally and feel less unstable.

Another treatment is called Mirror Therapy, though this only works for single-limb amputees or arm and leg amputees who's amputations were on the same side (e.g. both left leg and left arm). The person puts their full remaining limb in front of a mirror and their amputated limb behind the mirror, then angles themselves so it appears that their full limb being reflected in the mirror is replacing the lost limb. If the person is experiencing an itch on their lost limb, they can scratch the full one, and look into the mirror. Eventually, your brain will feel the scratching sensation on the phantom limb instead.

If none of these options work, nerve pain medications such as gabapentin can be prescribed, though this is usually a last resort as these medications can have serious side effects and can prevent people from being able to do certain jobs or even drive depending on the dosage. As an absolute last resort, an injection can be given to the person to numb the stump. This does not stop the pain completely, but it does subdue it, though many doctors warn against this as it often means the person will not be able to feel if their stump is injured and can result in infected, untreated wounds.

Unfortunately, there is no "cure" yet, and many amputees just learn to live with PLP and PLS.

What things make you more or less likely to experience PLP/PLS?

There are some things that can make you more or less likely to experience PLP and PLS, and that can effect how intensely you experience them.

Your age when you lost the limb

People who are born without the limb almost never experience PLP and PLS, as their brain's internal map already knows the limb isn't there. Likewise, children who lost their limb very early in life don't usually experience PLS very intensely, or for very long, and are less likely to experience PLP at all. This is because when you are young, your brain is already updating that internal map because you're growing, so it has an easier time understanding the fact the limb isn't there anymore. Young brains are also constantly changing and growing, making them more adaptable in general to acquiring major disabilities. On the flip-side someone who lost their limb late in life is more likely to experience PLP and PLS for the rest of their lives. It can be managed, but it will likely always be pressant. Thier brains have not really needed to make any major updates to that map, often for decades, and are not really built to be able to do that, meaning PLP and PLS will likely take longer to go away, if they ever go away at all.

How you lost it and the condition of the limb before it was amputated.

If you lost your limb due to trauma, meaning events like accidents or major injury, the phantom sensation you experience will likely be much more painful, and could even feel like the injury or accident is happening over and over again. For example, someone who lost their arm to a shark attack might feel the sensation of the shark's teeth biting into it as well as the sensations described in the first section.

Alternatively, someone who had their limb amputated due to a pre-existing condition might continue to feel that condition even after the limb is gone. As a personal example, I've had multiple amputations throughout my life, but my most recent was due to a bone infection that formed at the bottom of my stump from a previous amputation. Now, when I experience phantom limb sensation, I can still feel where the infection reached the surface (where the nerves began to feel something was wrong). I had that leg amputated through the ankle as a young child, and when it was re-amputated higher up due to the infection, I didn't feel the whole leg, just the pre-existing stump.

Post Amputation Care

If a person does not receive proper medical care immediately after an amputation, their phantom sensation and pain will be significantly worse. My great Grandfather for example, lost part of his hand during WW2, but due to the situation, was not able to receive adequate medical care once he was established due to the medics being preoccupied with the actively dying. As a result of this and the traumatic nature of how he lost it in the first place, he experienced very intense phantom pain for the majority of his life. This is also important to keep in mind if your story takes place before the modern age, as it wasn't really understood how important post-amputation care was until recently, and many folks were left to just figure it out themselves.

Time

As with all things, phantom pain and phantom sensation fade with time. They may not ever go away entirely, but they do fade in intensity at least a little. This is especially important to keep in mind for characters with beyond-human lifespans. Your elderly grandmother character might not live long enough for their phantom pain to fade entirely, but your immortal vampire who's been alive for a millennia and lost their arm when they were human probably will.

Closing things to keep in mind

Wow, that was longer than I was expecting but I hope you found this all helpful. One last thing to keep in mind is that oftentimes, amputees who do experience PLS/PLP get pretty good at managing it, so you don't have to worry about it too much unless the amputation happens during the story itself or you want to make it a focus, this is just an explanation of what you can include if you like. Personally, though, I feel like it's an aspect of being an amputee that a lot of media rep overlooks, so it would be nice to see some more representation at least mention it. It doesn't have to be constant, but some brief comments or something of the like will go a long way.

#Writing Disability with Cy Cyborg #long post #writing disability #disability #disabled #disabilities #actually disabled #disability representation #amputee #writing #writing advice #writer #writeblr #on writing #writers on tumblr #authors of tumblr #authors #phantom limb #id in alt text

358 notes · View notes