#Sweet kidney failure

[partynthem]

just put my cat down and cried in front of a dozen of my coworkers. merry christmas

[mycological-mariner]

God you ever cant remember whether or not you took a medication? On the one hand you don’t wanna flood your system if you DID, but on the other you really don’t wanna fuck around and find out what happens if you didn’t.

[strayskinny]

today was actually so awful i hate everything,,,,,,

[ranma0]

Notes from a concerned medical professional who reads too much hurt/comfort:

(These are all things I've seen in Hazbin/Helluva fanfics)

(Tw: for injury, illness, gore, drug use, overdose, a lot of other things)

You cannot drug someone to sleep by overdosing them on melatonin. It will not work

Don't submerge an open wound or stitches in a bathtub/pool/etc it will introduce bacteria to the wound (taking a shower is usually fine, just skip the romantic bath)

On that note, stitches do not immediately stop a wound from bleeding and should not be used to solve every problem (never give yourself stitches unless you have absolutely no other choice they can trap infection inside the body when done incorrectly)

And, if the wound is extremely deep, a person may need several layers of stitches to piece together the skin, muscle, and viscera

You absolutely cannot get high on tylenol or ibuprofen even if you mix it with alcohol.

If you do mix tylenol or ibuprofen with alcohol it can cause internal bleeding/kidney damage/liver failure, so please don't do that

If someone is shivering from a high fever, don't cover them in blankets it will raise their body temperature even more (please try correctly dosed tylenol or ibuprofen for this)

Don't submerge someone with a high fever in ice water, they might go into shock (they also might panic and hurt themselves) in a pinch lukewarm water will do

Don't put ice on burns, run them under lukewarm or cool water instead

If someone overdoses on an opoid (heroin, morphine, various pain medications), there is a medicine called nalaxone (Narcan) that can reverse the effects of opioids (edit: thank you to @queerlybehooved)

If someone is bleeding profusely, don't just hold their head and whisper sweet nothings, put pressure on the wound!!!

If a bullet remains in a person’s body after being shot it most likely should not be dug out unless it's blocking something vital, the bullet is not the problem the damage it made in it's path is

This isn't a criticism of authors who have written things like this. A lot of it isn't common knowledge, and DIY healthcare is absolutely steeped in myth and misinformation. I just worry about disinformation being perpetuated (and I really enjoy accurate hurt/comfort)

If I got anything wrong, please let me know, and I'll edit the post. I'm far from perfect and appreciate good advice

Let me know if you guys want a fic rec list of my favorite Hazbin Hotel whump fics

[jolenes-doppelganger]

Gentle Hands

Ilsa Faust x Fem! Reader

NSFW 18+- MINORS WHO INTERACT CAN AND WILL BE BLOCKED.

Summary: What happens when a dangerous spy gets disavowed? She goes right back to her roots. It’s unfortunate that those roots land her into a months long obsession with the current tenant of her childhood home.

Warnings: Yandere/Stalker Ilsa- Non-consensual watching of intimate activities, clothes stealing (panty stealing), non-con touching of non-sexual areas, masturbation (Reader and Ilsa)

A/N: I do not condone this behavior in real life. This is a character study, get OFF my ass. <3

Word Count: 2.0K

[Told from Ilsa's POV, third person.]

It was normal, to be this involved in someone’s life, certainly. If everyone had the skills that Ilsa did they would do what Ilsa did. This girl, this (Reader), she was interesting. Unusually so. She'd done good things to Ilsa's childhood town home. There were plants everywhere, and the windows no longer fogged over in the winter, which meant she'd probably renovated the old town home herself. Or perhaps the landlords had changed. Ilsa didn't look into those details; those were boring, useless details. What was more interesting than the renovations was the person who continued to spruce up the home. Fresh wallpaper had been put up the day Ilsa had knocked on the door. Ilsa remembered this very clearly, using her proficiency for keen detail retainment to remember the day vividly.

Fall leaves clung to the stone pathway that led up to the town home. Ilsa knocked on the door of her childhood home, fully prepared for any sort of introduction, any sort of grumpy old geezer swinging the door open and letting out a tired 'What are ya ringing the door bell for, love?'. But that wasn't what happened.

'Hiya, how can I help you?' a soft voice asked, opening the door to reveal a kind looking young woman.

'Hi, I'm Ilsa Auster, I used to live here. I wanted to take a look around the old house for a moment, check to see if anyone I knew still lived here.' Ilsa softly explained.

The young woman smiled back.

'Oh, I see. My name is (Reader). I'm afraid I don't recognize you or know too much about the previous tenants.'

'I wouldn't expect you to, this was years ago, you see.' Ilsa smiled thinly.

The young woman seemed to pause for a moment, deciding on something.

'Well if you'd like to come in and have a cup of tea, you're more than welcome to.' she offered, so sweet.

Ilsa had come in for tea. She'd seen the freshly wallpapered living room, smelled the drying paint, and she'd run her fingers along the new countertops the new landlord had installed. You were sweet to Ilsa the entire time, giving her the little information you had about Simon Faust, the elderly gentleman that had passed on from complications related to kidney failure, as well as a few tenants in between. The tea you served was made the proper English way, with loose tea leaves in a metal tea strainer, left to steep in a pot for five minutes while Ilsa had chatted with you. The sugar cubes you offered were sickly sweet, just like you. None of it would have made Ilsa do what she did next, none of it would have been something she'd dwell on at all, had you not touched her.

You'd given a soft squeeze to her shoulder as you bade her farewell at the door. A tender touch, full of trust, goodwill, kindness. Not too many people trusted Ilsa enough to touch her like that. In her line of work people didn't touch. A hand for support, a brief handshake for introduction, but mostly punches, slaps; hands wielded like weapons to leave bruises at the bare minimum, to end her life in the extremes. A kind touch was unheard of in her past life. With one small gesture, you had given Ilsa a taste of the life she'd given up working for MI6. It was this touch that ruined her; that made her ravenous for more.

That's why she was in front of her computer, browsing the cameras she'd placed inside your home. Hundreds of cameras to capture you from every angle as your hands worked. Those hands, petting your cat, watering your plants, cooking dinner (breakfast, lunch), touching anything and everything in that gentle way of yours. Those hands that soaped up your body in the shower, scrubbing yourself clean after a long day, those hands that lingered in the valley of your breasts and over the soft expanse of your stomach and roved over your bare thighs.

Those hands.

Tonight Ilsa was in for her favorite treat. You were tired, shifting uncomfortably, but not quite satisfied with something about yourself. Ilsa opened up a period recording app, tracking your cycle. She'd set this up this early on. It was interesting how predictable your behavior was in relation to your cycle; fascinating, truly. She smirked with glee. You were ovulating tomorrow. No wonder you were so uncomfortable.

'Feeling extra uptight, princess?' Ilsa whispered as she watched you squirm. 'Gonna give me a show?'

You gave in after five minutes. Phone down, reaching into your bedside table, bringing out that tiny little vibrator of yours that you adored. Ilsa had seen you use it a few times, but you used it most frequently during this window of heightened hormonal activity. You browsed on your phone, bringing up a cute little story. One of your 'fanfictions'. Ilsa could open your phone's software and see what you were reading if she really wanted to, but she didn't. Not now, anyways. She watched in excitement as you pulled your pajama pants down your legs, underwear too. Ilsa bit her lip. If you were taking them off all the way, this was going to be a good show.

The vibrator buzzed quietly. She watched in anticipation as you placed it against your clit, the soft gasp when you did.

'Princess, I might need to join in on this.' Ilsa smirked, crossing and uncrossing her legs.

You swiped through your phone reading avidly as the buzz continued. Your hips would wriggle a little, and you'd let out a soft 'hmm' or a breathy 'hihch' every once in a while, but that was it. Ilsa knew you weren't vocal. No, you were quiet. Ilsa shifted in her seat as you increased the vibrator's speed. She watched breathlessly as you seemed to be getting more into whatever you were reading.

'Oh, princess, now I know you're the quiet type, but you're putting on a show.' Ilsa whispered to the screen, eyes dilated.

She watched as your eyes rolled back and you panted quickly, going rigid for a few moments and then relaxing. The vibrator was back in the drawer before Ilsa had taken her jeans all the way off.

"No, damn it!' Ilsa slammed her fist on her desk. 'You're not playing fair, we're supposed to do it together!'

She watched as you walked into the bathroom, sitting on the toilet and peeing. Ilsa groaned, slapping her mouse on the pad, browsing through her stored videos. She found her favorite of you, the shower video. It was sixteen minutes long, eye candy for the intense voyeur that Ilsa had become. The setting of the video was sensual. You were in your shower, and you'd set up candles, a singular soft light illuminating the otherwise candlelit bathroom. Your hair was tied up to prevent it getting wet, and all your movements were slow. You started out carefully, using that expensive bar soap you'd bought, lathering up your arms and legs, moving slowly. Ilsa groaned at the sight, pulling her panties down her legs, running her thumbs up and down her inner thighs.

You reached for that special scrub you bought, the expensive shit. She watched as you exfoliated, paying special attention to your breasts and your ass. Ilsa moaned at the sight, starting to rub slow circles around her clit. You rinsed the scrub off, shaving your legs and your armpits. Ilsa moved her fingers slightly faster as she watched, you were propping your legs up one at a time, and that angle was spectacular. Ilsa felt herself moving too close to orgasm too quickly, so she moved her fingers down, circling her entrance, dipping her fingers in carefully. She didn't want to orgasm yet, not when the main act was just starting.

Ilsa watched in silent awe as you reached for the shower head. It was new, another addition you'd added sometime ago, before Ilsa. You carefully adjusted the setting until the pulse of water was thin and violent. Your water pressure was too high, so you unscrewed the shower head just a titch. One leg on the shower ledge, the other straight, albeit barely bent, and when the water hit your clit just right, you allowed yourself to moan. Ilsa let out her own breathy moan in response, her fingers rubbing that spongey spot inside her while she used her other hand to rub her clit. She bit her lip as she watched your thighs shake, one of your hands slamming against the shower wall, keeping yourself up. Finally, it happened. You let out a soft series of gasps and whines, your leg shaking as you came.

The sight of that, the sound, the angles of the cameras, it was enough to get Ilsa orgasming. She let out her own quick pants and soft moans as she rubbed her clit furiously, working herself through that high. The video ended with you gently running a softer stream of water between your labia, rinsing everything clean.

'Divine.' Ilsa let out a breathy chuckle.

Flipping tabs, Ilsa returned to checking up on you, skimming the video feed. You hadn't done anything interesting in the sixteen minutes she'd been replaying your best performance yet. You'd done a few housekeeping things such as returning to clean your vibrator, remake the bed, change your panties.

Your panties.

Ilsa switched cameras, zooming on them. They were soaked, caused by ovulation no doubt. Ilsa bit her lip, envisioning just how wet they would feel in between her fingertips. You looked tired, throwing the panties into your laundry basket. Your exhaustion was to be expected. Ilsa had ensured that you would always be ready to sleep at a set time; she'd switched your vitamins you'd take at night with sleep aids. You wouldn't know the difference, they looked the same as your iron pill, and you weren't tasting them to know the difference.

Ilsa smiled, pulling up her pants, grabbing the key she'd had made for your home. You were a silly girl, leaving that spare key in the flowerpot for when your Mom came over. It was a three hour errand to go to the locksmith, and no one ever asked a polite English lady about why the key was a spare instead of the original.

She slipped into your house through the back door, walking nonchalantly. Your neighbors didn't pay attention to who you had over anyways. Ilsa had talked to them a few times. They smoked too much weed to remember her, asking for her name everytime. Upon slipping in, she fed your cat a small treat. The 'Temptations' kind.

'Gonna stay quiet for me pretty girl? Yes you are.' Ilsa whispered, petting the cat until she purred, leaving a few treats to keep her occupied.

Slipping up the stairs, Ilsa quietly walked into your room, smiling at your slumbering face. Opening your closet, she grabbed those still wet panties, rubbing her fingers over the slick. Ilsa pocketed them. Ditsy girl you were, always forgetting which pairs of underwear you'd worn and which ones you hadn't. Ilsa creeped up to your bed, touching your sleeping form. You were too sleepy to notice, with your special pill and all.

'Hi princess. Don't you know better than to tease me like that? Your performance today wasn't all that stimulating.' Ilsa quietly cooed.

Taking your limp body in her arms, Ilsa was tempted to touch your new pair of panties, to see if they were wet, but she felt like that wasn't necessary. Besides, she wanted you to be awake the first time you two were together. She wasn't into fucking people when they were asleep; Ilsa didn't like how quiet they were. Besides, she'd already gotten off today. Ilsa decided on pulling you into her lap, cradling you quietly. She took one of your hands in hers, squeezing gently.

'Love these hands. Such gentle hands you've got.'

Ilsa kissed your face softly, but not your lips. No, she wanted you to be awake for that. She wanted you to remember Ilsa when she finally decided to make her move. But it wasn't time for that yet. Ilsa simply wasn't finished making the perfect person for you to love.

<----------------------------->

[shinynx]

Please help my sweet kitty Div

I don't know what to do. My cat Div just got diagnosed with kidney failure. She's lost so much weight and stopped eating. She's staying overnight at the ER vet and is being transferred to another hospital in the morning. It's a minimum of $3,000 with the potential of being up to $5,000. And if she makes it, she will need constant meds and fluid under the skin. I can't afford all this with my line cook income but I can't lose her. (I was able to cover the down payment but I need to pay the rest of it by next week, and I still have rent and car insurance to worry about.)

A week ago I lost my favorite rat Beef. I can't lose her too. She's so important to me. She's been with me through everything. She's the most special cat and such a sweetheart. Please help if you can. Share if you can't. don't tag. Please. She's my best friend. I can accept tips on this post or check the Reblog for p*y-pa|. Thank you.

[keeperesque]

hi, this is my dog! her name is magnolia mae and she's an elderly chihuahua-dachshund mix (estimated between 12-15 years old). she's a rescue we received from my roommate and best friend's late cousin about 5 years ago.

long story short, our sweet girl has been experiencing some severe and concerning health issues (extremely low RBC, WBC, Neutrophils, and Platelets), and she needs to have her bone marrow tested. this is extremely expensive (at least 1,200), and we're hoping to get some help. if you'd like more information on what's going on with her, that will be under the cut. otherwise, please consider using either of the below methods to help us take care of our sweet old girl!

ppal.me: @/daisyd0nati0ns (replace 0s with Os)

kof!: @/keeperesque

don't tag as d0nat!ons/etc, etc..

when we moved across the country during late 2020 to be with my wife, we brought her, as well as my elderly cat sampson and my two older rabbits, indie and digit.

2023, however, has not been kind to any of our pets. in february, we lost sampson to kidney failure - it was sudden and utterly heartbreaking. a month later, my wife found that digit had passed away in her sleep, and indie was put down shortly after due to health complications we could not afford to properly treat. since then, we've been extremely diligent with maggie's health - she eats special food for her kidneys, has vet appointments scheduled every 6 months, gets twice-daily walks, takes medication for her thyroid, and receives plenty of love.

unfortunately, starting with an emergency visit in september, maggie's been having severe problems with her blood - specifically an extremely low platelet count (33,000-55,000, normal levels are about 200,000), white blood cell count and neutrophils are extremely low, and she's extremely anemic. while she's on some medication to keep her stable, we aren't sure how long that will last, and it's taxing on her body.

after ruling out infectious diseases, we need to take her in to have her bone marrow looked at. the procedure, at the low end, will cost around 1,200, and up to 1,600, depending.

i also have pdfs available for anyone skeptical of these claims or who want proof of treatment.

we're not sure if we'll be able to save her, but we would at least like to know what's happening so we can make an informed decision on how to proceed, instead of watching and waiting for the worst. anything over the price of her procedure will, of course, go towards related expenses, such as treatments or end-of-life care.

if you read all of that, thanks. again, please consider helping us out!!

ppal.me: @/daisyd0nations (0 is an o)

kof!: @/keeperesque

have an extra maggie pic :)

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Would I (early 20s nb) be the asshole for "rushing"/taking over the responsibility my partner(early to mid 20s f) took to rehome a cat we adopted together?

🐉🐱 <- so I notice myself

Tw for cat death

I know this sounds terrible just from the title but please read the whole thing. I'm just so emotionally done at this point and it's getting dangerous for us. This is also long lmao and please don't post this to YouTube or TikTok, I don't wanna deal with it, even if I changed names and a few ages.

So I've been living with my partner and her family for almost 3 years. I moved 10 hrs away from my home state to live with her because my parents were abusive. We dated for about 2 years prior to me moving. My partners family are equally abusive just in different ways. My family had some verbal and emotional/mental abuse while her family has constantly threatened physical abuse and lots of mental and verbal abuse.

Either way, I was screwed but I'd rather at least be able to come home to the love of my life instead of only being able to text her. I should mention here that my partner works full time while I'm working to get on disability for mobility issues so I am with our cats every day. I bring a little income with commissions on my crafts but it's not enough to soully sustain us.

When I moved in, my partner had 2 cats, let's call them Salem and Vector. Salem was a 10 yr old male cat and Vector was 2 yr old male cat. About a year after I moved in, in the beginning of 2022, Salem died suddenly from kidney failure and we were devastated. Salem wasn't originally my partner's cat (she'd gotten him from a friend only a year prior to me moving in) but we still loved him deeply. He was the first pet I ever put down and I'll never forget my partner's sobbing. About 2 and ½ months later, we got a kitten, lets call him Arthur, a 3 month old male. We shouldn't have but my partner wanted one, I thought I was ready and Vector was very very lonely and depressed.

I named Arthur and Arthur was feisty from the very beginning but he was sweetish. I told my partner, in a panic late at night a week after getting him; that I wasn't ready for a new kitten, i regretted getting him, we werent bonding, etc etc and she told me to just relax and breathe and give it time so i did. I gave it a full year and a half and... I'm ashamed to say I still don't feel that love connection with him. It started out small; chewing and destroying wires, food aggression (not like he'd bite us if we went near his food, more just got very excited and would painfully climb us to get to our food or any food) and because he was so jumpy, he'd freak out over every sound and rip us up trying to jump off of us.

We got Arthur from a cat colony being watched over by my partner's coworkers however he was born indoors, spent the necessary time with Mom and was handled from day one so he wasn't feral. He'd wouldn't beat us up but anytime he got excited to play or get pet or get wet food or anything we got scarred. His destruction has just gotten worse the older he's gotten, hes very very loud all the time (we like vocal cats but he screams) and he's not affectionate at all. He's not mean but he's just not interested in any cuddling or pets or anything. I don't want a rug I have to feed and clean up shit after.

About 4 months later, we ended up with, let's call her Coral. Coral was another kitten, female this time, when she crawled up in my car. She was feral from the start but she quickly became very loving and cuddly and sweet. She still very much so is. I wanna say, although I never grew a particular fondness for Arthur like my partner has, I've never mistreated, abused or neglected Arthur in any way. I've never yelled at him or treated him differently from our other cats. He got the same cuddles and attention Coral and Vector get, the only difference is that Arthur is crated at night so he doesn't make us lose an eye from some hard zoomies or get into food or dangerous things when we can't watch him. He's out all day and is only crated from 12 pm to 7 am when my partner gets up and let's him out. He's got a bed, food and water, a few toys and a small litter box in his crate so he's covered and he can see us and his siblings the entire night so hes not have separation anxiety.

Now onto the hard part. I'm done with Arthur. Emotional and physically, I don't want Arthur anymore. I'm exhausted from being constantly ripped up and screamed at and having important things destroyed by Arthur the spider cat. No amount of clicker training or treats or sprays of water or redirections can stop him from ripping the room apart(said room is a small apartment, not a normal small room). He gets played with by us all the time and he's got 2 energetic siblings who play with him, we don't know why he acts this way. I could handle Arthur's antics for a bit longer if needed but 2 new issues have made me finally put my foot down about Arthur's further residence with us.

1. Arthur is constantly trying to dominate Coral to the point of hurting her and fur flying fights and scratches. It should be noted that all three cats were neutered/spayed the moment they were of age to do so so it's not a male cat thing. Arthur wants to be higher in the hierarchy but Coral won't take it and thus, some nasty screaming hissy cat fights. Almost very other time they are fine it's just when he gets humpy. There is also a near weekly occurrence of him not reading her " I don't want to play anymore" signals and fights ensue. I'm not gonna stand my cats hurting each other and Arthur is the constant instigator. He tries to fight with Vector too but gets put down immediately, he picks on Coral and not in a playful way. I'm not playing favorites because I love Coral and I'm not connected with Arthur, if Coral was aggressive, we'd take the issue just as seriously but Arthur is the aggressor and Coral is smaller and younger than him so she can't stand up for herself.

2. We need to get out of this house. Her family's abuse is worsening and they constantly joke about hurting our pets and their own pets (the pets have never seen each other, different floors of the house so Arthur's aggression has nothing to do with them). We could barely afford an apartment in the current housing crisis and can barely find ones that allow 1 cat, let alone 2. We have never and probably will never find one that allows 3. All this ignoring the fact we'd lose our deposit instantly from Arthur's destruction.

All in all, Arthur needs to go. I'm noticing myself getting more and more stressed and frustrated and short with a Arthur and he doesn't deserve to live with someone who doesn't love him. Even if he's treated no differently, I'm sure Arthur can tell and even if I feel justified in my lack of love for him, I know he's not trying to hurt us or destroy things maliciously. I'm not nor will ever hurt him but I'm just done with constantly flinching cause he jumped on the bed or dreading letting him out of the cage in the morning because it was so peaceful before then.

I told my partner about 8 months ago (June of 2023) that I was fully done with Arthur and if we ever wanted to leave here, he'd have to go. I told my partner I wanted to start this process in Sept and hopefully have him either rehome or in a no-kill shelter by the end of Oct. I know my partner gets very attached to her animals so that's why I gave her 3 months to process things and a month to rehome him. I was very gentle but stern about this because it would be what's best for him and best for us. My partner agreed but asked if she could do the rehoming and to not talk about it until Sept. I obliged.

Sept, as you can see, has long come and went and now it's Jan of 2024. I've been asking my partner about once a month about the rehoming process and how it's going with mixed results. She made a pet profile on a rehoming site but when I read the description, she didn't really "sell" him well aka mentioned every possible bad thing about him and didn't mention any positives. It felt like she was sabotaging it but I let it be. She showed me a list of 40 no-kill shelters in Dec but she had only checked off 4 of them. She promised me he'd be rehomed by the end of 2023 and he's still here and we are no closer to doing it.

I don't want to wait till the week we move out to rehome him, the stress of the move and changing of the household will be too much stress on us and on Coral and Vector. I don't wanna wait for kitten season to swing back around and we'll never find a place for him. I know it's hard for her but she's breaking a promise for a cat she's admitted herself she's starting to hate. I know rehoming is a process but it's not moving and I feel like my say on his continued residency is being disregarded. I'm not trying to rush my partner but she's broken a promise, it's been 8 months since she could start preparing for this and 5 since she's "started the process" she's dragging her feet intentionally.

So, my idea is that I'll take over the process. I'll offer to help and find the places and get things in order so we can get one less stressor in our lives and Arthur can live in a home with the attention and patience he deserves. I wanna ask her if she wants my help but I don't want her to feel rushed to do it and get upset with me for doing what she promised she would.

I feel like she's waiting for me to just give up and give in and let him stay but she's not the one who has to deal with him all day every day and we don't make enough to find a bougie apartment to take in 3 cats. He'd need to be rehomed even if we got attached because we can't take them all. So, would I be the asshole for taking over the rehoming process for a cat me and my partner no longer like because my partner is intentionally dragging her feet on it or am I justified?

(to note, my partner brought up the possibility that Arthur has a mental illness/possibly be inbred due to the cat colony situation or that we could get him professional training. The issue is we live in a very rural area without a lot of money, 1. We would not be able to afford any mental illness controlling medicine for the long term when we can barely afford our own meds and 2. Classes to train animals are very expensive and the places that could train Arthur are at least a 3 hour drive away. Its not feasible for us, especially when I don't have a license/might not be able to drive on my own due to my disability. If he was properly sheltered, they could get him that help/training or his new owners could afford to but we can't. We can't put him in a kill shelter for moralistic reasons either.)

What are these acronyms?

[planetsallalign]

6:13am and I am awake having coffee. Even though I don’t have to work today my internal clock screams at 5am to wake up. Once Maeve senses I’m stirring she is right there trying to be as sweet as possible because she wants to be fed. Rocket decided to join in too and they wrestled banging into the floor and door till I gave up at 6am and put food in their bowls.

I miss the automatic feeder. But it’s worth it to keep Maeve healthy and stave off any kidney failure for as long as possible. I still call the vet weekly and her weight hasn’t changed. She’ll go back in 3 months or so for her next blood test. Hopefully with her prescription food and chia seed supplement her calcium stays low/in check.

These faces I’d do anything for though 🤷🏼‍♀️

[medicallymercury]

Tinderbox (30/12/23)

I did end up waking up super early (on accident) and watching this episode but I decided not to post my review until after it had been on TV. I've really got to start getting into writing my essays now cause I have less than two weeks even with the deadline extension but I can manage to spend 12 straight hours thinking about writing it (rotating Casualty in my microwave brain) and not even realise I've done it until my mum's alarm goes off.

Well, it was an episode, wasn't it? Sometimes Casualty gives us masterpieces of television (cough Switzerland) and sometimes Casualty gives us "what the fuck was that?" (cough Too Much, Too Young - that was a very mixed Saturday) and Tinderbox was, at least for me, pretty much in the middle. I guess I wasn't as invested as I could've been cause there wasn’t much of my faves, I'd probably be more positive if we had more of them.

Pretty busy and all over the place episode but that’s to be expected at the start of a miniseries, I guess.

Stevie my beloved, she was great in this one. Elinor Lawless is very talented!! This has got me looking forward to her own storyline even more.

I know Ryan was unpopular but I loved him as a problematic little bitch character. Shows like this sometimes need a Ryan to cause problems for everyone and he served his purpose. Like, he is terrible but it was amusing to have a terrible member of the predominantly very sweet baby nurse quartet. I’ll miss him, honestly. I don’t imagine he’ll come back since there’s a new new (I still think of the baby nurses as new) nurse joining next week.

I made this last night, he didn’t actually die but I still think it’s funny:

I really liked that final shot of Jodie, Rida and Cam together but, to quote my mum as it happened, “I feel like all three of them have wanted Ryan to get beaten up at least once before”.

I love a good family storyline, especially when the family has multiple members in the main cast cause I think it allows for more development of the relationship (gestures wildly at Jan and Teddy), and Max and Jodie were great today. Loved all their interactions. Especially loved their conversation about Max’s kidney failure and especially “I wouldn’t allow it, even if you wanted to.” “Which I don’t.” “Well at least we agree on one thing” and “I’m sorry I’m not what you expected” (!!!!!!!!!!). I think they’re more similar than either of them realises, and I love that kind of dynamic - in both my ‘main fandoms’ my favourite characters are girls whose relationships with their fathers could be described as “I’m nothing like my dad (I’m just acting exactly like him)”. There’s definitely examples of that in this episode but back in Driving Force I remember a scene where Dylan tells them that neither of them should be treating Max’s mum and they both stand there looking at him with the same expression.

I expected that knowing the Teddy infidelity arc will happen would affect how I watch the show and when Paige and Jodie were treating the same patient I was 👁️👁️ the whole time. Whatever, I’ll get over it (hhhhhhh).

Sah was in this but so barely that the credits didn’t actually include Arin, which is weird to me.

I will say I think Casualty has been on weird pacing recently. I’d blame the miniseries format but it feels like there has been some storylines that are too long-running without saying anything new (FAITH) and other ones that get dropped too quickly without enough time to actually go into the ideas they implied were happening.

I think it was a good start to the new series but I would’ve liked them to cut the Faith stuff and have something actually happening with the paramedics instead.

Yes, I know complaining about Faith is beating a dead horse. However, in continuing to write her and this storyline, the writers have invented a dead horse beating machine to keep beating the dead horse perpetually. It goes on endlessly and has absolutely nothing new to say. And while some storylines have been getting these rushed and incomplete conclusions, Casualty had an opportunity to give the Faith storyline a conclusion with her going to rehab and staying there and then they didn’t. Tired of it. Also, not to be mean to the presumably overwhelmed Holby HR department but why would they ask Faith of Drug Theft Fame to come back??? This is why your hospital is like this, your hiring practices are terrible.

[rottenbrainstuff]

Cat update because I want to:

Just wanted to let you all know - this amazing little cat, Sophie, the best most perfect cat in the entire world, continues to do really well despite everything she’s got going on. She is 16 years old, she has no teeth, she has kidney failure, and she has terminal cancer, but honesty it feels like sometimes she is going to live forever… she just keeps going and doing her thing and being the best little buddy anyone could ever hope for. In fact, this last year she’s been feeling really good, because she’s on medication that is making her tummy feel SO much better. She is so sweet and patient and perfect, except if I stay awake too late, or sleep in too late, or even get up to go to the bathroom, and then she complains about it. She has recently decided that she just will not eat her prescription kidney wet food, no way no how, and her majesty now just eats regular senior food. (Her kidney disease has not really progressed for some reason in the 5 years since her diagnosis so whatever. At this point, not eating will kill her faster than her kidneys so she can have what she likes)

Her cancer diagnosis last year was that probably she would live for another 1-2 years. That means I will very likely be saying goodbye to her sometime next year. That’s sad to think about, because she really has been the absolute perfect cat and the best buddy during some really bad times. I do hold out irrational hope that she’ll just keep going despite the prognosis, just like she did with her kidney disease, and I would so dearly love for her to become one of those absolutely ancient and crusty 20 year old cats. She won’t live forever though, and I’ll keep doing my best to make her feel the best that she can, and be kind when we reach a point where she has more bad days than good. It feels like that’s going to be a long time off though. So I just want to enjoy the time I have with her.

[antiquitea]

this past weekend, we lost our sweet baby man, charlie. he had been diagnosed with kidney failure earlier in the week, and while we weren't exactly shocked, we thought we'd have a bit more time. but he told us on saturday morning that he was very tired, and would like to rest.

he had everyone at the emergency vet wrapped around his pittie paws within ten minutes. one of the techs took him back to get his vitals, and when she returned he was draped in a fuzzy pink blanket. "he looked cold so we gave him a blanket!" and the vet who helped him cross the rainbow bridge told us that we had a very special little guy.

charlie found the energy to have one last (if not subdued) wrestling session with his dad, and kept wagging his tail right until the end. before the big sedative hit he opened his eyes wide and looked into mine one last time, as if to say, "i'm okay, mum. i'm just gonna have a nap. i love you."

my heart is so broken. three years was not long enough. i thought we'd have so much more time, both because he was so healthy until his kidneys failed him, and because we didn't expect his disease to progress so quickly. but we'd always want more time.

i keep telling myself that we crammed so much love and joy into the three years that we had him, that it made up for the eight years he was neglected and a stray a million times over, and he didn't need to stay any longer. but god, i wish he could have.

i'll love you forever, charlie bear. i'll see you in the rainbows.

sir charles winston [redacted] iii 07.30.2012 - 02.17.2024

[shirzan140102]

Death of Pirouz

Not-So-Fun Fact, given the context of this story: Pirouz (پیروز) is Persian for "victor" (or "victorious," depending on how it's used in a sentence).

Pirouz (the sweet little baby pictured above) was the last surviving Asiatic cheetah cub born in captivity in Iran, and he passed away on Tuesday due to kidney failure. Besides the fact that he [obviously] was a precious baby, everyone is angry and heartbroken by his passing, because he had become a symbol for the revolution. Shervin Hajipour had even alluded to him and the delicate nature of his existence in his GRAMMY-winning song "Baraye."

This reflects another dimension of the pain and suffering caused by the regime. With their blatant disregard for environmental issues and tendency to suppress environmental activists, it is not much of a surprise that this tragedy also took place. (And this isn't even taking into account the suspicions that they had a hand in his death.) While there is still a great deal that remains unknown, considering that one of his siblings also had died due to health complications, it's probable that he and his siblings were not bred in the best conditions. Furthermore, it's highly likely that limitations in resources prevented them from receiving the care that they needed, despite their caretakers' best efforts.

As for Pirouz himself, I'm absolutely heartbroken, and I cannot stop crying right now. Sadly, he is another victim of the regime. I just hope that his last moments weren't painful. From the perspective of the revolution, I hope that his death does not signify the death of potential victory for the revolution, considering the meaning of his name and his status as a symbol.

Now, let's fight for Pirouz in both senses of the word as used in this post: The poor baby himself and the pirouzi (پیروزی) (i.e., 'victory') of the revolution.

SOURCE:

[that-one-vangogh-painting]

‼️Warning for animal death‼️

I dunno if this is the sort of art that Tumblr likes, but here’s an oil pastel portrait I did as a Christmas present for my parents this year. It’s my old dog Corby, who passed away very suddenly two months ago from liver and kidney failure. It really sucked for me because I was at school when it happened, several states away. I didn’t get to say goodbye to her, all I got was a phone call. Drawing this was really good for me though. I like to think I captured her likeness really well, and it’s nice to know that my parents will always have this in their home to remember her. Miss you sweet girl <3

Here’s the original reference, in all her smelly glory:

And here’s some more pictures of her just for fun:

[koipepo]

My dearest baby Kohfie passed away at September 2nd, after battling with acute kidney failure & GDV.

She'd given me 9 years full of love, cuddles & sweetness. Anchored me through the pain of losing my father. Grounded me in times of confusion and anger. Making me feel loved when i felt like nothing. it hurts very much knowing this world from now on is absent of her warm presence. My baby girl, i will love you forever

[feybeasts]

Please don’t take from this any conclusions that I’m not trying to make here but.

I don’t fear dying anymore. Or at least- it doesn’t scare me like it used to. When I was younger, it terrified me, the notion that all this would come to an end someday. I dug deep into so very many… systems of belief, so many words of people wiser than I, and nothing seemed to sate the fear, nothing would bring me peace- it was like I couldn’t live anymore, and when my dad grew ill, it became a fever pitch. Eventually it wasn’t so much that I got over it, but I just got so… worn down, so bombarded with fear and anxiety and hurt that I just couldn’t dredge up the sensations anymore.

And when he died, I… cried, sure, I wanted him back, but there was a funeral to speak at, people to care for, I couldn’t grieve overmuch because like it or not, I had to keep living. And somehow, some way, I did.

I spent almost a decade like that. Just… carrying on. I wasn’t more than 25 years old when he passed away, still a kid in so many ways, especially with the struggles I was already facing, being autistic, anxious, facing traumatic stress I didn’t have a name for. I lived, despite the fear, despite the hanging, painful inevitability of it all.

And then, my childhood best friend lost her life to cancer. And my cat I had raised from a kitten. And my grandparents. Death after death after death.

And I stopped feeling anything- because each time, I was just… expected to be there. To be the strong one, the person that showed up. That was the mask I wore, there was no room to be anything else. I became hardened to it all. Loved ones just… slipped through my fingers, and all I could do was show up, little more than a black dog hanging at the edges of a half dozen cemeteries.

I’m not alone in this, I know people have been through worse, far worse. We often say death is one of the inevitable things in this world- “death and taxes” is the joke. And that inevitably haunted me, even if the fear didn’t. Any time I got sick, any time I felt off, any time I went to the doctor, all I could think was “well, is it my turn? Will this be the time they tell me it’s curtains?”

I mean, it felt inevitable, right? I had lost so much, so many people, so… thoughtlessly. Lung cancer, ovarian cancer, MRSA, kidney failure, a fucking… genetic defect. All just bad rolls of the dice, and my luck had never been all that good to begin with.

But the thing is, we can’t really… determine that for ourselves. I mean sure, you can do things that bring you closer, make that irreversible call- I am no stranger to attempts to check out early, I have the scars to prove it- but if you just… go on living, you don’t know when your time is up. And no matter how much you might assume you’re next on the chopping block after so many losses, sometimes you just keep… carrying on anyways.

For all the arrogance we have, for all our damnable pride, we ain’t craftier than the reaper. Maybe that’s for the best.

I’ve “kept carrying on” for the last eight years, regardless of what I thought. Sometimes I still feel like I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop, like all this, all the good I’ve known, the people I love, like it’s all just… a sweet song on the air, that I just get to listen to it for a little while before someday there’s silence.

When I was young, I was so afraid of when the song ended that I didn’t listen while it played.

Nowadays, I just try to sit back and enjoy the tune.

Nobody knows what’s on the other side of that door. It’s scary to think about. But when my time comes to walk on through, I like to think I’ve at least enjoyed my time here.

And who knows? Maybe death’ll just greet me like an old friend. We’re familiar, them and I- I’ll at least shake their hand and nod that little bit of understanding between us.

It’s the least I can do.