#and ive been wearing the same clothes since i covid

[mxxnkirby]

being extremely sick and the oldest daughter is actually so funny because what do you mean nobody has done the laundry or cleaned dishes or mopped or swept or organized the house or washed the windows or paid the phone bills or made food or woken up my sisters for school or fed the baby or taken care of the baby or polished the wood or done anything at all. I literally have no clean clothes to wear tomorrow to school. there's five people above the age of twelve here who could at least help a little?

what could possibly be going through someone's mind to wake someone up from their fever chills shivering pool of sweat and blood stained blankets from the constant gum bleeding and nose blood clots (they amount can NOT be humanly possible)... so they can ask for food? um? I'm literally too weak to squeeze medicine out of the Tylenol bottle and y'all won't even help me do that because "don't drink so much, it's expensive" (I haven't drank any??) but ok yeah sure I'll cook a whole meal for you. just dont yell at me when you get sick too

[haloburns]

had some free time to think today and i just. got really sad about the life i used to think i was going to have before i became disabled

(whoops this turned into a Journal Entry, so im putting it beneath a read more sry lmao)

like. i had plans to travel europe and work in cafes and stay out too late in clubs with my new friends and then stumble in to open the cafe with my clothes from the night before and smeared makeup. and like, maybe thats a weird dream to have, but id spent so long in this tiny little box in my hometown (kinda. its complicated bc ive lived where i am now longer than the place i was born, but my birthplace will always be my hometown, to me.) so i was reaching for experiences so drastically different from the life id known.

but then i went to college out of state. 10h from home, almost in canada. and i did spend a good chunk of my first two years partying exactly like i described: work until 8/9, go home eat something fatty and greasy, change into smth slutty and cool, and go out with my friends and stay out until the wee hours, making out and dancing with whoever asked. two one night stands came of it, both embarrassing for different reasons (thats a whole different post lmao but i dont regret either, actually) but i had so much fun. i felt free. like i could truly be myself for the first time in my life

and then i became disabled.

(caveat: ive probably been disabled my whole life, but i simply. never noticed. i didnt know it wasnt normal to be in pain, because i didnt know what 'pain-free' meant. it wasnt until i started making diasbled and crippled friends that they made me realize that living at a 4/5 on the pain scale All The Time is in fact not normal)

i got a terrible cold my first thanksgiving. spent the entire break on the couch in the lounge sniffling and coughing, trash can, tissues, hand sanitizer, and lotion all right next to me because i was DETERMINED not to get anyone sick (context: this was pre covid. wearing masks was like. not a thought.) despite everyone having gone home/away for the break. i got my first (and only) case of viral pink eye. i had bronchitis until april. that same january, while i still had bronchitis, my knees suddenly swelled up so badly i couldnt move for two days. my knees have ached almost daily since then.

from there, it was simply a cascade failure of things. fingers and wrist hurt constantly, no matter what i did or what brace i wore. (hint: i ended up having de quervaines tenosynovitis and had to have surgery bc it went untreated for 5+ years) back was constantly cramping. feet hurt after only a four hour shift. stairs became impossible. i was constantly exhausted, no matter what i did.

then, in december 2020, i was home like everyone else, and i was working in my mom's office full time while also attending classes full time remotely (like everyone else). my mom took a week off. finals week. she left me in charge, since i was the second most senior person in the office with my roughly two years experience. my half sister was demanding to know why our other sister wouldnt talk to her after she borrowed our car to go see our estranged father. again. (we gave her permission to borrow the car, but it still hurt). the exhaustion was getting worse and worse until thursday of that week. my coworker was threatening to call my mom to come pick me up because i couldnt think, could barely talk, and i was nodding off at my desk. and then my half sister called out of nowhere and wanted to talk. and i was so tired, so done with EVERYTHING, i let her have it. that took the last bit of my energy and i told my coworker to call my mom.

i spent a week in bed with the worst pain in my life. my entire body ACHED. my cat couldnt lay on me because it felt like i was being crushed to death my a bed of needles. my elbow swelled up so badly i could hardly move it. i could barely sit up to eat or stand to go pee. i slept SO MUCH.

i returned to work maybe a week or two after. i maybe finished my classes but i hoenstly dont remember. i moved back up to school in jan/feb with covid restrictions so i could finish my senior year on campus. i couldnt walk to the mail room and back without needing a nap. i couldnt go to starbucks and bring back two coffees without needing a break in the middle of my walk. i went to the health services because something wasnt right.

after some tests and lots of arguing with some shitty doctors and PTs, the light of my life, dr k diagnosed me with chronic fatigue. i finally had an answer for all my issues.

i thought that was it.

that summer, june/july 2021, i developed postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome and fought to get it taken seriously. two er trips with elevated heart rate, brain fog, and high bp, and it took the second trip to have them take me SERIOUSLY and get a referral. the cardiologist told me i was fat and just needed to exercise more, the three heart monitors don't show stereotypical tachycardic events, so im just experiencing elevated heart rates. i was fine. finally convince him to put me on propranolol, the "as needed" dose, and fuck off when he says he wants to work me off them and get me exercising.

i found a doctor who took me seriously and listened when i said "i have x problem. i would like a solution." and gave me referral after referral after referral, chasing more and more diagnoses. she never once made me feel insane for my symptoms, never made me feel unheard, and she never failed to make me cry in relief every time i went to see her and didnt have to fight for just an ounce of care.

since then, ive been diagnosed with moderate asthma, psoriasis, fibromyalgia, and potentially (almost assuredly) hypermobile ehlers-danlos syndrome. (for those of you keeping track, thats six diagnoses in four years) dr m, my savior, retired this year, and ive found a new doctor im hoping i can teach to treat me with the same care and respect. shes already given me a second referral to gastroenterology for my stomach issues (which... might just be from too much ibuprofen... :) rip me) and neurology bc my migraines that have crippled me for upwards of a month before are no longer being managed by my meds and i need something more specific before i start new meds. she said shed find me a doctor to dx heds, bc shes still new and wasnt comfortable with the tests required and didnt want to do it wrong, which endears her to me just a little more

but all of ^^^ that is just a big winding way to say that my life has changed a LOT since i graduated high school. i can no longer stand for long periods of time. i cant lift more than maybe 5-10lbs, and i certainly cant carry it for any significant length of time. i get migraines so easily. my joints slip out of place if i step wrong. i cant go out one night and expect to be up and at'em early the next day. i have to weigh my energy vs what i want to get done vs what needs to get done, and most days, nothing gets done at all.

and sometimes, usually when i get a new diagnosis and a new complication to my life, i mourn the life i used to dream about for myself. i mourn the things ive had to lose out on because my reality has changed so drastically. i cant go to amusement parks anymore. i cant go to standing-room-only concerts. i cant go to the grocery by myself. and you can forget doing things like wandering through the mall to kill time or going for a leisurely walk around the park.

being disabled is not the worst thing to happen to me, and i dont think im damaged or broken or anything like that. despite all the pain and complications and accomodations i have and need, i love myself the way i am. after all, i am now the funniest fucking person in ANY room. i dont think i want it back, because i love the life i have now (meaningful volunteer work, a dnd group i love, and a partner i thank the stars for regularly). but sometimes, its hard not to mourn the life i thought id have

[spencerhotchner]

Alternative {spencer reid}

Chapter 1 

summary: Since quarentine was announced, Y/N decided to rewatch all seasons of Criminal Minds. On a lonely night she wished she could be in that universe instead of this. What happens when she wakes up in 2008 in Quantico?

warnings: angst, a very confused reader, regular cm stuff and my grammar (if you find anything else pls lmk

word count: 2k

a/n: i have this idea while watching a movie about parallel universes and all, so i just wanted to try this out. it will be a 10 parts series! im not really sure about this, i think i kinda hate it but im posting it anyways lmao. i hope you gonna enjoy!

series masterlist

part 1 | part 2

You woke up feeling dizzy and with a major headache. At first you thought it was because you drank a whole lot of wine last night but then you saw yourself in a room you never saw before. You stoop up quickly trying to understand where you were and how did you end up there. You were sure that you have never been in this place before, and it was scaring you that you showed up in there.

There was a mirror nailed to the wall in from of you almost forcing you to look at your own body, that made you notice that you were still wearing the same clothes from last night, but you weren’t home. Not being home was odd given by the fact you stayed there with your family and two friends you invited over, since there’s a whole freaking pandemic going on and you for sure did not want to get sick or get other people sick. 

“Did I get kidnapped?” you think out loud. “No, I just watch too much Criminal Minds.” you tell yourself, trying to calm down.

You reach for the face mask placed on the nightstand, getting ready to leave this random place and go home. You tried not to freak out when you realized your phone was gone and the only cellphone in there was probably as old as your grandmother. You dialed your moms number about five times and all of them went on voicemail, making you curse mentally. 

This can’t be happening. Not to me.

As soon as you leave the apartment you were in you realized you weren’t in your hometown, definitely not. It was crowded, like, really crowded and no one was wearing any face masks. Where did the freaking pandemic go? You wondered while you felt like a misfit for being the only one wearing it. 

“Excuse me, can you tell me where I am?” you ask an old lady walking by.

“You’re on Main Street, sweetheart.” she says.

“No, um, I mean the city.” you watched as the old lady looked at you with a funny face, as if she was calling you crazy on her mind.

“We’re in Quantico, dear.”

“Quantico?” you repeat, mostly for yourself then for her. The lady started at you like you were an alien. “Thank you so much, ma’am.”

The air started to go low on you, how did you get to Virginia, anyway? That was across the country from where you lived, Bellevue in Washington state. You started lost walking, trying to understand what the hell was going on. It felt like you were on a parallel universe, like you were in a dream but couldn't wake up and it sure felt very real. You stoped a jornal shop taking a lot at the last newspaper in there, trying to figure if something happened that you were missing. However, nothing reported there shocked you, what did, though, was the date. 

July 1st, 2008

You were about to ask someone about it when you bumped into a blonde woman, falling on the ground. As soon as you looked up, you almost chocked yourself. If the day was already weird, this was even weirder. A.J Cook was standing right in front of you with a concerned look. You couldn't really say anything, just staring at her like she wasn't real. It was weird seeing her in front of you after only seeing her through screens. 

“I’m so sorry!” she said as she offered a hand for you to get up. “Are you ok?”

“I- um, yes! I’m fine.” you san, getting the dirt out of your outfit. “I’m a big fan of yours! Wish I had my phone here to take a picture but- sorry.“ you stoped talking, realizing she probably doesn’t care.

“Big fan of me? Wow, howcome somebody’s a fan of me?” she sounds surprised.

“Well, you’re on Criminal Minds.” you say as it was obvious. 

She looked at you as if you were out of your mind. Not that you weren't thinking otherwise at the moment, anyways. 

“I’m on what now?” she asked.

Maybe you got confused and she was the wrong person, but she looked so much like her to not be her. If they were not the same person, then definitely twins. This was so weird, once again, you found yourself asking ‘what the hell’ mentally.

“You’re JJ, Jennifer Jareau, FBI Agent and all.” you say, trying one more time. “Behaviour Analysis Unit...”

“Yea, that‘s me.” she let a nervous laugh comes out of her mouth. “How do you know me?”

‘This is weird’ you thought. How does she not understand where you know her from? Literally Criminal Minds, like you said at first. ‘Maybe this is all a dream.’

“I saw you on tv” you try.

“Oh, I see! You like law enforcement?” she asks you.

“Oh yes, I’m in law-school to be a judge someday.” you answered. “The show, all of it just makes me wanna put all them bad guys in jail.” you say, laughing a bit. 

“The show...? What?” you hear her whisper, but decide to ignore it. “What’s the mask about?” JJ asks, making you look at her surprised.

“Um, covid-19?” you say like it’s obvious, because it is.

“Oh, sure...” she smiles as she says it, almost like she's only agreeing because she won't discuss it. “Great talking to you, really, but I gotta go, FBI duty calls.” she jokes.

You smile at her watching carefully as she picks up her phone from her pocket and pick up a call. That phone looked awfully old, like 2000’s old. Why would a famous actress have that kinda of phone? Then, you looked around trying to understand more about what was going on. It was all too out of place.

First, nobody wearing masks, not even a single person but you. Second, you were in a city in which is miles away from your own. Third, a famous actress acted like she’s nobody. And fourth, the date on the calendar said 2008.

If it wasn’t just impossible I would say I time travelled into Criminal Minds universe.

After standing there for literal 10 minutes trying to figure it out what you were going to do, you decide to go to the police department. After all, you may have been abducted, right? Because you didn’t have any knowledge of the place, you took quite some time to get there. As soon as you got there you sigh in relief, that has been quite a walk and damn, you were tired of this situation. 

“Excuse me, ma’am, can you help me?” you ask to the lady standing behind the counter.

“Sure, dear. What do you need?” she looks up at you, taking her glasses of her face.

“I think I might have been abducted?” you start. “I woke up in this random apartment.”

“Maybe you had a one-night stand.” she said putting back her glasses.

“No! I am sure I didn’t because first of all, there’s a pandemic going on, second of all I was in Bellevue in Washington state when I went to sleep.” you yell, involuntarily, desperate to make her believe in you. 

“Miss, I’m gonna need you to calm down or you will be escorted out of the building. You’re probably on drugs, there's nothing we can do for you.”

“Fuck you.” you say as you watch her face get all red.

Frustrated. That could define what you were feeling, scared and worried could do the work, as well. What were you going to do now? Go to the FBI to see if they could freaking understand why you simply appeared in Quantico? Didn't sound like a bad idea in your mind as you decided to just try it out. After all, you were already pretty screwed up, it would worth a shot.

You reached for your back pocket, hoping that the money you shoved in there more than a week ago would still be in there. Bingo! You pull out a 20 dollar bill out of it and the next thing you know you’re getting into a cab asking him to take you to the FBI. Now that’s something you never thought would happen. The travel was quite quick, in 20 minutos you were standing in front of that big isolated building. It looked like it was taken straight out of your favorite show, that was insane. 

The wind blew hard on you when you got out of the vehicle, making you shiver a little, that reminded you that you did not have any clothes nor money to buy more. God, you did not even have where to go. You didn't even get the chance to get into the building as a big man steps in front of you, blocking your way. 

“Miss, you're not allowed in this building.” he said without much expression. 

“But, sir-” you started, as you saw he was about to interrupt you, you go on. “Ive been abducted and I don't know where or how the hell did I get in here, I’m completely hopeless... Please.” you beg him.

He started at you for a couple of seconds, that felt like centuries for you, just to sigh at you.

“Ok, follow me.” he said. “Do not make me regret this.” 

“I-I won’t, sir.” you were quick to answer. 

The agent asked another man to cover up for him as he led me into the building. Once again you found yourself admired of how much it did look like a Criminal Minds episode in there, if you weren't totally desperate you'd be amused. Soon, you two were out of the elevator on floor 8, leading with the words Behavior Analysis Unit quite big. 

“Can you take her to Agent Jareau, please?” the man said to someone who passed by, who simply agreed. 

Now, that's a funny coincidence, there's actually an Agent Jareau in the BAU. 

You followed the woman with questioning trying to stay calm when you saw Matthew Gray Gubler sitting on a desk reading some book in Reid style, almost like he was Spencer himself. If you had any doubts you were going crazy, that was the final proof. You stoped walking, taking a stare at him and then at the Agent that stared a you like you were an alien.

“Is there something wrong?” she asks you. “Miss, are you ok?”

You were unable to answer for a few seconds when you finally opened you mouth, still trying to figure it out how to say what was on your mind without sounding completely insane.

“Is that Dr. Spencer Reid?” 

And that was all you’re able to say because as soon as you let his name out of your mouth he looked up at you, trying to somehow recognize you. You were sure, that time, that you never looked - and sounded - as insane as right now. 

“Yes, that's me.” he answers. 

His voice was the last thing you could hear before everything go black. Maybe you were finally going to wake up. Maybe. 

[artreider]

Let's try to get this final live blog on my station 19 rewatch done. I'm currently laid up on my couch in mild pain but unable to do anything else.

I don't really like flashback episodes but i want one for the premiere since we are jumping so far ahead. I hate that this episode starts with a fight. But damn knowing what the fight is over, i love how loyal andy is to maya in this episode. Something ive wanted for her and the team. Qnd also jaina looks gorgeous.

The fire scene yay another fire on the fire show lmao. Feel like we missed some last year which im sure was covid related.

The marina scene ugh chefs kiss. I love how happy and giddy they are. I do wish we couldve gotten to see some of their month apart communication and their quarantining apart those two weeks when carina got back. I wrote a little something related to that and i may share before the premiere of season 5.

The quiet moment between carina saying her morning was better than those 6 weeks and then asking about mayas folks was a beautiful and real moment and i love it. So brief it could be overlooked but great choice for team.

The little bit of danielle and stefania that was them and adlibbed in this episode was so great also.

I love that rhey addressed how everyone was able to attend maskless and how safe the wedding was keeping the real world element in. Also vic love you and your chicken dance comment makes me sad that we didnt get it.

Vics parents trying to talk to her about theo is so cute.

Poor lawyer she'd be good for dean.

I understand some people dont come out until late in life but that is hard to hear that you havent loved the person youve been with for decades like you do this new person. That would hurt me so much to hear, like i couldve been with someone who is my great love if youd told me sooner. I love/hate this storyline for travis family.

Ugh if this fire had gone on any longer those poor kids and elderly couple.

Haha andy you should wait until someone answers the door for you when visiting almost newlyweds or people who've been seperated for 6 weeks lmao.

Also maya's excuse and none wet (shower) sex hair i love it.

Ugh sullivan trying to defend himself makes me so upset.

Bailey giving ben hell about second and third opinions is funny, like i figure shed be all for it.

Inara and marcus leaving jack is sad. I hope we still get to see marsha in season 5. Also if they do pair jack and jo itd be a bit ironic. I mean jo too had an abusive ex like inara.

Also jack and his marsha have similar eyes, itd be something if it came out she really was his mom.

I dont understand how maya hadnt settled on what to wear she's queen of the clipboard lmao. Just goes to show how some things throw us off course. Also i totally get her saying her outfit choice will define her forever. I judge my look in my wedding photos all the time and feel like other people do as well.

Why do i feel like this exchange between maya and carina was mostly adlibbed? It just feels so fun.

This poor family and ugh i couldnt imagine having to make the tough calls of firefighters/fire captains.

Love that all the fire crew helped put the wedding on.

I understand travis emotion here.

How'd this conversation about maya's folks get started with andy???

I love that maya and andy's friendship is restored. Also famous last words maya, dont speak the bad juju into existence.

Dean you shouldve spoken up there.

Why the chief there? I live in a city and the chief aint showing up for a house call that needs a few units. At least not until fire is out of they for some reason cant get it out.

Lmao maya freaking out about wearing the same thing as carina. Andy therapizing maya is funny.

That poor boy.

The dad comments to ben are beautiful. Also love that so many of the team know how dean feels about vic.

So why is travis getting dressed separately than the rest of his team. I mean i know its because he doesnt know about Dean's feelings and pushes vic to give theo a chance as well as allow theo and travis to talk but come on. He wouldnt get ready separately.

Also what was the point of theo going to that room if not to get ready. Sorry just annoying.

I wish carina had had someone mention andrew to her. Whether ben, bailey, maya or even any of the fire team who worked on the call with him during the crossover awhile back. Her grief during this day of happiness should've been acknowledged, even with just a remembrance table for him amd other family she lost to covid.

I do love this beautiful moment with vic though saying this isnt all just for maya.

Oh my how i love the maya confronting her father. She is the brave i want to be. Also what she says to her mom, yes chefs kiss. However when her mom shows up at the wedding, really the woman couldnt grab a nice shirt or dress to wear on her way out or on her way to the wedding.

I also love the look of pride on maya's moms face both at the house and the wedding.

Im sad we probably wont get any moments of her living with marina due to the time jump.

Ugh the choice that cost maya her promotion but ahouldnt have.

Also with all maya's options for clothes, couldnt they had dressed her mama in something borrowed from maya. Lol im sorry it bothers me so.

Vic's song for the intro is beautiful. Barrett has a beautiful voice.

Maya is so happy her mom is there and i love it. Also in my head at least one person videoing is doing it for the greys family who couldnt make it to the wedding for carina.

I also love maya singing along with vic to carina.

Queen of the clipboard forgetting to write her vows is special and funny. I love carina talking her down from a panic attack. Also her simple vow is beautiful and how carina who probably did write her vows saying we're good instead of reading them after seeing maya's mom in attendance and the look shared is everything.

I truly believe that was the moment she 100% knew maya had changed from end of season 3, was definitely all the way in. She knew what it meant for maya's mom to be there.

Love the dance montage and improved marina kiss.

Another healing theo and travis talk.

Sullivan just cant let it go and ugh trying to justify it. I just cant, still not over it. Even if he isnt captain in season 5 it still isnt right.

Sullivan you cant say you have the teams back then saying you can control them and throwing maya under the bus. Those are contradictory.

This jack and andy conversation is interesting.

This marina conversation is funny but sad when you know the end of the episode.

Its so funny that so few people know about Miller's feelings at this point.

It'll be interesting to see the travis, vic and theo in season 5.

Ben and bailey are so cute.

Wish we couldve had conversations at the wedding with maya and her mom or carina and maya's mom or the 3 of them.

Inara is so wise. I hate this for all 4 of them.

Gotta love the ole grab em and pull em back to kiss them and let them know how you really feel tremmett moment.

Too late dean, they tried to tell you.

I love marina dancing in the background ugh sullivan and the surrera rehashing.

Time for the horrible news ugh.

Everyone just looking at marina and knowing is horrible.

Great season, great episode and im looking forward to whats next.

Thank you to everyone thats been following my rewatch blogging, and for all the kind comments. I appreciate it so much, made the summer so fun.

[eretzyisrael]

Lama Al-Manar, 36, doesn't remember what she put into the small bag she was carrying when she stepped into a Red Crescent ambulance, other than medical documents. She doesn't remember the last words her husband, who was riding with her, said to her before they separated at the Erez crossing. She doesn't know whether he followed them with his gaze when she walked toward the crossing and passed from the Gaza Strip to Israel, where a Magen David Adom ambulance was waiting for her.

From the moment she left Shifa Hospital that afternoon, until she arrived at Sheba Medical Center at Tel Hashomer some five hours later, Lima's eyes never left the incubator that was holding her son, Abdullah, 2.5 months old, whose tiny body was receiving oxygen.

She also wouldn't have remembered what day it was if they hadn't explained how lucky she had been. It was Monday, May 10, 2021, the day on which Operation Guardian of the Walls against Hamas infrastructure in Gaza began. The ambulance that brought her and her son to Israel was the last allowed through Erez crossing before it was closed for 13 days.

Three children are waiting for her at home. Two years ago, she gave birth to a stillborn child, and when she became pregnant for the fifth time, she was eager for the new baby to bring joy back to the home. But Abdullah was born two months prematurely with a complicated heart defect and Lamaand her husband realized they would need to fight for his life.

"I was afraid. His condition wasn't good," Lama says. "He lost weight, and his breathing and other parameters slowed. I prayed to God to heal him. To fight for his little life. A doctor at Shifa Hospital recommended that we send him to Israel for treatment. My husband reached out to the Shevet Achim organization to help us get him there."

Thursday afternoon, the 11th day of the Gaza campaign. The radio reports a rocket alert in Ashkelon, and then a direct hit on a residential building. We arrive at the parking structure attached to the labor ward at Sheba Medical Center, which is next to the Edmond and Lily Safra Children's Hospital. The children's ICU was transferred here on the fifth day of the fighting for fear of rocket hits.

We go down one floor. After walking through the gray halls lined with oxygen tanks at the ready, we encounter a colorful sign decorated with a drawing of a sun and a kite: "Protected Children's ICU." Reality stays outside. In the parking structure, which was filled with cars the previous week, there are 40 small beds. Each one takes up two parking places, and holds a small baby who is hooked up to medical equipment. Nearby is a treatment station, a computer, and a lounge chair for adults.

The beds are separated by flowered curtains that were hung on the metal pipes that line the parking garage's ceiling. No one closes the curtains. There are also hanging screens that are attached to monitors that fill the space with dim beeping.

In the center of the improvised unit are a dialysis cart and another cart that holds equipment for chest drainage. Sometimes, a baby's cry can be heard. It is weak, and starts and stops quickly.

Over bed No. 26 a sign reads: "Abdullah Al-Manar. Date of birth: Feb. 26, 2021. Weight: 1.6 kg (3.52 pounds)." Lamasits on the chair and watches Shani, the nurse, take off Abdullah's cloth diaper, exposing a large incision that runs from his chest to his belly. Shani changes the dressing, rubs cream on it, puts his medicine into the IV bag attached to his small arm, and covers him gently.

In the next bed lies three-month-old Rana, who is recovering from her third open heart surgery, which she underwent two days earlier. On the left is Yazen, a month old, who had a catheterization.

Dr. Evyatar Hubara, 43, a senior doctor on the unit, moves from bed to bed. He slept three hours the night before due to the number of cases.

"The three children from Gaza suffer from complicated heart defects," Hubara explains. "They came to us in serious condition, among other reasons because it took time from when the problem was diagnosed in Gaza until their transfer to us could be coordinated, all the permits received, and that's without changing ambulances at Erez and the bumpy journey. Right now, all three are in an acute stage. We still haven't gotten to the rehabilitation state, which will begin here and continue in Gaza," he says.

Hubara stops by Abdullah's bed and looks at him warmly. "Abdullah was born prematurely and was incorrectly diagnosed in Gaza. The doctors … performed the wrong operation on him when he was two months old. A week after the operation, he began to decline, and a week after that he reached us. In the first few hours we needed to stabilize him and keep his blood pressure steady with medication.

"We started to look into the problem. We did an MRI and other tests. Before every stage, we explained to his mother what we were going to do. She trusted us from the beginning. After we stabilized him, we found that the true defect he was suffering from was an aortic valve stenosis. It turned out that in Gaza they had tried to close the ductus, but closed one of the main arteries by mistake.

"In the insane Israeli reality, we had to protect ourselves against rockets from Gaza along with the babies who come from here," he says.

"I remember one siren that caught me on the unit, before we moved to the parking structure. All the mothers, Jewish and Arab, just grabbed their babies – the ones that weren't hooked up to machines – and ran to a safe space. I shouted, 'We have time, 90 seconds, go slowly so you won't fall with the kids.' Everyone gathered around in the safe space. Staff members and patients, Jews and Arabs together. The shocking sight of the mothers who ran there with their babies doesn't leave me," Hubara recalls. Not all the mothers were able to take their babies to a safe space. Abdullah, Rana, and Yazen, as well as another 12 Israeli babies, are on respiratory equipment, and they were unprotected during the first rocket alerts. This is why the hospital administration decided to move the entire department from the sixth floor to the underground parking garage. Here, the sirens can't even be heard.

We go with Lama, Raida, and Samira into the staff room, located at the exit. The room has a big refrigerator full of popsicles donated to the children and the staff who care for them. Every few minutes, a parent or a staff member comes in and takes one.

About a year ago, when the COVID pandemic was still raging in Israel, a COVID unit opened in this same parking structure to ease the mass of patients that was overwhelming the hospitals. That event seems like ancient history, and the only thing that remains of it are the letters of thanks stuck to the door. It seems as if this is the last place in the country where people are careful to wear masks, and wear them properly.

The three Gaza women are embarrassed. They aren't used to being interviewed. All three are wearing abayas, long dresses that include head coverings, as well as hijabs and surgical masks. Since they arrived in Israel, they have been sleeping here, on the unit, in the recliner chairs next to their children's beds. They are also given meals. Once every few days, they allow themselves to go upstairs and shower. None of them speaks any language other than Arabic, with the exception of a few words of Hebrew or English. Moshe Ravid, 26, a nursing student from Jaffa and a volunteer with the Shevet Achim organization, translates.

Raida (Umm Ahmad), 48, is from Khan Younis. She is Rana's grandmother, a housewife and mother of six.

"My daughter-in-law, Rana's mother, came to Israel with her in February, two weeks after she was born," she says. "After two weeks, she was tired and not feeling well. Because she has a four-year-old at home, she called me and asked me to switch with her. She went back to Gaza, and since then, I've been here. Three months already. This is my first time in Israel."

Q: Were you afraid?

"No, why should I be afraid? My husband worked in Bat Yam for 20 years. Every day, he went from Gaza to Bat Yam, until the disengagement in 2005. After that, he found work in Gaza. He told me that there are good people in Israel, that everyone here is all right."

Abdullah's mother Lama, 36, is wearing a brown abaya accessorized with a shining silver star. Her smartphone has a pink cover. She works in a laboratory, and her husband is a producer for Palestinian television in Gaza. She has two other sons, 11 and six, at home, as well as a three-and-a-half-year-old daughter.

"My mother had cancer. She went to Israel to be treated, and recovered," Lama says. "She told me that everything is good here. When Abdullah's condition got worse, the doctor recommended that we come to Israel. My husband reached out to Shevet Achim. Now he and my mother are watching the three other kids at home."

Q: What do you tell your families about what is happening here?

Lama: "They're afraid for us, and we're afraid for them. When they call to hear how we are, I answer, 'Al Hamdullah,' so they won't be scared and worry, and when I call to ask how they are, they say the same thing. We talk about the boy, how he ate, how much he ate, how much he slept. "I tell them that the doctors here are good, that they treat us well, answer all our questions. I tell them that the food is excellent, that the women have nice clothes, about their hairstyles. I like the fashion in Israel, and the grilled chicken breast and salad they serve at the hospital."

Raida: "The medical staff thinks only about the children – whether their condition has improved, what they ate, how they slept. We sit next to their beds, don't know how they'll be from one moment to the next, whether they'll get better at all."

Q: Do they send you pictures of the strikes on Gaza?

"They send me pictures of the special Ramadan sweets," Raida answers, with a smile.

Samira, 62, is the grandmother of Yazen, who is only a month old. "I have nine grown children, and my son has four children other than Yazen. Their mother needs to take care of them, so they asked me to accompany the child. At home, when we talk about Israel, we only talk about the medical treatment we want to get here."

Moshe, the translator, tells them in Arabic not to be frightened, that they can speak freely. They all answer at once: "We aren't afraid, we're speaking honestly. Everyone wants peace. We want it to be all right."

Samira: "Inshallah, things will calm down. We aren't dealing with politics."

Q: What did you do when people in Gaza fired rockets toward this area?

Raida: "What everyone else did. The nurses took us to a safe place. The babies stayed on the unit, hooked up to respirators. I was worried about them, that they were alone, but everyone calmed us down, said that it would all be fine."

Lama: "We tried to talk to the other people in the safe area, without understanding one another. Everyone wants to know how the other's child is doing. He's sorry about my son, and I'm sorry about his."

Q: Did your families leave their homes because of the airstrikes?

Raida: "No. Everyone is in his own home."

Q: Are any of your family members involved in the fighting?

All three shake their heads, no. "Not everyone in Gaza enlists in the army," Raida says. "My husband worked in Israel. Half of Gaza used to work in Israel. You must have seen the workers who would come from Gaza."

Samira: "My father and my husband used to work in Israel."

Q: When are you going home?

Raida's eyes fill with tears. "Rana's chest is still open from the last surgery. I'm sitting with you and laughing, but my heart is crying. So I'm telling you that my every thought is for the baby. That's our situation."

Lama: "Today, Dr. Evytar said that Abdullah has an infection in his right lung, which was good. Until now he had one in his left lung. I hope it works out. I'll go back to Gaza when he gets better, but I don't know when."

Hospital Director Dr. Itai Pessach says that every year, the center treats about 500 children from Gaza and another 2,700 children from the Palestinian Authority. "They range in age from a week to 18. Some of the children arrive through the Shevet Achim organization, and others through our own coordinator."

"During the last military operation, our doctor colleagues in Gaza reached out to us about children in serious condition, and we fought to bring them to Israel during the operation. Unfortunately, we didn't succeed, and that's very sad. I'm happy we're getting back to normal," Pessach says.

According to Pessach, "we don't see any difference between a child who comes from Gaza, Nablus, or Tiberias. Our treatment looks at all the child's needs, including emotional needs and school work at the school that operates on the hospital grounds. A year ago, a nine-year-old boy with cancer arrived from Gaza who didn't know how to read and write. He returned to Gaza last month, after a year-long hospitalization, healthy and knowing how to read and write in Hebrew, Arabic, and even English."

Q: How did the patients respond to this during the Gaza fighting?

"A family from Gaza arrived two days before the operation started, and we diagnosed their son with a rare disease, one that only seven children in Israel have. By chance, two rooms away there was a Haredi family with a child who had been diagnosed with the same disease two months ago. While the rockets were falling, the Haredi mother insisted on meeting the mother from Gaza and teaching her everything she knew about the disease and how to treat it."

"There is a truly shared fate here. They feel that they're fighting against something bigger than rockets. To get better, a patient needs to feel secure, and that's what we're doing. A hospital is a home for all the patients.

"I'm happy to say that the external tensions didn't creep into the work. There was no tension between the staff and the patients. The good of the patient always comes before everything else. Even at administration meetings – everyone put aside their own political views and we managed to provide a quality medical response and protect the safety of the staff and patients," Pessach says.

The funding for the Gaza children's treatment comes mainly from donors – mostly American Christians, and some Israelis.

"Saving the life of the child is an entire world," says Jonathan Miles, founder of Shevet Achim. Miles arrive in Israel from the US in the 1990s, as a journalist, and started to volunteer with the group Christian Friends of Israel.

"We welcomed Russian immigrants to Israel. We wanted them to understand that the Jewish people have friends in the world. One day a mother from Ukraine whose child's life was in danger came to me. She had no money for medical treatment, and she begged me to help. I started raising money to help him. Wizo helped a lot, as did other people, both Jews and Christians.

"After that, I heard about sick babies in Gaza, and in 1994 I founded the organization. We bring children from Muslim states to Israel for treatment."

Amar Shami, 32, who coordinates the transfer of children from Gaza to Israel for Shevet Achim, lives in Jerusalem.

"The families who go back to Gaza tell each other about the treatment in Israel," he says. "One mother tells another. When the child has a problem, they reach out to me. Sometimes the doctors reach out directly." Q: What goes through your mind while you're busy providing treatment and rockets are flying outside?

"Inside the hospital, we detach. We only want to help them. When you go out you realize that reality is different. We hope that when the families from Gaza go home, they will sort of be our emissaries, say good things about Israel."

The night that the ceasefire between Israel and Hamas took effect, Rana's heart stopped beating, despite the doctors' best efforts. Her grandmother, Raida, left the hospital weeping. She was driven to a Shevet Achim apartment in Jaffa. When Erez crossing opened, she returned to Gaza with Rana's coffin.

[sunmoonandeddie]

and grace, my fears relieved

pairing: steve rogers x reader

word count: 2,623

summary: You meet someone new in the most unlikely of ways during the quarantine in New York City.  A hospital isn’t the worst place to meet someone, right?

chapter warnings: swearing, both steve and the reader have covid-19, but neither die

masterlist

a/n: Let me know what you think!

The virus started out inconspicuously enough, with just a few cases here and there that everyone assumed would be quarantined and taken care of, but Steve was paranoid.  How could he not be?

He’d been a sick kid.  Real sick.  And then when he was a teenager, he got some revolutionary kind of treatment for his heart and lungs and it was like his entire body had been kickstarted.  He shot up a foot taller and gained over a hundred pounds.

He had the stretch marks to prove it.

Granted, he had to work a little to gain as much as he did.  After the treatment, the weight gaining workouts and diet plans suddenly worked.  He looked… normal.  And then he buffed up.  Real big.

It came in handy pretty often with his job.  He had become a firefighter, and carrying people out of burning buildings was often part of the job.

Fires still happened in a quarantine.  If anything, they happened more frequently because people were home and the number one cause of house fires was unattended cooking.  A parent could be cooking any meal of the day and then their kid distracts them and boom.  Fire.

So he worked overtime, day in and day out.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t scared.  He was scared shitless.

It was like his ma used to say, back when she was alive, “Just because you’re scared doesn’t mean you run away.  You fight back for what’s right.”

Sarah Rogers had been a lot smarter than people assumed.  She was a former socialite, and an Irish Catholic one at that.  Her parents had an absolute conniption when she’d fallen in love with a former convict.  His dad had been in and out of jail for petty things.

It certainly hadn’t been her choice to fall in love with him.  But she had told him that if he didn’t get his act together, she wasn’t going to be with him.

He’d straightened himself up and become an outstanding citizen.

But that hadn’t stopped her family from disowning her.  Once she refused to break up with him, she was out.  Out of their house, out of their wills, everything.

She went from wearing Valentino and Chanel to items picked out at Goodwill.

But Steve’s parents had loved him more than anything.

He’d become a firefighter just like his dad.  He wanted to help people just like him, and well… That’s what he was doing now.

Or had been, until his throat had started to hurt.  And when it hadn’t let up three days later, even after a plethora of cough drops and teas, he went to the hospital.

It had only been about a month since it really started and the first dozen cases showed up in New York City.  He’d been cautious—overly cautious, some might say—but he still had to go to work.  And who knows how many people he’d come into contact with that had the virus?

It was still early days.  He was able to get the test, and for that, he was lucky.

But then he had to go home and wait.

And then he got the call.  He had to immediately go back to the hospital to be quarantined.  He’d been put in a hospital room that was usually used as a private room in the Emergency Room—a trauma room, they called it.  Trauma Room 2.

All of their other hospital rooms were taken.  It was a lot worse than anyone had let on.

He was there for about twenty minutes before you got there, clearly terrified and holding a duffel bag full of clothes so you wouldn’t just have to wear the scratchy ass hospital gowns.

He’d only thought to bring two different pairs of sweatpants and a few sweatshirts, as well as his usual pairs of jeans.

But he was quickly finding that those weren’t too comfortable to wear while being quarantined.

Maybe he’d be able to convince someone to run down to the hospital gift shop to grab him something to wear.  Some Brooklyn Hospital sweats or something.

“Hey.”

He looked up from his tablet, looking for the source of the voice.  God, he was so tired.  And everything hurt.  There was only so much that honey could do for his voice.

“Hey!  Over here!”  The voice broke off into a coughing fit, and it sounded nasty.  Real nasty.  The kind of coughing that hacks up a lung.

He gets up out of his bed with a grunt, feeling like the weight of the world was on his shoulders.  And not the big, strong shoulders he had no.  The weak little skinny ones he had before.  The ones where he could barely lift a gallon of milk in each hand without getting overworked.

You’re sitting on the ground, taking deep breaths as you try to catch your breath.  “Hey,” you said with a weak smile.  “You got any cough drops?  I ran out and my nurse said she was gonna try to find me more two hours ago.”

There’s no medicine available to treat the virus.  So they just treat the symptoms.

And there’s a severe shortage of cough medicine amongst the patients, but no one really mentioned that.

“Yeah,” he said as he walked over to his little bedside table.  He opened the drawer, pushing the Bible left inside to the side and grabbing the cough drops.  He grabbed four little individually wrapped pieces before dragging his feet back to the doorway.

He couldn’t lie, sitting down looked really nice right at that moment.  His heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest just from walking that short distance.  So he sunk to his knees and leaned back against the doorframe, on the opposite side that you were.

Even though he’d become a firefighter like his dad, he didn’t understand how he could have such a strong faith in God when things like this happened.  Sitting across from you, seeing how tired and run down you looked, he wasn’t sure he believed at all.  How could a God that claimed to be so benevolent and loving do this?  Or at least not step in and do something to stop it?

“Did you bring the goods?” You asked with a bit of a laugh, before breaking off into a deep cough.  “Fuck…”

“Me, too,” he said softly as he grabbed one of the cough drops and tossed it in your direction.

You groaned as it landed behind you, shooting him a glare.  “Do I look like a basketball player to you?”

Steve let out a snort as he grabbed another one.  “Okay, are you ready this time?” He asked, raising a single blonde brow.

“Oh, my god, yes.  Please, just throw it,” you said, but there was a slight grin toying at the corner of your mouth.

“What’s the magic word?” He asked.  This was, quite honestly, the most fun he’d had in ages.

You gave him a look that said you’d kill him if he didn’t give you a cough drop.  “Give me a cough drop before I break down sobbing because it hurts so bad?” You deadpanned.

“Okay, okay.  No need to get dramatic,” he said before he tossed another one.  This one hit your forehead before falling into your lap.

“If you want dramatic, I can turn into a Disney princess right now,” you giggled.  Your voice was weak, but it was hard to muster up the energy to talk sometimes.  Actually, not even sometimes.  Most times.

He watched you for a minute as you worked the wrapper of the cough drop off and popped it into your mouth.  “I’m Steve.  Steve Rogers.”

“Well, hello, Steve.  Steve Rogers,” you said with a giggle, your words slightly distorted from the hard candy in your mouth.  You gave him your name as he tossed you the other two cough drops.

It was nice to have someone to talk to.  It had been four days since the two of you entered the hospital before you had called out to him.  And yeah, he still had his phone.  He texted and called Bucky everyday, but it wasn’t the same as having a face-to-face conversation.

It also kinda helped that you were really, really pretty, even when you were sick and exhausted.

In fact, he couldn’t remember anyone that he thought was as pretty as you.

“Stevie?” You said a week and a half later.  It had gotten worse.  So much worse.  You had breathing tubes in, as well as an IV.  His wasn’t as bad.  He just required the IV.

Your nurses tried to get you to stay in your beds, but they soon gave up the fight, choosing instead to help the both of you move your chairs so you could talk to each other, separated by a hallway.

“Yeah, doll face?”  Steve’s heart was hurting as he watched you with sad blue eyes. You were wrapped up in one of his hoodies, drowning in the fabric.  He’d gotten Bucky to run by his apartment and grab him some more comfortable clothes, though he’d had to leave it with a doctor and wasn’t allowed to see him.

They couldn’t risk it. “They’re talking about a second wave,” you said as you wrapped your blanket tighter around you, pulling your knees up to your chest.  “They wanna start opening things in late May…  But it’s too early…  I…”  You swallowed thickly, your heart pounding against your rib cage.  “I’m so scared, Stevie.”

“Hey…”  There was nothing he wanted more than to be able to walk across the hall and take you into his arms.  “Whatever happens, you’ve got me.  You hear me?  We’re in this together, okay?  And we’re gonna make it.  We’re gonna make it because we gotta.”

That night, he waited for the lights to go out and for the nurses to switch over to the night shift.  A lot of the nurses weren’t as vigilant about taking care of them as the day shift, and he knew he could use that to his advantage.

He knew this was risky, but he had to do it.

Steve carefully got out of bed and dragged his monitor behind him, taking slow measured steps.  He’d waited about an hour after rounds, knowing that they wouldn’t be coming for another three.  It gave him plenty of time.  He tiptoed across the hall after ensuring that the coast was clear, slipping into your room.

The room was bathed in a soft blue light coming from the open curtains, a billboard outside flashing.  You looked so peaceful, finally asleep after tossing back and forth for hours.  The blue tones glistened against your soft skin.  You were so quiet that his eyes instinctively flickered over to the heart monitor, listening to the quiet beeping that reassured him that you were alive.

He wobbled the chair over to the side of your bed, being careful not to drag it so it didn’t squeak and alert a nurse or doctor.  When it was finally in place, he sunk into it with a relieved sigh.

Your nose scrunched up at the faint noise.

“Dollface,” he whispered as he gently caressed your cheek, his heart pounding.  This was the first time he’d ever gotten to touch you.  This was the first time he’d been close enough to even attempt it.

Your eyes fluttered open, blinking sleepily at him.  “Stevie?”

“Hey…,” he said softly as he traced the patterns of her face.  “It’s me…  Don’t worry…”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, her voice a hoarse whisper.  “We’re supposed to be—”

“I know,” he said as he gently scratched your scalp.  “But I’m worried…  And you need me.”

You slowly relaxed back against your pillow as your eyes searched his face.  He liked when you were soft like this.

Well, he liked you all the time, but still.  He liked you most when you were sleepy and relaxed.

“How are you feeling?”

With a shrug, you let your eyes close again.  “I don’t know…  I’ve been better.”  A sigh escaped your lips as you opened your eyes again, trying your best to not melt too far into him.  You didn’t want to fall asleep when this was the first time you’d gotten to feel him near.  “We’re lucky… Our cases aren’t as bad as what others are going through…”

That was true.  Others were on respirators, going into comas.  You two were lucky.

And he was so grateful for that.

“I was thinking…,” he murmured.

A snort.  “That’s never good.”

He gave you a look, raising his brows.  “Apparently people aren’t… completely better even after they’re cleared of the virus…,” he said.  He was watching your face carefully for any sign of a reaction.  “And I live alone.  And you said you have roommates but two of them are considered essential workers, which means there’s a risk of you getting it again…  And I was just thinking…”

“Yeah?...” You probed, sitting up a little.

“We’re gonna need someone to help us… without risking the others that we love, and I just…”  He coughed to clear his throat, his cheeks red.  “I was thinking maybe you could move in for a little while?  Maybe until all this has passed?  And we can… we can…”

Your eyes flickered over his face.  “We can take care of each other?”

Steve nodded, swallowing around the lump that had formed in his throat.  “Yeah.  We can take care of each other…  I’ll have your back and you’ll have mine.  And maybe it’s quick, but... ”

Can’t you feel it? He wanted to ask.  Can’t you feel this thing between us?  This connection that was found and fostered in possibly the darkest time of this generation’s existence?  This love that made me think that maybe there is a Grace in the world?  Because otherwise, how the hell would I have been able to find you?

But he knew that was probably a lot, even if the feeling he had when he looked at her was a little bit more than like.

“But… you barely know me.”

“That’s not true,” he breathed out quietly, a finger running down your jaw.  “I know about your family.  I know your first pet’s name and where it’s buried.  I know that you like white Christmas lights over rainbow because you like how it can look like snow if it’s done right.”

Tears were in your eyes, your cheeks flushed as you listened to him.

A smile crept up on his lips.  “I know you like the citrus flavored cough drops, and you have to sleep with a blanket on, even if it’s eighty degrees outside.  I know how much you love cheesy rom-coms and you can only watch horror movies at night because otherwise you’ll have nightmares.”  His forehead rested against hers, your noses brushing.  “I know you.  And I wanna take care of you.  When we get out of here, I don’t want to forget you.  I want to spend my life with you.  And maybe that’s too much too soon and more than a little cheesy, but—”

“Stevie…”  You were the one who leaned in first and pressed your lips to his, the salty taste of your tears mixing in with your peppermint chapstick.  “I’m not easy to take care of.  I’m even more stubborn when I’m feeling helpless like I am now…”

“That’s okay,” he said as he pecked your lips again, letting it linger.  The two of you knew that a nurse could come down the hall any second and catch you, but it didn’t matter.  You were together and you were alive.  “I don’t need easy.  I just need you.”

[edkinda-idk]

1. Sw 73 cw 69 gw 54 ugw 50 ugw2 48 (kg)

2. Im 1,63cm, im okay with it

3. N/a

4. That i gain it all back

5. Im doing it for me. I noticed that i was overweight. I gained alot after i had covid. I couldn't do much because i had no muscle. So yes im losing the gained weight and the weight that i always wanted gone.

6. I don't

7. They know, they support me. But they don't know the way that im doing it. They care alot about me so i try not to purge and just eat less so that i don't have to purge.

8. I walk manly and i sometimes do leg, arm and stretching workouts. Abs is my enemy and i avoid it..

9. My whole life basically. Pig was what stuck with me. They would make pig noises.. Stuck their middle fingers towards me. Laughed at the way i looked in a bikini when i was 13. And im now 18+. But i know that it shows that they are insecure towards gaining weight and how they look. So i kinda pity them in a way.

10. I love to bake. I haven't baked in a while. Its my hobby so i really miss it.

11. N/a

12. Apple, soja yoghurt, dinner (what my parents make)

13. Both. I think that i differ every day in what i eat. I take care of my body in healthy and unhealthy ways...

14. 54-50kg i want to reach it before August!

15. Im vegetarian, it doesn't help if you still eat processed foods on the side... Lol

16. When i was 10. But im still trying. But really working towards it was 14 January 2021 but i lost track and now since the starting of april!

17. Yes. Unfortunately i do. But im also very bright and can make an easy switch if i want to. So i guess in a way i do have trouble with food but i choose to let it affect me.

18. Pickles and cookies lol.

19. Last Friday, a mcflurry oreo

20. N/a

21. Dont know i wear men and oversized womens clothing. I guess men s and women m?

22. 62kg when i was 15. I had bulimic tendencies back then and lost 7kg in the summer. Felt very beautiful when i went to school, every girl friend was asking how i did it. I gained it back because i love to eat when im sad.

23. I guess that marketing always leaves an imprint in our minds on how we should look. So in a way yes.

24. Im here for a very long time. But im more of a ghost on social media so i don't think that im allowed to have an opinion because im not educated enough on the subject.

25. I have, many times, i ate 2 plates of spaghetti and i felt sick. I couldn't get it out of me so i helped myself.. Please do not purge with spaghetti, especially if you roll it up instead of cutting it up. The strings are long and annoying. Also dont purge in general its harmful.

26. To wear dresses! And skirts and just being comfortable and not to be looked at as a thicker girl. Nothing wrong with that, but i associate it with my bullying history..

27. I grabe it or crave it. I hold myself accountable if i grab something tho. I will most definitely put it back and grab a mug with green tea.

28. Yes, dresses, skirts. It will look cute and it wont hurt in the summer, rubbing thighs.

29. My definition is that you can be so beautiful on the outside but reak of battery acid on the inside. It matters how you talk, think, do, do towards others and yourself, your interests, dreams, etc. That all combined is to me beauty.

30. I did this all on the same day because i like quizzes :) stats are the same. And about me: im a smart, kind, open-minded and easy to talk to. I love to sing, picknick and read. Ive been to therapy 3 times for trauma. I love who i am and who im going to be.

[tuellertrails]

We’re 3 weeks into our hike so far, here are a few things I have learned

- Wake up EARLY in the desert. Because it will get hotter than hell and you will die of heatstroke if you hike in the heat of the day.

- Take your shoes (foot prisons) off at every opportunity. Your feet will thank you

- The higher you go in elevation, the harder the hiking is, the less hot it becomes and the more beautiful the scenery is. The desert has its own kind of beauty, but being in an alpine environment with lots of trees and the smell of sun warmed pine needles is my favorite place to be (besides a comfortable bed watching TV and eating snacks, of course). We’ve had several days of hiking where we’ve done over 5k feet of elevation, and I find that I am particularly prone to swearing and exhaustion on those days 😂. But the incredible views do make up for it somewhat! It’s all part of the experience.

- Ibuprofen (Vitamin I) and Benadryl are a hikers best friend.

- Pack out fresh food whenever you can. Vegetables and fruit have never tasted so good.

- Kindness is EVERYWHERE. We’ve received food, cold drinks, rides, camp chairs to sit in and many other kindnesses from trail angels, other hikers, family members and random people. Everything is appreciated.

Speaking of kindness, we spent several hours one day waiting out the heat of the day in a small hut next to the wind farm made for hot, suffering PCT hikers, with a cooler of cold water for us to enjoy. It was 95* even in the shade 🥵. We did not leave early enough that day, but it gave me the chance to wait out the heat and look at my phone 😂.

Here’s some highlights/points of interest from the last 100+ miles

- We heard a great story from Trail Angel who gave us a ride out of Julian, who heard it from a different hiker that she gave a ride to. So the hiker was hiking down the trail (early on, around mile 15) when he hears a voice say "hello". He looks down and sees a guy laying in the bushes in a sleeping bag with mud on his face. "Oh, uh... hello" the hiker says. The man responds "Would you like to be blessed with magic sand?" And holds up a pile of sand in his hand. The guy wasn't sure if this dude was on drugs, was going to throw the sand in his face or what, and he's contemplating how to side step this very weird man when the dude stands up and reveals that he is completely naked and says "You should really use mud. It makes the best sunscreen". Glad that it wasn’t me, poor guy.

- We went through a small town in Warner Springs who had a gas station and some picnic tables, so basically a hiker haven. We spent a couple of hours eating gas station food, and I gave another hiker a shot in the butt 😂. Nursing skills always coming in handy out here. Landon consistently says that the gas station hot dog was one of the highlights of the trail.

- My feet are MUCH better than they were. Getting inserts and some foot compression socks were a game changer for me. I now can walk many more miles without having to stop so often to roll out the golf balls on my feet. Despite this, hiking is still hard and we still find new soreness, aches and pains every day. But I do think that we are toughening up and able to do more miles than we did the first week. My blisters are mostly hardened now, and we have done as many as 18 miles in a day at this point.

- Water can be very scarce, and you have to plan out your water carries very carefully. One water source in this last stretch was a big water tank a few hundred feet from “Mikes Place”. Mikes Place is near the trail and has a big water cistern for hikers to go and get water, but they also let hikers camp and party there and sometimes feed them. There were some comments on Guthooks (the hiking navigation app we use) about how Mikes Place was kind of sketchy and borderline sexist, but we went down there with our hiker friends Sarah and Clyde, hoping for some food. Mikes place was interesting to say the least. It was a run down one story house that looked rather shabbily built, with a blanket as a wall in one section. It’s in a few acres of property, and there are all sorts of random things in front of the house. An assortment of stools and chairs, some lawn games like croquet and darts, a fire pit, a few coolers, and then even more random things like a sword stuck in a stone (a replica like in the movie). There was also an old painted car on one end, a shabby outdoor kitchen with a pizza oven and a greasy grill and lots of bowls and plates and utensils, and lots of other items spread out across the property. It seemed a little hoarder-y to us. They had Johnny cash playing in the background which kind of fit the vibe of the place. There were a few hikers there eating already, and a more stout gentleman wearing a t shirt, shorts and flip flops whose name was Scott. He said that there was no food left but that we could cook our own if we wanted, and we were like "ummm, sure?" 
So he brought out the ingredients for breakfast burritos and we got to cracking eggs and slicing veggies and fired up the very greasy outdoor grill, and within about 15 minutes we were eating breakfast burritos. Scott was a little weird. He would pop in and out of where we were cooking and then disappear again, I guess he was nice enough but he just gave off a bit of a weird vibe. Apparently Mike lives in San Diego and Scott is a caretaker of his place for now, along with another guy named Spirit who we met a little later as we ate. He was a older guy, with long white hair in a ponytail and beard, wearing a dirty green zip hoodie with what looked to be a hand painted "VVR" on it, jeans and chacos. He chatted with us briefly, he is a hiker who has hiked the John Muir Trail every year since 2014 and then decided to go work at VVR, a resort in the Sierras, after visiting it so many times. He said he was headed up there in a few weeks. Anyways, we are our burritos, washed our plates, said thank you and left to go filter water from the tank up above, leaving some money in the donation box as a thank you. The food was good but I definitely wouldn't have felt comfortable being there by myself, Mike’s Place was a little...dirt baggy, but I’m glad I got to experience it all the same. Apparently Scott is hiking now, and showed up at the campground in Idyllwild a few days later, drunk as a skunk and vomited all over 😂.

- We’re 10% done with the trail! Which really puts into perspective how long this hike actually is 😂. We had heard that our trail legs would start to come in after 3 weeks, but both Landon and I agree that we’re still quite sore and wake up with different aches and pains every day. We are definitely running a major calorie deficit at this point, burning upwards of 4K calories per day, burning much more than we are eating. This is ok with us, as we could both lose 30 Lbs or more and still be in a healthy weight range! Our friend Jamie, who hiked the trail years ago with her husband, says that we are losing our “town fat”. But we both agree that our clothes are feeling a bit looser than they were before. Who knew that 3 weeks of near continuous intense exercise would do that? We are slowly getting more fit, so hopefully those trail legs will come in soon here in the next few weeks.

- Remember the girl I talked about in our last post a few weeks ago, who woke up our friend at 5 AM and told him that she had no pants? Well, he came across her again a few days ago. She was topless, sitting in a stream in her underwear, playing a ukelele. And much to his chagrin, she remembered him! 😂 Not exactly a meet cute.

- Though there are definitely some eccentric people out here, 95% of the hikers and people we meet are wonderful. We have met the most incredible people as we hike, and are grateful to have made some good friends. They say that trauma bonds you, and all of the hikers have similar trauma out on trail 😂. We all know how hard this is, how beautiful, and have experienced first hand the heavy packs we carry after filling up our food and water, and the different aches and pains that accompany hiking day after day. Ive seen some pretty gnarly feet 🦶among the hikers out here, covered in blisters and cuts, with blackened toenails and foot fungus. Our feet are constantly getting beaten up! I’m glad to know that it isn’t just us experiencing the aches and pains. Ive always been a bit of a social butterfly, and after a year of isolation due to the Covid pandemic, the extrovert in me is absolutely loving the social aspect of our hike.

We will be getting off trail for four days this next weekend to go to a family wedding and sadly, a funeral as well. We were saddened to hear that Landon’s Grandfather has passed away, after suffering from Alzheimer’s for many years in the last years of his life. I never knew him before the Alzheimer’s had affected him, but I was told that he was smart as a whip, very funny, and a great story teller. Landon has fond memories of his grandfather, going on family trips and hearing his many stories. Even after the disease progression, Arlin was a very sweet and gentle man who was happy to give you a hug and listen to you talk, even if he didn’t quite remember who you were. We feel very lucky to have been able to spend some time with him and with Landon’s Grandmother the week before the trail, and he will be greatly missed by all. We are looking forward to getting off trail for a few days to reunite with our family to both celebrate and mourn together.

Thanks to everyone for the love and support in our PCT journey so far, this has been the most incredible experience of our lives so far and we’re grateful for every second, no matter how tough, of this great adventure.

- The Tueller’s

[autobaby]

i have no one that supports me irl i need something someone that understands even a tiny bit my mom is absolutely disgusting and so fucking awful im so sad that shes like this and wont ever change to being good again instead of evil to me shes gone and shes been gone for so long but she continues to torture me bc i continue to try to express to her how im feeling how im hopeless and desperate and suffering bc i have no one else to express those things to everyday except tumblr and her responses make me wanna self harm or jump off the balcony i dont want to even explain but shes in a cult u get it her ideas and mind are fucked and brainwashed she cant get out of it shes stuck there no matter what it doesnt even matter cause shes gone she is not herself she doesnt exist anymore she doenst do anything anyways in a way shes less alive than me thats just not right idk what to do im terrified everyday conscious or unconscious im exhausted my body hurts and aches im very unhealthy i have no energy or appetite i have no hope ive been living the same day in hell everyday for a year consecutively now due to covid rarely rarely going outside and not far if i do im stuck in a cage a mental cage and a physical one i need help to get out i have no clothes to wear no where to go nothing to do and no one to meet or interact with i have a cat now but im still completely alone and hopeless depression took away all my hobbies passions and interests nothing distracts me from the depression anxiety and pain anymore sleeping doesnt help or give me any release or break but at least i can fall asleep i live in a dark hell hole in the same chair the same room the same bed everyday not moving nothing new no stimulation except watching videos and trying to watch movies but i cant even watch movies im uncomfortable and cant stay focused everything is meaningless and has been forever it feels like it’s been forever since anything has happened or changed im literally in limbo hell but its my own personal hell cause i’ve lost my soul i cant be myself and sing or make art or play or have fun or do anything new and exciting im wasting my precious life beautiful shining body and brain consciousness and soul u know i hate wasting good pure things it gives me great immense anxiety my hair is disgusting cause its so frizzy from all the hair falling out and growing back out again everything is disgusting and bad like actually gross everyday is literally a horror film for me to live through or should i say suffer and rot through bc im not alive there is no living i do not feel pleasure or pleasant or any sort of good in anyway idk what to do at all ive been waiting for some sort of help for years the only thing making me go on is the blind belief that things wont always be this way it wont always be absolutely shitty right? i mean idk things have been known to be bad forever for people but it wont be for me right? something will change for good? it has to right? it cant be like this forever that doesn’t make sense not that anything makes sense ever but the simulation has to change it cant stay static right? right i hope so with the little tiny hope i have left please come and help me i cannot do this anymore if i lose all hope forever its not gonna be good for anyone or anything please help me before its too late i dont wanna die physically yet save me get me out of here! im begging please do something anything!!!

[thedankfaerie]

i am posting this here because i am tired of burdening my boyfriend with my feelings. this is a little nsfw. and this is my call for help. i dont know who to talk to anymore about this.

i need someone to hear what i feel

or at least, a free space to say what i feel 

im in a low place. i feel so awful about myself and my body and i hate this feeling. i hate that this time last year, i was so happy about the way i looked. i was working this awful job that had me so overworked and overtired and poorly treated that i skipped meals and slept through meals regularly... i lost so much weight from stress in just a year and was the skinniest i had ever been. mentally, i was not in a good place being exploited by my managers... but my self esteem re: my body was at a new level i never knew could exist for me.

last year, i felt powerful and confident about my body, and i expressed that through sexuality. i was fucking my ex that i still liked (i grew out of wanting him back, but he never did, and it was nice to have the upper hand). i was also fucking an old fwb that i stayed friends with, that was also recently single, so we reunited again at the perfect time. i was also seeing this one guy (now my boyfriend) so if ever i got tired of the sex i at least was able to calm down and settle down with someone who genuinely wanted to know me. of course, i ended up catching feelings for this guy, and cut off the other two to pursue something more serious (we are now dating and are moving in together next month!) anyways, it was so nice to be wanted. to feel... i guess sexy? sex is empowering. and it shouldn’t be taboo to say that as a woman, or anyone really. i dont want to give off the message that a woman’s validation is fueled by men’s desire - but hey, don’t you feel flattered when someone thinks you’re attractive? desire and lust aren’t everything... but they matter. and they have an impact on how you feel about yourself, whether or not you believe me when i say that is up to you. 

 and i hate that i would gladly put myself through the stress that i did just to feel happy about my body. before the summer ended, i finally had enough and i quit my shitty job. i was jobless for a month, but was able to enjoy the rest of the summer with my new ‘skinny’ body - last year i took my first bikini picture ... a 2 piece! i have never done that. i still think about how happy i was that summer to look and feel good about myself. 

i have struggled with self esteem issues since highschool. i always felt like i was too big. i used to follow all these blogs of pretty people and try to copy their poses to feel pretty and i used to spend hours after school trying on short dresses and clothes to stare at my body in the mirror. i used to starve myself to the point of literally wanting to faint on the daily, until finally i admitted it to one of my teachers. she respectfully asked if i wanted to speak with the school guidance counsellor, and i declined. but she encouraged me to speak up to at least a friend, so i did, and it helped, and for a long time, i was okay. after i graduated that teacher still checked up on me for a few years every now and again.

4th year university was when i realized how much i had let myself go. i was the heaviest i had ever been, it was my graduating year, i was looking for a job and was always worried about my grades. every time i was stressed or every time i needed to study i bought pad thai and bubble tea. a ritual. i didnt realize how much that had caught up to me until i saw old pictures of myself. at this point, i started my (shitty) job, straight out of graduation.

i actively avoided scales, i didn’t like looking at the number because it just made me upset. and i already felt upset looking in the mirror, i didn’t need something else to make me upset. but i did. and i was 20 pounds heavier than i was in highschool - the heaviest i had ever been.

i cried.

i didnt do much about it. i was too busy. my first job out of uni was a brand new daycare and i was head teacher of a toddler class - also i was the only staff on floor since there were not as many kids. there was nobody to train me, at all. i had to teach myself everything. i had no time. 

a little while before starting the job, i met this guy. he was so hot, but such a dick - we had a “thing” but it was so toxic. he started off interested in me, but i turned him down. his attitude changed and he started being a douche, but we became friends because we were seeing each other so often. i didn’t have a car yet. he was driving me everywhere. he lived 5 minutes away. he was the type of friend that would text me “im outside, lets go out”. we hung out as friends at first, we would have “study dates”, until we started hooking up. we acted like a thing but he denied we were ever one - but got mad at me whenever i tried to look elsewhere. but i guess in that time, it was nice to be wanted, especially by someone so attractive. 

but again, a year in that shithole job went by fast. i would stay late after work. i would come in on weekends. i was expected to not only help new kids transition, but train new partners. and given that my supers refused to support me, i watched a lot of people quit due to pressure. i had to keep retraining. and kids kept coming. that never stopped. i can honestly say my class wasn’t settled until december, and i started in september. everyday it was ‘its fine, it will get better’. 

a year in that shithole, with 0 support, and i lost all the weight i gained - and more. i was the skinniest i had ever been. even in highschool. i looked at old pictures of myself from when i started the job at my heaviest. i couldnt believe that was me. and i was so happy looking at myself in the mirror. for once! 

after i quit that job, i started another job that i hoped would be a happy ending.

and it wasn’t. it stressed me out just as much. i also moved out by this point, a month after i started this job. my hours are whack. 7-9, 11:30-6. i woke up early and got home late. i never had free time. my last shift at my old job was 7-3:30 and i had the whole day to myself. im someone that needs social interaction and alone time, and by the time i got home i was so tired, i would just cook, clean, shower, and go to bed. and that was my life. sometimes i would get so tired that i couldn’t cook, i just went and ate out. i tried to make personal time with my friends after work but by the time i reached their house, it was late, and places were closed. and id have to leave early anyways because i had work early the next day... so fast food was the only way to make this work. on top of this, this was the most difficult class that i had ever had. the kids behaviours’ were so difficult and i couldn’t handle it. i would cry in my car 3x a week. i would cry 4 minutes before my shift starts in the washroom and walk out and pretend i was okay. i would have my boyfriend come over as much as i could just so i could cry in his arms. i couldnt leave this job because i had just moved out and having a consistent rent payment was a huge responsibility for me. as well, if you know anything about ECEs in canada, just know we make shit pay. but this job pays me better than most ECE jobs... by a landslide. AND gives me benefits, which is so hard to find. i am still at this job - i was at my breaking point at the time covid started, so i was rejoicing when we closed for covid. i havent worked since march, but i needed that time off so desperately. 

with that being said, i gained the weight back.

not everything, but i definitely could tell i was packing on some pounds.

cue covid.

i havent worked since march. i fell back into a lazy routine of ordering fast food. lying in bed. resting. just enjoying NOT dealing with my difficult class. 

but i gained it all back. and i think im back at my heaviest weight. i picked up all my summer clothes from last year from my moms... half of them dont fit me. my favourite pair of shorts won’t close. i just sat and cried in a mess of clothes on my floor in front of the mirror. this was last week.

im trying to tell myself, ‘you’re in the middle of a global pandemic, go easy on yourself’... but do you know what it’s like to finally get what you’re chasing, and have it be taken away from you? i finally had a taste of what it was like to look AND feel good about myself. something ive wanted since i was a teenager...and it’s gone. it’s my fault and i accept that, so please don’t tell me i did this to myself. i know i did. but i can still be upset about it. i look in the mirror and i try to suck my stomach in and pretend nothing changed but its not the same. i see old pictures of myself, especially that bikini pic. ironically, i captioned it “i will never have the confidence to take a bikini pic again”... and here we are. i look at the clothes i wore last year and remember how fucking good i felt wearing them. i try putting them back on and seeing my stomach bulging and my arms looking fat and my love handles, something i didn’t see last year. and i just take them off and opt to wear something frumpier that doesnt hug my figure.

i try to tell people about how i feel but i cant take those ‘love yourself and all your flaws’ campaigns seriously. i dont think i can listen to another ‘you have to just keep faking it until you make it and if u just tell urself ur beautiful u will feel beautiful!’

because if you’re me, you know you cant kid yourself. if you’re me you can’t ‘love every flaw’. you fixate on them. and you let them define you. and if youre me, flaws are all you see.

i hate myself for getting back to this point. 

i have a very supportive boyfriend that knows about all this, who is trying to actively get me to go on runs with him. we are trying to go for walks more and be out and about. he reminds me of little things, like if we are getting bubbletea he will suggest i go with less sugar. he is trying, we are trying. and i appreciate him so much.

today i complained in my car about this to my boyfriend, again. for the millionth time. and he still was supportive. but i just feel like i cant keep doing this to him. he said something today, which i think was him trying to give me a reality check to show me that i cant just wish i could starve myself and overwork myself to lose weight and call it a day... but it stung. he said “i don’t want to be with someone that’s not healthy. i have standards too” and i realized then he deserves so much better than to fucking babysit my complaining ass. i am 24. and i shouldnt be putting this on him. he is an adult with problems just as real as mine and i shouldnt be burdening him with this anymore. 

im scared to talk to him about how that comment made me feel, because he’s so right, and he has every right to leave me. i would honestly. the amount that i worry and fixate on all my flaws and complain and have crying breakdowns about this is not fucking normal. and it shouldnt be his problem. i just want him to be with someone that doesnt give him this baggage. he met me in my ‘prime’ days when i just started getting my skinny body last year. when we finally started dating, we were super sexually active. and i mean, having sex like 15 times a week. im not kidding. now we havent had sex in almost an entire month. i dont feel sexy anymore and its impacting my sex drive.. he tries to start it with me and i just can’t because i feel like he is probably repulsed by my body. this is a huge huge huge problem, seeing as sex was a huge part of our relationship (we are very emotionally in tune with one another, but sex was a great addon because we both love it so much). i hate the way i look without clothes on. i cant bring myself to do it because it makes me feel like shit about myself.

but we are moving in together next month. and that is a huge step. and i am worried that i will never change, and he’s going to feel like he’s stuck with me because he’s moving 40 minutes away from his hometown to live with me. i almost want us to break up so he can be with someone with less baggage but i also love him and i want to be better for him and for us. 

someone please help me. 

[velvetsehun]

hiiii i've been a follower of yours for quite a while and i absolutely love your writings!!! i hope you don't mind me asking since this question is not related to your blog, but it's my first year of college and now that classes are online because of covid 19, i feel so overwhelmed with my work, like i have so many papers and projects all due in the same week and i feel mentally exhausted and just giving up. i honestly don't know how to deal with this, i was hoping you'd give me some advice? 😭

hello lovely! thank you, im glad you enjoy them, its whats they’re there for ;)

I’d be glad to give you some advice, i understand things are tough right now due to the virus, im obviously a uni student myself rn and i had to work out how to do everything so that i dont cry! 

I think the first thing to approaching school is to first of all, take a step back and actually evaluate what it is you have to do - i’ve go 3 essays due the same week as well and the first thing i did was step back, look at the deadlines and then look at the time that i have, its very easy to just see deadlines and think “i have to do all of this right now or it wont get done” which is partly whats overwhelming you! my main factor to planning out work is to put the due day into my google calendar, and then look at the days you have and be realistic with how long it takes to do thing! i’ll write it down in the calendar that way i HAVE to do it. ALSO GIVE YOURSELF AT LEAST A DAY OR TWO BEFORE YOU START!!

It takes me 2-3 days to plan, write and edit an essay (1500-2000 words) and i keep that in mind when i plan, so ill typically dedicate time to each thing i have to do, with a 2-3 day gap in between them! so from today until the 28th, ill be working on an essay, and today specifically ill be making an essay plan and thats all ill do today! 

ill plan my essay, breakdown the paragraphs and their contents, find key reading and then ill just leave it for the rest of the day, give your mind some time to process what it is you’re writing, and then tomorrow ill write! i typically do an hour of writing then 45 minute break, and i’ll do a paragraph in an hour! that way im not dedicating 9 hours to just starting at a word doc, im taking breaks inbetween! you’ll stress your mind out just focusing on one thing for hours on end! and after a few hours the essay is written and then ill leave it again! 

then on the 28th, ill go in and grammar/word check it, make sure it makes sense and read it over and if i feel like it, ill submit it same day! then after ive done that essay, ill take a 2-3 rest and start something new, that way im not bogging my mind down with everything! it also helps to REFERENCE AS YOU GO PLEASE OMG it makes it so much easier, use a website like citethisforme and you’ll save about an hour! 

it get its hard to apply yourself to doing the work in the first place when you’re stuck in the house, but what helps me is getting ready like its a normal day, getting out of pajamas and wearing real people clothes, maybe going for a quick walk outside and then coming back to start your work - that what you’re convincing yourself almost that you’re actually somewhere else and you start to feel a lot less cooped up!

im also someone who cant listen to “loud” music when im writing, so ill literally listen to it on the lowest volume i can still here so that my brain isnt focusing on something else while im trying to write!

here’s an example of what my calendar can look like (i cant show you my actual one since its got personal stuff on it but here’s a good example!):

also! its very important to practice some form of self-care in any break you get! I’m my 45 minute breaks between paragraphs ill make food, ill watch something, maybe write a little, ill talk to someone, ill sometimes just go out into the garden and look around! anything that isnt directly tied to the task im doing so that my break relaxes for a second! 

in my longer breaks between days, ill dedicate my time to other things that i have to do or want to do; ill do some yoga, ill write, ill read, ill cook/bake! 

Its very easy to just want to give up completely, and i completely understand that, but building a routine can really help you and understanding that you CAN do the work, you ARE capable, and that is IS doable; you just need to breathe and look at things a little differently, your own headspace can become uninhabitable so for a little while take a step out of that, and remember that you are a fully capable human and you have feelings! they can be tricky but once you understand how to manage them it gets better, you arent a bad person for wanting to just give up, you just need a little shove! 

I hope this helps! obviously i’m not a professional, i’m just another person, but my own mental health struggles taught me to start doing things another way if i wanted to get better or otherwise im living in a head in which is not meant for living in! 

I believe in you okay? and i know fine well that all the virus stuff is making all of us a bit stuck in a rut, we cant cure it but we can show it that we work with it - you’re fully capable and you’re going to do these assignments to the best of your ability! 

[insidiousflame]

11/16/2020

Kinda felt in the mood to do another one of these again. I’m about to hit quite an important moment in my life so I guess I should document it somewhere, eh? I’m going to move out! Yeah I know....really...weird if you think about it. I mean, considering all the times I told myself “lmfao yeah right bitch in what world will that happen”. But somehow, things have been managing to work. Well--Okay more like I am forcing them to work. But Chris has been able to keep up with the apartment, even if he’s still just scraping by. That’s enough. And even though I still haven’t found a new car, or been able to transfer stores yet...I am making the solid decision to move out. I’ve already moved a lot of my things over already. I’m not taking any furniture, so really the only things I need to take over are things I use every day for the most part. Like all the clothes in the closet, my bed sheets, and the things on my vanity. Oh, and my musical instruments too. But after that, it’s done. As far as a move out date, I’ve been thinking about doing it at the end of this month. Why? I guess I keep thinking to myself, “well lets get at least one of the holiday season months out of the way first and get accustomed to things before making the leap.” There is still nervousness in my heart, but I’ve been feeling the push more and more. And as I packed up today to leave his apartment again to go back home, I was taken over with that sad feeling again and thought to myself, “Yeah...I don’t want to feel this way anymore.” I want to always be where I am happiest. I want to be with him. No more leaving. No more only seeing him on the weekends. And y’know, another thing I was kind of surprised to realize was that I don’t really feel too much sadness about leaving home. I guess maybe it’s because I’ve already processed these feelings over the entirety of the year I had originally planned to move out. lol And it’s not like I won’t ever see my family again. Or Mittens. This house. There will always be sentimental feelings, but at the same time they are met with feelings of ‘its time to move on!’. I’ve really been wanting to move away from my past and I’ll finally be out of that town with all those...people I used to know. Thoughts cross my mind like, “what will i do? theres nothing to do over there.” but like i do anything over here? I like our mall, but ive maybe only been once or twice since covid this year. I’ll have to do my best to make that apartment a relaxing and cozy place to be. A freeing place. As far as Auracle goes, we’re working on a christmas cover and I’m kinda worried about not having the time to do what we want with it. The ideas we had originally to record it we forgot would make us wear masks, or they aren’t holding the event because of covid. :( So I really am not sure what we will do. I sure am ready for this year to be over though. More-so this stupid pandemic.

[sciencespies]

President Trump Receiving Remdesivir For Covid-19 Coronavirus, What Does This Mean?

https://sciencespies.com/news/president-trump-receiving-remdesivir-for-covid-19-coronavirus-what-does-this-mean/

President Trump Receiving Remdesivir For Covid-19 Coronavirus, What Does This Mean?

U.S. President Donald Trump wears a face mask while leaving the White House for Walter Reed National … [+] Military Medical Center to get care for his Covid-19 coronavirus diagnosis. (Photo by Drew Angerer/Getty Images)

Getty Images

One thing’s for sure about President Donald Trump’s recent Covid-19 coronavirus infection diagnosis. Every bit of news that emerges about his condition is going to get analyzed and re-analyzed more than Kim Kardashian’s clothes. And the latest news is that he has received remdesivir, an antiviral treatment. This is what Sean Conley, DO, the Physician to the President, said in a statement shared last night by White House Press Secretary Kayleigh McEnany via a tweet:

The statement is a bit like that “Blue (Da Ba Dee)” song from Eiffel 65. It didn’t say a whole lot. Trump is now at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center, which is in line with the fact that a Covid-19 coronavirus infection is not just like a cold, a case of sniffles, or even a routine case of the seasonal flu. It’s not as if Walter Reed necessarily has more tissues or toilet paper than the White House. The trip there reflects heightened concern and access to more medical equipment and treatments than the White House can offer.

Recommended For You

“Doing very well” is not an official medical term and can be quite relative and subjective. Certainly the phrase sounds better than “doing very badly.” Nevertheless, “doing very well” is about as specific as the phrase “it me.” The only real substantive statements are that Trump is “not requiring any supplemental oxygen” and that the doctors “have elected to initiate Remdesivir therapy.”

“Not requiring supplemental oxygen” suggests that Trump doesn’t have significant lung problems from the infection. Assuming that you are not a block of cheese, you need oxygen to survive. You breathe in oxygen through your respiratory tract and lungs. Your lungs then swap the oxygen into your bloodstream where it is carried by the hemoglobin in your blood cells to different parts of your body. Oxygen to your cells is like chocolate. They can’t survive without it.

Typically, between 95 to 100 percent of your hemoglobin should be carrying oxygen. Levels may fall below this range when your lungs can’t breathe in enough oxygen or lung damage prevents your lungs from transferring this oxygen to your bloodstream. If any of this occurs, doctors may choose to put you on supplemental oxygen, that is oxygen beyond what is in the air. This may be via a nasal canula or a mask.

Getting remdesivir certainly isn’t like getting Tylenol. You typically won’t say, “I am not feeling that great. I could use some avocado on a tray-shaped piece of carbohydrate infused with walnuts and cheese with early girl tomatoes, salt, and some remdesivir.” Remdesivir is an intravenous medication. It costs about $520 per vial, based on the price announced by Gilead Sciences in June. This would mean five days of the stuff could set you back about $3,120. That’s about how much 520 pounds of cole slaw would cost to give those hoarding cole slaw some perspective. Not everyone in America happens to have that kind of cash laying around or the BTS-autographed shirts to sell to raise that amount. That being said, if you are on certain U.S. government programs, you could get it for cheaper. And Trump is on a government program.

Gilead Sciences Inc. developed and manufactures remdesivir. (Photo by Liu Guanguan/China News … [+] Service via Getty Images)

China News Service via Getty Images

Gilead Sciences originally developed remdesivir in 2009 as an antiviral treatment against hepatitis C infections. That didn’t work out so well. Since then, doctors have tried using remdesivir versus other viruses such as the Ebola virus disease, the Marburg virus, and now the severe acute respiratory syndrome coronavirus 2 (SARS-CoV2).

Remdesivir is still considered an investigational treatment for SARS-CoV2. “Investigational” does not mean that it should be widely used. If someone says that they cooked an “investigational dish” for you, be wary. An “investigational treatment” means that there isn’t yet enough data to justify its broader use beyond clinical trial settings and special cases. Trump, however, in many ways, is a special case.

The treatment is supposed to act by binding to the RNA-dependent RNA polymerase of the SARS-CoV2. This is an enzyme that the virus uses to reproduce itself. Lab experiments have shown that binding to the enzyme can blocks the ability of the virus to reproduce itself. In short, the medication is supposed to prevent the virus from replicating, doing the nasty, knocking spikes, or whatever term you want to use for making new copies of itself. Keep in mind that what works in the lab doesn’t necessarily work in the “real world” in humans.

Scientists have found that rhesus macaque monkeys who received remdesivir soon after being infected with SARS-CoV2 ended up having less virus in their lungs and less lung damage. A publication in the scientific journal Nature described these findings. Of course, Trump is not a rhesus macaque monkey.

So what’s the evidence that remdesivir can work in humans against SARS-CoV2? Well, most of the evidence so far comes from the Adaptive COVID-19 Treatment Trial (ACTT-1), a multinational, randomized, placebo-controlled trial that included 1,063 patients hospitalized with COVID-19 and evidence of lower respiratory tract infection. According to a publication in the New England Journal of Medicine, those treated with IV remdesivir for 10 days (or until they were discharged from the hospital) had a shorter time to recovering from the infection (a median of 11 days) than those who had received placebo (15 days). There were also differences in mortality by 14 days: 7.1% of those remdesivir did not survive by 14 days compared to 11.9% of those who had received placebo. That meant that those receiving remdesivir were 70% as likely to have died. Typically, patients will receive remdesivir for five days straight. In some cases, as in ACTT-1, this can be extended to up to 10 days. All of this is “encouraging” but doesn’t mean definitely that remdesivir will help everyone with Covid-19. It also doesn’t mean that it is a cure for Covid-19.

If you want the most reliable information in the U.S. on possible Covid-19 treatments, go to the National Institutes of Health (NIH) COVID-19 Treatment Guidelines. Yes, these are more reliable and accurate sources than that dude on Facebook or an economics adviser who has suddenly turned into a supposed infectious disease expert. According to these guidelines, “There are insufficient data for the Panel to recommend either for or against the use of remdesivir in patients with mild or moderate COVID-19.” The guidelines also state, as of October 3, “because remdesivir supplies are limited, the Panel recommends prioritizing remdesivir for use in hospitalized patients with COVID-19 who require supplemental oxygen but who do not require oxygen delivery through a high-flow device, noninvasive ventilation, invasive mechanical ventilation, or extracorporeal membrane oxygenation (ECMO).”

So can you divine much about President Trump’s condition from this information alone? Not really. Trump is not an everyday American. That’;s for sure. He will have access to treatments, resources, and expertise that most people wouldn’t. Hearing that Trump is getting remdesivir may not be the same as hearing that your friend is getting the same treatment, unless your friend somehow has access to the nuclear codes. Doctors may give Trump medications as precautionary measures in ways that don’t quite follow guidelines for everyone else.

Plus, everything that you hear in a statement from Trump’s physician will probably have been thoroughly vetted by others in the Trump administration, more thoroughly than an outfit on the TV show Project Runway. In effect, these announcements are on a “tape delay.” The information that you get may already be old news.

Over the ensuing week, don’t expect real-time information about the President’s condition. There aren’t play-by-play announcers providing updates on the President’s breathing and bowel movements. Only Trump’s doctors, whoever they may all be, will know for sure what’s happening. One thing’s clear. The White House seems to be treating Trump’s Covid-19 coronavirus diagnosis quite seriously. This virus is not going to just go away.

#News