lovethathair

[hafwen]

Going to spend tomorrow in between therapy watching AGDQ and working on a cute little scapbook for my mom to take to therapy

[xoxotria]

grief | c.sc

pairing: choi seungcheol x fem!reader

tw: mentions of death, depression and cancer

themes: angst, fluff

note: this one really hits close to home as i wrote it knowing the pain it feels to lose a loved one to breast cancer. remember that it’s okay to grieve longer than others. we all heal at our own pace but don’t be afraid to let yourself be comforted by the people around you.

—cheol knew that you were still grieving the loss of your mother. it had been a couple of months since she had passed and slowly the light that used to shine in your eyes had dulled down. he knew you was hurting and it hurt him to see you hurt..

losing someone was never easy, he knew that but it pained him to see you that way. you and your mother had been very close. you lived a four hour drive away from your mother in which made their time together even more precious as you were always a momma’s girl growing up.

her mother’s diagnosis had shaken their family as her mother was always known to be healthy and someone who took care of themselves. she was there through every doctor’s appointment, the surgery itself, the follow up check ups, the radiation treatment—everything. she was there when her mother’s four year battle ended as she died surrounded by loved ones.

cheol had been there when his mother-in-law passed away peacefully ending her painful battle with the disease, whispering promises of taking care of you before he let you whisper your own promises to her before she took her final breath. he had comforted you as he took you in his arms as he reassured your mother was finally at peace and pain-free with the creator.

he took it upon himself to plan and arrange the funeral and let you spend the last few days with your mother before she was buried. you thanked him endlessly for that as you exchanged tearful kisses during the first night after your mother died. he had given you time to process the events, doting on you for everything you needed.

but it had been months and you were not getting better. sleep was a rarity for you and he could see the circles under your eyes darken with every passing day. you had lost so much weight as your appetite decreased.

“baby, please. you have got to eat,” he begged as he lifted a spoonful of your favorite food to your mouth.

“i’m not hungry right now,” you whispered as you leaned on the couch.

“you haven’t ate anything. it’s already past noon! you can’t starve yourself like this i won’t let you.” his eyes softened as he watched your eyes fill with tears.

“your mom wouldn’t want you to do this baby.”

“what do you know? you aren’t the one who lost her mom!” you snapped as your tears rolled down your cheeks.

“that isn’t fair—”

“life isn’t fair! it wasn’t fair when she got diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer. it wasn’t fair that it went away only for it to reoccur months later. it wasn’t fair when she lost her appetite after rounds of radiation and chemo therapy. it wasn’t fair when she spent days or months in the hospital to get treated only for it not to work and it wasn’t fair that she was in pain for so long! nothing is ever fair, cheol.” you had tried to move on as everyone in your family did but it was so hard—a part of you died along with her when she took her final breath.

you had known she didn’t have much longer in this earth, her doctors told you as much the week leading up to her death. it did not make losing her easier though knowing her end was near. it was the opposite. knowing she was dying and there was nothing you could do to delay or stop it. guilt drowned your heart as you recalled your moments with her from childhood to early adulthood.

“i promised your mom i would take care of you! i know this is a hard time for you baby but you cannot let yourself waste away like this.” he cooed softly bringing you into her arms as he kissed your temple. “your mom would want you to take care of yourself the way you took care of her all those years.”

“i failed her cheol. god—i shoud’ve done more. i didn’t even speak at her funeral…” your chest heaved as you sobbed harder into his chest. his fingers running through your hair as his other hand rubbed your back comfortingly.

“hey, hey, hey…you did not fail her. you did what you could do with the resources you were given. you may not know it but your mom was strong because of you—not just the thought of you but you. she wanted to beat cancer’s ass because she wanted more time with you.” he reassured her as she pulled away sniffling.

she looked adorable despite her puffy red eyes and runny nose. to him, she could be wearing a potato sack and still find something to complement her and praise her for. he was that in love with her.

“you think so?”

“i know so.”

she thought back to the last few months and realized how selfish she had been. she wasn’t the only one grieving—cheol was too. he loved her mother just as much as she did. he drove her to doctor’s appointments and therapy sessions when she had work and couldn’t. he was at her bedside when she had just gotten out of surgery and helped her around the house as her mother recover for a few weeks. he was there through everything at her side never once complaining about being tired.

“i’m so sorry baby.” you had wrapped your arms around him pulling him down on the couch as sniffles escaped him.

“i can’t see you like this, it hurts me. i promised mom i’d take care of you yet you push me away. i only want to be there for you. let me be there for you, please.”

it was rare that he broke down. your heart broke as cheol wrapped his arms around your waist as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. you realized how much you’ve ignored his feelings whilst drowning in your grief.

“i’ve been selfish baby. i should’ve been there for you the way you were for me. fuck—i’m so sorry cheol.” you kiss the side of his head as you mutter apologies to him.

you don’t know how long you two spent crying and whispering to each other on the couch; minutes or hours? you genuinely didn’t feel the time pass until your stomachs grumbled in hunger. you watched your boyfriend get up to grab his phone and order food with a soft gaze.

cheol was too good for you but you were glad to have him. because in this life, you wouldn’t want anyone else to witness your highs and lows with and he’d say the same.

[kickthecan-revolution]

A long time ago when Trump was first in office, I had a sustained two week anxiety attack, convinced we were going to experience a significant war and I had to be prepared. I’d just gotten a big bonus and I spent a ton of it on survivor gear - all of those buckets of rice, beans, dehydrated food, camping gear, solar lights - so much more. I made go bags for work, my car and home. The primary one was stolen when I first moved in here via a break in where thieves stole a lot of stuff people were storing in the garage. The backpack was in my parking spot - poof, gone.

I lugged so much of it here - over the years I’ve slowly simplified it but I’ve been a little afraid to let all of it go. it started this habit of buying extras - why not buy three Justin’s boxes of peanut butter packets even though I only need one? Why not have five ketchups so I never run out?

When R was here organizing, I *saw* it - all of the canned food that had expired, all of the stuff I was keeping in the pantry that I didn’t use because I didn’t even know I had it. She gently said “if you feel like you want to bake cookies, you can just zip over to the store and buy flour.” Part of it was never having enough food when we were little - we could afford it, my mom just never bought enough for us. It’s why I’d drive around on Christmas looking for snack food before all the kids came over. Granted, that could be my food insecurity speaking and my filter was grounded from that, it’s a very likely possibility.

Anyway. R is coming back for my last infusion bringing her BFF A who is an organizer and a professional chef. She’s going to organize so much of my stuff but the deal is, I only have what I really want to keep, consider getting rid of the extras of things I don’t need (including three spatulas, etc) and focusing on keeping what I love and use for myself every week instead of all of the imaginary dinner parties I throw in my head. So that’s what I’ve done today, after…11 hours of sleep? I’ve been slowly whittling it all down and it feels so great. I’m 90% done. It’s not as much as I thought but it’s just so good to let it go.

My surgery is tentatively scheduled for October 01, pending what happens with this biopsy on Friday. That feels lightning fast. My last chemo infusion is next Wednesday - I’m not going to lie, I’m afraid of it based on this last one, I was so debilitated by the fatigue, I had more hair shedding than usual, no appetite and the peripheral neuropathy was hard so I’m going to try to freeze my hands and feet during the infusion to prevent it. It has definitely lessened, thank God but it’s not gone away entirely. It can take a long time.

I cry so frequently these days, even writing that it’s the last one. I’ve held it all together for five months, and I can feel the emotional and mental reserves I’ve leaned on to that beginning to crumble. That’s probably good. Things are starting to get……thin when I’m sleeping. My dreams are wild and I heard repeated knocking three times last night. My cats were on high alert. I pit myself in a golden bubble and reminded myself that I live in a building where people could be knocking at other doors, not likely at 3am but it helped. I stayed up until 4:30am watching The Office and then slept hard until 9am.

I’m numb when I think of the MRI biopsy on Friday, two of my worst things happening at the same time is like a cruel joke (biopsies aren’t painful but just traumatic waiting for the results). I’m strong - I can and will do this. And then chemo, and then the surgery which completely freaks me out - I have a massive fear of “going under” - and then I’ll know what happens after those biopsies come back.

In talking about work, my oncologist recommend that I extend my leave of absence to at least March of next year. The neuropathy is concerning her as are my cognitive tests, and I think for a living. She reminded me how they have taken my body to the point of decline where the basics work but there’s a lot of damage. And the mental damage of all of the biopsies on top of that, she thinks I need time. I agree with her. So I’m going to pursue that, it means I live on a lot less and I don’t think I am guaranteed a job when I go back but I’m not worried about that.

[arlana-likes-to-write]

Second Chance - Chapter 5

Masterlist

Warning: mention of car accident, past surgery, cancer treatment, chemotherapy side effects, survivor guilt, bone marrow procedure, talk about death.

Relationships: Yelena x reader, Morgan x reader (platonic), Tony, Pepper, x reader (platonic), Wanda x reader (platonic)

Note: a lot of this chapter is based on my own personal experience with the disease. As I've learned chemotherapy effects everyone very differently. The type of chemo the reader is on is based on her type of cancer but the treatment plan may not be 100% accurate.

Word count: 4k

Morgan was pressed into your side as she scrolled through the many streaming services that were offered at the tower to pick a movie. After dinner, Morgan dragged you to her floor and sat you down to watch a movie. She claimed it was unfair that you didn’t play with her so you had to watch a movie together. It was cute and a movie night sounded perfect after the long day you had. There was something about the blonde Black Widow that kept her on your mind. It was a little nerve-racking. Ever since your diagnosis, you’ve sworn off relationships. It leads to more heartbreak in the end. “Wanna watch Moana?”

“We can watch whatever you want, buttercup,” she giggled and pressed play. It was a movie you’ve seen a lot. Hell, your lifelong dream was to live on a sailboat which you did until you got sick.

“Mind if we join?” Pepper asked as the opening song was over. Her daughter hushed her, not taking her eyes off the screen. You smiled, ruffled her head, and nodded at the CEO, who sat next to you on the couch. Tony slid next to Morgan, grabbing her legs and putting them on his lap.

Moaa was probably in your top 5 favorite animated movies but it was getting harder and harder to keep your eyes open to follow the plot. “Hey,” Pepper whispered. “Do you want to go to bed?” You shook your head, not wanting to get up or move Morgan off of you. But your eyelids became heavy and soon your head fell onto Pepper’s shoulder. You were too weak to fight sleep as it called your name.

*    

The weight of your head falling onto Pepper’s shoulder startled her and she tried to keep her body from jumping so she wouldn’t wake you. You didn’t. “Do you want me to move her?” Tony asked. Pepper shook her head.

“No, she’s perfectly fine.” She meant it. When was the last time you allowed yourself to lean on the shoulder of another? Jessica Easton died in 2018, a few months before the Blip. That was 6 years ago. The case remained open. It was another layer to have you bare alone. So you could rest your head on her shoulder as long as you wanted, she didn’t mind.

*   

“I have a meeting with possible investors,” Pepper said, looking at her tablet.

“I’m waiting for a video call from Bruce,” Tony poured coffee into the mug. You rolled your eyes as you filled up your water bottle from the fridge and poured an electrolyte mix into it. It was important to stay hydrated during your chemo sessions. The couple have been going back and forth for 20 minutes on who would be going with you to your appointment. However, it appeared that being Iron Man and the CEO of one of the biggest companies meant busy schedules.

“You know,” you said slowly and put the water bottle on the side of your backpack. Inside, was everything you needed to survive a long day at the cancer center; art supplies, a book, medication, lotion, and snacks lots and lots of snacks. “I can go by myself. I’ve done it before.”

“No,” they said in unison. You sighed, slumping down in the empty chair. Your appointment was at 0900 so you wanted to leave by 0830 to get there a few minutes early. They add to check your results from the blood you gave yesterday. Before every chemotherapy appointment, they needed to make sure your levels were good. 0830 was in 30 minutes and at this rate, you were going to be late.

“Everything okay?” Wanda asked, leaning onto the counter next to you. You sighed.

“Tony and Pepper don’t want me to go to my appointment alone but they are both too busy,” you explained the short-hand version of what was going on this morning. “So I’m just waiting.” She smiled.

“I can take you,” you looked at her in disbelief. She giggled. “I don’t have anything going on.”

“You're amazing,” you turned your attention back to the couple. “Excuse me?” They looked at you. “Wanda said she’ll take me. She’s a very capable adult and you let her watch Morgan,” you sighed when they remained silent. “Oh for goodness sake, I’m getting a needle stapped into my port,” you flipped open your jacket to reveal your tank top. It was March in New York City, it was a little crazy to be wearing a tank top but it made getting to your port easier. Everything went through your port, chemo and they could draw blood. It was easier than them having to run an IV every time. “It’s not like I’m having brain surgery.” You could see Tony thinking it through.

“Fine but you call me as soon as you're done and if there are any issues.” Amazing. Beautiful. You were half tempted to kiss Wanda for saving you.

“I will,” you grabbed Wanda’s hand and your blanket with the other. “See ya later. Bye!” You dragged the poor witch to the elevator, not daring to wait because they could change their minds. “Sorry,” you said told Wanda when the elevator doors closed safely behind you. “I did not want them to change their mind,” she laughed as the elevator moved to the subfloor of the tower. You adjusted the backpack traps and leaned against the metal walls.

“Are you nervous?” Wanda asked. You sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

“It’s not nerves,” you said. “The anticipation really like I’ve done this before but a knot still forms in my stomach, does that make sense?” You asked, looking at her.

“It does. I get the same feeling when I use my powers,” her fingertips began to glow red. “I know the feeling and what I’m supposed to do but my stomach still twists and turns.” Carefully, you reached out to touch her fingers that glowed. It was like a static shock; one moment you were standing in the elevator with Wanda and the next you felt as if you were in the car accident again. The screeching of tires. The piercing sound of metal against metal. And the screams of you and your mom. “Y/n,” you heard your name. “Hey, can you hear me?” You blinked, shaking your head slightly. You were standing in the corner of the elevator, gripping the handle. The doors were open and Wanda was standing in front of you. “Are you with me?” You nodded, licking your lips.

“Yeah,” you said, releasing the hold you had on the handle. There were indents on your palm from the metal. “I’m okay,” Wanda wasn’t convinced, the color was drained from her face making her green eyes pop. “It wasn’t your fault,” you assured her. “I shouldn’t have touched your magic without asking.” She sighed, running her fingers through her hair.

“Let’s get you in the car,” you nodded, allowing her to wrap her arm around your shoulders and lead you to the car. She opened the passenger door and you sat down.

“I feel like I got run over by an elephant,” you said. Wanda smiled and knelt in front of you. “I don’t remember the car accident,” you told her, playing with the threads on the blanket on your lap. “I just woke up in the hospital and I couldn’t answer any of the questions the police asked me.” You whipped away a tear that fell. “Could you help me remember?” You whispered. Wanda nodded, placing a hand on top of yours.

“I can,” your head snapped up to look at you. “But not when you are fighting this.” This was the cancer that was running rampant through your body. “It will be painful and I don’t think your mind or body is strong enough to handle it.” She was right. On your best days, you were lucky to not get tired before noon. “We should get going. Don’t want to be late.”

“Right,” you whispered, swinging your legs into the car and putting your backpack by your feet. Wanda closed the door and rounded the front to the driver's side. By the time she was in the car, you were buckled in. You were grateful that Tony, Pepper, and Wanda were adamant about going with you to your appointments but there was a nagging voice in the back of your head calling out to your mom. Why was she taken from you? Was it some type of punishment or test? Why was it her and not you?”

“Hey,” Wanda’s voice pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. “Stay with me, okay?” She offered her free hand over the center console. “Stay right here.”

“I’m here,” you promised, lacing your fingers with hers. She wanted you to stay in the present and not slip into the past. You squeezed her hand and held onto it the entire ride, a little afraid to let go.

*  

“Does that hurt?” Wanda asked as the nurse, injected the needle into your port. You were all settled in your little cubicle; a pillow behind your head and a blanket draped over you. Your water bottle, sketchbook, and book were arranged on the small side table how you liked it. Each one had a small TV, and a fridge and there was a kitchen for everyone to use. You never watched TV, content with listening to music and sketching. But now you had someone with you which was weird. You shook your head and thanked the nurse as she left.

“Nope, I put numbing lotion on it before we left,” you answered. “Now I wait.” Wanda looked around.

“And you did this by yourself?” You smiled, nodding at the witch.

“It’s not that bad,” she titled her heat at you, a clear indication she didn’t believe you.”Okay sometimes it gets lonely but the nurses are fun to talk to and I get some drawing done. Besides the double dosage days are the worst since they take forever.” You were given cytarabine and daunorubicin with a flush in between due to the chemotherapy possibility of damaging your kidneys.

“Can I get you anything? Or do anything for you?” You looked at your setup.

“Actually, can you go get me some tea from the common area? We passed the kitchen on our way in.” The witch nodded and journeyed into the kitchen. With a sigh, you picked up your phone and began to scroll through the social media. You liked scrolling through instead of posting yourself. Even though everyone said you needed to make an Instagram, it seemed like a lot of work but you tried to post every once in a while to keep your friends in DC posted. “Shit,” you mumbled when you stopped on a picture that was posted on Captain Mills’ social media page. You forgot your promise to Rebecca. Damn, chemo brain. You pulled up your text message and hit Henry’s contact.

‘Hey Captain, I need a favor. Call me when you free.’ 

*      

“That was a lot of fun,” you said to Wanda as you entered the tower’s lobby. “Thank you for coming with me.” She smile with the blanket you used in her arms. She admitted to helping you carry something. It was nice just talking with Wanda and learning about her through her stories and not the media. The media wasn’t kind to anyone, you’ve seen it grab your mom’s name through the mud. Especially with her case against the Liberation Front, an underground crime syndicate that ran up and down the East Coast. She was able to put one of their leaders Enzo Martinez in prison for life. The local media outlets and officials were not happy with her.

“I’m glad I could go. If you need me to go again let me know.”

“I will,” you hit the button for the elevator, and while you were waiting, you looked towards Rebecca’s desk. She was done helping someone and sat down at her desk. “Hold the elevator for me,” you called over your shoulder and jobbed over to Rebecca. She jumped slightly at your sudden appearance. “Hi.”

“Oh hi. Y/n, right?” You nodded. “I see your talk with Tony went well.”

“It did and all thanks to you,” you fished out a business card from your sweatpants and handed her the card. “A certain captain is expecting a phone call from you,” her hands shook as she took it. Her eyes darted from the piece of paper to you. “And if Tony gives you a hard time about the time off. Let me know, okay? Bye.” You ran back to Wanda.

“Thank you,” she called after you. You waved and stepped into the elevator.

“I’m starving,” you said once the metal doors opened the metal doors to the common floor. Skipping past the couch, you through your backpack on it and made your way to the kitchen. There was stuff in your kitchen but you were too lazy to cook and you were hungry now. You opened the fridge, humming to the song that was playing on the radio.

“Hello, Miss. Easton,” you glanced over your shoulder to see Vision, reading a book on the couch. “How was your chemotherapy appointment?”

“Oh hi Vis, I didn’t see you,” Wanda lay your blanket on the back of the couch. The android took the witch’s hand and kissed the back of her hand. Awe, they were cute. “I had food on the brain,” you turned to look back at the fridge. “But it was good. Wanda made it better.” You pulled out someone’s leftover pizza, you didn’t see a name on it and would deal with the consequences later. You ate the pizza over the sink, not wanting to dirty a plate.

“I thought chemo was supposed to make her lose her appetite,” you nodded.

“It does,” you said, covering your mouth while you chewed on pizza. “But they gave me steroids today to trick my body. I’ll be like this for like 24 hours.”

“What can we do to assist you?” Vision asked. That was such an odd question. What could they do to help you?

“Right now nothing,” you shrugged. “I’ll probably be eating all day.”

“Well I can make chicken paprikash,” Wanda said. “I think we have all the ingredients for it.” Your jaw dropped and a piece of pizza was about to fall out of your mouth.

“You know how to make chicken paprikash,” You said in disbelief.

“I would hope so,” she closed your mouth. “I am Sokovian.” That..made sense. “Sit and I’ll make it.” You did what you were told but not without grabbing a small bag of pretzels.

“There is a restaurant in DC that made chicken paprikash not as good as the one I had in Sokovia,” the witch froze and slowly turned to look at you. She blinked once, twice.

“You’ve been to Sokovia,” you nodded. “Before Ultron happened?” You nodded again.

“In 2014, I was 16 and my mom wanted to help with the war efforts,” you slowly ate the pretzel. “It was a beautiful country.” Your mom was hesitant to bring you with her to a war-torn country due to several attacks orchestrated by the US Air Force to try to stop the country’s political turmoil. This resulted in massive infrastructure and property damage, along with heavy civilian casualties. Besides all that, you found some of the kindest and most beautiful souls in Sokovia. She nodded, her green eyes swelling with tears. You couldn’t imagine losing the place you called home in such a horrific way. Vision joined Wanda’s side, offering a gentle hand on her back.

“Yes,” her accent was much thicker. “Yes, it was. Now,” she smiled. “Let’s get cooking.”

*        

“I’m a little impressed,” Natasha mumbled as she stood next to Yelena and Bucky. “Is that her third plate?” The blonde nodded as you finally took a break from inhaling Wanda’s cooking to take a sip of water.

“Stark is going to need to take out a loan if this is how she’s going to be every week,” Yelena rolled her eyes, slapping the soldier on his cheek.

“Please Stark could end world hunger if he wanted to,” the blonde said. The man in question walked over to you. It was a shock that the man was trying to be a father to you. Yelena was curious if he was going to help you or send you away. It was hit or miss with the billionaire. Yelena left her sister and boyfriend and walked over to the empty seat next to you. “Are you saving any for us?” She asked you. You giggled, whipping your mouth with a napkin.

“Yes, Blondie,” you smiled. “Wanda made a double patch.” Yelena chuckled.

“So, you’ll be eating all of our food for the next 24 hours,” Tony teased. You playfully rolled your eyes, the smile on your face growing.

“I think you can afford it.”

“I said the same thing!” Yelena laughed.

“Your old man has more money than everyone in this tower times two,” you spun around in your chair to see Rhodey and Maria. They must have just gotten back from DC.

“I’m surprised Stark doesn’t have more of you surfacing.” Maria joked. Yelena had that very same thought.

“How about we stop talking about me like I’m not here?” Tony asked.

“Eh, where is the fun in that?” You said, glancing over your shoulder. Tony sighed and filled a travel mug with coffee.

“Don’t tell her something you’ll regret,” the billionaire threatened his friend. Rhodey held up his hands in surrender as Tony headed toward the direction of Pepper’s office. Rhodey rolled his eyes.

“James Rhodes,” he introduced himself, extending his hand for you to shake. “Everyone calls me Rhodey.” You smiled and shook his hand.

“Maria Hill,” the brunette said. “Nice to put a face to the name.” You shook her hand as well.

“The old man likes talking about me I see,” you smiled. Yelena thanked her sister with a smile as Natasha handed her a plate. The rest of the team filled in to get their food and sat around the dining room table. You sat next to Yelena, only bringing a glass of water to the table.

“Not every day a stranger pops up and says you're his kid,” Natasha sat down in the empty chair next to Yelena. “Cut him some slack.”

“Hey, no hate,” you smirked, taking a sip of your water. “I am pretty amazing.” Your comment got a few chuckles from around the table. The Black Widow was sure she heard, ‘She really is a Stark.’ But Yelena scuffed and rolled her eyes. “You got something to say, Blondie?”

“Blondie?” Maria questioned. “What the hell kind of nickname is that -” Before the agent could reveal her name, Morgan rounded the corner and excitedly yelled out your name. It was the only warning you got before the 4-year-old jumped on your lap.

“Mommy and Daddy said you had to go to the doctor today,” Wanda appeared with a small plate with chicken nuggets and mac and cheese. Yelena was a little jealous of her mac and cheese but you waved the witch off when she was about to take Morgan to her seat. “Do they give you a lollipop? My doctor always gives me a lollipop.”

“I did and I didn’t get a lollipop,” the young girl gasped at your confession. Yelena began to eat her dinner but she couldn’t help but watch you interact with your half-sister. “The doctors had to make sure I stay nice and healthy so I can keep playing with you.” You tickled her sides which caused her to squeal and giggle. The sound brought a smile to Yelena’s face but it tugged at her heart and made her stomach drop. Of course, you were good with kids, what couldn’t you do?

“Are you healthy? Daddy said you were sick,” her simple question caused the table to get quiet. Yelena saw you cringe at your choice of words that led to this question.

“You know my mom used to say you can get stronger and stronger every day but you have to eat chicken nuggets and mac and cheese,” you snatched some of the food off her plate. “You wouldn’t mind if I..” you trailed off as you slowly brought the food to your mouth. Morgan gasped and took it out of your hand.

“My chicken nugget,” she said.

“Well eat your dinner before I get hungry again,” you smiled.

“I would listen to her,” Yelena teased. “She’s got a big appetite. I’m surprised she hasn’t eaten all of our food.” You stuck your tongue at her. Morgan got comfortable on your lap and began to eat her food, not realizing you failed to answer her question. Your eyes locked on with Yelena’s and the blonde tried to silently ask if you were okay. You offered her a small smile and focused back on the conversation that was taking place at the table. Yelena wondered how much Tony told his youngest. Did she know that her newest friend was a little more than ‘sick’?

*    

Was it a mistake to leave one of his best friends with the girl who he just learned was his daughter? Probably but he needed to talk to Pepper before he lost his nerve. Quietly, he opened the door to her office and saw that was wasn’t on the phone. “For you,” he said, handing her the coffee he made; no sugar, a dash of oak milk, and either caramel or French vanilla syrup. She took the coffee and eyes him cautiously.

“What did you do?” Pepper asked. Tony gasped, sitting in the chair in front of her desk.

“Why do you think I did anything wrong?” He asked, crossing his right leg over his left. “Why can’t I, as your husband, bring you, my beautiful hardworking wife, coffee?” The CEO stared at him, slowly taking a stop of coffee.

“Caramel,” she said. “My favorite. So, what’s wrong?” Tony sighed, picking up a spar pencil on Pepper’s desk. He twirled the writing device around his fingers.

“I ran the few tests we have and there is one match.”

“Who is it?” She asked. Oh boy. It was now or never.

“Morgan,” he glanced at his wife. To his surprise, her face remained stoic.

“Have you told Y/n yet?” Tony wasn’t expecting that question or this reaction. He had half the mind to wear his Iron Man suit for protection.

“No, you're the only person I’ve told,” he leaned forward. “How are you not freaking out about this? I’m freaking out.” Pepper sighed, closing her laptop. She rested her elbows on top of her desk and folded her hands.

“I figured it was a possibility, especially with what Vision said.” Right. The android said there was a 1% chance for a parent to be matched and 50% for siblings. Of course, Morgan was more likely to be a match.

“What do we do?” Tony asked and stood up. “If we don’t let Morgan help her-” his voice trailed off.

“Then she’ll die,” she finished his sentence. “But are we going to subject our daughter to an intense procedure? I read about it, it can be incredibly painful.” Tony read about it too. It is why he prayed to whatever deity that would listen that he would be a match. Subjecting his youngest to that wasn’t ideal. But you were fighting cancer. “And you did say her medical team does have a plan B.”

“But it’s not a guarantee it will work,” he said, leaning the palms of his hands against her wooden desk. “So, what do we do?” He asked again.

“We talk with Y/n,” she answered, placing her hands on top of his. “Ultimately it’s her choice.” Your choice. Your choice and your life hung in the balance.

_

Taglist: @likemick, @averagetmblrusser, @@wandaromamoff69

[bonginspector]

Last Monday my mom passed away after a long battle with terminal cancer, it’s hard to know what to say so I just have to vent about the injustices.

When I was a kid we were in a car accident that lead to her having two surgeries years apart for herniated disc’s. This lead to years of bed rest and weight gain. The weight makes the back worse in a horrible cycle. A couple years ago she was finally healthy enough to get a lap band, she lost a lot of weight and got her mobility back. Then she was given a breast cancer diagnosis, eventually, it had gone into remission but then came covid, due to her weak immune system and the general over stress of the healthcare system, she missed some check ups. By the time she got back to a doctor, it had come back and metastasized into her spine. You can’t give chemo to the spine.

She was the kindest, toughest person in the world, she didn’t deserve to have her life stolen from her when she had just gotten it back.

I love and miss her so much, she loved movies, butterflies, loved loved loved cats, birds, stanwood, red rose tea, she kept an impeccably clean house, and she gave me my love of nu-metal even if she ended up hating it lol no one could tell her anything, she was so confident and sure of herself.

A role model really

she saved my sister and I from my abusive biological father and got us out of houselessness when we just little kids. We were living in an RV park in a campsite in oly, previously a riverbed and before that a tent at a campsite.

She spent years going to and chairing AA meetings, organizing the banquet giving back to the program.

I feel terrible for my step dad, he’s dedicated so much his life to being her care taker, he’s supposed to be enjoying aging with his wife after the kids have left the house. She’s been his everything for decades.

If you can donate anything I’d deeply appreciate it, I have paid for her funeral costs with my 401k but that’s all of my retirement fund. I’d love to be able to give my step dad some cash to get him back on his feet and give him some time to grieve without worrying about bills.

If you read this far, love you, thank you.

You can donate below.

[houseofbrat]

i’m a kate and william fan and even i agree something is up. Their appearance on the balcony william was cold with kate. Barely interacted with her. Your wife has cancer yet you are so cold to her? Doesn’t make sense. And they don’t know when she’ll be back? How do you not know? Treatment is outlined. I don’t know if her sickness broke the camels back or what but there is something else going on.

What "illness"? What "sickness"?

It's pretty obvious to a lot of people, who aren't fans of either Will or Kate or both, that she does not have cancer. She's not super sick either if she's spending time going sailing (!) over the summer too. SAILING!!! I can't believe people are still buying this claptrap. If Kate is "sick," then her problem is that she's mentally sick, not physically sick.

Preventative chemo doesn’t leave you feeling sick and tired because preventative chemo isn’t a real thing. Faking a marriage in the public eye? Now that’s tiring. Now let’s say she does have cancer and is receiving ADJUVANT chemotherapy then it’s very odd & irresponsible that she didn’t bother to correct when announcing it. 

Also people whose cancer is early stage enough for chemo to be considered preventive are not generally laid up for two months before diagnosis. There are people with like stage 2 and 3 walking around not even knowing anything is wrong.

My daughter-in-law is in preventive chemo for Hodgkins. 5 weeks of radiation and then six months of brentuximab. Kate is not doing this

My mom was diagnosed with stage 3 breast cancer back in 2015. She had 5 surgeries which she took less than the recommended time off for, then had chemo and radiation and took 1/2 a day off on the week she had chemo! 1/2 day!!! No days off for radiation. Insane to me that she didn’t take more time as she has a 8-5 M-F job and could afford the time… I’m so glad that someone, who doesn’t have any signs of cancer after surgery, gets to “work” 3 days of the year this far. Really sympathizing with commoners, and as Americans we had to pay for treatment 🙄.

The 'may never return' is nothing to do with illness in my opinion. It's to do with something else. Marriage problems. A deal done about something. Because you just cannot turn out looking so fabulous if it's illness. My lovely friend undergoing chemo with breast cancer, wearing a wig, carrying on in the best way she can, could not be scrubbed up to look like Kate.

It definitely seems like a negotiation tactic.

If that’s true then you don’t go to friggin Wimbledon of all things. Don’t believe it. They are liars and she’s just as complicit. What a disgrace and slap in the face for those actually battling Cancer. It’s vile.

I find it crazy that they paint her as “seriously” ill yet she looks great at the places she’s been to recently. There is no sunken eyes, weight loss etc that you would see in someone that’s “seriously” ill.

Kensington Palace comms team, Will, and Kate have been straight up lying about the situation for months. I don't know why anyone believes what they say anymore. They've never been honest about the situation and won't be, unless they are forced to. It simply amazes me all the excuses people make for Will & Kate when it's obvious they are not truthful people.

[invisibleraven]

T-R-O-P-E

Fills for the Favourite Fic Trope Bingo Card!

Okay babes, here we go! I took it upon myself to write a ficlet for every square of the favourite fic trope bingo card. I only have a few written, but I'm going to start uploading the few I do have and strive to have one fill a week. Warnings and pairings will be in the chapter summary, so you can skip any fills you like.

Trope: Major Character Death <-AO3 Link!

Warnings: What it says on the tin ^

Pairing: Ray/Rose

Ray can still remember the face of the doctor when he showed them Rose’s scans-his grim optimism, assuring them that Rose could beat this thing but the inner sadness to his eyes that made Ray aware the chances were slim.

Yet they didn’t let that dissuade them, because cancer might be tough, but Ray was confident that his wife was tougher. Rose was the bravest, strongest woman he knew, so there was no way she was going down thanks to some mutated cells.

She was a trooper through the whole thing, going to each chemo session, even as they made her tired and frail. Sitting there with a weak smile on her face as they pumped her veins full of poison that was supposed to help. Ray was there every time, reading to her, talking to her, keeping her occupied.

When her gloriously thick mane of curls began to thin, to come out in clumps, Ray helped her cut it short, then eventually buzz her head, even offered to do his own in solidarity, but Rose had put the kibosh on that. “I like your hair, especially since you went all silver fox,” she teased, running her fingers through his now grey locks.

“Watch now yours will come back in as dark as ever,” he replied, pressing a kiss to her now smooth scalp.

“Until then, maybe I could invest in some scarves? Or a fun wig?” Rose suggested. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to be a redhead.”

She made a devastating redhead, even though she was all skin and bones now, a dull grey pallor to her that made her seem so sickly. But her spirit never faded, always luminous and peppy, despite the tragedy that had befallen her.

That was until they did another scan, and the prognosis wasn’t good.

“It seems the tumor isn’t responding to the chemotherapy as we hoped,” the doctor intoned. “We can try surgery, then radiation to hopefully get rid of what that missed.”

“How successful is that course of treatment?” Ray asked.

“It’s greatly successful in most cases,” the doctor responded. “But I can’t make a promise that this will work-I don’t want to get your hopes up unnecessarily.”

“Can I take the weekend to think about it?” Rose asked. “This has been a very long day as you can imagine.”

“Of course,” the doctor stood, escorting them to the door. “But if this is what you want to do, it doesn’t do to leave it too long, we should schedule it for as soon as we can. Until then keep up the chemo-the tumor isn’t getting any bigger, which is the important part.”

They thanked him and walked to the car, the silence between them heavy and oppressive. Rose dozed off in the car, so Ray turned the radio off, taking the long way back. She slept so fitfully these days, even though she was constantly exhausted.

Ray didn’t know how to face Julie and Carlos when he pulled into the driveway-he already knew what Rose would choose. The cancer had done the unimaginable-it had beat Rose Molina.

He was tempted to shake her awake-she so hated looking weak and incapable in front of anyone. Instead he scooped her up, giving Victoria a weak smile as she held the door open, sure the truth was written all over his face.

They didn’t talk about it until they were in bed that night, the bedside lamp providing enough light to see just how tired Rose was, how draining this whole thing was on her.

“I wanna fight it,” she whispered. “For you, for the kids.” She coughed then, a wracking sound that rattled him. He helped her sip water once it was done, rubbing her back and hated that he could feel every rib, every knob of her spine.

“You don’t have to…” Ray gulped, the words caught in his throat. “Do it for you Rosita, if for anyone.”

She breathed, a rattling shaky thing now. “It is for me. Because I can’t leave you, the kids…”

“You won’t,” Ray assured her. “You’ll stay with us, no matter what. I just…worry that you’re fighting uphill for the wrong reasons.”

“I know,” Rose admitted. “But I can’t give up, not when I still have an ounce of fight left in me.”

So they sat down, as a family, to tell the kids what would be happening next. How it may not work, how they needed to prepare for the worst. There were a lot of tears and pleading, with Rose smoothing back her children’s curls, assuring them she’d rather take the chance it might work, than do nothing which definitely wouldn’t.

Victoria, all business helped Rose settle her affairs, just in case. Did all the research she could about the procedure-even though Rose forbade her from making suggestions to the medical staff.

Ray couldn’t remember much of the morning of the surgery. It was all agonizing waiting and trying to keep his mind on what was happening. It was the gray waiting room, terrible coffee, the hustle and bustle of a hospital.

Then the doctor came out, the expression on his face saying everything. His words were muffled to Ray’s ears, but the message was the same.

Rose was gone.

[charlotteiscrying]

i always figured you wanted something real, because that’s what you told me. i thought you wanted something more than skin deep, you know that whole reason why you fucking other girls didn’t count as cheating to you. i allowed it, because i thought we had something more than just skin. i’ve always understood sex is just a verb, i believe that so much because ive never once been looking for only sex. yes you have a huge dick. but i love you for other reasons, for how you treated me, how you cared for me, kept me safe, protected me. how you helped me though my toughest times and inspired me to change n get through them. how you looked at me, the way that i can feel the energy radiating off your skin even when you aren’t touching me. how you hugged me, how you were able to be vulnerable around me. how you’d talk in ur lil jit voice, how whenever we saw a lil kid you’d tell me how bad you wanted a mini-us. how you gave me access to the version of you that no other human has, or will ever, see.

i asked you so many times to tell me why you loved me. to give me a reason, to say something nice so that i could get my mind (that was screaming at me to give up on you) to relax, to rest for at least one night. i wanted you to reassure me that you love me for the way i’ve helped you, for what i’ve done for you, for me caring n fighting to stay in your life thru all this. for me being the one n only person you’ve ever been able to open up to in this world. for me helping you through your toughest time in this life, when your ex told you she never loved you, it had always been fake. that crushed you. i saw the way you texted her for months after that. it took you six months of having me in your life to “get over her” enough to “date” me. if one year of fake with her caused that much damage to you, think of what two years of fake codependency, love, and drug addiction with you has done to me ? and, unfortunately, i don’t have a charlotte to come love me outta this.

i wish so bad i hadn’t told you how every man in my life has always only looked at me for only my body and what i have. i wish i hadn’t told you what i truly wanted. to be loved as the soul inside my body. you listened to exactly what i wanted, and you shoved your demon body into the cookie cutter shape my brain needed to see in order to feel love. you took residency up in my mind, just to take notes on what would get my hopes up, n what would crush them even harder. you’ve lived with me for the past two years. 700+ days, living in my family’s home, with me, because you had nowhere else to go, and i love you. even to this day, even after you’ve hurt me this bad, i’d rather let you live with me than know you’re homeless out in that snow right now. i bought you over $100,000 in drugs, because i’d rather sell my pussy for you than see you withdraw, and i love you. you crashed my bmw, you saved my life in the process, but i committed insurance fraud to keep you outta trouble. had i told my insurance the truth id have a brand new car right now. but id rather commit a huge mf crime (while im on probation for the second time) than put you in $40,000 of debt for crashing a car you didn’t own, that you were driving without insurance.

now im stuck here: no car, no money, no job, no you. you promised me so many times that once you had a job id never have to work a day in my life again. that just wasn’t true- when i flew out to you on my birthday you lied to me about having to pay for your mom’s cancer surgery and chemo, that’s why you couldn’t help pay for my flight, the rental car, the hotel. i should’ve known, i should’ve ended it right then and there. my ex lied to me about his dad being in the hospital, dying from cancer. i knew that was bullshit the second it came out his mouth. he was just saying the buzzword “cancer” because he knew my dad had died from cancer when i was seven, and he wanted sympathy outta me, so i’d give him more money, drugs, whatever he wanted. yet i realized you lied to me about paying for your mom’s chemo, to try and prevent me from flying out to you, and i didn’t blink an eye. my brain was screaming at me, but i ignored it.

am i stupid ? or were you just that good of a liar ? would anyone in my place have fallen for you for as long as i did ? i seriously think that all of us, everything, has just been you manipulating me to get what you wanted from me. once you took everything i could physically give you: you dipped straight tf out. you know what i said before wasn’t entirely true. i’d much rather see you outside, soaking wet and freezing cold from this snow, than EVER let you in my house again. if everything was fake, you never once meant it any of those times you’d say i love you, or when you would actually say the nice things i wanted to hear, you’re actually a demon. and i know you’d take that as a compliment- it should be an insult.

[fatedwithmbc]

Answers aren’t answers anymore- they are suggestions with trial and error built into the equation.

Today, I started round the clock Zofran and also need to premedicate with it 45 minutes prior to taking my cancer medication.

Trial Day One: Effectiveness still TBD

I have therapy tomorrow. I hope to be able to attend in person. This will be determined by the outcome of our experiment this evening.

There’s a girl who graduated high school in my class. We weren’t in the same social circles.

Around the same time I received my diagnosis- she received a Stage IV Ovarian Cancer diagnosis. From the few times I’ve looked at her social media, I can tell her experience is much harder than mine.

It makes me feel like a fraud.

Like I shouldn’t be upset about my treatment hiccups or even that I have cancer because her treatment is what you’d typically expect when you hear cancer- surgery, chemo, lost hair, port.

Yeah, I had surgery to ensure I didn’t get ovarian cancer (I am a carrier of the gene- surgery eliminated the possibility of a 2nd cancer), but other than that — I’ve not had chemotherapy. I take a CDK 4/6 inhibitor to block the stupid protein that creates my cancer. I take an AI (Aromatase Inhibitor) which blocks my hormones. I have been placed in medical menopause. I have tumors in my lungs, my liver, my breast and a lymph-node. But people can’t see that.

My point is morphing into two:

1. I don’t look sick

2. My treatment regiment is not as difficult

I struggle with both things, mentally.

I literally have the disease most likely to kill me, with the least aggressive treatments due to “quality of life” being the goal vs. curative treatment— but the empathy, the sadness, the support are shown to the individual who looks sick.

This is so fucked to even think or write about. 20 years ago it was probably the same thing- but you didn’t know because life wasn’t defined by “likes”, “concern”, etc. received on social media.

Anyway, I don’t want to diminish her journey, and I wish her the best. I hope she goes into remission and rings a bell.

I also wish I had a hug,

And I know my people are there- but I think they forget sometimes because I don’t look sick.

[milfgyuu]

hey babe, i hope you’re okay. the past 16 hours have been really wild. my dog of 8 years had to be put down yesterday bc she had a tumor in her spleen that ruptured- she was also an older dog so it would be harder on her if we put her through surgery and chemo. we all knew that she would pass soon bc she was getting old but we didn’t expect it to be so soon. what break my heart the most is that her tumor didn’t rupture until my mom and i got home-we were out of town and got back home a few hours before ended up taking her to the vet. it makes me think that she “waited” for until before eventually passing. i miss her so much and i hope she’s okay but i know she’s in a better place.

hope you’re doing okay, hug your pets extra tight for me.

-🦉

I am so sorry to hear about your baby :( splenic tumors are shitty little surprises that are realllllly good at hiding until the last second. I've been there personally and professionally and it SUCKS all the way around, especially when you're forced to make BIG decisions very quickly.

There isn't a single doubt that she loves you round the moon and back a thousand times over. That's the beauty of the human-animal bond. The single hardest part of being a pet owner is having to make decisions on their behalf but choosing to give her a dignified passing in light of her poor prognosis is fair and kind. It's a decision made out of love and compassion.

Even with those thoughts in mind - Grief is to be expected and an important part of healing. My heart is broken for you, friend. I am sending you alllllllll the biggest, warmest hugs right now <3 please let me know if you ever feel like you or anyone in your family might need any pet loss resources and I can forward those over to you! Love you LOTS little owlet <3

[doughnutbooboo]

I received this card from the oncology team at TVEH. I truly appreciate their kind words and at the same time, I cannot imagine how emotionally difficult and exhausting their job is! I was talking to a friend of mine who lost their beagle to Hemangiosarcoma. I had four months with May since we first noticed her swollen leg. She had FOUR HOURS! When her dog showed some signs of lethargy and breathing difficulties, the tumor has already ruptured. Three days before that, they went on a 10 km hike with their dog! When we finally pulled ourselves together to chat, we were saying the exact same thing to each other: “I feel that every decision I made was wrong! “

I can’t help thinking if we had amputated May a month earlier, it could have cured her. I was very against amputation and the very thought of amputation horrified me! It turned out amputation was a piece of cake for May! She was walking the normal route three days after her surgery, which was against the surgeon’s order. By the end of day ten, she was running fast with three legs! I was doubtful about chemotherapy. She does have a sensitive GI track and it turned out that she didn’t tolerate chemo that well. But she enjoyed nice food, walks, car rides, dog parks. She enjoyed her final days and I never would have thought even her final three days were good days! Some people might have the idea that I have regretted amputation etc. No! I spent a lot of time regretting that I did amputation too late! I was too scared of chemo. Despite our oncologist told me repeatedly that we gave May every chance, I do not believe so! We did too little! Too late!

It has been 49 days since May’s passing. According to Buddhism, her soul has left this world and she has been reborn. Some say if a dog was loved by the family in this life, she/he will be reborn as a human. Others say all the pet dogs will be reborn as humans. They have been learning from us on how to be a good person. I don’t know where we got the confidence in thinking a dog needs to learn from us! May is way beyond who I’m!

I do not believe in Buddhism, but if, one in a billion chance, this is all true. May, I wish you a long happy healthy life as one of us!

[naturecoaster]

Visiting Michael Allman’s Half Eaten Peach: A Journey in Time and Music Space

People ask Michael Allman, “Where’d you grow up?” The eldest son of Gregg Allman, founding member of the Allman Brothers Band, answers, “As soon as I do, you will be the first to know.” My journey to Michael Allman’s Half-Eaten Peach Records, Instruments, Live Broadcast and Videos store and professed ‘man cave’ was a trip down memory lane, a visit to a museum of collectible and playable instruments, and a journey into the independent artist’ music business of today. It seems to combine the vibe of hallowed ground with the atmosphere of a smoking lounge that classifies as “retail.” “My dad told me two things, ‘Don’t sign anything and don’t sign anything.’ So, I own my record label with Floyd Skinner. Everything I do I put out on my own. If you go with someone else, they tell you where to go and what to do. I have one rule: Michael does what Michael wants,” shares Michael Allman in a recent interview with NatureCoaster. Michael Allman’s Half-Eaten Peach in New Port Richey The Half-Eaten Peach is open for retail sales by appointment. To get an appointment, you need to email or call 727-241-0372. It is located at 7139 US 19 in New Port Richey in a nondescript strip center. “I have instruments for sale and strings and such, but it’s turned into more of a creative space for me and my band. I have all kinds of memorabilia here, and the space for a few friends to bring chairs and hang out while we practice and create,” Michael explains. There are posters from out-of-town concerts for the Michael Allman Band, copies of Allman Brothers concerts from the soundboard, posters and photos, backstage passes, and some really weird stuff that just finds its way to this music man with a famous name. A view of the interior of The Half-Eaten Peach with its musical instruments, small stage, massive record collection, and myriad of Allman memorabilia. Image by Pat Manfredo. “Everything is for sale but understand that I love the things that are in here, so the prospective buyer has to love that thing more than I do,” explains Michael, “The Half-Eaten Peach isn’t intended to make tons of money. It’s my place. Guitars start with a story here. You walk out the door with a guitar and a story.” “Young uns come in here and ladies who want to play bass. Someone who wants to play can come in here and grab something, and I can have the guitar set up to be ready to play,” he continues. “I would like to put in a live recording studio,” Michael Allman explains. “That was my intention, but there is not enough room in here as it is. The live stage. Six to eight people here to make noise, and we could make a video for the musicians to share with their audiences, but after COVID the demand dropped off quickly and people began going out to see live music again.” Michael Allman in his favorite place, The Half-Eaten Peach at 7139 US 19 in New Port Richey. Image by Pat Manfredo. About Michael Sean Allman Michael Sean Allman was born in 1966 to Mary Lynn Sutton. At age 6, she told him that his biological father was Gregg Allman. He had a rough childhood, went to military school and then moved in with his famous father at 15, while his mother fought cancer. He worked in the club business, as a DJ and soundman, and then in construction. “My dad told me not to go into the music business. He said, 'Do not go into this business.' I tried working as a framing carpenter and then as an electrician. I married way too young and had two sons, trying to be a good provider. We didn’t make it,” he shared with what appeared to be a twinge of regret. At one of his DJ gigs, he was attacked and had over 300 stitches from the incident at a club in South Carolina. Michael was diagnosed with cancer in 2002. “I was told I had 3-5 years to live – that I needed surgery, chemo and radiation. I got the surgery, and then my ex-wife let me move in. I figured I had a year and a half to two years left and my children were adults. I went to Michigan to say goodbye to my kids. While I was there, the doctors monitored me, and they told me that I was doing well. I thought, “I had better get living again,” and left to pursue my musical career. Michael Allman went to Georgia to work on his first album, Hard Labor Creek. Michael Allman's Blues Travels Fast MMXX album is available for purchase in the New Port Richey store. Image by Pat Manfredo. Hundreds - or thousands - of records are in The Peach. Vintage, classics... ooh... Image by Pat Manfredo. Why is Michael Allman in New Port Richey? After his first album came out in 2009, he was headed to Sarasota to set up shop “for no particular reason.” A friend contacted him en route and said, “You have got to come meet Mark Shane. There is a guy who plays guitar here that you have got to come meet!” Michael Allman drove to New Port Richey to meet Mark Shane. “Mark is phenomenal. He is excellent. I stayed in New Port Richey to work with him. He is my right hand in music. I have different bands in the places I play because I am a frontman… a lead singer… an entertainer,” Michael says. “My second album came out, originally titled MMXX (2020) but COVID came and we changed the name to Blues Travels Fast. It was the second-best year of my career on paper. I had 36 shows scheduled to support the album. Thirty-six shows were canceled due to COVID,” Michael explains, disappointment still sounding in his voice. So, he pivoted. “I was going to open a record store because I love records. I love collecting records and The Half-Eaten Peach started with records and a handful of guitars and then it evolved into my big old man cave,” he shares with a big grin. “I set up this stage, we have room for small bands to play and we can record them to video, put it up on my internet pages and they can share the music with their followers” Michael explains, “Because of COVID, I thought that would go great, but it’s kind of petered out and so I am moving in other directions.” Michael Allman loves Whiskey River on the Water for local places to hang out - and play at. The large, somewhat open restaurant and bar on the water in New Port Richey is an easy walk from his house and the Peach. He said, “It’s my go-to place. Part of the ‘Allman Triangle’. I own the record there for the largest crowd and the most sales from when I brought my band to play there. I played there for my birthday in July. There were people lined up outside and we had a blast!” Backstage and VIP passes are part of the scene at Michael Allman's Half-Eaten Peach. "Guitars start with a story here. You walk out the door with a guitar and a story." Image by Pat Manfredo. Making Music with The Michael Allman Band Most of his live shows have been heavy with Allman Brothers Band hits, interspersed with a few Michael Allman originals. The Michael Allman Band songs I listened to are blues-based rock, in the genre of ABB, but different enough to stand on their own. While some say that he sounds like his father, Michael is creative and has made his own way. He has two albums out and another ready to break. “I write about half of the songs on my albums. My new album, Creature of Habit, is coming out this month. I am very excited about it! The first song, called Bokeelia is live on my YouTube channel,” Michael shares with me, “and our kickoff show is scheduled for September 20 rock Ka`Tiki on Sunset Beach in Treasure Island, Florida. This band includes  Mark Shane, Michael McMahon, Ephraim Lowell, and Scott Brown. We are going to It’s going to be great!” Road trip anyone? The newest album was created at Farmadelica Sound, a studio in the pine trees of Pine Island (off Fort Myers beach) that his friend, “Boo Boo” introduced him to. Michael reminisced about the place and the process, “It’s a great space, relaxing, I love it. A hammock. We make food, hang out, and make music. It’s beautiful out there.” “We talked about making an instrumental on my upcoming album to be funny (because Michael doesn’t play instruments… he sings…) Michael Allman at Bokeelia instrumental… so we created an instrumental flow with a little bit of words and it progressed… within a couple of weeks… to this.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qxzF9UUp5c Michael Allman’s new project offers a way to use more of his original music while performing live. “With three albums of original music, I want to share more originals and less Allman Brothers Band hits on my setlists. Right now, this experience is only available in Florida but stay tuned... I’m going to bombard Florida and then look out world. Scott Brown and Friends will be opening and then the band will back me up as the Michael Allman Band,” he shares. “My father told me years ago,” Michael continues, “ ’Boy, do not get in this business’ but all I ever wanted to do was sing, perform, entertain.” Michael Allman's Half-Eaten Peach is a Gem of a Find in New Port Richey Michael Allman looks a lot like his famous father, but he is making his own way in the music business from New Port Richey, Florida. He is thin and tall, has the look of someone who has seen and done a lot in his years on this earth, and has a charming smile. Michael Allman sharing stories with Diane Bedard of NatureCoaster for this article. Image by Pat Manfredo. “I like it here. I’ve lived here for 12-13 years now. That’s a long time for me,” he told NatureCoaster. Michael is working on improving his health now. He has beat death a few times and is living his best life ever here on Florida’s beautiful Nature Coast. Read the full article

[misschf-aisa]

I’m trying to sleep and I’ll tell you the sleep is fighting me. Apparently I need to spill a little bit so my brain and heart can have space to sleep and refill. As before, I choose Tumblr because the post will disappear in the way it should but I still feel like someone somewhere maybe read it.

It’s a hospital thing. This hospital thing always begins with the cramped and crowded parking garage where the all too plentiful extended cab trucks stick out into what is supposed to be a two way street and pedestrians who are dazed by whatever trauma brought them to the hospital have a tendency to walk right in the middle of the lanes. I drive a Fiat, but sometimes in this garage even I have to reverse and cut the wheel sharply before my little car is safely between the lines of the parking space.

2023 I did this dozens of times. Countless times. Mom was in the hospital again, Dad wouldn’t leave her side. A few days, she got to go home, I took him to chemo, she still had the drainage tube connected to her colon but she was okay and he wasn’t losing his hair.

I finally get parked and walk into the elevator bank that’s just inside from the parking garage. It doesn’t matter what floor I’m parked on because there are only two floors that will get you to the patient rooms in the other tower. The 6th floor is also the floor all the babies are on. It’s the place I gave birth to my first child over 30 years ago. I prefer to go all the way down to the first floor and walk the long hallway past the information desk and gift shop and security to get to the elevators I need so I tan go up to the 9th floor where Dad is right now.

The hospital floors are terrazzo, which makes me think if one of my favorite house flipping shows that takes place in Florida. They’re always so excited to keep a good terrazzo floor.

There are 6 elevators, but it always takes forever for one to get to the first floor. Almost always I’m standing waiting with a bored hospital employee on their phone, or a nervous family trying to pretend they’re not nervous. Sometimes if it’s just two of us on the elevator they’ll tell me a story, like the woman who was so grateful she’d gotten her man here in time when she realized he was having a stroke. Everybody in the hospital elevators who isn’t an employee is super friendly. Most of the employees are too.

Someone invariably gets off in the 7th floor. That’s the ICU, of course. Last June I spent an entire week practically living on the 7th floor in a freezing room. I was in the padded bench so Dad could have the hospital recliner while Mom fought the confusion of having had a stroke when she woke up from surgery and she couldn’t talk or move her right side and there was a horrible tube in her nose that she used every ounce of cleverness and willpower to try to remove for the entire week Dad and I kept watch over her.

It was important for me to get there around noon because Dad’s chemo required that he eat well. I don’t know what he did in the hours when I went home at night, but I know he ate lunch and dinner. And chemo was going well.

When I get off of the elevator on the 9th floor - Dad’s in room 946 - I lose almost a full year. I’ve been up there twice now and both times it’s the same. The 9th floor is where they treat patients with strokes. Dad didn’t have a stroke, they don’t think, but they worry there’s something weird in his brain so the stroke floor is a good place for that. Mom had a stroke, though.

Dad and I carried the bags that had accumulated while he basically lived in her ICU room. She was transferred up to the 9th floor. We were talking about rehab and next steps and then I hugged my dad, told my mom good night, and went home happy and hopeful for the first time in over a week. It would be tough, she was still unable to talk or move her right side, but we’re pretty tough too so we’d get this handled. She wasn’t in the ICU anymore, and they’d bring hospital food to my dad now that he was staying with her on a real floor. I planned to stay home the next day and let my son sit with my dad.

Of course, the next day she died from complications from the surgery she’d been there for in the first place.

So now Dad is the one in the bed. His problems are super different, they’re certainly not as acute. But I walk those halls surrounded by ghosts from a year ago. The beeps and chatter from the nurse’s station, the way the hallways smell, the sounds of random television shows as you walk past room after room. The view of Swan Lake and downtown from the window in Dad’s room. It’s different, but it’s the same.

Thanks for letting me vent, I think I might just be able to fall asleep now that I’ve given it to you, whoever you are.

[houseofbrat]

Submission: Half In Half Out

Until recently, the Wales have done a bang-up job of threading that needle between being “one of us” and yet they happen to be British royalty. Where that threading falls apart is in situations like the recent kerfuffle over privacy versus transparency. I am astounded at the comments from the Wales’ fandom that assume that William and Catherine are your typical family of three. That William is getting the kids ready for school in the morning, hoovering once he drops them off, then it’s off to FedEx, then to the chemist, you know, all the chores that Catherine would be doing if she weren’t convalescing. This is utter BULLSHIT. They have nannies and cooks, and entire regiments that can drive them places. They are NOT me and you, but I certainly give them props for establishing this narrative. Every time I see a comment about how exhausted William must be in looking after the kids, I want to scream. Haven’t they seen the hundreds of pictures of their nanny trotting alongside the children for the last, what, ten years? So, yes, this fiction has been nicely shaped. Well done.

But of course, this is now backfiring on them in spades. Because they are only in the position they are in because they are employed by, yes, the people. This is their frigging job to cut ribbons and smile and be there. They do not get to decide what tune they want to dance to. I had a hysterectomy when I was fifty because they thought I had stage four ovarian cancer. I didn’t, but I did have stage one million endometriosis. They had me on that surgery table for nearly eight hours. Recovery was painful and slow. I had two young teenagers and a full-time job. My husband had a full-time job. He took vacation leave for a week to see me through surgery and get me home. Because my endo was so extensive and they lasered it out of me, I couldn’t even stand up straight for two solid weeks. But I wasn’t royalty, so my husband went back to work. 

Unless Catherine has stage four cancer, William should get his ass out there and do his frigging job. His grandmother had bone cancer and STILL DID HER JOB. Frankly, he is not entitled to ignore his DUTY to the crown and the people. Funny that his father, King Charles (who the Wales’ fandom equate with Satan) has no problem getting out there despite his chemo regimen. They can’t have it both ways. They can’t minimize Catherine’s medical situation and then act like she’s on death’s door by disappearing for weeks on end. And, no, I don’t believe that she is entitled to perfect privacy. Again, she is employed by the people. Do we need a bedpan-by-bedpan description of what is going on? Of course not. But I think it instructive that there has been little speculation or rumor regarding Charles’ treatment and diagnosis because BP obviously understands how to thread that needle. KP needs some serious sewing lessons.

———————-

Amen, anon, Amen!

I hope you are better and fully recovered from your hysterectomy.

Just think, Charles & Camilla are off this week but will be back at work next week. 

William won’t be back at work for another two full weeks, on or after 17 April. The last day he worked was 20 March. Two weeks ago as of tomorrow. But the Wales fandom and the UK press will make excuses for him about how he’s doing “his duty” while he’s still on vacation for another two weeks.  

[rememberingmybestfriend]

PB&Js & Ambien

A year ago today I had my last Peanut Butter & Jelly sandwich. You should know that I LOVE PB&Js! Even as an adult I had one for lunch each day along with a protein shake. I remember reading about different athletes doing the exact same thing and thinking, “They stole that from me!”

I am pretty weird about PB&Js, because as I like to shout from the mountain top, I was only one of like six people in the world who made them correctly!

You spread the peanut butter (Skippy or Jif) on a slice of bread. Then you wipe off the knife, scoop out some Jelly (Welchs grape) on top of the peanut butter and cut it in half. 

How can the entire planet be wrong?!?  They put peanut butter on one slice of bread and jelly on the other slice…like a terrorist??

My kids, coworkers, friends and strangers would all mock me, but I am a man of principle. I’ve always stood up for what’s right, even in the face of adversity.

Adversity is why I no longer eat PB&Js. Here’s why…

For 10 years, every day at lunch, I would share the last piece of PB&J with Baxter, my constant companion for 16 years.

Baxter gave no fucks. He didn’t care about ANYTHING in the world, other than being next to me. 

I remember when I first started dating after my divorce. If someone came over to watch TV with me, Baxter would get on top of the couch and walk across the cushions and fall in-between us. I laughed my ass off every single time, though it usually wasn’t appreciated my dates. 

When I would travel, whoever was taking care of Baxter would send me pictures of him staring at the door or out the window, waiting for my return. I know people thought it was cute, but it tore me up.  

Baxter was with me in the darkest period of my life and he was with me when I finally realized my dream of living in San Diego. We had a ton of fun, going to dog beaches and walking in the most beautiful weather in the world. 

I remember a “Low Rider” event where it was all dachshunds, corgis and bassetts (Baxter was a dachshund/corgi mix). The last Corgi Beach Day we went to there were over 900 corgis on the beach. 900!!! It was nuts and it was heaven!

During our time in San Diego I met another dog person, Jillian, who ultimately became my wife (she actually laughed at Baxter’s couch trick). She had two dogs of her own. There was Pearl the puggle and Ozzie Waldo the Shih Tzu. All three of our dogs were over 10 years old. 

In 2019, life brought me back to Tulsa. Along with Baxter, Jillian, Pearl and Ozzie Waldo. Shortly after moving back, Baxter got sick. Several vet visits later it was discovered he had cancer in his spleen and one of his adrenal glands. I took him to OSU Vet Surgery Center for a pre-surgical check and said I wanted to wait two weeks for the surgery so I would have some extra time with him in case anything went wrong. They said I had two days…..I didn’t even have 24 hours.

That night, Baxter’s tumor burst and I rushed him to the ER in Tulsa. This was at the beginning of Covid, so I couldn’t go in with him. I handed his limp body to a tech and went home and waited for the eventual call.

Around 6:00 am the next morning, I realized…the call never came. I went and picked him up and raced back to Stillwater where he had emergency surgery. Again I came home and waited for the call. Later that afternoon the phone rang and was told the surgery was a success and he could come home in a couple days. This is a picture of us after I picked him up...

Baxter never needed chemo, but I had him checked out every 90 days like clockwork. A year later, his step brother Ozzie Waldo got prostate cancer. Ozzie was a fighter and went through a dozen radiation treatments in Dallas and became cancer free.

A few months later Jillian found blood outside of our new home and we assumed it was from Ozzie peeing. We made plans to take him back to the cancer doctor. Later that night Baxter started bleeding from his nose. It wasn’t Ozzie’s cancer that had returned, it was Baxter getting a new form. Nasal cancer.

Baxter and I made our own trips to Dallas for radiation treatments. Again during Covid, so I could never enter the doggie hospital. I remember the night after his first treatment he bled all over the hotel room. It looked like a crime scene. I cleaned up as best I could and left a huge tip for the maids.

Baxter eventually beat that cancer too, but damn it was long and brutal. It’s normal for dogs to still have bloody noses and he had his share. It’s the most terrifying thing because there's a LOT OF BLOOD from those damaged arteries in his nose.

After Baxter turned 14, his back legs started giving out. He went to a lot of acupuncture and laser appointments that would slow the progress, but he was half dachshund and back issues are part of their life as they get older.

I was so fortunate to work from home the last 10 years of his life.  I moved around a lot throughout the house each day. I’d sit at my desk where Baxter had a bed right next to me. During work Zoom calls, coworkers as well as customers would ask, “How’s our boy doing?” 

If I got up to get a drink, Baxter followed. If I got up to use the bathroom, Baxter tagged along. I have a home gym and he thought he had to follow me on every exercise.

As Baxter’s legs started getting worse he would STILL follow me everywhere. I would plead with him, saying “I’ll be right back!” but he had to be next to me, even if he had to drag his beat up old body with just two legs.

Ozzie’s cancer tragically did return in December of 2022, and we said goodbye to him on the last day of the year. 

Two and a half months later, a couple days after Baxter turned 16, I had another scan done. No cancer, but they found a clot in his artery. I did some research (I know too damn much about dog diseases) and it was not good. 

If the clot broke free it would be a horrible death. They gave him some blood thinner, but that wasn’t helpful with the bleeding that would still come from his damaged nasal arteries. 

The next morning I could tell he wasn’t feeling well and I said, “Fuck it, I’ll cancel my plans and just hang with him in the living room all day.”  Later he started bleeding so much. Our living room was covered in blood. I realized it was getting close. 

I had promised him after that last vet trip that he would never have to go to a clinic again. I called a service that helps people say goodbye to their pets at home, and set up a time for the following Wednesday. Once again, time had other plans. 

By noon I knew we weren’t going to make it to Wednesday. I called a vet close to our house and made an appointment for later that afternoon. 

I laid next to Baxter and told him all the things we did together over the years and how much I loved him. We also split a whole PB&J sandwich. Later that afternoon I said goodbye.

I am so grateful for those 16 years. I am grateful that I had the ability to keep him around longer than most. I think about him every single day. 

Later on, at the end of 2023 my doctor kicked me off of Ambien after almost 20 years. Pro Tip: Never tell your doctor the truth.

I bring up this seemingly irrelevant fact because with Ambien….you don’t dream. I didn’t give a crap about dreaming, I just needed to sleep. 

Eventually, after multiple attempts, I got a new prescription that allows me to get 8 hours of sleep….along with a lot of dreams.

One night, Baxter came to visit. I knew he wasn’t real but was overjoyed to see my boy one more time. I am sure he wouldn’t care if I still have PB&J sandwiches but it was “our thing” and I don’t want to share those memories. 

[taurus-notacancer]

In Case You Didn’t Read the GoFundMe  Here is the link if you feel so inclined https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-bridgets-fight-against-cancer

This was written by my best friend! On May 26th 2023

“As many of you know Bridget has been dealing with health problems (bleeding nearly everyday and painful periods) escalating since November 2022. She went to the doctor in November fearing for cancer and the doctor refused to give her tests and chalked it up to “hypochondriac tendencies”. She was prescribed pain medication and to “wait for the bleeding to stop” or “get an IUD”. Feeling frustrated and unheard, she dealt with increasingly worse symptoms (such as passing out from pain on Thanksgiving) for the next 7 months. She waited and waited as instructed, until finally in April was convinced to go to the doctor and try again for a diagnosis. There she was prescribed progesterone “which will absolutely stop the bleeding”. Unsurprisingly that did not work at all. She also received an ultrasound that provided results with “ multiple simple cysts on the right ovary” which is “definitely not cancer” and everything looks “normal”. On Sunday May 7th, Bridget started to feel bloated, everyday she got bigger and bigger. She was leaving for Cabo San Lucas, Mexico to be a bridesmaid in her cousin’s wedding on Thursday May 10th. Nervous about flying and the trip she had a video chat with her doctor who said it was a side effect of the progesterone and it was fine. Bridget powered through the trip while her abdomen continued to swell. Finally on her 30th birthday May 16th at 5pm Bridget went to the emergency room in Cabo. Her waist went from a size 21” to 31” in a week. The incredible doctors immediately gave her a CT scan and found a tumor on the left (not the right as Kaiser had said. Did they read it wrong and upside down? We will never know!!) was causing something called Ascites (your body fills up with fluid). 5 liters were drained from her abdomen and she was admitted into the hospital to prepare for surgery. On Friday May 19th Bridget entered surgery where best case scenario they would remove the tumors from the ovaries and that would be it. Unfortunately due to the severity and type of tumor they had to do a full hysterectomy and remove the appendix, cervix, and pelvic lymph nodes as cancer had spread (metastasized). The surgery did not completely remove it all and she will have to go into chemo Mid-Late June. The future The road ahead is long and unknown. Bridget knows everyone is worried and wants to help and is so grateful for her support system. She understands people may feel powerless, donating or simply sharing the GoFundMe link will help take some of the ongoing stress off of her shoulders. Facing a cancer diagnosis and pursuing treatment is taking up all of her time and energy, so we want to make sure she is able to focus on healing at this time rather than financial strain. **We will try to make updates as things progress. Please respect our space at this time and trust that we have access to the information surrounding the diagnosis to heal and move forward. We ask that your support come by monetary means rather than advice. Prayers and positivity are always welcome and appreciated. We all know the dangers of the “Web MD spiral”, so Bridget asks that you all avoid going down that rabbit hole to preserve your mental health and faith in the endless, unknown, hopeful possibilities.** “