#cw infant death

[reasonsforhope]

“A Nigerian mom found out the hard way that jaundice is still a dangerous disease in Africa—but now she’s putting an end to the infant disease with her new tech startup, making solar-powered cribs.

After her traumatic experience with jaundice as a new mother, Virtue Oboro pivoted 180° in her professional life, in an effort to help prevent the terrifying situation from befalling other moms.

Oboro’s son, Tombra, was just 48 hours old when he had to be rushed to the NICU, suffering from a build-up of bilirubin, which causes yellow skin and can lead to permanent damage or even death.

The treatment is fairly simple... blue-light phototherapy.

Virtue’s hospital had no phototherapy devices, so Tombra had to receive a risky emergency blood transfusion. Her son would make a full recovery, but Virtue was changed by the experience.

“I felt like some of the things I experienced could have been avoided,” the visual designer told CNN. “I thought, is there something I could do to make the pain less for the babies and the mothers?”

What could a visual designer do? She designed the Crib A’Glow and named her new company Tiny Hearts.

The portable, deployable phototherapy unit is powered by the sun, and costs one-sixth the price of a normal phototherapy crib—and is manufactured in her homeland of Nigeria.

Virtue’s husband had some experience working with solar panels before, so he lent a hand to the visual designer, who was busy navigating the unknown waters of a new profession. She worked with a pediatrician through the design process to ensure all the details would benefit the tiny babies.

Two years ago, Crib A’Glow picked up a $50,000 grant from Johnson & Johnson through the Africa Innovation Challenge, and the Crib A’Glow can now be found in 500 hospitals across Nigeria and neighboring Ghana. Already it has been used on 300,000 babies.

Virtue, who has also become a 2022 awardee for The Africa Prize for Engineering Innovation, says a further 200,000 babies were saved from jaundice by deploying the cribs to rural areas—no hospitals or electricity needed.” -via Good News Network, 3/9/22

[independent-variables]

have some more of '17 contemplating parenthood <3

He dreamed of Ventress every night. Not about the baby, not after the first time, only the knife and her cold, pale hands. But twice he caught himself thinking of it while mindlessly attaching his number to reports. The little C-class cadet, barefoot and all in blue, soaked in his blood.   Never in the entirety of his short life had he considered pregnancy as something he could experience. Sexual reproduction was not a factor of clone existence. Was not supposed to be. He did not want to think about being pregnant. He did not want to think about the thing growing inside him. He especially did not want to think about it as a thing that could grow into a person.   Prime had had a son, supposedly. '17 had never seen him. If the kid had actually existed, he hadn’t been allowed anywhere near the A-class wing.  The A-class model had been discontinued after a single generation; the B-class trial batches hadn’t survived the gestational period. But C-class was still in production. Twelve generations, hundreds of thousands of batches per generation. With almost half a million produced each year, even a minuscule margin of error was reflected in thousands of discarded fetuses. One in a hundred cadets didn't make it through basic training. One in a thousand didn’t make it out of their specialty track. With millions of soldiers active in the field, even a minuscule casualty rate was reflected in hundreds of thousands of corpses. There was nothing special about killing a clone.  This was not a clone.   This fetus was not a thing that could be disposed of because of an imperfection or an inconvenience. It was a combination of two beings’ genetics. It was growing in a womb. It wasn’t anywhere close to term, but if he left it alone long enough it would be born. But still. Half of those genes were clone genes.   It didn’t matter who or what the other parent was. Any child who inherited his genetics would inherit everything wrong with his body, with his life. If by some misguided Jedi intervention he was forced to carry the thing to term, he would not be able to protect it. The Kaminoans owned his DNA and the Republic owned him, they would own his child too. If it lived, it would be sent to Kamino. Maybe to be studied as the anomaly it was. Maybe to be placed in a batch with other little clones, dozens of them in blue, to grow in pain; beaten into being a soldier.   Clones grew up loyal to the Republic, or they did not grow up at all. He’d rather this one not grow up at all.  

[weltato]

I'm going to gush about a very old character (as in the original run of the show is very old, not the character himself).

Hello Tumblr! I remembered the finale of M*A*S*H the other day, as you do, and it just hit me as to why I fucking love Benjamin Franklin 'Hawkeye' Pierce so much.

If you don't know this character/show, dw, I'm keeping things under the cut so you can scroll away :)

If you want to read on anyway, warning for infant death.

So, Hawkeye :)

My goodness, this man is SO well written. I need to explain to you why I find him so endearing.

He's a jokester, that much is obvious right off the bat, so he pranks others and can get a dig at others quite well, but he never does it maliciously. Well, sure, he's an ass to Frank and Charles most especially and will absolutely take any and every opportunity to fuck with them, but he's not out to actively harm anyone.

Which is nice, since he's the Head Surgeon. You'd like to think that your Head Surgeon isn't a serial killer.

He's a ladies man. A chronic ladies man. He makes a pass at almost every single nurse at camp - especially Houlihan - and that's iconic about him. But d'you wanna know what's even more iconic?

As soon as he finds out the girl he's seeing is married or in a relationship, he'll stop. Sometimes he's even outright asked if they're taken, then he'll make a joke and move on if they are.

Hawkeye isn't a marriage breaker.

And I love that about him. He doesn't want to come between couples; it doesn't matter if the marriage/relationship is a happy one or not, he's not about to go and break up a marriage/relationship for his own personal gain. He's just not that kind of guy.

Any time kids come into it, he's immediately protective. He's not going to show a child more pain and suffering when they've already been brought through a warzone and are probably orphaned now and also had to have major surgery.

I mean, that's his whole thing in the finale. THAT'S THE WHOLE POINT!

Quick reminder for context: in 'Goodbye, Farewell and Amen' we begin with Hawk away from the M*A*S*H and in a mental hospital for some reason. We (the audience) don't know why, but it's clear that everyone else (the characters) do know. Hawk doesn't think he should be there and seems pretty miserable about it, but then we learn why he's there - a baby died.

And here's the kicker: Hawk blames himself. He thinks it's his fault that the baby is dead. Why?

Well, at first he remembers the event as everyone having a fun day out for once and Hawk in the back calling out for a bottle of something alcoholic for a guy he's sat with.

Then it turns out it's not for fun. The guy he's with is bleeding out, he needs a bottle of either the clear stuff (idk what that would be, I'm not a medical student) or a bottle of blood for a quick transfusion.

What's great about how this scene is shot is that, at first, it stays with the upbeat and happy tone from Hawk, but then the deadly silent and morbid passing of the bottle, and then it shifts to the darker tone.

Now, that's not the baby scene.

Here comes the baby scene.

Hawkeye at first remembers a woman with a chicken when the bus ran into enemy territory and everyone had to be quiet. The chicken wasn't quiet and so he asked the woman if she could get the chicken to be quiet. And it was. It just stopped.

Sidney asks about it - "It stopped?"

"Yeah, it stopped."

Then we cut back to the woman at the back of the bus. The crying woman at the back of the bus. And the still bundle in her arms.

It was her baby. Her little baby that was also crying just a few seconds ago. The noise that Hawkeye wanted to make stop because they'd be caught with all these casualties and innocent people and he's stressed, ok?

That baby is dead. The mum had to smother her own child so they wouldn't be found. And Hawkeye is distraught over this, because he's the one that told her to.

Ugh. I can't even. This man has been through SO much and has seen death and destruction daily, so much so that he's basically numb to it at this point, but a baby dying is too much and he just breaks-

He's in a high stress situation 24/7, it makes sense that eventually the rock of the 4077th would crack. He couldn't say goodbye to Trapper, Henry died on his flight home, Radar left them to go back home to his mum - Hawk has the friends he still has, of course, but he's only human and a human can only take so much.

It's when Sidney deems him well enough to at least go back to the camp that Hawkeye gets his next challenge. Wounded have arrived and they really need him to help out, so he does and it's going pretty well for the most part (y'know, as well as meatball surgery can go) until a child comes across his table. A little girl, probably no older than 6 or 7. Everyone in the room goes quiet, though they're still working since they can't exactly pause while elbow deep in someone's guts, and Colonel Potter (or BJ, I can't remember which) asks if Hawk's ok. BJ (or Colonel Potter) says he can take her. Sidney watches on as Hawkeye takes a second, looks this girl over, then nods.

He can do it. Sidney smiles - his job is done.

Sure, it's hard, but Hawkeye can work, and that's all he needs to know.

Hawkeye, the man who loves a joke and loves messing around with his friends.

Hawkeye, the man who chases after every 'single' woman but not the ones in relationships.

Hawkeye, the man who plays pranks on the whole camp but is kind hearted enough to never cause actual harm because he believes in the Hippocratic Oath so. strongly.

Hawkeye, the man who cares for the children that come into the M*A*S*H despite having none of his own because those are children and they should be anywhere but a war.

Hawkeye, the man who sticks around the longest out of everyone (except Margaret since she's there as long as he is) and can always find something to smile at even though he's always wanting to leave and never does.

Hawkeye, the man who takes his job very seriously and gets angry when other doctors try to come in and flaunt their fancy-schmancy skills that mean nothing out there.

Hawkeye, the man who takes offense at generals who think they can change something when they don't know what the fuck goes on at all.

Hawkeye. The man I would love to be friends with.

I love him so much. I love the writing of him so much. He's just...he's Hawkeye. And I love him.

[autumnhobbit]

pulled some stencil for some stones today where a couple lost a baby a year for at least 3 years in a row from 1955-57

[notaplaceofhonour]

if i ever heard someone say they dislike when any babies die and found myself putting dead Arab babies & dead Jewish babies on separate sides of a scale to show how they actually shouldn’t care about one of those groups of dead babies as much i would simply not

[allgremlinart]

ok ok here’s some plot bunnies for the angsty BTK era ghostbat kid fic thats been jumping around in my brain for forever... (edit: this kind of turned into a very shitty ficlet sorry)

Essentially they find an abandoned baby on their travels. I’m talking peak accidental baby acquisition. They take it with them because, well. Bruce was not about to let a child go abandoned ( he basically imprinted on it on sight ) and Minhkhoa believes the child deserves justice. They both know jackshit about caring for a baby but they learn, they have to. 

However - Khoa knows this cant last. They cant keep it. They have no way of caring for it long term. Minhkhoa’s goals do not have room for child rearing in them. They need to take it to an orphanage, where it can get proper care. Bruce agrees, but begrudgingly. He's already grown so attached. Khoa watches him when he cares for the infant, fascinated by Bruce's tenderness. He wants to see more of it, despite himself. 

But logic wins over. They bring the baby to an orphanage. The next night, as they’re preparing to move on, there's a fire in the town they're currently squatting in (an oil rig caught on fire) and the orphanage burns with it. The baby does too.

 Bruce is on his knees frantically clawing through the wreckage, panicked. Khoa watches him, not moving to help, feeling disappointed and angry in himself that he didn’t see this coming, that he couldn't prevent it, that he’s still helpless even with all his training. He assumes Bruce is feeling the same way. 

Still, he doesn’t know what to do in the face of Bruce's raw anguish (he never does) he feels so useless when confronted with it. Bruce doesn’t call him cold though, doesn’t throw his lack of outward reaction in his face. He saw how Minhkhoa cared for the infant. They end up falling asleep that night with Bruce sobbing quietly into Khoa’s shoulder. 

Their campsite feels lonelier that night. This longing for the domesticity of the past few weeks with the baby disturbs Minhkhoa - he's not used to feeling like this. He didn't think it would ever - could ever - be something he longed for. But since he’s met Bruce he’s learned quite a bit about himself. He turns, presses a kiss to the hair tickling his nose. He allows himself to feel, in the privacy of their tent. Outside, the wind howls. 

[homoqueerjewhobbit]

If you think about it, it's pretty gutsy/insane that The Decemberists decided to open their very first LP with a song narrated from the point of view of a dead baby rotting in a ditch.

[faraway-monsters]

Just a quick question, but how did kel died? 

//Content Warning: infant mortality

His death isn't as spectacular as Mari's. Sometimes, things just go wrong.

[clarissaexplainingitall]

Cw infant death

I’m just like. Man I’m lying on a floor, can’t be at my own home because people just don’t care anymore about the fucking pandemic, I’m moving across country because people just don’t care anymore about the fucking pandemic more than they care about themselves.

my relative says to relax and that even if I do catch it from this (avoidable) exposure, it’s not as lethal anymore so it’s okay.

and now I’m going home to face shiva for a dead toddler. hours after. the universe has a fucked up sense of everything this week.

I made the kid a blanket. I couldn’t meet him because of the pandemic. I won’t ever meet him, very likely because of the pandemic. They do the autopsy tomorrow. The idea of a toddler autopsy makes my skin crawl. His mother is 23 weeks pregnant with Covid and I cannot fucking imagine the sheer agony of all of it.

everything is just so indescribably fucked up that there’s... what is there left to say? what can you even say?

this is agonizing to witness.

[sweet-vanilla-sims]

Year 1661

TW/CW: Death Mention, Infant Death

The start of the year was largely uneventful until the Morosini girls celebrated their birthday making them officially teenagers. It was little surprise that time had only bolstered Orsa's love for the outdoors while the oceanic views of Tartosa only drew in Orelia's heart further. While the girls were still close it was blatantly obvious to everyone that if they had a say, it was only a matter of time before they parted ways but considering how young they were and that that time had not yet come, they pushed thoughts of the future from their minds.

Orelia tried to get into caring for the garden to try and connect with her family but she found it more of a chore than anything. It felt that the more she tried to connect with her family the more distant she felt. Her sisters, Orsa and Osana, when she had the time to spare, waxed poetic about true love and dreams of marrying a wealthy nobleman while Orelia couldn't imagine dreaming of marrying some guy and being like her mother though she did understand that her sisters did hope for a life of partnership and a gaggle of kids... her mother related in the sense that Giulia figured that her young daughter simply was too young to fancy that but Orsa and Osana had wanted that kind of life for years and she didn't... would it come with time like her mother theorized? Did she even want it to or did she just want to feel closer to her sisters again?

Olivia continued to be a rather independent child which was nice for Giulia and Giovanni since it gave them the time to be alone and reconnect after so many ups and downs through the years.

Though perhaps they connected too well as Giulia learned that she was expecting once again. Giuliano wasn't exactly stoked to be a brother again but he also didn't mind either way. Olivia was excited but she didn't quite understand what it meant to have a baby sibling being the youngest herself.

It seemed that the year was a good time for babies in Tartosa as Felicita also revealed that she was expecting as well a few weeks later. While Giulia expected her child to arrive sometime towards the end of the year, Felicita figured hers would arrive at the start of the next.

Unfortunately things were not all well in the family as a couple months after the fact, Giulia received news that her nephew from her brother had passed away in March. She took solace in her six healthy children while she prayed for her brother and his wife to fare well in spite of their loss.

With Giulia's pregnancy progressing she came to terms with expecting her ninth child and actually began to look forward to having a new baby in her arms though she did continue to pray that this would be the last. She found it a humorous twist of fate that at the start of her marriage she had hoped for a child but now eight kids in, she was hoping to be done.

Still as her stomach grew she felt pangs of guilt that she had been so fortunately blessed while her brother had just recently lost his firstborn.

More worryingly though was the state of the garden. The plants were growing but the yields were pitiful with scarcely enough for the family let alone to sell for taxes and payments. The little money Osana was bringing home was being used to supplement the family home at this point. With Giuliano growing old as well, Giulia worried about the future and finding the funds for their unmarried daughters to have dowries. Did they sacrifice their other daughter's futures for Orsolina? Surely if they hadn't paid the extravagant price to marry into nobility they could have found matches for the rest... Giulia ran over the numbers in her mind and yet she remained grateful that at least the twins seemed fine with waiting for a match rather than not wanting to wait like Osana.

In fact, Osana seemed enamored with her younger sister and while Giulia wanted her daughter to have the life she wished for, she wished that her second born would stop wanting to rush into the future as she overheard her telling her sister that she was eager to marry and have her own kids for her sister and unborn sibling to play with.

Giovanni was delighted to spend time with his youngest as his older kids began to branch out from wanting his affections. Olivia might have been independent but she still enjoyed being doted on.

The older kids still took lessons with Tala which only made Olivia want to grow up more. For Orelia, the mutual dislike of lessons she shared with her siblings was at least one commonality they all shared. Though they did laugh a bit at how eager their little sister was to join them when they found it to be such a bore.

Of the siblings, Giuliano and Olivia proved to be rather close as Giuliano found it hard to hear his sisters, not Orelia, talking about the boys in town or in the Collari Manor, and Olivia was more than happy to talk about whatever he did since she practically idolized her big brother. Though that was likely since they had a smaller age gap.

Giulia went into labor in late December, later than she thought she would since she had noticed that each baby had come a little sooner than the last aside from the twins who obviously came early.

Just a few days before the year ended on December 29th, Giulia delivered her a fourth son who was named after his father and late brother as well as doubled with another name for himself, Giovanni Cesare Morosini.

[clunelover]

BFF did not go into labor and had to go home. Poor thing. She had been told she would be induced this week if no labor - just shy of 38 weeks, the justification being gestational diabetes, but now her doctor is like “well hm idk it might be good if you went another week, you’re managing diabetes and baby doesn’t seem overlarge” but she’s already got her leave planned to start next week, and she also really just wants to be done - like obviously yea, better to cook longer, but due to her prior loss she has very frequent “omg I’m noticing something new…is the baby dead?” moments and it’s taking a toll and she can’t mentally really work anyway (and her job is a real job unlike mine, where she has to really be on, and people’s wellness and sometimes lives are at stake). So anyway, crossing everything that she just goes in to labor or otherwise gets to be done this week and not drag it out further.

[reasonsforhope]

"In cities across the country, people of color, many of them low income, live in neighborhoods criss-crossed by major thoroughfares and highways.

The housing there is often cheaper — it’s not considered particularly desirable to wake up amid traffic fumes and fall asleep to the rumble of vehicles over asphalt.

But the price of living there is steep: Exhaust from all those cars and trucks leads to higher rates of childhood asthma, cancer, cardiovascular disease, and pulmonary ailments. Many people die younger than they otherwise would have, and the medical costs and time lost to illness contributes to their poverty.

Imagine if none of those cars and trucks emitted any fumes at all, running instead on an electric charge. That would make a staggering difference in the trajectory, quality, and length of millions of lives, particularly those of young people growing up near freeways and other sources of air pollution, according to a study from the American Lung Association.

The study, released [February 28, 2024], found that a widespread transition to EVs could avoid nearly 3 million asthma attacks and hundreds of infant deaths, in addition to millions of lower and upper respiratory ailments...

Prior research by the American Lung Association found that 120 million people in the U.S. breathe unhealthy air daily, and 72 million live near a major trucking route — though, Barret added, there’s no safe threshold for air pollution. It affects everyone.

Bipartisan efforts to strengthen clean air standards have already made a difference across the country. In California, which, under the Clean Air Act, can set state rules stronger than national standards, 100 percent of new cars sold there must be zero emission by 2035.

[Note: The article doesn't explain this, but that is actually a much bigger deal than just California. Basically, due to historically extra terrible pollution, California is the only state that's allowed to allowed to set stronger emissions rules than the US government sets. However, one of the rules in the Clean Air Act is that any other state can choose to follow California's standards instead of the US government's. And California by itself is the world's fifth largest economy - ahead of all but four countries. So, between those two things, when California sets stricter standards for cars, they effects ripple outward massively, far beyond the state's borders.]

Truck manufacturers are, according to the state’s Air Resources Board, already exceeding anticipated zero-emissions truck sales, putting them two years ahead of schedule...

Other states have begun to take action, too, often reaching across partisan lines to do so. Maryland, Colorado, New Mexico, and Rhode Island adopted zero-emissions standards as of the end of 2023.

The Biden administration is taking similar steps, though it has slowed its progress after automakers and United Auto Workers pressured the administration to relax some of its more stringent EV transition requirements.

While Barret finds efforts to support the electrification of passenger vehicles exciting, he said the greatest culprits are diesel trucks. “These are 5 to 10 percent of the vehicles on the road, but they’re generating the majority of smog-forming emissions of ozone and nitrogen,” Barret said...

Lately, there’s been significant progress on truck decarbonization. The Biden administration has made promises to ensure that 30 percent of all big rigs sold are electric by 2030...

Such measures, combined with an increase in public EV charging stations, vehicle tax credits, and other incentives, could change American highways, not to mention health, for good."

-via GoodGoodGood, February 28, 2024

[justaboutdead]

On the Beach by Nevil Schute and Running out of Time

Heavy cws: (real and fictional) Suicide, existential threats, nuclear weapons, depression/mental health, Infanticide Spoilers for the entirety of On the Beach (shouldn’t ruin the novel). Its a good read, aside from some 50s white man moments, do recommend

Note: This rant is primarily representative of my own experiences and is certainly not applicable to everyone who has suffered similarly. Also stay safe y’all, reach out if you need help! People do care about you! On the Beach is a 1957 novel by British author Nevil Schute Norway about waiting to die. World War III has happened, the result is that the northern hemisphere has been completely erased by nuclear bombs. Now, in Australia and across the southern hemisphere, people wait for the radioactive dust to slowly drift south ultimately killing everyone. Importantly, they have a good estimate of how much time they have left. (Almost) Everyone understands the reality of this countdown.

I have been struggling with my mental health, particularly depression and suicidal ideations, for years. I have started countdowns a number of times, and have attempted (or started to attempt at least) multiple times, although always backing down before the point of no return. I know what it is like to live on a time limit, although a voluntary one, quite different from the one in the novel.

On the Beach is about how people cope with the looming threat of death. Most characters live in denial, continuing their schedule with little change, almost as if they are trying not to attract suspicion. One, an American submarine captain, has already lost his family, they did not escape the death like he had. Despite that, he continues to treat them like they are alive. It’s not that he does not understand that they are gone, it’s that to admit that they are would be to be already dead. Most just continue business as usual, at least for a time. To neglect structure, in their eyes, is to spark an early collapse. Much of this routine is now elevated to a heightened state, seeking to do the best in the time they have left. Whether that is pouring more of yourself into your garden, or running a tighter ship, there is an anxiety in not wasting the time you have left.

My countdowns are also marked by periods of normalcy. Maintaining it is key, as understanding the gravity of the situation is likely to lead to a breakdown and thus intervention and thus failure. In these times, I adopted as similar sense of heightened normalcy, seeking to do the best I can in the time I have left, to leave a good memory on those who you are planning on leaving behind. This shift from depression to functionality is a sign, although not a definite one, that someone has made a plan. There is another common response to the time limit in On the Beach. That is of indulgence, seeking to maximize the time they have left with no care for the future. Many party all night and drink excessively, while others indulge in large expensive purchases they would never make otherwise. They take greater risks than usual. For example a scientist buys a race car, and in the last days before death is expected, races in a mad death race with dozens of other drivers, many of whom die. It is the last race, they have no future to look forward to. The two approaches are distinctly not mutually exclusive. Even the aforementioned American captain spends far more than he would normally be able to afford on a bracelet for his dead wife.

Another common sign of a plan and a countdown is a similar sort of overindulgence. Being looser with your money, a bit riskier in your decisions. A notorious symptom is being willing to give your most prized possessions away.

The time right before death in On The Beach isn’t solely sad. The American and his lady companion go on a fishing trip the weekend before the end, and they enjoy it greatly. At the same time, the scientist wins the final death-race (which is also the final race, ever). One interesting example of this in the novel comes in the last days of the couple Peter and Mary Holmes and their child Jennifer. Mary is relieved because it appears they will all die at the same time. The anxiety of being left behind or leaving someone else there is lifted from her shoulders. In all of these cases, their euphoria does not slow their inevitable demise.

Some of the moments where I remember being happiest ironically come from soon before I attempted suicide, not too soon though. There is a period before the anxiety of having to perform the act sets in that is characterized, at least in part, by intense relief that you will be done soon. Depression is a purveyor of memory-loss, and as such I do not have the clearest memories of ether the lead ups to my attempts, nor the attempts themselves, but I do know there were moments where I was genuinely happy it was about to be over. This mood-shift is another common sign that someone has a plan.

Death in On the Beach is not instant. The irradiated atmosphere will cause slow poisoning, first characterized by vomiting and diarrhea. Different people will die at different times, some more slowly and more painfully than others. The countdown is not to death but to the start of dying. Although they all know of their shared fates, they can take no comfort in that. Deaths are not written in unison, each given an air of special isolation.

The only reason I never succeeded in killing myself is my fear of messing up. All the suicide methods available to me are slow and painful. Failure to execute them could mean a slow and painful stalled recovery process. Or a slower, more painful death. If I had access to a quick and easy method, I would already be dead. That is part of why regulating particularly toxic substances and guns is so important. Suicides are far more likely to succeed with access to an easy method.

In On the Beach, an easy method is widely distributed. As the end draws near, pharmacies begin giving away cyanide pills for free. An easy death is preferable to a long drawn out one. A clerk distributing them brightly notes she plans to take hers with an ice-cream soda. Mary Holmes has a disgusted reaction initially to these pills. Primarily because it means that she will have to inject and kill her baby. When the time comes, it is done without a moment’s hesitation.

At what point, of any, does suicide transition from a costly mistake made as the result of societal neglect to putting yourself out of your own misery? In my darkest moments, suicide seems to be the only way out. There is little alternative. Much like in On the Beach, the choice seems to be to die now or to live in agony waiting for death an indeterminate amount of time later. This is, of course, a false dichotomy. Things can get better. Unfortunately they don’t always, but they can.

There are a number of people in On the Beach who choose to end their lives far before they would have normally gotten sick. In fact everyone is choosing to die by not fleeing further south, to last a little longer before succumbing to radiation. One character in particular chooses to die early, to leave the safety of a submarine and venture out into his irradiated Washington hometown. To live his last day in a familiar place rather than live a few more empty months in Australia. Everyone seems to accept his decision. He is implied to have shot himself at the end of his final blissful day spent fishing.

Just as in On the Beach, we will all someday die. The existential threat of death is part of what makes life life. Unlike in On the Beach, painful death is not a certainty of the near future. We have our whole lives to live, and however effectively meaningless that may be in the grand scheme of things, you only get one shot at life, and it’s worth it to try and make the most of it.

Suicide will always be a plague that primarily affects the marginalized and downtrodden, thus part of the solution is to stop marginalizing and treading on people (and expand access to helpful services). I am a transgender woman. Yeah, odds are I’m going to have a hell of a worse time of it when I am actively oppressed by society, if my existence wasn’t already a threat to my safety. Strangely enough, in general when everyone is forced to engage on the daily with a system that actively incentivizes viewing human beings as a recourse and not individuals, a lot of people are going to be desperate enough to want to kill themselves. And I know I am preaching to the choir, but we do, collectively, have the ability to fix that.

Just as On the Beach is not a perfect metaphor for planning a suicide, suicide is not a perfect lens by which to view On the Beach. The popular scientist’s unfounded denialism, that the radiation will dissipate before it reaches Australia, for example, fails to fit the narrative. This lens is not the intended one, and as blatant of a single-concept reading as this will never properly capture the nuance of the book, but this is the way I see it, for the most part. It is important that we come up with our own interpretations of media and are able to see it in different ways.

As the end draws near, the illusion normalcy crumbles. Death approaches faster than people realized, they thought they had more time left. Shops are abandoned, out of stock. The street cleaners stop working. Everything falls into disarray, there is no normal to return to. People start getting sick, and people start dying, by pill or by slow painful decay. The submarine, its captain, and its crew head out of the bay and sink it, dying with the ship. The cities and towns are left empty, soon no human remains alive. At some point, a human sees the world for the last time. It’s all over soon.

They say the rabbit will live for another year or two before they eventually die. Then there will truly be nothing left.

[greyfacered]

[cartoonscientist]

“I mean cats are cute but do you realize they’ll eat you after you die?”

dogs have literally eaten live babies and paralyzed people but go off

[scvlly]

One of the little homies from Eleanor’s birth group (he’s about a week older so just turned one) has a 25% chance of survival w his leukaemia, memorials for another mother who’s son died a few months ago, and now one of the more local mums (her son had a pavlik harness like Eleanor) has just had her partner put on palliative care… fuck man. Sadness.