#he was in hospital for about five days as they got the inflammation in his lungs down

[deepwoundsandfadedscars]

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[n-rnova]

Diaries and Letters - Letters of Grand Duchess Tatiana

September 5, 1914. Tsarskoe Selo

"...Every day we go to the Palace's Hospital to do dressings but not in the main building. In the garden there is a small house for the officers. Every day they bring there 6 lower ranks and Olga and I dress their wounds... When we finish doing it we go to the officers' where Mother and Anya dress them in turn..."

November 30, 1914.

"...Now we've got a charming French puppy Bille. She is so sweet. She is so charming when she plays with Aleksey's dog..."

December 31, 1914. Tsarskoe Selo.

"There is a very good hospital for the officers in the GrandPalace. There is one poor officer in it of the Life-Guards Cossack Regiment who had his right leg amputated. He plays the guitar and sings wonderfully. He is not allowed to sing loudly and for a long time and he sings very sad songs in a low voice. I liked them so much..."

May 24, 1915. Tsarskoe Selo.

"...Poor Anastasia is so sad because her little dog Shvybzik died of cerebral inflammation..."

June 2, 1915. Tsarskoe Selo

"...It's the first summer that we are not going to live in Peterhof. We cannot drop our work in the hospitals. It would be distressing to live there and to think that there will be no yacht and no skerries. It's a pity there is no sea here..."

EXTRACTS FROM TATIANA'S LETTERS TO HER FATHER NICKOLAS

Fund 601,1359, Oct. 22, Ts.S. 1914, page 50 "... Aleksey has just come downstairs and is going to pray together with Mother. My doggy Ortino was running about the room and playing during the tea-time. It is so funny and sweet.I apologize for my handwriting but it's not very comfortable to write sitting on the floor in Mother's room."

Fund 601,1359, Ts.S. Oct. 26,1914, p.53 "... We have just returned home after the ceremony of sanctification of the Crypt Church in the Palace Hospital. It was awfully beautiful. A lot of people were present there. There were many wounded soldiers - some of them with crutches, some - with working-sticks, all wearing different uniforms. Some of them wore shirts, others - tunics and the rest - gowns."

601,1359,Ts.S., Oct. 27, 1914,p.55 "... We are sitting in Mother's room after dinner. Anastasia has gone to bed. Maria hasn't yet left. She is sitting on the floor and working. Olga is sitting in your armchair. Mother is talking to Sonya over the telephone."

601,1359,Ts.S, Nov. 30, 1914,p.63 "... Today all five of us were in our hospital and Alexey was present at all dressings, and once he even held a basin for the pus coming out of the wound... This morning we were taken pictures of with all the officers in the Grand Palace. Then we went to the Invalids' Home where Mother gave the lower ranks St.George medals..."

601,1359, Dec. 16, 1914, p.65

"... At last my turn has come to write you a letter. I'm sitting in Mother's room after dinner. In half an hour there will be a sitting of the Committee at Olga's. I don't yet know if I decide to go there or stay at Mother's."

601,1359,Ts.S., March 7, 1915. "... Thanks a lot for your permission to bathe in your bathroom. It was awfully nice and funny. I swam a lot and enjoyed myself. We are sitting in Mother's room after dinner. Olga and Mother are playing "Colorito", Ortino is running about the room like a mad dog."

601,1359,Ts.S., Apr. 6, 1915,p.79 "... On Wednesday I am going to have a Commitee sitting which is so dull that it makes me sweat to think about it. I hate those sittings. Now we are sitting in Mother's bedroom after dinner. Mary and Mother are playing "Colorito" and Olga has gone to talk over the telephone with our hospital."

601,1359,Ts.S., Apr. 10, 1915,p.81 "... Anya (Vyrubova) is brought to Mother's every day and she usually lies in her arm chair..."

601,1359,Ts.S., Apr. 15, 1915,pp.84-85 "...Well, we've finished the lesson. I am writing to you again and am smoking the cigarette which you gave to me at the time of Lent and I did not have time to smoke it. I am enjoying it now."

601,1359,Ts.S., June 11 1915,p.91 "...I'm sitting in the garden opposite the Children's Island and enjoying myself. Ortino is lying at my feet and sleeping. We've just returned from the Grand Palace where we went to see the wounded... How silly I was not to take a cigarette with me. So, those damned mosquitoes are litrally eating me."

601,1359,Ts.S. June 16, 1915 "... Today after the dressings Mother and I were taken pictures of with the officers in the garden."

601,1359,Ts.S., June 19, 1915, pp.95-96

"...We are sitting in the balcony after dinner. And we've got a new thing here today - electricity. And there are two stand-lamps here now which is very comfortable...

June 20 The weather is fine again today. Today I've taken my bed from behind the screen and put it in the middle of the room to get more fresh air..."

601,1359, June 24, 1915, pp.97-98 "...Every evening we like to sit in the balcony as it is very cosy there now.I've taken up a summer mode of living and sleep in the middle of the bedroom as behind the screen there is no fresh air. It's not very comfortable but O.K."

601,1359, August 25, 1915, P.99 "...Yesterday night before going to bed Olya and I decided to find out if Aleksey was sleeping. It turned out that he was not. To amuse him we began to sing songs with him. We sang "From Manglisse to Tiflisse" and others that were taught to us by (erivantsi?). Then he fell asleep and we left.

601,1359, Sept. 17, 1915, p.114.

"... Nothing has changed here. We work inthe hospital every day, then we have classes. Sometimes we go to the hospital of the Grand Palace..."

601,1359, Oct. 2, 1915, p.116 "... It's very dull here without you two. There is no noise upstairs. Aleksey's rooms are dark and empty. Tell him that (his teacher) Pyotr Vasilyevich was going to and fro in his room in the moments when he missed him most of all. This morning we were at the hospital, Mother was there, too. After breakfast there was a reception of the ensigns from Nickolai Pavlovich's (Nickolas I) Military School of our regiments. Poor boys - they were so embarrassed. In the day time the four of us and Mother went for a drive. Then we were present at the church service in the Grand Palace's Hospital. They brought the icon of Virgin of the Sign from the Church. It was carried around the place for everyone to see."

601,1359, Oct. 10, 1915, p.12 "... I am writing to you before Vespers. Anastasia is sitting beside me in the room and playing the balalaika, Maria is playing the piano in the next room and Olga is lolling in bed resting before going to Church. We had to stay on feet for a long time today - first in the hospital then at the Church service in the Winter Palace, then we visited all the wards, then we walked about the store-rooms and tonight we are going to be present at Vespers.

Nov. 4, 1915, pp.125-126 (she is speaking about the Cinema in the General Headquarters in Mogilev). "... Did you have good films? Aleksey had written to Mother that he had been looking forward to that entertainment. Where did you organize the cinema-house in the dining-room or in the hall?"

Nov. 8, 1915, p.127. "... We usually dine with Mother in the evenings upstairs in the playroom."

Nov. 2, 1915, p.129. "... Yesterday I was in town. I had a sitting in the Winter Palace which was extremely dull. Maria was there with me. As she was present at the sitting for the first time, Neidhardt decided to address to her with words of greeting. Everybody stood up and bowed to her. She was so terrified that nearly got down under the table."

Nov. 26, 1915, p.133 "... Yesterday we went for a walk to Pavlovsk with Isa (Buxhoeveden) and were surprised to meet very few people there. It turned out that at a great distance in front of us and behind us there walked "yellow people" and said to everyone they met:"Grand Princesses have come out for a walk, it's better not to be in the way." Such idiots always spoil things by trying to do something too hard. It's dull to walk in the garden without you and we thought it would be more fun to go to town."

Dec. 20, 1915, p.137 "... Yesterday we were in the Grand Palace. There was a cinema-house organized for the wounded in the hall. There was only one funny film shown."

Jan. 1, 1916, p.141 "... Mother is in bed, so we had breakfast alone in Mother's sitting room."

Jan. 10, 1916, p.145 "... Aleksey and Anastasia both come with their beds and lie in beds beside each other for the whole day there. We all have our afternoon tea there. The New Year Tree is still there which makes the room cosy. It will be very sad to undo it when the needles begin to fall down. It's awfully dull to be without Mother because she is still unwell but she goes upstairs in the daytime to see the little ones and lies on the sofa there."

601,1359, Feb. 1, 1916, p.149 "...Yesterday afternoon Anya arranged a small concert in her hospital. The 5 of us went there. The soldiers and we ourselves enjoyed it. Delazari sang and told a lot of funny stories. Then they played the guitar and sang songs. It was fun... I'm having a class now in the classroom. In front of me Pyotr Vasilievich Petrov is sitting and daydreaming. Sometimes he says something but I don't even hear and don't answer him as I'm writing to you..."

601,1359, March 12, 1916, p.159 "... Our tower is growing fast. Do you remember the place where Mordvinov made a trap? We have already flattened the top and are going to build another floor.11 sailors worked there yesterday. The weather was remarkably clear and sunny but in the shade it was 11 degrees below zero. But it was fine to work. Anastasia took a lot of pictures. Only think, Lubushkin's sister sent us wonderful, huge, sweet-smelling violets from Livadia"

601,1359, March 28, 1916, pp.164-165 "... We were working on the ice today. It was fine. Mother spent some time near us sitting in her arm-chair. We saw and heard a hundred of Escort pass by. They were singing very well. As soon as they noticed us they stopped singing, but I ordered them to go on. I played you, wasn't that fun?! Ortino is lying on the floor now and gnawing his foot-ball. We have just finished dinner. Mother is reading, Olga and Maria are writing verses making fun of the nurses from the Grand Palace hospital, but they don't have any rhyme, of course, because they will be sung but not recited... We smoked one cigarette with Olga. Thanks a lot for it..."

601,1359, Apr. 2, 1916,p.166 "... Yesterday there was a concert in our hospital. Your friend Lersky told a lot of funny stories, then Dolsky did the same thing, Dmitry knows him, Smirnov and Christianov's brother sang, Beling played the piano and his wife sang. He is conductor of the court music.

601,1359, Apr. 10, 1916, p.174 (She is speaking about Fyodorovsky Sobor) "... It was wonderful yesterday at the morning service and the air was so still during the procession with the cross that we didn't need to cover the candles with our hands. There were a lot of unnecessary people, of course. Tomorrow there will be Easter festivities in the Grand Palace. Dear father it's so frightening to be present at such things without you. Thanks again for the wonderful appetizing egg which I like very much and for the sweet postcard."

601,1359, Apr. 27, 1916, pp.176,177 "... I was going to start horse-riding, but the horses are still in Gatchina. The trees are beginning to blossom here now, it's very beautiful. Nickolai Pavlovich and Rodionov came to see us on April 25 in the evening. We had dinner in the balcony and spent the whole evening there... Now I'm going to sit on the window-sill and sun-bathe. Terrific!"

May 1, 1916, p.179 "... Mother told us that you've already read "Rosary". It's wonderful, isn't it?"

May 19, 1916, pp.180- 181 "... Oh, how dull, empty and cold it is here. I'd like so much to go back to our warm and sunny Sevastopol. The sun is shining the whole day but it doesn't make us warm. We all went to the hospital church today for the liturgy. Then we spent some time with the wounded in the hospital. There were only two dressings, I even felt ashamed that there were so few of them. In the after noon Mother and all of us went to her Uhlan hospital where all the Regiment ladies were present. There was a church service, then we were treated to some tea and chocolates. It was very strange to see so many ladies when we had grown out of the habit of seeing them...! It's very strange to be upstairs without Aleksey." p.182 "... Every time I pass through the dining-room at 6 p.m. I get surprised not to see the table laid for his dinner. And in general there's very little noise now. I think the foreigners are glad he is with you.

May 27, pp.182-183 ... All our rooms have been cleaned and look so large after the cosy train. Pedigarov tells us a lot of interesting things about his war experiences, about the regiment and a lot of other things..."

601,1359, June 7, 1916, p.189 "... Today in the afternoon they'll show films in the Manege for the wounded soldiers and us. They'll show "Erserum" and "Trabezond.

601,1359, June 18, 1916, p.194 "... Yesterday there was cinema in the Manege. The French showed to us how our troops came to Marseille, then how their plants worked. It was very interesting. There were a lot of wounded soldiers there... We don't go boating now for the lack of time. We either go for drives with Mother and ride or go to some hospital - thus the time flies. After tea and before dinner we usually go for a walk but not to the garden because it's very dull without you there but we walk along the road through the town..."

June 22, 1916, p.196 "... After dressings in the hospital we usually sit in the balcony or in the garden and watch the wounded soldiers carried out. Yesterday evening when we were sitting there one of the wounded played the violin to us. He played wonderfully. To tell the truth I was never very fond of the violin, but I liked his playing very much. He is from the 10-th Intermanlandsky Regiment. Very handsome. Then Olga played the piano and three people sang Russian songs very well. It was fun!"

July 23, 1916, p.211 "... We were at the concert in Maria's and Anastasia's hospital. It was fine there. Only think, two Lilliputians, twin-brothers danced a Russian dance. One of them was dressed as a lady. They are 25 years old, poor things. We were full of pity when we watched them. We were sitting in the back seats. The wounded occupied the front rows. When they wanted to introduce them to us, it was impossible for them to make their way through the crowd of soldiers, poor little things. So the soldiers lifted them and handed them to each other untill they reached us. Tell Aleksey about them because he likes them."

August 18, 1916 p.223 "... Yesterday Lady Myril Padget who worked in the English hospital had tea with us. She had been all the time with the Guards during the battles. She saw them when they walked and said:"I never saw such splendid men." She was in delight. It couldn't have been otherwise! ... We are going to the hospital now. Today they are going to dress the badly-wounded; they usually cry and groan, poor things. It's terribly painful for them..."

601,1359, Sept. 15, 1916, pp.231-232 "... Today we have invited the Japanese for breakfast... Now the hairdresser is curling Maria's hair, then he'll curl mine, for a Japanese. There is a rumour in the town that I'm going to get married to him. They forget that he has got a wife and, besides, he is a pagan. It's so silly... We've just returned after breakfast. I was sitting near Uncle Andrei and Nikolai Mikhailovich. There were a lot of people there. The little envoy was a dear..."

Sept. 19, 1916, p.238 "... Has anybody read "The Millionaire Girl"?"

Sept. 23, 1916, p.238 "... I am sitting now in the morning waiting for the classes to begin and Maria and Anastasia are playing the gramophone and "raise the flag". They played "The March of Guards' Crew",then our anthem and some of the marches that we used to play on the yacht."

October 1, 1916, p.242 "... We have to go to the Grand Palace's Hospital to see the concert. Rather dull."

February 23, 1917, p.226 "... We are so sad now. Everyone burst into tears as soon as you left. We spend almost all our time upstairs. Olga is lying in bed in her bedroom. Aleksey is in the playing-room. We take turns to visit them.

One of Tatiana's letters to her father when she was a child. The year is not mentioned "... Today we are going to have a salty bath and I like the idea very much. Today I was very googy-goody. Anastasia still sucks her fingers.

October 27, Tsarskoe Selo, p.262. no date "Yesterday we were playing with the pillows. Mother was with us. She jumped into the pillows and fell through them."

[kim-jonghyeon]

Adopting a stray cat, his favorite songs...Ren reveals his TMI [Opening the door to a singer - 2]

[source - This is the second part of a two-part interview. Part 1.]

K-pop has now become a global cultural hit. No matter how you look at it, at the core of that are the singers. With fans all over the world having an interest in new album releases or news of performances, their every move is always a hot topic. In an effort to relieve some of this curiosity, News1 has prepared a special interview corner called "Opening the door to a singer," where singers directly answer 10 questions privately and earnestly.

For singer and actor Ren, this year was an important “turning point.” Concluding activities with boy group NU'EST that he’s been with for all of ten years and coming to stand on his own. Ren is now standing at the start line, not as an idol group member of ten years, but as a solo artist. It wasn’t easy to leave the stability of being in a team, but he chose to make a bold decision to take on a new challenge.

After finding a new nest to settle in, he’s now in the middle of working hard. Having been recognized as a musical actor through the musicals Jamie and Hedwig and meeting the audiences through Bungee Jumping Of Their Own after going solo, he’ll go onstage once again as D'Artagnan in The Three Musketeers starting on the 16th. Alongside this, he’s also shown a unique side as a solo singer by appearing recently in KBS 2TV’s Listen Up and Music Bank.

Fans are what motivate the artist in Ren to move. He gives all the credit to his “Minracles,” coolly stating that without the fans, he wouldn’t be able to do anything. He also showed his desire to actively promote in different fields as a singer, actor, entertainer, etc. Additionally, he strengthened his resolve to become an artist who influences the public, in his own unique way.

Recently, we met with Ren at the Big Planet Made company building and shot him some questions.

Q1: We heard that you have some tattoos. How many do you have and what does each one mean?

I have five tattoos now. Two are big, three are small. When NU'EST had our first full album, I got one in henna from the company's suggestion. I thought it looks quite stylish and it suited me well, so I started thinking that I wanted a tattoo. Then I gained a positive influence from doing Jamie. I wanted to enjoy my life so I ended up getting my first tattoo. Though actually now I'm thinking of getting my tattoos removed. There are some people who don't like it, and it's something I have to consider when I try acting later on.

Q2: You recently adopted a stray cat.

I met the cat when I went to my family's house. I usually have to go through a basement parking lot to go home but that day I went home via the ground level. There was someone there who was petting a stray cat while feeding it. I know cats don't usually like people touching them so I thought it was an interesting sight and it caught my eye. My parents said that the cat was getting a lot of affection from the neighborhood. About two or three months after that, I came home and the cat was there again. I heard there was going to be a typhoon the next day and I got worried about it. I was lying in bed about to sleep but I kept thinking about it so I ended up going out to look for it. I think I looked for it for four hours. Later I found it calmly sleeping on a patch of grass. (laughs) That's when I thought "She should come with me," and I immediately went to the animal hospital and got her checked. Thankfully, other than an eye inflammation, she was pretty healthy. These days, she doesn't really listen to what I say, but we're getting along well together.

Q3: Your fandom name "Minracle" is so cute. How did you come up with it?

Minracle (t/n: mingijeok; gijeok 기적 is 'miracle' in Korean) means I want to make miracles with the fans. I worried about it a lot while I was thinking of it. (smiles) At first I wanted to try YouTube so I came up with "Minracle" while thinking of a channel name. While that was happening, people were asking me to decide on a fandom name, so I thought "MInracle" is really good so let's go with this. So that's who I decided on it. I still have plans to do YouTube later on. I want to do fun content that doesn't miss out on trends so I'm thinking about it a lot.

Q4: You've worn some unconventional costumes in different contents before, like a cavity, Edward Scissorhands, and an avocado, that became quite a hot topic. Is there an item that you'd still like to try?

Actually, there really was a good reaction when I came out in costume on Amazing Saturday. I worked so hard on my costume that my actual face couldn't even be recognized so it was kind of a shame. (laughs) I want to try being Groot some time...I don't know if it's possible. (laughs)

Q5: What's a song you enjoy listening to lately?

I'm not the type to listen to one song over and over but lately there's one song that's stuck - Lee Hyori-sunbaenim and AKMU's Lee Chanhyuk's collaboration "Free Smile." The lyrics are so touching.

Q6: What's your favorite out of all the songs you've released so far?

NU'EST W's "If you." When that song came out, there were a lot of feelings I couldn't describe. Even now when I hear that song, I can feel the emotions from that time and it's like I'm dreaming. It's really meaningful and I think it's a masterpiece.

Q7: Is there another celebrity that you're close with?

While I was doing Bungee Jumping Of Their Own, I got close with Lee Changyoung-hyung, Jo Seongyoon-hyung, and VIXX Leo-hyung. We meet up sometimes. And this time while getting ready for The Three Musketeers, I'm getting to know DKZ's Kyoungyoon and Mingyu. They're both really nice. They have an FM-like personality* and they have good manners. They follow really well and we've gotten quite close.

(*t/n: I had to look this up, but FM is slang for "field manual" like in the military. So it just means they're good at following the rules. cmiiw!)

Q8: Is there a musical you'd like to try in the future?

I definitely want to try a show that leaves a strong impression like The Man Who Laughs or Sweeney Todd. Actually, when it comes to musicals, anything is fun and the energy onstage is so big, any production would be good.

Q9: We heard your favorite food is samgyetang.

I really like chicken. When I don't have to diet or maintain my body, I eat one chicken a day. I really got into samgyetang while I was doing Jamie. It got tired from the summer heat so I tried samgyetang while I was looking for healthy food to eat and it was so good. It's high in calories so I'm trying to control myself, but it really is my favorite. I love chicken so I often order red wings or spicy mayo.

Q10: When do you feel happiest?

I'm happiest when I'm on stage. Also when I talk with my fans, when I go on trips with my family, when I eat something delicious, I feel a simple happiness.

[this is a fan translation by a non-native korean speaker and may contain inaccuracies. it has not yet been proofread or edited.]

[chequerootlurks]

This reads like a horror story: A reason for the baby formula shortage, and why corporate greed and agency sloppiness are to blame.

__________

August 25, 2022, 12:01 AM EDT

How Deadly Bacteria Spread in a Similac Factory—and Caused the US Formula Shortage

Procedures got sloppy at the facility in Sturgis, Mich. Cronobacter bacteria proliferated. And when the FDA finally acted, America found itself in a desperate scarcity.

About 20% of the infant formula produced in the US comes from a plant on the edge of the city of Sturgis, in southern Michigan, where it’s been a presence for more than five decades. It’s owned by Abbott Laboratories and makes Similac, the country’s most popular brand. On a September morning in 2021, two US Food and Drug Administration investigators arrived for an annual inspection that was a year overdue because of the agency’s Covid-19 restrictions. When they reviewed company records, they saw evidence of Cronobacter sakazakii, bacteria that can survive for months, sometimes years, in powdered formula and cause devastating illness in infants.

Abbott’s routine testing had turned up cronobacter at the plant five times in the previous two years, which isn’t unusual for a formula maker. More concerning, the bacteria had twice made its way into the formula itself, in cans ready for distribution. Abbott held back the cans in those batches but didn’t recall any others. The company wasn’t required to notify the FDA, and it didn’t. Abbott was expected to fix whatever may have allowed the contamination and said that it had. Yet the inspectors watched as a worker reached into a bag containing an essential ingredient without cleaning his gloves or hands—just the kind of sloppiness, they noted, that could spread cronobacter from work surfaces to the powder. They found more to fault: crucial drying equipment with a history of pits and cracks where cronobacter could hide; pooled water where it could multiply.

On day one of the five-day inspection, the FDA received a report about an infant in Minnesota who’d been hospitalized for three weeks with a cronobacter infection. The infant had been fed Similac Sensitive made in Sturgis. On the second day, someone at the FDA told someone at Abbott about the case. But no one at the FDA or Abbott ever told the inspectors. Despite the troubling conditions they had seen, no alarms went off, no red flags were raised. There would be no recall, no shutdown, not even a warning. Instead, as it often does, the agency relied on the company to fix the problems on its own.

The complaints and alerts kept coming. In October a former employee in the Sturgis plant filed a whistleblower report with the FDA, alleging that an emphasis on productivity sometimes compromised safety, violations of all sorts were hidden, and a culture of permissiveness for some was known to all. The document reached a few at the agency, but copies sent to the most senior officials were, according to the FDA, lost in the mailroom. During the next several months, three more infants who’d been fed formula made at Sturgis were infected. Two died, and another, a boy in Texas, appeared so close to death that a priest came to give him last rites.

The boy’s mother, Jane Hernandez, hasn’t spoken publicly about the experience before and doesn’t want her son’s name known. He fell ill a week after he was born. The cronobacter caused meningitis and encephalitis and inflammation in his kidneys. The right side of his brain is damaged, but it’s too soon to know how severely. He’s under the care of an early intervention specialist, a neurologist, and an infectious disease doctor. He’s now 8 months old.

The company failed to prevent the spread, the regulator missed it, and the consequences are accumulating.

When inspectors returned to Sturgis at the end of January—four months after their initial visit, three months after the whistleblower’s report, one month after they finally interviewed him—they found five different strains of cronobacter. Abbott’s own tests, conducted in February, detected cronobacter 20 times. The commissioner of the FDA, Robert Califf, later told members of the US House of Representatives that the conditions at Sturgis were shocking: “Let’s say you had a next-door neighbor who had leaks in the roof, they didn’t wash their hands, they have bacteria growing all over the kitchen. You walked in, and there was standing water on the counters and the floor, and the kids were walking through with mud on their shoes and no one cleaning it up. You probably wouldn’t want your infant eating in that kitchen. And that’s in essence what the inspection showed.”

Some 70 million cans and containers of Similac, as well as the specialty formulas EleCare and Alimentum, were recalled in mid-February. Sturgis stopped production. The shutdown created a new problem: a nationwide shortage of powdered infant formula. The industry, many soon learned, is so concentrated that there are only two other major manufacturers— Mead Johnson and Gerber Products—and they couldn’t make up the loss. Parents, especially those whose infants needed the specialty formulas, panicked. Even when the other companies increased production and the FDA loosened import restrictions, the shortage persisted.

Within a few weeks, the agency received more than a hundred complaints about Abbott’s formulas. Seven infants had died; others were sick with salmonella; infants were vomiting, and had diarrhea, stomach aches, and fevers.

The FDA closed its investigation of the four cronobacter cases in mid-May. It said the evidence doesn’t rule in or rule out a definitive link between the infant deaths and illnesses and the formula produced at the plant. Abbott chooses to emphasize the former. It says the cronobacter strains found in the only two samples available from the infants don’t match those found at Sturgis and don’t match each other, and that no cronobacter was found in two of the three samples of opened formula that were tested.

Days later, Abbott entered a five-year consent decree with the US Department of Justice that gives the FDA extraordinary oversight of the Sturgis facility. A court document describes the company and three managers as being “unwilling or unable to implement sustainable corrective actions to ensure the safety and quality of food manufactured for infants.”

More than two dozen families have sued Abbott for product liability, fraud, and negligence. Abbott says it’s “very sympathetic” to the families but believes “these suits are without merit.” The FDA is under investigation by the Office of Inspector General for the US Department of Health and Human Services. At Sturgis, the company failed to prevent the spread of a pathogen that’s been known for decades to imperil infants, the regulator missed it, and the consequences are accumulating.


Sturgis, a city of about 11,000, sits on the border with Indiana. Once a prairie, its soil is still fertile; once dependent on the railroads passing through, it’s now home to several manufacturers. In 1924 a Harvard biochemist and a Boston pediatrician sold their infant formula recipe—a blend of cow’s milk, vegetable oils, calcium, and phosphorus salts—to Moores & Ross Milk Co. in Columbus, Ohio. The formula was eventually named Similac, as in “similar to lactation,” and by the late 1940s it was the most popular infant formula in the US. That’s when Sturgis offered M&R a deal: 11 acres of vacant land for $3,000. The company began producing Similac there in 1949.

The next year a strain of cronobacter was first isolated in a tin of dried milk. As scientists worked to understand its prevalence and virulence, doctors reported finding it in sick patients, often infants who’d been fed powdered formula.

Cronobacter cells are motile, rod-shaped, opportunistic. They can exist in wheat flour, corn starch, herbal tea, soil, dust, and water, but dried milk and powdered infant formula are their favorite places to hide. Scattered and desiccated, the cells can survive for up to two years. When adults encounter cronobacter, the bacteria have usually been killed by heat—the water for the tea has been boiled, the flour’s been baked—and their immune systems offer protection. Even so, adults can get sick with diarrhea and urinary tract infections. When babies encounter cronobacter, their immune systems are immature and their digestive tracts vulnerable, and the bacteria in the powder is often still alive. The water added to it most likely hasn’t been boiled, and at room temperature it will stimulate the cronobacter. The cells can divide quickly, doubling in number in 20 minutes. They can escape the stomach, enter the bloodstream, and damage the brain. Infected infants can develop sepsis, abscesses, and meningitis, and if they do, about half the time they die. Cronobacter was named after Cronus, the Titan of Greek myth who devoured his children as they were born.

When Abbott bought the infant formula facility in 1964, it became a big employer in a small town. Abbott, whose headquarters are in suburban Chicago, is the largest taxpayer in Sturgis and the one with the most prominent name. The plant is the kind of place where people know one another from someplace else, where it’s possible to meet and divorce two spouses, to have your new partners and ex-partners as colleagues, to have children, siblings, and in-laws there, too. People often mention that Abbott has employed four generations of one family.

We contacted more than 80 current and former employees over four months. Some who’d retired were surprised at the trouble at the plant; others didn’t believe it or blamed the FDA. Most didn’t want to talk about it, and even those who’d left seemed fearful of repercussions if they did. They didn’t want to ruffle any feathers or draw any attention.

The goal for many hired when they were young was to stay until they could retire, 55 and out. Lots managed to do that, and they almost all say the same thing about their years at Abbott: They worked hard, and the company treated them well. Abbott offered good wages, a 401(k), health insurance, even stock grants for some, and it expected people to work overtime, often seven days a week, and, of course, to keep the production lines moving. One employee was asked to put in extra hours his last few days on the job. He did. “I figured I owed them that,” he says. Abbott says everyone at Sturgis knows how important their work is.

In 2001, five decades after its discovery, cronobacter caught the attention of the nation’s food safety regulator and the companies it regulates. In April of that year, at a university hospital in Knoxville, Tenn., an 11-day-old boy, born prematurely and weighing less than 3 pounds, fell ill with cronobacter. He had a fever, an accelerated heart rate, and sepsis. When his brain stopped functioning, his family took him off life support, and he died nine days later. Eight other infants in the unit were also infected: Three recovered; the others never got sick. One potential source of the cronobacter was the infants’ one common source of nutrition—Portagen, made by Mead Johnson. Almost a year after the newborn’s death, the company recalled 17,000 cans of the formula. The FDA recommended that neonatal intensive care units stop using powdered formula altogether: There’s no way to make it sterile. Liquid formula is sterile, but it’s also more expensive.

To try to assess the risks, the agency collected powdered infant formula samples from different manufacturers. Five of the 22 were tainted with low levels of cronobacter. In 2003 officials briefed doctors and industry representatives about this seemingly new pathogen. “You can always design something a little better or clean something a little better,” an FDA official said. “Things come along, and we’re required to raise the bar. I mean, were it not for the Titanic, would we have life preservers on cruise ships?” Some in the industry suggested that, given the infrequency of cronobacter infections, the agency was overreacting.


Cronobacter infections are rare. They’re also not always identified or reported. Minnesota is the only state to require doctors to notify health officials of infected patients. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention says that four to six infants are sickened by cronobacter every year, but some researchers estimate that as many as 18 might be. Minnesota alone identified three cases in the past five years.

Soon after that 2003 meeting, the agency began what would turn into a decade-long negotiation with manufacturers about a testing protocol for cronobacter. Former employees at Sturgis recall learning about the bacteria back then and their relief that public scrutiny fell first on a rival.

In 2010, Sturgis had to contend with a different problem. At a meeting to review consumer complaints, supervisors showed pictures of a trail of flour beetles in a can of formula. “They said they didn’t think it came from the plant,” a former employee recalls. “Quite a few of us said we suspected it might have.” The FDA determined that beetles were in the hopper room, the main warehouse, and the basement, and in some cases had been there as far back as 2007. “It should have been addressed properly right away,” another former employee says. “Sturgis is a long way from Chicago. I’m sure they wanted to keep it at Sturgis and hoped it would somehow pass.”

Abbott recalled 5 million containers of Similac and stopped production. The FDA said there was no immediate health risk for infants, but they might refuse to eat if small insect parts or larvae were irritating their digestive tracts. “It was bad and disgusting and upsetting to all of us,” a former employee says. “But it wasn’t bacteria. No one was going to die.”

The facility was steamed, cleaned, and scrubbed; bushes were removed; the windows and siding were replaced. No one was allowed to prop open doors anymore. Later, in a call, Miles White, the chief executive at the time, reprimanded some Sturgis employees. The plant manager was replaced but remained with the company.

The recall would cost Abbott $100 million. Six months later, Similac was again the bestselling formula in the US.

Cronobacter still threatened, and investigations still rarely concluded with a definitive link. Two infants who’d been fed Enfamil, made by Mead Johnson, were infected and died in late 2011. Walmart stopped selling the formula, and other retailers followed. The FDA said it couldn’t be sure of the source of the pathogen, and they all put Enfamil back on their shelves. In 2017 two more infants died, and the agency reported finding cronobacter in Mead Johnson’s plant in Zeeland, Mich. The FDA says it didn’t shut down the facility or push for a recall because it didn’t believe the product was in the US marketplace. “Our products have not been a confirmed cause of consumer illness since the early 2000s,” a spokesperson for Mead Johnson says.

Proving beyond doubt that cronobacter in a can of opened formula came from a factory, and not from the infant’s home, can be complicated. If there’s cronobacter in a production facility, there may be more than one strain. Some may be transient. Some may have colonized, settling in where they can avoid detection and destruction. It’s possible to find a strain, or several, in a factory and to find a different one in the formula—or the sick baby. That might mean there’s no link, but it might also mean the matching strain exists, or existed, in the factory and no one found it. “This is just something where the two pieces of the puzzle don’t connect,” says Séamus Fanning, a professor at University College Dublin who studies cronobacter.

A sample test could easily come back negative even though the infant got sick. Powdered formula is made up of millions of small grains, and not every grain will be tainted. Cronobacter doesn’t uniformly contaminate a can. It could be in the top and not the bottom. This makes finding the bacteria difficult and leaves many experts describing the search for it the same way: like looking for a needle in a haystack.


He arrived at Sturgis in 2015, a couple of years out of college, with a good recommendation from a prior job at Monsanto Co. He started as many do, as a contractor paid an hourly wage, and was soon moved to the quality assurance department, given more responsibility, and put on salary. According to his annual performance reviews, he took initiative, sought feedback, and kept a positive attitude. Twice he was rated “Best in Abbott” for delivering results. In 2019 his supervisor wrote that he was “not afraid to step forward and raise concerns as necessary keeping quality at the forefront.” She noted that he helped win an international award for the plant. She also said he should improve his communication skills, citing a string of emails whose tone she called more accusatory than collaborative.

The whistleblower wishes to remain anonymous and, through his lawyer, declined to comment for this article. But given the circumstances, many at Sturgis know who he is. One retired worker suggested he watch his back. Abbott says he’s a disgruntled former employee who’s continued a pattern of ever-evolving, ever-escalating allegations that are unfounded and don’t correlate to the FDA’s inspection observations.

His complaint to the FDA was released by Representative Rosa DeLauro (D-Conn), a strong critic of the agency, in April and is cited in several lawsuits filed since then. Through a public records request, Bloomberg Businessweek obtained two other documents that lay out his case: his Michigan Occupational Safety and Health Administration file, which includes email exchanges, his annual reviews and other personnel records, witness statements, and the company’s defense, as well as a separate complaint he made to OSHA in February 2021 about safety violations at Sturgis. He never mentions cronobacter, but he describes conditions that could allow it to lurk there.

He claims that at Sturgis “meeting metrics frequently took precedence over product safety,” and that managers would intentionally misrepresent the severity of issues to their bosses at division headquarters. In 2019, Abbott recalled a batch of Calcilo XD formula because it was discolored and smelled rancid. Inside the plant, he says, workers knew the problem was that powder was getting stuck in the seams of cans and that several other batches—each comprising tens of thousands of cans—were also affected. To avoid finding more, supervisors told employees to check the seams of empty cans.

The factory is built around dryers, towers four to six stories tall that turn a liquid mix into powder. Before the formula reaches the dryer, it’s been blended, pasteurized, and homogenized, but not sterilized. Once it leaves the dryer, it’s sifted and packaged. It’s inside the dryers and afterward that formula is most likely to be contaminated. The whistleblower says that some of the processing equipment at Sturgis needed serious repair and had for several years. Pipes had pinholes that allowed bacteria to enter and, at times, led to bacteria not being adequately cleaned out. Formula flowing through these pipes could pick it up—and did.

He says that in 2019 management also decided it was no longer necessary to have an engineer review certain cleaning processes. Instead, a contract worker could look them over. He blames the worker’s inexperience for missing a brief electrical outage that caused cleaning equipment inside processing machinery to malfunction, which resulted in it being covered in caked-on moldy formula.

Routine testing revealed that several samples of that batch of finished formula were contaminated with microorganisms, he alleges. Managers decided not to destroy it all. Employees were told to discard only those cans produced within a certain time frame, he says, and the rest they distributed without additional testing. Sturgis had already destroyed $8 million worth of formula, he says, and the managers didn’t want to lose more.

The FDA didn’t mention the incident in its inspection report. According to the whistleblower, staff and department managers congratulated one another on making it through the audit without any warnings, and a supervisor admitted it had been awkward to avoid directly answering inspectors’ questions. The inspectors did learn that a sample of Alimentum had tested positive for cronobacter the month before. The batch hadn’t been released and would be destroyed. Abbott said it had found the source, sanitized the areas, retested them, and resumed production, and the FDA left it at that.

Ultimately it wasn’t these concerns that brought the whistleblower into conflict with management. On Friday, May 29, 2020, he sent an email to plant supervisors that began, “Hi—I believe X brought a stun gun/taser to work today. … We heard it go off twice. It sounded like someone was being electrocuted.”

A woman had indeed brought a Taser to work. She wasn’t sent home: Her husband merely came to the plant and picked up the weapon. The whistleblower assumed his colleague was protected by her friendship with the “Big Three,” women with seniority and authority. She was part of the in crowd. He wasn’t. On Monday he contacted Employee Relations at company headquarters. At Sturgis, some considered that a breach. “He went above management’s head and beyond our site to report the Taser incident, and they don’t want people to do that,” an employee said.

That summer he made two mistakes reviewing records for formula distributed internationally. He’d made another one earlier. He said it was because he hadn’t received sufficient training; others said they’d made similar errors. Managers at the facility said he’d put the company at risk of a recall and fired him in August.

He filed a claim of retaliation with Michigan’s Occupational Safety and Health Administration. Five months later, in February 2021, he filed a federal OSHA claim and provided pages of detailed allegations about product safety. In it, he alleged that at Sturgis “concealing information from the FDA was celebrated by management” and “performance errors, including egregious performance errors, were condoned as long as ‘numbers’ were met and one looked the other way.” OSHA almost immediately shared the complaint with the FDA and Abbott, which says it cooperated with the inquiry. The agency could have scheduled an inspection then instead of waiting until the annual one that September but didn’t. It says it’s reviewing its response.

In June 2021, Michigan dismissed his claim of retaliation; OSHA is still investigating. In October he sent his whistleblower complaint to the FDA, alleging that if employees could speak freely, Sturgis would be like a “house of cards.”


“You’re telling me my baby was on recalled formula that’s causing meningitis, but ours is just bad luck. I just wasn’t buying that”

When FDA inspectors saw reports of cronobacter contamination in Abbott’s records in September 2021, they followed protocol. The previous inspection, two years earlier, hadn’t turned up any egregious violations, so they didn’t swab the facility themselves—they relied on the company’s records of doing so.

In October the whistleblower’s complaint reached some at the FDA by email; copies sent by FedEx to the agency’s leaders are still lost in the mailroom. Those who did read it didn’t share it with them. “The standard procedure was not to escalate,” Califf, the agency’s commissioner, said later. But “when you get something this detailed and this extensive, it’s not routine,” says Stephen Ostroff, a former senior FDA official. “It should have been immediately clear that this went beyond holding a grudge against the company,” says Brian Ronholm, director of food policy for Consumer Reports. “It should have caught the attention of everyone at the FDA.” Representative DeLauro wasn’t surprised that it didn’t. “I don’t see that this agency really wants to be a regulatory agency,” she says. “They normally come down on the side of the industry vs. the individual.”

As it was, no one interviewed the whistleblower until late December, when three inspectors arranged a three-hour video call. Soon after, they contacted Abbott to schedule a visit for early January. Abbott says it requires employees to be vaccinated against Covid, tests them weekly (the company makes the rapid test BinaxNow), and has had a lower incidence of infection than the surrounding county. But when the inspectors called, the company asked them to wait because of an outbreak at the plant.

At the end of the month, the inspectors said they couldn’t wait any longer. They went to Sturgis, and they found cronobacter. Abbott would later explain that the bacteria was brought in by contract workers repairing the roof, who had access to areas they shouldn’t have. The inspectors again noted a history of pits and cracks in the dryer towers. They saw standing water in equipment that should have been dry. Abbott’s own records listed 310 problems with water in the past two years: leaks, moisture, and condensation blamed, in part, on a roof that needed to be repaired.

Despite urging from the FDA on Feb. 15 and again the next day, Abbott didn’t announce a recall. On the 17th, the FDA issued a consumer advisory, and Abbott announced a voluntary recall. Eleven days later, the company expanded it.

By then, Owen Bayer—5 months old, 15 pounds, born healthy, fed Similac Pro-Advance—was in a St. Louis hospital. He was distressed and vomiting, his eyes were glassy, and his temperature reached 104F. “He wasn’t really responding very well to anything,” his mother, Jordyn, says—not to the medicine, not to the light, not to his name. Doctors told them Owen was having a seizure. “He wasn’t shaking. He was stiff,” his father, Zach, says. “It was like his body was locked in.”

Owen would have to be brought to a bigger hospital. When the ambulance arrived, medics said he wasn’t stable enough for the 45-minute ride. He’d have to be airlifted instead. Jordyn and Zach watched as he was intubated, put on a stretcher, and placed in the helicopter. They couldn’t join him.

The doctors suspected a bacterial infection, likely meningitis, and started him on intravenous antibiotics. They performed a spinal tap to be sure. They managed to stop the seizures. Owen was sedated and wrapped tight and slept through the next day. By then, his parents had been told he did have meningitis—just bad luck, a doctor said. “That was a really awful way to describe it,” Jordyn says. “But I had some peace with that because it was like, OK, there was really nothing I could have done to prevent this. It just kind of happened.”

Jordyn had learned about the Abbott recall a day or two after it was announced but hadn’t heard anything about cronobacter. Now she started wondering. “This is too much of a coincidence,” she says. “You’re telling me my baby was on recalled formula that’s causing meningitis, but ours is just bad luck. I just wasn’t buying that.” The doctors hadn’t looked for cronobacter initially and told her that the antibiotics Owen had been given for the past three days would make it impossible to do so.

Once Owen was back home and recovering, Jordyn brought four cans of recalled formula to the Missouri Department of Health and Senior Services. One opened can of Similac Pro-Sensitive formula was contaminated with cronobacter. Because Owen himself hadn’t been tested for cronobacter, he isn’t part of the FDA’s official count.

On a mid-May afternoon, just up from his nap, Owen is bright and giggly and hungry. He eats some solid food now and liquid formula, too, made by Abbott. He’s sitting up, rolling from his belly to his back, starting to crawl. He has two teeth. Jordyn and Zach know that in some ways they are lucky, and they don’t know how long that will last. “He could have mental delays, physical delays, learning disabilities, things that we’re not going to know for a while,” she says. “We’re just supposed to be on the lookout. So, I’m always asking myself: ‘Is that normal?’ ”
 

Abbott’s commanding position in infant formula is, in part, the result of government intervention on behalf of families in need. The Special Supplemental Nutrition Program for Women, Infants, and Children, known as WIC, provides powdered formula—and only powdered formula except in unusual cases—to about half the babies born in the US each year. Every state enters a contract with a single manufacturer. Abbott now has deals with 35 states and the District of Columbia.

The companies offer the states significant rebates. Last year, Texas bought almost $210 million worth of Abbott’s standard powdered infant formulas for $10 million. But having those guaranteed sales means better shelf space at stores, which means the “private mommies,” as they’re called, often buy the same brand as WIC parents.

In May, as those in the WIC program still struggled to find formula, US Secretary of Agriculture Tom Vilsack wrote Abbott with “grave concern” that it hadn’t promised rebates for other brands for as long as the shortage lasted. Abbott has since said it will do so at least through October and will spend $5 million to help families who rely on EleCare, which is designed for infants with food allergies, with medical and living expenses.

In May the company also put out, on Twitter, a definitive statement about the FDA’s investigation: “The formula from this plant did not cause these infant illnesses.” That didn’t go over too well with some experts. “They can’t say that. They can’t rule out that their plant was the source,” says Craig Hedberg, a University of Minnesota epidemiologist. “I’m unimpressed with their argument,” says Ostroff, the former FDA official. Establishing a direct link isn’t ever likely to be possible, but, he says, “if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s probably a duck.” Later, Abbott said it has tested more than 10,000 cans of formula and hasn’t found cronobacter in any.

On May 16 the consent decree was made public. Sturgis had to improve its safety procedures and product testing, repair its equipment, replace the roof, and redo the floors, all under the FDA’s watch, before it could start up again. “The consent decree is an admission that you could turn into an indictment fairly quickly,” says Bill Marler, a food safety lawyer. Attorneys alleging misdemeanor violations of the Federal Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act would only have to prove Abbott’s liability, not its intent, he says: “If you’re producing food in insanitary conditions, you’re stuck.” Abbott says that the consent decree is a civil agreement and that it chose not to challenge the allegations in the document so it could restart production quickly.

Jane Hernandez is among those parents who have filed lawsuits against Abbott. The Bayers may soon join them. This summer, DeLauro introduced a bill to separate the food division from the FDA altogether in hopes that will help hold it to account. The FDA hasn’t commented on that but says that in addition to its internal review, it’s arranged for an external one. It’s reconsidering inspection protocols, especially about when to swab its own environmental samples. It also says there’s only so much it can do: “The FDA stresses the importance of a company’s quality systems and culture,” a spokesperson says. “Ultimately, when problems are found it is the responsibility of the firm to correct those issues to keep consumers safe.” An Abbott spokesperson says that “Sturgis employees are committed to quality and safety and are determined to re-earn the trust of parents, as is Abbott.”

On June 15, less than two weeks after the Sturgis factory reopened, a storm blew through town. The plant flooded, and production shut down. The company hasn’t said when Sturgis will resume making Similac, but since early July it’s been producing EleCare. As it’s being processed, 180 cans from every batch will be tested for cronobacter. If it’s detected, everything must stop, and within 24 hours the company must notify the FDA that the pathogen has returned. —With John Tozzi and Monte Reel

Read next: A Very Dangerous Place to Be Pregnant Is Getting Even Scarier

To contact the authors of this story:
Susan Berfield in New York at sberfield@bloomberg.net
Anna Edney in Washington at aedney@bloomberg.net

To contact the editor responsible for this story:
Daniel Ferrara at dferrara5@bloomberg.net
Jim Aley

[johnsamericano]

𝓓𝓪𝔂 22:

zнσиg ¢нєиℓє

23 days of NCT masterlist.

taglist: @notbeforelong @whathamelon @curieouscapt @unknown5tar @silent-potato @ajhdr @mrcarbonatedmilk @gjheaaa

warnings: mentions of violence.

“Come on Jeno, just punch me already. It's not like you haven't done it before.”

“Yeah, but I was mad at you that time!”

“Jeno, please, I need to get there before her shift is over, and I know she won't even spare me a glance if I'm not injured.”

There was a brief silent moment between the two young adults, the blonde cracking his knuckles anxiously.

“Fine, close your eyes.”

Apparently, Jeno wasn't the best person at controlling his strength, for Chenle had to drive to the hospital with only one functional eye, the other one completely closed from the inflammation.

“Fucking Jeno.” He kept muttering as the pain started to pick up, tears stinging his orbs.

But every sign of pain was gone as soon as he saw you, suturing a little kid’s head while trying to soothe him, looking like Aphrodite herself.

“You’re being such a brave boy, just a few more stitches and my friend will take you to the cafeteria for some cookies.”

Chenle stood by a column, leaning against it as he admired you with loving eyes.

“Jesus Christ, sir, are you alright?” A doctor passing by stopped at the sight of his dark and inflamed eye.

Just as he was about to answer, your cheerful voice rang around the emergency room, announcing you were done with your work and handing the little kid to a fellow doctor.

“Yeah, it's nothing, now, if you excuse me...” He walked towards you, smile getting wider as you noticed him.

“What did you do this time?” You weren't oblivious to the tactics he used to see you, after all, you were the one who prohibited him to visit you unless he was gravely injured.

“Got into a fight.” He sat at the hospital bed, patiently waiting for you to take out the ointment and heal him.

“Yeah, and last week you ate a bowl of shrimps even though you know you're allergic to them.” Your gentle hands spread the thick substance over his wounded eye, carefully brushing away the strands of hair falling over his forehead. “You know, Chenle, there are easier ways to see me.”

“How? I asked you out once and you said no.”

“You literally asked me out five minutes after we met.”

“And your point is?”

You flicked his forehead, an exaggerated whine coming out of his mouth.

“I didn’t know you back then.” Surprisingly, you sat down beside him, tucking your gown under your legs. “But you coming up with a new injury every week just to see me has shown some real commitment from you.”

“Did Jeno punch me too hard or are you actually saying what I think your saying?”

“I don’t want you to die because of me, so let’s go out on a normal date before you cause irreversible damage to your body.” You were taken aback by the sudden feeling of his hand over your gloved one.

“I’ll wait for your shift to be over.”

“Chenle, it’s literally 1 a.m.” You giggled, slightly slapping his hand. “Go home and get some sleep.”

“Sleep is overrated. I’ll get some food from the cafeteria for our late night date, you better prepare yourself to be dazzled.”

[lia-jones]

OC-tober - Day 4 - Medicine

Author's note: Thank you to@oc-growth-and-development for the challenge, I think this will be pretty interesting, as it got my creative juices already stirring (you can find their amazing blog and challenge here).All my stories for this challenge will feature my OC Andrea Jones and Victor Li, from the MLQC fandom.

His leg had been hurting for days. Not that he would tell me.

VIctor’s recovery from the accident had been truly remarkable, like everything about him. He was a proud man, and the idea of having someone taking care of him was horrid to him, so he pushed through the injury and the exhaustion, and he didn’t stop until he felt confident enough to move around on his own and drive to work himself.

A fast recovery comes with a price, though. The body needs time to heal, tendons need time to mend, and Victor hadn’t given himself any. As a consequence, every time he was more stressed, or the weather changed, or he outdid himself in one of his running sessions, his leg would throb in fury, lamenting the punishment it had received.

During those days, he wouldn’t let me near him, let alone admit he wasn’t feeling well. Victor would enclose himself inside his walls, insisting on dealing with the pain on his own, snapping at me if I even mentioned it. So I would just observe him closely, secretly taking action so his day would be easier, hoping the pain wasn’t getting the best of him.

Until one night, after putting Owen to bed, I found him sitting on the ottoman of our walk-in closet, half-naked, his hands pressing on his left thigh.

“This is ridiculous.” I scolded, kneeling in front of him to massage him. “Are you really that stubborn that you can’t ask for help?”

His lack of a snarky comeback made me take a closer look at him. He looked pale and clammy, and when he looked at me, I could see an unbearable pain in his eyes. Victor hadn’t only reached his tipping point. He had surpassed his pain threshold a while ago, without me noticing it.

“Ok, we need to get you to bed.” I took his arm and wrapped it around my neck. “I’ll support some of your weight, do you think you can walk that far?”

His expression showed me a steely resolve as he nodded. Even feeling like he couldn’t give another step, he lifted himself with his right leg, trying to balance himself not to weigh too much on me. When I sat him on the bed, he was panting.

“I’ll be right back.” I ran my fingers through his hair, leaving the room.

When I came back, holding a pill and a glass of water, he hadn’t moved an inch. His eyes were closed again, his breath still a bit fast. It was probably worse than I could tell.

“Take this.” I showed him the pill and the water.

“Can’t you just massage it?” He gave me a pleading look. “The muscle relaxants make me drowsy.”

I internally cringed at the tone of his voice, which reminded me so much of our five-year-old son. Victor looked nothing like the strong man he presented himself to be, strong and confident, able to excel at everything. At that moment, he was a scared little boy in pain, craving comfort. It made me wonder if he was like that when he was little, and if he had someone to rely on when he was sick. Probably Mina or Terry.

“You’re going to bed anyway, what’s the difference? You’ll get a good night’s sleep, you surely can use one.” I pushed the glass of water towards him, but he ignored it. “Come on, the pain won’t go away with just a massage, you let it go too far.”

It was the oldest trick in the book, guilting him into doing something, and I hated to do it. But the thought that his own action (or lack of it) had led them to a point of needing me was enough to make him more complacent, taking the pill from my hand and swallowing it with a big gulp of water.

“Good.” I smiled at him. “Now lay down, let me give you a good rub.”

He obeyed in silence, lifting his thighs from the mattress so I could remove his pajamas slacks, waiting patiently for me to start. At the first pressure, he couldn’t help but let out a pained cry, making me remove my hands immediately. His leg was hot, there was surely inflammation in the tissue. Maybe a massage wouldn’t solve it.

“I’m sorry.” He croaked. “Please go on.”

“Victor...Maybe we should go to a hospital.”

“No, no hospital.” He shook his head. “I’m really not that bad, you can continue.”

I started reapplying pressure, grimacing every time I felt him tense up in my hands, covering his mouth with the tip of the pillow to muffle his complaints. After a while, he started relaxing, and the sounds stopped. The massage was working, but most importantly, the muscle relaxant was starting to work. I took the chance to massage him deeper, trying to discover any knots in his tendons, hoping I would be thorough enough to prevent it from hurting again.

“I’m sorry you have to do this.”

I looked up, noticing his glassy unfocused eyes. He was high. All his emotions were on display now. I stopped the massage and quickly went to wash my hands, wanting to milk that rare moment as much as possible.

“You should get some rest.” He slurred slightly. “You must be tired from taking care of me.”

“I don’t mind at all.” I laid beside him and started playing with his hair. “I like taking care of you. You do such a good job taking care of me, it’s good to retribute.”

I smiled as my husband closed his eyes in delight, leaning his head a little closer like a sleepy kitten. I started softly scratching his scalp, knowing he secretly loved it.

“Hmmmm…” He tilted his head so my hand would go where he wanted it to be. “That feels good.”

“We could have more moments like this, Vic.” I tried my luck. “Everyone needs to be taken care of sometimes. You don’t need to wait to be in searing pain to ask for it.”

He opened his eyes to look at me but didn’t say a word. The sadness in them made me reconsider my actions. Victor had a hurt little boy inside him, and hurt little boys don’t need to talk, or to figure out their emotions. They need to be hugged. They need to be loved.

“Do you want to sleep naked or should I put on your pajamas?”

“I won’t be cold if you sleep close to me.”

Without a word, I climbed into the bed and pulled the thick comforter over us, leaning against his right side. I kept on playing with his hair, planting kisses here and there, as I watched him grow more and more relaxed, until he fell asleep.

I took a moment to look at the man I loved before I turned off the light, hoping I had done more than help him with his leg pain. Maybe I helped soothe the little boy that needed comfort and was too afraid to ask for it. Maybe I helped the adult see that it was ok for him to let his guard down and trust someone once in a while. Anyway, I was happy to watch him sleep, perfectly unaware of the world around him, soft snores coming from his parted lips.

There are certain scars that only love would heal. Victor deserved all the love in the world. I would give it to him.

[joontier]

Subliminal in Scrubs | V1; report iv 

pairings: dr. jeon jungkook x female reader

chapter rating: NC-17 | genre: humor, romance

warnings: swearing

word count: 2.5k

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Subliminal in Scrubs (the records) |  navi. | m.list

Your phone blares at exactly 6:45AM, and a memetastic image of Chohee lights up your phone screen as you’re brushing your teeth. When you swipe to answer the call, you don’t even manage to get a word in when Chohee chatters you out of your sleep-deprived soul.  

“Just as practiced, I’m punctual, and you’re late.”  

Garbling out a reply about how it’s still five minutes prior to your agreed time, you tap your toothbrush loudly against the sink, likewise spitting out the foam from your mouth. “Fine, just hurry because I’m starving!”  

Being the gold-hearted person that she is (although that fact is not known to the public), your best friend had offered you a ride to the building where you’re scheduled to take the Korean Medical Licensure Examination today.  

The moment you settle yourself on the passenger seat, she greets you with a cheery “Good morning!” - one that was too cheery this early in the morning, and all the more way too cheery for a certain Kim Chohee. The two of you share a look and you lean in for a hug. “Hey, we’ll do just fine, okay? We’ve been studying our asses for this.”  

You don’t let go at once, looking up at her with a kissy face. She pushes your head backwards with a disgusted expression, keeping your face at an arm’s length. With an unattractive snort, you lean back in your seat, laughing your ass off at your poor attempt to lighten the mood.  

“Seriously, _______, I know you’ve been lusting after me for years even when you’re well aware of my ‘strictly beef’ diet,” Chohee states, dusting your imaginary germs off her shoulder. Turning on her Benz’s engine, she checks her reflection on the rear-view mirror before driving off.  

With both your hands occupied with the sandwiches you’d ordered from Subway, you use your pinky to connect your phone to play some Mozart via bluetooth. You try not to talk much about the test, knowing it will only cause unnecessary anxiety on both your ends.  

As Chohee leans towards you, you tilt her sandwich in her direction, letting her take a bite from her sub. “Hey, what’s an abscess again?”  

“Isn’t that more commonly known as boils? Built up pus within or below the surface of the skin?”  

Kim Chohee chokes on her BLT.  

“Pus?” she repeats, swallowing her bite with great strain. “Seriously? While I’m eating a sandwich? Couldn’t you be more subtle perhaps?”  

Equally just as surprised as she was, you narrow your eyes at her. “We’ve been studying medicine for the last six years! It shouldn’t be a surprise by now...and besides, we’ve heard and see a lot worse too...Would you rather have me say purulent exudate then? And waste my precious saliva on a six-syllable word rather than the common term for a liquid form of inflamm-”  

“Okay!” Chohee throws an arm up in defeat. “Sheesh _______! Don’t I deserve at least some gratitude for driving you to our exams?”  

“Plus we’ve already seen a cadaver too, which was supposedly one of the peaks of our med-student lives! What’s all this hype about some viscous mass on the surface of the skin?”  

Your best friend peeks at you from her peripheral vision, absolutely mortified. You love it.  

“Can you please remind me how we became friends in the first place?” Chohee shakes her head and increases the volume of the player as the droplets of rain start pouring down the windshield. “Anyways – I was meaning to ask the histological meaning of it.”    

“Oh, right,” you nod, recalling your notes, “well, it’s a localized collection of neutrophils and necrotic debris. Basically, it’s a suppurative inflammation which is associated with pyogenic bacteria and characterized by edema fluid admixed with neutrophils and necrotic cells. Staphylococcus aureus usually produces abscesses because it’s coagulase positive and coagulase helps the production of fibrinous material that localizes the infection.”  

As soon as you finish, silence takes over the car, and suddenly, a sniffle comes from Chohee’s side. With a matching frown, you best friend looks at you with shiny eyes. “Oh _______, what would I do without you?”  

With still half an hour to spare, you decide on relieving your bladder first before all the toilets get occupied later a couple of minutes before the actual exam. You take your time with it, even managing to put some effort in fixing your hair in clipping your fringe back so as not to eliminate all distractions possible during the exam.  

While looking through the large panel windows on your way back from the comfort rooms, you spot a familiar face – the last person you’d want to see on such an important day. Perhaps your prayers weren’t loud enough to actually reach heaven.  

There Jeon Jungkook was at the end of the hall, walking like a newly-canonized saint in all his glory. Most (if not all) of the female onlookers stare at him as he passes by, with Jungkook seemingly unbothered by their unwavering attention. You aren’t one for exaggeration, but these women look like they’re willing to worship the ground he walked on.  

Your nerdy, anti-Jeon Jungkook ass quickly hides beside a nearby locker, not wanting to be ‘graced’ by his presence, just as some girl coined a few moments ago as she headed to the toilets with her friends, collectively gushing over the boy.  

The popular kid turns to his right and you swore you’d never prayed harder and faster than any other time in your life. Your room assignment was just the one by the corner...and if he could just make a few more steps and head straight to the next classroom a-and...nope. It’s official. The universe loved shitting on you.  

Jungkook enters room 132, the very same numbers indicating your room assignment for the licensure exam. You ball up your fists in your spot by the lockers, releasing all your pent-up frustration in the simplest and least violent way possible: a long, tedious exhale.  

Gathering up all your self-control, you re-enter the classroom with an inward grimace, desperate to not have Jungkook’s eyes meet yours. He’s looking for a seat, and with all the back rows already occupied, he’s stuck with picking one from the first two rows.  

He’s already stood near the seat you’ve picked and you bore holes into the back of his head with your fake telepathy, silently ordering him to pick a chair on the other side of the aisle instead.  

Just as you had not wished for, Jungkook plops his huge ass backpack on the chair next to yours. You tread back to your seat as discreetly as possible, avoiding his gaze at all times as he rummages through his military backpack. What the fuck is in that thing in the first place? You won't be surprised if he manages to pull out a whole microwave inside – and yet funnily enough, he can’t seem to own a single damn pencil.  

As you were minding your own businesses (hopefully it stays that way for the rest of eternity), you catch the other students discussing surgical cases last minute.  

“Hey, which artery is the one for transection for an epidural hematoma?”  

“Was this the kid that got hit by a fastball in the head?”  

“What happened?”  

“Poor boy got hit in the temporal area during a baseball tournament. Remained conscious during the rest of the day but during the same evening he gets a severe headache with vomiting and confusion. When they got to Severance he got scheduled for immediate surgery for epidural hematoma.”

“That sounds awful…”  

“I’m not sure which artery it was again though…”

If that were the case...then it’d be the transection of a branch of the middle meningeal artery...but then you wouldn’t want to answer that out of the blue and get mistaken for being too snoopy…

Instead, you reach for the bottle of water by the legs of your chair, likewise hearing the same answer coming out of Jungkook’s mouth in a whisper. Huh. You raise a brow. Well, there was a major chance he knew the case since he came from Yonsei too, just as you had speculated from some of your roommates who seemed like they came from the same school after mentioning Severance Hospital.  

The group continue discussing their answers when this girl, who had an obnoxiously unnatural high-pitched voice, approaches Jungkook.  

“Jungkook-oppa?”  

Oppa? OPPA?!

You wanted to throw up. This girl looked at least two-three years older than him. At the least. Guess Jeon was really more of a fuckboy than Chohee would ever admit. “We were just discussing something and we’re really unsure of our answers, maybe a smart oppa like you would know?”  

With as much discretion as you could muster, you adjust in your seat, leaning a little bit towards their conversation as you eavesdrop like the nosy person that you are.  

“The surgery was a transection of the meningeal artery,” says Jeon nonchalantly like it’s the most basic thing in the world, still scrolling through his phone. Silence ensues after that. That’s it?! He’s not even going to bother explaining-  

Jungkook exhales as he puts his phone down. “Epidural hemorrhages result from a rupture of one of the meningeal arteries, as these arteries supply the dura and run between the dura and the skull. Plus you said temporal area right?” he asks, facing one of the guys.  

“The artery involved is usually the middle meningeal artery - a branch of the maxillary artery, as the skull fracture is usually in the temporal area. Since the bleeding is of arterial origin, symptoms are rapid in onset even though he seemed normal for a few hours. If they didn’t bring him to the hospital that same evening, he could’ve had tentorial herniation and would have eventually died.”  

As much as you hate to admit it - you’re beyond impressed. Chohee always stays true to her word, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was still a jerk for clearly cutting the line at the subway.  

The girls coo over him, praising him over how cool he looked by explaining his answer. Jungkook settles back on his seat like he hadn’t just perfectly given an on-point pathological explanation for a neuro case.  

The group continues their review, until they’ve come to another question they’re unsure of. “Jungkook-ssi, would you know where the rupture of a berry aneurysm of the Circle of Willis would likely produce hemorrhage?”  

With only ten minutes left, you’d usually be preparing yourself mentally but this group and Jungkook’s intervention has you all ears once more. Nothing wrong with some last minute review, right?  

“It’s the subdural space.”  

Wow. Okay, quick and close but wrong. Impressive wit though.  

You open your mouth to say something but you hesitate as it dawns on you that you really aren’t part of this group and you’re not the one being asked. Jungkook not missing a beat gets a collective ‘ooh’ from the group, who’s clearly impressed at how quickly he’s answered the question.  

Meanwhile, your conscience is making you contemplate on your earlier hesitation with the voice of the angel on your right shoulder telling you it isn’t right to let the wrong answer pass just like that, especially on a day like this. The devil on your left, however, tells you otherwise. You go with the former.  

Amongst their murmurs of mutual praise for Jungkook (you bet this man is rejoicing inside with all the attention he’s getting, despite looking nonchalant), you take a deep breath and say the correct answer, voice coming out louder than expected.  

“Excuse me?” another ‘spectator’ says, jutting her chin towards you.  

“I said,” you look up at her, “it’s actually the subarachnoid space.”  

“Are you sure?” she retorts.  

Seriously? Just because you’re not some fuckboy jock who smolders at all boobed humans means you can’t be sure with your answer?  

“Hey! I know you!” Someone exclaims from the side, causing everyone to turn their heads toward him, “You’re the foreigner valedictorian at SNU!” Similar to their earlier praises directed towards Jungkook, the same dudes marvel at your most recent accomplishment. You give a shy smile in return, quietly thanking the stranger for the sudden confidence boost.  

“Jungkook-oppa is also the valedictorian at Yonsei.”  

Well, that didn’t last for long...somebody has always got to rain on your parade. You won’t allow this girl though, not today.  

You purse your lips, collecting your thoughts first before explaining it to them. “Subarachnoid hemorrhages, although they are much less common than hypertensive intracerebral hemorrhages, but the former are...more often than not...resultant of a rupture of a berry aneurysm.” You pause momentarily when someone drags his seat closer to yours, “Go on please.”  

“Right, um...berry aneurysms are most commonly found at the Circle of Willis, usually by the junction of the communicating artery and the cerebral artery. Chances of rupture increase with age and cause marked bleeding into the subarachnoid space and produces severe headaches.” The same dude earlier blinks at you, urging you to explain further, “uh...additional symptoms may include vomiting, pain, stiffness of the neck, and papilledema. Death may follow rapidly as well.”  

A few from the people gathered around your seat clap their hands, along with compliments and offers along the lines of marriage and organ swaps.  

Someone mentions seeing the proctor approach the room and the group immediately disperses, everyone rushing back to their seats as quickly as possible. A middle-aged man enters, tells everyone to bring out their pencils and place their stuff by the platform, then momentarily leaves for the restroom.  

Jungkook fishes through his bag, turning each pocket inside and out over and over again. There’s no way this kid actually-- “Shit, where did that pencil go?” he murmurs, going through his bag once more. Looking away, you bite your lip to stop yourself from snickering. Jeon Jungkook is definitely on a different level.  

As expected, your entertaining seatmate calls you and asks for a pencil. With a deceivingly enthusiastic nod, you retrieve a pencil from your case just beside your chair. Your life after meeting Jungkook at the subway had finally led to this moment. He clears his throat and you figure it’s signaling the coming of another obnoxious comment.  

“Oh, I’m sorry, this wasn’t meant for you,” you look at him with the most apologetic look you can muster. Then you look at him, down then up, just as he had done back in the library, you smile widely before winking at him, making him hand your extra pencil over to the guy sat next to him, “Thanks, babe.”  

Jungkook scowls hard and you rejoice inside your head, making sure that your face doesn’t register the slightest bit of jest. His  scowl however, does not last for long. “Hmm, you’re the girl from the library, right? Smart and feisty...maybe you are my type after all,” he murmurs, tongue poking his cheek. You scoff loudly, scrunching your face in disgust. “No thank you.”  

“Oppa,” the girl’s shrill voice calls him one more time and you face forward to freely roll your eyes. If you aren’t mistaken, there’s even a hint of mild annoyance on Jungkook’s features. “Don’t mind her, oppa. You can have my extra pencil instead.” She tsks. “Some people just don’t know when to quit.”  

At least she got something right this morning: you don’t know when to quit. 

© joontier 2021

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Medical Instruction Vd 1″

First day back at school, so forgive me for being short :) 

“Before we get started, I just wanted to make sure that it is known that all parties involved in these videos have agreed to let me use their footage for training purposes, though they may not be used for anything else in accordance with Human Medical Privacy Laws. These tapes will go directly to the intergalactic college of interspecies biology and medicine. Those who are found to use this footage in any way contrary to its original purpose will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law”

-

The camera turns on shaking form side to side over the floor spinning quickly from the right and then to the left before finally leveling out on an image of a hallway. The Vrul scuttles along the floor with great purpose small fleet clattering against the cold metal. He turns to look at the camera, “I just got a call up the Medical bay for a human in significant respiratory distress also complaining of chest pain, so we are going to head up there and see what is going on. Now I have been the operational medical officer aboard this ship for a while now, and I have seen almost everything there is to see. Doing medicine for humans is…. Well it’s a wild ride simply because of their combination of durability and breakability. They break horribly easily and in horrific ways, but are able to live through it when they do, and that leaves it up to the medical staff to make sure that they  are quickly treated so that the shock of their injuries doesn’t send them down the road of you know…. Not being alive.”

They hurried up a hallway following after the little doctor pausing for a few seconds before the medical bay doors which opened with a hiss. A wave of sound washes over the camera, people talking and someone breathing rather heavily. The camera pans up to show a group of humans gathered around a third sitting on the edge of one of the hospital beds. They are breathing fast and heavy a hand on their chest eyes wide panicked.

The crowd opens up as the little doctor walks in.

“What do we have?”

“30 year old male with racing heart, difficulty breathing, tingling hands, dizziness, and chest pain.”

The human was breathing even harder now looking around frantically, “I….I….I’m dying….. I think I’m having a heart attack…..I can’t breathe.”

“Alright, let’s get an EKG going first thing.” The little doctor gets to work very quickly all four arms working as he begins to speak, “Now the obvious worry here is the case of chest pain, which in humans can be an indication of a heart attack. Now the heart is a very major organ in a human, and acts as a pump to move blood around the body. The blood contains oxygen and infection fighting cells etc. With a heart attack one of those little vessels in the organ is blocked, usually by plaque or fatty deposits causing death in parts of the heart muscle. Now this human is generally too young and too fit for any of that to happen…” He turns to the human, “Is there a history of heart attack or heart disease in your family?”

The human shakes their head.

“Has this every happened to you before?”

Another head shake.

The doctor ripped off a couple of sticky white circles and attached them to the human’s chest, “Now this will give us a good look of what is going on in there.” There was a pause for a minute as they continued working.

The doctor glanced at the instruments once the information began coming in, “Alright, so this is good news, the heart IS beating fast, but there does not appear to be any blockage, and it is not fast enough to be considered tachycardia. Also their blood oxygen level is within acceptable range meaning that it isn’t likely to be some other issue. Now that leaves our post likely option as being a panic attack.”

He walked over to the human to get their attention, “Do you have a history of anxiety disorder in your family?”

“A few …. Uncles.” He panted, “But it has to be…. A heart attack.”

“Well your heart is actually fine. I think in this case you ARE having a panic attack, now you are alright, this can happen to anyone not just people with a disorder, ok. Now just humor me, and I and I want you to take in one big breath counting to seven, hold it for five and then blow out at five seconds.” The human looked very skeptical, but at the order of the doctor they began.

He left the instruction to one of the other attendees, “You see, this is actually quite common in humans. Emotional functions are very closely intertwined with their physical functions mostly due to their greatly superior fight or flight mechanism. Humans have a very quick physical reaction to panic that causes the heart to beat faster, digestion to shut down and the pupils to dilate. The breathing will also speed up as you have seen. The problem is the human body reacts to the stress of being chased by a predator in the same way it reacts to, social stress, or an approaching deadline.

In this cause stress, and an elevated heart rate could have trigged a panic attack, where the body is having these physical symptoms despite the brain, and now they are trying to figure out an explanation. They generally assume they are having a heart attack or that something else horrible is about to happen, even if it is not.

He turned back to check on the human, whose heart rate had gone down a bit. They were looking a little better, but there still seemed to be a way to go.

“We are just going to have him continue this breathing exercise which is designed to activate the parasympathetic nervous system and calm down the feelings of anxiety and panic. I always find it interesting that the one thing that makes humans the best and dealing with extreme stress, is also the one thing that makes them crumble under more mild states of stress.

***

“So we have been called in again this time, we have a 25 year old male presenting with, extreme abdominal pain, vomiting, nausea, and a low grade fever.” The doctor walked in wearing more protective gear than he had last time. The camera pans up to another human lying on one of the beds curled into a ball moaning, face screwed up in pain, hands clutched around his middle rocking slowly back and forth in a writhing sort of way. One of the other doctors had placed a metal bowl by the human’s head as they groaned.

The doctor moved forward and had the human roll onto his back, though the human did not seem as if he wanted to. The alien doctor listened to the human’s innards, and then began lightly pressing on the abdominal cavity. As soon as he did, the human yelped in pain and curled up again looking as if he was about to be sick.

“Abdominal pain in the lower right quadrant, I would wager to say this is probably a case of appendicitis.” The doctor motioned for one of the orderlies to grab a machine and roll it over, “Now the human appendix is a part of the intestines that was long thought to be useless or a vestigial structure that humans used more when they had to clear large amounts of plant material through their digestive tract. In many cases it acts as a blind pocket that sometimes collects bacteria and then becomes inflamed. You CAN fix it with antibiotics, but the general consensus is removal.” He pulled the machine into position, using a short wand covered in cold gel to pass over the human’s skin just above the problem spot.

“Ah, just like I thought, you see that right there.” He pointed to the screen, “This right here is the inflammation being caused by the infection, and the reason that the human is going to be in so much pain right now. I would suggest at this point that we just go in and remove it with a simple laparoscopic appendectomy. As far as procedures goes, this one is actually relatively easy and should take no more than a few minutes for me to perform.  Now before you go questioning me about the time frame for this surgery, I do remind you that I am the most experienced surgeon in the galaxy. I guarantee the prep for this surgery will take longer than my ability to actually preform it.”

The human groaned.

“Don’t worry, we will have you fixed up almost immediately.”

***

“I find that there are a few general things you want to look for when treating humans. The first big one is energy level. Your average human is going to be very…. Sharp you will see it in the eye and head movements, they will, or should be very energetic with their head and arm movements, especially around the chest and shoulders. Humans like using their hands to talk. A lot of the time you can tell something is wrong with a human when they are listless and slow to respond. You may see their eyes wandering and they won’t focus on you, now some humans behave that way, but your average human will generally try to make eye contact with you at some point. Watch to make sure they are supporting their own heads, or does it seem to be bobbing or tilting in one way or another. A few other things is a general change in appetite from what is considered usual. A stressed or sick human may eat too little or too much. If your human appears confused or is having trouble answering simple questions, you will want to check them over straight away. As I said before, a sick human might appear listless, lethargic, they will tend to sleep a lot, and they may be irritable. I would make it a point to warn most students about that fact when dealing with humans, sometimes in cases of serious injury  humans tend to act in anger to pain, so they might try to fight you off or to get away, especially if the pain is really bad, they are sort of resorting back to their more baser instincts. Occasionally you may have to strap them down, or even sedate them , while there are a few humans who like comfort when they are in pain, there is a large group of them who do not like to be touched or talked to when they are. I would say that is also an important thing to note, both psychological and physical pain can cause a human to isolate themselves form you, so just make sure you are watching for those signs because they can be indicators that something is seriously wrong.”

[fuzzywitchsoul]

They Had Mild Covid. Then Their Serious Symptoms Kicked In.

Pam Belluck is a health and science writer whose honors include sharing a Pulitzer Prize and winning the Nellie Bly Award for Best Front Page Story. She is the author of Island Practice, a book about an unusual doctor. @PamBelluckMs. Khan said that she experienced “heart palpitations if I just got up to open the curtains.” Her cardiologist said she was the fifth previously healthy young person to walk into his office that week. In the beginning, her fatigue was so severe that walking two or three laps around her 600-square-foot apartment would exhaust her for the rest of the day. In addition, she said that she had “really intense mood fluctuations that don’t feel like they’re mine.”“Waking up every day in this body, sometimes hope feels a little dangerous,” said Ms. Khan, who will soon start the cognitive rehab program. “I have to wonder: Am I going to recover, or am I going to just figure out how to live with my new brain?”In his job, “my clients would tell me things like a passcode or an address and I couldn’t remember it,” he said.At Mr. Palacios’s first appointment with the Northwestern clinic, “I did the cognitive tests, and I failed them all,” he said. On a return visit, he did another battery of tests, he said, “and I didn’t do so hot on that, either.”Mr. Palacios was referred for cognitive rehab at a long-established program in Chicago that helps give patients strategies to manage and improve memory, organizational and cognitive difficulties. But he didn’t go, he said, because “I completely forgot.” He plans to go now.In the Northwestern study, 43 percent of the patients had depression before having Covid-19; 16 percent had previous autoimmune diseases, the same percentage of patients who had previous lung disease or had struggled with insomnia.Experts cautioned that because the study was relatively small, these pre-existing conditions might or might not be representative of all long-term patients. “We are all seeing very small pieces of the elephant in terms of the long Covid group,” Dr. Bell said. “Some of us are seeing tail; some of us are seeing trunk.”Along with neurological symptoms, 85 percent of the patients were experiencing fatigue, and nearly half had shortness of breath. Some also had chest pain, gastrointestinal symptoms, variable heart rate or blood pressure. Nearly half of the participants were experiencing depression or anxiety.“I was cleaning my gutters and I forgot where I was, I forgot what I was doing on the roof,” Mr. Palacios said. When he remembered, he added, the idea of doing “something as simple as climbing on a ladder all of a sudden became a mountain.”Dr. Allison P. Navis, a neuro-infectious disease specialist at Mount Sinai Health System in New York City who was not involved in the study, said that about 75 percent of her 200 post-Covid patients were experiencing issues like “depression, anxiety, irritability or some mood symptoms.”Participants in the study were overwhelmingly white, and 70 percent were women. Dr. Navis and others said that the lack of diversity quite likely reflected the demographics of people able to seek care relatively early in the pandemic rather than the full spectrum of people affected by post-Covid neurological symptoms.“Especially in New York City, the majority of patients who got sick with Covid are people of color and Medicaid patients, and that’s absolutely not the patients one sees at the post-Covid center,” Dr. Navis said. “The majority of patients are white, often they have private insurance, and I think we have to figure out a little bit more what’s going on there with those disparities — if it’s purely just a lack of access or are symptoms being dismissed in people of color or if it’s something else.”In the Northwestern study, Dr. Koralnik said that because coronavirus testing was difficult to obtain early in the pandemic, only half of the participants had tested positive for the coronavirus, but all had the initial physical symptoms of Covid-19. The study found very little difference between those who had tested positive and those who had not. Dr. Koralnik said that those who tested negative tended to contact the clinic about a month later in the course of the disease than those who tested positive, possibly because some had spent weeks being evaluated or trying to have their problems addressed by other doctors.Ms. Khan was among the participants who had a negative test for the virus, but she said she later tested positive for coronavirus antibodies, proof that she had been infected.Another study participant, Eddie Palacios, 50, a commercial real estate broker who lives in Naperville, a Chicago suburb, tested positive for the coronavirus in the fall, experiencing only a headache and loss of taste and smell. But “a month later, things changed,” he said.Across the country, doctors who are treating people with post-Covid neurological symptoms say the study’s findings echo what they have been seeing.“We need to take this seriously,” said Dr. Kathleen Bell, the chairwoman of the physical medicine and rehabilitation department at the University Texas Southwestern Medical Center, who was not involved in the new study. “We can either let people get worse and the situation gets more complicated, or we can really realize that we have a crisis.”Dr. Bell and Dr. Koralnik said many of the symptoms resembled those of people who had concussions or traumatic brain injuries or who had mental fogginess after chemotherapy.In the case of Covid, Dr. Bell said, experts believe that the symptoms are caused by “an inflammatory reaction to the virus” that can affect the brain as well as the rest of the body. And it makes sense that some people experience multiple neurological symptoms simultaneously or in clusters, Dr. Bell said, because “there’s only so much real estate in the brain, and there’s a lot of overlap” in regions responsible for different brain functions.“If you have inflammation disturbances,” she said, “you can very well have cognitive effects and things like emotional effects. It’s really hard to have one neurological problem without having multiple.”In the Northwestern study, many experienced symptoms that fluctuated or persisted for months. Most improved over time, but there was wide variation. “Some people after two months are 95 percent recovered, while some people after nine months are only 10 percent recovered,” said Dr. Koralnik. Five months after contracting the virus, patients estimated, they felt on average only 64 percent recovered.The study of 100 patients from 21 states, published on Tuesday in The Annals of Clinical and Translational Neurology, found that 85 percent of them experienced four or more neurological issues like brain fog, headaches, tingling, muscle pain and dizziness.“We are seeing people who are really highly, highly functional individuals, used to multitasking all the time and being on top of their game, but, all of a sudden, it’s really a struggle for them,” said Dr. Igor J. Koralnik, the chief of neuro-infectious diseases and global neurology at Northwestern Medicine, who oversees the clinic and is the senior author of the study.The report, in which the average patient age was 43, underscores the emerging understanding that for many people, long Covid can be worse than their initial bouts with the infection, with a stubborn and complex array of symptoms.This month, a study that analyzed electronic medical records in California found that nearly a third of the people struggling with long Covid symptoms — like shortness of breath, cough and abdominal pain — did not have any signs of illness in the first 10 days after they tested positive for the coronavirus. Surveys by patient-led groups have also found that many Covid survivors with long-term symptoms were never hospitalized for the disease.A new study illuminates the complex array of neurological issues experienced by people months after their coronavirus infections.

In the fall, after Samar Khan came down with a mild case of Covid-19, she expected to recover and return to her previous energetic life in Chicago. After all, she was just 25, and healthy.

But weeks later, she said, “this weird constellation of symptoms began to set in.”

She had blurred vision encircled with strange halos. She had ringing in her ears, and everything began to smell like cigarettes or Lysol. One leg started to tingle, and her hands would tremble while putting on eyeliner.

She also developed “really intense brain fog,” she said. Trying to concentrate on a call for her job in financial services, she felt as if she had just come out of anesthesia. And during a debate about politics with her husband, Zayd Hayani, “I didn’t remember what I was trying to say or what my stance was,” she said.

By the end of the year, Ms. Khan was referred to a special clinic for Covid-related neurological symptoms at Northwestern Memorial Hospital in Chicago, which has been evaluating and counseling hundreds of people from across the country who are experiencing similar problems.

Now, the clinic, which sees about 60 new patients a month, in-person and via telemedicine, has published the first study focused on long-term neurological symptoms in people who were never physically sick enough from Covid-19 to need hospitalization, including Ms. Khan.

[emotional-blender]

Hi Shan 🥺 I hope you feel better eventually. Just looked at your master list and rereading some nurse Calum stuff and I wanted to know, when’s the last time he got sick and couldn’t go to work? What was he like? 😥

hi anon!1 thank you so much, i really appreciate that and this ask for helping bring me out of my own mind for a few minutes. also, oops, i wrote about the first time he had to call in sick but i think the last time was probably sometime last fall before the pandemic; pr there is the possibility he got covid and sat isolated at home, fighting it off with fluids and rest and beating on his own chest with cipped hands to loosen up the fluids/laying prone (on his stomach) tp try amd aid the speed of his own recovery. he 100% would have went back to work when he was better, because he's stubborn, but would have considered moving out or rooming with a coworker to protect you (because nurse!cal is protective as hell and even more stubbown).

***

the first time calum, as a nurse, was ever sick enough to not go in, he fought it. on the first of three night shifts he showed up to the nurses station when he usually does and the lights of the unit seem a little brighter than usual. he's sure the caffiene in the iced coffee, and in the exta hot one he has in his hands will fix him up; and the tylenol he'd thrown back in the car. he's gone about a year out of nursing school without having to call in sick but he knows it happens to everyone. he wondered, briefly, before his shift if he should have called in, if they could find anyone on such short notice to come in on time. maybe they'd find someone to get there before mdinight. he pushes through the dull throb at the back of his head. it doesn't get any better as the hours go on and when ten pm and his break time hits, the three hours he's been there feel more like seven.

"feel like fuckin shit," he remarks as he sits in th ebreak room, cracking open a can of canada dry and pouring it over some ice chips he grabbed from the kitchen on his way off floor. he doesn't normally take any formal breaks on a night shift - there's usually enough down time to sit in the nursing station and eat his dinner while he charts the evenings activities and does a check of medication orders for the morning. the night shift is a different kind of busy than the day shift. administraton isn't around and occasionally a nurse from the unit over shows up to ask for advice on something that's more medical and urgent than they feel comfortable handling. calum's been that person, wandering to the next unit when his was too busy for someone to give his decision making a double check. it's busy, but it's not like the day shift. there's usually time to sit, and if there isn't, then there wasn't enough time for him to take a break anyway.

the tiny blonde woman sitting in the break room with him gives him aquick once over and tilts her head sideways yet.

"think you can stick it out?" she asks, before her eyes glance up to the clock on the wall. it's been a calm night. qyuet, but no one would ever dare say the Q word. ever. calum's departure midshift, at 10pm would turn her calm quiet night into a busy one.

"yeah, for sure," he answers quickly qith a laugh. honestly, the thought of going home hadn't even crossed his mind. not seriously. in truth, he can hear a professor from nursing school in the back of his mind.

"drug up calum, it's friday," she had said to him at 9am on a friday when his nise was stuffed and his sinuses were blocked, his brown skin tinged pink and a little swollen from the inflammation. when the words came from her mouth that's exactly what he was doing, downing a couple day time cold and flu capsules with a gatorade form hydration. even nursing school, before it was a job, didn't allow for sick days. missed labs meant make up labs on the weekend and extra assignments to prove he'd really learned the material. it was better to just show up. at work, it was better to just show up; unless he was actively hurling, or in any state that kept him from wandering too far from a toilet.

he'd finish his shift with a couple more tylenol and a distinct lack of food ingested because something didn't feel... right. he masked before going into every room, explaining to one woman who was adamant that she wasn't sick enough that he needed to worry, that it was her he was protecting and not himself.

it was five am when the queasyness hit him, when the headache seemed amplify ten fold. as much as he tried to muscle his way through it, deny the fact that, despite the constant hand washing and the way his hands cracked a little from the sanitizing, he had managed to catch something.

"you back tonight?" the blonde woman from the break room asked him as the shift wrapped up, a small crowd of tired looking nurses waiting inthe nursing station for slightly less tired day shift nurses to show up.

"no, i already called steph," he shook his head, lips turning down as he gave her a dramatic pout. "i haven't used any sick days though, so," he shrugged a moment later. in truth, he was still so fascinated by the fact that he was working just as hard as he had been in school, only now he was getting paid for it. somehow that made it easier to fight through any ailments. he was young still; the fatigue hadn't quite hit him the way it'd hit lorraine, a fifty something year old woman with a bad back, who always jumped at the opportunity for paid time off when the amount of patients on the floor was too low for all the hands present.

it was a breath of relief he felt as he left the hospital and got into his car, driving himself back to the small apartment you shared with him because you were still saving for a downpayment on a house. he stuffed his scrubs into the laundry hamper as soon as it was in view, his  naked body wandering into the bathroom.

it was a saturday morning. the wake up you expected was a freshly showered calum sliding into bed with you, not the sounds of him wretching in the next room over. your movements were sleepy, padding your way to the kitchen and putting some ice cubes from the fridge in a glass and pouring some apple juice over them. you grabbed a sleeve of crackers, going back to your bedroom and leaving them on his nightstand before  you went to gently push the bathroom door open.

"you doin okay?" you asked, eyes cast upward at the ceiling because he never wanted you to see him at his weakpoints.

"yep," he answered quick, sitting back on the floor and looking at you. you couldn't help but let your eyes fall to where he was sitting, the look in them softening at the sight.

"i'm gonna get you a cloth, okay?" you told him, even though your words hung in mid air as if you were asking permission. you didn't want for a response before disappearing to the tiny hall closet and grabbing a couple of facecloths, running them under the cold tap water before handing him one and setting the dry one on the counter where he could reach.

"put some apple juice and crackers by the bed," you let him know, giving him a small smile. he nods up at you and you can see the way his face screws up, clenching your eyes shut as he turns away from you, facing the toilet again, gripping it as he wretches one more time.

you don't hang around and watch, closing the door behind you and letting him have privacy while you go to the bedroom to get dressed, you make the bed, turning down his side of it. you scoop duke up into your arms and put his leash on him, finally bringing him down to the small patch of gradd near your building so he can do what he needs to. apartment life is weird, he's trained well enough to go into the bathroom and do waht he needs to in the tub overnight, it's easy enough to turn the shower on and wipe down every morning before you get in, flushing any turds he may have left. in fact, you almost perfer it to having to pick up poo from the grass and bring it to the trash, but the bathroom in your apartment is occupied. you have a feeling it will be for awhile.

"cal?" you ask as you come back into the bedroom. hes laying on his back, still naked but showered, staring at the ceiling and concentrating on rbeathing. his answer is a groan, a simple noise to let you know he heard you.

"gonna go to the store," you let him know. he nods his head a little and you let yourself look at him, just to make sure he's okay before you diappear from back to the door of the apartment, grabbing your keys this time and leaving.

he's wretching again when you come back an hour later, stomach filled with some fast food breakfast because you don't want to cook and make the whole apartment smell like anything that's upsetting to his stomach. you wince at the sound and set your bags down on the kitchen counters, rifling through them for the medicine you went out for.

"hey, cal. i don't know if you can keep it down, but i got some dramammine," you meet him back in the bedroom and he looks at you like you're an angel.

"thank fuck," he mumbles, and you hamd him te box and a fresh bottle of tylenol. he's a little shakey as he pops them in his mouth, sipping carefully with the apple juice you'd left before. he gets up to wretch one more time and then... he sleeps. he sleeps and sleeps and you check on him after a couple of hours, feeling his forehead while he snores and press a kiss to his forehead.

"hey," his voice is raspier than usual and you know it's from the sheer amount of throwing up  he's done today.

"hey, you," you let your hand move to smooth back over his hair. "how you feelin?"

"like shit," he's honest and groans before turning his head to bury his face into his pillow. "fuckin felt it last night before work but i was a stubborn asshole," he explains and you can't help but shake your head, a breath of laughter leaving you.

"i don't know how that's different than normal but okay," you let the words out with a tiny smirk and he glares at you, but not seriously.

"you want some broth?" you ask, raising your eyebrows. "maybe a shower. i made clean sheets so if you shower i can get rid of these ones and they won't be all sweaty and gross,"

he nods his head and slowly pushes himself up, going slow, looking around the room before he moves for the medicine you brought him this morning. it's almist dinner time now, and they've undoubtedly worn off. he takes more before, still carefully sipping before he gets up and lets his arms wrap around your middle, back curling as he lets himself press his face into your neck. there's nothing to do but let your arms wrap around his sweaty body, rubbing over his back.

"thank you," he mumbles, before moving and pressing his lips to your cheek, refusing to kiss you right out on the lips even though he just rubbed his germs all over you; even though he knows he's been shedding whatever this is for days now; that if you're not already feeling it, maybe you will tomorrow.

"i got you," you nod, letting him go as he moves away, watching him as he leaves the room and moving to strip the bed so you can put those clean sheets on.

taglsit: @calumscalm @notinthesameguey  @treatallwithkindness @burstintocolor  @babyoria @lukeisbaby @zhangyixingxing1  @creampiecashton @myfavfanficsever

[bitchenfries]

The Mystery of Edgar Allan Poe's Death

The original master of horror, Edgar Allan Poe, died 166 years ago - but nobody can agree how and or why.

On Oct. 7, 1849, Poe, the author of such classics as "The Fall of the House of Usher," "The Black Cat," "The Tell Tale Heart," "The Raven" and "The Haunted Palace," died under shocking circumstances.

Four days earlier Poe was found by an employee of the local Baltimore paper in a gutter clad in someone else's clothes.

Poe was unable to explain how he got there after leaving his Virginia home five days earlier to travel to Philadelphia. He was taken to a nearby Washington Medical College hospital where he died at the ripe old age of 40.

According to The Smithsonian,there are as many theories about Poe's mysterious death as there are his tales of the bizarre.

He may have been murdered, a victim of "cooping," a notorious political practice in which people were forced to vote for a certain candidate and then later beaten or killed. Others blame the booze as Poe was an inveterate drinker. Some think he may have been a victim of rabies or a flu epidemic.

While his medical records have been lost, newspapers at the time say Poe may have been felled by a "congestion of the brain" or "cerebral inflammation".

Whatever the reason for his demise, Poe was one of the first American authors to become more popular in Europe than in the United States – in part due to translations by French poet Charles Baudelaire.

After his death, Poe's fame soon rose in America. He is forever enshrined as a literary genius who created the horror and mystery tales that still scare us.

And, as to his death, Poe himself wrote "That the play is the tragedy, 'Man,' And its hero, the Conqueror Worm".

[bitchscavenger]

find me

I've been living with my parents for twenty years before I moved out. My parents were happy, until my dad got heart attack and dying. That's where everything changes. Mom not really pleased when dad is drug induced and sleep all the time. She starts find another person to satisfy her attention. That time she got herself a boyfriend, who she talks bad all the time. I’m not mad at her, I’m glad she's happy, so was my dad.

Later, he got worse and died. Mom cried so hard, but she got her boyfriend by her side. She collects herself pretty good. Dad left enough to make her live her life alone. He even left her with her boyfriend. What a thoughtful man he is. I don't know where I stand or what should I feel for him to let her have another man while they are together. That's their problem, not mine. Then again, I’m such an ungrateful bad kid who didn’t care about what my parent do.

Despite that story, my mom always made me listened to her. So did my dad. I got no voice in my life. Only got ear to listened and body to do what I’ve been told. Even when I am stressing about my grades. Even if I got bullied in school. Even if I have eating disorder. They don’t know because they didn’t tell me to talk. Always listened and decide in silent. That’s what I do best. Every argument I made is a stupid idea.  As a prestige’s well-mannered family, I was born into, you need to be lady when you're a girl. I’m far for it, never have been a lady for once. Yes, I listened to them, but they’re not around enough no caging me in their house. I go out a lot. I join lots of school project and extracellular. That’s how I spent my live, living outside the world. Even they never really knew what I’ve done or who I’m with.

Mom always said "Don’t be stupid, you can’t do that, we don’t do that, I raised you to be better than that, go find something else"

That “stupid” word been embedded in my head. That phrase where she said how not enough I am. You can only being told so much before you start believed in them.  That it did. I believe my voice isn’t good. My word doesn’t matter. My existence isn’t important. 

I left to go to college abroad. Building my carrier into Olympian. I'm happy and contented and busy with work. Do job that I love, it’s heaven. I don’t even think of anything that time. I’m in love with my job and myself, never disappointing.

I get close with my family. Go home every year and call every month. But that just not enough. No matter how much I call them, I only listened, that’s what I do best and what they expect me. Pleasing everyone is exhausting, changing you into someone you don’t want to looked in the mirror. 

Nonetheless, I always listened and try to help as much as I can, just not vice versa. Maybe that’s my fault. I never tell them anything, just tell them what everybody already knows. Never let them in, hoping is hurting, I never open for hope. Hoping people do what you try to do, making them happy, when they can’t do the same. 

I didn’t tell how sick I am with myself. How hard to build myself. How tiring to eat something. How hard to looked into the mirror. How hard to be accepted. How hard to find something worth in you to fight. How exhausting to fight every time darkness took me back to the old me. Not even when I’m confident to tell my argument. Not when I’m happy knowing my worth. Not when I’m satisfied after five course meal I finish. I’m so used with my new self, living it and don’t need anyone to judge and don’t care. I don’t share myself with them. I’ve been raised to listened and that's what I best do and what made them happy. Until my disease kick in.

It's an autoimmune disease where there's inflammation in spinal cord and optic nerve. Google it NMO. First time I thought it only a near-sighted, then it became colorless and more and more blurred vision. I’m scared I’ll be blind, so I go to hospital. Well, knowing how hard I work and how little I rest, thought it only lack of focus from being tired. Two year later my body gave up. I just finish my Olympic final game in Brazil when all my arm and legs start to burn and tight and painful until I feel nothing. Can’t feel my arm and leg anymore. I give up and lost my gold medal. Collapsing on locker room.

It was my first injury, or so I thought. There just no muscle that inflamed. I work so hard for this I never risk my body. When my doctor said I need to stop because I push my muscle too much, I stop. I took my time and rest. Working on debate club in school or lazily study so I can graduate. I'm not ambitions but I enjoy doing sport, i love it and that's what my live have been.

They took me to hospital. I forget how long I was there, but nothing works. They give lots and lots of drug and nothing work. My body keep boring and I start losing my vision. Until my MRI test said I have spinal cord inflammation. That's the treatment start. A whole year I do psychotherapy. Alone. There only five people who know at first, my doctor my coach, my coach assistant and two of my teammates. They support me so much I’m grateful having them. 

I start focusing on finish collage while climb debating carrier because I got no energy to work my body muscle. News said I bailed and what a coward, close, cocky bitch I am. Yap, they talk trash about me because I don’t mingle on my first Olympic party. That what my family know too, and I let them. 

Also, at that time I felt that I am. Or my body is. My body bailed on me. It's such a shame that your body can't keep up with your mind. Living in your head, knowing what to do but can't. 

But I didn’t regret it. I’m glad I colas, so I get rid of toxicity in my live. Saving the best part and keeping it close. I’m happily working in school and climbing my debate carrier. Having debate teammates that never took pity on me. Country paid half of my treatment and I get help from support system, charity, and foundation. I know I won't heal. After a year full of physical therapy, I got my strength back. The relapse is on and off. I had my roommate slash best friend and debate teammates looked after me. It's pretty easy to treat me, either you wait until get better by myself or call ambulance which is my first and only emergency contact. Mostly the former because it isn’t a bad relapse.

I’m so lucking having her-kind of friend. The one who call all my bullshit no matter how sick I am. The kind who nagging me for my stupidity while clean up my mess. She knows I can feel when the symptoms start, just like get warning form deep down. That, usually I ditch the warning and she'll get crazy mad cause I didn’t tell her. But sometimes the symptoms came so suddenly I can’t even get a warning, that's when the worse came. God only know what cause it and she's the only one who really care. I don’t even care. My coach only care if it's interfered my training or impact my skill. Usually it isn’t. My relapse isn’t that bad, thank god. Even when I need to hit hospital, the recovery only takes one- or two-days max. But my best girl has too big heart not to care about me. And for once I hold on to her cause she knows my struggle from start, and I know her struggle from broken heart. Can’t say I have experience on that, but so far, my advice is good. Even my debate club friend asked me relationship advice. Guess romance movie hit on me very well.

I got back to Olympic eventually. After two years finishing collage and there's nothing to do than living my life the way I can, I decide I’m capable go back to field. It helps releasing stress and prevent relapse. My doctor clears me out. He can't say much actually. This is the kind of disease that you carry as long as you live. Only you can choose whether living your life the fullest or drowning in your misery. I choose the former.

Until one day, when I visit my parents. They told me merry this man. And I still have no voice in it, no matter how much debate competition I won, I won't win this because it’s no competition, purely dictating. It's for the best and he's a good man. We get married a year later. In his house back yard with a thousand guest. Besides my best friend as my maid of honor, my Olympic team that consist of ten people, my coach, and two coach assistant, my specialize doctor who treated me, and my eight teammate debate club friend that I know well enough to invite, it's nothing compared to his, his family or my family acquaintance. What can I say, I’m a person of myself, in my twenty-seven years I live, no other close friend I want to invite in my unimportant wedding. Can't say I’m happy to get married, but I don’t hate it either. He's a good man and I can do the same. He needs to get married to get his grandparents company and his parent is close friend to mine. Besides, I’m in my prime age to marry. I’m well mannered, independent, and have as much money as he is so he doesn’t need to worry I took all his wealth.

Until two year later when I got my first relapse after three hurt-less happy life. Just when I thought the disease gave up on me, it came back. What a bitch. We were having a gala that night, celebrating second company he builds. My body just give up on me after a dance. The problem is, I just finish my dance with his buddy I’ve been friend with when I told him to give me one more dance with him after he asked me. Media caught it. They all thought I’m having an affair and make a scene when my husband caught me. It gets worse when no one know what to do and took me to wrong hospital. I stay paralyzed and untreated right until the gossip reach my best friend, she's in other country, she called my doctor. He practices in different hospital, luckily, I paid him well and we kind of close and he came to my wedding, so he came as fast as he can. Though I still feel like an eternity cause my body burn like hell and it hurt so much, and I can’t move. 

A week later I got home without my husband there. He's mad cause I didn’t tell him anything and everything. The those feeling change into something else. He relied that we're only partner in this relationship. He's sick of me listening and doing whatever he wants without knowing what I want. I never mad, never cry, never disagree on his decision. Even if it’s wrong and cost him a lot. 

Like when he tells me we were going to move closer to his grandparents’ company, so he won’t need to much time on the road. And I told him that his grandparent company isn’t health, but I didn’t push. What can I say? Graduated in sains not business.

Told you what, I’m right. His grandparents’ company is collapsing, and he work ninety hour a week, only resulted more collapse. He wore himself so I retiree and help him a little in his company. I’m good at finding loophole and opportunity, so that I did. What he doesn’t know is, I’ve been invested my money on this company while I help him. In the end he got back. His company run well, and I resign. I built a home-schooling program and get coaching certificate, can't go too far away from field.

That only the beginning of his bad decision. Lots of bad client picking or investment choosing. But he always come back. Come home and winning like a child getting low grade in class. Again, I pick him up. I help and help and help until he builds his second company. Me, I’m just a night talker and helper of decision making, a nice, good wave that coach high school student while making multi million from good investment.

That time when I wake up from relapse. He knows everything. He knows I put money on his company, lots of money, and on rival company. He sees me as the good face wave turn into viper. With all the gossips running around. With me helping my husband turn into me stabbing him. 

"I know we don’t love each other the way husband and wave should be. Doesn’t mean we weren’t respect each other. I respect you and I care for you and I thought that the feelings mutual. I was wrong. Big wrong. They're right, nobody's perfect. Everyone has skeleton in their closet they try to hide, and I’m okay with that. I’m no saint, I have my sins. But you what hurt most, I never thought you capable on stabbing me behind my back, cheating on me, taking my company, controlling all my life with your sweet talk. I’m honest and open with you. I just want this marriage to work and I was happy. Verry happy until I realize my wave only want to take everything, I’ve been fighting for my whole life then leaving me cold."

He said it calmly. He used to have emotion pouring his eyes. When has he said it, his eyes flat? Nothing left here. Not even when I told him the truth. Nothing change when I told him I did that to help him, I never want anything from him, and I didn’t cheat on him, I never had much friend and his buddy is good to me like he is. I like both and I respect them. But that's not enough. Apparently caring for each other not enough to hold relationship.

The divorce not going smoothly. Media talk, but we didn’t go to court. I told my lawyer to give him everything I can to give. I’m the bad guy. But I didn’t take any think from him. I let go off my connection with him the day he chooses to trust media than his own wave. I know I didn’t live him the way I should be, but his feeling mutual, I do care of him. He just couldn’t see it and I couldn’t be sweeter just like any other woman.

I lost lots money; I left the house. I left the program I build, left my jobs as a coach. The job id enjoys so much. I left with two little bums in my stomach. Didn’t know I can get pregnant. My disease usually prevents to get pregnant. I had lots of miscarriage in the past. That’s why I’m used to having my heart broken. But never know that my pregnancies could go into seventeen weeks without complication. 

I was debating with myself whether to tell him or not. We're only divorce for two months and I don’t want to him to think worse of me. Deciding to leave and live near the best friend and her husband. They live in small town with great art program in the community. 

For the past five months of pregnancies is hard. Not just hard, its nightmare. The babies strong but I’m not. Lots of relapse and drugs and when the baby finally born, I was hospitalized for two months. It’s been hard and even harder with twins. But I survived. We survived. We live.

While I was hospitalized, my ex-husband came looking for me. He never gets hold on me. In this small town, everyone knows everyone. They knew me from media and the used to hate me. But they love my best friend, so they love me eventually. Knowing my real story, they understand. Life is hard, they make it easier. The community is very open and helped a lot. So, when my ex looking for me, they took pity one us, me, and him. They see us as the victim of media.

A month later he came back again and found me with my baby. I tell him they're his. I know because I only had sex with him. I don’t even contact his buddy anymore. Turn out he just want to apologize for his behavior. He wants me back but we both know we won’t love each other. So, he goes back to the big city after asking me to live with him again because we had babies and he want to be together with them. I just don’t feel it. I’m done doing whatever people told me to do. I like live in small town and I’m happy. Working as an artist in new community. Knitting, crocheting, sewing, painting, sculpting, doing all new art I haven’t done before. With my baby and my disease that have been came on and off more after I gave birth. Finally, I found myself. After lots of struggle, lost and found, ups and down, I know I’d like to try my new life and again living my live fullest. After all, that’s all I can do

[commander-rahrah]

Residency (An Open Heart Fanfic): PART THREE

Pairing: MC (Jordynne Holland) X Ethan Ramsey X Bryce Lahela; MC X Bryce; MC X Ethan

Masterlist: Click Here

Chapter Rating: T (Swearing, Kissing)

Word Count: 3700+

Description: Ethan cannot “get” the Rookie -- he can’t figure out the mystery, and it’s driving him crazy. A trip to Donahue’s and a couple glasses of scotch might make it better - or not. 

Disclaimer: Characters, storyline, and parts of the dialogue are taken from Pixelberry’s Choices. They fully own the characters, dialogue, backgrounds, etc. MC Jordynne’s background is my own creation, based loosely off of MC in-game’s personality and provided with more details.

Author’s Note: Here it comes: the jealousy... Eek! I really like flipping things from in-game and turning them into Ethan’s point of view. There are definitely more updates to come! If you want to be tagged in upcoming chapters, reply or DM me! :) 

Taglist: @drakewalkerfantasy  @owleyes374​ @professorortegasstudent

Previous Updates: Part One, Part Two

PART THREE:

Ethan rapped his hands on his wooden desk, breathing in through his nose deeply. Every orientation day was frustrating but this one topped all the rest. The Rookie, Holland — she got under his skin. He stared at the chocolate bar she got him, sitting on his desk — untouched. “You know, it’s okay to treat yourself sometimes.” Her voice echoed in his head, as he played with the corner of the wrapping.

She exasperated him — he reprimanded her in front of the entire waiting room, he scolded her with her first patient, praised Verma over her. But she still bought him the chocolate, she teased him back, stood up to him. He had taken this approach before with interns — tough love, a strong mentor to give them a backbone. But someone who would also leave him alone, for fear of further yelling or discipline.  

But she was so different, somehow.  She took his advice to heart, she let Verma take the credit for the save. Hell, she even went out of her way to help him with Barbara and her medication. He couldn’t figure her out. He didn’t get it. He was a world-class diagnostician — how could he not get her yet.

Glancing down at this leather watch, Ramsey realized it had been a few hours since he had last seen the Rookie. He would give her about one more hour, before stepping in with her patient. Grabbing his white coat off of the back of his chair, Ethan slid it on and adjusted the sleeves in front of the mirror on the back of his door. Tousling his hair slightly — he suddenly stopped himself. Who was he grooming himself for? Shaking his head, he went to grab onto the door handle when his pager went off. He was being paged down to Holland’s patient. She had figured it out — or was asking for help. Either way, Ethan was curious to see what she wanted.

He stood just outside of room 532 for a moment, watching as Dr. Holland spoke with her now-conscious patient. Her ponytail was becoming less and less perfect throughout the day — pieces of it falling over the nape of her neck and down her temples, framing her face. The white lab coat she had changed into after their emergency in the waiting room was still clean — a little wrinkled though.

She was speaking candidly, as her patient apologized to her. “You have nothing to be sorry for Annie.”

“But if I would have known about my allergy, you wouldn’t have gotten in trouble with that hot doctor.” He heard the young girl say.

A soft laugh escaped Jordynne’s mouth, “You don’t need to worry about Dr. Ramsey and I. I’m just glad you’re okay now.”

Ethan felt his face flush red, as he heard Doctor Holland link together he was the “hot doctor — heat spread down his neck. He had overheard some of the nurses and interns calling him that before, but he usually just rolled his eyes or ignored them. Now, he almost felt a twinge of a smile on his face. Suddenly, he couldn’t handle hearing anything else and he stepped into the room announcing himself with a cough.

Jordynne met his eyes, an uneasy smile spreading across her face.

“I’m told you wanted to see me?” He said, raising his eyebrows at her.

She nodded, grabbing onto the railings on her patient’s bed. “Annie’s going to be okay.”

“That’s good news. I imagine this wasn’t a random miracle…,” Folding his arms across his chest, he leaned his shoulder against the doorframe. “So? I’m waiting to hear whatever brilliant insight you arrived at.” He tried to hide his curiosity — Did she actually figure it out? Or was it another failed attempt?

“I wanna know too!” Her patient said, using her elbows to sit up a little straighter.

“It was never the bacteria. But it was something that happened on her trip to Indonesia.” She turned her eyes back to her patient, “Annie, you told me you ‘went for’ your scuba license. You didn’t say you go it.”

The patient’s face reddened with embarrassment. “Because I didn’t get it.”

“You also told me that you’re prone to panic attacks when you get stressed out. Annie, did you have a panic attack while you were diving?”

She nodded, “I always wanted to go scuba diving… but once I got down there, I just totally freaked out.”

“And you resurfaced too quickly.” Jordynne handed her patient’s chart to Ethan. “The result? Decompression sickness and labyrinthitis.” She noticed the confusion cross her patients face, "Annie, that’s an inflammation of your inner ear, which caused your vertigo and nausea.”

Annie blinked, starting to understand what was wrong with her. “Oh!”

Ethan still leaned against the doorframe, the clipboard hanging in his hand lazily. “And what treatment do you recommend, Dr. Holland?”

“The symptoms can be eased with antihistamines… but the condition itself can only be treated with time.”

Annie’s face fell, “How much time?”

She grabbed onto her shoulder gently, “You can’t rush it, but within a few weeks, you’ll feel like yourself again.”

“Thank you so much, Dr. Holland.” She smiled at her, her eyes filling with tears.

Ethan swiveled on his heel, heading out into the hallway. He waited for Jordynne to follow.

“So, I’ll fill out a prescription for some extra-strength antihistamines…” She started jotting it down on her pad, but he grabbed onto her pen. He clicked it closed and placed it back on her clipboard.

“Don’t bother. I already have.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the printed out prescription order and held it out for her.

She stared at him, her pink mouth opening up in surprise. “You knew? When were you gonna tell me?”

He glanced back down at his watch, “I’d planned to give you another forty-five minutes. I pulled up Annie’s chart to diagnose it myself, in the likely even you blew it.” He crossed his arms, staring at her, “But I wanted to give you the chance to right the ship, first.”

“Thank you… For giving me the chance.” She said, hugging the clipboard to her chest.

He narrowed his eyes at her, “Hm. I would’ve expected you to be angry.”

She shrugged, “No, I appreciate your help. But I’m never gonna learn if someone’s always holding my hand.”

He smiled at her, surprised that they were in agreement. “My thoughts exactly. But you showed your potential. Not to mention maybe the most important trait a doctor can have.”

“What’s that?”

“You listened.” He stared at her, admiring her. “You took the time to get to know your patient. Their story, their hopes, their fears… Sometimes those are the key to saving their life.”

Suddenly, Harper’s niece stalked up to the pair of them — looking flustered. “What the hell? You went and presented without me?” She glared at Jordynne, her arms raised up in the air.

Before Jordynne could reply, Ethan stepped in front of her. “Annie was your patient as well, Dr. Emery. What the hell have you been doing while Dr. Holland was making a diagnosis?”

Holland moved past him, stepping up to her. “Sorry, Dr. Emery. I should have kept you updated on the developments.” Ethan looked back at her, eyebrows furrowing in confusion again. Why does she keep doing that? Defending Doctors who are ready to throw her under the bus.

Dr. Emery’s glare softened slightly, “It’s okay. I wasn’t here. This was your win.”

Looking between the two of them, Ethan spoke again. “Dr. Holland, hospitals run on communication. Keep each other apprised.”

She nodded, keeping her eye on his — undeterred. “Yes, Dr. Ramsey.”

He turned his finger towards the other woman, “And, Dr. Emery? Patient assignments are not optional.” Looking back at Jordynne once more, he gave her a nod before stalking off towards the nurses' station. Glancing back at his watch, he realized his shift was almost over. Flipping through some charts, to keep him busy until his watch neared 9:00 o’clock. He let out a loud sigh as the large hand finally hit the nine, and he started heading towards the locker room to change. Longest orientation day ever.

_______________________________________________________________________

Loud music could be heard from the sidewalk outside of Donahue’s, lights flickering from the inside, and people going in and out for breaks. Ethan slid in through the open door, stalking over to his regular stool on the edge of the bar.

He wasn’t sure why — but he loved it here. It was the furthermost thing from his style — with the tacky neon signs, Christmas lights up year round, and a jukebox playing music he couldn’t stand. But most days of the week, Ethan found himself sitting on that stool, nursing a drink, listening to the awful music and watching the tacky lights.

Reggie placed a scotch tumbler on a white napkin in front of him, without Ramsey even having to ask. He gave him a curt nod, before grabbing onto it. Raising it to his lips, he took a swig — relishing in the warmth that spread down his throat into his belly.

He stared around at the patrons of the bar, studying them. There were a lot of his colleagues there that night — a lot of interns. The surgical interns were crowded around the dart boards — passing pitchers of beer and being rowdy. They reminded him of a fraternity. A few residents sat at a booth together, trying to wave Ethan over to join them — but he just gave them a nod, grabbing onto his scotch for another swig.

Just as the liquor went into his mouth, he noticed her — Dr. Holland. He coughed a little, finishing his swig — the sight of her making him gulp. She was wearing a tiny little number; a green shirt wrapped around her torso — leaving her shoulders and midriff bare. A black bralette peaking through, and a golden locket falling into the between her cleavage. High-waisted jean shorts hugged her hips, showing off her lean tan legs.

She had just finished a shot, placing the glass back onto the table. Her face scrunched up at the taste of the liquor before she tossed her head back laughing with some other medical interns. She had let her blonde hair out her ponytail — her wavy, long tresses falling down her back wildly.

The small group all raised their glasses together in a toast. He moved his eyes away from the group, feeling a wave of loneliness. He shook his head at himself — that’s why he came here, to be alone. To distance himself from the hospital, to enjoy his drink and talk to nobody.

Suddenly a voice shouted over the loud music, causing Ethan to turn around with a frown on his face. “Hey, Jordynne! Get over here, I’ve got a game for you!” A surgical intern was holding up some darts, waving them in the air at her — taunting her.

Ethan grimaced at him, turning back around — his eyes set on hers. He pursed his lips into a straight line — nodding his head to her. Before she could react, he turned his back to the TV on the top of the bar. He watched out of the corner of his eye, and she strutted over to the other side of the bar.

Heat spread over his neck, as he heard the surgical intern whistle low at her as she approached. Disrespectful. He thought.

Ethan found himself angling his body so he could keep watching her. He would flick his eyes back to the screen every once in a while, as though not to be too obvious.

“You really scrub up nice.” Bryce grabbed onto her, his hand resting on the bare skin on the small of her back. “Everyone, this is Dr. Jordynne Holland, the only good medical intern. Jordynne this is everyone.”

“Welcome to the party!” There were clinks of glasses as the group met each other.

The surgical intern licked his lips, “So, have you decided to switch teams? There’s still time, you know.”

Ethan furrowed his brows — she wouldn’t switch to be a surgical intern… Would she?

A laugh escaped her lips, a sweet sound in Ethan’s ears, “Sorry, I still prefer the part where I get to talk with my patients rather than cut them open.”

Good girl. Ethan thought to himself, smiling as he took a swig.

“Hey, we talk! I had a great conversation with a sweet old guy this afternoon. And then I watched my resident remove a lobe of his right lung.”

“Okay, that’s… actually pretty cool.” She looped her fingers through her belt loops, “So, darts, huh? I don’t wanna embarrass you in front of your surgery friends.” A confident smile spread across her face.

Bryce sized her up, “I think I can handle you. I’m a surgeon, remember? Very good with my hands.”

Ethan couldn’t help but roll his eyes — God, this guy was a flirt.

“But if you’re feeling cocky, we could place a little bet…” He offered.

“Fine. I’ll wager… a kiss.” She gave him a flirtatious look, licking her pink lips shiny.

The group of surgical interns started whistling loudly, shouting at Bryce to win the game.

Ethan went to take another swig of his scotch but found his glass empty. “Hey, Reggie.” The bartender acknowledged him from down the bar, starting to grab him another glass.

He had tried to stop watching them — she was an intern, she could play games with whomever she wanted, share drinks with whomever she wanted. But as they got to their last darts, he couldn’t help but glance at Jordynne out of the corner of his eye. The surgical intern was shooting — Jordynne was standing right behind him, on her tiptoes so she could reach up to speak to him — her chest pushed up against his back. Even from his seat at the bar, Ethan watched as she brushed her lips on his ear, whispering to him. An involuntary shudder went through Ramsey as he imagined her doing that to him.

Bryce’s dart went wide at her touch — causing him to lose the game. “Yes!” Holland screamed, throwing her hands up in the air — high-fiving a few of her friends that were watching. The group of surgical interns booed from the sidelines. Ethan smirked a little. Of course, she won.

“I believe you owe me.” Jordynne jabbed a finger playfully into Bryce’s chest.

Ethan had forgotten what they wagered until now.

Bryce grabbed onto Jordynne’s wrist, gently pulling her into him. “I am a man of my word…”. He hooked his arm around her waist, their faces inches apart. He said something to her, his voice too low for anyone else to hear. Suddenly, he dipped Jordynne dramatically backward, balancing her in his arms and they kissed. Different catcalls echoed throughout the bar, as the pair finally stood up and Jordynne pulled him back in for a second longer kiss. Ethan finally swiveled around his stool — having seen enough.

Grabbing onto his newly refreshed drink, he finished it in a large swig. That wasn’t a first kiss kind of kiss. He had had enough in his day to recognize that. He furrowed his brows as he thought — Did they know each other before Edenbrook? He didn’t get it. Shaking his head, Ethan got mad at himself — Why do I care?

The sound of a stool scraping nearby, caused him to perk up ��� sitting a little straighter. He watched as Dr. Holland hopped up onto the stool next to him, eyeing her out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t say anything.

She spoke first, swinging her legs on the stool so she could face him. “Something wrong, Dr. Ramsey?”

He glanced over to her, “Just noticing how… different you look out in the real world.”

A smile broke across her face, and she started playing with the gold locket around her neck. “You too Doctor. I like you without the white coat.” Her green eyes lingered on the few buttons he had kept undone on his shirt.

The bartender approached the pair, pausing in front of them. His eyes widened at Ramsey’s already empty glass — it hadn’t lasted very long. Reggie put his hands down on the counter, “So, what will it be?”

Before Ethan could speak, he watched as Holland eyed his glass — she was trying to guess what he was drinking. “We’ll have two scotches, neat.” She ordered with a smile. When the drinks arrived, she slid one over to Dr. Ramsey, before picking up her own.

He grabbed onto the glass, smiling at her with approval. “Why neat instead of on the rocks?” He questioned.

She didn’t miss a beat. “The ice changes the flavor.” Raising the glass to her lips, she took a hearty swig.

He smiled again, he couldn’t help it. “Right answer. But you know I can’t be bribed into favoring you, right?”

She chewed her lip, “It’s just a thank you.”

“For what?”

Her green eyes met his blue ones, “For pushing me to be better today.”

Ethan let out a breath, before grabbing onto his drink and finishing another one in one long sip. That was the first time someone had ever thanked him for being an asshole. He could get used to Holland. Signaling over the bartender again, he ordered the pair another round of drinks. “Two specials. Thanks, Reggie.”

The man let out a laugh, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the two sitting together. “Only for you, Ethan.”

Jordynne squinted at him, “Your on first name terms with the bartender?”

Ramsey shrugged, “He’s an old friend. I come here most nights.”

She put her elbow on the bar, propping her head up with her hand as she asked, “You don’t have anyone waiting at home?”

He hesitated — he thought of his empty two bedroom apartment downtown. His dog Jenner was at his neighbor’s tonight, so only a dry plant in his living room really required his attention at home. He thought about what it would like to have someone waiting — have a home cooked meal with a partner, to hear tiny feet (that weren’t paws) run to the door in excitement when he came home after a long shift. Shaking his head, he snapped back to reality. “I’ll come here even when I do. I need some buffer between the hospital and the world. An airlock.” He let out a sigh, “Don’t take the job home with you, Jordynne.”

She nodded, looking like she took his advice seriously. “I’ll keep that in mind… but you didn’t answer my question.”

Ethan looked at her — he knew she wasn’t going to drop it. “No. Nobody waiting at home tonight.”

Before she could ask anything else about it, Reggie set down the mixed drinks onto the bar in front of them. “Here, try this.” Ethan matched her, taking a sip at the same time. He licked his lips, savoring the sweet and sour flavor. “Well, how’s it compare?”

Her eyes went wide as she swallowed, “It’s amazing!”

He rolled his eyes at her, “Either you’re sucking up to me, or…” He trailed off, a smile setting on his face. “You’ve got surprisingly refined taste for an intern.”

She flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder, smirking at him. “I’m surprising in a lot of ways.”

He tried to hide his gulp as the smell of her shampoo and perfume wafted towards him with her movement — she smelt like orange blossoms and jasmine. “You’ll have to prove that.”

He grabbed onto his glass, raising it up to her in a toast. “To your intern year. In the hopes, you don’t completely blow everything you’ve worked your whole life for.”

“Morbid. I like it.” She let out a laugh as they clinked their glasses together.

Taking out his wallet, Ethan placed a few bills underneath his drinks, waving at Reggie. “Well, Rookie it’s probably about time you go collect your friends over there before they have to go back to the hospital to get their stomachs pumped.”

Jordynne’s fingers went to the bills on the table, grabbing them and folding them up. She tucked them into the breast pocket of his sweater, before tapping it with her hand. “I said it was a thank you. It’s on me.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “I had more before you came over —“

“Ramsey.” She looked up at him with big eyes, “Just let me do this. Besides, like my new friend Elijah said — I’m 100K in debt anyways. What’s a of couple scotches gonna matter?”

He let out a chuckle, “Fine Rookie. You win this time. Only this one time. Got it?”

She let out a big smile, revealing her white teeth. “Understood. You like to be in control.” She winked at him, “See you tomorrow Doctor Ramsey.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Ethan took the long way back to the hospital, shoving his hands into his pockets as he walked — enjoying the fresh air. It had been a long day. Longer than usual. He couldn’t be bothered to go home — he was just going to have to be back in four hours anyway. Like he had said to Jordynne — he also had no reason to go home. He thought of his leather sofa waiting for him in the hospital and let out a sigh.

As he neared the front entrance, he fumbled in his pockets for his key fob. He heard a commotion on one of the nearby paths, and he glanced over as he approached the doors. It was the group of medical interns from Donahue’s, holding onto each other, laughing and joking. They were all excitedly chatting

about something before dispersing in their separate directions.

Holding onto the door handle, he watched as Jordynne walked off with one of the petite interns — her blonde hair waving in the breeze, her arms wrapped around herself in an attempt to stay warm. He was relieved to see that the surgical intern wasn’t with her — not that it was any of his business.

Shaking his head at himself, Ethan stalked into the hospital trying to get the mysterious, blonde intern out of his head.

Part Four

[buildyourwalls]

Let it Fall Insight

Trigger Warnings: PTSD; Anxiety Attacks; Stillbirth mentions 

When I sat down to write Let it Fall I had not written anything to completion in 10 years.

I had been out of practice with fandom for nearly 5 years at that point. I had been through a lot those five years: Struggling with infertility, getting pregnant, having a very difficult pregnancy, losing the baby in labor, and then getting very sick a week and a half later when the doctors of the hospital botched my section and left me near death. 

Things were rough but we were doing okay. We managed. We worked through the grief and we learned to live with it every day. I considered writing my story some day, maybe a memoir, but then I knew how that may be tapping into a part of me I had healed. I didn’t want to open those new wounds. 

My journey after my son’s birth was not necessarily easy. I began to have other health issues - weight gain from PCOS; Fibro symptoms; Anxiety attacks and Depression. Some days my knees would hurt no matter what I did. On my first trip to NYC I could barely handle the stairs my knees were so swollen from pain and inflammation. 

I ended up having about 5 surgeries in those five years before I wrote Let it Fall. Not all related to the birth of my son (section and bowel obstruction surgery were the only two related to that), but just overall health stuff and the choice to have weight loss surgery. But then I had to have an emergent hernia surgery in August of 2018, and I really tried to be strong. It was hard. 

Then I found fandom again. I got back into Harry Potter. I was in it when I was in my teens and the nostalgia while my husband was playing a Harry Potter Lego Game was really strong. I began consuming fic in a way I hadn’t in years. I wanted to read everything. And then I got an idea. 

That idea blossomed when I found out about how Draco Malfoy’s wife died when their son was just reaching the point of becoming a teen. A crucial time in anyone’s life, and a horrible time to lose a parent. My heart bled for those chars, and while a lot of people really hate the fact that JK killed off Astoria, something inside of me was born. 

And that’s where Let it Fall came from. It took me a long time to realize that Let it Fall wasn’t a Harry and Draco story, but rather a Draco story that had Harry’s experience in it too because it was necessary to show the reader how these two men, in their own ways were finding themselves. And how through their journey they were able to become stronger with each other. 

It took me damn near a year to get that thing posted. It took me a solid 9 months total to write it (December is the month of my son’s birthday and nothing ever gets done in that month, so really 8 months). I joined Discord, I found friends, I made pals for a lifetime. I found community. I found the ability to write original fiction. 

I’m releasing my first book in the Spring. 

All of this because of this story. All of this because my son, my angel baby, taught me what it’s like to work through grief and find life. I am so very blessed that the comments that have come along with this story have been...beyond incredible. Every single person has been touched in an emotionally evoking way. The recs from my friends have been stunning. My husband is currently reading this fic and told me he has to take his time with it because it makes him so emotional to hear about Draco’s journey through grief. 

Life is fucking strange, I can tell you that. But I’m glad I ended up here regardless. And most of all, I’m thankful that I just let things go, and let it fall. 

[the-mira-life-project-mtf]

MtF~H.R.T. Research— Prednisone - The Feminization Drug From Hell

     Prednisone is the typical drug to treat inflammation in the airways, however, it has so many terrible side effects...some you may not be aware of.

     Having asthma, prednisone is the to-go drug to treat exacerbation and flares. Most of the time, men get a dose of prednisone and then are off the drug for months and may see only mood swings, facial swelling and increase hunger. But what would happen if you were on Prednisone every day?

     That is what happened to me.

     Throughout my life, I was on-and-off prednisone therapy as my asthma improved and faltered. I would find myself swallowing Satan’s little tic-tac’s daily as they said that it would improve my breathing. Sadly, when you go misdiagnosed throughout your life, what was a miracle drug turns out to be a curse.

     The side-effects on the side warn: May cause...

Weight Gain,

Mood Swings,

Male Pattern Baldness,

Painful Skin Rashes,

Non-stop Sweating,

Being Overly Warm,

Eating Everything In Your House,

Insomnia, 

Depression,

High Blood-Sugar,

Constant Urination,

Bruising,

Water Retention,

Facial Swelling (Moon-Face),

Acne And Headaches.

     But they should also include:

Gynecomastia,

Feminization Of The Male Body.

     Back in 2011, the Medical Journal Of Medical Science reported that a 17 year old boy who has been on prednisone since the age of 14 had to sought advice for unusual gynecomastia. He stopped the medicine in response to the physical changes, and a slight regression in the gynecomastia was observed. However, when he resumed prednisone, his breast enlargement reappeared and become worse. He was diagnosed with congenital adrenal hyperplasia (who was genetically female but phenotypically male.)

     For awhile, prednisone had this all these effects on me. I had a vigorous hunger that never went away, and typically ate ‘weird’ stuff like pickles, salt, all types of meats. Swelling would set in about three days later, totally changing the whole structure of my face, you could literally ‘feel’ your skin stretch! It was terrible!

     Most of it was due to water retention that caused you to sweat out oil! It got so bad one year that I coated my tablet in oil and it does not work the same like before. Bloating in the stomach sets in with risk of bruising as you wake with marks that you don’t know how you got.

     At this time, sleep is virtually impossible! I’ve stayed awake, wired for over five days once in the hospital as I would clean my room at 3am and become so agitated at 2pm that I just wanted to run. At home, I could never sleep and find myself organizing my room or sweeping the whole house at 1am, wide awake.

     As the months went by, the swelling in my stomach began to subside and my face began to reshape as my jawline reformed. However, my chest never returned to normal.

     It got really bad in 2015, my puffy chest went from ‘some-fat’ to A-cup. The prednisone stored all the fats I consumed in my chest and hips as my body slowly feminized in a year...without the use of HRT therapy. With the growth and sudden bodily changes, I am sure this caused my dysphoria to become chronic in 2017.

     I did everything in my power to get off Satan’s Tic-Tac’s as I did not like the way it made me feel and how it reshaped my face. I looked terrible! Ugly! I saw what over a year of IV prednisone can do to your body!

[IMAGE LEFT: One year prior to my prednisone therapy. IMAGE MIDDLE: 6 Months on prednisone therapy. IMAGE RIGHT: One year off prednisone and five months on HRT]

[atlanticcanada]

Loved ones, colleagues remember 'eternally sunny' Indigenous comedian Candy Palmater

Ask anyone who knew actor, comedian and broadcaster Candy Palmater -- when she entered a room, her one-of-a-kind fun and unique personality filled it.

That's how Palmater's loved ones and colleagues are remembering her after her partner, Denise Tompkins, announced that she had died on Saturday at the age of 53.

"Her smile could light up a room and no matter what kind of day I might have been having, as soon as I got to see my Candy, it was just instantly better," said hairstylist Connor Lange, who became close friends with Palmater after she sat in his chair at the salon he was working at.

"Candy was amazing. The way that she just looked at life, every single day … she lived to the fullest while still being able to slow down and just enjoy all the little things that she loves so much," Lange told CTV News.

Born in New Brunswick and raised by her Mi'kmaw father and white mother, Palmater went to Dalhousie Law School in Halifax and became the first Indigenous law student valedictorian.

She later left her career in law and went to work for the Nova Scotia Department of Education, focusing on the need for Mi'kmaw culture and teachings in the province, before finally becoming a comedian.

Current APTN CEO Monika Ille had been the manager responsible for programming in Eastern Canada at the network in 2009, when she received a VHS tape of Palmater performing stand-up. At the time, Palmater was pitching her own comedy variety show.

"I have to say that I fell in love with Candy as I saw her. She was so good, sharing her story. She was funny, bright. She looked good on camera," said Ille.

Palmater's pitch became the "The Candy Show," which aired for five seasons on APTN.

"She had this drive. She had this passion. She had this larger-than-life personality and she wanted to make sure that people's voices were heard, especially Indigenous people," Ille said.

As her stardom grew, she hosted the "The Candy Palmater Show" on CBC Radio One and became a regular host on CTV's The Social.

"When I think of Candy, she was … larger than life, eternally sunny, endless kindness, and always led with joy," Melissa Grelo, co-host of The Social, told CTV News.

"Candy was a natural storyteller and would so flawlessly and easily share some of the most challenging things she's ever experienced in life, and yet, be able to always see on the other side of things --- the lessons that were learned and how it made her a stronger person."

A true feminist trailblazer, Palmater changed perceptions of what it meant to be gay, to love one another and self-acceptance. Last year, she also worked with Vancouver-based filmmaker Shana Myra on "Well Rounded," a documentary that tackles fatphobia.

"Her boldness and her voice, really, I think, lends courage to other people. And that was part of her stated comedy philosophy. She really wanted to use her humour for good," Myara told CTV News.

According to social media, Palmater had been sick for months diagnosed with EGPA, a rare disease that causes the blood vessel inflammation.

Lange was with her during her final days in hospital. He said even then, she had that same bright spirit Canadians grew to love.

"Every single day, when I walked into that hospital room, she just greeted me with her huge smile," Lange said.

"She was just beautiful, strong and fearless every single day and I think that's something that we can really learn from her."

        View this post on Instagram

                      A post shared by Candy Palmater (@thecandyshow)

Today our entire team is grieving the sudden passing of our good friend Candy Palmater, who always left us smiling a bit bigger, laughing a bit harder, and thinking a bit more critically about the world around us. We’re thinking of her loved ones today. She’ll be deeply missed. pic.twitter.com/5IRDZwFLet

— The Social (@TheSocialCTV) December 25, 2021

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/3z2bh9d