#i got my meds substituted but they do not work nearly as well

[kcrossvine]

.

[happyk44]

hermes is on vacation so nico gets some mortal substitute familiar with demigods and the greek pantheon as his doctor and when he calls him up for a visit, dude's like "well hermes didn't really tell me what was up with you because. you know. doctor/patient confidentiality. but he did tell me that if my gut instinct is "you're too young to have that" i should remember that you are apparently over a hundred years old, and if i don't believe that, i should remember he looks like a 25 year old twink but is old enough that he can describe my great grandfather's penis to me in detail. so! what's up with you"

and nico just pulls out this binder from his backpack, slaps it onto the desk and opens it up. the first page is a print out from a powerpoint presentation, the title reading "What Is Wrong With Nico", a subtitle of "aka the old man bones are old man boning", with a smaller subtitle several spaces below reading "current as of: right the fuck now"

the next page is four tables under the title "Ways He Is Broken". the tables depict:

his current diagnosis and the date of diagnosis

his current medications, the amount, and to what problem they correspond

things he's already been tested for that didn't pan out and why he was tested for them

previous medications he was on, the amount and why he was taking them (also includes current meds where the amount was changed)

the next page is titled "How The Fuck Is He Not Dead" and then a bullet pointed list summarizing all his traumas and other minor shit he's been through that has been attached as the cause(s) behind his issues, so like sandwiched between "nearly suffocated to death while trapped in a jar" and "had to shadowtravel across the atlantic ocean with a giant statue and two other people (prior limit was myself going from new york to illinois)" there's a point stating "fell over on the crows nest of a flying boat and dislocated my wrist". next to each bullet point there are coloured dots going to the left. some bullet points only have one, some have two - they are all colour coded to correspond to the ailment(s) in which they apply.

the next page is called "What Is He Up To These Days" and it's just a long list detailing all his diagnosed symptoms - again little circles beside each point to colour code to the corresponding ailment. the column next to it is labelled "new symptoms" and consists of three bullet points: getting dizzy when i stand up, started two months ago once a week, now every time i stand; migraines are back, made me cry in the shower last night, need new meds probably; and, got hit in the rib by a hydra's tail last month, reset my rib myself and eating ambrosia squares, but still hurts really bad, don't think it's healing right

the next page is "What Could Kill Him So Don't Use It*" and it's just a few columns labelled "pet allergies" "food allergies" "drug allergies" "magic allergies" "other allergies" and the only one that has something included is food allergies and it's just the bullet point "garlic intolerant but he's fucking italian so he doesn't care". in the footnotes at the bottom of that page is the asterix relating back to the title saying "Don't fucking give him cigarettes. he is an idiot and he will ask but they do not work and they never worked and he refuses to listen to me when i tell him this. DO NOT LET HIM HAVE CIGARETTES"

it is very clear this page was filled out by Hermes himself

his interim mortal doctor reads carefully each page, glancing once at nico when he gets to Hermes' footnote, before closing the binder. "you're how old?"

"technically 17, chronologically one hundred and something, i dunno i can't do math and i don't remember what my dad put on my cake this year"

"Right. okay." the mortal doctor presses his hands together and to his lips watching nico carefully then lowering his hands to smooth across the desk "have you ever thought about maybe just sitting on a couch and never leaving your house again"

"yeah, i tried that but i get restless, and also i like helping people if they need it and they ask. hermes tells me i should be more selfish then locks me to a chair, but he's also the one who taught me how to pick locks so i can get out pretty easily. honestly don't know why he keeps trying. even if i didn't know how to pick the lock, i'm pretty good at dislocating my joints on purpose too so i can always just get out that way."

the increasingly stressed out doctor just hums quietly. then, "okay! first i'm going to check your rib, and then we're gonna talk about you getting a 24 hour caregiver because you clearly do not understand limits and need someone who does"

[nickgerlich]

No Yolking

When you start aging, you find yourself thinking about health, lifestyle, and diet like never before. Well, that’s assuming you want to have many more happy, healthy years ahead. Sure, we’re all going to die, but why leave the door ajar for the Grim Reaper? Make him work for his prey.

As I look back over my life, I know that nearly three decades ago I made significant dietary changes to complement my intense athletic lifestyle. For the most part, it worked. My weight stayed down and my cholesterol was low, yet I still had elevated blood pressure. Cue the doctor and his prescription pad. Those meds, along with exercise and diet to this day, work nicely.

But as I got even older, I found myself no longer wanting to compete at the same level I once did, which meant that I did not want to cycle 15,000 to 20,000 miles a year. As you well know, when you alter one variable, others can get out of whack, and so my weight went up, as did my cholesterol. After all, I loved loved loved omelets and cheese.

Blame it on bad genetics, but I seem to have inherited a propensity to put on weight, have high BP, and high cholesterol, just like Mom and Dad. More than 30 months ago, I decided to make some more changes: I settled in on a target of 5000 cycling miles a year, and I cut out the eggs and dairy. Bam. I may not be the race-ready 35-year-old I once was, but I am feeling pretty good.

The only problem was that I missed my old dietary staples, especially omelets. Thankfully, I stumbled into a then-new product called Just Egg, from Eat Just in Alameda California. Made from mung beans, it looks like, feels like, and tastes reasonably like an egg to thus far be the near-perfect substitute.

And the story behind its entrepreneur, Josh Tetrick, is inspiring, as he went from $3000 in savings to being CEO of a $1.2 billion food company.

In the last three years he has gotten his product on shelves at Walmart, Kroger, Target, Albertson’s, and Safeway, and into two million US homes. The liquid version is supplemented by a couple of frozen varieties as well.

Just Egg’s success has caught the attention of competitors, like Simply Eggless, which Trader Joe’s sells. I’ve tried it as well. (Pro tip: Don’t. This one cooks up, and tastes like, wallpaper paste. Well, at least what I think wallpaper paste tastes like.)

In case you’re wondering, here’s an “egg” for egg comparison for one unit equivalence. A chicken’s egg has 75 calories, 7 grams of protein, 5 grams of fat (of which 1.6 grams are saturated fat), and 213 mg of cholesterol. Dietary guidance tells us that 300mg of daily cholesterol intake is the suggested maximum. Our bodies produce all the cholesterol it needs (and sometimes more); any additional comes strictly from animal products

.

A serving of Just Egg has 70 calories, 6 grams of protein, 5 grams of fat (0 grams saturated), and 0 mg cholesterol. Ounce for ounce, they are similar aside from the saturated fat and cholesterol. The big difference, though, is price: a dozen eggs costs $1.93 on average in Texas, while 8 ounces of Just Egg at my local Walmart is $3.94.

Tetrick’s success has not been without controversy, though, An earlier product, Just Mayo, caught the attention of Unilever, maker of Hellman Mayonnaise. They argued in their lawsuit that mayonnaise, by definition, contains egg, and therefore that their product—for which they were implicitly claiming partial ownership of the very word—was at risk. Oh, the consumer confusion.

Now where have we heard this before recently? Oh yeah. Margaritas. Is that fear I smell coming from Unilever’s general direction?

While the company claims to have sold the equivalent of 250 million chicken eggs, it is still just a drop—pun intended—in the overall market basket. But niche products can still earn their stripes, as well as places on the shelf.

As always, you do you, and eat what you like. I’m good with the change, both in the product offerings and in me. And I’m feeling good for my age, even better since I just finished another of my world famous breakfast burritos.

Dr “Make Mine Scrambled” Gerlich



Audio Blog

[bat-losers-inc]

Song of Cassandra: Chapter 1

Warnings: Family Drama, Family Issues, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotional Baggage, and Child Neglect

Summary: What is Batman without a Robin? Everyone in the family makes jokes about the ‘dead robins club’, but Dick and Jason really do have measures set in place for the day Bruce loses sight of what’s really important. They won’t let Bruce sacrifice another Robin for the cause, even if that means separating Robin from Batman for good.

Pairings: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Bruce Wayne, and Dick Grayson & Jason Todd

                              _____________________________________

“To select a victim, to adorn it, and to drive it towards the enemies to be killed by them in time of crisis - such is the ancient rite of substitution.” — The War That Killed Achilles by Caroline Alexander

The bone-saw pinwheeled through the air and smashed into the stone facade beside them. The event wouldn’t have been nearly so noteworthy if Dick hadn’t just yanked Damian out of its path only a second ago.

“Hey, Robin,” Jason called, “get your head in the game before you lose it completely!”

In front of them, Red Hood had swapped out his dual guns for a set of brass knuckles. All around him the Dollotrons and their improvised weapons fell to the ground.

Not helping, Jason.

Robin’s domino mask hid multitudes behind its whiteout lenses. Dick read what he could from the pinched lines of Damian’s mouth and the taut muscles in his neck which trembled through each unsteady swallow. He could feel the effort it was taking him to reign it in.

“Robin, you good?” He placed a hand on the kid’s shoulder and tried to draw his attention back from wherever his mind had just drifted off to. It wasn’t the first time that he’d asked that question tonight and he doubted that it would be the last.

“Fine,” Damian replied but jerked free of his grip with a suddenness that could only mean his pride had been bruised.

Damian snatched the fallen bone-saw up off the pavement and hurled it back into the mass of flailing limbs where it sliced deep into a Dollotron’s shoulder and sent the man staggering.

“Incapacitate only, Robin!” Batman’s voice boomed over the noise of the brawl unfolding before them.

The hope was that they could save at least a few of Professor Pyg’s failed creations if they got them prompt medical attention. Robin, however, had been one-step behind the entire evening—breaking with their predetermined strategies and acting on reflex more than anything. Dick could only chalk so much up to rustiness from being out of the field.

As Robin ducked back into the fray, he had no choice but to follow him in the hopes of preventing further bloodshed. It was going to be a long night.

Back in the cave, he watched Damian unbuckle the utility belt from his waist, his uniform glowing brightly in the cave’s dim interior. His movements were calm, but the distracted look in his eyes betrayed him outright. It was much too soon for him to be back in the field after his death at the hands of the Heretic and subsequent resurrection and it showed on patrol this evening.

Dare he say it, but tonight Robin was... sloppy. And didn’t that just make it worse, he thought to himself, remembering Jason’s muttered comment earlier that night, you can’t blame Damian, the last thing he wants to do is disappoint his father.

Well, what the hell was a kid supposed to do when Batman was your father?  

Dick’s gaze cut to Bruce at the Batcomputer, oblivious to everything except finishing up his report of the night’s mission. He wanted to chuck an escrima stick at his stupid pointy head. But no matter how satisfying that would feel in the moment, it wouldn’t be productive. So instead Dick did the adult thing and waited impatiently for Damian and Tim to change out of their gear and head to their respective beds to sleep away the rest of the dark hours.

When they were alone with nothing but the clicking of keyboard keys to fill the silence, Dick cast a final confirmative glance Jason’s way. Jason raised his arm and tapped at the imaginary watch on his wrist.  

It was now or never. “Bruce, can we talk for a sec?”

Bruce turned in his chair and faced him. “About what?”

He took a breath and forced the words out before his confidence failed him. “I don’t think Damian should be back in the field.”

Bruce held up his hands, his expression transforming from mild to exhausted in a fraction of a second.  “Dick, no. We’ve discussed this. I’m not having this conversation again.”

Again, he said, like he’d ever really taken the time to listen to him the first time around.

“You agreed to give him time! We only just got him back and already you’re putting him back in the line of fire?”

He’d thought that would have been the last thing that Bruce would have done. They’d all witnessed how Damian’s death had driven Bruce to the edge, Jason especially. It had taken hours of persistence to get Jason to even agree to come here, let alone stand with him on this, after the stunt Bruce had pulled in Ethiopia.

Bruce sighed and squeezed the bridge of his nose tightly. “I’m not putting him anywhere. I put the decision up to Damian and he told me he felt ready to put the uniform back on.”

Those walls that Damian had started to lower during their time working together were back up now that his father was around, but not before the damage had already been done. Dick had glimpsed the vulnerable side of Damian that just wanted to prove his worth. He couldn’t stand by and watch the kid get hurt, even if he had to step on Bruce’s toes to do it.

Jason pushed off the clothing lockers that he’d been leaning against for the past ten minutes and walked up behind Dick’s shoulder. “You sure he really meant that? Or was he just saying what he thought you wanted to hear?”

Bruce’s face was quickly losing its composure. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, he was raised knowing he was the son of Talia al Ghul and Batman. Not Bruce Wayne— Batman. He might not think he has a choice in putting on the cape unless someone tells him otherwise.”

“And you think I didn’t?” snapped Bruce. As quick as that anger appeared, it was snuffed out just as fast and replaced with a measured response. “Robin is the one thing that gives Damian purpose. I won’t take that away from him.”

“Can you honestly say that his actions tonight didn’t worry you?” asked Jason. “He can take down Dollotrons with his eyes closed, but tonight he was distracted almost to the point of defenselessness. If we didn’t tag along and babysit him the entire patrol he might have ended up in the med bay or worse.”

“I think it’s understandable that he’s having some trouble adjusting.”

Adjusting, Dick wanted to scream. Did you see the look on your kid’s face out there? He’s not adjusting to anything.

Jason sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. “C’mon, B. You know I don’t stick my nose in things unless they’re serious. This is serious. We’re worried about him.”

Bruce glanced between them, eyeing them both critically. “Think back to when you both were Robin. Would you have appreciated someone coming in and telling me to bench you because they thought you weren’t ready for the role? Without even taking into consideration how you might feel about the matter.”

“We aren’t saying that—” said Dick.

“Are you sure? Because it seems like you only just made this mistake with Tim.

The comment hit Dick like a slap to the face. “That was an entirely different situation—”

“You took Robin away from Tim when you thought he wasn’t in a position to handle the job anymore and gave it to Damian. Now you’re trying to take it away from Damian.”

“Robin was my mantle,” Dick said slowly, an anger months in the making rising in him. “I created it and I’m so sick of you telling me what bearing that name means or who that uniform gets passed down to like I don’t have any say in it! Especially with Damian. When you ‘died’ you left him with nothing. He was your blood son but you never bothered to give him a place in this family beyond that. So you want to talk about Damian’s place and his purpose ? Well, I gave those to him, not you.”

He thought you were going to be the one to take Robin away from him. He was so scared that his place in your legacy would be erased the moment you returned, despite all the work he had put in to change his nature.

Bruce was in his chair one second and standing over Dick in the next. “Despite what you might still believe, you’re no longer his guardian nor are you his mentor. You gave up the right to parent my child when I came back from the dead. I’m Batman and it’s time for you to go back to being Nightwing. Understood?”

Go back to not having a say, you mean, Dick thought to himself, remembering a time when all he wanted to do was go back to being Nightwing—to not have to make the hard choices. But not anymore. He’d been Batman and had a Robin of his own and those protective instincts don’t just magically turn off with a snap of the fingers.  

Sometimes I feel the need to protect him, even from you.

“I said is that clear?” Over four years since he’d worn the uniform and taken orders from Batman, but Dick’s body still jumped to attention like it did when he was Robin. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that even Jason wasn’t immune to that tone of voice.

He absolutely hated it.

“Crystal.”

Bruce’s cape whipped him in the legs on his way out.

“C’mon, get changed,” Jason placed a hand on his shoulder and nodded his head towards the exit, “I’ll buy you a drink.”

It would take more than a year for him to realize he should have tried harder.

                              _____________________________________

By the time Jason shoved into his apartment and kicked the door shut behind him, it was two hours short of daybreak. He jerked to a halt when he caught sight of him sitting in his living room, and clutched his apartment keys in one limp fist.

“Hey,” he said, voice a rough croak.

Dick stood up to greet him. “Sorry. I didn’t think to text you and I had a key—”

He paused when he caught sight of Jason’s face illuminated under the overhead lights. “What happened to you? I thought you went to talk to Steph.”

“I did,” Jason dropped his keys in the bowl by the front door. “Or at least I tried to. She was more interested in hitting something than having a heart to heart.”

It was too soon after Tim’s funeral for Stephanie to be back in the field. Even, Kate had suggested that Bruce intervene before someone got hurt on the job. Dick had wanted to laugh at her choice of phrase. Hurt? Didn’t she realize that the reason they were in this situation in the first place was because the stakes had risen way past that already?

Still, they all knew it was no good to try to force yourself back into the vigilante lifestyle before you were ready. Damian had proven that only a year or so ago and Gotham’s citizens had borne the brunt of his mistake. So Bruce had tried to step in, but it felt like all he’d really succeeded in doing was pouring salt into the gaping wound that Tim’s death had rent into their little family of heroes.

I’m so sick of you pretending like you care. Dick remembered the way Steph had flung those words at Bruce just hours ago. You only care when people can forgive you. Because all you really care about is continuing your stupid fucking mission!  

Dick could already make out the puffy bruised skin that circled his right eye and colored his cheekbone a dark purple. “Right, so the obvious conclusion was to offer up yourself as her human punching bag.”

“Better me than Bruce.”

Just the idea of it made him sad. Jason and his stupid martyr complex. The kicked-puppy of the family. “I disagree.”

There was an image that Dick couldn’t get out of his head. It lurked in the back of his mind, even now. Steph’s features pulled tight from anger and grief, her icy eyes staring holes into Bruce as she spat out, You keep pretending to care about me to what? Absolve you for what happened to Tim? Well, I don’t, Batman. I don’t absolve you!  

No, it should have been Bruce that bore the brunt of her violence. Bruce who sported a fractured cheekbone for the following week, a consistent reminder of his failings. Not his little brother who had warned them all time and time again about Bruce’s bad habits and all of the endless justifications he had to explain them away. Not Jason, who’d said Bruce shouldn’t be allowed to have sidekicks if he couldn’t keep them alive into adulthood—that if he wanted to fight crime so bad, let him, but keep the kids out of it.

Jason winced as he fingered the delicate skin around his eye. “We both know from past experience how unsatisfying it feels to go after him. It’s like punching a brick wall—he doesn’t give anything and it just ends up hurting you more in the long run.”

He knew Jason was right, but that still didn’t make it fair.  

Jason went to the freezer and pulled out a bag of frozen green beans which he pressed to his face with a relieved sigh. “What are you doing here, Dick?”

Jason never was one for small talk.

Dick stared at the bookshelf in the corner of Jason’s living, the titles on the spines were illegible to him all of a sudden like he was viewing them from a great distance. “Tim’s dead.”

“Yeah, I know. Alfred called me after it happened, same as you.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it.” Dick shook his head. “He was supposed to hang up the cape and go to college with Steph. I thought he was going to make it, but instead, he sacrificed himself on that rooftop for Bruce’s endless goddamn crusade.”

“Careful, Golden Boy. You’re sounding a little blasphemous there.”

“Good,” snapped Dick. “because I’m fucking angry. Angry that Bruce seems content to maintain the status quo while my siblings get blown up and stabbed and tortured.”

“You’re also grieving,” said Jason. “Which might explain why you’re slumming it around my place instead of spending time with Babs. When you work your way up to the bargaining stage I suggest trying Damian because I’m not helping you find a lazarus pit.”

“Fuck you,” he replied, but he couldn’t force any heat into the words. Not when his chest constricted again with that tight pain that stabbed at his lungs. He couldn’t stop the tears that pooled at the corners of his eyes and spilled over.

When he glanced up at Jason, the other boy was nothing but a watery figure standing out against the dark room. “Those missiles incinerated Tim into a pile of ash. There’s no body left for us to try to bring back this time.”

Jason squeezed his eyes shut tight like something was paining him. He didn’t go to Tim’s funeral, Dick remembered and wondered which stage of the grieving process he was on: denial or acceptance. Either way, it was clear that even he was having trouble hiding it behind that cock-sure snarky mask of his.

Jason shook his head slightly. “I think you should leave.”

“What?” Dick wiped furiously at his eyes. “Why?”

“Because I can’t tell you what you came over here to hear.”

“And what’s that?”

“That everything’s gonna be alright. That Bruce is gonna change his ways.” Jason shrugged and tossed the bag of beans on the counter. “He might change a bit… adapt like he’s done in the past. But it won’t happen fast enough to stop another Robin from dying on the job.”

“You don’t know that.” Dick wanted to punch him for how cruelly and casually he said it.

“Don’t I?” Jason grabbed his Red Hood helmet up from where it rested on the kitchen counter and flung it at Dick’s chest like it was all the evidence he needed in the world. It was. “Just because you want someone to change, doesn’t mean they will.”

“Go to him with me. If we talk to him together we can make him listen—”

“The same way he listened to us before, with Damian? Like how he listened to Steph tonight? She yelled the harsh truth right in his face, even gave him an ultimatum. And she failed, just like you did, because the truth is that he doesn’t want to hear it.”

“We just have to try harder this time—”  

“Dick… please leave. I can’t do this with you right now and I won’t lie to you just to make you feel better.”

Dick threw Jason’s helmet onto the nearest piece of furniture. “You’re a piece of shit, you know that? I’m standing here trying to tell you that I need your help and you can’t even bring yourself to listen to me.”

“That’s because I’ve already learned this lesson. Just like Steph did tonight. And it’s a really simple one at that … if you love someone, you do what’s best for them even if it’s the hard choice. Damian, Cass, Steph, Duke… they won’t be ‘safe’ until they’re out of the lifestyle entirely. And it’s become increasingly clear that Bruce can’t, or won’t, give up being Batman so what makes you think he’s going to tell them to stop?”

Jason’s words were no different than the ones that occupied his thoughts of late. So why did it feel so much worse to hear them spoken out loud?

“I can’t lose another sibling, Jason. I won’t be able to take it. Please… there’s got to be something we can do.”

Jason hesitated, his eyes dropping to the kitchen counter. The sky was starting to lighten as dawn approached. In the ever-shifting dim of his apartment, it felt like ages before Jason finally spoke again. “I want to show you something. Maybe it will help.”

He walked past Dick to his bookcase and pulled a collection of books off the shelf, revealing a hole in the wall. “I started it about six months back for Steph. Her relationship with Bruce has always been rocky. I knew there might come a time when she went off to do the vigilante thing on her own.”

He reached in and pulled out a saran-wrapped package. “I want her to know that she had money waiting for her—to get a place of her own and new gear if she needs it.”

He tossed the package to Dick. It was a brick of cash, bundled into individual stacks with currency straps. Based on the various conditions of the bills it looks like Jason had swiped them during his many run-ins with Gotham’s criminal underbelly.

“You saved all this for her?” asked Dick.

Jason paused in placing the books back on the shelf and shrugged. “Well, yeah. We know how hard it is to go it alone—the way you have to swallow your pride and values at a certain point because you need Bruce’s help, or money, or his connections. Steph deserves better than that. If she made the decision to leave the fold, I want her to go and not look back.”

Jason leaned against the edge of the bookshelf. “It’s not much when you’re coming from Bruce Wayne’s trust fund, but maybe we could start doing the same for the others; Damian, Cass, Harper, Duke... What do you think?”

“There’s certainly enough dirty operations in Gotham to fund it, but we’d need a better place to store it than a hole in your wall.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

Dick’s mind was already racing with the possibilities. “And we don’t have to stop at cash. I’m sure we both have old safehouses that we don’t use and contacts with other superheroes and scientists that we can share—”

“Whoa, whoa! Dick…” Jason rubbed at his face. “What you’re talking about is building Batman’s resources from the ground up and not even that, doing it all in secret.”

“Are you saying we can’t do it?” asked Dick.

“Not necessarily—”

“Well if we have all the resources then why are we hesitating?” asked Dick.

He held out his hand. “So are we doing this?”

Jason took his hand. “I guess I officially have to stop calling you Golden Boy now.”

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 49

Table of Contents. Second Instar, Chapter 16. Go to previous. Go to next. TWs: drug use, somewhat sensual. It must have been that silt bean he ate.

_______________________________

‘Choly took Sticks back to his rowhouse in the Deenwood officers’ residential. Angel busied itself in the kitchen. Sticks tossed down his flamethrower beside the golf bag in the corner, and atop it his coat, goggles, and ushanka.

“This place have a shower?” the ghoul asked, looking up the stairs in a tank top.

‘Choly’s scalped tensed, recalling Olivia’s caveat. He couldn’t keep his eyes off the texture of the ghoul’s arms which likely covered him head to toe.

“I haven’t tried the plumbing since I got here.” You’re smoothskin. “There’s showers in the enlisted barracks, if you’d--”

“--Nah, if it’s all right with you, I’d rather a good old fashioned one-person bath. It’s been a couple weeks.” He started upstairs.

“Olivia told me the residential plumbing wasn’t safe,” he finally spilled out.

Sticks paused a moment before continuing upward.

“For you, definitely not.”

“...Then she wasn’t lying about it being safe for ghouls?”

The ghoul stopped at the upstairs landing.

“Therapeutic, even.”

Once ‘Choly heard the bathroom door shut, he milled about to survey whether his belongings had remained untouched in his absence. Soon after, the water started, and he found himself upstairs as well, under the guise of assessing his closet effects.

He decided that, during their day on base, he didn’t want to wear his uniform. Stripping out of it, he instead wore the golfing ensemble he’d compiled not a week ago: the cobalt pinstripe dress shirt with white contrast collar and cuffs, the golfing khakis, the mismatched striped and argyle knee high socks, the geranium red cashmere. He stood at length with his arms wrapped across themselves, running his hands over the softness of the sweater as he stared at himself in the broken closet mirror. I’m not a war criminal. Am I? He remembered who’d given him the clothing he’d put on, and knew that he had more important problems to take care of than attempting some vague metric of his morality.

The water had stopped long ago. The bathroom door opened, for Sticks to sit on the side of ‘Choly’s bed to put his gloved left hand back on. Now wearing a Beaver Creek Alley bowling shirt and a pair of khaki slacks, the blond ghoul snorted through his lack of a nose as he noticed the chemist had joined him upstairs, and noticed the odd ensemble.

“Still fixated on dressing uncanny-sharp.” Sticks rubbed at his short under-chin beard. “Form over function’s such an ill fit in the Wasteland. Still, though. It’s nice to feel like I can disregard a need for functionality or security once in a while. Let my guard down and just be comfortable.”

“I just want to be able to stop and breathe and relax for five seconds.” ‘Choly’s hands dropped to his side as he mirrored the regard for the other man’s outfit, and they ended up in his pockets to disguise the exasperation in his body language. “...So you don’t wholly distrust Liv?”

“I only distrust her chem habits.” Sticks slouched back on the bed in dislike of his recollection. “God, she was one of your coworkers. No wonder you had such a hangup over administering chems yourself. I remember that one meltdown you had. Somebody came into the pharmacy, hadn’t used Med-X before. And you had to show them how. Your boss sent you home before lunch. It’s one of the only times you ever beat me home.”

‘Choly’s glasses slipped down his nose as his face slacked, and his cataracted gaze oozed out over the top of them.

“If I didn’t administer, I had to observe. Most days, I didn’t have the nerve to administer. She did. I... I saw things. A lot of things.” He flinched, forcing himself to instead remember how heavily he relied on the Melancholia to psychologically survive his military career. “I... I think silt bean flour would work as an ingredient substitute. Angel says it remembers one of the main ingredients was soy, so. I found some on my way through Billerica. You’re good in the kitchen. Would you help me dry roast them?”

Sticks could recognize the request for a meaningful distraction. He stood, grabbed his bag beside the baseboard, and gestured for ‘Choly to exit first. The two returned downstairs. Angel flitted about on the back patio, though neither could tell exactly what it was on about.

The Handy had placed the silt beans in the refrigerator. The chemist and entrepreneur sat at the kitchen table, peeling from their pods the beans and collecting them in a deep bowl. 'Choly kept finding himself spacing out, staring, and smiling as he watched Sticks split the pods with his gloved hand and retrieving the beans with his other. He cleared his throat and picked up another pod to work at.

“You didn’t weigh in earlier... Do you think I should try the X-Cell-Squared? Should I trust Olivia’s word, that it doesn’t have withdrawal issues?”

The ghoul thought a moment, but didn’t stop working.

“Ultimately, it’s your call. Your body, not mine. You want my opinion, though. If you run the risk of not feeling normal without it, I don’t think it’s a good idea. There’s a lot of different ways to feel addicted to--and withdrawals from--junk.”

‘Choly did and didn’t like this kind of an answer from someone who had been, and likely still was, a chem dealer. He couldn’t tell how honest anyone was being with him anymore, or what motive honesty could have. He popped a raw bean in his mouth in compulsion and chewed it. Expecting a raw, grassy flavor, he warmed instead to its starchy vague butteriness. Maybe he was just paranoid of everyone.

The two finished the first step of the task, and moved on to the second. Sticks spread out the beans in a frying pan. He used a match to ignite the pilot light on the back burner of the oven’s stove, then adjusted the flame to the lowest it’d go. He turned and started to say something, only for ‘Choly to lean up and grab his shirt, to press their lips together. Despite the abruptness of it, Sticks didn’t stop ‘Choly, and eventually kissed him back. He pulled back, slowly, with a dark heavy-lidded glance, and he ran his right hand around the back side of ‘Choly’s head as a smile tugged at each of them.

They both readily kissed again. Sticks backed ‘Choly against the kitchen table, who then sat atop it to compensate for being the shorter of the two, and dragged the ghoul back atop him as their tongues frustrated one another. The chemist removed his glasses and lost them behind him, letting out a wheeze when the ghoul let him lick the edges of the gap in the corner of his top lip.

“Perhaps my prior assessment of the relationship between the two of you was mistaken.” They both jumped, finding Angel’s ocular lenses inches from both their face. Angel’s lenses flickered before it withdrew them. “Forgive my intrusion. I’ll excuse myself.”

“--Angel, wait. Agh.”

‘Choly shot upright with a groan to reach out for the Mister Handy, who returned outside. His hair felt like it had fallen from its french twist, and he compulsively smoothed at it. Then he turned to find Sticks had walked into the living area, to help himself to the dry bar cabinet Angel had added all ‘Choly’s spirits into. After one shot of whiskey, the ghoul took a second with him to sit on the couch.

“If you’re in the market for some fantasy fulfillment, you might as well return the favor.”

Sticks set down his glass on the coffee table, to dig through the bag he’d set down there. He pulled out the lingerie catalogue and waved it knowingly at him. ‘Choly shakily put his glasses back on and a hand crept over his mouth in knit-brow shock of what meaning or purpose laying eyes on the thing again could have possibly been intended. He sank to kneel beside Sticks, readily accepting some unspoken proposition, and ran a hand over the top of the ghoul’s trouser sock, before slipping it under the hem of his slacks to push up the pant leg and caress his leg. In reflex Sticks jerked his leg out of ‘Choly’s hands, his knee coiled back and away, and he stared at him in bewilderment at length before he couldn’t contain a sharp, difficult laugh.

“Mindy, I think you and I had very different reasons for eyeing the same woman.” The ghoul reached forward to set down the catalogue. He retrieved his whiskey, and downed it, then patted ‘Choly on the head. In a stupor, the chemist pushed himself up off the floor, to sit beside him, hands in his lap wringing together for lack of knowing where else to possibly put them.

“If it’s all the same, maybe... Maybe we could just... Sit together on the couch for a while...” He couldn’t contain anxious pouting.

“...While the beans dry?”

“...While the beans dry.”

“You've got me for the time being...” Sticks put an arm across the back of the couch, around ‘Choly’s shoulder, and stared at the peeling ceiling. “What do you intend to do with that? Did you really think you could just continue where you left off? Nothing is the same as it was before the War. Not even you. You’ve looked in a mirror, right.”

When ‘Choly shrank against his chest, Sticks held him. The ghoul said nothing when he could feel the small man shaking with silent tears, and simply held him more firmly.

“I’ve never experienced a golden age in my life, but my brain keeps telling me that literally anything I had before stepping foot in that fucking vault could be better than life after the war. The world ended! Only the dead and dead-inside carry on.”

The hard resolve overwhelmed ‘Choly then, to break his promise to Angel, and he found himself seriously deliberating the best or easiest way to reclaim the Melancholy’s salts from its storage compartment without conflict. He nearly spoke aloud of it, to get Sticks’s input, but shut his mouth again, both for fear that he’d increased Angel’s ability to eavesdrop on him by upgrading its sensory matrix... and for guilt and self-awareness how it likely would sound to tell his once-roommate that he felt the strong drive to suffocate his emotions with drugs.

Sticks saw the look in ‘Choly’s eyes, and his features slacked before he bent forward to retrieve something from his bag. With a plaintive glance, he offered ‘Choly a thin metal syringe of pale purple fluid.

“Case you didn’t pick up on it by now, Sticks is also on account of the needles attached to most of the junk I have to offer.”

‘Choly snorted in a sudden agonized smile at the awful pun, and held the chem in his lap with his eyes shut tight as he tried to get himself to stop crying. Maybe I could use the Med-X in the Melancholia, instead of begging or sneaking the salts. He looked up when he could tell he was shaking his head at himself, and looked to Sticks, who wore a bated objection on his thin lips. Immediately sensing himself misinterpreted, ‘Choly steadied his leg against the cushion of the couch and held the syringe flush and perpendicular to his thigh, then seethed through his teeth when he depressed the plunger. The needle jutted through the fabric of his pants and his flesh to impart the chemical into his bloodstream.

I need it now more than I’ll need it later.

Sticks patted him on the shoulder and retrieved the empty syringe, then stood to check on the silt beans. ‘Choly set his glasses on the coffee table and let the heavy low overtake him as he laid down across the couch and curled up to stare at nothing.

The next thing that ‘Choly noticed was a loud grinding from the kitchen. He sat up and put his eyes back on to hobble over to investigate. He licked at his dry lips to see the ghoul had begun on the next step of the process: pulverizing the roasted beans into a powder. When ‘Choly sat in the kitchen, Sticks noticed and stopped, to hold up the pitcher of the blender.

“How much of that stuff you think this will make you?”

“I... I don’t know, maybe six. Eight.” ‘Choly rubbed at his forehead a bit. “It definitely smells right in here.”

“I take it we’re spitballing it. What else are you thinking goes into it?”

“...You keep working on beans.” He stood again. “I’ll go get what parts I do remember.”

The chemist vanished upstairs, only to return with a careful armful of various toiletries. Once he had set them all down, the ghoul presented the pitcher in front of him without the lid.

“When Angel went to borrow the blender, it also brought back measuring cups, if that helps.” The ghoul’s face scrunched up in a poorly hidden grimace at identifying what lay spread out on the table. “Exactly how far gone are you right now?”

“About as far as one of these usually carries me.” ‘Choly started squeezing out toothpaste into one of the cups. “Why?”

“Oh, nothing. Go on.”

He sniffed and scrunched his nose to push his glasses back up his nose, then proceeded to add toothpaste, a bottle of mouthwash, and a can of purified water. He fidgeted with the mechanisms of a Stimpak, but rather than waste the healing substance, set it down in agitation when he felt like he’d almost set off the pneumatic plunger. He rubbed at his eyes behind his glasses, then frowned at a fascinated Sticks.

“Your fine motor skills seem better than mine. Can you open up plunger end of all the reservoirs and pour in whole thing? Other one, too.”

“You... ’re putting Stimpak in something you intend to drink.”

“All right, all right. I know how stupid it sounds. I don’t remember what was going through my head, day it struck me to try drinking one. All I remember is, other stuff’s for covering up awful taste. Base is Stimpak.”

“The Stimpak’s awful, but the mouthwash is okay? And the toothpaste?”

‘Choly rolled his eyes in gratitude when Sticks sat down and resigned to the request.

“Touché.”

After another pass on the blender blades, Sticks poured a drinking glass about a third full of the now clearish yellow liquid, and set it before his friend. The ghoul sat with the pitcher and watched expectantly.

“You sure you’re not a vampire or something?”

“Bozhemoy if I’ve blocked out that there’s supposed to be blood in this.” ‘Choly clutched at his chest at the mere idea of it, only to seethe it out in one breath and pick up the glass to smell it. When it didn’t seem unappetizing, he took a sip and let it coat his mouth before swallowing. He licked at the front of his teeth with a sneer, then took another swig. “Yeah, mint and cinnamon don’t cover it up near as well as cherry.”

“Besides the flavor, you think you got it close to the prewar recipe?”

“Besides the flavor.” He melted into a dull stupor, and nursed at the drink, unable to enjoy his success. Distantly, he murmured to himself under his breath in Russian. Now that he knew what was in the MREs, was it really all that bad to eat them? It was just Day Tripper. “If she considers me colonel now, why didn’t she ask me to help her synthesize X-Root?”

“Technically, she didn’t really promote you. She hasn’t updated your designation... things on your coat, whatever they’re called. She just disclosed stuff to you that would’ve been confidential to someone of a rank lower than colonel.” Sticks’s face tightened, and he leaned just the slightest bit nearer with a slight squint. “What was that first part again?”

“I said--” ‘Choly stuttered a breath out of his nose and slouched. He set down the glass a little too hard, and glared at Sticks with a proud hiss. “I said, mne naplevat’ chto vse menya trakhayut.” He flicked the fig at him and slouched to finish off what remained of his initial batch sampling.

The ghoul straightened with a shit-eating grin, and, pointing at him, slowly wagged his finger with a growing chuckle.

“You kissed me with that mouth. Ha! Angel wouldn’t... gladly translate for me, now, would it?”

With a self-inflected glower, the chemist poured himself another third of a glass.

“Fuck off, Jacob.”

Sticks rested his cheek against a propped up fist, and probably couldn’t grin any wider, in stunned delight.

“Shit, I’m just learning so much about you today, Mindy.”

“I don’t know what use it would serve Olivia to register-- me...” He trailed off again in thought, dismissing the sharp nosedive the conversation had taken. His eyes widened, and he slapped the table with one hand. “...In system as colonel! I. I have to get her to upgrade me in system. Have Deenwood recognize me.”

The ghoul sobered to squint again.

“...Why.”

The more he explained himself, the more his face slacked into a vague smile.

“There’s got to be things I could gain access to by having my rank that high. I’d be directly under her. Provided she didn’t lock everything behind an O6 pay grade, I might get information worth having come all this way for. I took trouble to get up here. Thought some kind of DIA breach was risking Deenwood assets falling into raider hands. But, I had everything about it all wrong... Bozhemoy, what if I could get those formulas. I could cook up anything this base has ever made.”

Sticks mirrored ‘Choly’s dumbstruck awe.

“If you didn’t already have my full attention, you certainly do now.”

Go to Next »»»

[ddaddsprompts]

Can I ask for a sequel for the heatstroke one? Either dadsona waking up in the hospital or dads taking care of him after he gets out

Craig; You in the hospital took a toll on him, so when you were discharged he was almost relieved. Almost. The doctor mentioned to him you weren’t fully recovered and that he had to watch over you as much as possible to see if you needed further hospitalization. Craig agreed to this and made adjustments to his schedule, cutting his morning runs a couple minutes short, having a friend take over the softball team for a while and substituting going to the gym with some pull-ups in the doorway and a few extra pushes while Briar and Hazel sat on his back. His full attention was on you. ‘I never knew there’d come a day where Keg Stand Craig would actively take care of someone recovering from a heatstroke.’ You joked as he handed you your medicine. ‘You sure this is the same Craig I went to college with?’ Craig smiled and sat next to you as you took your medicine. ‘The one and only, bro.’ This went on for a few days, and you were surprised at how well Craig managed with the lack of exercise. However, days turned into weeks and you saw that as he sat in your shared bedroom, he would often look out the window longingly as if he were reminiscing his long daily jogs. You noticed this and decided to say something about it. Reaching for his hand, you squeezed it with all your might. ‘Craig, if you wanna go back to exercising and spending time with the kids, I totally understand. I’m sure I can handle myself-’ ‘No, bro.’ He answered firmly. ‘I want to make sure what happened to you that day won’t ever happen again. Even if that means missing a few days of gym.’ ‘Bro, listen to me.You look like you just lost a pet to an avalanche, and I can’t stand seeing my dude like that if I’m sick. I can’t get better if you don’t feel better.’  It took a bit more convincing, but in the end, Craig rested his forehead against yours. ‘Promise you’ll be okay?’ ‘Yeah, man.’ ‘Drink a lot of water.’ ‘Mhm.’ ‘Call me if you don’t feel well again.’ ‘Yep.’ ‘And don’t forget your meds-’ ‘Okay, Craig. I get it. Will you go to the gym now?’  He laughed and stood up, grabbing his water bottle. ‘I’ll be home as soon as I can, bro.’’Try not to almost die like me, bro!’ You called out as he left the house.Hugo; The heatstroke left a silent but painful scar on him, from the moment he found you collapsed on the ground to your discharge several weeks later. Every day during your time in the hospital, he’d turn on the television and watch the latest wrestling matches together, careful not to get you too hyped up as you were still in critical condition. Hugo often asked you if you were feeling alright and suggested calling a nurse when you even felt the slightest uncomfortable. The protectiveness continued even after your discharge. Now juggling work and taking care of his family, Hugo prioritized you and took days off school to make sure you were fine. He had multiple alarms in his phone of the exact time you needed to take your medicine and always made sure that the room wasn’t too hot. It wasn’t just his workload you noticed; it was fairly obvious that he was very affected by your accident and often began sobbing whenever he gave you your medicine, getting flashbacks of the day you got the heatstroke and almost crying in front of you, but to be strong, he simply walked out of the room to let it all out on his own. And you were getting sick of seeing him that way. ‘Alright, time for your afternoon meds. You know the drill, honey.’ Hugo arrived in your room with your pills and a glass of water in hand. His face had a sad smile plastered over it, his eyes a bit puffy. He had definitely choked up a bit before coming here. As he sat down beside you, you grabbed his wrist after he handed you the pills. ‘Hugo, you do believe I’m getting better, right?’ Your question drove him into a mini panic mode. ‘W-What? Why? Are the medicines not working? Should we go back to the hospital?’ ‘No! It’s not that at all!’ You sighed. ‘It’s just that you’re acting like you’re slowly killing me, honey. Like all this medication isn’t doing anything and that I’m going to give out again. Are you alright?’ Hugo stared at you as you downed your medication, taking a seat beside you and putting his head in his hands. ‘Y/N, I care about you so much. You’re one of the first people I’ve felt comfortable being around in a long time.’ He gulped. ‘I didn’t want you to see me so, troubled and I knew it would make you feel worse and-’ You grabbed his hand and forced him to look at you. ‘Hugo Vega. You listen and you listen well.’ You demanded. ‘I don’t give a damn if you cried so much that this room would be filled to the brim with tears if you keep in what you’re feeling, it’s just going to make things worse for the both of us. Don’t you dare think you don’t deserve to feel what you’re feeling around me. I love you, and love includes being honest with one another’s feelings.’ Almost immediately, Hugo began tearing up and buried his face into your shoulder.  ‘I just don’t want to lose you…’ ‘You never will.’Robert; While you were in the hospital, Robert was an absolute wreck. He picked up heavier drinking habits and cried to himself, holding on to your pillow in desperate longing. He was missing you so much that when the hospital called to tell him you were free to be visited, he raced over to the hospital and nearly crushed you on your bed.  ‘Fuck, kid. I thought you…’ Robert whispered as his tears stained your sheets. He gripped on to you so tightly that you had to ask him to loosen up a bit, as you were still weak and very vulnerable to pain. It took a while, but you were finally discharged, the doctor instructing Robert to let you take your medicine and never stay too long in warm areas. The doctor looked a bit skeptical upon looking at Robert’s rugged appearance and asked if you were sure he was responsible enough to take care of you. You assured him that you were perfectly fine in Robert’s care.  To say the recovery process was perfect wasn’t exactly true. Of course, Robert did his best to take care of you, give you your medicines on time and all that. Then again, there were times you missed your medicine and had to take it yourself which involved getting out of bed, which the doctor advised to not do unless necessary. When he remembered that he made you miss your meds, Robert would beat himself up about it to no end. ‘What kind of dumbass am I, huh?’ He put his hands through his hair and sighed in frustration. ‘You deserve so much better than me, Y/N. I wish I wasn’t such a fuck up.’ He repeated multiple self-degrading sentences whenever he forgot to give you your medicine or turn on the air conditioning, and it got to the point where you couldn’t handle seeing him that way. You were simply lying together at night, him wrapping his arms around you gently but protectively as if you were made of glass. ‘Robert, you really shouldn’t beat yourself up over all this. You’re trying, and I really appreciate that.’ You mentioned and snuggled into him. ‘Ah, shit. I can’t help it.’ He groaned. ‘I just…don’t want to see you like that again. It fucking scared me so bad and I thought you were gonna… you know.’ Tears started to well up in his eyes and he began to sniffle, so you held Robert close and wiped away his tears in silence. Neither of you had to say anything, for the comforting silence around you was enough to lull you into serene and calm moods.Joseph; Everybody knew him as the happy go lucky youth minister, the man who always looked on the bright side of things. But once you got hit with the heatstroke and he found you there, nearly dead on the bathroom floor, something in him just broke and he’s hardly been the same. True, Joseph was so utterly happy that you were back, but something about him just seemed off. His once merry blue eyes were now dull and full of fear, fear that the entire thing would happen again, losing you in the process. At night, you’d keep one eye secretly open as Joseph tossed and turned, sometimes getting up and pacing the room. He even looked more awful than you, and he didn’t even have a heatstroke. When you brought this up to Joseph, he denied it at first and insisted that he was perfectly normal. You knew it was a lie, but he seemed to try so hard to prove it was true, going to church again, baking with the kids, but it all seemed too forced. It wasn’t the Joseph Christansen you knew and loved. So you had to confront him again. ‘Joseph, you have to stop this.’ You wrapped your arms around his waist, back hugging him as he poured your medicine. ‘Trying to force yourself to be normal isn’t going to solve anything. It’s only going to make things worse for the both of us.’ Again, he tried denying it. ‘Darling, I’m perfectly fine, see?’ Joseph insisted and put on a fake smile. You glared at his poor attempts. ‘You may trick the neighbors and the kids, but you aren’t fooling me. I know what you’re like when you’re afraid, but I’m here now. I’m getting better, and you’re going to make sure I will, right?’ You explained. He sighed and turned around, giving you a big hug. ‘Y-You’re right. I should be more honest with myself.I’m sorry, Y/N.’ The man sniffed, gripping the bag of your shirt tightly. You squeezed back as tightly as your weak body could muster.Damien; A not so strong hearted man, he wasn’t in the best shape when you woke up in the hospital. In fact, Damien was sobbing on your hospital bed, silently begging for you to wake up when he felt your hand on his head. He pressed a light kiss on your cheek, knowing that you were still in pain and called a nurse. Once you were discharged, Damien turned into your personal butler, delivering all your needs in a flash and making sure you were nice and comfortable as you tried to recover. The thing was, he was trying a bit too hard. You’d catch him with a few tears dripping down his cheeks before excusing himself and running to the next room. Hell, he even refused to sleep in the same bed as you since his body heat might be too much and you’d overheat again. Instead, he settled for the slightly uncomfortable couch in your bedroom, watching you from afar. You looked at him one night, he was settled on the couch, reading a book with a blanket over his legs. His feet dangled over the couch arm. Damien was obviously uncomfortable but was trying to hide it for your sake. You suddenly got so sick of this and decided to speak up.

 ‘Damien, listen to me.’ The man looked up from his book, smiling as he put it down. ‘What is it, love?’  ‘This, thing you’re doing? This sacrifice?’ You motioned to him on the couch. ‘It’s a little too much, don’t you think? You’re bottling up your emotions again, Damien. It isn’t good for either of us.’ With his eyes widened, he took a big sigh and walked towards you. ‘I’ll admit I’ve been a bit…overwhelming with my ways of caring for you, and I apologize for that. However, I’m only doing what’s best-’ ‘Don’t give me that bull, Damien.’ You groaned. ‘I just want some boyfriend cuddles, damn it.’ He was obviously taken aback by this statement, but from the stubborn (and adorable) tugging of his sleeve, he had to comply with your actual needs. Cuddles. Kisses. Hugs. A lot of them. Mat; Probably the most emotional of the bunch, Mat would full on cry lakes of tears while you were in the hospital. His eyes would be puffy from crying and his throat would be raspy from crying out. It felt like a million years as he waited for you to be stable enough to be seen. But it finally happened; the phone call from the hospital saying he could visit. Mat broke down again when he saw you in the bed, this time showering you with tears and kisses of joy until the nurse had to ask him to back away so you could get some air. Once you were discharged, Mat nearly worked himself to the bone taking care of you. He’d give you all your meals in bed and (often) get your medication on time. There were moments at night when he talked in his sleep, calling out for your name and begging you not to go. When he’d start crying, you’d shake him awake and give him a hug. This lasted a while until you knew you had to do something about it. ‘Mat, what are you most afraid of?’ You blurted out during a movie session, pressing the pause button. ‘Well, losing the people I care about the most.’ He replied uncomfortably as if he knew where this was going. ‘Why?’ You grabbed his chin and forced him to look into your eyes. ‘You know why. I know about the dreams, Mat. Do you not think I’m getting better?’ ‘It’s not that at all!’ He choked up and began to sob. ‘I-It’s just… I…’ He buried himself into your chest, staining your shirt as you patted his back. ‘I’m scared that I’m going to lose you too. In all those nightmares, you’re back on the floor, you aren’t moving, the ambulance doesn’t pick up the damn phone and-’  You chuckled and kissed him. ‘Look at me, Mat. I’m here. I’m alive. And you’re here. That’s all that matters right now.’Brian; He thought of you as his everything, so when he found you nearly dead with his daughter who he thought the world of as well, Brian felt as if his entire universe was shattering to bits. He cried softly as they put you into the ambulance and promised to call when you were stabilized, or if you were… Brian shook that thought off and went to bed. When he was told he could finally visit, he dropped everything and raced to the hospital, to your hospital room and immediately enveloping you into a very much awaited bear hug. ‘I… oh God…you’re okay…’ Brian whispered and held you tightly, releasing you after realizing you probably couldn’t breathe. When you returned, Brian insisted on doing everything for you, cleaning up the house, washing the dishes, taking care of you, just with a snap of your fingers, Brian’s by your side and ready to take care of you. It was sweet at first, but it got to a point where you couldn’t even walk without Brian asking if you wanted to be carried or insisting that you head back to bed. Yes, you were still in pain, but it wasn’t as if you were a pathetic baby, no older than Daisy, who was always in bed and cried when they needed something. ‘Brian? We need to talk.’ You uttered, leaning against the doorway as he did the dishes. He turned around to face you in shock. ‘Y/N? You should be in bed, it’s almost time for your medicine!’ He gasped and grabbed your pills from the cupboard before you walked up and shut it for him. ‘The pills can wait. This is serious, Brian.’ You demanded and sat down on a dining chair. ‘I appreciate what you’re doing, taking care of me and all, but for God’s sake, I can do things on my own. I’m not a child that is just going to break under your touch.’ There was a moment of silence before he nodded and rubbed his neck in embarrassment. ‘Yeah, you’re right. I did go pretty overboard with the nursing, huh?’ He bashfully agreed and helped you off the chair. ‘Dad instincts, eh? You can never shake them no matter who you’re with.’ You nodded and swiped your pills from him, dry swallowing before realizing it was a big mistake without water and quickly searched for a glass. Brian laughed and poured you a glass without panic, handing it to you. ‘Well, I guess my overprotective instincts helped there. Shall I carry you up the stairs, too?’ ‘Brian!’ ‘I’m kidding. Unless you want me to, of course.’((yes im still alive, school’s been rough but sembreak is coming up soon and i promise i’ll go on an answering spree just for you guys!!)) -mod coffee cake

[nickireadstfc]

The Raven King, Chapter 9 – Spooky Scary Bonding Times Send Shivers Down Your Spine

In which the monsters go costume shopping, Neil forces everyone to have Fun Squad Hangs, we learn Things™ about Matt and I start to realize Andrew cares about 24601% more than he’s trying to show.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Raven King.

Finally, the much needed breather chapter is here – it’s Halloween!

Our monster squad takes this as an opportunity to go hang out at everyone’s favourite Fun Drugs Party joint, commonly known as Eden’s Twilight. Before they can go, though, Nicky makes me relate to him yet again by doing something I’ve been doing for years – pressuring all my friends into Halloween costumes.

(And carnival, and cosplay, in my case.)

           “You wouldn’t trust me to pick out your costume, would you? I’d probably make you a French maid or something.”

Except you’ve kind of picked out outfits for him in the past, for y’all’s club adventures, and you always picked clothes you thought he looked super hot in?

So basically, what this is trying to tell us is that Nicky has a drag kink.

Nice.

           An animatronics raven flapped its wings and cawed at Neil as he approached. He pushed it to the back of the shelf and moved a glittery Styrofoam skull in front of it.

Bahahaha. This is such a tiny detail, but I love it.

You can never escape the ravens, Neil. N E V E R.

           “People don’t really wear these, do they?” Neil asked and (…) pulled the next one off the rack. It was a milk carton with a cutout for the wearer’s face and a bold “Have you seen me?” printed beneath it.

           “Oh, that’s perfect, Neil,” Andrew said. Neil sent him a dirty look.

PLEASE TELL ME THERE IS FANART OF THIS. I am in tears.

And next: Neil, my boy, my dude, my son – does this.

           “We should invite the others to come with us,” Neil said.

FUCK. YEAH.

Neil starting to bring the team together!!! Everyone slowly bonding and becoming friends!!!!!! It’s the fuck happening!!!!!

I am so, so beyond here for this, have I mentioned that already?

           “We need them,” Neil said, keeping his eyes on Andrew. “Talent alone won’t get us to semifinals. (…) You have to stop breaking this team in half.”

YOU TELL EM, MA BOY.

           “I’m not asking you to be their friend,” Neil said. “I’m asking you to give an inch.”

           “Give them an inch and they’ll take a mile,” Aaron said.

           “You really think they’re strong enough to take a mile from Andrew? You think he’d let them?”

My dude has a point.

My dude has all the points, in fact.

GET YOUR ASSES TOGETHER EVERYONE, ALRIGHT.

Nicky, however, raises the fair argument of how they treated Matt last year, yet when Neil asks how exactly they treated Matt last year, Andrew tells him to ask the dude in question – and also agrees to let the rest of the Foxes join their Halloween extravaganza, which surprises everyone so much it ends the conversation.

Well. Best to tell Dan and the squad the good news immediately, no?

           Dan stepped out into the hall with [Neil] and pulled the door closed behind her. (…) “We’ve got a visitor. He came by a little while ago looking for Andrew.

          (…) This is Officer Higgins of the Oakland PD.”

Weeeeeeell shit. I knew that dubios phonecall thing was going to come around again.

           Neil heard the doorknob creak in warning as Andrew twisted it further than it was meant to go. It was a startling giveaway considering Andrew’s wide smile and the breezy tone of his voice.

           “Oh, I must be imagining things. Pig Higgins, you are a very, very long way from home.”

I knew it. That whole affair stinks. Andrew is not nearly as cool and chill about this whole situation as he pretends to be.

What is happening, I’m so intrigued by this.

           “We were looking at the wrong person, weren’t we? (…) The other kids won’t speak up. They don’t trust me that much. You’re all I’ve got.”

           That got Andrew’s attention. “Kids? Kids, plural. You only mentioned one last time, Pig. How many has she had?”

She? We were talking about one of his foster fathers last time – but Higgins said they looked in the wrong place.

A foster mother, then? And a fair amount of child abuse, as it seems. Once a-fucking-gain.

           “How many kids, Pig?”

           “Six, since you,” Higgins said.

Six instances of child abuse, then, probably seven including Andrew.

Hell to the fucking no. Andrew, you stubborn shit, help those kids.

Also, apparently the foster mom’s name is Drake. Probably a family name. Will keep that in mind.

After that conversation, Higgins leaves again before we can get any more interesting information. Ughhhh. Why must there be suspense, I need to know now.

           “Why are the police looking for you?”

           Andrew tilted his body towards her and smiled into her face. “I’m in no trouble, oh captain my captain.”

Alright, first he references Les Misérables and now Dead Poets’ Society – Andrew, stop being a goddamn nerd. <3

Neil then goes to do what he came to do in the first place, which is informing the squad of their incredibly luck of getting to hang out with the monsters on Halloween.

It goes about as expected – meaning, everyone’s mind as blown.

           “How the hell did you talk Andrew into this?” Dan asked, staring at Neil.

           “I asked,” Neil said.

Genius. Amazing. How has nobody had this idea before.

           “He implied you were the harder party to convince,” Neil said.

Oh, yeah.

MATT BACKSTORY TIME, BABES.

Let me sum this up for you. Matt’s dad – asshole extraordinaire – got him into drugs, as he wanted his son to fit in with the rich kid party scene in New York. Matt tried getting clean, but was a wreck when he arrived at PSU, hiding from any party people who might tempt him again by camping out on the girls’ couch – which, might I add, is an adorable picture, no matter how angsty.

Andrew ‘King of Unorthodox Helping Methods’ Minyard saw how fucked up Matt was and promptly gave him speedballs INSERT WIKIPEDIA HERE, which are about one of the most fucked-up drugs you can have (it’s cocaine and heroin together and it kills people on the regular. Fun!). But plot twist! Turns out Andrew had done everything with Mommy Boyd’s permission and his plan succeeded in bringing Matt into rehab and back into a normal life.

I have………… so many questions. Also, respect for Andrew. Also, what the fuck??

Also, MATT MY SON LET ME PROTECT YOU WHAT THE HELL. <333

           “I don’t know if they’ve talked to you about Aaron’s history, but you understand Andrew’s, don’t you? He’s not allowed to fight his addiction. Watching Matt struggle was very hard on them both.” (…)

          Andrew said they’d picked up the [cracker dust] habit for Aaron’s sake. (…) Chances were cracker dust was a paltry substitute. Watch Matt crumble under temptation would have wrecked hell on Aaron’s own sobriety.

          Neil was starting to rethink how apathetic Andrew was about Aaron’s life.

Are you telling me Andrew got them all into cracker dust just to protect Aaron while he worked on getting Matt clean?

And you’re telling me Andrew doesn’t care about anyone or anything?

Bull-fucking-shit.

Andrew, you seriously have so many problems and you are so problematic like 80% of the time but dude – I love you.

           “What’d you guys get [for costumes], so we don’t double up on anything?”

           “I’ll ask. I’m hoping Nicky was joking,” Neil said, getting to his feet. (…)

           It turned out Nicky wasn’t joking, but at least a zombie cowboy was better than a milk carton or a cow.

NEIL THE ZOMBIE COWBOY.

Again, please tell me there is fanart of this. I NEED IT.

And before you know it – it’s Fun Bonding Party time!

Apparently, ‘party’ means a few hours of the most awkward social interaction ever – Aaron refusing to talk to anyone except his family, Andrew being annoyingly energetic and rude, and Nicky trying to make up for his asshole cousins by talking So Damn Much – but you know, it’s a start.

           Kevin shifted in his seat enough to pull his hand in his pocket. The rattle of pills against plastic was so soft Neil might not have noticed it if not for Andrew’s reaction. (…)

           “Don’t make me hurt you,” Andrew said. “I don’t want blood in my ice cream.”

Ah yes, thanks, I had momentarily forgotten how EXTRA Andrew is.

Kevin also finally solves the question of why he has Andrew’s pills when Andrew off his meds – it ensures Andrew won’t take them in the first flash of withdrawal. Alright. I would have expected some bigger explanation for some reason? Idk. Maybe there’s more here, maybe I’m just seeing things.

Onwards to more fun things – Betsy makes a surprise reappearance via text!

           “Just Bee!” Andrew said. “Bee being stupid. Bee being, ha. Look.”

           Andrew tossed Nicky his phone. Nicky took one look at the screen, laughed, and reached across Aaron to show Neil the phone. (…) It was a grainy picture of Betsy Dobson wearing a bee costume.

What level of PRECIOUS. I love this woman.

It turns out Andrew and Betsy are texting BFFs, which is something I absolutely did not see coming.

Apparently, Andrew likes her considerably more than Neil does.

           “Andrew goes through shrinks like he’s trying to break a world record only he knows about. She’s his eighth one at least.”

           “Thirteenth,” Andrew said. “She made sure to ask me if I was superstitious.”

Uhmmm precious.

           “Some insane number. But when Andrew waltzed ut of her office at the end of his first session with her she was right on his heels and completely unfazed. Pretty impressive, right?”

           “No,” Neil said.

           Nicky sighed. “Eat your ice cream, jerk.”

Eat your ice cream and learn to start appreciating Bee Dobson for the gift to Foxkind that she is, jerk.

Time for a change in scenery – from Fun Ice Cream Times to Fun Club Times!

Seriously, this club does not get any less suspicious to me. I resent every time they go there. That first night has me pretty much scarred for life and I wasn’t even the one who was drugged and kiss-raped. How Neil is so ‘meh’ about going there again all the time is beyond me.

Then again, ‘meh’ just about describes Neil’s attitude towards most things that aren’t Exy or survival. So there’s that.

When they arrive, Dan – understandably – raises the question of whether or not it’s safe to let Andrew be clean for a night, to which Nicky has to say some things.

           “Trust me, you’d know if he was clean. It’s, uh… (…) it’s unmistakable. You’ll see next summer whether you want to or not. He’s off his program in May and should finish rehab by the time we start June practices.”

This is the point where I wonder how long the AFTG books will stretch, time-wise. The first book started in May and ended in August, the second started in August and we’re now – halfway through the book – in November. If we keep up this pace, TRK should be finished around January/February and TKM should end just in June – meaning we will see Andrew off his meds probably?

HECK YES.

10 bucks says Andrew has to come off them for some reason earlier anyways. Don’t ask why. It just feels like it should happen, for suspense reasons or something.

And once everyone is settled in the club, most of them go dancing, having fun, doing normal people stuff – except for our favourite antisocial ‘Help I don’t know how to human’ dudes, who once more engage in an unexpected heart-to-heart.

           “I’ve never been in a position where I could get to know people,” [Neil said.] “I know I have to let them in if we’re going to make it through the season, but it’d be easier if they were just names and faces. How have you stayed disconnected for so long?”

           “They’re not interesting enough to keep my attention.”

Yeah, hi, this is Nicki speaking, is FUCKING BULLSHIT there, I’d like to call them?

Seriously. As if.

           “What about Renee?”

           “What about her?”

           “She’s not interesting?”

           “She’s useful.”

           “That’s it?”

           “You expected a different answer?”

Is Neil trying to slowly find out whether Andrew like-likes Renee or not because that may be a wonderful, wonderful thing.

Also, “she’s useful” for fuck’s sake, stop blowing holes in my platonic goalie BFFs ship.

           “Yes? No? It should be – it is – irrelevant, but…” (…)

           “Sometimes you’re interesting enough to keep around. Other times you’re so astoundingly stupid I can barely stand the sight of you.”

I’m interpreting that statement as either:

1) I’m gay, you fuckwit (most likely)

2) I’m interested in you, you fuckwit (probably not likely at this point in the story, not yet)

3) I’m ace and could really give less fucks about this whole dating shit, you fuckwit (an enjoyable headcanon, but unlikely as we know that Andreil is #endgame)

           Neil scowled at him. “Forget it. I’ll ask Renee.”

           “You’ll have to stop avoiding her first.”

Yes, please do.  Preferably immediately, next chapter, get on it, chop chop.

I need more Renee content always.

           [Neil] went alone to the railing overlooking the dance floor. (…) He had to trust that they were all there, safe and having fun. He was content to watch and imagine.

           Lonely, too, but there was nothing he could do about that.

Except for, y’know……… Making friends…….. Having them teach you healthy social relationships…….. A wild concept, I know, but just consider it………….

Deep sigh.

If you like what I do here and you want to help me continue writing, please consider buying me a coffee! Thank you so much <3

[scriptmedic]

BS Tropes that Need to die TODAY, Part 3: “Truth Serum”

Hey there folks! Earlier this month, your kindly counterparts over on Patreon got access to vote on several nascent post ideas.  And this post  was the winner! Thanks so much to those who voted . I’ll be sure to run another poll in the near future, so if you don’t want to miss out, consider becoming a Patron!

And the Patron’s Choice this month was a post about truth serum. And hoo boy howdy, ever there was a trope that’s off (and pretty awful), this one... well, this one is on the list.

  What’s The Trope?

Billy Badbones has been captured. Whether it’s by the CIA, by Superman, or someone else, they want to know the absolute truth.

And Billy isn’t giving it up lightly!

First comes the tired threats. Then the weary, aged intimidations. Maybe a little bit of torture (and don’t get me started on why that pile of crap doesn’t work!).

And then they whip out the needle with Good Ol’ Sodium Pentothal(TM), and Billy Badbones starts singin’ like a little birdie!

  Why Is It Wrong?

“Truth serum”, as depicted by writers and Hollywood, is actually real. The meds exist, and they’ve been used for interrogation. It’s just that the technique doesn’t freaking work. If you want the TL;DR version of it, straight from your friends and mine at the CIA, here it is:

  The salient points that emerge from this discussion are the following. No such magic brew as the popular notion of truth serum exists. The barbiturates, by disrupting defensive patterns, may sometimes be helpful in interrogation, but even under the best conditions they will elicit an output contaminated by deception, fantasy, garbled speech, etc. A major vulnerability they produce in the subject is a tendency to believe he has revealed more than he has. It is possible, however, for both normal individuals and psychopaths to resist drug interrogation; it seems likely that any individual who can withstand ordinary intensive interrogation can hold out in narcosis.

(Emphasis mine. Also, my good friend at @scriptshrink would like to remind everyone that the term psychopath is dated. The correct modern diagnosis is Antisocial Personality Disorder. Forgive the language; this article was written in 1961).

The other problem with narcoanalysis is that while under the effects of barbiturates, people become very suggestible. It means that they’re likely to tell interrogators what they think interrogators want to hear, not what’s actually true. So even if someone confesses, or spills the location of the secret Rebel base, the veracity  of the information is always in doubt.

But writers didn’t get this from nowhere. This didn’t just spring, fully-formed, from some typewriter clacking away in the 1920s. This is based on some actual research. And some of that research is horrifying.

  The History of “Truth Serum”

Scopolamine was the original “truth serum”, and was accidentally “discovered” to have this effect in the 1920s by Dr. House.

(No, not that Dr. House, though we’ll definitely be talking about him at some point here on ScriptMedic.)

House was delivering babies, and discovered that a combination of morphine and scopolamine was able to help keep mothers quiet during the childbirth process.

This combination also delivered many a dead baby, but hey! It was quiet.

But during the process, House found that the women who were sedated were actually able to speak, usually very cogently and “unreservedly”, about any and all topics.

House had an interest in the criminal justice system. He then used scopolamine to “prove” the innocence of two men wrongfully convicted of crimes. By interviewing them while under the effects of scopolamine, House believed that they were incapable of holding back information.

“Truth serum” then took off, both in the popular consciousness and in American policing. There was a time in this country—less than 100 years ago—that police would inject suspects with scopolamine and question them while they were under its effects.

Because scopolamine has amnestic properties, interrogators were able to convince people they had confessed while under the effects of scopolamine, even if they hadn’t. Remember, being unable to remember an interrogation means you don’t know what you told The Man. 

Other agents have also been used for this effect, the most famous of which is sodium thiopental (Sodium Pentathol is the brand name), and sodium amytal. A 1986 paper suggests that ketamine—yes, my very favorite pharmocological agent—is equally as effective in narcoanalysis as the barbiturates.

Fortunately, here in the US, the courts system has rejected “narcoanalysis” as a means of interrogation. That’s been the case not only domestically, but around the globe as well.... with exceptions.

  Is The Trope Still Useable?

Only if you want to turn it on its head, or have it fail. Because the thing is: places in the world are still doing this. India, for example, uses sodium thiopental even to this day in interrogation (or at least as late as 2012). Colorado wanted to use it as recently as 2013. And it’s been long held that the American Central Intelligence Agency has used some variation of “truth serum” in interrogations.

Which, considering how much of this article is sourced from a CIA document, means they’ve at least looked into the stuff.

But before we continue, let’s clear something up.

Injecting someone with a medication against their will, especially when they’re not actually sick, is a goddamn human rights violation. It will make your characters liable for prosecution and, if they’re part of a military organization, possibly eligible to stand trial for war crimes.

Typically in fiction, the methods used are wrong. As is the ultimate outcome. As is the fact that it’s overlooked as being a human rights violation. So if you’re going to use this trope, I’d rather you used it accurately.

Thiopental, when injected, typically takes the subject into deeper levels of sedation than is useful to the interrogator. It’s as that injection wears off that they enter the “twilight sedation” that’s supposedly useful to interrogators.

As for how it works, well,  Courtesy of the CIA, who have an actually truly excellent article on this topic that I highly suggest you should read:

The descent into narcosis and beyond with progressively larger doses can be divided as follows

I. Sedative Stage

II. Unconsciousness, with exaggerated reflexes (hyperactive stage).

III. Unconsciousness, without reflex even to painful stimuli.

IV. Death.

Whether all these stages can be distinguished in any given subject depends largely on the dose and the rapidity with which the drug is induced. In anesthesia, stages I and II may last only two or three seconds.

The first or sedative stage can be further divided:

·         Plane 1. No evident effect, or slight sedative effect.

·         Plane 2. Cloudiness, calmness, amnesia. (Upon recovery, the subject will not remember what happened at this or "lower" planes or stages.)

·         Plane 3. Slurred speech, old thought patterns disrupted, inability to integrate or learn new patterns. Poor coordination. Subject becomes unaware of painful stimuli.

Also, the “phase 3” area, what they helpfully refer to as the “Psychiatric ‘work’ stage”, lasts only 5-10 minutes—hardly long enough for a detailed, confessiony interview.

And, for the record? Nobody injects anything into the neck. Okay? Okay. #Aunty’sPetPeeves

  Can Subjects Keep The Truth Hidden During a Pentothal Interrogation?

The CIA sure as hell seems to think so. Observe:

At least one experiment has shown that subjects are capable of maintaining a lie while under the influence of a barbiturate. Redlich and his associates at Yale25 administered sodium amytal to nine volunteers, students and professionals, who had previously, for purposes of the experiment, revealed shameful and guilt-producing episodes of their past and then invented false self-protective stories to cover them. In nearly every case the cover story retained some elements of the guilt inherent in the true story.

Under the influence of the drug, the subjects were cross-examined on their cover stories by a second investigator. The results, though not definitive, showed that normal individuals who had good defenses and no overt pathological traits could stick to their invented stories and refuse confession. Neurotic individuals with strong unconscious self-punitive tendencies, on the other hand, both confessed more easily and were inclined to substitute fantasy for the truth, confessing to offenses never actually committed.

  What Happens As They Wake Up?

From the CIA again:

“As the subject revived, he would become aware that he was being questioned about his secrets and, depending upon his personality, his fear of discovery, or the degree of his disillusionment with the doctor, grow negativistic, hostile, or physically aggressive. Occasionally patients had to be forcibly restrained during this period to prevent injury to themselves or others as the doctor continued to interrogate. Some patients, moved by fierce and diffuse anger, the assumption that they had already been tricked into confessing, and a still limited sense of discretion, defiantly acknowledged their guilt and challenged the observer to "do something about it." As the excitement passed, some fell back on their original stories and others verified the confessed material. During the follow-up interview nine of the 17 admitted the validity of their confessions; eight repudiated their confessions and reaffirmed their earlier accounts.”

(If that isn’t a human rights violation, I don’t know what is.)

So yeah. As someone withdraws from sedation under a barbiturate, they can get angry, violent, agitated, etc.

So that about clears it up for truth serum!

  Sorry, This Post Was Hella Long. What Did You Say?

Truth serum is a social name for sodium thiopental, sodium amytal, or scopolamine, though other agents including ketamine can be used. While people can be put in twilight sedation with these medications and interrogated, they can reasonably withhold information. Also, they tend to tell interrogators what they think the interrogator wants to hear rather than the truth, and/or a made-up bit of fantasy.

It may be possible to sedate Billy Badbones and, once he wakes up, convince him that he told them everything they wanted to know under sedation, but attempts to do so may or may not succeed.

  So yes, “truth serum” exists. It’s just that it doesn’t do what’s on the label.

Actually, it does do what it says on the label, because the label is for a drug that was intended for sedation. Barbiturates are perfectly effective as sedatives.

But a magical drug that makes you tell only the truth is just that.... fantasy.

Sources:

https://www.cia.gov/library/center-for-the-study-of-intelligence/kent-csi/vol5no2/html/v05i2a09p_0001.htm

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/7773261.stm

https://www.theguardian.com/uk/2012/jul/05/india-truth-serum

http://www.salon.com/2013/03/13/james_holmes_the_ethics_efficacy_of_truth_serum/

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3172517/

Thanks for reading.

xoxo, Aunt Scripty

disclaimer    

This post appeared 7 days early on Patreon! Want to see the freaking future? Become a Patron today!

Want a free eBook of 10 horrific tropes just like this to maim, shred, destroy and obliterate? Click here! 

[frenchkisst]

Johanna’s PCOS improved with keto, she has ‘no plans to stop’

Can a keto diet help with polycystic ovary syndrome PCOS? Johanna, who has PCOS, has been eating keto for 11 months and she definitely thinks so.

Here, Johanna, 25, from Sweden shares how making this dietary change nearly a year ago helped her to lose weight and improve her PCOS symptoms. Plus, she sheds light on the reasons why she’d recommend keto to anyone who wants to enjoy better health.

The interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.

How would you describe your experience with keto so far?

It’s been surprisingly good. I feel a lot more alert, less anxious, and way more productive overall! I have no plans to stop.

What has been the greatest benefit of keto?

The best part of my newfound lifestyle has been feeling happier and more energized.

About a year ago, I was diagnosed with PCOS — and oddly enough, this diagnosis felt like a relief.

For several years, I had gained a lot of weight, felt tired, and had problems with anxiety. I had tried other diets but never managed to stick with them in the long term.

After doing some research on PCOS, I found the motivation to give low carb a try. I wanted to improve my lifestyle and health – and going keto definitely did.

Low carb has greatly improved my PCOS. These days, I have less unwanted hair growth, less anxiety, and my sex drive has returned. My body and mind feel lighter in several ways.

Did you lose weight on keto?

Yes, I did! I’ve lost about 22 pounds (or 10 kilos). And instead of weighing myself, I measure different parts of my body and take photos to track my progress.

When I suddenly started to gain a lot of weight in 2018 and 2019, I didn’t understand why. Although I didn’t think that my eating habits were bad at the time, things started to make sense when I went low carb.

Would you recommend keto to other people?

Yes! I want everyone to experience what I did. It’s terrible to feel anxious and tired all the time — and if you can fix the problem with diet, why wouldn’t you?

What would be your advice for those just starting keto?

Get recipe inspiration from Diet Doctor, as well as, low-carb influencers on social media. Find ideas and inspiration on how to substitute high-carb foods like pasta, pizza, and rice — and don’t be afraid to experiment!

What’s the most difficult thing about keto?

It’s definitely eating out when there are no good low-carb options. When this happens, it just becomes easier to cheat. For me, it’s especially hard when there’s sushi or Indian food. That’s when it becomes difficult to resist!

During the pandemic and quarantine, I started having about four cheat meals a week, where I’d order sushi and Indian food. After a few weeks, I got back on low carb and realized once again how much I don’t like the feeling of overeating carbs. Whenever I do this, my stomach feels too full and heavy.

In addition to how much keto has helped my PCOS symptoms, avoiding this overly “full” feeling is something that motivates me to stay on track.

Comment

Congrats on your success, Johanna. We have written before about the beneficial effect of keto on PCOS, and you are living proof of that. Thanks for sharing your story and keep up the great work!

Best, / Dr. Bret Scher

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03:16

Is there a link between low carb and eating disorders? In this episode of the women's questions series, we focus on eating disorders and a low-carb diet.

Can fasting be problematic for women?

05:54

Can fasting be problematic for women? We'll get the answers from top low-carb experts here.

Women, hormones and nutrition

47:53

Presentation by physician and fertility expert Dr. Michael Fox on nutrition as a treatment for infertility, PCOS and menopause.

Is low carb safe in pregnancy?

32:10

Is it safe to follow a low-carb or ketogenic diet during pregnancy? In this presentation, Lily Nichols takes us through the science and offers some pointers that are important for pregnant women to consider.

How do you maximize your health?

06:01

What do you need to do, as a woman, to maximize your health? In this video, we take a deep dive into all the important pillars that affect our health the most.

Do you need more carbs when breastfeeding?

04:27

In this episode of the women’s questions series, we hear from several experts on their view on carbs for breastfeeding women.

The cure for morning sickness

09:57

What's the key to avoiding morning sickness during pregnancy? Fertility-expert Dr. Michael Fox answers.

Can exercise be problematic for women?

02:48

Can exercise be problematic for women? Is a low-carb diet beneficial for women who exercise? And what kind of exercise typically suits women the best?

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The post Johanna’s PCOS improved with keto, she has ‘no plans to stop’ appeared first on Diet Doctor.

from RSSMix.com Mix ID 11634933 https://ift.tt/2XRJAhV

[rolandfontana]

‘Kindness of Strangers’ a Last Resort for the Rural Mentally Ill

Even though more services are becoming available to divert the seriously mentally ill from the justice system, rural communities are struggling to find the resources they need to bring those services to the people who need them.

Transportation, for instance, can make the difference between success or failure.

“We have no public transportation here,” said Pamela Hopkins, a Fremont, Neb., lawyer who is running for Dodge County Attorney. “Many of these people are unable to drive, for one reason or another, whether it’s because they use alcohol as a substitute for their treatment and they lost their licenses because of that, or they’re too poor to have a car.

“They’ve got to depend on the kindness of strangers.”

Without ready access to counseling or treatment often located far from their homes, defendants might otherwise find it hard to prove to judges that they are serious about addressing their problems.

Nebraska, like many states with large rural populations, is at the sharp end of the challenges of dealing with mentally troubled individuals. Most of the state is experiencing a shortage in mental health and psychiatric providers, according to the state’s Department of Health and Human Services (DHHS) Office of Rural Health.

Linda Witmuss, deputy director of the DHHS Division of Behavioral Health, acknowledged that the system needs to undertake a “richer review of data” to better determine how the state’s finite resources should be allotted to meet the need.

But she argues that mental health reforms launched by the state in 2004 have led to more services at the community level.

“There’s always room for more services—don’t get me wrong there,” she said. “ (But) all of our rehab options (and) services, including expansion of medication management, came about as a result of that reform.”

In 2004, the Nebraska legislature passed Bill LB1083, which was designed to reduce the use of inpatient psychiatric services at the state’s three Regional Centers in Lincoln, Norfolk and Hastings, and invest more in outpatient and community-based services that could help those struggling with mental health in their own communities.

The reduction of inpatient beds was consistent with nationwide efforts to move away from institutionalizing the mentally ill and instead treat them in their communities. But those interviewed by the Tribune say that the infrastructure for community care was slow to materialize, and it still isn’t adequate for those who may be in need of more intensive care.

“There’s a lot of people who aren’t even leaving their homes to get the services that they need because they’re just homebound because of their anxiety,” said Hylean McGreevy, a licensed mental health practitioner and alcohol and drug counselor at Methodist Fremont Health’s Behavioral Outpatient Services.

“They’re not functioning well and they fall through the cracks.”

According to numbers provided to the Tribune by the Nebraska Jail Standards Board, of 1,225 individuals discharged from the Regional Centers in a four-year period following mental health reform, nearly 500, or around 40 percent, ended up in the county jail system at least once.

About six percent ended up in the prison system.

Collaboration Between Police and Health Providers

The challenges often begin at the street level, where rural law enforcement encounters individuals in desperate straits.

“There is a lot of stress on the community,” said Fremont Police Lt. Kurt Bottorff. “Times are hard for certain people — the stress builds up and that’s where some mental health breakdowns can take place.

“Their behavior ends up being a law violation and they’re sometimes jailed because of it, instead of addressing the core problem.”

Under a pilot program that started in July, the Fremont Police Department became one of only two departments in the state to hire a crisis response co-responder—a licensed mental health practitioner who works directly in the police department two days per week, responding to 911 calls alongside officers when she believes mental health is an issue in the complaint.

The pilot program, funded by a two-year grant from the Behavioral Health Support Foundation and operating in collaboration with Lutheran Family Services, aims to help keep those struggling with mental health issues out of the criminal justice system or avoid involuntary hospital stays, and to connect them with community resources.

Until recently, even the nearest medical services were a 40-minute drive away, in Omaha.

‘When people are released (from jail) into the community, and they don’t have the supports in place, it becomes a revolving door.’

Now, mental health practitioner Rachel Wesely can respond at her own discretion instantaneously, from within the department, and can follow up with callers after law enforcement leaves.

‘When people are released (from jail) into the community, and they don’t have the supports in place, it becomes a revolving door.’

But as concern mounts about a growing number of mentally ill individuals entering the criminal justice system and winding up in county jails, local stakeholders are taking a more focused approach to line those individuals up with more appropriate services.

“There’s a need for access to treatment in jails and when individuals are incarcerated, it’s not getting filled,” Wesely said. “Sometimes when people are released back out into the community (and) they don’t have the supports in place, it kind of becomes a revolving door.”

Medication and services can be expensive. Many lack insurance to help cover costs, though some programs offer sliding fee scales, which can adjust payments based on income and family size. In recent years, co-pays and deductibles have become more expensive even for those who have insurance, providers say.

Additionally, treating mental illness is more complicated than treating physical ailments, and ensuring compliance to treatment plans poses challenges, providers say. Psychiatric treatment requires significant “trial-and-error” to find the right medications, doses and strategies. That means lots of time spent taking medications that may ultimately need to be adjusted or changed, and that may carry unpleasant side effects that deter compliance.

It’s a process that requires patience and follow-up. And ensuring that patients comply with their treatment plans, remain stable or avoid self-medicating with illicit drugs and alcohol is a challenge that’s only exacerbated by barriers like access and affordability.

“Let’s just use a hypothetical,” said Dodge County Attorney Oliver Glass. “I can’t afford my medication, my medication makes me feel strange anyway, but I do know that when I self-medicate with street drugs or alcohol, that’s going to make me feel better at least.

“And that’s when, at least in my experience here, a lot of crimes are committed.”

Intensive Care Challenges

The Regional (Health) Center has some space available to the regions for more intensive care. It houses individuals who have been ordered by a court to receive a competency evaluation or restoration, as well as individuals committed by a local mental health board. The latter process only occurs if an individual in crisis refuses to be voluntarily committed and is put under an emergency protective custody.

But wait times to get into the often crowded Regional Center have gone up, officials say.

Witmuss of the DHSS said that the state is looking into the need to increase capacity, but cautioned that opening new beds alone wouldn’t solve the problem.

“We have a lot of complex cases,” she said. “When you can’t discharge folks, then you can’t admit folks, either.”

Mental health programs and services are funded through Medicaid as well as the state’s behavioral healthcare regional system. Providers contract with one of the six regions, which then funnels funding from DHHS’ Division of Behavioral Health, federal block grants and county-level matching funds.

But grants and pilot programs, like the Lutheran Family Services’ co-responder program, are only guaranteed for fixed periods of time. Agencies and organizations are always shifting their appropriations to keep up with where the demand is highest, which can lead to changes in program availability.

Meanwhile, at the local level, stakeholders are giving new focus to the issue. Providers are exploring more innovative solutions to staff shortages, such as Telehealth, which would allow for remote counseling or med management.

Last year, Behavioral Health Care Region 6, which encompasses Douglas, Dodge, Cass, Washington and Sarpy Counties, hired Vicki Maca as a full-time employee, dedicated to trying to keep mentally ill individuals out of the criminal justice system.

The national ‘Stepping Up Initiative’ works to help the mentally ill avoid jail.

That hiring decision was spurred by a nationwide initiative involving the National Association of County Officials, the American Psychiatric Association and the Council of State Governments known as the Stepping Up Initiative.

The initiative is a data-driven effort to reduce the number of people with serious mental illness booked into jail, shorten their average length of stay, increase the connection to care for those individuals in jail and reduce rates of recidivism.

While other behavioral health care regions are engaging with the Stepping Up Initiative, Region 6 is the only one that’s hired a full-time employee devoted to the topic.

But officials and providers remain optimistic. Rachel Wesely, the co-responder at the Fremont Police Department, law enforcement’s enthusiasm and willingness to cooperate with the co-responder model has led to success, she said.

Lt. Bottorff agrees.

“What I’m seeing now is reduced calls for service for the same problem,” he added. “There are times when we get so bombarded with the same situation—they didn’t have the tools to fix their problem.”

James Farrell, a staff writer for The Fremont Tribune, is a 2018 John Jay Rural Justice Reporting Fellow. This is an edited version of  Part Two of a series exploring the intersection of mental health and the criminal justice system in rural Nebraska. To see the full version, click here. Part One can be accessed here. Readers’ comments are welcome.

‘Kindness of Strangers’ a Last Resort for the Rural Mentally Ill syndicated from https://immigrationattorneyto.wordpress.com/

[lopezdorothy70-blog]

The World Anti-Doping Agency Just Gave Olympic Athletes the Green Light to Use CBD Products

The World Anti-Doping Agency just gave Olympic athletes the green light to use CBD products - or cannabinoids - to manage their pain.

And it only took 2,800 years. More on that in a moment…

The ancient Greek physician Pedanius Dioscorides wrote extensively about CBD and cannabis in his five-volume medical text.

This is huge news for people who depend on their bodies to perform at peak levels day in and day out.

But it's also big news for my patients at the Sears Institute for Anti-Aging Medicine.

You see, living where I do in South Florida, I have a lot of patients of retirement age. And they moved to this area so they could enjoy their days outdoors playing golf and tennis all year round.

But the aches and pains that go along with getting older sometimes keep my patients from doing the things they love.

My patients want natural solutions to treat their pain. And that's what I offer them. But now, I have a new tool in my arsenal that's highly effective, natural and safe - CBD.

You see, my patients know that Big Pharma's painkillers are not a good long-term choice. By now, everyone is aware of the opioid epidemic in our country. But even over-the-counter pain meds are dangerous…

Low-dose aspirin is toxic when taken too often. Regular use increases your risk of bleeding, getting ulcers, developing hearing loss and having liver and kidney failure.1 Even conventional doctors and the FDA have stopped recommending that everyone take a low-dose aspirin daily because they finally get that the risks outweigh any benefit.

Acetaminophen, or Tylenol, is marketed as the world's safest drug. But recent studies found it can increase blood pressure, double your risk of certain cancers, lead to broken bones and cause liver damage.2,3,4,5

NSAIDs increase your risk of heart attack and stroke - within just one week of consistent use. And the more you use, the more your risk goes up.6

Cannabis-based remedies were one of the world's leading medicines for thousands of years.

The two oldest forms of medicine - Ayurveda and Chinese - used CBD oil to treat everything from high blood pressure and cancer to sexual dysfunction and pain. And the ancient Egyptians wrote extensively about it in the world's oldest medical textbook, the Ebers Papyrus.

And as it turns out, the very first Olympians, back in 776 B.C., used CBD oil to treat a variety of illnesses and ailments.

Years later, the ancient Greek physician Pedanius Dioscorides, wrote extensively about it in his medical text De Materia Medica.

In this five-volume pharmacopoeia, he said that “[cannabis] is a plant of much use in this life” and that its uses include… “the treatment of inflammation and [arthritis],” as well as the “twisting of the sinews,” or tendons.7

CBD was also widely used extensively in America until the 1930s. In fact, it made up half of all medicines prescribed and sold.

But then the government got involved and declared this lifesaving drug illegal. Luckily, they've reversed course in recent years. Today, CBD products are legal in some states.

That's a relief for a lot of my patients because CBD is leading a pain-relieving revolution we haven't seen since the invention of aspirin. And today's research backs up what 10,000 years of use has found.

A 2012 study published in the Journal of Experimental Medicine found that CBD significantly suppressed chronic inflammation and pain in animals without causing either tolerance or addiction.8

In a separate study, researchers applied CBD oil to severely arthritic rats for four days. Their research reported a significant drop in inflammation and pain, without side effects.9

A third study followed 2,700 cancer patients in severe pain for six months. After using CBD oil, almost every single study participant reported that their chronic pain was cut in half - with none of the side effects they got from their prescription medications.

If severe pain were all that CBD treated, I'd still recommend it. But this miracle oil has also been proven to treat cancer, diabetes, Alzheimer's and heart disease. Look for more on that in a future letter…

Knock Out Pain with These 3 Herbal Remedies

Take the original aspirin. White willow bark contains salicin, the same compound found in aspirin. It comes from a tree native to Europe and Asia. Hippocrates had his patients chew on white willow bark to reduce inflammation.

Studies show it not only relieves arthritis pain but also increases mobility in the back, knees, hips and other joints. And a study in the American Journal of Medicine found it extremely effective for lower back pain.

I recommend 240 mg per day.

Try the “golden miracle.” That's what I call curcumin. This South Indian spice has 619 health benefits that are supported by nearly 7,000 studies. But curcumin is best known as a powerful anti-inflammatory. In fact, studies show it reduces arthritis joint pain by 60% and joint swelling by 73%. Another clinical trial found it was more effective than prescription strength NSAID.

Look for a supplement that contains piperine. This black pepper extract boosts absorbency by 2,000%.

I recommend 400 mg to 500 mg twice a day.

Use this “NSAID substitute.” That's how researchers at the University of Miami refer to ginger. In their study, they compared a ginger extract to a placebo in 247 patients with osteoarthritis. The ginger reduced pain and stiffness in knee joints by 40% over the placebo.11 And a second study in the Journal of Alternative and Complementary Medicine found that ginger reduce pain in both muscles and joints by as much as 25%.12

Ginger contains 12 different compounds that fight excess inflammation. Some block the enzyme which triggers it. Some lower pain-receptor and nerve-ending sensitivity. Together they work as well as any over-the-counter remedy you can find.

I recommend you take 750 mg of liquid ginger extract a day.

To Your Good Health,

Al Sears, MD, CNS

P.S. I'm currently working on my own CBD product to release in the next couple of months. With my decades of experience searching for natural herbal cures around the world, this seemed like the obvious next step.

The studies and research I've read have been incredible. And I can't wait to share this new powerful no-prescription-required treatment with my patients. Stay tuned!

1. Harvard Health Letter. Weighing the risks and benefits of aspirin therapy. https://www.health.harvard.edu/heart-health/weighing-the-risks-and-benefits-of-aspirin-therapy. November 2017. Accessed on August 17, 2018. 2. Harvard Health Letter. Acetaminophen may boost blood pressure. February 2011. https://www.health.harvard.edu/heart-health/acetaminophen-may-boost-blood-pressure. Accessed May 8, 2018. 3. Walter RB, et al. “Long-term use of acetaminophen, aspirin, and other nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs and risk of hematologic malignancies: results from the prospective Vitamins and Lifestyle (VITAL) study.” J Clin Oncol. 2011;29(17):2424-2431. 4. Williams LJ, et. al. “Paracetamol (acetaminophen) use, fracture and bone mineral density.” Bone. 2011;48(6):1277-1281. 5. FDA U.S. Food & Drug Administration. Can an aspirin a day help prevent a heart attack? 6. Harvard Health Publishing. FDA strengthens warning that NSAIDs increase heart attack and stroke risk. https://www.health.harvard.edu/blog/fda-strengthens-warning-that-nsaids-increase-heart-attack-and-stroke-risk-201507138138. Updated August 22, 2017. Accessed on August 17, 2018. 7. Pedanius Dioscorides. Full Text of De Materia Medica. https://archive.org/stream/de-materia-medica/scribd-download.com_dioscorides-de-materia-medica_djvu.txt. Accessed on August 17, 2018. 8. Xiong W, et al. “Cannabinoids suppress inflammatory and neuropathic pain by targeting α3 glycine receptors.” J Exp Med. 2012;209(6):1121-1134. 9. Hammell DC, et al. “Transdermal cannabidiol reduces inflammation and pain-related behaviours in a rat model of arthritis.” Eur J Pain. 2016; 20(6): 936-948. 10. Chandran B and Goel A. “A randomized, pilot study to assess the efficacy and safety of curcumin in patients with active rheumatoid arthritis.” Phytother Res. 2012;26(11):1719-1725. 11. Altman RD and Marcussen KC. “Effects of a ginger extract on knee pain in patients with osteoarthritis.” Arthritis Rheum. 2001;44(11):2531-2538. 12. Ozgoli G, et al. “Comparison of effects of ginger, mefenamic acid, and ibuprofen on pain in women with primary dysmenorrhea.” J Altern Complement Med. 2009;15(2):129-132.

The post The World Anti-Doping Agency Just Gave Olympic Athletes the Green Light to Use CBD Products appeared first on Dr. Al Sears, MD Anti Aging Pioneer Alternative Health Newsletter.

[battybat-boss]

The World Anti-Doping Agency Just Gave Olympic Athletes the Green Light to Use CBD Products

The World Anti-Doping Agency just gave Olympic athletes the green light to use CBD products - or cannabinoids - to manage their pain.

And it only took 2,800 years. More on that in a moment…

The ancient Greek physician Pedanius Dioscorides wrote extensively about CBD and cannabis in his five-volume medical text.

This is huge news for people who depend on their bodies to perform at peak levels day in and day out.

But it's also big news for my patients at the Sears Institute for Anti-Aging Medicine.

You see, living where I do in South Florida, I have a lot of patients of retirement age. And they moved to this area so they could enjoy their days outdoors playing golf and tennis all year round.

But the aches and pains that go along with getting older sometimes keep my patients from doing the things they love.

My patients want natural solutions to treat their pain. And that's what I offer them. But now, I have a new tool in my arsenal that's highly effective, natural and safe - CBD.

You see, my patients know that Big Pharma's painkillers are not a good long-term choice. By now, everyone is aware of the opioid epidemic in our country. But even over-the-counter pain meds are dangerous…

Low-dose aspirin is toxic when taken too often. Regular use increases your risk of bleeding, getting ulcers, developing hearing loss and having liver and kidney failure.1 Even conventional doctors and the FDA have stopped recommending that everyone take a low-dose aspirin daily because they finally get that the risks outweigh any benefit.

Acetaminophen, or Tylenol, is marketed as the world's safest drug. But recent studies found it can increase blood pressure, double your risk of certain cancers, lead to broken bones and cause liver damage.2,3,4,5

NSAIDs increase your risk of heart attack and stroke - within just one week of consistent use. And the more you use, the more your risk goes up.6

Cannabis-based remedies were one of the world's leading medicines for thousands of years.

The two oldest forms of medicine - Ayurveda and Chinese - used CBD oil to treat everything from high blood pressure and cancer to sexual dysfunction and pain. And the ancient Egyptians wrote extensively about it in the world's oldest medical textbook, the Ebers Papyrus.

And as it turns out, the very first Olympians, back in 776 B.C., used CBD oil to treat a variety of illnesses and ailments.

Years later, the ancient Greek physician Pedanius Dioscorides, wrote extensively about it in his medical text De Materia Medica.

In this five-volume pharmacopoeia, he said that “[cannabis] is a plant of much use in this life” and that its uses include… “the treatment of inflammation and [arthritis],” as well as the “twisting of the sinews,” or tendons.7

CBD was also widely used extensively in America until the 1930s. In fact, it made up half of all medicines prescribed and sold.

But then the government got involved and declared this lifesaving drug illegal. Luckily, they've reversed course in recent years. Today, CBD products are legal in some states.

That's a relief for a lot of my patients because CBD is leading a pain-relieving revolution we haven't seen since the invention of aspirin. And today's research backs up what 10,000 years of use has found.

A 2012 study published in the Journal of Experimental Medicine found that CBD significantly suppressed chronic inflammation and pain in animals without causing either tolerance or addiction.8

In a separate study, researchers applied CBD oil to severely arthritic rats for four days. Their research reported a significant drop in inflammation and pain, without side effects.9

A third study followed 2,700 cancer patients in severe pain for six months. After using CBD oil, almost every single study participant reported that their chronic pain was cut in half - with none of the side effects they got from their prescription medications.

If severe pain were all that CBD treated, I'd still recommend it. But this miracle oil has also been proven to treat cancer, diabetes, Alzheimer's and heart disease. Look for more on that in a future letter…

Knock Out Pain with These 3 Herbal Remedies

Take the original aspirin. White willow bark contains salicin, the same compound found in aspirin. It comes from a tree native to Europe and Asia. Hippocrates had his patients chew on white willow bark to reduce inflammation.

Studies show it not only relieves arthritis pain but also increases mobility in the back, knees, hips and other joints. And a study in the American Journal of Medicine found it extremely effective for lower back pain.

I recommend 240 mg per day.

Try the “golden miracle.” That's what I call curcumin. This South Indian spice has 619 health benefits that are supported by nearly 7,000 studies. But curcumin is best known as a powerful anti-inflammatory. In fact, studies show it reduces arthritis joint pain by 60% and joint swelling by 73%. Another clinical trial found it was more effective than prescription strength NSAID.

Look for a supplement that contains piperine. This black pepper extract boosts absorbency by 2,000%.

I recommend 400 mg to 500 mg twice a day.

Use this “NSAID substitute.” That's how researchers at the University of Miami refer to ginger. In their study, they compared a ginger extract to a placebo in 247 patients with osteoarthritis. The ginger reduced pain and stiffness in knee joints by 40% over the placebo.11 And a second study in the Journal of Alternative and Complementary Medicine found that ginger reduce pain in both muscles and joints by as much as 25%.12

Ginger contains 12 different compounds that fight excess inflammation. Some block the enzyme which triggers it. Some lower pain-receptor and nerve-ending sensitivity. Together they work as well as any over-the-counter remedy you can find.

I recommend you take 750 mg of liquid ginger extract a day.

To Your Good Health,

Al Sears, MD, CNS

P.S. I'm currently working on my own CBD product to release in the next couple of months. With my decades of experience searching for natural herbal cures around the world, this seemed like the obvious next step.

The studies and research I've read have been incredible. And I can't wait to share this new powerful no-prescription-required treatment with my patients. Stay tuned!

1. Harvard Health Letter. Weighing the risks and benefits of aspirin therapy. https://www.health.harvard.edu/heart-health/weighing-the-risks-and-benefits-of-aspirin-therapy. November 2017. Accessed on August 17, 2018. 2. Harvard Health Letter. Acetaminophen may boost blood pressure. February 2011. https://www.health.harvard.edu/heart-health/acetaminophen-may-boost-blood-pressure. Accessed May 8, 2018. 3. Walter RB, et al. “Long-term use of acetaminophen, aspirin, and other nonsteroidal anti-inflammatory drugs and risk of hematologic malignancies: results from the prospective Vitamins and Lifestyle (VITAL) study.” J Clin Oncol. 2011;29(17):2424-2431. 4. Williams LJ, et. al. “Paracetamol (acetaminophen) use, fracture and bone mineral density.” Bone. 2011;48(6):1277-1281. 5. FDA U.S. Food & Drug Administration. Can an aspirin a day help prevent a heart attack? 6. Harvard Health Publishing. FDA strengthens warning that NSAIDs increase heart attack and stroke risk. https://www.health.harvard.edu/blog/fda-strengthens-warning-that-nsaids-increase-heart-attack-and-stroke-risk-201507138138. Updated August 22, 2017. Accessed on August 17, 2018. 7. Pedanius Dioscorides. Full Text of De Materia Medica. https://archive.org/stream/de-materia-medica/scribd-download.com_dioscorides-de-materia-medica_djvu.txt. Accessed on August 17, 2018. 8. Xiong W, et al. “Cannabinoids suppress inflammatory and neuropathic pain by targeting α3 glycine receptors.” J Exp Med. 2012;209(6):1121-1134. 9. Hammell DC, et al. “Transdermal cannabidiol reduces inflammation and pain-related behaviours in a rat model of arthritis.” Eur J Pain. 2016; 20(6): 936-948. 10. Chandran B and Goel A. “A randomized, pilot study to assess the efficacy and safety of curcumin in patients with active rheumatoid arthritis.” Phytother Res. 2012;26(11):1719-1725. 11. Altman RD and Marcussen KC. “Effects of a ginger extract on knee pain in patients with osteoarthritis.” Arthritis Rheum. 2001;44(11):2531-2538. 12. Ozgoli G, et al. “Comparison of effects of ginger, mefenamic acid, and ibuprofen on pain in women with primary dysmenorrhea.” J Altern Complement Med. 2009;15(2):129-132.

The post The World Anti-Doping Agency Just Gave Olympic Athletes the Green Light to Use CBD Products appeared first on Dr. Al Sears, MD Anti Aging Pioneer Alternative Health Newsletter.

[beckyhstark78-blog]

Choosing a Chiropractic Physician - 9 Ways That Worked as well as One That Didn't.

1. Search in the Telephone Directory. One morning, greater than Three Decade back, I awakened with lower pain in the back. I relocated a bit ... yes, it was certainly a pain, rather sharp as well as intense. I would certainly never ever had back pain before of any kind, however the first thought I had was, "I need a chiropractic specialist." Where did that assumed come from? I didn't know any person that was under chiropractor treatment, I had had nearly no thoughts concerning chiropractors, with the single exception that my mother once told me that her friend saw a chiropractic physician. However with no doubt, I got the Yellow Pages, sought out chiropractors, as well as discovered one that was in my area. That was a plus because I really did not possess a cars and truck, so I would be able to stroll to my visit.

2. Go back to a person who has assisted you in the past. A year or two later I was in a bike mishap. I was pedaling down a hillside as rapid as I could on my 2-speed bike (resting as well as standing) to get via the light near the bottom, and keep my momentum for the hill right later on. Yet just as I got in the crossway, the light turned yellow. I slammed on my brakes as hard as I could, however not quickly sufficient to avoid the vehicle making a left turn in front of me! I flew via the air and awakened to an emergency situation tech stooping over me. At the health center I was given a card with the indications of concussion to expect and sent out home. Well, that seemed poor! So I called my chiropractor as well as returned for treatment. His examination exposed a serious imbalance of my neck which he ultimately fixed.

3. Get a referral from a good friend. Now almost every person knows somebody that sees a chiropractic practitioner. However back in the 70's this was not the instance. While I was participating in a theater-related workshop, I fulfilled a fellow trainee who told me about a specific approach of chiropractic as well as motivated me to seek that type of treatment. Not long after, I located myself in New york city City and also situated a chiropractor on Long Island. So each week I took the train out to East Rockaway. This moment around my option was not solely about being able to stroll to my appointments.

4. Different shore, various doc, exact same method. My twenty-something wanderings later took me to Seattle. Considering that I had actually been flawlessly satisfied with the treatment I obtained in New york city, I sought the exact same technique in Seattle. By this time I was coming to be intrigued by the opportunity of really having a "real" occupation (as well as not just meddling movie theater). When I asked this chiropractic doctor, "Do people get stronger, generally, over time?" his eyes illuminated (a person obtained it!), and also I recognized where I was headed.

5. Discover someone who has associated understanding you want. Before I left Seattle to participate in chiropractic school in St. Paul, Minnesota, I had read of a chiropractic practitioner there who was knowledgeable concerning Oriental philosophy and also approaches of recovery. This was something I had long been reading around, so I tracked him down and also began treatment. This chiropractor came to be a true advisor, as well as what I learned from him has actually remained to offer me well in my 25-plus years of practice.

6. Don't necessarily seek out leaders in the area. This suggestions may appear strange, but the only frustration I have ever experienced was with a neighborhood leader of my favorite chiropractic method. After my go back to Seattle to establish a technique, I looked for colleagues in my certain technique, and also at some point started getting care from one who got on the nationwide organization's mentor personnel. However, he never navigated to addressing my reason for choosing him, as well as I went on.

7. Stand in line at the grocery store as well as await somebody to hand you their chiropractor's card. We urge our patients to refer family and friends, yet you 'd be surprised the number of people have been available in over the years simply since a person near them in line at the bank or equipment shop or grocery store handed them a card. Timing is whatever.

8. Work with an associate doctor and also exchange treatments. Okay, this isn't going to benefit any person apart from a chiropractic specialist, but hey, it benefited me. Spend 4-1/2 years in chiropractic college and also break out chiropractic look after life. Not a bad setup. Think of it.

9. Review a publication. In 1999, after sixteen years in method I was really feeling a little bit uninteresting. My factor for mosting likely to chiropractic school-- in order to help individuals unravel their maximum human possibility-- was being overwhelmed by exactly what I viewed as the diminishment of chiropractic care's possibility. Sure, we were more accepted by the mainstream, yet at what price? Now individuals thought about chiropractic physicians as being strictly for neck discomfort, pain in the back, frustrations. Where had the large picture gone? Throughout this moment, I review The Molecules of Feeling, by Candace Pert, Ph.D., where she describes how our system of psychological intelligence has focal points throughout the body, including the digestive tract as well as the spine. In her appendix I read about something called Network Chiropractic care. If there were something in my occupation which incorporated her amazing discoveries, I needed to check it out. So I called the contact number detailed given, and also discovered that an initial seminar was being held three weekends hence. Talk about luck! That weekend re-inspired me, and also launched a trip of ever before much deeper as well as deeper recovery work.

10. Pick a suitable connection, not a strategy. Over the years, no matter what strategies I have actually taken with my people, the associate I return to again and again is, quite merely, a friend. We initially met long before she entered chiropractic school. As a matter of fact, when I hired her to substitute my workplace manager who got on maternity leave, she remained in pre-med and also moving towards clinical institution. Over the years, we've collaborated numerous times, gone our separate methods for a couple of years, after that reconnected once more. I suggest to my patients who are relocating to an additional location that they interview a number of chiropractic doctors and also see which one( s) they really feel rapport with. The human link trumps whatever else.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bhU4maQh49o

[jamesbtillery2-blog]

Picking a Chiropractic Physician - 9 Ways That Functioned and One That Really did not.

1. Look in the Telephone Directory. One early morning, more than Three Decade earlier, I got up with lower pain in the back. I moved a bit ... yes, it was absolutely a pain, instead sharp as well as intense. I 'd never ever had neck and back pain prior to of any kind of kind, but the first idea I had was, "I need a chiropractor." Where did that thought come from? I didn't understand anyone who was under chiropractic physician care, I had actually had nearly no thoughts regarding chiropractic practitioners, with the solitary exception that my mommy when informed me that her buddy saw a chiropractor. Yet with no reluctance, I got the Yellow Pages, searched for chiropractors, and also found one that remained in my neighborhood. That was a plus since I didn't own an automobile, so I would have the ability to stroll to my appointment.

2. Go back to someone who has helped you in the past. A year or more later I remained in a bike crash. I was pedaling down a hill as rapid as I might on my 2-speed bike (resting as well as standing) so as to get with the light near the bottom, and keep my energy for capital right after that. But just as I got in the junction, the light transformed yellow. I knocked on my brakes as hard as I could, but not quick adequate to avoid the auto making a left kip down front of me! I flew through the air and awakened to an emergency situation technology kneeling over me. At the hospital I was offered a card with the indications of concussion to expect as well as sent out home. Well, that appeared inadequate! So I called my chiropractic physician and also returned for care. His examination disclosed a severe misalignment of my neck which he consequently remedied.

3. Get a reference from a friend. By now almost every person understands a person who sees a chiropractic physician. Yet back in the 70's this was not the case. While I was attending a theater-related workshop, I fulfilled a fellow trainee that informed me concerning a particular approach of chiropractic care and motivated me to seek out that kind of treatment. Not long after, I located myself in New York City and also located a chiropractic specialist on Long Island. So each week I took the train bent on East Rockaway. This time around around my selection was not entirely concerning having the ability to walk to my consultations.

4. Different coastline, various doc, very same strategy. My twenty-something wanderings later took me to Seattle. Because I had been flawlessly happy with the treatment I obtained in New york city, I sought out the very same technique in Seattle. By now I was ending up being interested by the opportunity of in fact having a "real" occupation (and not simply dabbling in theater). When I asked this chiropractic doctor, "Do people get more powerful, in general, with time?" his eyes brightened (a person got it!), and also I understood where I was headed.

5. Find somebody who has actually connected expertise you want. Before I left Seattle to participate in chiropractic college in St. Paul, Minnesota, I had reviewed of a chiropractic doctor there who was well-informed concerning Asian approach and also approaches of healing. This was something I had long read about, so I tracked him down as well as started treatment. This chiropractic physician ended up being a real mentor, and what I learned from him has actually continuouslied offer me well in my 25-plus years of method.

6. Don't always seek leaders in the field. This recommendations could appear odd, but the only frustration I have actually ever experienced was with a local leader of my preferred chiropractic technique. Upon my go back to Seattle to establish a method, I looked for coworkers in my specific technique, and at some point began getting treatment from one who got on the national company's training staff. Sadly, he never navigated to addressing my factor for choosing him, and also I moved on.

7. Stand in line at the food store as well as wait for someone to hand you their chiropractic specialist's card. We motivate our individuals to refer family and friends, however you would certainly be astonished the number of people have can be found in for many years merely since a person near them in line at the bank or hardware shop or grocery store handed them a card. Timing is everything.

8. Hire an associate doctor and exchange treatments. Okay, this isn't really mosting likely to help any person apart from a chiropractic doctor, yet hey, it worked for me. Invest 4-1/2 years in chiropractic institution as well as break out chiropractic look after life. Not a negative arrangement. Think about it.

9. Check out a book. In 1999, after sixteen years in technique I was really feeling a bit uncreative. My reason for going to chiropractic college-- in order to help individuals unfold their optimal human potential-- was being overwhelmed by just what I saw as the diminishment of chiropractic's capacity. Certain, we were a lot more approved by the mainstream, yet at what cost? Currently individuals considered chiropractic practitioners as being strictly for neck discomfort, back pain, frustrations. Where had the huge photo gone? During this time around, I review The Molecules of Emotion, by Candace Pert, Ph.D., where she describes just how our system of emotional knowledge has focal points throughout the body, consisting of the intestine as well as the spine. In her appendix I check out something called Network Chiropractic. If there were something in my profession which included her interesting revelations, I needed to inspect it out. So I called the contact number noted offered, as well as learnt that an initial seminar was being held 3 weekends for this reason. Speak about blessing! That weekend break re-inspired me, and also started a journey of ever further and much deeper recovery job.

10. Choose a suitable relationship, not a method. Over the years, no matter what techniques I have actually taken with my people, the coworker I go back to repeatedly is, quite just, a friend. We first fulfilled long before she entered chiropractic institution. As a matter of fact, when I hired her to substitute my office supervisor who got on maternal leave, she remained in pre-med as well as moving towards clinical college. Over the years, we've collaborated various times, gone our separate methods for a few years, then reconnected once again. I suggest to my clients that are transferring to an additional place that they interview several chiropractic doctors and also see which one( s) they really feel relationship with. The human connection outdoes whatever else.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p2_OVpgZqks

[ionecoffman]

The Meat Cleanse

“I know how ridiculous it sounds,” Mikhaila Peterson told me recently by phone, after a whirlwind of attention gathered around the 26-year-old, who is now offering dietary advice to people suffering with conditions like hers. Or not so much dietary advice as guiding people in eating only beef.

At first glance, Peterson, who is based in Toronto, could seem to be one of the many emerging semi-celebrities with a miraculous story of self-healing—who show off postpartum weight loss in bikini Instagrams and sell one thing or another, a supplement or tonic or book or compression garment. (Not incidentally, she is the daughter of the famous and controversial pop psychologist Jordan Peterson. More on that later.) But Peterson is taking the trend in extra-professional health advice to an extreme conclusion: She is not doing sponsored posts for health products, but actively selling one-on-one counseling ($75 for a half hour) for people who want to stop eating almost everything.

Peterson seems to be reaching suffering people despite a lack of training or credentials in nutrition or medicine, and perhaps because of that distinction. Her Instagram bio: “For info on treating weight loss, depression, and autoimmune disorders with diet, check out my blog or fb page!” The blog says at the top that “many (if not most) health problems are treatable with diet alone.” This is true, if at odds with the disclaimer at the bottom of the page that her words are “not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment.”

I told her I’m surprised people need further counseling, in that an all-beef diet is very straightforward.

“They mostly want to see that I’m not dead,” she said. “What I basically do is say, hey, look at all the things that happened to me and brought me to where I am now. Isn’t it weird? And then let people draw their own conclusions.”

Peterson described an adolescence that involved multiple debilitating medical diagnoses, beginning with juvenile rheumatoid arthritis. Some unknown process had triggered her body’s immune system to attack her joints. “I was unable to hold a pencil, could barely walk, and was in constant pain,” she writes on her blog, which is called “Don’t Eat That.” The joint problems culminated in hip and ankle replacements in her teens, coupled with “extreme fatigue, depression and anxiety, brain fog, and sleep problems.” In fifth grade she was diagnosed with depression, and then later something called idiopathic hypersomnia (which translates to English as “sleeping too much, of unclear cause”—which translates further to sorry we really don’t know what’s going on).

Everything the doctors tried failed, and she did everything they told her, she recounted to me. She fully bought into the system, taking large doses of strong immune-suppressing drugs like methotrexate, prednisone, leflunomide, and humira. “Despite being on multiple heavy-hitting meds, I was still struggling with basic day-to-day tasks,” she writes on her blog.

Her story takes a dramatic turn in 2015, when the underdog protagonist, nearly at the end of her rope, figured out the truth for herself. It was all about food.

Peterson adopted a common approach to dieting: elimination. She started cutting out foods from her diet, and feeling better each time. She began with gluten, and she kept going, casting out more and more—not just gluten or dairy or soy or lectins or artificial sweeteners or non-artificial sweeteners, but everything. Until, by December 2017, all that was left was “beef and salt and water,” and, she told me, “all my symptoms went into remission.”

“And you quit taking all your medications?”

“Everything.”

There is so much evidence—abundant, copious evidence acquired over decades of work from scientists around the world—that most people benefit from eating fruits, vegetables, nuts, beans, and seeds. This appears to be largely because fiber in plants is important to the flourishing of the gut microbiome. I ran this by some experts, just to make sure I wasn’t missing anything that might suggest a beef-salt diet is potentially something other than a bad idea. I learned that it was worse than I thought.

“Physiologically, it would just be an immensely bad idea,” Jack Gilbert, the faculty director at the University of Chicago’s Microbiome Center and a professor of surgery, told me during a recent visit to his lab. “A terribly, terribly bad idea.”

Gilbert has done extensive research on how the trillions of microbes in our guts digest food, and the look on his face when I told him about the all-beef diet was unamused. He began rattling off the expected ramifications: “Your body would start to have severe dysregulation, within six months, of the majority of the processes that deal with metabolism; you would have no short-chain fatty acids in your cells; most of the byproducts of gastrointestinal polysaccharide fermentation would shut down, so you wouldn’t be able to regulate your hormone levels; you’d enter into cardiac issues due to alterations in cell receptors; your microbiota would just be devastated.”  

While much of the internet has been following this story in a somewhat snide way, Gilbert appeared genuinely concerned and saddened: “If she does not die of colon cancer or some other severe cardiometabolic disease, the life—I can’t imagine.”

There are few accounts of people having tried all-beef diets, though all-meat—known as carnivory—is slightly more common. Earlier this month, inspired by the media conversation about the Peterson approach, Alan Levinovitz, the author of The Gluten Lie, tried carnivory, eating only meat for two weeks. He did lose seven pounds, which he attributes to eating fewer calories overall, because he eventually got tired of eating only meat. He missed snacking at coffee shops and browsing the local farmer’s market and trying out new restaurants around town, cooking with his family, and just generally enjoying food.

“I was psychologically exhausted,” Levinovitz told me. When he returned to omnivory, and he regained the lost weight in four days.

Peterson told me it took several weeks for her to get used to the beef-only approach, and that the relief of her medical symptoms overpowers any sense of missing food. If even a tiny amount of anything else finds its way into her mouth, she will be ill, she says. This happened when she tried to eat an organic olive, and again recently when she was at a restaurant that put pepper on her steak.

“I was like, whatever, it’s just pepper,” she told me. Then she had a reaction that lasted three weeks and included joint pain, acne, and anxiety.

Apart from having to exist in a world where the possibility of pepper exposure looms, the only other social downside she notices is that she hates asking people to accommodate her diet. So she will usually eat before she goes to a dinner party, she told me, “but then I’ll go drink and enjoy the party.”

“Drink, as in, water?”

“I can also, strangely enough, tolerate vodka and bourbon.”

The idea that alcohol, one of the most well-documented toxic substances, is among the few things that Peterson’s body will tolerate may be illuminating. It implies that when it comes to dieting, the inherent properties of the substances ingested can be less important than the eater’s conceptualizations of them—as either tolerable or intolerable, good or bad. What’s actually therapeutic may be the act of elimination itself.

For centuries, ascetics have found enlightenment through acts of deprivation. As Levinovitz, who is an associate professor of religion at James Madison University, explained to me, the Daoist text the Zhuangzi describes “a spirit man” who lives in the mountains and rides dragons and subsists only on air and dew. “There’s an anti-authoritarian bent to pop-culture wisdom, and a part of that is dealing with food taboos, which are handed down by authorities,” Levinovitz said. “Those are government now, instead of religious. And because they are wrong so often—or, at least, apparently wrong—that’s a good place to go when carving out your own area of authority. If you just eat the ‘wrong’ foods and don’t die, that’s a ritual way to prove that you go against conventional wisdom.”

Peterson’s narrative fits a classic archetype of an outsider who beat the game and healed thyself despite the odds and against the recommendations of the establishment. Her story is her truth, and it can’t be explained; you have to believe. And unlike the many studies that have been done to understand the diets of the longest-lived, healthiest people in history, or the randomized trials that are used to determine which health interventions are safe and effective for whom, her story is clear and dramatic. It’s right there in her photos; it has a face and a name to prove that no odds are too long for one determined person to overcome.

The beneficial effects of a compelling personal narrative that helps explain and give order to the world can be absolutely physiologically real. It is well documented that the immune system (and, so, autoimmune diseases) are modulated by our lifestyles—from how much we sleep and move to how well we eat and how much we drink. Most importantly, the immune system is also modulated by stress, which tends to be a byproduct of a perceived lack of control or order.

If strict dietary rules provide a sense of control and order, then Peterson’s approach is emblematic of the trend in elimination dieting taken to an extreme: Avoid basically everything. This verges into the realm of an eating disorder. The National Eating Disorder Association lists among common symptoms “refusal to eat certain foods, progressing to restrictions against whole categories of food.” In the early phases of disordered eating, as with bipolar disorder or alcoholism, a person may look and feel great. They may thrive for months or even years. But this fades. What’s more, the temporary relief from anxiety may mean that the source of the anxiety goes unsought and unaddressed.

I asked Peterson about the possibility that she may be enabling people with eating disorders. She said she would draw a line if a client were underweight or inducing vomiting. Otherwise, “it’s extremely disrespectful to people with health issues caused by food to be lumped into the same category as people with eating disorders. More of the same ‘blame the patient’ stuff that doctors and health professionals already do.”  

The popularity of Peterson’s narrative is explained by more than its timeless tropes; it has also been amplified by the fact that her father has occasionally cast his spotlight onto her story. Jordan Peterson’s recent book, Twelve Rules for Life, includes the story of his daughter’s health trials. The elder Peterson, a psychologist at the University of Toronto, could at first seem an unlikely face for acceptance of personal, subjective truth, as he regularly professes the importance of acting as purely as possible according to rigorous analysis of data. He argued in a recent video that American universities are the home to “ideologues who claim that all truth is subjective, that all sex differences are socially constructed, and that Western imperialism is the sole source of all Third World problems.” In his book, he writes that academic institutions are teaching children to be “brainwashed victims,” and that “the rigorous critical theoretician is morally obligated to set them straight.”

It is on grounds of his interpretation of income data, for example, that he has spoken out against the idea of a wage gap between men and women being unfair, as it can be explained away by biological factors associated with certain personality traits that are more valuable in the capitalist marketplace. From arguments from social-science evidence, he has expressed uncertainty that lesbian couples can raise children without a male father figure. And it is academic evidence that leads him to write in his book that “the so-called patriarchy” is “an arbitrary cultural artifact.”

Yet in a July appearance on the comedian Joe Rogan’s podcast, Jordan Peterson explained how Mikhaila’s experience had convinced him to eliminate everything but meat and leafy greens from his diet, and that in the last two months he had gone full meat and eliminated vegetables. Since he changed his diet, his laundry list of maladies has disappeared, he told Rogan. His lifelong depression, anxiety, gastric reflux (and associated snoring), inability to wake up in the mornings, psoriasis, gingivitis, floaters in his right eye, numbness on the sides of his legs, problems with mood regulation—all of it is gone, and he attributes it to the diet.

“I’m certainly intellectually at my best,” he said. “I’m stronger, I can swim better, and my gum disease is gone. It’s like, what the hell?”

“Do you take any vitamins?” asked Rogan

“No. No, I eat beef and salt and water. That’s it. And I never cheat. Ever. Not even a little bit.”

“No soda, no wine?”

“I drink club soda.”

“Well, that’s still water.”

“Well, when you’re down to that level, no, it’s not, Joe. There’s club soda, which is really bubbly. There’s Perrier, which is sort of bubbly. There’s flat water, and there’s hot water. Those distinctions start to become important.”

Peterson reiterated several times that he is not giving dietary advice, but said that many attendees of his recent speaking tour have come up to him and said the diet is working for them. The takeaway for listeners is that it worked for Peterson, and so it may work for them. Rogan also clarified that though he is also not an expert, he is fascinated by the fact that he hasn’t heard any negative stories about people who have started the all-meat diet.

“Well, I have a negative story,” said Peterson. “Both Mikhaila and I noticed that when we restricted our diet and then ate something we weren’t supposed to, the reaction was absolutely catastrophic.” He gives the example of having had some apple cider and subsequently being incapacitated for a month by what he believes was an inflammatory response.

“You were done for a month?”

“Oh yeah, it took me out for a month. It was awful ...”

“Apple cider? What was it doing to you?”

“It produced an overwhelming sense of impending doom. I seriously mean overwhelming. There’s no way I could’ve lived like that. But see, Michaela knew by then that it would probably only last a month.”

“A month? From fucking cider?”

“I didn’t sleep that month or 25 days. I didn’t sleep at all for 25 days.”

“What? How is that possible?”

“I’ll tell you how it’s possible, you lay in bed frozen in something approximating terror for eight hours. And then you get up.”

The longest recorded stretch of sleeplessness in a human is 11 days, witnessed by a Stanford research team.

While there is debate in the scientific community over just how much meat belongs in a human diet, it is impossible for all or even most humans to eat primarily meat. Beef production at the scale required to feed billions of humans even at current levels of consumption is environmentally unsustainable. It is not even healthy from a theoretical evolutionary viewpoint, the microbiome expert Gilbert explained to me. Carnivores need to eat meat or else they die; humans do not. “The carnivore gastrointestinal tract is completely different from the human gastrointestinal tract, which is made up of a system designed to consume large quantities of complex fibers.”

What the Petersons are selling is rather a sense of order and control. Science is about questions, and self-help is about answers. A recurring idea in Jordan Peterson’s book is that humans need rules—the subtitle of is “an antidote to chaos”—even if only for the sake of rules. Peterson discovered this through his own suffering, as when he was searching the world for the best surgeon to give his young daughter a new hip. In explaining how he dealt with Mikhaila’s illness, he writes that “existence and limitation are inextricably linked.” He quotes Laozi:

It is not the clay the potter throws,

Which gives the pot its usefulness,

But the space within the shape,

From which the pot is made

Dietary rules offer limits, good or bad, that help people define the self. This is an attractive prospect, and anyone willing to decree such rules—dietary or otherwise—is bound to attract attention. Fox News recently declared Peterson “the Left’s public enemy number one” in a segment where he discussed with Tucker Carlson “why the Left wants to silence conservative thought.” Though to have lived through the last year is to have lived in a world where Peterson and his ideas have enjoyed near-constant amplification.

The allure of a strict code for eating—a way to divide the world into good foods and bad foods, angels and demons—may be especially strong at a time when order feels in short supply. Indeed there is at least some benefit to be had from any and all dietary advice, or rules for life, so long as a person believes in them, and so long as they provide a code that allows a person to feel good for having stuck with it and a cohort of like-minded adherents. The challenge is to find a code that accords as best possible with scientific evidence about what is good and bad, and with what is best for the world.

Article source here:The Atlantic

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 28

Table of Contents. Go to previous. Go to next.

A knock at the front door frame roused ‘Choly from where he slept on his couch. He sat up to find Sturges backlit by the moonlight. Rubbing at his eyes with a yawn, he motioned for him to come in.

“You’re the only one of us I don’t think’s eaten yet today. You want a can of pork n’ beans?” Sturges sat in the armchair and offered him a can and a fork. “I’ve got a can opener.”

“Food does not agree with me. Not now, and not for a long time.”

“Sorry to hear that. That’s only one of the things I came over here to talk to you about, at any rate.” Sturges held the can and utensil in his lap. Once ‘Choly put on his glasses, the handyman continued. “Preston says you lived here before. That right?”

“It… it wasn’t just my house. I had a roommate. And of course Angel. I’m so grateful Angel’s still here.”

“I didn’t mean to get you on a sorry topic,” Sturges apologized. “Came by to check on you, and to scout out what kinds of repairs I might be able to offer. I tinker and repair and improve constantly, even in my sleep. Helps me knock out faster, to deconstruct and reconstruct stuff in my head. I’m pretty handy when I put myself to it. And seeing as this was… is… literally your house, I figured you might like to see a few of the walls back up.” He winked at the chemist.

‘Choly did his best to ignore that the Med-X had worn off, and give his attention to his guest. His leg was definitely wrecked from the fighting earlier.

“For how much of an outburst I had over keeping possession of the house, I’m struggling to make peace with actually living here,” he admitted. “Nothing against you, but… everything is so different. Sometimes, things don’t get any better, and that’s okay. It’s not like they can ever go back to the way they used to be.”

“Things can and will get better,” Sturges objected with a stern, pleasant wagging of his finger. “I had my suspicions you were prewar, from how you talk about things, but Preston did everything in his power to skirt that description when he was apologizing about how you got mad at the Longs before. Everything’s gonna even out, once we establish ourselves here. Promise. I’m optimistic about this place. Surely we can do something about all the ghosts and cobwebs for you. Make it someplace the lot of us can call home. Including you.”

As Sturges got lost in thought, ‘Choly couldn’t tell if the warm distant smile fell on his face or just past him. Sturges realized he was staring and stopped.

“It’s certainly better here than Concord,” ‘Choly admitted. “You really want me around after the way I acted earlier? After knowing that I helped those raiders be as formidable as they were?”

“They had you fooled into thinking you were getting something good from the arrangement. None of us wholly faults you. Besides, you helped us get rid of them. And what kind of neighbors would we be, if we didn’t help you get your house back in order at the same time we settle in ourselves?” Sturges leaned in, steadying himself with a hand on his own knee. “Can I ask you a stupid question?”

“I’ve been asking most of the questions today,” ‘Choly allowed, stunned to have verbal confirmation that yet another of the group accepted him in some way. “It’s only fair.”

“Alan… It’s really Elaine, isn’t it? Rather, it used to be.”

The chemist bit his lip and sank back on the couch, stiffening.

“Close enough. I’ve been Alan since I stepped foot on the continent. I’m from Russia. What of it?”

Sturges mirrored him and sat back to defuse the stress a bit.

“Psh, it’s nothing. If you’re Alan, you’re Alan. Really, it’s a lot like how I’m Sturges.”

‘Choly squinted at him, and sat back up slowly.

“I really hadn’t met anybody else like me. Like this. Not in the motherland, not before the war, and certainly not here now. Really?”

“It’s more normal than you were led to think. People… change names in the Commonwealth all the time. And no matter the reason, that’s your business. Am I right?”

“Quite right.” ‘Choly didn’t remember the last time he really genuinely smiled. “To be honest, I don’t even feel like an ‘Alan’ anymore. I’ve been going by ‘Melancholy’ since I really started establishing myself again. I’m starting to think I might have gotten as lucky meeting you all, as you did meeting me.”

“Maybe so. I just wanted to make sure you heard it from my mouth, that we’ve got a gob of respect for ya, and not to sweat the little stuff. Listen, I know you said you weren’t hungry, but I’m gonna leave this in case you get peckish.” The can went to the floor beside the couch. “Keep your strength up. Get some rest. I’ll look the house over better in the daylight tomorrow. And we’ll discuss getting this place in order once everybody’s had a chance to recover from the Museum. Sound good?”

“Sounds amazing. Goodnight, Sturges.”

“Goodnight, ah. Melancholy.”

‘Choly resumed getting comfortable on the couch as Sturges left, only for Angel to come in a few minutes later.

“Ah, Sir. You’re awake! I was just tending to the others so that they might bed down for the night. Do tell me if you need anything of me?”

“I… really should eat something,” he resigned, sitting back up with a pained grunt. “Could I… have a Melancholia, please?”

“Certainly, though mind we’ve only got the six left.” It almost tacked on a since you gave the one to Mister Jared, but it knew better, and simply handed over the cherry-sweet refreshment without another word.

As ‘Choly nursed at the drink, he got focused on his leg, and distant on everything else.

“My chem lab survived mostly in tact, and I’ve got plenty of Melancholy’s salt left over. We’ll talk about replenishing my stock in the morning. Right now, I think I underestimated how badly I was injured earlier. Could I have a Stimpak as well, Angel? To the back of my left leg?”

As it administered the requested medication to the gestured-to body part, Angel halted in awareness.

“The Melancholia contains cyclomorphine, Sir?”

“–Just morphine. I swear it.” ‘Choly took another swig off the meal replacement to hide his sweating. He did his best to keep the leg straight while the Stimpak worked its magic on the torn musculature. “I’ve always meant it when I’ve said it’s the only way I got through Deenwood. Meal substitute… and nepenthe.”

Angel was quiet for some time, wringing its tendril-appendages together.

“I haven’t offered it before now, because I haven’t thought it my place to, but Sir… You do have three ampuoles of Addictol in my stores. I am remiss, to have let your penchants get this far out of hand… Did you really mean it, that it’s the only sustenance your constitution’s allowed since you returned from the vault? Or was that the addiction talking?”

“Your cooking is exceptional,” he replied, falling drowsy already. “It’s no knock against your cuisine. You’re handier than any Handy in the kitchen. I’ve done well to keep any food down, fresh or otherwise. The only thing that hasn’t given me trouble is what I have in my hand right now.”

“I understand. And I can’t persuade you to make future batches of Melancholia without its… key ingredient?”

“For you, I would give it a shot… but I can’t promise I’ll continue leaving it out.” This was too heavy a conversation for him, but he couldn’t very well just tell his closest companion to simply shut up. Not when it was expressing a very real concern for his sustained health. “We can take it one day at a time.”

“…If I help you make more Melancholia, can you promise me that you’ll make it the only chem you touch from now on?”

‘Choly swallowed hard on the last bit of the lead-heavy sweet drink, and barely managed to hand the bottle back to the damaged Handy without dropping it.

“I… I owe you that much, after everything that’s happened. I can agree with you that the constant sampling has had… long term adverse effects.”

“You were struggling, but I did not know the extent. I know now to voice my concerns as I encounter them, and that you respect me enough not to dismiss me. I just… I want nothing more than to see you alive and thriving again, Mister Carey. It gives me meaning to have you back in my life again. And I want you here for as long as time allows it.”

“I wouldn’t have lasted a day out here without you. You’re… my guardian angel.”

He would have sworn he saw a sweet smile cross the Handy’s chrome front as he closed his eyes and laid back on the couch.

“Keeping watch over you as you get your beauty sleep, Sir. Rest well.”

He awoke the next morning to find Angel had set out an inhaler on the arm of the couch beside his glasses. Once he had his eyes on again, he looked it over, though he knew what it was without reading it. The Addictol. He realized that while he slept, Angel had covered him up with a hospital blanket and tucked a pillow under his head, and he smiled to himself. He pocketed the inhaler and folded up the blanket into a tidy pile with the pillow, and turned to find Angel come back into the living room.

“Good morning, Sir! I’ve got a fresh pot of coffee brewed for you, and you’ll find a bottle of your Melancholia at the kitchen table as well.”

“Good morning, Angel.” He smiled tiredly, rubbing at his bed head as he shuffled over to the now-rickety aluminum chair. He sat at the peeling linoleum table, and Angel rushed over to open the bottle for him. “Thank you.”

The Handy poured him a cup of coffee and brought it also.

“Do tell me you slept well.”

“Besides the nightmares, I can’t complain.” He alternated between caffeine and morphine, somehow comfortable despite it all. Jokingly, he looked to his Pip-Boy. “Did the Sunday paper come yet?”

“Late as always, Sir.”

“Two hundred years late,” he laughed, nearly crying out of nowhere.

“Oh, dear. Sprung a leak, and I’ve only got a… shop rag to offer you?” It handed him the wadded-up, rust-colored, low thread count square of cloth apologetically. “Was it something I said?”

“No, no.” He sniffed. “I thought I could make light of my situation, but it’s still too soon.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve spent the morning cooking breakfast for the others. Even in the short time we’ve known this group, I’ve grown quite attached. They’ll make fine neighbors, if I do say so.”

“Take care of them all you like. They deserve a little of your brand of affection, after all they’ve been through. And I know it’s a comfort for you to look after them as well. It’s always been your nature.” All the while, ‘Choly ignored that he clutched the Addictol in his pocket. He knew it was an elephant in the room, and he cleared his throat and took another sip of coffee. “No, I haven’t taken it yet. I’m… not ready yet.”

“Not ready?” Angel looked on in confusion. “Addictol isn’t painful, Mister Carey.”

“Not ready… to be addiction-free,” he sighed, setting down both the beverages and the inhaler on the table. “I’m sure you haven’t been able to process why I haven’t taken Addictol before now. I can’t handle just being me again. The withdrawals have been a part of how I see myself for so long, that I don’t know if I’m going to like what I see. It’s been long enough that I’ve forgotten how much of my condition is the withdrawals, and how much of it’s whatever happened to me from the cryogenics. I deserve to be as sick as possible, don’t I? There has to be a cost to me functioning normally. I can’t blame it on the chems, after I take the Addictol. I can’t blame it on something fixable, if I’m still sick. But… I’m done being scared of myself. Of how bad off I am.” He picked up the inhaler again and stared at it in his hands.

“You know I’m still here with you, every step. Even if dispatching your addictions doesn’t solve every health issue that ails you, I promise you that we will find something that will help you. We might even find something that cures you. There has to be something out there that can make it better, easier, for you, Sir. There must be.”

“Just having you here with me is a start,” he smiled. “The fact that despite everything I’ve done, you continue to have confidence that I can do better… You’ve been my everything, Angel. I mean that.”

“You can do it. I know you can.”

‘Choly exhaled his full breath, and, pinching his nose shut with one hand, he held the inhaler to his lips with the other. Depressing the ampuole into the actuator, he took its entire contents in one breath, and he set down the inhaler so he could clamp that hand over his mouth, to hold the aerosol medication in his lungs. He counted to ten, then another five for good measure, since it had so much damage to undo at once. When he finally exhaled, his head swam, and the humidity of the salty substance fogged up his glasses. After a minute, he looked at his hands, and then burst into laughter.

“Just what I was afraid of. I’m still me. Damn it!”

Angel unfroze once it realized he was kidding.

“–Oh, Sir. Thank you. This is the first step on you truly taking care of yourself. I’m so glad you have your humor about you. It’s a sign of good things. I could cry of happiness right now, had I the hardware for it.”

“Once I’ve finished my breakfast, and gotten myself presentable for the day, we should scout the immediate area for hubflower, now that I know what use it is. I’m certain with how many grew in the outskirts of Lexington, that there’s surely some around here. I’ll make a batch of fresh Melancholia this afternoon. I told you I’d make the first batch without it, and I will. But the flowers are just so beautiful. It wasn’t the chems talking, what made me gravitate toward them and start growing them. ”

“Just imagine. I know how you loved your gardening before the war, and I know how absolutely enthralled you were with the hubflowers. They are quite fetching a perennial, I must say. Imagine that we could get the garden thriving here again. Your flowerbeds! You could hedge the yard in hubflower, if you so desired it! And if you do see fit to continue including it in the ingredients of your meal replacement, you wouldn’t have to stray at all to collect it! And… you’d be surrounded by something you consider beautiful.”

“I gardened at the pharmacy because of how badly I missed it here,” ‘Choly admitted, starry-eyed. “Bozhemoy, Angel– I could have that here. We could. I know you loved the garden as much as I did. Between you and Sturges and the others, we just might have a real shot at making Sanctuary habitable again.”

“Most importantly, you haven’t mentioned yet.” It hovered nearer, its ocular lenses clustering near his face. “How are you feeling? Now that you’ve taken your medicine?”

He grinned, heavy-lidded, and caressed two of its three lenses as though to cradle its face in his hands.

“Like the lot of us can achieve just about anything.”

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