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hygeamedtech · 5 months

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Cryotherapy, traditionally associated with the treatment of musculoskeletal injuries and skin conditions, is now emerging as a potential therapeutic avenue for respiratory health, specifically targeting lung-related disorders. While cryotherapy has been widely acknowledged for its anti-inflammatory and analgesic properties, its application to the respiratory system, often referred to as "cryotherapy for lungs", is gaining attention in the medical community.

The concept involves exposing the respiratory tract to extremely cold temperatures, typically below -100 degrees Celsius, using techniques like cryoablation or inhalation of cold air. The rationale behind this approach lies in the ability of extreme cold to constrict blood vessels and reduce inflammation. In the context of lung health, this could offer relief for conditions characterized by chronic inflammation, such as asthma, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), and even certain respiratory infections.

Research studies exploring cryosurgery for lung cancer are still in the early stages, but preliminary findings suggest promising outcomes. Pulmonary vein cryoablation, a procedure involving the use of extremely cold temperatures to destroy abnormal tissues, has shown potential in treating lung tumors. The precise application of cold to targeted areas can effectively eliminate cancerous cells while minimizing damage to surrounding healthy tissue.

In the case of inflammatory respiratory conditions, inhaling cold air during cryotherapy sessions may help soothe irritated airways and reduce the severity of symptoms. The cold air is thought to constrict the blood vessels in the lungs, decreasing blood flow and inflammation in the airways.

It's important to note that while cryotherapy lung cancer holds promise, further research is needed to establish its safety, efficacy, and optimal protocols for different respiratory conditions. The potential risks and side effects, such as bronchospasm or exacerbation of certain lung conditions, also need thorough examination.

As the field of cryotherapy continues to evolve, collaborations between pulmonologists, cryotherapy specialists, and researchers will be crucial in refining techniques and expanding our understanding of how extreme cold can be harnessed to promote lung health. The integration of cryotherapy into respiratory care could offer a novel and complementary approach to existing treatments, ushering in a new era in pulmonary medicine.

Lung Cancer Case Sharing

Case 1

Case Characteristics

(1) The lesion was close to chest wall. CT scan showed that the left upper lobe lung cancer was enlarged.

(2) After treatment by radioactive particles.

(3) No complication during and after surgery.

cryosurgery for lung cancer

Ablation-two cycles

(freezing for 20min + heating re-warming for 7min)

Reexamination 1 month after surgery

The reexamination 6 months after surgery showed complete remission (CR)

Case 2

Case Characteristics

(1) The lesion was close to chest wall, and no injury of chest wall occurred .

(2) CT scan showed that there was a lesion at the junction of S4 and S5, sized as 15.1×11.8mm.

Cryotherapy Lung Metastases

Ablation-two cycles

(freezing for 20min + heating re-warming for 7min)

#metastases

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the-eldritch-it-gay · 7 months

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Hunger

I posted this a bit ago, but I think I accidentally deleted it while cleaning up my blog. So I edited it a bit and thought I should post it again. I think it's a neat look at Majexatli and the fact they're a Malarite.

CW: Hunting, Violence, Everything you'd imagine would come with worship of Malar (a Chaotic Evil deity of hunting, bloodlust, bestial violence)

Majexatli wondered, sometimes, what drew them to the hunt.

It wasn’t something they took the time to consider before the Nautiloid, when they prowled the Sword Coast in wildshape. Back then they rationalized it; it was much easier to hunt and eat in wildshape than to gather ingredients and make camp and cook something. Having most of their meals be bloody and raw made the ones they had outside of wildshape that much more special.

Now, though? They spent their days as a person, every night there was a camp with plenty of rations, there was wine and cooked meats and soups and bread enough for everyone. There were traders who could sell them any array of foods, there were greens and mushrooms a plenty along the road, abandoned campsites and kitchens with all sorts of meats and produce.

Majexatli didn’t need to hunt, every night they could curl up by a fire with a full belly.

So what drew them to the hunt? Why did they still feel a hunger clawing at them? A restlessness in their own skin?

Sometimes at night, Majexatli watched Astarion hunt while prowling in the shadows and lurking in trees. He was effective enough but clumsy. As much as he has grown better at stealth, at ambushing enemies with his bow or dagger, he was different when he had just his teeth, when his mind was preoccupied with hunger. It was quick and inelegant, never drawn out, he picked whatever animal he could find, it didn’t matter what it was so long as they had blood.

It seemed wasteful.

Sometimes Majexatli entertained the thought of teaching him how to hunt properly, the art of drawing it out. Maybe they could have him hunt them, make him prove himself before spilling their blood. Never were his eyes more present and alive than when their blood was on his tongue.

They could teach him the rules of the hunt.

They shouldn’t, they knew, shouldn’t drag him down with them. They were supposed to be the kind and wise druid coaxing him back from the edge, rather than echoing the dark whispers in their mind and showing him the shards of divinity that could be in everything if you tore into the flesh enough, how if you swallowed holiness bloodied and raw enough it could fix you from the inside.

But Astarion was a vampire, undead, he needed blood to live. He had a reason for his bloodshed, he would starve without it. What reason did Majexatli have?

If their hunt was just a supplication, a prayer, an offering, then why did they hunger?

Was devotion making them a monster, or was their piety a justification for the monster they already were?

If they weren’t a monster, if they were truly good, then Majexatli would have been at camp, basking in the victory of the Shadow Curse being lifted, finding what pleasure could be found in the brief moments before they chased the Elder Brain to Baldur’s Gate.

Kethric Thorm was dead, the Nightsong freed, Thaniel made whole again, Gale alive, Wyll would be free of his contract soon, Jaheira and Minthara had joined their camp. There was a veritable feast around the campfire, endless companionship, if they wanted they could be pulling someone away to somewhere private and chasing whatever pleasure they could.

Instead, they were in the forest, hidden in the shadows, following a trail of blood through the trees, the buzzing euphoria of the hunt dulling the hunger that had dug its claws into them.

Slaying the young is forbidden.

The brown bear in their sights was full-grown, only slightly larger than Majexatli’s current form, the Dire Wolf they hadn’t let out since the gnolls on the Risen Road. In any other form, it would have been stupid, reckless to take on a bear. It might still be, but they wanted a challenge, wanted to impress.

A bear claw was one of Malar’s holy symbols.

Make your kills long and bloody.

They jumped from the shadows, snapping at the bear’s hind leg, making sure to bite and tear its flesh enough for the bear's blood to spill on the grass below. They let the bear get a swipe on them, feigned a pained yelp as it spilled their blood in turn, ran off into the trees as though afraid and wounded.

Oh, Majexatli was disappointed when the bear didn’t follow, when it didn’t try to hunt them down in turn, but they could adapt.

Keeping to the shadows, every so often they purposefully stepped on a twig, just to watch the bear stop in tense silence, sniff the air. In that tense silence, they would dash out, pounce and bite and then run off again before the bear could truly react.

Taste the blood of those you slay and never kill from a distance.

Majexatli shouldn’t have enjoyed it, they knew, but the only thought in their mind was blood. With every snap of their teeth, they relished in the sharp, warm rush of blood in their mouth, as they stalked they lapped at their muzzle and the blood soaking their fur. The promise of more blood, of tearing open flesh, of devouring raw and bloody viscera was intoxicating.

They followed the trail of blood through the trees, stalking, tracking, thrilling at the adrenaline in their veins that kept them warm and warded off the cold breeze. Majexatli let the blood lead them to the edge of a clearing, down to the river’s edge.

The bear was wounded, patches of its fur stained red and glistening in the moonlight. The wounds weren’t grave, bites and claw marks purposefully shallow, just enough to bleed, to distract it, to wear it down. There in the open, there were no twigs or dried foliage to alert the bear to their presence as it licked its wounds on the river bank.

Crouching in the grass, Majexatli almost felt at home, they could almost forget about the Elder Brain and the Nautiloid.

They let out a growl as they lunged, managing to knock the bear over as their jaw clamped down on the juncture of its neck, heart jumping and blood singing as they held it there, felt the bear thrash beneath them claws swiping at them blindly, weakly.

And then Majexatli’s blood turned to ice as they felt the fur beneath their teeth fade, muscles reshape and suddenly their teeth were sinking into a person’s flesh, so much more fragile, so easy for the flesh to give.

The rush of blood in their mouth filled them with terror. They should have released immediately, should have let go of the shoulder as soon as they felt the change, as soon as they heard a cry of pain in a voice so familiar. They should have relaxed their jaw—but why? Did they want to let go and drop wildshape? Or did they want to let go so they could adjust their bite, shift their teeth from shoulder to neck, find the jugular and sink their teeth in—

A strong hand found the scruff of their neck somehow, even as now this form dwarfed the man beneath them. Blunt fingers dug into their fur, into the flesh and muscle there, more gentle than he had any right to be.

“Majexatli,”

They could feel the vibrations of his chest beneath their teeth, Halsin’s voice slightly strained, yet firm and with none of the hatred Majexatli deserved.

Majexatli’s jaw relaxed, teeth pulling out of flesh and they knew blood was spilling from the wounds. They hadn’t felt any bones snap beneath their teeth, yet their mind raced with images of what they would see when they pulled away, visions of Halsin with his throat torn open, bleeding out before they could do anything.

A memory surfaced, unbidden, so visceral even 20 years later, how quickly they had bled out, how they had spent those few seconds begging for Silvanus to save them, calling up every prayer they had memorized, every supplication and offering they had given. They had spent every breath striving for the balance Silvanus wanted and he had simply watched their lungs be torn from their chest, as if their slaughter was simply an accepted collateral in his divine plan.

“Majexatli,”

There was a hand on their face, and it took everything in Majexatli not to snarl and snap at the gentleness.

They couldn’t bring themselves to meet his eyes, instead staring at his shoulder, the tears in his tunic, the bloodstains, the bite marks still lazily oozing blood. He must have cast something, a healing spell to stem the worst of the bleeding and coax the shallowest wounds closed.

“It’s nothing serious,” His voice was so genuine, “I’ve had much worse, it’s alright. We’ve all had moments where we lose ourselves to the beast,”

Halsin let out a slight laugh, but Majexatli could hear a slight pain, the way it was slightly forced, as though he was trying and failing to ignore the Dire Wolf that stood over him. He knew, he had to know that Majexatli could snap his neck with their teeth, that his blood lingered in their mouth. Majexatli wanted to be horrified, disgusted, and they were, but they also wanted to lick their lips and savor the taste.

“Are you alright?”

They finally met his eyes and recoiled, from the concern in his face, from the cautious but naïve trust. He should be running or shifting back to a bear that could snap them in half, they would deserve it.

Majexatli had the upper hand, though, they still had their teeth and claws and as much as the thought of Halsin’s blood on their tongue sickened them, as much as they wanted it to taste foul, the taste was divine. It always was.

They could taste more of it. All they had to do was bite again, all they had to do was let go. Their quarry was beneath them, unarmed, unarmored, the end of the hunt, of their hunger was within reach.

Suffer no druid to live, for they believe not in survival of the strong, but in a weak-minded balance.

Majexatli ran.

Darting off into the trees, they ignored Halsin’s voice calling after them, blindly zigzagging through the forest as if they were trying to shake someone off their tail. But the beast they were trying to outrun was the one wearing their skin.

They crashed out of wildshape, into the dirt hard enough to skin their knees, their palms, though they could hardly tell their own blood apart from Halsin’s. Curled up on the ground there, they watched as the moonlight filtering through the trees slowly faded and was replaced by sunrise.

If your prey escapes, they have earned their freedom and whatever boon seems fit.

Majexatli didn’t know if there was anything they could give that would make up for what they did. But they weren’t sure if Halsin was the prey or if they were.

#eldritch it speaks #oc: majexatli #salam plays bg3 #smth about holiness seems to always end up in my writing #holiness metastasized (that poem)#holiness bloodied and raw (here)#í think divinity is not confined to heaven. it permeates everything.#anyways thats besides the point!#this is probably the only time Majexatli has technically stopped a hunt

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