#monsoon diseases

[allthiings]

Water Borne Diseases - Causes, Symptoms & Prevention | Medanta

[thateclecticbitch]

Ouch :(

[townpostin]

Campaign Launched to Prevent Dengue and Chikungunya in Jamshedpur

Filariasis Department conducts door-to-door spraying and awareness drive to protect residents from dengue and chikungunya. To prevent the spread of dengue and chikungunya during the monsoon, a special campaign is being run in urban and block areas of Jamshedpur. JAMSHEDPUR – The Filariasis Department is conducting a door-to-door campaign to prevent dengue and chikungunya during the monsoon. The…

[nancykhemchandani]

Staying Healthy During the Rainy Season: Essential Precautions and measures

Discover essential health precautions and measures to stay safe during the rainy season. Learn how to protect yourself from waterborne and mosquito-borne diseases.

[facts1590]

Staying Healthy During the Rainy Season: Essential Precautions

Discover essential health precautions and measures to stay safe during the rainy season. Learn how to protect yourself from waterborne and mosquito-borne diseases

[banglakhobor]

বর্ষা মানেই জলবাহিত রোগের আশঙ্কা, আপনি সতর্ক তো?

Monsoon Health:বর্ষা মানেই জলবাহিত রোগের আশঙ্কা, আপনি সতর্ক তো? Source link

[lotushospitalshyd]

Protective Female Hygiene Tips During Monsoons

Prevent vaginal infections

Are you aware vaginal infections increase during monsoons? This season brings along deadly microbes and infections. Women need to be careful, especially when they are experiencing ‘that time of the month.’ Women’s infections during monsoon should be taken seriously due to active bacteria, which can create medical issues if ignored.         

Lotus Hospitals for women and children works with the best obstetrics and gynaecology doctors in Hyderabad. With experience and skills, they provide female hygiene tips to reduce the risks of vaginal infections. Upon diagnosis, proper treatment is given. 

This blog features general hygiene for females during the rainy season. However, it is best to visit a gynaecologist to understand the implications of infections.

Why do infections increase during the rainy season?

It is always important to prevent vaginal infection during the monsoon. The pH level of the vagina increases, thereby, the chances of infection also rise. Most bacteria, fungi and yeast thrive in humid conditions. Those who do not take care may become a victim of bacterial vaginosis. Humidity after the rains result in excessive sweating, discomfort and constant irritation. If cleanliness is not practised, it can result in medical problems.

Vaginal infections, especially in the rain are caused by:

Various kinds of microorganisms lead to bacterial and Fungal infection

Fungal Infection

Viral Infection

Parasitic Infestetion

Applications which are irritants like spray or douches.

Typical symptoms to be aware of women’s infections during monsoon are mentioned below.

Vaginal discharge, which may get thick or curdy. It could also be yellowish and have a bad odour.

Soreness in the region during to itchiness or constant scratching.

Rashes in the nearby parts.

Swelling or burning sensation. It happens while passing urine or after intercourse.

What do the doctors suggest to maintain general hygiene for females?

Women should use mild pH-balanced washes or soaps to clean their private parts.

Cotton underwear is This fabric absorbs moisture, and the area does not remain wet. In the absence of dampness, there are fewer chances of soreness.

During that ‘time of the month’, take extra care to remain dry. Poor hygiene during periods raises the risks of infection and fungi.

Change tampons or sanitary napkins at intervals.

Never wear wet clothes for long. They should be removed once you reach home.

Use clean towels to pat dry as the skin around is sensitive.

It is also important to drink water and remain hydrated.

Boost the immunity with the right foods. Avoid street food which is spicy.

Wear breathable apparel and avoid tight clothes.

Consult our obstetrics and gynaecology doctors

Lotus Hospitals is completely dedicated to serving women and children in Hyderabad. Experienced doctors like Mrs E Prabhavati, and etc., are available for consultations, pelvic examination and prescribing medicines. They are skilled doctors and recommend patients to eat the right foods. It is an integral part of exercising feminine hygiene during monsoon season.

Examinations and checkups

If you are experiencing any of the above symptoms this monsoon season,make an appointment with the doctor. There will be a few examinations to get the diagnosis right. A pelvic examination is conducted for traces of infection or fungi. If the discharge is yellow or curdy, it will be tested in the lab. In case your partner is infected and you do not show visible symptoms, mention it to the doctor.

Women in the post-menopausal phase may have a dry vagina. Itchiness is common in these cases. As part of female hygiene tips, oestrogen creams are recommended by the doctor. With a suitable diagnosis, the treatment is usually successful.

Control of infection

Some infections can be prevented but not all. The best way is to be careful during the monsoons. The vagina has protective bacteria, and it should not be destroyed by douching. Pubic hair plays an important role in protection, and it can be kept clean to avoid diseases. Wet wipes contain harmful chemicals and should be avoided. It is also important to urinate before and after intercourse to stop harmful bacteria from spreading. Avoid female hygiene washes, which create an imbalance in the pH levels.

The probiotic diet

 As it is important to maintain the pH balance, curd is the best answer. It can be a part of the diet to reduce risks. Avoid spicy food and change your lifestyle to remain in good health. Do not to self-medicate if any symptoms appear. A doctor is required for diagnosis and to give a proper course of treatment. And. Don’t forget to enjoy the rain, safely!

[indizombie]

Tareq, who is also a professor in the Department of Environmental Sciences at Jahangirnagar University in Dhaka, says ETPs are a costly method to treat the water used in textile factories. “Therefore, factory owners remain reluctant to install ETPs or mechanisms to recycle factory wastewater, and those factories that have ETPs have been found inefficient,” he says, adding that more local companies would adopt ETPs if the technology was more advanced and cost-effective, instead of dumping sludge waste, a common practice. Sludge is a semi-solid byproduct of wastewater treatment. Tareq and Hossain allege it is often illegally dumped in landfills, agricultural fields and used in some other factories like cement and brick kilns. Worryingly, during the monsoon this sludge waste spreads from where it is dumped and ends up in rivers. Tareq says that heavy metals remain in the sludge waste, which can be absorbed by crops and enter the human body. If consumed, it carries the risk of causing diseases, including cancer.

SM Najmus Sakib, ‘Garment industry in Bangladesh struggles to contain pollution’, Third Pole

[umeshvise]

Common Monsoon Diseases

As said above, monsoon seasons are infamous for increasing microbial infections and thereby infections. Here are the common monsoon diseases that can wreak havoc on your health.

[asthmabhawan-blog]

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[drremedieslabs]

10 Common Monsoon Diseases and Various Ways to Prevent Them

After the hardcore summer months, monsoon comes as a relief. However, with rain comes unwanted monsoon disease, which will make your life a living hell. Right from malaria to cholera, dengue to even chikungunya, there are loads of diseases, and some even prove to be fatal to some extent.

Each year, there are different mosquito types, which are born and designed to cause an outbreak of disease. In order to prevent diseases during rainy season from taking place, there are some home remedies available to keep the surroundings free from mosquitoes.

[softenedsunbeams]

asks you about the year without summer

OKAY. SO

in 1815, the largest volcanic eruption in recorded human history happened. mount tambora in indonesia erupted with a 7 on the VEI index, ejecting giant amounts of debris into the atmosphere, killing about 71,000 people and completely wiping out anything and anyone living on the island. the explosion itself was heard from as far as sumatra island, 1,600 miles away, where they thought it sounded like gunshots.

^ what the crater looks like today!! very pretty

i dont really care as much about the volcano itself. what i care about is the absolutely batshit societal effects this had on the entire world, because it was a HUGE volcanic eruption that ejected massive amounts of ash into the atmosphere that proceeded to block out the sun and cause famines all over. it made frosts in july for an entire year. it genuinely caused a volcanic winter. i cannot understate how weird it is that absolutely nobody remembers or cares about it

it caused food riots, famines, flooding, disease outbreaks, so much. it's not like it didn't effect the u.s either, because snow was falling in june in new england, crops were dying of frost in mid may, and for that month almost every day the temperatures were below freezing. it caused rapid swings in the temperature too, going from summer temperatures to mid winter within hours

in asia it messed with the monsoon cycle, causing giant floods in china and india that killed even more people. in europe it caused waves of typhus because of the famines, and in switzerland the summers of 1816 and 1817 were so cold that an ice dam formed below a glacier, forming a lake that later collapsed and killed forty people in the flood. in south america it caused major droughts that killed even more people.

it even influenced and changed the art of the time. the debris in the atmosphere that was causing all of the famines and temperature changes made sunsets look different for years, so they were brighter and more vibrant and it was big enough that it's noticeable in paintings. things like this:

the influence of the eruption went on for years as well. this wasn't just a brief thing, it changed history, caused massive migrations of people, may have even led to the end of a chinese dynasty i think? i think it's so so interesting im very very normal i love when natural disasters shape history like this it's so cool!!!

[townpostin]

Heavy Rains Disrupt Life in Jamshedpur

Low-lying areas face flooding as city grapples with continuous downpour Jamshedpur residents navigate waterlogged streets and flooded homes as intense rainfall hits the city, with more expected in coming days. JAMSHEDPUR – The steel city is experiencing severe waterlogging and flooding in several areas due to intense rainfall over the past 24 hours. Despite lower overall rainfall compared to last…

[whencyclopedia]

Kingdom of Axum

The African Kingdom of Axum (also Aksum) was located on the northern edge of the highland zone of the Red Sea coast, just above the horn of Africa. It was founded in the 1st century CE, flourished from the 3rd to 6th century CE, and then survived as a much smaller political entity into the 8th century CE.

The territory Axum once controlled is today occupied by the states of Ethiopia, Eritrea, Djibouti, Somalia, and Somaliland. Prospering thanks to agriculture, cattle herding, and control over trade routes which saw gold and ivory exchanged for foreign luxury goods, the kingdom and its capital of Axum built lasting stone monuments and achieved a number of firsts. It was the first sub-Saharan African state to mint its own coinage and, around 350 CE, the first to officially adopt Christianity. Axum even created its own script, Ge'ez, which is still in use in Ethiopia today. The kingdom went into decline from the 7th century CE due to increased competition from Muslim Arab traders and the rise of rival local peoples such as the Bedja. Surviving as a much smaller territory to the south, the remnants of the once great kingdom of Axum would eventually rise again and form the great kingdom of Abyssinia in the 13th century CE.

Name & Foundation

The name Axum, or Akshum as it is sometimes referred to, may derive from a combination of two words from local languages - the Agew word for water and the Ge'ez word for official, shum. The water reference is probably due to the presence of large ancient rock cisterns in the area of the capital at Axum.

The region had certainly been occupied by agrarian communities similar in culture to those in southern Arabia since the Stone Age, but the ancient kingdom of Axum began to prosper from the 1st century CE thanks to its rich agricultural lands, dependable summer monsoon rains, and control of regional trade. This trade network included links with Egypt to the north and, to the east, along the East African coast and southern Arabia. Wheat, barley, millet, and teff (a high-yield grain) had been grown with success in the region at least as early as the 1st millennium BCE while cattle herding dates back to the 2nd millennium BCE, an endeavour aided by the vast grassland savannah of the Ethiopian plateau. Goats and sheep were also herded and an added advantage for everyone was the absence of the tropical parasitic diseases that have blighted other parts of sub-Saharan Africa. Wealth acquired through trade and military might was added to this prosperous agricultural base and so, in the late 1st century CE, a single king replaced a confederation of chiefdoms and forged a united kingdom that would dominate the Ethiopian highlands for the next six centuries. The kingdom of Axum, one of the greatest in the world at that time, was born.

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[deadboyfriendd]

Cochise IIl: Tango

Summary: An Old Christmas tune brings Eddie face-to-face with what he has been running from. Turns out, you aren't as different as you think you are.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Outlaw/Doc Holliday!Eddie Munson x Reader, wild west/Tombstone AU!, drug use, drug overdose (apparent suicide), death of minor character, period-appropriate death, angst, fluff, piano smut, oral (fem receiving)

My content is 18+ Minors DNI

Word Count: 2.6k

Author's Note: I've been creatively and emotionally constipated for weeks now, so the fact that I even got this out when I did was a feart on it's own and I'm very proud of myself for it.

As always, thank you to @dr-aculaaa for being my BTS on this project, love you <3

Find the series masterlist here!

Edward was a man of repose, though, in your sadness, you’d figured you’d been, too. Maybe it wasn't repose at all. Stoicism, maybe, but there was one thing you knew for certain: He was much prettier than you. His skin of alabaster, freckles across flesh kisses of vulnerability and dusted across his worn body as a reminder of the naivety of the youth he once possessed. 

You supposed this is what it was now, slender fingers plucking at strings in the dead of night. Be it the stoicism or the naivety of youth, the moon cast a glow across his cheeks and carved rivers through the valleys of his face. You listen to the inflection of strings scraping loosely across frets. F, A, B, A, in a smooth stacking rhythm. 

There is a twang to his strumming, like there was a string loose somewhere– but not entirely like your piano. The piano had a resounding twang, it echoed within itself like the ghosts of internal hammers and keys before throwing its brashness out against the walls of your bar. You did not know how to tune it, and it would not be tuned again. 

This sound was much softer, much less brash than your own, the hum resounded within the walls of the instrument itself before dissipating the sound into the open night air like an inkwell in water. It spread, filled the space and lingered until there was another sound to see it out. A choreography of sorts, yet the song was all too familiar in the way it filled the space in your head and the hole in your heart. 

Its tiny, needle-pointed feet danced across your brain in flashes of sheer white fabric and the song of the oak floors of The Grand Hotel. Their piano did not sing the same far-east folk song as yours, no, instead it hummed an autumnal hymn of reverence and elegance. It was not as perverse as your piano, but your piano was more gentle with your heart. Your piano didn’t remind you of that worn spot on the floor, or the cracking scabs forming on your hardened knuckles. 

The corner of the door jamb dug a divot into your shoulder, but you didn’t have the grace to move without making the entire balcony creak, so you didn’t. A singular step forward pulls a groan from the floor of the porch where the wood expands with the heat of the impending monsoon, and, regretfully, his fingers pull themselves from the frets like the nails holding the plants to the rafters of the porch. 

“Hello, Edward.”

“Ma’am.”

You leaned back against the post, arms folded and unable to will away the beginning semblances of a grin from your lips. You couldn’t help the roll of your eyes in his direction. 

“I think we’re past ma’am now, Edward.” 

“Well, in that case, I also think we’re past Edward, now.” A grin that resembled your own pulled at the corners of his mouth. He had asked you to call him Eddie earlier, it felt less formal than this. The formality kept you upright, kept this whole thing from crumbling.  

You folded your arms in front of yourself, hip dropping heavy across the solid singing of your piano. Kind-of-but-not-really attempting to conceal the smile spreading across your face like a disease, “That’s a pretty song you were playing.”

“Learned it from a woman.” Eddie had said to you, arms folded, starting a stride with heavy, hollow footing towards you. Slow and in a metronomy rhythm. 

You cocked a brow at him, smile spackled heavy across your face, “Oh really?” 

“Yes, really.” He insisted, “She owned a bar out west. Played it at night on an old piano.” 

“Well I’ve got an old piano here.” You said to him, arms staying folded as you kicked your boot out in a heavy, choreographed stride, “Maybe I can teach you to play it sometime.” 

It was always this song and dance. Always this beautiful waltz of back-and-forth quips, lines wonderfully blurred by the haze of smoke from a cigar and sweet as the kiss of sasparilla, though, that bitter aftertaste would still rear it’s ugly head like the snake from the hole. Rattles thick in the stagnant air like a warning. 

“Y’know,” Eddie had said to you through a puff of smoke, “You should really stop giving me all of these free things.” 

You’d never take that into account. One cigar from the humidor, in the grander scheme of things, would never be enough repayment for anything he had done for this town. Anything he had done for you, 

“Well,” You’d quipped back, sitting back down at the polished bench of your old piano, “ – maybe you should stop saving my life, then.” 

That bitter aftertaste, a sting of smoke stilled in the in-between hung heavy in the air– shattered by the opening arpeggio shrill enough to shatter it like glass. 

“I’ll always save your life.” 

You couldn’t decipher if the pause in your song had been intentional, though, you’d hoped it seemed intentional enough to be a plausible excuse for your silence in return. The bass notes rang heavy under the shifting mechanisms in the hollow underside of the piano as you placed a foot, too-heavy, against pedals in a desperate effort to drown out the harshness of noise, the heaviness of your hands– the weight of this place. 

He filled his space on the opposite half of the thin piano bench, his legs bracing against the floor to press his back against yours. He leaned his head backwards, a welcome weight against your shoulder, and tried to feel the muscles in your hands turn over each other and vibrate in time to the bass crescendos and tinny melodic trebles. 

“Where’d you learn to play something as pretty as this, anyhow?” He kept his voice soft, turning his head to attempt to look at what you were doing. You could feel the heavy breath from his nose cool against your neck. 

“It’s an old German worship song. My husband’s mother would sing it at Christmas.”

He looked at the handwriting along the ledger lines and felt sorrow for the woman that wrote it. 

He can see their Christmas, a mother’s voice a warm river across the rocks of a piano melody, a distraction from the war waging just outside of their front doors. A fire and a meal, though, he remembered the wartime– remembered a time where his own mother had rationed enough of their weekly collection to have a real, fresh meal. He thought of that warmth and then thought of you. 

He tips his head back and blows a plume of smoke in an effort to stifle the memory. Instead, he wishes to replace that warmth with you. 

He stared at the hole in the floor, the discolored groove where you had scrubbed your knuckles bloody and raw. He thought about the him-shaped divot he had scrubbed into the frozen planes of Montana. 

He thought of her, the eldest daughter of two Roman Catholic missionaries following the fur trade to an unholy promised land. 

He thought about God, and just how cruel He could be. 

Did Eddie sit where your husband once sat? Did he lean against the expanse of your back and feel the vibration of the keys travel through the wiry expanses of your arms and settle back against him, just as Eddie had? 

Would he leave a him-shaped hole in you the same way your husband had? Would you wear down the wood the same way he wore down himself? 

“I was married, too.” he admitted to you, voice shattering the turning of sheet music and the resonant patriarchal basso that echoed out against these glass windows. 

“What was her name?”

“Christine.”

“Is that why you’re here?”

“Yes.” 

You sound like his mother, he thinks, authoritative but not coddling in the way you question him. He wonders if you feel a discomfort in this statement. He hopes you feel a solidarity in your grieving enough to overlook it. You do not ask him how she died, though, if you were to, he would tell you:

Christine dies at the hand of laudanum, too beautiful to not have a devastating fault. The red-haired daughter of southwest Arksansas– far across that deep blue water she lived, and it was across that water where he had loved and left her. He thought of her skin, like ivory though cold as porcelain even long before her death. Her body, as it was laid to rest, had remained the same even in death as it had during her life. No amount of insurmountable beauty could cover the sullenness under her eyes or the frailness of her wrists. The red halo of hair surrounding her head could not guarantee a peaceful end. No amount of love was enough to save her from herself. 

He thinks of her eyes, long before the hollowness had clouded them over like a storm. He remembered a time where there was a soft glow there, a gas lamp that only he could ignite. He wondered if your eyes held that same glow. 

He thinks of a time where she stood outside of her father’s river home, barefoot in the mess of cattails and thick grass to encase him in a loving embrace. He had insisted that she put some shoes on. He wondered if you did the same, letting your feet burn in the sun-warm sand. He wondered if your husband insisted that you do the same.

Their marriage had died long before she had. The kiss of opium tincture still bitter against his own lips as he pressed them to hers for a last time. 

Your hands were not as tender as hers, yet the tenderness was not what he craved. He thought about this now, as you held his arm in a grounding grip. Tight enough to know that you were still there but not enough to hurt. He wondered if you needed that, too. 

This kiss was all-encompassing, starving in nature, though awkward on the deliverance. 

He knew you would forgive him if he was being too forward, but he figured you were a little past apologies now. Your back is laid across his lap, twisting and contorting to meet his own lips from your side of the piano bench. He uses this leverage to pull you forward, more over him than against him. 

There are hot tears that run down his cheeks, though, he’d figured you were past those now, too. 

His embrace around your back is not hungry– it is desperate, as if he is clinging to anything to keep him tethered to this plane. 

The piano bench scrapes loud against the knotted wooden floors of the bar as he pushes your back against the keys. They sounded with an off-key crash and lingered for moments too long. You do not feel the way the keys and beveled finish of the piano press into your back, in the same way he does not feel the knotted pine dig into his knees when he kneels at your feet. 

“Please,” He whines, tears no longer streaming down his ruddy face, though the sticky tracks remain, “Please jus’ let me taste.” 

It is not possible for you to deny him when crystalline tears budding up against a pink lashline– when a heavy hand drags itself against your leg in anticipation– no– pleading. 

You lean further back, balancing on the slippery edge of the piano bench, and you swear you can hear a soft, “Thank you.” whispered against your thigh between soft, wet kisses. 

His grip is bruising. In the same way you had tethered him to this earth, he binds you to him. One hand lies on the pool where the outer fat of your thigh presses flat against the wood, the other a vice, at your knee in order to keep your legs open. 

The edges of teeth graze against tender skin, affixing themselves along garter belts as hungry hands find purchase on your hips beneath chemise underdresses. Hot, humid breath dampens your skin as it escapes from his teeth– clamped along the garter now sliding down your leg and off your foot. A strong hand pushes back upwards, feeling along the silken hair there. 

Edward was a man of repose. In your sadness, you’d figured you’d been, too. Though, you wouldn’t have guessed it by the way he pressed a hot, flat tongue against your core and traveled upwards slowly in an experimental taste. 

“Like fuckin’ sugar,” He wines into you, his hair a splayed mess against your thighs, his tongue finding purchase against your core. 

Thick fingers prod within you, the slow in and out a tether to focus on as you shook. He wanted you to shake. He wanted you to tremble and shiver all of the worries that had plagued you to the bone. 

Eddie could not be your husband, but he could make you forget– even if it was just for the night. 

He reaches upwards from beneath your dresses, a hand intertwining itself with yours and feeling across the ridges of your cut and calloused knuckles. 

You could not be Christine, but you could be here– even if it was never in your bed. 

At the precipice of your climax, you cry out, and he likes to think that it is for him. He squeezes your hand, emerging from beneath your clothes with hair askew and a dewey sheen across reddened cheeks. When he kisses you, it is softer and you taste yourself on his lips. He does not think of the bitter taste of opium residual on the lips of Christine. Instead, he only thinks of you. 

He does not waste time when he hikes your skirtings above your waist, hands like a vice against the fat of your hips. He is quick when he unclasps his belt and unbuttons his trousers, and smooth when he slides himself into you. 

You are quieter than other women, soft staccato breaths escaping with whispers of moans punctuate his thrusts– slowly and then with more rigor. 

He keeps a furrowed brow as a bead of sweat drips down his nose and onto the bare skin on your chest where his lips now find purchase, staccatos of his own dotting your skin like galaxies in the vastness. 

He sees the way the soft glow of the lamp light heats your skin, the pink ruddiness that graces your cheeks or the glitter that flashes over your eyelids when the light catches the oil there. He sees the way your soft lashes kiss the apples of your cheeks or the soft folds of your neck as your head lolls to the side in satisfaction. He sees the way your hair curls with sweat around your ears in soft coils or the way his saliva has settled in a gloss along your lips. 

And by the stars above you, he swears that he could love you.

A thumb is heavy against you, in circles and figure eights as it wills you towards the edge that you closely teeter upon. 

“It’s okay,” He whispers to you, by soft pianissimo whispers, “You can have this. I want you to have this.” 

A barely-there sigh escapes your lips, deeper-winded than the rest and you allow your body to fall slack as he continues to pump in a rhythm, finishing quickly and lowering your underskirts as he sinks to his knees. 

Tonight, you would hold his head against your stomach as hot tears would once again roll down his face. Tonight, you would card fingers through the tangles in his hair as he lays his upper body limp and racks with soft sobs across your lap. 

Tonight, you think you will unmake the left side of the bed.