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sengardet · 6 months

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Terra's Target #4 The Dictator

A thirst for blood turns quite literal in a strange betrayal of medical trust.

Terra Unigwe was on a mission to take out a ruthless, dictatorial queen who had well-connected political opponents. Another assassin had already failed to poison the queen, so Terra had to swoop in.

Disguising herself as a doctor, having dispatched the real one, Terra infiltrated the queen's palace. She had studied medicine extensively for both harm and healing, so she was especially suited for the task. As she walked through the lavish halls, her mind raced with the anxiety of being dead if found out.

Finally, the moment arrived. Terra was escorted into the queen's private chambers, where the monarch lay on a luxurious bed, surrounded by opulent furnishings. The queen, pain in her eyes, looked to Terra for healing.

"You're not my usual doctor," the queen remarked, her voice cold and demanding.

Terra bowed her head respectfully. "Your Majesty, your regular physician is ill. The royal guard has received her letter of recommendation. As her mentor and sister, I am here to ensure your well-being."

The queen nodded, wanting anything to alleviate her breathlessness, and fatigue. She allowed Terra to approach.

Terra picked up the ultrasound wand and gel from the tray, her slender fingers gripping the cool plastic. She kept her expression neutral, despite the adrenaline starting to buzz through her veins. This was the moment she had been waiting for.

"I'm ready to begin the exam, Your Majesty, if you'll allow me," Terra said calmly, meeting the queen's piercing gaze.

The regal woman held up a hand, motioning to the guards stationed at the door. "Leave us." The armored men bowed and exited without a word, pulling the heavy doors shut behind them with a thud. Terra was now alone with her target. She took a slow breath to steady herself.

The queen reached up and undid the laces at the front of her gown with deliberate motions. Terra watched, transfixed, as inch after inch of smooth, pale skin was revealed, Her body freed from the confines of silk and lace. Dusky pink nipples stood out in the cool air.

Terra stepped closer, gel at the ready. "With your permission, my queen."

At the monarch's nod, Terra squeezed a generous amount of the slick substance onto porcelain skin that pinkened slightly where she rubbed the gel in. Setting the bottle aside, she switched on the ultrasound machine.

Queen Delora sat still on the side of her bed; her regal gown bunched around her waist. She kept her eyes fixed on the stone ceiling as Doctor Terra ran the ultrasound wand over her chest, the cold gel making her shiver. Terra looked at the monitor, and the image was clear, a dark halo surrounded Delora’s heart.

"I'm afraid there is significant fluid accumulation around your heart, my Queen," Terra said softly, as she studied the shadowy images on the screen.

"To prevent further complications, I must drain it immediately." Even so much as a squeal and the guards will come rushing in. Terra had to be patient and had to be willing to leave this room with a successful recovery and a failed hit if need be.

Delora swallowed hard and gave a curt nod. "Do what you must, Doctor."

Terra loomed over her, the contrast stark - ebony skin against ivory, crisp white coat over exposed royal flesh. "Please try to relax and breathe normally, your Highness. You may feel some pressure."

Delora inhaled deeply as Terra positioned the long needle above her heart’s apex, then slid it a little further to the left. Delora's muscles tensed. At the first sharp sting, her eyes snapped shut, fingers curling into fists at her sides.

Terra carefully guided the needle into the pericardial space, eyes flicking between the ultrasound and her target. Clear liquid with a sunny tint began to flow into the syringe. Despite her initial purpose, concern filled her mind as she pushed the needle deeper into Delora’s chest.

"You're doing wonderfully, my Queen," Terra assured her. "It will be over soon.” She assured the queen as she drew out the slightly yellow fluid. Delora focused intently on the rhythm of her own measured breaths, trying to remain calm and still despite her racing pulse.

As the syringe slowly filled, Delora's heart tapped urgently against the needle's shaft. The delicate yet vital organ pumped hard and fast, straining to circulate blood to the rest of her desperate body as some of the smothering pressure around it was alleviated.

Terra's dark eyes flicked up to study Delora's face – relaxed, vulnerable, trust strengthened by the rush of relief. platinum blonde hair flowing over her shoulders, rosebud lips parted as she took long breaths. It took all of Terra’s efforts not to harm the woman’s delicate heart as the vigorous thing pushed the needle around in her hand. A Would she even notice?

"Just a bit more..." Terra murmured soothingly. a bold thought crossing her mind. This was her chance…

As she stood there feeling the woman's heart forcefully pushing the needle tip, Terra pulled back slightly, angling it just behind the apex, toward center of the pumping mass, then pushed the needle through the soft meat of the right ventricle and deeper into the left.

Bright crimson flooded the syringe as Delora's own heart pumped it full of blood. The woman didn't even flinch, her icy blue eyes fixed blankly on the ceiling, unaware of the assassin's handiwork. Terra watched, captivated, as the woman's life force flowed into her hand. However, she had to act fast, to stop Delora from seeing her blood and alerting the guard.

Terra's slim fingers clamped over Delora's mouth, muffling her scream. With a swift motion, the assassin straddled the blonde dictator, pinning her writhing body to the bed. Delora's wide blue eyes stared up in shock and dawning horror.

As Terra removed the blood-filled syringe, spurts of hot blood jetted from the hollow metal tube, spraying across Terra's bare ebony chest in crimson streaks. The warm, sticky fluid oozed down between Terra's breasts, leaving glistening trails on her smooth skin.

Delora's blue eyes went wide with shock and betrayal. Her heart pounded frantically, each frenzied beat pumping out more of her vital essence in thick, pulsing gushes. It was a pathetic sight, once a fearsome queen, now a squirming, pale little woman whose heart squeezed out little torrents of her panicking life onto her assailant.

There was a sense of excitement in the assassin’s eyes as she looked down at the pathetic sight. Terra pressed her finger over the needle protruding from Delora's chest, stemming the crimson flow. Her chest billowed beneath Terra’s hand; her life suspended by a playful little brown finger. her icy blue eyes pleaded silently with the woman who held her life in balance.

“Poor little thing, you make it hard not to feel for you…” Terra said, watching Delora’s eyes soften. “But you also made it easy for someone to hate you” Terra continued, talking of her client. The pathetic squirming continued soon after.

Leaning down, Terra removed her finger from the top and wrapped her full lips around the base of the needle. Delora's eyes flew wide with shock and dawning horror, a strained muffled yell escaping her throat as Terra began to drink.

The taste was coppery on Terra’s tongue, but as the hot vital fluid flooded down her throat, an overwhelming desire for more filled her mind. Delora's eyes rolled back as Terra gulped the blood greedily from her heart. The stuck organ spasmed hard and erratically, jerking the needle and filling her cheeks with each satisfying beat.

Delora's heart seized and fluttered frantically against the disruption of the delicate balances of pressure that allow it to beat, the muscle straining in a futile attempt to keep pumping for Delora’s increasingly demanding body.

As Terra hummed in satisfaction, Delora whimpered; blue eyes wide with horror, yet she could do nothing but groan and squirm as Terra drank her beating heart.

Terra lifted her head, Delora's blood staining her full lips. She laughed cruelly. "Control yourself, I’m not even full yet!"

Blackness crept into the edges of Delora's vision as her struggles grew feeble, strength leeching away with each greedy pull on the needle in her heart. With a final shuddering sigh, Delora's body went limp, heart surrendering its last precious drops to Terra's thirsting mouth with periodic contractions.

Terras felt it a shame she had to leave. A part of her enjoyed the moment so much that she would love to restore this pitiful life for another feast.

#dark cardiophilia #drinking blood #heart punctured #bleed out

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neuromedical · 1 year

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1 year as an anaesthesia & intensive care resident

I started working last August and it's been a very surreal experience! I wanted to write a little summary, maybe to remind myself of the beginnings, maybe to help other med school graduates a little... Just keep in mind that my experience is European and it has nothing to do with the US system. Also, in my country anaesthesiology and intensive care are in one specialty - you can't have one without the other (though as years go by some people specialise more on either anaesthesia or intensive care).

I had my current job pretty much secured before I finished school so my only job was to pass my last state exam. When I first started in August (and let me just say that I think everyone deserves that one month off after graduating) it was pretty damn hard. And I'd like to say that it got easier over the course of the year, but that would be a lie. When you first start, everything is tough, because there is so much damn stuff you need to learn. You realise that med school was next to useless and that all your knowledge of all the rare disease is useless as well.

At first, you learn all the most commonly prescribed drugs at your ward. As I do intensive care, our most common drugs are the ones we use post-op. Mainly analgetics, some heart medications, fluids, respiratory meds. And then a million others when it comes to the non post-op patients. You need to learn the drug, the dose, and when and how to use it. At first it's ridiculous and you ask everyone around why the hell did this patient get tramadol and this one got metamizole when both of them underwent the same procedure. It takes many months to figure out these little things. A certain sixth sense that physicians have - the ability to look at a patient and think "okay, this one will get this drug because in my experience I assume that it will be better for them". I felt like the dumbest person on the planet, because I had no idea, no experience, no way of knowing these things. I tried many textbooks, but none of them teach you this. Even one of my colleagues laughed at me (in a friendly way, not maliciously) when I said I wanted a textbook where you'd find these kinds of things. She said there was none. It's simply experience and you get that only with time. So, I felt very stupid for a very long time.

I spent the first few weeks in the OR. One of my very first surgeries was... well, pretty damn traumatic. It was an aortobifemoral bypass where they had to first explant the old infected bypass and implant a new one. I was there with a senior coworker and I pretty much just looked. Well, that was until the patient lost so much blood that all we did - me, my senior coworker, and the nurse - started ordering blood, plasma, platelets, coagulation factors... From that point on it was one giant blur for me, I had no idea what was happening, because I kept shaking up one vial of fibrinogen after another. (Honestly, damn those fibrinogen vials!) That case left me thinking I will never be able to do that alone. Never. The patient passed away in our ICU later that evening. An unfortunate and dangerous thing about infected bypass grafts is that it's very hard to then clamp the aorta around them - the tissue becomes inferior and weak and it's almost impossible to stop the bleeding. But if you don't operate, the patient will die either of severe sepsis, or the weakened aorta will burst on its own. I didn't know it back then. Now I do.

A few weeks ago I came back from a week long holiday and on Monday I was supposed to do a case of a patient with an infected aortic graft and some very serious comorbidities. Alone. Somehow, I did it, but it was extremely similar to the traumatic case from almost a year ago. It was very close to an MiT, mors in tabula. But alas, we took the patient to the ICU. I was exhausted and during the surgery had to leave the OR for a few minutes and wipe away some tears. But I did it. I did everything I could for the patient, the surgery took around 6,5 hours. And they still passed away later that night and I had nightmares about it, but... such is this field of work. My coworkers said it was my trial by fire. I think I passed?

A year in and out of the OR taught me a lot of technical skills as well. How to actually start an IV, how to place central lines, arterial lines, Foleys, how to work with an ultrasound probe, how to put on those damn sterile gloves, how to do spinal and epidural anaesthesia, intubate, solve some minor intubating problems... A lot of anaesthesia is problem solving. And I mean a lot of it, It's so much fun. At first, nothing works. My first days were super depressing, I came home and felt like I should just quit, because I couldn't put on those sterile gloves. Do you know what it feels like when you sit behind a patient to attempt your first ever spinal anaesthesia and while putting on the gloves the nurse silently shakes her head at you three times in a row because each time you touched something unsterile??? Good grief. Oh and don't get me started on the shaky hands. Your hands will shake. A lot. You're poking someone with a giant needle, of course they will shake. But you have to do it. Take a few deep breaths and just poke. It's not the end of the world. Even if while placing a central line you find the carotid first. Just apply pressure, take a few deep breaths and try again. God, so much of medicine is just... trying again, isn't it?

Then there's the ICU part. That one used to absolutely terrify me. I had to... talk to patients? Conscious ones? I had to actually do a physical exam and... prescribe drugs for the day???? Oh my god. A lot of that time was just googling drugs. Of course, I kept forgetting something. I forgot to check the post-op chest x-ray. I forgot to check their chronic medication. I forgot how much insulin to give. I kept forgetting. Everything. Then I had to learn how to put together a dialysis set and start a dialysis. How to ventilate the patient in the ICU. To take a ventilated patient to have a CT scan and safely get them back. And then the nurses would always ask something and I couldn't answer, I had to go ask someone senior and go back to them. Then they'd ask me to do something I never did before and I just said "sure! but you'll have to help me" and we did it, somehow. A lot of medicine is also that - having a great nurse who helps you get through these awkward stages. NEVER BE RUDE TO NURSES! Trust me, you do NOT know more than them. And it's much more appreciated to say "look, I have no idea how to do this but if you tell me, we'll somehow do it together and I will learn". I swear to god, you'll have a laugh (if it's something not too dangerous, of course) and the nurses will accept you faster. Also - don't know the dose of something? Sometimes it's faster to just go "excuse me, how do we usually dose this?" and the nurse will tell you and you will love them forever for it. Also, always listen to what they have to tell you about your patient. They spend a lot of time with the patients, they know them a lot more than you do. Nurses are a godsent and the sooner you understand that, the better your start will be.

Now I'm not as terrified of the ICU anymore. It's actually kind of comfy - I don't have to change into OR clothes and spend the day listening to the surgeons bickering... I examine the patients, sit down, write them up, and then actually have lunch and sometimes even *gasp* a cup of coffee.

And then there are the shifts. Our shifts are 24 hours. You work with the rest of the team for the first eight and then they all go home while two of you stay and take care of critically ill patients. Sometimes an acute case comes to the OR. A ruptured abdominal aneurysm. An aortic dissection. Sometimes it's a heart transplant. I saw a heart transplant in my second ever shift. Thankfully as one of the doctors on shift is always a consultant, I just stood there and watched while they did the case. There is always work until midnight, but after midnight you hope to lie down and sleep for a few hours at least. I only had four shifts so far, but oh my god my confidence grew SO much. I'm starting to feel like a doctor. Yes. Now. When nurses ask me something, I can tell them without asking someone else first. Sure, I still ask a tonne of questions, but mostly I can solve the most common problems we have. And I can do it confidently. A year ago, an idea of being sent to an OR with no preparation would terrify me. Now I can simply do it. One time during a shift I was called to the OR to a case in local anaesthesia (surgeons do those without us) because the patient started having trouble breathing. I ran there running over everything I could do in my head and damn I was like "WHAT COULD I POSSIBLY DO?!". But I did the right thing and I felt like the (rather strict) nurse who called me was a bit proud of me. The patient felt better. I felt good about myself. God, I was starting to feel like a doctor...

All in all, it's been the wildest year ever. I couldn't possibly imagine all this while I was in school. I remember sitting with my mum and we were both just wondering "how the hell do they learn this? and how do they learn that?". I had no idea. Turns out, you simply learn by doing it. And you make mistakes and people will correct you a lot, but that's a part of it.

So if you're a new grad and you're starting to work these days, I wish you the best of luck. It will be very, very hard, but this job is unlike any other. I love every bit of it. I hope you will find joy in it as well :)

#felt nostalgic :)#personal #residency diaries #medblr

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catierambles · 6 months

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Alternate Instincts Ch.20

Stephanie sighed again in boredom, kicking her legs as she sat on the examination table in the sterile white room that resembled every other examination room she's been in. They didn't let all five of them to be in the room with her so only Geralt was leaning against the wall, arms folding over his chest. He worked for the Council, the others didn't, so she supposed they trusted him to not do anything shady. Although she did catch a couple surprised, even fearful, looks in August's direction as they had walked inside the nondescript high rise downtown. Something she would ask him about later, if she remembered.

“We request your presence,” She said, mimicking Solo's voice and making Geralt perk a small smile, “But we're going to have your strip down to your smalls, put on a paper thin gown, and sit in a cold room for fucking forever.”

“Don't know what they expect to find.” Geralt said.

“I'm going to pop negative on a test. Every time I go for a check-up since you guys went public, they've tested me for lycanthropy along with other routine things and it came back negative every time.” She said, “And it's a feeling you guys have, not exactly something you can find a scan. Unless they hooked diodes to your head or something and had you gaze longingly into my eyes again.” He snorted at that.

“They're probably listening.” He said, “Don't give them ideas.”

“Come here.” She said, opening her arms and he arched a brow at her, pushing away from the wall. “I'm cold and you're a space heater. Get over here and cuddle me.” He snorted again, walking over to her and standing in front of her on the exam table, wrapping her in his arms and holding her against his chest.

“You are cold.” He remarked and she hummed happily as she sank into him.

“Warm.” She said wistfully and he smiled, pressing his lips to her hair as his hands moved over her back. “I'm worried.”

“About this?”

“No.” She said, shaking her head, “We haven't heard or seen anything of Jordan in a while and I—I want to believe that he's gone, that he gave up, but I don't...”

“I've felt him.” Geralt said, “Well, I've felt a Feral when I walk the territory at night. He hasn't tried anything and I haven't seen him, but he's there.”

“I don't like that.” She said, “That he's hiding out in the woods like some bogeyman, waiting for an opportunity.”

“He's never going to hurt you,” Geralt said, his arms tightening just a little bit. “Ever again.”

“Are you alone when you walk around at night?” She asked and he nodded against her hair. “Well, that's going to stop. Take one of the others with you. Buddy system, Mister.”

“I don't—”

“Geralt, for my peace of mind,” She said, “Take one of the others with you.”

“You're not going to ask me to stop altogether?”

“Would you if I did?”

“No.”

“So I'm not going to ask.” Stephanie said, “It may be Sy's territory on paper, but it's all of yours in truth. Also, please don't tell me you unzip on trees while you're doing your walk around.” He was quiet. “Oh sweet Jesus.”

“I don't always patrol on two legs.” He said in his defense and she thumped her forehead against his chest a few times in exasperation. The door to the room cracked open and he pulled away so they could look over at it.

“Is it safe to come in?” Asked the gentle female voice.

“Come on in.” Stephanie said and the door opened wider, the woman wearing a white physicians coat over mint green scrubs walking into the room.

“They told me your Mate was in here with you, and the last time I didn't ask when Mates were together, I walked in on them in flagrante delicto. Better safe than sorry.” She explained briefly, “Ms. Daniels, I'm Dr. Evelyn Mercer with the Pack Council, and this must be Geralt Rivian?” He nodded, “How are you both today?”

“Kinda wondering what you all expect to find, actually.” Stephanie said.

“Same, actually.” She admitted, “I've looked over your medical records and I contacted your GP to get current records and there are no biological signs of lycanthropy, but now that I'm in the same room as you, I can understand why they wanted me to check.”

“I don't feel entirely human, apparently.” She said with a shrug.

“We can't feel humans, exactly, they don't feel like anything in the same way that another person would feel like to you. It's more you don't feel entirely like a wolf. It's there, albeit faintly.”

“Sy said I have the “idea” of a wolf inside me.” Stephanie said and the doctor shrugged.

“Sounds about right.” She said, “Have you noticed any differences in the way other wolves acted around you after your accident versus before?”

“You guys weren't out when I had my accident so I wouldn't know who was a wolf and who wasn't.” She said, “But now that you mention it...”

“Steph?” Geralt asked.

“There was a jock asshole who used to make my life a living hell in high school, my entire friend group actually, a real walking cliche. We were kind of the social outcasts, didn't really fit in with the other groups, even though I was on the school rugby team. One day, a couple weeks after I got back, he was picking on the freshman in our group, being a raging douchebag, pushing him around. I got in his face and told him to back off. He looked like he was going to start in on me too, wouldn't have been the first time, but he suddenly backed down and apologized. He avoided us after that, wouldn't even look at us, or me.” Stephanie said.

“Dollars to doughnuts he was a wolf.” The doctor said, “He felt your “idea” of a wolf and it outranked his.”

“We have a theory that she'd be a female Alpha.” Geralt said.

“Multiple Mates, makes sense.”

“She claimed our Beta as her own.” Geralt said.

“She was able to do that?” Evelyn asked, her brows jumping in surprise.

“That's what Mike, the Beta, told me.” Stephanie said.

“Do you mind if I talk to him?” Evelyn asked and Stephanie shrugged.

“Fine by me.”

#henry cavill #captain syverson #walter marshall #august walker #hellraiser mike #geralt of rivia #alternate instincts

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the-whispers-of-death · 4 months

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The Fifth & Final Lion

A/N: For context, it's been a month and six days since Rescue Mission.

*****************************************************************

Time seemed to be moving slowly for Cerberus as he waited for his doctor to finish writing his report in the computer.

He already had been declared mentally fit by his psychiatrist and therapist, so now all he was waiting for before being able to officially become a Shadow was to be declared physically fit by his physician.

He swore the doctor was purposefully dragging this out, his good eye catching her typing slow at her desk. It made his worries surface again, scenarios in which he failed his physical coming up.

Cerberus knew he had healed faster than expected, going to the gym with Simba and Nala to get a semblance back to where he had been before his captivity. He practiced his shooting in the firing range with Sarabi and Kali, the two best snipers he knew. He had gotten high scores and times when doing obstacles courses that rookies were struggling to do.

He was ready.

"Well, Rahul," the doctor said, finishing up typing and turning around in her rolling chair to look at him. She was smiling, a good sign. "You've been healing wonderfully for someone in your situation. You're not at the weight and body mass that you were before your captivity, but it's more than enough to make me feel comfortable signing off on you being able to report for duty."

Cerberus watched her get up, handing him a slip of paper saying she had given her approval that he was physically fit to be a medic for a squad. He laughed, euphoria flooding his veins as he held the slip of paper, careful not to crush up the other piece of paper that his therapist and psychiatrist gave him.

"Thank you, Doctor," he said, getting up from the exam table. He surprised both her and himself, hugging her. "Thank you."

The doctor returned the hug, patting him on his back. "You did the work, Rahul. Your speedy recovery was all you," she replied, unable to hide her grin as she watched him grin back at her. "Now, go, be the best medic you can be. Any squad would be lucky to have you. And if that contact lens of yours is too uncomfortable, don't hesitate to call you optometrist."

Cerberus nodded, taking note of it. "Will do, promise." He felt elated, like he was finally taking control of his new life.

He bid her goodbye before leaving the exam room, heading to the exit of the base hospital. As soon as he was outside, he walked to the main building of the base, on his way to see Commander Graves.

While he was still a little paranoid, his eyes tracking everyone who passed by him, Cerberus was pleased that his therapy was working. A month ago, he wouldn't even had been able to be outside without panicking and feeling like everyone was going to hurt him. It had taken him a while to go outside but with the help of The Lions, he did it eventually.

And now he could go outside alone, without wanting to attack someone who felt like they were staring at him.

As he stepped into the building and walked towards Commander Graves' office, he was praying and hoping that he'd be put on The Lions' squad. He had spent the most time with them, all of them bonding when they could so they could tell Graves that they knew Cerberus could comfortably fit into the squad.

But it wasn't always guaranteed that people got the assignments they were hoping for.

"Have faith, Cerberus. You're going to be our medic, our chemistry as a squad is undeniable. You're our fifth member, I know it."

Kali's words in the back of his head soothed Cerberus as he knocked on Commander Graves' door.

"Come in," Graves called out from the other side of the door. He smiled when he saw Cerberus walking in. "Ah, Cerberus. You have something for me?" he asked.

Cerberus took a deep breath and nodded, walking over and handing the man the slips of paper. "I've been declared fit for duty," he said, pointing out to recommendations he be officially taken into the ranks of the Shadow Company.

Graves nodded, looking over the pieces of paper. He set them down on his desk, eyeing Cerberus to make sure he truly was ready to get back to doing what he loved, helping soldiers. "I can see that, Cerberus. And I'm very proud of you."

He grabbed another piece of paper, Cerberus' orders, along with a uniform, a badge, a registered sidearm. "I'm pleased to announce that you, Rahul Ali, are officially a Shadow."

"I'm honored, Commander." Cerberus took everything from Graves. He was itching to see what squad he was assigned to, but he waited to be dismissed.

"You're dismissed, Cerberus."

Cerberus managed to salute Graves despite how full his hands were before he left the office. He took a quick look at the orders, smiling at the name of the squad on the piece of paper.

*************

"You're so much bigger than you were when Kali found you, yes you are." Sarabi cooed at Shadow, the black wolf that was settled in between his legs no longer the size of a pup but rather roughly half the size of what his parent probably looked like. He patted the wolf, smiling as the wolf gave a small "woof" in response.

All four Lions were without their masks/balaclavas/neck gaiters, relaxing as they waited to hear if Cerberus was able to become a Shadow officially and what squad he'd joined if he was now a Shadow. Everyone was getting restless, all of them hoping he'd be on their squad.

They had gotten attached to Cerberus, being there for his recovery. He was technically still recovering, but they were hoping they'd have the privilege to continue helping him recover.

Simba heard the footsteps first. "I think that's Cerberus," he said, everyone turning their attention to the door.

Cerberus knocked on the door to the barracks, doing the special knock that was designed specifically to announce his arrival. He opened the door shortly after, smiling when he saw The Lions staring at him expectantly.

"How did it go?" Nala asked, breaking the silence first. He watched Cerberus walk in before continuing, "Were you declared physically and mentally fit?"

"I was," Cerberus answered, causing everyone to breathe a sigh of relief.

Simba frowned, noticing that Cerberus didn't seem to be jumping in joy. "Wait, did you not get assigned to our squad?"

Kali walked over to Cerberus, disappointment on his face but he steeled it. "Oh, Cerberus, I'm sorry. I know you were looking forward to being assigned to us, and we were looking forward to it as well. But this doesn't mean we all won't still see you, you can't get rid of us that easily." He opened his arms, intending to hug Cerberus.

Cerberus broke the facade, bursting out into laughter. The looks of confusion of the four men's faces were priceless to him. "You all should see your faces, oh God!" He cleared up any confusion by giving the orders to Kali.

"You son of a bitch," Kali complained playfully, passing around the orders which assigned Cerberus to The Lions. "You really had us thinking that you weren't our medic." He gently pushed at Cerberus' shoulder, causing the man to laugh harder.

"We still love you though!" Simba said before running over and picking Cerberus up in a bear hug.

Nala walked over, clapping Cerberus on the back as he was still in Simba's hold. "It's a honor to have you on our squad, Rahul," he murmured, a small smile on his lips.

Cerberus chuckled, looking down at Nala. "The honor's all mine. You're a great group of men," he replied sincerely. "I wouldn't have healed as fast as I did without all of you helping me through it."

Simba finally placed Cerberus down on the ground, letting him go and letting the others get their hugs in. Kali gave him a crushing bear hug before letting him go soon after.

"Well, a squad has to stay together, yeah? Through thick and thin." Sarabi got up, walking over with Shadow following behind him. His gloved hand settled on the small of Cerberus' back, unintentionally sending a shiver down the man's spine. "In sickness and in health."

Kali scrunched his nose in response to Sarabi's words, walking towards his bunk. He was grabbing a letter, probably from Stone. "You sound like we're all getting a marriage together."

Cerberus looked at the letter in Kali's hands, smirking. "Another love letter, Cap?" he teased, enjoying the way it felt nice to call Kali "Cap".

"Oh come on, is everyone in this squad going to tease me about my letters?" Kali asked in exasperation. He carefully opened the envelope, his eagerness to read the letter unable to be contained. "They're not love letters!"

"Not yet," Sarabi muttered underneath his breath, causing everyone except Kali to laugh.

Kali rolled his eyes. "For that, I'm going to read this in the bathroom. Just so I don't have to hear your teasing," he playfully grumbled.

Nala chuckled. "Oh, is it that spicy of a love letter?"

Kali gave Nala his middle finger, making another round of laughter take everyone else, before he went into the bathroom.

"Is he really going to jerk off in the bathroom to letter?" Simba asked, barely holding back his laughter.

"Shut up!" Kali yelled from the bathroom.

Sarabi gently tugged Cerberus away from Simba and Nala who were joking together. Cerberus followed easily, his smile curious. "Where are we going?" he asked.

Sarabi took him to the bunk beds. "I'm showing you your new bed," he said, gesturing to the top bunk.

"Wait, are you in the bottom bunk?" Cerberus asked, recognizing Kali's yellow-gold lioness mask laying on the bottom bunk's bed.

"Yeah, you okay with sharing a bunk with me?"

Cerberus stared up at Sarabi, his heart skipping a beat. He managed to stop it from showing on his face too much.

"It's perfect. Everything's perfect."

*****************************************************************

A/N: This is going to be the second to last Lions post before the reunion, I believe. I still have to post Cerberus' basic info post, but that's been sitting in my drafts for a while now. It took a while for me to finally write this post, officially bringing in Cerberus to the squad. Feels nice.

I couldn't help myself, I wrote in a little Stone x Kali and Cerberus x Sarabi. It wrote itself, you see. Also yes, I'm bringing back the pets. And Stone's water bottle, but that'll be after the reunion.

Cerberus still has some ways to go before being fully healed (physically and mentally), but he's healed enough and for that The Lions are very proud of him for.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and request something! (Check the rules in "Rules for Requesting NSFW" before requesting.)

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lastlycoris · 1 month

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you do know that doctors make mistakes too and that there are negligent doctors. you can't judge nurse practitioners just because there are a few bad eggs.

You're right. Doctors do make mistakes. Doctors can be negligent. Doctors can be abusive. I've seen many flavors of doctor and resident and midlevel and nurse practitioner in my admittedly short career.

Medicine is ultimately a profession where you can do everything right - and still fail anyway. And honestly, we probably don't do everything right either, but we do our best to try.

And doctors try by getting the education, training and experience needed to practice medicine. Starting from college, where we have to take dedicated premedical education (such as organic chemistry) in college and taking the MCAT (Medical College Admission Test), we strive to get the highest GPA and MCAT score we can because medical school requires that. The average GPAs and percentile MCAT a medical school would accept is 3.6 or higher and 80th percentile respectively. It's why acceptance rates to medical school overall are 10% or less.

Of course, if you want to get into a good residency, you have to do well in medical school and do well on the medical licensing exams (USMLE) - two of which you take during school. This is especially true if you want a competitive specialty like dermatology, plastic surgery, or neurosurgery. Furthermore, during med school, you're already taking care of patients in your third and fourth years.

Oh, and finally residency - where you finally go into your subspecialty and are actually responsible for patients. That's another 3-4 years before you pass your board exam and finally become an attending physician.

From college to graduation, that's at least 11 years of getting a medical education. Now, I say all this because I now want to make a comparison for an NP.

To get a Bachelors in Nursing (assuming you're in the nursing track from the start), it takes 4 years. You get around 700-800 hours of clinical work, which we'll include for the sake of comparison, even though the 700-800 hours you work as a nurse are not the same as 700-800 hours as working as a doctor in terms of duties. And in the process of getting the NP degree, you get around 1500 hours of clinical training. This is in stark contrast to medical school where you can get 6000 hours of clinical training alone - and residency which adds a whopping 9000-10000 hours.

Ultimately, a doctor is not allowed to prescribe, treat, or diagnose a patient independently until they've allotted at least 16000 hours in clinical training - working with actual patients. I haven't even included actual preclinical education hours like pharmacology and such.

NP organizations arguing for independent practice for NPs (NPs being able to do things unsupervised by doctors) state that NPs should be able to do all the things that a doctor does - only after 1500 hours of clinical experience. A tenth of what is required a doctor.

I am judging those "independent NPs", especially the ones that practice as an NP straight out of school with a minimum of nursing experience, because you have a tenth of the clinical experience - not even as much as a graduating medical student - and still believe you have the knowledge and expertise to practice independently - to do everything a doctor does? That is arrogance.

At least when a reasonable doctor makes a mistake, there's 16000 hours of training and education behind it.

When a reasonable independent NP makes a mistake, there's only 1500 hours of the same.

And it's not fair for the patient who is being told that getting care from an independent NP is "just as good" as getting it from the doctor? No. It's not even close. And as I've said in a previous post, an independent NP is not held to the same standard of care as a doctor is.

So what these guys are telling the patient is:

"Hi, I'm an independent nurse practitioner. I deliver just as good care as a doctor does. Oh but if I make a mistake, I won't be held to the standards of a doctor."

Please make this make sense for me.

You don't recognize what you don't know. The education and training requirements are there for a reason - and trying to bypass that will only end in tragedy for both the practitioner and the patient.

#🌹~ [ left blooming alone ] || ic

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andromedaexists · 11 months

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I've had a lot of friends reach out to me the past couple days and I just don't have the spoons to respond to all of y'all so I'm gonna say what I need to here:

I love you and appreciate you all. Your condolences and well wishes were received and mean a lot to me.

Now, for those who are not in the loop, I would like to take a moment to tell you about why I haven't been around for a hot minute despite really trying my best to be (under the cut, because good lord are there a lot of heavy topics on the table such as pet loss, depression, mental and physical health and the degradation thereof, stress and anxiety and more)

So, just in a brief bullet point recap, since about july of this years I have:

been switched onto a project at work that put increasingly more important responsibilities on my shoulders despite me saying that i never want to be in that position again

been switched back to my normal project in the middle of a hierarchy shift, therefore not knowing who to contact for literally anything (we're still working this out, btw)

started my final semester of college with 4 classes (reading & translating dead language #1, reading & translating dead language #2, novels in dead language #1, and the history of my native tongue that requires reading in the dead ancient form of it)

found myself being forced into monthly outings with my mother (a test in repairing our relationship that is going... okay)

somehow became integral in a discord (not upset, just not sure how i ended up here frfr)

being told on the first day of classes that i am having surgery ASAP on a cyst (we all know my history with cysts here.. it's not pretty)

the absolute atrocity that blue ridge ended up being. that was supposed to be my relax time, my time to unwind from everything else and i still have not recovered my loss of sleep from being up for 40 hours straight because of how horrible that weekend was

had my surgery cancelled because i'm too fat and then being ghosted by the doctor

had my heart absolutely demolished by a guy I thought I could love, only to be reminded that love is a luxury not afforded to people like me

broke up with my primary care physician because my health is degrading so fucking bad that i literally woke up feeling like i broke my wrist just because. and he still won't take me seriously. i can barely walk at this point, let alone stay awake and functioning longer than 4 hours at a time

had my employee review (that actually went well, but i did get my ass chewed out for low production)

had the world fall apart around me as any hope i had for humanity is shattered

release my book 3 days later because it was too late to change the release day by then

bury myself in a depression hole that i'm learning is normal for authors after their book releases

have to move my grandma into assisted living/memory care

have to immediately move myself out of my apartment with a weeks notice because the stress of living next to violent neighbors was finally getting to me (triggered my past with domestic violence) AND they started harassing me

had to undergo a medical procedure because i can't even eat food without my body rebelling

missed a month of classes because of depression

failed 2 latin tests in a row followed by bombing the midterm which was... great of my mental health especially considering i haven't received anything lower than a B or a C on an exam since ever (i was an honor roll/4.0/gifted studies kid)

Failed a History of the English Language exam because i cannot code switch between German, Latin, and English quickly enough (those are the 3 that comprise middle english btw)

a week after moving into my grandma's house I almost burned it down

found out that someone I really respected and looked up to as a friend was a Zionist

and finally: on Saturday I had to put down the cat I have owned for 15 years. She's undoubtedly older than that, but I was her owner for 15 years. She was my first ESA. I was able to tell my prof I wouldn't be in for the SECOND LATIN MIDTERM on monday because of it so now i have to take it tomorrow, but i couldn't get out of the greek exam or work. I asked for one (1) day off work and was told that my cat dying was not sufficient enough reason for the time off without using PTO (that i don't have because I used it on the absolutely horrible weekend that was Blue Ridge)

So yeah. I haven't been around. I've been more around on twitter but that's mostly me just reposting a bunch of posts about Palestine rn and other posts that my friends make. I'm so fucking exhausted and nauseous and just done. I haven't really written anything either because my work up until now has shown both the horrors of humanity and the underlying hope but I do not have that hope anymore and it hurts

Ironically since I've started working on Desecrate I've started wondering if this is my punishment for straying from God all those years ago. I don't think so but not I gotta add re-working through my religious trauma and my Catholic Guilt to my never ending list of things to do.

If you read this whole thing, kudos to you. I appreciate you all and I'm sorry for dumping it but I have not been able to really say anything about what's going on in my life because i just.. idk I don't have the words for it most days. I'm just tired.

#andi talks #vent post #life fucking suck rn man #and i just i don't know if i can keep holding out for it to get better

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wxndswept · 7 months

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Creating an Emanator(Exam)

Just pretend I wrote this after this one, I didn't think of it until yesterday

"Take a seat over there." The woman motioned to the exam table, where Yuuki hopped on. "Before we start, I must give you a physical exam, to make sure you are capable of what is to come. Is that acceptable?" Yuuki nodded and watched her pick up a pad. "Good. Take off your jacket and bits of armor. There will be physical contact." While Yuuki stripped, she watched the woman tap away on her device, pausing occasionally to glance at her, or more precise, look her over.

"Could you give me your name, age, and the planet you hail from?"

"O-oh, right." Yuuki placed her armor pieces on top of her folded jacket. "Tsukino Yuuki. I'm 26 years old and from Teyvat." Her fingertips glowing, the woman reached up to touch Yuuki's neck again. This time she was gently stopped. "I-I'm sorry, I never got your name. Or what this is."

"Ruan Mei. Do not run the syllables together. As for this," She jerked her hand, making Yuuki let go and murmur a quiet 'sorry'. "this is an efficient way of collecting data on you. May I?" After a quick hesitation, Yuuki nodded quietly. She flinched as the woman leaned close, pressing her index and middle finger against her neck like before.

Yuuki's heart beat faster. The sweet perfume was almost intoxicating and her work directly only made her heart race faster. Ruan Mei's touch was cool and light as her fingers traced along Yuuki's upper neck and jawbone. With a short huff of affirmation, she typed a few things into her pad. Yuuki turned to look but was promptly stopped by Ruan Mei's fingers pushing her chin back up straight.

"Left arm, please." Again, Yuuki did as she was told. Ruan Mei took her arm by the wrist and turned it palm up to examine it. Yuuki suppressed a shudder as the cold fingers dragged and pressed across her skin, stopping at her fingertips, palm, and tricep before widening her reach to squeeze both sides of her elbow. "Hm." With a quick wave of her hand, she motioned for Yuuki to repeat with the other arm. Again, Yuuki had to stay still in silence, taking in the beauty of the scientist examining her. The touch of her hands, the way her eyes darted around, looking between her body and the pad, it was all... distracting. So distracting that she had completely missed what Ruan Mei was saying to her, until she waved a hand in front of her face.

"Ah!" Yuuki jumped in place and stared back. "W-what? Are we done?"

"I asked you to remove your shirt." Ruan Mei said plainly, picking up the pad to input more data. "If you have an undershirt or bra on, that can stay. But your shirt is too thick for me to get an accurate read." She sat back and waited for Yuuki, her emerald gaze fixed on her pad. Swallowing hard, Yuuki took a breath and pulled off her shirt from below. It wasn't the first time she was shirtless in front of a physician, let alone someone else in general. But for some reason, she couldn't keep her nerves in check. Nor could she hide her embarrassment anymore, her cheeks darkening as Ruan Mei stood again.

"Thank you. This won't take long." Leaning close, she pressed her glowing palms at Yuuki's torso, eliciting a jump from her. Yuuki squirmed, fighting the urge to make a noise from the cold touches and presses along her stomach and back. Eventually, Ruan Mei huffed and looked up at her. "Please stay still."

"R-right..." Shifting in her seat, Yuki nodded. "Sorry." After a couple of breathing exercises that involved Yuuki taking a deep breath and Ruan Mei pressing firmly against different spots on her stomach and back, she looked up to lock eyes with Yuuki for a moment before reaching up to gently touch her chest, fingertips resting right at her sternum. "Aah!"

"Yuuki." There was a hint of annoyance in Ruan Mei's usual flat tone. The light blush across her face darkened as she sat still again, looking over to the floor as her chest was examined. "Breathe in." A few more breathing exercises were done before Ruan Mei stepped away and input the data. In the silence, Yuuki was tempted to lean over and watch directly but ultimately settled on just watching her quietly, fiddling with the shirt in her lap.

After watching Ruan Mei scroll and tap in silence for a few minutes, Yuuki opened her mouth to ask if she was done, stopped by a smile creeping across the woman's lips. It was a beautiful one, she could say that with certain. But for some reason, it made Yuuki nervous. Did she notice something that made her unique? Was something wrong? Ruan Mei didn't follow up with anything else, only standing and stepping out of the room. Yuuki quickly put her shirt back on, jolting to a still position as the door opened again.

"You are a very fit and healthy young woman, Yuuki." Ruan Mei held up a small vial filled with a light red liquid, raising an eyebrow at the blush that had brought its way back to Yuuki's face. "However, there is an abnormality regarding your overall anatomy. Would you mind taking this so I can better get an idea of what's going on?" Folding her arms after Yuuki took the vial, she watched as she looked it over. "It's a harmless concoction that has been used on others before. It won't cause you any discomfort., only allow me to more closely examine your internals without an x-ray." Yuuki narrowed her eyes at the vial before looking back at the scientist, who raised an eyebrow again, like she was a little annoyed at the hesitance.

"Alright." Yuuki popped open the vial and drank the liquid in one go. Despite the sweet flavor, she didn't trust it, but it wasn't like anything could go too badly. Plus, Ruan Mei was right there in case anything did go wrong. The two of them waited for a few minutes in silence, Yuuki tense with bated breath.

But nothing happened. Yuuki leaned back on the table as Ruan Mei left again. "I don't feel any different." She said through the open door. "Is that supposed to be norm-" She suddenly doubled over, groaning in pain as an intense heat overcame her. "Aah... w- wait... s- somethings wrong...!" She didn't even wait for Ruan Mei to come back, sliding off the exam table as her breathing became heavy. "What's.... happening..." The heat was quickly becoming unbearable, but it wasn't a typical heat, like she was just hot. The heightened sensitivity, the burning in her core, and the discomfort in her shorts were signs that she was aroused.

"M-Miss Ruan... Mei..." Staggering out of the room and leaning against the wall, Yuuki saw Ruan Mei preparing a small device. In reality, she didn't look any different than before, but she looked so good to Yuuki, she just wanted to shove her against the wall and take her then and there. "What'd... what did you do to me...?"

"What did I do?" Ruan Mei repeated as she turned around, her eyes widening for a second when she saw Yuuki against the wall. "Oh." It was the only thing she said, simply staring. Now panting heavily, Yuuki looked down at where she was staring and let out a screech upon noticing what was causing most of her discomfort. The noticeable tent in her pants, to put it plainly. As Yuuki struggled to even get a word out, only making simple and breathless noises, Ruan Mei stepped forward. "This is an... unexpected effect. We'll have to examine and treat this immediately. Come back into the exam room."

#(hsr verse)#(ic drabble)#i was... inspired to write this one too #and then realized 'oh yeah i didn't write that'

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ariadnasdiary · 1 year

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Dietitian vs doctor: a neverending bickering

"Isn't that book a little too difficult for you~?"

"Isn't it too difficult for you to leave me alone?"

Mun Ari: I saw this post of @kindan-no-kanojo regarding what kind of doctor our ocs would be. Now! I'll take this chance to make some headcanons regarding this AU:

*Tiny note before we start: most thing stated here were made regarding my personal opinion and/or experience, please don't take them seriously or by heart ^^*

Yes, Ari is a dietitian. Yes, it isn't exactly a doctor, but a dietitian is within the health sciences~.

No, a dietitian isn't exactly the same as a nutritionist.

Let me explain it: dietitians are recognized as health professionals and they use specialized diets as treatments for their patients. They have knowledge in various pathologies and know how to prescribe diets to complement the patient's treatment. A nutritionist on the other hand may have some basic knowledge on nutrition (some may have taken a course) BUT are not recognized as health professionals.

“All dietitians are nutritionists, but not all nutritionists are dietitians,” explains registered dietitian Amber Sommer, RD, LD.

A little cultural fact now: this explanation I gave you is in terms of the USA, but here in Mexico is the other way around, can you believe it? [Mun Ari: I studied and I'm a certified nutritionist which is the equivalent of a dietitian in the USA]

Now that that's settled: Ari is a registered dietitian (according to what I found it works the same in Japan). So yeah: she's a health professional.

We know that Kino is a Psychosomatic physician which, and I cite: "provides a comprehensive approach to the emotional, cognitive, and behavioral needs of the patient". So yeah, it is in the psychiatry area.

Now, it is well known that sometimes (not always) is quite common for doctors to feel… a little above others. [Mun Ari: trust me, I've been there and experienced it first hand, but not everone were like that ^^]

As both professions are in the health sector, they of course met in college. I can imagine they did in one of those in common subjects within the first semesters ^^ (you know, those were various careers share some classes since they are in the same area)

The "competence" or "frictions" happen naturally and they are initiated by doctors… 9 out of 10 times.

Ari was just, you know, existing and happened to share the same subject and classroom as Kino. Being a doctor student he was started with the passive-aggressive comments/jokes and sometimes it got in Ari's nerves.

You know me, so I'll go with the rivals/enemies to lovers prompt on this one since it is what it is~

If Ari had to thank Kino is that those comments forced her to push herself even more on her studies, so she can defend herself when he wants to brag how "his career was harder than hers".

Call it bad luck, but they spent the first semesters in every common medicine class together. People knew it was Kino messing with her and she was only defending herself. Everyone was making bets on who'll get better grades in the exams or projects and secretly they ship them together.

However, nothing really happened and they actually got to spend more time together UNTIL their internships. They got in the same hospital and that was hilarious to those that knew their story or saw it develop from the beginning.

They worked in the same area and in the same team within the same patients. They tried to keep it professional, but we know Kino and he can be annoying :). They both got scolded once in a while. Residents, nurses, doctors, dietitians and even patients found their dynamic amusing and will find it delightful as long as it wouldn't interfere with their work and affect others (specially patients).

Ari earned Kino's respect after various times she showed just what she was capable of. Ari admired doctors and all health professionals in general, but she felt happy when he actually said it to her. Then their attitude towards each other improved.

Inevitably they started considering each other as friends and valuable teammates, knowing they had each other's back. Dietitians and doctors work together, they just need to learn to do so.

Yet, like in the original timeline, Kino fell for her first… and harder lol. He'll get possessive of her, he doesn't like when she is paired with other male residents or interns and is specially cautious of doctors. It was hard for him to keep an eye on her when they were rotating on different areas, but he always managed. It was tiring and Ari at first couldn't really understand why he would do it.

Of course it got into a point where he declared his feelings to her and Ari became aware of them and made sense to her his attitudes. Ari didn't answer his proposal immediately as she didn't see him as a lover, but as a friend.

After that, Kino made it his mission to conquer her and long story short he did and became a couple. It brought certain peace to kino as now that they had the title, everyone would know they're dating and some may respect it.

So yey! Health professionals AU for Arino came to me on my own internship and Idk why I forgot to post at least the commission lol.

If you wonder about the rest of the crew: Naomi I already stated is a gynecologist, I can see Yuri as a nurse or maybe nothing related to health since he wouldn't be able to deal with that and Kino (let him rest already!) and Sabine I can totally see her as a cardiologist or maybe an anesthesiologist :D

#ariadnasdiary #ariadnaxkino #arino #ariadna koizumi martínez #kino #naomi nakahara #yuri #sabine tachihara #mun ari speaks #diabolik lovers oc #diabolik lovers latino

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dad-zac · 11 months

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“You can’t go in there, Captain.”

Isaac’s normally calm and impeccably controlled facade had shattered to pieces more than ten minutes ago. He hadn’t bothered to remove anything but his helmet before he stormed from the docking bay to the medical ward. Whatever measure of gratitude he’d felt for the confused, if not terrified bystanders between there and here swiftly moving out of the way, fizzled with the hard set of his jaw.

The Captain didn’t like to pull rank, which was helpful because he didn’t think any of his designations would convince the medical intern who probably had the best intentions to move aside, but there was also no way he’d be dissuaded and felt fairly confident it would take more muscle than the Citadel’s medical ward could muster before he fought his way past. A small, withering part of him hoped it would not come to that.

“Son.” His rigid stance solidified the same way it did when he planted his omnishield in the middle of a firefight. “I’m getting in there. It’s up to you how, exactly, that’s going to happen.”

At least the intern had the good sense to be terrified. Though it wouldn’t save him for much longer.

“Let him pass.”

The Captain’s dark gaze fell to the sandy-haired man with glasses and a datapad who’d been studying him since approach.

“The Commander’s Commander, I assume,” the new man said.

“Where is she,” Isaac growled. It was not a question.

“Through the doors.” The man with the glasses jerked his head, motioning over his shoulder at the security doors to the care ward behind him. “Second hallway on your left.” His slim fingers danced over the datapad before the outer doors slid open. “There is a decontamination protocol-” He sighed as Isaac disappeared between them. “Which I guess you’ll figure out.”

“Are all of them like that?” the intern asked of the slightly (but barely) older physician who ignored him completely to send a com link to the paladin’s target.

“Hey Katie girl. There’s a very angry Captain headed your way.”

Isaac had been responsible for a fair share of the gore and carnage he’d seen in his exemplary if not fast-tracked career but the glimpse of her olive skin, penetrated by the needle of an IV, might have been the worst. “Maisy.”

She flushed, a pretty peachy pink color spread across her cheeks and the green eyes he’d come to count on widened at the sight of him. “Zac.” She second guessed, glancing nervously to the female doctor with long, dark hair beside her before trying again. “Captain.”

“Mase-” Isaac’s mouth couldn’t seem to form words but his gloved hands found hers and he was kneeling at the edge of her bed, too concerned to be bothered by the clunky armor he still wore. “They said you fainted.” One gloved hand reached to stroke the side of her face, brushing a dark silken lock of her hair behind one ear as a way to say just some of the things his treacherous mouth couldn’t. “What happened?” His gaze flickered to the doctor and he ignored the contemplative look of speculation she wore to spit out a demand, disguised as a question. “Is she alright?”

He watched the women exchange a long glance before either of them turned to him again. But still holding both of her hands in one of his was enough to quell the raging storm of his concern- for now.

“She’s not injured,” the doctor said with a hint of something like amusement before sobering gently with softer features. “I’ll let you two talk.” The doctor ducked her head, avoiding Isaac’s burning glare as she walked to the door, ready to leave them alone in the exam room. “Maisy, I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

The doors hadn’t slid shut before Isaac was holding her face again, ignoring the sick twist in his stomach at the tubing still pumping a clear liquid into her. “Baby.” If his voice sounded weak or helpless, it wasn’t an act. He preferred active combat, even literal torture, to the sight of this woman relegated to a hospital bed. “What happened. What can I do?”

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neuromedical · 9 months

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Is it normal not to know what I want in my life ? I’m 23. I’m graduating this year in may. Medical school.But I’m thinking more and more about not entering this field.I’m so scared and introverted.All my friends have already found a job at hospital,they work,have cars,settle and so on. I don’t even have driving license.. The only thought that keeps me alive is -my parents.They gave me everything they had -their time,money and their support just to raise a doctor :( ❣️I don’t want to disappoint them .. They’re my everything ❣️But I’m so confused about choosing a career.I don’t know which path or what direction should I go.. So I think it’s better to ask someone who works as a junior doctor :) How about finances ?Can you live on your own?Is it possible to save some money from junior’s doctor’s salary? And what about your social live? Thank you with all glory..

Best regards

Hi!

I totally understand you, unlike my classmates I was also always behind on these things as an introvert myself. Never had the "good contacts" and me getting a job at all was a great feat I had to prepare myself for a lot. It's fine to feel like that, but trust me - once you're a doctor, you will be very needed in almost any hospital, any field. Getting a job really shouldn't be hard even later on. Oh and I also don't have a driving license, I'm actually thinking of getting it now, two years after graduating.

When it comes to lifestyle, I must say that I live in central Europe - we're not as well paid as all the western physicians, but yes we are still paid well above average wage here. I don't live luxuriously, but I can afford to rent a flat alone and still very comfortably have a life (that means that once everything necessary is paid for, food, rent etc., I can still go out, travel, buy something for myself and even save some money). I'm not a big spender, though, so I tend to save a lot by the end of the month, hah. I aim to get that license, later buy a car, get a mortgage for my own apartment... and yes, with a bit of saving this will be possible from my wage. My social life sucks, but only because I prefer books and tea. I do have great coworkers, though, I love them very much and keep seeing them outside of work as well so that's the main chunk of my social life :) It's not all just studying. To be fair, a lot of things I know I've learnt at work by doing and asking a lot of questions. I will have to start studying for my specialty exam, but until then it's really not that bad.

This field doesn't feel fit for an introvert, but I'm also quite a loner who has problems with making phone calls and yet, here I am, doing one of the most challenging medical fields. I've noticed that I become a completely different person at work. I don't mind saying my opinion even to doctors (surgeons) I haven't worked with before. I don't mind making a phone call. I really don't mind doing these social things, because there it's all very uniform and simple - you're polite and that's it. No social conventions, no stupid small talk... Maybe that will be your case as well! And if not, you can always leave medicine and find something that will make you happier :)

#ask

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euhemeria · 1 year

Text

Rites of Unshared Spaces

Part One: Thoughts of Arid Paper Sea

Chapter One: Claustrophobia

She does not remember anything of what they said in the aftermath, and they have not spoken since. What could she say? I’m sorry might be a good start, for a number of reasons. But to apologize would be to invite a conversation about what happened, and that she has never quite felt ready for.

Fandom: Overwatch Rating: T Category: F/F Characters: Angela, Fareeha Warnings: N/A A slowburn Pharmercy fic wherein, after several years having not spoken to one another, Angela and Fareeha work to rekindle their friendship and along the way find something more. Also on ao3 and dreamwidth.

After a long journey, one never quite returns to the same home one left. Angela is intimately familiar with it, that queer in-betweenness, the acute awareness of all the little changes, the discomfort of expecting one thing and finding another. Aware too, is she, of the fact that even when things are perfectly preserved, she herself is changed enough that the once mundane is rendered alien. Too often, she has left for a short journey and returned someone else entirely, all that once was hers belonging, now, to some version of herself she will never be again. She knows well what it is to be a stranger in her own home.

Somehow, returning to Overwatch feels nothing like that.

It is changed, certainly, and nearly beyond recognition. Where once she was lured to join their ranks by gleaming new research facilities and the promise of funding beyond her wildest imagination, now she finds herself working with equipment that has not been touched in five years, let alone serviced in that time. There are not proper medical research facilities in Watchpoint: Gibraltar, either, not like there were in the old Headquarters. Instead, her only office is in the medical wing, which, in truth, was not built for long-term patient care, was meant to be used only in the direst emergencies before transferring patients to the far better equipped facilities in Geneva, under the watchful eyes of herself and her staff.

Her old office was so bright as to nearly be blinding, and the current one, situated half underground, is far dimmer, several of the lights in need of replacement. Despite her best attempts at cleaning it, the air still smells somewhat of disuse underneath the familiar sharp antiseptic. It is smaller, too, by far. Although her previous office was far from palatial—Overwatch never did put enough value on the sort of work done at a desk—it had, at least, space for her to meet with people when she needed to, and an adjoining conference room for those times when an office was insufficient. In this current space, she can barely fit her desk, a filing cabinet, and a second chair. It is far from comfortable, and she does as much of her paperwork as she can in the larger exam room, taking her notes as she goes.

Granted, she has had very little paperwork to do, as of yet, having not had to treat any particularly serious conditions aside from Mei’s initial injuries in Paris, and she can hardly complain about a lack of a conference room when there is no one to conference with. As of now, she is the only doctor on staff, and they have no nurses, technicians, physician’s assistants, or physical therapists to speak of. They are running a skeleton crew, at the moment—less than one.

But as few of them as are here, as empty as even this small base seems, in comparison to the bustle of the old days, already it feels like home in a way no other place has, since the shutdown. Here, the sound of Reinhardt laughing down the hall, there, the smell that lingers around Torbjörn after a long day in the workshop, and now, the familiar flash in the hallway of Lena hurrying off somewhere.

When Overwatch was shut down, Angela was glad for it, believed it for the best—thinks, still, that such was the right choice—but even then, a part of her was sad to see that chapter in her life close. In their own strange way, her squad mates became her family, and it hurt her, to leave them all behind.

But she did.

On the final night before the Petras Act went into effect, she said her goodbyes and departed for OCG, abandoning whatever she could not fit into her 20kg luggage allotment to the rubbish, and leaving no forwarding address. Overwatch had been so crushing, in those final years, so suffocating, the tension between Jack and Gabriel so thick that she could not breathe, at times, and she needed to be free of it, of any reminder of it. As best she could, she put distance between herself and those days, avoiding writing anyone, let alone calling or visiting, and with each passing month she felt the pressure lift, little by little.

It was not easy, the work she fled to, but the wide open sky as she walked from tent to tent on assignment in Venezuela gave her the chance to breathe for the first time in what felt like ages, eased the claustrophobia she suffered from in those final years with Overwatch.

When it had started, the fear, she cannot place. Or, rather, the fear itself has a simple origin—after her parents’ deaths, she had nightmares for years, dreamed she was with them as the hospital collapsed, felt the layers of concrete and debris fall in on her, crushing her slowly, slowly, slowly, each breath getting more and more difficult—but it had been in the past when she joined Overwatch, was something she had worked hard to overcome, in her teen years and early adulthood, and by the time she went into the field with Overwatch, she truly thought she was over it, was able to go to crowded indoor concerts so long as she stuck to the margins, was comfortable in elevators finally, and had even made plans with her boyfriend at the time to visit the Catacombs in Paris. She knows, now, that she was foolish to think that it was something she could get over, as simple as that, a fear she could conquer, ignoring its root cause, but she had been hopeful, in those days, and more than a little naïve, had truly thought she had laid her past to rest, and that there was no harm to be done, in continuously visiting disaster zones that reminded her of the past.

She ought to have learned quickly how wrong she was. Her third time out in the field, she was at the aftermath of a shelling in Alor Setar, spent the better part of an afternoon trying to prevent those survivors being pulled from the rubble from immediately being lost to crush and compartment syndrome. It was natural that she might have the old nightmare return, after that, if only for the night—and it was only the night, that first time, so she dismissed it. The stress of the situation would have disturbed anyone’s sleep, and they were all shaken, after that. Even with her nanobiotics, ACS mortality rates guaranteed a grueling day for everyone; it was easy to discount that first warning sign.

Looking back, she can chart the progression, but at the time, she did not want to see it. Even in retrospect, all but the most pivotal moments are difficult to pinpoint, so gradual was the decline. Rather than a linear worsening, a building of things to their inevitable conclusion, it was just an increasing frequency of bad days, until those bad days became the norm, and worse ones, which, too, became usual, and so on and so forth; perhaps more than anything, this scares her, because now she finds herself worrying, each time something happens, if it is again part of some greater pattern she cannot see.

What she knows is this: she was fine, when she joined Overwatch, or as close to fine as she has ever been, felt healthy and normal and unafraid, did not have to plan her days around her fear, was able to go and to do nearly anything she wanted, even did some things specifically because they scared her, and by the time she left, every room felt claustrophobic, even her lab.

The only safe place was the sky.

She should have run sooner, she knows that now. In her way, she did try to, left the lab for the field, took to the air, even ended her engagement, did anything she could to get out of the feeling of everything pressing down around her—anything but leave Overwatch. She must have known, she thinks, what was wrong on some level, must have realized the cause of it, but still, she did not put the blame on Jack, on Gabriel, not until the end, still thought it was her fault, somehow, assumed that the problem was her powerlessness in the face of death, did everything she could to seize control.

It did not help. She skipped the elevator for the stairs, whenever there were other people in it. She barely concealed a panic attack in the ORCA on the way back from London. She started doing her paperwork in the conference room, because her office was just too small.

Looking back, she can see how it happened, when, remembers being stuck with Jack and Gabriel in the lift one afternoon, shortly after Rialto, the tension between them so think the air felt unbreathable, remembers the argument they had, comms still on, as she, Lena, Reinhardt and Torbjörn made their way back from London, not stopping until Ana cut the channel, remembers when they came into her office, three weeks after Ana’s death, and an argument had exploded out of nowhere. She remembers, so clearly, the feeling of the walls closing in, and the air stale in her lungs as she took shorter breaths, the redness rising in her face and the way she started to sweat. She remembers that Jack and Gabriel never noticed, not even when she thought she was about to be ill, so absorbed were they in their argument; everything was collapsing in on her, and they could not see that anything was wrong.

That was the moment she realized, finally, that she needed to leave—too late. Headquarters came crashing down the next day, her worst fear realized.

She does not remember the aftermath. She knows what of it she has seen, in photographs and news footage, knows that she found her suit, somehow, that she stayed there for three days, pulling people out of the rubble, tending to the hurt, the dying, before she could do it no longer, knows she did it all with a face completely blank, unable to feel any of what was happening around her. She knows that, in the end, someone had to pull her away from a body—whose, thankfully, cannot be seen in the photographs—and that she fought them, screamed.

She knows that, after all of it, she called her ex-fiancé and left him a nearly incoherent message. She knows that he came, that he checked her into the hospital—nominally for dehydration—and that he made sure she was back in the care of her old therapist before he left. She does not remember anything of what they said, and she has not spoken to him since.

What could she say?

I’m sorry might be a good start, for a number of reasons. But to apologize would be to invite a conversation about what happened, and that she has never quite felt ready for. Even her old comrades, those who ought best to understand what it is she went through, who experienced it with her, the unraveling of their world, the constant pressure of the environment they were in and the powder keg they were sitting on, she has yet to speak to about it.

As best she could, she ran from them—ran from it all.

It felt, then, like a matter of survival, running away, felt like the only place she could breath was a thousand kilometers away from all of them, tending to strangers in disaster zones where all she had to do was step outside a tent to see the endless sky above her. She did not think, then, that she would not speak to any of them for another five years.

But she did not. With the exception of Genji, whose first letters began with important medical questions, and therefore could not be ignored, she avoided all of them. She told herself that she would get back in touch, when she felt well enough, would speak to them again when their presence was not an unpleasant reminder of all that they went through together, but the longer time went on the easier it was to just keep putting it off, and to believe that she was better off for it.

Were it not for Ana and Jack’s appearance at her doorstep, she might have continued in that way for the remainder of her life.

She still is not certain if she would have been better off for it.

Turmoil followed them, as always, led to her donning her suit again. And another kind of turmoil, afterward; in the tent, talking with Mahmoud, an old familiar feeling, the air too hot to breathe, her thoughts years away as her body betrayed her, a tear escaping before she could even realize.

No, going back would be a mistake. If one day with Ana and Jack was enough to provoke that, after her years of slow, steady progress, was enough to cut into her recovery so thoroughly—she could not possibly return to Overwatch. Not then, not ever.

Quickly as she could, she left Egypt, only briefly stopping back at her apartment to gather her things, told herself that she had to leave to prevent anyone else finding her. In truth, she was running, again, away from the feeling of Overwatch closing in, of the past catching up, of walls collapsing in on her. The thought that someone might actually pursue her was the least of her concerns, as the people she believed she was hiding from were her former colleagues, and so it came as an unpleasant surprise, a handful of weeks later, when the Recall came through, and an even more unpleasant one when an old acquaintance found her in Cyprus.

Initially, she had been happy to see Baptiste, had only worked with him for a week, in Venezuela, but remembered him fondly nonetheless; his positivity had been a breath of fresh air to her, then, so freshly out of Overwatch. He was not so happy to see her when he found her, however, and brought with him the news that Talon was tracking her—hunting her.

And there, a problem: Talon cares not for collateral damage. To be hunted means that ones mere presence in a location puts others at risk, making it nigh on impossible to do any meaningful humanitarian work. What good would it do, if she came to the site of a mudslide and saved a dozen people, two, if Talon, in pursuit of her, started a firefight that killed thirty-three more?

To go back home would pose similar dangers, would only invite an attack in another crowded area; one with better resources, perhaps, but no less innocent people or fewer potential victims of any fallout.

Where to go, then?

Only one place: Overwatch.

And so she finds herself here, in a basement office that might make anyone claustrophobic, let alone her, surrounded by she is by memories of the past.

But the familiar fear has not found her, not yet. All those years spent running, convinced that any contact with the people from her past, the ones she loved, would send her again spiraling, and instead, she finds she is fine, at least so far.

In fact, she is better than fine. For the first time in years, she finds herself among people she loves. Rather than feeling like no time passed at all, in the most negative sense, it instead feels the same in a good way. There is some momentary awkwardness, to be certain, when Lena says, “You never wrote me back!” but her excuses are accepted almost before she has uttered them, Lena excitedly remarking that, “S’alright, now I can get you all caught up in person! Em and I have…” and launching into a two hour monologue about the joys of cohabitation, and picking out wallpaper.

Reinhardt, too, seems to bare her no ill will, already aware that she did not write anyone else, either. Genji, she has nothing to smooth over with, Winston understands her need for space, Mei was in cryostasis, and Torbjörn and Brigitte are family to her, in their way. For all that Torbjörn grumbles about her having not come around, or bothered to call, she knows she is forgiven before she even needs ask.

It feels in the beginning, then, like she is coming home. For all the time that has passed, for all the different places their journeys have taken them, they have found themselves again here, and without Jack, without Gabriel, without the arguing and the anger just below the surface, it is a relief, to be again among friends, feels not like returning to the home she left, but the one from even further back that she told herself could never truly have been so beautiful as she remembered it.

Not quite the optimist she once was, she still sees the reality of their situation, knows that this peace may not last, long, once they find themselves in combat again, knows that she might soon be exposed to the sort of humanitarian crises that bother her the most, shellings, and thinks that will be the real test, how she reacts to that, will show her whether it really was the emotional tension that got to her, all that time in the first Overwatch, or if, indeed, it was the work too.

Most likely, she knows, it was some combination, but she could manage it, in MSF, the memories and the fear, had good days, and bad, but felt on the whole like she was recovering, not getting worse. If things go well here—if they can avoid the sort of conflicts that plagued them the first time, that made her feel like she was being crushed and simultaneously pulled apart—she thinks it might not be so intolerable, to stay.

If Overwatch has not become a sort of emotional sore spot for her, in and of itself.

That remains to be seen.

But, truly, what could she do if it were? Leave? And go where? Knowing that Talon is hunting her, knowing what they have done to the agents they have found—better to stay. Better to stay, no matter how miserable it makes her. Better to let herself become, again, the sort of person who sleeps with her curtains open and sneaks out of tense meetings to go outside and catch her breath under the pretense of a smoke break, with no excuse for why she does not smell of it when she returns inside. Better to live in a cage than to die like—

No. No she cannot think of it that way, cannot let herself believe she is stuck here, because then it all comes tumbling back, collapsing in on her just like she always knew it would.

They assigned her a room, a private one, since she is one of the higher ranking members to return. She says it smells moldy, and she would rather sleep in the main bunks with Lena and Mei until she is quite certain it is remediated.

There, she has to worry about her nightmares waking the others, but at least she falls asleep confident that she will wake, dreams less often of the ceiling collapsing in on her, on all of them.

Why could they not have ended up at a base where more of the compound was aboveground?

In a way, she supposes, this too feels like home. The fear is a familiar one, was common in her time in Overwatch originally, and to the years after she lost her parents, and even before that, in the earliest years of her childhood, where she fell asleep every night with the knowledge that she might not wake in time to escape the next nighttime raid.

Then, it was worse. Even the sky was no escape, the moon and the stars blanketed by the ships overhead. Now, when she wakes, she can at least sneak outside, look up, and see that the sky is clear.

It occurs to her that she feels more at home with this fear than she ever did without it.

She tries not to dwell on that too much.

But it is undeniable, the past few years feel, the longer she is here, like they were some strange interlude, and do not fit within the greater continuity of her life. Like her engagement before, they feel almost like she was playing at what life ought to be, what she thinks it is for other people, not what life has always been for her. Which is to say this: people she loves, who love her. Desire to help others, above all else. The fear that threatens to suffocate her.

It kept you alive, a therapist told her, once. It did, she knows, but it is hard not to see, too, all the ways it kept her from living. So afraid, was she, of fear itself, of what it would do to her, to be consumed by it, that she did not reach out to her friends, her only real family, for years. It made her think that the only way she could be safe, could be happy, was if she ran from everyone she knew, if she abandoned her support system in the time when they needed one another the most.

That therapist also told her to not let the fear control her, she knows, in a different conversation, only said that first part so she would stop hating herself for being afraid, for the things the claustrophobia of her teen years kept her from doing. Still, it is hard to see the value in it, now, even if she survived the places she let it take her, that need to be free of everyone, of everything she thinks is holding her down.

At least they have forgiven her, her friends. At least they have welcomed her back. She never doubted that they would, not really, knew that they loved her, but she did doubt her ability to accept that love, was afraid it would feel, again, like a kind of smothering, or that even being around them would be an uncomfortable reminder of the past, of a time when her worst fears were realized, and the world truly did collapse in on her.

So far, that has not been the case. Perhaps she really did heal, in her time away. She can separate, now, the claustrophobia, in the true sense, from the sensation of being trapped emotionally, suffocated by the tension in her working environment as she was before. She knows what she feels, now, is mostly the latter, is so because she has been forced back here by the threat to her life, not because of anything within the organization, and not because it is really bothering her, the size of the rooms she is in.

It gets worse, certainly, with stress, and so it was hard, before, to disentangle the two, but after her years in MSF experiencing only the one, she thinks she can identify, now, the difference.

What she felt, when Overwatch was ending, was not claustrophobia at all, not really, was only the culmination of the stress and the pressure of the environment, the compromises she was asked to make, the betrayals of her principles, her very self.

It is still not ideal, she knows, that she reacted so badly, suffered so much. Overwatch is, after all, is not an easy place to work, and she will no doubt have to grapple with that again, but it helps, to know she was not the only one. Ana is so different now, or seemed so when they met, and Reinhardt—they all know what happened to him. Still, he is back. If they can trust him, then surely they can trust her. She will have to be careful, this time, to not be so naïvely certain that she is only claustrophobic, and to think herself cured of that, as well, will have to be more aware of the sort of gradual decline she experienced last time, so that she can catch it before it gets to the point where it seems impossible to come back from. Before Overwatch, and after it, she worked in high pressure environments, and she knows she can do so again, particularly with the support of her friends—her family—now that she has them back.

Or, most all of them.

Cole, she thinks, might be more difficult to win back when he returns. He is more easily wounded than the rest of them, and not nearly so quick to forgive as Lena. When she called him to verify what Baptiste had told her, he was curt, insisted that she go meet up with Winston and the others for her safety, and ended the call before she could begin to say anything else. He might have been busy—she thought she heard something in the background, and it would be far from the first time he answered one of her calls in the middle of a firefight, terrible a habit as that is—but he might, too, have been angry, have been hurt. He is due to be back in a few hours time, bringing with him new recruits, and she thinks they will have to discuss it then.

Out of anyone, after all, she thinks he has the most right to be cross with her. They were close, once, and although the revelations about Blackwatch’s activities towards the end of their time together put a strain on things, before he left, she knows he made overtures towards an apology in the years since, could not stop herself from reading the beginnings of his postcards like she could avoid opening the letters sent by everyone else.

Angie, started the first one, his nickname for her she begrudgingly tolerated, only because it was him.

Angela, a few postcards later, when it became clear that his first few attempts garnered no response.

I’m sorry, said the last few, no other address needed. They both knew who she was to him.

Please, the final one, two years ago.

That relationship, she fears, might take some mending, some time. Always, their friendship was a singular one, and she thinks that it will take them a while to find their footing with one another again; their perspectives on everything have always been so very different that she fears that with so many years apart, it may be difficult to know what to say to him, when the time comes.

Still, she will try. She will meet him when he lands, will hug him, if he lets her, if he is not too angry, too wounded, smarting still from her rejection.

Eventually, she knows, he will come around.

Or perhaps sooner than eventually. Far sooner.

“Angie?” It is the first thing he says, as he departs from the ship, sounding for all the world surprised to see her there, as if he did not practically order her to return to the Watchpoint when last they spoke.

But maybe he is surprised—it is early, 03:00, and only she and Winston are there at the hangar, waiting for their ship to dock. She can see why, after years of silence, he would not have expected her to come out to meet him.

“Cole!” She hopes she sounds excited to see him, and not nearly so anxious as she feels.

She must, because he repeats her name and practically runs up to her, arms open—and stops just short of hugging her. Although she appreciates the hesitation, remembering, likely, that hugs can be intolerable to her, sometimes, on days when she feels worse, she is quick to close the gap, wants little more than to be able to hug him back, in this moment.

“I missed ya.” As if it were that simple.

“I missed you too.” Maybe it is, in this moment. Later, they will have much to discuss, apologizing and catching up to do, and it will take them some time, she suspects, to really get back to where they were, before everything, but here and now, it hardly seems to matter. He still smells the same, cigars and whiskey and beneath it all himself, and he may be less one arm—which she is certainly going to make him explain later—but he still hugs her the same way, and speaks in that familiar voice. They have both been changed by the years, that much is immediately clear, but in the face of the friendship they had, perhaps that does not matter nearly so much as Angela feared. Cole is still the same person she cared about, no matter the ways time has changed him, has changed her.

For a moment, it feels like coming home.

Then, over his shoulder, she sees an unexpected face.

“Fareeha?”

She knew Fareeha had received the Recall, but she had heard, too, from Lena, and Reinhardt, and Brigitte, that she had declined, and so it is quite the surprise to see her old friend here—if a very welcome one.

“Fareeha!” she repeats, pulling out of Cole’s arms in order to go give a proper greeting, already reaching out to touch her when—

“Doctor Ziegler,” is the response. Clipped, curt, professional as Fareeha steps around her and begins making her way out of the hangar, although she cannot possibly know where it is she is going, does not know how they have reorganized the Watchpoint in order to use it as their temporary headquarters.

For a moment, Angela is too stunned to move, just stands there watching Fareeha leave, blocking the exit of the other people still aboard the ship in the process. Then her mind and her body catch up, and she forces herself to move, to get out of the way.

Perhaps some things have changed, after all.

#so basically i wanted to read a pharmercy slowburn but like a very specific style #which meant WRITING it... YUCK!#ANYWAY fareeha has a very valid reason to feel some type of way even if angela doesnt know it yet #also yall i wanna skip ahead to ch21 bc its good like i wrote a great scene but alas i gotta write ch2 first lol #rory writes fic

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