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mycptsdstory · 3 years

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Trigger warning; this is about attempted murder and server abuse.

I will always celebrate this day because this is the day that I left my family. I had no spare clothes with me, I had no pjs, no medicine, no nothing! All I had was the clothes on my back, my bag with my purse with no money and my phone with no charger.

Not gonna lie, every time I look back on this day, it was super emotional. I couldn’t stop crying, there was a lot of emotions going through my head. There was a lot of betrayal that I had to come to terms with, I was in denial with the abuse and I had to leave or else I would of lost my life.

I never said this on why I left and my tumblr is the safest place I can say why; my mother tried to kill me with poison.

For the previous months, I didn’t understand why I was so sick. It was like I was getting sicker each day, I had no energy, my face was pale and my hands were turning yellow! The doctors didn’t understand either; I was checked for gastroenteritis nothing. My liver was okay (even tho I was alcoholic back then, it still came out okay) Then I was I checked for other diseases (that I can’t remember on top of my head) and still came up with nothing. I just had this weird cold like flu symptoms that no one could explain and this was yyyeeaaarrrsa before covid happened. One day, my doctors gave me tests on my blood, poo, urine and food from my teeth (since I didn’t brush that day and I had food left over from the previous night that my mum cooked for me). You guessed it right, she poisoned me with the food.

One day, I had a call from my doctors saying I needed to come in urgently, I didn’t feel very well and they persuaded me to come. So I did. I got dressed (dirty clothing that I wasn’t allowed to wash) and I got there. The receptionist told me to visit my doctor now, i thought ‘well, this is strange, they normally ask me to wait’ so I went to see her. Then I got the news, they told me that I was being posioned and I nearly died. I was poisoned with arsenic, cyanide and other medication that my mother, my mothers bf and other medication that wasn’t prescribed to me or my mother or my mothers bf (they guessed it was my family’s meds). If they didn’t caught it in time, I would of died. I was in disbelief. They contacted the police and put me in a safe place. Since my home was a prison, I had no friends to go too and even if I did go and see someone, no one would believe me. I would be sent back to my mother and then she will try and kill me again. So me and my doctor had a plan to talk to my therapist the next morning and refuse any food that my mother and her bf gave me. It was hard not to eat, that night I couldn’t sleep. I never dreamed on leaving the next day, so I didn’t pack that night because I didn’t want my mother to be suspicious of me. During this, I had to secretly call my bf and told him everything when my mother was asleep at night, he was worried about me and told me everything was going to be okay. It was horrible.

The next morning, I saw my therapist and told her everything while my mother was waiting outside. We could see her watching us while I was in therapy (my mother did this all the time). So my therapist told me to go to my old home town and go to the Women’s aid, since I knew where their refuge is and not their head office, so I could see them and they can help me. After the therapy session, that’s what I did. I went to my old home town and persuaded to my mother that my birth dad was going to attack me and I need the Women’s Aid for them to be updated. But my mother took me to a drugs den first, thank god I can persuade anyone out of anything and acting dumb that I got the wrong door, they let me go and I went straight to refuge. My mother drove off in a huff and I persuaded her that I will call her when I wanted to be picked up. When I got the refuge, they told me where to go, I knew my old home town like the back of my hand so my mother couldn’t follow me. When I got to the women’s aid, I told them everything and burst into tears. They had to call up the police and even social services to tell them I was safe, that’s when I had to make a decision on where I was going to live. But the refuge I was offered, wasn’t ready and the women’s aid was terrified that my mother knew where their refuge was and I would be in danger. So I had to call up an old ex family friend that my mother had fallen out with years ago. That night, I talked to my bf and told him that tomorrow was my ticket to freedom. He wished me luck and always be on guard. I stayed with her over night with the ex family friend and the next morning I had to leave and make a fresh start on my own.

It was then I moved to the refuge on the little town where I live now. I still cannot believe that I was 6 years ago. Fucking 6 years ago. It was then that I started to calm down, not cause any drama and just live my life. I lost friends during this but I also gained some of my closest friends that I’m still friends with them today. Before when I lived with my mother, I couldn’t have friends. She would either ruin them or I ruined them because I didn’t know what friendships where like, I couldn’t think straight and my thoughts where my own down fall. Now I’m out of there, taking private therapy, it’s been the best. I would never ever go back to the place where I once called home. I stopped talking to my family and the family friends and started to my live my life to the fullest.

I’m now retaking my English and maths. When I first started, I was entry level 1 (which is nursery level) now I’ve passed my level 2 English (nearly GCSE level) and I’m on level 1 in maths (hopefully pass that soon, so I can start my level 2). I couldn’t of never have done this, if I hadn’t had left.

I’ve accomplished so much, like I got to perform at a professional theatre in my home town (the town where I moved too) and I met some of my amazing friends through acting. Life is fucking great, I really cannot wait for the future.

Even tho my life didn’t have the best start, when I left those 6 years ago, it’s been the best. It’s where my life officially started. Now I can look forward to the future and not have to worry. I wouldn’t of done it without my doctors, my bf, social services and the police; I wouldn’t be here.

I know this past week has been rough, but I’m not gonna stop them from living my life. Fuck that noise.

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sweeethinny · 4 years

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Reputation - Look What You Made Me Do (Chapter 5)

this time it didn't take me so long :) I had difficulties with the ending but I think I managed to finish it in a decent way (thank to @harrys-wheezys who help me, saying about how the war had changed them, and they realizing it :))

keep commenting, i love reading your opinions

AO3

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I don't like your little games Don't like your tilted stage

''Look what they wrote about us!" Harry looked at her, a little still tired from the morning sex round, his brain soft and with little ability to understand anything but Ginny's naked breasts, right next to him ''Harry Potter , 32, Order of Merlin blah blah blah, was seen chatting animatedly alongside another ex- Holyhead Harpies player, other than his wife, Ginny Potter (or can we call her Weasley again?)'' Ginny turned her head to him, a little too furious for nine on a cold Sunday morning "Terry is a lesbian! And she knows it."

''Why do you still buy this?'' Harry yawned, cuddling up to her chest, smiling at the softness of her breasts, better than the pillows, as he felt her nails on his scalp, almost driving him back to sleep.

''Why do I need to know what they are saying about us?'' He knew it wasn't really a question, so he kept quiet ''Forbidden romance is a hell. They've been separating us for years now, do you remember that about our marriage?''

Rita no longer wrote alone, now she shared the gossip podium with Beau Miller, a man no one really knew where he came from, and seemed to have won people's hearts more for his beauty than for the work itself.

'' ..Of course, what he writes is pure shit ' Harry grunted angrily, throwing the newspaper into the fire and watching it burn, irritated that he said that about Ginny ''They said she has kept me under the love potion .. Ginevra Weasley! The woman who knows very well what it is to have no control over yourself while someone else manipulates you like a puppet, would make me drink love potions! ' Harry clapped his hand on the table, suddenly feeling like he was on edge. .

He thanked for being alone.

''Is the future Potter keeping our chosen one under a potion? ' Harry feigned a very forced accent, his hand on his chest while blinking pompously into nothingness ''To hell with 'Our Chosen One' ''

It was just as irritating how much they got into their lives, saying filthy things about the two, making silly assumptions about betrayals, love potions, and even a teenage pregnancy - the picture of Ginny with Teddy in her arms gave them that.

Harry was so tired, especially now in the week of their wedding, where he was so nervous and upset that he thought he was about to fall to the floor with a heart attack. And it made it worse that Ginny was in France with Fleur, for something about her dress.

They always made him look like a fool, and Harry definitely hated them.

And it was with this resignation that he left his office, marching furiously to the building where the Prophet was.

The role you made me play Of the fool, no, I don't like you

''How to forget? I think Beau is still scared of me'' He laughed nasally, hugging the woman's waist and burying his head more in her breasts ''But it wasn't just me who did it, if I remember correctly, in your seventh year you also lost the head''

''She caught me on a bad day'' Ginny defended herself

It was supposed to be a calm Quidditch Final, at least it was what she expected.

She was prepared to face Ravenclaw with all her blood, determined to win and make use of all those training sessions under the rain and mornings that had barely emerged. She would win.

Harry being there, helped a lot too.

''If we win .. '' She said when the two met in the locker room still empty, for just one conversation.

"When you win," he said, kissing the tip of her nose before listening to her again, with all his attention and affection.

But then there was the press, as usual, and Rita Skeeter was there too, asking about silly stuff.

Ginny was on the edge, missing her stupid boyfriend who got bogged down with jobs until he missed the last trip to Hogsmeade, afraid to lose, eager to have scouts in the audience who would assess her potential to the last drop, judging her good or not for her team, nervous about the exam of her NIEM's next week .. It was so much, that having Rita distorting her words was not a real desire.

That smile ... Ginny was so eager to take it away.

I don't like your perfect crime How you laugh when you lie

''But Mrs Weasley, have you been playing just to impress a certain person? ' That had been the question after Ginny had scored 8 goals in less than an hour, and helped Gryffindor to win the Cup and being an incredible captain, being quite modest.

Of course, because everything about her was always intertwined, in some way, with Harry.

With little patience left, she decided to smile sarcastically as took the feather in her hand and kneaded it until there were no more pieces left, approaching the woman in a very unfriendly way, which made her startle and take two steps back, cowardly

''Yes, and I've been well rewarded for that. As you can see .. '' She waved her notebook with her wand, making it burn and end up nothing less than dust on the dirty floor of the locker room ''I'm great with my hands''

You said the gun was mine Isn't cool, no, I don't like you (oh!)

''You're really good with your hands'' Harry kissed the one who was resting beside him on the bed, also kissing her finger with their wedding ring, feeling the cold gold against his lips

''Thank you, I got better with time... You are lucky that I don't mind all these intrusions, because I already received some invitations to run away from you'' The man laughed, lifting his chin to look at her, green eyes playing fun

''I can't even believe what made you stay'' Ginny shrugged, smiling and running her nails over his shoulders

''Your fortune, of course''

''Ginny Potter getting married out of interest?

That's right wizard world, the Quidditch Team's great player, Holyhead Harpies, received a marriage proposal from a Puddlemere United Team player, which we were unable to identify. And he claims that Ginny Potter told him that she will only marry Harry Potter because of his fortune.

More information on page 15.''

''Does the man say that but they don't know who he is?'' She snorted ''She loves to make me look like a disguised bitch'' Harry barely looked up from Ron's letter, drinking his coffee and wondering if he should get a piece of cake or cookies.

''She does it because she knows you read and it hits you ' The bride turned like a rabid dog towards him

''Hit me? Please, Harry! I am furious that they do not destroy the image of a man who proposed to a committed person, but make up this shit about me .. I'm sure that tonight she will be there'' The Ministry party, the one that the two tried to make up any excuse for not to go, but that in the end, he had been obliged to attend. ''Do you know something? I will use the diamonds you gave me. And I'm going to buy a new dress.'' Ginny got up from the table

''I thought diamonds would be for special occasions'' He joked, still not looking at her

"And isn't that special?" He risked looking at her; her cheeks flushed like fire, hair up in a quick bun and his shirt as pajamas ''Wear your expensive suit too. We will be the most glamorous couple of that idiot party'' And then she left, stomping firmly and still babbling curses along the way.

[...]

''How I look?'' Ginny came out of the closet, and Harry started to wonder if they really needed to go to that stupid party, or if he could invent a disease that made him stuck at home.

She was stunning, the dress was golden and long, falling very close to her body and with straps so thin that he didn’t know how they didn’t split in half, a straight neckline that made her breasts look so stunning it was like he was 17 years and be embarrassed to see them. Her hair was tied in a neat bun, the diamond earrings matched the ring he had given her last month, delicate but shiny like party globes. Her lips were blood red, her eyes painted black and gold that made Harry forget the time she had spent in the bathroom.

''Wow'' He blinked a few times, watching her approach and fix his tie, blinking innocently and laughing

''Thank you my love, you are also beautiful ..'' Her hands smoothed the suit well aligned, seeming to approve that he had listened to her and put on the expensive piece ''I loved the gold buttons, they really make a great pair with my dress'' Ginny put her arm through his ''Can we go, Mr Potter? I need to parade with my rich fiance around.''

''I never felt so happy that I was being extorted'' They laughed, finishing getting what they needed before apparating to the Ballroom who were told it would be the event, identifying themselves at the entrance and smiling at the first camera that appeared , ignoring all the looks that some gave him "I come back from the dead, but what they care about is whether my future wife is about to kill me to keep my fortune or not .. "

But I got smarter, I got harder in the nick of time Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time

''Because it sells more newspapers when they talk about a selfish bitch'' Ginny faked a smile ''Look, everyone commenting about us.' The circle of journalists seemed about to burst with excitement when they saw them coming in, ignoring anyone else more important that it passed them, seeming to argue about who should go to the couple first

"They must be arguing about what you had to do to get these earrings"

''I hope they're being creative .. Just a blowjob wouldn't pay'' Harry laughed, wrapping his arm around her waist and bowing a little - she was on heels, they weren't so different in height now - to whisper;

''But I wouldn't mind buying you jewelry for every time you have your mouth full ' The woman blushed, biting her lip and looking at it boldly

''I'll have an arsenal of them then'' Before he could make any further comments, their names were called, and Rita Skeeter was right there in front, smiling from ear to ear

''Mr and Mrs Potter.'' Her false tone got to make Harry sick ''As always; admirable'' Rita blinked a few times at the diamond in Ginny's ears, almost approaching to assess the jewel ''It would be an honor to have an interview with you, there are several fans who are dying to know more details of the wedding of two such important...wizards'' She looked up and down at Ginny, as if assessing whether she was worth it that much.

Because, she was always Harry Potter's girlfriend, and nothing more. Forget her career as a player, and all her other merits.

''I can only say it will be luxurious'' Ginny commented, as much as it was a lie ''Nothing more'' She smiled falsely ''And even, I remember putting your name on the list'' Rita seemed to be excited, eyes and puffing out the chest

''We have an extensive list, you see, but we don't forget you'' Harry assured

''It's a great honor-- ''

'' --The list, of course, forbidden people'' The redhead smiled from ear to ear ''Now, if you'll excuse me ... ''

I've got a list of names and yours is in red, underlined I check it once, then I check it twice, oh! Look what you made me do

''She spoke shit of our marriage for a week'' Harry sighed ''I have never been so sad''

''She made me do that'' Ginny shrugged. ''That dress really made me beautiful. I hate you for tearing it up'' She slapped her husband on the back, who was laughing against her warm skin.

''You didn't look angry when I did that. In fact, I remember you groaned a lot. We had complaints from neighbors underneath''

''Living in a building was the worst idea ever'' Harry nodded, getting back on her chest, smiling at the feeling of being at home. ''She asked me for help\ last week''

"Who?"

''Rita'' Ginny laughed ''Maybe that's why today's story, she must be mad since I refused to help her''

I don't like your kingdom keys They once belonged to me

''Me and you?'' Ginny spoke a little disappointed, looking at the empty room and then at the woman in front of her ''I work at the sports session, Rita''

"But I need you to help me, Chudley Cannons has this new player and .."

'' ..I won't intercept them for you, do your dirty work alone'' The blonde nodded, looking unexpectedly like a demon from those muggle movies she and Harry had been watching

''My job is not dirty, Mrs Potter, it is as worthy as yours'' Ginny laughed, staring at her with an even worrying calm, seeing that lying red face in front of her ''We should unite here, be solidary with the other.''

''A job that consists of being invasive in the lives of others and making up lies, is not a worthy job, Mrs. Skeeter'' The last name looked like poison on her lips ''The last time I helped you, my name ended up in a not so friendly story about a naked photo of me that they had taken and were trying to sell around ... It seems that you didn't think much about the 'female sorority' before launching the article defaming me''

''I don't invent anything'' Ginny nodded sarcastically, turning away and heading back to her work area

''I'm sure not ... But thank me Rita, for not writing gossip'' Then she looked over her shoulder, still seeing her standing there ''I would have great topics to comment on''

You asked me for a place to sleep Locked me out and threw a feast (what?)

''I think they're going to fire her ... Beau has also been walking the tightrope for the past few days'' She dropped the newspaper, lying on the bed and coming face to face with Harry, rubbing his face and sighing tiredly ''Not that I care, it's just Karma''

''Definitely'' The husband kissed the tip of her nose, then the cheeks, until he reached her mouth, smiling and winking still a little sleepy ''The guy who sold the photos is still in prison. I went to Askaban yesterday and saw him, he looked a little crazy and upset when he saw me. The guards say he started having nightmares about me killing him.''

''Urgh, can't this family stay away from the drama for even a second? If Beau listens, you can be sure that tomorrow is the first page dedicated to that. "Harry Potter, the savior of the wizarding world or a torturer of defenseless poor people?"

''He's definitely not a helpless poor. And he's lucky that I didn't find him, because I would have left him with more damage than just a cut on his shoulder'' The green eyes darkened, and Ginny knew he wasn't horny ''They treated him so lovingly I even thought they would give him they own bed for him to spend the night ... While you can't leave the house for a week!''

''It's an unfair world, babe'' And as if that still didn't torment her, Ginny kissed her husband, relieved by the feeling that ran through her, as if the tension had evaporated away and only the two existed

The world moves on, another day, another drama, drama But not for me, not for me, all I think about is karma

''But I have you, my great savior'' She kissed him again, less deeply this time ''Some guys told me I deserved it ... You know, for whatever shit they believe I did. Michael met me on the street and said it was just me reaping what I planted.'' Harry rolled his eyes, sighing and seeming to control any instinct to leave their bed and go after each one

''I hate them so much'' Ginny nodded ''Last week a trainee made a joke about your poster is on the bedroom wall, facing the bed. I don't think he wanted me to hear'' His wife laughed, throwing her head back and happy that he could break the tension ''I'm serious, he affected having seen death''

'' ..I leave it facing my bed, because you know, don't you? Lonely nights and everything'' Harry took a deep breath, already being spotted by the freshman's other colleague, who was as white as paper looking over the boy's head, his eyes wide.

''If you continue like this, only what you will have will be lonely nights'' Then his malicious laugh stopped, and Harry even doubted that his breath was gone.

''Erm .. Sorry, Har ... Mr Potter'' The boy turned around, looking much more like one of their children when they were caught tampering with something where it shouldn't have been, not as an auror in training.

''Not that you should apologize to me, it wasn't my ass that you were using as an aid to wanking ... But hopefully next time, it will appear in your mind and leave it soft enough to not want to play for a week'''

And then the world moves on, but one thing's for sure

Maybe I got mine, but you'll all get yours

''He's still not looking me in the eye'' Ginny was still laughing, trying to contain the noise so as not to wake her children but looking almost impossible

''I really hope he saw your ass instead of mine .. Not that yours is ugly, I love her'' She kissed the tip of his nose, reaching down to squeeze the naked flesh ''All round and perfect'' Another kiss

''But it wasn't the one he wanted to see'' Ginny nodded, letting her be hugged ''I'm sorry for all this meddling''

''You don't have to apologize for anything, they're the ones who are fucking invasive. I accepted that life back in my fifth year, when you kissed me, and it wouldn't change a single point of my decisions '' The two looked at each other, Harry looking much more naked than he really was, blinking those beautiful green eyes in her direction, with a slight smile on his face

''I love you ... even if you are just here to steal my fortune, or if you are looking to get away with someone else ... ''

"... Or that I'm keeping you under the Love Potion?" Harry laughed, nodding

''Yes, I still love you so much'' Ginny smiled, even after all these years, still blushing shyly

''You look so romantic after I fuck you good'' He shrugged

"That's what they say ... But they say a lot, they already said they couldn't trust me when I was only 15 years old."

'' ..And today they use your opinion as a guide'' Ginny reminded him ''They always seem so sorry when you talk about the war'' Not that Harry talked much, but there was always a lecture here or there, and rather intrusive questions on the anniversary that marked the end. ''Rita always seems sorry about that time, but I never know if it is because we discovered her cover or just because there is a little humanity in her ... Anyway, I don't trust her at all. Not that she trusts me too much, of course. ''

I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me

I'll be the actress starring in your bad dreams

Harry laughed softly, running his fingers over her cheek and outlining his wife's face, as if he wanted to frame her to never forget. Ginny took a hand on her cheek, kissing the scar he had acquired in the fifth year, as if to prove that they were there now. Better. Alive

''The date is coming ... What will they all write this time?'' Ginny shrugged, interlacing her fingers with his and approaching her husband, wrapping her bare leg around his waist

"Some shit that will make somebody cry and say 'he was just a kid!' while they congratulate you and frighten our children'' Our children, it was one of the things he would never tire of listening to. Harry chuckled, relaxing against her, laying his head back in the middle of her soft breasts, being surrounded by that heady scent that he would never get sick of.

''Isn't it crazy to think that Teddy is already so big? We're getting old ''

''Oh, don't say that too loud, magazines love to remind us of that. Last week a magazine said I should cut my hair again to 'look younger'.'' Harry laughed, running his fingers over the red strands that were on the pillow, not as long as when they were teenagers, but not as small as when she was played, but still incredibly beautiful.

''We're not the same anymore, are we?'' She doesn't need to ask what exactly he was talking about. The war had changed everyone, but Ginny and Harry would never be forgotten about their changes, even if she cut her hair and he let his hair grow, there would always be a gossip magazine reminding them who they once were. Students leading a movement against the Ministry, teenagers having to deal with things that not even an adult would handle well, among thousands more.

''It would be impossible to be'' She smiled a little colorless, before her maternal instinct warned her ''James woke up.'' And the alone and comfortable moment was over, the two of them picked up their fallen pajamas by the bed and they dressed at impressive speed, much faster and more prepared than when they were young and didn't want to be caught by Molly. Her mother was much more understandable than a 7-year-old son, under locked doors

They would never be the same again.

I'm sorry, the old Taylor can't come to the phone right now

Why?

Oh, 'cause she's dead!

''Good morning, mate'' Harry unlocked the door when the little one knocked, waving him to come to bed with them, as he knew it was his wish

''Morning'' he murmured sleepily, still looking sleepy, scratching his brown eyes and crawling on the sheets to stay in the middle, laying his head on his mother's chest like a baby, before going back to sleep calmly. Ginny kissed his slightly sweaty hair and hugged the small body that was now glued to hers.

''How long until the other two come too?'' She whispered, laughing softly as ahe tried to hear if there was noise from the other rooms as well.

''A few minutes'' Harry didn't look sad ''We can still run away ... We took them all and we were gone for a week'' Ginny laughed, denying and using her free hand to ruffle her husband's hair

''You could never do that'' She unmasked him ''But we can get away after an interview, I know the kids will love it ... ''

[...]

When the day came, there were, as always, reporters, cameras and people everywhere. It seemed that they never got tired of questioning every morbid detail of what the trio had been through in those years at Hogwarts.

But before the second interview started, Harry simply apparated with his whole family out, leaving everyone gaping when the six Potter (because Teddy would always be a Potter) simply disappeared, waving to the journalists before landing at the beach house of them, not far from London, but hidden enough that no one could find them.

"Tomorrow this will be on the cover of magazines" And it was.

''I do not care. They forced me to do this.. Ask about all the shit I went through? I do not care. Tease the kids?'' He waved to the kids running from Teddy who claimed to be a monster, laughing and screaming loudly, looking a lot less tense than they did a few minutes ago, when five journalists surrounded they to ask questions. ''I don't accept'' Harry would never let them take away their peace.

''Harry Potter, the wizard who saved the world or just a man in need of attention?

Harry Potter, 32, First Order of Merlin, Chief of Aurors, attended the Annual Anniversary Meeting of the End of the Second Witch War, with his wife Ginny Potter, his sons James, Albus and Lily Potter, as well as his godson Edward Lupin (known like Teddy). After the first interview (see more on page 15) the wizard who saved the world looked irritated when some questions started to be asked, and simply apparated the whole family out.

What does the editor of this newspaper think of this? Of two things, one; does the wizard who saved the world need attention and need his name back in the tabloids, or is it just a way to make everyone forget the possible betrayal he committed (see more on page 18) last Friday? ''

Look what you made me do

#reputation #hinny #hinny headcanon #Harry Potter #harry X ginny #ginnyPOTTER #hinny fluff #read-a-hinny-fic #hp fanfic #hp couples #rita skeeter #my fic

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mandelene · 6 years

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The Lessons We Learn - Chapter 1

Warnings: Language, violence. Summary: Arthur remembers what those days were like — living with a single mother and three big brothers in their squalid north London home; he remembers the screaming, the fighting, and the pain. When the past collides with the present, it all comes rushing back. Everything starts to break—the family he has now, and the one he left behind. (FACE family and Kirkland brothers human AU.)

Word Count: 4,010 Link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13079727/1/The-Lessons-We-Learn

In room 302, there is a seventy-seven-year-old man recovering from heart surgery—a coronary bypass, to be more specific. He has never smoked a day in his life and doesn't drink. He loves baseball—has been a Red Sox fan since he was a little boy—and goes to church every Sunday. He plays piano even though his hands are stiff with arthritis and is an avid reader of fantasy novels.

He lost his wife to lung cancer five years ago. He was diagnosed with Coronary Artery Disease after a bout of severe chest pain last year. He has a bubbly and charismatic thirty-six-year-old daughter with auburn hair and bright blue eyes who teaches second-grade math and science.

When Arthur comes in to examine him, the sun is still coming up and the winter sky is glowing with pinks and lavenders. The patient's daughter is sitting by his bedside, one hand on top of his, and all is well. They both seem to be in good spirits.

"The kids can't wait to see you, Dad. Emily can't stop talking about—" the daughter pauses as she notices Arthur's presence and quickly flashes him a welcoming smile. "Oh, good morning, Dr. Kirkland."

"Good morning," Arthur says back, consulting his patient's chart for a brief moment—BP was a little low last time it was checked, apparently—before returning his gaze to them. "How are we feeling today?"

"Weak," his patient complains, rubbing at his chest with his fist.

"Any chest pain?"

"A little. Not as bad as before."

"All right, let's have a listen," Arthur suggests, putting the buds of his stethoscope in his ears and placing the diaphragm over the man's heart.

"He was feeling better yesterday evening—started getting some of his strength back and even wanted to have something to eat," the daughter explains, worriedly looking on. "We watched the Red Sox game together on TV."

Arthur helps the man carefully sit up a bit so he can put his stethoscope on his back, but as he's supporting him by the shoulder, the man suddenly loses consciousness, body flopping over. His chest stills, his eyes roll back into his head, and there he is—totally rigid and cradled in Arthur's hold.

There's no way to explain how it feels to hold a dead man—to have had him in your arms as he took his final breath.

"Dad? Dad!" the daughter shouts, paralyzed with fear. "What's wrong with him?"

Code blue. Cardiac arrest. Arthur hits the code button on the wall and starts prepping everything for when backup arrives. He has several seconds before chaos really sets in.

Get the daughter out.

"I'm going to need you to step outside for a moment, darling," he says, impeccably calm, and, thankfully, she doesn't argue with him. She heads for the door in silent horror just as the rapid response team comes pouring in.

Chest compressions. Pushing epinephrine. The patient's frail ribs fracture and make an awful noise like splintering wood. It doesn't help. Nothing helps. But they keep trying. They try until a lung gets punctured, and Arthur has to put in a chest tube that is unlikely to revive him anyway. He makes a careful incision and does everything by the books, but still, they fail.

"Call it," the other doctor in the room murmurs to him softly twenty-two minutes later, and Arthur stares down at his bloodied gloves, still feeling the weight of the man's body in his arms. The heaviness of it all is so intense he can barely breathe.

He clears his throat and says, "Time of death, seven thirty-four A.M."

And that's it.

It's not the first time, and it most certainly won't be the last, but that doesn't make it hurt any less, no matter how much he tries to convince himself he's accustomed to the feeling.

He peels off his gloves, throws them away, and washes his hands thoroughly in a nearby sink. He has danced to this song before. The faces and names change, but really, they're all the same in the end, and that's the depressing part. Now, he must tell a woman that her father is dead. Just several minutes ago, everything was fine.

Sometimes, he very truly and deeply loathes his job.

He steps out into the waiting area outside of the double doors of the unit, finds the daughter, and immediately wishes he could turn back.

"I'm so sorry…"

He doesn't have to say anything else. She already knows.

She throws herself into his arms, making the weight even heavier.

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

Arthur remembers the first time he thought he would die.

It's 1979. He is seven-years-old.

His mother is in the living room, dusting the bookcases. Patrick, Alistair, and Dylan are all watching the football match on television—it's the FA Cup final, and Manchester United is playing Arsenal. All three of his brothers are Manchester fans, but Arthur prefers Arsenal. Arsenal is closer to home—their stadium is just a fifteen-minute walk away, entrenched in north London's working-class.

But there won't be any playful talk of football for him today. Unlike his siblings, Arthur isn't glued to the screen. Instead, he's standing in his father's study, right in front of his desk. He's in trouble for using profanity—he called Alistair a cunt for saying Pat Jennings is a bad goalkeeper. He's not sure what a cunt is, but he's heard his father use that term before after coming home from the pub, and he knows it's supposed to be offensive.

"Arthur's getting a strapping!" Alistair had cheered when Arthur first was caught uttering the forbidden word.

And now, here he is, hands clasped behind his back and heart thumping hard against his chest as he waits to see what his father will do. The man's breath smells of Irish whiskey, and it makes Arthur want to curl up his nose in disgust. He could run, but he wouldn't make it very far, and where would he go?

It doesn't take long for him to realize he's going to have to endure more than just a lecture. The moment he catches a glimpse of his father's belt, he starts to wail with remorse, hoping his tears will be enough to make the man reconsider. But James Kirkland does not pride himself in being a forgiving man. He believes in strict, swift discipline.

"What do you have to say?" he asks as Arthur numbly stands there with puffy cheeks and eyes.

"I'm s-sorry, sir. I won't say that word again."

What follows is a bit of a blur. James Kirkland is even less forgiving when he has a drink or two in his system, and there is nothing Arthur fears more than that look of detachment in his eyes—how he doesn't even seem to care that he is his son and a child. A child who used a word he inherited from the very same person whom he is now being punished by.

He screams when his brain registers the blazing pain. It goes on for what feels like an eternity. Dread fills his stomach when he thinks that maybe his father will never stop. Maybe he'll go on forever and ever until he collapses.

Fortunately, his mother comes in before that can happen.

"Enough. James, that's enough."

"You spoil him, Eileen."

In his father's view, this is discipline. If one does not suffer, then one does not learn their lesson.

And, for a very long time, Arthur believes this to be true. After all, his father is always right. For two weeks, welts the size two-pound coins near his tailbone pain him every time he sits or leans against something. He also gets sent to bed without dinner that night.

Arsenal wins the match.

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

It's raining–just a drizzle.

He doesn't open up his umbrella. In a way, he feels he deserves this. Tonight, he needs to be rained on. He wishes it would start pouring—wants the water to seep into his clothes and pool in his shoes. He wants to feel himself being dragged down. Down, down, down, until he forgets and is absolved of his guilt.

He doesn't want anyone to see him in this state, but he's already missed dinner and he can't walk any slower toward the house. He's in the driveway now. There's no turning back.

He steadies himself with a deep breath and lets the rain wash over his head and face. It doesn't rinse away how disgusting he feels beneath his skin, but it'll have to do.

He fits his key into the lock of the front door, hears the welcoming click invite him inside, and creeps into the foyer. He hears the sound of his own heavy breathing and it occurs to him that his hands are clammy and shaking.

Pull it together, he tells himself.

"Arthur? You're home."

He lifts his gaze and sees Francis at the base of the steps, one hand clutching the banister. He's frowning, and his brows are drawn down in what seems to be concern as he pulls his silky robe around himself more tightly–he must have been getting ready for bed.

What time is it anyway?

"Hi," Arthur manages to murmur, slipping out of his coat. He can feel Francis's intense eyes on his back as he tries to get settled in, and this only serves to make him feel even heavier and more tired. The weight of the world is bearing down on his shoulders, and he wants nothing more than to crumple to the ground.

"Long day?"

"Quite. Where are the girls?"

"Asleep," Francis says softly, still watching him very closely. "Did something happen?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"You're crying."

Arthur touches his damp cheek and draws his fingers back in surprise when they make contact with warm tears. He thought it was the rain that was making his face wet. "Oh."

"What happened, mon amour?"

Yes, what happened?

"Arthur?"

"It's nothing. I just—I lost a patient today. It was unfortunate," Arthur sighs, trying to brush it off quickly. This is the last thing he needed…After everything else that's been going on this was just…too much.

Francis wraps his arms around his shoulders and frowns. "I'm sorry."

He's not in the mood. Not tonight. He doesn't want to be touched.

He pulls away, takes a breath, and decides he needs a shower and some sleep. Then, he'll be able to approach everything with a clearer mind, hopefully.

Francis takes the hint that he wants to be left alone and doesn't continue smothering him. Instead, he murmurs, "There are some leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry."

"I'm not hungry, but thank you for the offer."

"You should eat—you're getting too thin. You don't eat enough at work, and you've stopped eating when you're at home, too."

"I'm fine. I know how much I should be eating," Arthur says a little gruffly. He's tired enough as is, and now he has to be interrogated about his dietary habits, too?

Francis stares at him for a long time in that inquisitive way of his, and it makes Arthur incredibly uncomfortable and slightly annoyed. He needs some space. Everything will be resolved in due time. He's working on it. Everything is fine. If everyone would just take a step back and let him handle what needs to be handled, everything would go swimmingly.

Time to change subjects.

"How is Madeline feeling?"

"She was fine today and said she felt okay at school. You were right—it was probably just allergies since she felt better after you gave her that antihistamine last night," Francis whispers, expression a little more sorrowful. "I worry though—she catches everything these days."

This is true. Arthur isn't sure what's been causing Madeline to become increasingly prone to colds and other viruses, but he suspects it's just a developmental phase, as there doesn't seem to be anything else medically wrong with her. Puberty has worsened her allergies and weakened her immune system, or maybe it's just the stress of being in high school. Either way, she has already had to miss a few days of school this year—not that this matters very much. Madeline still somehow manages to excel in her classes anyway. There's no need to worry about her grades slipping. In fact, Arthur and Francis suppose she can afford an occasional sick day—she worries about school far too much at times and has earned some days off every now and then.

Winter is just a few weeks away, and that's bound to bring a few more viruses into their household, so Arthur plans to start Madeline on a multivitamin and a probiotic to help boost her immunity. Short of embarrassing her by making her wear a medical mask to school (and while the idea is tempting, both Francis and Madeline herself wouldn't allow for that), there's not much else to do.

"I'm glad she's feeling better," he finally sighs. "I'm going to shower. You should go to sleep."

"I'll wait for you."

"You don't have to. As you can see, I'm not pleasant company tonight."

Francis smiles warmly. "Believe it or not, I've grown used to it."

Arthur's not sure whether he's supposed to feel insulted by that or not. He doesn't have the energy to care, so he goes into the bathroom, gets under the showerhead, and lets water pour over his skin again—just like the cold rain—and hopes that this time he'll feel a little cleaner—purer.

Anguished shouts of "Dad!" reverberate through his ears over and over again. He turns off the water, presses his face into a towel, and then leans over the toilet to be sick. He makes sure to turn start the water again—this time in the bathroom sink—so that his retching is muffled by the noise. This is the third time he's vomited this week.

It's getting worse.

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

1979, London

Being the youngest means always having to keep up with everyone else.

While Arthur is just beginning to learn how to multiply, Patrick is already fifteen and has sprouted up into a charming young man. He is, in many ways, the man of the house when their father is at work or out late at the pub. Tawny-haired, broad-shouldered, and green-eyed—he is the spitting image of their father. Everyone always points out the resemblance between them, but Patrick seems to become agitated whenever the similarities between them are brought up rather than being proud of carrying his father's traits.

In those days, Patrick is, in Arthur's eyes, a mean elder brother who bosses him around and tries to be a surrogate parent. Years later, Arthur will understand and come to appreciate the pressure on him to be an adult—to take charge and care for the rest of them.

But appreciation is the last thing he feels whenever Patrick forces him and Dylan into their pajamas and makes them go to bed at nine o'clock. Why does Alistair get to stay up until ten? Because he's older. You're too young, Arthur. You're too small. You don't understand. You never understand anything. Just grow up already and keep your nose out of trouble.

Trouble has a knack for coming to him, however.

He comes down with a fever during the first week of November. His mother keeps him home from school, and he spends most of the day reading A Bear Called Paddington and playing with Lego bricks. The silence in the house is odd. He shares his room with Dylan, and not having his brother lying above him in their bunkbed feels strange.

Around mid-afternoon, when he grows bored of the Legos and he's too tired to read, he sits near the window and watches people as they come and go. He leans his hot forehead on the cool glass and wonders if he'll be able to convince his mother to let him ride his bike in the park tomorrow if he's feeling better—they can't just let Saturday go to waste without doing anything.

He nearly falls asleep right then and there while daydreaming, but then, a familiar face catches his attention.

Is that Alistair with a girl?

Arthur sits up straighter and squints his eyes as much as he can. There's no mistaking it—that's his second eldest brother, and he's with Victoria Wright, a girl with jet black hair, blue eyes, and a nose piercing. She's the same age as Alistair—twelve. Her father served in the navy, and she has two brothers and two sisters. The Wrights are a big family, just like theirs. Mrs. Wright doesn't work, and Arthur has heard his mother complain about how she never cleans up after the dog.

And then, the moment finally comes…Alistair kisses Victoria.

Arthur gags and quickly screws his eyes shut. Gross! What should he do? He can't keep this a secret. He can't let Alistair get away with what has just transpired before his very eyes.

He watches the lovebirds separate and go in opposite directions…Alistair is coming up to the house now.

Arthur sprints out of his room and barrels down the stairs, adrenaline running up and down his arms. Finally, he has some valuable information that his other brothers don't have. For once, he is in the loop. He can't let this moment go to waste. He must tell everyone. The whole world has to know about Alistair Kirkland and Victoria Wright.

He races to the foyer and catches Alistair just as he's coming in through the front door.

"I saw you and Victoria snogging!" he proclaims proudly, elated when he sees his brother's cheeks flush scarlet and his face fill with shame. "ALISTAIR AND VICTORIA WERE—!"

"Shut up!" Alistair hisses, slamming his hand down on Arthur's mouth and holding it there firmly. "Yer such a brat. Ye didn't see anything, do ye understand me? Or else."

Arthur tries to break free, but Alistair pins him against the wall and is much, much stronger.

"Alistair and—mphhm—and—!"

"I said to shut up, or I'll tell everyone in yer class how ye pissed on yerself last year."

That was one time.

Alistair's usual threats don't scare him. This is too good. He can just imagine the look on Patrick's face when he finds out.

"Let—mphm—go!"

"I'll give ye five pounds to keep quiet."

Pft. He's going to have to do better than that.

"What's going on here? Arthur, why are you out of bed?" their mother suddenly asks, appearing from the living room. "Alistair, what are you doing? He's ill—this is no time to be wrestling."

Alistair releases him reluctantly, and Arthur lets out a string of coughs, a little worn out from the excitement.

"Back to bed," his mother orders, pressing a hand to his forehead and clicking her tongue at him when she feels that he's still much too warm for her liking.

"But Alistair—!"

"Bed, Arthur. Now. And Alistair, take those shoes off. I've just cleaned the floor."

That's okay. He can still use this as blackmail in the future. Not all hope is lost.

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

The fever worsens.

He wakes at one o'clock in the morning, burning up and unable to get comfortable. Dylan is in Alistair and Patrick's room for the night, and so, he is all alone in the darkness, miserable and shivering. He does what any child would do—he cries. Cries and cries until his mother rouses and ambles over to him. She brushes his hair back and tries to hush him, and he wants nothing more but to be held and told it will be all right—that this will pass, and he'll feel better soon. He wants his mother's kiss on his brow. Wants her attention. Wants to be rocked in her arms. Wants to be the center of her attention for just this moment.

"Shh, Arthur. Please…"

Her words do not bring him comfort. He is only made to feel as though he is being a burden. He is keeping her up. She is tired. He is a nuisance.

He hears the door downstairs creak open. His father is home. Probably drunk…Definitely drunk.

"Shh, shh. Go back to sleep, Arthur," she begs him, and then, she leaves his bedside to tend to his father, and for a good moment, Arthur is too disappointed and upset to shed any more tears. He just listens as his father clumsily comes up the stairs and makes a racket.

And then, when things become quiet again, he begins sobbing once more, feeling forgotten. He wants his mother to come back. Wants her to sit with him. Why isn't she here?

His weeping attracts the opposite kind of attention he craves.

"For fuck's sake…Shut him up, Eileen. I've told you you've made him soft. Kirklands don't cry," his father grunts, coming into his bedroom. "It's about time you learnt that, Arthur."

"He's unwell," his mother begins to explain, but none of this seems to placate his father.

"I had better give him something to cry about."

"Come back to the bedroom, James. Leave him. He'll tire himself out."

Arthur isn't sure how his lungs manage it, but he cries even louder, increasingly distraught. He closes his eyes and wishes he could be anywhere but here. If he thinks about it really hard, maybe it'll come true—like magic.

He feels a hand clamp down on his upper arm—hard enough to bruise.

He whimpers in pain, and out of the corner of his tear-filled eyes, he sees his mother grab his father by the shoulder and try to yank him away. James responds by spinning around and hitting her in the face.

It is a sharp, piercing slap. This is not the first time his father has laid a hand on his mother, but it is the first time Arthur has witnessed it.

She isn't shocked in the slightest. She just stands there and loses all of the emotion in her gaze—an empty woman.

"Stop!" a new voice shouts, and Arthur feels like he could go to sleep right now and never wake up.

Patrick comes storming in, shoots their father a venomous look, and guides their mother out of the room while saying hurriedly, "Go to your room, Mum."

It sounds strange to hear Patrick telling adults what to do. It makes Arthur's head spin even more.

"Go back downstairs, Dad."

"Who do you think you are?"

"I've called the police. Go downstairs…We can talk downstairs. Not in front of Arthur."

His father strikes at Patrick next, landing a hit to his jaw. "This is my house."

Patrick quickly recovers and pulls himself together, standing up straight and tall. "You've terrorized Mum long enough."

Sirens. They echo in Arthur's skull and make everything hurt more.

Patrick retreats from the room and down the hall, and their father follows after him, presumably to continue fighting. The front door groans again as it gets pushed open. Arthur hears the police officers come in but never sees them. He's much too weak and stunned to crawl out of bed. He just sniffles to himself and blinks fever-glazed eyes at the ceiling. None of this would have happened if he hadn't cried and upset his father. This is his fault.

He will spend the rest of the night alone. He will wake up in the late morning when the fever breaks, covered in his own drool and sweat.

His father will be arrested for forty-eight hours and then released. Their mother will not press charges. She will ask for things to go back to normal between them—will want to retain some semblance of family. He will pack his things and leave. She will plead with him to stay. Will fall to her knees by the door and sob. Don't leave me. What about the boys?

This is Arthur's first lesson in realizing that the only person he can count on is himself.

#hetalia #fanfiction #face family #aph england #aph france #aph ireland #aph scotland #aph wales #aph america #aph canada #angst #family #new fic #mandelene

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blondrichclosetwitch · 3 years

Text

I bought you

A trumpet you can blow

And a book of rules

On what to say to people

And I forgot my name

And the way back to my mother's house (jakk)

I have seen the fields aflame

And everything I ever did

Was just another way to scream your name (everything done to the trees)

11:11

Hey, haven't seen you around in a while

Hey...

I didn't go to work for a month

I didn't leave my bed for eight days straight

I haven't hung out with anyone

If I did, I'd have nothing to say

I didn't feel angry or depressed

I didn't feel anything at all

Whenever I breathe out, you’re breathing in

(One of my teachers told me in 2018 that the connection between me and Jack was so great that if I pricked my finger, he felt it. That’s what I take this line to mean. I don’t know what exactly is going on with Jack, but I know that in May 2017, they had me convinced that he was tied to Blond‘s bed, bleeding internally, staring at an altar of me being tortured with the dog dead in the corner. I was shown that image this morning while this song played. I heard him say save him. )

Shiv gayatri is a mantra for getting rid of diseases and fear of human life.

We did somethin' we both know it

We don't talk too much about it

Ain't no real big secret all the same

Somehow we get around it

Right now this seems real to you

But it's one of those things

You gotta feel to be true

Somewhere, somehow somebody

Must have kicked you around some

Who knows, maybe you were kidnapped

Tied up, taken away and held for ransom, honey

I've got a hurricane inside my veins and I want to stay forever. Sweetheart, may not be easy But we're trying hard to hold on

But freedom is just another word

When you've no-one left to hurt. (I haven’t figured this one out exactly yet, but it’s definitely important. This is another song about heroin, though.)

You was heckling me, now it's monotony winning regularly, yo

The contract was signed, but I am the addendum

Go against me now, I dare you, Bambi

“If you fuck with Nicki, she’ll burn down the forest and kill all the cute little animals, but not before murdering your mother in front of you.” (Fwiw, there were pictures put in my head of my mother dying, to the point that I called her thinking she was already dead in 2018. )

Bambi also feels impt because that was the first animal I connected to; and then in my teens I was with a hit deer in its last breaths on the side of the road.

I ain't even detonate the bombs in the arsenal(so I was told to talk about the bombs today. There have been a lot of references to bombs going off—-

As a matter of fact this morning when I connected to the element of fire, that’s what I saw in my head. I would say those in the know should probably share their knowledge about that. )

Before the storm comes the calm

Hope you can take the heat like LeBron (this is another reference to fire. People with the gift of sight also have the curse of their house is catching fire quite often. Mine has caught fire twice. So far.)

Anybody with some money should invest now (it’s time for me to turn this into my business)

Your game over, bitch, Gatorade, wet towel (I don’t want to be catty, but seriously.)

I'm on that different type of high, heroin

Put on my cape and hit the sky, heroine (when did heroin become so chic again? )

This is the moment, grab your Kodak (documenting everything that was left for me, including graffiti)

While I'm flying with a flow (not since joan)

And the days been crazy and the nights even wilder(a lot coming through )

And the lights even brighter, baby, stand next to my fire

Only higher is Messiah or notes from Mariah (brightest light is God; mariah is the name of someone I confided in in 2017, who made fun of me behind my back, and then blocked me .)

'Rari six hundred horses, that's my chariot of fire( fire is the element of prophecy, also another reference to the fire )

Where we flyin', they can't find us, all them broke days behind us (apparently this is the very last time I’ll only have 3 dollars to my name, with 20 cents in the bank: seems like there’s symbolism there, 3 being the magic number & 20 being the number of the Judgement card)

I just took your whole life and redesigned it, uh (God’s plan—-this morning I was shown a lot more of my past and my future, and trust me, everything is connected)

I think without makeup, you still bad as hell (cover up or not, the facts are the facts)

I'ma grab your waist, then I'ma grab your face and

Then I'ma taste it, then I'ma blaze it (satan)

Hello all my bad girls, this just in

he fucked her best friend (not naming names, but I see you)

And she let him back in, and he just did it again

He crazy, he blazin', he off the deep end (bam)

I'm blazin', I'm flagrant, I'm crazy, I'm sayin'(personality change)

Too much for the world so they abbreviate him (abbreviate is latin for short.)

His past is her fave, his stats is amaze (what a mind on that boy. )

Her dress is just perf, uh, Prada colored beige (this was left in front of my apt?)

It's obvi we the ish (this is a shortened name for Ishani, which is another name of the goddess Durga)

They say we crazed 'cause our styles so diff' (…..)

They'll be jeal' when we in the mag lookin' magnif (….)

As if I ain't used Magnums on your favorite bad bitch

You want it, I got it, go get it, I’ll buy it

tell ‘em other broke fools be quiet

Shorty, you are the hottest

love the way you drop it

Brain so good, good

this morning went to college

200 K deposit(it seems worth mentioning that one of the first things I was told in the fall of 2016 was that Jakk was given a check by Blond‘s parents for 300 K to open a restaurant.)

#kidnapped tied up taken away and held for ransom #I ain’t even detonate the bombs in the arsenal #spinning

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gordonwilliamsweb · 4 years

Text

Big Business Boosts Vaccine Effort, but It’s ‘Complex Choreography’ to Get Shots in Arms

This story is part of a partnership that includes NPR and KHN. It can be republished for free.

As states await the promise of a renewed federal pandemic response and expand the number of Americans who qualify for a shot, some governors are trying to scale up their covid vaccine operations — and smooth out the kinks — with the help of the private sector.

In Washington state, Starbucks, Microsoft and Costco are lending logistical expertise and manpower to public health agencies that are trying to dispatch their doses of vaccines more efficiently.

Over the weekend, thousands of people filed through the Charlotte Motor Speedway in North Carolina — now serving as a mass vaccine site — run by Honeywell and other local businesses that have partnered with the state.

And on Monday, Google pledged $150 million to “promote vaccine education and equitable distribution” and to make it easier for people to find “when and where to get the vaccine.”

This backup from businesses comes as states continue to navigate uncertainty around when they’ll receive doses. A patchwork of vaccination eligibility rules and ways to sign up for a shot have left many Americans confused, frustrated and even frightened, as those at high risk of serious complications from the covid virus continue to wait with little news on when they’ll be inoculated.

Washington Gov. Jay Inslee calls private enterprise the “arsenal” of the coronavirus vaccination campaign, comparing the partnership to the production of battleships during World War II, but even Inslee, a Democrat, did not oversell the immediate impact.

“This is not going to be an expectation of an Amazon delivery system,” Inslee said while announcing his state’s plan last week. “There will be times when people will not have dosages available in their community because there isn’t enough being delivered.”

Washington and more than half of all states have opened up vaccines to anyone 65 and older — greatly spiking demand — yet a major hang-up continues to be making use of all the delivered vaccines.

Of the approximately 41 million vaccines delivered to states, more than 19 million have not yet been given, according to data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

“It’s a dance that requires a lot of complex choreography,” said Alison Buttenheim, an associate professor of nursing and health policy at the University of Pennsylvania.

“We aren’t always so innovative and nimble in public health and this is the moment where we need that — we need innovation and we need states trying different things.”

The Washington state partnership is using Starbucks to streamline the vaccine clinics, Microsoft to provide tech support and space on its campus, and Costco to manage logistics around delivering the shots.

Every state should be looking to its businesses to fill gaps in the vaccination operations, whether around online scheduling, public messaging or the nitty-gritty details of coordinating delivery and clinics, Buttenheim said.

“There’s no one corporate entity that’s going to solve this, but most have something to offer,” she said.

Many public health departments have struggled with making the vaccine process “customer friendly” because they don’t typically provide this kind of direct service, said Dr. Marcus Plescia, chief medical officer for the Association of State and Territorial Health Officials (ASTHO), which represents state health directors.

“It has been challenging to scale those kinds of things up,” he said. “Then you add in that public health departments have been dealing with covid for a year, with limited resources and people are tired.”

In North Carolina, Atrium Health, a nonprofit health care system, is part of the business partnership with Honeywell that aims to give 1 million shots by July.

“It allows us as the health care system to focus on what we do best — getting the shots in the arms and making sure people are tolerating it and the aftercare,” said Dr. Scott Rissmiller, Atrium’s executive vice president.

“Our hospitals are full, and it’s the same people that are working in our hospitals that we are needing to redeploy for the vaccines.”

Looking Ahead

The Biden administration has pledged more transparency around the availability of doses and enlisted the Federal Emergency Management Agency to set up mass vaccination sites, as many as 100 in the next month.

While the pace of vaccination has picked up, public health experts warn the U.S. must move faster as at least one more contagious variant of the virus shows up in a growing number of states and threatens to drive another devastating surge.

A federal partnership with large pharmacies has faced criticism for not moving more quickly. Some states have gone through the majority of their doses, while others have used fewer than half of what’s been delivered.

Public health can get a boost from the private sector, but there are limits to what can be outsourced, said epidemiologist Jennifer Nuzzo of Johns Hopkins University.

“This isn’t just handing somebody a package; this is a clinical encounter,” said Nuzzo.

Data entry involves sensitive personal information, and the actual vaccinators need to be trained and credentialed.

Nuzzo, who has studied the U.S. capacity for mass vaccination, estimates the U.S. will need anywhere from 100,000 to 184,000 people to staff vaccine clinics, of which 17,000 would have to be vaccinators, to meet the Biden administration’s goal of 100 million shots in 100 days.

“I think it would be extraordinarily difficult to just find those vaccinators,” she said.

The private sector may be able to contribute, but Nuzzo cautioned that any partnerships cannot appear to favor the employees of the company.

Last week, Amazon offered to assist the Biden administration on the vaccine rollout and has signaled it hopes to vaccinate its own front-line workers as soon as possible.

The shaky supply has limited the ability of some states to pursue mass vaccine sites, and many providers are still hesitant to schedule vaccines too far in advance. A hospital in Arlington, Virginia, canceled 10,000 appointments after the state changed how it allocates its supply of vaccines.

In Arizona, which has two mass vaccine sites so far, appointments are already booked through February.

Since the early days of the vaccine rollout — when the Trump administration promised 20 million doses before 2021 — the public has received confusing messages about when they’ll be able to get a shot.

States still face the challenge of how to set realistic expectations. Many are ramping up their capacity for giving vaccines, even before the supply has caught up.

“The worry I have is that if we create expectations for how quickly people can get vaccinated and then don’t deliver, people will become perhaps jaded or disappointed or, worse, mistrustful of vaccination efforts,” she said.

More than half of unvaccinated Americans say they need more information about when or where they’ll get vaccinated, according to a national survey from the Kaiser Family Foundation. (KHN is an editorially independent program of KFF.)

At his grocery store in Everett, Wash., Wil Peterson, a cashier, hears this confusion around the vaccine process from his co-workers.

“There’s a lot of information that’s been floating around, so I’m just trying to keep up with the latest developments,” said Peterson, who’s in his 50s and expects his turn to get a shot will come sometime in February.

Peterson worries about catching the virus every day he goes to work and still deals with customers who refuse to wear masks, so he’s eager to get vaccinated.

But he also knows it may not go smoothly, after hearing from a friend who tried to sign up for his shot.

“But the site crashed, so I’m kind of bracing for maybe that happening when I try to do it, but I’m hoping that won’t be the case,” he said.

This story is part of a partnership that includes NPR and KHN.

Kaiser Health News (KHN) is a national health policy news service. It is an editorially independent program of the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation which is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.

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Big Business Boosts Vaccine Effort, but It’s ‘Complex Choreography’ to Get Shots in Arms published first on https://nootropicspowdersupplier.tumblr.com/

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stephenmccull · 4 years

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Big Business Boosts Vaccine Effort, but It’s ‘Complex Choreography’ to Get Shots in Arms