#the hospital gives me a different consultant any time i go for a medicine check up and one of them had the gall to ask if i can manage to | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

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Paging Healer Malfoy // Chapter Two - The Improper Use of Magical Materials (D.M)

A/N: CHAPTER TWO!! I wonder fi you can all guess what’s going to happen in this chapter from the title alone? Draco deals with some interesting cases, and I am loving writing this series. The love for the prologue and chapter one blew me away. I only hope you love this one just as much!!!

Summary: Coffee equals venting as well as inquisitions over personal lives. Interesting patients have their way of falling into Draco’s lap.

Warnings: mentions of coffee, mentions of procedures, hospitals, injuries, swearing, mentions of food, mutual pining, yearning, an overuse of commas and semi-colons, interesting medical cases.

Word count: 4k

Prologue// Chapter One

By the time Draco has a long enough lull in patients, it’s been a couple of hours and he’s more than ready for a coffee.

The tradition of coffee with her had started through their training; it was how they vented to each other after a particularly long shift that had either been difficult or slow. It was how over the course of their training; their friendship had formed. It was over the coffees and the vents that Draco slowly realised his feelings for her were far from platonic.

(Y/N) stands at the admit desk, chatting to one of the longest working nurses at St. Mungo’s, Lydia. Lydia had seen it all; there was very little that could shock her. Draco thinks out of his eight years at St. Mungo’s, he had only ever seen Lydia speechless from shock twice. Both of those cases had not had positive outcomes.

(Y/N) greets Draco with a smile that almost knocks him breathless. He slots his chart into the discharged box and cracks his knuckles; he grins at (Y/N)’s displeased face, knowing that that particular habit gets on her nerves.

“Are you free now?” She asks; an eyebrow raised as if she’s expecting another rebuff.

Draco nods, “Coffee?”

(Y/N) smiles broadly; another smile to leave him breathless and hopelessly yearning for her as she murmurs her goodbyes to Lydia.

The café for St. Mungo’s is on the very top floor, and Draco thanks every god and deity out there that the hospital board had seen fit to install a lift instead of relying on the stairs. It was useful for practical reasons too; especially transporting patients to different floors and such alongside Draco’s continued avoidance of physical exercise.

It wasn’t an overly large café, but it catered for the Healers and nurses on every floor as well as the steady stream of patients and their families that came through the doors. It constantly smelt like coffee beans; the scent settling within Draco’s bones as he walks to the till with (Y/N) by his side.

Happy to see their usual table by the furthest window empty, Draco heads over there with their tray of freshly brewed coffee. They sit across from each other and share a tired smile; they were coming up to halfway through their shift now. They both loved their job; they couldn’t imagine working anywhere else as anything else but even they couldn’t help but countdown the minutes until they could clock off and go home to their showers and their beds.

Adding a splash of milk to her coffee, (Y/N) asks, “What do you think of the new trainees?”

Draco nods, “I think they’re going to be better than last year for definite.”

(Y/N) nods her head in agreement. Draco grabs a sugar packet from the centre of the table, “What do you think of your student?”

She rolls her eyes fondly, “He’s rich, that’s for sure. The only other person I’ve ever seen with a tailored lab coat is you.”

Draco huffs; tugging at the collar of his lab coat, “It was a gift, thank you very much.”

She laughs, “And you look very dashing.”

Draco turns her nose up at her, “Tell me something I don’t know.”

(Y/N)’s eyes sparkle with mirth over the rim of her coffee cup; the cup barely concealing the smile on her face. Draco returns the grin in earnest; never truly able to stay mad at her or hold a grudge against for too long.

“How have you been?” She asks; light concern lacing her voice.

“I’ve been okay,” Draco answers; expecting the worry she always has for him. He had been diagnosed with insomnia after the second wizarding war. It came in waves; he could have weeks, even months, where he slept fine, but then he would have periods where sleep was a distant memory.

“Have you been sleeping better? I can always prescribe you something if you need it.”

Draco waves away her offer, “I don’t need medicine to help me sleep.”

“Draco, you have insomnia. You, yourself, have admitted that traditional remedies aren’t helping.”

“(Y/N), I’m fine,” He reaches out for her hand; she lets him take it, “I’m fine. I’m sleeping better, I promise.”

She bites her lip; looking like she so desperately wants to believe him. For a second, Draco thinks she’s going to argue but at the last moment she decides against it. Instead, whispering what she wanted to say at the start of their conversation, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“We see each other nearly every day,” Draco argues.

“We’re so busy, Draco, we don’t talk like we used to.”

Draco sighs; knowing how right she is. If they found themselves on nights together, they would spend most of that shift together – especially if it was a quiet one. They would talk aimlessly about whatever came to their minds; the job, their families, their love life.

To Draco, it felt like his feelings for her were almost inevitable. The longer he spent with her; the longer he thought of her. Their fumble at the Christmas party last year had driven a wedge between them; neither ready to talk about what happened for the fear of losing their crutch. They so heavily relied on the other in terms of emotional release from their jobs; if things went south, what would they do?

Catching sight of the clock, (Y/N) sighs, realising that their conversation was over, “I need to go chase up some labs. As smart as my trainee he is, he’s useless at keeping on top of things.”

She stands; finishing the final few sips of her coffee. Her hand finds its way to Draco’s shoulder where it squeezes it once in goodbye, “I’ll find you at the end of your shift, we can get the tube together.”

He smiles at her, “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

And he wouldn’t.

------

The first week with the new trainees goes swimmingly. Draco cannot help but compare this year to last year where last year he had to dismiss one Healer immediately based on their bed manner with patients; inappropriate comments flying freely.

The second week with the new trainees gives Draco a breather from needing to watch over them constantly. He starts to spend less time flitting between their patients and more time taking on his own cases whilst still supervising the trainees and their assigned attendings.

As the trainees find their feet, Draco finds it easier to fall back into his routine from before they arrived. Working in Emergency Medicine meant that there was very little leeway for a strict routine, but there was always a lull in the early afternoon that allowed Draco to sneak upstairs to the café and grab some lunch without being pulled in for consultation after consultation.

However, Draco feels that something is off within his very bones. As he lines up to pay for his food and drink, he feels suspicious. As he sits down at the table he usually shares with (Y/N) - admitting to himself that he does miss her presence when he’s eating alone – he feels as if he needs to rush whatever he’s about to eat.

Eight years as a Healer has taught Draco to trust that gut instinct; to follow it to very end to where it leads.

The familiar static of the tannoy system precedes the announcement of his name, “Healer Malfoy to Trauma Two. Healer Malfoy to Trauma Two.”

Draco looks down at his meal sadly; briefly wondering whether the patient would protest to him eating through his trauma. He throws out the food as he rushes from the café, stethoscope clinking around his neck as he amps up his brisk walk to a flat out run.

As he runs to the trauma room, Draco has no idea what awaits him when he arrives in the emergency room. He has no clue as to his patient; their age, gender, ethnicity. As of right now, he couldn’t care – all he needs to know is that there is someone who needs his help.

The patient has already been lifted onto the bed when Draco arrives. Studiously ignoring his growling stomach, he looks to Vera, “What do we have?”

“27 year old Rowan Talbott; injured in a duel between friends. BP and oxygen all fine though his pulse is a little fast.”

Rowan Talbott writhes on the bed in pain, gasping, “It hurts so much.”

“Where does it hurt, Mr. Talbott?” Draco questions; standing over the patient.

“My side! It feels like its burning.”

Draco makes eye contact with the nurse who helps to roll the young man onto his other side. With deft, experienced fingers, Draco examines the patient.

“Mr. Talbott,” Draco calls out over the patients cries, “Can you tell me which spell you were hit with?”

“Entrail-Expelling, I’m sure of it.”

Draco sighs; taking a step back and removing his gloves, “I can assure, Mr. Talbott, you were not hit with the entrail-expelling spell.”

“How do you know?” He demands; face cross.

“For one thing, Mr. Talbott, your entrails are still very much inside of your body. And another, it looks like you were instead hit with the stinging hex which has caused the burning,” Draco looks towards Vera, “Perform the counter-jinx and let him sleep it off?”

Vera nods; her face amused at the sound of disappointment in Draco’s voice.

He tears off the trauma gown; throwing it in the disposal bin. He looks towards the patient who slowly sits up in bed; his face aflame with embarrassment, “So I’m not dying?”

Draco shakes his head, “Not dying.”

Rowan Talbott sags in relief as Vera performs the counter-jinx.

“Rest now, Mr. Talbott, I’ll check on you in an hour or so.”

Rowan Talbott doesn’t reply; his snores fill the room as the porters come to move him to an empty exam room.

Both Draco and Vera chuckle as they leave the room. They return to the admit desk where Draco places his chart on the side.

“There never is a dull day, is there Vera?”

Vera laughs, “The day it is dull here, Draco, is the day I leave.”

“Merlin let’s hope that never happens there. How would we run without you, Vera?”

“Draco Malfoy, you are a flatterer.”

Draco laughs, “I’m going out to grab some lunch. I’m sure there’s a muggle café down the road. I won’t be long.”

Vera nods; waving him off as she’s pulled into another case by another Healer.

Before he can be dragged anywhere, Draco rushes to the break room. There, he grabs his jacket – replacing his lab coat with it and then makes his way to the exit. Through it all, his stomach has been growling like a wild animal; the café down the road would still be open, Draco thinks gratefully as he inhales the crisp autumn air.

At the café, Draco orders a sandwich and a coffee to go. All the while knowing that he would have to eat it on the way back to the hospital should another trauma come in or that he’s needed by someone.

By the time Draco arrives back at the break room; he’s eaten half his sandwich and finished his coffee. Munching on the other half, he doesn’t hesitate to pour another cup of coffee and settle on the break room couch.

A few years back, before Draco had started his training, the emergency room staff were given a television by a patient who was grateful for the saving of his life. After much attempting to get it working in a hospital that was, back then, mostly magical, the TV had become a hit with the nurses. However, no-one dared to switch the channel should something happen that they couldn’t fix, so it played a constant loop of the muggle news.

It’s this that Draco watches as he finishes the last crumbs of his sandwich and the dregs of his coffee. He kicks his feet up onto the coffee table and lets himself have a few minutes to himself with his eyes closed; letting the stress of the last few weeks leave his body.

All too soon, however, the usual guilt settles over Draco. In his early days as a trainee, Draco found it exceptionally hard to take for himself. He always had to be helping; he always had to be working. He simply couldn’t sit still. Draco thinks it stems from his family’s involvement in the second wizarding war where they had left the Battle of Hogwarts without sticking around to make sure that the survivors were well cared for.

It’s that thought that has Draco hauling himself off the couch and back into the fray.

“Janice – lovely, lovely, Janice. What do we have free?” Draco asks; always ready to compliment the nurses.

Janice laughs, “Malfoy, you are a flirt,” She hands him a chart, “23 year old female with stomach pain.”

Draco grins at Janice; happily taking the chart from her hands. He knocks on the door to exam room one before entering. He smiles welcomingly at the patient, “Miss Collins, I understand you’re having some stomach pain.”

Miss Collins nods her head, “For the last few days now.”

Draco makes some notes on her chart before putting on some latex gloves. He points to her stomach and asks, “Do you mind?”

Miss Collins shakes her head and lifts her shirt to reveal her stomach, “I don’t mind.”

As Draco examines her; he asks her routine questions that Nurse Marie lists the answers of on her chart. “And there’s no chance you could be pregnant?” He asks; broaching the subject carefully.

She shakes her head, “I got my period last week.”

Draco nods; continuing his examination of her stomach, feeling some tenderness which understandably is causing some discomfort and pain. Draco removes his gloves and thinks through the possible causes of this pain. He smiles down at Miss Collins before addressing Nurse Marie, “Let’s get a blood test and give her anti-nausea potion, thank you. We’ll monitor you over the next couple of hours to see if things get better or worse. How does that sound?”

Miss Collins opens her mouth to reply but she’s cut off by a timid voice asking, “Healer Malfoy?”

Draco turns from his examination of Miss Collins to find a trainee stood behind him, “How can I help, Healer Kinghorn?”

Matthew Kinghorn flounders for a moment; trying to find the words to explain his predicament to his superior. Draco frowns at the trainee, “What’s wrong?”

“There’s something you need to see.”

“Is it urgent?”

Matthew nods, “I’d say so.”

“Is the patient dying?”

“No, but-”

Draco cuts him off impatiently, “Then are you able to handle it?”

Matthew huffs, “With all due respect sir, you need to see this. I don’t want to be the one to pull it out.”

Draco’s eyebrows furrow, “Pull what out?”

-----------

“That is a wand,” Draco states; staring at the x-ray.

Matthew nods wildly; humming his affirmation.

“The patient,” Draco starts, “Has a wand in their rectum.”

“Do you see why I pulled you away?” Matthew asks, “It looks to be 10 inches.”

Draco can’t help the snort that leaves him though he knows he should act more professionally around a trainee. He holds a hand to his mouth as the other points to the image on the lightbox, “Why?”

Matthew shrugs, “The patient wouldn’t say.”

Draco sighs, “Well they’re at risk for a perforation. What room are they in?”

“Exam room three,” Matthew answers.

Draco pulls the x-ray from the lightbox; stuffing it in a file before walking to exam room three. Entering the room – Matthew close behind – Draco finds the patient lying on his front with his knees tucked up to his chest.

“Mr,” Draco pauses; holding his hand out for the chart from Matthew, “Winters, I’m Healer Malfoy. Would you care to tell me what’s happened?”

Mr. Winters groans; his voice full of pain and embarrassment as he replies, “My wand is stuck.”

Draco slips on some gloves before approaching Mr. Winters, “Sir, you know that that isn’t the proper use of your wand.”

“I know that.”

“I’m glad you’re aware.”

Mr. Winters sighs, “I just had an itch that I couldn’t get, and I just looked at my wand and before I thought it through, I was doing it.”

“I’m not here to judge you, Mr. Winters,” Draco murmurs, “I’m just here to help extract your wand, but we need to be careful so please remain as still as possible.”

Mr. Winters nods; trying to relax as much as he can and remain as still as possible. Draco looks to Matthew who remains by the door; watching the scene with wide eyes, “Healer Kinghorn, will you please fetch some lubricant and any tweezers you can find.”

“You’re going to pull it out?!” Mr. Winters cries.

Draco walks around the bed, removing his gloves, and bends so he’s eye level with Mr. Winters, “I think it’s our first option. You lost hold as you were inserting it, that’s correct?”

Mr. Winters nods, so Draco continues, “So I’m going to use the tweezers to try and grab hold of the end of your wand. Should I meet any resistance, however, I am going to have to call a surgeon.”

“I could need surgery?” Mr. Winters shouts.

Draco nods, “It’s a possibility. There is a slight chance of perforation so any resistance, it’s a surgeon.”

Matthew comes bustling back into the exam room carrying everything Draco asked for including a pain potion and relaxation potion. He lays it all out on a tray before wheeling it to the end of Mr. Winters bed.

“Thank you, Healer Kinghorn,” Draco murmurs before turning back to Mr. Winters, “I’m going to give you a pain potion, so you won’t feel a thing, is that okay?”

Mr. Winters nods, holding out a hand for the bottle. Draco pours the right amount into a small cup before handing it to the patient; watching him finish it all before making his way to end of the bed.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Winters?” Draco calls; slipping on some fresh latex gloves.

“Ready,” He answers. Draco nods despite tef cat that the patient can’t see him.

Draco turns to Matthew; his hand out expectantly for the lubricant and the tweezers. Together, they manage to dislodge the item from Mr. Winters; his wand offering little trouble at all. Matthew watches the procedure wide-eyed and in awe as Draco manages to extract Mr. Winters wand.

He bags Mr. Winters wand as Matthew helps him back onto his side; reminding him that most likely isn’t quite ready to sit on him bum any time soon.

Mr. Winters has tears in his eyes as he thanks both Draco and Matthew. They wave off his thanks before leaving him to sleep off the remaining pain potion in his system; once he wakes he’ll be discharged and given a leaflet on appropriate wand use.

Draco co-signs Matthew’s chart before handing it back to the redheaded trainee. “You did well,” Draco compliments with a smile.

Matthew beams, “Really?”

Draco nods, “You went beyond what I asked you to do and made sure the patient was comfortable. You also recognised that you were out of your depth and you needed help. Past trainees haven’t thought of that; they would go straight in with the procedure and make a mistake. Well done, Matthew.”

Matthew nods; rubbing his hand across the back of his neck as his skin warms with the kind words from Draco. “Thank you, Healer Malfoy,” He replies earnestly.

Draco claps Matthew on the shoulder, “Go get some lunch, Matthew. You don’t know when you’ll be able to eat again.”

Matthew smiles at Draco again before leaving; rushing for the lift to head up to the café.

Draco shakes his head at the eagerness displayed by his trainee, but also pride in the fact that he did think before acting which is vitally important in a job like this. It requires you to think fast and act fast; it seems that Matthew had the talent for both. Draco couldn’t help but wonder how he would be like in a major trauma situation.

Returning to the admit desk, Draco finds that all patients are accounted for and for the first time in a while, he has no immediate need to see a patient – still waiting on test results for them all. He removes his stethoscope from his shoulders as he enters the break room; the television still playing its circuit of the daily muggle news.

(Y/N) sits at the small round table in the middle of the room; her eyes focused on the small screen. The volume always remains low; never playing loud enough for anyone to hear the words leaving the news anchors mouth. Instead, they rely on the red banner travelling across the bottom of the screen from right to left where it announces the breaking news.

“Anything changed since an hour ago?” Draco asks; heading straight for the coffee pot only to find that its empty. He pulls the coffee grounds down from the cupboard and begins to make a fresh pot.

“I don’t think so,” (Y/N) answers, “A celebrity couple is getting divorced; a royal is having a baby, and there’s a debate in the muggle parliament today.”

Draco leans against the counter; waiting for the coffee to brew. He nods, “Nothing new then.”

“I heard about your… impalement,” (Y/N) comments; turning her attention from the television screen to Draco.

“How?”

(Y/N) raises an eyebrow at him, “Lydia.”

“Of course,” Draco rolls his eyes, “I can’t say it wasn’t interesting.”

She snorts, “You always get the interesting ones.”

“(Y/N), you are an attending in emergency trauma surgery. All of your cases are interesting.”

(Y/N) huffs, “But I haven’t seen an impalement in so long!”

“It was barely even an impalement. The patient had an itch he couldn’t reach, that’s all.”

(Y/N) is silent for a minute before bursting into giggles.

“Act professional, (Y/N),” Draco chides but he cannot help the smile at that spreads across his face at the sound of her laughter. Soon enough, he finds himself chuckling along with her; their laughter providing the chorus for the chaos of the emergency room.

(Y/N) wipes her eyes with her sleeve after she finishes laughing, “It’s like what Healer Dorian used to say before she retired.”

“What?”

“If you don’t laugh, it’ll kill you.”

Draco snorts, “There’s some truth to that, but I don’t think Mr. Winters was laughing.”

(Y/N) shakes her head, “I don’t think he will be. I think he’ll choose muggle medicine over ours now to avoid us all.”

He hums, “Most likely, but if he needs us that badly, he’ll come back.”

(Y/N) doesn’t reply; she just shakes her head fondly, hair slipping from its ponytail.

“What shift are you down for next week?” He asks.

She grins at him; her eyes crinkling in the corners, “Why? Do you miss me when I’m not with you?”

He places a hand on his heart and stretches the other out; mimicking a Shakespearian pose, “Dear (Y/N), my heart yearns for you all the time, but it misses you more in your absence. Pray, tell me your shift pattern next week so I know whether to cry tears of happiness or sadness.”

A ball of paper hits his face. Her laughter fills the room, “You’re such an arse, Draco.”

He grins toothily, “And yet you’re friends with me.”

She glares at him playfully, “I’m regretting that decision past me made.”

“I don’t believe you for a second.”

She rolls her eyes, “I’m on nights next week.”

Draco pouts; playing the overdramatic lovestruck fool he is, “But when will I see you?”

“When I’m leaving… like now,” She stands from her chair; grabbing her drink and her unfinished charts.

Draco swivels in his chair; watching her leave the break room with his feelings all in disarray as to whether they’re finally going to confront of what is so clearly in front of them.

*********

Paging Healer Malfoy taglist: @sycathorn-slush @obsessedwithrandomthings @kpopgirlbtssvt @kalimagik @brycelahelalover @fallinallinmendes @mischi3f-manag3d @remmysrecs @willowbleedsonpaper @nao-cchi @haphazardhufflepuff @soundsquid27 @mytreec @maydillydally @chaoticgirl04 @pregnant-piggy @rhyxn @acciotwinz @birdie-writes @reaganwonders @chanelwonders @izzytheninja @ravenclawbitch426 @ohissandhalasta @missmulti

Draco Malfoy taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @obx-beach @obxmxybxnk @sycathorn-slush @dracomalfoyswifey @kashishwrites @justmesadgirl @detroitobsessed @reaganwonders

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ververa · 4 years

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“Nothing’s Gonna Hurt Me With My Eyes Shut”

A/N: This is just a random idea. Also it’s bad. I definitely could do better, but it’s 2am, so you have to forgive me. Now that you’ve been warned I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway! <3

Wilhemina Venable x fem!reader

Words count: ~2 000

Wilhemina hated hospitals ever since she could have remembered. She hated hospitals and despised doctors even more. It was all due to her scoliosis and that one asshole doctor from her childhood. It had been years. but the resentment never faded.

The thought of the hospital itself was making her sick. And being there, even if just for a moment, caused her more distress than anyone could ever tell. If she could, she would most likely stay away from both hospitals and doctors, but it wasn’t that easy. Every so often Wilhemina actually needed some follow-up appointments. She knew it and as much as she hated it, she never skipped any appointment.

Wilhemina had one doctor. She always consulted him and no one else. He, even though a man, was the only doctor she tolerated. Or she thought so, because she felt like she had no choice. The man was the only person who could examine her and there was no way she would let someone else do it. That’s why she raged, when she found out he wasn’t at the hospital like he had been expected to. What was she supposed to do? There was no way she would go there again. Definitely not that week. Not even that month. She needed a lot of time to recover from entering the horrendous place. It cost her way too much to just give up and go back home. Though going to another doctor didn’t sound any better.

“We have a new specialist” the nurse from the reception centre informed her “A great specialist” she added, seeing Wilhemina’s hesitation

“Alright” Venable agreed after a second of thought. She didn’t really have a choice. At that point all she wished for was her appointment to be over as soon as possible.

“There. Room 33. You shouldn’t have any problem with finding it”

Wilhemina thanked the woman and moved in the designated direction.

There were a lot of people - patients and doctors and nurses. It was nothing unusual. She had been there before. She had seen them before. But no matter how many times she had been there it always made her feel anxious. Her nervousness never ceased. Nothing and no one could make it stop. And the fact she actually had to face a different doctor made it even scarier.

Ridiculous. That’s ridiculous. She kept telling herself, as she was approaching the doctor’s office. She was a grown up woman for God’s sake. She should not have such a big problem with that. It was just an appointment. Just another follow-up visit. But it required her taking off her clothes and exposing the part of her she hated the most. The part she was ashamed of. And maybe that’s what she hated. Maybe it wasn’t about doctors or hospital, but the feeling of humiliation. Wilhemina didn’t have any more time to consider it, as she found herself standing at the door of the doctor’s office.

Room 33 it was. Wilhemina sighed, then took a deep breath. Composure. She had to keep her composure. She knocked.

“Yes?! Come on in!” she heard a muffled voice. Wilhemina slowly opened the door and soon her eyes set on a young woman. Her back was turned to Wilhemina. The woman looked as if she was trying to fix the examination couch. She looked strange. Hilarious even. But what surprised Wilhemina the most was the fact that the woman didn’t seem like a doctor at all. As a matter of fact, Venable was sure she was just some assistant.

“Please, sit down. I just need to fix it. Ugh, I’ve told them so many times that they should change them to electric adjustable ones” the woman complained

“I think I may have come to the wrong room… I’m looking for a doctor”

“I am a doctor” the woman stated, not looking at Wilhemina

“I mean a real doctor”

“Yes. A real doctor”

“Doctor Y/L/N”

At those words you turned to face her - a small smile on your face.

“It’s you? You are… her?”

“Yes” you nodded “I’m doctor Y/N Y/L/N. And I can assure you I am, indeed, a real doctor. I specialise in orthopedics and physiotherapy. If it makes you calmer, I can show you my certificates”

“No. It’s fine. You just look very…”

“Yes?”

“Different from other doctors”

“Oh, well, maybe it’s because I’m new here or because I’m actually different” you smiled “Or both” you shrugged “Anyways, how can I help you Ms-?

“Venable. I’m Wilhemina Venable” she stated proudly

You nodded in acknowledgement.

“I came for my usual follow-up appointment with doctor Rogers, but they told me he’s not here and sent me to see you apparently”

“Wonderful!” you said with excitement “I mean... I still don’t have many patients here, so I’m just very excited. Oh Gosh, that’s probably not the right thing to say, but I can’t help it”

Wilhemina couldn’t deny that your behaviour was kind of endearing, incredibly unprofessional, but endearing.

“Please, sit down, Ms Venable” you pointed to one of the chairs at your desk, before making your way to sit down yourself.

Wilhemina sat down and watched as you typed something on your laptop.

“I need to have a look at your hospital record and then I’ll examine you” you explained

The redhead watched you as you kept scrolling, reading all the information about her condition. The grip on her cane tightened, when you moved. You looked at her and smiled sympathetically. Wilhemina’s doctor never smiled.

“Let’s move on to the examination couch. Please, take off your jacket and shirt… Well, it’s not your first visit so you probably know what to do”

Wilhemina sighed, putting her cane to the side. She slowly unbuttoned her shirt, but hesitated to take it off. Her hands were shaking, just a little bit, but you noticed it, the same as you noticed a little frown on her face. You could say it was causing her a lot of stress. You understood it. You had always been an incredibly empathetic person. That’s why you decided to become a doctor. To help people. To cure them and make their life at least a tad easier.

“Listen, I know it’s probably not nice, but I’m here to help you”

Wilhemina nodded. Her lips formed a thin line. She knew it. She knew you were there to help, but she just wished she didn’t need your help. She didn’t like the fact that she had to rely on help, on you or doctors in general.

“I…” she hesitated “I just really don’t like doctors”

“Oh… Would you believe me if I say that I completely understand?”

“No”

“Well, let’s sit down” you said

Wilhemina did as you said and watched as you approached her. She couldn’t help, but suddenly notice all the features of a doctor in you. The most significant - a white overall you wore was making her head spin.

“So, when I was a child I was terrified when I had to go to see my doctor. I still am scared when I have to be examined”

“But you’re a doctor”

“Yes, but it’s different. On this side it feels different. I don’t think about doctors. I don’t think about me being a doctor when I examine my patients. All I think about is that I’m here to help them and that’s my priority. The same as your priority is to get better, to get checked and go back home knowing everything is alright”

Wilhemina nodded, not looking at you. She couldn’t force herself to do it.

“You don’t like this white overall, am I right?”

The redhead nodded sheepishly.

“It’s okay. I don’t like it either” you stated, standing up and taking it off “Look, underneath I have normal clothes. I’m just a human. An average person who just happens to have a doctorate in medicine” you winked at her

Wilhemina tried to smile, but failed. She was still overwhelmed.

“How about you trying to close your eyes? It always helps me. Close your eyes and pretend I’m not here. I promise I’ll just take a look. I won’t touch you”

“O-okay”

You smiled, before moving to stand behind her.

“I always told myself that nothing’s gonna hurt me with my eyes shut”

Wilhemina took a deep breath and closed her eyes, letting her shirt fall off of her arms, exposing her back. She kept repeating your words in her head. She knew you were looking at her back, but as promised you didn’t touch her. And that made her feel a bit better. You made her feel better. Whenever her doctor was examining her, she felt humiliated, but not with you. Her doctor had no sort of empathy or gentleness, while you were overflowing with it. And that was something she actually liked.

“You can put your shirt on” you said after a moment. It was barely a minute, but it felt like eternity for Wilhemina. The redhead sighed with relief, opening her eyes. She quickly put her clothes back on. Then she stood up and straightened her skirt, making sure she looked presentable, composed. Her usual self was back, there was no sight of her distress no more. She did her best to suck it up, hide all the feelings deep inside, so that no one could see. Evading all sorts of emotion - that was her tactic. Though it didn’t always work.

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” you asked, as both of you sat at your desk

“No” she said

“Everything is fine, Ms Venable. Your hospital record says that you complained about the pain. I can prescribe you some medicine”

Wilhemina was about telling you that she already had a lot of different types of pills, but you continued.

“I know doctor Rogers gave you painkillers, but I think that they’re not the answer to the problem. Not completely at least. I’ll prescribe you some pills that can ease muscle tension and improve blood supply. I’ll also suggest some exercises? I can compile a set of exercises for you if you’d like me to” you smiled

Wilhemina was a bit surprised. She hadn’t expected that any doctor could be so nice and helpful actually.

“Oh, and one more thing”

“Yes?”

“Do you drink coffee, Ms Venable?”

“Are you going to ask me out?” she asked nonchalantly, dead sure she could see through you

“Actually, I was going to say that coffee might be the reason for your trouble with sleeping” you stated, pointing at your laptop

“Oh… I-” Wilhemina almost blushed, she almost let her perplexion display. Suddenly too shy to come up with some witty response, but she’d not have a chance to say anything anyway, as you continued

“As a matter of fact, I wanted to ask you out at the end of the appointment, but since you mentioned it. Would you like to go out with me?”

“I... “ Wilhemina hesitated “Are you even allowed to go out with your patients? Isn’t that unprofessional or forbidden?”

“Well, technically it is. It may be considered unprofessional too, but practically you’re not my patient, besides I’m not wearing my overall right now. So, what’s the final answer?” you asked, looking at her expectantly

“Alright” Wilhemina said calmly, her face unreadable, but you didn’t pay attention. You scribbled down on a piece of paper and then handed it to her.

“This is my number. You can call me whenever you want to”

Wilhemina looked into your eyes, but said nothing.

“Oh, and if you hate hospitals this much, you could opt for outcalls” you said, as the two of you stopped at the door

Wilhemina raised her eyebrow looking at you.

“Trying to barg in, I see. Well, I’ll consider it”

“Great! I look forward to the next meeting with you. Hopefully, it won’t be at the hospital. And now I need to go, I have an operation to perform. It was really nice to meet you, Ms Venable” and with that you were gone, leaving Wilhemina standing at the hall of the hospital.

A piece of paper still in her hand. The redhead looked at your number. This time she couldn’t help, but smile. A genuine, big smile appeared on her face as she thought of seeing you again, this time outside the hospital and without her eyes shut.

The smile would most likely remain on her face if she hadn’t spotted some man looking at her.

“What are you staring at?” she growled, causing him to turn his head immediately

That was another reason for her hating hospitals - people staring, watching her. But this time she was in a good mood. Too good to be bothered by some odious man. Not to mention that all she could think of was you - the new doctor.

Tag list: @midnight-lestrange, @natasha-danvers, @stopkillinglilyrabe, @welshdragonrawr, @saucy-sapphic, @yang12e, @xixxiixx (if I somehow missed someone, let me know)

#it's 2am but who cares #why not to write about our precious purple queen #wilhemina venable #wilhemina venable x reader #AHS #ahs apocalypse #sarah paulson #sarah paulson imagine #ahs fanfiction #ahs imagine

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thisbrokenmask · 4 years

Text

A Little Medical Magic

Title: A Little Medical Magic

Pairing: Seokjin x reader

Genre: Meet-cute?, fluff, hospital au

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 5.1k

Song inspiration: Dope (music video)

A/N: So I’m very aware that I’m nowhere close to finishing my bingo card before the end of the challenge (the end of this month), but I’m going to try and write them all anyway, no matter how long it takes. My next submission for ficswithluv’s Bulletproof Bingo Event is my Dope inspired drabble, and this one takes inspo from the video rather than the song itself. Gotta love some Dr Seokjin <3

“Just a little longer, darling, I promise,” you speak softly into the hair of the boy in your arms, holding him close to your chest and rocking him gently. He whimpers, exhausted from the hours of sobbing and screaming he’d already endured throughout the night. You kiss his temple, pleased to feel his skin has cooled slightly despite the warmth that still radiates from him and sheen of sweat that still lingers.

You’ve been sitting in the A&E waiting room for just under half an hour, but it feels like much longer when your son has cried through most of his waking hours over the last two days. You’ve done everything you can, tried every medicine and home remedy you’ve had access to, but Iseul’s condition hasn’t improved. It started with a high temperature and gradually grew into a fever that you have been unable to break and you know better than to leave him suffering any longer. You’re trying to keep calm for his sake, knowing that he’s intuitive and perceptive enough to pick up on your fear even if he is only three years old.

“Mrs Y/l/n?” A nurse holding a clipboard calls your name across the room, although the prefix catches you off guard at first. You blink a few times before realising she means you, gathering Iseul in your arms before grabbing your purse to follow her. Iseul wraps his arms around your neck, snuggling into your chest and whining at the movement.

“It’s Miss Y/l/n,” you say as politely as you can, offering a smile before she can even begin to form an apology. “Don’t worry, most people assume. It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

You briefly remember now how you used to meekly allow people to assume you were married just because you had a son despite the absence of a ring of your finger. It didn’t take long for you to start correcting people, however, taking pride in everything you were achieving as a single mother rather than submitting to society’s attempts to shame you for not being with the father, let alone not being married. But when you’d found out you were pregnant just a few months into your last relationship, your still-new boyfriend had panicked and scarpered, so you felt no remorse at not being with him considering how easily he’d left you on your own.

The very second Iseul was put into your arms at his birth, you were besotted, and you’d known then, as long as you had your son by your side, you could face anything the world had to throw at you. The last three years haven't been easy by any means, juggling motherhood and your career, but you couldn’t even imagine now what your life would be like now without your son.

The nurse shows you into a consultation room, telling you the doctor will be with you in a moment before she leaves. You lay Iseul down on the examination bed and unwrap his hands from your neck despite his complaints, taking them in one of yours instead as you sit beside him. You stroke his hair softly, pushing it away from his forehead as you do so, and hum the sweetest melody you know. Your mother used to sing it to you when you were a child and the tune immediately came back to your memory when Iseul was born, as if it were a secret song only mothers knew. It has always settled him and you take comfort in the fact that you can at least give him that when your medicines haven’t worked.

As he gazes up at you, his face red and watery eyes shining under the fluorescent lights, you feel a sharp tug at the ever-present pull on your heart. It’s like a thread immediately unravelled in your heart when you gave birth to him, the other end attached to your son, pulling you towards him no matter where either of you were. You wish you could help him, that you didn’t have to bring him into the hospital environment that you hate so much at three in the morning, but you know this is what’s best for him.

The door suddenly opens behind you, making you jump slightly, and you turn to see the doctor walk in. You’re not sure if he looks so tall because you’re sitting down or if he really is that tall, but you immediately notice how you’re surprised that the small smile on his face actually reaches his eyes as he walks over to the desk on the other side of the room, white coat billowing out behind him.

Your last experience with a hospital doctor was when Iseul was born and, despite it being one of the greatest moments of your life, you can’t help the ghost of shame that creeps up your spine when you remember the way your doctor spoke to and about you. Yes, you’d been young, single and with your mother instead of the baby’s father, but you’d never expected such an emotionally detached reaction from the doctor. The nurses had looked after you incredibly, always making sure you were comfortable before and after Iseul’s arrival, but you’d never forget overhearing the doctor as he left, his assertion that he had another baby to deliver - this time to a “proper family”. Ever since, you’d had a wary disposition against doctors, constantly on alert that they would tell you that you were doing things wrong by being a single mother and not granting Iseul a male presence in his life, as if that were the most valuable thing in the world.

But this doctor seems a lot younger and, while you try not to let any prejudice shape your opinion, you can’t help but think he looks much more welcoming than any doctor you’ve met before. Maybe it’s because he’s a paediatrician, or maybe it’s the way his dark eyes seem to be permanently shining with a smile, but you instantly feel your own wariness beginning to ease.

It’s possibly also because he’s really quite attractive. He really does seem to be that tall and you note that the broadness of his shoulders is also not a trick of perspective. His dark hair sits just over his eyebrows, bringing your attention down to his large, dark brown eyes as they read the file that was left on the desk for him. Under his white coat is a simple white shirt, but it’s the tie that catches your attention: it’s bright red, not dissimilar to the red fire truck toy Iseul has at home, but it’s covered in little white hearts. You catch yourself smiling before he looks up at you, turning away and hoping he doesn’t notice any dusting on your cheeks.

“Who do we have here then?” he asks as he comes over to the bed holding the file, eyes already searching for every visual clue he can find to help him diagnose your son.

“Iseul,” you say with a brief flash of a small smile to the doctor before turning to your son, repeating his name and trying to coax Iseul out from hiding his eyes under his arms. He’d immediately crossed them over his face when you’d let go at the entrance of the doctor, shielding his eyes from the bright lights above him.

The doctor, however, seems unperturbed by your son’s reluctance to look at him.

“Ah, hello Iseul,” he says, carrying on as normal as he pulls over the chair by the desk and takes a seat, tucking his coat underneath him out of habit. “My name is Dr Kim, but you can call me Seokjin, if you like.” When Iseul still doesn’t look at him, Seokjin smiles sympathetically and turns to you. “So, Mum, what seems to be the problem?”

You’re ashamed that being on the end of his direct gaze makes you a different kind of nervous than you expected when you came to the hospital, especially when your son is lying on the bed beside you. Shaking your head slightly, you miss the smirk on the doctor’s face as you turn to your child.

“Uh, he’s had a high temperature for the last few days,” you say, placing a protective hand on his tummy, “ He keeps saying his head hurts, but paracetamol doesn’t seem to help much and I worry about giving him too much. He’s been off his food, too, even when I make his favourites, and he’s been sick a few times.”

Seokjin nods as he takes a few notes, adding to what’s already written in the file in his hand. You can’t figure out if his blank expression is solemn or just concentration and it makes your heart beat a little faster for the little boy under your hand.

“Iseul, buddy, is it alright if I take your temperature?”

Your son shakes his head under his arms before whimpering at the movement.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” you coo. “Doctor Kim’s gonna make you feel better, okay?”

“I sure am,” Seokjin’s voice is confident but warm and almost playful and you feel a flutter of relief when you see Iseul’s eyes peek out from under his arms and flicker towards him. “Do you think you can sit up for me?” Iseul’s not had much experience with doctors, not any that he would remember, anyway, and you don’t want to pass on your hesitancy, so you smile and nod encouragingly when he finally looks to you for reassurance.

Iseul thinks for a few seconds before he reaches out for you and you help him to sit up, wrapping your arm around him so that he can shuffle up to your side. You see his eyes widen as he takes in Seokjin’s full appearance for the first time, his attention immediately drawn to the shiny stethoscope around the doctor’s neck.

“You gonna let Doctor check your temperature?” you squeeze his shoulder lightly and stroke his hair again as he watches Seokjin curiously, his eyes constantly drifting down to the instrument around the doctor’s neck.

“All you gotta do is hold this under your tongue for me for a few seconds, okay?” Seokjin tells him, showing him a small thermometer, and your son nods shyly, still sniffling slightly. “Fabulous,” Seokjin praises his cooperation and you grin at the little smile that creeps onto your son’s face. “Now, let’s see how wide you can open your mouth, shall we?” Iseul makes a large ‘O’ with his lips, making both you and the doctor chuckle. “Oh, I know a grown boy like you can do better than that!” Seokjin teases and Iseul proves him right, allowing the doctor to slip the thermometer under his tongue. “Now, see if you can hold that perfectly still for me - without biting it,” he quickly adds, knowing most children are immediately tempted to do just that. “Pretend it’s a straw, okay?” Iseul does as he’s told, looking up at you before crossing his eyes to look down his nose at the thermometer.

“Good job, baby,” you encourage him as he keeps flicking his eyes between you and the instrument. You press a kiss to the top of his dark brown hair and are relieved to feel that his temperature has lessened slightly, even if only temporarily.

“Let me see?” Doctor Kim leans over and you watch him take note of the temperature before taking the thermometer from Iseul’s mouth and laying it gently on a tray beside the bed. “Excellent, I knew you could do it!” He offers Iseul a high five, which your son eagerly grants him with more enthusiasm than you’ve seen in him lately and it makes your heart swell just that little bit more. Seokjin carefully takes his stethoscope from around his neck and holds it in his lap before leaning forward conspiratorially. “Now, as you were such a good boy, I’m allowed to show you a little bit of magic… would you like to see it?”

Iseul nods but then frowns, glancing at you before looking back to Dr Kim.

“Mummy can’t watch, though.” A cry of indignation escapes you at your son’s words, but Seokjin simply laughs.

“No?” Iseul shakes his head with a solemn expression, as if it pains him to speak the truth, and Seokjin continues to humour him, despite the splutters of objection you’re trying to swallow. “And why’s that?”

“Mummy hasn’t been a good girl,” your son states this like it’s obvious, much to Seokjin’s amusement.

“Excuse me?” you can feel the heat rise in your cheeks, a million thoughts flying through your head and a slight stab of betrayal in your heart, although you weren’t even sure what he’d be talking about. Sure, you enjoyed a glass of wine or two on a Friday night, but you always made sure to tidy everything away before your son awoke for breakfast the next morning. You didn’t swear in front of him. You hadn’t had anyone other than your closest friends over to your house since Iseul was born, and the three dates you’d tried had ended at the front step.

“Oh dear,” Seokjin sighs, although a playful smirk tugs at his lips as he looks at you, dark eyes shining like jet as he quickly looks you from head to toe. “Mummy’s been a bad girl, huh?”

An aggressive blush fills your cheeks and you suddenly feel like the little room is overheating, too stuffy to breathe properly as the devilishly handsome doctor in front of you simply quirks an eyebrow. ‘Stop flirting with the doctor!’ you berate yourself. ‘You’re here for your son!’ Your eyes involuntarily drop down to Seokjin’s hands, but his left hand is tucked neatly under his right over the top of his stethoscope, so you can’t see if a ring sits on his finger or not. You presume he is married, though, or at least dating someone, given how absolutely perfect he seems to be.

“...no,” Iseul says, looking up to the ceiling as if deep in thought and you recognise it as the way he tries to avoid looking at you when you’ve caught him trying to lie, and Seokjin looks back to him as soon as he speaks. “But she hasn’t done nothing good, neither! I had the ‘mometer in my mouth, she didn’t.”

“Ahh, I see,” Seokjin nods sagely, his hand pressed to his chin and the other folded across his chest, pouting slightly as he considers Iseul’s argument. “You make a good point,” he says, “how about this, then - I show you the magic, and then you can show Mummy?”

“You’ll teach me?” Iseul’s eyes light up, not even illness getting in the way of his love for magic tricks - especially magic tricks he can perform for you.

“Of course!” Seokjin grins, “although I’m sure you’ll do it first try no problem.” He looks to you and winks quickly, lifting the stethoscope slightly to signal to you what he was planning, and you return the slightest nod you can manage without drawing your son’s attention. “You ready?” he asks your son, who immediately turns to you and pushes at your arm.

“Don’t look, Mummy! Not allowed!”

Happy to see your son with more energy, you play along for his benefit, dramatically sighing and turning your body slightly so that he thinks you aren’t watching. You can, however, see his reflection in the glass-lined cabinet on the other side of the room, and watch as Seokjin presents the stethoscope to your son.

“Now this,” he says, and you smile at the way he softens his voice to make it sound much more fantastical for Iseul, “is a very special thing. It lets you hear a person’s heart.”

“Wow! Really?” Reflection-Iseul leans forward slightly and puts his hand out, reaching out to touch the stethoscope before retracting his hand, as if he might break the magic if he does. His eyes are wide and awestruck despite the traces of illness still lingering in his reddened cheeks and dampened hairline.

“Really. How about I show you how it’s done, and then you can try it on Mummy?” Your son’s reflection nods as avidly as he can without hurting himself, although you still see the traces of a frown pull at his brow when he does so. Seokjin puts the earpieces in before taking hold of the other end, showing it to Iseul and explaining that this is the magic piece that lets him hear people’s hearts. He explains that the heart can only be heard by good, kind people who care about others, which is why they all become doctors and nurses, before pointing to the part of Iseul’s chest he’s going to listen to and telling him he has to sit still for it to work.

And it works without a hitch, Iseul watching, amazed, as Seokjin listens to his heartbeat. After a few seconds, Seokjin starts nodding to himself and then pulls away.

“Yep, seems like we’ve got a good heart in there,” he says, putting the stethoscope back in his lap as he takes some notes. “You should be able to do this magic no problem.”

A tugging at your sleeve encourages you to turn around, fistfuls of your jacket sleeve in your son’s hands, and you smile down at your son.

“Did you see the magic?” you ask him, and he is all but bouncing on the bed.

“I did! Dr Seokjin says I’ve got a good heart and I can do the magic, too!”

You look at the doctor in question, catching him watching your interaction with your son with a warmth in his eyes before he notices you looking at him and looks back down at his papers, clearing his throat. You refrain from smirking at the blush on his cheeks and turn back to your son.

“Wow, really? You can do magic? Can you show me?”

Without any further prompting needed, Seokjin lends forward as he removes the stethoscope once again, this time scooting his chair closer to the bed. He offers the chest piece to Iseul, telling him to hold onto it while he moves to put the earpieces in place. He plans to hold them rather than letting them press on Iseul’s young ears, but as soon as even the slightest pressure touches his ears, Iseul shrieks and drops his end of the stethoscope. He pushes Seokjin’s hands away and covers his ears with his own, burying his face into your side.

You’re immediately panicking, but Seokjin quickly retracts the stethoscope and drops it to the bed, nothing more than a brief frown furrowing his brow before he reaches into his pocket to pull out a small instrument.

“Do your ears hurt, Iseul?” Your son nods against you, your arms already wrapped around him. “Can I have a look?” You expect your son to scream in refusal given the fact that Seokjin’s last instrument caused the pain in the first place, but you’re surprised when your son simply nods again, rubbing his eyes as he sits up again. Seokjin seems to have gained his trust incredibly quickly, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t thrilled that he wasn’t holding his experience against the doctor.

With the utmost care, Seokjin uses the tool in his hand to check Iseul’s ears before pulling away with a soft, yet somewhat relieved, sigh.

“It appears that Iseul has an infection in his left ear, which explains everything you’ve said he’s been going through,” he says, turning to you briefly before rolling back over to the desk. “I’ll get some antibiotics sorted for him, and he’ll be as right as rain in no time.”

The smile he gives you is reassuring, but you can’t bring yourself to smile back. You hold your son close as you curse yourself for not even thinking about the possibility of an ear infection, especially as it was now so obvious as you recalled Iseul’s increased habit of touching his ears over the last few days. He’d told you his head had been hurting, but you hadn’t realised he’d actually meant his ears. You feel a sinking in your chest at the idea that you’ve failed your own son, whose cries have now settled back down to hiccups, but Seokjin quickly catches on.

“Hey,” his voice is soft, calling you out of your reverie. He doesn’t want to assume what you’re thinking, but he’s seen the same look on plenty of parents’ faces over the last few years and he can take a good guess. “He’ll be okay.”

You nod quietly, still frowning but somehow reassured by the simple statement.

“Thank you, Doctor,” you say, rising to put your purse over your shoulder properly this time before lifting your son onto your hip. You take the signed prescription slip he offers you, ready to go off in search of someone to fill it for you, but he places a gentle hand on your arm to stop you.

“You’re doing a good job, Miss Y/l/n,” he says softly, and it takes you a few seconds to realise he hasn’t immediately assumed you’re married. “Don’t pressure yourself, okay?”

It’s been a long time since someone has outwardly praised you like this, especially a stranger, and it catches you off guard, your breath catching in your throat. Seokjin’s gaze flickers between your eyes for a few seconds, waiting until he’s sure you’ve taken him seriously, before he offers a gentle smile and removes his hand from your arm.

As you leave the examination room, Seokjin directs you to the hospital’s pharmacy and assures you that you should be able to pick up the antibiotics from them without an issue. He seems to hesitate, opening his mouth and closing it again before wishing you a good night and walking away, and you try not to think too much about the lingering flutter in your chest as you set off in your own direction.

You sink back into your chair as you place your mug back on the table, directing your gaze out of the large floor-to-ceiling window to the high street just beyond it. You idly watch as the Saturday morning shoppers hurry back and forth, some families and couples lingering at shop windows as others push on to their next destination. The summer sun casts everything in a brightness that you can’t help but feel joy in, even as the sun’s rays are amplified through the glass and make your legs feel like they’re burning up.

You turn back to look around the coffee shop you’re sat in, reminding yourself that you don’t have any reason to rush right now. The rare, stolen moment of unhurried peace that you haven’t felt in a long time is something you know you need to cherish, because in just over twenty-four hours your son will be coming home from his grandparents’ house, but it does feel strange to not have your son joyfully chattering across the table from you.

Your mother had offered to let Iseul stay over at their for the weekend, half out of her love of spending time with her grandson and half out of concern for the way you were constantly rushed off of your feet, either from being a mother or from your job as a curator for the National History Museum. It was a small treat for you to be able to get a weekend to yourself and go shopping on your own, not having to worry about your son running in and out of changing rooms while you tried on new clothes, and you’ve decided to also indulge in a slightly overpriced coffee without having to rush while you have the chance.

As your eyes skim down the line of patrons waiting to order, you think you recognise one of them but can’t quite place where you know him from. He’s tall, clearly several inches above the other people in the line, with dark hair sitting on top of a pair of dark-rimmed glasses. The light of his phone reflects in his lenses as he gazes down at it, avidly watching or reading whatever it is that’s caught his attention, and his lips are pushed out in a small pout in the midst of his concentration.

Despite the weather, he’s in black skinny jeans that look sinfully tight above the knees and bring further attention to his height, but you suppose the loose white t-shirt hanging off his broad shoulders must be helping him to stay rather cool-

Wait... incredibly tall, broad shoulders… it couldn’t be?

So lost is he in his phone, the man at the end of your gaze doesn’t notice the gap forming in front of him until the slightly elderly patron behind him clears his throat gently. You hear him apologise several times to the man behind him (who just smiles softly and tells him not to worry) and lets the man go up the counter first by way of an apology, and it’s only when you hear his voice that you realise who he is.

You’re pretty certain the jump in your heartbeat is cause for concern when you finally recognise him without the white coat. You start slightly, almost choking on nothing and quickly hide your reddening face by looking down at your drink, then out of the window again, then down to your phone. You bring up the home screen even though you know no one has texted you, desperate for something to do to put off looking up again, instead trying to figure out what had caused your reaction in the first place.

Of course, he was attractive - in fact he was ridiculously so - and he had been kind to you and your son, but that was his job as a paediatrician. Maybe it was the way he’d reassured you, been one of the first strangers in a while to assuage your underlying fears that you weren’t adequate as a single mother, or perhaps it was that last lingering look that had stayed with you as he’d said goodbye in A&E-

“Miss Y/l/n?” Your thoughts are cut short by a voice beside you. Looking up, you see the broad-shouldered doctor standing beside your table, holding his own drink in a takeaway cup. He smiles when you look up at him, apparently happy to have recognised you.

“Dr Kim?” You immediately blush at the squeaky voice that tumbles out of your mouth, a hand flying to cover your mouth.

“Call me Seokjin, please,” he smiles, a gentle blush on his cheeks when he can’t quite meet your eyes, seemingly less confident outside of his hospital halls. “Sorry for interrupting, I just thought I’d come over and say hello.”

In actual fact, he has no idea what made him come over to you. He sees his patients and their parents outside of the hospital all the time and never bats an eyelid, knowing it comes with the territory of working at the main hospital in the city, but when he’d seen you staring out of the window, a serene look on your face as you watched the people passing you by, he’d felt compelled to go over to you. So when the barista had handed him his drink, he’d followed his feet to stand beside your table.

“How’s your son doing?”

“Iseul? He’s fine, thank you.” You think back to what he’d said to you before you’d made to leave. “He was right as rain in no time, just like you said.” God, why did that sound better in your head than it did out loud?

“I’m glad,” Seokjin’s eyes briefly disappear behind his glasses when he nods happily, the reflection of the light above him making the lens white until he looks down to you again. “I told you he would be.” He tries not to wince as he groans internally, cursing himself for being so awkward when it comes to small talk. It’s never been his strong point, which is why he likes working with children as they don’t do small talk either. He’d rather field all of their weird and wonderful thoughts and questions than talk to their parents about the weather or sports he doesn’t watch.

You both fall into silence, still awkwardly smiling at each other without quite making eye contact. Your pulse is racing in your ears and you know it’s not the coffee.

“Would you like to join me?” You’re not quite sure where the offer comes from but you gesture to the chair on the other side of your table before you can help yourself. Seokjin’s eyes widen behind his lenses at your question and he looks at the chair with an expression that could be either pained or offended - you’re not quite sure.

It takes a few seconds for you to remember that he’d ordered his drink to go, the takeaway cup taunting you from his hand as he shifts his weight from foot to foot and now you’re not sure whether to hastily backtrack or just wait for him to reject you.

“Never mind-”

“I’d love to-”

You blink at each other when you speak at the same time, but luckily Seokjin blesses you with a chuckle rather and breaks the tension holding your heart hostage.

“I wouldn’t be disturbing you?” he asks, and when you shake your head with a smile he takes the seat.

“You don’t have to, if you’re busy?” You point to his cup, wondering where he’d been planning on going with it, wondering if there was maybe a partner waiting for him somewhere on the street outside.

“Oh, no, I’m not busy,” he fiddles with the lid on his cup, suddenly shy as he admits, “I don’t really like sitting in cafes alone, so I tend to just get it to go instead.” He hesitates and then looks up at you, his gaze steady despite the blush of pink creeping down the side of his neck. “But I guess I’m not alone this time, though, am I?”

“You’re not,” you agree, delighting in the way his lips transform into the most adorable smile you’ve ever seen on a grown man. You decide then and there that, even if it’s only for today, you’re going to try and keep that smile on his face for as long as possible. Clearing your throat, you lean your arms against the table and meet his gaze when he looks over at you. “So, Seokjin-”

“Jin.”

“I’m sorry?”

“My friends call me Jin,” he clarifies and you feel another little skip in your chest, then he motions for you to continue speaking as he lifts his drink to take a sip and hide his own blushing cheeks.

If you’d like to read any of my other drabbles, please visit my masterlist here.

#kim seokjin fic #kim seokjin #seokjin #jin #bts fic #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts #seokjin fluff #doctor seokjin #doctor kim seokjin #doctor au #bts doctor au #fwlbingo #bulletproof bingo #ficswithluv #dope #bts dope #dts drabbles

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lizziedoesvetpath · 4 years

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Anatomic and Clinical Pathology - What’s the difference?

Pathology Saturday’s with Lizze part 3 comes to you on... Sunday. Sorry guys, a side effect of residency in any specialty is that they kind of own you, so when I got a call at 3am on Saturday morning I had to go, and that sleep deprivation interfered with my writing plans.

Today’s topic is a question I get every time I talk about veterinary pathology. To be honest, I didn’t even really understand the difference myself until I started to think about doing a pathology residency.

Before we start, make sure you check out the first two Pathology Saturday posts on necropsy and histology. Ok, now we’re ready!

1) You have two seconds to explain the difference - go!

My rapid fire explanation is this - if you sample it with a needle it’s clinical, if you sample it with a knife it’s anatomic.

2) Ummm... ok, what does that actually mean?

The difference between the two specialties comes down to the types of things we look at and the methodology we use to come to a diagnosis. This affects not just what we do, but where we work and how quickly we can give you an answer.

3) What does an anatomic pathologist do?

Anatomic pathology covers two main diagnostic methodologies I’ve already written introductory posts on - necropsy and histology. Those posts are linked about but the quick summary is this:

Necropsy - dissection of a cadaver and examination of the tissues with the naked eye to look for lesions (changes associated with disease or injury) and collect samples for bacteriology, toxicology, and of course, histology.

Histology - microscopic examination of slides made from thinly sliced tissue specimens collected at necropsy or surgery (biopsies). With this we can look at the types of cells in the tissue and how those cells fit together (the architecture).

Structure is an important feature assessed in anatomic pathology, so the techniques we use maintain that. As opposed to...

4) What does a clinical pathologist do?

Clinical pathology includes interpretation of blood tests (biochemistry and the complete blood count), urine tests, and cytology. Now I’m not an expert on any of this but I’ll quickly explain cytology because it’s where the two specialties tend to get confused.

Cytology - microscopic examination of slides made with cells where the tissue architecture is not maintained or assessable. These cells are collected through aspiration (sticking a needle in something), scraping, or pressing someting against the slide. You get a random selection of whatever cells can be picked up by the method that you choose. You can also look at fluids (which may or may not contain cells) this way.

5) What else is different?

Residency - from my understanding, many anatomic pathology residencies will take you straight out of vet school (how I got into this). Clinical pathology residencies tend to prefer that you have experience in clinical practice, and often like you to have completed a rotating clinical internship as well. In some places a pathology residency will cover a bit of both specialty though, so things can get complicated!

Where are things done? - Parts of each specialty can be done by a general practice vet in clinic, but obviously there are added benefits to consulting a specialist. A lot of GP vets will do some of their own clinical pathology - in-house blood analysers are becoming more common, where you can get point of care results for quick analysis, and most clinics have a microscope so they can take a quick look at cytology to make the decision to ask a specialist or not. GP vets can also do their own necropsies, which is a good way to reduce costs. However GP clinics are not set up to do their own histology - that requires a lot of processing that isn’t plausible within a GP clinic, and vets aren’t routinely trained in much histopathological interpretation.

I have heard of specialist clinics with in-house clinical pathologists for convenient consultation by other specialists. This allows them to work closely with internal medicine over blood and urine results, and cytology of fluid pulled from abomens and chests; and both surgeons and medics can benefit from other cytological examination. Anatomic pathologists, largely because of the need for histology processing equipment, tend to be more affiliated with diagnostic labs, although there are many of these located close to or associated with teaching hospitals.

So that’s the basics of the difference for you guys! Any clinical pathologists out there, feel free to chime in and correct me because I obviously don’t have a lot of experience with the specifics of becoming and being a clinical pathologist.

There’s a list of topics I’m thinking about at the bottom of the histology post if people are interested in placing votes, otherwise next weekend I’ll just pick what takes my fancy :)

#pathology saturdays #lizzie does pathology #pathology #vet pathology #vet path #veterinary pathology #vetblr #vetschool #vetstudent #cytology #anatomic pathology #anatomic #histology #necropsy #pathologysaturdays

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vaguelyprophetic · 4 years

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top surgery experience

so i’m officially one week post-top surgery and i figured it might be helpful for some people if i shared my experience so! here we go!

i got top surgery with a surgeon in michigan (feel free to DM me if you want to know specifics, i just don’t feel comfortable putting that info out publicly). she was absolutely incredible and even though she doesn’t have a lot of results posted online, she showed me some of her past results and they all came out really well. if anyone is in michigan (or out of state, even, if you’re able to travel and if your insurance will cover it) and looking for a surgeon i would definitely recommend her.

consultation: i had a consultation back in march where i got to meet the surgeon, talk about which surgery i wanted/was a candidate for, and how to get in contact with a therapist to write a letter for my insurance. i loved my surgeon from the very first moment i met her. she was energetic and super helpful and answered all of our questions thoroughly. i was technically a candidate for peri, but i decided to go with double incision because i liked the results better and it gives you the most control over how your chest ends up looking

getting approval for surgery: my insurance required one letter from a therapist in order to cover surgery, so i scheduled a few appointments with a therapist that my surgeon had worked with before. it only took 2 or 3 sessions before my therapist had the letter ready, and scheduling surgery happened very soon after that. i managed to get in really quickly for my surgery (about one month after i got my letter approved), but i’m pretty sure that i just got lucky that we were able to move that quickly

pre-op appointment: not much to say about this. we met with my surgeon’s PA and went back over consent forms and what surgery would look like, some of the restrictions during recovery, etc. the PA was just as kind and helpful as the surgeon (the whole staff was) and the appointment was super quick and easy.

day of surgery: my surgery wasn’t until the afternoon, so i was able to sleep in a little later. instead i woke up super early from anxiety and played animal crossing for a while lol. i changed my sheets, took a shower with the special soap they gave me, and packed a backpack with an extra change of clothes, my phone charger, my toothbrush, and a zip-up hoodie to wear home. checking in at the hospital was a little weird because of all of the covid restrictions and guidelines, but it wasn’t difficult. i was a little anxious just generally, but the staff was all great and helped me stay calm

surgery: went in to prep for surgery with one of the nurses. put on a gown and special hospital socks. had to pee in a cup to prove i wasn’t pregnant (even though i was 102% sure i wasn’t). they set up my iv and the nurse, the surgeon, and the anesthesiologist all came by to talk to me for a few minutes. the anesthesiologist did the nerve block on my sides to help control pain. eventually they gave me some oxygen and rolled me into the OR, then knocked me out. last thing i remember is being in the OR and one of the nurses or the anesthesiologist talking to me, then i fell asleep and woke up in recovery. my surgery was scheduled for about 5.5 hours, but i was done in a shorter time than that because i’m pretty slim and the surgeon was able to work faster.

post-op: woke up in the recovery room INCREDIBLY tired. don’t remember a lot from the first night, just that was super exhausted and didn’t feel great. i was only supposed to spend one night at the hospital, but i ended up spending 2 nights because i still felt super nauseous and dizzy and the doctors didn’t want to send me home like that. spent most of the time sleeping or attempting to eat crackers bc i had no appetite at all.

recovery: honestly recovery has been kinda rough, especially the first few days. luckily i didn’t have a lot of pain, just discomfort and some muscle issues. i had very little appetite for the first couple days, but it started to come back about 3-4 days into recovery. i know anesthesia affects everyone differently so you might not go through that, but that was my experience. (this was my first time getting major surgery and going under anesthesia. turns out i do not react well to it).

i did have some minor complications—i developed a hematoma (a pocket of fluid under the skin) and had some extra bleeding around my drain site. and not really a complication but i have a LOT of bruising especially on my right side where the hematoma is. it’s not really painful, just kinda frustrating and disappointing that after waiting so long and spending so much money, it’s still not completely right. but i keep trying to remind myself that healing is a process and eventually i’ll be fully healed and so much happier.

the drains honestly aren’t as bad as i was expecting. if blood makes you queasy then it might be rough, but they’re actually not TOO terrible. mostly just inconvenient. i’ve been on around the clock painkillers that definitely helped keep the pain to a minimum, so it was more just figuring out how to make myself as comfortable as possible.

if at all possible, you definitely want to have someone around who’s going to help you with medicine schedules, drains, and just being generally comfortable moving around and sleeping. i definitely couldn’t do any part of recovery without having someone with me to help out.

post-op appointment: had my post-op appt one day shy of being a full week out of surgery. they checked over my chest and my drains. because of the complications with draining/bleeding on my right side, they weren’t able to take that drain out, but they did take the left one out so i’m good on that side. they also took the bolsters off my nipples and everything looked as it should. i got to see both my surgeon and her resident and i felt a lot less stressed and anxious after the appointment. getting the drain out was a weird sensation but it went super quickly and i barely felt a thing. definitely one of the easiest parts of recovery so far. i did tear up a little when i finally saw my post-op chest and i’m really really happy about it.

if you want to know any more about my personal experience/any advice i have feel free to send me an ask or a message about it. it’s now weird being the one who can talk about my top surgery experience and i want to be as helpful as i can!!

#top surgery #ftm #transgender #double incision #im already one week post op it feels like it's been both 29 years and 2 days since surgery #very strange #alexander.txt

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adoreyou303 · 4 years

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Sweet Creature (H.S. Fic)

(CW: mentions of vomiting, pregnancy, and lots of fluff!)

Chapter 3

In the weeks following the attack, she’s been different. There is no question about why, but when her physical state starts to change, Harry’s attention is particularly piqued. Even though she seemed to be on the path to recovery from her trauma, she’s suddenly back to feeling tired, nauseous, and moody. These were all typical symptoms she struggled with in the throes of her PTSD in the first couple weeks after her assault; however, they began to lessen once she started therapy.

Harry watches her closely as she tries to rehearse her newest single, Misplaced. He can tell something is causing her discomfort, but it isn’t until she throws the guitar strap off her shoulder and runs out of the room that he realizes something else is going on. He is quick to follow down the hall, watching as she flings herself into the nearest room. Hot on her heels, he presses a palm to the door to stop it from closing. He catches a glimpse of her falling to her knees, hugging a trash can close to her chest, gagging violently.

“Love, why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” he asks, crouching behind her. He runs his fingers through her slightly sweaty hair, pulling it into a loose ponytail. “Sit back a little. Catch your breath.”

She slumps back into his chest, thankful his body is there to catch her. Taking some slow breaths, she tries to conjure an excuse to give Harry about why she didn’t tell him of the sickly feeling she’s felt lately. Before she gets the chance, she feels her stomach turn again.

“Again?” he questions, letting go of her as she reaches for the trash can. Nodding quickly, she tries to scoot further away from Harry, feeling embarrassed for being seen this way. She doesn’t get far before his warm hands find a place on her back.

“Okay?” he murmurs, rubbing her arms soothingly. Breathing quickly, but finally feeling better, she hums softly. She lays on the ground next to Harry, who runs his fingers through her hair. “What’s going on, love? You haven’t been well at all. I’m worried about you.”

“I think I’m just overtired.”

“Whenever you’re not here you’re sleeping. Are you sure? Maybe you should see the doctor,” he presses, his fingers gently caressing her face. She takes a moment to think back to her routine lately. She has been sleeping a lot, but no matter how much she sleeps, she is always tired.

“I guess getting a check up wouldn’t hurt,” she shrugs, closing her eyes and leaning into his touch. He nods with a small smile, feeling encouraged she is willing to get help.

The doctor’s office no longer feels like a place of help. Rather, it’s a place of triggers and trauma. The smell of wipes remind her of stitches in the most painful places. The lights above give way to uncomfortable memories staring at the ceiling waiting for scans, doctors, or investigators. The beeps, alarms, and hissing of machines that provide solace for families who rely on the steady sounds for reassurance of their loved ones brings feelings of anxiety, heightened nerves, and moistened hands knowing at any time it can alert the whole floor to her next panic attack.

She clutches Harry’s hand tightly as they wait in the small, underdecorated waiting room. Her leg bounces quickly as her mind wanders aimlessly. With his other hand, Harry reaches over and settles her leg.

“It’s okay, love. It’s a simple check up. In and out, then we can go home and you can rest,” he reassures. She nods nervously, her eyes never leaving the door. As soon as it opens, she bolts out of her chair towards the nurse. Harry quickly follows behind her and apologizes. “She’s quite nervous.”

“It’s no problem. I just need to get your weight and height before I get you to your room,” the nurse explains, gesturing to the scale. Melanie frowns when she notices her weight has changed in the last few weeks despite it being relatively stable. “I wouldn’t worry. It isn’t uncommon for weight to fluctuate after a stressful or traumatic event.”

She nods, but doesn’t seem convinced. Harry feels confused too. He hasn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary about her eating habits, but he also doesn’t pay attention to her weight. She looks beautiful to him. She always has. He follows behind the two women to the consultation room. He lingers behind before stepping in.

“Are you coming in?” she asks nervously.

“Would you like me to stay with you?”

“Please?” she squeaks, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. His face sports a gentle smile as he steps through the door frame, the nurse shutting the door behind him.

After her vitals are taken, Dr. Rameriz joins them.

“Hi, Melanie. I hear you’ve been feeling unwell. What’s been going on?” she asks, taking a seat in front of her. Melanie looks between Harry and the doctor before speaking.

“I don’t know… I guess lately I’ve been feeling really tired. I’ve been nauseous and I get irritable easily. It feels like how I used to when I was first attacked,” she shrugs, her eyes downcast.

“And…” Harry encourages her to continue. When it’s clear she isn’t going to share it herself, he takes it upon himself to speak for her. “She’s been throwing up quite a bit. We know her anxiety and panic can make her sick, but it seems a little more than usual.”

“Hmm. Melanie, have you had any tenderness anywhere? Your stomach, your back, or breasts?”

“Yes, all of those at some point.”

“I’m going to ask you a question and it’s going to be difficult. Do you remember the last time you had your period?” Dr. Rameriz questions, looking between the two. Harry can feel her stiffen next to him. He wraps his arm around her shrinking frame and reminds her to breathe.

“I-I don’t know. I thought you said the medicines you gave me at the hospital would stop my period for a while, s-so I haven’t been paying attention,” she stutters. Dr. Rameriz nods and types a few things into her computer.

“When you were at the hospital, we ran a full panel of tests. Those include a screening for STDs and STIs and a pregnancy test. All came back negative, but the issue with testing the day of the attack is it could be too early to detect any signs of infection or pregnancy..”

“Are you saying…?” Harry begins.

“I don’t know. I think right now our best option is to run some tests and go from there, okay?”

“Pink is positive, blue is negative,” the nurse reminds them, sticking the strip into the specimen cup. The room collectively holds its breath while they wait for her to pull it out. A small gasp escapes his mouth as the tip of the white paper turns an inescapable bright pink. He turns his head to look at her, but she sits in the chair next to him with an unreadable expression.

“Dr. Rameriz will be back in shortly to talk with you about your other test results,” the nurse says quietly, leaving the pink strip on the counter and slowly retreating from the room.

A loud silence rings out as the two process this news. Her arms hang limply in her lap, her eyes locked on the counter where the test lies. His shoulders tense as he remembers the face of her attacker. His blood boils every second he thinks his best friend would potentially have to relive this trauma for the rest of her life by looking at a child who shares half the genes of her attacker. Neither one of them can think of words to speak at this moment, so they remain silent until a knock on the door cuts through the air like a knife.

“I just got your results,” she starts solemnly, reading the room. “The good news is you are completely clear of any type of infection. You are as healthy as can be. I see you’ve seen the result of the pregnancy test, though. If you’d like, I can set you up to do some further testing and give you an estimate of how far along you are and we can discuss options today, or I can give you some information and you can come back at a later time.”

“Maybe it would be best if you waited-”

“I want to know,” she suddenly interrupts. Harry whips his head around to look at her. Her eyes are locked on Dr. Rameriz, her expression still unreadable, yet unwavering.

“Okay. I will have a nurse set up a sonogram and get some blood drawn and we will go from there,” Dr. Rameriz responds, closing her file.

“Are you sure? This is a lot,” Harry warns, brows furrowing in concern.

“I’m sure,” she nods, her eyes meeting his. He can tell she is deep in thought, but what about he couldn’t tell. If only he would let her into that beautiful mind of hers. He longed to know what she thought of.

A nurse interrupts their connection to take them to the sonogram room. This time, she insists Harry walk next to her. She wraps herself around his tattooed arm, snuggling close to his body. He can’t stop the smile that is spreading across his face. He loves the feeling of her on his arm. He would do anything to keep her there.

Once on the table, he stands next to her and resumes his hold on her hand. It’s found a home in her hold. While the technician is setting things up, she turns her head to face Harry. The crinkling of the paper underneath her alerts Harry of her movement. He looks down at her and presses a palm to her forehead, softly her pushing hair back. She gives a gentle smile, grateful for her best friend and his soothing touch. Her cheeks burn as he continues to caress her face sweetly. She tries to hide it by nuzzling into his hand, but it’s of no use. He can see the color on the apples of her cheeks.

“Okay, I’m going to lift your shirt here. It’s going to be a bit chilly. Sorry about that,” the tech starts. “I need you to relax a little.”

“Sorry, I’m nervous,” she laughs, letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Harry blinks rapidly, before letting out a tight laugh himself. He doesn’t know how long it’s been since he’s heard that gorgeous sound. It’s like music to his ears. A few minutes pass as the tech looks around. Then, she pauses and lets out an excited squeal.

“There you are! See that there? That is your baby. I’d say you’re about 8 weeks or so,” she exclaims, turning the screen towards the pair. Harry leans down so close his breath is fanning across her face. He can see tears welling in her eyes. Hell, tears are welling in his eyes. He’s always wanted kids. Since he’s met her, he knew he wanted kids with her. He’d never imagined it would be this way, but it didn’t matter. He’s determined to stand by her side.

“Everything looks great. Would you like a picture to take home?” she asks, typing a few things on the machine. Melanie nods, her eyes glued to the screen. Surprised by her answer, Harry wonders what she is doing. The tech prints a picture of the ultrasound and hands it to her before leaving the room.

Dr. Rameriz meets with them one last time, giving them a packet of information to take home. She gives them the numbers of a few OB-GYNs she recommends before sending them on their way.

The car ride home is silent, but comfortable. Melanie runs her finger across the image of the baby, her baby. A mix of emotion swells in her chest. She can feel curiosity seeping off of Harry, but she doesn’t know what to say. She’s too entranced by this tiny human. Too scared to speak. Too enamoured to feel.

Leaving Melanie to her thoughts, Harry sits in the front room of his house. His favorite armchair is drenched in sunlight, the perfect spot for writing. It’s there where he makes himself comfortable for hours while writing about anything and everything, from the way her voice travels through an empty room and fills it with a rich, velvet sound to the color of turquoise waves crashing on sandy beaches in a place he dreams of taking her. A soft knock on the door pulls him out of his trance. Leaning against the door frame, peaking into the room, she quietly asks if she can come in.

“You don’ have to ask, love. Come ‘ere,” he beckons, setting his journal down on the table next to him. She slowly walks over, her fiddling with her fingers nervously. He opens his arms as soon as she’s next to him. She expertly climbs into his lap, hiding her face in his neck. Minutes pass as the two sit in silence, Harry holding her together. He feels her breathing get uneven as warm tears wet his neck.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks gently, nuzzling his nose against her forehead.

“Why is this happening to me?” she mumbles into his neck, sniffling wetly.

“What was that, love?” he asks, craning his neck towards her to try to hear her better.

“I don’t know what to do,” she croaks. “I can’t do this. This isn’t supposed to happen. Now there’s a baby involved? How am I supposed to decide? God, I sound so selfish,” she rushes out, pushing the heels of her palms to her eyes.

“Hey, hey, now. Slow down. You’re not selfish. None of this was supposed to happen, you’re right. But the only thing that matters is that you make the best decision for you and you only. You don’t have to decide right this second,” he replies, giving her hands a gentle squeeze.

“What do I do?” she asks hoarsely, looking at him with glassy eyes. For a moment, he is almost tempted to tell her something, anything, to make her stop crying, but instead, he presses a gentle kiss to her nose. He drops his hands to her belly, which is still flat.

“I can’t tell you what to do, but whatever you decide, you have my full support. You are not alone,” he promises, running his thumbs along her sides. His small, but meaningful gesture almost makes her heart explode. Even the smallest of his touches or gestures are full of love.

She would be lying if she said she didn’t have feelings for her best friend. When they started working together, things got a little complicated. Spending every second together solidified her feelings for him, but seeing him surrounded by so many successful, talented, and beautiful women in the industry made her realize she would probably be the last person Harry would want. He could have anyone he wanted and she seriously doubted he would go for her. They’ve been friends for years and they’ve never been anything more, so she figured this wouldn’t cause change. That didn’t mean her feelings diminished or vanished, though. She knew, no matter what she chose, Harry would be right by her side. She truly did feel lucky to have him.

#harry styles #harry styles fandom #harry styles writings #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fluff #sweet creature #chapter 3 #hs fandom #hs fic

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thestorytellersapprentice · 4 years

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Over Thunderstorm and the Impossible

Pairing: Jo Yeong/Myeong Seung-ah

Fandom: The King: Eternal Monarch

Tags: Mild Hurt/Comfort, Alternate Universe, Parallel Universe, (Hint of) Time Travel

Summary: Seung-ah was sent to Yeong's apartment by Lady Noh. She ended up staying for longer than she expected, due to reasons. Short story short, things got weird, but what’s important was she was there for the Captain.

Notes: Totally non canon. More explanation over at AO3. Unbeta-ed.

Link: ArchiveofOurOwn

~ What Lady Noh said was: "Take this message from His Majesty the King for Jo daejang. Make sure you deliver it to him personally by today. This is important." She took the time to put the emphasis on “this”, whatever it was.

And when Seung-ah looked for the Captain in the Royal Guards Office, one of his subordinates told her: "Jo daejangnim doesn't come in today. We were told that he’s sick."

So, yeah, that was basically why Myeong Seung-ah found herself standing in front of Jo Yeong’s apartment later on.

It was only after the fifth try, but she made it in the end anyway. She should have known that his place would be really tricky to find - the address and directions she got from the Royal Guards gave her the feeling of a location somewhere totally secluded that was so him - but she did not expect it'd be that tricky.

Seung-ah wondered if her sense of direction of Busan got worse from her prolonged time in Canada as she pressed his doorbell, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"Yes?" His voice was even more gruff across the intercom.

"Jo daejangnim? It's Myeong Seung-ah. Lady Noh sent me."

When he unlocked and swung his door open to let her in a beat later, Seung-ah looked up and did a double take.

She knew that it was silly of her to picture him in a full three piece suit when he's at home, but whatever it was that she expected still failed to prepare her to encounter the toned down version of the Captain.

Just like what she had encountered in the hospital, there was zero product in his hair. And just like what she had thought back then too, the sight of Jo Yeong with his forehead fully covered by his bangs made him look so different, but in a very good way. (Seung-ah would even say that he looked a hundred times cuter by her standards.) As for his outfit, he's clad in a dark loose shirt with its sleeves rolled up halfway to his elbow. It was a pretty far cry from his usual immaculate self at the Palace, but Seung-ah just needed to take a quick glance down to see that he still opted to wear long fabric pants at home, compared to the alternatives.

Seung-ah giggled internally. For a split second, she pondered if she could ever scheme him into wearing any kind of shorts, but she reckoned that it would be much quicker to find his doppelgänger to do it than to actually persuade him to do so.

Yeong led her inside and motioned her to sit on the sofa in what should be his living room while he moved towards his open kitchen. “Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee?”

“Tea is good, thank you.”

She looked around his apartment. As expected, it was spotless and nothing looked out of place. There were not too many personal items, but she did notice a few photographs framed and displayed on his bookshelves. Moving on, she tried to catch any signs of him being unwell, but could not find any. There was no visible medicine lying around, used tissues, fever packs, bandages, nothing.

Yeong returned with the tea, bringing over the teapot and another cup for himself. Seung-ah watched him closely as he poured some into her cup. He looked totally fine, calm and collected, as always, and clearly was not distressed.

Okay then, first, official business.

“Lady Noh told me to give you this," she retrieved the envelope from her bag and handed it over. “She said it’s a message from His Majesty, and that it’s highly important.”

The envelope in question was small, just the same size as a greeting card. She’d be lying if she said that she didn’t get curious about what's inside. However, what made her even more curious was the way the request was worded. The Head Court Lady specifically used the word 'message' instead of 'thing' or 'document'.

Seung-ah knew that the King and Captain often exchanged phone messages, if not every day. They were not tech-challenged people after all. She found it odd that the King would go to all of those troubles - well, technically, tell her to go to all of those troubles - just to relay some messages to his best friend.

“Thank you,” he said simply. If the Captain was thinking along the same lines as her, he didn’t share it with her explicitly, but Seung-ah did think that she caught a brief flash of a perplexed look on his face as well.

“Jo daejangnim, you are okay, right? You’re not hurt?”

“Eh?”

Seung-ah sensed something was suspicious. “Your squad told me that you’re sick…” her voice trailed off.

"I'm not-" he started, but then he stopped himself. He looked like he's struggling to get whatever it was that he wanted to say, out.

If he wasn’t before, Seung-ah was positive that Yeong was slightly frustrated by then. It was one of his expressions that she was most familiar with as it's also the one he seemed to use the most.

“I was told to have a day off,” he said, finally, and he didn’t have to elaborate further. There were only a handful of people who could give Jo Yeong command and for him to actually carry it out. One of them had his message currently delivered by her, and the other one ordered her to do so. It was a no brainer.

"Is the tea to your liking?" He changed the subject. As he turned his head to look out of the window, Seung-ah also noticed that it had begun to rain. "Why don't you wait a bit until the rain has stopped before you go on your way?"

Seung-ah thought that was a really good idea. The weather forecast didn't warn her about the downpour, so she did not bring any umbrella. And, well, being in his apartment was totally not unpleasant, for obvious reasons.

After that, she just remembered that the first thunder struck. It was a big one as the rain kept getting stronger. There were flashes of lightning and rumbles, but what was burnt into her memory most was how out of nowhere the Captain doubled over in pain in front of her.

Seung-ah was startled at the turn of events. “What’s happening? Are you okay?”

Yeong had his arm clutched on his right shoulder, fully wincing.

The sky outside got darker.

“-fine,” he gritted out in between heavy panting. Seung-ah immediately dismissed his blatant lie.

“I’ll call the taxi. Let’s go to the hospital.” She had already reached into her jacket pocket to pull out her cell phone, but Yeong gripped her hand before she could even touch it.

“No,” he managed. “They won’t have a clue.”

She knew that she should have ignored him and dragged him to see a doctor anyway, but Jo Yeong fixed her such a determined look on his face. She realized that he was being absolutely serious about the fact that it was pointless to consult the doctors.

“Okay, arraseo,” she reassured him, feeling least assured herself. "At least let me take a look at it, will you?"

He tightened his grip on her hand, even though he looked like he was about to pass out. “Don’t-”

What was he about to say was swallowed by yet another roar from the sky. The rain had turned into a thunderstorm.

That’s it, Seung-ah made her decision, seeing Yeong groaned in pain once more, this time more intense. If he wanted to shoot her afterward for her defiance, then she would also deal with it later.

Trembling, she tried to steady her fingers long enough to unbutton the top part of his shirt, careful to anticipate his further objection if he insisted. When it didn’t come, she tugged it downward, enough to expose his right shoulder.

Seung-ah instantly noticed the blood vessels- No, they weren’t those at all- they were like cracks, but instead of just a bunch of fractures, they blazed up through his skin, gleaming red and gold as if they were on fire and in sync with the thunders that kept on coming.

His breathing was completely labored by then. It should have been so painful, but she really did not know what to do and she hated herself for it.

"Hang on," she told him as she stood up from the sofa.

The first thing she looked for was his medication supplies, which thankfully were kept in an easy to reach and highly visible place: at the corner of his kitchen countertop. Almost tearing through it, Seung-ah quickly identified some painkillers he currently had and checked their expiration dates.

She debated with herself to give him two tablets in one go, but decided to wait and see. It was not the time and place to joke about it, but the last thing she wanted was to accidentally make the Captain of the Kingdom of Corea’s Royal Guards hooked on painkillers. She was pretty sure His Majesty would behead her if such a thing happened.

“Here,” she handed Yeong the tablet, bringing a glass of water to accompany it. “Let’s go for one for now, yeah?”

He nodded in agreement before downing it in one go.

Seung-ah’s next target was his bedroom. She could make out three closed doors in the apartment, but she found it behind the first door she tried.

He seemed to know what she was after, because somehow he managed to follow her inside.

And if he was uncomfortable or disapproved of what she did next, the Captain did not say anything. It could also mean that he was too weakened to protest, but still, he did not make any indication to stop her as she helped him unbutton the rest of his shirt and remove it completely from his back, pulling it past his arms carefully so as not to distress him even more.

Aiming to make him as comfortable as she could - what else could she do - Seung-ah prepped his pillow and carefully guided him to lay on his stomach.

The rain had calmed down outside his window, and it was as if his wounds were mirroring the weather. The cracks on his back were subdued then, leaving behind tiny gleams that flickered with so much less intensity than before.

Now that she had the time to inspect them, she noticed that they were centered near his right shoulder blades, more or less where he was shot on the Lunar New Year incident.

She braved a touch on one of them, and instantly pulled her hand back as it burnt.

“Don’t- touch it,” he breathed out, his voice weak. “You might hurt yourself.”

“Do they still hurt so much?” she asked, already terrified for his answer. The painkillers would only come into effect in about an hour or so. She watched his side profile intently for the correct estimation of his agony.

He did not respond for a while. When he finally did, though, she finally felt like she had earned his full honesty. “A bit.”

God, he’s sweating so much. Seung-ah could see his neck and back completely damp.

She reached out to feel the temperature on his forehead, and as she feared, he was burning up.

Seung-ah stood up, already contemplating which would be the best place to look for a towel and a small basin in the apartment. She could try asking the owner, of course, but once she saw that Yeong already had his eyes shut and he should be pretty much out of it by then, she decided that there was no need to.

However, thanks to his meticulous organization, it took her no time to locate both.

She tried her best to wipe off the cold perspiration from his back, careful to avoid the lightning cracks, which came and went as the rain kept on. He was slightly shivering then, the muscles on his back tensed every time they blazed up, which curiously seemed to be in sync with the thunders.

When they finally subsided, she was able to notice more details then. There were traces of healed scars here and there on the rest of his muscular back, but not as much as the ones he had across his arms. She even suspected a few of them to be caused by gunshot wounds. He also had several bruises scattered around his body in varying healing degrees.

At that point, the fact that Jo Yeong was a soldier could not be any clearer for Seung-ah than ever before.

After a while, staying beside him the whole time, Seung-ah finally relieved to see the steady rise and fall of his back as the medicine should have kicked in. He should have drifted off to sleep. In alignment, she felt her adrenaline level gradually dropped as she began to feel drowsy, and she soon submitted herself to a quiet slumber too.

When she came to, it took Seung-ah a moment to recall where she was. The bed felt soft and comfy under her, and as she blinked away the last traces of her dreams, the realization that she just fell asleep on Jo Yeong’s bed - with the owner beside her a moment ago - finally dawned on her.

Seung-ah felt giddy at first and then mortified a second later.

Thankfully, the owner of said bed was currently nowhere in her sight to witness her predicament.

Sitting up, she instantly noticed that someone had cleaned away the basin and towel, as well as Yeong’s shirt that was tossed somewhere near the door, if her memory served correctly. Said door was ajar, and she could hear faint noises coming from the direction of the kitchen.

Sure enough, she found Yeong there. He had already changed into a knitted sweater, and was currently standing with his back to her in front of the stove, apparently already busy cooking.

“Ah, gwaenchananyo? Feeling better?"

He turned. “Yes. Take a seat, I’m almost finished.”

“Anything I can help?” Seung-ah rubbed her eyes as she took a seat on the dinner table, where he had put several dishes already. She pulled out her phone, and let out a gasp as she realized how late it had been.

Yeong brought over the rice bowls and set one in front of her, before placing the doenjang-jjigae. “Let’s eat, you must be hungry.”

“Thank you for cooking,” she said, now feeling embarrassed for napping too long. “How are you feeling, daejangnim?”

“Much better,” he said. He made a point to look straight at her as he replied, as if giving her the permission to scrutinize him. And she did. He did look so much better, just a bit worn out, but mostly he had been back to his usual composed self. “Don’t worry, the sky’s cleared up.”

She stopped her chopsticks in midair.

“You must have noticed it too, do you? That they correlate to the thunderstorm?”

Well, her assumptions were one thing. Hearing the confirmation from the man himself, though, was another matter.

“I can’t really explain it scientifically either. This is the first time it happened to me, but I’ve seen it happen the same way to other people before.

“What caused it?”

“I don’t think you’d believe me,” he replied. He said it with just a tiny hint of self amusement in his voice, but it didn’t feel like he was pulling her legs. Seung-ah interpreted it as his unspoken admission that he, too, had just become a believer not too long ago.

During any other circumstances, she’d probably say that the man should be bonkers, but she had witnessed it firsthand. So, either both of them were equally mad, or something impossible did just happen.

“Okay…” she decided to go with it for now. She simply did not think she had much brain power left.

“Thank you for staying,” he remarked, quietly. Seung-ah tried her best not to blush over his penetrating gaze.

After dinner, Yeong called a taxi for her.

Seung-ah was putting on her coat when her gaze landed on the message from the King. Due to all of the ruckus, it had remained on his coffee table, unopened and forgotten.

She should have stared at it longer than she should, because soon the Captain followed suit. He picked up the envelope and opened it swiftly.

As he finally read the card that was inside, Seung-ah watched as his eyes widened, then his eyebrows knitted and he did his half head tilt of wonder and puzzlement (that she should admit made him look even cuter).

Without saying anything, he handed her the piece of paper.

Seung-ah received it tentatively, feeling strange that she would be allowed to read it. She looked down and instantly recognized her King’s writing.

“Glad you’re feeling much better, Yeong-ah. I know you don’t like it when people invade your personal space, but you shouldn’t be alone on days like these.

P.S. Take another day off tomorrow to rest comfortably. You too, Miss Myeong Seung-ah, you need it."

She did not know what to make of it. She felt a nagging feeling that something even weirder was totally going on, but she could not seem to pinpoint what it was exactly.

Wait. It doesn’t mean that His Majesty knew that Jo Yeong daejangnim would fall ill, does it? He’s just pulling pranks on his best friend, isn’t he?

#jo yeong #myeong seung ah #myung seung ah #king: eternal monarch #woo do hwan #kim yong ji #because there's not enough fics of them

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healthtech102 · 4 years

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After Hours Medical Advice

As you know, and certain have in mind every day, nursing is a career that carries a huge amount of duty. Be sure to guard your self, especially when asked for advice in an informal setting.

No, Uncle Bob has cornered you within the hallway after Christmas dinner. In trying back, I realize that not as soon as during this experience did anyone INVITE me into a discussion of what could be best for my mother.

She spent two nights in the hospital beneath remark, with IV hydration. Now, admittedly, she has varying levels of dementia even on a good day, but she reached the point of getting severe hallucinations and paranoia.

Having a whole remedy group looking out for you and preparing a discharge plan that is going to set you up for achievement. 90 days of therapy allows for the affected person to work via many of the above mentioned considerations and we treat it using an American Society of Addiction Medicine dimensional assessment.

The general size of keep in remedy that is really helpful is often ninety days. Health safety and prevention is the key to staying healthy for the long haul. From easy blood checks and vaccines now to mammograms and colonoscopies later, your doctor might help you turn into the healthiest model of you.

Although it might appear to be a problem now, one hour in a physician’s workplace now can add years of health to your life. When we have well being questions and considerations, it’s easy to show to good ol’ WebMD for answers. And even though the Internet can be a great well being useful resource, reading about your health points online can usually lead to pointless fear and fear. Remember, you might be unique and deserve a customized evaluation.

So instead of browsing the web for a generic, or even worse, incorrect answer, talk to a doctor in particular person to get the total image—and to cease dropping sleep over your questions (see reason number 5!). While I’ll be the primary to confess that a trip to the gynecologist’s workplace isn’t my favourite way to spend a day, annual pelvic exams are a important a part of any girl’s preventative health care.

Will we have to battle the battle of keyword voids at a grassroots degree, wrangling with the asymmetry of passion by tapping folks to search out these voids and create counter-content material? Do we need to arrange counter-GoFundMe campaigns to pay for ad campaigns that promote real science?

Do not rely on a form’s basic remark that “risks of leaving were discussed with the patient,” he says. That doesn't negate the value of those documents, however they should not be the sum complete of the hospital’s evidence displaying efforts to provide care.

First, the hospital must reconcile any excellent diagnostics, as a result of if any checks had been ordered, the hospital is still liable for checking the results to make certain nothing critical was identified, he says.

Despite our protests, she saved making an attempt to pull out the IV fluid line from her arm and the gizmo , and tugged at her gown. The paper-thin pores and skin on her arms was black and blue from a number of blood attracts. Successful treatment begins with an correct diagnosis, and our experts take the time to get it right.

A team of specialists will listen to your needs and evaluate your condition from each angle to make the very best plan for you. Every year, more than one million individuals come to Mayo Clinic for care.

If witnessed by RN, have them doc the time the patient left in addition to the standing of their IV. If an IV is still in place, first try to contact the affected person after which their emergency contact.

From all the information you've gathered from the Internet and your research, it's time for you to go to your physician with this data and get to know the details. It is important to decide on doctors with whom you're feeling snug.

The level of questioning I got in response to my advice was almost insulting at times. In my head, I advised these callers, “If you trusted me sufficient to name me together with your ailment, why aren’t you trusting my opinion?

Our highly specialized experts are deeply skilled in treating rare and complex circumstances. I actually have been put in this identical position so many times, that I lastly, like you, needed to tell them to contact their supplier or go to the ER/Urgent Care.

I owned a small household follow clinic and some would actually present up there quite than going to their PCP or ER. I do perceive how onerous it is to tell them to go to their PCP’s, but I believe that is the proper motion. We love our family and pals and do not need to see them ill or in ache, however we additionally want them to obtain goal care.

I actually have been practicing as a Nurse and APP for over 15 years now and have found, for me, robust boundaries come with time. You don’t have a look at them as patients, but as whomever they are to you.

YOUR ability to want them to be OK and not be as goal as you'd be with a affected person. Another disagreeable facet effect of trying to assist was the pushback I received.

doctor certification, from the Membership of the Royal College of General Practitioners, and checked performance towards historic outcomes from an independent 2015 examine that evaluated several symptom checkers. symptom checker seems as a chatbot that users can work together with by way of an app or web site. When the consumer varieties out their primary symptoms as a quick sentence or phrase, the symptom checker asks questions about possible related signs.

According to the NIH, 30-40% of Americans report having occasional symptoms of insomnia and 10-15% report persistent issue sleeping—with ladies representing nearly all of those affected.

While you could assume that a poor night’s sleep simply means you’ll need an extra cup of espresso in the morning, chronic sleep problems can actually improve the lengthy-time period threat of hypertension, melancholy, and diabetes. treatment medical disclaimer A physician’s visit can help identify attainable underlying causes for your restless nights—and get you the help you should truly get some zzzs.

Does your family have a history of diabetes, excessive cholesterol, heart disease, cancer, or another significant illness? If so, you could be at risk for these conditions, too—and there are likely issues you can do to decrease that danger. A doctor may help you find out and work with you to determine which screening exams you want.

"Casual" could exit the window, if the individual you advise feels you have triggered them harm; together with your recommendation or deeds. State legal guidelines differ greatly and litigation can truly change the legal guidelines as time passes. So as a nursing skilled, even if your action or advice was justifiable, there isn't a safety from being sued . You might prevail and be discovered "not liable" if sued, but by then you'll have gone by way of plenty of wasted time and pointless stress.

They might help detect vaginal infections, together with sexually transmitted ailments , and should often embody a PAP smear for cervical cancer screening. Although you might have heard about some current adjustments to screening recommendations, the U.S. Preventative Services Task Force nonetheless wants women between the ages of 21 to 65 to get a Papanicolaou test (a.k.a. PAP smear) a minimum of each three years (or more incessantly when you’ve ever had abnormal results).

The lawsuit claimed that Dr M had failed to recognize the patient’s skull fracture and improperly released him when he was intoxicated, and that the delay in treating the fracture was attributable for approximately half of the affected person’s neurological deficits. Later that day, a hospital radiologist learn the affected person’s x-ray and famous a markedly depressed left parietal cranium fracture.

Or will the tech platforms where that is occuring start to grasp that giving legitimacy to health misinformation by way of high search and social rankings is profoundly dangerous? Getting excessive-quality, fact-based well being information shouldn’t be dependent on the result of SEO video games, or on who has extra assets for pay-to-play content promotion. few hours of a newborn’s life, medical doctors administer a vitamin K shot.

This is as a result of infants are born with out sufficient of the vitamin, and the child wants a boost to prevent any potential bleeding. The documentation also should detail the discussion with the affected person regarding potential risks from leaving AMA, Merkrebs says.

The reasons for refusing additionally may be wide-ranging, every little thing from worries about the price to concern about ache or dying, or dislike of being touched, photographs, surgical procedure, or drugs. Once a affected person is examined beyond triage and exams are ordered, a departure at that time could be classified as left without completing remedy , Klauer notes.

Patients leaving the emergency room too soon “are intentionally putting themselves at extra danger for morbidity and even mortality,” Polevoi stated — a degree echoed by other physicians. Ko stated the column will proceed as long as individuals want to study totally different health subjects. Connect with a medical skilled everytime you need one, 24/7, for customized recommendation and prescription, if deemed necessary.

At the end, the symptom checker identifies possible causes and recommends a course of action, similar to reserving a video consultation with a human physician or going to a hospital. The patient and his family consulted with a plaintiff’s attorney who agreed to take the case. Dr M was shocked to find out that he was being sued for medical malpractice.

Within each of these kinds of AMA, there may be further breakdowns when it comes to why the person is leaving, he notes. The affected person might not want any care of any type, or the refusal could also be extra limited — refusing the particular kind of care being provided, as an example, but still willing to be handled.

That's to not say all of the internet is unhealthy, it is okay to make use of Google for health questions when you use a credible supply and if it prompts you to go to your doctor should you could have considerations. Without limiting the generality of the foregoing, the Author makes no representations or warranties with respect to any Information offered or offered within or via the Site relating to treatment of medical circumstances, motion, or software of treatment.

“When sufferers convey themselves into the ED, they are seen in about 5 minutes by a qualified registered nurse and, on common, are seen by a supplier within 30 minutes of arrival,” Thomas mentioned in a press release.

From 2012 to 2017, the variety of emergency room encounters in Fresno County elevated by nearly ninety five,000, or 37%. At Fresno’s Community Regional Medical Center, about 9% of ER encounters ended with a patient leaving too quickly, greater than 3 times the statewide fee.

If no success, contact the police non-emergently to aid in finding the affected person. In this situation, the patient has not but interacted with a doctor. There isn't much to do here as long as the provider by no means met the patient, if so, they might be in a different category.

There are no known instances the place the ED, or ED Providers, have been sued and located to be at fault or responsible for an end result. We recognized people ages with International Classification of Diseases, 9thRevision prognosis codes for infective endocarditis within the National Inpatient Sample, a representative pattern of United States hospitalizations from January 2010 to September 2015.

We plotted unadjusted quarter-year developments for AMA discharges and used multivariable logistic regression to establish elements associated with AMA discharge among IE hospitalizations, evaluating IDU-IE to non-IDU-IE.

The police were notified, and the patient was taken from jail back to the hospital. At the hospital, he was monitored for a number of hours and then taken to surgical procedure where the depressed fracture fragments have been elevated. However, Mr G ended up suffering a brain injury from the fracture which affected his cognitive talents, and which prevented him from with the ability to hold down a job. The police knowledgeable Dr M that the patient, a 24-yr old named Mr G, had been the perpetrator of an assault and in the process was hit within the head with a blunt object by a bystander.

The police had been called, and found him mendacity on the street, clearly intoxicated and with a bloodied head. They took him to the ED, however Mr G was uncooperative and initially refused any treatment. When most individuals hear these words, they're whispered by an overcoated stranger on the bus or a counterfeit Prada peddler gesturing towards the trunk of a car.

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emcases · 4 years

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A Covid Day

I have been leaving later than usual for work (I drive). There’s no traffic in New York City. The 40-minute commute is now 20 minutes.

The morning routine now involves getting into my Covid clothing, then lining up to receive my day’s ration of PPE (I ask for one regular mask and one N95). PPE is dispensed from a locked office now, but the hospital keeps insisting that PPE is plentiful. I have been reusing the same eye protection for weeks now. I should clean it more often. It seems only a matter of time before we run out of all PPE. The guys in the locked office will need a shotgun lol.

I take sign-out. There are approximately 20 Covid patients waiting for beds in my zone. Three are intubated. One of the intubated patients appears “unlikely”. Two of the non-intubated patients look like they will go down during my shift.

I talk to the new patients. The non-Covid patients all have nada. One guy has 20 chief complaints and needs an appointment. Second guy has 5 complaints but is basically here for detox. Admitting a patient to detox feels like a death sentence to me. All hospital and nursing home patients are sitting ducks. The guy doesn’t want to stay. He wants to try some benzos as an outpatient. The resident has never done this before and he was surprised when I give the guy a script for a bunch of libriums.

I check to see if any of my sick Covids from the last shift died. I go 4 for 4. All patients are still alive. Yay!

I get called to see a Covid patient that was just discharged from the ED a few minutes ago. He didn’t make it out. We get him back into a room, put him on oxygen, and admit him.

A Critical Care consult comes by. There are no ICU beds (no surprise there). They accepted one of the intubated patients to the MICU. The others will go to a new floor designated for Covid patients. We’re not sure who’s running that floor - Medicine, Surgery, or Anesthesia. I overhear the Critical Care doctor battling it out with the ICU head nurse over one of the patients. Nothing changes at this hospital.

I check the xray of one of the sicker Covid patients. She was signed out as cancer + right pleural effusion. The xray is horrendous; both lungs are filled with disease. The pleural effusion is the least of her problems. I decide not to stick a needle into her chest.

I didn’t go to the morning briefing; there are too many patients. There may be four vents left in the hospital. One thing about Covid - patients die, so vents and ICU beds open up. I am surprised by the number of deaths. I check my work email. There’s an email that warns us that intubation meds and equipment are running out.

All day long, codes are called upstairs. I wonder how many of those codes are my patients.

One of the patients I am worried about looks like she is going to go down. We re-position her and crank up the oxygen. She doesn’t go down.

A sick patient comes in. A normal person with a mental status. Dying from Covid. We go to intubate him. Damn, there’s no suction in this room. A resident contacts his family and his son tells us to make him DNR / DNI. I call the son back to confirm this. The patient has advanced kidney cancer and he wants to go peacefully. The patient is going to die, and soon. The son is coming to the hospital. I hope he makes it in time. We make the patient as comfortable as possible - oxygen, a little fluid, morphine.

I remove my PPE and sit down at the computer. An ID attending comes by and chats. I don’t recognize her at first through her top-to-bottom PPE. She mentions that I should wear a mask at all times. She’s right, but I laugh because I took off my mask about 10 seconds ago. Honestly, I don’t think it makes any difference in the ED. Covid is everywhere. I am relatively certain that Covid is recirculated via the ventilation system.

More Covid patients come in. They’re all hypoxic, but none of them will die during my shift, I think.

I go check on the sick guy. He’s starting to brady. It won’t be long. I set my alarm to check on him every 20 minutes. I don’t want to find my patient in rigor mortis, a common occurrence in the ED nowadays.

More patients come in. None of them have respiratory symptoms, but I suspect Covid in most of the them. The nursing home guy who was found on the floor? Covid. The old guy with abdominal pain (whose wife died last night)? Covid.

Someone sends the ED lunch. That’s so nice of the restaurant. I send the residents to chow down, then I go. Nicole, the senior resident, usually doesn’t eat (much) during a shift, but even she goes to eat. During the Age of Covid, you have to get in as many calories and as much fluid as possible. I go home thirsty and dry after every shift and wonder if I have Covid.

The nurse says the sick guy is dead. We go in to pronounce him. Fuck. His son doesn’t make it in time.

There is a woman with pleuritic chest pain. The residents and I talk about a non-Covid issue for once during our shift. I hate d-dimers.

The son arrives. The hospital policy is no-visitors. We let him to see his dead father after we put PPE on him.

All of the “atypical” Covid patients have Covid on their chest xrays. They are all admitted to beds that we don’t have. There’s no such thing as atypical Covid anymore. Everyone in the ED has Covid. The ED is out of space, so the Covid patients are grouped into shared spaces. Every once in a while, a Covid patient gets up and walks around the ED. We don’t have the manpower to watch them, but at least they’re wearing a mask, and none of them are coughing.

More Covid patients come in. I’m thinking about sending home the guy whose wife died last night, but he’s a little hypoxic and he bumps his creatinine big time. I admit him. I wonder if I should send the nursing home Covid back to the nursing home. Will I kill off the entire nursing home, or have they all been infected already? If he isn’t a demented nursing home patient, he should be discharged.

During a brief lull, the triage nurse calls us over for a “note” (arrival of a sick patient). I go over, but there’s no patient there. EMS is bringing him in, he says. We go outside. I see a patient being bagged. I run back in the ED and assemble the resuscitation equipment. When the patient gets inside, I can’t help but notice that the patient is dead. We intubate the patient, put in an IV, and give Epi. The colorimeter doesn’t change colors even though the tube is in the right place (a very poor prognostic sign). “Aren’t you going to do CPR?” asks the EMS crew. “The patient is dead”, I answer. In all practicality, CPR has stopped in my hospital. The next day, a new EMS directive is ordered - do not bring cardiac arrest patients to the hospital.

When we intubate the patient, there are tons of secretions in the airway. That’s one of the weird things about Covid - patients have all this crap in their lungs, but very few of them cough. The other weird thing about Covid is the spectrum of disease. Why is one person totally fine and the guy next to him dead? I work in an area with a diverse population and the deaths have hit all races, ages, incomes, and vulnerabilities. We pronounced a 25-year-old guy the night before.

A Surgical Attending comes by with a friendly greeting. I love her; she is always so pleasant. She’s too good for our hospital. She tells me that “the nurse” is on ECMO. I know already - I have been following her upstairs after taking care of her last week. She is a lovely patient. Her chances are dismal.

A patient who comes in for detox refuses to leave. Wtf?!? He is oblivious to the chaos around him. Do I have to call the Police to throw him out? We decide to turf him to Psych. We need the space. No patients can hang out in the ED anymore. Only quickly-dying patients get admitted.

The day winds down. The last few minutes of every shift is tense because you’re just waiting for one of your patients to go down. None of my Covid patients die just yet. Two of the intubated patients went upstairs.

After sign-out, I take off my Covid clothes. The used masks go into a baggie. They will be reused should the day come when we run out of fresh masks. I drive home with my residents, saving them a long subway ride. They are appreciative. I love my residents (well most of them). I go to Chipotle for take-out, one of the few restaurants still open in the neighborhood. There’s no line, of course. I get home, shower, and disinfect my ID, my glasses, etc. as well as I could. I watch Big Bang Theory and I eat, hoping that this is not the day I go down with the virus myself. If it happens, it happens.

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phoebewallerbrigde · 5 years

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All For Us, (a Reddie x Euphoria HBO) fanfiction

"It was the end of summer, back-to-school was coming up, I had no intention of staying clean and Richie Trashmouth Tozier was back in Derry."

Without any filter but with humor and franchise, here's the harsh coming of age story of Derry's youth through the eyes of Eddie Kaspbrak, 17, fresh out of rehab.

read it on AO3 || Explicit || 8k || 1/?

Hope you like it guys !

There was a time in my life where everything was fine, but that, that was before I was ripped out of my mother’s womb. Since then, it’s been shit.

Chapter 1 : Screwed.

I was born on September 3rd, 2002 in a world post 9/11 completely overwhelmed by the mourning and the duty of memory. It has been four months since Sam Raimi's Spiderman was at the top of the world box office and that Peter Parker had managed to give hope to America and New York. Far from everything and from New York, there was my mother and my father, and I was their Spiderman. Nice, huh? I don’t think so.

---

My life begins without warning with a childhood in a big house in the depths of America's asshole. Derry, Maine. A small town so small that everyone knows each other and knows everything. That’s where the problems start. My father became ill when I was 9 years old and my overprotective mother was already beginning to fall into what I call "parental and marital abuse". Life at home was absolutely not great, especially because of my "not fitting" behavior.

"Eddie-bear, is everything okay?" asked Sonia Kaspbrak worried.

A 10-year-old Eddie was still staring at the front door counting seconds every time he heard the clock tick of the dining room.

"Eddie-bear, look at me." she added in a calm voice. "You did not even touch your .."

Eddie turned her head to Sonia and began to cry at once. Sonia and Frank looked at each other in amazement, feeling completely helpless.

They did what every healthy-minded parent would do, choosing to consult several doctors, a psychologist and a children's psychiatrist. I wasn't physically abused, I always drank at least a liter of water a day, my mother prepared me good dishes, my father did not hit me...

"Your son has OCD, ADHD and anxiety. He has a higher brain activity than the average child for his age, probably due to hypersensitivity and perhaps also to behavioral disorders... But he’s still too young to tell."

The psychiatrist's voice left a blank in the room and Sonia Kaspbrak burst into tears. Frank stroked his wife's back for reassurance and Eddie turned to his mother without understanding what was happening.

So why do I have this?

---

"Neuroatypical, you are neuroatypical, Eddie-bear."

Eddie mimicked his mother while eating his cereal bowl, she glanced him, he stopped and sighed.

"Show me your phone, I'll check your alarms."

An 11-year-old Eddie contemplated the capsules, pills and other medications that his mother was carefully distributing in each compartment of his medicine box. He handed him his yellow iPhone 5c that he had already unlocked on the alarms page.

"You have to take all your medicine, at the times indicated."

"I know, Ma."

Sonia looked at her son, who continued to eat with a peeved look on his face. She sat down beside him, putting down his cellphone and the box of compartmentalized tablets.

"You know ... there are lots of famous people like you - famous people, super creative and smart." She managed to catch Eddie's attention and then continued. "Look, your favorite actor who plays in The Truman Show for example."

"Jim Carrey?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Sonia with a smile.

Yeah, and we all remember Jim Carrey during the 00s New Year Eve on David Letterman's set.

"A genius." ended Eddie with a smile before getting up and packing his box in his fanny pack.

I don’t really remember my pre-adolescence and all that time when I was 10 to 12. I mean, I remember my friends, how meaningless life was, how fast everything was falling apart for us because of daddy’s pneumonia, and how the world was going way too fast for my brain. And that sometimes, if I happened to think too much about everything, to concentrate too much on an smell or on the number of germs present under the table on which I wrote or on the strange way that I breathed ... I had a violent asthma attack. The space of a moment. But very quickly the space of a moment became all the time and all the time became a fight to fight these crises. And frankly...

"So this day, son?" Frank asked with a smile as Eddie walked into his room still dressed with his backpack.

He could hear his father listen to Queen and David Bowie's Under Pressure, one of his favorite songs who became one of his. That made him sketch a small smile.

"I'm fucking done with it."

---

I’m not necessarily proud of the choices I’ve made, but it wasn’t really like my mom didn’t push me. The house was full of meds. Meds here, meds there, meds in the kitchen, in the bathroom, in the guest room, in the garage. My mother ordered meds profusely but gave me "gazebos" when I was perhaps the one who needed treatment the most. A treatment, I needed a treatment. I got it. It was there in front of me, everywhere, I knew every name and every dose of what the psychiatrist was giving me, it was not hard to remember, so I took it. I took but nothing. I did not feel any difference, the asthma attacks, the tremors, the sadness were still there. I took again and again and always more. When I went to the doctors, they increased the doses and I changed my mother's gazebos with my real meds. It made me feel something in the end, but it was too late, I was already addicted. But after all, is it really my fault? Oh, and I think we say "placebos".

12 years old and already on medication dependence. 13 years old and I stole my father’s morphine and other painkillers. 14 years old and I was asking for more with my psychotropics. 15 years old, I took my 1st taz and smoked my first joint. 16 years old and I sniffed my first rail, the first among others. That's why Georgie Denbrough found me unconscious in my own vomit. I had become a junkie ? I don’t know. I just liked the feeling. The feeling that it gave me, the nothingness. For once on earth, for as long as I can remember, I felt something new every time. It was this need that had led Georgie to scream with fear, which alerted Bill Denbrough to run to discover the disaster and tell him to look for my mother as he tried to wake me up. Poor Big Bill, he thought I was dead. I believed it, too.

I spent the whole summer in rehab after that, I never understood why. Well, I did but I didn’t think I was addicted to drugs. Drugs filled the gap that meds sometimes leave when it’s over. But I’ve learned that meds, too, are drugs.

"Eddie!"

"Georgie!"

Georgie ran into Eddie's arms, Eddie couldn’t help laughing and making remarks about how Georgie was almost ahead of him now. This made Bill laugh when he came to give him their secret handshake before taking the smallest in his arms.

"Hey!" whispered Eddie with a big smile.

Sonia in the distance watched her son squeeze the only two friends she had allowed to come with her to pick up Eddie, since they had been present and saved him with the accident. They ended up taking the road with them to their house.

"I'm so happy you're back home, Eddie-darling, I missed you so much, never do that again, you gave me up for 3 long months, you realize, I could not to do nothing without you, I was so lonely and you know how much I hate it, never do that again, I made an appointment with the hospital for full exams and we will change you your doses, I will take good care of you my ... "

Eddie stopped paying attention to his mother, he looked around, Georgie and Bill cheerfully discussed everything Bill had planned to do to make up for lost time with Eddie. Not to mention the Losers, but Eddie figured out they were in. The brunette one landed on the windowsill and let the wind caress his face. He noticed in the distance a boy on a bicycle, this long and thin figure was telling him something. Brown curls, an alternative style between neglected but sought after, worn out converses, pale skin to death. Eddie’s eyes marveled at his sight when the car passed him. He felt his heartbeat accelerate and his heart pounding.

And that’s when the beginning of the end really began. It was the end of summer, back-to-school was coming up, I had no intention of staying clean and Richard Trashmouth Tozier was back in Derry. I had to talk to the one person who knew everything about everything.

---

"So ... How long have you been back among us? You have completely hidden your return." Mike asked, eating his salad.

"A week and I didn’t hide everything! I was in quarantine between the hospital and at home all week, thanks Ma. Bill didn’t tell you?" said Eddie watching Mike eat.

"Bill and I don’t really talk right now when we see each other. You know that."

Mike is probably the smartest person I know, yet he still didn’t dare tell the love of his life that he loved him. At the same time, he was living on a planet other than ours and didn’t really have time to be a normal high school student. It was easier to fuck Bill and continue to just be his bro than become his significant other.

"Richie is back, by the way."

"Ah."

"Yup, he went to the farm and got a 50$ of weed. He didn’t even want me to give him a price."

"D'you know more?" "Hm... He’s already been here for two weeks. He seemed pretty happy to be back, California changes you a man." said Mike laughing what made Eddie smile. "We’ll see when we get back to school."

Eddie nodded at Mike.

"How are you feeling ?" Mike asked, carefully watching Eddie.

"Great since I gave my life to abstinence and I stopped jerking off." Eddie answered seriously.

"Oh ...... Cool, cool, cool, I'm really happy for you."

"Mike, I’m messing with you. You should see your face." Eddie laughed while Mike gave him a pat on the shoulder. " Anyway, that’s not all, but is your grandfather here, Vegemike?"

"Are you serious bro?"

"Hey, it's not because I'm doing a rehab that I'm going to stay clean."

"But.... Isn’t that the point of a rehab? I won’t let you do something stupid again."

"Come on, just weed."

"You do not like weed, Kaspbrak."

"Fine but can I at least have your cherry tomatoes?"

Mike nodded and smiled at his best friend who continued to eat his salad with him.

Something I missed this summer? My trips to the Hanlon farm. Mike being a divine cook and plus a vegan, obviously, his food was safe and harmless to me. And the Hanlon house was the best hostess for parties, it was big, rebuilt in recent years and far enough to be quiet. I must have missed a lot of parties, but if there was one coming up, Stanley Uris'. And if you thought I was gonna miss it, the last big party before school, so the most important one of the summer, you can suck my dick. That’s probably why that piece of shit of Henry Bowers brought his ass back to the farm. It’s a good thing the Hanlons were selling him their wares for twice as much.

"Yo, there you go! That’s his mama’s boy!" he cried as he entered the storefront. "I thought you were dead. Good, because my knife will be able to tate the ground."

"Go get your shit and get off him, dude."

"You’re lucky I haven’t touched you since you’re the best drug dealer in town, but don’t trust me, nig.."

Mike rose sharply and faced Bowers. His eyes were black and Bowers backed away.

"All right, all right, I’ll go."

I never liked Henry Bowers, and I truly believe no one has ever loved him. Even his father hates him. If you were looking for someone to identify as the rich cis hit white man in this city, it was him. He was "untouchable" or rather believed himself untouchable because his father was the most influential guy in the city. He had been sheriff but had ended up building his business and it had taken. It was quite unbelievable, however, now Bowers was living his best life and did not think he had to be accountable to anyone when he still had a mullet cut in 2019 and that he should clearly shut up the fuck up. Before, he harassed me as well as the rest of the Losers club, for my part I was entitled to homophobic insults in profusion. But one day we humiliated him front of his friends. Since then he has left us alone and yesterday’s nerds his become today’s popular. Karma, as they say.

---

It was about to get dark in a few hours, a young man was cycling in the streets of Derry. He was tall, fine and handsome. A car passed by him and he was destabilized.

"Back among us, motherfucker, this is my secret sauce as a welcome gift, Tozier!"

Bowers' voice was loud and Hockstetter's laugh had not failed him. Richie had managed to avoid the milkshake he had sent him. He gave him fingers as he went away and Richie sighed on his way home. He passed by the kitchen and dropped off his racing bag and went to his room where he threw himself into his bed. He took out his phone and went straight to Grindr. Richie was scrolling, watching nudes, messages, chatting with people, going from Grindr to Tinder, and finally finding happiness. For tonight, anyway, then took a nap.

If there was anyone that nobody expected to see again in Derry, it was Richie fucking Tozier. He told me he was back from his parents' divorce. His father had kept the old family house in which he lived in Derry. Something must have happened with his mother in California because Richie preferred to come and live with his father in our good ol' Derry, but he refused to tell me what happened. That Tozier really is a moron.

Richie awoke. It was already 7 pm. He sighed, got up, went downstairs to eat with his father who had prepared some homemade pizzas and then went back to his room. It was 8 pm. He got motivated, launched his "Party times" playlist which debuted on Plus Putes Que Toutes Les Putes from the French band Orties. He took a shower and picked out an outfit. When he found the right one, he couldn’t help but smile. A black wide sweater with a yellow stripe in the middle and "The villa hopes" written on it, simple black slim jeans, red socks and its Converses x 70 x OFF Springs Velour Patchwork. He rolled up his sleeves, made himself up by putting on black, blue, yellow and red eyeliner to make an editiorial makeup, nothing too dramatic. He was dancing in front of his mirror and laughing. He passed his hands several times without his brown curls, put big silver rings on his fingers and finally put on his necklaces including his favorite, the one with a red balloon pendant. He took his Lacoste fanny pack and while looking at it, he had a little smile thinking of the one person who had never stopped wearing these before it became trendy again. He went down the stairs and fell on his father.

"Oh, look at yourself ! So, where are you going?" asked Wenthworth Tozier while observing his son.

Richie arrived in front of his father after crossing the living room. They lived in a beautiful house, quite luxurious from the outside as well as the inside. Richie hugged his father to reassure him.

"To a party, with friends."

"Friends ?"

"Yes, my old friends, dad."

Wenthworth nodded and Richie waved his hand with his index finger and middle finger at his temple before moving them away.

"Watch out, have fun and protect yourself, Rich!"

Oh, don’t worry, Mr. Tozier, Richie was sure to protect himself properly with those Saint Laurent condoms in his bag.

Richie smiled at his father before taking his bike and leaving.

Richie did not want his return to make too much noise. Yet it was all the opposite effect. Everyone who had lived in Derry between 2002 and 2016, so everyone, knew Richie Trashmouth Tozier. The first to know about Richie's return was Ben. Simply because the two were following the same two-week artistic summer course that the school had organized. It was a little stupid because Richie was a little genius despite appearances and Ben was just good at everything without having to force. At least Ben had been able to reconnect with Richie and pass the information to the rest of Losers, but except me, of course.

When he arrived in front of a hotel in the city, he smiled at the message of the chosen one and sent a message to Ben.

[Forget me for tonight, I have a date.]

Ben glanced at his phone, and then at Beverly. Both exchanged suspicious looks.

"What’s going on?" Beverly asked.

"It’s Richie. He says he’s not coming tonight."

"What did you told him?" Beverly looked at herself in the mirror.

"Nothing! He’s just gonna do his little business with someone."

"Oh okay, chill, he’ll come later. Why you scare us like that!" replied Beverly getting close to Ben to give him a kiss on the cheek.

Ben went red in action and Betty Ripsom made a disgusting sound. Beverly stopped to look at the brunette, she had completely forgotten her presence. After all, it was her who'll dropped them off at Stanley’s. "Stop. You’ll do the same thing tonight and even more," she said looking at her.

In case you're wondering, yes, Ben is in love with Bev. For far too long for me to remember. For Bev, however, nobody really knows. Bev is a mystery to everyone, I still wonder why she's friends with us. She's a cheerleader, she's so popular, much more than Mike or Bill or Stan. She has a reputation behind her, yet it has never stopped her from being the baddest bitch in town. A real rolemodel to the twink that I am. Perhaps the most amazing thing is that she was fake dated for a month with Bowers just for a bet and it lasted until today, well, until two days ago. She still made 200 dollars on it every month.

"You slept with Bowers, you do not have the right to speak." Betty retorted.

"A hand job. It was a hand job and it happened once during the 3 months of the bet. Then anyway, Bowers is a clown. It’s not Penny Wise who’s gonna say otherwise. I was able to take away as much as I could before I dumped him. And tonight, we move on." she said, turning to Ben.

"Yes, that’s what everyone wants to hear! Shit Ben, tonight you have to fuck! Not just a handjob or a blowjob! It’s not the '80s anymore, you have to catch some pussy."

Ben smiled slightly embarrassed and turned to Beverly who grinned while listening to Betty. He totally ignored Betty’s words, then lowered his head, a little disappointed. He really wanted to disappear underground at this very moment.

In his place, I’d like to, too. Thank you, Betty.

---

"Ma ? I’m leaving."

"Where, Eddie-bear? And so late? You can’t leave me like this." Sonia said as her son came into the living room. "And dressed like that? You look like a bad boy, I don’t like it."

"That’s my usual style, Ma. It’s only 10 pm and I’m going to Bill’s. Don’t wait for me and don’t panic. And yes, I took my medicine with me and my insulin just in case. See you, Ma."

A 16-year-old Eddie closed the front door and leaned back against it, looking down the street and sighing. He was divinely handsome, he had combed his hair, put glitter on his eyes and mascara which gave him an even more intense look. He had put on a silk shirt with patterns like the rich women's scarves, the colors were soft and pastel like salmon, beige, yellow or baby blue but it contrasted with his lame bomber and his slightly tanned and brilliant skin. With that, he had put some necklaces and he also let see his chest. He was wearing his white low converses and black skinny ripped jeans. He took a puff from his inhaler and looked at his bike lying on the ground. He turned his head away and began to walk. He took out his airpods and launched one of his Daily Mix on Spotify, he closed his eyes at Alphaville's Forever Young.

It is never easy to leave this house with a mother as unbearable as mine. In fact, I lied. I’m not going to go to Bill’s, it would be too much of a detour. We’ll meet at the party. I preferred to walk because when I drink, I don’t take the road because...

All the times he passed out, in the middle of the road completely drunk, kept coming to his mind as a nightmare.

You got it, anyway. I know, you're surprised that I drink, but alcohol is pretty much the same as my meds. Except for beer, I hate beer.

Eddie was quietly walking around, dancing, listening to Rubberband Man from the Spinners, and clearly living his best life. When a noisy car because of the music made itself heard more and more as it passed by. The passengers listened to Dang! of Mac Miller and that made Eddie smile, he loved Mac Miller.

"Oh my god, stop the car." exclaimed Beverly. "I said stop the car, Betty."

"Why ?" Betty asked, slowing down.

"We just passed Eddie Kaspbrak!" said Ben looking in through the back window.

"Oh my God! I think he was dead." Betty laughed.

"Shut up. You should be the one to die, Ripsom." Ben replied.

Eddie walked in front of them, not paying attention.

"Yo, the comeback!" yelled Beverly what pulled Eddie out of his music.

He turned to her and looked at her with a smile. She had a big smile and he leaned towards her.

"It’s good to see you again, we missed you." she said in all sincerity.

Ben nodded, which made Eddie smile, he almost had tears in his eyes. His best friends had not forgotten him.

"Are you being dropped somewhere?" Betty Ripsom asked.

"Well, thank you !"

Eddie waved to him and Ben opened the back door. He got into beautiful Betty's Volvo and Bev turned to him.

"What the hell are you listening to? Certainly not the New Kids On The Block." She said looking at Ben who shook his head negatively by squinting his eyes.

Eddie looked at his iPhone 8, Rubberband Man was finished, he pouted at the next song.

"London Calling." he answered hesitantly.

"Perfect."

The music started in the car, all four began to jam in the car while singing.

The party was already in full swing when I arrived with the others. Stan’s house was shining from the outside and eclipsing all the other houses, it was beautiful to see. From the inside, it looked like it was going to explode. In every room, chaos. A kind of stifling heat emanated as Megan Thee Stallion’s Hot Girl Summer filled the house. The minute Stan’s eyes crossed mine, he left Patricia for my arms. It was nice, it wasn’t every day that Staniel gave you a hug.

"Oh, fuck, Edward Kaspbrak himself, that's crazy, I .. I'm so happy to see you!" Stan shouted in his arms. Stan held him so tight that Eddie felt he was going to choke him. He must have been a little drunk. He was wearing a stretch short-sleeved shirt in washed jeans with black pants and chelsea boots. It was divine.

He had always been, it was Stan, he could afford it. He was smart, mature, funny, an excellent counselor, the mom of the group and he also organized the best parties in high school. How having money is really cool.

"Hey everyone! Look who’s back! To Eddie!" shouted Bev while lifting up her shot of tequila in the air.

The people present in the room did the same and repeated these two words at the same time. Bill raised his glass in my direction, he gave me a big smile and I was a little embarrassed. Everyone drank their glasses. Bev gave me a shot of tequila, everyone was looking at me now. It was weird. Being the center of attention is clearly not my stuff. But, I drank that shot and after that, everyone screamed for joy. Bev gave me a hug, then Mike just added himself to the hug, then Bill and then Stan. The Losers were together and I could clearly hear Billie Eilish’s Bellyache in my head.

---

The hotel was rather classy, the room too, thought Richie. He did not know that places like this existed in Derry. The chosen one was therefore fortunate. When he returned from a room that served as a kitchen with two glasses of champagne. Richie looked at him carefully, he liked to sleep with older men, but he never imagined that Butch Bowers was that kind of man.

Thank you." he said, looking at the man standing in front of him.

"Your face is familiar to me, have we ever seen each other?" Butch asked, looking at Richie.

Later, Riche told me that at the moment he wanted to say yes. He really should have done it.

"Not that I remember."

Butch nodded and drank his glass of champagne.

Richie had said he was 18, technically he was not lying, he was actually going to have them. The knowledge. And Richie was consenting.

Butch watched Richie.

"We will not fuck, you're too young."

Richie nodded, he avoided swallowing.

"I envy your generation, however. When I see you, I see two life choices."

He stroked Richie's cheek, then his lips with his thumb. Richie was looking at him almost religiously. There was a kind of tension in the room. They were not going to sleep together, but it was almost as if. In a parallel dimension, it was happening.

"You can leave, live an extremely beautiful life elsewhere, be fully yourself, find love, or you can stay here and end up like me, hanging out in fancy hotels." Butch continued looking at Richie's eyes.

"Both choices are possible." retorted Richie.

Butch's thumb sank into Richie's mouth.

"If only I could, I'd smash you." he said in a low voice.

Richie closed his eyes. He could not really say what he was looking for in this kind of completely barge plan. But there was so much he was looking for. One was definitely that special bond he had once bonded with a unique person in his life. When both made leave of this vocal flirtation, this visual fuck. Richie put California by Lana Del Rey in his ears.

He looked at the door of the closed bathroom because the chosen one was taking a shower, he must have met someone before him and shoot his shot. Richie looked at his phone and left the room without making a noise. Once outside the hotel, he lit a cigarette. He took a few steps to his bike, when the song ended, the cigarette was too. He changed his song and went straight to Stan's house.

And there. The evening went fucking nuts.

The huge stairs in Stan's house were flooded and mobilized by people kissing, drinking or whatever. The music was in full swing, Eddie did not know the song, but he would have sworn it was one of the songs that Mike composed during his free time. He pushed people a bit to pass and went to the nearest toilet. He closed the door and looked at himself in the mirror before taking a breath of his ventoline. He kept looking in his bag with a tiny vial of white powder inside. There was almost nothing, but it did not matter because Eddie knew it was extremely strong. He spread it on a small spatula attached to his keychain which he had disinfected before and sniffed everything. He ran a hand through his hair and left the room. The sensations becoming stronger, his brain seemed to be reviving.

Blackbear’s Hot Girl Bummer burst into his ears. Suddenly, the world around him seemed to be totally out of sync with him. He almost lost his balance. Standing on the wall, clinging to people, Eddie laughed. The world revolved around him and he danced on the music that filled his brain.

All you need to know is that there are several versions of what happened tonight. It all depends on who tells you the story and... I’m not necessarily the most reliable narrator for this evening. But what I can assure you is that Bowers screwed up.

Bowers had been drinking since before with the party. He spent the night looking for Beverly and she wasn’t that hard to find she was in the Uris pool. Even wet, she was still the most beautiful girl of the party. She made a fairly simple make up. You’d think she had nothing if you didn’t know the basics of makeup. She was having fun with Betty and Audra Phillips, Bill’s ex, by doing a water fight and singing along on to Russ’s Do It Myself. And who knows why, Bowers as the fragile man that he is, wanted to break the moment.

"Slut!" he shouted as he reached the terrace.

He pointed to Beverly who turned to him.

"Yes ?" she replied, with a great deal of irony, a smile on her lips.

Everyone laughed and scolded Beverly's name. Bowers turned speechless. Beverly's smile widens.

"Well then, 2 minutes 30 lost his big mouth?" she said, coming out of the water and facing Bowers. "That is what I thought."

Everyone was watching the confrontation carefully. The first one since Beverly dumped Bowers and announced that it was all just a bet between her and Stan.

"Shut the fuck up, you only suck anyway."

"How could you know that since I would never suck you Henry Bowers? Now, please stop humiliating yourself in public. Go back to Greta Keene and forget about me, okay."

Bowers wanted to fight back but Beverly pushed him into the water and Georgie grabbed his leg to make it easier for him to fall. Everyone shouted and laughed. Stanley stood up and turned away from Mike, Bill and Eddie and apologized to see what was going on with Beverly.

"Really ?" He asked.

"You'll pay me Losers." he said as he stepped out of the pool and back inside.

Losers: 1. Bowers: 0. The school year is starting well.

Bill and Mike were laughing and Eddie smiled at Beverly.

It was at that moment that they concluded. The funny thing is that Bill, when he's alcoholic, totally loses his stuttering. So it was amazing to hear him speak clearly to Mike, especially when it was a rim job. I would have preferred not to be here to hear that. But I'm sure I heard a "I love you Mikey" so finally it was worth it.

"Everything's okay, bro?" asked Mike, noticing his presence again.

"Yeah.. Yeah, that’s fine... Glad to see you two are okay." he said, smiling and watching Bill blush.

At the same time, there was another one for whom things were going well. Ben Hanscom. Ben was playing truth or dare in one of the upstairs rooms with several of the Cheerios like Myra Stonehart or some of the guys from our class. Normally, truth or dare was the game we used to play when we were playing between us only, but here, it turned into a conversation about sex. And Ben Hanscom wasn’t a pro on the subject.

"What are you really virgin?" asked one of the guys in the discussion. "And do not say that a pipe, that counts."

"It counts." retorted Myra.

"You know nothing about it Myra. You're the one who wants to fuck Eddie Kaspbrak while everyone knows he's gay and clearly not interested."

Myra looked up at the skies with a grin.

"Who are you saving yourself for, man?" asked another one of the guys.

Beverly Marsh.

"No one. I’m just waiting for the right moment." Ben replied.

"Like, now’s not a good time?" asked another cheerleader. "If, I asked you to sleep with me tonight, what would you say?"

Ben blinked several times at Anna’s question and remained speechless.

Of course, Ben is an eternal romantic. He writes rose water's poems, appreciates courteous love stories and is much stronger when it comes to putting his thoughts on paper than saying it out loud. But, Ben Hanscom was definitely not a coward. He was just a virgin in a society where we wanted boys to breathe and eat porn all day long.

Anna leaned back to Ben.

"You’re super cute, Ben. You used to be before you started working out. In 5 years you’ll be a sex bomb and I want my cut now." she said in a rather serious tone.

The whole room was breathless, Anna was one of the sexiest girls in high school. Ben nodded softly and Anna smiled.

"Everybody clear this room now!"

---

While Ben surely lived what would be one of the most memorable evenings of his life. Richie Tozier had arrived at the party, and I was sprawled on that couch by the pool watching Mike and Bill be in love. Shit, I want what they have. At the same time, Beverly was playing in the pool with Audra and Betty, but you already know the rest.

"By the way, Eddie, you owe me 120 bucks." Mike said looking at his friend.

"Yeah, but I thought our friendship and the fact that I'm alive made up for that." Eddie replied.

"If you say so." Bill replied.

Stan came to join them.

"Frankly, Eddie, I missed you, we missed you all, it was not the same this summer without you, your drug stories make me feel bad."

"Aw Stan, don’t be sentimental."

"No, that’s not it. I love you, man, but... you really scared us." he said, taking a break before turning to Eddie.

Mike and Bill nodded in agreement with Stan.

"We thought you were dead. And seriously, Eddie, I’ve seen a lot of people die, but I would never agree to see you die for that. I’ve seen a lot of people die, but not people like you." Mike added. "I don’t know exactly what’s going on with your brain, but I can tell you one thing, drugs and getting high is not your solution."

A blank settled in between these four. He was not unpleasant, on the contrary. It was peaceful. They watched Beverly and Bowers fight.

"There’s one thing I remember... it happened when I was nine years old, shortly after my father was diagnosed. We were told that he was going to get better, I mean, that he had a chance of getting better. So, we celebrated it, we went to New York, seven hours back and forth. One of the best moments of my life. I told my dad that when I grew up, I would go to New York and live there."

Eddie’s voice started shaking and Stan gently shook his hand.

"Then we came home and I remember... that night, I slept with my parents and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. As if there was no oxygen in the world. My parents called the ambulance thinking I had a violent asthma attack. At the hospital, they gave me opium. Liquid. To calm me down and... then I thought, 'Okay, so that’s what I need'. Not mom’s medicine. That. Because all of a sudden, it was as if everything had become simpler. The noise, the voices in my head, everything was gone. Everything. Being in my head wasn’t a problem anymore. Four years later, he passed away and the asthma attacks that were actually anxiety and panic attacks continued. But that’s okay. I found a way to survive. I have you, guys. I have my psychiatrist. My medecine. Maybe it will kill me..."

Stan kissed Eddie's hand in support then got up and went to see the mess with Bev.

"Hey! Don’t say that!" yelled Bill slowly to Eddie before giving him a pat on his head.

"Touch me again in that ugly mustard buffalo shirt and I’ll kill you, Big Bill." Eddie laughed.

The three friends focused on the story of Bev and Bowers. Then Eddie stood up to give his best friends more privacy. Bowers had stormed into Stan’s apartment in the kitchen to get drunk. Blur’s Girls and Boys was in full swing throughout the house and the first thing Bowers did was not to drink, but to sweep a few bottles here and there with the back of his arm. Eddie and Stan followed Bowers wanting to throw him out of the party and Beverly Marsh had left the pool to annoy Mike and Bill that she had dragged inside after getting dressed.

"Get out of the kitchen!" screamed Bowers scaring everyone. " Get the fuck out."

The people around him backed back carefully to avoid getting a piece of glass, while watching Bowers lose it. Richie dug himself into a corner of the kitchen staring at Bowers totally destabilized by his behavior. Eddie, Stan, Mike, Bill and Bev entered the crowd.

"What's your fucking problem?" he said looking at Richie.

Richie looked at the sides and then looked at Bowers, he didn’t know what to say.

"Why are you here?" he says, moving forward and sticking to him. "Huh? You can't speak ? Aren't you Trashmouth Tozier for nothing?"

At the Trashmouth name agreement, Eddie’s attention got bigger. Shit, what is Richie doing here ?

"Can I know who invited you? You don’t even have any friends here. Everyone forgot you."

"Listen, uh. I don’t want any trouble, I just want to spend a chill night in my corner." Richie said, looking him in the eye.

He didn’t even blink.

"People like you are not here to stay in their corners. You are a problem here, you see, nobody answers. Nobody!" he shouted at Richie.

Richie grabbed the first kitchen knife and pointed it at Bowers, who backed away.

"You think you scare me? You think you scare me, Bowers? You know what we do to sons of cops like you in California?" yelled Richie in turn as he moved towards Bowers. "Back the fuck up!"

"I was fucking kidding. I was fucking kidding !"

"I’m not afraid of you, Bowers."

"W-put the knife down, okay? Put it down! I was laughing."

"You want to hurt me? You have no idea who I am." Richie yelled when he put the knife down.

At the same time he cut his hand without intentionally doing with one of the glass pieces of broken bottles. The spectators cried out in complete shock at this spectacle.

"You see. I absolutely don’t feel pain."

"Are you fucking crazy or something, Loser !?" added Bowers.

Bowers stood in his trembling corner, everyone watching the scene between confusion, admiration, shock and total chaos.

"No, I’m Richie Tozier. And it’s good to be home. Great party tho, Stan the man !" he said while smiling before leaving the room.

Oh yeah... fuck me.

Eddie quietly left his friends after that.

Ben came back down the stairs and saw Richie leave the party in fury.

"What did I miss?" Ben asked Mike.

"Where were you, man? You missed the craziest thing ever !" Mike asked Ben.

"I took care of my business."

Mike stares at Ben not fully understanding what Ben meant.

"I’ve lost my virginity."

"What? With whom?" asked Mike.

"Anna Addams."

"Wow. The Anna Addams?" he said with a smile. Ben confirmed by nodding his head, then Mike took him in his arms. "Well! Congratulations! How was it?"

"You should ask her."

Mike laughed and joined Stan in the kitchen. Stan gave Bowers a broom, cleaning supplies and a shovel.

"Clean up, or I’m going to get Richie." Stan said with a black look and a cold, stern voice.

Bowers took them and resigned himself. He glanced at Mike, Mike supported him, and Bowers resigned himself.

"I will stay in case you botch the job. Oh, after that, you and your friends will leave the party. Thank you." added Stan who was joined by Patricia, his girlfriend.

---

Eddie came out of the Uris house looking for Richie Tozier. He found him quite quickly getting his bike back.

"Hm... is everything all right?" Eddie asked while watching Richie.

Oh my God.

"Uh, yeah, it's good, don’t worry, m... Eddie Spaghetti?"

Richie smiled and blinked several times before moistening his lips. His smile came back, but this time in a corner one. He watched Eddie attentively, capturing every detail of his face. His hair was slightly unscrewed, his mascara had dripped a little and mixed with the glitter on his eyes. His pink lips, his freckles, his smile. Richie hugged him.

Wow. I think I’m getting hard.

"Yes yes, it’s m... Hey, don’t call me that!"

"You look good. It just smelled like trouble in here."

Eddie opened his eyes and began to blush slightly.

"Thank you, you’re not bad either... Yes! Yes, I understand your action. It’s just what you did... It was deadly classy."

The two stared at each other for a moment. Richie noticed the necklace on Eddie’s red balloon pendant.

"You still have it! That’s so cool."

"Oh the necklace? Yes! I’m not leaving it. You too, from what I see! You... you’re going somewhere?"

"At my place." Richie replied.

"I.. Can I come?"

"Yeah, of course! But your mother ? How is she since the last time I fucked her ?" Richie asked while mocking Eddie.

"Fuck my mother."

Yeah, fuck my mom. I found back the only boy I’ve ever loved in my entire life, looking like a fucking greek god and I still have to think about my mom ? Not today, Ma, not today.

The two took the road on Richie’s bike. Bowie’s Heroes passed on Eddie’s little JBL bluetooth speaker. Then, Richie suggested him to put Eddy de Preto's Fête de Trop. He was thrilled, clinging to Richie’s waist and resting his head on his back. He had strangely waited for this moment all week. It may not have happened the way he hoped, but Eddie was appeased.

Once they entered the Tozier house, they both went up to Richie’s room. Not much had changed compared to before, it was perhaps closer and more harmonious. Richie undressed and changed into pajamas, Eddie did his best not to look and Richie laughed at him. He gave her one of his sweaters that turned out to be too big for him, but anyway, he loved it and Richie loved seeing Eddie like that. He was just so...

"Cute. You’re so cute, Eds!"

"Stop it, won't you ?!"

Eddie rushed to clean Richie’s wound and apply a bandage with his first aid kit. Richie teased him by calling him Doctor K. and it was like Richie never left Derry. Richie had always been there somewhere and Eddie had seen him become a young man. Once the wound was cleaned and dressed. They took off their makeup and then the two men went face to face in Richie’s bed. They didn’t really need to talk to each other to say all the things they had on their hearts. They both laughed and Eddie snuggled in Richie’s arms. Nothing has changed. They still liked sleeping together. They still loved each other.

Mike, Bill and Georgie went home to the Denbroughs, Georgie fell asleep in the car, but Bill took him to his room quietly and then brought Mike in, then in his room where for the first time they spent the night talking when they were only the two of them.

Bev had gone home in the early morning and managed to miraculously avoid her father. She took off her makeup and changed her clothes at Stan’s after helping her clean everything up.

Ben had slept at Stan’s with Anna and had also cleaned everything with Betty, Patricia, Myra and others who had planned a sleepover at his house.

Bowers didn’t go home after cleaning up Stan’s kitchen, he went to Hockstetter’s to get drunk until the morning. Humiliated, uprooted, and completely high. He was severely taken back by his father and mother but especially by his father and went to his bedroom having already found his future victim for the year.

The next day, Richie and Eddie woke up early. Richie stopped by to brush his teeth and wash himself because Eddie forced him to do it and then Eddie did the same. Once back in Richie’s room, Eddie stared at him as he sat on his bed.

"I have an idea." he said softly.

"What?" Richie asked while stroking his hair softly.

"Wanna get high?"

#reddie #reddie fanfic #it (2017)#it (2019)#au: modern setting #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #bill denbrough #mike hanlon #stanley uris #ben hanscom #beverly marsh #euphoria hbo

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undiagnoseddrama · 5 years

Text

8. Get a second opinion...

Nice little introduction on the 26th October 2018. Very shortly after the pain management clinic. I got another UTI. Had to go to urgent care out of hours situation this time to see a GP as my doctors was all full. Positive. Cefalexin 500mg for 3days. ✌🏼 It so bizarre that this becomes a normal routine for me and I brush it off with nonsense. Just makes me laugh when a girl mentions they got one over the weekend and felt like they were dying. I’m like girl I feel you! Try 15/16/17 UTIs later, I’ve lost count🤷🏻‍♀️

Whether the September/October infection had come back with a vengeance or this was a new one, my body just didn’t get a break so this bout of UTIs.

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Still with no answers it was back to my GP, another infection after being discharged from urology just proved I was still not good! So he referred me to gynaecology at the women’s to investigate this route. He was baffled at my condition and wanted to help me, which I’m forever grateful for as most other doctors brushed this off with ‘standard UTIs.’

23.11.18- The first gynaecology appointment.

Women’s outpatients, new chapter, new hope? Well maybe not. I was met with quite an abrupt gynaecologist who personally, I felt like he just wanted to go home😒 First of all my medical records didn’t appear on the screen and after the typical spiel of my life, he said he thought my doctor and I quote was “cheeky” for referring me back to the hospital after urology had discharged me. He was basically laughing in my face.

I said well my doctor is concerned about what’s going on and felt like you could help me in some way rather than leaving me to get antibiotics after antibiotics. He said straight away that there was nothing he could do. Never even examined me my pelvis, back etc like the other doctors or asked me deeper questions about periods etc. He just wrote a letter to URO-GYNAECOLOGY explaining he wanted to transfer me over. This team are gynaecologists who specialise in how the urinary tracts and bladder interacts with the female organs too. Years ago many people thought they were separate but this whole line of medicine shows the cross link between the two systems.

I thought great. Just pass the parcel like I don’t matter. So again I had to wait for another appointment. I reflect on this and think what if I was discharged here again. Back to nothing. Definitely one doctors opinion is not valid in your health! Remember that!🙌🏼

20.12.18 - This day was a bit of a game changer!For the first time in all these appointments, I met a WOMAN gynaecologist. Not that I’m sexist in anyway but I felt like someone finally understood me and the difference was phenomenal.

The usual questions came, blah blah blah and then she began to ask me what tests I had done.

“A urinary flow?”

“Urine diary?”

“A smear?”

“An internal examination? You must of?”

“A cystoscopy?”

To all of these questions it was a no.

I hadn’t heard of half of them before? I was “too young” to have a smear and nope, no one had give me an external before?

She was in utter shock. She said after around 3/4 years of all of this happening she was surprised my GP hadn’t give me an internal examination before never mind one of the consultants at the hospitals.

She booked me in for the urinary flow tests and explained she wanted me to keep a urine diary at home, measuring how much wee I had by pissing into a measuring jug every time I peed😩 I had to bring this little diary with me to the next urinary flow appointment

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INTERNAL EXAMINATION

After she booked all of this on the screen, she asked if she could do an internal examination now! She was so shocked that no one not even my GP had done it before or the fact, this could’ve been the cause of it all. She asked for consent and ushered a chaperone into the room as I was on my own.

I’ve got to the point where I would literally let them try anything, obviously I felt nervous but she explained everything she was going to do and over to the bed it was🥴

I took off my pants, laid down and first she cleaned all her instruments and lubed them all up😑 I took a deep breath and as she turned round from her table of utensils, the contraption appeared. I thought it was absolutely huge and never going to go anywhere near me🖐🏼

She used what’s known as a speculum, basically a plastic duck bill shaped instrument that goes in and widens the vagina, so they can examine it properly.

She told me to breath and relax during this. Well no way could I do that! It literally took my breath away, it was quite tight and uncomfortable but didn’t last well long. I’m actually not too sure if she took a smear swab or not? But generally this is the same procedure as a smear test. She took that out after a minute or so and said the manual exam was next🥴 She lubed her gloves and then used her fingers to examine inside. This wasn’t as uncomfortable but still a random woman feeling around should we say. She did this to check for any obvious masses or cysts, abnormalities in the vaginal wall or damage to my cervix.

Whilst she was still there, she decided to tell me, I was making it slightly difficult because I’ve got such good pelvic floor muscles. Suppose there is a bonus out of all this🤷🏻‍♀️

Once she was all done, (she never noticed anything malicious) she told me to clean myself up and come back to chat. I wanted to just lie there for a second, to just gather my thoughts after that event hahaha. They also gave me a pack of wipes/tissues to clean myself after the KY jelly used practically gets everything😷

She then began to discuss the other tests she wanted me to try. She was convinced - and this was the first time a doctor has mentioned it to ME, is that she thought I have Interstitial Cystitis (IC)/ Chronic Painful Bladder Syndrome.

She explained a cystoscopy (a small camera into the bladder via my urethra) was the only way to diagnose this and believed this was the best next step, even though it’s very unpleasant, it must be done.

When I’d brought up IC to other doctors/consultants, they would always try and avoid the situation, acting as if I act like a hypochondriac. I literally visit the doctor with a new theory every time to try and guide their investigations because before this point nothing got done🤦🏻‍♀️ I was fed up. I do research like hell, that’s what I do at uni, how I revise, if need to do the whole outside subject before understanding one concept so of course I’m going to do that with my body as well.

I signed a few consent forms, read all the information packages she had gave me and she actually wished me good luck before I left the room✨ There was some hope after this appointment. I hadn’t cried like the others, I walked out with a smile on my face, weird when you’ve just had a stranger and several instruments too close for comfort🙈🤣 ...and it was a step in the right direction.🙌🏼

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URINARY FLOW

Around 2 weeks after the amazing appointment with the urogynaecologist, it was time for urinary flow or uroflowmetry I believe it’s called.

So this appointment was a funny one. I turned up to the department with no information at all🤦🏻‍♀️ but I brought my urine diary woooo! I always bring water as well because usually I have to do a fresh sample for the doctor or it involves an ultrasound etc. So I basically had to fill my bladder and sit on a ‘special’ toilet which recorded flow, amount, time all those sorts of things and then get a ultrasound after to see if my bladder emptied.

So I drank a bottle of water, went to the toilet and it was not enough for a good reading😫 the nurse told me to go back and drink another bottle before coming back. So the waiting room it was for almost 30/45 minutes.

In this time I met a lovely lady, who basically told me her life story😂 typical day out in Liverpool. She politely asked me what I was here for, mid conversation and of course makes the waiting room atmosphere a bit less boring. I explained everything and she explained hers, telling me she has had ‘the botox’ several times. So I immediately thought in her face where else?🤷🏻‍♀️

Well she meant in her bladder! With overactive bladders, if the typical ‘bladder training’ techniques don’t work, (basically trying to hold off going the toilet so it’s not every 20 minutes, reduce caffeinated drinks, try to reduce getting up in the night etc), Botox in the bladder is the next option!

It basically tightens up the bladder wall muscles to prevent incontinence and reduce the amount of times you have to go! Well I was baffled never heard that this existed!

After the delightful conversation, it was time to try again, back on the special toilet, beep beep beep, the reading on the paper flies out the back, the nurse removes my wee out the bucket - lovely job🤢 and I go straight into the ultrasound room to get checked.

All my results looked normal, only 30ml of wee left in the bladder, which I thought was weird, I expected it to empty out completely but apparently this is within normal levels.

They did this to check if wee was being left in the bladder or in a ‘kink’/dip in the urethra. This would then be a site for bacteria to grow here, causing the infections. However, this was not the case.

My flow and bladder were all good. So I waited for the next test and this was the cystoscopy. The moral of this story is that one doctor can make all of the difference. If I hadn’t of seen her, maybe my diagnosis would be further from what it is now who knows?...

#uti #chronically ill #undiagnosed #womenshealth #speculum #urinary #urology #gynaecology

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