#this isnt even a pain or fatigue thing

[sneef-to-a-snorf-fight]

ack having one of those adhd days where i cant do stuff i enjoy cuz i want to be productive. but i cant do anything productive cuz im eepy and wanna do stuff i enjoy. and so we scroll tumblr dot com.

[jaggialliance]

i'm so tired. i overextended yesterday. went like 5 different places (with a COWORKER no less) and then also cooked dinner. i've been feeling the repercussions today i was basically not functional. and in pain. and i had to go out twice even tho i didnt do anything i was just driving people places. and im probably going to still be exhausted tomorrow. maybe the day after that too. lol!

[corvidaedream]

im having mild lupus flare but its all over my hands & i wore my mitts at work today (fingerless gloves that go up your elbow, and have a sort of triangle of fabric covering the back of your fingers that can be folded back. idk if im explaining well) but i had them folded back so I could sort through my cards and all that while handing them to guests and a woman asked for a closer look at my posey ring, and I was so scared she was going to notice my weird shitty hands

she didn't mention it but im like. I know I look like I have poison ivy. I know my skin is bubbling. I do feel like a monster and I hate my body.

[lemontoad-old]

.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Maybe TADC Characters X Reader who loves gossip?

TADC cast x reader who loves to gossip!

Okok I know I have a track record of saying ik only goinv to answer a few asks then go to bed but I think I might actually

Go to bed soon

Im still feeling unwell and tbh its been getting worse; what was originally stuffy noses and sore throat is now that + fatigue and headaches (but no more sore throat!! Yay!)

Very bad sinus pain though

So uh uh

Only a handful of requests tonight then I might try to sleep

Very short since I'm sick + im on mobile + not many ideas are happening here <\3

CAINE:

Now caine looooooves to gossip, not even as a malicious thing he just likes speculating what the silly people in this circus do when hes not around

I like to think that caine definitely would play match maker should a circus member fall in love with someone, so he asks you for any and all details and secrets

POMNI:

Probably uses your habit of gossiping to try to find an exit. I mean you have a lot of into on other people, what's to say you dont have info on other things? Its worth a shot, at least in her eyes

Thus leads to her uncomfortable sitting next to you while you spew a bunch of stuff that happened before she joined the circus

RAGATHA:

Definitely on the side of "I dont like talking about people behind their back especially if its something petty or none of my business"

Obviously venting is a different story but this ask is specifically about gossip

I don't think she would like gossiping that much, other peoples business isnt her business you know?

Politely asks you to not involve her

JAX:

Jax probably has lied about another circus member before. Harmless rumors, of course, ones that are totally outrageous and only the more gullible would believe

So you two make a powerful duo, when we also take his pranks and jokes into account...

KINGER:

I think he likes some basic gossip. Like a "I heard (x) said (y) to (z), can you believe that" kind of gossip

But does it count as gossip if hes just relaying something most of the other crew knows?

Probably not but given his state of mind half the time can you really blame him?

ZOOBLE:

I took she would occasionally engage on gossip

Is it still considered gossip if its just shit talking, though? Because boy, I really do headcannon that zooble does NOT like jax in particular

Honestly you two can probably sit down and talk about stuff for HOURS

GANGLE:

Very awkward about it, similarly to ragatha I dont think she would be too big of a fan of gossiping about others

Gangle strikes me at the type to keep to herself and mind her own business tbh, not much else to say

Kind of just quietly let's you talk, very obviously doesnt want to engage in the gossip

[marshmallow---pillow]

Bestie do you have any AK!jason headcanons 🫶🏽

I don't really write about Arkham Knight Jason per se, but I do write about the Robin/Post Rescue version of him, I'll just share some headcanons about him from my AUs

Thank you for the ask!

Jason in my fics, has been rescued earlier than canon, and is about 15/16-ish

•If he was small from malnutrition, starvation made him smaller, so he's a short kid, and likes to curl up in small, dark places, the closet, under the bed, and any cramped nooks. He feels safe there, hidden away from cruel hands and angry words. (Credits to @prowlsic for this HC)

(Slade makes sure the floor is carpeted and the closet is stocked with the softest blankets and cushions—to not aggravate the kid's bone pain, also because the boy has severe fatigue from prolonged starvation, stress, and resulting hormonal imbalances, and is liable to fall asleep anywhere he feels safe, be that in one of the cramped kitchen cabinets, and eventually under Slade's bed and there have been several incidents involving Slade nearly having a coronary when he can't find the kid. On the other hand, this is the most amount of pillows and soft bedding he's owned his entire life. )

•That's not to say that the rage isn't there, Jason's a kid who's lost precious years to torture, which has left several almost dehablitating physical injuries as well as mental ones, of course he's angry, at the world, at the people who let him get hurt, at the one man who painted him as his saviour and gave him a home in the name of pure altruism and then just short of demanded Jason to become Robin. ( Robin was earning a place at a rich-man's home, a promise he wouldn't be kicked out), hence very prone to violent out-bursts, which are directed more towards himself than the world around him, over the most mundane things—a bad day with tremors when he can't hold anything for too long, a stray piece of clothing, and it ends up in screaming and then tears and a terrified kid hiding for days. And that's once assured that Slade doesn't plan to kick him out, (and that's another can of worms about apprenticeship and use that Slade has to tackle eventually), even if he's convinced that physical reprimand is Democles sword on his neck.

(He was a flight risk in the first few weeks, and managed to break out of Slade's high -security safehouse twice, only to be brought back unconscious, the kid's malnourished body couldn't carry him far.)

About Slade, here's the thing, he loved his kids, it wasn't enough. And for a kid as traumatized as Jason, he's agonized over the prospect of getting the kid better care, but he couldn't bring himself to. After several outbursts and tears and the heart-breaking pleas, he finally cracks and looks up help, to deal with a kid as hurt as Jason, articles, books ,research papers, any resources he can get his hands on—and it does help. It doesn't solve everything, but they can now acknowledge what's wrong, and attempt to resolve it.

•In the beginning, the kid's a ghost, you won't find him unless he wants you to, courtesy of his Robin training. Eventually, at the lack of repercussions, the kid slowly, painstakingly gets out of his shell, seeking out Slade for silent company, pressing to his side whenever Slade's doing something. And Slade takes the hint, and at one occasion, ruffles the kid's hair, making sure to telegraph his moves, Jason still stalls, and then remains painfully still, and when he moves he's trembling, barely breathing, making Slade think that he's done something wrong, but then he breathes, as if letting out a breath he'd been holding in for too long.

And something changes, suddenly the kid's seeking touch all the time, hair ruffles, pressing to Slade's side as he reads, and hugs, and Slade makes sure he isnt the one to let go, soon it graduates to strangely endearing gestures, headbutting Slade gently, bringing over whatever he was doing to do it in Slade's company, and then curling up against Slade after a nightmare, then it becomes routine, and Jason slots at his side as if he always belonged there, demanding hairpets, and ofcourse how could Slade deny him that.

• In Summer, he likes to wear soft, thin, breathable clothes, mostly large T-shirts and the like because the burn injuries have screwed with his ablity to thermoregulate, badly. For the exact same reason, his room and workplace is always stocked with water bottles.

(My HC for Arkham Knight is that he should have some modifications in his armor to assist in thermoregulation, lest he pass away from heat-stroke or hypothermia.)

Similarly for Winters, he'll bundle up in the softest, woollen sweaters, hoodies and blankets he can find. Which are—alot for some reason, fluffy ones, he didn't take Slade for a cold person, since he burns like a furnace. Even for Jason's mostly non-functional thermoreceptors, a delightful observation once Jason's convinced he won't be touched, not that way.

(Slade's absolutely not a cold person, Jason remains none-the-wiser)

Their home is safe and warm, there's cocoa and marshmallows for bad days and the good ones, there might be tears and unkind dreams, but there's laughter too. Their rag-tag family isn't in anyway perfect, but they make do with what they have.

Sorry if this wasn't what you were asking for, I tend to write more hurt/comfort and fluff, if you wanted angst, you can find really good HCs here.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for being upset at my mom?

🎵🎵 (to find it)

I know it's not a real big deal, but it's starting to get upsetting. English is not my first language and im on mobile sl sorry about that.

Okay, so my(20f) mother (F mid40s) suffer from long covid. Her symptoms consist of chronic fatigue, short breath, join pain and brain fog. (I still live home because im a college student, and finding an appartment in this market is hell)

We've been really supportive of her :

I drive most of the time, and my sister(16f) has her apprentice driver license, so she drives for mom when im at school; when we go to the mall and she need to take a break to breath, i always offer to go get her a wheelchair, or going to get the car, she sleeps a lot in the day so we don't make noise, i bought her loops earplug for sleeping, etc.

We're are used to it and my dad (mid40s too) work 12 hours a day to compensate for the money we're losing with mom on sickleave (where we live we have job insurance and etc): he starts at 5:30am to 6pm, and i usually only see him in the evening, so the only time we really are together as a family is during the evening meal.

There is where i could be the a-hole:

Since mom got long covid, it takes more time for her to respons us, and her memory isnt as good as it was (shes well known in her workplace, she a well respected manager who takes great care of her employees). It's just, almost every night, when me or my sister or even my dad are telling a something that happened in our day, she always cut us to say something, like :don't forget to put this in that, or just to say something she did that day over our own story, or asking me to bring her water in the middle of my sister's sentences (which she could have waited for after she was done).

So we, someone different each time, always tell her "X was speaking, you just cut them, and you do this often, please let them finish" and, well, when it happens everytime i am (or my sister) is trying to say something, it get upsetting. And she always uses the same reasons: "we're a family and we're cohabiting, sometime we talk over you but still listen to you" (no she doesn’t, i have to tell her a million times the same fucking thing and she always forget) or "you know my mind is a little slow right now, i'll forget if i don't say it" or she gets upset because we're annoyed by it.

But god forbid if you cut her! She'll raise her tone, and still doesn't get why we're upset.

Like, i get it, she got long covid and it's a bitch to deal with the way your cognitive capabilities slow down with the fatigue, but we've been extremely helpful (and im still gonna be, because she's my mother) and her allowing herself to lack respect towards us doesn't excuse her because she's ill. At least this is how i see it?

At this point i dont really know if i can feel upset? Like, she's my mom, and she's ill (and it's really depressing seeing her this put down by the symptoms i don't wish it to anyone) but im just so tired to have to restart the same sentence four or five time because she keep interrupting me

So, aita?

What are these acronyms?

[morganaspendragonss]

hello! just saw "FIC REQUESTS OPEN" and I thought I will try :D if you are not interested  - please just ignore this ask :)  So, I saw the gif set when Carlos says he will grab the food and TK says he isnt hungry. So since TK went straight to the firehouse it means he didint eat anything, probably since the previous day. So what about little angsty moment, what if TK faints after he assures Carlos he's fine? Adrenaline crash, fatigue, dehydration etc extra points if they find any bruises on TK's torso ( my headcanon is that he hit himself during the turbulence, he just can't feel the pain because of the adrenaline :D ). But as I've written before, if you don't have the time, if you don't feel like it, if you don't like the idea, just ignore it :D Have a great day, hope you're well!

hello! you're probably not still here but here's your fic! sorry it took me so long lol ao3 | 921 words | not everything after the plane crash is as okay as it seems also for @anyfandomdarkbingo - dehydration

“I’m okay, babe, I promise. I wasn’t hurt.”

Carlos runs his gaze over TK again, his heart jumping once more at the bloodstains covering his t-shirt. It’s one thing being told it’s not TK’s, and a whole other thing convincing himself that it’s true. TK isn’t the type of person to come out of a plane crash unscathed. 

He bites back the are you sure? threatening to break free and pulls TK into another fierce hug, clutching the back of his jacket in his fists. There are more I’m okays whispered into his shoulder, but they only make Carlos hold on tighter, needing the (living, breathing) proof that this is real. 

But the acrid stench of smoke and engine fuel lingers in the air and TK’s hands are warm on his face as he pulls away, and Carlos’s breath shudders as relieved sobs build in his throat. 

“What…” he starts, but pauses, his gaze flitting back to the ambulance and the plane beyond it. It doesn’t look too bad from this angle, the exploded engine and blown out window hidden on the other side, but Carlos can’t forget watching as it had tilted dangerously in the air, black smoke forming an ominous cloud.

If TK had been anywhere near that window…

“How close were you?” he asks instead. “The window… How close?”

TK breaks eye contact for a moment, wincing, and Carlos almost knows the answer before he speaks. “It was our aisle,” he admits. “The woman in the ambulance…she was in the window seat next to me and Dad.”

Carlos looks again at the blood on TK’s shirt, too much to mean anything good, and he’d seen the state of the woman before she’d been loaded into the ambulance. It so easily could have been him lying there, and then who would have done the saving? TK could have died, and it was Carlos who had bought that ticket, Carlos who had put him on that plane.

“Hey, baby. Carlos, hey.”

TK’s voice breaks him out of his spiral and Carlos looks at him through suddenly blurry eyes. Thumbs swipe across his cheeks and TK smiles, even though Carlos can’t comprehend how that’s even possible for him right now.

“I’m here, baby,” TK continues. “We’re all here. Nobody died. Can we go get some food now?”

A startled laugh breaks free and Carlos nods, then kisses TK once more. He’s glad TK’s hungry; his last full meal had been the post-softball lunch Carlos had dragged him too, and unless they’d grabbed something before it all went to shit, he hadn’t eaten since, except the snacks as they set up for the party last night. Carlos’s mother would have his head if she found out.

“Yeah, of course,” he says, wiping his eyes dry. “Let’s go.”

They begin to head over to where Owen is waiting for them and Carlos’s heart is starting to calm, anxiety loosening its hold on him as he realises – yes, this is real. TK is okay, and they’re going to go home and Carlos isn’t going to let him out of his sight for at least the next week.

And then, TK stumbles.

He apologises and tries to laugh it off, but when Carlos looks at his boyfriend, TK has gone alarmingly pale and there’s a clamminess to his hands that corresponds to the sheen of sweat across his forehead.

“Babe?” he asks. TK turns to him but stumbles again, and Carlos has to grab onto his shoulders to stop him from falling. “Okay, I think you should sit down.” He looks over and finds that Owen has already flagged down an airport medic, so he focuses all his attention on TK, who is wavering in place but still trying to walk.

“I’m fine,” TK says again, and this time Carlos knows it’s not true. “Seriously Carlos, I– Woah.” He stumbles and squints, a hand going to his chest as he starts to pant. “Maybe you’re…right. I… I don’t…”

He looks up at Carlos, eyes going wide before they roll back in his head and Carlos has to support him to the ground.

“TK?” he calls, but TK is out for the count and he’s relieved when the medic arrives beside them. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” she asks, so Carlos does, quickly running her through everything since finding TK on the tarmac. She hums and reaches to pinch the back of TK’s hand, then attaches a blood pressure cuff to his arm.

“His blood pressure is too low,” she confirms when the machine beeps. She packs it away then sits back on her heels, looking over at Carlos. “When was the last time he ate?”

A flush rises on his cheeks and Carlos can’t meet her eyes as he admits, “Yesterday.”

“I thought so.” She rifles through her bag and then there’s something being pressed into Carlos’s hands; he looks down to find himself holding a small packet of saltines and a bottle of water. “He’s just dehydrated and hungry,” the medic explains. “He’ll come around in a minute.”

As if on cue, TK groans and squints against the harsh midday sun. Carlos helps him into a sitting position and the medics backs off, though she hovers close by just in case.

“I’m fine,” TK grumbles before Carlos can even say anything, though he must still feel pretty awful judging by the look on his face.

Carlos just laughs and hands him the water and crackers. “Have those, and then we’ll see about that.”

[actualbird]

hiya zak!!! it's 2am and i can't stop thinking about it- but if you had the chance to write how luke gets cured of his illness in canon, how would you do it? (eg. via "surgery, but there's risks"/"oh we found a magical anecdote to your illness, yippee!...etc etc)

hiya "anon" hehe >:3c!!!! first off, thank you for this ask cuz it's super interesting. my answer to this is rather specific and looks bad at first but Trust Me and hear me out on this alright

if i had the chance to write how luke gets cured, i wouldnt make him 100% cured. medically (and this is very vague because im not a doctor), i would make it so that maybe new medication or a new treatment plan is found that makes his illness no longer terminal, but chronic. the new treatment has to be taken regularly as maintenance, along with regular diagnostic tests like EEGs and regular check ups with aaron. the new treatment would also come with a lot of side effects like mood swings, fatigue, nausea, etc.

basically: i dont want him to be cured, but i obviously dont want him to die. however, i want him to have to fight this for the rest of his long life.

it'll be an arduous process, one that never ends, but one he has to get through. and one he dedicates himself to do every day, because it's worth it, because it's worth life,

because he's worth life.

why do i want this? well, first off, it's because i'd love to see more chronic physical illness representation in fiction. it's not always clear cut with illnesses, and sometimes there Isnt a grand cure and it's more like an endless slog of maintenance

second off, i will repeat something i said in a previous ask i answered about luke's illness, but a sudden and 100% cure feels like a too-neat deus ex machina to me, narratively. his illness has been shown to be as Very lethal and Very painful and Very hard to treat, so for all of that to suddenly go away, well....the writing would feel a tad cheap to me if it were that easy.

and third off, because it'd fit well with the themes of luke's stories and luke's character

actually, let me go back to that previous ask i linked because im gonna copy paste a whole lot from it HAHA since my view hasnt changed since i wrote it. in that last ask i say:

in general with stories, i am less drawn to super neat resolutions and im more drawn to resolutions that are more like “and things werent perfect and they never will be, there will always be problems, but our characters will be okay and theyll keep getting better and better, and it’s in this push and pull of struggle and learning and progress and getting through where their happiness lies” ever since luke was a kid, even before he developed his condition, hes had the fear of being a burden to his loved ones. and when he does get his terminal condition, this fear is worsened and he starts to see his existence in other people’s lives as a whole as a burden of pain and grief that isnt worth the trouble. and…i dunno, i just like the idea of him continuing to live but also continuing to have these problems that still spark fear inside of him and still take so much work to manage every day. and out of habit, he braces himself for pain, not just for the kind his condition gives him but from Life because Surely, His Loved Ones Will Get Tired Of All Of This, Of Him and The Problems He Comes With, Right? but surprise surprise, they dont. because they care about him. because this should not and is not a dealbreaker for them continuing to care about him. aaron creates treatment thats more on the preventative maintenance meds angle so luke doesnt have to just wait for a pain episode to pop up and then dry swallow painkillers every time. it’s not infallible , but sometimes luke can have hours, even a whole a day sometimes where the pain hes bracing himself for doesnt come. mc always reminds luke to take his meds whenever luke gets too busy or caught up in a case. he worries at first that it’s an inconvenience to her for her to have to remember his routines for him just in case, but that worry becomes quieter as luke realizes she reminds him in the same tone as she says “good morning” or “have you had lunch yet? wanna join me?”, just this casual and loving thing thats now integrated into both their lives the team are always ready to help too in their own way. when luke gets a pain episode in hq, marius offers distraction in the form of idle chatter on (harmless) internal pax gossip while luke waits for his painkillers to dull down the stinging. when luke feels uncomfortable tingling crawling across his whole body while out with vyn, vyn subtly helps luke move from a crowded area to a quieter one where outside stimuli cant further overwhelm luke’s senses. when it’s a bad grip strength day and all luke wants to do is punch something and fuck his useless hands up even more, artem tells luke about custom silicone grips that exist for things like pens or knives or such and that they could look for some next time they go shopping. it is not perfect. but luke’s life, even with the pain, is still worth living. everybody is trying to help and eventually, luke learns how to start helping him self along with them too.

in summary: i think luke is a fighter. i do wish he had less battles to fight, but one battle that is important for him to fight is the fight to believe that he is worth living and worth joy in spite of it all

so if i had my way, i'd write him having to manage his illness for the rest of his life

and i'd also write him having a full and happy life while doing that anyway

thank you for the ask!! :'D

[cpunkwitch]

happy disability pride month

[id: image on the right is a flag with a dark grey background, a dusty rainbow diagonally going across it from the bottom left corner going up to the right and two dark grey circles in the middle of the image one smaller in the middle of the other. the mage in the middle is a green uerbox with the flag on the right and white text reading "this user wants people to understand that living with a physical disability in this world today is a waking nightmare". the image on the left is the same flag as on the right. :end id]

i want to talk about chronic pain. might make more posts similar to this one for other things but right now lets discuss chronic pain.

Chronic Pain Syndrome, aka Chronic Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS), is a broad classification of prolonged pain typically outside injuries or outside the usual timeframe for pain caused by injuries.

there are plenty of things listed under chronic pain like arthritis, back pain, fibromyalgia and more, however not everyone realizes what they have is chronic pain.

chronic pain is not about how bad the pain is, how much it hurts nor about how consistent it is, its about how long it goes on for.

if youre feeling pain for days on end in some area, thats chronic pain if youre feeling pain for a while after every time you try to do something with a limb (ex. lifting causes pain that stays all day and even the next day, getting up in the morning causes pain that lasts etc), thats chronic pain

if the pain goes on and off but still lasts a while when its there thats still chronic pain, it doesnt have to be consistent with how it lasts but pain that lasts longer than it should is chronic pain.

i always have pain in my spine when i get up in the morning, stand too long, walk or just be on my feet too long, lift heavy things etc and that pain lasts at least till the next day but usually much longer. strained muscles and exhaustion, soreness and aches are normal after activities but if they last longer than a day that isnt normal.

if someone tells you prolonged pain after doing something even mildly strenuous on your body is normal pain, they dont know what they're talking about and likely experience chronic pain themselves and no ones told them.

chronic pain can be caused by injuries, by conditions you were born with or gained over time. i was born with a defect in my spine thats caused me back pain, jaw pain, headaches and more for years and i only found out about it rather recently.

chronic pain can cause exhaustion and even be accompanied by chronic fatigue more often than not. it can cause you to need longer breaks and rest and avoid usage of your arms or legs or avoid further strenuous activity more than an abled person would need.

often any pain that causes you to avoid usage of your body isnt normal. pain that flares up after you move, be active or arent active enough isnt normal

pain that lasts longer than it should and pain that is always there after doing something is not normal and more likely than not, a sign of chronic pain.

a lot of people wont realize they have chronic pain unless they discuss their symptoms with someone who knows about chronic pain or understands that those symptoms arent normal pain. its okay to not realize or know something about your body, thinking it was normal then being told it isnt, its better to learn these things about your body, listen to your body and accommodate it than remaining ignorant and not doing any of that.

everyone's experience of chronic pain is different, not one experience will be the same as another or fit in a box, but they all have the similarity of their pain lasting longer than it should, however that presents.

the pain doesnt have to be excrutiating, there are days where it can just be dull and manageable, times where its just sharp and stabbing meaning you need to take it easy and so on. any manner of pain no matter how manageable or fierce, lasting longer than it should, is counted for chronic pain.

your knee pain flares up and stays in pain (regardless if its gone from fire to a dull ache) for the next few days or longer? chronic pain. your wrist has been in pain for a week and this happens often? chronic pain.

it doesnt matter where on your body, pain is pain and prolonged pain is chronic.

theres ways to make it more manageable, so long as you listen to your body and care for it. ice packs or hot showers/baths and anti-inflammatory meds can bring down swelling and relax the muscles, for example. you might find different things work for you and different pain you have, thats fine! not everything suggested might work for everyone.

not everyone has the ability to see a doctor but its important to try and talk to one if you can. and its okay to change doctors if you have any issues with your current one, especially if they arent listening to you.

its important to know your bodies limits as well, and to try not to push yourself past them unless you absolutely have to. dont let anyone pressure you into doing so. pain becomes more manageable once you understand your limitations.

feel free to add on tips and stuff about your experience with chronic pain! but please note im not a doctor and cannot diagnose you all i can tell you is what your symptoms sound like to me and suggest things for you to look into.

POST IS ABOUT CHRONIC PAIN AND PHYSICAL DISABILITY, DO NOT DERAIL.

[ID: banner reading "dni if... proship, transx/id, syscourse/discourse blog, anti-mspec lesbians/gays, anti-lesboy/turigirl more in pinned rentry. this blog is protected by the addams family, the de rolo family and co." in all black lowercase text. It has a grey cloud background. On the left is the De Rolo coat of arms with a cobweb in the top corner and symmetrically flipped on the right is the symbol of Vox Machina with the same cobweb in the bottom corner :End ID]

[motionjames]

I've been experiencing fatigue and heart pain for a year now without any answers. I assumed at first it was anxiety/PTSD psychosomatic stuff but it was so persistent and draining I felt that couldnt be the case. I went to the doctor on two different occasions and nothing came of it. Blood fine, everything fine... It's to the point where its unbearable. This entire month has been overshadowed by insomnia, fatigue, chest pain and nausea. I'm behind on work! My arms wont even lift properly at times! But after searching, there might be a reason why. It's something that doesnt show up on normal tests which would explain the doctors failure to catch it. While I hope it isnt such a thing it would explain a lot, so I need to get a diagnosis.

Despite everything, my mood has been somewhat good. My head is so heavy I can hardly lift it and my chest makes me want to cry. But somehow, I still don't feel so bad. I'll feel terrible if I cant catch whatever this is.

Whenever this kind of thing happens, my sister treats me extra nice...she always treats me well, but I can tell she is worried slightly. I dont want her to worry. I feel like I keep her up all night. But she never complains.

[beesmygod]

UPDATE ABOUT HEALTH, COMIC, ETC.

SUMMARY: i am still doing the comic at the fullest speed i can, but ask for patience and understanding while i get myself under control. nothing is stopping, but update days might get skipped. if you donate to the patreon for "A Ghost Story" you are only charged for pages i make per month.

ok so. the thing is about whatever is wrong with me:

i legitimately cannot tell if i am malingering, imagining things, or becoming a victim of my own anxiety because the "symptoms" im experiencing are so stupid and nondescript that they could be a consequence of anything from my awful diet to my worse sleep to my lack of exercise to even just being an alive human being. i was (am?) pretty sure most people feel like i do on a day to day because we all live such dogshit lives that fatigue, pain and chronic sickness were just the factors that united us as humans one of these ambiguous symptoms is a rotten tooth sort of pain in my joints. i have always attributed this to being lazy and out of shape and experiencing a type of pain from underuse. it absolutely does not feel like pain from overexertion. it's a deep internal throbbing that is entirely tolerable, but chronic. imagine being at like a steady 3-4 on the pain scale all day. sometimes, it "flares up" and instead of just having one joint a day (usually my hip), multiple joints will hurt much worse at once for about a week. in the past i always thought i was swerving getting the flu and just got lucky. a lot.

bc the joint paint isnt dramatic it never occurred to me to like, look at the places that hurt until recently. are the places swollen? am i looking at natural asymmetry of the human body and ascribing too much significance to nerves misfiring? in my eyes these places are not as swollen later as they are in these photos. i circled the swollen places in some bc sometimes honestly i cannot tell if thats swelling. they are places that hurt at that time and looked weird enough to document.

the only one i know for sure was/is fucked up is my toe/s. which i cant post bc of internet perverts. but the big toe turned cherry red and bloated and ached weirdly under the toenail. but there's a bump on it i can feel that makes it go numb when i push on it. bonespur? who knows. as a kid, my knee once became so red hot and swollen that i was sent home but was told it was bursitis

ANYWAY: i hurt real bad right now, and the worst of this stuff is happening in my knuckles, wrist, and my toes. when its in my hips, knees, and back i couldnt give less of a shit bc those are easier to ignore than my fingers. this friday i ran a low grade fever, slept for 20 hours and threw up my only meal. the first images are from this weekend. i have a drs appointment tomorrow.

please bear with me. the only thing a web comic needs to do in order to maintain any kind of readership is be consistent, and it is making me insane with stress that i am not able to maintain what should be an incredibly easy schedule for an audience that have been giving me the gift of allowing me to entertain them for almost a decade. i am not losing steam, just falling apart lol.

[stedebonnit]

Weird thing about recovering from mental illness while still having a mental illness is that sometimes it creeps up on you in a way thats distinctly different from how you're used to experiening it.

Youre different, more confident, more optimistic. You know things will get better, but that doesn't stop the symptoms from being unbearable when they crop up.

The chronic pain still hurts even when you know its a symptom of you depression. The fatigue is still infuriating even though you know it won't last forever. The anxiety is still terrifying even when you don't believe the things it tells you.

Mental health is complicated, and so today I'll do what I do best: project this mental illness onto my beloved blorbos.

Because I genuinely believe that Ed and Stede will continue to struggle even when they do the work and begin to feel hopeful about their lives.

There will be days where Ed feels the fear creeping up, telling him that Stede is getting annoyed with him, even when he knows realistically that Stede isnt actually going to leave again.

There will be days where Ed stares at a task he needs to do or a decision he needs to make and be frozen by it, even though he knows he isn't making them alone anymore.

There will be days where Ed feels distrusting and on edge, the claws of PTSD pulling him in, frustrated by these doubts because he knows to his core that he's safe here, but it doesnt stop those feelings.

There will be days where Stede wonders if he's being judged by the people around him, even when he knows that he's built a space where he's accepted for who he is.

There will be days where Stede fears that his presence is ruining the mood, even though he knows deep down that hes wanted by the people in his life.

There will be days where Stede feels the pull of melancholic sadness, and grows angry because he's never been happier in his life, but that somehow doesnt stop the fatigue from creeping up on him, making it hard to get out of bed.

There will be days when they struggle, knowing that it won't last, able to support themselves, but it will still be hard. It will still be frustrating, agonizing work to get through those times, because mental illness doesnt go away, but difficult episodes do end.

[digitalcockroach]

not to be all why me but actually why tf does there have to be SO much wrong with my body like my joints are fucked, my back is fucked, my teeth are fucked, my digestive system has literally never in my life been regular, my senses are over sensitive, im chronically fatigued and in pain, i cant process or absorb multiple essential nutrients because im riddled with genetic mutations, migraines all the time now, my brain is fucked and i cant remember things, discern reality clearly, sleep through the night, or feel satisfaction from completing tasks, before i was on testosterone my menstual cycle had me bed bound and suicidal half the month, not even to mention that i got blessed with the Wrong junk to begin with, i just

as a kid i literally used to lay in bed and between all my other existential dreads id think why did i have to get born into this body at this time in this place with this family? i could be so amazing if i was anyone else and like i do still struggle with my self worth a lot but not nearly as much now i just get so angry and defeated and alway always tired bc no matter how much i try or want it there's only so much my fucking body will let me do and so much more i gave up because it's inaccessible to me

which isnt even to begin to dig into how much WOULD be accessible with any financial independence! but nah im too disabled to work but not enough for benefits, not that i can get the documentation and diagnosis necessary to be taken seriously on state insurance anyways, I'll just live backed into a corner whatever

[mlmxreader]

Doctor | Laszlo Kreizler x gn!reader

@king-trash-cryptid asked: This isnt on the prompt list but could you write something with Laszlo and a sick reader?

summary: Laszlo drops everything to help you get better when you're sick, quite literally everything.

tws: swearing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of smoking, sickness

Laszlo didn't like it one bit. Being sick was awful enough to see in his patients, in those he treated and those he tried to help, but seeing his own partner sick was completely different; his steady hand would shake and he would drop everything if you so much as grumbled and coughed, he wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't help you to get better. He hated seeing you so unwell. Even though you reassured him time and time again that you were fine, that you just had a cold and you would be right as rain in a matter of days, he was determined to help you get better.

He asked for your family's traditional recipes, which were sent to him through the post and written in partially smudged ink but still legible; he could remember a few of his own, recipes for soups and stews and broths that would certainly help. He had a recipe for practically every day of the week, something for you to at least look forward to despite your lack of appetite; although it was a hard thing to come across and it costed more than Laszlo was ready to admit, he made sure that there was ice for you to have in every drink you could stomach.

Laszlo knew, though, he knew it wouldn't last but he was still more than determined to help you through it; he gave you medication, he fed you, he gave you whatever you could stomach when it came to drinks, he swapped the duvet on the bed for a thinner blanket, he opened the windows. The fever wasn't too bad, it was more the coughing and the lack of appetite that concerned him.

The lack of energy was another thing, but fatigue and lethargy were known to make an appearance during illness; still, it was something that he kept his eye on. Especially because you were so determined to try and move around and to get about your day. He wasn't having that.

Everyone had been told not to visit Laszlo, mostly so he could focus on looking after you, but also because you had told him not to have anyone over in case they could get sick from you; it worked out either way.

But as he sat there now, laid next to you and looking at you with great concern, Laszlo gently pressed the back of his hand to your sweat soaked forehead.

"How is it, Doc?" You joked weakly, your voice hoarse and raw and the words stinging and scraping as they fell from your mouth.

Laszlo wiped the back of his hand on his shirt, and smiled a little. "You're not as feverish as you were. Do you think you'll be able to sleep?"

A rattling cough gave him his answer, but you still tried your best to smile at him. "I can try... I can go downstairs and sleep on the sofa so you can have a quiet night."

Laszlo shook his head, pulling at your arm gently until he could lace his fingers with yours, holding on tightly as he cracked a smile. "I'm not going anywhere. One night's sleep being missed won't mean anything."

You glared at him, trying not to laugh because you knew it would make your ribs ache and would make your chest tighten and feel like it was being stabbed with a blunt axe. "Yet you have a go at me about staying up."

"I have to," he said quietly. "I... I care about you, and I don't want you to be in pain."

You huffed, nodding and daring to wriggle up against his side, sighing heavily and coughing for a while before you groaned and swallowed thickly, able to feel mucous and phlegm at the back of your throat, the sticky texture of it making you want to gag and retch. "Laszlo?"

"Yes?"

"I love you," you whispered. "But tomorrow... no fucking soup, or stew, or broth or whatever the fuck. I'm sick of that shit."

"You're sick," he pointed out. "It'll help."

"So would a chilie, or a curry," you told him.

Laszlo hummed. "I can see what I can do about it... maybe Cyrus can take me to town and I can get some things but... would you be alright?"

"Yeah," you said gently, trying to be soft on your own throat. "I'm sick, I'm not dying. Or stupid."

He nodded, able to feel your sweat drip down on his shirt, a small pool of it starting to form; a shirt could be cleaned, though, you being sick wouldn't be cured overnight. "Is there anything you need? Medicine, water, food, or-"

"I'd kill for a cigarette," you admitted.

"You're sick, smoking isn't going to help," he grumbled. "I meant anything to help you relax."

"A lick of whisky wouldn't do much harm," you mused. "You got any of that hanging about?"

"Actually, yes," he nodded. "I'll get it in a minute."

"Thank you."

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - you SHOULD reblog it; spam likers WILL be blocked. as will blogs that refuse to reblog or to give feedback. if you don't wanna reblog, then you'll get blocked; reblogging is the BARE MINIMUM. don't just "like", REBLOG

[purrfurnax]

wtf are you supposed to do when no one listens to you like one appointment our doctor seems like she understands and she wants to run tests or set up with a specialist but the next appointment, she changes her mind.and it doesnt help that none of my symptoms are consistent. brain stuff like anxiety/depression/psychosis/cognitive/balance keep getting worse, gastro stuff is like ibs most of the time but sometimes the heartburn gets really really bad or i have nausea so bad i cant keep anything down, pots symptoms come and go, different pain/fatigue levels and more i cant think of rn

its like if im not having those symptoms during the appointment she doesnt want to do anything about it. nevermind that i havent had very much appetite for several months and lost 10 lbs without trying but thats a Good Thing Because Im Fat, and everyone also thinks its more likely that i have like 500000 conditions + 'just fibromyalgia' instead of long covid

every time i look up a symptom that isnt common or even a thing with fibro, its always a lc symptom