#tumor in bone marrow

[creepyscritches]

My therapist asking me if I had a youtube channel for general cancer info last week honestly got me thinking. Professionally I AM a cancer educator and my audience is other healthcare professionals, but god so daunting to think of presenting to audiences larger than 50 or so at a time :S it has always been a passion to digest high level research and then translate it into understandable language - - I do it a lot for family+friends dealing with ominous or confusing medical news. Idk! He put it really well when he said even my "basic" knowledge can help people better understand some of the most life-altering medical realities affecting them.

[healthcarefacilitator]

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[reasonsforhope]

"Researchers at the National Cancer Research Centre in Spain (CNIO) have discovered a mechanism that is triggered just minutes after acute liver damage occurs—and it could lead to treatments for those with severe liver problems.

The avenues for future treatments of liver damage include a diet enriched with the amino acid glutamate.

“Glutamate supplementation can promote liver regeneration and benefit patients in recovery following hepatectomy or awaiting a transplant,” wrote the authors in a paper published in ‘Nature’.

The liver is a vital organ, crucial to digestion, metabolism, and the elimination of toxins. It has a unique ability to regenerate, which allows it to replace liver cells damaged by the very toxins that these cells eliminate.

However, the liver stops regenerating in cases of diseases that involve chronic liver damage–such as cirrhosis—and such diseases are becoming increasingly prevalent, associated with poor dietary habits or alcohol consumption. So activating liver regeneration is key to treating the disease.

Learning to activate liver regeneration is therefore a priority today, to benefit patients with liver damage and also those who’ve had part of their liver cut out to remove a tumor.

The research has discovered in animal models this previously unknown mechanism of liver regeneration. It is a process that is triggered very quickly, just a few minutes after acute liver damage occurs, with the amino acid glutamate playing a key role.

“Our results describe a fundamental and universal mechanism that allows the liver to regenerate after acute damage,” explained Nabil Djouder, head of the CNIO Growth Factors, Nutrients and Cancer Group and senior author of the study.

A “complex and ingenious” perspective on liver regeneration

Liver regeneration was known to occur through the proliferation of liver cells, known as hepatocytes. However, the molecular mechanisms involved were not fully understood. This current discovery is very novel, as it describes communication between two different organs, the liver and bone marrow, involving the immune system, according to a CINO news release.

The results show that liver and bone marrow are interconnected by glutamate. After acute liver damage, liver cells, called hepatocytes, produce glutamate and send it into the bloodstream; through the blood, glutamate reaches the bone marrow, inside the bones, where it activates monocytes, a type of immune system cell. Monocytes then travel to the liver and along the way become macrophages – also immune cells. The presence of glutamate reprograms the metabolism of macrophages, and these consequently begin to secrete a growth factor that leads to an increase in hepatocyte production.

In other words, a rapid chain of events allows glutamate to trigger liver regeneration in just minutes, through changes in the macrophage metabolism. It is, says Djouder, “a new, complex and ingenious perspective on how the liver stimulates its own regeneration.”

The research also clarifies a previously unanswered question: how the various areas of the liver are coordinated during regeneration. In the liver, there are different types of hepatocytes, organized in different areas; the hepatocytes in each area perform specific metabolic functions. The study reveals that hepatocytes producing a protein known as glutamine synthetase, which regulates glutamate levels, play a key role in regeneration.

According to the CNIO group, when glutamine synthetase is inhibited, there is more glutamate in circulation, which accelerates liver regeneration. This is what happens when the liver suffers acute damage: glutamine synthase activity decreases, blood glutamate increases, and from there, the connection with the bone marrow is established, reprogramming macrophages and stimulating hepatocyte proliferation.

Possible therapeutic applications

The experiments have been carried out in mice, but the results have been tested with bioinformatics tools, using databases of mouse and human hepatocytes.

According to Djouder, “dietary glutamate supplementation may simply be recommended in the future after liver extirpation, and also to reduce liver damage caused by cirrhosis.”

The first author of the paper, CNIO researcher María del Mar Rigual also wants future research to explore using glutamate supplements in humans who have undergone liver resection for tumor removal."

-via Good News Network, March 30, 2025

[mrcrawly]

EVEN MORE things that actually occurred in House MD

tried to keep this spoiler free but it's kinda hard to? here's an even longer list of things that really happened in House MD

Cuddy adopts a baby from some homeless drug addict squatters

House tries to prove that an exceptionally happy patient is only happy because of a deadly illness

And he was right. The guy had a tropical parasite.

House gets stuck in an airport during layoff with his situationship and resorts to using the airport's walls as a whiteboard while his team describes the patient's symptoms to him over the phone

House cuts into a woman's brain to prove that something is wrong with the left side of her brain because she enjoys working with special ed kids

House almost kills Chase at his bachelor party

House shoots a dead body and then uses an MRI to prove the bullet is magnetic

It is. He ruins the MRI machine

House hacks into the monitor in the OR to force Wilson to help him with a differential

Wilson sleeps with a terminal liver cancer patient

Aforementioned cancer patient miraculously gets her tumors shrunken by a travelling, 15-year-old Christian "healer" who was experiencing an episode of psychosis due to an undiagnosed STI

When there's an outbreak of an unidentified disease in the maternity ward, House tries to figure out what it is by giving two babies the opposite treatments knowing one of them would die

House induces hypothermic cardiac arrest on a 9-year-old cancer patient to find a clot in her brain

A fellow (during House's hiring game) poisons a patient to give her the symptoms of polio, so he could use vitamin C to cure her symptoms and encourage other doctors to research vitamin C as a cure for polio

(he got fired and arrested for this)

House bribes a surgeon to perform a risky operation

When that doesn't work, he blackmails the surgeon about his affair

Cameron drugs a patient after he was discharged so he would faint and have to be readmitted

House breaks into his ex-girlfriend's therapist office to steal her therapy notes and use them to manipulate her

House breaks the toilet in Cuddy's office bathroom with a sledgehammer as revenge after she took all the furniture out of his office

House sets a cadaver on fire

House induces a migraine on a coma patient to test different medications' effectiveness in preventing migraines

House kidnaps an actor from his favorite soap opera to prove that he's dying because he was reading his lines slower

House helps a father commit su!c!de so his son can get a new heart

Foreman extracts bone marrow from a child without anesthesia or lidocaine

House wakes up a severe burn victim from a medically induced coma in case the patient knew something to help diagnose him (he didn't)

Chase kills a patient (more than once, just for two different reasons)

[badninken]

Law generating gamma rays and wielding them like a blade in his bare hand to destroy Doflamingo.

Obsessed with Law's absolutely feral expression in that top panel, combined with Doflamingo screaming, falling to his knees and coughing up billows of smoke as his internal organs and bone marrow suffer massive radiation burn. Have some cell death, Mingo.

Now, it's been a while since my last physics class and this is all based on basic google research and vibes, but, gamma rays are kind of a big deal. NASA says they're generated by the hottest and most energetic objects in the universe, like Law and supernova explosions for example. They're also generated by atomic bombs.

They're also used to kill bacteria and tumors in nuclear medicine!

And there's just something about one-armed, several times gunshot-wounded feral Law being able to generate and control radiation that can disintegrate the human body from within, and the fact that with that same power he could use irridation to sterilize his surroundings and medical equipment as well as perform radiosurgery to treat cancer, like the gamma knife that his attack is named after, all with his bare hands.

His actual medical skills and powers so rarely get to shine. It's all patch jobs off-screen after battles or it's stuff he doesn't want to deal with, like everyone getting diarrhea in Wano. He 100% could have treated Kin'emon and Bepo but just imagine the grueling task of surgically purging people's bowels from food poisoning, using a cursed sword and telekinesis. Where does he put the shit afterwards?? Don't imagine it, it's really gross.

Wouldn't it have been cool if Law got to clear some poisoned food and water in Wano though? Instead of stealing from the enemy? He drew multiple generation's worth of accumulated lead out of his own feverish, beaten and traumatized body at age 13, don't tell me he couldn't clean a polluted fish if he waved his hand around for a bit.

[granolagaeilgeoir]

Prayer request update! Please pray for my dad, as he got scan results back and while they didn't find a tumor in the spot they were looking for it, there was an abnormality they discovered that could either be nothing or bone marrow cancer. Please pray for the health and conversion of him and my whole family!

[evilwriter37]

I haven’t publicly said anything about this yet but it’s really weighing on me, so:

I have an oncology appointment next Tuesday.

I’ve been growing more and more tired by the day, which is to say energy is almost nonexistent now. I already have CFS pretty badly, so this drain is completely ruining my quality of life. I can barely do the basic things to take care of myself, never mind the things that I enjoy.

And it’s breaking me.

I want to write and read and create art and pick up that electric violin my partner got me and play video games and—

You get the picture.

Sitting upright is a drain of energy. I have to save a lot of spoons for meal times so I can sit up and eat.

And, oh, yeah, have hardly felt a single hunger signal in about 3 weeks. I’m keeping up with eating to take my meds and because it’s a habit I made for myself in my eating disorder recovery. It’s so fucking hard to do right now though.

I’m now rapidly dropping weight despite changing nothing about my lifestyle save for the fact that I’m even more sedentary than before. I won’t get into my actual weight, but have been seeing my doctor rather frequently to keep track of all this, and I lost 11 pounds in 2 weeks. I just saw my doctor yesterday, and obviously we both found that pretty alarming. I’ve been losing weight over the past two months, but the rate it’s happening at is definitely increasing.

And to tie it all together? My blood work results are bad. Climbing white blood cell count with no sign of an infection, and it doesn’t seem to correlate with my steroid dosage or endocrine system. We went through all my meds and the doctor is pretty damn sure none of them are causing this increase in white blood cells. Not only that, but my neutrophils are very high, as are my immature grans. (Both are different types of blood cells. I have been learning a lot about blood lately.)

So, um, yeah…

Cancer Scare #3. This feels a lot more real than the last two though. Scare #1 was because of high red blood cell count, but that evened out. They’re even at normal levels now! Scare #2 was the multiple tumors in my liver. Those turned out to be hepatic adenomas caused from long term birth control usage, so they were benign, and have since gone away now that I’ve stopped taking Depo Provera.

This is just… very different. Even if it’s not a type of blood or bone marrow cancer, there is something seriously wrong inside my body. It’s terrifying to me. I had a baseline I’d adjusted to with my body and knew what symptoms to expect from it. A chronically ill body is often very unpredictable, but it was still a body I knew and recognized and had grown used to.

I don’t know my body anymore. Not even a little bit. I just feel physically ill all the time, and the brain fog from it is so bad that it’s starting to scare me. My memory is just not there. There’s been a definite decline in my cognitive abilities.

Originally my appointment was May 13th, but I was the top priority on the cancellation list, so it got moved to April 29th. While it feels good to be taken seriously, it’s being taken so seriously that it’s frightening.

I hate this.

I’m not even getting into how this has affected my mental health.

Thank you if you read through all this. It turned out much longer than I expected it to. I’ve told most of my loved ones, but I just needed another place to share it.

TLDR: Buckle up for Archer’s Cancer Scare #3

[starwrighter]

You know what I love in DpxDc crossovers?

When people explain Jason's pit madness as having to do with ectoplasm. Whether it be the hc that the pits are corrupted ectoplasm, Jason being a revenant before being dunked in the pits or any other idea/theory I love it all!

But you know what I don't see much of? The pit madness being seen as something more clinical. In most of the DpxDc crossovers I've read it's always treated as something that can be easily and quickly fixed. I don't see much content about Jason's pit madness being treated like an serious illness and it's honestly underrated.

Make his pit madness be like cancer for ghost's. Something spread throughout his body like a fucked up spider web slowly killing him as it continues to go untreated. Making his life emotionally and oftentimes physically painful. Have Jason assume his pain is just the consequences of his vigilante life since nobody could ever diagnose him with anything.

Danny feeling heartbroken when he sees Jason not because he can sniff it out or sense it but because he can see it. Oftentimes cancer doesn't show symptoms until it's advanced. For Danny this is like seeing someone who's medical treatment has been so neglected that they're covered in tumors! Danny screaming bloody murder at Bruce for allowing things to get this far; for not getting him help and allowing things to fester like this. Danny's ugly crying because he's a child and he doesn't know how to react to something like this! It's a horrifying sight when medical care is neglected, but seeing someone suffering so much without even knowing what's going on? It's terrifying.

Jason trying to comfort Danny but Danny just starts crying harder because Jason doesn't know what the hell is going on and someone has to be the one to tell him.

Treat Jason's pit madness as a symptom of something bigger, not something that can be fixed with the flick of a wrist. Show me the grief of having a loved one/being the loved one suffering from something that has a good chance of killing them. Where the treatment can make you feel worse than the disease does sometimes. Seeing a loved one get weaker and weaker yet reassuring yourself it's just the process of healing and they're going to be fine.

Have it be something that's treatment is long and strenuous, something that might need surgery to fix. Jason needing a bone marrow transplant or an organ and Danny being the only halfa that's willing to give it to him. Jason having to choose whether he's willing to risk a child's life to save himself or if he's just going to die a second time.

(Bonus! Have Jason deny the operation but Doctors work differently in the realms so it's done anyway without his consent. Does Jason think Danny died from the operation? Maybe it's some important ghost bone marrow/organ and the doctors being dodgey and refusing to let anyone see Danny before he's recovered enough? Jason grieving over a child and lashing out because "why would anyone decide the life of a child was something you could throw away like that!")

[jacktheeldergod2]

@1969chevycamaro @whereserpentswalk @everythingismadeofchaos @the-aaaaa-battery @trashsouppossum @tropical-bread @dojyaaa--n @dackychansworldofhoshino @dh-ng @decoysender @kinkshame-puncher-666 @lukiyu @bellaphomet3 @badatoe @mmmmmmky @mineblasters @moonsfavoritedaughter

[dudeimjustagirll]

The Second Thing I Thought Of

Ao3 Link :p

some light angst bc I just rewatched Under the Red Hood and it was sooooooo good

It didn’t happen all at once.

Grief never did. It leaked in slowly, soaked your skin in memories, settled behind your ribs–beside your heart, like a tumor.

You didn’t get the call. You got the absence of it. An empty inbox. A silent line. And then Alfred—steady, composed Alfred—whose voice cracked just enough to tell you everything.

Jason was gone.

You were nineteen. He was eighteen. One year apart, but soul-matched in defiance. You were the one he called when Bruce said no. The one who knew how that felt—how the word stuck in your throat, how it made you reckless.

And this time, it wasn’t just any defiance. It was personal.

He’d gotten a lead about his mother. A sliver of a chance. He said he didn’t expect her to be perfect, or kind, or even good. He just needed to know. He loved Bruce and Alfred—God, he adored them, even when he couldn’t say it. He’d do anything for Dick, would defend him in one breath and punch him in the next. But there was still this part of him—a bleeding edge, something unresolved—that needed answers. Needed to understand why his life started the way it did. Why she left. Why he never got to know her.

Bruce had said no. He said it was a setup, too dangerous, too uncertain. He told Jason to wait.

And Jason told you.

You knew how it burned. The waiting. The powerlessness. You looked into his eyes—so full of longing, so impossibly young—and you said, "Then go. Find her."

You didn’t know that would be the last time you’d feel his heartbeat.

You didn’t know it would get him killed.

The first week after… you couldn’t bring yourself to eat much. Or do much else, honestly.

The news was like a weight dropped onto your chest, and no matter how many days passed, you couldn’t seem to breathe around it. People tried to help. Friends. Classmates. Your parents. Professors. They offered food, company, soft words. You snapped at them. Bit down on kindness with grief-sharpened teeth. You weren’t angry at them. You were just… sad. Bone-deep, marrow-rotting sad.

And losing a partner wasn’t the same as losing a parent, or a sibling, or a friend.

It was worse, in its own, horrifying way. Because you’d chosen him. You’d loved him in quiet, deliberate ways—chosen him in the moments between chaos. And now he was gone, and nothing felt real.

You stopped responding to messages. Missed classes. Let your coursework rot in the back of your bag. The university noticed. Your grades slipped. You didn’t care.

Your parents did.

They got you into therapy. At first, you refused. The thought of sitting in a room with a stranger and sharing the pain was unbearable. You didn’t want to speak it into the air and make it more real than it already was.

You went, anyway. After a particularly stern talking to from your mother, telling you that this couldn’t go on any longer. You needed good grades to get into your graduate program, after all.

You hated it. The first few sessions were a quiet, seething hell. For weeks, you sat in silence. Arms crossed so tightly your shoulders ached. Head low so you wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes—not the therapist’s, not your own in the reflection of her glasses. Every question she asked felt like a scalpel. Too sharp. Too close. Like she was trying to peel you open and name all the pieces inside.

You weren’t ready for that. You weren’t ready to say his name out loud. Not in that room. Not in any room.

When she asked you what happened, you clenched your jaw until it hurt. When she offered you tissues, you didn’t take them. When she said it was okay to be angry, you stared at the floor like you could burn a hole through it.

You were angry. Furious, even—but not at him. Never at him.

You were angry at yourself. For saying, "Go." For meaning it. For being the one person who should’ve known better—should’ve stopped him—and instead handed him the push he needed to fall headfirst into his grave.

The guilt festered like a wound that wouldn’t close. And you thought, if you spoke it aloud, it would make it real. Concrete. Unforgivable.

But something shifted one afternoon.

You had shown up, out of obligation more than hope, and sat in the same chair you always did. Cold fingers gripping your sleeves, nerves frayed like wires. Your therapist didn’t ask anything that day. She just sat there. Quiet. Patient. Breathing softly across from you.

And for the first time, the silence didn’t feel like pressure. It felt like space.

And you cried.

Ugly, open sobs that collapsed your shoulders and twisted your mouth and shook your whole body like a tree in a storm. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t poetic. It was raw and wrenching and real.

You told her everything.

The guilt. The choice. The way you had told him to go. How you had said it like a gift, like liberation—when it had been a death sentence. How it felt like your hands were dipped in blood every time you looked at them. How the memory clung to you, cold and sticky and alive.

You told her how some mornings you woke up with his name on your lips, like he’d just walked out the door. How some nights you still reached across the bed for a shape that wasn’t there.

You told her how grief had gutted you. How it still did.

She didn’t interrupt. Didn’t correct you. Didn’t say it wasn’t your fault.

She just listened.

And somehow, that was enough.

It wasn’t a fix. It wasn’t even relief.

But it was the first time you didn’t feel like you were drowning alone.

And that was enough, for a start.

Healing wasn’t linear.

Some days, you thought you were okay. Then you'd hear a laugh like his in the grocery store, or catch the scent of his cologne in a crowd, and you’d feel like you were drowning all over again.

Once, it was a hoodie in the back of your closet. One he’d stolen from you and stretched out. You found it while looking for something else and sat on the floor for an hour, hugging it to your chest, sobbing like he’d just died yesterday.

But slowly—painfully—you got better.

The guilt that plagued you started to ebb. Bit by bit by bit.

Initially, his death felt like the worst thing in the world every single day. It was the first thought when you opened your eyes, the last one when you closed them.

After a year and a half, it was the second thing.

Eventually, the third.

You never forgot him.

He was kind. He was caring. He was a smart-mouthed, soft-hearted boy who brought you chaos and comfort in equal measure.

You still kept the polaroid from when he invited you to his senior prom. He was in the nicest suit he owned, grinning like he’d won the lottery just having you there.

Your ringtone for a few people was still set to his favorite song. Something fast and loud and stupid. It made you smile, even when it hurt.

You got back on your feet. Slowly, yes—but surely. The days stretched out longer. The sun felt a little warmer. You made friends in your program. You started laughing again.

After two and a half years, you thought—maybe—it was time to start dating again.

It didn’t go well.

The people were kind, mostly. But they weren’t him. They didn’t make your heart kick sideways when they looked at you. They didn’t know how to make you laugh from your stomach, or hold your wrist gently when you were anxious.

No one ever lasted.

You told yourself that was fine.

You were twenty one. You had time.

The world kept turning, and you had started turning with it—no longer stubbornly looking back, no longer clinging to memories like they could bring him to you again.

You made space for new dreams, kept your head down, worked hard in your classes.

There were good days. Warm ones. Quiet mornings where you caught yourself smiling without guilt. Sometimes you even imagined what your future might look like. A life built with patience. A life where the ache dulled to something you could carry without breaking.

And then you saw him.

It was late. Your shift had run over, and your body ached with the familiar burn of overwork—muscles sore, eyelids heavy, brain fogged with too many patients and too little rest. You were walking home in scrubs, the fabric clinging to your skin from the misty rain that had started to fall, keys laced between your fingers, humming a song you couldn’t name. Just another night. Just another tired breath, another stretch of cracked sidewalk beneath your shoes.

And then your breath caught mid-step.

There—across the street, beneath the flicker of a dying streetlamp—he stood.

Black jacket. Broad shoulders. That crooked stance, casual and coiled at the same time, like he was daring the world to try him. You knew that stance. Had leaned against it. Had run your hands over the leather and rested your head against those shoulders more times than you could count.

Your brain stalled. Refused to compute. For a second, you truly thought you were hallucinating. Sleep-deprived. Stress-delirious. It rewound. Glitched. Tried to place a logical explanation where one didn’t exist. A stranger. A ghost. A trick of the light.

But then he looked up.

And you saw those eyes.

Green. Startling. Too sharp to be kind, too soft to be cruel. Eyes that held memories you hadn’t let yourself touch in years.

You knew them.

Your heart plunged into your stomach, heavy and sick, like a weight dropped from a great height. Your pulse roared in your ears, blood rushing so loudly you could barely hear the distant sounds of the city anymore. Everything around you narrowed—blurred—until it was just him and the cold slap of the wind on your face.

You stepped off the curb without thinking. Barely noticed the screech of tires somewhere behind you. You crossed the street like gravity had tilted, and he was the only thing holding you to the earth.

Closer. Closer.

Every step felt like walking through water, thick and slow and disbelieving. Your fingers were trembling. Your breath refused to come steady. The air between you crackled like static.

You stopped inches away.

"Jason?" you breathed, voice breaking over the name like it was made of glass.

He didn’t smile. Didn’t speak. Just looked at you—like he was trying to memorize you all over again. Like maybe he’d been standing under that streetlamp for a while, unsure if he’d actually come close.

You reached out.

You touched him.

His jaw was bruised. His knuckles bloodied. But it was him. His pulse was real beneath your fingers.

So you hit him.

Your fist cracked against his chest. Once. Twice. You weren’t even sure what for. For the years. For the silence. For the fact that you had buried him and here he was, alive and looking at you like he was the one who’d been left behind.

"You died," you choked, tears spilling fast. "You died. I buried you, Jason—"

He didn’t block you. Didn’t flinch. Just let you rage. Let you crumble.

"You said you'd just talk to her. You said you’d be fine. You promised me you’d be careful . "

He swallowed hard, the motion in his throat tight. "I thought I would be."

You hit him again, open-handed this time, and then your fingers curled in his jacket like you might fall apart if you let go. Confusion crashed over you in waves—grief, fury, disbelief, all tangled up in the shape of him standing there like no time had passed.

"I don’t understand," you whispered, eyes wild. "How are you here? Why didn’t you tell me?"

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at you like he wanted to, like the words were there and too dangerous to say. Like maybe he didn’t know how to start.

"Because I didn’t know if I was still him," he said at last. Quiet. Almost ashamed. "Didn’t know if I’d be someone you could still love."

Your knees buckled before the sob even escaped. But his arms caught you. Without hesitation. Like they remembered how.

You clung to him. Rain soaking through both your clothes. Heart pounding against his. Mind screaming that this couldn’t be real. That things didn’t just go back to the way they were.

They couldn’t. You wouldn’t let them.

But for now, you stayed right there.

Held by the ghost you had never stopped loving.

Held by the boy who had died and come back something else entirely.

And you didn't know what would come next.

Only that he was here.

And he was holding you just like he always had.

The months that followed felt like liminal space. Like you’d stepped sideways out of time.

Jason was back—but not really. The edges of him were sharper. The light behind his eyes dimmer. He flinched more, spoke less, and smiled like it cost him something. There were nights he would show up with blood on his hands and dirt under his fingernails, jaw clenched like he was holding back the end of the world. And you never asked where he'd been. You never asked why he looked at himself like he wasn’t sure he belonged in his own skin.

But he came to you. When the blood ran too hot, when the mission pushed too far, when he had nowhere else to go—he came.

You never stopped letting him in.

Tonight, the air was too still.

Gotham had a sound to it—constant, low, alive. Sirens, traffic, the hum of neon, that far-off sound of chaos you’d grown used to. It was a city that never slept, and you’d learned to fall asleep to its noise like a lullaby.

But tonight, the silence crept in thick and unnatural, curling around your apartment like fog. Even the ticking clock on your wall felt loud. You didn’t need a phone call. You didn’t need a text. Your bones just knew.

Jason was bleeding again.

You didn’t turn on the light outside of the door. You never did, not when it was him. Just the hallway lamp, casting a warm gold glow across the hardwood floor. The med kit was already open on the kitchen counter, supplies laid out with the same careful precision you used in your practice—alcohol wipes, gauze, antiseptic. A towel, already damp with warm water.

You didn’t pace. Didn’t wring your hands or flick glances at the door. That wasn’t how you waited for Jason.

You just sat. Steady. A quiet presence in the dark.

You remembered the first time he showed up at your door post-resurrection, soaked in rain and blood and guilt. You hadn’t spoken. Just guided him to the bathroom, sat him on the edge of the tub, and cleaned him up. He watched you like he expected you to vanish any second, like kindness was a language he no longer understood.

And tonight was no different.

The door opened just past midnight. No knock. He never knocked. He let himself in, quiet like a shadow, the hinges creaking softly as he pushed the door closed behind him.

You looked up from the armrest of the couch.

His shirt was torn. There was blood down one sleeve and a cut across his cheekbone. His eyes were unreadable, but they landed on you like he was half-relieved, half-terrified you’d finally stopped waiting.

You didn’t say anything.

Just nodded once. The smallest gesture.

He crossed the room slowly. Every step was a confession.

And when he stood in front of you, not quite meeting your eyes, you reached for him.

Not to pull. Not to fix.

Just to touch. Just to let him know you were still here.

He exhaled like it hurt.

Like being seen hurt.

And then, with a tremble so faint it might’ve been imagined, Jason Todd sat down beside you and let you take his hand.

You didn’t ask him to talk.

You just started cleaning the blood from his knuckles.

The silence wasn’t empty.

It was everything he didn’t know how to say.

Because if there was one thing he had never known how to handle, it was someone waiting for him like he was worth the wait.

You worked gently, dabbing antiseptic over scraped skin. The towel turned pink in your hands. His fingers twitched once beneath your touch and he let out a hiss.

“Too rough?” you asked softly.

He shook his head. “No. Just... not used to it yet.”

You paused, letting the weight of that settle.

“I know,” you murmured. “But you will be. Eventually.”

Jason was quiet again. His gaze was fixed on the floor, but his hand never pulled from yours.

“I didn’t come back right,” he said, finally. Voice low. Raw. “You loved Jason Todd. He’s gone.”

Your chest went tight. The sting behind your eyes was immediate and sharp. You set the cloth down slowly. 

No. He couldn’t just waltz into your place whenever he felt like it and say he wasn’t the man you loved.

“That’s not fair.”

His brows twitched, but he didn’t look up. “It’s true.”

“No,” you said, voice steady despite the tremble building in your throat. “It’s not.”

He scoffed, bitter and low. “You don’t know what I’ve done. What I’ve become.”

“I know exactly who you are,” you said, louder now, sharper. “Don’t you dare sit there and act like I’m some idiot who’s in love with a memory. I’ve seen you. I’ve held you. I’ve listened to you scream in your sleep and still woken up next to you in the morning.”

Jason flinched—just a little—but his hands were clenched now, tension bunching through his shoulders.

“You think I want this?” he bit out. “I was eighteen. I wanted answers, not a goddamn coffin. I shouldn’t have gone. You told me to go—”

“I know , Jason!” Your voice cracked. “Do you think I don’t know? I’ve lived with that every single day for years. You think I didn’t rip myself apart wondering if it was my fault you died?”

Silence pulsed between you. Thick. Heavy.

His eyes finally met yours—and there it was. The weight. The pain. The shame.

“I loved you,” he whispered. “So much it scared me.”

Your throat burned. “Then why are you trying to make me hate you?”

“Because it’s easier,” he said. “Because if you hate me, you’ll let go. You’ll move on. And maybe I won’t have to look at you and remember what it felt like to have a life.”

Your breath caught.

“You think I’m here because I want the old you back?” you asked, softer now. “ There is no old you. I’m here because it’s still you. Even when you think you're too far gone for anyone to ever care about you again.”

Jason blinked hard. You saw the tears, even if he didn’t let them fall.

“I still remember the way you looked at me,” you continued. “Like I was the best thing in the world. And now you look at me like I’m going to vanish. Like you’re not allowed to need me anymore.”

His shoulders dropped slightly. “You don’t know how much I still love you.”

You did.

You always did.

So you reached out, brushing the hair back from his brow with gentle fingers. His skin was warm beneath your touch—real. Present. Still here.

You leaned in close, cleaning the last of the blood from his jawline. He didn't flinch this time.

“I’m not leaving,” you said, quietly. “Even when you try to make me.”

He let out a shaky breath, the words catching in his throat.

“I don’t deserve this,” he whispered. “I don’t deserve you.”

You smiled, lips pressed to his hair. “I love you. So, so much. ”

“Horrible,” he rasped. “Useless, rotten work.”

You kissed the crown of his head. Closed your eyes.

“Not to me.”

[punksforchrist]

My argument against abortion:

1. A fetus is alive according to the four criteria of life which is as follows:

Energy acquisition:

All living things need to be able to take in energy from their environment, whether through photosynthesis (plants) or consuming other organisms (animals).

Liquid water:

Water is essential for most biological processes and acts as a solvent for many important molecules in living organisms.

Stable environment:

Organisms need a relatively stable environment to maintain their internal conditions and function properly.

Chemical elements:

Life as we know it requires specific elements like carbon, hydrogen, oxygen, and nitrogen to build complex organic molecules.

A fetus fits into all 4 criteria. Thusly it is alive.

2. Now, many people have argued, "Well, my liver technically fits within the four criteria of life, and it isn't a lifeform. Thusly a fetus is no different from an organ." This statement is only half correct. Yes, a liver does fit within the four criteria of life and is considered a part of life, but it is very different from a fetus. First, if you were to remove an organ from a person, that person would lose some quality of life or just die depending on the organ. If you took a fetus from a mother, the mother would be fine, but the fetus would die. But what really defines a fetus as its own living creature is its DNA. You see, every lifeform has a unique DNA sequence. An organ does not have this. But a fetus does. Thus defining a fetus as its own lifeform.

3. Another argument I see is, "Well, a fetus is really no different from a tumor or parasite." This statement is very wrong. First, a tumor does not have unique DNA like a fetus does. Second, a fetus can't be considered a parasite given the fact that a fetus actually provides benefits for the mother, such as:

Wound healing

Fetal cells can migrate to damaged tissue and help repair it, including wounds from C-sections.

Reduced risk of disease

Fetal cells may help protect against breast cancer and rheumatoid arthritis. One theory is that fetal cells act like sentinels, watching for and killing breast cancer cells.

Somatic maintenance

Fetal cells may contribute to ongoing maternal somatic maintenance.

Immune status

Fetal cells may influence the immune status of women, including autoimmunity and tolerance to transplants.

Fetal cells can be found in many different tissues and organs in the mother, including the blood, bone marrow, skin, and liver. In mice, fetal cells have even been found in the brain.

Thusly a fetus is not a parasite. It lives a symbiotic relationship with the mother.

4. "Well, that still doesn't mean it's human life." True. But human DNA does. A fetus contains human DNA last I checked, so that means it is human life.

With all these facts presented to you, please choose life! And reblog this information so we can spread the word and save lives!

[darkmaga-returns]

Researchers analyzed bone marrow samples from three groups using untargeted metabolomics, a powerful technique that detects thousands of small molecules reflecting real-time cellular activity:

Vaccinated leukemia patients (n=7) — all of whom developed leukemia within 15 to 63 days after receiving Pfizer’s BNT162b2 COVID-19 mRNA injection

Unvaccinated leukemia patients with no history of COVID-19 (n=2)

Healthy, unvaccinated individuals (n=7)

Here’s what they found:

As expected, the metabolic profiles of both leukemia groups were markedly different from healthy controls—showing classic cancer-linked changes like:

↑ Glycolysis (sugar breakdown)

↑ Pentose phosphate pathway (nucleotide synthesis and redox balance)

Altered tryptophan metabolism, known to create an immunosuppressive tumor environment

Disrupted heme metabolism, involved in red blood cell formation and oxidative stress

However, the vaccinated leukemia group showed additional, distinct metabolic alterations that were not present in unvaccinated leukemia patients, including:

↑ Tetrahydrofolic acid — vital for DNA synthesis, repair, and methylation. Uniquely elevated in vaccinated leukemia patients, possibly reflecting folate cycle modulation or compensatory changes in nucleotide metabolism.

↑ Phosphorylcholine — a marker of altered membrane metabolism, linked to tumor progression, lipid signaling, and immune activation. Elevated only in vaccinated leukemia patients, contrasting with a decrease in unvaccinated leukemia cases.

↑ N-Formyl-L-glutamic acid / N-Acetyl-L-aspartic acid — involved in amino acid and mitochondrial metabolism. Significantly elevated in vaccinated leukemia patients, not seen in unvaccinated leukemia individuals.

↑ Delta 8.14-Sterol — a sterol lipid involved in membrane structure and cellular signaling. Increased only in the vaccinated leukemia group, potentially indicating vaccine-induced disruption of lipid regulation.

All seven vaccinated leukemia patients developed cancer within two months of mRNA injection.

[healthcarefacilitator]

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[addamatic]

2021: diagnosed with three types of cancer in 9 months, 2 were misdiagnosed and the third wasn’t suspected - I just woke up from surgery and they were like “yeah so removed these cancerous tumors while we were in there.”

Me in 2024: oh damn, I think maybe it was traumatizing when they were like “yo we gotta remove all your bone marrow before you die” and then it was SOMEONE ELSE’S TEST RESULTS and I really hope she didn’t fucking die while they were getting ready to accidentally fucking kill me for no reason.

Nope, not processing the other two rn thanks

[bongsavior]

I know everyone has their own problems right now, but my best friend in the world's best friend in the world has just been diagnosed with mast cell cancer, which means it spread to her lymph nodes and is possibly in her organs and bone marrow. I just want to see her live as long and as pain-free as she can. She's such a good, sweet, patient girl, a retired Emotional Support animal, and she's only 8.

A few months ago we got into a car accident, day by day her lump on her thigh got bigger and bigger. Long story short, we were finally able to get her to a vet and diagnosed. They surgically removed a piece of the mass and sent it to a cancer specialist lab, who finally gave us the results 2 excruciating weeks later, and that they wished so badly that it was benign.

I don't know if anyone can help, but please share this so that we can find all the hope the world has for us. Luna is such a good sweet girl and deserves a long, happy life, and i want to make sure i can help her achieve that

[teachingrounds]

Q. What's on the differential for quantitative platelet disorders, separated by disease mechanism?

A. DDx: Decreased production: • Aplastic anemia • Infectious diseases: HIV, hepatitis C, varicella, rubella • Liquid malignancies: leukemia and lymphoma • Myelodysplastic syndromes • Marrow infiltration from solid tumors in bone • Nutritional deficiencies: copper, folate, B12 • Radiotherapy or chemotherapy treatments

Increased destruction: • DIC = Disseminated intravascular coagulation • DTIP = Drug-induced Immune ThrombocytoPenia • HELLP syndrome = Hemolysis, Elevated Liver enzymes, Low Platelets • HIT = Heparin-Induced Thrombycytopenia • HUS = Hemolytic Uremic Syndrome • ITP = Immune ThrombocytoPenia aka Idiopathic Thrombocytopenic Purpura • TTP = Thrombotic Thrombocytopenic Purpura

Image: Platelet-Chan by Maxibillity, Deviant Art