#And I am not a law/medical expert | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

monarchberrysblog · 1 month

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𝑳𝑬𝑻 𝑰𝑻 𝑮𝑶

🔞 𝐌𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐎’𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌! 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a day in the life as a Resident in Nueva York’s Medical Hospital with miguel o’hara

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: medical terms (i'm no expert in medicine. i study law.), mentions of bodily fluids, loss, denial, the reader has MAJOR mommy issues (like miguel-), and heavy imposter syndrome. brief mentions of sex, suggestive comments, and ofc OOC MIGUEL.(FLIRTY ASS FOOL—)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: +4.5k words

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: (new aesthetic?) yeah… I watch Grey’s Anatomy. sue me. but that show has some good drama. part two might be around the corner, i really want to make this timeline make sense. And I based this heavily on a couple of episodes in Grey’s Anatomy! (Like I mentioned, I don't study medicine and if there are errors, I am sorry!)

This is dedicated to the gossipers; all of you need some love. 💌

"Mom," You meek out, seeing her asleep on that usual brown leather recline with a blanket. "Yes, mija?" She groans out from where she sat on her seat. "I've been thinking—" She turns her head to you, showing those exhausted eyes to you—those exhausted, dull, dead-set eyes you were used to seeing as a child. "Don't think." She mumbled. "It's a waste of time." She grumbles lowly. "Well, I was considering going to Stanford and—" She hummed before it slowly became a lowly laugh. "Ay, mija. You silly girl." She grasped onto her glass of wine, soon taking a well-needed gulp.

"Stanford has a low acceptance rate! They only accept four percent of applicants! They wouldn't even glance at your GPA or application! Don't think about even using nepotism to apply!" You look down at the red wooden floors in the living room, hiding away your embarrassment like a dog hiding its tail between its legs. "Sorry, mom…" You conjured up, not daring to make eye contact.

"Go homebound or something…!" She murmurs in a low tone before slouching on her recliner. "Stanford… Que estupida." She brings her blanket up to her chest more to cover herself.

Entering your childhood bedroom, the Stanford University letter sat on your mattress, waiting to be opened. While grabbing the letter, you tossed yourself on the bed and held it up in the air, seeing the crisp letter before you.

Here goes nothing…

The sound of birds with the drizzle of rain greeted you out of your sleep. Your blanket was nearly slipping off your figure, with your pillow barely holding onto the edge of the bed. You let out a low groan from the back of your throat, soon opening your eyes and looking over to your right. The red digital numbers on your nightstand read a number you didn't want to see.

05:25 A.M.

It was too early to start your day as an intern. But something woke you up for a reason.

"Hey, you…" The sudden burst of cologne and a warm embrace snapped you back to reality as a nuzzle to your cheek was the first thing you felt other than the strong arms around your waist from your one-night stand. Your underwear on the floor, along with the man’s boxers, said everything.

"You need to go…" You sighed, soon grabbing onto your pink blanket to cover yourself, and got out of bed. "What's with the rush? Get your ass back into bed; we can pick up where we left off last night." You rolled your eyes, gathered your disregarded panties and bra, and threw them in the laundry basket from nearby. "No, seriously. You have to leave. I'm kinda running late for my job." You sat on the bed, letting out a well-needed big, quiet yawn. To the man, the sight you gave him was adorable. But to you, you looked like hell.

The man grabbed his boxers and his clothes, bunched on the floor, and gave you a sight while dressing up again. The man has the back of an adonis.

"Enjoying the sight, cariño?"

"No," You pause, not even remembering this man before you while giving you a free show of him putting his clothes back on. "Miguel." He intervenes, almost reading your train of thought, barely taking off for the day. "Nice place you got here, very Victorian." Miguel cleared his throat, looking at the antique furniture. "It was my mother's." You huffed, not thinking about your words.

"Oh, I'm sorry about that…"

You looked at him in confusion, trying to conjure his words. The sinking realization brought you back to reality as you collected yourself. "Oh wait! She's very alive, not dead. Breathing and living." You exasperated, slipping around the blanket tightly around you. A chuckle filled the space as he kissed your temple gently. "Will I see you again, chiquita?"

“No.”

"No?" He found the response more amusing than anything. He adjusted his shirt slightly before running his fingers through his messy hair. "Well, yeah? You can leave now because I'm going to take a shower, and when I'm done, you better be gone."

"I can just join you—" He adds, pulling you into a warm embrace.

"Just go."

The smell of rubbing alcohol and cleaning supplies filled the space, along with the hustle and bustle of doctors and nurses walking or running. You heard the manic talks of men and women were heard as you held onto your tiny purse of belongings. "Hey, girl!" A gentle nudge on your shoulder greeted you. "Oh, Jess!" You smile, acknowledging your ride or die. "Who are you interning for?" She smiles, adjusting her braids.

"The humbling reality."

"The humbling reality?" you questioned, nearly laughing at the persona. Yeah, it's Dr. Parker." She laughed, grasping her lunch bag. "Yeah," you chuckled, holding your purse. "I just didn't expect that nickname."

Jess shrugs. "Most residents call him that because of how he behaves." It was nothing but the truth. The man is in his early thirties, burned out, and has a baby. It's the only thing he talks about. It's endearing. "He always shows pictures of his baby to interns, so get ready to get bombarded."

"Alright, rule number one: Don't wake me up unless there is an emergency. I rarely get sleep at home since my baby girl is teething. She's been keeping me up."

"What a way to start my day as an intern…"

Following Dr. Parker or 'the humbling reality' felt like a task while you and the other interns caught up with the exhausted man. "If you have any quiet time, take it as a time to take a quick nap or to snack on something in the cafeteria." The man turned on his phone to glance at the time. "But I can't promise that it will last a while."

The phone's backdrop you glanced at revealed a tiny redhead playing presumably with his stethoscope, putting her mouth on the chestpiece. "Where's the cafeteria?" A voice questioned.

"Wish I can tell you, but you're gonna have to figure it out." Peter huffed out before grabbing a couple of pagers from a counter and glanced at them, soon handing them out to you and your interns.

"Another thing," He pauses momentarily before pointing at a specific door. "That door is the on-call room. Other doctors and nurses always take these rooms. So, sleep when you can, where you can."

A beep sounded as it cut Peter off during his mini-presentation before looking at the four interns, including you. "Another rule, please follow me."

"Ay, mija…" The older woman greeted you and Peter amongst the group of interns. Peter stays silent for a moment before he chuckles. You recognized the nurse before you, causing you to bite your tongue. "Did one of my interns catch your attention, Ms. Rodriguez?" Peter made his way over to the older Hispanic woman. The older woman nodded and gave you a weak smile. You smile in return, looking down at the ground.

"Peter, no need for formalities. Just call me Nurse Sofia."

Nurse Sofia, a scrub nurse you remember seeing a lot as a child, worked next to your mother for many years. She always brought you your favorite gummies or chips whenever she visited your mother. (Against your mother’s wishes.)

The memory of this older woman took over, and you ignored her conversation with Peter. The memory of her taking care of you while your mother was away in the hospital plagued you; how she would feed you her home-cooked meals, bathe you, and tuck you into bed always brought a smile to your face. The woman always made it a task to take you in as her own.

There were moments where, as a child, you saw her more as a mother than your birth mother.

Your train of thought ended as Peter placed a clipboard into your hands. He speaks to you, using your name to get your attention.

"You'll be taking care of Ms. Rodriguez." He pats your shoulder before he leaves with your other colleagues. Jess gives you a quick thumbs-up before following Peter along. The door behind them closes with a soft click, and you flip through the pages on the clipboard and sigh.

"It seems you'll be taking care of me instead." The older woman smiles gently and reaches out to hold your hands.

"I will try my best."

The first shift as an intern dragged on as you sat in the cafeteria with Jess, looking at the bland sandwiches and fruit cups before you on your tray. "I heard that you're looking over Nurse Sofia." Jess breaks the silence before she takes a bite from her home-cooked meal. "Yep." You huffed. "Didn't she take care of you?"

You nod, biting into the bland sandwich.

"She was my mom's, I mean, Cecilia’s scrub nurse."

Jess stopped eating her homemade pasta and put her fork down. A voice cut the conversation before the woman could ask more about the nurse. "Wait, is your mom the Cecilia?" Jess turned to look at the voice and at the other intern.

Her wavy, black hair got tied up in a messy bun, showing off her dark eyes and fair skin. She looked at you and frowned. "Your mom is Cecilia?" She then chuckled and did a second look. "She was the best surgeon here; what happened? Did she retire or something?" She sneers.

"Yes, she's vacationing in the Bahamas." You retort to her, not appreciating her attitude. The woman put her hands up in defeat, slowly hurrying away from the conversation. "Didn't mean to push your buttons." The woman sighed slightly, poking away at her salad.

"Xina, just stop." Jess sighs.

"Stop what?" The woman, now identified as Xina, leans back in her seat and gives you a shit-eating grin. "We all know that her mother is the Cecilia—" Jess glared at Xina, an informal form of telling her to shut up.

Xina shrugged before she looked off to the side and perked up a little from her reclined position. "Oh look, Dr. McDreamy, three o'clock," Xina smirks before fixing her hair and making herself look presentable. You glanced over to Jess and saw a disturbed look on her face. "He's mid." Jess shrugs, earning a chuckle from you before you look up to see this "Dr. McDreamy" Xina was talking about.

Oh… Oh no.

Miguel?

Peter B stood next to Miguel with a clipboard at hand while having a half-eaten donut on the other, having small talk with each other before you see Miguel roll his eyes at probably some crappy joke Peter told him or at an inconvenience he told him.

You looked down at your plate of half-eaten sandwiches and cleared your throat. "Yeah, Jess is right; he's mid." You coughed out, feeling the dry bread lodge in your throat. You grabbed your soda and took a small sip, relieving yourself.

You missed the person you were a few seconds before his head turned to look in your general direction. And then you felt it. His gaze fell onto you.

Oh fuck.

You looked down at your plate, almost as if the sandwich before you was the most exciting thing you saw the entire day, despite you looking at Ms. Rodriguez's yellow eyes and urine sample. "Hey," He calls out to you, enough to make you feel your heart drop to your ass.

"You're the intern shadowing me, right?"

What? No! Damn it, humbling reality! Did he switch me to be with this himbo??

"Maybe..." You answer flatly, shyly eating away at your dry sandwich. "I am."

Miguel nods and beckons you. "C'mon. You'll follow me this entire day instead of Peter." Miguel grumbles, not looking up from the clipboard.

God damn it.

Following Miguel around felt like a task more than anything. You would have to brisk around with purpose to catch up with the man. It was enough to piss you off. The final moment you caught your breath, you entered the elevator and took a deep breath. "You walk slow," Miguel grumbles, waiting for the doors to close. "Well, some of us are average and not as tall as you." You angrily huffed as you leaned back against the cold elevator and took a breather.

"Finally," You huffed angrily.

Silence carried the small space as the two of you stood silently. Tensions were rising like a tide on a full moon. "Dr. O'Hara-" Your words ended when Miguel chuckled at the formality you brought. This was someone else entirely in this elevator. Does he do this behind closed doors?

"Dr. O'Hara? This morning, it was Miguel. Now, it's Dr. O'Hara." He chuckled as the metal doors of the elevator closed. The color on your cheeks seemed to have failed you, but he didn't acknowledge it now. "Well, we should pretend what happened last night never happened." You breathed out as you moved a strand of hair away from your face.

"Pretend what never happened? The part where you were sleeping with me, or you nearly kicking me out of your home?" Miguel asks, adjusting his glasses.

"There goes that charisma you think is going to work. It is not." You heaved angrily, ignoring the growing feeling of embarrassment flushing onto your cheeks.

"It worked last night."

"You shut up. You've done nothing but become an inconvenience." You lowly grumble, crossing your arms and sighing. "I can become something else entirely in this elevator."

Just as he said it, you can hear the innuendo in his words.

"Dr. O'Hara," You scoffed, looking up at him. "This is highly unprofessional!" Miguel chuckles and ruffles your hair, leaving it into a muss. "I'm making a line, and you're crossing over it." You state with a firm tone.

You fixed your hair while making eye contact with the man you had a one-night stand. You give him an annoyed expression while doing so. The two of you stood in silence while the elevator continued up. "Well then, is this line imaginary or drawn with an Expo marker?" He croons, stepping close enough to smell his musk.

You pursed a frown on your lips, annoyed that this conversation was even happening, let alone see your sneaky link.

"Alright, chiquita, let's put this conversation on pause. It seems like my patient needs our help." The elevator dinging out loud filled the small space before the doors slid open. He rummaged through the pages before nodding with the information he was reading.

"Take her to radiology for an M.R.I. Beep me whenever you're done with that." Miguel demanded, handing you the familiar files of Ms. Rodriguez. You sighed, clutching onto the clipboard, and looked into blank space.

"You want the Whipple, correct?" He questions, giving you that all too-familiar smirk. You look at him again for a moment before you nod and get off the elevator first.

"I am so blessed to have you care for me, mija." The older Hispanic woman beamed weakly while you wheeled her to the first floor, more towards the ER area. "You know, there are different types of surgeons," Sofia continues as some doctors and nurses wave at her. "There are the types of surgeons who remember their patients' names, the ones who forget, and the ones who remember the surgeries."

"Your mom always remembered those surgeries."

You nodded to her words, and some hospital nurses greeted her and squeezed her hand. "Nurse Sofia," some greeted her, while some patted her shoulder. You exhaled and let the wandering doctors and nurses greet her before entering the radiology wing. "I'll be fine," she chuckled, disregarding the comments of worry and panic. You huffed out, not of irritation but of worry. This woman, who has raised you as her own, trusts her life in your hands.

"Let's get you ready for your MRI," you sigh, bringing the two of you into the radiology wing.

You hurried through the hallways of the hospital, holding onto the charts close to your chest. You halted in front of a whiteboard scribbled with surgeries planned out throughout the day. Skimming through the board, you hoped to see Nurse Sofia's name or even a mention of a Whipple.

No... Nothing... Nothing about a Whipple. Did he forget?

You made your way to Miguel, ignoring the slight fluttering-like feeling in your stomach. The fluttering feeling is enough to make you throw up in fear, but wanting to avoid any word vomit that could escape as well. "Dr. O'Hara," You called out confidently, standing straight like a pin. The moment his crimson eyes meet yours, the liquid feeling on your knees is enough to make you melt into a puddle of a warm, gooey concoction like honey on a marble counter.

Ignore the feeling, ignore the feeling, ignore the feeling-

"I see that you don't have Ms. Rodriguez scheduled for a whipple." You commented, ignoring the butterflies in your lower stomach. "Yes," Miguel replied. "Do you want me to write it down and schedule it?" Miguel furrows his brows and shakes his head. "I want to see her biopsy and overnight labs." He disregards your comment by adding a somewhat irrelevant comment instead.

"But we're still doing the surgery, right?" You ask, trying your best not to plead. But the look on your face said otherwise; the look on your face made it look like you were a kicked puppy wanting reassurance from its mother or owner. "The woman has pancreatic cancer; we're gonna do something." He forces a chuckle out before he ruffles your hair with his hand into a muss.

With furrowed brows, you felt a pout form and growled from the back of your throat. "You know what? No, can I talk to you?" You reprimanded, standing your ground.

"The floor is all yours, sweetheart."

You lead him from the busy space into a quiet hallway on that same floor. "I like what you're thinking, chiquita." He sneers. You glared at the man and shook your head. "What? NO! Get your head out of the gutter!" You demanded, deciding to lead the conversation.

"Have you Ms. Sofia's overnight labs and her liver panel?" You demanded, swallowing away the flutter in your heart. "Yes, and ...?"

"Yes? That's all you have to say? No, there's more to it. You know that the results suck. She is choking on her own vomit-" Your words come to an end as Miguel intervenes with his words.

"She is a very sick woman-"

"A sick woman with the need of the Whipple!" Your words silence the empty hallways, only hearing the sound of a draft. "Excuse me? Since when are you? Her surgeon? You are an intern following my orders." Miguel firmly questioned, flipping away from the flirty persona. He took her biopsy results away from your hold and read them. Your hands grasp the charts and pull them down from his view.

"No, don't look at those! Screw what that says! Because you know what I think?" The sense of heat rose to your cheeks, not the kind you get when you do something foolish but something of anger...

"I think that you didn't want to do the operation. You think it's a massive waste of time and want her to die here!" You scolded your words like venom, briefly pushing your feelings for the doctor away. The slight rise of his brow showed a look of being impressed, but the corner of his lips said otherwise. The subtle twitch makes you want to take those words back so severely that you want to get on your knees and take back your improper words. But what happened, happened.

But no, no backing down about what happened.

The silence and tension between the two of you is enough to suffocate anyone if they step into the space, almost as if they were in hell's gate. Heat crawls up your neck painfully, feeling it bubble up like boiling water in a geyser in Yellowstone waiting to be erupted. No words were exchanged as Miguel swiftly left the space, leaving you alone with your regret and embarrassment of literally yelling at your late-night rendezvous.

You sighed as you looked out to the dark outside of Nueva York, seeing the city lights brighten the horizon. You entered Sofia's room and sat in one of the chairs. A long exhale escaped, and you felt like your knowledge of the medical world had disappeared like you'd been a headless chicken running around. "How are you holding up?" the woman asked, turning her head in your direction.

A nervous laugh escapes, causing you to clear your throat awkwardly. "I feel overwhelmed." You nod with the statement, rubbing the exhaustion out of your eyes. Sofia hums and sighs. "You are like your mother, kind of." She chuckles. "Her whole life is about her knowledge about being a surgeon, and here you are, doing the same thing." You rolled your eyes playfully at her words.

"Think about something else?" She suggests, getting herself comfortable on the hospital bed. "It helps me when I'm overwhelmed."

You humor her and let your mind wander in the blissful silence you spared yourself.

The pull of being in a jungle gym fills your mind. You remember how you moved through the monkey bars as Sofia cheered you on, watching nearby from the bench she sat on. Or you remember taking early morning strolls with her during the summer while your tiny hand grasped hers firmly. Or how you let the mom label slip out, calling the scrub nurse your mom by mistake a handful of times.

A smile tugs at your lips as you recall the vivid memories, recalling your childish antics with her. "Be like your mother when it comes to diligence and adaptation, but be yourself for me."

The beep from your pager snaps you back into reality. "I got to take this," you tell her. With a simple nod from her, you return the gesture and hurry out of the room. "I'll see you soon?"

"I'll always be here, mija..."

Days staggered, like a blur of events mushed together, like making a week turn into a day with consecutive tasks. As the days passed, Sofia didn't seem to be better but worse, making every little task impossible. It felt like seeing her dance with the grim reaper at the edge of a cliff with such grace, a dance you never wanted to witness. But that waltz would come to an end...

You stepped back into the same room for the umpteenth time this week, going to nurse Sofia's room. "Morning, Sofia." You greet her with a lighter, soft tone. "Mija," The woman beckoned you to her, waving her hand to you.

You made your way to her, lightly grasping her hand. "It feels like the old days, doesn't it?" She quips weakly, soon having a small coughing fit. "Take it easy, Sofia..." You whisper to her, soon making your way to her. A mere silence fills the space before you break the silence. "You knew that you weren't going to get the Whipple. Didn't you?"

You breathed out. The older woman with graying hair nods slowly, slowly stroking her thumb against your knuckles. "Yeah, I knew."

"Why didn't you tell me? You would have saved me a lot of trouble from Dr. O'Hara."

The older woman shook her head and chuckled. "It was about time you stand up for what you feel."

Your heart dropped at this, and embarrassment painted your cheeks. "How did you...?" You breathed out before you shut your mouth. "Word spreads like crazy here in the hospital. It's like a wildfire in California; there's no way to stop it."

"Thank you for taking care of me..." Her cold hands began to tremble, tightly holding your hand. "Shhh... Don't speak, Sofia..." You whispered to her, feeling your heart accelerate uncomfortably as you anticipated the worst.

"I'll always be here..."

Her eyes drooped, clutching your hand with the familiar firm grip you remembered as a child. She had the exact grip whenever she took you to the park or around the neighborhood for a walk. "Sofia?" The barbed wire grip around your throat became suffocating while the burning sensation was at the brink in your eyes. You put your stethoscope on quickly and tried to hear a heartbeat. Nothing. "Mom?" You slipped out, trying not to sob on the spot.

"Sofia, stay. Please?" You begged, suddenly feeling like a seven-year-old once again.

It felt as if your body did the motions themselves, rushing over to push the alarm button and rushing back to her to initiate CPR. "No, no, no... Please, no." You breathed out, seeing some nurses come to your aid.

"Someone page O'Hara." You breathed, continuing with the chest compressions, narrow-minded to your surroundings.

"She's a DNR." A nurse tells you, looking at Sofia's charts and paperwork. "No!" You howl, continuing with the chest compressions, feeling tired and worn out from the motions. "Doctor, she's a do not resuscitate-"

"What the hell are you doing?" The familiar voice fills the space as you glance at Miguel's scowl, indicating sleep deprivation. "Let her go," Miguel demands, making his way over to you. "No." You bellow, barely holding it together. "Let her go! She has a DNR." Miguel pulls you away, nearly yanking you away in midair. "Okay!" You yelled out, looking down at the ground to hide that pained look on your face.

The mere two seconds felt like hours as you took in steady breaths. You looked down at your trembling hands, feeling sudden uselessness in your system.

"Call it..." Miguel demanded, snapping you out of it. He tried to make eye contact with you, but it was impossible as you looked at the white hospital tiles. The nurses began to turn off the heart monitors and continued with their procedure. You nod slowly and let out a shaky sigh. "Time of death... 06:23." You nod before you swiftly leave the room past the nurses and Miguel.

You sat by the stairwell in the hospital, trying your damn best not to cry in the middle of your shift. But the tears rolling down your cheeks showed signs of defeat. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." You sobbed to yourself, wiping your tears away with trembling hands.

"You fucking blew it, Cecilia was right..."

The heavy door to the stairwell caused your sobbing to come to an end and to look at the source of the sound. "C'mere..." The voice croons to you like you were an abandoned kitten left in the cold rain. You didn't leave your spot from the stairwell, still sniffling and holding in your sobs, but the whimper-like animal noises made it an easy find.

Light footsteps head towards you while you stay hidden behind the stairwell. "There you are..."

You let out a slight whine before you started to cry loudly, using your white coat to wipe away your tears. Miguel kneeled down to where you sat and slowly reached over to you, pulling you into an embrace. You tried your best to squirm away but failed as he managed to hold you down. "Miguel, I failed her..." You choked out. "Cecilia was right-" You continued to choke on your words, barely forming your syllables and sentences.

"Shhh... It's okay." He whispers, rubbing his hand through your hair. "Let her go, okay?" He whispers, trying his best to calm you down.

You nod slowly, soon accepting the embrace and sobbing into his chest, allowing your cries to vibrate on his chest. "We did everything we could. It's okay, I'm sorry..."

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #across the spiderverse #miguel fanfic #miguel x you #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel x y/n #miguel angst #miguel ohara angst #angst #hurt/comfort

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odinsblog · 2 months

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“I think there is a simpler explanation to the tragedy and the barbarism on October the 7th, which is that you cannot indefinitely contain a group of people under military occupation for decades and expect that there won't be violence. There is violence in the Middle East, and the root cause of that violence is an illegal military occupation that is now in what, it's 57th year in the occupied West Bank and Gaza. And this is not just me saying this.

I mean, people like General Shlomo Brom, one of Israel's most famous military strategists, says, the oppressed will rise against the oppressor because it's absurd to hope that Israel can indefinitely contain with its military might millions of Palestinians who claim the right to a free, normal life. That is the statement of Shlomo Brom.

It's not true that the previous Gaza conflicts were all started by Hamas. Some were, but not all of them. Ceasefires have been broken on both sides and that's been well documented by multiple neutral observers and international observers.

But just on the broader point, Israel was never done with Gaza. This myth that they pulled out all the settlers and the occupation ended, first of all, under international law, Gaza is still occupied.

The Israelis control most of the land borders, all of the naval waters, all of the airspace. You tell me a country in the world that would accept that, any kind of country that you would call independent or sovereign. The Israelis even control the population register in Gaza, which means if you're born in Gaza, the Israelis are the ones who register you in control.

All of the information about your birth, life, and death. So this idea that Gaza was free, it was not free. And the boycott, the siege, I mean, it was not defensive.

Again, multiple human rights groups, including Israeli human rights groups like Gisha have said over the years, that the boycott was not defensive, that it was arbitrary, that it was cruel. Items like pasta, coriander, right? These are items that were banned at certain points going into Gaza.

Even now, David Miliband, the former British Foreign Minister, head of the International Rescue Committee, went on CNN this week to point out that dual-use items are being blocked going into Gaza. Entire aid trucks are being turned away because there's a scissors in them. A pair of scissors is inside a truck.

For medical purposes, the entire truck is turned away. For years now, the people in Gaza have been blockaded, besieged. The UN said it would be unlivable years ago.

We're now in 2024. It's certainly unlivable now. So no, I don't believe the Israeli narrative.

And one last thing, let's say everything Israel said was true. That still does not justify the collective punishment of 2.2 million people, half of whom are children, and who are now in the midst of one of the worst famines in living memory, according to the experts.

[…]

I've been very, very, very critical of Hamas. I've been critical of Hamas for decades. I've been critical of Hamas since October the 7th.

I was critical of Hamas on October the 7th. So no, I'm not sparing in my criticism of Hamas, but the missing context here, of course, is that we don't fund Hamas. I'm not responsible for Hamas.

I am responsible for the famine in Gaza. I am responsible for the killing of 30,000 people in Gaza because my taxes paid for it. The United States government is funding one side of this conflict.

The United States does not fund Hamas, last time I checked. So this idea that we are either fund them or protect them with a UN veto or arm Hamas, I don't think we send arms to Hamas, we do to Israel. Therefore, that is the focus of my journalism.

And by the way, yes, the focus of my journalism right now is on criticism of Israel because the rest of the US media has completely failed on this issue, has dropped the ball. I mean, I can go through The New York Times, The Washington Post, and show the exact opposite, pieces that are providing cover and safety for the Israeli narrative, including in absurd headlines where we go out of our way to use the passive voice and never cite that Israel is responsible for bombing a hospital or Israel is responsible for bombing a refugee camp. So I'm trying to do a little bit of correction on my end with this new media organization.

But look, Hamas is a brutal group. What it did on October the 7th was pure terror. They killed innocents, they abducted innocent babies as hostages into the war crime.

But none of that justifies what Israel is doing right now. And nor are we responsible for what Hamas is doing. But we are, in New York and across the country, sadly, we are responsible for the crimes that Israel is carrying out.

And that's the point I'm trying to make.”

—Mehdi Hasan

#politics #palestine #gaza #israel #mehdi hasan #hasbara #false narratives #false equivalencies #feigned neutrality #journalism fail #the media is complicit #october 7 #october 7th #7 october

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biscuitbox23 · 5 months

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Dead weight.

summary: you run into the woods to get away from the group, you were reaching the end of your life as you suffer from aplastic anemia, only to get stopped by Rick.

A/n: I’m not a medical expert, i have no familiarity with the field of medicine I am just an idiot who is a sucker for terribly made sad stories. This may be a very long opening to the actual climax so im sorry for that :( please do DM me for advice on how i can make my fanfictions better!

Warnings: inaccurate depictions of the illness, non-established relationship (rick and reader), mentions of death, angst, cursing. (Not much due to me being a minor.) somewhat bad grammar since English isn’t my second language.

words: 1.3K

It has been a while, well, a while since you had a good stock of medicine. You had been in an abandoned cabin a few months after the outbreak. During it, you got stuck in a pharmacy in Atlanta. The law was gone now, so you hoarded a ton of antibiotics, capsules, injections, and anything you could get your grubby hands on.

When Rick and Daryl saved you from a trio of men who were trying to take advantage of you, you joined them and did not stay inside forever, especially when blood stained the floors of your shelter. It was a mistake.

You wanted to stay with yourself, isolated from the horrors and sacrifices that the world has offered now. It was harder to find medication now that most stores were stripped clean. It was easier for you to catch minor fevers, and you tended to have more rest than the others in the group. The only reason you were there is because you knew how to survive.

In the woods, in the apocalypse, no problem. Whatever your dad knew your dad would teach you, he was an outdoor person and loved to forage different shrooms and plants. God knows what happened to him.

You grew closer to the group, helping them find food and clean water, scavenging what you can find in abandoned retail stores (even if it does not have much importance.)

Now you find yourself walking out of Alexandria by attempting to climb the steel borders to the outside of the wall, your head spinning as drowsiness has consumed you to your very core, yet you still have the urge to continue. Or else you are just dead weight. You had a few foot slips —you swear, Enid makes it look easy— but managed to get out. You can sense your muscles aching as if you did not even have the strength to pull yourself up despite climbing trees more than a million times when you were a teen. You needed to disappear

from the people, the group. Rick.

Rick was a leader, for sure. He had all the correct morals and cunningness and looked up to him for it. You were no longer the person of any use to him and his group. You could not even defend yourself without stumbling down to the ground.

You were around when T-dog and Lori passed away. You

remembered falling for Rick when you first saw him, only to discover he had a pregnant wife and a kid. It started like a rocky road. You were so used to the isolation that it took a lot of convincing to get you to come with them to the prison.

You took a liking to his daughter Judith. You loved babies. It was a surprise. You thought that you would never find a baby in this world again. Carl was the closest to you. You tell him stories about your life and would do the same, reminiscing about the world that used to be. He praised his father a lot and got a good idea of what Rick was like as a father. Hershel would check up on your health while Rick would stand beside the old sport as Hershel examines you.

Making your way into the woods, you stopped by a tree to take a breather. Your hands were on your knees as you stared down to the ground, crinkles of the leaves crushing on the bottom of your shoes. The night was cold and airy. The chill on the tip of your nose was evident as you took one more glance at the haven that shielded the real outside world from its inhabitants. The sour stench of rotting meat was not detectable and gave some fresh air — It is not like you cannot get fresh air in Alexandria. You want to be alone most of the time.

“thought I'd find you here." A voice called out, the voice echoing in your ears sounding familiar as the crunching of leaves has gotten closer and closer.

“fuck” you curse under your breath, “how did you find me?”

“Carl saw you tryin’ to climb the walls.”

“huh,” you playfully scoffed but was met with a chill and a cough, “thought I was being sneaky…”

“what're you doin’ out here?” Rick asks out of the blue, staring you up and down as you lean back into the tree.

“Rick," you sighed heavily, “go back.”

“I'm not goin’ back till you tell me what happened, y‘know that, don’t you?” Rick asked with a twinge of concern mixed with his southern drawl.

You paused.

“I'm leaving, Alexandria,” You rubbed your forehead as your stomach grumbled. Sliding down to sit as your back leaned onto the tree further.

“If this is about your illness we can make—“Before Rick could finish his sentence you interrupted.

“Make it work? Yeah, I don’t think so…” You retorted, “You don’t understand, Rick. I have a condition where my bone marrow doesn't produce enough blood cells, and I have no meds to help me, what are the chances of finding a pharmacy? A pharmacy where it has all the things I need to survive?” You spat, frustration filling your mind like hot liquid.

“Denise can help you, Y/n, you have seen her efforts in helping you,” You can sense Rick’s desperation to get you back to Alexandria’s infirmary. His voice remained gentle but firm.

“Why, Rick?” Your eyes stared into Rick's ocean blue orbs, frustration, and confusion, “I’m not strong, anymore. I can’t go on runs, anymore. I can’t protect anyone.”

“Because we still need you—“

“Maybe it’s you who still needs me, Rick…” You spat, leaning your head on the wood as you got the strength to finally stand up, with the support of the tree, of course.

“Y/n we can discuss this once we get back,” Rick sighed, coming closer to you as he held both your arms gently.

A rush of adrenaline painfully scours into your veins as you push him away with all the remaining strength you have.

“GODDAMNIT RICK, WHY CANT YOU JUST LET ME DIE OUT THERE!” You yelled at him. “YOU KNEW I WAS GOING TO BE A BURDEN AND YOU SAW HOW MANY PILLS I HAD ON THE TABLE!”

Rick scoffed, “You're giving up now? After all that has happened? The prison, terminus… and you decide to end it all here? Where we’re finally safe?” His tone wasn’t as gentle but it was now harsher, deeper.

“if you think more treatments, will change anything, it won’t. I'm done and I won't let you guilt me into continuing this charade.”

“then what’re you gon’ tell Carl, hm? That you’re sick of bein’ alive so now you’re gonna leave?”

“This isn’t about Carl, Rick it’s about you keeping me to fill in the gap of what Lori gave you,” you glare with poison in your very eyes. “Leaving you to care for a child that was never yours.”

Rick went quiet, as you realized what you had said, “i-I’m sorry… Rick…” you pleaded, holding his hands.

Rick sighed, “Maybe you're right."

You nodded, your breath becoming shorter as your legs finally give in. You feel your body starting to shut down. Rick helped you sit down comfortably on the ground. You were paler and had many bruises on your arms and legs. You were heating up again.

“I'm sorry, Rick,” you breathed heavily, clutching the hand he gave you.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” Rick comforted you, kissing her knuckles as her legs trembled. Rick’s voice was shaky, almost labored.

“I don’t wanna turn, you can ask Daryl to keep my gun, you’ll need it,” You softly chuckled. Rick looked at you, taking his revolver from his holster.

“Get back to Alexandria, to Judith…” you smiled as you felt bile in your throat, blocking your airway and your heartbeat becoming more abnormal.

Rick gives you a final kiss on the head as an act of kindness and comfort on the edge of a quick and painless death.

—————————————————————

a/n: Hello everyone! This is my very first Fanfic and I thought about it on the spot 😭 Reading it for me makes me kinda cringe but don’t we all? Anyways hope you guys enjoyed it (cuz I didn’t but I’m a sucker for tragic love)

#rick grimes #the walking dead #twd #twd x reader #rick grimes x reader #the walking dead fanfiction #andrew lincoln #first fanfic #the walking dead universe #BiscuitWrites #twd oneshot

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phoenixyfriend · 3 months

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VP Kamala Harris is calling for immediate ceasefire in Gaza

I was alerted to this by the BBC Global News podcast. AP News has a full article on the speech itself, which was not held about Israel and Palestine, but was rather focused on domestic issues of race equality, as the speech was given in Selma, Alabama, on the anniversary of Bloody Sunday (a 1965 Civil Rights march that ended in police violence). There is also a Reuters article if you prefer those.

Despite VP Harris's incredible dedication to the topic of combating anti-black racism in the US and position as a figurehead and spokeswoman for many in that regard, she did find time in her speech for the following:

THINGS OF NOTE:

Harris is still, technically, holding to the party line on the topic of 'Israel has a right to defend itself.' At this point, I'm sure we've all seen enough arguments on whether or not that right is something Israel actually has, given its violations of the international laws of occupation, but it does read to me as more lip service than actual sincerity at this point.

Harris puts the onus of agreeing to a ceasefire on Hamas, rather than Israel. Given Netanyahu's months of explicit refusal to consider a ceasefire unless Hamas is completely and utterly destroyed (and with them, Gaza), this is... not great. Not great. She said, "Hamas claims it wants a ceasefire. Well, there is a deal on the table. And as we have said, Hamas needs to agree to that deal. Let’s get a ceasefire. Let’s reunite the hostages with their families. And let’s provide immediate relief to the people of Gaza."

The 'immediate ceasefire' is still just the 6-week pause that Biden has been talking about, rather than a permanent one.

The speech included "The Israeli government must do more to significantly increase the flow of aid. No excuses." This statement is interesting to look at in light of the US recently hitting a watershed moment and beginning airdrops of relief aid, something so inefficient that they were reluctant to engage with it until given no other choice. The preference was trucks, which are more efficient in terms of quantity, fuel usage, risk of damage from wind blowing things off course, etc. The 'no other choice' is in regards to whether or not the trucks could still get in, not in regards to international or domestic pressure, though that was likely a factor as well.

We got what I believe are some of the harshest and most direct criticisms of Israel's actions so far: "What we are seeing every day in Gaza is devastating. We have seen reports of families eating leaves or animal feed. Women giving birth to malnourished babies with little or no medical care, and children dying from malnutrition and dehydration. Our hearts break for the victims of that horrific tragedy and for all the innocent people in Gaza who are suffering from what is clearly a humanitarian catastrophe. People in Gaza are starving. The conditions are inhumane."

These comments are receiving international coverage, though I'm a bit concerned by how... blase and unconcerned Israeli media seems to be, though since this particular journal (Times of Israel) claims to be non-partisan, maybe that's why? That said, Al Jazeera is also calling it a 'rare rebuke,' which I would guess is a good sign for the shifting of DC's position on the subject when combined with the recent aid drops.

As usual, I am not a political expert, I just like to gather and share information; please go to actual experts when trying to understand what politicians' actions mean. I do, however, want you to call your reps. Here's a guide on how to do it.

To support my blogging so I can move out of my parents' house, I do have a ko-fi. Alternately, you can donate to one of the charities I list in this post.

#gaza #united states #israel #palestine #call your reps #kamala harris #bloody sunday #current events #phoenix politics #death mention #child death mention

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randomfoggytiger · 23 days

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ok I was gonna ask about your charlie scully one (still am I guess lol) but I must know your thoughts on the autism question, a while back there was a fandom-wide twitter spat over whether or not mulder and scully were autistic, and I was leaning against it but that was before I figured that out about myself, and most of my moots are in favor of it, and idk really what to think lol so your insight would be much appreciated🙏🏻 (also if I wasn’t so goddamn busy I would do all of that research for you lmao)

You should do it!! Even if one day my project comes to fruition!

My leanings on the autism question: no. But I'd have to prove or disprove my own theory if I wrote up that post; and in order to do that, I'd have to have a clearer understanding of the diagnosis, its symptoms (and symptoms that are commonly misdiagnosed), and its identifiable characteristics.

The "problem" is: the new understanding of autism and other disorders are now framed on a spectrum. In order for me to break down the topic, I'd have to ingest lots and lots of autism content from clinically licensed professionals and hear what they look for, broadly, when forming a diagnosis; then, I'd have to search up what the fandom perceives Mulder and Scully's autistic traits to be; then, I'd have to compare and contrast the strength of each claim; then I'd have to balance the whole. Currently, I'm ingesting new autistic creators that are breaking down barriers of what autism is perceived to be (and that's been helpful); and I have a few other licensed professionals I'd need to catch up on (one who even has the diagnosis herself.) In short: tons of layman research.

More importantly: who would be interested in my post, realistically? I don't have doctorate (or training), for one. Second, it's a rather popular thought that Mulder or Scully have some sort of diagnosis (besides trauma-- canon agrees with that one.) The rule dictates everyone has a right to their own opinion; and since that's the case, where would my post fit in?

Realistically, the 90s FBI wouldn't have recruited Scully out of medical school if they suspected she had autism. Mulder perhaps, but only because of Bill Mulder's (or CSM's) connection. There's a program just instituted (2021) by the Feds that is working on recruiting people with autism into their pilot program. And according to studies I've learned about from autism creators (that they've gleaned from the professionals), a neurotypical brain automatically senses something "off" or "different" about a neurodivergent brain, which can lead to ostracization (or bullying in children... and adults.) 90s Scully would have had to learn to mask her autism so well that not only was she never diagnosed but she attracted the attention of the FBI recruitment office-- not a small feat for a woman in the 90s-- and was able to keep it through their very strict recruitment circuit. (Fyi, the man who inspired "Catch Me if You Can" tried to get in with a law degree and was still turned down.)

Also, Mulder and Scully face back-to-back stimulating environments; and go right back to work without time to decompress (which is a feat nearly unachievable.) I'm not an expert-- far from it-- but the common denominator I'm finding from professionals and diagnosed individuals is that overstimulation is a key factor in autism. To varying degrees, yes, but still. Overwhelm and meltdowns are parts of the diagnosis that have to be factored in. Anecdotally, I've read one person who states she becomes better in high-stress situations than her peers because of her hyperfocus; but she seems to be an outlier (I presume.) I'd need to do more research on differing degrees of overwhelm and meltdowns (not everyone manifests overwhelm or a meltdown in the same way, of course); but since the field is still swamped with more information regarding "stereotypical" autism (a.k.a. boys who show the most extreme signs), it would take me a bit to narrow things down even more.

Lastly, we can all probably agree CC didn't write Mulder and Scully with an autism diagnosis. He definitely gave Mulder PTSD in the Pilot; and Scully's trauma from her abduction was written in later. The personal theories branch off from there; and, again, in order to finalize a perspective one way or another, a licensed professional would probably have to watch the show (or more than one season) and make a conclusion; otherwise, my "research" could be written off as another form of headcanon. And since professionals are professional, they'd probably abstain from forming an opinion either way.

Thus, the scales have been put before you: time requirements and lukewarm reception weigh against it; putting my ideas out there for me and the mutuals to puzzle over weigh for it.

#asks #agent-troi #thanks for droppin in~#I had a proper sitdown to flesh my thoughts out #hopefully they're coherent-- did a lot of paragraph swapping #this was fun

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lablass-2882 · 6 months

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A bit of an early treat for y’all.

Since my move actually went pretty quick. I guess having a big family who all own trucks/SUVs makes for light work, huh?

The meta reason is that I needed a break from arranging and putting together my apartment. So, I decided to finish this piece.

Introducing Alpha Squad. They are a small part of bigger Phoenix Squadron Unit in the Rebel Allience.

Click for better quality

And some close ups.

These aren't the squads final designs. They're more of a first pass that I am comfortable with showing off. Putting faces so sorts to names.

Going from left to right.

Captian Tally. Alpha Squads fearless 2nd in command and probably one of the best hand to hand fighters in the Rebellion. She is not to be pissed off, ever. Tally is Trapper's daughter but was raised by Cody after Trapper's death.

Commander Aurora. Leader of Alpha Squad and its resident caf addic. She is well known for her calm and collected attitude even when under fire. Her father was a member of the Corrie Guard, but she was raised by Fox and Thire.

Sparks is Alpha Squad tech maniac, hacker, and general trouble maker. She loves messing with all manor of machines and tech. She is the daughter of Comet, Sinker and Boost.

Head Medic Mako. The calmest and strongest member of Alpha Squad, Mako also has the honor of trying to wrangle all of his half siblings into the medic tent when shit goes sideways. He was adopted by Woffle after his mom abandoned him, and his clone dad is long dead.

Lieutenant Arrow. The unofficially weapons master of the group and the resident grump of the Squad. Arrow would be hard pressed to admit to it, but he loves his crazy siblings. They are just way too loud sometimes. He is Longshot's son.

Twig. One of two expert pilots for Alpha Squad, Twig, along with his twin Branch, make sure that the Squad gets where it needs to go. Regardless of laws, physics, and sometimes all common sense. His dad was a member of the 501st

Branch. One of the best pilots among the clone units, Branch is fearless, loves to go fast, and is always on the go. Along with her twin brother Twig, the squad always gets where it needs to go. Maybe not always in the sensible way tho. Her dad was a member of the 501st.

And last but not least.

Max. He is the Jack of all trades among Alpha Squad. He's a mechanic, a cook, an assistant to Mako, good at logistics, and is generally a level head dude. He does tend to get overwhelmed by his siblings' antic tho. He father is Dogma.

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zer0expektation · 1 year

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Gotham characters & their respective disorders/neurodivergencies (canon and headcanon) (& whether or not they'd actually qualify for an insanity plea based on this):

First and foremost: Insanity is a legal term, not a medical one. For this particular post we will determine based on the M'Naghten rule and the Irrisitible Impulse test.

"The "M'Naghten rule" was a standard to be applied by the jury, after hearing medical testimony from prosecution and defense experts. The rule created a presumption of sanity unless the defense proved "at the time of committing the act, the accused was laboring under such a defect of reason, from disease of the mind, as not to know the nature and quality of the act he was doing or, if he did know it, that he did not know what he was doing was wrong."" "The test is bifurcated into two components, (...). First, a defendant is deemed insane if they were incapable of knowing what they were doing at the time committing the object offense." - "The second component of the test looks to determine if the defendant knew that his or her actions were wrong. Here, even if the defendant knew what he or she was doing, he or she is deemed insane where he or she was incapable of recognizing the wrongfulness of the action committed." "Under the "Irresistible Impulse" test a jury may find a defendant not guilty by reason of insanity where the defendant was laboring under a mental disease or defect that compelled him to commit the object offense." Link

tldr / an easier way to digest: our determining factors will be;

whether or not a character would be "in control" during the time of the crime (if they weren't mentally present, or believed something else entirely was happening because of delusion or psychosis) - ex. Humpty Dumpty (in DC)

whether or not a character would be able to determine the morality of their actions during the time of the crime (ie. they believe they had to/had no other choice because of delusion (believing God is telling them that they have to kill someone) or think that they were "saving" someone(s)/themselves) - ex. (some versions of) Poison Ivy and her belief that the world would be better off without humankind

whether or not they could control a compulsion that would be of cause - ex. Victor Zsasz's compulsion to add more tally marks and thus needing to kill more & having to kill someone if a tally is "incorrectly"/"wrongfully" added (at least in his depictions in both the Arkham games & the Telltale games)

(Please keep in mind that I am not qualified to properly "diagnose" these characters nor am I in any way trained to know anything about actual prosecution laws, I just think the insanity defense & psychology as a whole are interesting.)

Anyways, with all of that in mind:

Bruce Wayne:

Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (headcanon)

Autism spectrum disorder (headcanon)

Post-traumatic stress disorder (headcanon)

Avoidant/restrictive food intake disorder (semi-canon - it was mentioned that he had some sort of ED through most of s1, which, esp with his autism, would have affected his eating habits for a time)

Five (514-A):

Dyscalculia (headcanon - idk why I just think it makes sense (i also didnt even think about this when deciding, but it really makes his name all that much more tragic lmao))

Selina Kyle:

Willis-Ekbom disorder (aka restless legs syndrome) (headcanon - particularly post-paralysis)

Jim Gordon:

Generalized anxiety disorder (headcanon - I just think the constant itch to be chasing something and "stopping the bad guys" could be related to a near-constant anxiety of not doing enough)

Harvey Bullock:

Alcoholism (canon I think?)

Oswald Cobblepot:

Borderline personality disorder (not canon, but iirc Robin has said that he likes the hc)

Realistically would not qualify for an insanity plea - is known for being manipulative and driven by his need for power, and despite being rather impulsive can be relatively predictable and reasoned with - might be able to get an insanity plea anyway seasons 2-4 if not solely because of his power and the corruption in Gotham (but probably on a more real basis in s4 more because he would probably be unshakeable in the insistence that Martin was actually alive despite several witnesses stating that he killed him)

Edward Nygma:

Autistic spectrum disorder (canon)

Otherwise specified dissociative disorder/psychosis (semi-canon - hc osdd type 1)

Substance-induced psychosis (canon - s3 e15)

Obsessive-compulsive disorder (usually canon for all versions of the Riddler, but I'm not sure if it's actually canon for Gotham specifically) (+ ocd and autism tend to be comorbid)

Narcissistic personality disorder (semi-canon?)

Dermatillomania (compulsive picking at your own skin) (headcanon - no real reason outside of the fact that I'm autistic (and might have ocd?) and I have this & I like to project onto Ed)

Realistically could qualify for an insanity plea - if he played his cards right / could prove that he was dissociated when committing the crime - probably less likely to get it in s2, but still could if he tried

Butch Gilzean:

Bipolar disorder (canon - hc BP-II (he experiences hypomania rather than mania))

Dissociative fugue (headcanon - particularly after his death)

Realistically would (probably) not qualify for an insanity plea - the only way he could is if hes charged for something from while he was Grundy (he'd really have to play his cards right & get a good lawyer)

Barbara Kean:

Bipolar disorder I (headcanon - overall I think the way she is isn't because of her bipolar, rather that she acts like that because its more freeing and fun - instead during some plot lines (end of s1 & her death and being revived by Ra's and her entire arc post Ra's's death) could be broken down between depressive episodes and manic episodes quite easily)

Realistically would not qualify for an insanity plea

Ivy Pepper:

Depersonalisation disorder (headcanon - I just think that the rapid aging thing in s2 & all of the shit that happened with her parents)

Autism spectrum disorder (headcanon - her being described as "creepy" or unnerving throughout s1, her special interest in plants, her everything in s3)

Realistically would not qualify for an insanity plea

Victor Zsasz:

Obsessive-compulsive personality disorder (headcanon - i think though in this version his tallies exist as less of a compulsive need, and instead as a self-reminder and physical proof that he can fulfill as promised)

Realistically would not qualify for an insanity plea

Jonathan Crane:

Psychosis (canon)

Panic disorder (headcanon? - i mean it just kind of makes sense esp for this version of the character)

Epilepsy (headcanon)

Realistically would (probably) not qualify for an insanity plea

Bridgit Pike:

Pyromania (canon)

Realistically would not qualify for an insanity plea - unless arrested quite quickly post-Indian Hill

Jerome Valeska:

Trichotillomania (compulsive hair-pulling) (headcanon)

Dermatillomania (compulsive skin-picking) (headcanon)

Histrionic personality disorder (headcanon)

Night terrors (headcanon - particularly when he was a kid, then they came back after he was revived)

Realistically would not qualify for an insanity plea - could still get it for plot reasons as a "not" Joker character

Jeremiah Valeska:

Exploding head syndrome (headcanon)

Avoidant/restrictive food intake disorder (headcanon)

Antisocial personality disorder (semi-canon i think? - im pretty sure in the show he just says that he's "always been insane" or some shit, but that's not really a thing soo)

Realistically would not qualify for an insanity plea - shown to be far too calculating - could still get it for plot reasons as a "not" Joker character

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imsorryimlate · 1 year

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back when we were doing dracula daily, someone posted something about how van helsing was both a lawyer and a doctor, and i was like “?? but jack is also both?”, but when i tried to find support for this idea of mine, i couldn’t find it. eventually i resigned myself to it being something i had dreamt.

but then!! i was again rereading the october 1st passage, where renfield says:

[…] I am as sane as at least the majority of men who are in full possession of their liberties. And I am sure that you, Dr. Seward, humanitarian and medico-jurist as well as scientist, will deem it a moral duty to deal with me as one to be considered as under exceptional circumstances.

and this is where i had gotten the idea, i think. but a medico-jurist is not a lawyer, which i had assumed because of the word jurist. no, a medico-jurist is, as the name implies, someone who’s involved in medical jurisprudence.

from wikipedia (awkwardly abridged for convenience):

Medical jurisprudence or legal medicine is the branch of science and medicine involving the study and application of scientific and medical knowledge to legal problems, such as inquests, and in the field of law. […] medicolegal cases involving death, rape, paternity, etc. require a medical practitioner to produce evidence and appear as an expert witness, […] Medical jurisprudence includes […] questions of competence or sanity in civil or criminal proceedings.

(emphasis mine)

so… our boy jack is out here giving expert witness testimonies in court?

now, i will admit to being someone who’s interested in true crime, and historical cases are always of interest because of the continuous evolution of forensic science and the shifting ideas around diminished responsibility. looking at the late 18th century and the 19th century, there are two points of interest regarding cases in the uk where defendants were found not guilty by reason of insanity:

1. a lot of them where kept at bethlam or broadmoor, famous mental hospitals

2. a lot of the expert witnesses were doctors and superintendents at bethlam or broadmoor, or at times at private asylums

some names that pop up a lot are:

william orange (superintendent at broadmoor)

sir william charles wood (superintendent at colney hatch, with its own connection to seward, later at bethlem)

edward monro (doctor at bethlem, appeared as an expert witness up to around 400 times!)

sir alexander morison (doctor at bethlem)

forbes winslow (owner of his own private asylums, also funniest middle name ever: benignus)

i’m not gonna ascribe nefarious motives to these doctors (especially dr. winslow because he seems to have been a pretty good guy who was “cutting-edge” by treating his patients humanely uhhh) but i still think there was a lot of potential for a conflict of interest, which is why i pointed out their professional positions.

but there is one doctor i will ascribe possible nefarious motives to: our dear doctor jack seward.

i know i’m not the only one who thinks that he was “saved” by the narrative in that in gave him a purpose and a stronger anchoring to his friends (both old and new). considering his opening entry, where he’s like “of course i wouldn’t experiment on renfield, that would be unethical and send me to hell…. but what if?? 👀” like, this guy… this guy!! i say this with love, but he’s primed for becoming an evil scientist.

i don’t think he would have done it when we meet him in the novel, or afterwards when he’s been through the whole adventure/mission – but if the events of dracula hadn’t happened, i could definitely see him descending deeper into self-justified malpractice, by which i mean he’d testify that accused criminals are insane just to get his hands on them, to be able to study them.

but aside from my speculation about that^ i also wonder if perhaps he’s well on his way to becoming an eminent expert witness when we meet him in the book. by renfield’s words, it would seem that he has been involved in an inquest or legal case at least once (but probably more if he’s going to claim the title medico-jurist). we all wonder sometimes how a 29 year old doctor came to have an immense lunatic asylum under his care, but honestly, some of these trials were huge, and expert witnesses could rise to some prominence and gain benefactors that way (just like they do today).

and who knows, maybe jack got his foot in the courtroom door via his lordling friend arthur, which would allow him to establish himself as a medical expert despite being young and (presumably) recently graduated.

#another fun post i decided to keep in my drafts for four months for no reason #jack seward #dracula #meta #ish??#ask to tag #also some of those doctors were like nepo babies fr and had connections to the royal family etc #so they were incredibly powerful and protected #my meta

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pseudowho · 16 days

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omg I didn’t know you’re a midwife! I’m currently a nursing student and I plan on working in OB 🤞🏻. One of my favorite clinical experiences was following around a very nice midwife from England (I’m in southern California so the accent immediately threw me off) and she let me watch everything. I watched her do membrane sweeps, she made sure I watched a few epidurals being done. She was so kind, sweet, and smart and I was so upset when my time with her was over. Midwives are pretty rare over here in my area (I think just the US in general is kinda lacking in that area) so I really hope I get to work with her

Hey! I am. Midwifery is just as certified a profession in the UK as nurses, doctors, etc.

It sounds like you were privileged to watch a British midwife go and do her thing. I imagine her ability to practice to her full extent was very corseted by American Medical Law though. I hope you enjoy your time in Obstetrics, I'm sure you'll make it!

We're different to nurses, paid more, as we are autonomous practitioners like doctors. We're considered the experts on normal pregnancy and birth. So, when a pregnancy and birth is totally straightforward, if a doctor tried to make clinical decisions for our patients, a midwife has the authority to frogmarch them from the room, because we're the best person to look after that patient.

Midwives do almost everything for a woman in pregnancy, labour and postnatal, even if she's considered 'high risk'. We deliver all of the babies that aren't instrumental births or caesareans. We do suturing, all the meds administration, observations, 'being with woman'.

It's an incredible privilege, honestly. There aren't many other countries in the world, I think, where Midwifery is what it is in the UK.

-- Haitch xxx

#pseudowho #pseudowho answers you #midwifery

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thetempestechoes · 27 days

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Yuno and stairs.

We have had some thoughts about Yuno and stairs for a while now, and I want to talk about it.

This post will be discussing pregnancy, abortion, and the restrictions on it. To be clear, we are pro-choice, and support safe avenues for abortion being legal and accessible. We are also not suggesting that people endanger themselves through the methods mentioned below the cut.

I have a theory that Yuno's staircase motif isn't just its resemblence to a double helix: Yuno is consistently shown with staircases, including staircases that aren't spiral (Undercover), and from how her various segments are framed in Undercover and her own trials, I wonder if this symbolism is supposed to also represent a method of purposefully induced miscarriage.

To be clear, I am not saying that Yuno went through with purposefully inducing a miscarriage by throwing herself down a staircase- I am, however, saying that I think that her staircase motif is at least alluding to this symbolically, whether or not she did it or considered it.

Now, disclaimer that I am no expert in Japanese law, but to my understanding, abortion in Japan, like in many countries, is subject to a lot of restrictions about why a pregnancy can be terminated, and at what stage of a pregnancy it can be terminated. It is very possible that Yuno did not meet the requirements for a legal medical abortion under Japanese law when she decided she was going to abort her pregnancy. Throughout history, pregnancies have been aborted by purposefully inducing a miscarriage, and this also continues to this day.

This can also tie into her asking Es if she's dead. Purposefully inducing a miscarriage can be incredibly dangerous and life-threatening, and it can be fatal.

Of course, this is just things that I noticed and things that stuck out to us - I'm not assuming I'm right. I could be totally wrong. I'm also not saying that she definitely did xyz, because the presence of symbolism doesn't always correlate to definites. But whatever the case, I'll be interested in what she has to say in the third trial.

#ミルグラム #Milgram #ユノ #樫木優乃 #Kashiki Yuno #Milgram analysis #Yuno analysis #Milgram theory #Yuno theory #abortion #death #miscarriage #pregnancy

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stupidjewishwhiteboy · 6 months

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I’m not anything even close to an expert on the laws of war, but from what i am gathering from people who seem to know what they’re talking about the laws involving where armies can and cannot target revolve around 2 principles (well, more than 2 but these 2 are important):

1) areas where there are children, medical sites, and religious sites should not be targeted

2) because of the obvious ways that point 1 could be misused, anyone who thinks they’re a clever boots by using the above areas for military purposes has committed a warcrime and also removed said areas’ protection

A lot of people seem to be investing a lot of effort into either pretending point 2 doesn’t exist or in using point 2 to entirely invalidate point 1. It’s frustrating.

Also, if anyone sees this who actually is a scholar of the laws of war, and you think I missed something important or got something wrong, please respond with your corrections

#laws of war #civilian areas #military responsibilities

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mschievousx · 2 hours

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now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she love her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

iv. four: you were right for me

"why would you need to go? the hawkins balloon will be tomorrow."

loraine silva finds herself at her father's study, planting her head on her hands above his table in an attempt to act endearing enough and change his mind.

she pouted, whining to him, "i am not interested with the gas laws related to balloons. i have read them enough."

"what is in this scientific convention then?" armand placed his pen down and removed his glasses, fully putting his attention to his daughter.

"chemistry and medicine!" she exclaimed with exciteness in her voice.

"hm? i thought you like engineering."

"i do, but it's not everyday you can practice chemistry and medicine." she argues. although the girl loves engineering above both subjects, the opportunity to witness these two does not come as often, "aside from the difficulty of obtaining chemicals, it also must be supervised closely."

he narrowed his eyes at her, crossing his arms strictly, "you're not helping your case. that means it would be dangerous."

raine pouted at him, her chances of attending continues to decline, "they are professionals and experts, likely recognised by the queen to be able to conduct such a grand expo."

"you have not been doing much of the work of a viscountess." he sternly added.

"papa, it is my very first season." she stood up, rounding the table to her father's side, clasping both hands as if on a prayer, "please? i will surely attend to everything after the season."

her father made no attempt to move or acknowledge whatever she said, forcing her to make more points for consideration.

"it is perhaps a part of being a viscountess. my presence in academic events will highlight our activeness in such field." still with no budge, she sighed heavily before another point entered her mind.

"it's like a ball. a lot of gentlemen will be there, and who knows? perhaps, i will meet a charming one who shares my interests." she reasoned with a dearly smile.

armand growled at the mention of charming boys. he really doubts there is anyone as such these days, "and what of the bridgerton boy?"

"i jest—it is still benedict. however," she moved to unlock his crossed arms and grasped his hands together in hers, which she cannot envelop seeing as her hands are quite smaller in comparison, and gave out a longing smile, "i could use another friend, can't i?"

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

it is safe to say that the young silva has her father wrapped around her thumb. with warm smiles here and there, she now arrives at the medical convention with unmeasurable elation.

stepping in, she did not know where to look at all. everywhere she turns, she could spend an hour looking at a single specimen—minus the bones. she does not like them at all. but, she knew they're still a sight to see, so she has decided to start with them before she spends most of her time to other subjects.

she walked and walked, simply passing the specimen with a lot of audience like the humerus, the pelvic bone, and the thoracic cavity.

raine would have really loved to observe the thoracic cavity but she thought against it. being in close proximity with a lot of people is not something she enjoys.

upon more walking, a lone skull has managed to grab her attention. she neared to look at it closely. it's crazy, isn't it? to refer to this skull as it when it once housed a brain of a moving, feeling person—one that was referred as he or she.

"the human skull is made up of twenty-two bones, accounting for ten percent of all our bones." an unfamiliar voice joined her side.

she stood up straight from her peering, adding to what the man said, "eight cranial, fourteen facial."

"a fan of the skull?"

raine turned to him at that question. she fought all her facial muscles that was aching to grimace. on another note, the man is quite handsome. of distinguished upbringing too, it seems.

she puffed out lightly as she turned back to the skull, "i dislike bones."

he chuckled at her strong statement, quite ironic that he finds her curiously looking at one, "what are you here for?"

"muscles, cardio, and neuro." she answered, walking away towards other specimen this time.

"ah, interesting choice of subjects. although, i must say, bones are as important." the man followed closely, which she did not mind but she would have loved to look around with none bothering her.

she let out a sarcastic chuckle, looking around as if disregarding his person, "i did not say otherwise."

"you dislike it."

the young lady turned to him with a crossed brows, "i do not have to like it for it to be as significant."

"you are shrugging at its importance." he stubbornly argued.

raine fired back, "i am shrugging at you."

"with the use of your scapula, which are in fact bones." he held up his right index finger, as if to highlight a point—a point she chose not to take.

"with the use of my muscles who initiate the movement sent by motor neurons." she completely turned to him, her voice quite increasing in volume.

his mouth is slightly ajar as raine waited for his retort. he settled with an astonished smile, offering a hand forward, "astley cooper, lady silva."

she let out a small scoff, her annoyance being covered by the very familiar name, "ah, and another day i do not get to introduce myself."

"you must understand. your family is celebrated," they continued to converse in a calmer manner, both accepting the arguments of each other, "and you cause an uproar everywhere you go."

the young silva lightly laughed at the mention of her antics, stopping in front of the humerus that was crowded earlier, "i like to leave my mark."

"i do not doubt it." mr. cooper affirmed.

"you are the son of sir cooper?" she inquired with indifference.

"i am." he shows no sign of surprise that the lady knows of the name. if she is indeed an academic, his father's name is always mentioned on the textbooks.

she simply hummed at that, proceeding to walk to another specimen, "well, this is your forte after all."

"conceding so easily, lady silva?" astley retorted with a hint of smugness. she turned to him, voice laced with friendly annoyance.

"i doubt you would argue with me about guns, would you?"

he laughed at her point as he replied, "never."

and for the first time of the day, she was reminded; she would have loved for him to be the one with her right now. granted, he does not know a lot about these, and granted, she prefers to look around in solitude in these events, but she would have seriously loved his presence. to him, she would never say never."

noticing her zoning out, the man coughed lightly and asked, "what part of the body do you most like?"

she turned to him, completely caught, "oh, hands."

"you surprise me. i thought you would be a lover of eyes. why the hands?"

she smiled at that, raising her hand from the arm near him, as if showing it to him, "they are fascinating; their ability to grip things."

she would have loved to mention the real reason. they can hold on to things. they can let things go. raine thought it too poetic for an academe like him to understand.

"incredible. i'm afraid mine is as not as well-thought as yours."

she returned the question, certainly feeling the man's own urge to share his, "what's yours?"

"a femur. it's the hardest bone."

raine did not think twice to laugh. he was being honest after all. it was indeed not as well-thought.

they reach a hall where a live amputation is going on. most audiences were of the academy, she can tell. the daily man would have no appetite for such thing that these young men were watching closely.

she whispered to astley in a hushed voice, "how do you convince them to do it live?"

"he is from our school. he understands the importance of live discussions. sadly, he met an unfortunate accident, and here we are."

raine nodded in understanding, eyes watching the procedure attentively. it is quite harsh to look at, of course. after all, it is an amputation.

after the left mid-forearm was severed, the use of burnt wool was executed. the man has been administered with a bit of anaesthetic, but only enough for until the severing is done. a higher dose than that would prove to be risky for the patient. and so, the application of burnt wool can be felt by the man, gradually increasing in intensity.

as the procedure is ongoing, the surgeon performing it offered information and explanations here and there. the ligature, she could understand, but surely there's an alternative for burnt wool that is less painful.

"how about hydrogen peroxide, sir?" she offered, the surgeon and the students turning to her.

"what do you mean?" he asked, returning to his patient and continuing post-operative care.

"it may be able stop the bleeding more effectively than a burnt wool, which can cause more damage."

the surgeon chuckled, finding the fault on her argument, "it causes irritation to skin, actually the harmful one."

raine stepped forward, laying her case more directly, "yes, but in the right concentration, it has oxidative properties and is a reactive oxygen species. by this, it can cause vasoconstriction upon the dysfunction of the endothelial cells."

the surgeon turned to her, now understanding her train of thought, "it can close the source of the bleeding, achieving hemostasis."

"impressive. we will study such activity of the said chemical, lady?" he inquired, genuinely amazed by her case and how she has thought of it.

raine smiled inwardly, letting out the most prideful smirk she could muster, "silva. viscountess silva."

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

just as the clock hits ten before two in the afternoon, the young lady has decided she's satisfied enough of the things she were able to witness and learn. that and the fact that her stomach is now growling.

as she stepped out of the building that housed the convention, she's met with a familiar back of a person across the street.

"ben!" she called, waving overly that some people have spared her a look. the said man turned to her and immediately placed a hand on his forehead at her loudness.

she eagerly crossed the street to him, bridgerton inquiring with a confused face, "what are you doing here?"

upon reaching him, she hugged his right arm with pure excitement as they continue to walk forwards. he could do nothing but let her, "there's a medical convention near. it was awesome!"

"really? i did not know." he feigned ignorance at that, the girl not minding anything as she was overcame with exhilaration.

"you're not an avid follower. that's alright. anyways—"

she proceeded to tell him what happened to her day, from the part she was begging her father to let her go until before the amputation. she also highlighted the specimen she has seen, throwing information about them with elation. she was about to continue when benedict interposed.

"i would have went with you, you know." he said before setting his eyes back on where the pair is walking towards, now with a smaller voice, "if you just asked."

she heard it. of course, she heard it. he could whisper meters away and she would certainly hear it with ease. and, no matter how high up on cloud nine she was, she had no problem jumping off it just to hear him.

raine giggled at his offer, "it's not fun for you. you would find the contents of it boring."

"i would not," he replied at once, seeming as if he does not even need to think twice of the reason, "you were there."

she stopped walking instantly, pulling benedict back by the act without warning. he turned to her for the second time today and all he can see is her widest grin. she was not doing anything but grin, which is what making him so confused as of the moment.

and, just as raine was utterly clueless of what her words were doing to him, he was just as clueless of his words to her.

with confusion, he raised a brow at her, "what? did you have lunch?"

she simply nodded her head sidewards, grin still present, "i have not."

he nudged her as they begin walking again, "what say you for a late lunch together?"

her answer was apparent, "yes!"

they entered an eating house nearby, raine continuing her stories of the day as the food is served.

in the middle of eating, she asked out of the blue, "what part of the body do you most like, ben?"

"mine? let me think," he settled both his hands on the table, looking afar in thinking.

"hands," he replied, placing the fork on the dish to steady it as he slice, "you can tell a lot from a person's hands—the softness, the roughness, its shaking..."

raine smiled serenely at that. he would never fail to do poetic justice to the mere existence of things. and, perhaps, she should have really asked him to go with her earlier, so that the contents of the convention would feel alive once more by his words alone.

he knew her so well that his words spoke to her on their own. she could not remember clearly, but she was sure. it was a moment like this when she first realised she liked benedict. it was one of those moments where she realised that he was the right person for her.

"how about you? what were you doing around here?" she asked, turning to her own plate.

"oh, i was just walking around." he shrugged off easily, which just made her suspicious of it.

"oh my—right," she began, causing the man across her to look at her, "there is a pleasure house nearby."

he should have really noted already not to intake anything if the girl is present. but, he did not. and so, he finds himself choking once again, on food this time, at what the girl accused him of.

"what are you insinuating? how do you even know there is such a house here?!" he whisper-yelled, controlling his volume to not attract other listeners.

raine laughed at his reaction and gave a saecastic, understanding smile, "ben, do not worry. i have known your activities since i was a child. i still like you."

"i did not go to a brothel!"

taglist: @aadu2173 @imgondeletedis @pumkiinpasties @rebleforkicks

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x oc #father daughter tandem is fire here because we cant have it in real life #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #benedict is a fox

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 1 year

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By: Richard Dawkins

Published: Jun 3, 2023

“We must trust to nothing but facts: these are presented to us by nature and cannot deceive. We ought, in every instance, to submit our reasoning to the test of experiment, and never to search for truth but by the natural road of experiment and observation” (Antoine Lavoisier, 1743-94).

“Nothing is too wonderful to be true, if it be consistent with the laws of nature” (Michael Faraday, 1791-1867).

Evidence-based medicine was defined in an influential paper in the British Medical Journal 1996 as “The conscientious, explicit, and judicious use of current best evidence in making decisions about the care of individual patients.” It seems surprising that it even needed defining. How could sensible medicine not be evidence-based? The authors consider, and reject, the mutually contradictory arguments that, on the one hand, “All doctors do it anyway” and, on the other hand “It’s a dangerous innovation perpetrated to suppress the freedom of doctors to exercise their clinical judgement.” I want to generalise the arguments and advocate what I am calling Evidence-based Life.

Every moment of our lives we are faced with decisions. What shall I do next? What do I believe? To help us decide what to do next, we can draw upon copious evidence: the evidence of our senses, evidence from books, from conversations, newspapers, the Internet. We have the evidence from past experience (What happened when I previously was in this situation and did so-and-so?). We have evidence from a kind of future, as we simulate possible futures in imagination (I can see myself doing so-and-so and I can imagine the consequences). We can take advice from friends or mentors, books or traditional wisdom – and that can be seen as vicarious borrowing of other people’s past experience and simulated futures.

Much the same can be said of what we believe. I believe the world is round because I’ve flown to Australia via Asia and returned via America. I believe it because I’ve seen photographs from space. I believe it because of books I’ve read, lessons at school from teachers who seemed to know what they were talking about, and so on. I believe it because physics books tell me of a principle whereby large bodies tend to become spherical under the influence of gravity. A very great deal of what we know, even that which really is based on sound scientific evidence, we have to take on trust, because we haven’t the time or the ability to examine it in detail.

Even expert scientists haven��t the time or the expertise to evaluate sciences other than their own. Most biologists are ill-equipped to understand modern physics. And vice versa although, I have to admit, to a lesser extent. In any case, nobody has the time to do full justice to all the detailed research papers in a journal such as Nature or Science, even if we could understand them. If we read a report that gravitational waves have been reliably detected as emanating from a collision between two distant galaxies, most of us take it on trust. It almost sounds like taking it on faith. But it’s a faith that’s more securely grounded than, say, religious faith. That’s an understatement. When biologists like me express “faith” in the findings of physics, we know that physicists’ predictions have been verified by experimental measurements to find accuracy. Very different from “faith” in, for example, the doctrine of transubstantiation which makes no predictions at all, let alone testable and tested ones.

Nevertheless, scientific evidence is not always reliable. With the best will in the world, scientists can deceive themselves. Medical science has adopted the Double Blind Control Experiment, an admirable device for eliminating all possibility of subjective bias. Long ago, my then wife Marian (now a Fellow of the Royal Society) and I used it for fun in a trivial demonstration experiment. We wanted to know who made the best razor blades for shaving, Gillette or Wilkinson. Our quality criterion was how long a blade would last before I found it uncomfortable to shave and discarded it. Obviously that was a subjective judgement. It was important that I should not be allowed to know which make of blade I was using to shave. So Marian was solely responsible for putting a new blade into my razor, every time I pronounced the previous one worn out. If she had alternated the blades, Gillette, Wilkinson, Gillette, Wilkinson etc, that could have given me a clue. So she chose the blades according to a previously written-down random sequence, which I was not allowed to see. After a previously written-down number of blade-changes (I can’t remember what that number was but it had to be pre-determined), we looked at the data, consisting of a series of durations measured in days before each blade wore out. We analysed the data statistically and concluded that Wilkinson blades were significantly superior.

This was technically a Single-blind experiment. There remained the possibility that Marian could have inadvertently influenced my decision on when to declare a blade exhausted – the so-called Clever Hans Effect. A German horse called Clever Hans was apparently able to do simple arithmetic, tapping his hoof five times, say, when asked “What is two plus three?” It was eventually revealed that his trainer was unconsciously giving him cues, subtly changing his body language when Hans’s hoof taps reached the right number. Ideally our experiment should have been not Single Blind but Double Blind: the person inserting the blades into the razor should have been ignorant as to which was which – a little harder to arrange, though not impossible. Somebody else, neither Marian nor I, would have prepared a randomised sequence of blades, then Marian should have dispensed them when I pronounced the previous one spent. Clinical trials of new medicines nowadays usually follow the Double Blind design: the patients, the doctors or nurses administering the doses, and the experimenters judging the medicine’s effectiveness, and are kept in strict ignorance as to which patients get the drug, which they control. Without the strictures of the Double Blind design, there is always the danger of subjective judgement creeping in.

Blind control trials constitute only one weapon in science’s armoury against being misled by subjective judgement. Experiments are repeated. Scientific papers are rigorously refereed before publication and exposed to critical scrutiny afterwards. Experiment itself is the only ultimate safeguard against the notorious “correlation doesn’t have to imply causation” truism. Correlation really does imply causation if the putative cause happens when an experimenter makes it happen, rather than waiting for it to happen spontaneously. Of course, the experimenter must make it happen on a large number of independent occasions, and at random rather than in a regular pattern such as might introduce a spurious correlation. Finally, the correlation must be unlikely to have arisen by chance – unlikely according to some agreed criterion such as, “If we repeated the whole experiment a thousand times, we’d expect only one of those repeats to yield a result as extreme as this by chance.” That’s what tests of statistical significance are for.

In advocating evidence-based life, I don’t of course mean we should do double-blind, statistically-analysed experiments before making a decision, or before believing anything. Life’s too short, and there are many other reasons why it would be impractical. But it is worth imbibing the spirit of evidence-based medicine by being deliberately aware of possible sources of bias. Have I looked even-handedly at the available evidence or did I under-value or even ignore evidence that contradicted my prior beliefs? Or evidence that might have contradicted the beliefs of my tribe (religion, political party, favourite opinion-leader etc)? Do I read only the Guardian and ignore the Telegraph? Or vice versa. Do I watch only Fox News and ignore CNN? Do I tune out when exposed to news, or views, that contradict my prior prejudices? Are my views on climate change (vaccination, Covid-protection masks) based on the best available evidence, or are they coloured by political or religious prejudice, or tribal loyalties of some kind?

Evidence-based Life could justify a whole book, not just a brief essay such as this. So let me just mention some of the more insidious and alluring alternatives which might tempt us away from evidence. I’ll list them in the form of headings to which I might return in future postings.

It’s how I feel. It may not be true for you but it’s true for me. Alternative “ways of knowing” are just as valid as science, which is just the mythology of a white male tribe. I don’t need science, I’ve got my Holy Book. I don’t need science, commonsense is good enough for me. The evidence of my biology clearly indicates that I am male, but I feel I am a woman therefore I am a woman.

Richard Dawkins

Richard Dawkins' new Substack is "The Poetry of Reality with Richard Dawkins."

#Richard Dawkins #evidence #evidence based life #evidence based medicine #subjective reality #objective truth #my truth #lived experience #ways of knowing #other ways of knowing #science #true for me #i feel it in my heart #faith #faith is not a virtue #religion is a mental illness

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