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forbebeandjam · 1 month

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omg can't wait for audrey's!!!!! thank youuuuuu (⁠ʃ⁠ƪ⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠）

Fear | Audrey Lane x Fem Reader | Fluff

Summary: a small misunderstanding leads you and your girlfriend, Audrey to end up on bad terms. Three months later, you realize how much you love each other.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: a bit angst. Brain tumor mention.

A/N: sorry if it’s a bit unrealistic. I know it’s not my best work. I’m not a medic or doctor… enjoyyyy •u•

~🫧♥︎🫧~

You and Audrey had been working nonstop on a new K-pop choreography. Being a part of the Jam Republic dance crew has been a milestone in your career. You went from being a small and heavily criticized TikTok dancer who covered K-pop dance to a successful choreographer.

Having Nick reach out to you to be part of this project was perfect as he had also contacted your girlfriend, Audrey. You couldn't believe that you and Audrey got to dance together and spend time together as well.

However your schedules were packed and after the show, there were some things you two couldn't do together. She was booked doing the brand new show Street Dance Girls Fighter 2 and you were booked creating new choreographies and interviews.

One day you finally got to see her but you were too tired. She seemed to be really excited to hang out with you and you were just thinking of going home.

"What if we take a walk? and then we can go camping," she suggested but you shook your head.

"Sorry, Audrey. I'm drained and I just want to lay down," you said bluntly. One thing about you is that you could be very oblivious to others' feelings when you weren't feeling well... not to mention minor anger issues that almost caused you major trouble with Mannequeen.

"Well, what if we just go for some ice cream? Or maybe something to eat?" She said once again with her bubbly voice trying to get you out of bed and spend quality time together. It's Audrey. She was always bubbly and you lived for her but at this moment, tiredness hit you like a truck.

"Jeez, I said no. I'll just be in my room," you said in an aggravated tone leaving her behind on the couch.

You took painkillers for your headache and as you lay on your bed you heard soft sobs making your heart clench at the sounds. You know you fucked up. You promised to never make her cry and you just did. As you tried to get up to apologize, you felt your body collapse on the floor and you were unable to get up. Your vision immediately became dark.

You woke up and saw a bright light. You definitely weren't home. Your house was green and the lights were almost always dimmed. This room was too blue.

Your eyes tried to adjust and you groaned. You felt someone grip your hand tightly but the voice was almost unrecognizable as your ears also tried adjusting to the noise.

"Audrey..." was the first thing that escaped your lips. You called her name. You wanted to apologize and when your vision finally cleared up, you saw her sitting on the side of the hospital bed holding your hand and asking if you were okay. Her eyes were red and teary as well as her nose as she let out sniffles.

You felt your heart clench at her sight. You made her cry twice. You never meant for any of this to happen. As you tried to get up your poising headache pulled you back to the bed.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, baby. Please forgive me," you said as a tear escaped your eye. Her head shook repeatedly.

"Don't apologize. I didn't realize you felt this bad and I should've known. I should've made you rest and taken care of you," she said as she lowered her head.

"Audrey, it's okay. I'm okay, see?" You said as you kissed her hand.

"You're not. Sorry to tell you this ma'am but you have a brain tumor. You need surgery and treatment as well as absolute rest for around three months. We need to do this now or you might not make it another month," the doctor said. You didn't protest. You knew it would be best if you wanted to keep living the life that you have. You wanted to be with Audrey.

"Audrey?" You said when you saw how she was holding in her sobs and cries. She turned to look at you with red eyes and you began to cry as well.

"I love you. I love you so much and I will be with you forever," you said.

"Don't... it sounds like you're saying goodbye," she said.

"I know you have to catch a flight. You have to go back home. Go work on your projects, baby. And come back to me in three months," you said and she started to shake her head.

"I can't leave you. Who will take care of you? Who is going to make sure you're okay? I want to make sure you wake up and you can see me and..." you moved your hand on her cheek and she stopped talking. She shut her eyes tightly and pressed her lips on your hand.

"I will be okay, baby. I have to go now but never forget that I love you so much," you kissed her one last time before the nurse took you away.

(Three months later)

It was finally the day. The day Audrey would come back and you could be together again. This time you promised you would never let her go and would never make her cry.

You heard the doorbell and rushed to the door. You fixed my clothes and hair before taking a deep breath and finally took ahold of the doorknob. You twisted it and there she was. A big smile and a beautiful gold light radiating from her. Her eyes seemed to be teary and her smile was shaking.

She immediately dropped her bags and ran to you. She grabbed your face a kissed you tenderly. It was a long-awaited kiss. Three months felt like an eternity without her. How could someone live without that gorgeous smile? It's a smile you would die for.

"You have no idea how much I missed you," she said as she buried her face down your neck. Her sobs began to fill your ears and your tears began to roll down your face.

"I missed you too," you said as you kissed her head.

"How about we get out of here? I have a surprise for you," you said and she looked at you with a confused expression.

"But you need to rest more. What if-" Audrey started but you stopped her by shaking your head.

"I'm okay. We aren't doing anything that might be straining. Let's go," you said as you put on your shoes and jacket and walked out of the door with her. She was too quiet for your liking but you didn't say anything as you saw her fidgeting with her hands in the car. You knew she was nervous.

After around thirty minutes you arrived at a camping site and got out of the car to open her door. A small smile was painted on her lips.

"You didn't forget about the camping date?" She asked.

"I could never forget about your favorite thing. Your pink curly hair, the sweet perfume you use, the way you move when you dance. It's all engraved in my head. Let's set up and watch a movie," you said as you walked to get our things from the trunk.

A few hours later you had everything set up and ate dinner. The sun was starting to slowly set creating a beautiful orange and pink hue in the sky. Audrey was silently sitting on a chair looking at the sky as she took small sips of her tea. Your biggest fears began to fill your head like poison.

'Does she not love me anymore? Is there someone else? Did she find someone that treats her better?'

"Audrey, come here," you said and she turned to you. She stood up and placed her mug on the chair. As she walked to you, you immediately cupped her face with your warm hands and planted a kiss on her lips.

"Whatever is on your mind, tell me," you said as you broke the kiss.

"It's just all surreal. I thought I was going to lose you and not being able to contact you due to work was killing me and now that I'm here, I just feel like I should've been here all along," she said.

You immediately connected your forehead to hers. You wanted her to forget about everything and anything that happened in the past.

"Baby, you're here now and I couldn't ask for more. You're all I need and I just want to be with you. Enjoy the moment, my sweet girl," you said and kissed her forehead.

That seemed to make all of her worries melt away. Her mind was clear and her heart warm. She smiled brightly for the first time and a small tear escaped her eye. You kissed it dry and she let out a small giggle that melted your heart.

Setting up for bed was quick and soon you realized that you had forgotten her sleeping bag back home. You scratched your head and chuckled nervously.

"Sorry, babe. I forgot your sleeping bag," you said.

"It's okay. We can sleep in the same one," she said as she got situated. She looked up at you and you nodded. You got inside the bag and spooned her, sharing the warmth of your body as a movie played on your iPad.

Suddenly, she turned to face you, completely ignoring the movie. You were lost in her eyes and you shared a moment of silence.

She reached to peck your lips and you finally saw her purest smile.

"I don't know how I managed to be with you for so long. I'll never leave you again. Promise you'll never scare me like that again," she said as she buried her face in your chest.

"I'm sorry baby, I'll never do it again..."

There was a small pause and you pulled back from the hug.

"We fit perfectly in this sleeping bag don't you think?" You asked.

"Yes. We are perfect," she said before snuggling close to you.

“I love you,” You kissed her forehead and you both drifted into a deep slumber.

Thank you for reading!!🩷

#forbebeandjam #honeybee156 #street woman fighter 2 #audrey lane #Audrey fluff #jam republic #jam republic Audrey #Audrey angst #Audrey x reader #Audrey lane fluff #fluff #swf2 #swf2 x reader

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almost-a-class-act · 2 years

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Welcome to part two of “Joining the One Bean/No Spleen Club - A Compendium of Jokes About Donating my Kidney and How They Whiffed It”, a blog post about my journey to donate my kidney and how they, well, whiffed it. Part one is here.

When we left off last time, I had just had a whole entire organ taken out. Once they plunk you in a hospital bed after that, you feel eerily fine for awhile. My mom came by to visit and I was doing my daily Duolingo on my phone.

Day two is, uh. Less enjoyable.

I woke up in the morning and the doctor came by and asked how much I was using my pain pump. I had truly no idea and said so; I woke up in the night a few times and if I was in pain, I used the pain pump. I felt fine except that if they'd put a basic math test in front of me I'm pretty sure my brain would've spontaneously combusted. They took the pain pump away and said that if I needed painkillers, I could ask.

Here's where it's going to sound like I'm complaining a lot but bear with me.

I spent most of that day very nauseated. My mom told me later that she texted my brother and my dad saying that she thought there was something wrong with me (you know, other than having lost an entire organ). The nurses were less than sympathetic. "You should be up and walking around". Well, y'all should know, I am a girl who does not like to disappoint. I would get up, and the nausea would be so overpowering that I was sure I was going to toss my cookies and blow a stitch or two in the process.

The nurses' response to this was to grudgingly bring me a Gravol (an anti-nauseate) to take orally. There were no alternatives when the Gravol didn't work. I had to request further Gravol multiple times before anyone brought it - because if there's anything you want to be doing, it's waiting a long time for an anti-nauseate when you have a belly-full of fresh stitches. A couple of times, my mom had to get up and go find a nurse for me because they didn't come when I pushed the button. I started to wonder if a bunch of murders or maybe a bank robbery from one of my past lives was catching up with me.

I only requested a heavy-duty pain killer once after they took me off the pain drip, because I thought it was making the nausea worse. Instead, the nurses said they would bring me Tylenol every six hours. I received two doses of Tylenol in this fashion, and then no more Tylenol. Eventually I buzzed a nurse, who came and told me that Tylenol wasn't on my chart and she'd have to speak to the surgeon.

Y'all, when I say I was bemused.

Anyway.

Monday morning dawned, 48 hours after surgery, and a doctor turned up and said that I could maybe be discharged today. This sounded absolutely wild to me because I had been so unwell the day before, but at this point the hospital had tried to feed me chicken from a can and I could do a handstand and hand-walk to the drugstore down the street to get my own Gravol faster than I could get it from a nurse, so I came around on the idea.

There was one thing that was really driving me crazy at this point, which was that my left shoulder had started hurting like a son of a gun. When you get laparoscopic surgery to remove your kidney, they punch four holes in you and do most of the surgery through those tiny holes, because medical science is rad. I had a four-inch incision along my bikini line where they stuck in what I'm picturing as one of those nets you use to clean a fishtank and fished my kidney out.

Because they're not opening you up, they pump you full of CO2 to expand your body cavity. They do not pump out the CO2 afterward, because doctors hate us all a little bit (I'm kidding, I'm sure there's a reason. A great reason.) That CO2 can then, in turn, push on the phrenic nerve and make your shoulder hurt.

This is a normal thing that happens to many people after an abdominal surgery. It normally clears up after a day or two.

My pain was pretty intense and lasted almost a week. Painkillers don't touch it, either, so I spent a lot of nighttime hours shuffling around and around in my house in the dark after I got home from the hospital. I now know that this is a classic sign of a ruptured spleen, but I didn't know that then. All I knew was that if I breathed a certain way, moved so much as a muscle in a certain way, I would have a lightning bolt of pain through my left shoulder.

Getting out of bed in the hospital was horrendous. The nurse practitioner who discharged me came by and saw me struggling to get up, wincing against the stabbing pain in my shoulder, and made some comment along the lines of, that doesn't look like someone who's getting discharged today. I told her that my incision felt fine and it was my shoulder that was killing me. She told me it was just gas pain, and that it would dissipate.

I need to make it clear that at this point I couldn't even dress myself and I was making audible sounds of pain every time I aggravated that one fucking nerve.

Lest you worry that I didn't advocate for myself, I mentioned the shoulder pain once more to the nurse practitioner before I left, then again in an email to her later in the week, and then again to the surgeon in my virtual follow-up appointment the following week. No one thought it was a red flag, so I didn't either.

I stayed in a hotel with my mom one night after discharge, and then we drove the four hours back north. I discovered that if I reclined my seat most of the way and held my arms over my head like I was doing a triceps stretch, the gas pain was bearable. If you have chronic pain and you recognize this as the classic this bitch tried literally every position until she found one that worked, you would be correct. They recommend that you get out and walk every hour or so (so that you don't get blood clots), so I was walking around gas station parking lots looking super normal and well-adjusted with my arms over my head like I had done Triceps and Triceps Alone in the gym the day before.

Once I got home, thus began the nebulous time leading up to Christmas when I wasn't working and couldn't keep track of what day it was. I was walking a lot and watching Netflix and sleeping a normal eight hours a night, and I really felt like my recovery was going great (minus that shoulder pain). I didn't even take any of the painkillers they sent home with me from the hospital. I took one or two Tylenol a day for a few days, and then I stopped that too.

I celebrated my birthday five days after surgery by finally eating my first full meal since before they took my kidney out. It turns out that literally none of your internal organs like it when a surgeon goes poking around in there and they will let you know by being fucking assholes. Little by little though I started feeling less like a giant balloon full of air that was dressed like Donald Duck because I couldn't stand having a waistband by my incision, and more like a normal human woman dressed like Donald Duck because I couldn't stand having a waistband by my incision.

Christmas day rolled around, and we drove a couple of hours to an island where my cousin and her family live. We played a mystery present unwrapping game and sang some karaoke so bad I'm still not sure it wasn't a hate crime somehow. I had a plate from the Christmas spread and a couple of beers. It ended up being my last meal for five days.

I was just sitting down to Christmas dinner when all of a sudden I felt very hot. A tight band settled around my midsection. If you've ever had really bad food poisoning, it reminded me of that. Now I look back and think, wow. That was the moment my spleen exploded into smithereens!

See? I told you I'd use the word smithereens.

I went to lie down. Within half an hour, I was throwing up to beat the band. We've all been there, I'm sure; you retch and retch but nothing comes up. If you've ever wondered what it's like to do that when you have still-healing belly stitches, I can confidently say I would give it zero stars.

I was laying on the floor in the bathroom and my cousin came in and calmly asked if she should call an ambulance. I found out later that the rest of the family sent her in as the resident medical professional.

She's a dental hygienist.

She did once tell me that I only need to floss the teeth I want to keep, which is sound advice. Calling the ambulance was also a great idea so honestly - she's two for two.

At this point, my mom was not having a great time. She was leaning over me saying please don't die, please don't die and I was pressing my face into my cousin's cheap plastic dollar store bathroom trash bin and exasperatedly going mom I can confidently say that if I was dead I would be puking much less.

When the paramedics came, they needed me to get up and go outside to where the stretcher was. The problem was, the inside of my body cavity probably looked like a Manson family brunch by now and making myself vertical seemed like something I didn't remember how to do. Eventually they had to practically carry me; my feet were definitely touching the ground and I was 'walking', but these two guys were on either side of me holding up my weight.

I got to the little hospital in town and was the only person in this big old room for awhile. A doctor and some nurses came and went. I threw up some more - sort of. I went through the motions, anyway. There hadn't been anything left in there for awhile by then. I received my first blood transfusion, which I think I had always assumed would be A Whole Thing involving machinery of some kind - like, nurse, get the transfuser, stat! But no. There's a bag of blood and it goes into your arm exactly the way you would assume it does if you stopped to think about it for two seconds.

They decided that I needed to go to the main hospital in town but there was no one to airlift me because it was Christmas day. The same two paramedics from before came back to bring me to an ambulance instead. These poor guys were probably planning on having a chill Christmas in this tiny hospital in the middle of nowhere, but instead they ended up giving me my second blood transfusion and gently wiping puke off my face. That drive normally takes about an hour and fifty minutes, or maybe two hours in the winter; they did it in an hour and a half. They hit the siren sometimes, I'm assuming when they passed one of the tiny handful of cars on this deserted highway on Christmas.

I have to tell you, at this point, I was not having a great time. They gave me a CT scan when I got to the hospital and told me not to move, which was basically impossible because I was in so much pain and was so nauseous. I was clinging to the edge of the CT machine. Afterward a whole slew of doctors and nurses were moving all around me. A hive of activity, you would call it. I was starting to find it hard to breathe.

I remember having to sign off that I was okay to have a blood transfusion, which was hilarious as I'd already had two. I don't know what my signature looks like on those documents but I can't imagine it looks like an adult human woman wrote it. I also remember the surgeon telling me with a very serious face that they would have to cut a big old incision right down the middle of my mid-section to get my spleen out and that I'd have a big scar. I was like, yes? Okay? I don't care! Get it out!

Time and a place, doc. I'll worry about the state of my bikini body when you're not telling my parents to take their masks off and kiss me 'just in case', jesus.

Like is anyone out here like, fuck me, a scar? Pass. Death first.

By that time I had six IVs in - both elbows, both hands, and both feet, for the curious - and a whole bunch of people had to come with me down to the OR, wheeling a veritable forest of IV stands around me. I don't remember much about waking up from this surgery, except that I was in less pain than I'd been after I donated my kidney.

I learned later that one of the surgeons came out an hour into my surgery and said that they'd gotten the spleen out and stopped the bleeding, but they were going to leave me open for longer to make doubly sure that all the bleeding had stopped. The surgery went on for two hours after that.

I just hope that the next time my guts see daylight for that long it's because I'm 107 and you know, dead on an autopsy table somewhere. That's the wish I make when I blow out candles now.

The care I received in this hospital was absolutely night and day from the hospital in Toronto. The nurses were so fucking nice to me. It gets me in my one (1) single feeling even now, thinking about it. They hauled me in and out of bed whenever I needed them to. They rinsed out the disgusting nose pump I had whenever I asked. I was having some pain on the day after the surgery and they brought the pain doctor right away to increase my pain meds. The nurses double-checked on whether I was nauseous and immediately provided me with an anti-nauseant via IV. Then they came back a few minutes later to check whether it had worked. I was on ketamine and didn't like it - no problem. No more ketamine.

I was provided with Tylenol every six hours on top of the regular pain medication. This occurred consistently until I was discharged five days after the surgery. These people were on the ball. They only removed my pain drip on the penultimate day when I said I hadn’t used it in a while. They even made me see a physiotherapist before I left the hospital to make sure that I was moving and breathing okay.

I spent a couple of days in the ICU before they moved me down to the ward. When I tell you that being in the hospital is like being in some kind of weird twilight zone - man. I slept maybe two to four hours a night because I couldn't get comfortable in the bed. Sometimes I would accordingly fall asleep during the day and wake up to find my mom there, calmly knitting, and when I'd wake up she would be gone, like the cheshire cat of homemade scarves. I brought books and I had my laptop, but I didn't read or write. I just looked out the window a lot. Sometimes I listened to podcasts. I wasn't bored; I was just in a fog.

And I was ready for a jailbreak.

This nose tube - my god. It was there to pump out bile and gas from my stomach but it was awful, as you would expect anything that runs up your nostril and down your throat to be. They wouldn't take it out until my digestive system was working normally either so I stomped angrily around the floor, toting my IV, convinced that I was never going to fart again. Maybe I'll just die of not being able to fart. Stomp stomp. Maybe I'll fill up with farts and then I'll die.

They took the pump out on my second-last day, I think. Then I started really motoring around the floor because they said that if I could go on six walks a day, I could leave. They told me where they stored the banana popsicles, so I kept trundling down there for a popsicle every couple of hours. All I ate for the five days I was in the hospital was a couple bowls of broth and maybe half a dozen banana popsicles.

The night before they discharged me, they gave me something in an IV that was supposed to get my digestive system going. Do not be fooled by these gentle words. My body took one look at that stuff and said, oh I see. This bitch wants to die of dysentery on the Oregon trail. I went to the bathroom about ten times over the next six hours. When they showed up again at six AM to give me another dose my eyes shot open and I said, "not to be rude but don't even think about it."

At this point, I was ready to fucking go. I got dressed and stared at the clock for the next few hours until my dad was supposed to come and pick me up. They told me that a porter would come to take me down to the front doors in a wheelchair. When nobody came, my dad, famously the least patient man who has ever lived, stole a wheelchair from somewhere and came up to get me himself.

I stayed with my parents for the next five days. The day I was discharged was the first time I really got a good look at my new 7.5 inch incision with its 36 staples. I couldn't stand to have anything touch it - not because it hurt, but because it grossed me out - so I wore this huge fleece poncho that my aunt got me for Christmas. My days consisted of me shuffling around my parents' place like the poncho ghost while my mom offered me food I didn't want about 647 times an hour. I love my mom so much and I know she's still not over what happened, so I don't blame her. I'm just telling you that having a big incision makes you kind of an asshole for a few days. I wasn't mean, but I may have been curt.

I did get my dad into Queer Eye. He thinks Bobby is the unsung hero who does all the work, and, uh. He's right?

Something weird happens to you after you have sudden medical trauma - they call it "sense of impending doom". In those first few days, I had a few intense moments where I was convinced that I was going to die in my sleep. I dreaded going to bed because I was sure it was unavoidable. And then those moments would pass, and I was fine again. I haven't had a moment like that in a few weeks now.

I've been getting a few vaccinations that I need now because your spleen plays a role in your immune system - who knew! I'm at greater risk for severe infection from encapsulated bacteria and blood-borne parasites, in case this ever comes up in a pub trivia question for you. I've also been having a few follow-up appointments with my various doctors. So far the healing process is slow, but it is happening. I started back at work full time this past week, even though I could have been off for longer. You get sick of looking at the walls.

I'm still not allowed to lift anything heavier than ten pounds so my poor dad shovels his snow and then comes over to shovel mine. Like a dutiful daughter, I occasionally look out the window and check he's still alive. My mom also came by to do my laundry this past weekend, so - silver linings? I do really hate laundry. Maybe this has all been worth it.

As a post script - my recipient is doing really great, and I don't regret donating. What happened to me was very rare and my luck just ran out, but I'll get better and things will go back to normal (touch every piece of available wood). My mom bought me a patch for my hiking backpack that says "I lost my spleen in a knife fight" and I can't wait to get back on the trails this summer and hopefully confuse the hell out of some back-country hikers.

Thanks for reading and donating to the Kidney Foundation if you can!

#kidney donation #kidney #spleen #personal #organ donation #surgery

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mandelene · 3 years

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≣: hand holding — a 17 year old Alfred is a pedestrian in a bad hit-and-run accident and is brought into Arthur’s ER. Arthur doesn’t find out until they’re wheeling him into the OR.

Love and Rage

Word Count: 1243

“Seventeen-year-old male en route to trauma – should be arriving any minute now. Hit and run on the corner of Lexington and East 39th Street. Patient was walking to the subway after getting food with friends at Shake Shack. EMS says vitals are stable but the patient was briefly unconscious and there’s suspected head trauma – bleeding along his hairline from when he hit the concrete. Patient was also complaining of shortness of breath and feeling dizzy. Bruising and swelling around his left side where he was struck, including his hip, thigh, and knee. Ribs tender to touch on the left side as well.”

Arthur sucks in a breath through his teeth as he overhears the trauma team receive report. Seventeen—that’s the same age as his boys. How devastating for the teen and his family. How could someone hit a child and then drive off? The thought makes him shudder.

He continues his charting, turning his attention back to his own patients. They have a level one trauma center—the boy is in good hands at least and has an entire team of doctors waiting for his arrival.

He doesn’t pay it any more mind…

Until he sees the bruised boy being brought in on a stretcher.

Arthur’s body goes cold and stiff. His knees weaken. He thinks he might vomit or faint, or both. He stands up from his chair on wobbly legs and grips the edge of the counter of the nurses’ station, trying to confirm if his eyes aren’t deceiving him.

The boy on the stretcher is Alfred.

He is reminded of the conversation he had with Alfred two nights ago—he had asked if he could go to the city with friends after school...

For three entire seconds—the longest seconds of his life—Arthur is paralyzed. He watches helplessly as Alfred is rushed into the trauma bay.

And then, he drops everything and runs.

“Alfred,” he gasps as he reaches the trauma team and pushes past them. “Alfred!”

His son’s blue eyes are glassy as they shift over to him. Splotches of red and purple hematomas are scattered across his face and chest, the left side of his forehead is dirty with sticky, dried blood, and he appears dazed and confused.

He takes Alfred’s hand and squeezes it. It suddenly feels so small and fragile—so easily breakable. “Oh, Alfred…It’s going to be all right, love. I-It’s going to be just fine,” he manages to say despite the sudden incredible ache in his heart.

One of the emergency medicine doctors on the team touches his shoulder and says, “We’re going to need you to wait outside. I’ll find you as soon as I can, okay?”

Arthur swallows against the lump of grief in his throat. Of course…He’s just going to be a distraction—too overwrought to be of any use to Alfred right now anyway. Treatment first, emotions later.

He gives Alfred’s hand one more warm squeeze and kisses his forehead before excusing himself from the trauma bay. When he exits, everyone at the nurses’ station is staring at him but trying their hardest to seem discreet about it.

He retreats to the doctors’ lounge and calls Francis.

That’s all he can do right now.

And he hates himself for it.

--------------------------------------

They wait an agonizing four hours before they’re given the full list of damage. Three fractured ribs, a concussion—but no bleeding in the brain, which is a huge relief—fractures to both his patella and tibia with displacement (requiring surgery), a dislocated hip (also surgically treated), and a collapsed lung.

But he should be fine with rest, monitoring, and supplemental oxygen.

It takes all of Arthur’s strength not to break down when he gets the news. He hugs Francis tightly outside of the pediatric ICU, shaking.

“We can go in and see him,” Arthur rasps in a hoarse voice, glancing over at Matthew, who is sitting in one of the chairs in the waiting area and looks so pale he’s matching the shade of the wall behind him.

Francis murmurs, “I’ll stay here with Mathieu for another few minutes. It’s…It’s going to be difficult to see him, and I think we both need a moment to prepare ourselves.”

“Okay, I’ll go then. Only two visitors at a time are allowed anyway,” Arthur says, steeling himself. He knows he’s seen worse in the past, but seeing his own child suffering is a different beast entirely.

He alerts Alfred’s nurse of his presence and then enters the boy’s room, inwardly pleading with himself to hold back the intense sorrow washing over him when he sees the oxygen mask on Alfred’s face and the chest tube creeping out from under his hospital gown.

He knows the boy has been through a great deal of pain, and he hopes the painkillers he’s getting are strong enough to at least grant him some reprieve.

Alfred’s eyes are closed at first, but he opens them halfway when he hears his footsteps. He’s still a bit woozy from anesthesia and the cocktail of pain medication—that much is clear.

“…Dad…?” Alfred asks very quietly. A few tears roll down his bruised face.

“I’m here, love,” Arthur replies, hastily taking up the chair by the bedside and grabbing hold of Alfred’s right hand. “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve been through…But you’re going to be all right, and that’s all that matters right now…Don’t cry, poppet. Shhh…”

Arthur carefully pets the boy’s head and wipes away his tears. “I know, darling. I know…”

Alfred rolls his head to the side wearily, and Arthur holds him against his chest very gently, doing his best to console him without causing him any additional pain.

“You’re going to be all better with time,” Arthur promises. “I won’t let anything happen to you, and I wish I could have protected you today…I’m so sorry.”

Alfred sniffles and bites back a sob so as to not irritate his ribs and his lungs. “I’m so tired…And scared.”

“Close your eyes and try to rest. Don’t be scared—I’ll be here should anything else happen.”

“It hurts…”

Arthur can feel his heart being torn in half, straight down the middle. “I know, love,” he sighs, placing a hand against Alfred’s forehead and holding it there—a steady warmth to calm him. “Your Papa and Matthew are going to come in soon. They’re very worried about you. We all are. But we’re also going to do whatever we can to help you get well soon.”

“Are you gonna leave later?” Alfred asks, voice quavering.

“No, no. Of course not. One parent is always allowed to stay. I’ll be here all night. I won’t let you out of my sight.”

“…Promise?”

“I promise,” Arthur replies without hesitation, combing a hand through the boy’s hair. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving. Do you think I’d be able to sit at home without you? Worrying sick about you? Never,” he assures.

That’s the thing about children—they never understand how much you love them. How you would give up your entire world for them. How everything falls apart when something happens to them…How you can’t imagine yourself living on without them…

If he could find the driver who did this, he would kill them. Would wrap his bare hands around their neck and make them feel the same pain.

The rage inside of him—it’s unlike anything he’s ever felt before.

When Francis and Matthew take his place by Alfred's bedside, he goes to the men’s restroom and cries.

#hetalia #hws face family #hws america #hws england #hws france #hws canada #drabbles #hurt comfort #hit and run

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meloncubedradpops · 4 years

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Repo! The Corona Opera

For every rotation that Earth has completed around the sun since the dawn of humanity, humans have created art to cope with the realities surrounding our everyday life. We weave stories in songs, movies, plays, books, paintings, and so forth, that help digest the world around us and provide an entertaining escape from the cruelties we endure. Some stories take place in abstract universes or in the future, and we rely on what we know in our present reality to build upon these fantasy societies. My favorite movie, Repo! the Genetic Opera, certainly makes this list. We are currently experiencing perhaps the most surreal year of our collective lives, and with each passing day I argue that we find ourselves closer to the world crafted in Repo. I have seen this movie, at least 20 times. If you haven't watched Repo! the Genetic Opera or you haven't seen it in a while, I recommend giving it a view. The movie is unique in that it falls under three distinct genres: musical, horror, and sci-fi. And while the jury is out on whether our future society is going to go full on gothic aesthetic, I can say that the Repo! movie experience offers a glimpse into a dystopian fascist post-plague world wrapped in unapologetically hilarity with a heaping side of camp. It doesn't offer any spiritual cleansing that our souls collectively need, but it does show us what a new normal could look like if we really go off the rails.

As things stand, right now, so much of our daily lives and culture are impacted by the coronavirus. All of our institutions have been impacted, from school, to work, to family, to the way we interact with strangers, and especially our economy. We have all felt the effects in one way or another, and honestly? Most the impacts are of our own undoing, for better or for worse. I am going to write three pieces analyzing Repo! the Genetic Opera. First I will create the foundations that bridge our contemporary life and the world of Repo! Second I will explain how the Repo! universe operates under the definitions of fascism. And third I will weave together parts one and two into our contemporary world (particularly in the context of the United States) to highlight the dark path we heading towards. My viewpoints are of mine, and my own alone. Let's dive into part one.

Part I Repo! the Genetic Opera takes place in the year 2056. Humanity was on the brink of collapse as a result of a medical crisis that caused massive organ failure.

I never gave the premise much thought, at least not until recently. We aren't given much detail beyond the fact that entrepreneur Rottissimo "Rotti" Largo solved this crisis through his company GeneCo. GeneCo provides organ transplants that can be repaid through a payment plan. Witnessing the coronavirus unfold in real time and seeing its wrath, particularly on severe cases, honestly makes me wonder if the writers had some sort of "super plague" in mind when creating this universe. For the purpose of this analysis, I will assume that humanity suffered at least one infectious disease crisis. And just to reiterate covid-19 particularly, we really *don't* know what it's going to do to us long-term. Let the parallels begin.

The world in Repo! the Genetic Opera, operates as normally as the citizens possibly can, which appears to be quite limited. I have noted how dated some the technologies look.

For a world 30 years in the future, it lacks cell phones and easy access to internet. When we enter Shilo's world (aka her bedroom!) she watched Blind Mag sing on a busted up tiny ass TV and the program itself looks like an ad on Home Shopping Network.

The Graverobber is shown reading headlines on a newspaper. The news reporters shown in the ribbon cutting ceremony during the 1st Italian Post-Plague Renaissance have old school cameras with flashbulbs.

The most contemporary technology appears to be a Wish.com version of an Apple watch, and even that looks like a leftover prop from Spy Kids.

Obviously the people who made this movie intentionally inserted these anachronisms, but why? This is a science fiction movie after all. I speculate that they reverted back because the impact from humanity's crisis resulted in an overall professional "brain drain" from the sheer volume of professionals that dropped dead. In fact every scene depicting medical procedures looks dimly lit and lacking in sanitation. We will see this as we struggle to contain the coronavirus, at least in America. Healthcare workers have already died from this thing, and I am sure many prospective college students will have second thoughts about a career in healthcare. I mean hell, look at no other than GeneCo itself. That company employs workers called "Genterns" who are most definitely not in full PPE. I don't doubt their medical expertise, but they appear to be disposable (please see: that time Luigi killed one for NO REASON in "Mark it Up").

On that note, it really was quite incredible how China built the pop-up hospital in Wuhan in under 4 days, but it was also not the most safe or structurally sound building by far (it collapsed, people were hurt!). Maybe at this point, the people in Repo! don't have much of a choice. I am sure there were likely legit hospitals, but the fact that the Renaissance had gross surgery tents is a bit unsettling.

This is a world that is completely built upon the social more of valuing your health above all else. There had to be a turning point in the GeneCo business model where they really played on up-selling organs for the benefit of "genetic perfection". "I needed a kidney transplant desperately. GeneCo showed this single mom sympathy. This makeover came for a small added fee. Now I look smashing on live TV!" Imagine signing the documents for your power of attorney while actively going into renal failure, when your doctor chimes in with an up-sell for breast implants. When all is said an done, your body is now not only functioning again, but you're hot! Even in a post-plague dystopia we are still holding value to having a nice rack. What's not to love about GeneCo? Obviously we know right away that GeneCo has a dirty side. Rotti Largo personally lobbied to make organ repossessions legal, and he does not hesitate to recollect his property. The concept itself is, of course, wild. In America, our healthcare system is incredibly broken and expensive. You would wonder how it could get worse without us backpedaling many steps on the industrialization timeline. And in a lot of ways, I could see a company like GeneCo thrive here. We already hate the poor, and we have political think tanks that salivate over the idea of cutting social programs that keep people alive. Our president has wanted to repeal the Affordable Care Act while many people are unemployed during a pandemic. In Repo! we hear about those who don't pay, but obviously there are plenty of people who do. Those who can will happily pay, either for vanity reasons or to stay alive.

And while society cites Rotti as being a "hero" for humanity, we see more and more evidence that the crisis is both not under control and life is cheap.

His son murders multiple people, in front of others, with seemingly no repercussions. In the scene where Shilo meets the Graverobber for the first time, adjacent to the graveyard and tombs owned by wealthy families who could afford grave markers, lies a poorly constructed wall hiding thousands of corpses piled on top of one another. We even get a glimpse of a truckload pouring more onto the pile. I would not be surprised if there is a disinformation campaign there keeping the public in the dark (although you'd think the smell would be unbearable at this point).

There are multiple indications that propaganda works in society (still), and no one is getting the full picture of how much of a raw deal the people in Repo! have. We see poster after poster about GeneCo, in the literal absence of other corporations.

And a lot of them bear resemblance to 20th century Russian propaganda. It would be a real shame if the goals outlined The Foundations of Geopolitics: The Geopolitical Future of Russia were actually realized. Imagine going to visit your mother's grave and hearing commercials for hardcore analgesics play through the cemetery. Also, there's a police presence too. Apparently the police are called Genecops and have authority to execute any assumed graverobbers on site.

Imagine the hellscape it would be to live in a world where your loved ones may have died from a terrible pandemic, and you face a non-zero chance of an over zealous cop murdering you thereafter, and because their qualified immunity bypasses the judicial system entirely...oh wait. Anyways let's circle back to the Graverobber character.

Graverobber's role in Repo! appears to be minor on the surface. Rotti's daughter, Amber Sweet, appears to almost despise her relationship with him. And that relationship involves him supplying Amber with what he describes as the "21st Century cure". This cure you ask? A super effective painkiller with the clinical use to accompany GeneCo surgeries. This drug is called Zydrate, and it has a street version that he acquires and sells, with clients including Amber Sweet.

Graverobber makes his living sucking the glowy blue brain corpse goo and injecting them into people on the streets. Yum!

Not everyone who needs an organ transplant can pay for it all upfront. Luckily for them, GeneCo provides payment plan options! The caveat to this is if you fail to make those payments, legally GeneCo can come and repossess your newly acquired organs. If you find yourself past due, you will soon see the last face before your doom, the Repo Man. He will harvest GeneCo's property, and it won't matter where you are or what you are doing. There is no anesthetic, and you will likely die! This was all made legal through Rotti's lobbying efforts.

Society, as it's set up today, allows for property repossessions. This can be as straightforward as a repossession of your vehicle to as heartbreaking as a foreclosure on your home. At the end of the day, the impacts of that are difficult and life changing. Currently millions of people in America are out of work, and the threat of losing everything is at stake for many. We could lose our homes, our vehicles, and our sense of purpose. And while many government bodies have created temporary moratoriums, they have not provided any substantial financial relief to keep the proverbial repo man at bay. What went wrong in this dystopia to normalize the concept of death due to nonpayment? Fascism! Ah yes, the dreaded f-word. In my next essay, I will outline the 14 characteristics of fascism and how it relates to the universe in Repo! After I will relate that to our modern world so that we can try and stop this from becoming our reality.

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redslilstories · 4 years

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Woozy Words

Author: lilyme (aka. redslilstories aka. me ;)) Summary: Set in 5x09. While trying to mend her nose, could a new colleague help her mend her heart? Pairing: Callie/Arizona Rating: PG Disclaimer: I do not own the characters in this story, nor do I own any rights to the television show "Grey's Anatomy". They were created by Shonda Rhimes and belong to her and the ABC network. No copyright infringement intended! All mistakes are mine.

"So, this is the last area on this floor," Richard Webber, Chief of Surgery at Seattle Grace hospital, pointed out the newest addition to his surgical staff, as they walked through the outpatient area of the hospital. "The post-anesthesia recovery. Adults. Um, children are one floor below. I guess that is where you will be more likely to find," he smiled at the woman with his arms contently in front of his chest.

He was happy – one could easily say relieved - to have found a surgeon for his pediatrics department, which had been fairly understaffed in the last months.

And this one wasn't just any surgeon.

Trained at Johns Hopkins' and even holding the position of Chief Resident during her last year of residency, the woman had been praised all over for the skills she had acquired within her specialty.

And what was also important – she was good with the kids. There were rumors of her even putting on some roller skate shoes to amuse her patients. He was not yet sure if he approved of this or not. He hadn't seen anything like that on her yet, since, including today, she had always worn street clothes.

But this would only be a tiny problem, if this rumor really were true.

The surgeon in question – Arizona Robbins by name - worked hard to memorize everything the chief was telling her, keep track of her surroundings and draw a map of the hospital in her mind. Luckily she had always worked in large hospitals, so she figured she would only need a few days to really find her way around here.

"How many outpatient surgeries do you have per year?" she inquired, wanting to get an idea of the figures. She was already impressed by the 1600 beds the hospital could provide in total. Out of which 140 were in Peds.

"Hm, all in all about 60.000, including 2.000 in Pediatrics," Webber gave her the average of the last years.

"Impressive," she smiled at him, as they came to a halt at the area's nurses station.

"Thank you," he nodded, proud of his hospital baby. "Um, now we could...," he began, thinking of something else to show her, but was interrupted, when...

"Oh, Chief, good. Can I have a minute?" Miranda Bailey, who Arizona already knew was the surgical Chief Resident at this hospital, came walking up towards them.

"Um, sure," he wavered for a moment, pulled out of his original thought. "Will you excuse me for a moment?" he directed his question at Dr. Robbins and followed Dr. Bailey out into the hall.

Arizona was unsure of what to do while the chief was gone. Since he likely wouldn't be long and she being new would likely lose her way wandering about, she figured she should just stay put.

Maybe she could chat up the residents and nurses here, getting to know her colleagues.

But then again... the lone resident that was present was currently busy with checking the vital signs on some of the patients. She figured it better not to disturb him.

So she just waited near the station.

Until a soft and initially indistinct sound reached her ears.

Soon she noticed that it was someone talking, or rather mumbling something.

Her eyes searched around and quickly found the probably source of the sound.

A brunette with a bandage on her nose.

And even though it was not her responsibility – she wasn't even officially working yet – the blonde was in doctor mode immediately, needing to make sure the woman was alright.

She walked up to the patient, who had her eyes closed and her brows furrowed. "Um, hi," she inquired in a low voice – trying not to startle the woman - and put a soft hand on her arm, "are you okay?"

But to no avail. The eyes – gorgeous deep brown eyes, Arizona noticed – shot open and the humming ended abruptly. Only to be followed by an uncertain gurgle.

"Sorry," the blonde apologized, "I just heard noises and was wondering..."

Callie Torres, the woman with the gorgeous eyes, for a moment wondered if she was hallucinating. If the nice pain killers she had been given made her see thing that weren't actually there. Like total strangers by her bed in the hospital's PACU. A doctor or nurse would be the norm, but this woman wore street clothes, so most likely didn't even work here.

But despite the mystery of how this woman even got in here unauthorized...she seemed trustworthy enough. Certainly looked it.

So, without thinking too much of it, Callie finally responded, "Oh, um, sure," the questioning look telling her that she must have taken quite some time to actually do so. "I was just... testing out my nose," she explained and felt a little embarrassed at having been caught. "It's new. Or, um, good as new?" she frowned, now even more embarrassed by the puzzling way she explained things. "A patient of mine broke it in the E.R. today".

"Oh!" Arizona's eyes shot up at this information, "you're a doctor?" she asked intrigued.

"Yes, I'm an ortho surgeon here. I'm actually here to fix bones, not get mine broken," she pouted and felt excited when the woman's lips formed a sympathetic expression.

"I hope it was an accident, and you don't have violent patients here beating doctors for no reason," Arizona joked... with a tiny bit of worry on her mind.

"No," Callie waved it aside, "it was an accident. I happened to stand in the wrong spot at the wrong time."

"Oh, good! Well, not good, because, well... ouch". Now it was Arizona's turn to frown. "What I meant to say is, I hope you'll get better soon," she said sincerely, and finally took a step back, realizing that as a doctor – and a total stranger – she was standing just a little too close to the bed.

"Thanks," Callie smiled, and couldn't help notice the attractiveness of the other woman. The little blush she was sporting now only highlighted this perfect face. From the sweet lips to the bright blue eyes and the light blush lingering on her face. This woman was nice to look at. And nice to talk to as well. She was easily someone Callie could imagine...

No!

She shouldn't go there. Not after the fiasco with the last blue-eyed blonde was barely two weeks in the past.

But then again, this seemed to be a very different blonde... On the cute side with a natural sparkle emanating from her...

No! Callie desperately needed to think of something else.

Luckily the other woman helped out, hopefully unaware of her thoughts. "So, um, what are the test results?" she inquired, as Callie didn't speak for several moments, obviously again in her own little world.

"Huh?" the brunette asked in confusion, but realized what Arizona meant when this one tapped her own nose as a hint. "Oh! Uh, no final results yet. Hard to say from the inside, I guess. I mean, do I sound funny?"

"Well, just a little," the other woman replied with a little shrug and a lot of dimples. "Then again, I have no idea how you normally sound. Maybe you really sound like Kermit the Frog trying to talk under water," she joked, before adding a little, "Sorry".

Callie snorted wholeheartedly at the comparison. An action she regretted as a sharp pain shot through her mending nose. "Hah... Ouch!" she squeaked, almost bringing her hand to touch her olfactory organ.

Arizona winced in sympathy, "Oh, my, God. I didn't mean...," she apologized. Something told her she should have known better than to make a broken nose laugh.

"It's okay," Callie played it down. "I don't mind the laugh. Maybe the painkillers are wearing off," she wondered.

The offhand comment did not go unnoticed by the blonde, who without second thought made a move to check Callie's chart. See what dose of medication she was on.

Callie saw this and immediately remembered that this woman likely was not authorized to do any kind of medical work around here. And certainly not inspect her patient information. "Um, I don't think you're supposed to do that," she pointed out with raised eyebrows, indicating the chart the woman was holding.

"Hm?" Arizona hummed distractedly, getting a read on the chart's figures. "Oh!" she exclaimed, suddenly realizing that her non-patient didn't even know who she was. "I'm so sorry, you're kind of right," she admitted, reaching into her pocket to produce her company ID, stating her name and soon position at this hospital. "But I'm a doctor too. Actually starting to work her in few days," she calmed her and handed the item off to the brunette. "And as a doctor, I have to make sure the patients are okay. Even if they're not mine," she smiled.

Callie felt somewhat relieved. So this stranger was legit after all. And even better would be a colleague of hers. In Peds, as the ID with the ridiculously good picture of the woman pointed out.

And...

"Yeah, okay," Callie lay her head back down on her pillow. "But I guess I'm still a little woozy. I could swear I just read your name as 'Arizona'...?" she wondered with raises eyebrows. Or maybe HR wrongly put her home state as her name...?

Said Arizona gave her a challenging yet amused look. "That's my name".

"Really," Callie more stated than asked, still incredulous as she handed the ID back to its owner. It was a pretty unusual name. But, then again, it could be worse. Her name could be Delaware or... Wyoming. Dr. Delaware Wyoming Robbins... Huh...

"Really, 'Calliope'...," the blonde returned to the woman, who seemed to entertain amusing thoughts. Arizona couldn't help but hint at the fact that she was not the only one with a fairly unusual name in this room.

The implication dawned on Callie and she mumbled, "Touché".

The blonde eyed the expression on Calliope's face. A beautiful face, which had a very beautiful name attached to it, if she was allowed to say so. And it suited what she had seen of the woman so far.

Not even the miffed expression at being called out could change that. And she couldn't help but release a wholehearted laugh at this.

Being brought out of her sulking state by this, Callie's eyes traces over Arizona's face again. Now there were even dimples to boot. Sparkling blue eyes, shiny blonde hair, sweet voice and now entrancing dimples. "You're really pretty," she said mesmerized.

Only seconds later noticing that she had actually said that out loud. "Oh, I didn't mean. I mean, I didn't..."

Being drawn to someone – which she by now helplessly and hopelessly was – was one thing. Admitting to it out loud by accident within minutes after meeting said someone was another.

And hitting on this person – a future colleague – could be problematic and could make working together very awkward from the start.

But then the other woman surprised her. Again blushing a little, but this time at this unexpected compliment. Before she sweetly returned. "You're really pretty too".

Callie perked up in relief. So, no awkwardness. Judging by the flirty smile, quite the opposite. "Wait till you see me without the bandage," she therefore dared to speak.

"I can't wait," the blonde returned, as they heard footsteps approaching them, belonging to the long forgotten Bailey and Webber. "Oh, Dr. Bailey, great. Could you or Dr. Sloan check if Dr. Torres is on sufficient pain medication? I see he is the surgeon on this case. Dr. Torres is having some discomfort," she said in a professional tone. While casually stroking Callie's arm, a move that did not go unnoticed by the other three people.

"Uh, sure," Bailey responded, a little surprised by the situation and closeness of the two women.

"Thanks!" Arizona returned and handed over the chart to the chief resident. "I'll see you two around?" she smiled, catching the dreamy look Calliope's eyes sent her one last time, before heading over to Dr. Webber to continue their hospital tour.

Bailey looked after the newcomer for a moment, before she turned her attention to Callie. "Is everything alright?"

"Kinda," Callie returned, not really answering to the matter Bailey was hinting at. But rather the more obvious one. "I seem to have a thing for blondes," she smirked, enjoying this fluttery feeling the blonde gave her. This feeling better than any painkiller.

END

#calzona #calzona fanfiction #callie torres #arizona robbins #5x09 #grey's anatomy #fluff #humor #calzona all ways #calzona forever

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headachepainmountlaketerrace · 3 years

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Affordable Chiropractic Care in Mountlake Terrace adjusts the body to improve alignment, ease pain, and restore movement in the spine or joints. This is called spinal adjustment. Recent research shows that it can work as well to relieve pain and discomfort as drugs and surgery, and it is also safer. If you are considering surgery or painkiller drug therapy for your chronic pain, read this article to find out why this approach doesn't work and what the best chiropractor in Mountlake Terrace can do instead.

There are different types of chiropractic practices and license clinics around the world, with different methods of adjustment. However, as chiropractors, we can use one of three types of adjustments to treat different types of aches and pains. There is the Barlow, the LeDoux, and the "D" adjustments. Each of these types have different advantages and disadvantages.

In the United States, there are licensed chiropractors in most large cities, for those wanting to treat pain. It is possible to find a chiropractor in a small city, but it is more expensive than in a major city.

The Barlow adjustment is the most common Affordable Chiropractic Care in Mountlake Terrace adjustment. In the Barlow adjustment, the chiropractor applies a short thrust to the vertebrae to take pressure off the bones in the spine, and ease pain. However, this approach can irritate the surrounding nerves, and can even make the pain worse. The LeDoux adjustment is a newer adjustment where the doctor applies a longer thrust to loosen the pressure off the vertebrae, and restore movement and flexibility. Both of these adjustments are very safe, and can be used to relieve neck pain, lower back pain, and sciatica. The downside of these adjustments is that they take longer to recover from than the Barlow adjustment does.

The "D" adjustment is the next generation of chiropractic adjustments. In the "D" adjustment, the chiropractor places his or her hands on the area of the body that needs treatment. The chiropractor applies a short push or pull with the hands, to make the joints of the joint move. This is a safer approach, because it does not cause inflammation and will provide more immediate relief from pain than the Barlow or LeDoux adjustments.

The "D" adjustments are not recommended for acute cases, as they can irritate the nerves and cause symptoms. This Affordable Chiropractic Care in Mountlake Terrace is highly recommended for patients with chronic pain or instability, or those who have had other adjustments that did not provide relief.

If you are considering chiropractic adjustments, ask your chiropractor for recommendations and try to find a practitioner that has experience with these newer adjustments. You will be much better off with one who has, than without.

Should you go to a chiropractor for lower back pain? I am going to assume that you are suffering from lower back pain, and that you want relief. This article is not written by or checked for accuracy by a medical doctor. Please consult with your doctor if you're in any doubt.

How does chiropractor adjust lower back? 1. Postural - it is a spinal abnormality which causes a strain in the muscles. As soon as you start lifting weights a muscle pull occurs on the bones or joints. This abnormal posture causes injury.

How should I sleep with lower back pain? This is a question we hear a lot. People can have varying levels of lower back pain and it can be due to work, sports injuries, or just a strain. Whatever the cause, there is no doubt that sleeping with a lower back pain can be an uncomfortable experience.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YkBPPtndQ58

If you are looking for a Chiropractor in Mountlake Terrace to get rid of your back pain contact Back to Action Chiropractic at https://www.backtoaction.com/ 6603 220th Street SW Suite 100 Mountlake Terrace, Washington 980

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singledarkshade · 4 years

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Waverider Detective Agency

Part Ten – Final Chapter (Part Nine is here. Just to remind you that my medical knowledge comes from ER and Greys Anatomy. Enjoy ********************************************* John sat in the corner of the hospital waiting room with Kendra, while Joe, Eddie and Singh stood talking in another corner.

“Where is my son?” the familiar voice of Mary Xavier came from outside.

John caught Joe’s eye and they headed to rescue the hospital staff from the force of nature that was Rip’s mother. Reaching the nurses station, they found Mary staring down the poor nurse on duty.

“Mary,” a man John didn’t recognise stepped forward, “I can see Captain Singh, why don’t we talk with him first.”

Mary turned, “Quentin, I want to see my son now.”

“Ms Xavier,” the calming voice of Dr Caitlin Snow came, making them all turn to see her walking towards them, “Mary, your son is resting.”

“Caitlin,” Mary greeted the younger woman with a hug, John knew the two had become friends when Caitlin had been Gilbert’s doctor, “How is he?”

Caitlin squeezed her arm, “His ribs are badly bruised, as is his left arm, presumably from the car crash but it was probably exacerbated by whatever happened in the cabin. We’ve strapped his ribs and I’m going to put his arm in a sling to immobilise it for a while, just to allow his ribs time to heal.”

Mary let out a small sigh of relief, “What about Gideon?”

“She’s still in surgery,” Caitlin continued, “I will let you know the moment I can give you an update.”

“Can I see Michael?”

Caitlin nodded, “Nurse Evans will take you to his room.”

As Mary left with the nurse, Caitlin turned to them and motioned everyone to the waiting room once more.

“Alright,” she said, “Here’s what’s happening.

Mary nodded thanks to the young woman who led her to the private room her son was in before she stepped inside. Looking down at the man asleep on the bed, Mary took a shuddering breath as she remembered that horrible night only a few years before when she’d sat by his bedside, praying he made it to morning. This time she knew that he would be fine, physically anyway and instead the young woman she thought of as a daughter was in surgery.

“Mother?”

“I’m here, Michael,” Mary soothed, sitting by his side taking his hand, “You’re in hospital and you’re safe.”

Michael squeezed her hand before asking, “Gideon?”

“Still in surgery,” Mary replied softly.

“I tried,” he whispered, “I tried to keep her safe from him, but I only managed to move the gun, she was still hurt because of me.”

Mary stroked his hair as tears filled his eyes, “It wasn’t because of you, Michael. You protected Gideon, and she’s going to be fine. It could have been so much worse.”

Michael stared at her, his green eyes filled with pain, “I killed him.”

“I know,” Mary sighed, “But you had no other choice.”

He turned to her, “I’m glad I did it. He took everything from me. I just wish it could have brought them back.”

Pressing a kiss to his forehead, Mary breathed, “So do I. Get some rest, darling. I’ll be right here.”

With a sigh, her son closed his eyes as Mary stroked his hair the way she would when he was a child.

John winced when his neck cracked as he jerked awake when his name was called.

“Dr Snow?” Kendra demanded, moving to Caitlin as she stepped into the waiting room, looking tired but not sorrowful.

“Gideon is out of surgery,” Caitlin told them, “She was very lucky. Nothing major was struck and, although it will take some time, she will recover fully.”

The relief around the room was palpable.

“Can we see her?” Kendra asked.

“Not just now,” Caitlin replied, “She’s in recovery. I want all of you to go home and get some rest. Gideon won’t be able to receive visitors until tomorrow and Rip is sleeping now also.”

John wrap his arm around Kendra, “Come on, love we’ll go back to the apartment, get some rest and come back in the morning.”

Kendra sighed, “You know I could just go home now we know we’re safe.”

“You could,” John said before asking, “But do you want to be alone just now? Because I don’t.”

Sighing Kendra nodded, “I guess we could watch a movie if we can’t sleep?”

Hugging her close, John turned to the two detectives and two captains in the room, “Goodnight, gentlemen.”

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

The smell of antiseptic filled the world around her as Gideon came round. She felt a strange numbness around her stomach and shifted slightly to try to get comfortable. Forcing her eyes open, Gideon saw Rip sitting by her side. He had one arm in a sling and the other was holding a tablet that he was reading. When he glanced over and saw she was awake, he dropped the tablet and hit a button.

“Hey,” he said softly, “Just relax, you’re in the hospital. Do you remember what happened?”

“Shot,” Gideon croaked, her throat feeling rough and dry.

Rip placed a straw at her lips, and she drank the cold water feeling it soothe her throat. He was quickly replaced by a doctor. When the doctor left, Rip appeared at her side again.

“What did he say?” she asked confused.

Rip chuckled, “Just that the sedative and painkillers you were given might make you a little out of it.”

Gideon closed her eyes for a second and slipped back asleep without realising it.

“Should you be here?” John’s voice made Rip turn to find the other man standing in the doorway.

“It’s been two days and I’m being released today,” Rip frowned at him, “Besides Dr Snow agreed as long as I don’t overexert myself.”

John chuckled, moving to Gideon’s side he gently stroked her hair, “How’s our girl?”

“She woke up for a bit,” Rip replied, “But fell asleep again almost instantly.”

“Caitlin said that’s to be expected,” John noted, “How are you doing?”

Rip sighed, “Sore but,” he shrugged, “I’ll get there. Seeing Gideon awake and home will do a lot towards that.”

John nodded in understanding.

“Do you want anything to eat or drink?” John asked, “I’m about to do a run for Kendra while she checks the office.”

Rip shook his head, “I’m fine. Mother is getting me a tea, although if you can check to ensure she’s not terrorising the canteen staff I’d appreciate it.”

John chuckled, “Mary is absolutely terrifying when she wants to be. And I’m guessing right now she is in full Mama-bear mode since her two cubs are hurt.”

Rip shook his head a small smile touching his lips, “You should have seen her when I broke my arm a few weeks after I moved in with her.”

“I can only imagine,” John chuckled, “I’ll be back soon.”

Gideon’s eyes opened slowly but Rip could see she was more awake than she had been the past few times she’d woken.

“Rip?” she breathed.

“Hey,” Rip smiled at her, “How do you feel?”

Wincing Gideon grimaced, “Like someone hit me in the stomach with an iron bar. Are you okay?”

He nodded, “I’m just sore and bruised,” Rip dropped his eyes, “I am so sorry, Gideon.”

“Not your fault,” she slid her hand into his.

Forcing a smile on his face, Rip noted, “At least you’re getting rid of me.”

Gideon frowned at him confused, “What?”

“Now Druce is gone,” Rip explained, “I can go back to Star City.”

“What about our deal?” Gideon demanded, “We work together for a year.”

Rip frowned, “I thought…”

“Plus,” she cut him off, “I’m going to need someone to run the place while I recover. As part-owner it is your responsibility.”

“Not to mention,” Mary suddenly spoke up, making Rip turn stepping back slightly so Gideon could see her, “You’re still on special leave, Michael. And I will not be recommending to Quentin that he reduce that.”

Rip grimaced but nodded.

“And you,” Mary turned to Gideon, “I will be making sure you look after yourself until you’re fully recovered.”

Gideon smiled, warmth filling her that Mary cared so much. No one ever had before.

“So, I want you to rest,” Mary continued, “And listen to the doctor. Okay?”

“I promise,” Gideon smiled.

Mary turned to Rip, “And you…”

“Will do as you say, Mother,” Rip told her.

She patted his cheek, “That’s my boy.”

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

Gideon eased herself into the wheelchair with the help from Nurse Parkes. He smiled at her and grabbed her bag, resting it on her lap before pushing her out the room she’d been stuck in for the past week.

“I’ll take it from here,” John appeared suddenly.

Gideon smiled and nodded to Parkes that it was fine. He gave her a quick smile before leaving her with John.

“So, escaping today,” he said as he pushed her towards the exit.

Gideon shrugged, “Not exactly. My lease expired while I was in hospital and Mary has told me she’s set up somewhere for me while I recover. I’m slightly scared.”

John laughed, “You know how much Mary adores you, I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Reaching the exit, Gideon smiled to see Rip standing with Mary.

“You’re looking so much better, dear,” Mary hugged her gently.

Gideon smiled “Thank you, Mary but we both know I look like death warmed up.”

Rip, whose arm had finally been released from its confinement, chuckled before wincing slightly at the pain in his ribs.

“Alright,” John spoke up, ��Let’s get this show on the road. Rip, take the bag,” he ordered handing it across before turning back to Gideon, “Okay, as slow as you need, Gideon we’ll get you into the car.”

Wincing slightly Gideon held onto her friend as she slowly stood and slid into the backseat of the car. Mary fixed the seatbelt across her before sitting at Gideon’s side while Rip took the passenger’s seat, John was driving.

Making sure they were ready John started the car and they finally left the hospital.

“Where exactly are we going?” Rip demanded after five minutes.

“Patience, Michael,” Mary told him before turning to John, “Just turn left at the end of the street.”

John glanced at Rip before he followed the instructions and they turned onto a nice neighbourhood with mostly bungalows sitting in neat gardens.

“The house at the end,” Mary said, “You can park in the driveway.”

John drove up as ordered and just as they reached the gates, they smoothly opened allowing him inside.

Rip got out the car the moment they were parked and looked around, turning to his mother as she stepped out.

“Why are we here?”

Mary shrugged, “As Gideon needs somewhere to stay, and your lease is up to be renewed in the next week I thought this would be a good idea. There are no stairs for her plus a spacious garden to get fresh air.”

Rip stared at her confused, “Mother…”

“I can’t afford a quarter of the rent on a place like this,” Gideon said as John helped her out the car, “Never mind half.”

Mary shook her head, “There’s no rent.”

“What?” Rip, John and Gideon asked in unison.

“When I bought the agency with Gilbert, I decided I needed a place to live while here helping him,” Mary explained, “So I bought this place.”

Rip stared at her before demanding, “Then why was I staying in an apartment?”

“Because the people renting the house at the time still had some time on their lease,” Mary patted his arm, “Now, how about we go inside and get you both settled.”

“Mary,” Gideon said as John helped her, “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“It is,” Mary insisted, “There is plenty of room so you won’t be falling over one another but it means Rip will be able to help you while you recover.”

Before Gideon could say anything else, Mary started them into the house, they moved her into the bedroom on the ground floor.

“Kendra and I packed everything,” Mary told her once Gideon was settled on the bed, “You can sort it once you’re feeling up to it. Michael’s room is upstairs.”

Rip sighed, knowing he had no choice but to go along with his mother’s plan. Looking at the pale face of the woman on the bed, Rip knew she couldn’t be alone right now, and he honestly knew that it was a good idea that he wasn’t alone either.

“I need to head back to the restaurant,” John told them, “Kendra will be over after she’s finished at the office.”

Kissing Gideon’s cheek the other man disappeared.

“Well, I will make us all some dinner,” Mary said, “While you both settle in.”

Gideon sat on the bed feeling a little bemused.

Rip sighed, “She just ran circles around both of us.”

“I thought you’d be angry,” Gideon noted softly.

Chuckling Rip replied, “Honestly I’m used to it by now. And I also know,” he shrugged, “She loves you and wants to make sure you’re looked after while recuperating. Once you’re better you can move out but until then I could use the company.”

Gideon blushed slightly before confessing, “I wasn’t looking forward to staying alone in my apartment, especially after what Druce did to it.”

Rip offered her his hand, “So, roommates and partners?”

Gideon took his hand and shook it, “For now.”

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

I really love this universe so I may revisit at some point in the future.

#fic #legends of tomorrow #rip hunter #gideon #mary xavier #john constantine #alternate universe

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wheremytwinwatches · 4 years

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[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 11

Last time, on Brotherhood:

Onwards to Rush Valley!

[Narrator] “Maes Hughes is dead…” I said, onwards to Rush Valley. You don’t need to remind me. And jeez, it’s going to be brutal when the Elrics and Winry hear about this. Episode 11: “Miracle at Rush Valley” Huh, looks like a rather desert-y area, scrub trees and tan stone surrounding the town. I guess I’ve gotten used to the more European environment of Central and East. Quick look at the town itself as Winry begins what I predict will be a long gush over the place, fair number of people walking around the streets, most carrying cases of some sort. The town sign is held up by two pillars designed as mechanical hands, and I’m seeing “Automail” on a lot of signs. So like Winry said, town is big on the mechanical limbs. Makes economic sense, the desert climate would tend more towards mining than agriculture, and people making metal arms and legs would gravitate to the source of their building materials. And yeah, Automail limbs (and an eyepiece, neat!) everywhere. I like this town! Winry jumps around with such enthusiasm that the townsfolk seem a bit unnerved, and the Elric Brothers settle in for a long day of “follow the fangirl”. Ed gripes about being out in the heat to look at automail (hey, you’re the one wearing black in the desert, buddy), asks why they didn’t just drop Winry at the station and continue on to visit Teacher. Pfft, A) like she would have let you, and B) stop denying the ship. Suddenly someone calls out for Ed to stop for a sec, and Oh My Leto Ed’s surrounded, the man grasping his arm and calling out for everyone to look at this unique model. Oh dear, it really is a town of Winry’s isn’t it? And we even get return of the funny sound effects, the crowd [*Swarm*] and [*Jostle*]-ing around him. Well hello there, young dark-skinned girl! You wouldn’t happen to be our focus character for the episode, would you? Oh my gosh Winry, maybe be a little more concerned that the crowd just stripped Ed for a “closer look”. Ed takes a moment to redress as the crowd turns to [*Badger*] Winry and Al, griping about automail engineers. But then he starts patting his pockets… uh oh, we’re down one State Alchemist watch! [Random NPC with Robot Eye]: “It sound like you guys had a run-in with Paninya.” 10-to-1 this is the unique character from before. Townsfolk say she’s a pickpocket that targets tourists, they might know where she is. If they could just have another look at the automail? Hey, back off with that wrench, buddy! One angry Ed later and we’ve been pointed to an automail shop run by Dominic. Team Alchemist are now staggering through the mountains, since Dominic lives way outside of town to find the highest quality ore. More sniping between the two blondes, Al just walks behind them. One plus for being a Soulbound armor; you don’t have to worry about the heat! Pity about all the drawbacks… Oh hey, Al just spotted someone! And yup it’s the girl from the crowd earlier, running across a wooden bridge with the watch in her hand. Ed goes into full-on Toph Mode, Earthbending huge stone pillars to run down as he charges at the pickpocket, who quite reasonably turns and runs from the angry Alchemist. After a little bit, Ed catches up and forms a stone wall to block Paninya, who just says “That was awesome!” and asks how he did that. Well, props for keeping your composure, lady, but maybe give the guy his property back? You were pretty agile but- Huh, ok then. Paninya is quite a bit more agile than I was expecting, she’s dodging Ed’s Stone Hands with ease and practically laughing about all it. Oh, but she just ran into Al, who’s caught her in a TC. Pickpocket, meet Birdcage. Now that she’s caught, Ed demands his wa- hello! Paninya just sliced the cage open with… ooh! Paninya: “Come on, you can’t be too surprised. You’ve seen the town, haven’t you?” Pickpocket’s got robo-legs! Right leg’s got a blade… and Lefty’s got a cannon, a freaking one point five inch cannon. That’s some serious firepower! How does a pickpocket have this level of armament? With the Elrics recovering from the blast, Paninya’s off again… only to get grabbed by Winry. Who’s not letting her go until she gets to see the automail. Yep, pickpocket’s not going anywhere. Then a couple looks out of a house they’ve ended up at, recognize Paninya and ask if she’s got some friends over. Going out on a limb here and guessing Paninya’s adopted by these folks. Inside, Winry is geeking out over Paninya’s legs to the point of creepiness, no way Ed’s getting anything about his stolen watch until this blows over. Winry compliments Dominic on the craftsmanship… but he didn’t make them? Ah, so Glasses-Guy is not-Dominic (apprentice? son?), Dominic is a gravely-voiced old man. Who might be the one related to Paninya? Going out on a limb here. Now Dominic’s giving Ed an examination? When did we get to this? Anyways Dominic’s critiquing the work, saying it’s a bit heavy. And might have stunted Ed’s growth? Cue mental image of freakishly-tall Ed. While he’s lost in flights of fancy, Winry begs Dominic to become his apprentice. Uh, don’t you have a business to run with your grandmother? Moot point anyway, Dominic shuts her down instantly. Not the most personable of people, is he?

And confirmation that Glasses-Boy (still don’t have a name yet) is Dominic Jr. Still reeling from being called little by the old man, Ed is getting dragged down a hallway by Al when they run across Mrs. Dominic Jr., who is quite pregnant. This is followed by a sweet scene where she lets the Elrics touch her tummy, Ed feeling the baby’s heartbeat. A sweet scene… but Mrs. DJ winces? Is she ok? Winry and Paninya are chatting now, the pickpocket rubbing her rain-aggravated stumps. Storytime? I’ve noted that she’s wearing camo, betting there’s military in her background. Or not, it was a train accident that took both her parents and her legs. Couldn’t walk, nowhere to go… and then she met Mr. Dominic. *Flashback of homeless Young Paninya in an alley* *slightly Younger Dominic walks by, sees her* [Younger Dominic]: “You look like the most miserable, pathetic girl in the entire world. Nothing annoys me more than mopers like you.” And then he just picks her up and carries her home. Gotta admit, I don’t think this particular adoption story is going to win any charity awards. [Paninya]: “So, without anyone ever asking my opinion, I was outfitted with automail legs.” What seriously? Dominic, ease off with the tough love there buddy. But after surgery and rehabilitation, Paninya was up and walking again. So now she’s sworn to pay him back, regardless of the fact that he refuses any money. Maybe it’s because you keep stealing it? Winry has the same complaint that I did, chiding her for using Dominic’s gift to steal rather than work honestly. Paninya… agrees rather suspiciously quickly. I don’t wanna come across as paranoid, but you might check your pockets there Winry. Oh right, you’re a girl, so your clothes don’t have any pockets. My bad. But if Paninya’s really being honest, she’s going to start by giving Ed his watch back. A quick check to make sure it’s alright- but it’s not opening? Winry says it’s sealed by Alchemy, and she can guess why: Something’s inside that he’s embarrassed to let anyone see! Time to break out the tools! Some lockpicking later, and it’s open. But all that’s inside is a scratched note: “Don’t forget. October 3rd ‘11” Ah. Based on how quiet Winry just got I’m guessing it’s the date of either their Mom’s death, or the failed Human Transmutation. Winry gives it back to Paninya to return, and declares that she’s going to ask Dominic again to be his apprentice. Winry’s knocking on a door when Ed rushes up in a panic, babbling. Three guesses what’s got him so riled up, and the first two don’t count. [Panicked!Ed]: “The baby’s coming! The baby’s coming!” Thunder and Lightning as Dominic dons a raincoat, they can’t get her to town in the weather so he’s going to fetch the doctor. Mrs. DJ’s in bed with [Ridel] (finally got his name!) beside her, asking her to hold on. [Satera] (finally got her name too!) deadpans that there’s no holding on in this case. Cue Mass Bystander Panic as the baby decides it’s tired of waiting, it’s on the way now.

All the guys are predictably useless in their panic until Winry steps up saying that they’ll do it. Ed darling, stop being clueless, what do you think Winry is talking about other than delivering the baby? Of course no-one’s got any experience or knowledge about this, so they’ll all have to work together. Elrics are off to get boiling water, Paninya to get towels, and Ridel to get disinfectant. Ridel asks the Elrics if Winry can do this, he says that she came from a family of doctors and grew up reading medical textbooks. Ok, so they’ve got some knowledge, like Ridel says it’s not quite a medical degree but there’s some groundwork here. In the room Winry’s going over the list. And unfortunately there’s something else, but she can’t remember it. Ed and Al are left standing outside the room after Paninya’s called in to help, Ed bemoans that when it really counts he can’t do anything. Then they’re sent [*Cowering*] behind some chairs as Satera starts yelling. Don’t suppose there are any painkillers in this setting? Now Ed remarks that sure, the Brothers aren’t big believers in God, but maybe he could help them this once? Sorry boys, I don’t think Leto’s feeling too charitable to you right now. Suddenly the door bursts open, Paninya comes out mumbling about the blood. Oh. Oh no. Please don’t. Ed rushes in to see Winry looking shocked. She points To the small squalling infant in Satera’s arms oh my LETO show don’t scare me like that! Ed gushes about how awesome this all is, how they’re witnessing something that Alchemists have failed to accomplish for centuries (Al swaying around in the background as the baby is cleaned is adorable). Winry chides him for lumping the miracle of birth in with alchemy, Ed defends that it’s just how he thinks as an Alchemist. [Ed]: “Besides, whatever you say, it really is awesome. People are awesome.” Aw, that’s sweet. Now, if Ed could help Winry up? She kinda can’t stand right now. A beautiful shipping moment as Ed is giving Winry a piggyback ride to the chairs in the hallway, them snarking at each other all the while. Daw. But then Winry says she saw it. Uh oh. Winry just admitted to seeing the inside of the watch, Ed just dropped her. Quietly asks that she forced it open. Well yeah, I can understand Ed being angry about this. And Winry knows she did wrong, apologizes. Ed sighs and helps her back up, they take their seats. [Ed]: “I haven’t shown that to anybody. Not even Al.” He says it’s private, an admonition to himself. He carries it as a reminder. Really, Ed? You have to ask why Winry is crying right now? It’s because she cares about you, dolt. Flashback to the Elrics burning down their house, so there’s no turning back (y’know, besides living with the Rockbell’s. Also, in the burning house there was a family picture with a noticeable absence. Where the heck are you, Papa Elric?) And even back then Winry cried, and Clueless Ed had to ask why she was doing that. [Winry]: “You two won’t cry. Someone else should do it for you, don’t you think?” [Ed]: “Don’t be an idiot.” Winry reaffirms that she’s not leaving. How can she, when her skills aren’t up to her satisfaction? She’ll keep learning, to make Ed the best automail she can so he’s as strong as he can be. Once more, she’ll ask Dominic to be his apprentice. Oh hey Paninya! By the way… WATCH! NOW! Dominic’s back! And wow, [Mushy] is the only way to describe how his personality’s gone 180 and he’s fawning over his new grandkid. Up until he scowls at the Elrics for commenting on that. Hey. Hey Winry. You’ve got some major brownie points with the old man right now. Go ahead and ask to be his apprentice. But apparently “one has nothing to do with the other”. He flat-out won’t take an apprentice. Buuuuuut he will recommend her to an accomplished engineer further down the mountain (methinks a recommendation from the guy NPCs in a town devoted to automail called skilled will go a long way). And he’s not going to stop Winry from coming once in a while, to “see my grandchild”. I think Paninya has picked up on Dominic’s oh-so-subtle approval. Now back at the train station, Ed and Al are hurrying to catch it and run by a couple of wanted posters (hi Scar!). Don’t want to miss the only train for three days! Winry, call your Granny! And learn stuff to make even cooler automail next time Ed sees you! And with that, they’re gone. But Winry knows that they’ll be back.

#wmtw #where my twin watches #ranubis #full metal alchemist #full metal alchemist brotherhood #fmab #fmab 11

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evolutionsvoid · 5 years

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From their appearance alone, I bet you can guess what two dryad types came together to make Flayed Dryads. With pale flesh and a ludicrous amount of crimson fluid dripping off them, it is obvious that one mother of this hybrid species is a Bloody Dryad. The other mother's influence can be seen in their tall stature and exposed limbs, which are key features of Ivy Dryads. When an Ivy and a Bloody dryad come together, they have a chance of birthing a Flayed Dryad. The name of this hybrid species is something I am not a fan of, but I cannot deny that it kind of fits with their appearance. Due to the crimson fluid they produce and the skinless parts of their body, they do give the look of a creature that has been skinned alive. However, they are in no way injured or mutilated, nor is their body dripping blood. I have said it before in my Bloody Dryad entry, but the red fluid that comes from their body is not blood, nor is it the sap we dryads have (Both Flayed and Bloody dryads have sap, I am just saying it stays inside their bodies). It is instead a liquid they use to protect their pale flesh from the sun, as they can easily receive burns from overexposure to its rays. It is almost the same stuff that Bloody Dryads use for sunblock and marking, but Flayed Dryads have something a bit extra to their secretions. Thanks to their Ivy Dryad mother, their body also produces an oil, but it too is different. Rather than causing the burning, itchy effect that Ivy oil is known for, it instead causes numbing to parts that are exposed to it. Plants and dryads are immune to this effect (like how they are immune to Ivy oil) but flesh based beings are affected. This numbing sensation only lasts a few minutes, but it is really easy to get exposed to this oil because it gets absolutely everywhere! You see, with their body creating sunscreen "blood"and numbing oil at the same time, the two mix together into one and proceed to drench the Flayed Dryad's body. It doesn't help that their exposed musculature also secretes this combo liquid. So if you ever meet a Flayed Dryad, be sure to bring water proof clothes, or at least an extra set of garments. Besides the copious amounts of fluid they produce, the other things people notice about Flayed Dryads is their skinless portions of their body and their height. Due to the Ivy influence in their birth, Flayed Dryads have limbs similar to that mother. This lack of covering is not painful to them, as their musculature has developed a tougher coating to make up for this exposure. However, this unseen layer is not as strong as an Ivy's, as it has pores that allow it to secrete fluids. This means that these parts of their body are vulnerable to desiccation, as long term exposure to sun and heat can dry them out and cause pain. This requires the Flayed Dryad to constantly coat their body in the sunscreen fluid, or seek out moisture to keep themselves damp. To avoid this pain, Flayed Dryads tend to stick to damper environments or places where the sun is not as strong. If you ever see one walking about town, you can observe them sticking to the shade and moving through sunny areas at a brisk pace. This exposed flesh also has the tendency to pick up parasites and other nasty things, making it important for a Flayed Dryad to groom themselves and keep up their hygiene. It is kind of bizarre that the dryads that constantly sweat out bright red fluid are obsessed with self-care and good hygiene. The amount of time they have to spend moisturizing and grooming themselves would almost impress a Floral Dryad! Unfortunately the staining liquid they pump out already makes them banned from most Floral settlements.

The height I mentioned before is a result of their Ivy mother. Due to this part of their make up, Flayed Dryads can grow to heights of seven to eight feet tall. This growth also happens astonishingly fast, much like the Manchineel Dryad, with a good chunk occurring during their younger years. However, due to the lack of bark on their bodies, this rapid growth isn't nearly as painful as a Manchineel's. It can be surprising to see, but it is quite possible for a young Flayed Dryad to grow taller than their Bloody mother. If you ever see a tall Flayed Dryad and a Bloody Dryad walking down the street holding hands, don't be quick to assume. Yes, the two might be a couple in a relationship, but it is also possible that it is a Bloody mother taking her young daughter on a walk. That probably should also go for anytime you are about to interact with a Flayed Dryad you don't know. Be sure to greet them and learn more about them before you start bringing up any crazy or inappropriate stuff. Because I once saw someone at a market flirt with a Flayed Dryad before, only to find out that the six-foot tall dryad was eight years old. Yikes! You bet that mom showed up and was understandably furious. I would say that the fool that pulled that stunt wound up with egg on their face, but it was more like crimson fluid and the pulverized remains of a melon on their face. Didn't know produce could be used as a weapon... Due to the numbing properties of their fluid, many Flayed Dryads can make a bit of coin by bottling it up and selling it. Doctors and other medical professionals have found it to be a quick and easy way to take away the pain of an injury or to numb an area prior to surgery. More common folk may use the stuff as an easy painkiller, and since it affects only areas it is applied to, it is easy to target specific areas of discomfort. While dryads are immune to the stuff, they too have found uses for it. The fluid can be used to help wounded livestock, or it can be applied to weaponry for a painless strike. Some assassins have been known to coat their blades with this oil, that way their prey cannot feel the fatal strike. There are many uses for this liquid, and it makes Flayed Dryads rather popular in certain communities. However, such fame is not always great. The want for the stuff and people's eagerness to get their hands on it can get overwhelming for a Flayed Dryad. People can get a little pushy, and sometimes it reaches the level of harassment. In the end, a good chunk of Flayed Dryads tend to move towards more isolated places or villages that don't see a lot of travelers. If they choose to sell their fluid on the market, they will often use a business partner to actually go out into the public and sell the stuff. It is kind of sad to see them forced into this isolation, but I certainly don't blame them for it. Imagine if everyone kept trying to buy or take your sweat? That would be both terrible and pretty uncomfortable! So if you want to take anything away from this entry, than it is this: If you ever meet a Flayed Dryad, be nice, be polite and don't talk about their secretions. Okay, maybe that is advice that you can use for pretty much anyone, but you know what I mean! Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian ---------------------------------------------------- Dryads came back to mind recently, so why not post another dryad hybrid species?

#dryad #monster #creature #blood #plant monster #bleeding tooth fungus #art #drawing #flayed

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davidbuddbg · 5 years

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Chapter 5: What if it’s worth it?

In the hospital, it seemed like I wasn’t there, like it was unreal or just a dream. More like a nightmare. The ambulance had rushed through the streets but now everything seemed to slow down. As soon as the ambulance came to screeching stop, Dave was hurried to surgery. I asked to be there, but they told me that wouldn’t be possible.

I watched him being rolled away in that stretcher, through some doors that immediately closed behind them and I wasn’t allowed to follow.

And then an ER nurse came and started asking me questions but I couldn’t hear him so he had to write it down; his medical antecedents, if he had any allergies, any chronic diseases and I realized I knew nothing about him. When I asked if he would be okay, the only reply I got was “vital prognosis engaged”.

And I remained there, in the middle of the ER waiting room, all alone and I realized that it didn’t matter if he was spying on Julia, on me, if he was involved in a Coup d’Etat. I was in love with him, no matter what.

It felt like ages had passed until a nurse went to get me and brought me to the same otorhinolaryngologist as last time. He seemed surprised to see me again so soon, but he didn’t ask questions. Because of the perforation of the tympanic membrane, dirt had entered my middle ear and that was why I was almost deaf at the moment. I stayed put until he cleaned out my ears and I slowly regained my hearing even though the ringing was still there.

Afterwards, I was brought to do a general check-up: Apart from my elevated heart rate, everything seemed to be fine. I finally dared checking the clock, it was 3 o’clock in the afternoon and the blast had happened at around 11am. Dave had been in there for over three hours.

They let me stay in the room that had ‘temporarily’ been assigned to him, aka if he survived. I texted my parents to let them I know was fine, I knew they would have heard of it by now and would be worried sick. “I’m not hurt, I’m okay. I’ll call you later.”

Dave’s cell phone kept ringing. ‘Vicky’ showing brightly on the screen. I couldn’t pick up, what would I even say? I was fidgeting, impatient, looking at the clock and then at the door which led to the ORs every few seconds. Time was drawing on. No was coming out and I texted Sara, asking her to grab me some clothes from my flat and bring them here.

And then finally, after more than four hours, someone came out. “He’s pulled through,” the nurse announced and I started crying with relief. Apparently, there were some complications with the wound on his legs. A nerve had been touched. They had repaired it the best they could but they couldn’t guarantee it’d be as before. I didn’t care. Not when he could have died altogether. Thirty minutes after that, they rolled him into the room. He was still unconscious but at least I knew he would okay now.

Sara came by with a duffel bag. She didn’t say anything, just hugging me before leaving again when I asked to be alone. I stood there watching Dave a few more minutes until I convinced myself that he was okay now and I could go to the bathroom to take a shower and change into fresh clothes.

Just when I re-entered the room, Dave’s phone rang again and this time I could pick up.

“Dave? Dave!” Vicky screamed into my ear and I had to pull the cell phone away a few inches. “Are you okay?” She was hysterical. Who could blame her? After all, he was still her husband and the father of her kids.

“Hi Vicky, this Alma, a colleague of Dave’s” I spoke reassuringly, introducing myself. “He’s fine now. They just brought him up from surgery, he’s going to be okay.”

Vicky asked me for more details but I didn’t know a lot myself. She told me she would come by in one hour when her shift ended at another hospital. Because of the attack, her hospital was hectic too. She made me promise to stay with him until she arrived, and I did.

Sighing, I group-videochatted my parents, trying not to make much noise. As far as I knew, mom was in Cascais (Portugal) and father somewhere in Asia, I didn’t where exactly. “Alma,” they blurted out in unison, picking up after the very first ring. “Are you okay?” Mom asked immediately.

“I’m fine,” I replied. Physically it was true, mentally not so much. “I was there, but far from the stage.” They didn’t need to know the whole truth.

“I’m booking you on the first flight to Lisbon,” mom declared, furiously shaking her head.

“No, mom, wait!” I blurted out, before glancing to the bed to make sure I hadn’t woken him up. “I can’t leave. Not now.” She didn’t want to hear any of my arguments. For her it was out of question for me to stay.

“Graça, calm down,” dad told mom over the phone. “Stay there if you want, Alma, but I’m sending some private security officers since the Police is obviously incompetent.” I didn’t want that either but I agreed, knowing full well I wouldn’t get out of this without a compromise.

Vicky arrived soon after I hung up. Our greetings were short and she immediately rushed to his side to see how he was. He still hadn’t woken up.

“Thank you for staying here with him, Alma,” Vicky finally breathed out, sitting down on a chair next to his bed.

“Don’t worry about that.” I would have remained there even if she hadn’t asked me to on the phone.

“What happened?” She eventually inquired, her eyes not leaving Dave. I answered, telling her everything I knew which truth be told, wasn’t a whole lot. I hesitated telling her about Dave putting his life on the line for mine, but I figured I should. After all, she knew what his job was. I just hoped she wouldn’t hate me.

After over an hour, she kept staring at the clock. “Look Vicky, I will stay here until he wakes up. If you need to go check on the kids, do it,” I offered and she accepted although it was obvious she didn’t want to leave.

------

I was finally falling asleep on the chair when Dave started waking up, squirming under the covers. I stood up at once, walking over to his side and taking his hand in mine.

“You’re okay, Dave,” I whispered pressingly. “I’m here.” He didn’t say anything and I figured he must be thirsty after all those hours, so I helped him drink some water.

“Thank you, love,” he murmured, his voice still raw. I called a nurse in to check up and she gave him more painkillers through the intravenous. “What happened?” He asked after a while.

I shook my head softly next to his. “An explosion,” I confessed. “But don’t worry about that now.” I kissed his forehead and lied down on the hospital bed to him, cuddling with him. Dave told me about barely being able to feel his leg and I promised we would talk it out with the doctor in the morning. I didn’t want to be the one telling him about the complication. Besides, he needed to rest.

He fell asleep again and didn’t wake up for the rest of the night. I was restless. I only realized I hadn’t thought about Julia since the attack when news of her death appeared on my smartphone. First I felt guilty; guilty at having met and worked with a powerful woman I looked up to, and yet having entirely forgotten about her the moment the man I was in love with was in danger. Then I felt horrified, even scared, knowing someone like her, someone so confident, brave and powerful remained mortal.

The morning came and I hadn’t slept. Careful as not to wake up David, I slowly made my way to the bathroom and freshened up. I knew I had so much to take of today and I didn’t even know what exactly. Still in the bathroom, I heard voices and immediately rushed out, thinking it were some nurses or doctors.

“Who are you?” I inquired accusingly when I realized they were indeed wearing uniforms but not the ones I expected. I closed the door to the bathroom behind myself before walking up to them, arms crossed.

“I’m DCI Sharma,” the man introduced himself, before pointing at the female next to him. “And this is DS Rayburn.” He even showed me his badge. Alright, so they were Police and I couldn’t kick them out. “You are Alma Guinness, right?” The man asked, looking suspicious.

“Yes,” I nodded without bothering to uncross my arms. I should have expected the police to turn up at some point but this felt too soon. “Why?”

“We’ve trying to find you,” DS Rayburn explained. “The hospital staff said you’d been discharged but you never showed up at the hotel or at your flat.” Somehow her turn managed to go from concern to suspicion to accusation in the same sentence, and admittedly, I was quite impressed.

“I’ve been here with Dave, I mean PS Budd since the attack.” I replied simply but inside I was trying to figure out whether they considered me a suspect. They turned to each other at my answer, almost imperceptibly raising their eyebrows.

“Alright, at least we finally found you,” DCI Sharma quickly changed subjects. “Would you be able to meet us for some questions this afternoon? Say at two?” It might have been formulated as a question but I knew I couldn’t just say no.

“Of course.”

“In the meantime, could you hand us your electronics?” Rayburn requested with authority which in turn made me raise my eyebrows with surprise. “It’s part of the investigation, we’ll give them back as soon as we’ve gone through them.”

I gave her a quick nod before making my way to the chair where all my belongings were. Mentally, I was checking one last time that I had deleted the texts exchanged with Dave. “Okay, I’m clear,” I thought before coming across the laptop and the tablet in my handbag, hidden beneath the jacket. I cursed internally, before composing myself and returning to them.

“So, here’s my phone,” I said, handing it to Rayburn. “Password’s 1938 but I can’t give you my laptop, it was destroyed in the explosion.” I lied to them, but honestly, there was no way I couldn’t explain their contents without getting myself, Dave or even Julia posthumously in trouble.

However, DCI Sharma didn’t appear convinced. “How is that your cell phone survived but your laptop, didn’t? Both were in the same distance from the explosion.” He did have a good point and I had to run my hand through my head to gain a few precious seconds and think.

“The cell phone was in my pocket,” I began, making up the lie as I spoke. “It survived because Dave’s body protected it. The laptop was in my bag.” Somehow, I must have convinced them because they let me go.

Dave started to stir at that moment. I wanted to stay with him, but there was no way I could pull that off without giving away our relationship, whatever that was. I just hoped he had also remembered to delete the text messages.

Now, outside his bedroom, I found the bodyguards my father had hired, waiting for me. “Ma’am,” the three men said in unison as I approached them. This was exactly what I needed: Being followed by three men as I tried to find a way to hide evidence.

The only upside to this situation turned out to be that I didn’t need to drive which gave me more time to think. Part of my dad’s deal for me to be allowed to stay here were the bodyguards. The other part, was moving into my parents’ flat.

First, we stopped at my old flat so I could pack. Then, we stopped at the Blackwood Hotel so I could do the same again but I was informed my previous bedroom was out of bounds as part of the investigation. This was a blow because some of my personal stuff was in there but I was so relieved at having taken my laptop and the tablet with me the other day.

Now, at my parents flat, I was finally alone. At least to some extent: The guards stayed outside after having secured the perimeter which meant I had some privacy. I had to find a quick place to hide the electronics before I could either destroy them or find a more secure hiding spot. For now, I decided to hide the tablet inside one of the cushions of the kitchen chairs and the laptop inside the turned off heater. Not perfect but this would have to do for now.

When I was finally done with unpacking, there was no time left to take a nap at it was already half past one.

----------

Rayburn turned on the audio recorder and the questioning began. First, they informed me of my rights and then asked whether I wanted a lawyer. I refused. What was even the point of studying law if you weren’t able to defend yourself?

“Witnesses say that before the attack, Julia Montague and yourself spend about half an hour alone in the Green room.” Rayburn read off some written notes before looking at me. “Is that true?”

“It is,” I admitted, short and sweet.

“Did she share any personal feelings with you?” Rayburn inquired and I wondered whether I should tell them about her firing me because she wanted to protect me, but I decided against it. “Did she talk you about being scared anything would happen?”

“No, she only wanted to go over some parts of her speech before the big audience.”

“Julia Montague and yourself seemed to get along well and were rather close, according to our sources. Do you confirm?” Sharma was the one asking this time and his voice was less kind than Rayburn’s.

“Yes. Julia Montague was always nice and respectful with me, and the feeling was mutual.”

“We have been able to get some images and videos from a CCTV camera at the event,” Rayburn drawled as she sorted through the papers in front of her before displaying three pictures in front of me. “These photographs were taken, respectively, one, five and ten minutes after the attack,” Rayburn went on pointing at me on the photograph. “Throughout our recording, we can see that you never left PS Budd’s side until the medics arrived.”

I was about to say something, when Sharma interrupted Rayburn and at the same time, stopped me from talking. “The first one we understand. You had just managed to push his body off yourself and were still taking in what was happening. But you need to explain the other two.”

I looked down at the pictures in front of me even though I already knew what they showed: Me crying over and tending to David. “When I pulled him off me, I noticed he was bleeding. My instinct was to do a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. I stayed with him because the wound on his shoulder didn’t allow for that technique and needed pressure to manage the bleeding.” Rayburn nodded at my explanation, after all, it was the truth. Sharma, on the other hand, looked much less convinced.

“So, you couldn’t look around while applying pressure? Search for Julia Montague?” Was he trying to accuse me of her assassination? I was truly offended.

“Julia and I were close. But the explosion was a situation I was not prepared for and I didn’t act rationally.” This would have to do. Both Police officers now nodded and it seemed that topic was settled.

“How would you describe your relationship with PS Budd?” Rayburn now asked. Honestly, I had been expecting this question from the very beginning. Finding me in his hospital room at the wee hours of the morning was bound to raise questions that I couldn’t answer truthfully without jeopardizing his career.

“PS Budd has always been very polite and professional with me, both when he was Julia’s PPO and then mine.” I replied, simply repeating out loud the words I had memorized earlier.

“Other witnesses have testified that two nights before the explosion at St Matthew’s, PS Budd and yourself left the Blackwood Hotel, and only returned four hours later.” Rayburn stated, before asking me the expected question. “Where did you go?”

“I went to meet some friends, Sara Defair and Cedric Murton. We had dinner and then a few drinks. PS Budd accompanied me as my bodyguard.” Technically speaking, this was true.

“You stand by your previous statement that your relationship with PS Budd has never been anything but professional?” Sharma inquired, his eyes looking right into mine which made me quite uncomfortable.

“Yes, I do.” Honestly, what should I do? If I say no, then I’d be admitted I lied to them. If say yes, then I’m deeply fucked if Dave’s forgotten to delete the text messages.

Rayburn took over, looking at me condescendingly. “We found used condoms in the trashcans, both in your bedroom and in PS Budd’s.” I immediately went red. I tried not to, but I was too embarrassed to control the blood flow in my cheeks. Most of all, this issue had completely escaped my mind and I didn’t know how to get out of it. “Naturally, we will run DNA tests but it would be a lot faster if you confirmed that the condoms we found contain both your and PS Budd’s DNA.”

In the end, I confessed. There was no way I could deny this in the 21stcentury with our modern DNA tests. At least, that seemed to shut the topic but I now feared Dave would be sanctioned.

“Is there anything of interest you’d like to add, Miss Alma Guinness?” Sharma asked, the tip of his finger almost on the off button of the recorder.

“Yes, there is.” I announced solemnly and the way they both remained frozen would have been comical if I hadn’t just gone through the biggest embarrassment in my life just seconds ago. “The morning of the attack, at the House of Commons, I saw Rob MacDonald and Tahir Mahmood talk, alone, which in itself was bizarre since they hate each other. And then, Rob handed Tahir the briefcase.”

“The one briefcase Tahir brought to the stage just before the explosion?” Sharma asked for more details, now leaning forward.

“Yes, the very same one.”

------

While things exactly didn’t go as planned, it seemed the last piece of information had at least redeemed me partially in the eyes of Rayburn and Sharma. At the end of the interview, Rayburn even offered me her phone number in case I remembered anything else.

Now that this had been taken care of, I returned to the hospital. The positive point was that since the Police now knew about our nocturnal activities, there was no point in hiding. When I arrived in his bedroom, Dave seemed much more alert although he was still lying in bed.

“Hi there,” I cooed before approaching him, not caring about how I might sound. “Are you feeling better?”

David nodded. “Yes, love.” It was obvious he was now in less pain than yesterday. I wanted to tell him about the interview but he continued before I could say anything. “I’ve been discharged actually.”

“First, the Police know that you and I reallygot to know each other,” I informed him, stressing out the ‘really’ and wiggling my brows so he would understand what I was saying. “Second, that’s not possible. You cannot be discharged. I mean, you’re doing better, but not hospital-leavingbetter.”

Dave chuckled at my antics but it was then followed by an almost unnoticeable grimace. His shoulder still hurt. “I signed the discharge papers, so I’m leaving.”

I tried to convince him to stay, but in the end, he was an adult and it was his decision. Hell, I wasn’t even family so my opinion had no value. I helped him get dressed in some fresh clothes Vicky had dropped by before work. She had come by with Ella and Charlie so they could see their father.

Dave appeared self-conscious and uneasy at needing help for such a simple thing like getting dressed. “Look Dave, you only have two options: Stay here and have nurses care for you. Leave and have me care for you.” Begrudgingly, he complied.

The bodyguards also came in handy when I wasn’t able to help Dave into and out the car on my own. Dave was silent the entire drive, most likely uncomfortable at having bodyguards when he was a bodyguard. I guess he felt the way I would have felt I had gotten a lawyer.

The car came to a stop in front of the building of my parents’ flat and David insisted on using the crutches instead of the wheelchair. I sighed but knew better than to argue. The guards did a quick scan of the flat before letting us in, finally alone.

“So, this is where my parents’ stay when they come to London,” I explained, as I showed Dave through the flat. I hated this flat: Everything was white and modern and I preferred things dark and old. We finally reached the corridor serving the bedrooms. “So, on the left is my parents’ room and on the right side is my bedroom,” I indicated, before entering my room and setting down David’s duffel bag on a chair.

“I thought your parents’ were divorced,” Dave finally spoke, his brows furrowed before he let himself rest his arms and sit down on the bed.

“Yeah, they’re not. They just don’t spend a whole lot of time together,” I drawled, opening the drawers I had left empty in the morning for his clothes. I was glad he didn’t comment. We had never really spoken about where he was to go after being discharged, but after all this, it would feel weird to leave him in his apartment. “There’s actually a lot of stuff we don’t about each other,” I chuckled, remembering something. “Like, are you allergic to any meds?”

We spent the rest of the evening tucked into bed. Dave didn’t want to admit it, but even standing up hurt. Besides, eating Chinese take-out in bed with Netflix on the background was my kind of evening. “What’s your favourite colour, love?” Dave asked with food still in his mouth, during his turn of the 20-questions game.

“Green,” I exclaimed without thinking. “But not apple green. More like emerald, Slytherin green.” Turned out, David thought of himself as a Gryffindor, just like I expected.

“Favourite subject in school?” After all we had gone through together, it was crazy that we still had to ask each other those questions. Perhaps, I should’ve asked why he had been spying on Julia? But whatever the answer, it wouldn’t change my feelings towards him so there was no point in asking it now and ruining the evening.

“English.” I raised my eyebrows, a tad surprised but he didn’t budge. “Why? Is my English not good enough for you, Miss Alma Guinness?” Dave asked mockingly but deep inside he was actually insecure at our difference in upbringing.

“No, I just expected you to say P.E. like just about every guy I’ve ever met,” I confided and we both laughed.

We called it an early night at 9pm since we were both exhausted. Back in bed with our teeth brushed, Dave and I stared at each other in silence as we realized that we had never slept in the same bed without having sex first. “Alright, I’ve always wanted to be the big spoon at least once in my life so roll on to your good side and let me cuddle you,” I blurted out, trying to dissipate the uneasiness. It seemed to work although I soon realized being the big spoon was much less comfortable than the little.

“Do you want to switch, love?” Dave offered, trying to hide a chuckle.

“Just shut up Dave,” I mumbled with amusement. The room went silent for a few minutes and I tried falling asleep, without success.

“Love,” Dave whispered out of the blue. I squeezed his hand to let him know I was listening. “I forgot to delete the text messages on my phone so DCI Sharma and DS Rayburn already knew about us when they interviewed you,” he confessed, almost sheepishly.

“So, you’re telling me I went through that embarrassment for nothing?” I blurted out accusingly, but then we both had to agree that it was funny and would have been even more so if we hadn’t been the victims of the embarrassment.

I finally managed to fall asleep even though I knew that my arm, which was under Dave’s body, would hurt like hell in the morning. For a split second, I worried he’d have nightmares, his PTSD being worsened by the attack but I was confident the painkillers probably impeded that.

I woke up three hours later with a loud noise and some cursing. Eyes still closed, I brushed my arm over the mattress next to me. David wasn’t here. Panicked, I turned on the light and left the bed, searching for him.

“Shit David!” I cursed immediately when I found him. He was lying on the bathroom floor, his hand squeezing his thigh in agony, the crutches on the ground next to him. I hurried my way to him, helping him up again. At least the stitches hadn’t ripped but that was little consolation considering the pain David now was in. “What were you thinking?” I blurted out, anger covering my worry. “I told you to wake me if you needed to use the bathroom.”

“I’m not an invalid,” Dave spat out, escaping eye-contact with me. His knuckles were white around the crutches and I figured out that the emotional pain of being injured was as bad, if not worse, than the physical pain for him.

He kept on refusing my help, protesting each time I went to help him but when I reminded him that he could either let me help him or I would call one of the bodyguards to do it, he complied. I sat him down and then waited for him outside, before walking him back to the bedroom.

--------

I was wide awake again. Dave had managed to get back to sleep but I wasn’t so lucky. Sighing, I left the bed, making as little noise as possible. I walked to the living room and got my laptop from the heater.

Turning it on, I noticed I had new email message, from a masked address. “Meet me, tonight at 2am. 13 Holly Road, Hounslow.” The email had been sent to the one email address, out of the four that I owned, that wasn’t linked to my phone, which meant they knew the Police had it.

A smart person would have ignored the email and joined Dave in bed. I was too tired to be smart. I was exhausted, annoyed and quite frankly, I just wanted to put an end to all this madness in my life. Feeling numb, I walked to the kitchen and stepped on a chair to reach the high cupboards. I had hidden it in there long ago, never thinking there’d be a time where I’d need it. But that time had just come, I thought drily and I grabbed a gun from inside a cookie box and the bullets from the empty cereal bag.

I checked in on David one last time, before going back to the living room, out to the balcony and then climbing up to the rooftop. The door was open just as always, and I managed to get inside the elevator without the guards noticed I had left the flat.

#davidbudd #David Budd #RichardMadden #richard madden #davebudd #dave budd #bodyguard #bbc bodyguard #BodyguardBBC #netflix bodyguard #bodyguardnetflix #got #robb stark #robbstark #cinderella #fanfiction

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dariantheoc · 5 years

Text

*[Basics:]*

Full Name: Darian Leonardo Frost

Goes by: Darian, Dar

Sex: Male

Gender: Male

Race: Caucasian

Sexuality: Homosexual, gay

Age: 23

Birthdate: January 7th, 1995

*[Appearance:]*

Eye Color: Forest Green

Hair Color: Chestnut brown

Skin Color: Lightly tanned

Height: 5'9"

Weight: 143 lbs

Day-to-Day Wear: Green t-shirt/long-sleeve, comfy blue jeans, tennis shoes

Formal Wear: Black suit, white undershirt, green tie

Job: Barista at a local coffee shop, plays guitar on street corners for pocket change

*[Extra Appearance Info:]*

• Does not wear glasses

• No tattoos

• Has a scar at the base of his skull (explained later)

• Single ear piercing in his left ear

*[Conditions:]*

• Does not have depression

• Slight social anxiety

• Has a disability dog that goes with him everywhere (explained later)

• Is not schizophrenic

• Smokes marijuana regularly

• Drinks alcohol from time to time

• Goes to gym 2-4 times a week

• Has extreme memory issues (explained later)

• Gets chronic migraines

*[Personality/Behavior:]*

• Loves to be around people

• Highly athletic

• Very positive, upbeat, hopeful

• Will do almost anything to avoid being alone

• Will share an apartment/dorm/house with anyone

• Has a fear of needles and rats

• Faints at blood

• Adores all dogs

*[Medical Explanation:]*

When he turned 16, Darian made a visit to the doctor because he was having chronic migraines and neck pain, along with blurred vision. The doctor gave him mild painkillers and sent him on his way.

Six months after this checkup, Darian was brought to the emergency room and given x-rays. He had been having cluster seizures. A tumor was found near the base of his neck, attached to his spinal cord. Doctors could not remove it because surgery was too risky, so they started him on chemotherapy.

Chemotherapy went on for another four months, but he showed no signs of improvement. The doctors eventually had to operate to remove what they could of the tumor.

A year later, a scan revealed that it was back, and that surgery would definitely kill him. Deciding that it would be too much to try chemotherapy again, Darian chose to live with it as long as he could. He was assigned an assistant dog, or a disability dog, because he would need help if he had seizures again.

After he turned 18, Darian started to have memory issues. First, he couldn't remember small things like the day of the week, but things just got worse and worse. He couldn't remember what color his house was, or what his address was. He has to carry a small notebook with him wherever he goes with a list of names and addresses, and all the information he needs to go through his day.

*[Hobbies:]*

• Guitar playing

• Button collection

• Athletic events

Character owned by @dragonfire-enterprises-darling !

#oc #oc rp #oc rp blog #gay #writing #original character #character design #character #my characters #fabulous #service dog

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buyadderallonlineforadhd · 2 years

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outoftheassparlor · 6 years

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This is a story about abortion.

I’ve told this story to myself and others in a hundred different ways. I’ve told it as a woman who was almost a mother and then wasn’t and will never be. I’ve told it as a woman who laid dying in a hospital bed after her fallopian tube ruptured to have a male doctor, in front of his students, ask how she knew she was pregnant.

I’ve told it as a cautionary tale against smoking and about worst case scenarios. I’ve told it as a person who received a blood transfusion and how meaningful that experience is. I’ve told it as a woman whose medical bills could have been around $50,000 after she got out of the hospital if not for insurance.

Now I’m going to tell it as a story about abortion.

My pregnancy was never viable even though it was wanted. We tried for 5 years to have a child and when it finally happened we were terrified, thrilled and frankly surprised. We’d given up. I wanted a girl and we picked out names. We immediately made appointments and cancelled allergy shots and called doctors about medications.

I will always regret telling people I was pregnant before the ultrasound.

We went in sure everything was fine but after a while it became clear something was wrong. I heard “how do you know you’re pregnant?” for the first time from the tech.

Well, maybe the 5 fucking pregnancy tests we took the day before and after.

But the tech couldn’t find an embryo and there’s a part of me that thinks she thought I was making it up.

I went home and searched and searched the Internet. My doctor guessed I was about 7-8 weeks along and at least 2 of those weeks were full of binge drinking and late nights. I found a lot of reassuring things, that the little blueberry with hands may have just been hiding and would appear. The tech might have been inexperienced or I may have drunk too much water.

The baby-less sonogram was delivered to my doctor anyway.

Her office called and told me I needed to come in soon and I did. Thankfully my husband was available and came with me and that’s when she told me the pregnancy was ectopic.

I didn’t even know what meant and as she coldly explained what happened to me I broke down and sobbed. She looked at me curiously like, why are you so upset? And then I had a decision to make. Did I want a shot? We asked her every question we could about whether “the pregnancy” could be saved. It couldn’t. The embryo just wasn’t in the right place and it had to go. This shot could kill it and potentially prevent damage and a life threatening situation.

Eventually we made the decision that yes I’d have the methotrexate shot. We carried the prescription to the charmingly named Apothecary and left. It would take them about 30 minutes they said. It wasn’t in stock and they had to get it from another pharmacy.

They told me my insurer didn’t cover the shot for the reason it was prescribed so I’d have to pay the full $20. I laughed at the injustice through my tears and handed over my debit card.

Until that moment I’d quit smoking but I gave up giving up. We went to the shop across the street run by a nice Korean couple and bought a pack of American Spirit golds. We setup shop at a small bar at the corner and I sobbed and smoked and my husband stared on.

Eventually we got a call from my doctor, the shot was delivered and it was time. We crossed the street again and went to the office. I tried to joke with the medical assistant that my husband was going to have a vasectomy and that I hoped there were no contraindications with alcohol. There were, as it turned out.

I went back into the office and the doctor had me pull down my pants so they could stab me with the needle. I was ordered to have blood work taken to monitor hormone levels to see if the shot was successful in stopping cell production and so I did.

That weekend to cheer me up we went to the Oregon State Fair and walked around. I didn’t go on any rides but we saw the animals, watched the horse competitions and wandered around the expo hall. The usual fair exhibitors were there; MLMs seeking suckers, vitamin blenders, skincare products with fancy names and craftsmen. There were also the non profits and those included Oregon Right to Life. Their booth was actually in front of the doors. Huge posters with grotesque images of embryos and fetuses at eye level right as you walked in.

It was the last thing I wanted to see and it made me so angry. I had just, 3 days earlier, had an abortion so I could save my life and there was no way these people could ever understand.

I walked out and sat on a concrete fence and cried. I hated them so much. I hated the Catholic priests that were against the treatment that might have saved me. I hated them for their callousness. All I wanted to do was look at the quilts.

We tried to shake it off and I went to a palm reader who said to me “you just lost a child” and I was shocked. I’m still convinced she must have seen me crying and made a guess. Regardless she risked a lot by telling that fortune. She really could have ended up laid out on the floor.

All the while I tried to keep my chin up and just get through it. That’s all I wanted to do was get through it. I didn’t know what that meant but just through.

A couple days after the fair I laid in the fetal position in the bathroom at work. At 1:33 pm I felt something go. I couldn’t tell you what it was but at 1:32 I didn’t feel well but was ok and at 1:33 I wasn’t ok. I was overwhelmed by pain I hadn’t experienced before or since. Somehow I still walked the 3 blocks to get my painkillers so I could stay at work. That’s how I ended up on the floor. I was desperate for the oxycodone I’d been prescribed to take effect. It didn’t

My employer paid for a taxi home and I laid on the couch. I found the pain wasn’t as bad when I was on my side. The doctor told me there was going to be pain. So there was pain and as a woman I was used to being in pain at least once a month so I just had to get through this and be strong.

I took more painkillers and managed to sleep but the next day even being on my side was painful. My husband called my doctor for a stronger prescription.

The doctor told him I needed to come in right away.

I chose this particular clinic because they were two blocks away from our apartment. I could drop by for my appointment and either get home early or hop on the street car to get downtown. The location made it all very easy. But after I found I couldn’t go back upstairs out of sheer agony we booked a car share to go that two blocks and get me to my appointment.

As I sat in the waiting room I noticed the anxiety in another patient’s eyes when she looked my way.

The pain just kept coming. No amount of leaning or changing sides made it better. When I finally saw my smart but lacking in humor doctor she asked if I was experiencing any pain. As I lay on the exam table unable to open my eyes I replied “no, everything’s just fine.”

The hospital was across a breezeway and they pushed me over. After some argument about whose wheelchair I should be in I was in a room in the ER and somehow in a gown with tubes in and out of my arm. At one point I noticed a bruise on my wrist and how perfectly smooth my skin was. I thought my arm looked just like a doll’s.

Someone’s surgery was bumped and they got me in. I signed papers and didn’t know what they said. A man who I never did find out his name squeezed my hand and told me I was going to be ok. I still cry thinking about how for about two seconds that made me feel better. The rest of the time I was just pain in human form. There was no room for fear or sadness, there was only blinding, all consuming, pain.

I woke up from my surgery in a recovery room with a nice nurse who hooked me up for a blood transfusion. I was surprised at how cold the blood was and overwhelmed at the knowledge someone else’s blood was in my body. I also felt relief. I wasn’t in pain anymore.

They took care of me in the hospital. I had a second transfusion that had some issues thanks to new transfusion software. I laughed because IT problems followed me even close to death.

My surgeon came and told me she’d done a D&C, or dilation and curettage, because after everything I’d been through she didn’t want me to bleed heavily after I got out of the hospital.

I call this the abortion that almost was because there are what ifs where the methotrexate shot would have taken me out of the very dangerous situation I ended up in. Even a surgical extraction of the pregnancy, or another kind of abortion, would have prevented the situation. But I was very unlucky. We found out I was pregnant too late. Even at 7 weeks I only vaguely showed symptoms. I didn’t vomit and I was no more or less moody than normal. I even spotted in between and I chalked that up to normal period weirdness during times of stress. It was only a vague sense of nausea around 10 am everyday for a week that tipped me off.

I was lucky enough to have doctors that had options and were smart and could act quickly. If abortion rights are taken from us will doctors be able to provide us with the options I had? The shot would probably be right out. Would they even be able to extract a pregnancy from a fallopian tube or would that upset the anti choice crowd? Would the hospital where the procedure was performed be allowed to ban partial salpingectomies because it impacts my fertility? Would they be able to treat me at all with my history of smoking and even smoking while pregnant because I didn’t know.

I don’t think it’s a question anymore that some of the things that were available to me won’t be protected in the very near future. I think the question now is at what point in this story about pregnancy and abortion would the people coming to power have let me die?

#tw: abortion #abortion\#miscarriage #ectopic pregnancies #ectopic #antichoice

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