#from a small town do you think they'd get or even /want/ those surgeries? do you think they wished to get this this and that done when they | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thschei · 3 months

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I didn't post about it at the time bc I was in Such horrendous pain from periods and migraines

(TLDR the birth control I was on had switched manufacturers and it turned my mental health into the dictionary definition of "female hysteria", so to avoid checking myself into a psych ward I stopped taking it, and the au naturale amount of pain my uterus inflicted on me was So, So Much. At one point the sound of my own whimpering woke me up and I realized I'd been sobbing in my sleep, and my mom basically insisted that I take one of her painkillers. I didn't want to, as addiction runs in the family, and I had hallucinations, but I did get a couple hours of peace. My original intent making an appointment with my gyno was to just ask for a different pill, but at the appointment I was running on 2 hours of sleep and hedged my luck by asking for a hysterectomy, after having mostly given up after being told "no, I would not give you a hysterectomy unless you were in your 40's and already had kids" by every doctor I'd previously asked)

that I was living like a zombie, struggling to sleep and needing to use 2 heating pads for hours at a time, and could barely be on social media at all. But when my gynecologist agreed to give me ✨the long sought after hysterectomy✨ he apologized profusely and said that he couldn't do it laparoscopically (I assume he, being in his 60's or 70's and born and raised in this horrible little one-horse farm town, wasn't trained to use the machinery?) and that normally he would offer to refer me to a different doctor who Could do it laparoscopically, but he really didn't think any other gynecologist would agree to perform a hysterectomy on a 23 yr old. He said he'd try to make the incision scar as small as possible and below my bikini line, because he knew that a lot of patients became self-conscious of their scars.

My mom's reaction was like, the Miette copypasta. "You're going to CUT OPEN my BABY with COLD STEEL and LEAVE A SCAR?!"

(My mom is deathly afraid of surgery; it wasn't entirely her overprotectiveness that contributed to this reaction. She even really really loved this doctor because she used to work in the building across from his office, and they'd chat in the parking lot, so she'd spent years telling me I should try him. I was sitting there like, why are you getting cold feet about this now? 😭)

My reaction, though, was to say, "Oh, no no, I would love a scar! It'll be a reminder that I overcame all those years of pain that my body put me through! That's perfectly fine with me :) <3" . I Wanted to ask him to make the incision as big as it reasonably needed to be and on my stomach instead of my bikini line (so I could show it off to people . obvi . ), but I was already asking him to sterilize a 23 yr old, and I was pretty afraid that if I said too many weird things, that he might walk back his decision or decide I needed a psych eval before the surgery. I wanted that mf out of my body since I was 10, I didn't want to postpone the surgery or jeopardize my chances of this happening, so I was Trying to be Chill. Not an easy thing for me, you understand.

My mom was like, you can get a tattoo of a scar! You don't need actual abdominal surgery to achieve it!"

I was like yes I do <3 and signed the consent paperwork, had the necessary ultrasound and bloodwork and covid test to be cleared for surgery. And my scar has unfortunately faded a lot over the last 3 years, bc my doctor did keep his word of making the incision small (which was very very thoughtful of him, just like not what my bonked brain wanted) but it's still a little red in the center and the skin still feels raised across the line.

My main point in posting all this is that with top/bottom surgery, the scars are basically non-negotiable, compared to a hysterectomy having the option of being done through laparoscopy. I don't really think I want top or bottom surgery personally, but I like to think that all of us who get any type of gender-affirming surgery (which my hysterectomy partially was; it eliminated so much dysphoria. The pain was just the top reason I wanted it, and allowed me to avoid coming out as trans in my very conservative state/conservative small town within this terrible state) feel our surgery scars and feel happy and at peace from them <3 Love and peace on planet earth, etc.

(I did do a write up on my surgery a few days after I got out of the hospital that you could read if you want, but it's pretty TMI, like discussing catheters, bc I mainly wrote it for close friends who'd been worrying about me in the 4 days I wasn't really online from the pain, so read at your own risk. You can also see my face in it. I updated it a bit now to fix some pain-induced typos from 2021.)

#erin talks #text #selfie tag #long post #I would've put a read more but I feel like it might benefit someone to read about having a hysterectomy #also in that link I sound sooo much more naive 💀 I really truly didn't realize it wasn't normal that I could walk after abdominal surgery #until one of my friends was like #No erin most people Can't walk less than 12 hours after abdominal surgery . your body is just #a fucking anomaly . WELL this is the freak of nature family!!#at the same time tho not much has changed (being in an unreal amount of pain and prioritizing others over myself despite that)#anyway I took a long time typing this out bc I was trying to not be too TMI on a public platform #I haven't really made personal posts anywhere besides my locked twt account since 2014 #oh my god tumblr fucked up the tags so bad

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ashadowcalledkei · 2 months

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So … I need to tell you a story about my cat, Ciel.

He was found by a friend of my sister, abandoned on the side of the road, so young and so small that at the time his eyes weren't even open. This person couldn't keep him, and eventually they asked me if I could. I was headed out of town for the weekend to visit a friend of mine who was working as a vet tech, so I ended up picking him up from them at a local pet store, buying a new carrier, bed, and supplies, and taking him to Atlanta with me. His eyes had opened just that day, and his ears were still closed. My friend helped me care for him, and taught me all about what a kitten that young needed. She even took a few feeding shifts for me those first few days.

When I bought him back home, my other cat was not happy at all. She was a bit over two years old, and since the new baby needed so much one on one care I couldn't give her all the attention she wanted, which made her resent him, which made it even harder to give her the love she needed. I'd gotten her from a friend whose cat had kittens, just shortly after she was weened, along with one of her litter-mates that I named Rabbit (I'd been told they were both boys, but surprise surprise, nope). Rabbit didn't make it, barely two months later he got sick and had to be put down, a fate that half their litter shared since they inherited something from their mother. But Al beat the odds. She made it, though I don't think she truly got over her brother. At least, she hadn't by the time this little ball of fluff showed up.

So for a few years, they didn't exactly get along. Ciel grew into this playful, sweet, clingy, wonderful cat, but Al did not want him to play or cuddle or cling to her. Thankfully they did end up bonding, and as adults they did still occasionally fuss at each other but on the whole acted like siblings. And as seniors they got even closer. I still worry a bit about Al when it comes to other cats, she's slow to warm up to others and likes her space.

Then, years ago but after he was considered a senior cat and after a completely different scare with Al that required surgery to remove a mass from her ear, Ciel suddenly got sick. He was losing weight and peeing in strange places and we didn't know why. The vet was quick to diagnose him with diabetes, and we had to learn to adapt. Thankfully he improved dramatically at a very rapid pace. I changed his diet completely, and between that and medication he eventually was able to get down to the lowest possible insulin dose. One unit once a day, practically unheard of but it's all he needs.

And that was our lives … until a few weeks ago. I noticed him acting oddly, and not eating his food quickly like he normally does (Al's a slow eater these days too, but it wasn't the same). I took him in and they said it was an abscess, his tooth needed to be pulled. And while they did the surgery they'd also take care of some glandular blister-like masses that he's had in his ears for years (which caused him to have repeated ear infections that I was used to giving him medicated drops for, the poor kitty always seemed to have the worst luck with health issues). He recovered well and for a few days I thought everything was going to be okay. He was still chewing at nothing a bit, but people told me he probably just needed time to get used to the lack of a tooth there. But it didn't get better. Over the week it got more pronounced, he started having more trouble eating, getting more mess spilled on his fur and not cleaning it up. And at his followup appointment today … they said it was probably a mass. That there was pressure behind his eye. That he'd lost a pound. That it was almost certainly cancer, and with him being a diabetic senior there was nothing they could do without causing more problems. After having gone through so much in his life, this was finally the one he couldn't overcome.

And that's where we are. I'm giving him the best that I can for what little time he has left. He's still eating, easier now with some pain meds. He's still playful. He's still my cuddly, affectionate cat. But I know it won't last, and when the scale tips I have to do what's best for him. No matter how much it breaks my heart. I've barely stopped crying since we got the news, even as I write all this down.

Some pets are special. Well, all pets are, but sometimes you find one that's … that's more than a pet. Sometimes, a person finds an animal who completely understands them, and who they completely understand in turn. Who is like a piece of them. Ciel has been my emotional support animal for fifteen years. He's helped calm me through anxiety attacks and depression lows. He has meant the world to me and still does. He has a part of my soul. And I'm losing him. And there's nothing I can do.

It must seem awful to say that he somehow means more than his sister, but that's not really what I'm trying to express. I love Al, she's my sweet old lady. And when her time is up I know that will break me too. But, Ciel is just … different. He has been the most affectionate, devoted, loyal, loving, attentive cat I've ever known let alone had. Al likes her space, she needs her alone time, she doesn't follow me around the house like Ciel does. Doesn't come to comfort me when I'm upset like he does, at least, not as much. Doesn't wait for me to finish dinner and then jump in my lap, head on my shoulder or tucked under my chin, paws up as if for a hug, like he does.

This cat is a part of me, a piece of my soul, and when I have to let him go it will take a chunk of my heart out. And I'm not quite sure how I'll keep going without him.

He can't be replaced. Not ever. But I know I can't just sit in this pain forever. It's the place he will leave behind that I can't even stand to think of. The void in my life. The empty space on the couch between Al and me. Even when he had to stay at the vet overnight for his surgery, I felt so lost without him there. He's my buddy, my buster, my little mr cat. My best friend. Ciel filled a space left far too empty for far too long after Rabbit passed away. Now it's going to be empty again. Just me and Al, and she's nearly 18 so I've known for years how little time she has left. I just thought she'd be the first of them to go. That I'd have a little time left with Ciel afterwards, to lean on each other in our grief, then to let him meet a new cat and give him a little sibling before it was his time. But things just didn't work out that way. Maybe it's the shock that's making the hurt so much worse.

So … that's who I am. That's who my cats are. The story of our time together.

I believe that the right one finds you. Ciel found me, right when we needed each other most. I think the next right one is out there. There's a kitten out there that needs someone like me. And I need someone like them. I don't know if I'll find them soon, or if will take months, but I need to look. For them, and for Al, and for me. And for Ciel.

I wrote all that in the wake of his diagnosis. But, I didn't post it till today. Two weeks later. He held on for longer than they thought he would, and had many good days filled with cuddles and treats amidst the tears. He lasted long enough to comfort me when I got sick with a 24 hour flu, so feverish and weak I couldn't get out of bed. And there he was curled up on my lap, keeping me warm and safe.

Yesterday he wouldn't eat more than a bite or two even with treats. This morning too. He's ready to go, and no matter how it breaks me I can't let him get to the point where he's suffering. So he's spending the afternoon with me in bed again, curled up on my lap or on my chest. In a few hours we go to the vet for his last appointment. But until then, I'll keep him warm and safe.

Goodbye buddy. You've been the best cat in the whole world. I'll love you forever and always, my little man, my familiar, my best friend.

#pets #personal rambling #tw animal death #tw grief #Ciel cat

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nergaltheopossum · 6 years

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Better to have loved and lost...

This post is overdue.. by approximately a week.

My name is Damien, the caretaker, adoptive father, and best friend to Nergal the Opossum.

As much as it hurts my very being to put these words in stone..

After a very short, struggle with serious illness, Nergal has passed away.

I apologise for this coming so late, but my grief had been far too strong for me to even look at social media and I don't think confronting it sooner would've weighed well on my depression.

His passing came as a shocking surprise for everyone in our household.

His sickness came on very swiftly and over the course of 3 to 4 days.

He became lethargic and a bit annoyed on the 1st day and had no interest in food or water.

Day 2 was the same, he slept most, if not all of the day. I reverted him to liquid food formula to ensure he received some nutrition. He was a bit more bitey, but I was able to coax him into drinking small amounts of formula and water.

Day 3 was much of the same, but I actually believed he was getting better, he'd roam just a bit, then would go back to sleep. He still lacked a want for food or water. Later that night, I gave him a warm bath, made sure he was nice and dry before bed. I placed him in his bed, but he kept coming to me, to snuggle up. After the second time I let him stay, I pet him until he fell asleep.

Early morning Day 4 I woke up, around maybe 1 or 2 AM. I happened to brush against him and he was completely cold to touch... I knew I had woken up far too late to do anything.. if anything could've been done.

Why did this happen?

I am still at a loss for the cause of illness, and sadly when it comes to indigenous animals it's hard to find care for them, a veterinarian won't see them because they're technically wild animals and a Rehabilitation specialist won't see them because they're technically not wild if you're housing them. Before I met Nergal, I did an ample amount of research, I wanted to assure I could overcome any obstacle, except for actual surgery. This was blindsiding for me, it came out of nowhere.. it was fast.. and I made the misjudgement of assuming it wasn't deadly. I have a few hypothesise for the cause of sickness, from a bad genetic trait to just being exposed to a really bad germ. I've been mentally examining and reexamining his diet, but I couldn't find fault in the contents or the proportions. I began to assume that life began to feel I was too happy and sought to undo my happiness.

What was this blog about and how my experience with Nergal came to be:

My interest in Opossums started with sad story as well, in April 2015 I happened to be on the local train headed to work early that morning and unfortunately became a part of this news story, http://www.bnd.com/news/local/article21488958.html

It was.. horrible.. no, not that someone would give their life for an animal.. but the judgement she received for giving her life for one. "Why give your life for a dirty pest?" Is among some of the rhetoric I heard in the aftermath of the incident. This was the spark, so I went to work.. researching as much as I could about Opossums. I wanted the truth for myself. "Are they really that much of a unkindly sight to society?" I began crafting the answer to that with physical proof. Sadly, the passing of the only person who had insight into Opossums was the sacrifice for this inspiration and ironically she was probably the only one who could've helped me save my boy within nearly a hundred miles.

Nergal wasn't just a Opossum, he was my child. From day one when I held him in my hand, he was my child before anything else. I loved him and cared about him and when I was away from him I felt empty, and when I was with him I was always happy and interaction with him was my therapy.

You can take one animal away from the harsh realities of the wilderness, and make them happy and pamper them. But I never felt like I was doing him a favor.. I felt like he had did one for me.

I wanted to share what I felt with the world. Nergal then became a social experiment, I wanted to see if I could adjust the way people see these North American Marsupials. Most everyday persons will associated Opossums with mean creatures, who are unclean, ugly and a danger to them. Vermin, pests, etc.

What the results of this "social experiment" was.

It was incomplete. But, while incomplete, it was positive. I've met and introduced countless people to Nergal in the few months we had together.

If I could put a estimate of people that have had a chance to physically interact with him, I'd put that number over 120 people, but definitely shy of 200 people.

Out of those 120ish people, 60% of them had never seen a opossum up close. 30% of those people had negative views of them due to experiences with wild Opossums. The remaining 10% were persons who took time to educate themselves on Opossums and usually were the first to approach me to greet him or pet him.

I can easily say that out of these 120ish people, the 108 people that made up that 90%. Through interaction with Nergal, majority came to a definite change of opinion on possums. It was really amazing too.. In my town of 42,000 people, I felt like positive traction was starting. There was one extremely nice woman who I ran into multiple times across these few months and every time she needed a new picture of him, because she was enjoying seeing him grow. On warm nights I'd bring him with me to my local pub and sit with him on my shoulder on the patio, a family would come along every so often and the children would be so enamored with him and asking me questions about him. On occasions the parents would buy me a drink or two just so I would stick around longer.

People would invite me into their stores and they'd be bright eyed and curious. They'd field me questions about his diet and "Why a opposum?"

I loved it, I loved the interest. There was a share of ignorance out there, but the sheer love was overwhelming. Just like it is here on Tumblr.

I just wish it could've continued..

What next?

The short answer to that, for this blog specifically..

Nothing.

My son is gone, and I think I kept this blog so well updated, I only have a couple handfuls of pictures that haven't been seen here.

Now that this has come to light, I feel that posting more would just be a cause for others to mourn him more than he already will be.

Nergals story has ended, sooner than we all expected, but it's still an end. There's nothing more to write, but there's still plenty here to be shared amongst people who haven't heard his story.

I won't delete this blog, I wouldn't even be able to bring myself to do such a thing.

I want to leave as much motivation as possible out there for people to show love to even the most uncommon animal.

What's next for me.

Studying and preparing. Alot of it. This isn't the end of Opossums for me, in fact I think it's a companionship I can't live without anymore. I do need time though, time to better myself and put together all the things I learned about Nergal to ensure that the next time I get my chance at being a father to such a kind creature, I can ensure that, barring any unforeseen circumstances, they will live a complete and happy life... And we can all grow a bit older together.

I thank you all so much for your kindness and love. Maybe I'll see you all again in the future.

~Damien

Rest in peace my child

Nergal Trashcaticus

July 2017 - December 2017

"The goodiest boy of all."

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