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bustyasianbeautiespod · 2 years

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hey guys, i’ve listened to all episodes so far and i am looking forward to more. i was just wondering if y’all can recommend any other podcasts, supernatural the show themed or otherwise?

Hi! I'm so glad you're listening and enjoying!

This gets quite long so we are putting it under the cut.

My knowledge base lies pretty strictly in audio dramas, and I feel like you may be asking for podcasts that are more talk-show-y, but on the off-chance that you don't mind, here are my top recs (also, coincidentally, all of these have protagonists of color if you care about that):

1. Alice Isn't Dead is a mystery/horror story about a truck driver on a road trip across America as she searches for her missing wife. Its approach to the strange beauty and loneliness of the dusty corners of America is beautiful, Jasika Nicole's voice is so soothing, and Supernatural fucking wishes it could pull of the "complex commentary on America and monsters and the terrible price of freedom while also being infused with humanity and hope" gambit that this podcast executes. It's explicitly referenced in this post about How to Make SPN Not A Magic Cop Show and extremely rightly so.

Transcripts can be found at @alicescripts!

2. Mabel is a horror/fantasy podcast about "ghosts, family secrets, strange houses, and missed connections." Anna Limon, working as a live-in caretaker for the elderly Sally Martin, starts leaving voicemails to her estranged grandaughter, Mabel. If you want to listen to houses that love you so much they want to eat you, eerie fairies under hills, lesbians dealing with family trauma, and a podcast where every episode sounds like pure poetry, step right up!

Transcripts are on their website.

3. Unwell is a Midwestern gothic mystery about a woman returning to her hometown to care for her mother. It's a podcast about ghosts, erasing town histories, secret societies, caring for your home, and complicated but loving family and found family relationships. Also, the sound design is fucking banger.

Transcripts are on their website!

4. Janus Descending is a 13-episode sci-fi/horror podcast told through log entries of two astronauts exploring a new planet. Chell's story is told in chronological order, while Peter's is told in reverse chronological. As you go on, you piece together exactly what happened on this flight and how impossible it is for you to stop this tragedy. The writing is very tight and also Chell is my beloved.

Transcripts are on their website!

5. The Far Meridian is a magical realism podcast about an agoraphobic girl in a traveling lighthouse searching for her missing brother. Featuring: a candle named Guillermo, found family, adventure, and longing.

Transcripts on their website!

6. The Strange Case of Starship Iris is a space drama about space smugglers, cool aliens, found family, and oppressive regimes. The characters and their friendships are all a delight, and it's both a fun and emotional time.

Transcripts on their website!

- Crystal :)

—————

Hello! I, on the other hand, like more laid back, personality driven, people just talking podcasts. Here’s my rec list!

First off, for Supernatural related podcasts, you can find a list of currently airing ones here. We are especially shouting out Monster of the Week, Escaping Purgatory, and Mensch of Letters.

If you are also into star trek (like I am), you may also enjoy The TNG podcast. They talk about every episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. It’s super fun!

I am also a big fan of the Green brothers’ various podcasts.

Dear Hank and John is an advice podcast hosted by John and Hank Green. It’s super fun and it’s the podcast that got me into podcasts.

Delete This is a podcast by Hank and Katherine Green where they talk about Internet-famous Hank Green’s tweets to evaluate what has happened in their personal life and in the world that week. I love the husband-and-wife dynamic on this one. It’s one you rarely hear in podcasts, I feel.

Finally, The Anthropocene Reviewed (Transcripts) is a podcast by John Green. It talks about humanity and the world by ranking different things through a five star scale. I am a fan of non-fiction books and essays, and this one is That in audio format, to the point that it has actually become a book (which I haven’t read yet.) I am not a fan of the John Green‘s fiction writing style, but his non-fiction is heart-wrenching and dynamic, and has the ability to make me cry like a baby (which this podcast has done many times so don’t listen to it in public!)

That’s all!

- Grey <3

#asks

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razrbladekiss · 3 years

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Tyrants | Chapter One - Disclosure

A/N: This was supposed to be a Jax x Fem!OC fanfic, but it took a little turn as I started to write more of it. So, it’ll be Tig x Fem!OC, but Jax does play a very important role in this.

SUMMARY: A sick turn of events sees Isla Telford thrown in at the deep end, battling to govern the sudden pressures of all that her father's club decidedly bestow upon her.

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

WARNINGS: Brief mentions of murder, the guy that got his ass shit is in this one. Jax and Tig get their own warnings, too, for obvious reasons.

The older I get, the more I realize that age doesn't bring wisdom. It only brings weary.

John Teller was always so astute.

His judicious character befell his son, too. Jax had that same perceptive nature as his old man--everyone would comment on that.

To Isla, it was admirable. For Jackson Teller to be a man of such stature--to hold such a reputation--and to remain somewhat level-headed through it all, was only something she could commend.

She'd seen many of her father's friends crumble under the pressure of Samcro, unable to balance the weight of living with the responsibility and commitment to the club, and meet their unfortunate demise--in some not-so extreme cases.

But Jax was different. He'd always been different.

Maybe that wasn't so great, however.

"You're fucking insane, Isla."

"Not insane." She mumbled, sifting through the box of shitty medical supplies that Gemma had left atop the pool table last night.

"Just trying to patch this shit up so Hayes doesn't kick the fucking bucket before Jax gets back here."

Tig snarled. "But it might be infected, and the bullet is still in this dude's ass--"

Isla whipped her head to glare at the man, her eyes wide, forehead slick with sweat--and a little blood, too.

"Shut the fuck up."

"Isla--"

"Tig, with all due respect, unless you're gonna help, please get the fuck outta here."

"That's not gonna suffice," he pointed out, referring to the medical tape, ignoring her scolding.

She wanted to throttle him. Truly, Isla was willing to wrap her crimson-coated fingertips around Tig's neck and squeeze the absolute life out of that man.

"I know." Her lips kneaded together in frustration, watching her father dab an alcohol-infused pad on the wound. "But unless you've got any better ideas, then we're just gonna have to keep reapplying this shit."

"But the infection, Isla."

"But the lack of medical equipment, Tig."

He slapped his palm against the table and glared at her, pointedly. "Why've you gotta be such a bitch all the time, huh?"

"Watch it, Trager." Piqued, Chibs growled.

"I'm not a bitch all the time," she dismissed her father, wiping at her palm with a wet rag. "I'm actually able to control the way I act around other people."

"Oh, fuck you--"

"Christ!"

The Scot's yell was muffled by the cap of his whiskey bottle, his hand pressing against Cameron's skin as the man screamed into the cloth Isla had placed underneath his head.

"God, for fucks sake, both of you just pack it in."

"Chibs--"

"Shut the fuck up. You're a fucking geriatric and you're spending your morning bickering with an almost thirty-year-old. Grow up, Tig."

Despite laughing at his comment, and enjoying the irritation wash over the other man's face, she felt bad.

For riling her father up--who was simply trying to help the innocent Irishman caught in the literal crossfire--she felt fucking awful. Especially because he never seemed to get mad at her all too often.

Tig, though...That was a different story entirely.

"I'm gonna go see if Clay has any more shit lying 'round here." She declared, throwing a damp towel onto the table, backing out of the room.

Her heart was in her throat, stomach in damn knots. Isla wasn't confident that Cameron was going to make it--not with such a deep wound.

And in his ass, too? Jesus. She wasn't confident at all.

Of course, she'd seen men get shot. Her own father, for one. But she hadn't seen somebody have to go so long without actual medical attention.

Chibs was ex-army med, but there was only so much a man could've done with a bottle of liquor, gauze, and a towel.

She was relieved that the bullet hit Cameron and not Clay, though. As sick as it sounded, she was so fucking glad that he'd managed to dodge the line of fire--initially intended for his own skull--and come out completely unscathed.

But for every ounce of relief she'd felt, an even more fervid sense of anger prevailed at the thought of Jax taking so damn long with those medical supplies he'd sought to get last night.

Gemma mentioned something about heading to the hospital--or a friend's house, or something--but Isla wasn't paying any mind to the woman as she, and Chibs, were trying all ways to stop the bleeding coming from Cameron's ass cheek.

It was the most bizarre turn of events she'd ever experienced.

One minute, Isla was sipping on a glass of wine while she eagerly awaited the spirited ping of her tiny microwave oven, ready to spend a rare--though well fucking deserved--night alone.

However, things took a drastic turn when she received a call from Tig--on behalf of a very busy Chibs--casually requesting her assistance because the Mayans had tried to assassinate Clay.

But Tig failed to mention that the man was completely fine.

She'd spent fifteen minutes on the way over mentally preparing herself, wondering what hell she'd walk into when she set foot into the clubhouse. But it was normal--strangely so.

Isla wasn't a professional, she didn't exactly know how to handle such a trauma, but she trusted her father and she just wanted to make sure he had a helping hand.

God knows that Tig wouldn't have been very much use, and Juice was a little nervous--though, he was doing incredibly well throughout the ordeal regardless of his internal apprehension.

"How's it looking?" Gemma threw at Isla, getting to her feet.

"Bloody."

She quickly scanned the room, taking in the uncomfortably sparse bar. It wasn't usually so empty, so quiet.

Clay, Gemma, and Juice. That was it. Not even Piney--not even Epps.

"Is he doing okay?"

It was still early in the day, though. She guessed that they'd pop in once they properly came around.

"He's better than he was last night." The brunette nodded. "Dad is certain the laceration is gonna get infected if we leave it any longer without trying to get the bullet out--"

"You've gotta wait 'til Jax gets back here, Isla, we can't risk Hayes dying on us."

"I know, Clay. He's just fucking tired--he's been up all night. We need a real medic on the scene before something bad happens. It's only a matter of time."

He mumbled something to himself that only Gemma seemed to catch, but Isla didn't particularly give a damn at that point. Like Chibs, she was exhausted.

The tattered and torn plaid shirt she had thrown over a random tank top--now smeared with another man's blood--was wrenched between her fingers as she pulled it off, folding it not-so-neatly.

She hadn't dealt with such a bloody wound in a while. Not since her mother's palm, decorated with shards of glass, was in dire need of stitches and her father was across the country, unable to offer his medical assistance.

"I'll grab one of Jax's shirts for you--"

"No, Gemma, it's okay," she smiled, taking a seat on one of the couches opposite her.

The older woman pinched her eyebrows together skeptically, watching Isla shift. "I insist."

"It's fine." Isla was adamant. "I'm gonna head home as soon as Jax gets back here--if he gets back here--so, really, it's fine."

A minimal amount of already dried blood was spread over her wrists and fingers, and the excess had been rubbed off on her crimson flannel, so she didn't particularly feel bad about making any mess.

Though, she shouldn't have felt bad. Not after she'd been coerced into helping and eventually receiving that shitty reception from Tig.

"Aren't you cold?" She questioned, waiting for Isla to capitulate, but she never did.

The thought of wearing one of Jax's shirts--after it being given to her by his fucking mother--didn't sit right with her for some reason. Plus, she didn't particularly feel like walking out of that building wearing the damn reaper on her back.

She didn't want to flaunt their patch. Not any more than she already had been for the last ten years.

"Where the fuck is he?"

Clay glared at the clock on the wall, realizing they'd been without the Vice President for hours. In an attempt to put him at ease, Gemma ran a hand along his shoulder.

Isla could only watch them--admire, perhaps.

"He told us he was gonna swing by Tara's place for the equipment. But that was last night, man." Juice shrugged, circling the lip of his beer bottle with his thumb.

She felt her throat thicken with a sick sense of trepidation. She hadn't heard that name in years.

"Tara?" She stuttered, feeling Gemma's piercing glare.

The woman hated Jax's first love, though she never said it aloud. Isla knew her perception of her, however, and she'd started to feel the exact same as the years went on.

Bitch.

"Yeah, y'know, Tara Knowles--"

Her heart sank--fuck that, it dove straight to the deep caverns of her chest, throbbing away into nothing. Until she felt completely void of all emotion. Completely fucking numb.

"I know her, Juice." Her response came hastily, snappy. "I'm sorry. I just didn't expect you to say that."

He shrugged it off. "It's alright. I wasn't expecting her to be back in town, either. I thought you already knew."

Suddenly uncomfortable, Isla's head shook.

The crow situated at the bottom of her spine began to smolder, blistering away at her skin until she physically flinched.

It was a brilliant idea at the time, getting a matching tattoo with Jax's old lady--the one woman she truly adored and trusted, never once feeling an ounce of malice toward.

Because that was a rare thing for Isla, and she wanted their friendship--and relation to Samcro--to prevail for eternity, she supposed.

But as time went on and Tara decided to distance, and eventually alienate, herself from the club, an ample sense of regret persisted for fucking months.

Isla loathed her ink. She hated the negative connotation of the crow she once lauded, and the mere idea of that thing being slapped above her ass forever churned her stomach.

It wasn't one of her finest moments, she had to admit. But she was young and extremely fucking dumb. She'd bet top dollar that Tara felt the same--if she hadn't gotten the crow covered up already.

"Jesus, Jax, where were you?!"

Her eyes flicked upward, attention on the blonde as he sauntered across the wooden floor of the bar.

She hadn't even noticed his presence until Clay spoke, but she soon started to heed how Jax was trembling a bit with every step that he took.

It wasn't obvious. To most people, the slight shake of his wrist would've gone completely unnoticed. But to Isla--to the most observant woman in Charming--his discomfort was striking.

Jax ignored him, stomping his way toward the back room. His line of sight never satisfied Isla's. It didn't even come close to it, either.

Something had happened. It was obvious that, in the time he had been with Tara, he'd encountered something grizzly enough to chill him to the bone.

Which was saying something, what with the horrific shit that he'd already seen in his time.

"Jax!" Clay yelled, following closely behind him. "Hey, asshole, where the fuck did you put the bag--"

"I've got it."

If she had the option, Isla would've allowed the floor to swallow her fucking whole.

"Tara." Pissed, Gemma acknowledged. "You're here because?"

"I asked her to help, mom."

"But Chibs had it covered. He just needed some actual instruments--"

"Gemma, quit it."

She simply nodded at her son, not wanting to cause another problem that she'd have to fix later--which, honestly, Isla was shocked to see.

"He's in there--"

"I know." Jax cut her short, ushering Tara to the back of the clubhouse--striving to get her into the room before she heeded Isla.

But she did.

The first person she clocked--aside from Clay--was Isla Telford, the woman she had purposely alienated herself from ten fucking years ago.

It wasn't anything that she'd particularly done to Tara, more like the crowd she ran with--and the way her loyalties never seemed to lay very closely to her friends, or anything outside of the club.

Isla wasn't a part of Samcro--she didn't want to be a part of Samcro--but her coalition was strong enough to convince anybody that she was more than merely a daughter of a Sgt. at Arms.

She had been brought up around the Sons--her father's choice, of course--and when her mother passed, she had no choice but to dive a little bit deeper into that world. But, as expected, it was constantly under the watchful eye of her old man.

She was dedicated to them. They were, essentially, family, and she was an honorary member.

"Isla." Jax mumbled, nodding his head toward the entrance of the clubhouse as he closed the back-door. "Outside."

He pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his leather vest, shaking the box as he strived to seem a little less suspicious to Clay and his mother.

The blonde wobbled to her feet--knees weak after hours of standing--while simultaneously pulling her bloodied flannel back onto svelte, freckled arms, recognizing that the chill was to hit her the second she stepped onto the gravel.

Jax was casual while he strutted ahead, taking long strides that Isla found fucking impossible to keep up with.

He pushed the door to close behind her, offering a cigarette that she hastily declined.

"What's she doing here?" Was how she decided to break the silence, her eyes searching for a hint of something written on his face.

But there was nothing. Not an ounce of emotion--scarily so.

"She's fixing Cameron up--"

"Not at the clubhouse, Jax. I meant back in Charming."

He ran a thumb across his lower lip, trying to soften his gaze on Isla, but it was futile. He looked discomposed--unsettled.

"She's uh--she's workin' at the hospital now." She started to nod, waiting for his elaboration. It never came, however.

"Oh, that's nice. I wonder what happened in Chicago...Do you know why she's back here? Or how long she's gonna be staying in town--"

"You sound like my fucking mother--give it a break with the thirty-seven questions about Tara, damnit."

He snarled, heeding the distaste of his words the second she glowered at him.

"Excuse you?"

"I didn't call you out here for a sweet little conversation, Isla, I called you 'cause I need your help--"

"With what?"

Jax's hand hooked onto the back of his neck while he tilted his head to look upward, thinking of a way--any fucking way--to explain just what damn mess he'd found himself entwined with over the course of the last twenty-four hours.

He didn't know what to say or how to say it--if he should've fucking said it. He trusted Isla with his life--always had--but sometimes he appreciated that she mightn't have appreciated finding herself tangled within Jax's boisterous, at times frightening, life.

But it was too late for that. She'd been dragged through the deepest shit and wasn't crumbling that easily.

"Jax--"

"Kohn." He stated simply, waiting for the cogs of her brain to begin turning.

"What about him? You got in trouble with the ATF or something? Because we can handle that--"

"I already did." Jax laughed humorlessly, finally meeting Isla's line of sight.

The skin underneath his eyes was red raw, blotchy and irritated after he had used the sleeve of his hoodie to scrub away the tears he'd shed.

The tears he hadn't wanted to shed, but had fallen freely--uncontrollably--from those cerulean hues Isla never tired of looking at.

"What do you mean by that?" Nervously, she quizzed.

He didn't even have to say anything. She fucking knew. She knew exactly what he meant by that, but there was a tiny morsel of something within her that hoped and prayed that he'd declare that her gut feeling was wrong.

But he couldn't. Because it was right. Like always, Isla's intuition didn't fail her.

"Jax, honey, what did you do--"

"I killed Kohn."

#sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fandom #sons of anarchy fanfiction #sons of anarchy fic #tig trager #tig trager fanfiction #tig trager fic #tig trager x oc #jax teller #jax teller x oc #jax teller fanfiction

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gideonthefirst · 3 years

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(canadawet) Catch us up to speed on your glitterhearts game? Saw your posts about it and I'm just so curious as to what happened

Hi! So we are...19 sessions into this game and there’s a Lot going on all the time so it’s a little bit difficult to summarize at this point but! Quick version is we’re four college aged superheroes, and before us were many other generations of college superheroes. The generation right before us, which included a PC’s brother, got brutally murdered by a villain named Blackbox (the PC’s brother was the only survivor). There’s something Up with Blackbox that makes him different from other supervillains; generally speaking, we have sort of ‘protective shields’ around us that prevent civilians from getting hurt and that make us very difficult to kill, and he seems to have some way of either shutting those down or avoiding them. So that’s Blackbox.

There’s also Keith Mogul, the CEO of MogulCorp, comically evil megacorporation, who we have suspected to be working with Blackbox in some way for a while and then two sessions ago finally got pretty-close-to-confirmation of that. The thing about Keith Mogul is that he orchestrated a whole Big Thing which resulted in him learning our secret identities and so then used that information to blackmail us into signing a contract with him - a contract that we did partially sign as part of the hope that we’d be able to find out anything about Blackbox, but does mean that any work we do against him has to be incredibly undercover and secret or else it could put us/our families/who knows who else in danger.

Other important factions include: the Glitterfrog, an alien who gives the Glitterhearts their superpowers through infusing elemental/emotional connections into items which we then use to access our powers and transform; The Wigbert family, a powerful corporate dynasty which essentially got destroyed by MogulCorp; The Four, an old group of supervillains which included Dr. Big Brain, John Mogul (Keith Mogul’s relative, deceased), The Most Powerful Wizard of Our Time, and a fourth, unidentified member (who we assume was Blackbox); Zurbular the Conqueror, another alien who is at least partially responsible for the Glitterfrog being on earth and who we really don’t know how they factor in yet; Dr. Rhys, former employee of Dr. Big Brain, now no longer a supervillain but employed by MogulCorp and working against them to help us, now missing; and Bunny (one of the PC)’s friends/old mentor who are on our side but have their own supernatural powers to deal with.

OKAY. So. Two sessions ago, we ended on a cliffhanger with New Helios (a supervillain whose civilian identity is Elodie Wigbert, of the Wigbert family) and Odile (a shapeshifter supervillain with a personal vendetta against my character) cornering my character in her dorm room. It’s...incredibly complicated why, but that’s where we ended. Last session began with dealing that, in which my character needed to make sure that New Helios and/or Odile didn’t go to Keith Mogul and inform him that the Glitterhearts are working against him (part of the contract was giving the Glitterhearts’ families apartments, and so breaking contract would leave her parents/sister homeless and also likely in even more danger), not get killed, not reveal her secret identity to the other people who live on the floor, etc. After one of the more tense role-play scenes I’ve ever done, I managed to come to an agreement with New Helios who hates Keith at least as much as well do and, as of right now, is going to work with us and not against us. For now. Odile is a different story. I am also now temporarily living with Callie, one of the other PCs, because my dorm got destroyed by Odile being a piece of shit.

THEN we cut to Avery, the last PC, and his brother. Again, it’s complicated, but Avery had a piece of his brother’s magic item that we found while investigating Blackbox; his brother is super traumatized from the other heroes of his generation being brutally murdered and so does not transform into hero form ever, but does still have another piece of the magic item; Avery tried to connect those items to each other and then rolled an insane critical success on his Mystical roll and ended up being able to use his powers to see through them to the rest of the pieces of the item. He saw Blackbox chopping up this item and also the items of the other dead Glitterhearts, releasing their elemental powers - our theory with this is now that Blackbox is trying to create essentially a small army of people with Glitterheart powers. This is bad and upsetting.

We then proceeded to have a series of other realizations/theories that are again...kind of impossible to try to explain but are the closest we’ve felt to figuring something out in a long time, shoutout to Claire @realoatmeal for being a genius!

And then we went to talk to the Glitterfrog about how Avery’s powers (which he does get from...Death) are acting up lately and interfering weirdly with Callie’s (which she gets from Life) and learned that there’s something Really fucked up about the Death powers and they’re malfunctioning in a way that seems to mean that eventually his protective shield is going to turn into...Something Worse.

There’s SO much going on ALL the time

#asks #anonymous #dnd blogging #campaign: glitterhearts #VERY sorry this got so long but. i love this game. is the thing #i love it So Much

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enzaime-blog · 6 years

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I'm Still Here

New Story has been published on https://enzaime.com/im-still-here/

I'm Still Here

Hello all! I used to update this blog frequently. In those halcyon days of yore, I used to imagine that I had a legion of devoted followers, all hanging on whatever pearls of wit and wisdom I might dispense in my next blog entry. Alas, those days have passed, and I’m not quite sure why. I seem to have lost a bit of my creative edge. Some of it is due to the fact that I have been fortunate to have been in remission for a long time now, so there isn’t a lot of MM news for me to share these days. I now assume that my imagined legion of followers has been reduced to a few desperate souls who might occasionally check to see if I am still alive. I apologize to all of you whom I may have disappointed by my prolonged absence.

All right, so here I am to give you remaining devoted stragglers an update on what’s been going on lately. Actually it’s been quite a bit.

View from our balcony First, let me tell you about our fabulous Christmas vacation in Puerto Rico. Our villa on the ocean was fantastic! We had everything we could have wanted: great weather, pool, beach, snorkeling, paddle boarding, surfing, deep sea fishing, frisbee, great restaurants nearby, fresh fish cooked at the villa, and most of all, a wonderful family gathering. There were 13 of us, including all our kids and significant others (except Brian, Pam and Logan) and Gretchen’s brother John and his family. We all missed the passing of our beloved sister-in-law, Kathy, but it was a wonderful getaway that helped us all from mourning her passing at home with all the painful memories.

Beautiful sunsets I think it would have been sad to have stayed at home and dealt with the emptiness of her absence with all the Christmas memories and familiar surroundings to constantly remind us of what we had lost. This way, we were able to mourn appropriately, as we did, but still find some joy and escape during this difficult time. Knowing Kathy, I think she would have approved. I can see her smiling now.

Gretchen did well during this vacation, though she is still recovering from her esophagus surgery in August. It has been a slow process. On January 13, she went in to Beth Israel to have her esophagus dilated by Dr. Michael Kent for the third time. That seemed to help, as she’s able to keep things down better. She is just now starting to eat more solid foods to supplement her smoothies and protein drinks.

Just to complicate things, she had gall bladder problems and it needed to be removed. Serendipitously, the best GI surgeon at Beth Israel is Tara Kent, wife of Michael. She scheduled the surgery for January 31. She made sure that the entire team, including Michael, was there to help if there were any issues. Fortunately, the laparoscopic surgery went well with no complications. Gretchen came home the same day. She is now home recovering and seems to be doing well. Let’s hope that she will feel a lot better soon.

We are so grateful to be near Boston where we have access to top specialists providing unparalleled medical care. We learned something interesting about Dr. Tara Kent while there. One of the nurses told us that when the Boston Marathon bombing happened, all the Operating Rooms were filled with patients, but they had more victims coming in. They then set up an improvised OR in the recovery area right where Gretchen was, and this nurse helped as Tara attended many of the wounded coming in. The nurse said that Tara was absolutely incredible as she helped save peoples lives in this improvised environment. What an amazing story! How lucky are we to have these people in our lives!

Well, what about me? I know you are all really anxious to know. Anyway, I had my colonoscopy and endoscopy last month as I reported. I got the biopsy results back which were favorable. My Barrett’s esophagus is minor with no dysplasia, so I don’t have to go back for another 3 years to check on it. As for my colonoscopy, no polyps, so I’m to come back in 10 years! Yeah right, like I’m even going to be here in 10 years. If I am, and I have dementia, I implore any of you out there to please shoot me. With Donald Trump as president, there should be easy access to a murder weapon! And I forgive you in advance.

As for my MM progress, my latest visit was great! I’m still in remission and my numbers look good. I have an appointment next month with the hematologist, Dr. Connors, to check on my iron level numbers to see why I tend to have anemia. We’ll see. So far, my red blood cell counts are fine since my last iron infusion last fall.

My latest issue is with a growth on my forehead. I’ve had this for a about 3 months now. I went to my PCP and he thought it was an infection. I then went to see my dermatologist in December and she thought it was an inflamed cyst. She gave me an antibiotic, but it didn’t help. I finally went back to Dr. Stewart last week to have the cyst lanced. She thought it looked like a normal cyst, but she took a biopsy to check just in case. Guess what? The biopsy came back today and it is a squamous cell carcinoma! That’s just great. What else do we need right now to further complicate our lives, huh?

Anyway, she referred me to a plastic surgeon to take care of it so I won’t look like the Frankenstein monster afterwards, I hope. I have an appointment next week to schedule the surgery. I am now paying the price for all those years of basking in the sun with my lilly-white Irish skin. Luck of the Irish, right?

#antibiotic #complicate #hematologist #infection #lilly-white Irish skin #no dysplasia #removed #Serendipitously #Cancer

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