#spinal injury
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A new provincial spine program is being established to ensure Manitobans requiring acute spinal care are treated sooner, Health Minister Uzoma Asagwara announced on Tuesday.
More than $12 million is being spent to create the program, which will reduce wait times for patient consultations with spinal surgeons, establish centralized wait lists and co-ordinate levels of care, Asagwara said, noting the existing Provincial Spine Assessment Clinic will be incorporated into the new program.
"Until now, folks living with spine pain or trauma had no other choice but to suffer for months — for years in some cases — while waiting to be seen, never mind waiting for their surgeries," the minister said.
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Tagging: @newsfromstolenland
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Please Care to Read
hey guys, i’m alexa im a 23 yr old mentally/and physically disabled mexican/indigenous american now living in the balkans. as you know I’ve had a gofundme for my spinal operation running for several months now with not a lot of luck. I am suffering from a degenerative spinal cord due to an emergency spinal fusion I received after trying to commit suicide by jumping off a bridge onto a busy freeway. im in and out of wheelchairs/other mobility aids but most of the time I am admitted to full time bed rest. due to not being able to afford my surgery I have had to rely on opiates like tramadol, and palexia as well as arcoxia and morphine (all prescribed) just so im not in excruciating pain but these medications and the visits for my prescriptions refilled are very expensive and my only income in state disability (and u know how bullshit that is)
here’s some of my diagnoses (JUST FOR MY LUMBAR SPINE/PELVIC INJURY)
the more time that goes on, the more opiates I have to use to exist, are only weakening my body even more to the point where arthritis has grown throughout my entire body. it’s painful it sucks ! it sucks even more not being able to eat cus u can’t afford to, not being able to bathe yourself. my life has been spent in constant disability and as someone who is (legally) mentally disabled as well with bipolar 2, early onset schizophrenia, anorexia, autism, adhd, bpd, dpdr, ptsd, developmental disability, and a tonic clinic seizure disorder (seizures caused from stressed), it makes life EXTREMELY DIFFICULT.
We’ve only reached 13% of our goal in MONTHS now in my gofundme but hope still runs strong that me and my husband will get through this and do whatever we can we’re just reaching out for empathy, connection, and a helping hand in our darkest most difficult moment.
My gofundme link is currently not pasting to tumblr so I will attach it to this post but here’s what it looks like:
If you’d prefer not to use gofundme for any reason feel free to dm or my
PayPal - @gavinstrick
Venmo- @gavinstrick
Cashapp- $gavinstrick
Even if you could just spread the word , reblog this post, maybe you know someone who would like to help EVEN THE SMALLEST ACTIONS CAN CHANGE SOMEONES ENTIRE LIFE❤️
THANK YOU !!!💋❤️
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disabled regina george doesn’t give a shit about gossip. she’s confident in who she is, and doesn’t need to be mean anymore to assert it. running north shore high isn’t even on her priority list anymore, but her presence is impossible to ignore. the leather jackets, the pink cane and wheelchair, the platform boots, she’s a force to be reckoned with and she knows it.
she has limited energy and only spends it on what she wants and if you cross that boundary, you’ll get bitten. she has zero patience for clothing stores who use their accessible changing rooms as storage spaces. she gets pissed if people call her inspirational and won’t hold back if someone is being ableist, even if they’re a teacher.
#regina george#mean girls#disabled regina george#POTS#spinal injury#disability#mean girls 2024#renee rapp#disabled character#headcanon#disabled headcanon#chronic illness#ambulatory wheelchair user
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Prisoner of the TVA
#marvel#loki#loki odinchild#mcu#genderfluid loki#tva#the tva is horrifying#injuring loki further after being tortured by thanos#spinal injury#my art
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Kan çiçekleri bölüm 25
After fourty-eight hours in the 'hole' Cihan is finally found by his brother Beran, guilt riddles Beran for the previous argument between them.
Previous To be continued here..
#male whump#whump#whumpedit#turkish#kan çiçekleri#cihan#unconcious#angst#wincing#tears#bromance#brothers#hurt#spinal injury#carrying
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I'm so happy for the patient and relieved that the surgery went well, and it's good to learn that he volunteered for the surgery rather than was bribed or coerced. The technology may be amazing but it should absolutely not be in the control of a moody self-obsessed billionaire. I worry what will happen when musk gets bored or decides to paywall the technology once it is implanted into more patients.
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hello! i'd like to ask what would happen if someone were to be hit in the side of their neck with incredible force, from a blunt object? The kind of force to even knock them off their feet for a moment. What would happen to the neck, how would it heal, would there be a lasting hoarseness? thank you sm!
Gonna answer these in slightly reverse order:
Healing is going to depend a lot on the mechanism of injury and the exact damage caused, which you should hopefully be able to determine based on the following points:
If the impact is on the side of the neck, I can't imagine hoarseness being at all relevant unless the character wound up intubated afterwards. The windpipe is in the very front of the throat, and any impact to it that would knock someone off their feet would likely crush it, which is BAD NEWS. (From the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia: The damage can range from minor vocal cord weakness to fractures of the cartilage structures of the larynx or trachea. These fractures can cause air to escape into the neck and chest, leading to significant respiratory compromise and even death if not diagnosed and treated quickly.)
Even with a (relatively) blunt object, like the leg of a chair, an impact of that velocity could potentially break skin and a whole lot more. It depends how broad the area of impact is, be it something narrow like a pipe wrench, or broad like a two-liter bottle. The more the impact is spread out, the less likely it is to break skin (which is the whole reason a bed of nails works), but of course you're going to get trauma to the area of impact either way, bruising and potentially damage to the underlying tissue and muscle.
There are a lot of MAJOR nerves and blood vessels in the neck, near the surface, too (hence why it's a spot you can take someone's pulse). I can't honestly imagine an impact of that force not damaging something. Which brings me to
You're breaking this motherfucker's neck. Whether the spinal cord is damaged is up to you, but you're almost unquestionably breaking vertebrae if you're hitting somebody in the neck hard enough to take them off their feet.
Most importantly, though, you have to remember what the neck is attached to, and what it's made to support: the head.
6. This person is getting a concussion. A hit to the neck that knocks you over will shake, rattle, and roll your brain like nobody's business.
More about spinal injuries here and here.
More about concussions here.
I hope this answered your question(s)!
-Mod J
#whump reference#writing reference#whump#injury#broken bones#spinal injury#blunt force trauma#neck injury
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I wish I could explain to other disabled people and to doctors how exercise works for me, so that doctors could do a better job of helping people get exercise and other disabled folks could use exercise the way I have if it works for them.
Cause the way exercise has been explained and sold to me my entire life has not worked for me at all. But the way I'm exercising now really helps.
I have EDS, degenerative disc disease, spinal nerve damage from Cauda Equina Syndrome, endometriosis, and many other issues. I used to laugh at people when they told me exercise would help. All I ever did trying to exercise was hurt my body and my feelings. I got repetitive stress injuries at the drop of a hat, so as soon as I'd established any kind of routine, I'd hurt myself and be unable to exercise, and then I'd lost my groove and just felt terrible and guilty about it.
Exercise was sold to me as the least I could do to buy my right to exist as a fat cripple.
Last year, I had a lull in active health disasters, and I was worried about becoming so deconditioned that I'd catastrophically injure my back again. So I started a walking program under the guidance of my PT, who knows about EDS. She helped me get fitted with walking sticks to keep my form and give me more of a whole body exercise. She also showed me how to walk. I went to a great little medical shoe shop and got two pairs of sneakers and orthotics fitted by a butch.
I started with 15 minutes of walking, and .25 miles of walking, every other day. I didn't have to do anything else, just on the day it said, walk either 15 min or .25 miles based on what it said on my paper. Eventually, in a few months, I got up to a reliable 3 miles/1 hour walk. I saw the river in all the seasons. I felt the wind on my face and the rain and the sun. I bought exercise clothes and suited up, even for short walks, to make sure my parts all stayed where they should be.
The hardest part was not going ham. Not extending my walk, not going further and faster. The second hardest thing was getting back on the horse when a flare or injury made me take more rest. Also, the distances I was doing were actually too much. My legs hurt all the time and I had to take meds to help with the pain sometimes.
Then, this mystery stomach problem I have started. Intense epigastric pain and vomiting. I had to stop exercising because I was simply not taking in enough nutrition to be safe.
Once I got the vomiting under control, and was able to consume more calories and especially protein, I got back out there. Now, as long as I'm not desperately ill, I walk 1 mile around my neighborhood with my sticks. My back feels better while I'm walking. When I skip a day, my back hurts more. My bowels move better when I walk. Essentially, I've gotten my body physically dependent on exercise. Because that's what our bodies evolved to do, and we offloaded some things like digestion onto the assumption that we'd be moving our bodies.
I hate hate hate the way we talk about exercise in this culture, because it's denying people in pain a tool that could really help them, by wrapping it all up in this horrifying morality play.
I wish there were apps out there for folks like us, that encourage you to exercise but don't link stuff to shame or weight and don't punish you for taking time to recover or prioritize other things. Because it was really really hard to get into exercise and I had to spend a lot of time doing something I really really didn't enjoy, that stole spoons from me, before getting to a point of fitness that allowed me to actually benefit.
#body acceptance#fat acceptance#disabled pride#disability#actually disabled#exercise#fuck the protestant work ethic#spinal injury#cauda equina syndrome#degenerative disc disease#endometriosis#walking#fitness
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“A pioneering set of “wearable muscles” with a profile similar to a shoulder sling could increase mobility and strength in the arms of people who have lost it.
As algorithmic intelligence advances, more and more engineers are attempting to design different prosthetics to replace lost mobility, but many are large, bulky, complicated, or extremely expensive.
Michael Hagmann has a rare form of muscular dystrophy called Bethlem myopathy, but his muscular output was increased 61% thanks to a kind of exo-tendon called “Myoshirt” which learns the movements Hagmann wants to make before raising and lowering a cable similar to a human tendon in order to apply mechanical advantage to his actions.
“Although hospitals have numerous good therapy devices, they are often very expensive and unwieldy,” said Marie Georgarakis, a former doctoral student at the Swiss Federal Institute for Technology’s Sensory Motor Systems Lab in Zurich.
“And there are few technical aids that patients can use directly in their everyday lives and draw on for assistance in performing exercises at home. We want to close this gap.”
The Myoshirt is a soft, wearable exomuscle for the arms and shoulders; a kind of vest with cuffs for the upper arms accompanied by a small box containing all the technology that is not used directly on the body.
Smart algorithms detect the user’s movements and the assistance remains always in tune with them. The mechanical movements can be tailored to their individual preferences, and the user is always in control and can override the device at any time.
In an alpha-stage test, 12 people including Hagmann and another with a spinal cord injury, performed arm strength tests wearing the Myoshirt. In the 10 who had no mobility issues, Georgarakis et al. found that “onset of muscle fatigue” was delayed by 51 seconds compared to an unsupported arm.
Hagmann experienced a 254 second-delay [over 4 minutes] in the onset of fatigue doing unloaded arm lifts, and the participant with the injured spinal column was able to lift his arms repeatedly for nearly 7-and-a-half minutes more than without the Myoshirt.
At the moment the box containing the motor and computer parts weighs close to 9 pounds, so the team’s first priority is to develop a full prototype with an even more discreet profile to allow people to use it in day to day life as often as possible. [Their other main priority? Taking the exomuscle out of the lab and testing it in real life.]” -via Good News Network, 1/13/23
#disability#muscular dystrophy#ai#artificial intelligence#muscles#spinal injury#mobility issues#science and technology#muscle fatigue#good news#hope#switzerland
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Axon Rebuilding
Unlike the neurons in the central nervous system (CNS), those outside the brain and spinal cord – the peripheral nervous system (PNS) – can regenerate their ‘electrical cable’-like fibres (axons) after injury. Understanding how this happens could be of huge benefit for treating a range of conditions such as stroke, spinal cord injury and others in both the CNS and PNS. Researchers have now discovered in mice that the levels of a protein called RSK1 are higher after sciatic nerve injury. Forcing neurons to over-produce RSK1, caused an increase in two proteins called BDNF and IGF1 that helped regrow the neuron’s axon. Here we see a ‘normal’ neuron (top left) and longer neurons with increased levels of RSK1 (top middle and right). By inhibiting either BDNF (bottom left), IGF1 (bottom middle) or both (bottom right), the regrowth of the axons was impaired, suggesting RSK1 is essential for regeneration of these signal-transmitting projections.
Written by Sophie Arthur
Image adapted from work by Susu Mao, Yuanyuan Chen and Wei Feng, and colleagues
Key Laboratory of Neuroregeneration of Jiangsu and Ministry of Education, NMPA Key Laboratory for Research and Evaluation of Tissue Engineering Technology Products, Co-innovation Center of Neuroregeneration, Nantong University, Nantong, China
Image originally published with a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0)
Published in PLOS Biology, June 2022
You can also follow BPoD on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook
#science#biomedicine#neuroscience#nerves#axons#nerve injury#stroke#spinal injury#central nervous system#peripheral nervous system#sciatic nerve#microscopy
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WiJ 2023 - 06: Deprived (4/10)
WiJ 2023 Navigation Post
Definitely not the monster I thought it would be, but this is all gonna be horrendous when I put it together lol, but that's a 6-snippets-i.e.-an-age-from-now problem. (God, why is the spacing on tungle acting so weird? Maybe I actually need to let this thing do all of the windows updates it wants... so inconvenient).
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CONTENT and WARNINGS: Panic attack, flashbacks, broken bones, crush injuries, spinal injury, mild description of gore, multiple whumpees, fellow whumpee acting as something of a caretaker
wc: ~1.3k
As if it could sense Cole’s distress, the debris’ weight atop him seemed to increase, forcing more air from his straining lungs than he could replenish. Each breath hurt like nothing else.
Jagged points of broken ribs dug into his muscle, while the smooth lengths dug into his lungs. Knives were the only thing comparable. He could hardly think.
Why was his ability failing him now?
Instead of the steady, reliable strength and vitality, an uncomfortably warm weakness coursed through his veins.
He couldn’t move, he couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe.
It was all too much.
It’s not real! he cried inwardly.
It had to be another of his mind’s evil attempts at dragging him back into the past. That’s all this was, just another dream. He wasn’t laying here, on his back crushed under the unforgiving weight of concrete and steel, losing his mind.
Strained, scared grunts escaped his lungs as he gave everything he had and more to budge the weight with his free arm and twisted his broken body to free a leg to help, and broken whines built in his throat when he failed. In any other circumstance, Cole would’ve been embarrassed by such pitiful sounds, but the pain was so uncontrollable and immense that he couldn’t help them.
More sand hissed and fell onto his face, and rock slid against rock; a sure sign that whatever pinned him was shifting, gifting him a heavenly inch across his chest. Greedily, he gulped at the dusty air despite the agony that rent his body without his ability.
The relief that flooded him was immense; it was worth the pain.
Now, he just had to move from under it. He’d made it this far, surely…
Cole wriggled his torso, trying to cock a leg to help take the weight.
The load did not get lighter.
Oh no, oh no no no.
He wriggled again, but nothing he did or thought could wake his dormant limbs.
It’s not real, it can’t be real.
He couldn’t see, he couldn’t think, he couldn’t…
Move.
Cole couldn’t move.
The strain was fast catching up—pain lanced and bled through every bone from his head, to his shoulders, to his ribs, and through the arm that propped the hunk of debris off his chest, but everything past his waist was… eerily peaceful.
There was no pain; not even discomfort.
Just… nothing.
Nothing.
He couldn’t feel the entire lower half of his body.
Cole’s mind raced. His chest, despite the small relief, constricted sickeningly tight. Fear ripped through his pounding heart, tearing his mind to shreds and stealing more air than the debris ever could. Around him, the faint din of machinery replaced the groans and cracks of the collapsed building, and the faint echoing voices of workers and his own, muted screams reverberated through the open floor of his old factory. The hazy ghost of a man had wondered beneath the pipes, still suspended by ropes that refused to retire. They had corrosion, Cole had seen it.
The sound of straining steel cords whipped through Cole’s mind.
The man had a partner, a kid… or was it two?
What good was he id he left him under the—he had to get him out from under—he was under the pipes and they were going to fall…!
The ropes snapped and the pipes fell and landed with a sickening crunch.
The man was safe, thrown to the side so harshly that Cole was sure something broke, but his kids would still have a father.
That was the only thought left in Cole’s mind as he fought for life, broken, pinned under the pipes in that man’s place, eyes burning neon blue for all to see.
“Call the hunters!” came a murky voice. It was soon joined by more.
It was going to happen all over again.
Cole struggled harder, unable to stop the cries that spilled from his mouth. He had to get out, he had to get away, they would go after Mel and Penny…! He couldn’t let that happen!
Something in him snapped, lending him the strength to push harder still, causing whatever was above him to groan.
A broken shriek tore through the fragments of memories that plagued Cole’s mind. A familiar voice whimpered and groaned, stumbling over his words. Cole couldn’t make them out over the thundering of his heart in his ears, and his too-fast, shallow breaths, but he was sure he heard his name. It hurt to wonder.
He just kept panting, he couldn’t get enough air, his chest hurt, he felt sick.
He was going to die under here. The hunters would find him, hurt him, and prolong his suffering.
“C-Cole…!” the voice gasped.
It was his name…
“Stop, st-stop…! Please! C-Can’t—breathe--! Hurts—!”
Can’t—
Breathe…!
Cole’s body shook now. He couldn’t fail, not again, he couldn’t let the pipes back down, but, slowly, the strain was becoming too much. He tried to breathe, but a cough rattled his chest, cutting his breath short.
Not enough, not enough.
He gasped again, greedily inhaling the staling, dusty air with a shudder.
“C—Cole—!”
Coles body failed him, sending the flat, concrete pipes crashing back down onto his body.
Already cracked ribs splintered further, but the chunk slid off him, releasing his chest.
He could breathe. He could finally breathe.
But that was the only thing he could do.
Darkness still surrounded him, and his injuries hadn’t yet healed. He could not stop the panic that clawed its way through his chest, and crushed his dry throat, refusing to relent. He didn’t move again save for the uneven dips of the breathless, shallow gasps which wracked his body.
The other voice spoke again, but Cole couldn’t comprehend a single word. All he could hear was the hazy yelling that echoed through the warehouse, and the sickening, humming laugh of a man clad in black, face adorned with a golden mask. It glimmered like the stars that swam in Cole’s vision, concealing the identity of a man whose eyes were filled with an unmistakable cruelty and ambition.
That look sent a shiver down his spine.
“C-Cole—” the voice said, “ye’re not—he’s not here—b-breathe—”
Fragments.
His mind refused to hear more than a few words at a time, and those he did, he couldn’t understand.
Suddenly, a cool, inhuman hand found his. The grip was shaky and weak, but, all the same, it wrapped its webbed fingers around his dusty palm and helped ease the uncomfortable heat of the stress and strain.
Cole’s breath shuddered in his chest, and he choked out a sob.
No one held his hand in those hazy memories, no one extended him even an ounce of comfort; no one cared for the demon broken and pinned under the pipes, but… the young belunae that laid beside him, trapped in the same, suffocating darkness did.
“Th-that’s it, I—think… yeah,” Pete said, voice hitching and strained, “just—breathe, l-long, slow b-b-breaths. Th-that’s what T-Timmy—w-what Timmy says.”
How he’d even begun to succeed, Cole didn’t know, but the smooth indentations of scales, the sharp but gentle claws that rested against his skin, and the steady shake of Pete’s hand seemed to act like a tether, softly pulling Cole’s mind back to reality whenever it strayed too far.
Cole couldn’t see, he couldn’t feel his legs, he still could barely breathe, but he wasn’t alone.
He coughed, fouling his mouth with dust and who knew what else.
“You—you okay, kid?” he rasped.
The young belunae would probably never know how much what he did meant to Cole.
He was content to leave it that way.
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#wij23day6#whumpmasinjuly2023#whumpmas in july#wij#wij 2023#whumpblr#emc's writing#whump#whump writing#original whump#nonhuman whumpee#nonhuman whump#environmental whump#multiple whumpees#Pete Spencer#Cole Nelson#panic attack#broken bones#spinal injury#mild gore
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Kan çiçekleri bölüm 26/27
After being rushed and admitted to hospital, Beran is warned Cihan may never recover, guilt drives Beran to plead with his brother to awaken..
Previous here
#Whump#male whump#whump community#kan çiçekleri#turkish#unconcious#hurt#spinal injury#coma#brothers#brotherly comfort
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No. 23 EMERGENCY BLANKET (Alt. 14)
@whumptober
@whumptober-archive
As uni became more and more stressful and full on, Fao relished his time on the rugby pitch. He could forget about the stresses for a while, and focus on his team and the game. It stopped him getting too into his head, which helped. They were prepping once more for the Challenge Cup, and things were heating up. Fao’s penultimate year, it was really starting to mean stuff. He was the new captain, too, and that meant he was really staking his reputation.
They had a friendly game that week, and Fao was looking forwards to it. Sheila had said she was coming down to watch, and he always enjoyed playing when she was watching. It always made him push to play his best, too. Not that he didn’t try anyway, but having someone in the crowds rooting for him? It was still a bit of a weird feeling, despite it being more than four years since they’d adopted him.
The team had played really well in the first half, and after an all to brief half time chat, they were back on the pitch. It had started to rain, of course, so they were quickly soaked to the skin as well as covered in mud, but it was good fun all the same. Fao loved it, thrived on it, shouting to his team and trying to score again.
Things were getting a little snippy, some of his team’s tempers frayed with a couple of fouls from the other team that had gone unpenalised. A year ago, that would’ve been Fao, swearing and threatening to do worse, but now he knew better. They’d just scored again, Fao throwing himself over the line. Still high on the adrenaline from that try, and the subsequent conversion, he was playing arrogantly. He knew it, but he didn’t care enough to stop it.
Until he got possession again, and one of the other team came at him with an illegal high tackle. His arms around Fao’s shoulders and neck, Fao’s head collided with his shoulder and he was out cold before he hit the floor.
Play was stopped immediately, the player who’d tackled Fao given an immediate red card and told under no uncertain terms to go back to the changing rooms. A couple of Fao’s teammates crowded around him, immediately worried and calling for a medic. They were all healthcare students, of course, but there wasn’t much they could do without kit. It didn’t look good, though, Fao having taken a significant impact. He was still breathing, thankfully, though it looked like he’d busted his collarbone yet again. That was the least of their worries, though, as he was still completely out.
They were looking around for Sheila worriedly, knowing full well she was there. She was always there, of course she’d be there. Fao would need her, that was sure.
“Someone find Sheila, let her come down.” One of the boys said. She’d be on her way, surely. She would’ve seen him go down, she’d be fighting through people to get to them. It would be much easier to let her down, so she could be with him.
The medics fussed, quickly taking obs and trying to get the situation under control. It didn’t exactly look good; high tackles were dangerous.
They were only halfway through their assessments when Sheila pushed through, having fought off security and the other team. A well practiced glare had had them scarpering, and she'd had to hold her tongue as she caught sight of the idiot that had caused it all.
There was a flare of panic, flashbacks she'd rather not have. "He's breathing, right? "
Matt looked over at Sheila, his attention pulled from where he’d been listening to the medics. “Sheila. Yeah, he’s breathing.”
"Still not come round?"
“Not yet, but he took a significant hit.”
"I saw." She swallowed thickly, moving closer to Fao, gently taking his hand. "You're alright, you're gonna be okay."
It wasn’t too much longer before Fao started to come round, groaning and struggling against the hands all over him.
"Fao, sweetheart, just relax. You're okay. I'm here, just relax." She murmured, softly stroking his cheek. "You're okay."
He frowned, struggling to get his eyes to focus. He could hear Sheila, he thought, but everyone was still touching him, and he hated it. He tried batting uncoordinatedly at them, but pain lanced across his shoulder as he moved it, and he cried out.
"Scíth a ligean, tá tú ceart go leor, ach breathe." She stumbled over the gaelic, trying to calm him before he hurt himself further.
He settled a little, realising it was Sheila. Everything hurt, and he was cold. Really cold. It was still raining, and he was soaked to the skin. He realised then he was shivering, and he couldn’t stop it. His eyes finally focused on Sheila and he whined, disoriented and in pain.
"Hey. It's okay." She forced a smile. "Can we get him some more blankets? He's frozen and he's only going to get cooler. I've got spare coats in the car, can someone go and get them?"
"Fao? Can you talk to us?"
The second voice confused Fao - he could only see Sheila. His eyes flicked around, looking for who had spoken, but he couldn’t see them properly. “Help?”
The medic leaned over him slightly. "We're trying to help you, we're just waiting for the ambulance, they won't be long. I need you to stay nice and still for me, okay? Can you tell me where hurts?"
He thought about it for a minute. “Everywhere?”
"Okay. Do you feel sick? Dizzy?"
He certainly didn’t feel right. He wasn’t sure if the nausea was from the shivering or not, and it was definitely difficult to stay focused. Everything was… hazy. “Yeah.” He said finally.
Matt had disappeared off to Sheila’s car to grab the coats, and had managed to find another blanket, too, which he handed to the other medic.
"Here, we'll get you a bit warmer. Probably better than our space blankets."
“Mm. Hurts.” Fao whined.
"Paramedics will be here soon."
He was still shivering despite the extra blankets, unable to get warm. It was still a struggle to focus, everything hazy, and he squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to help.
"Fao?" Sheila murmured. "Stay awake for us."
“Am awake. But dizzy.”
"It's hard, I know." The medic soothed. "But your mum's right. We need you to stay awake."
“The dizzy is better if I close my eyes.”
"Okay, can you talk to us then?"
“What about?” Fao grumbled.
"Anything you want."
“M cold.”
"We've given you all the blankets."
Fao could feel the cold mud soaking into the back of his shirt. “Mum?”
"I'm right here."
“Are you mad at me?”
"Of course not." She murmured. "Of course not."
“‘M sorry.”
"Don't be sorry. I could kill him for you, there was no need for that."
Fao frowned. “I don’t remember.”
"That's okay. You hit your head pretty hard." She soothed.
“What happened?”
"Bad tackle."
“Oh.” He struggled to take a deep breath. “Can I go home now?”
"Think we're gonna have to go to hospital, sweetheart.'
“No, jus’ help me up and I’ll go home.”
"Your mum's right, Fao. We're just waiting for the ambulance."
“Jus’ need a lift home.”
"The ambulance can give us a lift." Sheila said.
Fao narrowed his eyes. “No ambulance.”
Fao didn’t have much of a say in the matter, though, as the Ambulance arrived soon after. He was cold and in pain, and it was really hard to stay awake. They kept telling him to talk to them, but it was hard. Didn’t they know it was hard?
Sheila was beside herself with worry, gripping Fao's hand tight. It stirred up more emotions and memories she didn't want to deal with, but she had to be there for Fao.
Fao had been okay until the paramedic crew started their assessment, their hands all over him, pressing uncomfortably and causing more pain.
“Fuck off, get off!” He protested, getting agitated and frustrated. “Get off! Get off!”
"Fao, Fao, please." She tried, her heart breaking. "Just relax, they're just helping, just breathe."
“It hurts, fuck off!”
"Faolan, stop. Relax." She said firmly.
"We're nearly done, pal. We'll be on our way soon."
“Please.” He whined, his voice cracking as he struggled to breathe.
"You're okay. We're not doing it to hurt you, we just need to get you nice and safe so we can move."
Fao’s pleading turned into sobbing, heedless of the other people around him. “P-please.”
"Fao, sweetheart, it's alright."
“Hurts.” Fao said, panic rising. He was getting more dizzy now, felt more and more out of control. He was scared he was going to pass out, trembling.
"I know it hurts, darling. I know, I'm sorry. Just hold on, we'll be okay."
The nausea was rising, alongside the pain, and Fao realised quite abruptly that he was going to be sick. “Gonna be sick.” He said quickly, panic in his voice.
They moved quickly, rolling him onto his side. The antiemetics obviously hadn't worked, and vomiting after his head injury wasn't a good sign. Sheila was all too aware of it, turning away for a moment and trying to catch her breath through the rising panic.
He groaned as he was sick, the roll onto his side just making the dizziness that much worse. He tried to catch his breath, whimpering.
They did their best to keep him comfortable as they rolled him onto their board and loaded him onto the ambulance, still shivering under the endless blankets they’d given him. There was foil blankets layered under the thick ones from Sheila’s car, and yet it still wasn’t enough.
Fao’s head spun as they settled him inside. At least it was warmer, though he was still cold. He gripped Sheila’s hand tightly as they fussed, though he could feel himself slipping. He didn’t want to pass out, but it was beginning to feel inevitable, his vision blurring into black.
#whumptober 2022#no. 23#alt prompt 14#emergency blanket#fic#oc#rugby injury#spinal injury#illegal tackle#faolan blackwood#sheila daniels#rugby player fao#rugby#university rugby#whump writing#whump prompt#brothers in more than arms#unconscious#spinal board#spinal precautions#head injury#agitated head injury#vomiting#passing out#worried parent#whump#ambulance#panic#dizziness
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Hello, I have written and written and still in the process of making my whump scene coherent so bear with me please. I want to give my blorbo spine injury. Maybe break a shoulder too. How long does it take for that kind of injury to heal enough so they can stand or sit? Can they be kept alive realistically for at least 15-20 minutes before help arrives? How much blood can someone lose from it, if I throw them against a building or from a high place?
Blorbo is from battle anime btw so I mean that kind of throwing people around.
(Also just curious do you take dm requests for brainstorming? )
I just had this patient the other day haha.
Anyway, when it comes to spine injuries, the injury is either pretty minor (in that there's only a crack in the bone that doesn't impact the spinal cord) or it needs surgery to stabilize it. If the determination is that it is mild, they can sit or stand generally immediately with maybe a brace to protect the site temporarily and some movement restrictions. If they require surgery, once the surgery is completed to stabilize the injury, they can sit or stand without worsening the injury.
Generally after the surgery or injury, there is a period of swelling around the site that can cause changes in sensation (numbness or tingling), weakness, or even paralysis below the site of injury. This generally improves over time, and whatever the person is left with a few months later is more likely to be a more permanent deficit.
Really, really severe spine injuries may involve a spinal fluid leak (which needs to be repaired via surgery and requires an extended amount of time with the patient laying flat on their back to decrease pressure in the spine), or actual injury to the spinal cord itself. When this happens the patient could have a life-threatening situation in which their blood vessels, cut off from signals from the brain, dilate, which causes shock. This would need treated in an ICU until surgery to repair the problem could be performed and the spinal cord healed and the swelling went down.
There can be internal bleeding from any injury, but a shoulder and spine injury is unlikely to cause severe internal bleeding. There is an artery that runs just under the clavicle that would be the most likely to cause severe internal bleeding, but you'd have to really shatter that clavicle for that to be a problem. Also, there's an aorta near the spine but it's really, really well protected.
So I think 15-20 minutes would be very reasonable for such injuries. It would probably be painful, and scary if there was sensation changes below the site of spinal injury, but overall I think they'd be ultimately okay if you wanted them to be.
As for the DM- this blog does not, but my personal blog @macgyvermedical does (though my specialty is low-resource med and surgery).
-Ross
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