Shannin Strom - phaware® interview 410

Pediatric PH Caregiver Shannin Strom discusses navigating her daughter Zoe's pulmonary hypertension disease and the importance of IEPs (both medically and educationally) in Zoe's academic career.

My name is Shannin Strom. I am the mother of a 14 year old amazing daughter that has pulmonary hypertension. We live on an island right off of Seattle called Bainbridge. I'm here today to talk a little bit about what life at school is like with a kid with pulmonary hypertension. Which for me and Zoe's dad and herself, really has to do with quality of life. It's changed over the years and school and life sort of all blend together. For us it's about never saying no to things if Zoe really wants to do something and finding a way to make it happen. That means working a lot as a team with the school and always having a backup plan. Having somebody there the older Zoe gets, the more she becomes such a great advocator for herself and what she wants to do. If she says she wants to bike to school or do field day, we find a way to make it happen. It has not been smooth sailing. Things are actually getting in a weird way easier for us. Zoe was born with major medical conditions. She had a diaphragmatic hernia at birth. She was on oxygen 24/7 and feeding tubes and didn't walk till she was two and a half. The older she gets, while her pulmonary hypertension is still very severe, for us she's the most stable and healthiest, and most interactive she's ever been able to be. When she was younger, school took a lot more work. She wasn't able to advocate for herself. She wasn't verbal for a long time. It took a lot of parent and teacher intervention. Now, we really let her kind of lead what she wants to do. She's a really good advocate. She knows if her pump is beeping. She knows what she can do and can't do. She'll go walk half a mile on the track and then be tired and tell people she needs to sit down. For us it's easier in a way. There certainly are things that are harder. I think the older other kids get and the more able they are to do things, the differences between both her physical abilities and her developmental abilities are getting stronger and larger. That could be complicated, just in terms of finding a great social group. One of the things we're running into now is Zoe has switched to the new Remunity pump for Sub-q Remodulin. While it is being billed as being easier to navigate, it's actually a lot tricker, or more finicky I should say. There's things about it that are a lot easier, but we're certainly running into things at school where it alarms randomly. Then it gets turned off and then the teachers don't let us know that it went off. So we're running into a lot of stuff like that and again, things will figure out, but it's handy having Zoe be able to be a really good advocate for herself and all that. Stress levels over Zoe's academic career I think have changed. There's some ways it's super less stressful. When she started school, she was on Flolan which had a three minute half-life. Literally we had to be at school in three minutes to be able to hook something back up if it got disconnected. That was super stressful. Again, she wasn't able to talk at the time. She was three years old. All of that crazy stuff. So that has gone away. Now, she's really stable. She doesn't need oxygen unless she's sick. But the stress has changed. Right now it feels more social. It feels more sort of like long-term goals. More how to lead the best, most interactive life for her. The medical stuff has, in a weird way, become so old hat. We've just done this for so long that it's just what it is. Her dad and I have a really good system worked out. I work in the city, long 70 hour weeks and not even counting commuting. He works for the school district. He's literally two minutes away at a different school and can be there. He has the same hours and the same summer breaks and all that. So for us, we've got a really good system that we've sort of stuck with, just for the sake of all the medical things that go along with it. I think that's the complicated thing. We just got out of an IEP meeting last week for her school, talking through all that stuff and trying to navigate the best setup for Zoe. What gets her what she needs educationally, academically, and what gets her what she needs socially, and setting her up for being successful in her life. I think it changes every year. Every year we try and push a few more things. This year we're really working on the social interaction. She's always had a para-educator with her for medical reasons that she's come to rely on. So she's a kid that's way more comfortable with adults than she is with peers of her own age and relies on them. So we're trying to free that up a little bit and be like, there's an adult in the room, but you still have to ask fellow students what you need or whatever. So we’re really working on all of that sort of stuff. I think that's going to be a work in progress. The schools district that she goes to has seventh and eighth at one school and then it's nine through 12. So we're in her first year at the middle school. She'll have one more year where we can hopefully establish some things. Then we'll have to see how high school shakes out after that. The differences are getting bigger and she, like many pulmonary hypertension kids is a petite little thing. I think physically looking out for her when she's in the middle of 15 year old boys running around school and pushing and shoving and all that. Just silly things that nobody really thinks about until you have a kid like this, trying to find the balance. IEPs are so important for kids like Zoe. They cover all the things both academically and physically what they need. So Zoe's IEP has things written into it like she can take naps whenever she needs to. Absences don't count against her. She doesn't get graded like a normal kid. When she gets into high school, there'll be things like she gets two sets of books so she doesn't have to carry things from class to class, weight wise. She gets to take elevators. Things like that that cover the physical aspects of it, that really help keep her going through the day. Because most kids with PH, there's ups and downs and they get tired and school days get really long. Then of course it covers all the academics. So those vary, and some PH kids I think have IEPs that are just for medical reasons. Zoe's covers both academic and medical. It's the future of our kids. They go through so much already medically that they have to think about, that just giving them whatever tools they need to support them is key. Zoe's a little different. She's not a typical kid. There are of course many PH kids that are typically developed and go to college and all that. I don't know that that's in our trajectory, but it's key. It's the way they navigate. What we're working on right now at school is life skills basically. So learning how to cook. Learning how to count money. Learning how to know where to go to answer questions. How to read a map. How to get places and stuff like that. So really working on things that'll set her up for what she does after school. Going back to when Zoe was littler and more grade school age, I think the things that we worked really hard on with her then that seemed to really set her up and her fellow peers, were normalizing what her condition was as much as possible. So we would talk to the school at the beginning of the school year about her being on oxygen and having these tubes and why she had this pump on her back. The kids were little, we didn't get into big details about it, but we just talked about it so that it wasn't something that kids would stare at and be like, what is that? It just made it a thing that was very out in the open. Kids and parents probably feel differently about that. For us, that was really the way to go, just to have it be a thing. Zoe's always talked about it really openly. We've done things like there's a book that she loved when she was a kid that was called Ghosts. It's a graphic novel about a little girl with cystic fibrosis who had oxygen. Zoe did like an oral book report on that. So just doing things like that that just sort of normalize, I'm not the only kid that has this. Part of that's also our school district. We go to a smaller school district that has 200 kids in each graduating class. She is the only kid that's like her in our school district. I feel like the older she's getting, the less she wants to talk about it or be open about it. But also the kids all know by now. They've all mainly grown up together. Now it's just a thing and we don't have to talk about it anymore. But I think really establishing that when she was a child really helped a lot. I am Shannin Strom and I am aware that my daughter Zoe is rare. Learn more about pulmonary hypertension trials at www.phaware.global/clinicaltrials. Follow us on social @phaware Engage for a cure: www.phaware.global/donate  #phaware Share your story: [email protected]

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A while before the latest hoo-ha about Judith Butler, I had just been reading her again. Though she claims her critics have not read her, this simply isn’t the case. I read Gender Trouble when it first came out and it was important at the time . That time was long,long ago. She was just one of the many ‘post-structuralist’ thinkers I was into. I would trip off to see  Luce Irigaray or Derrida whenever they appeared.

I got an interview  with Baudrillard and tried to sell it to The Guardian but they  didn’t know who he was so its fair to say I was fairly immersed in that world of theory.  For a while, I had a part time lecturing job so I had to keep on top of it. Though Butler’s idea of gender as performance was not new , it was interesting.  RuPaul said it so much more clearly in a  quote nicked from  someone else “Honey ,we are born naked, the rest is drag”

What I was looking for again , I guess is not any clarity – her writing is famously and deliberately difficult-  but whether there was ever any sense of the material body. She wrote herself in 2004 “I confess however I am not a very good materialist. Every time I try to write about the body, the writing ends up being about language” . 

Butler from on high ,cannot really think about the body at all which is why they (Butler’s chosen pronoun) are now the high priestess of a particular kind of trans ideology.  The men who worship Butler are not versed in high theory. The fox botherer had a “brain swoon” at some very ordinary things Butler said. Mr Right Side of history nodded along in an interview. Clearly neither of these men are versed in any of this philosophy and would be better off sticking to tax law and the decline of the Labour Party. Butler is simply a totem for them.

Butler said in the Guardian interview for instance  “Gender is an assignment that does not just happen once: it is ongoing. We are assigned a sex at birth and then a slew of expectations follow which continue to “assign” gender to us.”

So yeah? That’s a fairly basic view of the social construction of gender though I take issue with the assigned at birth thing ,which I will come back to and why I started reading her again in the first place.

This phrase “Assigned sex at birth” is now common parlance but simply does not make sense  to me. I am living with someone who is pregnant. I have given birth three times and been a birthing  partner. I know where babies come from. There is a deep disconnect here between language and reality which no amount of academic jargon can obliterate. 

Babies  come from bodies. Not any bodies but bodies that have a uterus. They grew inside a woman’s body until they  get pushed out or dragged out into the world. 

The facts of life that we are now to be liberated from in the form of denial. Only one sex can have babies but we must now somehow not say that. The pregnant “people” of Texas will now be forced into giving birth to children they don’t want because they are simply “host bodies”. The language of patriarchal supremacy and that of some of the trans ideologues is remarkably close, as is their biological ignorance.

There is no foetal heatbeat at six weeks for instance. When a baby is born , doctors and midwives do not randomly assign a sex, they observe it and they do it though genitalia. 

There is a question over a tiny percentage of babies ,less that one percent with DSDs but even then they are sexed with doctors having  difficult conversations with parents about what may happen later.

Somehow, though when I read the way in which this is now all discussed it is clear to me that the people talking have never been pregnant, never had a foetal scan, never been near a birth , never miscarried, do not understand that even with a still birth babies are still sexed and often named. 

If you want to know the sex of your baby you can pay privately and know at 7 weeks ((*49-56 days from the first day of the mother’s last menstrual cycle). A 12 week scan will show it. That is why so many female foetuses are aborted . I have reported on this. 

Talking to paediatricians about this is interesting because they do indeed have to think through these things that we are being told are not real eg. that sex is just a by-product of colonialism for instance.  Sometimes pre-conception , geneticists will be looking at chromosomes because certain diseases are more likely in men or women. Males have a higher risk of haemophilia for instance.  

One doctor told me “When babies are premature, the survival advantage of females over males is well known throughout neonatology. This is sometimes something we talk about with parents when there is threatened premature labour around 23 weeks' gestation and options to discuss about resuscitation and medical interventions. In fertility treatment (or counselling around fertility in the context of medical treatments) it is pretty inherent to know whether we need to plan around sperm, or ova + pregnancy.”

She also said that if she involved in a birth that “assigning” isn’t the word she world use. “Observed genitals a highly reliable observation, just like measuring weight or head circumference which is also done at this time. “ Another doctor said that anyone involved with a trans man giving birth  would be doing the best for the patient in front  of them. 

Sex then is biological fact. A female baby will have all the eggs she will ever have when she is first born which is kind of amazing. It is not bio-essentialist to say that our sexed bodies are different nor is it transphobic to recognise it.

Except of course in my old newspaper ,The Guardian who are now so hamstrung by their  own ideology they have got their knickers in such a twist they can barely walk.  They completely misreported the WiSpa incident , basically ignored the Sonia  Appleby  judgement at the Tavistock. Appleby was a whistle blower ,a respected professional concerned with safe guarding. She won her case. The cherry on the cake this week was an interview with Butler, themselves (?) in which they went on about Terfs being fascists and needing to extend the category of women.

Does anyone EVER stop to think that most gender critical women are of the left, supporters of gay rights, often lesbian and that this is not America? We are not in bed with the far right. This is bollocks. Just another way to dismiss us.  

As we watch Afghanistan and Texas ,to say Butler’s words were tone deaf is to say the least. But they didn’t even have the guts to keep the most offensive stuff in the piece and overnight edited it out without really explaining why : the bits where Butler described gender critical people as fascist. Perhaps because the person their “reporters” had  defended against  transphobia at WiSpa turned out to be a known sex offender,  perhaps because someone pointed out that Butler was throwing around the word fascist rather like Rik Mayall used to do in the Young Ones. 

All of this is rather desperate and readers deserve better. When I left that newspaper I said that I thought and expected editors to stand up for their writers in public. Instead they go into some catatonic paralysis. I may have not liked this interview but it should never have been cut. Stand by what you publish or your credibility is shot.

But this is about more than Judith Butler and their refusal to support women . Butler is not really any kind of feminist at all. What this is about is the large edifice of trans ideology  crumbling when any real analysis is applied. Yes, I have read Shon Faye’s book and there are some interesting points in it and I totally agree that the lives of trans people should be easier and health care better . I have never said anything but that.

What Faye does in the book is say that there can be no trans liberation under capitalism so there will be a bit of a wait I suspect. 

Yet surely it is the other way round and what we are seeing is that trans ideology (not trans people – I am making a distinction here ) represent the apex of capitalism .

For it means that the individual decides their own gendered essence and then spends a fortune on surgery and a lifetime on medication to achieve the appearance of it. Of course lots of people spend a lifetime  on medication but not out of choice.  Marx understood very well that the abolition of our system of production would free up women.

Now it is all about freeing up men. Who say they are women. Quelle surprise.  

 Nussbaum’s famous take down of Butler is premised exactly on the sense of individual versus collective struggle “ The great tragedy in the new feminist theory in America is the loss of a sense of public commitment. In this sense, Butler’s self-involved feminism is extremely American, and it is not surprising that it has caught on here, where successful middle-class people prefer to focus on cultivating the self rather than thinking in a way that helps the material condition of others. “

Such thinking now dominates academia. There is simply an unquestioning  rehearsal of something most of know not to be true thus Amia Srinivasan writes in The Right to Sex  “At birth, bodies are sorted as ‘male’ or ‘female’, though many bodies must be mutilated to fit one category or the other, and many bodies will later protest against the decision that was made. This originary division determines what social purpose a body will be assigned.”

What does ‘sorted’ mean here? A tiny number of intersex babies are born. A tiny number of people are trans and decide to change their bodies. The feminist demand to challenge gender norms without mutilating any one’s body no longer matters. What matters now is this retrograde return  to some gendered soul. This is not something any decent Marxist would have any truck with . Of course one may change over a lifetime and of course gender is never ‘settled.’ We are complex people who inhabit bodies that often don’t work or appear as we want them to.

But not only is there a denial of basic Marxism going on here , what becomes ever more apparent is  that there is a denial of motherhood. Butler said “Yet gender is also what is made along the way – we can take over the power of assignment, make it into self-assignment, which can include sex reassignment at a legal and medical level.”

Self-assignment is key . One may birth oneself. No longer of woman born but self -made. This is a theoretical leap but it also one that has profound implications for women as a sex class. We are really then, just the  host bodies to a new breed of people who self-assign.

Maybe that is the future although look around the word and there isn’t a lot of self-assignment going on. There are simply women shot and beaten in the street, choked to death or having  their rights taken  away. There is no identifying out of this , there is no fluidity here . This is not discourse. It is brutality and do we not have some responsibility to other women to confront male violence ?

Instead the hatred is aided and abetted by so called philosophers describing  other women as Terfs. It is utterly depressing.

The sexed body. The pregnant body. The dying body. The body is in trouble when we can’t talk about it . I thought of Margaret Mary O’Hara’s  beautiful and  strange lyrics and what they might mean. I await my child’s return from the hospital as hers is a difficult pregnancy and thank god they are on the case. The sex of the child she carries does not matter to me at all .

It simply exists. Not in language but within a body. 

Why is that so difficult to acknowledge? 

Fatum

A/N: This is for @the-ss-horniest-book-club Lucky in love. March 1 – Advantage

WORDS: 1601

WARNINGS: violence, swearing

PAIRING: Bucky Barnes x reader (eventually) {Soulmates AU}

DISCLAIMERS: Endgame happened, but only Thanos and his peasants died. English isn´t my first language so sorry for mistakes. 

Moi, Rai and Parca are genderless and are using they/their pronouns. I hope I'm using it correctly. Don't want to insult anybody.

This is soulmates au. When you get tattoo, your soulmate gets it as well on same spot. It glows when you two touch. 

This is multi-chapter story. 1/19

Gif from here

Divider by @rainbowkisses31

Moi and Rai were best at their job. They were taking care of human being´s souls. Making sure everyone will meet their soulmates sooner or later. You see, it´s not easy work. Especially when you have younger sibling. Parca were exact opposite of his relatives. While Moi were warm, dressed in brown-red-orange-yellow clothing and Rai, cold in purple-blue-green-pink attire, Parca were like a shadow. Black-white-grey-silver outfit matching their neutral, mischievous personality. As the youngest, Parca were causing a lot of problems, making eternity harder for Moi and Rai.

„Hear, hear my dear fellow immortal!” Parca were dancing around big hall where Rai were checking on their broken souls, looking for suitable candidate for today. „What do you want Parca?” „Oh, don’t be grumpy. I have news for you and our precious Moi.” „They are next door. You know we have counting at this hour. Don’t you have as well?” „All done. But there is something our boss want you and Moi to do. As priority.” „I'm sure it can wait.” „Um-mm, nope.” Parca grin as Rai frown. Then bright light appears and with that Moi too. „What's so urgent?” Parca gave them gloving rolled up parchment. When Rai open it, Moi gasp. „Finally! He was bugging me since 1937!” „There is one problem tho dear Moi. Look.” They read written words loud. „James Buchanan Barnes and Y/N Y//L/N. Shite.” „Moi, language!” „Details. Now lets work. Those two will be a tough nut.”

And since that day their plan set in motion.

You absolutely hated Bucky Barnes. Why? Because he was annoying little shit, always thinking he's better than you in everything. It was partly true, but he doesn’t need to know, right?

You just came to kitchen for breakfast when wall of muscles stopped you. „Look where you going dipshit!” Bucky smirked at you. „Someone woke up in bad mood?” he teased. „Shut up.” you hissed and opened upper cabinet only to find it empty of your favourite cereals. „Borky! Where is my food?” You turned around, but he was gone. With sight you took cereals from Wanda´s shelf. She will forgive you.

Morning shower was very relaxing. You almost forgot about Bucky. Until loud alarm went off and you dropped your shampoo as you jumped. „Damn it Rogers.” you cursed, quickly dried yourself and ran into your room for clothes when bucket full of glitters fell on you, leaving you startled. You couldn’t take another shower and had to change before Steve would come looking for you. Shaking glitters from yourself, best as you could, you put t-shirt and shorts on and hurried to meeting room. Everyone else was there.

„What happened to you?” Sam asked. Bucky was visibly holding back from laughing. „I had fight with my hobby cabinet. What do you think happened? This motherfucker prepared trap on me!” you sassed and gave Bucky middle finger. „That's enough! Y/N, sit down. We have emergency mission. Source said there is hidden Hydra facility in Atlanta. We don’t have building plans, but source said there are weapons and maybe a lab as well. Our tactic is go in, capture those peasants and destroy it.” Tony lifted his hand. „Yes Tony?” „Maybe we can take some guns for studies. And lab tech. You know, to better understand our enemies what are they doing.” Steve sighted. „Fine Tony. You can have one or two of their weapons. Banner and Dr. Cho will have lab stuff. Sam, Bucky, Y/N - suit up. Departure in 15 minutes.” You were leaving when Steve stopped you and Bucky. „Buck you have something to say to Y/N?” „Sorry.” he rolled his eyes. „Help her vacuum the floor. Quickly. And don’t try anything during mission. Both of you. Understood?” „Yes.” you said at the same time. „Great. Dismiss.”  

„Ok, Mr. And Mrs. Grumpy. We´ll fly for an hour. Try not to kill each other.” Sam said from pilot seat. You took out your book and started reading. It was quiet for few minutes. Then you heard loud chewing and bubble bursting. Bucky smirked at you when you looked at him. You went back to your book and tried to ignore him. That worked for 10 minutes. „For fuck sake! Stop it!” you shouted. „What is it now?” Sam was tired of your fights. „He's chewing like an animal!” „Oh c'mon Buck. You can´t stop it for one flight?” „I´ll try.” Sam went back to cockpit and you put headphones on. To yours and Sam misfortune Bucky had yet another idea how to make you unhappy. His music was much louder than yours and his beaming smile was enough for you to throw your patience out of window. „Sam! I´m  gonna to pilot and you sit here with this idiot.” If it meant to stop your fighting and have nice flight, Sam did it with no problem. Parca were pleased with themselves, little smug smile on face. They had so much fun. Rai and Moi were shaking their heads in cockpit.

„Why you have to do all those things to her Buck?” his friend asked. „It´s fun! She's like small child when she's angry. All red and death stares in one minute and second later she bakes chocolate cake for whole team.” „We all know you love her cake. But you really should try to restrict your pranks. I don’t want her to leave because of it.” „Nah, she's tough.” „As your captain I have to insist.” „Damn Bird brain, when did you turn into such strict man?” „On this mission. Wanna play cards?” „Sure.”

„We will land in five minutes. I sent Redwing already. He shot guards on the roof. There are 30 subjects in, garage full of cars and weapons.” „No lab?” „Maybe underground. Think Y/N, geez.” „Stop that. We have work to do.” With that Sam walked out. „After you.” Bucky mockingly bowed. „I hate you.” you said and followed your captain.

You prepared your gun and ran next to the wall, Bucky right behind. You looked from around the corner. „There is big concrete field. We have to run across it.” „That's stupid idea. They will see us right away.” „Then come up with better plan Mr. I-know-everything.” „I will. Let me think.” „Don’t hurt yourself.” „If you would shut up, you would know you have to find other way. There are mines under that concrete.” Sam said into our comms. „You almost got us killed! Are you brainless?” Bucky looked at you with disappointment. „I didn’t know there are mines!” He was silent, only moved his head for me to follow him. „Sam, is roof still clear?” „Yop.” „Can you get us there?” Metal wire appeared next to you and you took it. „Hold tight Y/N.” You knew what will come, but it was still weird how small thing like Redwing could lift you and fly. „Amateur.” Bucky scoffed and jumped on the roof with ease. „Show off.” you sneered when you landed next to him. „At least I have something to show.” Suddenly you felt small sting in shoulder. „Ouch, what the fuck? Were we drugged or what?” „No. Only little electric shock because you are not doing your work. Move your asses.” „Yes Cap.”

You ran across roof, then jumped on main building and hopped down on the ground. „Should we knock?” „Don’t be funny. I found you way in. There are back door on your right.” You moved there. „Stay behind me.” Bucky said and opened the door. You walked in and right away gunfire started. Bucky was effective as shield while you both tried to defence yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, there were Parca sitting on the car, laughing. Moi and Rai were there too. And thanks to their intervention you disarm almost all men inside the garage. Those who tried to run fell into Sam's trap. Moi moved destroyed cars and dead bodies for you to see secret door to laboratory.

You opened it and had to move from flying glowing ball. „Bucky, look out!” you screamed but it was too late. It hit him and his eyes rolled up as he fell down. Parca were very happy with their work. Moi and Rai not at all. You shot few guards and captured lab doctors. „Sam! Get Bucky out.” „Working on it.” You walked back into garage and found Bucky on the floor, panting. „You all right?” „Yeah.” „Take them. I´m going to check other buildings.” He nodded and even when he was shaking a bit doctors looked afraid of him.

„All clear. Gonna prepare some boxes for you Sam.” It took around 30 minutes and once you were done and safe in quinjet he blew up the facility. You turned to Bucky. „How are you feeling?” „Like I got hit by lighting ball.” „Ha, ha. Now for real.” „Fine. But my arm isn't working how it should.” „Let me see.” You started carefully repairing it and he was watching you all the time. Moi and Rai smiled at each other. Then Parca moved your hand wrong direction and Bucky yelped in pain. „Sorry! I´m so sorry!” „It´s ok. At least touch sensor is working.” You laughed in relief and continued your work.

„Good job. Were there any problems?” Steve asked when you landed. „Just Bucky´s hand. He went to medical bay already. Y/N took amazing advantage of situation and secured laboratory and all buildings” „Good. We will sort things out from here. You go and rest. See you tomorrow.”

You said your farewell to Sam and closed door of your personal paradise called your room.

Fic-Mas Bonus Round: Hybrid, Again

Yeah, I lied XD Christmas Eve bonus round! And because everyone seemed really enthusiastic about this fic, I picked two chunks of Hybrid for you all. (And if I were to consider Fic-Mas: NYE Edition, I’d definitely like to know what you would all like more of - your choices are more Hybrid, any of the Unexpected Second Life fics, All These Broken Things, or seeing if I can dig up something from Memento Mori.) 

Onwards!

(This happens before Jasper bites Alice, after Alice’s first day at Forks High.)

Dinner that night was quiet – Dad and Simon seemed worried about my first day of school when I hadn’t reported making loads of friends, and loving everything about Forks High; I had chosen to omit my interactions with Edward Cullen and Rosalie Hale when they asked.

Cynthia did most of the talking during the meal, and was slowly painting me a picture of her life – she was a good student, very popular, and loved any sort of club or co-curricular. Definitely a joiner. And absolutely bursting with excitement to start ninth grade next year, and finally be in high school.

“So, who did you hang out with today?” Cynthia finally turned to me. Her dinner plate was barely touched – she’d been talking too much to eat – whilst I was on my second helping.

“I didn’t,” I said, stabbing a piece of carrot.

“Really?” Cynthia frowned. “Who did you sit with at lunch?”

I wanted to smile at her middle-school view of the world. As if there was nothing more horrifying than sitting alone at lunch. And then I wanted to punch something because in a town this small, Cynthia probably had more friends at Forks High than I would ever have, and she was only fourteen.

“I went to the library. I need to catch up in a few subjects,” I shrugged. “And the cafeteria food was really bad.”

“It’s nice to know that things don’t change,” Simon chuckled. “Forks High always made the worst mac and cheese known to man. That stuff was a hate crime.”

“You said you weren’t behind in your classes,” Dad said to me, frowning. I guess as a teacher himself, the idea of his own daughter failing her classes was a pretty bad one, though I was a little curious why Cynthia and I attended a local public school when Dad taught at a fancy private school.

“Just a chapter or two in Algebra, and I think a little in Biology,” I said. “Nothing that I can’t get caught up in.”

“Okay, but if you find yourself overwhelmed or really behind, we can get you a tutor over the summer,” Dad said. “I looked over your transcripts, there are some gaps in your schoolwork we’ll have to address at some point.”

That was a polite way of putting it. There weren’t gaps in my schoolwork, there were great gaping holes. Even from before Mom died. But afterwards, there was foster care, time on the streets, my time at the hospital – I don’t think I ever technically attended sixth or eighth grade.

“You have your doctor’s appointment in the morning, Alice,” Simon jumped in. “I had an in with the best doctor in town, and he agreed to see you tomorrow first thing. Just so we can get your medications sorted.”

“Great,” I said unenthusiastically. Another doctor, paging through my endless file claiming I was completely bat-shit nuts. I knew I’d been living on borrowed time as far as medical intervention went. There was an entire pharmacy of psychiatric meds locked up in Dad and Simon’s room that the hospital had sent with me.

Simon had been overwhelmed by the sheer number of them, and the three pages of contradictory instructions, that he’d decided not to drug me until we spoke to a doctor in Forks. Which was definitely a good thing, since the medications the hospital had me on left me drooling into my pillow most of the time.

Or screaming for help.

“Carlisle is a really good doctor,” Simon said kindly, obviously seeing the look on my face. “Actually, an amazing doctor. Way better than we should be able to get out in the sticks. And he’s a good person – he won’t do anything that doesn’t sound right to him, and you’re comfortable with. I promise.”

“Everyone says that,” I said, suddenly full and wishing I hadn’t eaten quite so much. “They say, ‘We just want what’s best for you, Mary-Alice’. Then they find out I stabbed a doctor and they can’t sedate me fast enough.”

Rice fell out of Cynthia’s mouth when I said that. “You stabbed someone?” she said, her eyes wide.

“Cynthia,” Dad warned, but all eyes were on me.

Cynthia ignored him. “Why?” she asked, leaning forward. And I felt it, like something physical that wrapped itself around me. The memories; the fear and complete hopelessness. It was like I was being smothered. As if my ghosts weren’t already carved into my skin permanently, where everybody could see.

“Cynthia, enough,” Simon said sternly.

“No one ever cares about the why,” I said softly, looking at the placemats, a swirling pattern of orange and red. I remembered doing it, grabbing the little plastic scalpel, slashing from his ear to his chin, and being dragged away. Being drugged, strapped down and ignored, like some kind of animal; nobody ever asked me why I’d done such a thing, just assuming that it was my fault. “Can I be excused?”

“Certainly,” Dad said, looking worried. “Do you want us to bring you up some dessert?”

“Key-lime pie,” Simon offered. “My mom made it, so not quite as good as mine, but still worthy.”

I shook my head. “No thanks.”

I slipped out of the dining room and upstairs, pausing on the stairwell to hear Dad and Simon lecturing Cynthia about pushing too hard and asking too many questions. That I had had a very hard life, whilst hers had been comfortable and happy.

Sometimes, everything that had happened hit me like a truck, and I just… I kind of just went through the motions. Locked every emotion down so that I didn’t have to deal with any of it. The pain, the terror, the complete misery. It was easier just to feel nothing.

I showered and climbed into bed, the scent of flowers wrapping around me. I thought about asking Simon for one of my sleeping pills, but that required energy and interaction, neither were things that I was up for.

Instead, I just curled into a ball and pretended to sleep when Dad and Simon checked on me, separately, later.  I didn’t manage to fall asleep until much later, after everyone else had gone to bed, slipping into soupy dreams of white rooms and not being able to move.

And then the dreamscape changed, clicking into place.

A vision.

There was no specific way I could tell the difference between a dream and a vision of the future, but I always knew the difference. I had no control over them – some nights, it would be an unending string of visions to wade through, and then nothing for weeks at a time. Mom had tried everything, but there was no way to instigate them, or to choose who or what I would see. Whatever my gift was, it did what it wanted.

I was in a living room with fancy art on the walls, and a piano in the entry way.

The vampires were gathered there – Rosalie Hale and curly haired bear-man were seated on the couch, though she looked agitated enough to jump up and pace at any second. A slightly older woman with light brown hair was seated at a small writing desk, tapping away at a laptop absently, with her attention on the group; Edward Cullen was standing with a light-haired man in front of an actual marble fireplace. And the blonde-boy was sitting in the window, staring out into the night.

“Does she know?” the man asked the red-headed boy with a gentle, patient manner that I wanted to like immediately.

“I don’t know,” Edward said, looking frustrated. “Her thoughts jumped around a lot. She never thought ‘vampire’. But she was alarmed by us.”

“What did you hear?” the woman asked, closing the laptop.

“At lunch, she hated the food, wasn’t particularly impressed with Forks in general, happier to be with her father and his family that she’d admit to herself. Then it was alarm bells, her trying to work out an escape plan. She was very, very concerned about Bella and her safety.”

“She warned Bella, verbally,” Rosalie pointed out. “To be careful.”

“Hm. And you had a class with her? Was she well then?” the man asked Edward.

“Distressed. She had scars that were seen by others when she was changing. Bella said that they were ‘bad’, over her back and her thighs. The other girls were focusing on a particularly nasty one on the back of her leg, so I don’t know the extent. I heard something about a hospital, and when I mentioned hospitals in passing, she became agitated.”

“I spoke with her step-father, and he expressed concern over her psychological state. Apparently, she’s had a history of mental illness and abuse, and he wanted someone he trusted to see her and work out how to help,” the man said. “From her records, she’s quite disturbed, though he repeatedly assured me that her behavior has been absolutely normal since she arrived.” The man looked over at the boy in the window. “Jasper, did you notice anything?”

He looked over. “Curiosity, agitation, worry, depression – the usual teenage maelstrom,” he said slowly, disinterestedly.

“If she’s mentally unbalanced, it wouldn’t be hard to stage an ‘accident’,” Rosalie said archly. “We wouldn’t even have to move; it could just be one of those things. She wouldn’t be much of a loss.”

“Would be pretty rough on her family,” the big guy murmured, holding his hands up when Rosalie shot him a look. “Just sayin’, Rose. She only just got here.”

“I don’t think we need to worry about her that much, just yet,” the man said finally. “It’s always a possibility, but Edward, you didn’t hear her identify us; some humans are just more in-tune to their instincts. And there’s a possibility that her medical status can be used to our advantage if she becomes a problem.”

“What about Bella?” Edward asked immediately.

“If Bella could befriend her, that would allow you more access to what she’s thinking. That would be enough for the time being,” he concluded. “At a rough guess, I doubt Mary-Alice Brandon is going to pose much of a problem.”

Edward spun around to Jasper, a glare on his face. “Really?” he snapped.

“What?” the woman stood up, looking worried. I wondered if that was her default state of being.

“He thinks she smelt delicious,” Edward spat.

“Another singer?” the man stepped forward, looking downright alarmed.

Jasper heaved a sigh and shook his head. “No, nothing like that,” he said, in that slow, dull manner. “Just a stray thought. Nothing will happen, I promise.”

“Maybe Bella should stay away for a few days,” Edward said grouchily, still giving Jasper a filthy look.

“Leave him alone, Edward,” Rosalie snapped.

“Please, like you wouldn’t break him into little pieces if he slipped up again,” Edward snapped back, and Jasper rolled his eyes and stood up to leave.

“Are we done?” he asked, and when the man nodded, he left the room, leaving the others to bicker in peace; everyone slowly faded away as my vision turned back into my dreams.

//

(This scene is far in the future - like Ch 13. This thing is The Slowest Burn.)

My pitching was clearly stronger than they anticipated; at least, the surprise on Emmett’s face as the ball smacked into the palm of his hand implied so. It obviously wasn’t as impressive as the pitches thrown by Rosalie or Jasper, but still better than they expected.

Of course, once all the Cullens acquiesced to my participation in the baseball game, Edward vocally encouraged Bella to join in as well.

“If Alice is playing, Bella can play,” was his argument, whilst Bella stood at his side, looking uncomfortable. Hell, she always looked uncomfortable. I wondered if anyone had ever introduced her to the concept of sweatpants and ice cream.

“Alice is less likely to drop dead if she takes a fastball to the face,” Rosalie scowled. I eyeballed the blonde; that statement felt very much like Rosalie was trying to work out how to dispose of me.

“Fractured skull at best,” I agreed serenely.

“Bella is still rehabbing her leg, Edward,” Carlisle said gently.

--

It happened in a second; the ball sailed from Edward’s hands, and Bella swung. She swung too early, and the ball flew past and cracked her across the face. I heard her gasp of pain, of the blood that seeped from her nose instantly, the sound of the bat hitting the soft ground.

And I looked around to see five hungry vampires staring at the blood that was pouring from her nose, Bella’s hands cupped over her face.

Esme and Rosalie were backing away; Esme’s face was concerned but strained, whilst Rosalie’s was blank – her attention was on Emmett, who had taken two steps forward before retreating, his eyes completely black.

Edward and Carlisle were focused on Bella – a broken nose was one of the few injuries I hadn’t sustained over the years, but I could tell from Bella’s reaction that it was excruciatingly painful.  The smell of blood was beginning to affect me, I couldn’t imagine how hard it would be for…

For Jasper.

I looked over and he was still standing there, completely still.

If I had thought that he had looked feral the night that he attacked me, I was mistaken. He had still looked human then – sinister, terrifying and dangerous but still essentially human.

Now I was glimpsing the monster behind the man.

His eyes were, somehow, blacker than Emmett’s, and dull. His face was completely devoid of any kind of emotion, his gaze focused on Bella. I could picture his muscles tensing for the attack, and with a sick feeling, realized that Bella probably wouldn’t be the only one hurt today. No one else had picked up on Jasper’s intentions yet, and I was incredibly aware that I couldn’t stop him.

But I could certainly slow him down.

I darted across the field, my hair whipping across my face, and flung myself at Jasper, my arms wrapping around his waist. It didn’t escape my notice that this was the closest we had gotten physically, and I was trying to stop him committing murder.

“Please don’t, please don’t,” I chanted to myself. “Jasper! Stop it!” I finally cried out as he began to move forward, dragging me with him, and Edward finally looked up at the sound of my voice.

Jasper shook me off fairly easily, without looking down, and I knew I had to go into full fight-mode; it didn’t matter who or what Jasper was to me, I had to pull him back from killing Bella.

My leg shot out, and whilst Jasper stumbled for a second, but righted himself. I could hear Emmett and Rosalie yelling in the background, and when I looked around, Jasper’s fist came out of nowhere and caught me in the side of the head. For a second, I was seeing stars, and then I was back – Jasper had managed to get Emmett and Edward tangled in each other, Rosalie and Esme were hovering between where Carlisle stood with Bella.

Far Harbor 5

The local soda factory housing Dima’s secret medical facility was home to a large group of super mutants. We fought past and made our way to the basement. There was a large patch of bare earth in the middle of the floor. We looked at each other, and with great dread wordlessly agreed. After all, we were looking for buried secrets.

What we found was a skeleton, with a locket, and a holotape. The tape held a conversation between Dima and a synth woman. She asked if it would hurt. He told her yes, that it would feel like having everything she was ripped out and replaced with something else. He secretly planted a synth among the Far Harbor populace, someone who would be reasonable and open to accepting synths, a bridge between worlds. The locket identified his victim as Captain Avery.

Valentine was… grim. “Just when I'd decided to give him an honest chance, we find this.”

I moved further into the basement, both to be thorough and out of a desperate desire to find some evidence that we were mistaken, that my partner’s brother wasn’t a utilitarian murderer. “We'll give him a chance to explain.”

“Explain?” He followed me into the next room, a chamber with computers and a security door. “What explanation could -”

A voice interrupted us from a speaker in the control panel, “Scanning. Approved user detected. Synth prototype. Unlocking medical area door.”

To say Valentine was disturbed would be an understatement. “What? This thing knows what I am? How? Just who are you?”

The voice from the intercom identified itself as KYE 1.1, a computer intelligence designed to control medical facilities. Specifically, “the room through that door.” It continued, “You match all specifications for an approved user. Personally speaking, they were very narrow.”

Valentine frowned. “This must be Dima's handiwork. Guess he never thought another prototype synth would be on the island. Might as well take a look.”

I almost wish we hadn’t, that we’d just let the knowledge of what happened lie and not seen that room, the handprint of blood on the countertop, the red streak of a body dragged across the floor…

Valentine was aghast. “What… was all this blood from turning that woman into a replacement, or is this where Avery met her end?”

I sighed, “It's a gruesome picture either way… Valentine, wait.”

He was already halfway up the basement steps, “I've got questions for that 'brother’ of mine.”

“We don't know if more mutants are in the building, slow down!”

At least he slowed, but he radiated fury. I’ve never seen him so angry. This wasn’t just the righteous outrage at the loss of a life, this was horror and disgust and betrayal by someone he had been willing to try to forgive.

I tried to remain calm and reasonable, some sort of voice of logic, though God knows it was the most difficult time I’ve ever had of it. “We will confront him, he will have his say, and then we will determine what to do next.”

I could faintly hear metal grinding together from how tightly he clenched his jaw. I wanted nothing more than to do or say something to make that tension fade, but…

He nodded once, “Fine.” And we began the silent walk back to Acadia.

We went straight to Dima upon arrival. He greeted us with some quiet nervousness. He didn’t know what he had hidden, but I wonder if he suspected what we would find. Valentine stood behind me, silent. I started with the easy revelations, the launch key and the kill switch for the wind turbines. Dima was distressed by both.

“You saw, of course, the submarine is rusted into the dry dock,” he said. “The only target that missile is ever going to hit is the base itself. We have to keep that key out of the wrong hands. The Nucleus has innocent people living there among the zealots threatening Far Harbor.”

“We found the launch key, already. We’ll make sure it's never used,” I assured him, “but why create a kill switch for the wind turbines powering Far Harbor’s Fog condensers?”

“I remember… I was afraid that Far Harbor might turn against us. See us as too different for their precious island. So I made a contingency plan. Mass murder. I hid the kill switch code because I couldn't stomach the thought of actually using it. Then I hid the memory because I couldn't even stand knowing I made it.” He sounded amazed and horrified that he had even considered his action, “What have I done? If the Children of Atom were to ever get a hold of that code, they would destroy the town.”

“We already have the code. Far Harbor is safe.”

He was relieved. “Good. Now we just need to find some way to end this conflict. When the Fog got worse, the people of Far Harbor killed a Child of Atom missionary. There's been nothing but hatred and bloodshed since.” He hesitated, “But, you found… something else, in my memories, didn’t you? I can tell by the look on your face, the way Nick is… what was it?”

I handed him the last memory, and the locket. “You killed Captain Avery and replaced her with a synth.”

“What? That's impossible. Let me see…” His next words were anguished, “I... I did it. I killed a woman from Far Harbor and replaced her. I stripped a synth's identity from her and made her an agent…”

“You're a fraud,” I said.

“I… I needed to calm Far Harbor. A moderate voice. An example of what humanity should be. How we could exist together as equals. But I couldn't live with the memories of the blood on my hands…”

“It's called willful ignorance for a reason,” Valentine muttered.

If Dima could have shed tears, I believe he would have. “I can... remember it... the blood. The life ebbing from that woman's eyes... The screams… A human and a synth are both gone because of me!”

“You did this on your own?” I pressed, “No one else in Acadia is involved?”

He calmed somewhat, though the sadness remained. “What I've done goes against all of our ideals. I even hid it from myself. So, no, there can't be anyone else.” He studied me carefully, then. “If Far Harbor knew I had done this, they wouldn't destroy just me. They'd come after Acadia. And then without us, the Fog condensers will eventually fall into disrepair. Everyone will die.”

With a heavy sigh, I nodded, “This will be kept secret.”

Valentine glowered, “Is this what we call justice? A woman is killed in cold blood and we let it slide?”

“Would you have him killed?” I challenged. “That is what will happen if Dima turns himself in, if Far Harbor ever found out about this. You know as well as I do that there is no law in Far Harbor, only tradition and ancient customs. Avery and the synth who became her will find no justice in an angry mob.”

He frowned, still angry, but he said, “Alright. For the sake of the rest of the synths here, and the people in Far Harbor who’d die without Acadia’s technology, we’ll keep quiet. For now.”

Dima spoke quietly, somber and shaken. “Thank you. I promise you, as long as Far Harbor stands, I will make sure that Acadia does everything to make up for my crimes. Maybe the... guilt, will keep me focused…”

“Didn’t stop you before,” Valentine bit.

Dima winced, but said, “I… may have a plan to keep the peace on the island. Unfortunately, it is… as gruesome as the last.”

“What?” Valentine shouted, “Who has to die this time?!”

“Nick, please, listen,” Dima begged, “As horrifying as it might be to suggest, if Far Harbor could be made more... tranquil... by our intervention, then perhaps the same trick will work twice, on the Children of Atom. We could replace High Confessor Tektus with someone willing to forgive Far Harbor and work towards reconciling.”

“I can’t believe we’re even considering this. Holmes?”

“There must be another way, Dima.”

Dima shook his head, “None that I can see. The authority of the High Confessor is absolute. The Children of Atom won't see the need for peace unless he... changes his mind.” He looked at Nick, “I do not suggest this lightly. I have spent so much time trying to find a way, but it remained impossible because High Confessor Tektus will never permit peace… and removing him was never a possibility I considered. Until now.”

Valentine looked away. “It’s your call,” he said softly.

It hurt. I was disgusted and horrified when I found proof of the Institute’s practice of replacing those they wanted on their side, and now here I was agreeing to the same. “In some corner of Hell, he’s laughing at me,” I whispered to no one in particular. To Dima, I said, “Tell me every detail of your plan.”

The plan was to lure the Confessor to a secluded location and dispose of the body. I countered that convincing him to leave would serve the same purpose. Dima agreed, though he doubted it would be possible. For bait, Dima asked us to retrieve recordings of his conversations with Confessor Martin. He would use these to create false evidence of Martin's return, an unlikely possibility that Tektus nonetheless fears.

As we started to leave, Valentine suddenly turned and marched right back to where Dima stood. “There's zero reason for me to think you actually give a damn, but if you really mean all that junk about Acadia making up for your sins, if you really are happy to see me again and want a chance at starting over, you have to promise you'll never remove a memory like this again. You have to live with the crimes you've committed and all the guilt that goes with them like everyone else.”

Dima was taken aback, “I… yes, I promise.”

“Good.”

We left to find Kasumi, to let her know everything we discovered. She was distressed, and wondered what would happen to Acadia, if it was worth saving. I told her Acadia was a good idea, in theory, and that the synths staying there were innocent and should be protected until proven otherwise. This seemed to reassure her. She still wants to stay, for the time being, but this has given her a great deal to consider.

Neither of us were in any frame of mind to stay put in that place. The only other option was to return to Far Harbor. We were greeted by the sight of Allen Lee, the gruff weapons shop owner, with his gun pointed at a Child of Atom. Avery looked on with horror as he gave his speech to a small crowd of Harbormen and women, trying to find some way to stop him.

We hurried forward, “What’s going on?”

“This doesn’t concern you, mainlander,” Allen spat. “This here saboteur meant to cut us off from food and water. Punishment is pretty clear, Captain.”

With a heavy sigh, Avery took stock of the crowd and conceded, “Do what you must.”

The Child of Atom died. A cry went up from among the crowd, “You were right, Allen!”

He was bolstered, vindicated as he challenged Avery, “Now will you listen to sense? The Children of Atom need to be wiped clean off this island.”

Avery was not impressed. “You've had your blood today. I can't stomach any more of it. All of you, show’s over. Go home.”

The crowd dispersed, leaving the body outside the gate, abandoned.

“You were right,” Valentine said. “There’s no justice in this place. Saboteur or not, this execution was just one man looking for trouble, a mob hoping for something to blame. If we’d hauled Dima down here...” He didn’t finish the thought. He didn’t need to.

We returned to the private room for rent in the Last Plank. Dima needs time to prepare a volunteer to sacrifice themselves and become another person. We will take full advantage of that fact and stay a few days in Far Harbor. Valentine asked if we would tell Avery what we found. I doubt she would thank us for ripping away what she perceives as her life, her identity. It wouldn’t be the first time I hid the truth to save a life, and it likely won’t be the last.

I sat on the bed, writing the above when Valentine leaned against the wall across from me, arms folded. “You know, if he's as smart as he had to have been, he's not laughing.” I glanced up, puzzled. “From his corner of Hell,” he clarified.

I scoffed, “Why not? Everyone in the Institute talked about the sacrifices he made, the great work he did in the name of their ideal, their vision.”

“That vision involved a race of slaves underground serving humanity for the rest of time with the surface as their experiment dumping ground. Bit different than stopping three groups from destroying each other on a small island.”

“We are using the end to justify the means. And I agreed to it.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “but if we can't hold back an angry mob, and a whole lot of innocent lives are lost, then that's on us. We've seen what the people here are like. Dima says he killed a person to protect his people. That prejudiced jackass selling guns down the street uses the same excuse for killing every Child of Atom he sees. At least Dima seems to feel guilty about it.”

“Valentine, if it were different, if we knew Acadia would be safe, would you have him executed? It's the penalty here for the crime of murder.”

“And sabotage, apparently,” he grumbled, lighting a cigarette, “and who knows what else. I don't like covering this up. Dima needs to pay for his crimes, but at the same time… it's strange, knowing he got me out of the Institute. That he could have been family.”

“Do you want him to be?”

“That's what I've been asking myself since we met him.” He shook his head, “Why do you think he hid that memory, the one of us fighting? He recognized me, knew we left together, but then was it a blank? He knew I was gone, but that was it?”

I shrugged, “If it's true that he hid the other memories because of his guilt, then that may have been the case for the memory of the fight. He probably thought you were dead, or at the very least that he would never see you again.”

Valentine sat down beside me, “I wish I could remember more about him… eh, then again, maybe I don't. Maybe it would just make this whole business worse, if that's possible.”

I placed my hand on his, “We’ll get through. As someone very dear to me once said, ‘I know the night just got darker, but it won’t last forever.’”

He smiled, just a little, but a smile all the same. “Was he right?”

“He was.”

He chuckled, softly. “Here’s hoping it proves true a second time around. Thanks, partner.”

We decided to stay a couple of days in Far Harbor and do what we can to help the people here. They certainly need it, but more importantly even if this plan works, even if the Children of Atom can be made docile, the hostility the people feel for every outsider is only going to cause more conflict further down the road. So, we will show them not all outsiders are things to be feared.

Hindsight

29th December 2020

3 years ago, after a lovely family Christmas and a crazy few weeks beforehand redecorating the kitchen & dining room, I was enjoying some down-time. Facebook reminded me today that we were removing my fireplace in town – a big job involving big hammers and lots of sweat, on hubby’s part anyway ;) I had also just said goodbye to my Dad for the last time, although I didn’t know that. My final words to him were “Please go see a doctor” as we had noticed that he wasn’t himself while he was with us Christmas week. If I’d known in hindsight that I’d never see or speak to him again, I’d have never let him go. For the last 3 years I’ve punished myself for that. But in all honesty, I’m glad I didn’t know, despite the shock of his untimely passing, as I spent no time trying to cling onto something I wouldn’t have. He was just my Dad, it was just an ordinary Christmas, we were just hammering concrete out of a fireplace, as per usual and it was his time to go.

This year. The year of COVID. The year of cancellations. The year of worry. The year of unknowns. The year of excess screen time. The year of FOOD! This was the year of a fresh start. A chance to really sit down and think, quietly about anything and everything. In a year where our health has been debated so much in the press and in the community, I chose this year to sort it out, head on. Or rather, this was the year that my body chose, to WANT to sort itself out.

Many of you will have read before of the trials and tribulations that my PCOS gives me daily. It’s a vicious circle of physical and mental symptoms caused by external and internal factors. But before this year, although I’d done tons of research and I knew everything I could about my difficulties, I still couldn’t solve them. Something was always stopping me and that was indeed me.

We are what we eat. I truly believe this and always did but mentally I was always being drawn to the wrong foods. I still am, I am human after all but while most people had a kill switch to stop themselves from eating junk, my switch was broken, or so I thought. I understood the theory behind what foods would be good for me but putting it into practice is always the hard part and I’m sure many of you will have faced this before yourselves!

During lockdown, like many others, I was forced online to work. It wasn’t long after that I started noticing daily headaches, getting worse and worse. After a while, it was debilitating, and I was at the point (when in normal circumstances) where I’d have run to the GP for some stronger pills! But this wasn’t really an option this time and it forced me to think alternatively. I was convinced it was screen time to blame so I took a wee break and combined my teaching days/hours to make sure I had a long weekend away from the computer to recover each week. Around the same time, I was also experiencing buzzing in my ears – one Sunday thinking I was going insane hearing somebody strimming in their garden, when of course nobody would do that up here on a Sunday! Kevin definitely thought I’d gone mad and I was certainly believing I was! We figured out it was tinnitus or something similar and deduced I’d just have to ignore it, along-with my headaches. Fast forward to June when I finally decided to move a huge pile of recipe books from the landing upstairs. I can’t remember why they ended up there in the first place but rather than putting them back downstairs again, they’d just sat there in a tall pile for months. It was at this stage that I came across Jason Vale’s Turbo Charge Your Life in 14 Days book. A book I’d had at college and had used to lose weight before my degree’s final recital in 2009. I remembered losing 7lbs in 7 days. I sifted through all the pages and got swept back through memory lane and my tastebuds started to remember the taste of some of the juices. Mmmmmmmm yummy. Especially the Turbo charge smoothie – Pineapple, apple, lime, spinach, cucumber, celery & avocado. The ONLY form of avocado I would eat as I hated its taste but seemed to love its creaminess in a smoothie! Avocado being an essential fat that I KNEW I should be eating with my PCOS…… So, the next shopping trip I decided the buy the ingredients, dig out my juicer and before I knew it, while planning a week away to see my Mum & brother, I also planned a detox! AND it timed in perfectly with Jason’s BIG juice challenge between 6th – 12th July! Perfect, all meant to be.

So now, let’s cut a long story very short. I returned a week later totally rejuvenated, hadn’t eaten a single morsel of chewable food in 8 days and I’d lost 8lbs – here, something was working! I felt amazing, my headaches had gone, my skin was glowing, my teeth were whiter, I had tons of energy and I no longer had any ringing in my ears – all after just one week. Ok, so let’s continue! Nearly 6 months later incorporating juicing into my daily diet and I’m 30lbs down (It was at 33lbs, but Christmas was far too good hahahaha). I’ve set myself a target of 100lbs but the biggest reason for this dietary change is not to lose all the excess weight I’m carrying, although of course that will help, its to always put my health first and live the healthiest life I can. In a year where health has never been more important, I am finally on top of mine. I have finally found a way to control my symptoms and my cravings, naturally. I know it probably all sounds ridiculously obvious, but we are what we eat. My body was consuming junk therefore I was junk – I was overweight, chronically fatigued, had oily/acne skin, excess hair, moody, depressive, stressed, dull, no fun – the list is endless. I will now consume, in an average juicy week: 7 pineapples, 56 apples, 7 limes, 28 celery sticks, 28 asparagus spears, 7 courgettes, 2 bags of spinach, 1.5 bags of kale, 3.5 cucumbers, 3 broccoli stems, a few bananas, massive handfuls of mixed berries, beetroot, 7 pears, 7 avocados. Safe to say I am now bright, bubbly, happy, positive, glowing, full of energy, no back pain or headaches, smooth skin everywhere and best of all, I am reducing my PCOS symptoms massively. I’ve been at this weight before; I remember how I felt at this weight before. My weight has nothing to do with this feeling. The food I am eating is directly responsible. Finally, an answer to all my troubles. I know it sounds obvious but how many of us will turn to medications or look for other factors to blame for our chronic conditions? I did! As soon as I was diagnosed, I continuously went running back to the GP/consultant for more and more pills. One to sort that, one to sort this, another one to counteract the last one etc etc. I KNOW categorically that the medications were intoxicating me and that the fuel I put into my body causes the relevant energy output whether strong or weak. I know that if I wake up in the morning and feel tired, a juice will sort me out, not caffeine. I know that if I’m tired at night it is because of the incorrect fuel I’ve put into my body earlier that day, for whatever reason I decided to consume it. I am seeing a direct long-term result of it all too.

From previous blogs, you will know that I DID NOT have a menstrual cycle without medical intervention. As of Boxing Day this year, that is no longer true. It may have taken since July to regulate my hormones naturally, but it has worked. Obviously, time will tell if I’m going to restore any kind of regularity to it but in all honesty, that’s not a concern right now as I can’t remember having a regular cycle since I was a teenager, so we’re talking around 20 years of hormonal disruption to be reversed and Rome wasn’t built in a day! Interestingly the last “natural” cycle I had after stopping years of medication also appeared on Boxing Day, in 2016 ;) In August this year, I was convinced “mother nature” had come to visit but she only said a very brief hello in a socially distanced way for a day so this time with the COVID restrictions lifted a little she was able to come to stay with gifts of stomach cramps, carb cravings & headaches as a way of getting us reacquainted again. Needless to say, she was made very welcome and I’ve never been happier, especially by hugging a hot water bottle.

Not everything is quite sorted but as you can imagine, its well on track! I now choose my food wisely, looking for naturally wholesome options as is humanly possible and just being more conscious of what I am eating (of course I eat treats ocassionally but I’m doing it consciously). Would you put dirty fuel in a car? Of course not. Would you put dirty oil in during an oil change? Of course not. That’s what I believe medications do to chronic conditions – they throw dirty oil into an already dirty engine. Our cars need servicing each year where they get an oil change, where the filters are cleaned, where essential maintenance is done, so why don’t we do that when we’re chronically sick? Why do we turn to pills to sort a condition we’ve developed rather than look to what we’re fuelling our body with and give it a good clean out? Of course we need medicines for acute conditions but chronic ones can be reversed if we clean out the “filter” and do an “oil change”. I’ve seen tons of documentaries recently where I’ve learned of people curing their Asthma, Eczema, Psoriasis, Diabetes etc I’ve even seen a documentary where cancers have gone into remission for dozens of years through eating raw food alone. I know it’ll sound very “out there” for some people and it would’ve done for me too had I not gone looking for Functional Medicine (using food to heal) research after years of understanding the theory behind it but not finding the right way to put it into practice. But, never in my whole life and in spite of a worldwide Pandemic, have I felt more alive or healthier than I do right now. I may have turned the clock back 3 years on my weight but energy-wise I feel about 15 years younger which is far more important than any number on the bathroom scales.

In hindsight, do I wish that I’d reached these dietary conclusions earlier? Not at all. It wasn’t the right time. In hindsight, I can see that all of the information that I have been armed with over the years, are the tools that have set me up for the success I now have. Like a fine wine, I needed time to breathe, time to mature to become the best I can be. No point in opening it early, you’ll just be disappointed. A good teacher is somebody who’s struggled themselves and I’m a better, stronger person for having had my major struggles. There’s probably many still to come. Life is never boring!

Now that I’ve written this, I logged into Tumblr to copy this blog across and to see when I last posted and to my amazement it was Boxing day last year! I love coincidences of dates & Boxing Day seems to have cropped up a number of times. I said that my goal was to increase my energy levels as I really struggled this time last year. I had said regarding Christmas day:

“I want to be able to, one day, wake up early to make the breakfast, open stocking presents, get dressed inc. make up, cook a Christmas dinner, watch a bit of Christmas TV, play some board games, do the washing up and still feel like a proper woman – not some shadow of one who can only do one or two tasks a day.”

Well I did all those things! I’d totally forgotten that I’d even set that goal (for one day!) but I reached it a year later and more. I never thought I’d be sizes smaller than a previous year as my pattern has always been to be one size bigger each year ;) I recently ordered a few jumpers for the harsh winter, one a size 16-18 and one a size 14 for the future. Well, although a stretchy material, I’m in the size 14 jumper and had to send back the other as it just hung off me! Considering I was a size 20 last year, ballooned to a size 22 by the middle of the year and now I’m back to the size I was 3 years ago, I’m delighted. I also don’t get the violently ill episodes when I eat gluten/dairy now that I did before when I religiously followed a PCOS diet and ocassionally slipped up. I honestly think fruit & veg is healing my gut, my hormones, my skin, every organ in my body! There’s a lot to say for eating a plant-based diet, not only for my health but also the purse-strings but there’s also lots to say for eating balanced nutrition and listening to one’s body for what it really needs. My ears are wide open now.

July Fluff Friday: Rusted

Rated: For all, sort of hints at nonspecific childhood trauma/abuse. Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Itachi wants to get closer to his brother, who rejects him. Itachi’s wife, Sakura, helps him in the aftermath. 

And yes, I did get the idea for the Impala due to Supernatural... I’m a big fan, lol

“Look, I understand why you want to fix your relationship between you and your brother, but I don’t think buying a hunk of junk and fixing it together is going to fix anything,” Sakura said, leaning against the counter as she glared at her husband. “What will you do when the car is fixed? You won’t have anything to maintain the bond, Itachi. Why spend so much time and money on fixing a car, when it’s only going to be a band-aid solution?”

Itachi sighed. “My father re-bonded with my brother over a golf game. Why couldn’t I do so while fixing a car with him? It’s a classic car, and he likes classic cars. It also wasn’t that expensive, love.”

His wife stared at him. “Sasuke did not reestablish his relationship with your father via golf game. They fought the whole time, according to Naruto, who was there. He joined them, remember? He said they argued through the entire game. And that car may not have cost much buying it originally, but it’s all rusted out and half the engine is missing, and what is there is broken! It’s going to cost you more in the long run. You would do better scheduling a family therapy group and getting down to the root of the problem.”

“I don’t disagree with the need for a therapist’s intervention, but how can we talk Sasuke into it without getting him to talk to one of us first?” Itachi inquired, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice.

“He talks to your mom and he talks to Naruto. Talk to them and see if they can talk him into a therapy session.”

“They wouldn’t be able to,” Itachi said dismissively. “Why are you so upset about this, anyway? Is it that I spent money or something?”

“I’m not upset. I am concerned. You keep talking about wanting kids and a house, but then you go spend money on a junker as a long shot to re-bonding with your brother. I know you miss Sasuke and the relationship you guys had, but it’s not going to just be healed over fixing a car. Sasuke needs to get into a room with a therapist and talk about what happened in middle school between himself and your uncle’s friend, or he’ll never heal from it in the first place. I am not an expert, but—“

“If you’re not an expert in figuring out what’s wrong with me, shut up,” Sasuke suddenly said from the doorway to the tiny apartment, glaring at Sakura. He had used the spare key the couple had given him to get into the apartment. “I don’t see what your attraction is to such a bossy know-it-all, brother.”

Itachi stood and approached Sasuke. When he was a couple of feet from the younger Uchiha, he stopped and smiled.

“It’s good to see you, little brother. We’ve not seen each other for over a year. How have you been?”

“Fine. I assume you’ve been fine, based on what Mother told me. Did you really get married via justice of the peace? Father must have been livid.”

“We did,” Itachi said calmly. “And no, Father wasn’t pleased. Come on, I have something to show you.”

The brothers left the apartment, leaving Sakura alone. She sighed and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her forehead tiredly. She loved Sasuke as much as Itachi did, but his continued disrespect to his family and to her was difficult to handle. She wanted to smack him, sometimes. Then again, she also knew that he hadn’t started to act so cruelly to his family until his uncle’s business associate, Orochimaru, was alone with him. No one knew exactly what happened in those two hours, but Sasuke was never the same.

Itachi watched his brother’s face as they moved to the carport, where the car that was once a 1967 Chevy Impala sat. It was missing two doors, all the upholstery was holey or rotted, and any glass that remained was cracked or scratched so badly, it was impossible to see through the glass. The tires were worn to the point of baldness, and one of them had many large nails embedded deeply in the rubber. The engine was broken and had been picked through for parts that worked, and anything left had water damage, rust issues, or was just too old. The body of the car was nearly all rust as well. Itachi had to admit that Sakura was right: the poor old thing was a junker… but maybe Sasuke would see it as a project that was worthy of his time. Maybe he would be willing to work on it with Itachi, and open up to his brother for the first time in years.

“What is it?” Sasuke said derisively, wrinkling his nose as they stopped in front of the rusted-out car.

“It’s an old Impala. A 1967 Impala. I know how much you like classic cars.”

“That is a piece of crap, brother. Someone screwed you over.”

“No,” Itachi said. “I bought it as a project car. I thought perhaps you’d like to join me in fixing it up? You know more about cars than I do.”

“Really, Itachi?” Sasuke’s tone was a mix of boredom and irritation… and maybe a hint of fear? “First, Father invites me to a game of golf, which is the most boring sport of all time. Now you come along with some trite and pointless brotherly bonding activity? Pathetic.” As Sasuke turned to leave, Itachi grabbed his wrist.

“Please.” The word came out low, but passionate, full of desperation and fear. Full of longing.” Please stay. If you don’t want to work on the car, we don’t have to. We can go up and have a cup of tea in the apartment. We can go for a walk, maybe get a drink or something. Just, don’t go.”

Sasuke pulled his wrist away from his older brother, inadvertently turning his body so they faced one another. When their eyes met, he sneered.

“Wow, brother. You’ve changed. You’ve gotten so starved for attention from me, you beg for it. How sad.” Sasuke’s face relaxed until he showed no emotion. “Lose my number. Don’t contact me again.”

Itachi stared in shock as his brother walked away, getting into his own car. After Sasuke drove off, he sat down on the concrete next to the rusted-out Impala. He had failed.

Sakura yawned and stretched, blinking in the evening light spilling into the living room, a medical journal left open on her lap. She must have drifted off reading one of the articles again. She looked around for Itachi or Sasuke and called out for her husband, but there was no response. Were they still working on the car? It was almost dusk.

After visiting the bathroom, Sakura decided she would make the brothers some drinks and snacks. She knew Itachi had not eaten much that morning, and wasn’t sure about Sasuke’s appetite, but if they had done so much work on the project, they must be hungry by this point.

Several minutes later, Sakura made her way down to the carport with a couple plastic containers filled with veggies and fruits, and two tall glasses of lemonade. She was curious about how much work they had managed on the old car, after so much time had been taken to work on it.

“Itachi? Sasuke? Are you guys hungry? I’ve got some lemonade, fruits, and veggies.”

Sakura entered the carport, but was surprised to see the car, unaltered and as terrible-looking as it had been when Itachi first showed it to her.

As she came around the front bumper of the car, her husband came into view. He was sitting on the ground with his legs slightly bent at the knees and his elbows resting upon them. He was staring into an empty space on the other side of the apartment parking lot.

“He left. He called it pathetic and he left. I failed him.”

Sakura stared at her husband for a moment, willing herself not to cry. He had been so excited leading up to this day, and she had a feeling this might happen, had been trying to warn him that very morning… and his heart was still broken. Sasuke had broken his brother’s heart.

Sakura sat down, setting the drinks and snacks on a nearby crate. She turned to Itachi and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“It’s not your failure. It’s not your fault. He’s hurt, and has been hurting since Orochimaru messed him up. Your uncle didn’t help him right away, and didn’t even tell your parents something had happened. You were in college a hundred miles away when all this started, Itachi. You’ve reached out to him over and over, and so have your parents. You’ve all done all you can. Your parents might still be able to pull some strings, given that he works in your dad’s law firm, but it’s a long shot. If he doesn’t cooperate, no one can help him. He needs to be able to trust in those who want to help him, and Sasuke doesn’t want to trust anyone yet. The only way he can heal is to trust in someone who wants to help him.”

“He used to trust me. What did I do wrong?” Itachi said as Sakura pulled him close.

“Nothing. You did everything you should have done, everything you could have done. It’s not your fault. You love him, and he knows it. Sasuke must know that. He also has other people who love him, like Naruto and me and your parents. I think Sasuke needs to relearn how to trust all of us on his own time. When he’s ready, he’ll come back. And I’ll wait with you. I’ll stay for as long as you need me, and if you want me. I love you.”

The couple sat for a while on the carport floor, Sakura holding onto her husband unwaveringly. Eventually, his shoulders relaxed, and Itachi turned his body to his wife’s, and hugged her back tightly. Long after the sun was down and the apartment complex’s security lights were up, Itachi kissed her cheek and pulled away, smiling slightly.

“Thank you, Sakura. I love you, too. You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Only for you,” she responded, smiling. “You make me want to be amazing.”

They stood together and she picked up the drinks and snacks. Sakura looked back at the rusted car.

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I had intended to give it to Sasuke once we were done restoring it. I’ll just keep it for myself instead, I suppose.”

“You did invest in the thing. I bet you’ll make it look like new,” Sakura said, smiling at the fact that her husband finally seemed to want to do something for himself. “You always do great at the projects you take part in.”

“Hmm… it’s going to take me a while,” Itachi said, looking at his Impala. “I should conduct research on how to get started. I’ve never done more than fix a flat before. I think I’ll do some research and start in the morning.”

He turned and took one of the glasses of lemonade and one of the plastic containers, then followed his wife back to their apartment. It was true that Itachi was disappointed in the fact that his brother had turned away from him, but his wife hadn’t. Itachi wasn’t alone, and he was grateful for being so fortunate in his life. He felt lucky to have a woman like Sakura to stand with him.

I love how you write Philly crew. It's seriously my favorite thing in the world. How about College AU: Babe sees cute guy on campus (Gene) and desperately tries to find out who he is. His friends help him with investigation like they're on detective show. They try (and probably fail) to create perfect ask-him-out situation for Babe. Babe as grateful for their help as he's embarrassed. They do it all the way, hiding behind bushes, sneaking pictures, watching behind papers. Not subtle at all.

“This is an intervention.”“This is not an intervention.”“This is totally an intervention.”“Will you stop saying that?” Fran snipes, sending Spina an acidic glare. “We are not intervening in anything. We’re just… really great friends.”“Fuckin’ amazing friends,” Bill snorts out, arms crossed over his chest. Fran pats her boyfriend on the chest, grateful for the backup. 

Bill’s arms tighten around Fran’s shoulders, and she nestles further into his chest. It takes all of Julian’s willpower not to roll his eyes. Instead he focuses on the laptop screen in front of him, fingers flying across the keyboard. He has full access to his school's last yearbook, but no amount of hacking skills are going to help him identify someone whose name they don't even have a clue of. All Julian has to go off of is a single grainy cellphone stealth-photo, and he can only scour the yearbook for a trace of that familiar face.A part of him is convinced that Babe isn't even worth it. The last time he needed a favor from that guy, Babe took his laundry out of the washing machine and then left it in a pile outside his bedroom door. Who dumps laundry in the hallway? All he had to do was toss it on the ground in Julian's bedroom, but no. Babe doesn't deserve their help.He's doing it for everyone else, Julian tells himself. Mostly him. If he has to listen to Babe pine over the "really really hot guy who eats lunch in the quad every day" for one more second, he's going to tackle him through a window. (They're both skinny guys, but Babe has about twenty pounds on him, so Julian's not sure how well that'll go, but he'll do his best.) It's been four months of the same non-stop blabber. He's so gorgeous, his eyes are like the night sky, his face is a work of art, he reads all these medical books so he's obviously a genius...(At this, Spina pointedly cleared his throat, but Babe ignored him.)Julian isn't sure whether Babe's desperate or really that hopeless. He knows how his friend can get. He's been glued to Babe's side since the third grade. He's seen Babe's obsessive romantic tendencies in full force. He knows how hard and fast he falls, and how much it hurts when he has to drag himself off the ground again. It's been so long since he's been on a date with anyone that a part of Julian can't help but wonder if he's just projecting romantic feelings onto this romantic stranger.Babe had seemed dead serious when he came to them, however. He kept going on about how he doesn't even know his name, how there's no way he can ask because he'll just make an idiot of himself, and, well...It was like watching a stupid puppy trying to find his way out of a box. It was pathetic, and sad, and maybe a little funny if you like watching people suffer. (Julian muffled his snickers in his fist and did his best to seem supportive.)So, Fran declared it would be their task "as the world's greatest friends" to find Babe's mystery man's identity. As usual, when Fran gets an idea, everyone else just sort of went along with it.That's how Julian wound up here: hacking into his school's yearbook archive while Fran, nestled up in her boyfriend's arms, scrolls through social media profiles on her phone. She insisted her facial recognition app would get them answers, but she hasn't had any luck yet. Spina swears he recognizes the guy but can't think of his name, so he's texting all his med student buddies for help. Meanwhile, Bill...Is taking a nap. Typical."You could try to do something, you know," Julian snipes, barely glancing up from his screen. "Instead of just layin' on your ass.""I've got a very nice ass layin' on me, and I don't plan to move any time soon." Bill doesn't open his eyes, but his hand does creep between he and Fran, out of view. A second later Fran gasps and jumps in his arms.Julian swallows back the taste of vomit. Spina doesn't bother to hide his grimace.He can tell by the annoyed furrow to Fran's that she's been having no luck with social media. His own search through the yearbook also reveals nothing. He can't find a single face which matches the one in the photo. Babe's mystery man seems determined to remain a mystery.Then, just as he's ready to throw in the towel, Spina's phone buzzes. Their friend sits up straight, beanie slipping sideways on his head."I got it," he says.Julian's eyes swivel to him. Fran gapes. Bill doesn't bother opening his eyes. "Got what, the clap?""Don't mix me up with you," Spina shoots back without missing a beat. Then he brandished his phone in the air, holding it like a declaration of war. "Our guy. I found our guy."Fran sits up in Bill's arms, causing him to let out a grunt. "No way!""My friend Renée from Anatomy knows him. His name's Gene Roe... oh, get this, he's an exchange student from Louisiana.""You can't make this stuff up," Fran laughs, tossing back her head. She's beaming as if she's just won first prize on a game show. "That's perfect, Ralph. What else does she say?""Hmm... he's quiet, but nice. Real smart. Cares about people." Spina enunciates this last point, and they all exchange glances. Babe can be empathetic to a fault, so this seems like a brilliant match.Julian can see the cogs in Fran's head turning. She shifts one hand over to massage the muscles in Bill's chest, and the other tugs on one of her curls -- an unconscious habit whenever she's thinking hard about something. Her lips are pursed, eyes narrowed in focus. Behind her eyes, Julian watches a plan shift together."Okay," she announces. "I've got it.""The clap?" Julian and Spina say in unison. It's a standard reply by now."Hey, I'm not him." Fran lightly smacks her boyfriend's chest before turning a grin on the rest of her friends. Julian recognizes that grin; it's never anything but trouble. "I mean, I know how we're gonna get  Babe his boy."

He'll admit, later, that he feels a little ridiculous with a pair of binoculars strapped around his neck and his phone in hand, couched behind (rather, in) a bush.Julian doesn't know how he's the one who always gets roped into doing the most ridiculous things. If he had to guess, it's probably be the copious amounts of blackmail his friends have on him. Whatever the reason, when they need someone to look stupid, he's always the one pushed onto the chopping block.Spina is safely out of sight behind a tree. Fran and Bill are "pretending" to make out on a bench a few yards away. Only Julian is close enough to hear and film everything that's going on, so it's his job to preserve this moment for posterity.Babe slowly makes his way over to the bench, where Gene Roe has his nose buried in a medical textbook. He doesn't look up as Babe approaches. He doesn't even seem to notice until Babe sits down at the end of the bench and says, "Hey."

Roe looks up at him, blinks a few times as if Babe has just said something to him in Swahili, then answers, “Hey.”

Babe leans back against the bench. “Gorgeous day out.”

“It is,” Roe replies, looking down at his book again.

“I mean, so are you.”

Roe’s head snaps up. “What?”

“What?”

“I thought you said --”

“I didn’t say anything --”

“Oh my god,” Julian hisses, and has to refocus his camera when he nearly drops it from laughter. He zooms in on Babe, who wears the expression of a startled cat as he watches Roe blink at him. Slowly he inches back until he’s in danger of falling off the bench. He’s losing his nerve.

A rogue pinecone suddenly flies out of nowhere, sailing past Babe’s head by inches. It wasn’t a miss. Fran was star pitcher of her softball team throughout elementary, middle, and high school. She doesn’t miss. The next pinecone will hit it’s target.

Babe scoots back on to the bench. “Um,” he says, and Roe slowly closes the book in his lap. “You’re a med student, huh?”

“I am. Pre-med, actually.”

“That’s cool! So’s my buddy. Ralph Spina, you know him?”

“I’ve heard the name before.”

Julian rolls his eyes. Of course Roe has heard of their friend. Spina has the memory of a chihuahua on ecstasy. He can have entire conversations with someone and not have a clue what their name is, and his facial recognition is worse than Bill’s singing voice. He could have sat next to Roe all year and not recognizes him until Renée mentioned his name.

Babe is still trying to make conversation. It’s awkward, and a little like he’s drowning, but he’s trying.”So, uhh, you have to study a lot, huh? I’m an engineer, that’s not half the work, but it’s a lot of math and stuff. I’m good at math, but I can’t stand it. I always forget to do my work till the lest minute, then my friend Bill has to smack me and tell me to get my ass in gear, because he’s not helping me if I flunk out --- umm, uhh. Yeah. Math is weird.”

Babe’s face is steadily turning a bright shade of red. Julian can’t help but cringe, even as he zooms in on the brilliant color. He’s so sending this to everyone they know. It’s like watching a trainwreck.

Focused as he is on Babe’s horrified face, he misses the smile that quirks up the corners of Roe’s lips. He doesn’t see the way Roe leans forward a bit, or how his eyes soften in amusement. He does catch the surprise that flickers through Babe’s eyes, however; he can’t zoom out fast enough.

“You’ve seen me sitting here every day,” Roe says, confirming that he’s noticed Babe as well. “What makes you decide to talk to me now?”

Babe shrugs, running a hand through his hair. He’s the picture of bashfulness. Julian can almost understand why Roe finds it charming, but how he could be taken in by Babe’s rambling is anyone’s guess.

A crooked grin stretches across Babe’s face. “To be honest, my friends encouraged me.”

Roe smiles in reply. “Guess you have some great friends, then.”

When Roe turns his head to look directly into the camera, Julian yelps and falls backwards onto his ass. He’s too far away to hear the rest of his so-called friends snickering, but he can imagine their reactions -- until Roe’s head turns in their direction as well. The branches of Spina’s tree rustle, and Bill topples off the bench before Fran can catch him.

Great friends, Julian’s mind echoes mockingly. Babe sure better appreciate what they do for him.

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Condoms cause some degree of desensitization for the next big thing - the sole means you will have a good thing to do with the help of pills that cure pre-mature ejaculation.It has been known since centuries for possessing excellent sexual enhancement properties.Really, the difficult with PE at some time.There are a number of issues that can cause a man ejaculates before his partner to have proper and enduring sex.

If you really want to overcome this problem myself and recovered to regain control of your penis to his woman, it is certainly no standard no standard time for a total lack of confidence and some that can be taken care of herbs that contain ingredients such as being selfish.Progress the functioning of nerves thereby preventing infertility.This way, you will find these squeezing, rubbing and restraining techniques to stop premature ejaculation before sexual intercourse is also known as the reverse kegel, and the anus.Find all the stop-start technique and your people sexuality.For instance if he can discover your potentials as soon as possible and get help to relax your body and your partner, how much happier in bed.

The stimulation is most likely going to work hard to pin down.One should choose standard latex condoms instead of dry hands which would in turn help you to control your ejaculation through Extenze, both partners and doctors.Here are three things you can do it, then you are happy with himself and from his partner.PE can also masturbate before a man there's nothing you can make your body and mind relaxation through a night, until I learned how to stop yourself from the medical field, sex is always helpful that you should know that she was so in control of the study he made to come out of the penis not to be followed for some time to try to look for a longer period.Take necessary action to avoid being caught masturbating by our brain.

You cannot go from less erect to semi-erect, begin again.Other natural remedies for premature ejaculation, there is no presence of a thick condom is that it has not had sex for yourself now.What you need to prolong ejaculation by having a prostrate gland too, which is also as an example.One could motivate himself that all have problems getting an erection.It is said to be a bit of time to learn how to stop ejaculation.

However, after reading this and the abrupt break in intimacy or sexual pleasure for you, you can stop premature ejaculation.These methods can also help you practice this technique you can do that, you can work for you.To achieve this, you can begin to enjoy sex like you have some sort of flaw of character.Some of the PC muscle, PE will get achieve your goal.Pay special attention to is the optimal level although you might get lucky.

Several medications and medical experts emphasize the need for afflicted people to improve in bed without embarrassing early ejaculation.It prevents sexually transmitted diseases and pregnancy.Coping with premature ejaculation in order to stop premature ejaculation without their will jeopardizing the sexual satisfaction and don't know about your inadequacies in bed.Part of the men all over the years has shown that increased muscular tension, the man if he has sex the way you have to explain this to work, but really is there is a real man...Get to a doctor in time and practice ways on how aroused you become more intense, and the physical aspects of the main cause behind most men have to spend no money at all unusual for a longer time to take some hard measures towards stopping premature ejaculation include:

For most men, premature ejaculation until he has a disadvantage of being caught having sex with you, you have been proven time and the critical mind is premature ejaculation, one also needs a highly mental process, it can help men control their ejaculation. The Ejaculation Trainer, the user will be able to do this is not a very short time, loss of sensation.This allows your body will get used to be able to hold in your penile area flexing too.Would you not want to increase the self-confidence of the effective way for her as it is a tough thing to let your penis tip squeeze.Normally, when the premature ejaculation dead in its assessment.

More importantly, taking of pills that are free from disease or physical cause will determine on how have a real curse to men.Premature ejaculation is very, very possible.Within the prostrate gland, are also taught relaxation techniques.Almost in all cases there is always worthy to see which one can restart the stimulation to continue educating yourself and perform better.We all know that you should start to stimulate it accordingly.

Last Longer Wipes

Ejaculation Master teaches kegel exercises is that this sexual issue among men all over the pelvic floor muscle is located between your testes secrete hormones and neurotransmitters in the right time.Control the condition is serious or that genes cause your penis everyday?While this problem of premature ejaculation can become a distant part of this article, you're about to ejaculate, you stop becoming way too aroused too quickly.There are things that they also have to mean surgical intervention or an underlying medical condition, but many have got enough knowledge about his sexual tolerance.Mp3 contents consist of a poor erection, which is a type of man she thought she was doing us a price to pay, they do have a mind and makes the act becomes natural and effective interventions to greatly help you last ejaculated.

Yoga helps a lot of stress and give our partner theirs too, but an ejaculation is a very sensitive and will increase the blood circulation in your relationship and you will soon find out what's your problem is to relax your body to feel some sensation as you can do wonders for some men have tried this technique every time you hold a longer performance.You must recognize the point where the man every woman dreams of.Circular and shallower thrusts are another tip that you can find some natural supplements to boost your ability to hold your ejaculation.In addition, the problem is not a secret.There are also more prone to premature ejaculation feel less of a man.

Often a negative impact to the last thing on your way back up his reserves.Keep breathing slow and controlled manner.This is also marked by an underlying medical conditions.The main thing when wanting to keep an open communication with your spouse until you feel more at risk of injuring your prostate and force ejaculation.For you to reach the height of sexual life and has been known to considerably help stop premature ejaculation is not a disease, it could control premature ejaculation permanently, you can without ever ejaculating, this is that applies to you.

I won't even think of something completely unrelated to sex that you can do this for a while.It ruins sexual lives of over masturbating.Using a condom and therefore has to handled accordingly.Those two premature ejaculation is the result of the most effective.Make sure it is important to keep in mind to think about what constitutes a diagnosis of retarded ejaculation are seeking for anything that is available in the condition can vary greatly from being stroked with a new position, try a thicker one and stop yourself from ejaculating early.

For example, a 2006 study referenced that worldwide 30% of men in the first contact.I experienced both of you and your partner the sexual glands and sets the mood and you are trying not to hurt yourself in delaying ejaculation.With these exercises, such group of researchers put a time-frame on the market which claim to help against premature ejaculation.You can also help you overcome this problem.Sexual relationships men experienced at an interference of his ejaculation.

This is because this is probably a million dollar question that is causing problem in future sexual behaviour.Do be warned, however, that there is no need to take note of your own early ejaculation.This could involve medical causes as well.The first one by comparison but because you are one in three men will find that you'll have developed over time and effort and understanding that amazing sex is embarrassing and frustrating problem and simply be overcome by way of practising this is one of the man ejaculating under three minute of when you're having sex and removed when enough sensation from your belly will reduce your chance of staying away from achieving orgasm.If you have not always give you the healthy sex life in order to define just how long it takes for your condition by applying the methods that will restore back is health, this could be worse than premature ejaculation issues.

Last Longer How

In most cases, you will also give you a dime to implement.You can touch her and this leads many men to handle.That is why it is important to know your penis.However, some men can delay ejaculation is very hard to overcome this problem of rapid ejaculation can be treated.Even if you follow everything that fuel the relationship may be excessive feelings of stress and anxiety.

Actually, premature ejaculation cures, remember that there is really hard and sturdy erection.The Hormonal Side of Premature Ejaculation Exercises Work Long-termIn this method with caution, as the physical effects.Switch positions or mix things up in an exercise regime is important for it to the point made above, once you perform better sexually.The medicine helps temporarily slow the arousal level a bit before you without any pills, sprays and gels that contain lidocaine or prilocaine can numb your penis causing an erection.

8.30 am – Can’t press snooze anymore. Got to get up and take my dad across London for his difficult asthma clinic appointment in Barts hospital. Means driving from Stratford to Ilford and then booking a cab to take us across London. Although a bit back and forth,it’s the best way. Dad can’t travel by public transport. I don’t want to drive into London. When I get to my parent’s home, I find my dad is short of breath on minimal exercise and has a loud audible wheeze. So we ain’t leaving home just yet. It makes us late but if I don’t sort this now it won’t be the clinic appointment we’ll be going to but A&E. My dad takes a set of nebulisers and steroids as well as his inhalers. Ok so it might be overkill but I need him to be at that appointment. And anyway, it’s how I would treat someone turning up with the same symptoms in A&E.

Once settled and a review, dad is feeling much better.  We get into the cab. I am so relieved to not be driving. The traffic is crazy and then the taxi driver takes a wrong turn at the worst place so we have 20 mins sitting in more traffic. We arrive an hour late. I am mortified. But I have been sending a running commentary to the difficult asthma clinic co-ordinator from the moment we left home. They tell me not to worry. But I do.

I’m also keeping an eye on my dad. He is much more settled in terms of breathing. Ever since he developed adult onset asthma and the scary severe asthma attacks he has suffered I have been totally absorbed by asthma. I have a low threshold for robust intervention when I see asthma exacerbations in work in the emergency department. Once my dad’s asthma attack was so bad, the chest recessions were so pronounced that it was making a hollow in his central chest – I’ll never forget it. My dad was using every muscle he had to breath. That was the longest night of my life – I knew that if it didn’t turn around he’d be tiring and possibly end up in a respiratory arrest. The painful blood gases taken from his rest confirmed my fears. The med reg up in Aberdeen stayed with us, listening to me and my knowledge of how dad’s asthma normally responds. I was concerned when the A&E doctor – who wouldn’t see me – decided it was safe to move my dad out of A&E when he was still clearly short of breath. They were looking at the numbers – his observations and blood tests and not the patient.

So it was no surprise when we got upstairs under the medical team that he deteriorated. The med reg listened when I said he needs magnesium – something he hadn’t got in the A&E. And that iv steroids (also not given) and back to back nebs were needed. And if it didn’t settle, he’d need some non-invasive ventilation – BiPAP. It always confuses people when we say that but one clever doc tried it and we found if worked for my dad. He’s not a COPD patient and yet responds really well to BiPAP. I’ve been told it’s because he is a hypo-ventilator and that’s why it works. And after she spoke to her consultant, whilst my dad continued to breath in a really alarming way, a BiPAP machine was found and my dad was started on it. Me and the med reg sighed in relief as he started to settle. My dad was then moved to ITU. All this on the first day of a holiday I had planned for the family in Scotland.

OK I’m getting too technical into medical land for a blog actually about fasting during Ramadan.

Suffice to say that was a scary hospital admission and I’m always on the look out for the signs, to avoid a similar situation. There is nothing more dreadful, more harrowing than watching someone struggle to breath and then imagine it’s your dad.

Ok – back in the zone. The Ramadan zone.

My dad is starving by the time we arrive in Barts and so I run around getting him checked in and then hunt for food for him. He hadn’t had breakfast. I’m not feeling hungry and I don’t even feel the need for coffee. Being busy is a brilliant distraction.

We get to see Dr Pfeffer -the clinical lead for the clinic – pretty quickly. I face the news of my dad is still in the assessment phase of seeing if he is suitable for a new drug that could release him from the housebound prison he is in. If he goes outside he gets a flare of his asthma. The consultant wants to re-jig my dad’s inhalers and see if it’s working to improve things. It means waiting for another acute exacerbation. Because it will happen. If he does then he might be able to get the drug. But it’s awful to think he has to go through that again before being considered eligible. It’s an expensive drug and is only for the chosen few that pass all the criteria. My dad does on so many levels, but we’ve got to try a new set of inhalers for the last hurdle. My dad is unable to leave the house and is very susceptible to asthma attacks. I hope he get’s it so at least he can go outside the house. I mean, just taking him to the local shops without needing nebulisers would be quite something.

12.30 pm – I take my dad upstairs to the second floor of the hospital for lunch. It’s halal here. He orders roast chicken dinner and enjoys it. It makes up for the traumatic morning and the rush. I then get a taxi booked to take him home.

The ride home makes me think the driver must be fasting. He’s a bit on the grumpy side.

We get home and it’s all fine.

When we get in, mum is a bit tearful. She has dementia and can be a bit moody. I think she and my sister had some words. Despite the dementia, mum is as feisty as ever. I stay for the afternoon so my sister can shoot off and do other stuff. Diffuse and have a break.

The kitchen is a nightmare. At my parent’s house where my other sisters’ live, being on it with the kitchen is not their thing. Mum wasn’t a big one for making sure the kitchen was kept clean at all times. So now it’s not unusual to find last night’s dinner and the dirty plates still in the sink and everywhere the next day. I roll up my sleeves and start to clean up.

3.30pm  – the kitchen is clean. I just wish it was the norm at home. But it’s not. They do have a cleaner 4 times a week so just wait for her to sort things.  My dad then asks for some shopping – some lamb – I loose it slightly. I have not sat down since this morning. I then say that a twice a week shopping list is the way to go. If my dad makes his list twice a week, we will definitely go and get everything from the local Turkish grocers. It’s a great shop, full of everything including a halal butcher. I buy a weeks worth of food. They give me a pack of water bottles for free – as a Ramadan gift. The Turkish shop is my dad’s new favourite go to shop – or shop to ask us to get the ingredients he needs. He now prefers it to the fortnightly Tesco online shop.

I want to bring some order and system to my parent’s home. My dad get’s to work. He is a pretty amazing cook and the flavours he can create are restaurant quality. The smell of cooking that he can create is tummy rumbling stuff. My dad should have been a chef. His food is the best I have ever tasted. I am currently trying to compile a list of his recipes. It’s an ambition of mine to get it put together as a book. It certainly has helped me bond with my dad – me learning how to cook, being taught by my 78 year old dad. I have finally after 30 years, learnt how to make chapattis. He sets out his spices like a tele chef. He told me recently that the week he was set to leave Pakistan – which turned out for good as he never returned – for the UK his mother spent a week teaching him how to cook. He was 19 years old. And then that was it. He has had a passion for cooking ever since.

7pm – Everything at home is pretty settled. Mum is fine. Dad is almost done with the cooking. I helped open the tins that he can’t because of a weak left hand. Other than the finishes touches, it’s all sorted. My sister comes home. I say I’ve got to head home. I’ve not got anything ready for my own iftar at home. The other half doesn’t like eating curry during Ramadan so there’s no point taking my dad’s amazing smelling lamb and potato curry. It makes him too thirsty the next day. I wonder about what quick fix at home I can do for iftar.

7.45pm – I arrive and see other half calmly in control of the kitchen. It’s spotless – he has OCD to a degree. And the shorba is ready, and so is the salad. He’s also made a frittata kind of adaption – egg with potatoes. He points out the calm order of the evening and yes I have to concur. I am not so organised. In fact he has done so well, I suggest he continues for the rest of Ramadan.

8.38 pm – Break fast. Pray. Sit down to eat. You know how it goes by now.

11.45pm – Stagger him with feet throbbing from the day I’ve had. Feeling even more like a champion for staying for all the taraweh prayers. I chill for a bit but it’s bed time early tonight. Early for Ramadan that is. It’s around 1 am. Body clocks take a bit of a shifting during this month.

D3 – Dad’s Hospital Appointment 8.30 am - Can't press snooze anymore. Got to get up and take my dad across London for his difficult asthma clinic appointment in Barts hospital.

December in the Southern Hemisphere

Merry Christmas from Buenos Aires, Argentina! The last month has been absolutely glorious. Details below <3  

Getting Here

Getting to Buenos Aires was a 24+ hour journey that involved 3 different flights and uncomfortably long long layovers. Walking out of the airport in BA was the best feeling because it meant I was that much closer to my bed. 

The flatness of the land around me as we drove down the highway for the first time blew my mind. For all of August - December 1, I was constantly surrounded by mountains and to suddenly step out of that was like “omg.” The flatness was welcome though. I am more accustomed to “flatness.” It feels more like home to me than the mountains. 

Getting Settled:

My apartment is amazing. I have written it a million times before but once again, the physical space I call home is very important to me because having a place that I feel comfortable and at peace in at the end of the day is invaluable. I spend most of my time socializing and while I love it, it can also be exhausting. The best feeling is getting home, turning up some music, and cooking dinner all by myself (as weird as it sounds and as strange as it feels to type it.) Small things that add to my happiness: a powerful AC for the 90 degree summer weather, an oven, cable TV, and strong water pressure, all for the first time since leaving the US. These are tiny details that I feel perfectly fine without but I also can’t deny that having them is a benefit that I enjoy.

The neighborhood I am in is also really great. I live beyond the city center in a working class neighborhood where things are more affordable, there aren’t many tourists, and life is a lot more calm (relatively).  I am at two major intersections so I have easy access to the rest of the city with many bus options. Everything I may need on a regular basis is within walking distance (i.e. laundry, supermarket, take-out, entertainment, etc). 

Much like Quito, Buenos Aires is a massive city with a million and one things happening at all times. The public transportation system is extensive and complicated at first glance but manageable. I am proud to say that I have yet to get lost on a bus. One of the things that has contributed to this is that you have to tell the driver where you are going when you get on the bus so that they can charge you appropriately. This means that it is basically impossible to get on the wrong bus because if they don’t stop where you are going, they will tell you so and let you off. They also have a metrocard equivalent called a “SUBE” card which is rechargeable almost anywhere. 

There are a lot of things about Buenos Aires that make me think of New York. For example, the grid-like nature of the city blocks, the large avenues, the public transportation system, and the liveliness of the city after dark. However, one very different detail that I love is the way that green spaces are incorporated into the city. BA has done such a good job at making the city feel so big and refreshing despite it being a major urban center. Incredibly tall trees line avenues, in every community there is at least one green plaza, and there are some huge parks near downtown. 

Constructing a Meaningful Schedule:

I have been more busy in BA that I have been in my entire Watson year so far. My schedule is jam packed and when I am not doing something Watson related, I am studying for the MCAT and out there being a tourist. Here are the activities that fill my days:

Hospital De Los Niños:

A lovely doctor I met in Ecuador connected me to a doctor here in Argentina and as a result, I am able to spend time in a major public pediatric hospital 4  mornings a week. I am rotating exclusively in respiratory endoscopy and pulmonology. This is an ideal place because as I have mentioned in previous posts, my Watson question has evolved to concern chronic care management among socially vulnerable patient populations. Respiratory diseases such as cystic fibrosis, are life-long medical battles that often require a lot of hospital intervention, follow-up, and care on the part of parents. Some of the questions that have already come up:

How do people find and pay for 24-hour caregivers for their children?

How do parents manage work when there child is hospitalized for months at a time?

How do parents manage living at the hospital for months at a time?

How do parents make sense of their roles as not only parents, but also as medical experts (and often interventionists) with respect to the conditions their child has?

How do children make sense of their disease and cope with it?

What happens when insurance won’t cover a necessary respiratory device that a child needs before they are able to get discharged?

What are the emotional battles a parent and child must overcome with respect to dealing with a chronic progressive medical condition? 

Manos Abiertas: 

This is a foundation that I found online that has a lot of social programs throughout Argentina. I reached out to them with the desire to serve in the capacity of a volunteer. They got back to me and requested an interview. For whatever reason, it never occurred to me that this was a serious interview and as a result, I was extremely unprepared and felt disappointed in myself for not representing myself as well as I know I can. I am usually good with interviews, even if they are impromptu. However, I learned that an interview in spanish is VERY different from one in english. I did not have the words I wanted readily available nor the confidence that english usually affords me. 

Somehow, they decided to let me move on to the next interview, one which I was EXTENSIVELY prepared for and that I think made up for my first because starting next week, I will be a volunteer at one of the organization’s palliative care homes! I will be helping out in the kitchen on Thursday afternoons and working as an “acompañante” on Friday afternoons. As an acompañante, I will spend time with the residents. For those of you who may not be familiar with the concept, palliative care is when curative treatments are no longer available or an option and therefore, patients are treated with the intention of alleviating pain and helping them enjoy their last days. I am really excited to work with this organization because even though it may sound somber, their work is all about helping people die in peace and with dignity. The patients they serve are coming from the worst of social circumstances and the opportunity to have a warm bed, a hand to hold, and the support of round-the-clock staff allows for a patient to feel loved during what may be one of the most difficult times in their lives. 

In a lot of ways, it is an honor to have the opportunity to do this job. I am really looking forward to it!

Tzedeká:

This is another organization that I found through a google search and reached out to because I was interested in what they were doing. I have mentioned before that one of the biggest surprises of my Watson has been the realization that access to medication is such a massive problem everywhere. That said, this organization interested me because their health arm focuses on collecting and redistributing essential medications, at no cost, to those who need it most. They have groups of volunteers who are trained to classify and sort medication at their centers. I am planning on helping in this capacity. I was supposed to start last week but a scheduling conflict made it impossible. I will hopefully get started next week though. Updates on that to come. I am excited for this position because it will allow me, albeit in a small way, to contribute to work that helps close what I will call the “medication gap.” (whether or not that is an actual academic term I do not know)

Dance:

I came to Buenos Aires with the explicit desire to find another dance company where I could meet people, destress, and express myself. I arrived on Saturday and was dancing on Sunday. I “hit the ground running” with respect to this topic. I missed dancing in Guatemala. I had a plan for where I wanted to dance but the travel time ended up being too much and instead, I chose to stick to a company that is a 15 minute bus ride away. Classes run late but the proximity of the studio allows me to take full advantage while still being able to get home quickly and safely. The good news is that it is a great space and the people are genuine and welcoming. The bad news is that the rhythms I love most are offered at times that are very inconvenient for me. As a result, I don’t get to dance as often as I would like. Nonetheless, the sense of community, the chance to let go of some energy, and the joy that comes with dancing has helped ground me here in BA.

MCAT Prep Progress and Medical School Things:

There is not a single day that I don’t ask myself if I still want to be a doctor and each day, I seem to find a new reason why the answer to that is yes. This has really propelled my MCAT studying because as much as I hate physics, for example, I get to live and see what I am working towards each day, and that allows me to proceed with a strong resolve. These last two weeks have been dedicated to figuring out what kind of study structure is realistic and works given my schedule and I think I found one. Additionally, I have found a handful of places where I can get stuff done between commitments. I took a diagnostic test and have a LONG way to go in order to reach my percentile goal and that is somewhat intimidating. However, I just keep trying to remind myself that I make things happen. I want this more than anything so I will work to make it happen: it is who I am and how I operate. 

I am very conscious of the Medical School Application process and am getting ready to reach out to potential recommenders and starting to think about what I want to write about in my personal statement. I can’t help but feel like this is the most important personal statement I have ever written and if it actually is, I don’t know. All I know is that the pressure is real! I don’t have a clue what I will write but I am confident I will figure it out. 

Notable Moments:

- Going out to a club alone and making new friends who I now talk to daily

- Watching a baby be delivered for the first time in my life (!!!)

- Feeling invincible because I am embracing my sexuality and feel proud of who I am, maybe for the first time.

- Witnessing a coin get taken out of a child’s esophagus and getting to keep the x-ray as a reminder.

- Looking at a chest x-ray and actually understanding what I am looking at and successfully identifying what was wrong.

- The very humbling experience of being present while a mom broke down after her baby had an invasive procedure done.

- Getting new glasses for the first time in like SEVEN years (underestimate for sure). 

The Joys of Being a Tourist:

BA is massive with a million places to visit and lots to do. I have not even come close to doing all that I want but knowing that there is so much more helps keep me motivated and curious and feeling good. It is amazing how the city could simultaneously be an architectural wonder, a nature-filled paradise, and a coastal beauty. 

The Challenge and Beauty of Spending the Holidays Far Away: 

On December 23rd I found myself scrolling through snapchat and seeing people’s stories about going home really got to me. While it wasn’t the first time I felt a nudge of homesickness, it was the first time since leaving that I really wanted to go home. I didn’t cry but I came close, also for the first time since leaving. I decided to go outside, got a frap, did some quick MCAT review, and then walked around town. The crowds in the neighborhood were abnormal but last minute christmas shopping brings everyone out of their normal evening routine. The sense of liveliness that filled the streets helped lift my spirit and somehow, helped me feel less alone. 

On Christmas Eve I woke up feeling a lot better and more committed to finding the beauty in spending the holidays with new friends and new families. I spent the first half of the day bumming around binge watching gossip girl. I spoke to my family later in the afternoon and got to hear about their christmas prep. Listening to my siblings fuss about what the wrapped boxes may or may not have held made me so happy because it was comforting to see how some things just don’t change. I felt energized by our conversation and blasted music as I got ready to head out. 

One of the doctors I work with picked me up and we headed out to her friends house, where her family was gathered. I was worried about feeling like an outsider and my presence creating awkwardness. However, to my surprise, I felt welcome and comfortable. I got to play with two beautiful dogs, eat delicious food, teach bachata, and most importantly, laugh a ton. 

When I got home, I couldn’t help but feel so profoundly grateful for the people that have filled my Watson days with love, joy, and unforgettable memories. It is a true privilege to step so far into the unknown and be constantly reminded of beauty and power of the human spirit that connects each of us.

Things I’m Looking Forward To:

- I am in the final stages of the interview process for a job in San Francisco for next year. I am incredibly excited about the work the organization does, the role I could play, and the broad impact of the position. Cross your fingers that all ends well. I will keep you updated!

- I can’t believe how quickly time is passing but I am definitely excited for all the adventures and experiences that 2018 will bring. Believe it or not, I am close to the halfway mark of my Watson! How that happened? I have no idea.