So this friend of mine for many years has multiple pets. About 10 years ago I took care of them for a while when I was jobless. However since then she has slacked off on house-cleaning, and increased the number of pets. She currently has 5 cats and a dog.
She doesn't have many friends so if she has to go out of town on a weekend, she will ask if I will pet-sit.
Unfortunately for the last several years, and worse since I had Covid, I've had allergic reactions every time I pet-sit at her house. Originally I felt it was just changing the litter so I told her I could pet-sit but wouldn't clean litter boxes.
I would get flu-like symptoms every time I stayed at her place overnight. Often congestion, but also headache, fever, etc. A couple of times last year it was so bad I was convinced I had caught Covid again, though I tested negative.
So this past weekend she had to leave town suddenly due to a death in her family, and I agreed to pet-sit Friday & Saturday night. No litterboxes to be cleaned, she has automated litterboxes now, that can go for longer between cleanings...
So ... Saturday morning, I wake up with a pounding headache.... It seemed to get slightly better so I went about my day, but it was nagging me the whole day. I had to leave for a few hours as well. I had noticed my heartrate was up higher than normal, but just noted that to the side. I wasn't having any congestion so hadn't realized it was the allergies again. Thought I lucked out.
By late evening I had to cancel my plans, I had a fever, much higher than normal heartrate, etc. My plans involved a lot of activity and the extra activity pushed my heartrate out of a safe range and I was starting to get lightheaded and feel faint, so I immediately cancelled the plans and went to a family member's house for a few hours. Heartrate went down but was still elevated. I do take a single medication, which lowers my blood pressure and heartrate normally, so having it up is something I watch closely. I connected it to the allergies at this point.
I was feeling a little better, but still lousy, and went back to my friend's house for the second night of pet-sitting. Ended up having chills when I went outside even though the temps were only in the upper 60s. Slept terribly, and basically had no energy all day Sunday. Heartrate was down but still higher than my normal base heart rate. Ended up sleeping most of Sunday. Managed the drive home. Back at my own place, I slept great and felt perfectly normal this morning.
The reaction this time was so strong, that I'm afraid I'm going to have to tell my friend I can't ever stay at her place again. I know part of the issue is she does not keep a clean house, so it smells strongly of her pets. That's never going to change.
Would it be worth trying an allergy medication? I know most of the allergy meds on the market are basically placebos. At this point though it has moved beyond simply congestion to something that actually is a health risk.
Opinions?

So, you said Lord Nicholas has no personality, which is true lol, but since I'm the devil's advocate, I took that as a challenge. Make yourself comfortable for a long read. Have some popcorn.
Why is this guy more of a tragic character, rather than a villain? And how does a man lose identity, and becomes a monster through desperation? I'll answer this for you below.
• Throughout Plague Tale Innocence, there are various signs that although he is personally close to Vitalis (no use of titles or formalities when speaking to each other) he is the execution, and not the mastermind behind the plans. For example, when Hugo's Macula was to be tested, he urged Vitalis on to put an end to the plague already, they are not here to play games.
• In the very same chapter, we get a little insight on what he believes and thinks about the conflict between the Inquisition and the De Runes. He doesn't understand why Beatrice De Rune resists their persuasion for information regarding the Macula, since their goals are shared -> ending the Plague. Ultimately, he blindly believes Vitalis wants to control the Plague to save them. And he does anything, ANYTHING to make that happen.
Commit genocide against peasants, and in the end, even go as far as killing Hugo.
Now, let's take a little turn to make a background check for this guy. Or at least what is hinted, and what can be assumed with intuition and theories.
• Like I mentioned before, him and Vitalis are personally close, and in the preultimate chapter of Plague Tale: Innocence, after his death, guards talk about him in the city. They are confused why Vitalis hasn't sent anyone for his search (I'll get to that one later), since he was his Protégé. This alone in itself wouldn't mean anything, but right after that a guard added "Maybe he found himself another Protégé" regarding Hugo of course.
Since this game is about innocence and children, it's almost safe to assume that Nicholas likely got taken under Vitalis' wings just as Hugo was now in the present. That would explain why they are close, and why Nicholas blindly trusts his master. Another dialogue backs this up, between the Arch Bishop and Vitalis. "Puppets like you will kneel and beg me to save them." and look who appears and kneels right there and then? Lord Nicholas. This is my theory, I can back it up but it isn't 100% surely true of course. Take it with a pinch of salt please.
• Now, time to get to why Vitalis didn't send anyone after Nicholas' disappearance... We saw nothing of the two months Hugo spent in the Bastion, but based on the Cathedral's state, it's safe to assume things didn't go that well with controlling the Macula. The plan was to get Hugo through the threshold finally, so that the Conjuration can begin. (Note to self: another essay later about that one). Although they tried to push Hugo through with hurting his mother, it didn't work. Because of this, Vitalis tasked Nicholas with taking Hugo to his sister, to end her life. This is simple, but it doesn't stop here.
In the chapter Blood Ties (where we control Hugo), we already meet an impatient Nicholas who wants to put an end to the Plague. Not only that, but let me get to one crucial sentence told by Vitalis. "Nicholas... You cannot understand." This hints at the disagreements between the two, and that Nicholas is not indulged in how this should be done. Nicholas tries to help Vitalis up, but he rejects the help too. It's quite symbolic for the one-sided trust between the two. Due to this growing mistrust, and how Vitalis didn't expect Nicholas to come back after his mission later on, to me it seems like Vitalis cut the ties and sent him exactly to his death to get rid of him.
• Vitalis' plan was never to get rid of Hugo once they pass the threshold ("I have a lot to teach the Carrier, and his friends."), and knew well, that Nicholas has no chance against Hugo and Amicia with the rats alongside them. He sent the man who trusted him the most to his death, and with that also chose his ultimate protégé - Hugo. It's also likely that Nicholas' mistrust grew because his position in the hierarchy was compromised, since it's likely Vitalis got obsessed with Hugo, and Nicholas almost realized he is played with. There is also the idea, that Vitalis sent him away to actually save him from the white rats he meant to send on the crowd anyway. Anyway, Vitalis is for another essay...
• The betrayed, the sacrificed. Who is he? There is absolutely little we know of him, except for his title and occupation. What always speaks in Plague Tale: Innocence though, is the design. I mean look at that drip- sorry.. In "A Making of Plague Tale: Innocence" the creative developers mention the importance of faces, and overall pure, intuitive impressions we get of our characters.
• There is only one character whose face we never see, and that is Nicholas. That doesn't only play as a psychological trick to make him more terrifying, but also hints at certain points. First of all, his robes are Dominican. This is historically fitting (although there were no dominican knights) since Dominicans were those entrusted by the Church to handle trials against heresy and begin inquisitions. This also hints that he is very religious and dedicated to serving the (assumed) good. I know, no way. Let's not forget about how faded out it is, or bloody. In NO way he is a good guy, but a tragic believer? Likely. Under the robes is the armour, which is hit all around. It's no news we talk about a very experienced and efficient knight who also happens to be serving Vitalis (NOT the Church! Explained in another essay, chill.). Knights start their training at 7, and only nobles are in for the job, obviously. I made the connection, that since he likely knows Vitalis from his childhood, and his training also began when he was 7 years old, and his name was Nicholas...
Side note: In medieval times, children were named after Saints to inwoke their blessing, in this case, among many things, protecting children.
It's likely that he himself, just like those he hunts, was an orphan, perhaps even a sinner, who had to be saved by none else, than Vitalis. Give it a thought, maybe he was a lost little boy like Hugo, whose innocence was stolen way too early. With how Plague Tale likes to play with irony and parallels between characters, I don't see this as unlikely.
• All in all, he is what his occupation is, and nothing human. He is the machine that serves. The cross, the judgement. We cannot see his face, because he has no identity except what Vitalis gave him. His role, his title, his mission (perhaps even name). As it can be seen, Hugo too, was dressed in robes showing the Inquisition's sign, like a mark of ownership over him.
• From the very start of the story, he was the representative of that time's barbaric cruelty, unforgiving, misplaced judgement. And as though from the children's perspective he was a monster from the very beginning, how did it go down? As I said before, he has no identity except his committment, and through that his morals, ambitions are shown. At the very start, they ambushed the De Rune estate, and we CANNOT know, if the violance was planned beforehand or it came due to Robert's resistance.
People were taken hostage for questioning, the goal was to capture Hugo, the Carrier, and Beatrice, the only one who can help them understand the plague's origins. It was bloody, but after this chapter, you can hear guards clearly say "capture children" and not just Hugo. Now, unbelivably, I don't think he wanted Amicia bad at the start. They confront each other in the English camp for the second time (where he paid a ransom for both of them), where he tries to negotiate with her to give them Hugo and stop running. Later his methods change, telling the plain truth that there is nowehere for her to go out there (These methods of convincing show a lot of personality and insight especially in the boss fight).
Later on, it's mentioned Vitalis is going hard on him but "he is used to it". Again, their shared history is hinted. The hunt for Hugo is fruitless still, and the plague is spreading day-by-day.
Next we hear from him, is in the chapter where we visit the city with Amicia. Or rather, that he is not exactly participating in the mission killing the sick. Since him and Vitalis disagree with methods of solving the Plague, and he is occupied with catching Hugo, there is a possibility this order of slaughter was carried out without his consent. Though, this is a high take and it would be totally in character to do such a task in the means of self-preservation.
Amicia's visions of him from Penance is not reliable, but at the very same time she clearly dreamed what happened and it's likely she mixed reality with hallucinations from exhaust. If, the hallucinations were true, that means Hugo did hear Amicia, but Nicholas directly diverted his attention from her and led him away.
It's hard to speculate if he did this to let nature do its work, or to actually show mercy, which is equally possible, since it was clear from the beginning that even though she killed his men, he knew she is simply running and kills as a means to survive.
Now, as I explained earlier, many things go down when Hugo resides in the Bastion, and we can only guess what that causes. I mentioned Nicholas' growing distrust, now let me introduce you to the psychological denial he experiences during the boss fight, along with his reflections pointing at the children. The man, becoming the monster. The fire (another essay since fire in Plague Tale is symbolic) causing him to destroy himself.
In the chapter Remembrance he goes to the Château d'Ombrage along Hugo, to ensure the boy passes the threshold with killing his sister, with this enabling Vitalis to pass as well. At first, Nicholas is quite calm and confident, sending Hugo to kill her "Go, and do what has to be done.". Interestingly, despite this, he still has his sword prepared, which shows he still doesn't trust Hugo. Later on, he knocks Arthur out, but doesn't kill him senselessly, despite the fiasco at the English camp. He takes Amicia to Hugo, and now threatens him to kill her, or else he kills his mother in front of him. After that, he tells him, if Hugo does as he tells him so, maybe Vitalis keeps him by his side.
This could hint that only by accomplishments such as this, and proving devotion, can one remain important in Vitalis' eyes. Also, that maybe, Nicholas had to go through something similar, "She means nothing to you now".
Doubts and frantic impatience take hold, which ultimately lead him to take matters into his own hands. He decides to kill her, himself. As he pushes Hugo away, she calls him a bastard, which he then turns back at her, to question her morality and self-righteousness. She betrayed him, that is why he gave himself up. It can be perhaps far-fetched, but this also can count as self-reflection already. Betrayal -> causing giving up, which happens later to him too.
After Arthur "takes care of him" (not exactly...) and the siblings reunite, Nicholas wakes up and this time, immediately kills Arthur. The death is not just a shock value as many believe, it also shows the already progressing monster stepping forth, and losing humanity entirely.
The boss fight has three phases. His methods at provoking the children, and self-reflect change and become way more intense with time.
In the first phase, he tries to separate them and tells Amicia that he knows it must be difficult to live in the Carrier's shadow. Also, that they are terrified. He is poking at her most vulnerable place, their biggest fear, which's "face" is ultimately him. Also, reminding Amicia of her biggest desire, that is to be acknowledged by her parents. Especially this can count as self-reflective, since as I said earlier Nicholas likely noticed Hugo is slowly replacing him in Vitalis' eyes. The wish to excell, and be acknowledged for the devotion is a deep scar this character could carry. He also reminds them of how their father died, to remind them of honour, which Nicholas obviously has a twisted sense of.
In the second phase, his first voice line shows surprise and fear, and anger in response to those feelings. He is more reckless and aggressive too. Here, again, he manipulatively reminds them how little they can do, and threatens them. This is both calculated and instinctual, since he says such things to bring the children out of their hiding places, but at the very same time also because he is slowly losing himself. There are also lines which can be reflective to his beliefs and assumptions based on himself, such as: "Your sister won't be able to save you child.... You are alone." There were already connections made between how Vitalis saved him, and if one puts it all together, this line shows how he doesn't believe in the siblings' bond, because his own bond with Vitalis broke, and Nicholas is (alike to Hugo) alone. Or there is also the line "What do you think you can do? You are nothing. [...]" I wanted to highlight this line because Plague Tale (among many other things) is about the helplessness one faces trying to protect loved ones, and/or trying to rewrite their fates. The fact that Nicholas dehumanizes them entirely, shows he knows the fact one, them or him, cannot change the course that has been set, but he is still in denial trying to fight it (a lot like Amicia in Requiem, by the way. Also, fire (this is why that needs another essay....).
In the third phase, he becomes uncharacteristically reckless and desperate, where he succumbs to the wrath and, his fate. "Come to me, come into my arms my dear children." His sanity decreases and he knows death is unavoidable. The question left is whenever he can bring them down with himself or fails. And failure, is unacceptable. He is better dead, than failed. "I will teach you the meaning of sacrifice" this line shows that likely, he accepted his last quest knowing well he is going to die probably. That he rather burns himself, bring hell, than letting go. He keeps shouting the motto of his order, because that is the only thing that he clings to. It's pathetic and forced, inhumane. "[...] We'll die together" <-> "I will boil your blood until it spurts from your eyes", "You are going to pay, [...]" by this time, he keeps switching tactics at approaching and luring them out, frantic and monstrous. His words mean nothing by this time and desperation takes hold. What line of him is the purest, rawest, and most honest, between all the threads and claims, self-convincing attempts to maintain devoted is this: "The pain... To feel oneself alive... And deliver death." This line might seem like one among the many terrible threats, but it in fact shows his deepest belief. That is, of pain and life. Sacrifice and death. That those who live, have to kill, and that is what it means to exist in this world.
• In Plague Tale Innocence and Requiem, we see Amicia's development into a murderer who follows similarly blind committments.
She ultimately becomes, what she condemned, and what caused her great misery. What, in the end, she herself becomes if Hugo doesn't lead her on the right path. A monster.
So, to sum it all up, Lord Nicholas represents the human being of that time, whose identity is what he serves, and nothing else.
It makes one selfless, righteous, but at what cost? Violence spreads from one person to another, while everyone tries to save what is precious to them. Hope this helped seeing him as more human and with more personality. Cheers. A few more points I couldn't exactly integrate are the following:
• A few things showing the underlying morality and plain intentions: at first he tried to negotiate with both Robert, Amicia, and Beatrice as well. He condones stealing entirely. He doesn't kill Arthur at first.
• In the concept art he is left handed. In Middle Ages, left handed people were considered sinful, since it was the "devil's hand". This added with the self-punishing- self-destructive-Catholic mindset, added with his devotion, signs that he is penitent, and does what he should for a greater good, a salvation, and carries the burden of "sacrifice".

I just need to vent here and make it known if anyone else is going through this- you are not alone! ✌️❤️ So, I was extremely lucky and had a very easy pregnancy. Limited symptoms and I was able to maintain my workouts and strength training 3-4 p. Week. I naively thought that this would carryover to PP. (Side note: my LO is lovely, healthy and pretty chill and for this I’m extremely grateful). But the last 7 weeks have been the hardest physically and mentally and I was and am not prepared.
Since her birth I’ve: -Developed De Quervains (mommy thumb) on both wrists and am now having to wear a brace full-time. And it is. So. Painful. Also you use your wrists for everything with a baby!! -had regular PPA flare-ups -jaundiced baby in the beginning due to poor latch. Which didn’t help the PPA. I’m now using nipple shields- but it works so fine! And to top it off… -I am now sitting up at 1am wide awake for the last 3.5 hrs while my LO sleeps soundly. I have a fever, chills and sore breast. All things on the internet point to mastitis 😫
I know there is light at the end of this tunnel..just having a hard time seeing it atm!

Regularly we receive questions about Dr. Clark Parasite Cleanse and the possible symptoms of the parasites being flushed out of the body. These symptoms occur because parasites can harbor bacteria and viruses that are released when the parasites are eliminated. Not everyone is the same and symptoms can vary from person to person.
Pre-Cleanse Measures: To minimize detoxification reactions, it is advisable to start with Dr. Clark’s Bowel Cleanse. This initial step not only helps in getting rid of parasites and bacteria but also clears out toxins from the intestines, setting a cleaner stage for the subsequent parasite cleanse.
Common Detox Symptoms and Solutions for Dr. Clark’s Parasite Cleanse:

• Flu-like symptoms (chills, fever, cough):
  • Cause: Release of the flu virus.
  • Remedies: Elder tea to boost the immune system and Oscillococcinum, a homeopathic remedy (1 dose in the morning, 1 at night).
• Nausea, diarrhea, fever, digestive issues:
  • Cause: Release of bacteria like Salmonella.
  • Remedies: Lugol's iodine (ensure no allergy to iodine). Recommended dosage is 6 drops in water, six times a day, preferably on an empty stomach.
• Emotional distress (sadness, melancholy, crying):
  • Cause: Release of Clostridium botulinum affecting the hypothalamus.

Remedies: Oregano oil, 5-10 drops in an empty capsule taken with 1 or 2 meals.
To better symptoms and support the body during Dr. Clark’s Parasite Cleanse, do the following:

• Stay Hydrated: Drinking plenty of water helps flush toxins out of the body. Aim for at least 8-10 glasses daily.
• Balanced Diet: Eating a balanced diet rich in fruits, vegetables, lean proteins, and whole grains can provide the necessary nutrients to support detoxification.
• Rest and Sleep: Ensure you get adequate rest; the body heals and detoxifies most efficiently while you're asleep.
• Gentle Exercise: Activities like walking, yoga, and light stretching can enhance circulation and help in managing stress.
• Activated Charcoal: This can be used to absorb toxins and help reduce symptoms like nausea or gas. Always consult a healthcare provider before using it as it can interfere with medication absorption.
• Herbal Support: Milk thistle, dandelion root, and turmeric can support liver function, a key organ in the detoxification process.

Prepare for cleansing and follow the suggested steps to make your cleansing process as comfortable and effective as possible. 🌊🪱🌊

I’m hoping it’s just hop burn and it’ll go away with time but I decided to get really experimental and do a no-boil hazy ipa and after chilling it down over the weekend and getting it on pressure it’s still flat and has a really sharp bitterness. Will this go away with time? Here’s my recipe:
3 Gallon Batch: * 5 lbs Maris Otter * 4 lbs Pale 2-row * 1 lb oats * 1 lb white wheat * 8 oz Carapils

• Mash @ 155F for 60 min
  
• 2 oz El Dorado and 2 oz Galaxy - 20 min hop stand at 175F. Pulled the hops out and chilled to pitching temp.
  
• Fermented at 90F with Voss Kveik
  
• Keg hopped with 2 oz El Dorado and 2 oz Galaxy
  

This is my first NEIPA and I wanted to test out Galaxy and El Dorado. I get some fruity flavor from the hops but it’s way overshadowed by an intense, sharp bitterness. It’s been in the keg for 3 days now, 2 days at 40 psi @ 38F. I’ve had hop burn before in an IPA and it faded after a few days, but I’m not sure if this one is letting up or not? Hoping this isn’t a dumper.

Okay, there's this feeling that I've had off and on for years, and I wonder if it's a Lupus symptom. However, it's hard to describe, so please bear with me. Usually it's been when I've been extra busy/ doing more than usual. It can manifest in chills (not like fever chills, but just like the room is cold, but it's not), often this is followed by a hot flash (which seems to be a peri-menopause add-on, I used to get the random chills without the hot flash). I also feel like I'm all sorts of things that I'm not: I feel dehydrated, or like I want more caffeine, or more food/ low blood sugar, or like a want a cigarette (I smoke vanishingly rarely like less than 1 per week, but this feeling makes me feel like I crave them) however, if I *do* apply water, coffee, food, or even (I know) a cigarette, it doesn't make me feel better. I feel tired and also sleepy, but at the same time kindof speedy and I cannot nap if I try. I feel better if I'm lying down, but not altogether better.
Today, as sometimes, there is mild gastrointestinal symptoms to accompany, but that's inconsistent. Sometimes it comes with a mild fever, but never more than a degree or two. Usually it passes in a day of rest. Is it a mini-flare? Is it just ... feeling weird?

the only relief i get is the 2-3 hours after my dayquil kicks in. i eat, do what needs to be done, until it wears off and i have to wait until the next dose.
then the fever, chills, aches, nausea and terrible pain comes back. i didn’t sleep last night because the dayquil dosing is 1 dose every 4 hours, no more than 4 doses in 24 hours . apparently the 8 hour gap in dosing is for “sleep”, but who can actually sleep with this?

Hey just thought I'd share this home remedy (not to replace Metamucil+Colace) for constipation. I've always kept leftover bones from any meat I cook in the freezer for making stock. Generally I separate pork/beef/lamb bones in one container and chicken in another so I can make two different stocks. I accumulate these pretty quick because I buy all my chicken bone-in and tend to eat a lot of beef/pork ribs.
Anyway, homemade stock I have always found to be an ideal laxative and that's certainly holding true post-fistulotomy (had my surgery this past Friday and first BM this morning). Whether that's just drinking it straight, or if you sub it in for water when cooking white rice it has the same effect. Not to mention bone broth has a ton of minerals/collagen that I expect is good for the healing process.
I think you have to make it homemade, the stuff you'd buy in a store (unless you buy it frozen from a butcher that makes it) is going to be so extensively filtered/strained that you lose a lot of suspended proteins that cause it to be a laxative. Those same suspended proteins is what causes bone broth to spoil very quickly so you need to be careful in prep to be food safe.
Instructions: - fill a stock pot with as much bones as you've got (I've got a big stock pot and fill it to the brim) and some whole peppercorns
- cover with cold water and bring to a boil, skimming foam that collects on the surface continually (about an hour)
- once it hits boil, immediately reduce to the lowest simmer you can
- simmer for as long as you can (I go for about 10 hours, longer would be better and you definitely wouldn't want to go much shorter) adding water as needed to keep the bones covered. I pour in boiling water from a kettle so that I don't have to turn the heat up on the stock pot to get it back to a simmer
- in the final hour, add a couple onions, head of garlic sliced in half, couple carrots, couple pieces of celery, parsley if you've got it and continue simmering
- strain out the solids through a mesh strainer and/or cheesecloth
- put it back on the heat and reduce by half
- take off the heat and add a bunch of ice to cool it rapidly. This is key. You do NOT want to let the stock sit out to cool, nor can you just throw it in the fridge. The stock will stay in the bacterial growth zone for way too long if you don't ice it down (which is why you reduce it first since you'll be diluting with ice) and with all the suspended proteins in it it's like the best ever environment for bacteria to grow in. Add enough ice to get it chilled.
- once you've cooled it down with ice, put it in a large container in the fridge overnight.
- the next day, skim any accumulated fat off the top and then you can portion the stock into individual containers to throw in the freezer. I keep used plastic containers for this whether thats yogurt containers or ones from takeout food.
- stock will only last a couple days in the fridge once unthawed but personally I wouldn't risk that. I take it straight from the freezer, rehheat and use immeadiately.
Good luck and happy pooping

Seriously, don't even attempt to trivialize it. It's not about waking you up at 3:00 am for mundane reasons like running out of milk or needing your Wi-Fi password. This entity, whatever it may be, operates outside our reality's bounds, and its motives are far from benign. I learned this the hard way recently, which is why I'm cautioning you all against making light of it. But before delving into specifics, let me offer some context, as sleep paralysis is a recent phenomenon for me.
One of my earliest memories of sleep disruption traces back to my grade school days. With my mother on an early shift unable to drive me to school for its 8:00 am start, she would drop me off at my aunt's house. Here, she ensured I was fed, dressed, and ready for school. Most mornings, I had just about an hour left to sleep before needing to rise. Often, I'd find myself in a half-asleep state from the moment my mom roused me until she tucked me into my aunt's spare bedroom.
On one of those mornings, as I lay down, teetering between wakefulness and sleep, I experienced a peculiar sensation. It felt as though my body began to rise, hovering about two feet above the bed, before swiftly plummeting back down. Startled awake, I assumed my mother had thrown me back onto the bed, only to find the room empty upon opening my eyes.
I hadn't encountered any other experiences quite like that, but it was during this time that I distinctly recall a notable surge in the frequency of the nightmares I was experiencing. The nightmares were generally the same, some cloaked being hiding in the recesses of my vision, always there, always watching. I felt as though each passing night terror that it got closer and closer to me, but always just out of reach. At times, I found myself trapped in a dark room, enveloped by an overwhelming sense of malevolence that seemed to saturate the air—and a fear entirely foreign to my waking experiences.
Then I experienced sleep paralysis for the first time.
It occurred at my mother's house, marking the initial instance where I experienced the sensation of my body being effectively immobilized while my mind remained active. I recall attempting to move my eyes and then my body, but all efforts were futile. As I struggled to regain autonomy, it sounded as though a gathering had convened in my kitchen, voices carrying in muted tones. None of the which resembled those of my parents; I even detected snickering and laughter at one point. The conversation seemed to be aimed at me, as my name was uttered several times, yet the other words remained indecipherable. The episode concluded with me returning to sleep without any further disturbances.
As the instances of sleep paralysis became more frequent, they culminated in another peculiar experience. Shortly after moving into my first apartment, still in the midst of unpacking and assembling furniture, the second incident occurred. I lay on a mattress on the floor, surrounded by unassembled bedframe pieces, when I awoke to find myself imprisoned within my own body once more. In the darkness, I heard a faint sound—a presence moving softly over each piece of furniture. Panic gripped me as I strained to turn my head towards the noise, but every effort proved futile. With each passing moment, the unseen entity drew closer until it reached the bedside. Helpless, I closed my eyes, bracing myself for whatever awaited.
Meow?
Relief washed over me as I realized it was just my generously proportioned feline friend making his way around the room. I could hear him moving about, stepping on more furniture and emitting a few disgruntled meows, presumably chastising my laziness for not assembling it yet. As I began to drift back to sleep, I was abruptly startled awake by a chilling sound.
Snnn-orrrff
A primal, guttural snarl pierced the silence, its menacing resonance echoing through the room like a thunderous roar. I struggled desperately to move my limbs, silently screaming in my mind, yet only managing a feeble whimper as I sensed the beast drawing near. Despite my efforts, my body only twitched, while in my imagination, I leapt up and fled. As a mischievous chuckle erupted, I felt hot, pungent breath on the back of my neck. I suddenly awoke, screaming, kicking and punching. I jerked my head to the side and was met only with darkness. I jumped up and turned the light on, a quick scan of the room revealed there was nothing there. Exhausted and recognizing my inability to function effectively, I reluctantly resigned myself to lying back down with the light on until morning. I called into work, knowing that in my current state, I wouldn't be of much use to anyone.
Days passed and soon, it was that time of the month again for my regular check-in from mom. I hesitantly answered the call. After a few minutes of conversation, we eventually broached the topic of my sleep paralysis.
"Honey, it's probably all the stress." she reasoned.
My job had me grinding away tirelessly, but despite my efforts, all I got was a tiny bump in pay. To add to the mix, my landlord decided it was the perfect time to raise the rent. It's safe to say, the stress was really getting to me. "I don't know, it's been happening my whole life, Dad ever had any issues with sleep?"
There was a noticeable pause as she contemplated her reply. "He's definitely had his share of nightmares, he'd wake me up a lot of the times, poor thing would be in tears."
"Jeez, I never knew, but Mom I gotta…" I endeavored to conclude the conversation, as my allotted chat time was expiring, however my mother promptly interrupted me.
"Sweetie, why won't you join us at church? It might help?"
I released a sigh. I staunchly opposed the notion of going to church; I'd rather watch a documentary on the history of paperclips. "Thanks, but I'm not feeling that right now."
"Please, just do it for me?" She pleaded.
Eager to bring the call to a close. "I'll think about, but, alright I'm going to go ahead a hop off here."
"Alright, I miss you, call me later okay?"
"I will, love you, bye."
I concluded the call with a sigh of relief, grateful for its conclusion.
For a stretch, life seemed to fall into place: My job noticed the disparity between my increased workload and pay and offered me a new position that significantly improved my financial situation. Thanks to this new position, I crossed paths with my wife, and we swiftly eloped. She was one of the top account managers, earning a substantial income, which enabled us to afford a nice house together. During this period, the night terrors and bouts of sleep paralysis took a hiatus, granting me a reprieve. Yet amidst the tranquility, a gnawing sense of foreboding lingered, as if a tempest loomed on the horizon, urging me to savor the calm while it lasted.
During this period, my wife and I had been eagerly anticipating the arrival of our first child. We were overjoyed as she reached the sixth month of her pregnancy, carrying our long-awaited daughter. However, my suspicions proved tragically correct. I'll never forget the heart-wrenching phone call from my wife, her voice choked with tears, informing me of the terrifying sight of blood. Hastening to the emergency room, we raced against time, but our efforts proved futile. We lost our precious daughter that day. The journey back home was a blur, engulfed in a suffocating sense of loss that seemed to consume us both. It felt as though a part of me had died alongside our daughter, and the profound grief only served to widen the chasm between us as time passed, transforming our once intimate bond into a hollow semblance of what it once was.
Sleep paralysis and nightmares began to resurface, as if some malevolent force was exploiting my already troubled state, and my ability to sleep dwindled. Additionally, minor habits and disparities in the early stages of our marriage, once insignificant, began escalating into cataclysmic arguments. By now, I'm certain even my breathing would agitate my wife. Despite experimenting with various medications, none proved effective. Even vigorous physical exercise failed to exhaust me enough for uninterrupted sleep. The situation escalated to the point where my wife banished me from the bedroom due to my incessant tossing and turning, disrupting her rest. Consequently, I found myself relegated to the couch. Resorting to alcohol became a regular occurrence, partly to numb the discomfort of the couch but also as a means of coping with my grief.
We barely conversed, even though she mentioned marriage counseling, I rebuffed the idea, convinced it wouldn't benefit us. Frequently, I'd discover her in tears, cradling the sonogram of our daughter, yet I would quietly withdraw, allowing her solitary moments of sorrow. She had her unique methods of grieving, just as I had mine.
"I can't keep doing this, we're drowning in debt, and you're just pushing us further into it with every bottle." She pointed to the glass in my hand.
"Oh, come on! I work hard for us, I deserve to unwind a bit!" In a moment of animated expression, I inadvertently spilled some of my beverage onto the floor.
"Unwind? You call draining our savings and neglecting our future 'unwinding'!?"
"Look, just let me sleep in my own bed tonight."
She crossed her arms, and for a moment, silence enveloped us before she finally spoke.
"I just—I feel like I'm living with a stranger." Her eyes begin to shimmer with emotion.
"I'm here, aren't I? What more do you want from me?!" My voice rising in volume.
She attempted to delicately take my drink away, her touch then shifting to gently grasp my hand. "I want us to be a team again, not just two people sharing a bed."
But the moment I felt her touch, I instinctively shoved her hands away from me. "We haven't been a 'team' since we lost—" My voice quivered, then exploded into rage. "You pushed me out! You did this! You don't talk to me about anything anymore! Just get the hell out!" I pointed to the door.
I stood in the open doorway, watching her car pull out of the driveway. With a final sip, I closed the door behind me. Met with silence, I sensed the weight of tension hanging heavy in the air. Deciding one more bourbon was in order, I made my way to the kitchen, intent on pouring myself one last drink. In a bid to ensure a restful night, I opted to accompany my indulgence in alcohol with a hefty dosage of sleeping pills. A reckless choice, I'm aware, but perhaps death was in fact the ultimate form of slumber. I settled onto the couch, flicking through channels until my libation was drained. Feeling sufficiently relaxed, I decided it was time for bed. Ascending the stairs, I stumbled and collapsed onto the master bedroom's mattress. Sleep enveloped me swiftly that night, yet trouble was never far behind.
I recall waking during the night and noticing that the hallway light remained illuminated. It struck me as odd since I distinctly remember switching it off before retiring to bed. However, given my inebriated state from the copious amounts of alcohol I had consumed, I surmised that I must have simply forgotten. I'd just get up and switch it off, but a wave of unease washed over me. Despite my intentions, I found myself paralyzed, trapped within my own body once again. I found myself transfixed on the door, illuminated by the soft glow seeping in from the hallway. In that moment, I discerned a shadowy figure lurking behind the door.
I hoped it was my wife, but a gut feeling told me otherwise; this time felt different, suffocated by an eerie malevolence. The doorknob rattled violently, as if something were struggling to open it. Yet, amidst the noise I caught a sinister snicker. The relentless jiggling of the doorknob reached a fever pitch, threatening to wrench it free from its socket at any instant. Then, as abruptly as it began, the tumult ceased, leaving an ominous silence hanging in the air. The door then creaked open with a slow, foreboding motion.
A sinister, shapeless presence loomed in the doorway, defying gravity as it hovered above the ground, its shadowy form exaggerated by the eerie glow seeping in from the hallway. I whimpered, struggling to stir my limbs in a futile attempt to awaken my body, but they responded only with slight twitches. My gaze remained fixed on the form before me, immobilized by fear. Suddenly, a sinuous appendage extended from the specter's face, resembling a long, black tentacle. It elongated and snaked toward me, prompting me to instinctively shut my eyes. Sensing its proximity, I remained frozen, an icy chill grazed my forehead, jolting me awake in an instant. Sleep eluded me for the rest of the night, so I opted for an early morning, brewing a pot of coffee to chase away the lingering unease.
For the following weeks, my routine remained monotonous: work, microwave dinner, then numbness induced by sleeping pills and bourbon until I could no longer keep my eyes open. I received a text from my mother-in-law stating that my wife wanted to reconcile, but insisted on therapy and my attendance at AA meetings. I refused, firmly convinced that all I desired was to reclaim my bed, and that her reaction was excessive. I contended that the alcohol provided comfort, a gesture I hadn't received from her in quite some time. My mother-in-law and wife were both displeased with my response; it became apparent that divorce was now the inevitable solution.
At this juncture, I experienced sleep paralysis on a daily basis, even in the absence of the entity. Each night, I would awaken multiple times, unable to move, only freeing myself to find dread awaiting the next episode upon returning to sleep. There was one rare night when I slept soundly, only to be abruptly awakened by a late-night call from an old friend. We had a bond stretching back to our middle school days, and were inseparable back then. However, this call wasn't one of nostalgia; it was about money. He needed a bailout for his mortgage, promising a swift repayment.
I moved to the edge of my bed, frustration mounting as I started to rub my forehead. "I can't, I just can't right now, I need to get back to sleep good—"
He interrupted me. "Please, I don't want to lose the house."
I found myself raising my voice in frustration as irritation crept in. It appeared he was wholly incapable of learning from his mistakes. "Look, it isn't my responsibility to bail you out every time you're in trouble!"
"I know, I know, please, at least do it for Eli, Chelsea left me all alone and it's been hard man." His voice starting to crack.
My voice raising to a near scream; "He isn't my responsibility either! You should have been careful! I told you she wasn't good for you and you didn't listen! Sort your own shit out from now on!"
I ended the call and slammed the phone onto my nightstand. So much for a good night's rest, thanks a lot, friend.
As my life spiraled further into chaos, I realized I needed to explore solutions beyond relying on alcohol and sleeping pills to combat sleep paralysis. Perhaps a spiritual approach was necessary. While I knew my mother would be pleased with this consideration, I'm certain what I had in mind would be vehemently discouraged. My mother firmly believed in the existence of demons, warning against interacting with them outside of 'God's protection'. Perhaps she was right, but I grew desperate for a solution. At this stage, I was willing to do anything for peace of mind, regardless of the consequences. So, I concocted a masterful plan:
I'd simply ask it what it would take to make it stop.
Each morning was fraught with dread, pondering whether the entity would manifest itself. I ensured to kickstart my day with a potent drink, maintaining a steady buzz throughout, perhaps to stave off any wavering doubts about my decision. My patience bore fruit one fateful night as I found myself immobilized once more.
This marked the initial instance when the entity directly addressed me, and its words seared into my memory with chilling permanence. It uttered abhorrent, repulsive, unfathomable insults about me, branding me a failure, devoid of worth, as insignificant as a microbe. It dissected my existence, critiquing my choices, appearance, and demeanor with a cruelty I had never encountered. It seemed to possess an uncanny ability to strike at the core of my being, as if it wielded a weapon honed to annihilate my spirit. And then, its merciless laughter echoed relentlessly.
In that moment, I recognized it as my opportunity to retort. However, the barrage of insults stoked a fire within me, igniting a fury that overpowered my intentions. What did this entity presume to know about me? It was entirely mistaken, and that infuriated me. Against my better judgment, fueled by indignation, I deviated from my plan and impulsively blurted out: "What's so damn funny?!"
As the words echoed in my mind, the laughter abruptly ceased, leaving behind an eerie silence. Relief flooded through me as I dared to hope that I had put an end to the ordeal. Yet, my premature celebration was cut short when an indescribable dread enveloped me. A black ichor oozed onto the floor beside my bed, signaling the beginning of a hellish spectacle. From the viscous sludge, a dark figure emerged, coated in sticky tar, yet defying gravity as it ascended, hovering above the ground.
Above me, it loomed, its weighty presence palpable as thick sludge cascaded onto the bed, it halted directly over me. Its head inclined, scrutinizing me with unseen gaze. Tears welled in my eyes, hot and unrestrained, as I braced for the inevitable embrace of death. The figure gradually descended, its feet pressing into my chest with an icy chill coursing through me. As its waist aligned with my sternum, a frigid sensation enveloped me. With a swift motion, it plunged its hand into my chest, seizing my heart, and darkness consumed my senses.
I felt a terrifying pull downward, as if gravity itself had gone haywire. My stomach churned with a sickening weightlessness, reminiscent of a plummeting elevator. As my descent abruptly halted, the sound of wind rushing in my ears gave way to a sudden explosion—a resounding burst, resembling the opening of a parachute. That's when I sensed something coiling around my waist, though invisible to my eyes. Desperate to break free, I reached out, only to recoil in horror as my fingers brushed against scaly, rough skin.
Simultaneously, the air filled with the echoing beat of what seemed like enormous wings, while I experienced the unsettling sensation of being lifted and dropped. Though I had a suspicion about what gripped me, disbelief held me back from fully acknowledging it. So, resigned, I surrendered to my captor's will, allowing them to transport me to an unknown destination. As the darkness yielded, a faint glow emerged beneath us—a jagged line emanating an eerie orange-red light. The creature descended, revealing a sight that churned my stomach: bubbling lava. Its faint glow barely illuminated what seemed to be a cavern.
As I descended further into the cavern's depths, the beast veered close enough for me to sense the searing warmth of the lava beneath my feet. Gradually, our descent stabilized, and my gaze shifted forward, revealing a massive door-like structure. Its design echoed the grandeur of ancient Gothic architecture, adorned with pointed arches and intricate buttresses. The edifice appeared crafted from a peculiar variety of marble, possessing a beauty tinged with an unsettling aura. Its construction defied convention, evoking a sense of unease; never before had anything been wrought in such a manner.
As the creature descended once more, carrying me firmly, we passed through the doorway, revealing the true scale of the chamber. Beyond the threshold, a vast expanse unfolded, illuminated by a solitary spherical light source, casting an unsettlingly dim glow upon a colossal, otherworldly mechanism. It resembled a colossal pillar, stretching upward into the darkness of the cavern, its details obscured by the dim light. Within its intricate workings, gears, wheels, and chains rotated at a languid pace. Amidst this mechanical labyrinth, my attention was drawn to a swirling mass of gray at the base of the mechanism, slowly undulating. The beast appeared to be steering us directly toward it.
As we drew nearer, we sailed past what appeared to be a platform, upon which perched a colossal beast. Its form resembled that of a massive reptilian creature, akin to what one might envision as a dinosaur. Yet, it stood upright on two legs, its powerful limbs chained firmly to the platform. With each short, sharp inhalation, it unleashed a deafening roar that reverberated through every fiber of my being. I couldn't help but notice the protrusion of its jugular vein, roughly the size of my upper thigh, expanding with each thunderous cry. As we approached the swirling mass of gray, a sudden wave of horror washed over me as I comprehended its true nature.
A sea of people.
I observed that they were all bound together by chains, encircling their arms, legs, and necks. These chains converged at the towering pillar, linking each individual to the mechanism. The mass of people moved in a circular motion, driving the turning of the cogs. Their pallid complexion suggested an absence of life, as if all vitality had been drained from them. Their agonized screams pierced the air, mouths devoid of tongues. I witnessed an individual collapse to their knees, only to be forcefully yanked upright by some unseen power, rest was an elusive notion in this place. To my horror, amidst the throng of young adults and the elderly, I saw children swept along by the relentless current of the crowd.
As the creature positioned me amidst the multitude, I pleaded desperately, but it was futile; the chains had already ensnared me. With each movement of the mass of people, I felt the tug on my own chain, pressed in on all sides without an inch of space to spare. The towering figures around me obscured any view beyond their heads, leaving me engulfed in a sea of bodies.
My voice pierced the chaotic symphony of screams, rising in a desperate plea for escape.
"Please! I don't belong here! I just wanted to sleep, this is a mistake!"
As I cried out, the orb of light began to shift, seemingly in response to my desperate appeals. As it drew closer and closer, a sense of dread gripped me. Hovering ominously above, it revealed itself as a grotesque monstrosity, casting a sickly glow that chilled me to the bone. I fought the overwhelming urge to collapse, my knees weakening with each passing moment. What loomed overhead defied any attempt at human description; it resembled a cluster of intertwining tubes, swirling and spiraling in a mesmerizing dance that transcended the bounds of reality. Bathed in a sickly blue light that pulsed like molten lava beneath its tendrils.
The light wrought a profound transformation within me, granting a clarity of self-awareness unlike anything I had ever known. In its piercing illumination, I was confronted with the raw truth of my being, stripped of illusion or denial. It was a sobering revelation, an awakening to the most authentic understanding of myself I had ever experienced.
I belonged here.
I had systematically driven away my friends, neglecting their presence and refusing to open up to them. Even my own mother's attempts at connection felt burdensome, our conversations reduced to mere obligations. But perhaps the greatest tragedy lay in the chasm that had formed between my wife and me—a divide entirely of my own making. I was the architect of my own downfall, responsible for the ruin of my life, with no one else to blame but myself. Every word the entity had uttered about me held a painful truth.
From this vantage point, my life appeared almost sweet in retrospect, bathed in the stark light of self-awareness. Yet, any semblance of hope quickly dissolved, for in this desolate realm, hope found no foothold, no sanctuary to thrive.
With my head bowed low, I trudged forward, the weight of my chain pulling me inexorably onward. In a moment of unprecedented vulnerability, I found myself offering a prayer. Despite my awareness that it would likely go unanswered, I embraced the grim reality of my fate, accepting it with a heavy heart.
God, have mercy on me…
Suddenly the sound of chains breaking shattered the air as I was yanked upward with astonishing velocity. In a sudden blur, the scene below shrank rapidly beneath me. The rush of wind buffeted me, and I sensed another presence, an arm wrapped around my waist. Clutching onto it tightly, I braced myself as the cavern's light faded into absolute darkness, squeezing my eyes shut against the unknown.
With a jolt, my rapid ascent came to an abrupt halt, my back colliding with something soft. Gradually, I realized I was back in the familiarity of my own bed. At the foot of the bed stood a figure, its features obscured by a radiant glow emanating from its form, resembling molten glass. The brilliance bathed the entire room in an ethereal light. For a fleeting moment, we locked gazes, suspended in a silent exchange. Then, as swiftly as it had appeared, the figure began to ascend, leaving my room cloaked once more in shadows.
I sat in silence for a while, grappling with the enormity of my experience. To dismiss it as a mere nightmare or hallucination would be a gross understatement; whatever transpired felt hauntingly more vivid and tangible than my current reality. It would take me months of introspection and contemplation to begin to make sense of it all, to reconcile the surreal with the mundane, and to find a semblance of peace within myself.
Although the experience didn't trigger an immediate transformation, its impact lingered, nudging me towards a path of change. Despite my ongoing struggle with alcohol addiction, I made a conscious decision to seek help. I began prioritizing regular hangouts with my best friend and even accompanied my mom to a few church visits. While I remained uncertain about my own connection to religion, witnessing her joy brought a sense of fulfillment that warmed my heart. In making her happy, I found a newfound source of happiness within myself.
As time passed, a sense of progress gradually infused my life. Achieving a year of sobriety marked a significant milestone on my journey, celebrated amidst the supportive community of AA. Even my wife took notice of my efforts towards self-improvement, leading us to embark on marriage counseling together. Before long, her return to our home signaled a hopeful new chapter in our relationship.
Not a trace of sleep paralysis had haunted me since that fateful night when I was guided from the depths of despair. I'm not entirely sure if it was an angel, or God, but whatever it was, it spared me, and for that, I'm grateful. And now, the most joyous news of all: my wife and I are expecting our first child next week. The doctors assure us of her perfect health, filling us with anticipation and gratitude. As for her name, I already have the perfect one in mind:
Grace

Me and Lila always carved dozens of jack o’ lanterns every October, so they’d absolutely saturate our lawn on Halloween night. It was our thing. But looking back on it, now that I’ve lost her, I just feel bad for the pumpkins. I almost relate to them, somehow. The way they were carved up, had everything of substance inside of them torn out, and left as hollow, rotting shells with forced smiles.
Needless to say, I didn’t cope with her death well. I didn’t want to cope with it. I wanted the world to drown in the black sludge of my grief. I loathed the people I saw going about their lives, unaware that the world had already ended the moment Lila died. The Earth shouldn’t keep spinning. Life shouldn’t go on. Not without her.
Even my relatives bringing me along on a trip to Kauai only made it worse. The most gorgeous place on Earth, and it made me sick with hatred. Nothing that beautiful deserved to exist if Lila wasn’t ever going to get to see it. It wasn’t fair.
I thought I’d never enjoy or care about anything again. Then I discovered media preservation.
It started with taking some of Lila’s old VHS tapes to a video repair place to fix some issues with the footage before it’s digitized. The job fascinated me. In a universe based on entropy, where everything inevitably fades away and is forgotten… restoring something lost is like snatching it from the jaws of death, right? Like flipping the bird to the universe and its so-called ‘natural order’. People die, but information doesn’t have to.
Now, it doesn’t matter how small — be it some god-awful plug-and-play licensed game, or a cereal commercial from 80’s — it’s my mission to recover it in as high a quality as I’m able, and make sure it’s freely available online for as long as possible.
A couple weeks ago, I came across a big haul. Four boxes of old VHS tapes offered up on E-Bay for dirt cheap. Most of the tapes were just recordings of Cheers episodes already preserved in higher qualities, but one Maxell E-240 caught my interest.
First of all, I’d never seen one so melted. Sure, sometimes they were left in an attic too long, and the colors and audio start to degrade. But this one looked like it had survived a house fire. It was covered in soot and the smell of smoke, and had the overall shape of a chocolate bar left out in the sun a little too long.
Second was the label, which read in neat sharpie: ᴇᴘɪꜱᴏᴅᴇ 4,679,329 ᴍᴀʀ 8 2035.
The casing was so disfigured, I had to bust it apart just pull out the tapes and respool them in a fresh cassette. I tried to iron out the creases in the tape as best I could, but I had no illusions about it accomplishing much — the mylar surface had been irreparably warped in places by whatever fire had half-melted the thing.
Imagine my despair at the sight of that dreaded ‘ɴᴏ ꜱɪɢɴᴀʟ’. I could clearly see the tape wasn’t blank, yet no amount of adjusting the tracking or trying different TVs or VCRs accomplished anything. Just as I was about to give up, though, the thing just suddenly started playing properly at the exact instant the clock struck 3 AM, as if it had only now decided to work. My all-nighter had paid off.
I didn’t dwell on the fact that this ‘miracle fix’ had been impossible. If I’d had any sense, I’d have torn the horrid thing out of my VCR and buried it beneath holy ground. Instead, fool I was, I sat down and watched.
At first, the thing seemed unwatchable. The audio was so distorted that the show’s theme song emerged as a low, crackling, staticky wail that made my head throb, and the logo was completely indistinguishable through the flickering and interference. I thought it was a lost cause for a moment. But then a figure appeared and cleared away the static, like Moses parting the Red Sea.
It was the sight of the show’s host that hooked me. He was just… perfect. Perfect in every way. I knew it just looking at him. Infinitely handsome and likable and charismatic, and he always said the exact perfect thing. The only issue is, I don’t remember a single thing about him now, in the same way you can’t remember a dream that seemed so clear to you while you were experiencing it. He just appears in my memory as this abstract blur in a sharp suit. Yet at the time, I was awestruck, even before he said a single word.
I can’t even remember a word he said. It was like he was speaking another language, one I felt as opposed to heard. I’ll try and transcribe it as best I can into words, but know that it’s only a pathetic imitation.
“... for another night of laughs, prizes, and fun for the whole family, with your host, #####!” I noticed that the audio and visual distortion seemed to suddenly intensify the instant he said his name, rendering it completely illegible. Idiot I was, I figured that was a coincidence. “Tonight is a night of celebration, folks, because thanks to the support of loyal viewers like you, we have just been approved for, get this: two hundred thousand more seasons!”
The “live studio audience” went wild with applause. I put that in scare quotes because, as far as I could tell, besides the host, the studio seemed completely empty. As if he was standing on a plain white stage that extended outwards into infinite darkness on all sides.
“For those just joining us, the game here is simple…” He explained that this was some sort of a trivia show. Every time a guest got an answer wrong, it brought them a little closer to some sort of unspecified ‘punishment’. And if they got it right? He smirked. “Well, they get to delay the inevitable.”
I wondered what he meant by ‘inevitable’. I didn’t have to wonder long.
The host gestured to a curtain that hadn’t been there moments ago, which raised to reveal a middle-aged man. You know the type — bushy mustache, gray hair, round-rimmed glasses. Kind of guy you’d have doing your plumbing. He couldn’t look any more out of place stood up and restrained in that — what the hell is that?
I recognized that metal coffin-looking thing from a medieval torture museum I went to once. The iron maiden. The lid hung open, countless long, needle-like blades poking inwards, threaten to poke a million new holes in him if it was shut.
His situation was not lost on him. “Where… where am I? What the hell is this!?”
“Oh, lucky guess!” The host ‘joked’. More canned laughter. “I know you always loved watching those trivia shows, Malcolm? Weren’t you always sitting there, grinding your teeth, seething that it wasn’t fair? That you should be the one up on stage, winning big?”
The man paused. Even he seemed mesmerized by the unreal perfection of the host before him. “I… this is a… game show?”
“All you have to do is answer a few questions! Think you can handle that, Malcolm?” He pulled out a cue card without waiting for an answer. “And our first question! What were you doing the night of February 18th, 1998?”
The man seemed baffled. “Just… sat on my couch watching the NFL, I think? I’m not sure how I’m supposed to remember —“
He let out a startled squeal as a horrid buzzer sounded. On cue, the lid slid a third of the way closed, making him flinch. “Oooh, I’m afraid that’s the wrong answer, Frank! But you know what? I’ll give you one more chance. What were you —“
“Following a girl home!” The man cried out. “F-from the bar. There, are you happy?”
“Cor-rect!” The canned audience began cheering! “Such honesty! Now, our second question: just what were you carrying while you followed her?”
He hesitated for a little too long. And then the buzzer sounded again, and the lid slid so near to closing that its blades began poking uncomfortably against his skin. He tried to press himself against the back of the maiden as well as his restraints would allow. “Jesus! Okay! A knife, a knife!”
“Awww, if only you’d said that just a second earlier!” Another big question. “Our third question: why, Malcolm? Why did you do it?”
That set Malcolm off. He started thrashing, clawing, screaming. “Let me out of this thing, you maniac! You can’t do this to me! Do you know who I am? Is this some sort of sick joke? My lawyers will have your head for this, you—“
And then the buzzer. All of a sudden, the lid slammed shut full-force, and the man was utterly silenced save for an unnatural, drawn-out wheeze. “Another wrong answer, Malcolm! I’m afraid I was looking for: ‘because if I can’t have her, no one can’!”
I admit it. I laughed. Out of shock more than anything. How was this allowed on TV? I took it as some sort of dark comedy show, and it was kind of satisfying to see that freaky character get his comeuppance. Still, there was something unnerving to me, seeing the man’s eyes through the openings in the maiden. Wide and red and terrified. They just looked a little… too real.
But the maiden disappeared as quickly as it came, before I could dwell on it too much. “Oh, envy! Definitely one of my favorite sins.” More laughter. “Stay tuned, folks! We’ve still got a night of fun and games in store for you! But first… how’s about a word from our sponsors?”
Cut to a corporate logo which I again couldn't recognize.
“This segment was made possible by Buer Health, which has recently announced a brilliant new initiative to protect our citizens from skin cancer by removing their skin completely.”
The camera cut to a massive industrial building, resembling a solid concrete cube around 50 meters in width and height. Its surface bore arcane symbols etched using carvings of wailing, tormented faces. The host would occasionally be rendered inaudible by a deafening metallic scraping from within, though he didn’t seem to notice. The only protrusion from the building’s cubic shape was a single smokestack, belching a scarlet red smoke into the atmosphere. A queue of gaunt figures waited at the entrance, herded and coerced by their grim overseers, and there were no words to describe the procession of scarlet ghouls limping out the building’s other end.
“Owing to the nonlinearity of time, the brand new Grand Skinpeeling Machine has spontaneously appeared several years before construction deadlines, and indeed, before it was even conceived of by anyone in our timeline. People have rushed all the way from Malebolge just to try this miracle of technology out on opening day, and so far, the reviews have been stellar!”
He shoved his microphone in the face of a shambling thing that could only scarcely be called a human. Tatters of flesh clung to its exposed musculature, blowing in the wind. Its eyes were the only hint of color in that sea of bloody red, and they were wide, white and terrified. The thing screamed and wailed for as long as it could before the last tendons connecting its jaw to its face snapped, and it was left to choke and gurgle.
“An amazing wail! The results speak for themselves, folks. The Grand Skinpeeling Machine is a hit!”
So far, I was still laughing along and having a good time. The sight of the next ‘guest’, however, started making me nervous.
It was an old lady.
She couldn’t be a day younger than sixty, the sort of sweet elderly woman who in a just world would be cooking chocolate chip cookies for her grandchildren in a comfy cottage somewhere. But here she was, tied to a metal chair, eyes wide, shaking like a leaf. Unlike the last contestant, she seemed to know exactly what was happening.
“In exchange for our loving endorsement, they’ve agreed to loan us one of their star employees. Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for: the Liqisma!”
Something slunk from the darkness far behind her — or perhaps it’d be more apt to say that the darkness birthed it whole-cloth. It was like a living shadow, and it took my eyes a moment to register what I was even seeing.
How do I even begin describing this creature? I could say it looked almost human, or at least like something that may have been human long ago. Or I could start with its skin, which was all black and shiny as latex and seemingly smooth on first glance, but if you looked closer you’d realize it was covered in a million tiny reptilian scales, almost like a shark. Its head was a bald man’s, utterly devoid of any distinguishing features, like the basic stock template for a human being. It was notable only for a complete lack of pupils and irises, its eyes a pure white.
Its body defied basic biology in so many key ways, I had to stare it at for what felt like an eternity just to wrap my mind around its physiology. It was at least five or six meters long, by my estimate, composed of multiple human torsos stacked one on top of the other like segments of a centipede, each melding with the ones around it at the waist and shoulders. Each torso sported a pair of short, stubby arms that propelled it with terrifying grace. It ended with a pair of human legs, perpetually bent on their knees, beneath a ‘tail’ that looked more like its coccyx was poking free from its body.
The old last could clearly hear it, and kept futilely trying to turn her head around enough to get a peek at what stood behind her. I mouthed uselessly, don’t. You don’t want to know.
“Glad you could join us again, Miss Wethersby! Judging by our ratings last week, you seemed to have been a fan favorite!”
Her voice was so soft, I could barely hear it below the static. “Oh, God. Please, why won’t you people let me go? I’ve told you, I’ve never done anything, never hurt anybody. There must be some sort of—”
He waved a hand over her, and it seemed to forcefully snap her mouth shut. “Please, Miss Wethersby, save your breath for our questions!” Another cue card. “Your first question, my friend: where did you and your husband buy your first home?”
She had to think about it for a long time. Eventually, she cried out, “Alabama! Tuscaloosa, Alabama!”
“Ding ding ding! Why, you’re already doing better than our first contestant! Next question: what breed of dog was your childhood pet?”
She had a pained look on her face as she thought. Eventually, a timer started ticking down. It wasn’t visible, so it wasn’t clear how much time she had left exactly, but the sound it made got more shrill and high-pitched with every second. “Miss Wethersby, need I remind you that we have a time limit on this show?”
A tear ran down her cheek. “I… I keep telling you people, I don’t know. I have dementia, I can’t remember, please—”
That buzzer again. “I’m afraid that was the wrong answer! Liqisma?” The old lady shuddered at the sounds of hundreds of feet drawing a little closer to her. “Now, your first grandchild. What did he look like? What color were his eyes? His hair?”
She was crying harder now, like it hurt her that she couldn’t remember something so dear to her. “I told you I can’t remember! Why are you doing this to me!?”
“If you don’t remember them, why would they remember you?” The host mocked as the buzzer sounded, and the beast drew a little closer. “Really, do you believe they still even think about you? Or do you think they’re glad that the old bag of bones isn’t there sucking up their inheritance?”
This went on for… God, it could have been an hour. I was glued to the screen all the while, frozen with terror, praying for this nightmare to just end, for her to make it out okay somehow. He poured over every little detail of the life she lived and the people she loved, delighting in how little of it she could still recall.
And the thing grew closer, and closer… until she finally felt multiple pairs of hands resting upon her shoulders. The thing was looming over her now, and a long, black tongue a few feet in length emerged from its mouth and ran trails of dark saliva over the back of her head. She looked broken down, eyes raw from crying, and I could tell by the dampness of her dress that she’d wet herself.
“Now, Miss Wethersby, our time here has been fun, but I do believe it is time for our final question. Tell me, what is the name… of your only son?”
She couldn’t even answer anymore. She just stared ahead, like her mind was a million miles away. He cackled as the buzzer sounded one final time, and threw his cue cards aside. “Thank you for playing, Miss Wethersby. Better luck next time.”
I would say the thing unhinged its jaw like a snake, but that’d be an understatement. The way the thing’s face malformed and wrinkled and stretched as it opened its maw, it no longer looked even remotely human. Its jaws must have parted at least thirty centimeters apart, revealing a second, pharyngeal pair of jaws that lashed out and gripped the woman’s skull, pulling her headlong into that darkness.
I could hear bones crunching and snapping as its throat constricted down around her body, peristaltic muscles compacting her into a meat slurry, bit by bit. Yet she just wouldn’t die. Even as her skull and upper body were already crushed and compacted, organs and muscles pressed into mulch, she still kicked her legs, twitched her fingers, let out a gurgling that must have been some attempt at screaming. She was squirming even as the beast snapped its jaw shut around the last of her, condemning her to whatever torments awaited her inside the creature.
And all the while, that horrible laughter. “Don’t worry, folks! She’ll be back next week! And the next. And the next…”
Needless to say, I wasn’t having fun anymore. In fact, I had to turn away and fight the urge to throw up. I stood, about to turn the TV off and —
“Ah, ah, ah! Don’t touch that dial, now!” I froze. There was something chilling about the way he said that, staring right into the screen as if reacting to what I was doing. I hated that grin on his face. “The real show is just beginning.”
And with the barely restrained excitement of a child on Christmas morning, he yanked back another curtain, and I recognized everything.
I recognized that crappy bootleg knockoff Always Sunny in Philadelphia jacket that was so gaudy and terrible it instantly became her favorite thing in her wardrobe. I recognized those subtle hints of slight acne she disguised as fake freckles. I recognized the way her gray eyes would remind me of those overcast mornings at the beach at Hilton Head and pointing out all the cannonball jellyfish washed up on the sands. I recognized that tattoo of the name ʀᴏᴄᴋʏ, how I’d held her all night long as she cried into my shirt after her childhood cat had died.
It was Lila.
I shuddered, gasped, fell from my seat as if I’d been punched in the stomach and the air had been knocked out of me. I couldn’t breathe. This couldn’t be real. I was dreaming right now. I must be. I just had to wake up.
But I couldn’t wake up. Nothing I could do dispelled the sight of her curled up in that… that thing. That bronze statue of a bull, horns jutting on either side of a head that roaring silently up at the heavens, all while the love of my life was locked in its hollowed out belly, visible only through a pane of glass. I could hear her cry out in shock at where she’d found herself, and every whimper felt like it drove a knife through my chest.
The host soaked in the moment. It was ecstasy for him, the suffering of it all. He stared dead into the camera like he was looking right at me as she called, “What is this? Where am I?”
“Why, I have good news, my dear Lila! You’re exactly where every American dreams of being: you’re on TV.” He pointed to the camera. “And we have a very special guest in the audience tonight. Your very own beloved Jackson!”
I shuddered, hearing my own name ooze from his fetid lips. His façade of perfection was slipping, and there was something so profoundly ugly beneath it. Her eyes snapped to the camera, confused, despairing. “Jackson? Baby? What — what’s happening? What is this?”
I don’t know, I thought, gripping the sides of the TV so hard my knuckles turned white, but I’m going to get you out of there, baby. I’m going to find whoever did this and I’m going to bury them all so far beneath that studio that they’ll never-
“I’m afraid Jackson hasn’t joined us quite yet, my dear. But if you truly love him, surely you’ll give him a show to remember, won’t you?” He taunted her. “All I want, after all, is to ask you a few questions! In fact, I’ll offer you a special deal: get even a single answer right, and I’ll let you go free! But get one wrong and, well…”
On cue, a fire was lit beneath her. Small, smoldering for now, but she whimpered as she noticed the heat. We both realized in that instant what this was. By now, I was screaming things I can’t repeat here, and slamming my hands against the TV screen as if I could reach through and save her.
She bit her lip and acquiesced. Not like she had any room to argue. The host grinned and readied a cue card. “Your first question: where are you, Lila?”
“I… I don’t know. How am I supposed to know?”
“You do know, Lila. You know exactly where you are.” He smirked at her. “Here’s a free hint: what’s the last thing you remember, before you woke up here?
She thought about it… and choked back a sob, visibly shaking as the realization slowly settled in. “But… but why? I… I…”
The horrible wail of the buzzer cut her off. “Oooh, too bad! I’m afraid you’ve run out of time!”
Seemingly as if on its own, the fire doubled in size. Sparks licked the belly of the bronze bull, and began to ever-so-slowly heat the surface. She pawed around in the tight confines, searching for any reprieve from the scalding heat all around her as the metal grew hot like it’d been left out in the sun on a summer’s day. “Please! Oh, God, let me out of this thing! It hurts! It hurts!”
The host seemed to breathe in her pain as if stealing a moment’s indulgence. “Now that there is no doubt about where you are, my dear, let us proceed to the second question.” He switched to his next card. “Did you believe in God, in the end?”
“O-of course!” She pled her case as if she was being tried in court. “My entire life… every day I gave to the poor, helped the sick, did whatever I could to honor Hi-“
“I’m afraid you misunderstood my question. I asked, did you believe in him at the end? The very moment your pitiful little life was snuffed out?”
“I always believed! I’d never forsake Him!”
“Yes, yes, I know. You lived a good and holy life, didn’t you?” He cackled. “But what of the very end? You and your little husband were so excited to deliver your first little baby boy. But o, tragedy! It all went wrong, didn’t it? Your precious little boy didn’t make it through childbirth… and you followed closely behind.”
“That whole business with the botched pregnancy, it was… what do you call it? Ah, yes. A ‘test of faith’. And I’m afraid you failed. In your final moments, you watched the light fade from your child’s eyes, and you assumed — wisely, in my humble opinion — that no ‘kind’ and ‘loving’ God would allow something like that to happen.” He laughed. “Funny how after a lifetime of dutiful service, all it takes is one little mistake at the end… to bring you here. To us.”
I’d never seen such depths of despair in a person’s eyes. Such emptiness. Like with every word, he’d been scooping out another piece of her until she was hollow. And then that buzzer roared again, more shrill than ever, and I could barely see her little window through the smoke and flames. The belly of the bull was turning orange in places, and I could hear her flesh start to sizzle like meat on a grill. There are no words for the noises she made. No words at all.
“And our last, final question,” he continued. “What were your last words to your poor, beloved Jackson?”
“I love you!” I called out the answer. Bloody fingerprints stained the TV screen from my slamming my hands against it, as I screamed the answer over and over. “I love you, I love you, I love you!” At some point, I forgot that there was ever a question. I was just screaming it at her as if hoping that she could hear it, that it could bring her a modicum of comfort in that place.
The buzzer sounded again. I couldn't bring myself to look. All I could hear was the roaring of the bull, and the steam rising from its bronze nostrils.
The curtain fell. Silence drowned the sound. The host dropped all pretense that he hadn’t been speaking directly to me. “Now, Jackson. You just might be one of my new favorite audience members this show had ever had. I know this must have been hard for you. But if you’ll just stay tuned, I have one more show I know you’re certain to love!”
I didn’t bother to touch the remote. After all, nothing could be worse than what I’d just seen, right?
Wrong. Horror wracked me as the curtain rose, and I saw the man chained to a chair. I pulled away like a caveman witnessing fire, cringing and stuttering, face wet with sweat. It was the sort of fear that worked its way into your bones like a bad chill, that left you shaking, teeth chattering.
It was me.
An older me, sure. But not by much. Ten years, maybe. A gaunt and hollow version of me, one twisted by ten years of depression and hard drugs. But it was unmistakable.
His eyes widened as he recognized the host. “Oh — oh God, God please no! It can’t be — oh Christ, let me out of this chair, you —“
“Come, now! We wouldn’t want to use the lord’s name in vain, would we? I mean, that would be a sin!” The host laid a hand on the other me’s shoulder. “It may have been a few years since you watched our program, but I’m sure you remember the rules, don’t you, old friend?”
The other me was wordless, on the verge of hyperventilating, just as I was. The host was giddy with delight. “Now! Our first and only question is one I’m sure our viewer will be very interested in: what sins, exactly, do you think landed you here?”
The other me tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat. I could see it in his eyes. The years of self-destruction, the bitter hopelessness, the whirlpool of nihilism and vice and decay. The suffocating depths of a man. The darkness. How could he put it into words?
The sound of the buzzer was like a pig’s squeal. “Mmm, I’m afraid that our viewer is going to have to figure that out for himself! In the meantime, your punishment? Well, we wouldn’t want to spoil anything…”
The curtains slowly began to fall just as a couple other of those black, grotesque monstrosities emerged from the darkness. The curtain covered them all before I could get a good look at their obscene, twisted, asymmetrical figures. All I could hear was the crunching, the sound of skin tearing like paper, the screaming that went on for longer and louder than a human throat or vocal chords could endure.
The image and audio were beginning to distort, glitch, burn away. The tapes were physically melting as they played. My VCR was starting to overheat, sparks pouring from its front panel. The host voice jumped around in tone, his voice fading into the static blur as the tapes bubbled and boiled and distorted. “But, my friends, I’m afraid that concludes tonight’s episode of our show! So, with a final farewell to our dear, beloved viewer, Jackson…”
Just before the image melted away, the camera seemed to jump forward until his face filled the screen, his eyes piercing into mine as he cackled in that singsong voice.
“See you sooooon~”

I am a reptile person, anything with scales I love, and snakes are my favorite! Yet, if you own anything other than a hellhound people are nasty toward you. What irritates me the most is when people inevitably found out I had a snake (not anymore sadly) they'd always either look at me weirdly/with disgust, which I learned to ignore, but what really boiled my blood is when people would say, "the only good snake is a dead one." Yet, I guarantee those same people would defend pit bulls to their dying breath, even if it's their neck in the dog's mouth. Not to mention, saying something like that to a beloved pet that's a dog and you'd be seen as satan himself. But because someone's well loved pet has scales, suddenly it's socially acceptable, and even the right stance.
My 6 foot boa couldn't escape his enclosure, and couldn't leave it without me opening it. My snake's behavior (and all snakes really) is very predictable and I could avoid a bite 99% of the time, with any bites being error on my end. When my snake did bite it was a strike out of fear, mostly when he was younger, and would let go immediately to return to his coil. My snake was not smart enough to chase someone (no snake is for that matter), and would most likely prefer to hide. My snake didn't make noise, only pooped once every week or so, and would spend most days under his heat lamp or chilling on his branch when not hanging out with me on my shoulders. Yet MY snake is the disgusting dangerous one.
Not people's hellhounds that will eat through fences just to go after a squirrel, and will literally off themselves for the sake of mauling their chosen victim. They have unpredictable behavior because just walking casually on the opposite side of the street is enough to send Luna into such a panic that she had no choice but to maul that horrible old lady out of fear, it's not her fault!
I'd be safer holding my late boa directly to my face once he was in my hands calm, than I am standing 20 feet away from someone's oh so precious mutt who couldn't hurt a fly and can run at me faster than Usain Bolt to rip my leg off. Yeah, keep telling me how my snake was the dangerous one and better off dead. Dog nutters are hypocrites and have disgusting behavior towards anything that is not a dog, humans included.

I posted my initial diagnosis and my thoughts about few months ago. Since then, I have finished my initial 3 loaded doses. There was the expected fever and chills about 4 hours after initial dosage but was remedied with OTC painkillers, no antihistamines needed. The other 2 was perfectly fine, 20 seconds in and out, no apparent side effects bar the mildly slower energy recovery.
I am super fortunate kesimpta is under registered drugs and covered by the medical system where I live and I have to pay pennies for it. Turns out it's standard for MS patients to get it. I have both doctors and researchers following my case and were nothing less than wonderful.
My own research is going swimmingly, and I am making good progress on my manuscript. Just a minor update and I wish you all the best in your MS management. Please don't lose hope.
As an addendum, please please do participate in any biobank/repositories/data bank. The data collected will be extremely helpful in aiding fellow academics in studying the disease and hopefully lead to better treatment/management. (association studies/GWAS require so much data.) Your data will be anonymised and safe. It wouldn't not cost a single thing and you are helping everyone in the long run.

I am on week three of 20 mg. Aside from headaches, tiredness, no appetite… I was managing well until a few days ago.
I developed nausea, heartburn, indigestion, and now diarrhea. I thought at first it was my stomach ulcer acting up but now that I have diarrhea I’m worried I’m contagiously sick.
Usually with the stomach bug (which my family had three weeks ago) you get other symptoms like headache fever body chills but now it’s just stomach issues.
I’m so scared I’m sick and infecting my family but also wonder if it’s the Prozac. Weird it just started after two full weeks though. My anxiety is through the roof… I started Prozac due to health anxiety and always worrying about family being sick. I’m having a very hard time coping…

34F
I have a history of mastitis (3-4 times with each child).
I start a new job, in person today, and it’s a pretty big deal. Wouldn’t you know last night I developed that telltale soreness on the left breast. It’s not red (yet), I can’t feel any hard spots (yet), but I am constantly aware of the sore feeling, even after feeding. I’ve been icing and taking ibuprofen, but I’m nervous because when I get mastitis it goes from 0-100 in an hour. Last time I had it, I remember thinking “ouch! uh oh!” and within 2 hours I was at the doctor with 103 fever and uncontrollable chills. So you can see why I’m nervous about starting a job in a matter of hours…
Anyway, my question:
I have an extra unopened prescription of Cephalexin (3x a day for 7 days) due to a snafu with ordering in the past. I’m tempted to take it to avoid the high fever rather than risk it this week. I last finished a round of Keflex on 2/26/24 so it’s pretty close to the 90 day mark, but not quite…
Help. What should I do? I would NEVER consider this if it weren’t for my bad history and the importance of today.

I (35F) have been married to my husband (38M) for almost 10 years. We have 1 child together.
For context, many people thought I was marrying beneath me because he had been unemployed when we started dating and had only managed to get a job after a couple of years at a company that his family owns.
I didn't mind those comments and thought that as long as he's working hard, we're fine. I also had my own job, so we helped each other out financially. I should add that his workplace is a 3-hour drive away so he's only home on weekends. He doesn't earn much, but it's a steady job, and he seemed to enjoy it.
The distance was maybe part of the reason why it took us a few years to conceive. When we finally got pregnant, I found out that he had cheated on me a month before giving birth.
But that's not the worst part. I did not find out about his infidelity immediately.
After I gave birth, I was experiencing horrible stomach pains. At first, I thought it was just part of my post-CS recovery. But then it got worse. I started having chills and fever and it had reached a point where I wanted to see a doctor to have my CS wound checked. Maybe they left something in there that they shouldn't have?
When I told him that I wanted to see the doctor, that's when he confessed that he had cheated on me a month ago and that my abdominal pains might have been caused by an STD that he had been diagnosed with.
One month post-partum and that news really took the wind out of me.
After that, I wanted to get out of the marriage but he had begged me for another chance. For the sake of our child and because I was too much of a coward to admit that my marriage failed, I agreed.
Since that time, I tried my best to move on. We never talked about it again. But I always had that nagging doubt every time he was away from home that he might do it again.
On top of that, I've had to deal with his other issues. For one, he lacks drive and ambition. His job doesn't pay well, and I've been bugging him to find another one, but he refuses. I've always earned more than him.
He also has drinking issues. Not to say that he's alcoholic, he only drinks occasionally, but when he does, it's until he's passed out drunk in the early hours of the morning. That's how he ended up cheating on me, btw. He said he didn't know what he was doing because he was drunk.
He had also compromised our child's safety while he was on one of his drinking sprees. On that day, he was supposed to be home to meet our child after school. Our child was a first grader and could not be left alone in the house yet.
So the child got home from school, realized my husband wasn't home, wandered around the streets looking for help until finally deciding to just climb up the window to get into the house.
I was livid when I came home from work a couple of hours later. I admit I got violent and threw a plate at him in a fit of anger. I missed, so the plate ended up in pieces on the floor. On that day, I told him I was done and that he had to move out. My precious child, after seeing my husband cry, begged me to let him stay.
Last night was the last straw, I guess. He came home again at 4 am, with his phone missing. Said he could not remember where he lost it. Even tried to claim that he came home late because he was combing the streets trying to look for it. I found out the next morning when I woke up, so I was sympathetic and even tried to help him look for it. I was already asleep when he came home so I had no clue.
But what do you know? After we reported the phone missing at the police station, somebody called and told them they had my husband's phone. It was a woman, said she was the owner of a bar.
He had spent the night drinking and left his phone at a bar.
My mind was in overdrive. Was he drinking with someone? Was the person who called really the bar owner or someone he spent the night with? After several years, I still had not gotten over the trauma of his cheating.
In tears, and on Mother's Day at that, I asked him to move out of the house for the last time. I couldn't bear to move out myself and leave my child with him.
After a restless night, my emotions have subsided. And I am trying to ask myself, did I make the right decision? Am I doing what's best for me and my child? Should I have given him another chance?
TLDR: I have dealt with several issues with my husband. I have given him several chances to redeem himself. Should I give him one last chance?

Started off fine-ish the first week. Went to the ER 4/23 for dizziness, extreme stomach aches, and pain when standing/going potty. They said, “all good, just a “miscarriage” take pain meds. ok whatever. Went to planned parenthood for checkup abt 4/25 i think. said everything looks good, and levels had dropped to 2,000 hcg. told the lady abt the pain that came and went. she said that’s normal and it’ll pass. okay i believe you, and went abt my day. got a checkup call abt two weeks in, told the lady abt how the pain isn’t fixed with meds, she asked if my period cramps are helped with meds, i said “no” and she said “all good just rest!!” almost four weeks now, and i can’t stand half the time bc of the pain, sore on the right side under ribs when i breathe (assuming it’s my liver from all the ibuprofen), occasionally hurts to go potty still, not while peeing, but after in the upper and lower abdomen, and last time i pooped it was fatty, green, and had mucus. today i woke up for work with a low grade fever, chills, nausea, and stomach pain in both sides that feel like stabbing (again), and dehydration. I’m going into the doctor i actually like and who listens to me tomorrow. i’m so sick of feeling pain that doesn’t seem normal at all. nothing helps and i’m miserable.

TLDR: The 5 Elders awakened powers created the divergent climate zones of Impel Down in a battle against the Ancient Kingdom (Empire Dawn).
This theory is based on two things. First is a post on this subreddit the other day by u/matheusco suggesting that Impel Down is actually the flooded remains of the Ancient Kingdom capital. The romanized version of the japanese is Inperu Daun, which looks intriguingly like Empire Dawn, the name many fans believe the Ancient Kingdom will have. It's an amazing post and you should read it if you're interested.
​
Amazing art from Artur's 1114 article (couldn't find a source)
The second part comes from Artur from the Library of Ohara's chapter article for 1114. He points out how each level of impel down matches one of the 5 Elders powers. He can explain it far better than I ever could:

To bring this one step further, there’s been a very interesting theory that several people brought up, being the idea of what if Impel Down’s levels are themed after the Gorosei. The logic is that the first floor is crawling with poisonous spiders, much like Saturn, the second floor has wild beasts such as the basilisk that highly resemble the Itsumade, the third floor is a scorching desert, where a sandworm would normally prowl, the fourth floor is boiling hot, like the fires of the Feng Xi, and the fifth floor is freezing cold, like the chill of the underworld brought by the skeleton horse. -Artur, Library of Ohara

It's also an amazing article and you should check it out! Anyway, he doesn't bring up anything about Impel Down sounding like Empire Dawn. He thinks the Gorosei may have modeled the floors after themselves as an act of bravado and vanity to taunt their imprisoned foes. However, putting these 2 theories together, I have another idea.
What if in a final battle against the Dawn Empire the 5 Gorosei teamed up to destroy the Kingdom capital (before it was eventually flooded deep below the rising sea)? If the Gorosei (or their forerunners maybe?) have awakened devil fruit powers, or something akin to it, perhaps they permanently transformed the floors they were fighting on to be like themselves, exactly like what happened to Punk Hazard. That would neatly explain how the prison with its bizarre segregated climates came to be! (That's it. Thank you!)
​
Punk Hazard

Do I have the flu? I woke up feeling off/uncomfortable with slight headache. Then got the chills and sensitive achy skin. I got up to use the restroom and was shivering. Got back in bed and put on layers of blankets. I thought I was getting pre-migraine symptoms since in the past I would sometimes get the chills before a migraine. I feel back asleep and when I woke my headache was worse and I felt flushed/hot. Temperature was about 100.1. I took Tylenol and been in bed pretty much all day. Temp is around 99~ now
It’s weird how it just came out of nowhere. And my only symptoms so far have been the headache and fever (and chills/achy skin in the morning) so far tested negative for covid.
Anyone have the flu with just a fever and headache? Or is this something else ..

Reddit Request: AskDocs
Can someone please help me with questions I should make sure to write down and ask at my rheumatology appointment?
I am in so much pain, and I’d like to be as thorough as possible with this new doctor from the get-go in order to help me get a diagnosis. I know I will panic and/or forget what to ask. Any help/guidance would be much appreciated!
I’m having a “good” hand/wrist day, so here we go…
38F, 5'4", 185lbs, South Asian, very little drinking, no smoking or recreational drugs.
Currently experiencing the following symptoms:

• SEVERE joint pain - has been continuously present for two weeks as of today.
  • Will reach the point of not being able to stand/walk some days or use my hands/wrists. It starts as a deep ache and then spreads to other joints until finally I’m just on fire. Will get worse if I’m touched, jostled or have to move when it’s that bad.
  • Present everywhere, and I really mean everywhere: fingers, hands, wrists, elbows, shoulders, neck/back, hips, knees, ankles, feet.
  • Sometimes bilateral, sometimes not.
  • No joint swelling or redness
  • Seems to get worse at night
  • Joints are also cracking much, much more than usual.
• Severe fatigue and exhaustion. Sometimes I need more than one nap in a day in order to keep going.
• Some intermittent muscle weakness
• Hair loss (scalp and lashes mostly, a little bit eyebrows.)
• Facial swelling and puffiness:
  • Eyelids/brow bone
  • Front of my cheeks along sides of nose.
  • Around my mouth
  • Around outer sides of face and under chin/on my neck.
• Random feeling of chills/shivers, sometimes accompanied by low-grade fever (around 99 or thereabouts.)
• Difficulty losing weight, honestly near impossible.
  • Even when eating well (getting enough calories, protein, fiber, hydration, etc. to properly fuel a grown active woman’s body) and exercising, I have netted out at gaining weight over time instead.
• Nail ridging
• Brain Fog
• Libido: dead and sorely missed.
• Mood in the shitter, but maybe because I’m just sad/anxious about all of this.
• Most recent blood test results from end of Feb, no active flares at that time:
  • https://ibb.co/Hg6q3TK
  • https://ibb.co/t8Byk5T
  • https://ibb.co/phsfHpS
• Is this a malar rash?…
  • https://ibb.co/R7sj3n8

Current diagnoses and related medications:

• ADHD: 15mg adderall, 3x/week.
  • I haven’t been taking these during this flare up because there’s nothing in the tank for them to work with and it would be a waste.
• Perimenopause/early-atrophied ovary: Junel Fe 1.5/30
  • This will likely change to a different medication with an increased hormonal dosage as this isn’t really working well.

Family history (that I’m aware of…):

• So. Much. Hypothyroidism and Hashimoto’s on mother’s side. At least one person with Sjogren's.
• Heart disease on father’s side.

Are there any specific tests I should make sure to ask for? Any symptoms I need to expand on/track further?
Again, any help at all is extremely appreciated! Thank you in advance!

Hi y'all,
It has been a rough 2 weeks. I went into emergency two weeks ago due to have constant dizziness for 2 days, I had a very fast heart rate and a ferritin level of 4 along with low mean cell volume and cell size small. They gave an iron infusion and that week I felt like crap- fast heart, chest pain, acid reflux, fever, chills and sweats. I went into the hospital multiple times and ruled out a lot of scary things but they couldn't tell me more than I was anemic.
I had one good day where I did not feel dizzy but might have over did it that day? I now have no other symptom besides dizziness (which comes with sensitivity to light) and moderate acid reflux. I would love to feel good enough to go to work and be in society but this dizziness is debilitating....
any thoughts or advice would be greatly appreciated <3