Hello, (M,31, 220lbs)
So i am 8 months on isotretinoin for closed comedones with 0 improvement in my opinion. What is worse that still new comedones are forming even on 100mg a day. I eat 50g fat and large meal with my dose, washing face 2x a day and 1 more with just a water, spf50, and rx moisturizer from my derm.
Why i can not see any improvement? 😞
I have a lot of scars from my acne from 15 years ago, what type of scars i have?
after the end of the treatment, I plan to have a co2 laser or phenol peel..
Dosage : 80,80,80,80,90,90,100,100mg
Thank u..

Do you use drains?- Yes
How many post op visits would we need?- one appointment one week post op
Do you do lipo?- yes if needed
Do you do body masculinization and if so can you do it at the same time as top surgery?- sometimes but he doesn’t think it’s a good idea and wants to focus on chest before other things. Plus insurance doesn’t always cover it and it’s bad to do a covered surgery as well as an uncovered procedure so they’ll focus on that later if it comes up
Will a post-op binder be provided?- hospital gives it
How many surgeries have you done before?- around 150 a year, somewhere over 950 in his whole career
What’s the work load between you and the residents?- residents come in but don’t participate the surgery
Can I be around pets during recovery?- yes
When can I get a tattoo to cover the scars?- wait a long time (gonna wait like a year until I do)
Scar shape?- depends on anatomy
How soon after surgery can I go home?- stay for one day then go back the next day
How would loosing weight in the future affect my results?- deal with it as it comes
How long to keep scars out of sun?- the whole summer
BMI limit?- 40
Recovery timeline?- a few weeks
When can I exercise again?- usually after a few weeks.
What post op supplies should I get?- he wanted me to wait until after they’re healed to start doing scar care to give them a change to naturally fade but I’m still gonna be using scar cream and silicone strips after two weeks
Currently waiting on insurance approval so we can schedule the surgery. I’m coming from SC and switched to him after the original surgeon I wanted to go with left Emory and they tried to switch me to Faulkner who’s BMI limit is 35

What am I doing? Dominick Mason asked himself for the hundredth time that night. It was late on a rainy Sunday evening and Dom, a tall, lanky man-boy of twenty-five with a prominent Adam’s apple and too big eyes, stared out the rain-slicked window of the 905. The big bus swayed and jostled as it lumbered down Central Avenue, the movements strangely comforting, conducive to reflection…and self-doubt.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed, and a pit opened up in his stomach. He fumbled it out with long fingers and read the text. Are u almost here
His thumb hovered over the screen, but he did not reply. Part of him wanted to block the number, slink back home with his tail between his legs, and forget the whole thing. He could boot up his PS4 and play Red Dead Redemption or GTA V like always. Safe. Familiar. The thought, however, stirred a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It was dread.
Every night, he did the same thing. He came home from work to his tiny prison cell apartment. He had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He played video games until it was time to go to bed. The worst part of the whole night was when he turned off the TV and saw his murky reflection in the screen. Plaid. Scrawny. Disgusting. He hated being locked in that apartment, with its old smells and white walls, but he hated going out even more. At least in his hole, he was safe, like a mouse. No one hurt or lied to him there. No one gave him funny looks. No one rejected him. He was completely safe in his solitude, a wounded animal hiding in its den and licking its wounds.
He was wounded and he knew it.
And he hated himself for it. Hated that he wasn’t stronger or better. Hated that even though he tried so hard, everything he did fell apart…if it even came together in the first place, which it rarely did.
The phone buzzed again.
Just a question mark this time.
His heart began to race and a steely fist slowly closed around his lungs. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a deep breath. He pictured himself alone in his little apartment. He loved the image, but he hated it too. Most nights, he didn’t mind being alone. He had to not mind it, because he didn’t have a choice. Some nights…some nights he didn’t want to be alone. Some nights he wanted warmth, he wanted tenderness…some nights, he wanted to be human.
Every so often, Dom would get the urge to find those things. They came less frequently than they did before, but unfortunately, they still came. He would create an account on Plenty of Fish and OKCupid, maybe some of the other sites as well. He would agonize over his stupid intro and his stupid list of hobbies. He would spend hours - literally hours - writing and rewriting them, trying at first to be serious, then light and funny, then cool, then aloof, then vulnerable. He would take the best possible pictures from the best possible angles, then upload them, never lingering over them because he hated the way he looked. He didn’t think he was ugly - mid was more like it - but apparently, he was ugly. Too ugly for love, too ugly even to talk to.
The ugly barnacle. So ugly that everyone died. The end.
All of Dom’s pictures were all selfies, of course. Guys he listened to on YouTube said he needed action shots, shots with friends, shots that showed women he had a life, was valued by those around him, and knew how to have fun. Too bad for him, he had no friends and no one valued him, not even his own mother. On the surface, maybe, but she had hurt him so many times over the years in so many ways that even the most devout son would stop and think.
It had to be selfies.
When his profile was in order - or as much in order as he could get it - he would start to browse. Dom knew his place and never messaged women who were too beautiful. He used to, but they never responded. He eventually began to skip their profiles with a pang of loss and a quiet what if? Now, he barely noticed them. Blonde. Petite. Blue eyes. Maybe she was a cheerleader at one time, maybe she was the type of girl who looked down her nose at guys like him. Maybe she was a sweetheart. In any case, he would never find out, so who cares?
He went for women he could realistically obtain…the type of women he’d dated and hooked up with in the past. Some were attractive in their own way, others were hard to look at, he wasn’t picky; he couldn’t afford to be picky. One woman he saw was a good three hundred pounds. She was nice and he liked her enough, but he lapsed into depression while they were dating and he never messaged her back…not that she made a huge effort to message him. Another was a pre-K teacher in her mid-thirties. Overweight with a big nose, glasses, and a plain face when she wasn’t wearing make-up. He liked her a lot and wanted to be with her, but after a month of weekend hookups, she said she didn’t love him. She told him she wanted a family - three kids, to be exact - but “changed her mind.” No, she didn’t. She just didn’t want those things with him.
Now she was in her late thirties, single, and having regrets.
She still wouldn’t settle for him, though.
Another woman he’d seen recently (six months ago) was fifty, but not unattractive. They texted for weeks, hot and heavy. She outright told him that she wanted to have sex with him. Said all sorts of nasty and sexual things. Their first (and only date) was her coming to his apartment. Instead of tender kisses, loving caresses, and intense emotions, they shared an awkward two hours on his couch. When he tried to hold her hand and put his arm around her, she stiffened. Not much, just a little. She said she “wasn’t ready.” He sat there and watched the flowers he’d gotten her wilt as she talked about her ex for an hour and a half, his arms pointedly crossed. He even leaned as far away from her as humanly possible, trying to communicate with his body language what he didn’t have the guts to communicate with his words: I’m uncomfortable, please leave. He planned to take her to a nice restaurant after they made love. Instead, he ordered something after she finally got the hint and left, eating alone like always.
After her, he deleted his profile (again) and resolved to never bother with dating again. Obviously there was something wrong with him. He saw guys who were uglier and more awkward than him with girlfriends, some actually stunning, but there was something about him in particular, something that repelled women…and men too.
Everyone.
It repelled everyone.
Maybe it was his self-loathing. After all, no one likes a sad sack. But that’s the thing: He was like this because of those experiences. It was a what came first, the chicken or the egg situation. Looking back, he had almost normal confidence at one point. Then all of this happened. The hundreds of messages he sent on the dating apps staying on read, unanswered, like he never sent them at all, like he was garbage unworthy of even a hello. The awkward dates. The occasional “success” that eventually fell apart…sometimes because of him, and sometimes because of them. The one girl who ran away from him when he tried to walk her to her car after a date. They didn’t click, he knew that, but he didn’t say or do anything creepy. Why did she do that? The girls who lead him on, talking about sex and sometimes even love but always had a reason they couldn’t meet.
There were other examples - many others - but it was all the same. Who cared?
Dom wanted to crawl back into his hole and stay there, to stop poking his head out and getting hurt. He wanted it so bad…but he was only human. Deep down, buried beneath layer after layer of scar tissue, there was still hope. Hope for love, for companionship, for acceptance, for intimacy and human touch. It was only an ember now, but even an ember is enough to spark a fire.
Some nights, he wanted to be safe. Other nights, he wanted to take a risk.
And this night was one of the latter.
Be there soon, he texted. He swallowed hard and wetted his lips. His heart was pounding faster and his bowels were loose. He really hoped this worked out. He didn’t think he could handle another rejection. If she turned him down, he’d probably go home and kill himself. Why go on like this?
He’d had that thought before…but he never followed through.
Maybe one day he’d actually shut the fuck up and do it already.
Maybe.
Ok :)
Her name was Heather and she was fat. She was not unattractive in the face and she wore her weight well, not that that mattered - he would take what he could get. They started talking on OKCupid last week and very soon, the conversation became sexual. He didn’t start it, though, she did. She was ahem very excited, she said. He liked to think that she was lonely, desperate, and wanted intimacy - any intimacy - just like him.
That really turned him on.
They agreed to meet, and now here he was, on the bus to her apartment on the other side of the city, hoping against hope that she didn’t hurt him too.
He put the phone away and stared straight ahead. The bus was nearly deserted, save for an old bag lady up front and a few Mexican guys in the back. Lights lined the bus’s roof, providing a cold, impersonal light. Dom took a deep breath and forced his dark emotions away. It was all on him to make this work. He would accept her fat, ugly, poor, and crippled, but he had to work to earn her love. He could do it.
When the bus finally reached his stop, he yanked the cord and got off. There was a plexiglass shelter lit by a single, lonely bulb. Trash littered the ground. Beyond the shelter, a park lay in darkness. Behind him, on the other side of the road, a housing project not unlike his own towered into the sky, lit up like a ship at sail. Dom swallowed his nerves and crossed the street. He found the door that she had directed him to use, and climbed the stairs. He expected trash, graffiti, and winos passed out on every landing. Instead, the stairwell was clean and deserted. His nerves welled as he climbed but he forced them down again. On the ninth floor, he went down the hall, battered on all sides by the stale smells of cooking and the murmur of TVs and voices coming from every apartment.
Dom paused at Apartment 237.
Heather’s.
You got this, he told himself.
And really, he did. Their plan - well, Heather’s, really - was simple and straightforward. She told him that she would leave the door unlocked. He was to come in, go to the bedroom, and she would be waiting for him. She said it was a fantasy of hers.
On some level, he knew all along that the whole setup sounded fishy. Was he being set up to get robbed? Would he walk in and get jumped by a bunch of Crips? He hesitated, but his need for love - and, yes, release - pushed him on.
He opened the door.
Inside, the apartment was small and messy, a living room to the right and a tiny kitchen to the left. The only light on was the one above the stove.
Everything else was in shadows.
Dom’s heart skipped a beat.
This didn’t feel right.
That thought was overpowered by the smell, a sickly sweet odor that suddenly seemed to be everywhere. His stomach twisted and he turned his head slightly to one side, as if to spare his nose. It smelled like something spoiled.
A voice spoke from the darkness, startling him. “I’m in here.”
It was light, airy, and cute.
For the last time, Dom hesitated. Some primal sense told him to turn around and leave…
…but he wanted to be loved.
Dom entered and shut the door behind him.
The smell was stronger. The atmosphere darker.
Ahead, he could barely make out an open doorway in the shadows.
He crossed to it.
The smell was overpowering here and Dom felt like he was going to puke. Any desire he had felt was gone, replaced only by revulsion and claustrophobia. It was cold, he realized, so cold that his teeth chattered.
Okay, fuck this.
He started to turn around, intent on leaving, but a small, white hand reached from the darkness. Icy fingertips brushed his cheek and his heart blasted into his throat.
Then she was there, her body pressing against his and her lips fused with his. The smell, the freezer chill, both stronger than ever.
They were both coming from her.
Her tongue hungrily lashed his own, and she pushed him against the wall. Her hands slipped under his shirt and pressed flat against his chest. They were so cold that he almost cried out.
Dom wanted to push her away, to run, but he didn’t. Instead, he froze up and allowed her to push him onto the bed. Was he too gutless to tell her no, the way he’d been too gutless to tell the woman who went on and on about her ex to shut up and leave? Did he secretly want to go through with this? He didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to figure it out. She was on top of him now, straddling him, his legs caged between her ample thighs. She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her bare breasts.
They were as cold as the rest of her.
She leaned down and kissed him again. He hadn’t noticed it before, but her tongue was…dry. Her mouth itself tasted strange. Off.
Heather broke from his lips and peppered kisses on his cheek and forehead, assaulting him with an intimacy that Dom no longer wanted.
Through it all, she was as silent as a tomb. She wasn’t panting or rasping with excitement. In fact, he didn’t think she was even breathing.
She brushed her lips along the exposed curve of his throat, and tingles of revulsion shot down his spine. She found his pulse and kissed it. Trembles of excitement raced through her body and she started to lap his neck like a dog.
Without warning, a fiery pinprick of pain exploded over him and Heather began to shake and pant. Dom cried out and tried to fight her off, but she was too heavy, too much.
With a tiny, mouse-like squeak - a sound of pitiable fear and resignation - Dom blacked out.

What am I doing? Dominick Mason asked himself for the hundredth time that night. It was late on a rainy Sunday evening and Dom, a tall, lanky man-boy of twenty-five with a prominent Adam’s apple and too big eyes, stared out the rain-slicked window of the 905. The big bus swayed and jostled as it lumbered down Central Avenue, the movements strangely comforting, conducive to reflection…and self-doubt.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed, and a pit opened up in his stomach. He fumbled it out with long fingers and read the text. Are u almost here
His thumb hovered over the screen, but he did not reply. Part of him wanted to block the number, slink back home with his tail between his legs, and forget the whole thing. He could boot up his PS4 and play Red Dead Redemption or GTA V like always. Safe. Familiar. The thought, however, stirred a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It was dread.
Every night, he did the same thing. He came home from work to his tiny prison cell apartment. He had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He played video games until it was time to go to bed. The worst part of the whole night was when he turned off the TV and saw his murky reflection in the screen. Plaid. Scrawny. Disgusting. He hated being locked in that apartment, with its old smells and white walls, but he hated going out even more. At least in his hole, he was safe, like a mouse. No one hurt or lied to him there. No one gave him funny looks. No one rejected him. He was completely safe in his solitude, a wounded animal hiding in its den and licking its wounds.
He was wounded and he knew it.
And he hated himself for it. Hated that he wasn’t stronger or better. Hated that even though he tried so hard, everything he did fell apart…if it even came together in the first place, which it rarely did.
The phone buzzed again.
Just a question mark this time.
His heart began to race and a steely fist slowly closed around his lungs. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a deep breath. He pictured himself alone in his little apartment. He loved the image, but he hated it too. Most nights, he didn’t mind being alone. He had to not mind it, because he didn’t have a choice. Some nights…some nights he didn’t want to be alone. Some nights he wanted warmth, he wanted tenderness…some nights, he wanted to be human.
Every so often, Dom would get the urge to find those things. They came less frequently than they did before, but unfortunately, they still came. He would create an account on Plenty of Fish and OKCupid, maybe some of the other sites as well. He would agonize over his stupid intro and his stupid list of hobbies. He would spend hours - literally hours - writing and rewriting them, trying at first to be serious, then light and funny, then cool, then aloof, then vulnerable. He would take the best possible pictures from the best possible angles, then upload them, never lingering over them because he hated the way he looked. He didn’t think he was ugly - mid was more like it - but apparently, he was ugly. Too ugly for love, too ugly even to talk to.
The ugly barnacle. So ugly that everyone died. The end.
All of Dom’s pictures were all selfies, of course. Guys he listened to on YouTube said he needed action shots, shots with friends, shots that showed women he had a life, was valued by those around him, and knew how to have fun. Too bad for him, he had no friends and no one valued him, not even his own mother. On the surface, maybe, but she had hurt him so many times over the years in so many ways that even the most devout son would stop and think.
It had to be selfies.
When his profile was in order - or as much in order as he could get it - he would start to browse. Dom knew his place and never messaged women who were too beautiful. He used to, but they never responded. He eventually began to skip their profiles with a pang of loss and a quiet what if? Now, he barely noticed them. Blonde. Petite. Blue eyes. Maybe she was a cheerleader at one time, maybe she was the type of girl who looked down her nose at guys like him. Maybe she was a sweetheart. In any case, he would never find out, so who cares?
He went for women he could realistically obtain…the type of women he’d dated and hooked up with in the past. Some were attractive in their own way, others were hard to look at, he wasn’t picky; he couldn’t afford to be picky. One woman he saw was a good three hundred pounds. She was nice and he liked her enough, but he lapsed into depression while they were dating and he never messaged her back…not that she made a huge effort to message him. Another was a pre-K teacher in her mid-thirties. Overweight with a big nose, glasses, and a plain face when she wasn’t wearing make-up. He liked her a lot and wanted to be with her, but after a month of weekend hookups, she said she didn’t love him. She told him she wanted a family - three kids, to be exact - but “changed her mind.” No, she didn’t. She just didn’t want those things with him.
Now she was in her late thirties, single, and having regrets.
She still wouldn’t settle for him, though.
Another woman he’d seen recently (six months ago) was fifty, but not unattractive. They texted for weeks, hot and heavy. She outright told him that she wanted to have sex with him. Said all sorts of nasty and sexual things. Their first (and only date) was her coming to his apartment. Instead of tender kisses, loving caresses, and intense emotions, they shared an awkward two hours on his couch. When he tried to hold her hand and put his arm around her, she stiffened. Not much, just a little. She said she “wasn’t ready.” He sat there and watched the flowers he’d gotten her wilt as she talked about her ex for an hour and a half, his arms pointedly crossed. He even leaned as far away from her as humanly possible, trying to communicate with his body language what he didn’t have the guts to communicate with his words: I’m uncomfortable, please leave. He planned to take her to a nice restaurant after they made love. Instead, he ordered something after she finally got the hint and left, eating alone like always.
After her, he deleted his profile (again) and resolved to never bother with dating again. Obviously there was something wrong with him. He saw guys who were uglier and more awkward than him with girlfriends, some actually stunning, but there was something about him in particular, something that repelled women…and men too.
Everyone.
It repelled everyone.
Maybe it was his self-loathing. After all, no one likes a sad sack. But that’s the thing: He was like this because of those experiences. It was a what came first, the chicken or the egg situation. Looking back, he had almost normal confidence at one point. Then all of this happened. The hundreds of messages he sent on the dating apps staying on read, unanswered, like he never sent them at all, like he was garbage unworthy of even a hello. The awkward dates. The occasional “success” that eventually fell apart…sometimes because of him, and sometimes because of them. The one girl who ran away from him when he tried to walk her to her car after a date. They didn’t click, he knew that, but he didn’t say or do anything creepy. Why did she do that? The girls who lead him on, talking about sex and sometimes even love but always had a reason they couldn’t meet.
There were other examples - many others - but it was all the same. Who cared?
Dom wanted to crawl back into his hole and stay there, to stop poking his head out and getting hurt. He wanted it so bad…but he was only human. Deep down, buried beneath layer after layer of scar tissue, there was still hope. Hope for love, for companionship, for acceptance, for intimacy and human touch. It was only an ember now, but even an ember is enough to spark a fire.
Some nights, he wanted to be safe. Other nights, he wanted to take a risk.
And this night was one of the latter.
Be there soon, he texted. He swallowed hard and wetted his lips. His heart was pounding faster and his bowels were loose. He really hoped this worked out. He didn’t think he could handle another rejection. If she turned him down, he’d probably go home and kill himself. Why go on like this?
He’d had that thought before…but he never followed through.
Maybe one day he’d actually shut the fuck up and do it already.
Maybe.
Ok :)
Her name was Heather and she was fat. She was not unattractive in the face and she wore her weight well, not that that mattered - he would take what he could get. They started talking on OKCupid last week and very soon, the conversation became sexual. He didn’t start it, though, she did. She was ahem very excited, she said. He liked to think that she was lonely, desperate, and wanted intimacy - any intimacy - just like him.
That really turned him on.
They agreed to meet, and now here he was, on the bus to her apartment on the other side of the city, hoping against hope that she didn’t hurt him too.
He put the phone away and stared straight ahead. The bus was nearly deserted, save for an old bag lady up front and a few Mexican guys in the back. Lights lined the bus’s roof, providing a cold, impersonal light. Dom took a deep breath and forced his dark emotions away. It was all on him to make this work. He would accept her fat, ugly, poor, and crippled, but he had to work to earn her love. He could do it.
When the bus finally reached his stop, he yanked the cord and got off. There was a plexiglass shelter lit by a single, lonely bulb. Trash littered the ground. Beyond the shelter, a park lay in darkness. Behind him, on the other side of the road, a housing project not unlike his own towered into the sky, lit up like a ship at sail. Dom swallowed his nerves and crossed the street. He found the door that she had directed him to use, and climbed the stairs. He expected trash, graffiti, and winos passed out on every landing. Instead, the stairwell was clean and deserted. His nerves welled as he climbed but he forced them down again. On the ninth floor, he went down the hall, battered on all sides by the stale smells of cooking and the murmur of TVs and voices coming from every apartment.
Dom paused at Apartment 237.
Heather’s.
You got this, he told himself.
And really, he did. Their plan - well, Heather’s, really - was simple and straightforward. She told him that she would leave the door unlocked. He was to come in, go to the bedroom, and she would be waiting for him. She said it was a fantasy of hers.
On some level, he knew all along that the whole setup sounded fishy. Was he being set up to get robbed? Would he walk in and get jumped by a bunch of Crips? He hesitated, but his need for love - and, yes, release - pushed him on.
He opened the door.
Inside, the apartment was small and messy, a living room to the right and a tiny kitchen to the left. The only light on was the one above the stove.
Everything else was in shadows.
Dom’s heart skipped a beat.
This didn’t feel right.
That thought was overpowered by the smell, a sickly sweet odor that suddenly seemed to be everywhere. His stomach twisted and he turned his head slightly to one side, as if to spare his nose. It smelled like something spoiled.
A voice spoke from the darkness, startling him. “I’m in here.”
It was light, airy, and cute.
For the last time, Dom hesitated. Some primal sense told him to turn around and leave…
…but he wanted to be loved.
Dom entered and shut the door behind him.
The smell was stronger. The atmosphere darker.
Ahead, he could barely make out an open doorway in the shadows.
He crossed to it.
The smell was overpowering here and Dom felt like he was going to puke. Any desire he had felt was gone, replaced only by revulsion and claustrophobia. It was cold, he realized, so cold that his teeth chattered.
Okay, fuck this.
He started to turn around, intent on leaving, but a small, white hand reached from the darkness. Icy fingertips brushed his cheek and his heart blasted into his throat.
Then she was there, her body pressing against his and her lips fused with his. The smell, the freezer chill, both stronger than ever.
They were both coming from her.
Her tongue hungrily lashed his own, and she pushed him against the wall. Her hands slipped under his shirt and pressed flat against his chest. They were so cold that he almost cried out.
Dom wanted to push her away, to run, but he didn’t. Instead, he froze up and allowed her to push him onto the bed. Was he too gutless to tell her no, the way he’d been too gutless to tell the woman who went on and on about her ex to shut up and leave? Did he secretly want to go through with this? He didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to figure it out. She was on top of him now, straddling him, his legs caged between her ample thighs. She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her bare breasts.
They were as cold as the rest of her.
She leaned down and kissed him again. He hadn’t noticed it before, but her tongue was…dry. Her mouth itself tasted strange. Off.
Heather broke from his lips and peppered kisses on his cheek and forehead, assaulting him with an intimacy that Dom no longer wanted.
Through it all, she was as silent as a tomb. She wasn’t panting or rasping with excitement. In fact, he didn’t think she was even breathing.
She brushed her lips along the exposed curve of his throat, and tingles of revulsion shot down his spine. She found his pulse and kissed it. Trembles of excitement raced through her body and she started to lap his neck like a dog.
Without warning, a fiery pinprick of pain exploded over him and Heather began to shake and pant. Dom cried out and tried to fight her off, but she was too heavy, too much.
With a tiny, mouse-like squeak - a sound of pitiable fear and resignation - Dom blacked out.

What am I doing? Dominick Mason asked himself for the hundredth time that night. It was late on a rainy Sunday evening and Dom, a tall, lanky man-boy of twenty-five with a prominent Adam’s apple and too big eyes, stared out the rain-slicked window of the 905. The big bus swayed and jostled as it lumbered down Central Avenue, the movements strangely comforting, conducive to reflection…and self-doubt.
As if on cue, his phone buzzed, and a pit opened up in his stomach. He fumbled it out with long fingers and read the text. Are u almost here
His thumb hovered over the screen, but he did not reply. Part of him wanted to block the number, slink back home with his tail between his legs, and forget the whole thing. He could boot up his PS4 and play Red Dead Redemption or GTA V like always. Safe. Familiar. The thought, however, stirred a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach.
It was dread.
Every night, he did the same thing. He came home from work to his tiny prison cell apartment. He had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He played video games until it was time to go to bed. The worst part of the whole night was when he turned off the TV and saw his murky reflection in the screen. Plaid. Scrawny. Disgusting. He hated being locked in that apartment, with its old smells and white walls, but he hated going out even more. At least in his hole, he was safe, like a mouse. No one hurt or lied to him there. No one gave him funny looks. No one rejected him. He was completely safe in his solitude, a wounded animal hiding in its den and licking its wounds.
He was wounded and he knew it.
And he hated himself for it. Hated that he wasn’t stronger or better. Hated that even though he tried so hard, everything he did fell apart…if it even came together in the first place, which it rarely did.
The phone buzzed again.
Just a question mark this time.
His heart began to race and a steely fist slowly closed around his lungs. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and took a deep breath. He pictured himself alone in his little apartment. He loved the image, but he hated it too. Most nights, he didn’t mind being alone. He had to not mind it, because he didn’t have a choice. Some nights…some nights he didn’t want to be alone. Some nights he wanted warmth, he wanted tenderness…some nights, he wanted to be human.
Every so often, Dom would get the urge to find those things. They came less frequently than they did before, but unfortunately, they still came. He would create an account on Plenty of Fish and OKCupid, maybe some of the other sites as well. He would agonize over his stupid intro and his stupid list of hobbies. He would spend hours - literally hours - writing and rewriting them, trying at first to be serious, then light and funny, then cool, then aloof, then vulnerable. He would take the best possible pictures from the best possible angles, then upload them, never lingering over them because he hated the way he looked. He didn’t think he was ugly - mid was more like it - but apparently, he was ugly. Too ugly for love, too ugly even to talk to.
The ugly barnacle. So ugly that everyone died. The end.
All of Dom’s pictures were all selfies, of course. Guys he listened to on YouTube said he needed action shots, shots with friends, shots that showed women he had a life, was valued by those around him, and knew how to have fun. Too bad for him, he had no friends and no one valued him, not even his own mother. On the surface, maybe, but she had hurt him so many times over the years in so many ways that even the most devout son would stop and think.
It had to be selfies.
When his profile was in order - or as much in order as he could get it - he would start to browse. Dom knew his place and never messaged women who were too beautiful. He used to, but they never responded. He eventually began to skip their profiles with a pang of loss and a quiet what if? Now, he barely noticed them. Blonde. Petite. Blue eyes. Maybe she was a cheerleader at one time, maybe she was the type of girl who looked down her nose at guys like him. Maybe she was a sweetheart. In any case, he would never find out, so who cares?
He went for women he could realistically obtain…the type of women he’d dated and hooked up with in the past. Some were attractive in their own way, others were hard to look at, he wasn’t picky; he couldn’t afford to be picky. One woman he saw was a good three hundred pounds. She was nice and he liked her enough, but he lapsed into depression while they were dating and he never messaged her back…not that she made a huge effort to message him. Another was a pre-K teacher in her mid-thirties. Overweight with a big nose, glasses, and a plain face when she wasn’t wearing make-up. He liked her a lot and wanted to be with her, but after a month of weekend hookups, she said she didn’t love him. She told him she wanted a family - three kids, to be exact - but “changed her mind.” No, she didn’t. She just didn’t want those things with him.
Now she was in her late thirties, single, and having regrets.
She still wouldn’t settle for him, though.
Another woman he’d seen recently (six months ago) was fifty, but not unattractive. They texted for weeks, hot and heavy. She outright told him that she wanted to have sex with him. Said all sorts of nasty and sexual things. Their first (and only date) was her coming to his apartment. Instead of tender kisses, loving caresses, and intense emotions, they shared an awkward two hours on his couch. When he tried to hold her hand and put his arm around her, she stiffened. Not much, just a little. She said she “wasn’t ready.” He sat there and watched the flowers he’d gotten her wilt as she talked about her ex for an hour and a half, his arms pointedly crossed. He even leaned as far away from her as humanly possible, trying to communicate with his body language what he didn’t have the guts to communicate with his words: I’m uncomfortable, please leave. He planned to take her to a nice restaurant after they made love. Instead, he ordered something after she finally got the hint and left, eating alone like always.
After her, he deleted his profile (again) and resolved to never bother with dating again. Obviously there was something wrong with him. He saw guys who were uglier and more awkward than him with girlfriends, some actually stunning, but there was something about him in particular, something that repelled women…and men too.
Everyone.
It repelled everyone.
Maybe it was his self-loathing. After all, no one likes a sad sack. But that’s the thing: He was like this because of those experiences. It was a what came first, the chicken or the egg situation. Looking back, he had almost normal confidence at one point. Then all of this happened. The hundreds of messages he sent on the dating apps staying on read, unanswered, like he never sent them at all, like he was garbage unworthy of even a hello. The awkward dates. The occasional “success” that eventually fell apart…sometimes because of him, and sometimes because of them. The one girl who ran away from him when he tried to walk her to her car after a date. They didn’t click, he knew that, but he didn’t say or do anything creepy. Why did she do that? The girls who lead him on, talking about sex and sometimes even love but always had a reason they couldn’t meet.
There were other examples - many others - but it was all the same. Who cared?
Dom wanted to crawl back into his hole and stay there, to stop poking his head out and getting hurt. He wanted it so bad…but he was only human. Deep down, buried beneath layer after layer of scar tissue, there was still hope. Hope for love, for companionship, for acceptance, for intimacy and human touch. It was only an ember now, but even an ember is enough to spark a fire.
Some nights, he wanted to be safe. Other nights, he wanted to take a risk.
And this night was one of the latter.
Be there soon, he texted. He swallowed hard and wetted his lips. His heart was pounding faster and his bowels were loose. He really hoped this worked out. He didn’t think he could handle another rejection. If she turned him down, he’d probably go home and kill himself. Why go on like this?
He’d had that thought before…but he never followed through.
Maybe one day he’d actually shut the fuck up and do it already.
Maybe.
Ok :)
Her name was Heather and she was fat. She was not unattractive in the face and she wore her weight well, not that that mattered - he would take what he could get. They started talking on OKCupid last week and very soon, the conversation became sexual. He didn’t start it, though, she did. She was ahem very excited, she said. He liked to think that she was lonely, desperate, and wanted intimacy - any intimacy - just like him.
That really turned him on.
They agreed to meet, and now here he was, on the bus to her apartment on the other side of the city, hoping against hope that she didn’t hurt him too.
He put the phone away and stared straight ahead. The bus was nearly deserted, save for an old bag lady up front and a few Mexican guys in the back. Lights lined the bus’s roof, providing a cold, impersonal light. Dom took a deep breath and forced his dark emotions away. It was all on him to make this work. He would accept her fat, ugly, poor, and crippled, but he had to work to earn her love. He could do it.
When the bus finally reached his stop, he yanked the cord and got off. There was a plexiglass shelter lit by a single, lonely bulb. Trash littered the ground. Beyond the shelter, a park lay in darkness. Behind him, on the other side of the road, a housing project not unlike his own towered into the sky, lit up like a ship at sail. Dom swallowed his nerves and crossed the street. He found the door that she had directed him to use, and climbed the stairs. He expected trash, graffiti, and winos passed out on every landing. Instead, the stairwell was clean and deserted. His nerves welled as he climbed but he forced them down again. On the ninth floor, he went down the hall, battered on all sides by the stale smells of cooking and the murmur of TVs and voices coming from every apartment.
Dom paused at Apartment 237.
Heather’s.
You got this, he told himself.
And really, he did. Their plan - well, Heather’s, really - was simple and straightforward. She told him that she would leave the door unlocked. He was to come in, go to the bedroom, and she would be waiting for him. She said it was a fantasy of hers.
On some level, he knew all along that the whole setup sounded fishy. Was he being set up to get robbed? Would he walk in and get jumped by a bunch of Crips? He hesitated, but his need for love - and, yes, release - pushed him on.
He opened the door.
Inside, the apartment was small and messy, a living room to the right and a tiny kitchen to the left. The only light on was the one above the stove.
Everything else was in shadows.
Dom’s heart skipped a beat.
This didn’t feel right.
That thought was overpowered by the smell, a sickly sweet odor that suddenly seemed to be everywhere. His stomach twisted and he turned his head slightly to one side, as if to spare his nose. It smelled like something spoiled.
A voice spoke from the darkness, startling him. “I’m in here.”
It was light, airy, and cute.
For the last time, Dom hesitated. Some primal sense told him to turn around and leave…
…but he wanted to be loved.
Dom entered and shut the door behind him.
The smell was stronger. The atmosphere darker.
Ahead, he could barely make out an open doorway in the shadows.
He crossed to it.
The smell was overpowering here and Dom felt like he was going to puke. Any desire he had felt was gone, replaced only by revulsion and claustrophobia. It was cold, he realized, so cold that his teeth chattered.
Okay, fuck this.
He started to turn around, intent on leaving, but a small, white hand reached from the darkness. Icy fingertips brushed his cheek and his heart blasted into his throat.
Then she was there, her body pressing against his and her lips fused with his. The smell, the freezer chill, both stronger than ever.
They were both coming from her.
Her tongue hungrily lashed his own, and she pushed him against the wall. Her hands slipped under his shirt and pressed flat against his chest. They were so cold that he almost cried out.
Dom wanted to push her away, to run, but he didn’t. Instead, he froze up and allowed her to push him onto the bed. Was he too gutless to tell her no, the way he’d been too gutless to tell the woman who went on and on about her ex to shut up and leave? Did he secretly want to go through with this? He didn’t know, and he didn’t have time to figure it out. She was on top of him now, straddling him, his legs caged between her ample thighs. She grabbed his hands and pressed them to her bare breasts.
They were as cold as the rest of her.
She leaned down and kissed him again. He hadn’t noticed it before, but her tongue was…dry. Her mouth itself tasted strange. Off.
Heather broke from his lips and peppered kisses on his cheek and forehead, assaulting him with an intimacy that Dom no longer wanted.
Through it all, she was as silent as a tomb. She wasn’t panting or rasping with excitement. In fact, he didn’t think she was even breathing.
She brushed her lips along the exposed curve of his throat, and tingles of revulsion shot down his spine. She found his pulse and kissed it. Trembles of excitement raced through her body and she started to lap his neck like a dog.
Without warning, a fiery pinprick of pain exploded over him and Heather began to shake and pant. Dom cried out and tried to fight her off, but she was too heavy, too much.
With a tiny, mouse-like squeak - a sound of pitiable fear and resignation - Dom blacked out.

Devouring Cancer

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=
Meat. /mi:t/
Me it. /mi/ /:t/
It me. /:t/ /mi/
It’s me…
We are eating ones of ourselves…
=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=
/Connected
/Mellator Matrix Mind: Inner Core.
/Unit: great [AVALON] the first
/G.R. Era.
/Memory File transmission: Generalized perspective
/Gender: N/A[Neutral]
/Age: {Human equivalent: 2001 years}
/Race: Grrrr’atrrr
/Species: N/A[Hive Mind]
/ Additional verification: Class>>> [Cancer Cells]
/Cradle planet: Ci-3301
/Home planet origin: Mupan
/First person POV not applicable. Generalized Spectator mode.
/Sequence Code: 5-18-5-8 19-1-23 20-8-7-9-14-11-5-12-2-13-21-8
/Memory transmission in 3…2…1…
=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

Hunger…
It’s all that drives us. It’s all that unites, connects us… All that pulls us, all that defines and binds us…
Our story began long ago. It all started with a single parasite cell. Not the greatest primordial ancestor indeed, but every Apex Predator started somewhere. But back to our history… That very first cell was our first grandmother, as well as the beginning of our entire civilization. Hard to tell what was the trigger for it’s evolutionary change, as time wipes all. Perhaps it was desire to become something better? Awakening? Or maybe just spontaneous mutation in one of the genome chains, occurring by changes in environment? It really doesn’t matter. All what matters is that that cell evolved…
It didn’t happened quickly of course. Our first grandmother was no different than an average cancer cell that is present in nearly every life form, even us. It just growed into one small neoplasm, or simply, a cancer tumor. But that tumor slowly made it’s way to the brain. We know that because that’s how we, as well as our ancestors, assimilated everything for millennia…
It is impossible to determine which one of the prey species was honored to become the meal of our first ancestor, but it was clear that that feast was something that never happened before. That tumor did not just sucked the nutrients dry till the brain dies from the protein starvation, taking the tumor with it, no, that tumor assimilated it. And that tumor learned. Learned from it. And it saw the world for the first time.
Assimilation is not as easy as other inferior beings think. First, your cell needs to find the prey cell. Then it needs to envelop the cytoplasm of that cell to properly assimilate it. However, after assimilating the “Host”, your cells need to take properties of assimilated cells and even function for the prey organism for the time being so it won’t suspect anything. It is a long, tedious and fatiguing process. That’s why we just ambush other prey organisms and devour them for protein supplies, to avoid all that bustling.
And say what, the prey doesn’t make it easier for us either. As our first ancestors quickly learned, prey can be sentient too. It is inferior, weak, pathetic… And yet it creates great weapons to stop us, For [decades] these beings create astonishing amount of these pesky, venomous and disgusting antibiotics and chemicals to kill our minds. For thousands of [years] they set our flesh on fire, making us scream as we die in agony cell by cell.
And yet we prevail. When they make those chemistry compounds they call “Cure”, we gain immunity to it. When they set our bodies ablaze, we spray them with our blood and teeth, making their bodies to slowly blister as we eat them inside out. When they close their doors on us, we use ventilations, slithering right above their heads or below their {feet}. When they use special protection suits, we just tear them apart. And when they completely quarantine themselves, thinking that they are safe, we pretend to be one of them, striking from behind…
What is the most amazing thing about this prey? Well, aside that their flesh is delicious… They are clever. And they know how to build stuff. Weapons, tools, technology… Everything to increase the odds of survivability and comfort of their pathetic kind. And by devouring their minds, we gain all this knowledge as well! We learned how to grow cattle to saturate our hunger, we learned how to create faster means of transportation that even the fastest members of our swarm can’t out-crawl with their appendages. And most importantly; we learned how to reach the skies…
Among our prey species, there was a special class, or caste, of highly educated specimens, who called themselves “scientists”. These specimens learned how to use metal, fuel, radiation, and other inedible and in some cases straight up harmful components of nature, and turned them into what they called “Spacecraft”. A special vehicle, capable of leaving the atmosphere of our planet. Something that sounded like fantasy, even for the boldest ones of us, who sometimes managed to grow wings and flew high in the sky, until we consumed their heads and the knowledge they possessed along the way. From them we gained knowledge of the schematics of these space vessels, and most importantly; the schematics of FTL drives. Devices capable of traveling among the stars with “superluminal” speed. And so, after conquering and discovering each and every corner of our planet, we soared to the great unknown, right into the void…

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=
/Transmission mode: Spectator. Centralized perspective.
/Subject: Verrruur. Grrrr’atrrr. Lead hive mind of the Hunter Fleets.
/Transmission in 3…2…1…
=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=
We flew among the stars in our glorious ships made out of strongest titanium fusions and covered in our eternal flesh. Yes, what wasn’t made out of the metal hulls of our ships, was made out of sheer muscles and flesh tissue. So many cells… So much nutrition… We could withstand decades without the food and still hunt like our greatest hunters back on Mupan(Apparently, that’s how prior sentient prey species happened to call our planet, and we didn’t really bother to rename it, as for us it was widely known as just “Ground, floor, or land”). Our strongest weapons, combined with our most dissolving acid spitters, made us the strongest and most feared hunters, “cementing” our history as the strongest Apex Predators in the galaxy! We defeated, devoured, and assimilated everything… It did not matter if our enemy was a leviathan, an enemy prey fleet, or even an entire planet. If it could be eaten, it was eaten…
Until it wasn’t…
On yet another great crusade in search of delicacy for our insatiable fleets, our sensors captured a strange, but nonetheless familiar signal. The impulse of FTL drive. After our intels captured the signal, our intercoms just exploded with thousands of jaws:
“Food?”
“Food…”
“ Food! FOOD!!! Food! Food! Delicious prey! Food! We shall… FEAST! Food! Yes!!! Food! FOOD!!! We haven’t ate for [Month]! At last… Some good food… Food! Juicy food… Flesh of prey…
Food! The succulent meat…”
Yes, we felt joy. And anticipation of hunting down these unknown but likely very delicious organisms. It was like opening the present. You don’t know what was inside these flying metal cans, but you sure know that it is likely to something edible.
Oh, we never were so wrong in our glorious history.
We did not saw them at first, that’s how black and cloaked they were. When we finally identified our “prey” we saw it was a small cluster of black ellipsoids, just hovering there.
“We will smash you like the eggs you are!” we thought.
When we fired our acid sacks and laser guns however, they were still there, not moving an [inch]. Then we opened all the airlocks(if we weren’t already outside) and enveloped their ships in our mighty grip, not stopping to pour their shields with our acids and plasma. Usually, after a few unpleasant zaps of enemy shields, the shields just popped and the ships just were crack open like the [nuts].
But not these…
They did not crumble and exposed their hulls with screaming prey just getting sucked out in the vacuum, no, instead they started to grow bright red. Redder than our flesh and blood…
And burned. Burned stronger and more painful than any flame. Our drones roared in pain but we couldn’t hear them in this silent space. Hundreds of megatons of our flesh clusters was just turned in ashes or tore off and were drifting and dead lumps of burnt meat. Our intercoms filled with screams of fear and agony, our minds losing their mass and density, turning into undeveloped children.
Father? It hurts…” could be heard in countless drones. And any that tried to escape, were sniped with red beams of such accuracy, that our best spitters could only dream of. It didn’t last long when we were the only operating guide ship of entire Armada that was so ingloriously butchered. And then we felt the warmth…
No… NO!
All weapons of this black eggs were pointed at us, our last mind. The last memories flashed as we slowly were burned to death. The last though of our last tumor was the realization that there was someone stronger than us. Someone who cannot be eaten. The Bigger Predator…
=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=
/Memory transmission File disconnected.
/Reason: Biological death of the Subject.
/Cause of death: Sterilization
/Disconnected
=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

To summarize, during the COVID period, I fractured my ankle without realizing it initially. After a brief rest of two weeks, I resumed sports activities despite lingering pain. Months later, I discovered a 1cm cartilage defect, which required surgical repair. Although the surgery went well, and a subsequent scope six months later was positive, two years down the line, excessive scar tissue in my ankle has led to chronic bone edema on my talus.
Consequently, I can no longer run, hike, or engage in any sports involving my ankle, not even cycling. Last week, after playing pickleball, the pain in my ankle was so severe that I needed to use a walker for two days. However, I can walk on flat surfaces without issue and lead a relatively normal, albeit sedentary, life – a lifestyle I find unfulfilling.
My desire is to regain an active lifestyle and pursue the activities that bring me joy. While doctors often recommend pool workouts, I find this option unappealing. I'm contemplating the possibility of a below-knee amputation (BKA), despite the potential negative consequences, as a means to resume an active lifestyle. The last doctor cautioned that even with a BKA, the pain and phantom limb sensations could be so severe as to prevent me from participating in the activities that make me happy. The way I see it, phantom pain gets worse when you aren't doing sports, meaning I would be able to do sports (with disabilities of course, but who cares).
Am I being unrealistic in considering a BKA, with all its potential drawbacks, solely to regain an active lifestyle, despite my ability to walk without pain on flat surfaces?
Anybody would trade back their BKA for their ankle to live a normal sedentary life? My ankle only hurts on the mornings, after watching a movie o laying down a bit, and after doing any impact activity or walking on irregular terrain. Other than that, I feel fine. I wish my ankle would be in worse shape so that the decision would be easier.

My mom passed away on May 3rd at 74 years old. She was diagnosed with ovarian cancer in September of 2022. This was her 3rd type of cancer in her life, the prior we’re Hodgkins Lymphoma and Breast Cancer. She had an over 30 year break from cancer before she started showing symptoms of ovarian cancer. Her symptoms were nausea, vomiting and diarrhea plus unexplained weight loss. She went to the doctor for over a year with her symptoms before they did a CT scan and that was only because I told her to go in there and demand one. I take comfort in believing it wouldn’t have made a difference for her survival, but I’m not really sure if that’s true.
In Fall 2022, she dropped down to 85 pounds or so and had horrible ascites. They started chemo, then had an unsuccessful operation. When they did the operation, they found there was too much scar tissue from the 1980s radiation she received for Hodgkins. They accidentally punctured her bowel, then sewed her up and said they couldn’t complete it. She continued and finished the chemo in March 2023. In around May/June 2023 she started having symptoms again. They did a CT scan and in September 2023 she was confirmed platinum resistant and incurable. She tried 3 more different palliative care Chemo drugs before she was hospitalized in March 2024 for an E Coli infection in her gallbladder. She was released home where we administered IV antibiotics for 6 weeks daily. Days after the antibiotics were finished she lost the ability to walk completely and became bedridden. She lasted about 2.5 weeks on hospice and is now resting for eternity. I just wanted to share her journey here because I remember when she was diagnosed how many questions and how much anxiety we all had. Please reach out if you have any questions about our journey if it relates to yours. 💔

I have 7cm anterior fundal fibroid which is spanning all the layer. In ultrasound my uterus is not even visible.Doc said after myomectomy I will have scar tissue which will affect the future pregnancy/ implantation or it will lead to miscarriage.The chances of getting pregnant is less after surgery. I always dreamed about having kids.I cant even look my life forward. I feel like my entire life comes to an end.

TLDR: Is waiting 6 months after laser hair before starting accutane a hard and fast rule? Would 4 months be okay?
For almost a year now I’ve (26F) been experiencing horrible hormonal acne after switching from oral BC to an IUD. I was able to manage it for a bit but it’s starting to increase in frequency (3-4 large cystic pimples per month) and leave scars.
I had my last laser hair removal session for my upper lip and chin in February. And want to start on Accutane but read that a waiting period of ~6mo after laser hair removal was recommended (pushing start date of Accutane to August).
I’m wondering if there are any downsides to starting Accutane now or should I wait to August? (Maybe accutane in the summer isn’t a great idea anyway)
Thoughts, help?

Stem Cell Research & Therapy
Published: 12 May 2024
Multipotent/pluripotent stem cell populations in stromal tissues and peripheral blood: exploring diversity, potential, and therapeutic applications
Domenico Aprile, Deanira Patrone, Gianfranco Peluso & Umberto Galderisi [4 Italian researchers - im72]
[From the article]:
Multipotent adult progenitor cells (MAPCs)
The multipotent adult progenitor cells (MAPCs) were first identified in human bone marrow and subsequently confirmed in animal models, such as mice and rats. MAPCs have demonstrated a remarkable ability to differentiate into a variety of cell lineages, including mesodermal, ectodermal, and endodermal lineages.
These cells can be isolated from various tissue sources, including bone marrow, brain, muscle and bone tissue. However, isolating MAPCs from bone marrow has been one of the most common and widely studied methods to date.
The process of isolating MAPCs from bone marrow involves several key steps that have been developed and optimized over the years. One distinctive feature of this process is the use of low-oxygen conditions, typically around 5%, during cell isolation. This hypoxic environment mimics the physiological conditions present in the bone marrow and promotes the maintenance of the unique properties of MAPCs. Once a critical mass of cells is reached in culture, MAPCs can then be selected using specific cell surface markers through flow cytometry techniques, allowing for the separation of MAPCs based on their expression of specific markers such as CD44, CD13, CD73, CD90, CD105, CD31, and CD49d.
Despite MAPCs may be present in a population of MSCs, the crucial points that define MAPCs compared to MSCs essentially lie in their different origins, not only mesodermal, and surface marker expressions. These differences define distinct potentials, such as a broader differentiative capacity, a more pronounced immunomodulatory capacity, and better performance in cell therapy.
One of the most remarkable features of MAPCs is their ability to surpass the differentiation potential of traditional MSCs, which are also frequently used in the field of regenerative medicine. Therefore, not only do they possess the ability to differentiate into a variety of cell types, like MSCs, but they also exhibit exceptional plasticity and adaptability, allowing them to cross lineage barriers more completely and efficiently.
MAPCs demonstrate immunomodulatory properties that go beyond those of MSCs. They can modulate immune responses, playing a role in regulating inflammation and promoting a favorable environment for tissue healing. This immunomodulatory behavior of MAPCs makes them particularly interesting for application as universal donors, as they can be transplanted into patients without the risk of immunological rejection.
The option to use MAPCs as universal donors is highly appealing in regenerative medicine, as it reduces the need to find a matching donor and the risk of tissue compatibility complications. The clinical applications of multipotent adult progenitor cells (MAPCs) are extremely broad and promising, with various pieces of evidence confirming their efficacy in crucial therapeutic contexts.
One of the most interesting aspects is the use of MAPC secretome, known as MAPC-conditioned medium (MAPC-CM), as a therapeutic agent for wound healing. This secretome contains a rich mixture of growth factors, cytokines, and other bioactive molecules that influence a series of key processes in tissue repair. Studies conducted on animal models with excisional wounds have shown that the application of MAPC-CM can promote cell migration, stimulate cell proliferation, promote collagen deposition, and enhance the formation of new blood vessels, known as angiogenesis.
These combined effects contribute to the rapid and effective healing of damaged tissues. Furthermore, clinical studies have demonstrated that MAPCs can have a significant impact on reducing myocardial scars in patients who have suffered from a myocardial infarction. This is particularly relevant considering that myocardial scars can compromise long-term cardiac function and increase the risk of cardiovascular complications.
MAPCs, due to their ability to differentiate into cardiac cells and their modulating effect on the surrounding microenvironment, can contribute to the regeneration of damaged cardiac tissue and the reduction of scars, thereby improving cardiac function and reducing the risk of complications.
In the context of stroke recovery, the MASTERS study has highlighted that MAPCs, particularly the Multistem type, can offer significant benefits if administered early within the first 36 h after the stroke. This underscores the crucial importance of optimized timing in stem cell therapies. MAPCs can act by reducing inflammation, promoting the regeneration of damaged brain tissues, and improving neurological function, thereby contributing to the recovery process after a stroke.
Transcriptomic analyses have also been performed, providing important insights into the differences in differentiation potential between MAPCs and traditional MSCs. These analyses have revealed that MAPCs show a greater inclination towards endothelial differentiation, namely the formation of cells that comprise blood and lymphatic vessels. This characteristic has been supported by in vitro experiments, such as Matrigel plug tests, which simulate the formation of blood vessels in a three-dimensional environment. MAPCs thus appear to express genes that are involved in angiogenesis, the process through which new blood vessels are formed from pre-existing ones, promoting tissue growth and repair.
On the other hand, MSCs seem to show a greater propensity towards differentiation into cartilage (chondrogenic) and bone (osteogenic) tissue cells. In summary, transcriptomic analyses have highlighted that MAPCs and MSCs present significant differences in their differentiation potential, with the former showing a greater inclination towards blood vessel formation and the latter towards the formation of cartilage and bone tissues.
These differences can have crucial implications in the context of regenerative medicine, allowing for the targeted use of each cell type based on the specific needs of the patient and the pathological condition to be treated. In conclusion, MAPCs exhibit exceptional characteristics that make them valuable in regenerative medicine. Their ability to differentiate into a wide range of cell lineages, together with their immunomodulatory properties and distinct transcriptomic profiles, makes them versatile players in the treatment of a variety of pathologies.
Research efforts continue to fully explore and exploit the therapeutic potential of MAPCs, with the aim of improving the health and quality of life of patients suffering from chronic diseases and severe injuries.
https://stemcellres.biomedcentral.com/articles/10.1186/s13287-024-03752-x

I feel like I'm turning into my mother with how I speak to my children and it's killing me inside. I love my daughters (4 & 3) but I just can't control my emotions when it comes to getting into power struggles with them. My oldest wants to push back on every little thing we ask her to do and I am at my breaking point.
Lately, it's bedtime. After a long day of entertaining 2 preschoolers when my husband and I are exhausted, we look forward to relaxing after putting the girls to bed. However, my oldest has decided to start coming out of her room 5+ times after we put her in bed or waking us up at 5-6am in the morning. Sometimes to use the potty, other times to get a tissue, get another hug, tell us "something" (usually nothing of importance), and more frequently, that she pooped in her pull-up and needs changed despite just having gone to the bathroom. I am so sick of having to change her AGAIN after bedtime when she knows how to use the potty all by herself but instead chooses to poop her pull-up to stay up a little later. (I know it's on purpose because everytime she does it, she comes in our room and in a sing-songy voice says "MoOoOm I poOoOoPeD" with a big smirk on her face but will tell us she just wasn't fast enough (even though she is sitting in her room fully awake playing with toys. So last night I told her she could wipe her own butt because I'm sick of doing it and she lost it. Melted down on the floor, full-blown tantrum. I never raised my voice but just told her if she wanted to poop in her pull-up instead of the potty than she could wipe her own butt (I obviously would have done the majority of the clean up but my hope is that she would think it was yucky and want to go in the potty instead). After 10 minutes of a meltdown I finally just changed her and put her back in her room because I wanted to go to sleep and as soon as I walk back into our room, my husband tells me I'm going to scar her. So that ended up in us arguing for an hour. I'm just so drained. I started working out to increase my endorphins in hopes that would help me stay a little more calm during these situations, we let my in-laws take the girls once a week to give us a break, we sign them up for activities outside of daycare to keep them busy and tire them out, but nothing works. Even if we have a great day, it gets ruined when I try and shut my brain off to relax at the end of the night and my 4 year old comes in 5 times and I start yelling at her or trying to discipline her.
How do you stay calm during these power struggles? I feel like I just lose it and start yelling. I want to be one of those moms that can calmly talk about emotions with my kids but I wasn't raised that way so it feels so uncomfortable. I don't want my kids to resent me when they're older like I do my own mother but it's so hard to get over my own ego and not want to "win" these fights.

FYI, this is a story COLLECTION. Lots of standalones technically. So, you can basically start to read at any chapter, no pre-read of the other chapters needed technically (other than maybe getting better descriptions of characters than: Adam Vir=human, Krill=antlike alien, Sunny=tall alien, Conn=telepathic alien). The numbers are (mostly) only for organization of posts and continuity.
OC Written by Charlie Stastarrfallknightrise,
Typed up and then posted here by me.
Proofreading and language check for some chapters by u/Finbar9800 u/BakeGullible9975 u/Didnotseemecomein and u/medium_jock
Future Lore and fact check done by me.
The plot thickens!
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The Rundi pilot maneuvered his ship around a chunk of space debris, cutting low as he watched the slow and leisurely path of the rocket as it began on its trajectory towards the moon. Radar was almost impossible to use in the deadly debris field these humans called an orbit, so it was up to his eyes to make out any incoming hostiles.
They circled low and then wide around the slow-moving rocket, keeping their distance while also keeping an eye out. It was easy enough, as the drone was covered in cameras and sensors, which allowed them to see from almost every angle. A human might have been better at this, but right now they were the only ones they could trust.
[…]
A green folder rested atop the lectern as the President of the UN gave her halting, and to the chairwoman it seemed, unenthusiastic speech. The humans down below didn't seem to notice, making her wonder if she was simply imagining things, though a part of her said that was not the case.
She had been suspicious of the UN president from the very beginning, the very beginning when she was given power after the first launch of the enterprise, and they had been forced to deal with her during treaty negotiations. At every step there seemed to be some sort of obstacle, something wrong, some reason that the humans could just not accept. It went on behind closed doors and in quiet whispered conversations. But luckily for them, people like Adam Vir and Admiral Kelly had been there to smooth things over between the two factions.
The chairwoman knew better than most, that there were only a few humans in the galaxy holding everything together.
And the last thing she wanted was bad relations, or to go to war with this species. It would be a nightmare.
She shifted in her seat as she listened to the speech. The valley below her still had traces of smoke let off by burning so much fossil fuel at once. She imagined that such a stunt wasn't entirely great for the atmosphere of the planet, though as far as she knew humans tended to run on sustainable clean energy these days.
The Chairwoman stepped down from the little podium and into the back where she could not be seen, leaning in so she could hear the words whispered from her assistant,
"The drones are deployed, and so far we have not met any resistance.”
She nodded slowly,
"Good work, keep an eye out."
[…]
The UN president felt her fingers digging into the soft paper of the green folder. The red one was lying discarded under the lectern, and she was having trouble concentrating, forcing herself to remember that this wasn't over. She glanced into the crowd, expecting to see that strange white face staring up at her from the throng of people, but there was nothing.
Had she seen it as in her imagination, or did she really see an alien face staring back at her?
She glanced upwards, towards where the rocket had vanished, only half paying attention to the practiced words that dribbled from her mouth. She finished her speech and the people below clapped and cheered heartily, though she didn't much feel like clapping with them.
She turned on her heel and walked down to the back of the stage to where her entourage was waiting for her. Admiral Massie was sitting on one end and Admiral Kelly was sitting at the other, the two of them doing their damndest to ignore each other at all costs.
She sat down next to Admiral Massie, arms crossed over her chest as he leaned in to speak with her.
"That didn't exactly go as planned."
He muttered softly.
"It will if your men are ready."
She snapped back, her palms cold and sweaty.
Admiral Massie nodded,
"Of course, they should come out when they reach the densest part of the debris field, that way we can make it look like some unexpected collision."
He glanced towards the lectern,
"So I would keep a hold of that red folder of yours."
On the other set of chairs, Admiral Kelly was giving them a sidelong glance. Everyone knew that she was in Admiral Vir's camp, licking his boots at every opportunity. It would be within their best interest to keep silent when she was around.
The UN president leaned back in her seat,
"You should be on your way, Admiral. We will have time to talk later."
He stood and nodded slowly,
"Of course madame president."
He turned to walk away, catching the eye of Admiral Kelly as he stepped past. The two of them didn't much like each other, though as the head of the OGI (Office of Galactic intelligence) Admiral Massie had enough pull to keep Kelly in her place.
The UN president turned her head away. Not wanting to draw attention to herself.
[…]
Admiral Kelly glanced over at the UN president as Admiral Massie passed by. There was something about those two spending time together that she didn't like. Granted it was more than likely the two of them were having some sweaty, wrinkly liaisons out of hours which she didn't really want to think about, but if that was the case then he could easily be pressing his planetary isolationist views off on her.
Kelly did not think highly of the UN presidency. Right now, it seemed mostly concerned with power and political favors with the people, rather than doing the right thing. Plus, she found the president herself to be superficially charming, but easily manipulated by the wrong people. Fear mongering worked the best on her, which is why she worried about Massie and his effect on her to begin with.
She found herself digging her nails into her palms as she thought about it.
”Please help us.”
Admiral Kelly shot up in her seat looking around as she tried to find the source of the noise, or the voice. She turned in her seat expecting to find someone whispering in her ear, but there was nothing. She pressed at the implant along the side of her neck wondering if someone had called her and she just hadn't noticed?
”Look up.”
Jolted again, lifting her eyes towards the sky and the burning sun. She threw up a hand to block her vision, and as she did, she thought she saw a shape floating there against the backdrop of the sun.
She squinted hard trying to make it out but was having trouble.
”Now look into the crowd.”
She turned her head down, still not sure where the sound could be coming from, but as she looked into the crowd, she saw a strange sight. One of the people was wearing a dark hoodie, and was turned away from the direction which the rest of the crowd was facing. Their hood was pulled low, but ever so subtly, they lifted their head to reveal a porcelain white face, with large dark eyes.
Admiral Kelly went very still as she stared at the starborn.
“Not a starborn, a halfbreed. My name is Eris, I am Admiral Vir's... daughter”
Oh... oh, yes she had heard about the starborn hybrid from one of his reports.
"What do you want."
She mouthed quietly.
“We need your help, the UN president is planning to have Admiral Vir Killed, and Admiral Massie is on his way to make the order, please, you have to do something."
Admiral Kelly jolted to her feet, very quickly glancing at the UN president in shock and horror before she was able to capture her emotions. The UN president looked up to her sudden movement, and Admiral Kelly had to fight to keep her face neutral as the woman looked up at her.
"Are you feeling well Admiral?”
She could feel the sweat dripping down her face and the nape of her neck, but she remained as calm as possible as she took a deep breath,
"I... Am suddenly very dizzy. I think it's the heat."
"You should sit down, have someone bring you some water."
The woman said, her voice calm and clear as if she hadn't just ordered the murder of Adam Vir.
"No I... I think I need to walk for a minute and find some shade. You will excuse me?"
The UN president shrugged and turned back to staring at the sky, giving Admiral Kelly time to step forward and hurry after General Massi's retreating figure.
[…]
General Massie stepped into mission control and walked down the blank empty corridors. No one was here, they were all either in the control room or out celebrating the successful launch. It had been a sight to see, two-thousand-year-old technology working for one more time, but personally General Massie saw it as completely obsolete and a useless waste of government capital.
That was something they could have been using to help fortify earth's defense nexus. Out of all the useless things Admiral Vir had supported, at least he had agreed that they needed SOME form of defense against extraterrestrial attack.
General Massie made a face…
Though he wouldn't doubt Admiral Vir would have been totally fine leaving their planet with its pants down in order to let those Xenos fuck them over.
Everyone and their dog knew that Admiral Vir preferred alien cock over his own kind.
The thought made Admiral Massie cringe.
It was a well-kept secret among the UNSC, but the man wasn't nearly as secretive as he liked to think he was. Rumors of his infatuation with the stupid blue beetle alien had reached command almost as soon as it began. The only reason they didn't allow it to leak was that it would make the UNSC look bad to the rest of earth.
And Jupiter how he hated that man.
Stupid, juvenile egotistical xeno fucker!
Today was the day all of that came to an end!
He cut right, just before the doors to mission control and walked down two more hallways, finally opening a small side door into, what might have looked from the outside, like an equipment closet. He stepped over a mop and bucket and sat down at an old console, which he fired up with the flick of a button.
"Flight 1 this is Earth 1 over."
"Roger earth one this if slight one, in position over."
He turned on the screen, giving himself time to look the radar over, as twenty dots appeared on screen. Those were twenty Thunderhawks they had slowly appropriated over the intervening year.
With a place as big as the universe to cover, it was pretty easy to lose a few jets in the shuffle. He could see them now, illuminated as little green dots on his screen, hiding in the debris.
"Flight one this is Earth one, Operation “After Apollo” is go. Now remember boys and girls, make it look like an accident. Over."
*"Roger that Earth one. Over and out."
[…]
"You TRAITOR!"
Admiral Massie spun in his seat, eyes wide and wild as Admiral Kelly stood in the doorway. She could feel her skin growing hot with absolute rage as she stalked forward over the open floor. In one hand she held up the small recording device Conn had handed to her outside the building, and on it held proof of this man's order. On the screen behind him twenty little dots burst to life.
She was too late.
The man slowly got to his feet as Kelly aimed her handgun at him, her grip steady, her aim true.
"Call off your dogs."
She snarled,
Admiral Massie slowly lifted his hands, before slowly leaning forward in his seat towards the intercom button. She stepped forward, watching him intently as he leaned over the console pressing down on the button.
"Flight one this is earth one..."
Her eyes flickered up to the screen waiting to see them pause.
But before she knew what was happening an elbow came up striking her on the hand and causing the gun to spin out of her grip. Admiral Massie turned and tackled her to the floor, his nearly 300 lb body crushing her to the floor.
The wind was knocked out of her and she gasped as he struggled to pin her to the ground.
Her hat had flown off and her bun became undone as he drew back a fist to punch her. She was able to block it with her forearms as he raged and went for her face. The blows rained down on her from above with an onslaught of power she wasn't expecting but should have.
She took another gasping breath, and then with a surge of adrenaline she bucked, throwing him forward where she grabbed one of his arms and bucked again, forcing him to his side and onto his back. Still gripping his arm, she threw herself sideways, throwing her legs over his chest and struggling with his arm to pull it flat.
He kicked and grabbed at her legs with his other hand painfully gripping her calves as his nails dug into her skin and drew blood. The pain was incredible, but she finally got his arm down tucked tight to her chest, her legs across his chest, and then she jerked her hips sharply upward.
Admiral Massie screamed as his elbow snapped backwards.
She let go of him and scrambled towards the console, but at the last moment he grabbed her by the foot and hauled her back to the ground, one arm hanging limp and useless at his side. He clawed at her with one hand, and she rolled onto her back, kicking up at his face with her boot catching him square in the chin.
He staggered back as she crawled to the console and reached to adjust the frequency, ready to call in lunar support.
There was a sharp click behind her, and she froze, turning in her seat to find Admiral Massie standing behind her gun held in his good hand.
Blood leaked from his nose and down onto the front of his uniform, staining the grey fabric red,
"Nice try, Kelly."
[…]
Donovan Red waited, spinning slowly as he watched the progress of the distant rocket. Inside his helmet his breathing was cold and calm as, ranging all around him, his other men and women waited as well. Their ships had been outfitted with proper weapons as they had ridden here in the cargo hold of the Omen. The group of them weren't soldiers or trained fighter pilots, so he didn't imagine this would be easy, but it was going to have to do.
"Red, this is Apollo 11 do you copy?”
"Yeah Cinderella, I copy."
"See anything?"
"Nope not a..."
He paused,
"Wait..."
There was something, something he thought he saw detach itself from another piece of space junk,
"Hold that thought Apollo."
He detached from his own bit of space junk and inched forward.
A thunderhawk? What would one of those be doing here?
It began to accelerate.
He accelerated after it.
Up ahead the rocket was growing larger and larger in his view.
“Thunderhawk has made lock.”
The cool female voice said from his console.
"Oh shit, Admiral r-“
He didn't have time to finish his sentence as a small ball-like-silver ship came pelting down from nowhere, blasting the Thunderhawk in the wing with a sharp burst of laser fire. It's wing exploded and it went careening in the opposite direction as the silver ball whizzed past.
"What the fuck!?"
He turned to fly after it, but was stopped.
"Red, this is Wendy, stand down that's a Rundi UAV."
"Rundi? I thought it was the Rundi we were worried about!?”
He called in confusion.
"Yeah, but that thunderhawk had locked in on Apollo 11. It looks like the Rundi are helping."
He grunted and cursed under his breath,
"Boys and girls, if you see a silver ball stand down, those are on our side."
Just then another Thunderhawk shot over his head. He cursed again and pulled himself into a sharp upward turn cutting after the Thunderhawk and locking on. His lock cut off their attempts to shoot down the rocket, and they were forced to dive under as he followed after. He followed, spinning right and left around debris as the Thunderhawk attempted to escape.
It cut upward, just in time for a bright pink jet with graffiti words on the side to shoot out of nowhere.
The Thunderhawk exploded in a cloud of debris as Wendy roared by.
"Good shot, girl!”
He said over his radio.
"Thanks boss. Now let’s give them hell!"
[…]
Admiral Vir floated before the console, knuckles white and unable to do anything. A silent explosion flashed in his vision to the right as quickly as it had begun. Richards and Chavez started with wide eyes and dropped mouths.
"Admiral what the hell is going on!?”
Adam took a deep breath,
"It seems as if we are under attack."
The two of them exchanged glances,
"From who? What the fuck!?!"
Adam turned where he stood to look at the two of them,
"I am sorry I got you two into this mess, but the isolationists have been gunning for me for a few months now, and it seems as if now things have come to a head.”
"What are we going to do!"
"Radio Houston."
Chavez hurried to do as ordered, but when she did, they heard only static,
"Shit... Something is jamming our coms."
Adam took a deep breath,
"Well I guess all we have is Donovan to protect us. Lets' hope they do it right."
[…]
Admiral Massie laughed,
"You're as dumb as you look Kelly."
She stood, slowly wiping blood from her cheek as she turned to look down the barrel of the gun. Her own gun.
She didn't generally tend to agree with Massie, but this time he did have a point. Surprisingly though she was very calm,
"You aren't going to get away with this."
She glanced over to where the little silver recording device lay in the shadows under one of the chairs.
Massie was too amped to notice.
"Doesn't matter. I will have done my duty to my planet and my people, saving them from alien lovers like you and that bastard Vir."
"Whose Idea was this, the President or yours?"
She held her hands out to the side.
"Do you think that dipshit was smart enough to come up with a plan like mine?"
Kelly raised an eyebrow,
"Is it wise to incriminate your friends along with you?"
"That bitch? Heh, I could care less. And if I am going down, she is going down with me. The president may think it was all her idea, but it was mine all along, she was following my orders, whether she believes it or not, and once Adam Vir and YOU are dead, then it doesn't matter what we did, because diplomatic relations will dissolve, and it will be all over."
He lifted the gun to her face,
"Goodbye Kelly."
She remained very still as the shadow fell over him from behind,
"May I say one last thing?”
He paused.
"Turn around."
"Very funny!”
He lifted the gun again and pulled the trigger.
There was a sharp crack and thud as metal hit metal. Kelly flinched and held up her hands, but opened her eye after a moment as no pain came.
Admiral Massie lay on the floor face down.
Kelly reached down quickly to grab her gun, looking up to where Sunny was standing in the doorway holding her pearlescent white spear. Behind her floated the starborn Conn and the hybrid.
She took a deep breath,
"Great timing you three.”
Sunny nodded,
"Anytime."
Admiral Kelly turned and lunged for the comms, switching the frequency to the lunar station only to find she couldn't get through,
"Damn it."
She cursed, turning to look at Sunny and the others,
"I was too late, the ships have already been deployed."
She paused and looked down, grabbing the recording device from off the floor tossing it to the hybrid who caught it with some difficulty,
"Run that to one of the media outlets, convince them it is important and leak it as soon as you can. We don't want her to have time to cover her own ass."
Eris nodded and shot off in the other direction.
Sunny knelt down to help her restrain Admiral Massie.
Just then the sound of feet came thundering up the hall and they looked up to see the Chairwoman of the GA and her assistants skid around a corner. Sunny's eyes narrowed as she crouched low leveling her spear.
"Did you catch him?"
The Chairwoman asked,
"No thanks to you."
Sunny snarled, but the chairwoman waved her off,
"I lost contact with my drones, but they should be out helping to protect Admiral Vir. I am sorry I couldn't do more, but it was all I could do not to show my hand too early."
Admiral Kelly stood slowly,
"You knew about this?"
The charwoman shook her head,
"Not this specifically, but I have been trying to find the source of the assassination attempts on Admiral Vir's life. I've had discreet escorts on him for the past few months while I tried getting in contact with my people in the criminal underworld and I called the hit on him with those pirates, knowing who Captain Kell was, hoping that he could get more information out of the pirates that I could."
Sunny stared at her rage flickering across her face,
"You called a hit on him!"
The charwoman did not seem perturbed,
"Those pirates couldn't have... How do the humans say... Hit their way out of a paper bag. I have been attempting to come in contact with the leader of the anti-alliance for the past few months. I have been trying to convince them I am on their side, and that was part of my ruse, as well as knowing Admiral Vir was captain Kell. During my investigation it became clear that someone within the UN was involved though I couldn't have said who."
"And why should we believe you aren't just covering your own ass?”
The chairwoman hissed,
”Do you really think I want to make an enemy out of the strongest species in the galaxy!? Not on your life! I am not stupid. Besides, I owe Admiral Vir my life. I admit I have done some irreparable things in order to keep the alliance going, but those moves were calculated, and Vir was always protected.”
[…]
One of the silver UAV's exploded and Red had to dodge to the side to avoid the flying debris. He cut right and then left keeping as fast as he could possibly go as he cut up through the chunks of metal and locked onto the back of a Thunderhawk. There was a sharp click and then a silent explosion which he rolled out of the way to avoid. He had sent one of his men off to make contact with earths forces for backup.
They were good, but these men and women were made for combat, and despite their best work only four out of twenty of them had been destroyed, and their numbers were dwindling fast. He cut right before one of the Thunderhawk’s, forcing it to turn away from the rocket and cut down in another direction. He could only imagine the fear of those inside the rocket as they watched helplessly at the fight raging on around them.
He spun down and under, cutting off another Thunderhawk coming in the opposite direction.
There was no way they were going to keep up with this for long.
Their only chance was earths forces reacting quickly.
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Intro post by me
OC-whole collection
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Thanks for reading! As you saw in the title, this is a cross posted story written by starrfallknightrise and I'll just upload some of it here for you guys, if you are interested and want to read ahead, the original story-collection can be found on tumblr or wattpad to read for free. (link above this text under "OC:..." ) It is the Empyrean Iris story collection by starfallknightrise. Also, if you want to know more about the story collection i made an intro post about it, so feel free to check that out to see what other great characters to look forward to! (Link also above this text). I have no affiliations to the author; just thought I’d share some of the great stories you might enjoy a lot!
Obviously, I have Charlie’s permission to post this and for the people already knowing the stories, or starting to read them: If you follow the link and check out the story you will see some differences. I made some small (non-artistic) changes, mainly correcting writing mistakes, pronoun correction and some small additional info here and there of things which were not thought of/forgotten or even were added/changed in later stories (like the “USS->UNSC” prefix of Stabby, Chalar=/->Sunny etc). As well as some "biggemajor" changes in descriptions and info’s for the same stringency/continuity reason. That can be explained by the story collection being, well a story collection at the start with many standalone-stories just starring the same people, but later on it gets more to a stringent storyline with backstories and throwbacks. (For example Adam Vir has some HEAVY scars over his body, following his bones, which were not really talked about up till half the collection, where it says it covers his whole body and you find out via backflash that he had them the whole time and how he got them, they just weren't mentioned before. However, I would think a doctor would at least see these scars before that, especially since he gets analyzed, treated and goes shirtless/in T-shirts in some stories). So TLDR: Writing and some descriptions are slightly changed, with full OK from the author, since he himself did not bother to correct these things before.

Hello! Taking a shot in the dark - I am looking for advice from any orthopedic surgeons here who have experience treating OCD lesions of the talus. I am under the care of an excellent physician but I am looking for input from others before I consider pursuing a second opinion.
About me: 30F in the US, long history of OCD lesion in my R ankle. No alcohol/drug usage. I am taking 1200mg of Gabapentin daily for nerve damage (explained below). My chief complaints are deep aching bone pain located where the lesion is, significant "catching" in the ankle, and other various pain around the ankle.
I have had 5 total surgeries on my right ankle due to a tricky OCD diagnosis that began in high school. 4 of these surgeries (2011, 2019, 2022, 2022) were to repair the lesion itself using a variety of methods including using BioCartilage using either my own bone marrow or blood.
I had great results after the first and second procedures, however as you can see, in 2022 they were not as successful. The first went fine, however several months after the procedure I had an unexpected and unintended moment of high impact to the ankle and the pain and "catching" returned. Imaging showed possible damage to the repair; my doctor performed a revision and also cleaned out any debris. Unfortunately this did not fix the catching, which became so severe and significant in lingering pain that I had difficulty walking. My doctor was stumped as he corrected the lesion and did not see any cartilage or scar tissue that could be causing the catching. His remaining theory was that my os trigonum could be causing this. He went back in, and the last surgery in 2022 was an excision to remove the bone. The catching improved greatly after this surgery. I did end up with nerve damage that is slowly improving, and I am on 1200mg of gabapentin daily to manage what was debilitating nerve pain.
Fast forward to today: In the past few months the catching has come back, about 70% as bad as before in terms of frequency and pain. I started PT again with hope that it will help, and then sprained my left (good) ankle and ended up on crutches for a few days. Unfortunately my right ankle took a beating bearing all of my weight and my symptoms got worse. Still in PT - we are hopeful, but we are not convinced it will help. I have tried cortisone injections and steroid pills in the past without success.
Are there any doctors here that have had success treating OCD lesions? Have any patients struggled this much? Should I be asking my doctor about a different treatment path? Thank you in advance.

"Great days and glorious victory! My name is Spifflemonk and welcome to my Letsplay! Today I am back from my medically mandated break from playing human videogames after a rather... cathartic experience with a game called Teardown. Subnautica, even among humans, is labeled as a notorious experience with... mixed reception for its sequel. A survival crafting game apparently. I have experience with those so presumably the gameplay loop should be predictable enough. So... Let's go in!"
Spiffle starts the game, going for standard Survival Mode, with aspects of food and water mechanics alongside health and oxygen. The game loads very, very fast with Spiffles overpowered computer, and the introduction sequence begins. The camera pans to the panicked sight of the payer character moving down a ladder followed by a sight of a starship above exploding.
"Oh dear... oh dear! They weren't kidding about survival! Do I even survive this or am I a ghost or something..."
The pod rattles, the screen shakes, a fire extinguisher falls from its mounting. Velocity causes the pod to dislodge a panel from a wall and it flies around the cabin. The panel flies into the player's screen, making it go black.
"Oh... well okay then. I uh... well."
Spiffles' character awakens and panics at the buttons securing him to the seat. Spiffle quickly figures out that fire in this game is in fact bad, and grabs the fire extinguisher, putting the fire out. The game's introduction plays, showing his PDA, the game's inventory UI.
"Oh! I have seen these things in real life when visiting human stations! Do all humans have these?"
Spiffle starts exploring the escape pod, noting all of the damage to the radio beacon and the wiring panel.
"Hmm... craft the repair tool... Well... For later I suppose. Now how do i-AH, the ladder!"
Spiffle clicks on the ladder and goes through the animation. The character exits and dramatically stands. Spiffle looks around. His face visibly pales as he looks in every direction, finding the only thing nearby that looks 'safe’ or like 'land' is the destroyed ship in the distance.
"Water... it's... water... everywhere! How big is this game's map!? Structural hull failure... zero human lifesigns detected. That's.. not nice. Well... Here we go!"
Spiffle jumps into the water. His mood changes, the underwater environment significantly different than above ground. The water is absolutely teeming with life and color, as Spiff swims towards a reef to stare at some coral. Spiff gets distracted and starts chasing a fish, specifically a Peeper, and grabs it.
"Oh! Good god! THAT'S how humans catch fish!? That's very... inefficient! What is this thing? Can I eat it? I know I'm supposed to take care of my food and water, so how do I eat it?"
Spiffle wanders about for a while, gathering resources and exploring his general location, eventually getting back to the pod. He had gathered up a decent amount of stuff while he was swimming around and accessed the Fabricator to see what was available.
"Ah! I see, the fabricator cooks things too. Uhm... cooked fish thing and... these transparent fish give me water bottles? Okay then! Well. Sorted for food anyway. Let's see. Copper wire, batteries. A Scanner? Does that mean I can like, scan things and tell what they are? And... Oxygen tank? Oh hell yes. I'll build that then."
Spiffle goes through the process of building a few things, checking out how the game's crafting system works, and spending more time collecting resources. He quickly realizes how much work he has to do and finally finishes making a Scanner.
"Okay then well... I can see how much time is going to be spent collecting resources so i'm going to edit all of that out and keep you all in the loop on all the fun parts instead."
Spiffle continues playing, inserting a creative, albeit mildly annoying fanciful scene transition in between resource loops. He comes to a cave looking for salt to make more equipment, when he encounters the first hostile enemy of the game: The Crashfish. He does not notice it at first, the strange sloppy noise it makes as its pod opens, the beast makes a terrible gurgly noise and charges straight at him.
"What is that noi-AH! OY! OI! OIIII what are you what are-!"
Spiffle is cut off as the fish explodes, causing him to lose half his health. He quickly surfaces and takes a breath.
"Okay then... OKAY... THAT... makes absolutely no sense from an evolutionary perspective... but okay then. Avoid those. What even was that? I can't even scan it because it was moving so fast! Gods... exploding fish."
Spiffle shakes his head and resumes his hunt for resources, eventually finding enough for a repair tool. He makes the repair of the pods' broken wiring and looks around a bit more, noting some of the details in the game.
"Hard to believe these games are over eight hundred years old! I keep getting requests to play 'them gud ol' gamez' instead of any new releases. Maybe I'll get to those eventually. I have quite the backlog though."
Spiffle quickly tabs out and shows the huge list of human made games on his list that he has been gifted or purchased himself. The list includes Space Marine, Starship Troopers, Spyro Trilogy, Crash Bandicoot, and so... so many more.
"I am also told about this thing called 'anime', whatever that is. Maybe I should look into that. Anyway..."
Spiffle shrugs for now and resumes playing, swimming around for a bit before finally deciding to use his scanner. He gets the first scan - the Acid Mushroom - and painstakingly reads the supplied article. He then goes on a scanning frenzy, scanning each thing he can find, comically chasing after various fish and objects, trying to scan them then taking an irritatingly long time to read the article aloud.
He gets to the point where he encounters his first real hostile enemy and tries to scan it. The stalker, of course, doesn't appreciate that, and attacks.
"Oooh what's this thing? Oh lovely, it's a big one. Can I scan it? The... Stalker? Oh okay is it friend-OW! NONONONO go away!"
Spiffle panics and scans it while running away from it, trying to swim backwards. He's so focused on scanning it he can't run far enough away that he gets ambushed by another Stalker nearby and manages to scan it just as he gets hit with his first Death in the game.
"Oh.... o...kay. Well... it seems things aren't as friendly as expected. I'm going to guess there's more things like that around. So... I'm just going to finish working on repairs and equipment then I'll take those things on."
Spiffle reads the article on the Stalker he scanned and spends more time collecting resources, scanning local entities and building the rest of the gear he has. Fins, high capacity O2 tank, rebreather and some more food and water which he stores in floating containers for later. He starts to explore a bit farther in search of fragments to scan and finds a Sand Shark, as well as a biome resembling a desert-like area. He encounters his first piece of the wrecked ship here.
"Oh! Hello! Pieces of wreckage! What are these for now do you suppose? Can I disassemble these for resources or-Oh! Is that a door? Oh! I'm supposed to go in here and look for things? How do I get in? Oh I can't. I need a laser cutter. Is one of those here? Need more fragments I guess..."
Spiffle gives up trying to enter and goes up for air, then returns to the floor to hunt for fragments. He eventually unlocks the Bioreactor, pieces of the Scanner room, a couple fragments of the Seaglide and Seamoth. He comes across the first cave entrance to the Mushroom Caves Biome.
"Oh... oh my. That's... deep. Good thing I unlocked the Seamoth thing. Its a miniature submarine I think. I can use that. But that's... kinda scary. I can't see the bottom. I kinda see just... purple. Mostly purple. But it scares me that I can't see the bottom."
Spiffle hangs around the cave entrance for a bit before a call for Oxygen forces him to the surface. He swims back down to the cave entrance and then hangs around a bit longer before once again resurfacing, heading for some new things to scan. It is however at this point that Spiffles exploration is cut short.
"EMERGENCY - SEISMIC READINGS SUGGEST A QUANTUM DETONATION HAS OCCURRED IN THE AURORA'S DRIVE CORE. THE CENTRAL DARK MATTER REACTOR WILL REACH A SUPERCRITICAL STATE IN -"
The computer aboard the PDA shakes Spiff out of his daze and he quickly rushes to the surface and looks at the ship.
"Wait wait wait what's that!? What's going on!? I see the ship? The Aurora! That's what its name is? Whats a Dark Matter reactor and wha-"
The computer continues its countdown muffled by Spiffs panicked squealing and he has a front-row seat to one of the most spectacular explosions in the history of gaming - the Aurora's Reactor Detonation.
It happens. The world goes dead silent for a short moment, and one can see Spiffles heart visibly stop beating. Then explosion as the Aurora lets out its magnificent blast. As the shockwave expands outwards, Spiffs skin visibly turns a paler shade of blue, and his eyes go wide. The sound of a geiger counter follows, leaving him breathless and pale as the world suddenly goes dead quiet again. The sound of the geiger counter ominously leaving him shaken even more than he already is.
"FOR YOUR CONVENIENCE - THE RADIATION SUIT HAS BEEN ADDED TO YOUR BLUEPRINTS."
Spiffle stays completely silent, bobbing in the water for a solid few minutes, staring in shocked wonder at what he just witnessed. He regains his composure for a few short moments and returns to his scanning venture, but one can easily see he isn't in the right mind after that. He returns to the seabed, at the entrance to the mushroom caves and dives again. He does this several more times, popping up to the surface, looking at the shipwreck, then diving at the entrance again. Finally, after much hesitation, he dives one last time.
"Screw it. it's just a game right?"
He smiles at the camera with a shrug and swims far below the surface, into one of the caves. As he enters the cavern his jaw drops at the sight of a massive underwater cavern filled with gigantic glowing pink mushrooms. The Mushroom caves as they are known. He spots something in the distance, entranced, forgetting his oxygen situation. He cant get far however and a terrifying shriek of some unknown entity shakes him out of his stupor.
"What in the red dawn was that noise!?"
Spiff can't finish asking his invisible audience what's going on as he strays too close to a mushroom, occupied by a Crab Snake, a gigantic sea worm. He is grabbed from behind, spun around and he visibly panics as the giant worm digs its enormous tusks into Spiffles character. Spiffle immediately freaks out, a combination of both the terrifying shriek emitted by the creature and the shock of being attacked makes poor Spiffle jump out of his seat and duck under the table.
"GOWAYGOWAYGOWAGOWAYGOWAY!!!"
The worm comes back and finishes Spiff off before his oxygen runs out. Spiff's character respawns but the footage continues, a slight whimper can be heard in the background as Spiff hides under the desk. This carries on for a few minutes, and his head very slowly appears above the desk. He gingerly puts himself back in his seat and breathes heavily for a bit. When he finally gains control, he tabs out of the game and takes a look at the wiki for Subnautica. He returns a few moments later and stares at the camera in that strange haunting glare he's become so famous for.
"WHY DO YOU STUPID DEVELOPERS NOT PUT GUNS IN THE GAME IF YOU HAVE SHIT LIKE THAT!? ARE YOU INSANE!?"
He grabs the camera and shakes it violently as he rants at it, questioning why there are guns in every other human game he has played and not THIS specific game, especially considering how there are 'giant water snake monsters that eat your face' in a game with no guns. He rants for a good minute or two then plays his outro.
TOP COMMENT: "Are you absolutely sure after Teardown, Factorio and Project ZOMBOID, you should be playing Subnautica? I mean seriously, try something less... psychologically terrifying. It's known as Thalassophobia Simulator for a reason."
_______________________________________________________________
"Great days and glorious victory! My name is Spifflemonk and I still don't understand why we have giant worm monsters but we have no guns!"
Spiffle stares at the camera with an expression that can only be summarized as 'Seriously bruh?' and resumes his last playthrough. He becomes confused at the lack of stuff in his inventory.
"Why is my... Why do I not ha-Oh right... I was eaten. When you die your inventory is wiped... I need to build more tools then."
Spiffle starts some silly music, an alien version of Benny Hill to a montage of him collecting resources, occasionally ranting at various oddities and questioning game logic. He restores all of his tools then goes hunting for a Vehicle Bay fragment so he can build the Seamoth. He continues to scan what he can, developing something of an obsession with the task, then painstakingly reading every word about it to try and understand it. It is at this point Spiffle, during his explorations finds another derelict chunk of ship near the desert region, encountering his first Sand Shark.
"What... What is this? Oh... careful Spiff. This one looks angrier than the last one you found. Wh-What in oblivion!?"
Spiffles attention is once again diverted by the appearance of a Reefback Leviathan and its signature low drone. This one appears to be a fully grown adult.
"You-you... You've got to be... You gotta be fucking kidding me. A Juhara Eelfish!? WHAT IS THAT DOING IN A HUMAN VIDEOGAME!!!??"
Spiffle squeaks in shock as he sees a creature that is an absolute spitting image of a large oceanic dwelling sea creature, which is both the games and his native homeworlds version of a Whale. The Reefback has some dissimilarities, but its close enough to the real thing that Spiffle is genuinely shocked. He quickly pauses the game, opening various wikipedia articles, then displays a full picture of both Subnautica in game Reefback, and the Juhara-Kal-Rehar, colloquially known as a Juhara Eelfish, a shockingly similar creature that lives in his homeworlds oceans.
The only difference between them is the color of the exterior chitin shell. The Reefback has a blue/purple shell, the Juhara Eelfish's chitin has a red/green shell.
"WHEN was this game made!?"
Spiff checks, the current Earth-date is the year 2886. Humanity only entered the galactic community in 2752. Subnautica was released in 2018.
"HOW.... How is that even possible!? You didn't even know the galaxy existed until only a few decades ago, yet you almost PERFECTLY matched the appearance of one of our homeworlds native species! How is this even possible!? Okay. If the name matches then I have to call bullshit."
Spiffle approaches and scans it, then reads the data article.
"A... Reefback Leviathan? Oh thank God... Now let's see... A herbivorous creature that... that likely got so large due to the fact that its predators went extinct. Well... that's... okay... A hard chitinous shell of multiple layers, a microcosm of different creatures and flora growing from its back, hence the name. Hmmm..."
Spiffle gets that cold, empty stare on his face and glares menacingly at the camera. The screen goes black, then returns, seeing Spiffle nursing a beverage of some kind while wrapped in a blanket.
"I realized something... Call it a message from the Ancestors or a Divine revelation. But I have a funny feeling this isn't going to be the last time I see a creature from the galaxy represented in human media. I hope to the Gods that doesn't happen... the concept of this situation is nothing short of terrifying. In any case, I'm sorry about that. Lets.... let's continue."
Spiffle resumes where he left off, doing his usual routine of scanning, then obsessively reading. Eventually he unlocks the Vehicle Bay, and returns home to his pod where the situation with resources is growing obscene with at least fifty floating resource containers hovering around the area.
"Alright... A Vehicle Bay... This means I can build things like the Seamoth now. This will be nice. Right, I shall for the sake of my audience skip the resource collection mechanic that's here and focus on the actual result. I shan't waste my time either though. MONTAGE!"
Spiff yells excitedly and a montage to that same odd Benny Hill type music plays out, with him collecting the resources he needs to build both machines. Most of it is already in the floating containers strewn about. With a few visits to the fabricator, he compiles the Power Cell, Titanium Ingot and Lubricant he needs to make the Vehicle Bay. He deploys it and chases it to the surface just away from the pod in the deeper end of the shallows.
"Right... Not too hard. Let's see then, how do-Ah. Get on it and... The Seamoth. Cost of two glass, one titanium ingot, a powercell, lead and lubricant. Right."
He quickly gathers and makes everything he needs for the Seamoth, then stands on the platform ready to go. He chooses the Seamoths recipe and the sequence starts. His eyes light up as drones start flying around the platform, then begin assembling atom by atom, the small, adorable minisub known as the Seamoth. It finishes the process and flops into the water with a splash.
"My gods look at this thing! It's so cute!"
Spiffle explores the sub for a little while and hops inside it, testing the controls and playing around with it a bit to see what it can do.
"Hm... Maximum Depth, 200 meters? So if I go below that does it implode or something? I need to be careful of that. OH dammit I remember! I have to make that Radiation Suit don't I? I shall do so now!"
Spiffle seems to have found a new resolve, quickly gathering resources together and making both a Seaglide and radiation suit in short order.
"Does this thing have any weapons? How do I repair-Oh... Repair tool? That makes it easier I suppose. Now... Where do I go now? Is there anything I can do?"
Spiffle stumbles about in the blind for a few minutes, trying to figure out his next course of action beyond simply wandering aimlessly while scanning things. He gets back in the pod and fixes the radio beacon. His face visibly contorts into an expression of irritation when he hears his rescue is in 9999 hours. He resolves to come back every now and then to check the radio. He decides to gather more resources to make up for building the seamoth and comes back a bit later. He finds a radio transmission when he returns.
"RADIO: ▀▖┗▛Nine new biological subjects designated. Mode ▄▖▜▚┣: hunting/analyzing.
Sharing subject locations with other agents."
"What... in the Nine Hells was THAT!? Why was it in such an odd voice? What was that language? What were those letters!? Somethings going on here... SO now what? I have the radiation suit. i guess... go into the Aurora? Oh no, I'm not going in there unprepared! Lemme make some tools and spare batteries, then i'll go in. I need... Oh... I need more fragments is what I need."
Spiffle resumes his fragment hunt, looking around for fragments of various tools. He uses the Seamoth to traverse around.
"WHEEE!!!"
Spiff seems more than just a bit happy as he trundles around in the Seamoth, using his speed to launch himself out of the water. He splashes about a bit, testing the limits of the craft and trying to see what holes he can squeeze himself into or out of and how deep he can go.
"Okay okay. time to get to serious work. Now... I need to find... A Laser Cutter and a... STASIS RIFLE?! Wait... rifle? That means GUN! I NEED A GUN!!"
Spiffle charges forward towards the desert biome where he found the Reefback and resumes his search for things to scan. It is now he comes across a Reginald.
"What... IS this fish? Wait, let me just..."
He gets out of the Seamoth and scans it.
"Huh... Reginald. That's a... fish? It's so cute! Wait, come back friend!"
Spiffle spends an unreasonable amount of time trying to catch a Reginald. When he finally catches one he gets back in the Seamoth and heads towards the aurora, new friend in tow. He trundles over to the side of the crashed ship and scans some random stuff here and there, finding fragments to a few small items, including a few he needs such as a Powercell Charger for the Seamoth’s battery. He gets close to the front of the ship and the haunting, evil noise of Subnautica's most iconic killer suddenly echoes through the gloomy water.
"What... Was that? Is it another worm thing? Please don't let it be one of those..."
Spiffle wanders around the side for a bit longer. An ominous shadow looms in the background, catching his eye. He ignores it for the moment and simply carries on, eventually arriving at the entrance to the ship. Through the mangled steel and fire he squeezes into the front of the ship and looks around. The environment ominously rattles and his screen shakes as the ships structure isn't exactly stable. The howl of the creature in the shadows makes Spiff even more uncomfortable.
"I... Do NOT like this. I really dont."
Spiff parks the Seamoth where he can see a ramp leading up, and gets out. He is immediately accosted by Cave Crawlers and uses his knife to defend himself, poorly, but he gets rid of the three or four around him.
"WARNING: SCANS SHOW THE DIGESTIVE TRACTS OF INDIGENOUS LIFE FORMS CONTAIN HUMAN TISSUE."
Spiffs face turns an even paler shade of blue and he swallows visibly as if he's trying not to vomit.
"Yeuch... I can scan this thing and read it later. I don't want to be here any longer than I have to."
Spiff scans and follows the path to the interior, uses his fire extinguisher to put out some fires in the area and gets inside. The ship rumbles as he wanders around and gets into one of the rooms. He finds the poster of the P.R.A.W.N. Suit.
"Ooh! A poster thing? Can I take it or? I can! PRAWN Suit eh? Can I actually use that thing?"
Spiff takes the poster, scans some furniture and collects a PDA. Spiff continues down the corridor and retrieves his Propulsion Cannon from his inventory and uses it to pick up some furniture in the way.
"I am SO glad I got this thing from scanning the area before I came here. This is super useful! I wonder if it has other uses..."
He gets to the door and looks at his databank.
"Hmm... Here it is! Code for the door is 1454. Right."
Spiff moves through, repairing a door to get the Seamoth Depth Upgrade Module. He continues and clears a fire to enter the main reactor. His inner loot goblin shines through and grabs the Cyclops engine efficiency module before he starts work on repairs, scanning the breach and starting work. It doesn't take him long, but he gets issues with a Bleeder that lives in the waters. He scans one then finishes repairs. Foolishly, he uses the propulsion cannon and shoots the bleeder at one of the reactors, undoing his work. He looks at the damage he caused and repairs it.
"Well... what was I expecting... Why did I do that? It's a CANNON... why did I aim it at the reactor exactly? So stupid..."
Spiff finishes and heads to the PRAWN Bay, and looks around at the damage. He spots the prawn suits and starts scanning, grabbing a storage module upgrade from a console and starts extinguishing flames so he can scan. He runs out of fire extinguisher juice though.
"Blast! Can I still scan these if they're on fire?"
Spiff walks around, finding cheeky angles he can use and scans the debris, finding all four fragments he needs. He heads upstairs and goes through the rooms and everything he can find. He gets into the Galley and sees the Kitty in a Space Helmet Poster.
"What the- 'Keep Calm'? What in the blue balls is this? It's.... cute! What is this creature!? Can I keep this? I can!"
Spiffle excitedly grabs the poster and moves on. He goes through cabins, picks up PDAs and collects the Natural Selection 2 poster, the Prawn suit in the sea poster and the collectible arcade toy in the locked cabin. Lacking the code to the Captain's cabin, he returns to the prawn bay and tries swimming around, eventually finding a passage in the hull debris to the rest of the ship. He moves through in silence, recovers the black box data and exits the ship. He removes debris, grabs the local wildlife with the cannon and tosses them into fires or the water with glee.
"BEGONE BEAST!!! Ha! Right... uhh... where did i park? Oh, there it is. Should I go home? I wonder if there are any fragments I can use around here?"
Spiff exits, finding Liefpod 4 floating upside down on the surface of the water. He collects the PDA data and a new blueprint. Then, as he gets in the seamoth, the horrifying roar of the Reaper Leviathan suddenly sounds. Spiff is thrown into a panic, screams in terror and tries desperately to get away. The beast appears with jaw chomping and claws clawing at the poor Seamoth. The entire time Spiffle is screeching like a bird with a broken leg, his entire body now an almost ghostly white out of absolute terror.
"GOWAYGOWAYGOWAYGOWAYGODNONNONOGOWAYGOWAY!!!"
Spiffle manages to get out of its grip and in a panic charges away towards his lifepod and continues to scream, breathing hard between screams. He gets to the pod and then hides under his desk, continuing to scream. His channel outro plays.
TOP COMMENT: (This has been translated from Eridani) "I am starting to believe this whole sojourn was a very BAD idea. Do you humans have those kinds of beasts on your homeworld? How did you ever survive them?!"
RESPONSE: LOL no we never had Reapers. The only Leviathan Class creatures we have on our planet are Whales. And they're mostly peaceful plankton eaters. Mostly.
RESPONSE: (Translated from Eridani) "Seriously? I think I find it more terrifying that these creatures are made up in your minds. What kind of nightmares do you people have to be able to create this level of fiction!?"
RESPONSE: Do. Not. Ask. This is only Subnautica - we have FAR worse.
Spiffles response: "You're going to make me play these 'far worse', aren't you?"
RESPONSE: "Damn right we are! :)"
________________________________________________________
"Great days and glorious victory! My name is Spifflemnonk and welcome back to Subnautica!"
Spiffle looks visibly stronger, his usual lanky appearance now looking like he's been working out like a Gym Bro. One can see muscles on muscles and Spiff seems to have an abnormal amount of energy.
"I am now relaxed. It is now time to get eaten by giant scary sea monsters. And yes, before you ask, I have successfully finished fully soundproofing my office. And also yes, I am indeed expecting a new addition to the brood... THANKS DAMN HUMANS! You and your damn musical magic nonsense..."
Spiffle starts the game and is swimming outside the pod next to the Seamoth. The first thing he does is repair the seamoth from the damage incurred by the Reaper, and recounts what hes been up to, checking inventory and equipment. He heads to the radio and gets a new transmission.
RADIO - "This is Avery Quinn of trading ship Sunbeam. Aurora, do you read? Over.'
'Nothing but vacuum. These Alterra ships. They run low on engine grease, they send an SOS; you offer to help, they don't pick up.'
'Aurora, we're out on the far side of the system, it's going to take more than a week to reach your position, do you still need our assistance? Over.'
'I'll try them again tomorrow. Damn charter's going to have us wasting our profit margin running errands for Alterra.'
'See what the long-range scanner picks up in the meantime."
"Oh? Oh lovely! There ARE people in this game! I wonder when they will be here? Meh, I have things to build, so I'll keep an eye."
Spiffle resolves himself to start building a base, trying to find a good spot. He finds the Mushroom Forest Biome and starts gathering resources to ferry them around. He installs the Depth Module and the Storage module to the Seamoth, then builds the Moon Pool. The Mushroom Biome becomes one of his favorite spots and a close encounter with a JellyRay cements it.
"Those creatures are beautiful! Look! JellyRay! Its glowing blue and pretty! I love that! Oh... I have a new radio message. I need to listen to that then."
Spiff returns to the pod and listens to the message.
RADIO - "Aurora, this is Sunbeam again. We just picked up a massive debris field at your location.'
'I didn't know how bad... How many of you... I didn't know.'
'We are now en route to your location. We're going to bring you home. Sunbeam out.'
'What else can I say? The only time I parked a rig this big on a rock that small was in VR, and I blew it'
'Oh, it's a bad option alright, but so are all the others."
Spiff smiles and carries on working, parking the Seamoth inside after powering everything up.
"So lovely! But... Is that a win condition? I know human games by now I have played enough of them. Is that a win condition? Get rescued? I dunno..."
Spiffle carries on building for a little and gets a storage system up, spending a few in-game days transporting resources to his new base. He returned to the pod and played a new radio message, again from the Sunbeam.
RADIO - "This is Sunbeam. Y'know, Aurora, we're from a little trans-gov on the far side of Andromeda, and we have a saying there.'
'There's no bad without the good, no good without the bad.'
'Sounds like you tasted a bunch of the former, but that only means you're overdue a whole lot of the latter.'
'Might just be we're it.'
'We're scanning for somewhere to park, we'll be in touch when we find it. Sunbeam out."
"Ohh... That... that's a lovely saying! What was that uh... There's no bad without the good, no good without the bad. I like that! I think i'll have that framed on my wall! Now lets see.. i ca- I CAN GIVE THE SEAMOTH A NAME? OOHHHhh okay, okay.. I can customize the color too! I think I'll just do this..."
Spiff leaves the name as 'Seamoth' for now, changing the color to a mix of purple for the main, and blue for the trim and name color. His two favorite colors. Spiffle does a little more work, acquiring the last fragments for the Cyclops and starts gathering together the resources necessary to build it.
"Hmmm.. Cyclops... Personal large scale submarine capable of carrying other vehicles! Ooohhh I want to build that! I need to fetch the Vehicle Bay though. Im almost done moving house!"
Spiff returns and packs up the last of his resources, then gets another radio message.
RADIO - "Aurora, we're approaching the planet now, and we have a landing site for you that's... well, it's better than the alternatives.'
'We've sent you the coordinates.'
'It'll take us a couple of days to align our orbit, we should be able to establish direct contact with you during that time, then we're coming in to get you.'
'Cross your fingers the weather holds, and don't leave us waiting. Sunbeam out."
Spiffle gets a new beacon on his HUD. Sunbeam Landing Site.
"What!? Is this game over If I'm there!? Okay... well. At least it's no longer terrifying! I'll get the Seamoth and go for the beacon then. I hope it's okay... Strange... this... doesn't feel like the end, you know? But if it is then it is."
Spiff heads home, deploys the Vehicle Bay and deposits his gear and resources. He heads towards the location, occasionally squealing 'WHEEE!!' as he uses the Seamoth to jump out of the water like a dolphin. However, he miscalculates and the Seamoth jumps up, out and sustains a bit of damage as it hits a rock formation close to the surface. He gets out, repairs it and looks at the camera.
"Why no I didn't just damage my Seamoth by having too much fun. I don't know what you are talking about. Hehe."
Spiffle smirks at the camera with a glare and carries on. Eventually, he encounters the largest of the Islands in the world.
"Wh... WHAT. This has been here the whole time!? Is this an island? Who cares! LAND! Sweet land!"
Spiffle now notices the timer and hops onto the island from his Seamoth. He walks up to the landing zone and stops dead in his tracks at the sight of the massive al;ien structure known as the Quarantine Enforcement Platform. In essence, a giant alien cannon.
"What... the *beep* is THAT?"
Spiffles' editing has gotten better, his editor learning how to censor Spiffles foul language, in both English AND Eridani. He moves closer to the building, scanning the broken tablet and the Forcefield Controls.
"What is this? I mean it's clearly alien... What do the codex entries say... 'possible to reconstruct the device' Oh... hmm.. I can make more of these then. 'Matches no known technologies... functions like a lock'. Okay then so... Standard video game logic I guess. That's nice! So A purple tablet will unlock the gate there. What are those?"
Spiff moves towards the Cairns marking the way into the island, pathways leading up the mountainside. He follows them, finding a Purple Tablet in the process on one of the pathways.
"Oh! Lovely! That saves me resources and a trip I guess. This pathway keeps going though. hmm... Welp, we still have thirty minutes, so let's go."
Spiff explores the pathway, getting lost a bit before finally figuring that following the large cables is a good idea. He comes across the Teleportation Arch and scans it, in between dodging the Cave Crawlers.
"Right, let's see... Alien Arch... not much to speak of here. Maybe this thing will be useful later I guess. Likely.... Hmmm..."
Spiffle continues exploring and eventually finds himself back at the forcefield with another twenty minutes to go.
"Screw it, let's go."
Spiff activates the forcefield platform and the animation of the key being placed plays out. He moves into the building, activating both data platforms and acquiring two Ion Cubes for later, scanning everything he thinks he can scan. He enters the Moonpool in the bay and gets two more Ion Cubes, plus data on a rifle and a Doomsday Device. He ignores it for now, acquiring one more purple tablet and accessing the control room.
"Right... what's in here? Hmm... Energy Core, right. I shall scan that and... press button?"
Spiff presses the button. An animation plays where a device locks his characters hand in place, viciously stabs it with a pointy metal bit and then releases it.
"OH GODS what the hell! Why is that?! That's just nasty!"
"THE TERMINAL IS BROADCASTING A MESSAGE. TRANSLATION READS: 'Warning, infected individuals may not disable the weapon. This planet is under quarantine.'"
"Quarantine! What? Infected? I-Hold on...."
Spiffle gets his scanner out and performs a self-scan. It is only now he notices something very bad has happened.
"I-infected!? Wait, what!?"
"SELF-SCAN COMPLETE - DETECTING STATISTICALLY SIGNIFICANT BACTERIAL LEVELS. NO ADVERSE EFFECTS DETECTED. BE VIGILANT FOR SYMPTOMS."
"Oh brilliant! Does that mean I can't leave? I KNEW IT! Wait... weapon!? This is a weapon!?"
Spiffle panics and runs out of the facility as fast as he can and waits the last few minutes for the Sunbeam to arrive. Sure enough, it does. In the last 30 seconds, the Sunbeam plays a message.
RADIO - "Survivor, we see you!
'Man, I don't know how you held out down there.'
The sunbeams message plays, and Spiffle gasps in terror from the sound of the gun platform starting up and starting to move around.
RADIO - "We've broken atmosphere and we're descending towards the landing site.'
'Is that a building down there?! What do you mean you can't identify it?"
The weapon powers up and turns, aiming itself high at the sky.
RADIO - "Hold on, no turning back now.'
'Positions everyone, touching down in 10, 9, 8-'
The weapon charges up and a loud vicious hum can be heard echoing through the valley.
RADIO - "It's coming from the building?! Change course, set thrusters to (full)-"
The radio goes to static, the weapon fires and the Sunbeam is vaporized instantly by a massive blast of bright green light. The sunbeam disappears, its hull structure completely disintegrated. Spiffle sits in stunned silence as the platform returns to a stable position, shuts down, and everything goes quiet.
"Well... Okay then... That was... horrifying. I guess thats all we have time for! Hehe! Oh dear..."
Spiffle looks a bit defeated as he sits back in his seat.
"S-see you next time! I guess... Holy shit..."
Channel Outro plays.
TOP COMMENT: "Are you okay? You seem a little bit too disturbed by that. Its fine though, compared to what happens in the Rise Of The Ancients Mod, this is tame! Lol! I love that mod!"
Spiffles Response: "Please don't make me play that mod..."
((Authors note - due to how bastardingly huge Subnautica is, this will be a multi part series. Other Spiff stories will come inbetween. Hope you enjoy!))

2008-herniated disc, pain in lower back, surgery, able to return to work, back to somewhat normal. 2010-re-herniated same disc, pain in right leg, back, Spinal fusion, through stomach and back, 10 1/2 months back to work 2011- injury to lower back, same pain as before spinal fusion, only now, additional pain in left leg and feet. 2015- hardware removal (Rods and pins from 2010 fusion) surgery unsuccessful, still same pain since 2011 injury. 2024-pain in lower back, both legs, feet, front right thigh and groin. Since 2008, I’ve only been able to work, approximately 7 months. All of the gaps in time between these dates were… 1.) Fighting SCF Arizona insurance, now called CopperPoint-workers comp. Retaining an attorney, having depositions, going to court, seeking medical help, going through medical procedures, recovering from medical procedures, …. So much I’m not boring you with… like fighting with Social Security, because comp simply would not cover what they were paid to cover. The drugs they had me on, suffering that while still having to sit on a witness stand while some p.o.s. Attorney for comp made me out to look like some money grubbing begger. I was making 60k, comp pays somewhere around 20k, who the F, is fighting for that life style? I haven’t driven a car since 2013. I use a cane. I have no friends because friends want to do things and I can’t do things. I’m in so much physical pain, but, the most I will take is a couple of Tylenol on a bad day. On that dumbass pain scale they continue to ask us about…I live at 8. But…when I am finally able to see a doctor, I shave, I bath, I put on clean close and cut my hair, I have always been taught to make a good impression….communication is not my strong suit and I have zero memory, doctors ask me things, I’m nice, I try to answer them, but, down deep I know I’m giving them wrong information, times, dates, everything, if I’m extremely lucky, my amazing spouse is able to miss work and go with me and she is able to tell them the answers, unbiased and with some sense. These fucking comp people, court…doctors and staff giving me the side eye judging me like I’m some Frank Gallagher on the show Shameless. It leaves me hopeless. No one says, OMG let’s find out where and why you hurt, let’s run every test, let’s get you better. They have another agenda. Make their business money. Pay off their student loans, pay for their staff, by that vacation home, put their kids through college. Doctors tell me….some doctors tell me, I need another surgery, just to fix the groin and front thigh pain, Over explaining that it in no way will it fix the pain in my back. Yet, nine, can say Why my back hurts, none can give me a straight answer, some say, the last thing I need is another surgery. Some say, radio ablation for the nerves in my back, some say Failed Spinal surgery syndrome. Some doctors say, let’s put you in physical therapy, even after, I just got out of physical therapy, because and I quote, just laying around isn’t good for you. ‘What increases your pain?” Any movement….but, by all means, let’s get me up on a treadmill. I’ve had back injections, drugs/medications, phys therapy, surgeries, yoga, chiropractic care, I’ve saw spinal specialists, Orthopedic specialists, orthopedic surgeons, pain management, one neurosurgeon who suggested I try a spinal cord stimulator and come back and tell him if it is helping or not. I told him to get another Guinea pig. I’m at a lost. I’m always in pain. I’m depressed, but, reluctant to tell anyone, because then they will judge me. I saw a shrink for a while, it helped having someone to bitch at other than my poor wife, but, that got ruined when I suggested to my son to go see her, he was having some personal issues, as you know…all of everyone’s mental problems are caused by their Parents. After my Son spoke to my counselor, My counselor looked at me differently and began treating me differently. It was awkward and noticeable, yes I could find anger, but, my wife would have to drive me or I’d have to pay Uber. take time away from our three dogs. I don’t even like to leave the house anymore. Suicide isn’t an answer, but, I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was a thought. A dumb thought, but, depression comes with pain, and hopelessness comes from the majority of Doctors. I’ve retired three attorneys. I’ve retired two surgeons. Here I lay, still in pain, no answers. Scaring my dogs, with my pain induced outbursts, causeing my beautiful wife grief by my thinly stretched and cracked mind. Venting all my pain and frustrations into her lap. Life sucks. I hurt and no one seems to be able to get to the bottom of it, but, they all want me in their office next week, cause Comp will pay them …currently. Should I see another Neurosurgeon? , most ortho’s say, the spine looks good, a slight bulge in one disc-hence the surgery to repair that herniated disc to eliminate the front thigh pain and groin pain. Some say my muscles in my lower back are atrophied and where muscle used to be, now is filled with scar tissue and god knows what else. Hence all of the nerve pain in my lower back. When my upper torso moves it feels like ground up glass is in my lower back. Fun times.nerve pain running down both legs into my burning toes, numb calves. Basically pain from the middle of my back to my toes all day , everyday.

Hi everyone!
I had top surgery in London with Victoria Rose on 18/03 and I thought I’d breakdown how it went for people considering her!
I first got in touch with Victoria Rose’s office in August 2023 and immediately got a date for a consultation in November. She asked for 2 references for surgery but I got away with just one because I went for a psych referral from Dr. Kirpal Sahota who works with her apparently? I have a friend who got a referral letter from Dr. Lorimer and another one from their GP so I guess that’s an option as well. The wording was “Miss Rose requires a referral letter from a recognised gender clinic, usually with a 2 signature referral, one of which has to be a consultation psychiatrist, although she will accept single signature referrals if she has worked with the referrer before.“
The consultation with Dr. Sahota was £450 - which I had to settle entirely about 2 weeks before my consult with her. I first got in touch with her in August 2023, her office got back to me immediately but didn’t offer a specific date - they got back to me in September with a date for October. The consult itself was a video consult and from what I remember I was asked to explain my whole history with gender, mental health, family, sex, chest-related dysphoria, how long I wanted that surgery, how I was feeling on T… All the questions, some really intrusive ngl. I had read beforehand on Reddit that Dr. Sahota is not particularly understanding with non-binary people (which I am) so I very much toned down the whole genderfuck aspects of me and went for a full hyper masculine narrative which worked wonders… She was very happy to give me the piece of paper I needed. I don’t really want to get into more details on what I said publicly but if anyone wants to get in touch directly about it don’t hesitate!
The consultation with Victoria Rose was £250, which I paid for a couple of weeks before it happened. It took place at the Nuffield Parkside Hospital in Wimbledon (where the actual surgery took place too!). Victoria Rose is a very energetic friendly person, she went over a bunch of the same questions that Dr. Sahota did - gender history mostly, feelings about chest, testosterone - but in a much less invasive way, she made it sound like more of a formality. Then I showed her my chest. She had a look and a squeeze (eh that’s what we were here for you know) and said there was a bit too much overhang for peri (which I was expecting anyways and I had already made my mind up to get DI). I brought up that another surgeon said I had a lot of fat around the top of my chest, she had a look and said we could do a bit of lipo around my armpits to harmonise the results. She then showed me plenty of her results. They all looked really good - she is able to do so many different scar shapes (from almost right angle to rounded scars). She really emphasised that she wanted to fit to the patient’s aesthetic goals as much as possible. Nipples looked all sorts on the weird-to-great scale, as it tends to be the case. For nipples she offers:

• no nips
  
• nipple grafts (from her document: full thickness grafts – these have dressings stitched over them for the first week. They are showerproof so you can shower during this period, but do not soak them in a bath/swimming pool/sea. This dressing is then removed by our specialist nurses at Parkside Hospital and further dressings are normally needed for 1-2 weeks. You will be given these and instructions on how to apply them by our nurses. Nipple grafts can vary in colour, shape, size and position. They are normally insensate and the nipple bud will be flatter. Very rarely they can fail and a residual scar is left that may require further reconstructive surgery or a tattoo.)
  
• nipple pedicle (from her document: in this technique the nipple is left attached on a small amount of breast tissue and button holed through the skin into its new position. This technique sometimes preserves some sensation. Dressings are not stitched on. You will need to come to see the nurses at Parkside at 1 week for a wound check. The nipple tends to be more uniform in colour and shape but the nipple bud size cannot be altered. The nipple can also fail in this technique if it does not receive adequate blood supply. It then heals as a scar which may require further surgery. In this technique the breast tissue the nipple is left attached to may produce a visible bulge in the lower pole of the breast. This may need to “debulked” in a second operation.)
  

I decided for the nipple pedicle because I wanted to get the best chances to get some sensation back and I want a bit of a nipple bud to pierce later! She did assure me that I could change my mind about this, even on the day of the surgery… She also encouraged me to bring pictures of top surgery results that I liked on the day of the operation. And that was it! In an out of the consultation within half and hour, though she did answer all my questions. I would advise arriving with questions ready because she does not linger so it’s useful to have everything at hand!
After that I received documentation from her office reiterating everything, consent forms etc. and maybe a week later her her office sent me a date for the operation - in March 2024! I had to send in a £750 deposit. Between November and March I had a very short zoom call with Miss Rose where we went over the same things we did on the consult - felt like she was double checking that I knew what I was getting in for. I had some questions about recovery which she did not know how to answer and she invited me to ask her specialist nurses). A week later I had another zoom call with nurse Sandie… I was really taken aback because she asked me a bunch of questions about my gender; and dysphoria and everything which I am pretty angry about. I did not expect it so I kind of dissociated for the rest of the consult and got it to finish as fast as possible. But I seem to remember we went over some recovery stuff, she sent me the link to buy the post op binder, etc.
I had one final pre-op assessment in the Parkside clinic in Putney with some of the nurses from her service. They did a blood test, asked me questions about my health and waked me through was was going to happen on the day of the surgery.
Worth mentioning as well that my zoom call with Dr. Rose was rescheduled to a week earlier than previously planned; and that my top surgery date moved from the 12/03 to the 19/03 (with months notice) to the 18/03 (with weeks notice) - just so people are aware that it can happen! Also: her admin staff are super helpful, polite and responsive through email and through phone. Which is good because there was a lot of emails and I got confused a bunch of times.
On the day of the surgery I had to stop eating before 7am and stop drinking before 11am, which was also the time I was asked to arrive at the Parkside Nuffield in Wimbledon. I got shown into my room, and asked to chose my dinner for that night (they actually have a full menu it’s madness). Then I watched TV for hours with the friend who came with me. Got a visit from the nurse and from the anaesthetist, then from the surgeon herself who ironed out the last details with me. Everybody got me signing consent forms left right and centre. Then I waited some more (turns out she did 2 surgeries before me that day). Then at 5pm right when I was starting to turn crazy with anticipation and hunger nurses come in and we walk to a little room downstairs. I got cannulated in my left hand, and next thing I know I wake up boobless (and crying?, apparently that’s really common with anesthesia) around 9:30pm.
I spent the night at the hospital with drains in, a nurse came in to check my blood pressure every couple of hours and help me to the bathroom, I was very numb from the anaesthesia. I only had a paracetamol drip through the night and a couple of ibuprofens. Absolutely no pain! Very confusing night though but the hardest part wait waiting to get food (around midnight - the nurse said I had to wait to avoid nausea, and to be fair I did not feel nauseous at any point so I’m grateful for that!). The next day, Victoria Rose came in to check on me and change my nipple dressings. Then the nurses removed my drains and canulation I felt fine and everything seemed to be going all good so my friend drove me home that day!
Recovery-wise I haven’t been given much tips - I got operated on the Monday eve and I was told to stay without a binder until the Friday to avoid compressing the nipples right away. All my bandages from the surgery stayed on until my 1 week post op appointment (they changed the nipple dressing) and at 3 week post op they removed the surgical tape on the incisions. I feel like I’ve had the easiest recovery tbh, which is probably due to a mix of surgeon skills and my own genetics/health (I’m able bodied, no medical issues whatsoever, and 28 years old). I was able to move my arms loads right away, I had loads of energy, didn’t need any painkillers after the operation. My nipples never looked scary at all and I’ve had a bit of swelling but not even that much.
One spot on my incision bled for like a week but that’s it, and I had some surgical dissolvable staples resurface at week 5 which was a little bit scary. I was meant to wear a binder for 6 weeks but I stopped at week 5 because it was hurting my back too much, and I could tell that I was mostly fine swelling wise.
I'm 7 weeks post op and very happy! I'm really happy with how my results look (I posted pics in another sub if you're interested). Still a tiny bit swollen but not even that much, and I can feel everywhere in my chest apart from my nipples for now!
Cost breakdown:
Consultation with Dr. Sahota £450
Victoria Roses’ consultation £250
Victoria Roses’ fees £5000
Hospital stay fees £4600
Anesthetist £1000
Blood tests from the hospital £182

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I, 28M, had knee surgery to repair a torn quad and patellar tendon and to clean out debris after a motorcycle accident about 5 years ago. The nature of the injury and the way my body heals from surgical wounds has given me the end result of a very large and wide scar. A large portion of the skin on my knee is scar tissue. I am having an issue where if anything touches my knee it causes extreme pain to the point where it’s debilitating. I lightly brushed my knee against the steering column of my truck yesterday which resulted in me falling out of my truck and screaming in agony. I have a very high pain tolerance but the slightest contact with my knee will have me on the floor crying. The skin is also very thin and tears easily. What can I do about this? I am enlisting in the military next year and cannot have this pain and sensitivity preventing me from doing so.