How to spit out mucus

Hello,
Our baby is just over 2 months old and EBF. Around the 1 month mark she was diagnosed with silent reflux and uses a small dose of Pepcid currently. Around the 1 month time she also has mucus / green poops for a while. These then changed to yellow/orange and improved in consistency.
Today she had a big green mucus diaper with some blood in it. Her 2 diapers afterward have been green with mucus, some seeds etc but no blood. She is overall very happy baby, hardly ever cries. She does grunt sometimes, has had congestion off and on, seems to strain for pooping and farting but never cries out in pain. Good weight gain. Spits up a moderate amount (has good and bad days) that I would attribute to the reflux.
Communicated this with her pediatrician today who recommended eliminating dairy and soy from my diet at this point due to the bloody diaper. Unfortunately for me, I eat a lot of dairy and soy and worry if this will impact my supply as well as my sanity. I have a bit of an oversupply (have worked on this with LC) and very much want to keep feeding my baby. I feel sick to my stomach that my breastmilk freezer stash won’t be usable now??
Anyway, my question is for those with MSPI diagnoses - does this sound like your baby? Is it jumping the gun to do elimination diet with one bloody diaper? On the flip side I don’t want to cause my baby discomfort and understand the elimination diet is a small price to pay.
How soon can I reintroduce dairy and soy into my diet?
Thanks in advance for the help.

Trap Idea #2: The Half and Half Trap
the story:
a toxic, racist, misandristic woman is commonly found in court, testifying as a ‘witness,’ spinning up stories about men on trial for unnamed crimes, whom she’s never known prior, only providing false statements because of her hatred for men, especially black gentlemen. she’d make up convincing stories that align to events that occurred in the criminals’ cases, often ending up landing them in death row for how severe of a story that she stirs up. the same can’t be said about women who are on trial, though, as she ALWAYS defends ones on trial, and often gets them out, or reduces their sentence.
her actions would catch the attention of detective hoffman due to his connections in the police force. (that does nothing about the woman due to the precinct being corrupt, sound familiar?) a trap would be built in an old, dilapidated and abandoned courthouse. the trap would not be public, much to everyone’s dismay.
the trap:
the subject wakes up strapped onto a metal wall, wearing only a bra and underwear (more on that later). they are bound by their chest to a metal bar that can swing away, hinging at the right (attached by a lock on the left) and by their legs by shackles that are also attached to the wall, which can move, while the upper part, where the subject is bound by their chest, cannot. they are free to move their head around as much as they want, all in the realm of reality of course. just above the subject is a pulley system with a strong but flexible metal cable that dangles in front of the subject and runs down their throat. attached at the end of the line, in the subject’s stomach, is razor wire that is lubricated to not cause as much pain to the subject, but quickly drying up. the lubricant is immune to being melted by stomach acid, but not internal body heat. also attached onto the wire just down their throat, is a key, knotted into the wire so it has no chance of falling off.
the subject’s leg shackles are attached to a moving platform behind the false wall that will move downward. if the subject fails the test, the platform behind the wall will begin to slowly move downward.
the pulley is attached to a handle that can be pulled, which in turn activates machinery that winds up the pulley, and slowly pulls the wire out of the subject’s mouth.
the scene:
Sharon is met with an intense sore throat and cold as her eyes slowly open from a groggy, drug induced sleep. she could really use a coffee right about now. except, she’s not at home. she’s in court. a rather run down looking one, at that. she scoffs, but is met with immediate searing pain coming from her throat. her tongue feels something in her mouth that should NOT be there: a wire. her mind immediately goes to a memory from watching the news.
“Nina Alexander, publicist of fraudulent Jigsaw trap survivor Bobby Daegan, was found dead this morning after a raid on an unnamed building in Downtown. the details of her death are gruesome and violent, as she died screaming in agony, quite literally, as a line was found dangling just to her left with a key on it, as well as what coroners believe to be esophagus tissue. five officers have also been found dead as a result of this raid, and appeared to have been-“
she panics.
“oh my god, this can’t be happening! i can’t end up like her!” she thinks.
a tv flashes and buzzes to life in front of her. she looks at it slowly and cautiously as the face of a clown with red, swirly cheeks appears on screen with a haunting giggle.
a low, raspy voice is heard.
“hello, Sharon. i want to play a game. your pledge to the law is idealistically a noble gesture. standing up for victims and bringing criminals to justice. only you have a sickness. you are a misandrist. your hatred for men extends to no bounds, as not only are you prejudiced against men who have done nothing to you, you are also a racist. you take the stand and say whatever you can, just so the male defendant gets the worse sentence. but today, it is you who will be on trial. right now, you are in a personal favorite test of mine. you are unable to move from your torso down. above you is a handle that can be pulled, and attached to that is a motor, which is connected to the wire running down your throat.”
sharon grasps at the wire, only to be met with an extreme, sharp pain coming from inside of her abdomen.
she sweats as her eyes dart back to the tv.
“the key to your freedom is somewhere deep inside of you. you just have to find the courage to rip it out and hold it tightly. live or die, Sharon. make your choice.”
the tv cuts to static before dying entirely, and a loud buzzing is heard somewhere in the room. a number appears on a clock just across the room from sharon.
60.
it begins ticking down.
59
58
57
sharon, without thinking, reaches up to grab the handle and pulls down with all her might.
BUZZ
a motor starts, and the steel cable hanging from her mouth begins to retract into an unseen pulley. slowly, it retracts from in front of her, until it goes taut. sharon feels the same sharp pain as she did before, only slightly higher up.
she tries to scream, but everything starts to hurt. this can’t be real! “i’ll wake up eventually” she thinks.
she looks at the clock again.
39
38
37
her time is running out. if she wants to be free, she has to do this now. against her best wishes, she pulls the handle again.
BUZZ
whirring, the wire begins to slowly retract again, slicing the insides of sharon’s stomach lining. it hurts like hell, but she has to press on.
31
30
29
something in her throat moves in a sharp and undesired way, which causes an exorbitant amount of pain. she releases the handle and grasps her throat, which is bleeding from her mouth profusely. her eyes well up from the pain, leaving mascara streaks running down her face. she coughs and spits blood, which is now running down her chest and staining her bra.
25
24
23
she looks around. she tries to scream, but the wire down her throat prevents it. she tries moving her legs, but even they’re bound to the wall. she scrapes and claws at the bracket holding her onto the wall, but doesn’t have any luck, except for a nail or two that breaks off, causing much less pain than she’s already in right now.
18
17
16
she reaches up and grasps the handle weakly. she’s in so much pain that she can’t think straight. she tries to pull down, but it slips between her fingers. her energy is running low, but she tries again. this time, she uses two hands to reach for the handle. after grasping it, she pulls down, and the machine springs to life once more.
BUZZ
throat slashing, pain, electrical and mechanical whirring. only this time something is different. something is coming out of her throat. she keeps pulling until she tastes something different on the very back of her tongue.
it feels key shaped.
she pulls again, desperate to grab it.
BUZZ
rip, tear, guts torn apart noises, blood spurts.
11
10
9
a key emerges from her mouth knotted onto the wire. it’s covered in blood and mucus, but she tries to grab it anyway. in her panic, she knocks the key off of the wire.
her heart sinks as her only beacon of hope clatters to the floor below her.
the key is gone.
she looks back at the clock.
6
5
4
she closes her eyes, and starts to pray. she’s never been a holy woman. sharon has never gone to church. never donated blood. never done anything to actually help the community, and now look at her.
3..
2..
1.
a loud buzzer goes off in the room. mechanical whirring is heard one final time as the metal cord in her throat is forcefully ripped out completely. chunks of esophagus and blood spurt all over the front of her chest.
then Sharon feels something different. her chest area clicks as the wall behind her begins to shift.
it starts to move down.
Sharon screams in absolute agony as the machine begins to separate her bottom and top half. her spine clicks in many different places as she watches her abdomen begin to bleed on the inside. muscles tear. bones snap.
then she sees her skin begin to tear. the pain is unlike anything she’s ever felt in her life, even the wire in her throat wasn’t as bad. blood leaks out of her and shoots everywhere.
the machine moves downward more and more as Sharon coughs up even more blood. her lower abdomen is almost entirely separated by this point. her intestines begin to spill out onto the floor in front of her. she doesn’t witness this.
before long, Sharon blacks out from the pain.
before long, the machine makes one final tug. the tug that completely tears Sharon in half.
just like she acted on trial. half and half. half good towards women, half bad towards men.
in the end, Sharon died alone and afraid.
Sharon died a liar, and in pain.

Everywhere I look, there's people spitting. It's so damn common and absolutely vile and disgusting. How on earth do you get this to stop?
Taxi wala, policeman, your average Joe and even kids for Gods sake!
Sorry, this is just a rant. Saw some bitch spit red paan covered thick mucus out the BEST bus window. I know there's NOTHING we can do to stop it. Sorry Mumbai - we'll be spitting on you forever.

Oh my god how can i even start this. I'm 20 i just got my tonsils removed on the 30th of April. So if you count surgery day as 1st day, i'm on my 8th day & i have been in one HELL of a ride😭😭😭
Day 1 i felt hella good cus the anesthesia it was my first surgery i was shocked when i woke up and it was done 😂
Day 2-3 I started feeling pain but i was eating pedialyte popsicles, soups, always had the humidifier on me, etc all that good stuff i would say pain was 7/10 already
Day 4 Woke up had to go to the ER cause i was bleeding. I got scared because i wouldn't stop spitting up mucus mixed with blood for like 45 mins. So i went and i know it wasn't bright but anyways they ended up just telling me it's normal but if it is dripping/pouring out of my mouth to call 911. They also sent me home with more meds so it was a win 😂😂
Day 5-7 - Worst days so far. I couldn't drink water at all. i just sucked on ice pops but for some reason water would hurt so bad. And i wasn't able to eat ONE thing.
Day 8 (today) - I had my check up with my ENT and i was in excrutiating pain even taking the Oxy, i get there and i have a fungus infection & she prescribed me some gargle/swallow medicine and I feel amazing now and I ate mac & cheese & drank my 1st full glass of water!!! they also gave me some iv at the ER today since i was so dehydrated. I feel like i'm alive & tell me why i was walking in the store to grab a few things & started crying looking at all the food 😂😂😭 I just cannot wait for this to be over.

Hi fellow chronic tonsillitis sufferers,
As I’m lying in the hospital bed and getting ready to undergo the surgery in around two hours, I figured I could make it a project for the next week to document my journey. So often we hear only from people who are going through abnormalities and issues that such cases are possibly overrepresented in our minds. I hope I’ll be okay! Just wanted to serve as a reference here for anyone wanting to do this surgery as I’m someone who’s committed to writing this post without any particular expectations going in. This post will be updated every day until around Day 10! Pretty nervous right now phew.
Pain scale note: I consider myself to have a pretty high pain tolerance. For something to be rated 10/10, it’d have to be a bone-deep, hunched over, completely debilitating, making me cry on impact kind of pain.
Surgery context: my surgeon used the Bizect machine which utilized radio frequency to cut through tissue and seal blood vessels. So I don’t have a burned taste at the back of my throat, very fortunately.
Daily post-op routine: liquid Panadol four times a day (as needed); hydrogen peroxide diluted 1:1 with water, rinse for 15 seconds, four times a day, NOT TO BE SWALOWED (but it tastes so unpleasant that I tend to do two times a day); manuka honey water swished around the mouth and swallowed two times a day; liquid antibiotic, two times a day.
Day 1: Just woke up from general anaesthesia. Kinda feels like I woke up from a nap with a sore throat. Reminds me of the pain when I get a bad case of tonsillitis. 3.5/10 so far and trying to breathe with my mouth closed. Gonna stay in the hospital overnight. Waiting for painkillers! It already feels like there is slightly more space at the back of my mouth.
It’s been more than an hour and the pain is now at 4.5/10. Can’t really talk, but I haven’t had painkillers yet. Reminds me of the pain I felt when I got tonsil stones for the first time lol-couldn’t talk back then either. Glad I’m getting this over with!
It’s been 4 hours since the surgery. When I was drifting off into a nap, the pain was basically gone even when I didn’t have the Iv drip with the painkiller yet. I did wake up very thirsty and got some cold water, a hydrogen peroxide rinse and a throat lozenge. They weren’t kidding when they said warm water hurts! Cold water is the only tolerable temperature right now. But then I already knew from tonsillitis how warm soup would burn. Just treating this s as a final good bye from my tonsils 😂 pain: 2.5 when swallowing, 1/10 when not.
Oh, and I’m starting to get that feeling like there’s a little phlegm at the back of my throat even though there’s none.
Day 2: despite the 3/10 pain, I already feel like there is more space at the back of my throat for breathing. Actually slept quite well! I can talk in a little croak/ whisper and swallowing liquid kinda hurts but is tolerable. Gargling with manuka honey water to speed up healing hopefully!
I broke my fast after 24 hours and did not expect my stomach to cramp that hard. It’s probably advisable to eat after the surgery cause I waited through the night and my digestive system freaked out when I reintroduced food to it after too long.
It’s evening now and the pain is at a minimum (2/10). I’ve been taking all my medication on time (liquid panadol, liquid antibiotic, hydrogen peroxide rinse) plus some more (manuka honey water with lavender essential oil diffuser). I played video games, laughed a bit and honestly it’s not that bad. I’m able to open my mouth, floss and brush my teeth and tongue as usual. I can see the white scabs starting to form at the back of the mouth. For now, I’m sticking to a liquid diet (a drink made from soybean powder and yam powder).
Not much worse than a bad case of tonsillitis still.
Day 3: didn’t sleep too well last night- had a dream about my teeth falling out. I woke up at 6am to drink some water but the pain was still scathing, a solid 4.5/10 before I took the liquid Panadol. I managed to drink a bit of water but my saliva still feels super thick. It’s a good time to curl up in bed and watch a movie with a lozenge in my mouth. And the pain has subsided after I took the meds.
It’s evening. Right now it feels like the pain comes back to a full 5/10 every time the Panadol wears off (in around 4 hours). While the meds are working the pain is at 2/10. During the afternoon, I went out for a short walk and it almost felt like every step reverberated to my tonsils and I kinda had to grit my teeth while walking. For dinner, I made steamed eggs and tofu which was very soft and watery, but the last few bites were really quite painful. The most tragic part is that I’m still hungry lol, but I don’t really want to eat much more because I know it’ll be painful. So I’m just lying in bed typing this while my stomach grumbles.
It’s goodnight time after I’ve brushed my teeth and done the hydrogen peroxide rinse- wanna make sure I’m staying on top of hygiene! I’ve discovered a different, “lighter” way of swallowing which doesn’t involve the lower throat muscles ie tonsils as much, and is less painful. Bodies just have a way of adapting. Sending good vibes to all of ya in the same boat.
Day 4: woke up with the expected burning pain at the back of my throat, which went down after I went straight to the kitchen, took a shot of liquid Panadol and gargled with Manuka honey water. By gargling, I mean swishing the mixture in my mouth gently and tilting my head back to help the water reach the back of my throat- none of that vigorous gargling I would do pre-operation! Not looking forward to food, but I have to make something to soothe my stomach. Anyway, it’s nice to know what to expect at this stage and I hope this journal is helping others so far.
It’s night. Today has been fine- I cooked for family (cause I miss cooking and all the delicious smells even though I couldn’t eat it haha) and remembered to take Panadol every four hours, and the pain was kept in check. I even managed to do a little humming as I practiced piano for an hour. My voice is definitely a shadow of itself though- just grateful that I’m able to talk.
Oh and hold back those sneezes- they really rip you a big one.
Day 5: Woke up to a delightful surprise! My throat doesn’t burn upon waking up and I can drink water without pain without having to take Panadol first! What a revelation!
I noticed that a tiiiny piece of white scab had fallen off my right side. There was no pain and no blood, but I could definitely feel like the scab was becoming looser last night when I was swallowing.
Something that I’d like to share is that I didn’t eat popsicles or ice cream throughout this whole process like everyone said I could- the only sweet things that I have are manuka honey water (which has antibacterial properties; could be any type of honey actually) and sweetened tofu (only once). Just my two cents and belief that the dairy and simple sugars in ice cream might breed bacteria and mucus in the mouth and be related to complications. Like if the sugar in ice cream feeds bacteria that rot the teeth, I don’t really want them near a surgical site.
I actually managed to sing today which was great (except I still sound like I have a cold). I’ve only taken painkillers for a total of two times today- other times it’s a tolerable 1.5/10. I’ve been keeping up with hydrogen peroxide rinses and antibiotics twice a day as well. Both scabs look white and intact. Food-wise, I managed to eat some soft rice, salmon belly, tofu, avocado mash and eggs. Definitely hurts more when I’m eating soft foods compared to a liquid diet but I love food too much haha.
Went for a walk today as well and talked for around two hours without any pain.
Day 6: woke up and was able to drink water without much pain. Both left and right scabs are starting to come out in very small pieces. My voice is around 65% back, but still needs to be handled with care- if I talk in a too carefree way there can be some sharp pain. My paracetamol consumption has definitely halved from Day 1. I can do some chores around the house today- definitely feeling better. The pain level has been 1.5/10 for two days now.
Have I mentioned that I’m SO GLAD the constant slightly rotten/infected taste from my tonsils, which have bothered me for almost two years despite daily irrigation, is completely gone?? There’s no burned taste or bad smell in my mouth because I keep up with the hydrogen peroxide rinses, manuka honey water rinses, interdental brushing, flossing and sonic toothbrushing everyday. I’m just really glad that this is not as bad as I thought it would be.
Day 7: both scabs are starting to slough off evenly and slowly. Sometimes I feel like there’s something at the back of my throat and spit it out to reveal something yellow, which I presume is part of the scab.
Day 8: I thought I’d been keeping it up with eating good food (albeit soft/liquid ones) but I just checked my weight and I’ve dropped 3 pounds. I really miss the gym…
Pain wise it’s remaining at a constant 2.5/10 (felt only when I swallow). I can talk a lot more now, due to a combination of the pain reducing a little and me getting used to the pain (like the sore throat from a bad cold).

I'm writing this post even though I'm still not completely cured, in the hope that it will help someone because I know how hard it is to live like that. This disease has damaged me both mentally and physically. Every day the same problems, the same despair and disappointment. A very stressful period and bad lifestyle habits led to the fact that I have GERD. Now I feel much better, my body is slowly recovering, and I am grateful for that. The symptoms I had, and now occasionally have, are:
1)burning in the chest
2)poor digestion of food
3)a sudden increase in acid (as if I have a volcano instead of a stomach)
4)sour taste in the mouth
5)sore throat with a lot of mucus inside, especially in the morning
6)acid-smelling breath
Before reading, I must note that I am not a medical professional or a doctor, and I am only speaking from my experience with this.
What I have learned from researching this, and from my own experience, is that in most cases this disease is not caused by having too much acid, but too little. When there is too little acid in the stomach, it changes its PH value to a higher PH value, which is getting closer to bases. At the beginning of our stomach there is a muscle called the LES, which serves to pass food in and which keeps acid in during digestion. However, when the acid changes its PH value, that LES begins to weaken and open for no reason. When you have a reduced amount of acid, the gases of that acid, as well as the acid itself, can very easily go out through that open LES, which should otherwise be closed, enter the throat, nose, sinuses, and cause all the symptoms you have.
How do you know if you have low level of stomach acid? Take this short test. In the morning, before you eat anything, take a glass of non-cold water and mix one tablespoon of baking soda in it. Drink it all at once, without pauses. If it takes you more than 5 minutes to burp, you have low stomach acid.
Also the first thing I often see people mention is that you should be tested for h. pylori, because it can often be the cause of such disorders. I recommend everyone reading this post to do it, I will do it myself soon.
Now I'm going to talk about everything I've learned so far during GERD treatment:
1)Classic advice when talking about this but very important: find the food that irritates your GERD, because you don't have the luxury of eating it while you are being treated. This food is not universal for everyone, although the fact is that very spicy food and fatty food are bad for us. Alcohol also raises the acid too much. Think about what foods make your acid spike. For me, these are: tuna, peppers, pâté, paprika, alcohol...
2)Also classic advice, but you have to sleep with your head slightly raised from the bed, turned to the left side. When you sleep on your left side, it's hard for the acid to go from your stomach all the way to your throat and plus when it's elevated so it can't go up as easily, you'll save your throat during the night.
3)Lifestyle changes. This is an unsexy answer but unfortunately it has to be. Reduce sweets, reduce carbohydrates, preferably switch from white flour to integral. Avoid alcohol, cigars. Avoid stress or learn to deal with it. Go train. All of this helps our body to become physically and mentally stronger, which is very necessary to heal from this. If this is not your chance to start with it, then what is? And by the way, you wouldn't miss anything if you were healthier and in better shape, wouldn't you? :)
4)Do not chew gum. I know it's hard not to chew because what we all have in common with GERD is bad, acidic breath, but from my experience chewing gum only dries out the throat and oral cavity, which we don't need at all, plus they create additional acid because the body thinks you're chewing food and produces acid that has nothing to break it down, and thus you create an even bigger problem for yourself, and by the way, your breath is worse because now there is even more acid, and it's like a vicious circle. It's much better to find some bonbons instead, preferably with a flavor other than peppermint because that also raises the acid. Although in my opinion, you won't need any of this if you apply some of the following steps. You will soon see why.
5)I recommend that you change your toothpaste to a fruity one, because again, as with chewing gum, peppermint can cause a lot of mucus in the throat.
6)Do not drink water half an hour before eating, nor half an hour after eating. Water will dilute our acid and thus weaken our digestion, and it will also very possibly lead to an acid flare up. Also, when you drink water, make sure it's not cold, because cold water raises acid very easily, for me it's instant.
7)Introduce a few foods that are good for digestion into your diet. I decided it would be banana, greek yogurt and oats. These three things can be combined in one dish, and are extremely good for digestion. Banana and oats are rich in fiber, while greek yogurt contains many beneficial bacteria for the stomach because it is a fermented product. They don't raise acid, at least not to me. Probiotics are also more than welcome. Also eat more small meals instead of less meals but big. It is easier for you low acid stomach to digest smaller portions then bigger.
8)Make sure your dinner is 3 hours before bedtime. After eating, do not put pressure on the stomach. Do not bend, do not jump, do not lie down, sit but with a straight back, it is ideal to walk and be straight.
Okay, these were some tips on what to do to avoid the situation getting worse, and to make it a little better. However, the question remains, how do we increase that stomach acid that is causing this? Here's how I do it:
APPLE VINEGAR
This has been mentioned quite often in the GERD community, and for good reason. This is the main thing that helped me raise my acid level. Why? Because this is also just acid, and we really need that. It has helped many people, changed their lives, including me. How to take? In a glass of non-cold water, stir one tablespoon of ACV, and drink with a straw. Don't drink without a straw because it's still acid and not good for your teeth, so when you drink with a straw it goes straight down your throat without touching your teeth. Your throat will burn a little in the beginning, but you'll get used to it after a day or two. Drink this three times a day, before each meal. This is how you prepare your stomach for food, with an additional amount of acid, which it desperately needs. This I think is the main way to raise stomach acid naturally and close the LES.
Also notice that after drinking ACV and eating, you won't have that acidic breath (this can be checked by licking your wrist and smelling it after 20 seconds). That's why I said you won't need bonbons that much (be sure to keep it in your pocket just in case). It will take you a couple of weeks to drink this regularly, and then at some point you will notice that it is too much for you, because after drinking the ACV and eating, you will start hiccups and belching, because you have too much acid. This means it is time to reduce the dose. Maybe once a day, before dinner, so that the LES would be closed overnight. But please, don't forget about the ACV when you get to this stage because you will too easily let the acid in your stomach reduce again. Monitor the condition, monitor the breath, and then consume as needed. Sometimes you will need more, never less, sometimes not at all. After a certain time, when you progress in recovery, maybe you will drink once a month, maybe not even that much. But don't be in too much of a hurry, monitor your condition and drink as much as you need.
SORE THROAT AND MUCUS
This is something that still bothers me, but the situation is much better. Before, I couldn't even swallow normally without something getting stuck in my throat. Swollen throat every morning with a lot of secretions inside. With this secretion, the throat defends itself from incoming acid and manages to preserve it as much as possible. What to do? To expel that mucus? No. This mucus should not be expelled until the condition visibly changes. This will occasionally decrease as the acid condition improves. When I saw that everything was getting better, I started doing only two things, and so far they are very effective:
1)Rinsing the nose and sinuses with water and salt. This removes all the secretions from the sinuses, nose and throat. Mix 1/2 teaspoon of salt in a glass of warm water, so not tablespoons, but smaller spoons. Go to the bathroom and take a "sniff" of it with your nose over the sink and spit it out. It's very difficult to explain it now with words, you'll see for yourself when you try. Repeat this a few times until you feel that you have expelled enough, and blow your nose afterwards. Mucus will still get back but much less.
2)Hydration of the throat. During this period, the throat can be quite dry, at least for me, and that's why it needs something to hydrate it and restore the mucous membrane of the throat. And that's water. Drink plenty of water while your throat is recovering. Also get something at the pharmacy that is for mucosal regeneration and dry throat. I use Iceland lichen lozenges and they seem to help.
BTW, after you get to the point where you feel much better and the acid does not come back into your mouth, it is recommended that you go to the dentist because this disease has many consequences on the teeth! In my opinion, there is no point in going and fixing the teeth if the acid will come and ruin it all again. So my logic is: first make good progress, and only then go and fix it.
This is a mini guide through the treatment of GERD. Remember that this is a journey and there will be ups and downs. But as long as you keep moving forward and as long as you try, you will make a difference. Like you, I was discouraged, but now I finally see the light at the end of the tunnel and I'm going towards it. Thanks if you've read this far, I wish you a fast recovery and remember you're not alone in this. P.S. if you have any questions, ask in the comments or send as a message. Bye :)

Once a day, sometimes in the morning or afternoon I’ll spit up a decently large thing of mucus that’s not like your average liquid mucus, but more a chunk. It doesn’t hurt me or anything but it makes me feel congested until I spit it out. Once it’s out I feel so relieved. Does anyone know how to prevent these?

Inspiring negative feelings in others, a generalized goading and prodding, poking at a sequence of signifiers (like exposed nerve endings) in order to elicit a, one would imagine as of this point reliable/predictable, response from people might be a useful ritual meant to sustain engagement. Useful for the one devoted to their own little Cult of Personal Relevance. But I think this remains a destructive tactic with deleterious effects; that it all collapses into a Dopaminergic Singularity doesn't negate the fact. Becoming no different than the Gore or Morbid accounts on twitter. The same principles are at work. Assume the pragmatist stance; this wouldn’t be the case if it didn’t work. Is it the algorithm or is the algorithm a reflection? A snapshot of us in 0s and 1s? Framed by social media. Revealing us disguised as narcissists and their victims. This agonized state has been monetarily incentivized. As attempts at reparations or restitution have at times accidentally given monetary incentives for people to develop behaviors that have proved deleterious to those the programs were supposed to help. Take this money, keeping using this thing, vote for me. From indentured servitude and slavery to wage and welfare.
In the case of A&D they don’t even have to do that much in order to elicit the negative response. Aloofness and ambivalence is at work. Words consistently distorted in the interpretation and transformed into something personally injurious. Returning again and again to be injured. Attempting to write a comment capable of repaying the injury in kind. Given the nature of the medium and its intimacies, being ignored inspires the commenter to comment more, getting upvoted by other teeth gnashing users until finally they’re rewarded for their devotion with either a coveted response in kind, or more often than not a good-humored comical response. That or more insidiously, they appear to verbally alluded to on the podcast itself, giving the impression of having made some sort of impact on the strangers who exert this degree of undo influence on their lives. Gambling logic at play here. Keeps you coming back for more.
Having been arrested for shoplifting the female court clerk translates Charlotte’s statement,
“Your Honor, I’m just a late capitalist subject navigating a vicious and frankly unfair system. Isn’t the culture industry truly to blame for producing these desires in me and failing to provide me with the means to fulfill them legitimately? I know I’m meant to be an obedient consumer to market interests, yet I’m as much if not more of a victim than the store I shoplifted from.”
Charlotte smiles at the female girl-boss judge. Cut to her weeping on her gay German friend’s lap, having been found guilty and fined 500 euros.
Feels like there is a lot of mourning over the Fantasy of the Fantasy of Indie Darling Dasha, a Bataillean Dasha, with strong Radical Nietzschean-Communist sympathies. Who loves carnival and protests and is working to do her part to bring about Full Luxury Gay Space Communism. This is mirrored by the fantasy of a Catholic Socialist (or Franciscan Communist) Dasha who supports a popular social movement. But this Fantasy of Dasha was never not connected with a Softness of Bodies-esque Survival/Necessity wrought (daddy issues) Narcissism. A 21st century “femme-fatale” as someone just kind of stumbling through life, stumbling out of catastrophes. Actually ruthless. Leaving a trail of broken things in their wake.
The “Radical” 21st century Femme Fatale, is revealed to be nothing more than a female Pee-Wee Hermann thrown-into the world. Stunted man-child, the under-the-weather dirtbag lingers, dreaming of being something people pay to simply exist. No abstract ideological justifications can obfuscate this. She knows what she is. A narcissist. She’s simply surviving, and striving to be something other than what she is, through seduction and the aestheticization of her Self, a commodity chewed but never swallowed. Traipsing through the world that necessitated the development of this type. Like money, she burns. Difficult to tell how much is calculation and how much is compulsion. It’s not so much that this is actually Dasha but rather that this is a personae Dasha has creatively explored and interrogated, not simply as something she has been formally type-casted into by others but as a type she likes to mimic and model and take apart and reassemble. Capable of treating the personae with equal parts reverence and satirical derision. Alternatively Dasha has type-casted herself as a type typed up and cast out the World. It’s her comfort zone, obviously she has a sympathetic attachment with the Superfluous Woman. Addicted to benzos and social media and Love. Her brain is addled but she’s still capable of making intimations towards necessary social calculations, blessed with prodigious low cunning. Overtly-identified with drug addicts, ghouls, and depressed poverty stricken losers. Susceptible to the influence of memes and atrocity porn. Having clawed her way into the lower rungs of the entertainment industry she knows a lot of people, is 3 degrees of separation from a lot of people who made it. Scrolling through her feed. Totally oblivious and protean in her values. Her opinions, her identity a roiling mass malleable, the internal spark animating it totally
Synthetic-orphan. Oh star-bob waif stumbling through corridors uncoordinated barely surviving through rapid-fire wardrobe change, only the flip-flops remain.
Too much sun. Beach too long. Friends too far away. Water? Tap water here tastes horrible. Started drinking early anyways. Pretty blue bikini lady, collapsing on the beach. Panicking. Ankle twisted? Have to stop inhaling sand only making it worse. Gasping. Everywhere. God it's everywhere. Wires of saliva, tears, and mucus binding face to the earth. Try to croak out a cry for help. My "friends" are dancing and OD'ing. Inhaling and coughing up more sand, wrenching. Sand on tongue, between teeth, in throat. This is awful. This surely can't be the end of everything. Gone through too much. Loved too hard. On second thought... actually on third fuck all this sand and sun. Aren't my elements. I was lying, God. Is this your attention?
The Ocean. Soon the waves will break against delicate body and the tides will drag me out to sea. Will I have strength left to turn myself over? Will I drown? Then what? Goosepimple cold water without a gentle touch to press them back down.
I'm going to die here...aren't I?
Is that a sea turtle?
It is.
It's face. Uncanny. Father-like face.
Eyes locked into mine.
He knows me.
Dragging itself forward slow but steady. Directly at me. Unbroken turtle focus. Magnificent marine creature.
What does it want?
"W...what do you want!?"
It continues shuffling towards me.
Fear.
"Hey are you okay?"
Strong arms.
Another day. Another attempt on my life thwarted.
I think I love you.
Seducing with a promise (made or perceived) of something just round the corner, tomorrow. Just wait and trust in the plan… terrified of being exposed and pilloried. That those who’d come around drawn by whatever promise they thought they saw in us would turn around crestfallen and seething with the inevitable disillusionment. People who’d defended me. Sure they had their own motives. Didn’t ask to be made an escape route. Never asked to be turned into this beautiful thing they’d turned me into. Like if I’d suddenly swooped down into their lives knowing exactly what to do, knowing all the right people, with boundless time and energy to help lift them up and out of whatever it is they need to be lifted up and out of. You really think you’re the only one with that fantasy? Really? What you’ve made in your head is something that can’t hope, can’t desire, can’t await someone capable of making this make sense. Why can’t you be that? Why can’t you be the hope, the desire fulfilled, the arriving. I was never an answer. I thought you were and that wasn’t fair. Each and every one of us is tasked with making ourselves appealing if not valuable. Maybe making yourself appealing is the only value left. All of it is seduction. Didn’t you pretend to know better? You don’t think I fantasize about a lover that can save me from myself. Understand me, beckon me to go on living in your promise. I’m disillusioned, I’m frustrated. That bundle of ambivalence is clogging up my brain too. I’ve made my choice.
Chin resting on heel of palm. Looking through the feed.
Aroma of coffee, baked goods, and the subtle spicy scent of a great many books seeped in coating the inside of her skull and clothes. The memory of it a least. Pressed the soft tissue paper against rosy-rimmed nostrils glistening, clearing her throat. Glanced around. Ambient bop in the background, fusion jazz intermingled with light conversations, the hissing and gurgling of the latte cult’s machines, and the upward inflection of green aprons taking orders and calling names. Cosmopolitan beepboop music to strive to. Recording of a life getting blown away into a flute. Whoever or whatever it is is dying for us. Jazz flute phantom, bent over at the waist bobbing and swaying to the emissions, cheeks distended, red veins erupting. Kind of music meant to let you know you’re cultured. At least she’d felt cultured the first few times she’d heard it in a public place. Feeling like she’d entered another first chapter altogether. Guaranteed to be better than what preceded it. Better in the possibility of not being what preceded it. The first few times at least. She’d made a note to investigate. To download the app that would allow her to hold up her phone to the tune and receive the names of artist and song. Create a new playlist. Speak of these things with casual authority. Have them on a first name basis. Consciousness elevating, lifted by the short-sleeve black button shirt jazzman up and out of the muck. Break the monotony. Had figured at the time that anything else would be much better than everything as is. Didn’t even like it that much. She already had her music. Adjacent but better. Was frustrated at first with her wills own rebellion. Wasn’t sure why she’d started avoiding it. The knowledge remained and was by her estimation, still rather formidable.
Always been complemented for her taste.
Engaging in social media sortilege. In the blue-light pale.
“If you loved me you'd tempt me.”
Her stillness broken by the audible gulp. Snot sparkling in the corners of bathroom paper towel chafed red nostrils. Occasionally grimacing jaw jutting out. Face contorting in a carnival indignation.
There was high praise in the comment section, thousands of hearts, roses tossed on stage. They don’t know or pretend not to know. Cutesy the publicly-dower and ever-derivative performing an “ironic” curtsy as the curtains closed. Thunderous applause. They love her. They love her. “And what about me?”
In the dark depths of the Congo, a child miner lost multiple limbs and for what?
“Vapid bitch.“
Thumbs had gone to work with minimal prompting.
Backspace. Too crude. Didn’t feel right for the moment.
If you loved me you’d tempt me…
Dreamed of being welcomed to the city-world, shoegaze city, she saw herself there one day. Dreamed about it. One amongst the well meaning citizenry comprised of strange semi-corporeal spirits, pensive intellects with great comedic timing, and beautiful people. A place of chessboards and lovers staring without care. Close her eyes and feel a breeze just cold enough for pleasant, cold enough to justify her style. A place located in the forever something better.
A Girl stumbles out of an IPA serving establishment in an artificially dingy part of Los Angeles patronized by would-be bohemians and proud DSA members. Brunette and wearing a sailor suit. A lit American Spirit brand cigarette smoldering between her middle and ring fingers. She presses her ring finger against a tear duct, before taking a mighty drag. Exhaling a pillar of smoke above her head into which she projects the flickering images of noire detectives. It descends, engulfing her. Dissipating it reveals the Girl now blonde and wearing a fashionable tan coat. Ready to hitchhike across America, to a Magical City with unburnt bridges. Ready to uncover the Truth.
Spitting out a wad of bubble gum and dreaming dreams of jeans and leather. We’re seduced by a music, the water nymph’s inspiration and inspired craft, capable of bringing together the disparate elements floating around our interior cavity. Shaping our fantasies. Dasha as an artist performs the Superfluous Woman well, willing to sacrifice to this Identity-Specter, embodied in her jangly walk (concealing surprising nimbleness), through the performance. She’s at once the performer, the performance, and the producer-director. Mutating, evolving to thrive in the collapse constitutive of social media and streaming platforms. Maybe because she’s seduced by it and sees that others are seduced by the persona as well.
Seductive, self-conscious, retarded.
Dasha Nekrasova we love you.
I love you.
Going to protests in order to skip class and party. Showing tits for hope and change. Consider that at the time maybe she cast this desire as the desire for Revolutionary Autonomy. Rather than as a desire to be desired (recognized) by a Prince and by the others. Perhaps wanting to skip class and party does speak to something vital and potent in itself. That the desire to break out of institutions and enjoy the company of other humans gathered together for a Cause… this youthful exuberance… does actually constitute an autonomous act. It’s not in and of itself Revolutionary. It’s an approved protests (even when they aren’t formally approved they become something of a ritual confined within a series of spaces) that more often than not transformation into little music festivals. Everyone gets to have a good time and ultimately go back to class, finish the semester, return to business as usual. The participants get to play the part of the “young student radical” and the event organizers get something else to include in their portfolios. Referenced Amber A’Lee Frost’s book Dirtbag, specifically Amber’s citation of Occupy Wall Street activists turned founders of boutique consulting firms dedicated to choreographing “events intended to appear as dynamic, broad based social movements” manufacturing “feel-good content for an activist’s social media feed.”
Few of Amber’s observations are worth reproducing below,
“What the entryists could do, however, was secure positions as brokers on behalf of the people. They worked their way into academia, got bylines in legacy media, established think tanks, got jobs at nonprofits, started their own consulting firms, embedded themselves in NGOs, etc. This isn’t to say those jobs always make the world worse, but as a political “tactic,” you can’t help but notice that the professionalization of activism does more to shore up power for a growing class of “movement managers,” and that, rather than relying on democracy (much less democratizing anything new), they were joining the very institutions used to circumvent democracy. Granted they would ostensibly be taking these posts to capture the king’s ear and thus wield a little “soft power” in the name of justice. It made sense, on some level. You had a glut of angry educated, progressive millennials who recently found themselves on the professional and economic downslide. They knew they were a bit screwed, but they also knew they were way less screwed than everyone else; and they needed jobs. So of course they wanted to pursue positions where they might exercise a little Professional Managerial noblesse oblige that might benefit “everyone else.”’
and,
”Nonetheless, Occupy Wall Street really was more than the Potemkin protests, for better or worse. Much to my chagrin, the major opposition to the opportunism of Professional Managerial Anarchists were the Amateur Anarchists, for whom “spontaneity” and “organic” activity was the goal in and of itself. A sort of shitty Emerald City was formed from the energy roiling in and around the park; it’s not that the outside world disappeared exactly, but it became less noticeable, and it was easier to forget the rest of Oz, much less Kansas. For a lot of people, this escape - a retreat, really - was the dream.”
As it relates to Red Scare. The point is that podcasters or streamers aren’t Revolutionary Agents. At most what they have is a platform they can rent to others. They keep calling attention to the position people like them occupy, shock-jock solidarity. How it's a kind of strata and pocket-dimension (Twitter). Anna had a number of bangers this episode related to this. When discussing figures like Carl Beijer and Noah Kulwin she says something along the lines of, I can't believe that the people who go to the same parties and funerals that I'm invited too are my 'ideological' enemies, it's not ideological conflict it's professional competition that it's narrativized as something ideological and Manichean is just what these people tell themselves in order to not confront the fact that they're strivers and careerists. She says something along the lines of "I knew BLM and MeToo was evil from the start, it wasn't coopted" easy to read Anna as being a smug and terrible person, ignoring that earlier she'd mentioned that all of these things discursively adopt worthy causes (Racial justice, sexual justice, Covid justice etc...) the point isn't that the people or the principles informing any of these things are "evil" but rather that the medium itself can be considered evil. Evil in that it specifically harnesses hope in order to betray them. Makes the principled unprincipled and mercenary. The “trained Marxist” with a real estate portfolio made filthy rich. Social media, the US, the NGO-complex etc... Within the machineries provided and present, these things inevitably canalize public discontent/heterogeneous forces back into the service of the Homogenous Anti-Fragile State. Numerous Ponzi schemes stacked on top of one another forming an incomplete Pyramid. The eruption of base powers canalized towards the preservation of the essential relations of production.
Consider the following point by Anna concerning the “Rightwing” E-Girls on twitter breaking the bit and the absurdity of it,
Anna: “…literally they’re being besieged by armies of 19 to 23 year old…14 year old brown guys with like a dial-up connection. That’s the straw that broke the camel’s back!? That’s what finally and definitively made you turn away from rightwing politics? Like you came there, you were OKAY with the racism, you were okay with the antisemitism, you were okay with the hatred for democracy, you were okay with the contempt for the poor and the weak…”
Dasha: “But HitlerRapeGroyper calls you a ‘Roastie’…”
Anna: “…you were okay with Holocaust denial, you were okay with Human Biodiversity…. but the minute they said something about ‘Eggless Roasties’ you were out and Ridin4Biden… that’s crazy bro. And also like no offense but racist rightwing anons on the internet aren’t politics. They are not representatives of the movement. They have virtually nothing in common with the GOP.”
Vulgar and revelatory.
Find the relationship with Rightwing Anons in some ways it’s a predatory/exploitative dynamic, “I pander to you up to a point sure but I’m hoovering up anything clever, encouraging Simpendence, taking your money, and using cleaned up versions of your jokes and your takes without giving much if any credit… because you’re a nobody online who decided to center your whole virtual identity around being a racist, an anti-Semite, a reactionary monarchist, a race realist, a holocaust denier, a Hitler enthusiast, and a hater… you can never be anything other than an anon. You’re fucked unless you totally start over and that’s hoping you didn’t dox yourself over the years you’ve been desperately searching for human connection on this thing. Which you probably have.” The Rightwing Anon is something to be studied (representing a pathological reification of the conservative normie unconscious) and drawn from.
The Rightwing Anon is not only not representative of the GOP voter base, they are also not representative of the actual audience that these people are attempting to tap into. Though they might serve as influencer’s influencers and gatekeepers and models for online activity (what discourse is and isn’t permissible) the extreme positions and antics they adopt conceal the conservative-leaning “anti-Woke” but largely noncommittal normie Zoomers (24 years old and younger) who do in fact constitute the audience or demographic Conservative-signaling and GOP-aligned MSM along with other corporate bodies, political operatives, and people within the entertainment industry… would like to tap into if not outright secure. Representing a potentially enthusiastic voter-base, a talent-pool, and a spare change (disposable income) dispenser given the fact that many of them likely don’t have to redirect all their funds towards paying rent and utilities just yet.
Plus, on a more concrete political note…There is a dimension of tactical support for those who want tighter immigration controls, a bit of protectionism and/or outright economic nationalism, anti-interventionism and by extension (or perhaps more importantly) those willing to bleed NGOs and minimize the influence of foreign national actors on US politics i.e., namely diasporic and exile interest groups, powerful enough to form political blocs that exert a disproportionate influence on US foreign policy, animated by nothing more than ancestral beef turned into a familial mythology and site of identity-formation, avenging their great-grandfather and bringing ‘democracy’ to the countries they’d fled from by punishing those who decided to stay and those who didn’t leave until things got really bad. I’m of the opinion that no one in the GOP will ever come close to achieving something like this but disillusionment can prove vital.
The very least these Rightwing E-Girls can do is maintain a general fidelity. Identifying with and pandering to the Abstract Right while denouncing the Left (adopting/adapting anti-Communist sloganeering and critiquing the “Actual Existing Left”) or at the very least, bare minimum, to not countersignal the GOP. Making fools of fans and donors alike. If you’re going to be asking people for money then you might as well not insult/humiliate them in the process.
…
Attempts at a Dream Interpretation from penultimate episode
Thoughts that came up. Into the arms of a Self-Made Father. Recognized as being of him. Of his glamor and grandeur. Dancing if anyone gets it its him right? To be moved by the Spirit of the Time. Like recognizes like and we are dancing together in the ballroom.
The usual and the cynical note the shabbiness of the whole operation. This doesn’t matter. We’re going to Rome, to Vatican City. To the Throne of St. Peter. The negging has worked. Shabby sure but the little foxes are rough and mischievous and part of God’s design.
…
People don't tend to deal well with disillusionment and dwelling with dissatisfaction. It’s all too dualistic. All or nothing and it's never enough. Lots of raging so far.
Women who age, who become more conservative (literally not liking protests because they're too loud) and who don't actually have a strong knowledge of the material but still opine simply to opine is unforgivable. That the opinion should carry a profound existential weight rather than be something subject to change is something struggled with. Or perhaps it's mutability itself and how this mutability is connected not with information and by extension sincere conviction and conversion but rather with necessity and social or monetary considerations... is what's particularly infuriating, especially for other women (and jaded Simps). The assumption being that the appearance is the essence. There can't be any interiority, there can't be anything to these women other than the fantasy we pour into their words. Projections turning the whole thing into a run on sentence. Once they had been good but now they are bad.

Hi, I’m a 35yr male. I kinda just fly under the radar and keep to myself. I want social activity but my insecurities get in the way. I’m gonna give you guys something to read. It’s a life story of events.
When I was younger, just a baby I was always yelled at and getting into trouble by my dad, I don’t remember much of that time but I’ve grown afraid of my dad. I had 3 sisters, my oldest sister would always beat me up. I know she had to of got in trouble but for the longest time I had scars all over from where she would dig her nails into my face and arms. I just can’t recall a lot of it. Anytime I shave you can see the damage clearly.
At school every morning, I remember banging my head against the wall just to fall asleep, it’s embarrassing to think about but the cause which I assume was caused by a rocking horse that I would get on, throw an blanket over myself and fall asleep. I’m sure people laughed but I did it for unknown reasons.
My left eye is bad, so it sorta wonders. I remember first grade being alright. Then I got accused for stealing something when I never did. It was a giant sand dollar and someone broke it, hiding it in my bag. After that I just don’t really remember much besides everyone being mean so I just started sleeping through classes.
I was always be little, so I started to assume I was just stupid and I still struggle with this. I’ll list what I can remember from a bullying aspect, my eye was easy target for people and still is. I’m sure my hygiene wasn’t the greatest because I remember not caring because nothing at that time and place made any sense.
I was so used to being in trouble that I couldn’t really tell right from wrong I remember laughing at a kid who’s butt crack was showing as he crawled around the back of us and I kinda just copied him because we’re young and I thought it was funny. I got sent to the office. I remember being deathly afraid of that phone call and for some reason in a state of panic I said I showed my genitals instead. I questioned myself when I did it but I was just so scared it’s what came out. When I got home I got held up by the arm and got my behind blistered.
Then after that, things get foggy. I just remember always being afraid. My dad was chasing me for whatever reason and flipped a couch on me to whoop me, I don’t understand the exact reason for this if I’m honest. Either my mom said I did something or one of my sisters did.
Then another time, my second youngest sister was playing with scissors in the bathroom, I took them away and she ran off and told my mom I was playing with them and I got a spanking for that. Same sister also got me in the most traumatizing event I can remember. I’m probably only 11 or 12 it’s around Christmas. My dad just bought a new pick up, and I guess I had a cold because my nose was runny. I had to sneeze so I covered my nose and mucus went all in my hand. I remember clutching it into a fist. My sister accused me of showing it off when I specifically remember being afraid and holding it. As they’re screaming ew and gross he’s gonna get it on me my dad started yelling at me. I’m sitting exactly behind him. He reached back grabbing me by the hair and slamming my head against the center console telling me if I get that in his pick up he’s gonna make me walk home. Threatening me the entire way to my grandpas.
After that I hid away from everything, I stopped trying because everything I felt like I did was wrong and got a spanking for. I developed nasty habits, biting my nails, eating boogers, kid shit. My dad was a truck driver so he was never home. But anytime we acted up he would come home and spank us. My parents usually yelled at each other and ended up getting a divorce. My mom was dealing with some type of abuse as well but her type of revenge was leaving my dad in a big pile of debt ruining him financially. We jumped from house to house. My mom was always worried about herself after that. She started partying, coming home drunk bringing guys home and you could hear her moaning from having sex in her room. She would try to bait our dad into coming over so she could get him arrested or in trouble.
We eventually moved away to a bigger city, she remarried and things just kept getting worse with her. She always said we wouldn’t mind and literally had a woman come over and spank us. All the while she still going out and partying. Me and my second youngest sister grew closer at this point. At school I was still bullied but got used to isolating myself and just sleeping through out classes. Fresh marks on my arm from my sister but i wouldn’t dare lay a hand on her because it’s just more trouble then it’s worth. I had a couple bullies I hated, one in particular would always try to get me alone. So in retaliation I saved up saliva in my mouth. I spit on him and he left me alone after that I do feel bad about it but it got him to back off The other bully lived in the same neighborhood as me. I couldn’t do much to avoid him. I never stood up to him but one day he picked a lot of sandburrs, stickers or whatever you guys call them. He had a huge stack of them and smashed them on my back when I rode past. Shit hurt, after that my bike was stolen so I just hung out at the house.
I just felt I had no one. Couldn’t have guest over, because we had real bad bugs from when we lived in some apartments before hand. So it was embarrassing having company over. Not like I had friends anyways. But lets get back on track, at this point me and my sister wanted to go live with our dad. My mom kept targeting us, forcing us to do all the chores, grounding us and having us spanked. They would sometimes strip my pants off and push me outside bare ass naked locking me out. If I acted out in a store my step dad started pulling on my ears eventually ripping the lower lobe. Anytime we overslept he would dump ice water on us. He was just big bully too. My dad had visitation rights and he was trying to make up but I developed some ptsd I think. But he noticed the scar tissue behind my ears. He wanted to kill him over it. After that ordeal our mom stuck us in some type of mental disorder daycare place. I don’t even know tbh, I was stuck in a group of much younger kids because I didn’t act my age. I was not mature at all, I believe it’s just how I coped.
Eventually we got our wish, we went to live with our dad. Things were better but the mental abuse continued. He gave me set hours to be home by, and if I didn’t I was in trouble, I was still bullied but I was so used to it. I hand me downs cloths and shoes. My dad always told me I’ll grow into them. But one day one of my new bullied pushed me down and I fell out of one of shoes and he tossed it on top of the school. We couldnt afford it but my dad bought me a new set but of some steel toes and told me to kick them next time. But that following week he went to the school and got both parent and got my bully to leave me alone.
I had a crush on a girl so I annoyed her, my way of flirting which was burping in her ear for whatever reason. Teacher who was also a coach yelled at me and after that I just cried and then went to the bathroom to dry my face. It was so embarrassing, but I deserved it. I just didn’t have many social skills and no one wanted talk to me anyways.
My dad always threatened to kick me out or whatever if I got in trouble or got some pregnant. I never tried to work with him because I would get yelled at and make me afraid. I just stayed in my room, played games and avoided everyone unless it was time to eat. But jokes on him he officially gave me the best kind of birth control, trauma. So after continued being bullied, never seeing my mom till after a couple years the person watching over my step mom (they never got married) starting going over the road with my dad. Me and my sister for 11th and 12th grade were left home unsupervised.
She started going out and I just stayed home. I really had no one beside my online friends. I hid everything because they never knew what I looked like or who was. I would have little mental cracks and write out things in messages. They’re closer to poems than messages and send them out to people I liked online. They enjoyed what I wrote. But eventually I got older. I never could fit in anywhere.
I eventually joined the armed forces, and done everything to get through it but they deemed I was too mentally unstable to continue service. Which they were right.
After that I’ve dated off and on but nothing worth mentioning besides being cheated on multiple time. I just lacked experience in every aspect of my life. Sex life is terrible, social skills is terrible I honestly expected to die some point in my 20s tbh rather it be suicide or I just wrecked. Now I’m 35, no wife, no kids and I blow money like it’s no one’s business. I started driving a truck and wasted my entire 20s running hard doing hot shot work. I was trying to make money and buy things I wanted. I didn’t care about taxes or anything. but it just put me in more financial troubles since I was stupid about it. If you know anything about trucking I was running illegal most of the time. Anything to keep me away from the house. I kinda avoid my parents but some days I’m more open to talk but it’s only my dad. My mom just doesn’t pay attention to anything I say.
Anytime a woman gives me attention I get super attached and I know it’s wrong. I push them away trying to not come off as desperate. I find myself watching wanting a reply. I just get kinda happy someone is talking to me. But I know it’s not healthy so I try to calm myself down and exit out of it.
Even tho my sister wasn’t there for me she has taking strides to make it up to me. I love her and promised her a few years ago I wouldn’t ever take my life. But people just make it hard, I retired earlier this year from trucking because I’m burnt out , my truck kept giving me issues and costing me a lot money and I don’t know where to go. I struggle with committing or finding something to achieve and my depression has me in state of no control or responsibility. I just know nothing is helping my mental state so this year I want to correct it and get my life in order.

Hi, I’m a 35yr male. I kinda just fly under the radar and keep to myself. I want social activity but my insecurities get in the way. I’m gonna give you guys something to read. It’s a life story of events.
When I was younger, just a baby I was always yelled at and getting into trouble by my dad, I don’t remember much of that time but I’ve grown afraid of my dad. I had 3 sisters, my oldest sister would always beat me up. I know she had to of got in trouble but for the longest time I had scars all over from where she would dig her nails into my face and arms. I just can’t recall a lot of it. Anytime I shave you can see the damage clearly.
At school every morning, I remember banging my head against the wall just to fall asleep, it’s embarrassing to think about but the cause which I assume was caused by a rocking horse that I would get on, throw an blanket over myself and fall asleep. I’m sure people laughed but I did it for unknown reasons.
My left eye is bad, so it sorta wonders. I remember first grade being alright. Then I got accused for stealing something when I never did. It was a giant sand dollar and someone broke it, hiding it in my bag. After that I just don’t really remember much besides everyone being mean so I just started sleeping through classes.
I was always be little, so I started to assume I was just stupid and I still struggle with this. I’ll list what I can remember from a bullying aspect, my eye was easy target for people and still is. I’m sure my hygiene wasn’t the greatest because I remember not caring because nothing at that time and place made any sense.
I was so used to being in trouble that I couldn’t really tell right from wrong I remember laughing at a kid who’s butt crack was showing as he crawled around the back of us and I kinda just copied him because we’re young and I thought it was funny. I got sent to the office. I remember being deathly afraid of that phone call and for some reason in a state of panic I said I showed my genitals instead. I questioned myself when I did it but I was just so scared it’s what came out. When I got home I got held up by the arm and got my behind blistered.
Then after that, things get foggy. I just remember always being afraid. My dad was chasing me for whatever reason and flipped a couch on me to whoop me, I don’t understand the exact reason for this if I’m honest. Either my mom said I did something or one of my sisters did.
Then another time, my second youngest sister was playing with scissors in the bathroom, I took them away and she ran off and told my mom I was playing with them and I got a spanking for that. Same sister also got me in the most traumatizing event I can remember. I’m probably only 11 or 12 it’s around Christmas. My dad just bought a new pick up, and I guess I had a cold because my nose was runny. I had to sneeze so I covered my nose and mucus went all in my hand. I remember clutching it into a fist. My sister accused me of showing it off when I specifically remember being afraid and holding it. As they’re screaming ew and gross he’s gonna get it on me my dad started yelling at me. I’m sitting exactly behind him. He reached back grabbing me by the hair and slamming my head against the center console telling me if I get that in his pick up he’s gonna make me walk home. Threatening me the entire way to my grandpas.
After that I hid away from everything, I stopped trying because everything I felt like I did was wrong and got a spanking for. I developed nasty habits, biting my nails, eating boogers, kid shit. My dad was a truck driver so he was never home. But anytime we acted up he would come home and spank us. My parents usually yelled at each other and ended up getting a divorce. My mom was dealing with some type of abuse as well but her type of revenge was leaving my dad in a big pile of debt ruining him financially. We jumped from house to house. My mom was always worried about herself after that. She started partying, coming home drunk bringing guys home and you could hear her moaning from having sex in her room. She would try to bait our dad into coming over so she could get him arrested or in trouble.
We eventually moved away to a bigger city, she remarried and things just kept getting worse with her. She always said we wouldn’t mind and literally had a woman come over and spank us. All the while she still going out and partying. Me and my second youngest sister grew closer at this point. At school I was still bullied but got used to isolating myself and just sleeping through out classes. Fresh marks on my arm from my sister but i wouldn’t dare lay a hand on her because it’s just more trouble then it’s worth. I had a couple bullies I hated, one in particular would always try to get me alone. So in retaliation I saved up saliva in my mouth. I spit on him and he left me alone after that I do feel bad about it but it got him to back off The other bully lived in the same neighborhood as me. I couldn’t do much to avoid him. I never stood up to him but one day he picked a lot of sandburrs, stickers or whatever you guys call them. He had a huge stack of them and smashed them on my back when I rode past. Shit hurt, after that my bike was stolen so I just hung out at the house.
I just felt I had no one. Couldn’t have guest over, because we had real bad bugs from when we lived in some apartments before hand. So it was embarrassing having company over. Not like I had friends anyways. But lets get back on track, at this point me and my sister wanted to go live with our dad. My mom kept targeting us, forcing us to do all the chores, grounding us and having us spanked. If I acted out in a store my step dad started pulling on my ears eventually ripping the lower lobe. Some days as a prank they’ll strip my pants off and push me outside then lock us out. Anytime we overslept he would dump ice water on us. He was just big bully too. My dad had visitation rights and he was trying to make up but I developed some ptsd I think. But he noticed the scar tissue behind my ears. He wanted to kill him over it. After that ordeal our mom stuck us in some type of mental disorder daycare place. I don’t even know tbh, I was stuck in a group of much younger kids because I didn’t act my age. I was not mature at all, I believe it’s just how I coped.
Eventually we got our wish, we went to live with our dad. Things were better but the mental abuse continued. He gave me set hours to be home by, and if I didn’t I was in trouble, I was still bullied but I was so used to it. I hand me downs cloths and shoes. My dad always told me I’ll grow into them. But one day one of my new bullied pushed me down and I fell out of one of shoes and he tossed it on top of the school. We couldnt afford it but my dad bought me a new set but of some steel toes and told me to kick them next time. But that following week he went to the school and got both parent and got my bully to leave me alone.
I had a crush on a girl so I annoyed her, my way of flirting which was burping in her ear for whatever reason. Teacher who was also a coach yelled at me and after that I just cried and then went to the bathroom to dry my face. It was so embarrassing, but I deserved it. I just didn’t have many social skills and no one wanted talk to me anyways.
My dad always threatened to kick me out or whatever if I got in trouble or got some pregnant. I never tried to work with him because I would get yelled at and make me afraid. I just stayed in my room, played games and avoided everyone unless it was time to eat. But jokes on him he officially gave me the best kind of birth control, trauma. So after continued being bullied, never seeing my mom till after a couple years the person watching over my step mom (they never got married) starting going over the road with my dad. Me and my sister for 11th and 12th grade were left home unsupervised.
She started going out and I just stayed home. I really had no one beside my online friends. I hid everything because they never knew what I looked like or who was. I would have little mental cracks and write out things in messages. They’re closer to poems than messages and send them out to people I liked online. They enjoyed what I wrote. But eventually I got older. I never could fit in anywhere.
I eventually joined the armed forces, and done everything to get through it but they deemed I was too mentally unstable to continue service. Which they were right.
After that I’ve dated off and on but nothing worth mentioning besides being cheated on multiple time. I just lacked experience in every aspect of my life. Now I’m 35, no wife, no kids and I blow money like it’s no one’s business. I started driving a truck and wasted my entire 20s running hard trying to make money and give myself an upper hand but it just put me in more financial troubles. I retired earlier this year because I’m burnt out and I don’t know where to go. I struggle with committing to my goals and my depression has me in state of no control or responsibility. I just know nothing is helping my mental state so this year I want to correct it and get my life in order. I avoided my dad for awhile I do love my parents but I probably wouldn’t cry if they passed.
Sharing this with you guys is the first ever long post I’ve ever done. I’m sorry for any errors or the jumping around. It’s just completely out of my comfort zone. There has been some people pointing out I wear my hurt on the outside but I try my best to cover it. I know I’ve done my best up to this point but I do struggle with not wanting to abuse others, it’s probably why I haven’t really attempted with to many relationships. I have rants and anger issues. I struggle with terrible thoughts but I write stuff out and does seem to help temporary to get me over it. I hate it and how many of us deal with this.

I hate the fucking disgusting smell of just acid coming through my mouth. Smelling it on my spit, my lips being hyper aware of my lips. I’ve been using mints of course, but they never seem enough..(and im a mint enjoyer! My bad days at work i’d find the undigested mints in my vom.)
I’ve also been aware of my mouth more. I’ve been biting my cheeks/inside of mouth to the point i found dried blood at the back of my bottom lip. Its more a personal problem because im just stressed enough and clenching my jaw. I can already tell i’ve begun fucking up my teeth once again. The sensitivity and the tiniest piece of my front tooth chipping and just feeling that coldness. The back of my throat was bruised and just has the slickness of mucus constantly producing that I sound sick again, but the mucus there is good at least i have some immune system trying to help me.
My lips are also getting totally wrecked. I had a major purge episode on my day off and i kept pushing my body that day too. Purging about every meal except the low energy pre bedtime binge i let pass because i had a feeling i was going to worsen my body. I already felt a soreness along my stomach and the last purge i had to purge inside my room because the bathroom was full. I just wasn’t willing to go through that i was tired. My lips are so messed up from that day, yesterday i though i was getting better but today totally not. Been biting the shit out of my lips and didnt realize till i started feeling how gross and raw my lips feel.
I don’t have much to add. There is no enoyment and there is no “good” to anything. Its just silent suffering in my life that if anyone even knew the concept wouldn’t make sense, we already have one disordered person in the family I dont need to add more stress to them by letting myself be known.(we aren’t close but still. People talk and i can’t be talked about.) i swear the lows i’ve been hitting sucks and i know im sabatoging any attempt at recovery because i can’t stand therapy or medications. My last therapist tried putting me on the same medication i was on as a preteen for like a month but there was a lot of trauma in that period and my parents were the worst in telling me that 10mg of that fucking pill once a day was enough to cause “hallucinations” when i was trying to get help for years of abuse done to a child. The pill talk never stops when i’m on them and just i keep thinking of avoiding medication till i get then to admit maybe i DO NEED THAT SHIT. I don’t know, part of the problem is being unmedicated is that i struggle with paranoia and these types of rears and delusions that my own family is planning against me. The only time i actually go through it bad though is when my delusions turn out to be true like my mom going and meeting with my abuser and still trying to be in contact with him. My dad hates him completely but thats my moms issue since my abuser is on her side of the family.

Hello all, i just wanted to start by saying thanks to this community for helping ease my nerves a little bit.
If anyone has any testimonies that could help calm my nerves even more, I would so greatly appreciate it.
Here is my story of how all this came about
I have been to the E.R twice in the last month, the first time i thought i may have a U.T.I, accompanied by a weird bloating when i eat under my right rib, all test came back normal, cat scan was clear, about 2 weeks ago i went back for the same bloating feeling, accompanied by mucus in my stool, i was dry heaving in the morning, making myself puke but it was all just spit, im usually a stoner and lately just kicked the weed because its been one making me feel like my symptoms are worse and 2 definitely making my anxiety worse i just wanted to let everyone know with any of these symptoms, googling shit aint gonna help you, and the chances of this being cancerous i know are rather slim, but of course the dreadful thought will still cross your mind. I just worry if i could have worried myself into an ulcer, but id rather just stop worrying all together and let the docs figure me out.
I have an appointment April 26th where i am sure with my symptoms they are going to wanna do endoscopy and cscopy, i feel slightly better than i did before the E.R trips, and now im wondering how much of this issue is mental and how much is actually wrong with me.
I still havent been able to eat very much, i get bloated, and than so anxious about what my next BM will look like, not feeling nauseas or anything anymore lately, not making myself dry heave in the morning main symptoms are just this bloating when i eat, and every stool having mucus, or being just straight mucus, I have been waking up with a nasty phlegm in my mouth, sometimes ill spit a little blood.. But i am not coughing up blood, and it has been rinsing away after the first couple spits and rinses with water, so i am a little less worried about this symptom, i also have been feeling some slight brain fog at times, and i feel i have become extremely irritable, this could be from lack of rest or good sleep due to all this anxiety. A good thing is no sharp pains, but that also makes me worry about what it could possibly be.
I am trying not to be so afraid, But not only the thought of shitting for 24 hours straight is pretty worrisome, or shitting myself on the ride there, or in public, let alone whatever is going on with me, the diagnosis, what will they find? Just wanted to let anybody worrying about there appointments, look up Medical Anxiety Feedback Loop, Its a real thing, probably mainly in people with OCD, Our generation gets to googling symptoms and instantly starts thinking the worst, a lot of us are not doctors, let alone the 4-5 specialist that specialize in figuring out whats wrong with us during our procedure. We just gotta leave it up to them, I know I probably have a rough week or few days of prep ahead of me, but im ready to take it head on, im putting my faith in the lord and in the doctors, and I have never been so ready to get this over with and get my life started. All this has worrying about what it could possibly be, will really make a loser like me wanna get his life together all at once.
Thank yall if ya read this far, i really appreciate it

I exclusively pumped with my first child. Initially it was weight gain issue and needed to know how much he took in, then it was due to fast let down/frequent sputtering and reflux. So far with my second I’ve been able to breastfeed and it’s been a dream with not being stuck pumping every 2-3 hours and washing pump parts/bottles. I’m 4 weeks pp however and continue to have engorgement issues and likely oversupply/fast letdown. He handles it well, rarely chokes/sputters but it’s causing him a lot of gas and he will scream in pain (I suspect from reflux) and spits up a lot. He is gaining weight really well though…maybe even on the higher end of gain.
I would love to never touch the pump until I’m more regulated and near return to work as I don’t want to worsen the issue. However it just seems like he’s taking in more than he needs, doesn’t entirely get to the fatty milk and occasionally has gas, mucus, sometimes frothy stools. My right breast is worse and has large storage capacity, doesn’t ever seem to ever empty.
What are my options as this point? I just feel horribly my supply issue is causing him pain. I tried feeding from one breast and alternating to see if he could empty and get more fatty milk but with it being so engorged when I switch its again a lot of foremilk for him, and I panic with the side not being nursed that I will get mastitis. When he fully nurses on one breast only he does seem content. I am trying to cut out dairy in the case it could be CMPA but would love any advice to troubleshoot.

Hello all, i just wanted to start by saying thanks to this community for helping ease my nerves a little bit.
If anyone has any testimonies that could help calm my nerves even more, I would so greatly appreciate it.
Here is my story of how all this came about
I have been to the E.R twice in the last month, the first time i thought i may have a U.T.I, accompanied by a weird bloating when i eat under my right rib, all test came back normal, cat scan was clear, about 2 weeks ago i went back for the same bloating feeling, accompanied by mucus in my stool, i was dry heaving in the morning, making myself puke but it was all just spit, im usually a stoner and lately just kicked the weed because its been one making me feel like my symptoms are worse and 2 definitely making my anxiety worse i just wanted to let everyone know with any of these symptoms, googling shit aint gonna help you, and the chances of this being cancerous i know are rather slim, but of course the dreadful thought will still cross your mind. I just worry if i could have worried myself into an ulcer, but id rather just stop worrying all together and let the docs figure me out.
I have an appointment April 26th where i am sure with my symptoms they are going to wanna do endoscopy and cscopy, i feel slightly better than i did before the E.R trips, and now im wondering how much of this issue is mental and how much is actually wrong with me.
I still havent been able to eat very much, i get bloated, and than so anxious about what my next BM will look like, not feeling nauseas or anything anymore lately, not making myself dry heave in the morning main symptoms are just this bloating when i eat, and every stool having mucus, or being just straight mucus, I have been waking up with a nasty phlegm in my mouth, sometimes ill spit a little blood.. But i am not coughing up blood, and it has been rinsing away after the first couple spits and rinses with water, so i am a little less worried about this symptom, i also have been feeling some slight brain fog at times, and i feel i have become extremely irritable, this could be from lack of rest or good sleep due to all this anxiety. A good thing is no sharp pains, but that also makes me worry about what it could possibly be.
I am trying not to be so afraid, But not only the thought of shitting for 24 hours straight is pretty worrisome, or shitting myself on the ride there, or in public, let alone whatever is going on with me, the diagnosis, what will they find? Just wanted to let anybody worrying about there appointments, look up Medical Anxiety Feedback Loop, Its a real thing, probably mainly in people with OCD, Our generation gets to googling symptoms and instantly starts thinking the worst, a lot of us are not doctors, let alone the 4-5 specialist that specialize in figuring out whats wrong with us during our procedure. We just gotta leave it up to them, I know I probably have a rough week or few days of prep ahead of me, but im ready to take it head on, im putting my faith in the lord and in the doctors, and I have never been so ready to get this over with and get my life started. All this has worrying about what it could possibly be, will really make a loser like me wanna get his life together all at once.
Thank yall if ya read this far, i really appreciate it

Hi everyone, I am a 20 yo male and I wanna talk to you guys wishing you can help me Since i was 10-11 years old i realised that my breath stinks, it smells like shit, i am brushing my teeth 2x maybe 3x a day, I am flossing, recently i started to oil pulling (coconut oil) and it helps but for a short period of time (2-3 hours)… As symptoms I have: mucus in the back of my throat, I feel that I must spit it out, my morning breath smells so bad, I am regularly burping (silent) and my sinuses feel blocked I am feeling so bad because I am trying so hard to get rid of bad breath but right now i am feeling so down because I am living with this problem and I can’t enjoy life as much as I would. If you can tell me tips of how to get rid of the bad breath I would appreciate it so hard man…. This problem ruins all of my life… I am so sad because of it..

*Venting and need motivation My baby is 9 weeks 5 days now. She began projectile vomiting at 3 weekafter I ate pizza and it happened two separate times which we then determined with her doctor that she had a dairy allergy and reflux. I immediately quit dairy at 4w1d and we saw an improvement in her mood almost immediately. Overall it’s been better since then aside from a few random fussy times we couldn’t explain, when her reflux would be really bad, and when she went through the 6ish week leap. I’ve noticed fatty meats were making her reflux worse and stopped eating those as well. However her poops have been completely liquid with no sign of the typical mustard seed since week 3. I kept waiting for it to get better knowing that it can take a while for that part to change. However since last week she started to get a little more mucus in her BM and then suddenly this past weekend and yesterday she had a bunch in her poops and even a few spots of bloody mucus and then threw up this morning after eating. She had more spit up with the following feeds but not vomit. I’ve already reached out to her Dr who we saw a week ago and updated her on how it’s changed and requested we be referred to a pediatric GI because I want help figuring this out and her Dr doesn’t know much about it. I’ve so far only cut out dairy and I was going to move on to cutting out soy and/or eggs next but then I realized I was eating a lot of cashews this weekend. I didn’t eat any last week and last week was her happiest week yet. So then I started thinking back and I’ll go through phases where I’m eating a lot of almonds or cashews and now I’m thinking maybeee those times were the same times she was more fussy. My other main possibility is eggs because I’ll go through phases with eggs. I’m feeling so discouraged because I want to keep bf so badly but it’s so hard playing this wait and see game of trial and error with elimination diets because before this weekend I thought the dairy was the answer but now it seems like there’s more. I’m going to stop eating nuts and drinking almond milk and see what happens while I wait for our GI referral.
Please share your experiences figuring this out.

Age 28
Female
Height 5,11
Hi guys,
For the past year and a half I have had hard yellow mucus that comes out of my throat in a clump every 2-3 days that usually feels stuck between my nose and throat area.
It seems googling is giving me no answers and GP has no idea, I went for a CT scan and they said everything was normal so have cancelled me seeing a ENT specialist even though I have a consistent problem.
It’s causing me a lot of grief as ever sjnce I got tonsillitis my throat has been very dry which makes the mucus even harder to get out. I get anxious about it because when I’m out and talking to friends or at work and suddenly need to spit and run to the bathroom, it’s embarrassing.
Sorry about the picture ! Really gross but think no one will understand what I’m talking about otherwise!
It’s not me being sick as when I do get a cold, it ends up going away. It happens when I’m not sick. I’ve taken allergy medications such as cetirizine and fexofenadine hyrochloride and they don’t make it go away. When I take steroid sprays however, it seems to go away however I can’t take steroid sprays long term. It’s almost like my mucus is getting collected somewhere in the back of my throat and drying up. Almost like how a tonsil stone gets stuck in a crevice and doesn’t come out until it grows big enough.
I had it happen a year before and it occurred during hayever season and then it went away. However it has come back and hasn’t gone away. Also worth mentioning i have a huge allergy to dust and sneeze a lot.
If anyone has any advice on what it could be caused by or an idea to help the symptoms, i would be super grateful 🙏

I recalled my dentist telling me after I came back the 2nd time post wisdom tooth extraction that the reason why my top left side feels weird + sinuses coming out is because the gums have to grow and cover it.
Basically this happened because my wisdom had already grown fully out and a lot of bone had to be removed, was what he stated. I only needed my top ones removed. I got them out 2/15/2024.
It’s been over 2 months and I still have sinuses coming out. Only on my top left side though. I had to come back one week after I got them out and they had to remove more bone since my gums were not healing over it. I felt the pain the whole week. My right side was fine but I knew something was up with my left side.
Idk if this is what is causing this. My top right side feels fine.
I just never had this experience where sinuses and mucus is falling out of my top right side mouth and onto my tongue. It tastes absolutely awful and smells disgusting. Like I been sick before where mucus would touch my tongue, I had mucus running from my nose and accidentally going into my mouth but this stuff coming from the top left side of my mouth is just awful and it smells horrible.
Like regular mucus from my nose I can’t even smell it. I can wipe my nose and smell it and nothing. This however if I spit it on a napkin it reeks.
If I force my right cheek to move up I don’t feel anything in my mouth. If I force my left cheek to move up I feel discomfort and feel bubbles and hear some gushing coming from the top right side.
This would be the 4th time that I gone back to having him tell me that he’s not a perforation and that I have to give it time for my gums to cover. I mean my top right side feels absolutely fine with no sinuses why is it my left that’s affected?
Is there a scan they can do? If I go to a different dentist would they able to tell? Should I go to a ENT? I seriously don’t care how much it cost to fix this. What are my first steps?
I seriously don’t know what to do.

Was diagnosed with pneumonia last night. I’m worried it was from exposure to some toxic gas from a stupid accident in my house. Everyone else, doctors I have seen included, think I’m crazy.
Background:
Quit smoking 56 days ago. Never had pneumonia before. Pain came in my chest and back when breathing deep last Thursday afternoon. Came on after a some exercise and a PFT and a chemical exposure over the days before: short intense hike Sunday 4/7 - 3.5 miles/1 hour, 18 mile hard bike ride 4/8, 14 mile easy bike ride 4/9, did the PFT that was abnormal 4/10 at 9 AM. Pain when breathing started afternoon of 4/11.
Here’s the ‘chemical exposure’ - after the PFT last Wednesday, I also stupidly accidentally microwaved an old drink coaster that was made out of an old circuit board with a rubber gasket around it. Like this one: https://imgur.com/a/WwFPoas
The things that were microwaved - probably heavy metals, definitely horrible rubber - and the gas it produced was very toxic, so it seemed. Hurt to breathe in. Had to hold my breath to clear the kitchen out by opening windows, putting on air filter, move the coastemicrowave outside. Not exaggerating that it immediately hurt to breath in and I had to hold my breath. I even went to Lowe’s to buy a serious mask/respirator to clear out more stuff after I got the windows open. (I moved the microwave and coaster out and turned on a HEPA filter later with the mask on me while I did all that).
NOTE - there was NOT a lot of visible smoke, but the smell was VERY strong.
I was maybe exposed to the whatever the gas/smoke was for maybe 15-20 minutes at most, at its densest. Ask said, it was hard to breath, so I ran outside, got fresh air, held my breath, went inside, opened windows, and repeated that several times. Then went and bought the respiratomask to finish cleaning out the kitchen with. Then I left the windows open and ran a HEPA filter in there for 2+ days straight.
So, Thursday it starts to hurt to breath occasionally Friday night it’s worse, Saturday day I spent most of the day standing and the pain when away. Saturday night it’s back, messed with my sleep and then on Sunday I coughed up some bloody mucus. Bloody mucus since Sunday, 1-2x a day. No cough, not a lot of plegm with the mucus.
I called the on call doctor for my PCP, and she says it’s probably not the smoke and it would be fine to wait to see my PCP on Monday. See my PcP, because of how the pain is worse when turning, and only when breathing in and breathing in deeply, she thinks it’s strained muscles from the bike ride. I’m satisfied with that.
Monday night it starts to hurt in a new scary way, a spasms way. Same thing Tuesday afternoon. I go to urgent care, urgent care sends me to the ER. ER runs bloodwork, does an ultrasound (looking for gallbladder problems?), EKG and a CT scan.
Bloodwork results: https://imgur.com/a/V7OTo8t
(Note: D-Dimer was high, but that’s been high since December for unknown reasons - CT scan in December was clear for PE then too. Also loaded historical WBCs and historical Neutrophils, so how you can see normal range is ‘raised’ for me)
CT Scan: https://imgur.com/a/23phLQy
EKG: https://imgur.com/a/VfIbO0u
Bloodwork is mostly fine. My WBC is elevated for me - in the normal range - as it’s normally 2.5-3.5 and has been that way since 2007. Most of this comes from my neutrophils being normals for once which are usually low:
EKG is normal. Ultrasound is normal.
CT scan says this:
LUNGS Mild, patchy infiltrates in the inferior right middle and lower lobes most consistent with aspiration and/or pneumonia.
CT scan linked again: https://imgur.com/a/23phLQy
ER doctor brushes off my concern about the exposure to the gas/smoke as a coincidence and says I have pneumonia. I have no cough or fever. When I spit bloody mucus 1-2x a day, it’s just sitting in my throat, not from coughing - brought out with some throat clearing.
Bloody with minimal mucus today: https://imgur.com/a/vUNwFfq
Treatment plan from ER is 2 antibiotics: Doxycycline (2x/day, 5 days) and Amoxicillin-Clav (2x/day, 7 days)
At this point it’s been a week since the smoke from the microwaved coaster.
I see a pulmonologist on Friday at 8:30 AM. Originally it was for the PFT results, which I do not know, but I called up today and said I would want to talk about this pneumonia diagnosis.
Do I need to press for them to more seriously take the possibility of chemical burn/chemical pneumonitis?
https://medlineplus.gov/ency/article/000143.htm#:~:text=Chemical%20pneumonitis%20is%20inflammation%20of,and%20choking%20on%20certain%20chemicals

My wisdom teeth haven’t popped out yet but an oral surgeon told me to get all of them removed before they do end up causing problems, but I’m nervous because I heard it causes a lot of pain and I’m also in fear of getting put to sleep since last time I got put to sleep for a surgery the anesthesiologist poked around my arm for like 30 minutes before finally getting it in my vein then he just put me to sleep with no heads up haha. Also scared to stay awake during it with just laughing gas so Its a little bit of a predicament😂another problem is I have really bad allergies so I’m constantly blowing my nose and spitting mucus which I heard can cause dry socket. But I heard there’s things like drinking a lot of pineapple juice beforehand can help the process a lot. is that true and if not what are ways that’ll actually help? And how do I take care of myself afterwards too?

“Looking to purchase infant between the ages of one to twelve months,” the first ad screamed in black-and-white letters on the Tor browser. “Will pay reasonable price.” Other strange and even sinister advertisements filled the page, some offering to buy or sell kidneys or other organs. A few offered human slaves. My friend Adrian laughed next to me as he sat in his computer chair, reading over my shoulder.
“What’s a ‘reasonable price’ for a black market baby?” Adrian asked, pushing his large, black-rimmed glasses up on his nose. His dark, lanky hair was cut into a bowl cut, making him look even younger than his fourteen years. He was in my grade at school, my best friend who I had known for over two years, since he first moved into Frost Hollow from out West.
“You think any of this crap is even real?” I said, trying to repress an urge to smile. Adrian’s wheezing, almost feminine laugh almost made me crack up, even when the joke itself wasn’t funny.
“No!” he said. “Of course not! What kind of mother would sell her own damn baby, after all? I bet these are all scams. I bet nothing on the dark web is even real.” I shrugged.
“There are lots of mothers willing to abort their babies, so why not sell them, too?” I asked. “Hell, if you sell your baby on the black market, at least it’s still alive, right?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he said, his smile wiped off his face. “I don’t know, man. If this crap is real, what would someone want with a baby? What if it’s a serial killer who likes to kill babies or something? What if they raise them to become hitmen, or use them as medical experiments? What if it’s a pharmaceutical company trying to get guinea pigs for human experimentation?” His eyes looked glazed as his mouth ran in a torrent of verbal diarrhea.
“Raise them to become hitmen?” I asked, now laughing for real. “There are easier ways to find a hitman, I think, than to raise them from scratch for eighteen or twenty years. There’s lots of people willing to kill for a quick buck right now, after all.”
“Like you, Michael?” Adrian said jokingly, his thin lips pressed together in a tight smile. I shook my head.
“That’s not funny,” I responded defensively. “I would never hurt a fly.” I looked back at the computer. We had both been curious ever since we heard about the dark web.
But things were about to get a lot more sinister in the next few minutes.
***
“Have you ever heard of a ‘red room’?” Adrian asked abruptly. I looked at him, confused.
“Isn’t that like a place where prostitutes work?” I said. He laughed.
“No, I think that’s called a red light or something,” he said, still grinning. “No, red rooms are much worse. They’re on the dark web, supposedly, anyway. They show actual torture and murder. Apparently people can watch, and if they spend money, they can even get the torturer to do whatever they tell them to do.” I gave Adrian a disgusted look.
“That’s super messed up,” I said, shaking my head. “There’s no way that’s real.”
“I don’t know, man. You ever seen ‘Three Guys One Hammer’? That’s all over the regular web, and that’s real,” Adrian said. “I think we should just check it out, see if it’s real. It would be a cool story, right? We could always just exit out quick if we found something messed up.”
Adrian rolled his computer chair up, pushing me to the side as he began typing something in the Tor browser. I looked out the window of Adrian’s room, seeing the dark winter night outside. Gusts of ice and snow blew sideways in the screeching winds. All over his walls, Adrian had pictures of horror characters, posters of Cthulhu and Michael Myers. A grinning picture of Charlie Manson was taped over the side of his monitor, his dark eyes sparkling mischievously.
“Huh,” Adrian muttered under his breath. “Weird.” I looked over at the monitor, seeing a camera feed coming up. It showed a dark red room with a blood-stained steel table in the center. Two ancient, rusted folding chairs were set up haphazardly in the background.
“That was fast,” I said, looking close at the screen. “What is this? What did you find?” Adrian gave me a strange look. His thin face went pale.
“It was a link for a camera feed to the afterlife, supposedly,” Adrian responded, giving a short bark of fake laughter. And yet his face showed clear anxiety. I wondered why. “It said it’s a red room for Hell.”
“Yeah, that’s definitely bullshit,” I said, smirking as I glanced over at the monitor. The door in the back of the dark room on the screen suddenly opened. There was a strobing, fiery glow that turned the video feed blood-red for a few moments, as if an active volcano or a structure fire raged in the background. When it had cleared and the door had slammed closed, I saw two figures in the room, staged in the exact center of the screen.
A man with a black hood over his head lay on the blood-stained metal table, tied down with rusted razor-wire that wrapped around his body like a snake. The wire bit deeply into his skin. Wet rivulets of blood soaked his clothes, which looked like some sort of khaki prison uniform.
In front of the camera stood something demonic, something eyeless and tall. It had a pointed, bone-white head. Only a wide slash of a mouth marred the smooth flesh. It wore a shimmering black robe that fluttered around its body as if in a light breeze. It raised its white hands, its sharp, twisted fingers clenching and unclenching. As it opened its hands, I saw eyes in the center of each of its palms, black and lidless. They rolled in their sockets.
“My name is Mr. Slither,” the abomination hissed. His throat gurgled as if he had gargled with hydrochloric acid. His voice was diseased and low, not much more than a sickly whisper emanating from the speakers. “I want to welcome you both to the show.”
***
Adrian pulled back as if he had been physically struck. I felt sick and weak, but I couldn’t look away. Mr. Slither’s skin cracked loudly as a grin split his smooth, alien face. He slunk back towards the table, navigating his way with his spiky fingers held out in front of his body, like a man walking through a room in total darkness.
Mr. Slither knelt down and ripped off the victim’s black hood, revealing a pale, emaciated face brimming over with mortal terror. But the face looked familiar. With a growing sense of horror, I immediately realized why.
On the flickering screen of the monitor, I saw the face of my father- a man who had died nearly five years ago when a drunk driver going the wrong way on the highway smashed into his truck, killing him instantly. The drunk driver had been fine, just a few deep gashes and cuts from broken glass, but now I was forever without my father. It felt like a piece of my heart had been sliced out and a black, empty void filled it.
Mr. Slither appeared behind my father, raising his hands, the black eyes on the palms rolling constantly. My father’s teeth chattered as he looked straight at the camera with a pleading expression. The horror and fear in his eyes shook me to the core. My vision became blurry, a single tear running down my cheek. I blinked fast, breathing hard and trying to focus on the screen.
“Michael, I know you can hear me,” my father said. My heart raced as I heard his voice, a voice I had only heard in my dreams for so long. I wondered if this was real at all. Perhaps I would wake up at any moment, surrounded by darkness, alone in my bedroom.
“What the fuck?” Adrian whispered close beside me, leaning towards the monitor and blinking fast. “Who’s that guy on the table? What even is this? I have no idea what we’re watching right now. But that’s some crazy mask that guy has on, holy shit.” I had only known Adrian for a couple years, so he had never met my father before his untimely death and, therefore, wouldn’t have recognized him.
“That’s… that’s my dad,” I whispered.
“Michael, please listen to me. You need to destroy the computer and get out of the house. Smash the monitor, burn the motherboard…” my father started to say when Mr. Slither’s cracking, elongated limbs wrapped around his face. His fingers like black railroad spikes drew across my father’s face slowly and caressingly, almost like a lover.
“Michael,” Mr. Slither gurgled in a deep voice brimming with infection. “You are able to see what others will not- the true nature of all things. You and your friend must watch this now, all the way to the end, because it will reveal to you what was hidden behind the veil.
“This is where everyone ends up after they die, you see- in our cold, concrete rooms, dissected alive on steel tables, burned, tortured, melted, boiled and frozen. They stay alive forever, for Yaldabaoth, the one you call God, despises humanity with every piece of his eternal soul. They heal eternally, drinking from the fountain of life as death crushes them over and over again, like ships flung on a rocky shore.”
As if to demonstrate, Mr. Slither drew his sharp fingers back, slicing slowly and painfully through my father’s cheeks. The flaps of skin fell down with a bubbling of blood. My father screamed, an expression of total agony and mortal terror changing his face into a grimace. Mr. Slither laughed, raising his hands up above his head, the black eyes spinning as they stared straight at me and Adrian. My father tried to pull away, but the razor-wire bit deeper into his flesh, making fresh streams of blood drip from his mutilated body.
“Turn it off!” I screamed, lunging for the computer. I hit the power button on the front, holding it down and waiting. I watched the screen with bated breath, but Mr. Slither only laughed. “Fuck! Adrian, do something!” But Adrian only sat there like a sheep, his mouth open, his eyes glazed.
“This… this has to be a prank,” Adrian whispered, watching the screen with a horrified expression. Mr. Slither turned his attention back to my father. Mr. Slither’s twisted fingers came down, forcing my father’s lips apart. As my father gritted his teeth and tried to pull his head away, Mr. Slither reached his fingers in, prodding and pushing. There was a cracking sound and a blossoming splash of blood. My father gave a muted shriek as Mr. Slither pulled.
“Worthy is the lamb!” Mr. Slither wailed as his bone-thin arms crackled. “Worthy indeed…”
With a cracking of bone and an explosion of blood, my father’s jaw came ripping off. The monitor strobed and wavered as waves of crackling static ran down the screen. With a screech like a tea kettle boiling, flames and suffocating clouds of black smoke began to arise from the computer and monitor at once. The electricity flickered and died, plunging the house into total silence.
***
In the total darkness, a warm, sweaty hand reached out and grabbed mine. I felt Adrian’s whole body tremble as he held my hand. I thought I could count each beat of his thudding heart through his skin.
“I don’t think this is a prank,” Adrian whispered furtively, his voice shaking. I couldn’t even see an inch in front of my nose. I took a deep breath. I had been crying, I realized, feeling wet trails of tears staining my cheeks.
“This has to be a prank,” I said quietly. “You know how easy it is to fake stuff with AI now? Any drooling idiot can do it. My dad is dead. That’s not him. It’s simply impossible. None of this is possible.”
“Then what happened to the power?” Adrian asked. “And how did that thing know there were two of us here? And how did your father know your name and that you were watching?” I felt rivers of sweat rolling down my forehead. In the pitch black, I just shook my head.
“Obviously, someone hacked your computer and was watching us through the webcam,” I answered. “That’s how they knew my name and everything. They probably stole all your information.”
“That doesn’t make a lot of sense, man,” Adrian argued. Something hot and furious twisted its way through my chest.
“No shit, it doesn’t make a lot of sense!” I yelled. “But obviously, none of it was real. You really think a freaking link to the afterlife is just going to appear on the dark web? When you have eliminated the impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Don’t tell me you actually believe we were looking into a vision of Hell.” I heard Adrian inhale deeply, sighing. He started to say something when the computer monitor abruptly came back to life.
***
Torrents of fire and lava sizzled their way down the screen, illuminating the room in a dim, bloody glow. The shadows in the corners creeped towards us, leaving the edges of the room in blackness. The walls had changed as well, turning an angry, dark red, the color of an infected wound.
The rest of the power was still out. I knew we were alone in the house, at least until Adrian’s parents got back. At least, I hoped we were alone in the house…
Adrian abruptly gave a cry like a strangled cat. He grabbed my shoulder with his thin, trembling hand. I jumped, turning to look at him in surprise.
“What is…” I began to say when I saw his eyes, as wide as saucers and emanating an unspeakable animal terror. They were looking directly over my shoulder at something behind me.
I glanced back, my heart hammering ice-water through my veins. My eyes widened as I realized Adrian’s room looked completely different.
Other than the computer desk and the two chairs, everything was gone. All of his furniture, his bed, his posters, even his bookshelves stocked with sci-fi and fantasy. Everything had been wiped away in an instant- and replaced.
I saw a cold, steel table, covered in blood. My father lay on it, his body still tied tightly down with razor-wire. It sliced into his wrists, his ankles, his chest and stomach. Frothy blood bubbled from his destroyed jaw. Mr. Slither had ripped off his entire mandible within the space of a moment. My father still lived, at least for now. His eyes rolled wildly, like a horse with a broken leg.
They fixed on me for a long moment, and he seemed to calm down slightly. My father tried to speak, his bloody, mutilated tongue still flapping. He made noises: “Unng, unngel, unnn.” It seemed like my father tried to say something important, but I had no idea what that could be. Behind him, two more steel tables lay, covered in gore but otherwise empty.
“We need to get out of here!” Adrian whispered frantically, grabbing my hand. I nodded, unable to speak. I couldn’t even look at my father, writhing on the table like some victim of human experimentation at a death camp.
We got up together, running to the door. The floor was covered in ancient blood that stuck to our shoes with a tacky, sucking sound. My father continued to cry out in incomprehensible syllables. His voice had become more frantic, as if he were trying to communicate something vital. But neither of us could understand a single word.
As Adrian ripped the door open and we flew through into the upstairs hallway in total darkness, I heard a car engine turning off outside. A few moments later, a key slid its way into the front door downstairs. I heard Adrian’s parents talking softly in a low susurration as they came in, unaware of the Hell they were entering. They would become aware of it very soon, however.
***
“Mom, Dad! Get out of the house!” Adrian screamed in a high-pitched voice choked with anxiety and fear. They stopped talking suddenly, their barely audible footsteps pausing.
“Adrian?” his father called out, sounding worried. We had reached the stairs by this point and were slowly descending to the first floor, feeling our way forward in the darkness. “What is it?”
“Dad, there’s someone in the house!” Adrian cried. “Get out! Call the cops! Now!” His father’s face appeared at the bottom of the stairs a few seconds later. He held a flashlight in his hand, shining it up at us. An expression of grave concern flickered over his narrow, serious face.
“OK, boys, come down and we’ll find out what…” his father started to say, still shining the flashlight up at us, when a pale, twisted hand reached out of the darkness and grabbed him. The sharp spikes of fingers pierced into his neck. Blood exploded from the wounds. The long arm dragged him away.
A wet sound filled with gurgling and muted screams drifted up to us. A few moments later, it cut off, and then everything in the house went quiet.
***
Adrian and I paused half-way down the stairs. We had no cellphones to call for help, as neither of our families had thought a fourteen-year-old needed one. I had a lighter in my pocket I kept for smoking weed, however. Reaching frantically down, I pulled it out and flicked it, giving us some meager light to see by.
“Where’s Mom?” Adrian whispered to himself. “Why don’t I hear her?” He looked sick and weak, as if he were about to pass out. “Do you think Dad’s OK?” In truth, I did not, but I wasn’t about to say that.
“We need to go back and jump out the window,” I said. “I’m not going down there.” I started backpedaling away, back toward Adrian’s room and the tortured visage of my father.
“What about Mom?” Adrian asked, frantic. “What about Dad? We can’t just leave them down there.”
“We need to get help, man,” I answered. “We need to get the cops here immediately. What are you going to do if you go down there, besides die or get seriously hurt? You think you can take that thing?” As if in response, we heard gurgling, diseased breathing from the floor below. Without hesitation, I turned and ran. A moment later, Adrian’s light footsteps followed me back to the room.
I ran to the window, trying to unlock it in the dark. I flicked the lighter with one hand and began to get it open when a grinning, eyeless face peered around the threshold of the door.
“Fuck!” Adrian cried. “It’s here! It’s here! Run!” The window slid open with a tortured squeal of rust. I looked down for a brief moment before starting to crawl out the window. Behind me, Adrian was pushing me forward, trying to get out himself.
I had gotten my body most of the way through when a hand as cold as liquid nitrogen closed around my ankle and pulled me back inside. I fought, kicking and thrashing. Another hand came down around my face. I bit down on a finger as hard as I could. Freezing cold blood with the taste of sulfur flowed into my mouth.
Mr. Slither only laughed. With a powerful swing of his hand, he slammed my head into the wall. All the colors of the world faded away to darkness as oblivion took over.
***
I awoke to a screaming in my skull, a migraine that felt like it would split my head in two. I groaned, my eyes fluttering open. I looked around the room, realizing I was tied down to one of the tables with rope. Next to me, Adrian lay, still unconscious.
Mr. Slither stood between us. He had one arm extended out to each of us, the black, lidless eye in the bleached-white palm writhing with insanity and hunger.
“Yaldabaoth has a red room waiting for every child in eternity,” Mr. Slither gurgled. “Every parent, every brother, every sister. There is no Heaven, not for the sons and daughters of Adam. Only endless suffering awaits you beyond the veil.”
“Why… why are you doing this to me?” I asked in a hoarse voice. Waves of nausea ripped their way through my stomach. “Why?” Mr. Slither leaned down, his smooth face coming close to mine.
“There is no why,” he said. “There is only eternity.” He paused, pulling away.
“What color is death?” he hissed, almost contemplatively. “The white light of tunnels leading up to Heaven? The black of oblivion? The blue of cyanotic lips and dying fingernails?” He laughed, a diseased chortling that wheezed through his marble-white throat. He kept one arm stretched out in front of him, the eye flicking from me to Adrian and back again.
“It is none of these,” Mr. Slither continued. “Death is red, as red as the rooms where the damned scream in agony forever. Death is red, as red as a rose in full bloom. Eternity is here waiting for you, waiting to consume your flesh like a virus.”
***
Adrian awoke abruptly then, his eyes shooting open behind his black-rimmed glasses. He had a deep gash sliced across his forehead and his nose was bleeding badly. He turned his head, spitting blood-streaked mucus on the floor. After a few moments, he started to get his bearings. He looked over at me, then, with an increasing sense of terror gleaming on his face, he turned to Mr. Slither.
“You killed my father, you piece of shit,” he spat angrily, tears rolling down his face. Mr. Slither only grinned down at him, an expression of pure sadism.
“Like father, like son,” Mr. Slither whispered coldly, running his long, twisted fingers over the table like a spider. They crawled over Adrian’s face and gently took off his glasses.
“Please don’t hurt me,” Adrian pleaded. Mr. Slither only laughed as he took a sharp index finger and lowered it to Adrian’s eye. “No, don’t, for God’s sake…”
There was a wet sound, the sound of blood gushing and flesh separating. Adrian screamed in anguish. I had closed my eyes, unable to look. But I heard the sound of chewing, something popping. Adrian hyperventilated nearby, still pleading and shrieking.
I looked over, seeing Mr. Slither slicing open Adrian’s shirt with his scalpel-like fingers. His hand hovered over the center of his chest. One of Adrian’s eyes was gone, the black socket staring sightlessly up.
“The heart of all things,” Mr. Slither whispered in his infected tone. With a quick stab, he shoved his fingers deep into Adrian’s chest. The cracking of ribs reverberated through the room with a sickening snap.
I heard police sirens in the distance, growing closer by the second. A faint surge of hope fluttered through my chest, even as I looked at this abomination holding my best friend’s beating heart in his alien hand.
Mr. Slither came over to me, looking down with glee and excitement. He ran his left hand over my face. I could feel the sharp points of the fingers tracing their way down my cheek, slowly and caressingly.
“Where should we start?” he asked in a low, throaty voice. “With the eyes?” He ran one of his fingers around my eyelids, tracing light circles that sent shivers running through my flesh. “Maybe the tongue?” He traced his finger around my lips. “Or how about…”
“Hey, scumbag!” a woman’s voice cried from the door. Mr. Slither slowly rose to his full height, turning to look at the newcomer. I saw Adrian’s mother standing there, holding a pistol in her hands. She was in the Weaver stance, ready to fire. As soon as Mr. Slither raised his hand out toward Adrian’s mother and looked at her with a single demonic eye, she fired.
***
The bullet smashed straight into Mr. Slither’s outstretched hand, blowing his obsidian eye to pieces. Fragments of skin and bone exploded from the wound. He gave a diseased shriek of pain and stumbled forward. He still held Adrian’s heart in his right hand, and without hesitation, he threw it at Adrian’s mother.
The heart soared across the room, drops of blood flying out in all directions as it spiraled through the air. It smacked her in the face with a wet thud. She stumbled back, shaking her head. Spatters of crimson like raindrops covered her face and hair. She gave a low, anguished moan, and for a horrible moment, I thought she would simply faint.
But as Mr. Slither ran at her with vengeance and fury, she came to life, raising the gun and firing again and again. The bullets smashed through his chest, his stomach and legs. Dark, sluggish blood the consistency of maple syrup dripped from the many wounds.
Bent over and looking much weaker, Mr. Slither slammed into Adrian’s mother. He raked his sharp fingers over her face as he passed. She screamed in pain, falling back heavily. The floor shook as Mr. Slither disappeared down the stairs, still wailing in a diseased voice full of pain and uncertainty.
***
After a few moments, Adrian’s mother moaned and pushed herself up slowly. In the bloody glow of the computer monitor, I could see the deep wounds marring her face.
Her right cheek had been slashed in two, the flaps of skin hanging down like the slashed fabric of a tent. Her right eye was badly damaged, dripping vitreous fluid and crimson streaks down her face like bloody tears. A deep gash ran across her forehead and chin as well.
She stumbled forward toward me, looking dissociated and on the verge of passing out. She glanced over at Adrian’s corpse for a long, sad moment, then turned her attention back to me. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folding-knife, which she used to begin cutting the rope.
As she freed me and we finally left that room of horrors, the first of the police cars reached the driveway. As I would find out later, Adrian’s mother had called the police on her cell phone before returning to try to save us.
***
The bodies of Adrian, his father and my father were all gone by the time the police searched the house. Only a few steel tables still remained in the room, covered in layers of gore and clotted blood. Mr. Slither had disappeared as well, and for that, I give thanks. I hope I never see that disgusting monster again.
What he told me makes me wonder, however. What if he was right? What if, after death, we all end up in eternal misery, tortured and killed over and over again until the end of time?
I never used to be afraid of death, but after my experiences with Mr. Slither and the red room, I am petrified of it now.

“Looking to purchase infant between the ages of one to twelve months,” the first ad screamed in black-and-white letters on the Tor browser. “Will pay reasonable price.” Other strange and even sinister advertisements filled the page, some offering to buy or sell kidneys or other organs. A few offered human slaves. My friend Adrian laughed next to me as he sat in his computer chair, reading over my shoulder.
“What’s a ‘reasonable price’ for a black market baby?” Adrian asked, pushing his large, black-rimmed glasses up on his nose. His dark, lanky hair was cut into a bowl cut, making him look even younger than his fourteen years. He was in my grade at school, my best friend who I had known for over two years, since he first moved into Frost Hollow from out West.
“You think any of this crap is even real?” I said, trying to repress an urge to smile. Adrian’s wheezing, almost feminine laugh almost made me crack up, even when the joke itself wasn’t funny.
“No!” he said. “Of course not! What kind of mother would sell her own damn baby, after all? I bet these are all scams. I bet nothing on the dark web is even real.” I shrugged.
“There are lots of mothers willing to abort their babies, so why not sell them, too?” I asked. “Hell, if you sell your baby on the black market, at least it’s still alive, right?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he said, his smile wiped off his face. “I don’t know, man. If this crap is real, what would someone want with a baby? What if it’s a serial killer who likes to kill babies or something? What if they raise them to become hitmen, or use them as medical experiments? What if it’s a pharmaceutical company trying to get guinea pigs for human experimentation?” His eyes looked glazed as his mouth ran in a torrent of verbal diarrhea.
“Raise them to become hitmen?” I asked, now laughing for real. “There are easier ways to find a hitman, I think, than to raise them from scratch for eighteen or twenty years. There’s lots of people willing to kill for a quick buck right now, after all.”
“Like you, Michael?” Adrian said jokingly, his thin lips pressed together in a tight smile. I shook my head.
“That’s not funny,” I responded defensively. “I would never hurt a fly.” I looked back at the computer. We had both been curious ever since we heard about the dark web.
But things were about to get a lot more sinister in the next few minutes.
***
“Have you ever heard of a ‘red room’?” Adrian asked abruptly. I looked at him, confused.
“Isn’t that like a place where prostitutes work?” I said. He laughed.
“No, I think that’s called a red light or something,” he said, still grinning. “No, red rooms are much worse. They’re on the dark web, supposedly, anyway. They show actual torture and murder. Apparently people can watch, and if they spend money, they can even get the torturer to do whatever they tell them to do.” I gave Adrian a disgusted look.
“That’s super messed up,” I said, shaking my head. “There’s no way that’s real.”
“I don’t know, man. You ever seen ‘Three Guys One Hammer’? That’s all over the regular web, and that’s real,” Adrian said. “I think we should just check it out, see if it’s real. It would be a cool story, right? We could always just exit out quick if we found something messed up.”
Adrian rolled his computer chair up, pushing me to the side as he began typing something in the Tor browser. I looked out the window of Adrian’s room, seeing the dark winter night outside. Gusts of ice and snow blew sideways in the screeching winds. All over his walls, Adrian had pictures of horror characters, posters of Cthulhu and Michael Myers. A grinning picture of Charlie Manson was taped over the side of his monitor, his dark eyes sparkling mischievously.
“Huh,” Adrian muttered under his breath. “Weird.” I looked over at the monitor, seeing a camera feed coming up. It showed a dark red room with a blood-stained steel table in the center. Two ancient, rusted folding chairs were set up haphazardly in the background.
“That was fast,” I said, looking close at the screen. “What is this? What did you find?” Adrian gave me a strange look. His thin face went pale.
“It was a link for a camera feed to the afterlife, supposedly,” Adrian responded, giving a short bark of fake laughter. And yet his face showed clear anxiety. I wondered why. “It said it’s a red room for Hell.”
“Yeah, that’s definitely bullshit,” I said, smirking as I glanced over at the monitor. The door in the back of the dark room on the screen suddenly opened. There was a strobing, fiery glow that turned the video feed blood-red for a few moments, as if an active volcano or a structure fire raged in the background. When it had cleared and the door had slammed closed, I saw two figures in the room, staged in the exact center of the screen.
A man with a black hood over his head lay on the blood-stained metal table, tied down with rusted razor-wire that wrapped around his body like a snake. The wire bit deeply into his skin. Wet rivulets of blood soaked his clothes, which looked like some sort of khaki prison uniform.
In front of the camera stood something demonic, something eyeless and tall. It had a pointed, bone-white head. Only a wide slash of a mouth marred the smooth flesh. It wore a shimmering black robe that fluttered around its body as if in a light breeze. It raised its white hands, its sharp, twisted fingers clenching and unclenching. As it opened its hands, I saw eyes in the center of each of its palms, black and lidless. They rolled in their sockets.
“My name is Mr. Slither,” the abomination hissed. His throat gurgled as if he had gargled with hydrochloric acid. His voice was diseased and low, not much more than a sickly whisper emanating from the speakers. “I want to welcome you both to the show.”
***
Adrian pulled back as if he had been physically struck. I felt sick and weak, but I couldn’t look away. Mr. Slither’s skin cracked loudly as a grin split his smooth, alien face. He slunk back towards the table, navigating his way with his spiky fingers held out in front of his body, like a man walking through a room in total darkness.
Mr. Slither knelt down and ripped off the victim’s black hood, revealing a pale, emaciated face brimming over with mortal terror. But the face looked familiar. With a growing sense of horror, I immediately realized why.
On the flickering screen of the monitor, I saw the face of my father- a man who had died nearly five years ago when a drunk driver going the wrong way on the highway smashed into his truck, killing him instantly. The drunk driver had been fine, just a few deep gashes and cuts from broken glass, but now I was forever without my father. It felt like a piece of my heart had been sliced out and a black, empty void filled it.
Mr. Slither appeared behind my father, raising his hands, the black eyes on the palms rolling constantly. My father’s teeth chattered as he looked straight at the camera with a pleading expression. The horror and fear in his eyes shook me to the core. My vision became blurry, a single tear running down my cheek. I blinked fast, breathing hard and trying to focus on the screen.
“Michael, I know you can hear me,” my father said. My heart raced as I heard his voice, a voice I had only heard in my dreams for so long. I wondered if this was real at all. Perhaps I would wake up at any moment, surrounded by darkness, alone in my bedroom.
“What the fuck?” Adrian whispered close beside me, leaning towards the monitor and blinking fast. “Who’s that guy on the table? What even is this? I have no idea what we’re watching right now. But that’s some crazy mask that guy has on, holy shit.” I had only known Adrian for a couple years, so he had never met my father before his untimely death and, therefore, wouldn’t have recognized him.
“That’s… that’s my dad,” I whispered.
“Michael, please listen to me. You need to destroy the computer and get out of the house. Smash the monitor, burn the motherboard…” my father started to say when Mr. Slither’s cracking, elongated limbs wrapped around his face. His fingers like black railroad spikes drew across my father’s face slowly and caressingly, almost like a lover.
“Michael,” Mr. Slither gurgled in a deep voice brimming with infection. “You are able to see what others will not- the true nature of all things. You and your friend must watch this now, all the way to the end, because it will reveal to you what was hidden behind the veil.
“This is where everyone ends up after they die, you see- in our cold, concrete rooms, dissected alive on steel tables, burned, tortured, melted, boiled and frozen. They stay alive forever, for Yaldabaoth, the one you call God, despises humanity with every piece of his eternal soul. They heal eternally, drinking from the fountain of life as death crushes them over and over again, like ships flung on a rocky shore.”
As if to demonstrate, Mr. Slither drew his sharp fingers back, slicing slowly and painfully through my father’s cheeks. The flaps of skin fell down with a bubbling of blood. My father screamed, an expression of total agony and mortal terror changing his face into a grimace. Mr. Slither laughed, raising his hands up above his head, the black eyes spinning as they stared straight at me and Adrian. My father tried to pull away, but the razor-wire bit deeper into his flesh, making fresh streams of blood drip from his mutilated body.
“Turn it off!” I screamed, lunging for the computer. I hit the power button on the front, holding it down and waiting. I watched the screen with bated breath, but Mr. Slither only laughed. “Fuck! Adrian, do something!” But Adrian only sat there like a sheep, his mouth open, his eyes glazed.
“This… this has to be a prank,” Adrian whispered, watching the screen with a horrified expression. Mr. Slither turned his attention back to my father. Mr. Slither’s twisted fingers came down, forcing my father’s lips apart. As my father gritted his teeth and tried to pull his head away, Mr. Slither reached his fingers in, prodding and pushing. There was a cracking sound and a blossoming splash of blood. My father gave a muted shriek as Mr. Slither pulled.
“Worthy is the lamb!” Mr. Slither wailed as his bone-thin arms crackled. “Worthy indeed…”
With a cracking of bone and an explosion of blood, my father’s jaw came ripping off. The monitor strobed and wavered as waves of crackling static ran down the screen. With a screech like a tea kettle boiling, flames and suffocating clouds of black smoke began to arise from the computer and monitor at once. The electricity flickered and died, plunging the house into total silence.
***
In the total darkness, a warm, sweaty hand reached out and grabbed mine. I felt Adrian’s whole body tremble as he held my hand. I thought I could count each beat of his thudding heart through his skin.
“I don’t think this is a prank,” Adrian whispered furtively, his voice shaking. I couldn’t even see an inch in front of my nose. I took a deep breath. I had been crying, I realized, feeling wet trails of tears staining my cheeks.
“This has to be a prank,” I said quietly. “You know how easy it is to fake stuff with AI now? Any drooling idiot can do it. My dad is dead. That’s not him. It’s simply impossible. None of this is possible.”
“Then what happened to the power?” Adrian asked. “And how did that thing know there were two of us here? And how did your father know your name and that you were watching?” I felt rivers of sweat rolling down my forehead. In the pitch black, I just shook my head.
“Obviously, someone hacked your computer and was watching us through the webcam,” I answered. “That’s how they knew my name and everything. They probably stole all your information.”
“That doesn’t make a lot of sense, man,” Adrian argued. Something hot and furious twisted its way through my chest.
“No shit, it doesn’t make a lot of sense!” I yelled. “But obviously, none of it was real. You really think a freaking link to the afterlife is just going to appear on the dark web? When you have eliminated the impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Don’t tell me you actually believe we were looking into a vision of Hell.” I heard Adrian inhale deeply, sighing. He started to say something when the computer monitor abruptly came back to life.
***
Torrents of fire and lava sizzled their way down the screen, illuminating the room in a dim, bloody glow. The shadows in the corners creeped towards us, leaving the edges of the room in blackness. The walls had changed as well, turning an angry, dark red, the color of an infected wound.
The rest of the power was still out. I knew we were alone in the house, at least until Adrian’s parents got back. At least, I hoped we were alone in the house…
Adrian abruptly gave a cry like a strangled cat. He grabbed my shoulder with his thin, trembling hand. I jumped, turning to look at him in surprise.
“What is…” I began to say when I saw his eyes, as wide as saucers and emanating an unspeakable animal terror. They were looking directly over my shoulder at something behind me.
I glanced back, my heart hammering ice-water through my veins. My eyes widened as I realized Adrian’s room looked completely different.
Other than the computer desk and the two chairs, everything was gone. All of his furniture, his bed, his posters, even his bookshelves stocked with sci-fi and fantasy. Everything had been wiped away in an instant- and replaced.
I saw a cold, steel table, covered in blood. My father lay on it, his body still tied tightly down with razor-wire. It sliced into his wrists, his ankles, his chest and stomach. Frothy blood bubbled from his destroyed jaw. Mr. Slither had ripped off his entire mandible within the space of a moment. My father still lived, at least for now. His eyes rolled wildly, like a horse with a broken leg.
They fixed on me for a long moment, and he seemed to calm down slightly. My father tried to speak, his bloody, mutilated tongue still flapping. He made noises: “Unng, unngel, unnn.” It seemed like my father tried to say something important, but I had no idea what that could be. Behind him, two more steel tables lay, covered in gore but otherwise empty.
“We need to get out of here!” Adrian whispered frantically, grabbing my hand. I nodded, unable to speak. I couldn’t even look at my father, writhing on the table like some victim of human experimentation at a death camp.
We got up together, running to the door. The floor was covered in ancient blood that stuck to our shoes with a tacky, sucking sound. My father continued to cry out in incomprehensible syllables. His voice had become more frantic, as if he were trying to communicate something vital. But neither of us could understand a single word.
As Adrian ripped the door open and we flew through into the upstairs hallway in total darkness, I heard a car engine turning off outside. A few moments later, a key slid its way into the front door downstairs. I heard Adrian’s parents talking softly in a low susurration as they came in, unaware of the Hell they were entering. They would become aware of it very soon, however.
***
“Mom, Dad! Get out of the house!” Adrian screamed in a high-pitched voice choked with anxiety and fear. They stopped talking suddenly, their barely audible footsteps pausing.
“Adrian?” his father called out, sounding worried. We had reached the stairs by this point and were slowly descending to the first floor, feeling our way forward in the darkness. “What is it?”
“Dad, there’s someone in the house!” Adrian cried. “Get out! Call the cops! Now!” His father’s face appeared at the bottom of the stairs a few seconds later. He held a flashlight in his hand, shining it up at us. An expression of grave concern flickered over his narrow, serious face.
“OK, boys, come down and we’ll find out what…” his father started to say, still shining the flashlight up at us, when a pale, twisted hand reached out of the darkness and grabbed him. The sharp spikes of fingers pierced into his neck. Blood exploded from the wounds. The long arm dragged him away.
A wet sound filled with gurgling and muted screams drifted up to us. A few moments later, it cut off, and then everything in the house went quiet.
***
Adrian and I paused half-way down the stairs. We had no cellphones to call for help, as neither of our families had thought a fourteen-year-old needed one. I had a lighter in my pocket I kept for smoking weed, however. Reaching frantically down, I pulled it out and flicked it, giving us some meager light to see by.
“Where’s Mom?” Adrian whispered to himself. “Why don’t I hear her?” He looked sick and weak, as if he were about to pass out. “Do you think Dad’s OK?” In truth, I did not, but I wasn’t about to say that.
“We need to go back and jump out the window,” I said. “I’m not going down there.” I started backpedaling away, back toward Adrian’s room and the tortured visage of my father.
“What about Mom?” Adrian asked, frantic. “What about Dad? We can’t just leave them down there.”
“We need to get help, man,” I answered. “We need to get the cops here immediately. What are you going to do if you go down there, besides die or get seriously hurt? You think you can take that thing?” As if in response, we heard gurgling, diseased breathing from the floor below. Without hesitation, I turned and ran. A moment later, Adrian’s light footsteps followed me back to the room.
I ran to the window, trying to unlock it in the dark. I flicked the lighter with one hand and began to get it open when a grinning, eyeless face peered around the threshold of the door.
“Fuck!” Adrian cried. “It’s here! It’s here! Run!” The window slid open with a tortured squeal of rust. I looked down for a brief moment before starting to crawl out the window. Behind me, Adrian was pushing me forward, trying to get out himself.
I had gotten my body most of the way through when a hand as cold as liquid nitrogen closed around my ankle and pulled me back inside. I fought, kicking and thrashing. Another hand came down around my face. I bit down on a finger as hard as I could. Freezing cold blood with the taste of sulfur flowed into my mouth.
Mr. Slither only laughed. With a powerful swing of his hand, he slammed my head into the wall. All the colors of the world faded away to darkness as oblivion took over.
***
I awoke to a screaming in my skull, a migraine that felt like it would split my head in two. I groaned, my eyes fluttering open. I looked around the room, realizing I was tied down to one of the tables with rope. Next to me, Adrian lay, still unconscious.
Mr. Slither stood between us. He had one arm extended out to each of us, the black, lidless eye in the bleached-white palm writhing with insanity and hunger.
“Yaldabaoth has a red room waiting for every child in eternity,” Mr. Slither gurgled. “Every parent, every brother, every sister. There is no Heaven, not for the sons and daughters of Adam. Only endless suffering awaits you beyond the veil.”
“Why… why are you doing this to me?” I asked in a hoarse voice. Waves of nausea ripped their way through my stomach. “Why?” Mr. Slither leaned down, his smooth face coming close to mine.
“There is no why,” he said. “There is only eternity.” He paused, pulling away.
“What color is death?” he hissed, almost contemplatively. “The white light of tunnels leading up to Heaven? The black of oblivion? The blue of cyanotic lips and dying fingernails?” He laughed, a diseased chortling that wheezed through his marble-white throat. He kept one arm stretched out in front of him, the eye flicking from me to Adrian and back again.
“It is none of these,” Mr. Slither continued. “Death is red, as red as the rooms where the damned scream in agony forever. Death is red, as red as a rose in full bloom. Eternity is here waiting for you, waiting to consume your flesh like a virus.”
***
Adrian awoke abruptly then, his eyes shooting open behind his black-rimmed glasses. He had a deep gash sliced across his forehead and his nose was bleeding badly. He turned his head, spitting blood-streaked mucus on the floor. After a few moments, he started to get his bearings. He looked over at me, then, with an increasing sense of terror gleaming on his face, he turned to Mr. Slither.
“You killed my father, you piece of shit,” he spat angrily, tears rolling down his face. Mr. Slither only grinned down at him, an expression of pure sadism.
“Like father, like son,” Mr. Slither whispered coldly, running his long, twisted fingers over the table like a spider. They crawled over Adrian’s face and gently took off his glasses.
“Please don’t hurt me,” Adrian pleaded. Mr. Slither only laughed as he took a sharp index finger and lowered it to Adrian’s eye. “No, don’t, for God’s sake…”
There was a wet sound, the sound of blood gushing and flesh separating. Adrian screamed in anguish. I had closed my eyes, unable to look. But I heard the sound of chewing, something popping. Adrian hyperventilated nearby, still pleading and shrieking.
I looked over, seeing Mr. Slither slicing open Adrian’s shirt with his scalpel-like fingers. His hand hovered over the center of his chest. One of Adrian’s eyes was gone, the black socket staring sightlessly up.
“The heart of all things,” Mr. Slither whispered in his infected tone. With a quick stab, he shoved his fingers deep into Adrian’s chest. The cracking of ribs reverberated through the room with a sickening snap.
I heard police sirens in the distance, growing closer by the second. A faint surge of hope fluttered through my chest, even as I looked at this abomination holding my best friend’s beating heart in his alien hand.
Mr. Slither came over to me, looking down with glee and excitement. He ran his left hand over my face. I could feel the sharp points of the fingers tracing their way down my cheek, slowly and caressingly.
“Where should we start?” he asked in a low, throaty voice. “With the eyes?” He ran one of his fingers around my eyelids, tracing light circles that sent shivers running through my flesh. “Maybe the tongue?” He traced his finger around my lips. “Or how about…”
“Hey, scumbag!” a woman’s voice cried from the door. Mr. Slither slowly rose to his full height, turning to look at the newcomer. I saw Adrian’s mother standing there, holding a pistol in her hands. She was in the Weaver stance, ready to fire. As soon as Mr. Slither raised his hand out toward Adrian’s mother and looked at her with a single demonic eye, she fired.
***
The bullet smashed straight into Mr. Slither’s outstretched hand, blowing his obsidian eye to pieces. Fragments of skin and bone exploded from the wound. He gave a diseased shriek of pain and stumbled forward. He still held Adrian’s heart in his right hand, and without hesitation, he threw it at Adrian’s mother.
The heart soared across the room, drops of blood flying out in all directions as it spiraled through the air. It smacked her in the face with a wet thud. She stumbled back, shaking her head. Spatters of crimson like raindrops covered her face and hair. She gave a low, anguished moan, and for a horrible moment, I thought she would simply faint.
But as Mr. Slither ran at her with vengeance and fury, she came to life, raising the gun and firing again and again. The bullets smashed through his chest, his stomach and legs. Dark, sluggish blood the consistency of maple syrup dripped from the many wounds.
Bent over and looking much weaker, Mr. Slither slammed into Adrian’s mother. He raked his sharp fingers over her face as he passed. She screamed in pain, falling back heavily. The floor shook as Mr. Slither disappeared down the stairs, still wailing in a diseased voice full of pain and uncertainty.
***
After a few moments, Adrian’s mother moaned and pushed herself up slowly. In the bloody glow of the computer monitor, I could see the deep wounds marring her face.
Her right cheek had been slashed in two, the flaps of skin hanging down like the slashed fabric of a tent. Her right eye was badly damaged, dripping vitreous fluid and crimson streaks down her face like bloody tears. A deep gash ran across her forehead and chin as well.
She stumbled forward toward me, looking dissociated and on the verge of passing out. She glanced over at Adrian’s corpse for a long, sad moment, then turned her attention back to me. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folding-knife, which she used to begin cutting the rope.
As she freed me and we finally left that room of horrors, the first of the police cars reached the driveway. As I would find out later, Adrian’s mother had called the police on her cell phone before returning to try to save us.
***
The bodies of Adrian, his father and my father were all gone by the time the police searched the house. Only a few steel tables still remained in the room, covered in layers of gore and clotted blood. Mr. Slither had disappeared as well, and for that, I give thanks. I hope I never see that disgusting monster again.
What he told me makes me wonder, however. What if he was right? What if, after death, we all end up in eternal misery, tortured and killed over and over again until the end of time?
I never used to be afraid of death, but after my experiences with Mr. Slither and the red room, I am petrified of it now.