Just ranting needed to get this off my chest life’s just been eating me up recently
My stomach and intestines will not shut up and any slight movement they bubble and gurgle and whine it’s been so long dealing with this 2 months of hell I finally had bms daily for 7 days and now this is my second day without one I’m tired of taking miralax I wish my doctor would give me a diagnosis for fucks sake I still don’t know what’s wrong with me and it’s a constant issue I don’t have a life anymore I’m pissed I reckon whatever it is it’s probably gonna get worse and kill me im assuming it’s colon cancer that’s spread to the intestines I chew tobacco and use to swallow the spit when I was in tech school cause they didn’t allow it on campus I’m not getting any better if anything slowly worse each day idk what to do my doctors worthless he’s done one ct scan and just says it’s constipation I’ve taken miralax every single day for 2 months ate entirely clean and all the bullshit they tell you nothings even got the slightest bit better life sucks I’ve lost everything I wish I could drink or smoke away the pain but in fact it makes it worse I’m lost man I’ve been Christian for 2 years as well and even that feels pointless I’m just dead inside the only joy I have left in life is tobacco how sad is that the only time I feel somewhat happy or normal is when I put a dip in and I was even planning to throw that out before all this but now what’s the point my health’s fucked apparently wether I get mouth cancer or not he’ll I wouldn’t even be typing this if I had someone to talk to but i don’t I’ve got one freind left and he’s busy bros got his own life and I’m hella proud of him for it I was on track to do the same finally bought a vehicle got the job I trained for now I lay in bed listening to my loud ass gut and minimize symptoms I really miss life I’m thinking about just going back to work and saying fuck it just let it get worse maybe then my doc will actually take me seriously probably not but yeah my life sucks I feel like god genuinely hates me I take a step forward and he smacks me 7 steps back with a right hook I’m tired of pretending to be happy for people around me I’m tired of pretending that my cursed and all this is a blessing and I just haven’t found the lesson yet I’m starting to doubt everything and I’m going crazy sitting in my room all day I’m sure no one’s gonna read this or care even if they do I just need this shit off my chest everyone around me acts like I’m fine cause I’ve always been the type of person to laugh shit off and try to just man up my way through every problem but I can’t do that anymore there’s no more jokes and I’m half the man I was I use to have goals that were possible and I was reaching them I was doing good but here I am worse than I started but fuck it as is life I guess some people got it worse than me and I’m truly sorry that they have to go through any of it but life’s a bitch and this is a cruel ass world it really makes me struggle with my faith if gods all loving why would we be down here suffering even if we followed all the rules and did our best just doesn’t seem right but it’s whatever I guess

Hello docs! It appears my poor lifestyle choices have caught up with me...I'd like some input on what conditions to look for and general lifestyle advice.
Stats: 43 year-old female; 5'6 tall and weigh 243 llbs (high bmi)
Symptoms:
-bilateral edema focused in calves, started two months ago but calves have been hurting for longer; edema helped but not resolved by a newly prescribed water pill
-high blood pressure for past two years (didn’t know this until a recent dr. appt.)
-A1C 5.9% (pre-diabetic)
-No abnormal results (other than high A1C) from:
BNP B Type Natriuretic Polypeptide CBC CMP Comprehensive Metabolic Panel Hemoglobin A1C (w/ Est Avg Glucose) T4 Free TSH Thyroid Stimulating Hormone Adult and Pediatric
-Urinalysis also returned normal (I’m well-hydrated)
-muscle weakness
-reddish/blueish skin with quite visible blue veins
-pain in calves while walking
-random bruising
-infrequent but painful headaches focused on left side
-I’ve been tired for, like, 8 years; always thought it was depression
-crave shitty carbs constantly
-easily out of breath
Current meds: Vyvanse, Ritalin, Strattera (ADHD - yes, all of them at once, the Ritalin is a 10 mg booster); Zoloft, wellbutrin, Doxepin, water pill (depression/anxiety)
Lifestyle stuff:
-Carb-filled diet, binge eater (I’ve changed my diet to whole foods only since developing edema)
-full-time desk job
-I walk for exercise, but not enough
-Last year, I abused cocaine for around 8 months (quit in Dec.)
-Drank liquor frequently until the edema started
That’s all I can think of. My questions are: what should I focus on to best help myself regain some health? Is there anything besides high blood pressure that my doctor should be looking for? … And, am I, like, about to die of a blood clot to the lungs anytime soon?
Pretty please be kind. I know I have some serious work to do.
TIA!!

My 3 year old has been not acting like her normal perky self since Sunday. Complained of ear pain and sore throat, with wet mucos-y cough. We suspected an ear infection, and in fact the doctor said her ears looked red and gave her antibiotics. However, today (Tuesday) she spiked a 102 fever. The doctor said her ears look great now, so she thinks the fever may be viral - probably enterovirus as it has been spiking here. Today, daughter has been super lethargic, not wanting to eat, and threw up once.
Is this a common presentation of enterovirus. Is this going to get worse before it gets better? Why do new symptoms keep showing up? Should I be concerned that she's vomiting now? I know I shouldn't google things, but when I do, scary things like meningitis come up.

So ever sinse I have had TMJ my throat on one side is sore. Granted it can be other things like I think my tonsils are screwed up. Regardless my ear hurts and sometimes I just twitch. My temples hurt and back of my neck. Now my lymph nodes are swollen and there’s not much I can do. In fact, I had to move my TMJ appointment back. If this resonates with anyone I would appreciate it. Thanks,

I have had GP for 10 years now but the last year has been the worst I have in the last six months ended up in the hospital 5 out of the 6 months my body has never hurt so bad. Does anyone else’s body hurt? I’m cold all the time. Does any else have to sit on a heating pad almost all the time just to stay warm? I’m obese and not losing an ounce even though I hardly eat anything at all. But I can’t seem to loose any weight at all. I’m just wondering if anyone else is experiencing any of these symptoms or issues and if so what do you do. My doctor won’t give me anything for pain because it slows motility and since I have GP I already have slow motility. I’m waiting on surgery for a GJ tube to be placed but because I have a LapBand no one wants to do the surgery. So I’m sick all the time and can’t eat and can’t drink but I’m just so tired of being sick. Please help with any advice…

A tale that you're probably tired of hearing: I'm a late diagnosed female ADHDer, All my life especially as a kid I felt a bit off, different and weird. I was constantly bullied and/or left alone. Two years ago I got my ADHD diagnosis. It was a "ahhhhhhh so that's why" moment. Everything finally made sense and now I understand how hugely it impacts my life in every aspect. Internalizing all my big feelings, masking my undiagnosed ADHD, constant shortcomings, also brought me two other magnificent gifts, depression (which has been so muuuuuch better lately since I'm in a healthy and loving relationship for the first time in 28 years) and anxiety. Yet, someday's I'm just like you're lazy, you don't have that symptom that the other ADHDer had, you haven't lost your wallet for two years now, you don't have ADHD. You're just faking it to get away from blame and shame (which doesn't happen, btw). I tell myself you don't have any childhood trauma's, you had a loving family. You're just making a big deal of little things. And I'm also so tired of the mood swings, of the constant change of my projects, leaving them unfinished, the constant burnouts. I'm tired of explaining that I have ADHD to "justify" my shortcomings. I feel like a liar and a failure. Sometimes I even can't watch ADHD content because I fill like a con woman. I actually have enough to say to feel a podcast, but I'm gonna stop here. Do you experience the same thing? Do you feel like an imposter?

This is a long one so I appreciate anyone who takes the time to read it and can maybe give me some insight of their own experiences trying to get biologics and if the generic ones are any easier to get insurance to approve/pay for than the name brand.
I've been on Humira for about 5 years now and it's worked wonderfully for me but I'm having an increasingly difficult time getting my meds, to the point that almost one week out of every month I end up having to miss a dose due to issues with insurance or the pharmacy or the financial assistance, it's always something. These constant occurrences of having to miss doses (there's been multiple instances where I was off my meds for months at a time sorting out these types of issues) have caused me to have to increase my dose from every other week to weekly injections because the medicine wasn't working as effectively as it should be.
I'm sure you all know that when you repeatedly go on and off of biologics like this your body starts to build up a resistance and the medication becomes less and less effective at managing the disease.
Anyways, I used to be on the my abbvie assist program and that's how I got my meds for the first 4 years I was on them. I had a lot of issues with that program too, but for the most part, I got my meds on time and they shipped me three months at a time so even if it was late once or twice a year, it wasn't happening every month. Last year at the end of November I submitted a new application for financial assistance (which you have to do every year). It took them an incredibly long time to process the request and they kept telling me I was missing information on the application or that they needed my doctor to fax something over. It took 8 weeks of this back and forth before they finally called and told me that they had changed their program requirements. At this point, I had been off of my meds for two months and had to be put on steroids again to try and control the disease until they approved my application. They told me because my insurance company offers a copay savings card program I was now ineligible to use the my abbvie assist program.
So, I called the copay savings card program and got signed up with them. The first two months were fine (February and March), they shipped me a month's worth of meds each time and I was able to get them on time for $5/month. I thought great, this is working, I'm finally back on my medication. Boy was I wrong. Last month I started having issues again. At first, they told me that I didn't have any refills left, which didn't make sense because I had only refilled twice so I called my doctor and asked her to send in more refills. She called me back and said she had personally talked to the pharmacy and I still had 4 refills left so she wasn't sure why they weren't letting me refill it. So I called the pharmacy back and asked them to refill, saying my doctor confirmed with them and I had refills left. Long story short after about 5 days of calling people and getting sent to dozens of different departments and being given different phone numbers to call (one lady even gave me the phone number of an entirely different company that doesn't even supply my medication, it was absolutely insane how completely mismanaged they were and how much nobody I spoke to knew anything about who I needed to talk to). Eventually, I found out that they had changed the phone number to the specialty pharmacy and the number that I'd been using for the last couple of months to refill my medication now only went to the normal pharmacy, which is why they couldn't find my refills. I finally got my meds but it had been another 2 weeks of being off of them.
This month, I called again to refill my meds last Friday. I was told that my copay savings card was no longer active and if I wanted my meds I had to pay the $1300+ copay out of pocket. Obviously I can't afford that, but the copay savings card line was closed by that point in the evening so I had to wait until Monday this week to call them. I left a message yesterday and finally got someone to talk to me today. They told me that my account had been flagged and I had to call a separate number to complete a "benefits review". Okay, fine. I spent 3 hours on the phone with these people today and this is what I've learned:

• I am apparently using the available funds on the copay card "too quickly" and spending too much at a time on my medication so my account was flagged and insurance is threatening to increase my already very high deductible unless I spend less money on my medication per month (how??? it's not like I get to choose how much they are). They are effectively telling me that I can no longer use the copay card unless I want to deal with serious consequences with my insurance coverage. I've used almost all of the available funds they gave me for the year, and they won't be giving me any more.
  
• There is another savings program that my insurance uses that offers "cost relief" to help cover what the copay card won't so I can still afford my medication. Apparently, even though this is something my insurance covers, my specific plan excludes it as a benefit so I can't use it.
  
• This leaves me with two options. I can either pay $1300 upfront with my own money to get my meds every month and then wait for them to reimburse me, which I can't afford, or I can apply for the abbvie debit card program which works similarly to the copay assistance but is instead a physical card that they send me and I use that to pay the copays so my insurance is happy and then I pay abbvie the $5/month copay directly. I don't fully understand how it works but at this point, I don't care, as long as someone is sending me medication. I said I'd like to use the abbvie debit card, they said great we'll call you in approximately 3 business days to get you the card number. My next dose is in 3 business days. So best case scenario I'm missing another week's dose waiting for the debit card number so I can order the prescription and then waiting for the medication to ship.
  

I am so completely and utterly exhausted by this entire process and I am sick and tired of constantly missing doses of my medication. It's fucking with my body, it's sending me into flare ups, and it's decreasing the effectiveness of this medication that I am fighting so fucking hard to get every single month. I'm losing money having to take time off work to spend hours on the phone with these people. I just can't do this every month for the foreseeable future. It's not sustainable.
I am so close to calling my doctor and asking to switch medications to something that is cheaper or easier to acquire because I simply can't do this every month. But, tbh I don't have much hope that this won't be my experience with any medication I try. I'm also very afraid of possible side effects, Humira has worked wonderfully for me (when I can actually fucking take it) and I haven't had any side effects, switching meds is risky in that I could have a poor reaction to it and it could not work as well at controlling my symptoms. Has anyone out there had an easier time getting generic meds than their name brand counterparts? Is there any hope for getting my meds consistently on time without spending hours and hours of my life every month fighting with these people only for my meds to be late anyways? I'm at the end of my rope here. I desperately want someone to tell me that this isn't the universal experience but I'm also not stupid enough to believe I'll have better luck with any other company. I'm not even really sure what I'm looking for here. Advice? Hope? A place to vent? It just all feels pointless sometimes.
TL;DR - I'm having an incredibly hard time getting my Humira every month and keep getting kicked off of the financial assistance programs. This is causing me to miss a lot of doses and I'm obviously having a bad time as a result of that. Are the generic options any easier to get than the name brands like Humira? Is there any biologic out there that isn't this difficult to get every month?

I'm a bundle of anxiety right now and just want to vent a little.
For probably about 2 years I've been struggling with understanding people talk. I've put off going to a doctor because I'm young, I shouldn't be having hearing issues! I'm only 26!! I'm so tired of not understanding people so I finally broke down and scheduled an appointment. Now I'm anxious that they won't find anything wrong. I know online hearing tests aren't that good but they always say my hearing is normal. If the doctor says my hearing is normal then I'm scared what in the world is wrong with me. Regardless of the hearing test results I'm still experiencing symptoms.
My family went to a restaurant for mother's day and I had to have my husband relay everything the wait staff was saying because I couldn't hear. Sure it was busy and noisy but everyone else at my table could hear them. Earlier last week my coworker came to talk to me and I only understoond maybe half of it. I got she was upset about something but I don't know what she was upset about or what happened. It was a 5 minute conversation of me just nodding and looking sympathetic with no clue what's going on. I feel so embarrassed constantly asking people to repeat themselves. I use subtitles with the TV because otherwise I'm frequently rewinding to understand what was said. I hate going to the movies because there's no subtitles and I can't rewind so I end up missing stuff then have to re-watch the movie at home anyway.
I'm just so frustrated and tired of this and I'm so scared that I'll be dismissed and have to continue living like this.

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

I am convinced I am pregnant despite not having a lot of the stereotypical early signs. I did spot with discharge for 4 or 5 days last week, which I've never experienced before. That is my main "big symptom". Other than that, everything else has been more murky on if it is or isn't pregnancy. I had cramping on and off for 2 weeks, I've been extraordinarily tired and mostly slept 2 of the last 3 weekends, I've had 2 or 3 nights where I wake up in the middle of the night and can't go back to sleep, I am bloated and have slight pains all lower back/stomach, and am peeing a lot despite normal liquid intake.
I keep getting negative tests and my husband thinks its all in my head, but I swear I am. In the past , I have taken a test as an assurance I wasn't and it was all weird pms but this time I just am convinced I am. And I can't fully explain why? Does that make sense? It's only been 5 days since the spotting stopped.
I guess I am wondering how long I should maybe keep taking tests at home and if anyone else has felt this way? And if it turned out they were right? I have seen that some people with PCOS feel great while pregnant, and that hidden pregnancies are more common for those with PCOS, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little concerned it will be weeks before a positive test shows. Or if I'd need an ultrasound to convince myself I wasn't.
I just don't know why I am so convinced fully. I also am holding off on my adhd meds and myoinositol supplements while I wait and see if I am right just in case. And we weren't trying to conceive though it'd be nice.
Also I used the fertility flair because it seemed the closest but if I need to change it to general advice, please let me know!

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

The world was a boozy whirl of lights and sounds. Images, broken and fragmented, came and went. Voices, laughter, screaming. The ground pitched like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship, and he felt heavy, as though the ground were pulling him to it. C’mere, Dommy. He fell, lay on the pavement, and pushed himself up again, staggering like a drunk on his way home. His head spun, his body ached, and things seemed blurry, like half-formed images glimpsed underwater.
It was the light blue hour before dawn and Dom was…somewhere. He should have recognized the stores and street signs around him, but he didn’t. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and a sense of confusion gripped him so strongly that he was beginning to panic. Where was he? What happened?
The world spun away again and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a heap of garbage bags, used needles, and rubbish. He came awake with a jerk and sat up so fast that a bolt of pain jammed into his skull. He winced and pressed his hand to his forehead. He felt hot, clammy.
Something was seriously wrong.
Somehow he got to his feet again and started walking. The sun was up now and the streets were filled with people. They all sneered in disgust as he passed, and he wrapped his arms around his chest like a baby comforting itself. He was getting cold. His muscles were sore. Tears streamed down his face and he wanted to cry.
Going on instinct alone, Dom made his way back home and climbed the steps to his apartment. Exhaustion swept over him and he sagged against the door as he dug in his pocket for the keys. They shook in his hand and he had to focus really hard to get the key into the lock.
Inside, he collapsed onto the couch and his eyelids instantly drooped. He was so weary that he couldn’t lift his head, couldn’t form a single coherent thought. Dom felt himself starting to sink, and snapped his eyes open with a start. Something in his soul told him that if he slept, he would die.
He couldn’t help it, though. He was falling, tumbling, hands reaching up from hell to grab him. His eyes fluttered closed again and the world started to go dark, his heart slamming in fear. He tried to fight, but the pull of darkness was too strong, too alluring. Why was he fighting? Why not just…give up? Hadn’t he thought of killing himself before? Didn’t he hate his life and himself? What was there to fight for? A wife? Kids? A community that loved and respected him? Shit, affordable groceries?
No.
There was nothing.
He had nothing and was nothing.
A sense of peace blossomed from the darkness, and suddenly death didn’t seem so scary. In fact, it was warm…inviting.
It was life that was cold and hateful. Not death.
Death accepted you no matter who you were. It didn’t reject you…it didn’t ignore you. If you sought it, you would find it, and if you embraced it, it would embrace you.
With that thought in mind, Dom gave up.
And died.
***
Bruce Kenner, captain of the 5th Albany precinct, sat behind his desk on the morning of June 28 and lazily leafed through a stack of files as he sipped from a mug of coffee. A roughly built man with a dark goatee and graying blonde hair, he looked more like a small town southern sheriff than a low level public works functionary. In fact, he tended to act like it too. He liked to hunt, fish, and drink beer on his off time. Albany wasn’t a big city, but it was big enough that you never got a fucking break. Run here, run there, arrest this asshole, investigate that asshole. By the time Friday rolled around, he was so ready for the peace and tranquility of a fishing trip he could taste it.
Already this Monday morning, he was looking forward to another one.
Over the weekend, three kids went missing in the Pine Hills and Washington Park area, bringing the total for that summer up to eight. All were teenagers, all were troubled. Most were boys, but two were girls.
Troubled kids run away all the time. They might be gone a few days, sulking at a friend’s house over something their father or mother did, but they’d eventually come home. None of these kids had come back yet and from what he knew, a few of them weren’t the runaway types. They were shits at school and caused problems, but they had no reason to up and leave. Hell, Bruce himself raised hell as a kid, but he always found his way back home, even if he spent the previous night dying in a field from Mad Dogg 20/20 poisoning.
One or two kids going missing…okay, it happens. Eight? Over a span of four weeks?
Yeah, something was wrong here.
But what?
There was nothing on any of these kids. No one saw them, no one knew anything - one minute they were here, the next they weren’t. What could he or anyone else do with that?. The public broke cops’ balls all the time, but if you don’t have evidence, you don’t have evidence. What do you want? Door to door searches? Roadblocks? Dogs and helicopters? Yeah, then when you actually do it, they cry fascism. Guess I’ll just use my Spidey Senses.
Bruce wished he had spidey senses. He wanted to find these kids as much as anyone, and he was starting to get pissed off that he couldn’t. He took another sip from his mug and read on. The latest kids to go missing were three boys between the ages of fourteen and eighteen.
They were all white, all thin (except for one). If there was a serial killer in town - and Bruce hoped to fuck there wasn’t - he had a type. What, black kids aren’t good enough to kill, cannibalize, and wear like a skin suit? They should charge him with a hate crime for discrimination.
That way he’d actually stay locked up.
The door opened and Vanessa Rodregiez, his deputy, came in. A tall, shapely Hispanic woman with dark eyes and a mouth poised always on the edge of a smile, she wore her black hair in a ponytail that would look stern and severe on anyone else, but on her, looked childlike. She was twenty-seven and had been on the force for three years, but you could be forgiven for thinking her much younger. “Bright and early, I see,” she said with a grin.
Bruce grumbled.
Vanessa held down the fort during the graveyard shift, acting to the night as he acted to the day. She was young and full of energy, which clashed with Bruce, who was old and just wanted to be left alone. Despite their differences, Bruce loved her like a kid sister…an annoying kid sister he wanted to throat punch sometimes.
“You missed all the fun last night,” she said and parked her butt on the edge of Bruce’s desk. He glared at her, but she ignored him.
“Good,” he said. Then: “What happened?”
“Big fight outside of Club Vlad,” she said. “It looked like a WorldStar video.”
For a moment, Bruce was lost. “Club what?”
“Club Vlad,” Vanessa said. “Where the Fuze Box used to be.”
Ah, right. The Fuze Box was an Albany landmark, a night club for punks…or goths…or someone. Certainly not for Bruce Kenner. It was small, dingy, and always had people in black waiting outside. On Friday and Saturday nights, it blasted strange music with lyrics about fighting The Man. Kids had been fighting the Man since before Bruce was even born and they hadn’t beaten him yet. Kudos to them for still trying.
Last year, The Fuze Box closed down and someone else bought it. It reopened last month and looked more or less the same: Posers, shitty music, and spiked hair. So much spiked hair. “Place is still a pain in the ass,” Bruce said.
“Yep,” Vanessa chirped. “It doesn’t know what it wants to be now. One minute they play nightcore, the next EDM. It’s all over the place.”
Bruce raised a quizzical brow.
“Not that I’ve ever been there in my free time,” Vanessa said in a tone that suggested she had,
Bruce gave a judgemental hum.
“Anyway,” Vanessa went on, “you see we have some new missing persons?”
Sighing, Bruce sat back in his chair. “Yeah. I did.”
“People are starting to ask questions,” Vanessa warned.
That brought a terse smile to Bruce’s weathered face. “Maybe they’ll solve it then.”
“Ha, fat chance,” Vanessa said. She got up and stretched. “Anyway, I’m bushed. Here’s my…” she trailed off and looked at her empty hands. “Damn, where’s my report? I just had it?” She turned in a confused circle as if she might be able to spot her report making a break for it. “Huh,” she said. She left the office and came back a moment later holding a folder. “Found it,” she grinned.
Bruce just looked at her.
“Um…here it is.”
He didn’t take it.
Her smile faltered. She carefully sat it on top of the files Bruce was looking at.
And his hands.
“I’ll just leave that right here.” She patted it for good measure.
“Thank you,” Bruce said.
“Okay. Night.”
“Goodnight,” Bruce said as she left through a shaft of morning sunlight. Alone, Bruce sat her report aside and went back to the missing kids. This case was giving him a headache and it wasn’t even nine. With a deep sigh, he slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the armrests.
Was it Saturday yet?
He could really use a fishing trip.
***
Dom came awake in the cold purple twilight with a shocked gasp like a man coming up seconds before drowning. His eyes strained from his sweaty face and his mouth hung slack, twisted in a gruesome parody of The Scream. His mind was muddled, murky - he didn’t know where he was or even who he was, but he knew this,.
He couldn’t breathe.
He opened and closed his mouth like a fish, but his lungs did not fill with air. A great, unseen weight seemed to bear down on his chest, and panic gripped him. He tried to move, but his arms refused to heed his brain’s command. The weight seemed heavier, all over, crushing him like a bug. Confusion filled him and he started to pant.
Without warning, his bowels and bladder loosened, and horrible wetness filled his pants. He tried to sit up, but his body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. His chest rose and fell with the frantic labor of his breath, but his lungs remained inert. A cry of fear bubbled up inside of him, but escaped his mouth only as a breathy groan.
A bust of adrenaline shot through him and he tried to stand, but succeeded only in falling off the couch instead, landing face first against the cold tile floor. He felt his nose crunch, but the pain was muted.
Dom thought he lost consciousness after that, but wasn’t sure. His next memory was of shivering so violently that his teeth clacked together. A phantom chill - perhaps from the floor - had settled into his bones, and was colder than he had ever been in his life, colder even than the time he fell into a snowbank and got lost when he was two. Shudders racked his body, and though he tried to turn over, he was too fucking heavy. It was like every muscle in his body had turned to dead weight. Fragmented thoughts swirled in his head, faint colors in the dark, but he couldn’t put any of them together.
With great effort, he managed to push himself slightly up, but a wave of lightheadedness crashed over him and he lowered his head once more. He stopped trying and simply lay there. Shortly, his eyes began to burn and he realized that he wasn’t blinking. Jesus Christ, he wasn’t blinking.
For some strange reason, that brought a fresh bout of panic. He started to hyperventilate, but his lungs still wouldn’t work. He wasn’t blinking…he wasn’t breathing…what was happening to him?
A whimper burst from his throat and he started to cry.
He must have cried himself to sleep, because he woke sometime later to the most intense headache he’d ever had. It felt like something was eating his brain from the inside out. He was sore all over, and could feel his muscles twitching, as though a thousand living things were burrowing through his body. A cramp shot down his right leg, and the toes of his left foot curled involuntarily. Slowly, his jaw clenched closed, and the muscles in his neck began to strain…then to burn. His panic turned to terror, and Dom wiggled across the floor like a worm, his limbs screaming in red agony and his brain filling with heat. He somehow wound up on his right side, and his arms curled slowly up to his chest, crossing at the wrists like a mummy. He tried to pull them apart, but the slightest movement sent waves of excruciating pain cutting through his body. His knees began to draw up to his stomach, and his fingers clenched tightly.
Cramps and spasms attacked every muscle in his body. He screamed through his teeth and shook, resembling a man in the electric chair as 40,000 volts of justice coursed through him. The pain grew gradually, getting worse and worse as minutes ticked by like hours. Higher, higher, higher - he clenched his eyes closed and shrieked as it became unbearable. Disjointed thoughts flashed through his mind - prayers, threats, curses, Jesus fucking…FUCK.
What was happening? God, what was happening to him? Was it fentanyl? He’d seen videos of people high on fentanyl, and they leaned in weird positions. He didn’t do drugs but maybe he ingested it somehow.
His panic may have returned if all of his muscles hadn’t picked that moment to contract as one. His eyes bulged from their sockets and his jaw unclenched just enough for him to utter a high. Agonized scream that echoed through his empty apartment like thunder.
A human being can only take so much before giving out. When the pain reached a crescendo, and Dom mercifully sank into consciousness once more. The sun rose and cascaded through the apartment’s sole window, falling over his huddled form. Slowly, it tracked across the sky before setting again. As the last rays disappeared behind the horizon, Dom’s eyes opened. The pain of the night before was blessedly gone, replaced by a feeling of numbness - the cool ash after the hot fire. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses, but he could actually think again. Nightmare memories flooded back to him, but he wasn’t sure they were real. He was lying on his side, his arms wrapped around his chest as if for warmth, and his teeth lightly chattered against the icy chill. He was so cold that he didn’t want to move, but he couldn’t stay here forever. He needed help. He needed…
A shower.
Yeah, a hot shower. That would warm him up.
Gritting his teeth, he slowly sat up, ready for a burst of pain.
But none came.
He did, however, feel heavy. Getting to his feet, he stumbled and nearly fell, catching himself against the counter. His limbs had no feeling. It’s like they weren’t even there. Head hung, Dom tried to catch his breath, but it felt like he wasn’t breathing at all. His eyelids drooped closed and he felt like he was going to fall down. Summoning all the might he could, he shuffled into the bathroom with the stiff gait of an old man. He snapped the light on, and cold, white brilliance filled the space, blinding him.
Leaning heavily against the sink, he gripped the cold porcelain. Suddenly, he was afraid of looking into the mirror. He was sure that whatever reflection he saw, it would be of something else, something monstrous.
Dom lifted his head and faced the glass.
His heart shrank.
The man in the mirror was him but different. His skin was white as milk, lacking all color whatsoever save for the ugly purple patch on the left side. IResembling a giant bruise, it started at the temple and extended down to the slope of his neck, disappearing beneath his T-shirt. He gingerly lifted the shirt, and moaned when he saw that his entire left side was discolored, the purple edged with a puffy shade of pink. His sallow skin clung tight to his ribcage, and his hip bones stuck out so much it looked painful. Back in the mirror, his cheeks were sunken, hollow, and his eyes were a hazy, dishwater gray. His skull seemed bigger, his hair longer. Dom wanted to whip his head away from the phantom before him, to never see it again, but he was transfixed.
There was no way that thing was -
Dom looked away, cutting that thought off before it could finish.
A shower.
He needed a shower.
Slowly, stiffly, Dom undressed, peeling off his shirt and his soiled pants. He dropped them in a heap on the floor and stepped under the spray. He could feel the water pounding against him, but it provided no heat. It was neither hot nor cold. It was simply there.
Dom pressed his head to the slick shower wall and stood there for a long time. He was spent, tired, and fried - he had no more emotions left to give. He got out after a little while, dried off, and put on a clean pair of shorts. He settled into bed and lay there with his hands folded over his chest and his eyes open. They felt gritty, dry. His stomach felt bloated, gassy. He was drowsy now, the weight of the past two days (or was it two weeks?) coming down on him all at once. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was still asleep - but aware - when the knocking on his door started the next morning. Time was funny in this state of being, fast and jerky but also slow and echoing. Keys rattled the knob turned. The landlord came in with a cop. They saw him on the bed, laid out like a corpse for a viewing, and the cop radioed in a code 35. Soon, cops were all around him, making noise and touching things. He had the vague sense of discomfort and embarrassment at the intrusion. A baling man in a suit stood over him, a cop who looked like a redneck beside him. “He didn’t die here,” the medical examiner said.
The cop looked at him questioningly. Dom caught the name KENNER on his name tag.
“See this?” the M.E. said and gestured to Dom’s face. “That’s livor mortis. When you die, your blood pools at the lowest point. If you’re on your left side, for example, it pools on the left.”
Kenner looked at Dom and then back to the M.E. “Someone moved him?”
“Looks like it,” the M.E. said.
“When did he die?”
The M.E. examined Dom as though he were nothing more than a side of beef. “At a glance? Three days. I won’t have a better answer until I open him up.”
Dom was still awake when they put him into a body bag and zipped it up. He felt a stirring of fear beneath the cold numbness, but he was too tired to worry about it now.
Later, he thought.
He would panic later.
For now, Dom slept.

Recently my partner (26m) and I (26f) were diagnosed with hsv-1. He had a genital outbreak first and told me right away. Then I got a sore throat, flu symptoms, and a genital outbreak a few days later. I’m on medicine now that has almost cleared my symptoms a week later. My question is: can we have sex anytime no matter who has an outbreak? Obviously if someone is sore/has pain then no, but are there limitations at all since we can’t reinfect each other?

hi everyone! about two months ago i (20F) got bit by a tick and i started getting really sick. i went to the doctor and did blood work and they confirmed it was lyme. i took an antibiotic for two weeks and thought that would help but i’m still having really bad symptoms, if anything they’re worse now. i’ve tried talking to my doctor about it because i’m just so confused and scared and i’m so tired of my body failing me, but i’ve just been met with passiveness. i’m so tired of feeling nauseous and exhausted and having horrible joint pains. i feel like i’m letting down my family for not being there for them and my job for not being healthy to work regularly.
sorry to rant but if anyone has any suggestions or advice for dealing with this it would be greatly appreciated. i just feel really alone in this and i don’t know what to do. i’m still young so it’s so frustrating for my body to be giving up on me so early and i just want to feel better.

In the vast realm of natural remedies, few ingredients have captured the attention of both ancient healers and modern wellness enthusiasts quite like black elderberry. With its rich history steeped in traditional medicine and a growing body of scientific research supporting its efficacy, black elderberry has emerged as a superstar in the world of holistic health. Join us as we explore the remarkable benefits of black elderberry and uncover the secrets of its wellness-promoting properties.

Understanding Black Elderberry:

Black elderberry, scientifically known as Sambucus nigra, is a flowering plant native to Europe, North Africa, and Western Asia. For centuries, elderberries have been revered for their medicinal properties and culinary uses. The deep purple-black berries of the elderberry plant are rich in nutrients, antioxidants, and bioactive compounds, making them a valuable addition to any wellness regimen.

The Health Benefits of Black Elderberry:

1. Immune Support:

One of the most celebrated benefits of black elderberry is its ability to support the immune system. Elderberries are packed with antioxidants like flavonoids and anthocyanins, which help protect cells from oxidative stress and boost immune function. Studies have shown that elderberry extract may help reduce the duration and severity of colds and flu by enhancing immune response.

2. Respiratory Health:

Black elderberry has a long history of use in traditional medicine for respiratory ailments. Its anti-inflammatory and antiviral properties make it effective in easing symptoms of conditions like coughs, colds, bronchitis, and sinusitis. Elderberry syrup or supplements can help soothe sore throats, reduce congestion, and promote overall respiratory wellness.

3. Antioxidant Protection:

Elderberries are rich in potent antioxidants that help combat oxidative damage and reduce inflammation in the body. These antioxidants not only support immune health but also play a crucial role in protecting against chronic diseases such as heart disease, cancer, and neurodegenerative disorders.

4. Heart Health:

The anthocyanins found in black elderberries have been linked to improved cardiovascular health. These compounds help lower cholesterol levels, reduce blood pressure, and enhance blood vessel function, thereby reducing the risk of heart disease and stroke.

5. Digestive Aid:

Elderberry has been traditionally used as a digestive tonic to alleviate digestive discomfort and promote gut health. The fiber and flavonoids in elderberries support healthy digestion, while their anti-inflammatory properties help soothe the digestive tract and reduce symptoms of bloating, gas, and indigestion.

How to Incorporate Black Elderberry Into Your Wellness Routine:

• Elderberry Syrup: A popular and convenient way to enjoy the benefits of black elderberry is through elderberry syrup. You can take it directly by the spoonful or mix it with water, juice, or tea.
• Elderberry Supplements: Elderberry supplements, available in various forms such as capsules, gummies, and powders, offer a convenient way to incorporate elderberry into your daily routine, especially during cold and flu season.
• Elderberry Tea: Brew dried elderberries into a delicious and soothing tea for a comforting way to support your immune system and overall well-being.

Precautions and Considerations:

While black elderberry is generally safe for most people, it's essential to choose reputable sources and follow recommended dosage guidelines. As with any supplement or herbal remedy, consult with a healthcare professional before incorporating elderberry into your regimen, especially if you have underlying health conditions or are pregnant or breastfeeding.

In Conclusion:

Black elderberry stands as a shining example of nature's healing bounty, offering a potent blend of immune-boosting nutrients and antioxidants. From supporting immune health to promoting respiratory wellness and beyond, the benefits of black elderberry are as diverse as they are impressive. By harnessing the power of this ancient remedy, we can embark on a journey towards greater vitality and well-being, rooted in the wisdom of traditional medicine and supported by modern scientific evidence.
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I (40) Tested positive yesterday 5 days before missed period and am having a whole bunch of feelings. Little bit of background, not sure if it’s relevant;
I have already have two kids, my eldest is going to be 20 and my youngest is going to be 2 (yes there is a 17 year age gap between, and yes, different dads)
My partner (also 40) and I discussed trying for another last month, and well it seemed to have worked, now we both have cold feet. We didn’t expect it to happen so quickly. It took well over a year and 2 miscarriages before my second was born.
At 3 weeks and 2 days I already have a bunch of symptoms, nausea, peeing a lot, boobs hurt, and sooo tired.
I don’t know how I’m going to keep up with a very busy toddler and be pregnant when I’m almost 41.
What are your experiences? I want my youngest to have a sibling close in age, my oldest was raised an only child and while I feel like it was great having that 1:1 time with him, there are things that make me feel like I let him down? Like he’s definitely a bit selfish, and while independent in that he pays his bills, he still won’t call to schedule his doctors appointments, and silly stuff like that.
I also want my youngest to have some close family he can grow old with, but I also know that is not always in the cards. I don’t know what I’m asking. I’m just freaking out a bit. I

and BPD is the rest of the title. feeling shocked and scared.
I’m a 26 year old female. I just left inpatient yesterday after an involuntary hold due to suicidal ideation, planning to act and severe depression. I was held for 7 days after trying/adjusting and settling on 4 different medications to treat my symptoms of bipolar type 2 and borderline personality disorder. I also told them I smoke a lot of weed and they said I have cannabis use disorder but it’s the only thing that calms my anxiety and makes me want to eat something. inpatient was eye opening and a lil embarrassing at times. it forced me to slow down and really process my behavior. and what I went through I guess.
I couldn’t sleep but not because I wasn’t tired, it was more disturbances from techs doing the rounds and my 69 year old roommate who rolled out of her bed my first night. I attended all the groups and tried not to be a lazy fuck so I could get out of there sooner. All the veteran bipolar patients were saying they don’t think I’m really bipolar, but that I was having a “mental breakdown”. this has been a 2 year long process, including an almost 3 month manic episode where I quit my teaching job, broke up with my long term boyfriend after doing terrible things to him. Also almost got me a DWI and 2 pregnancies. (I do not have kids).
I am set up for outpatient appointments and don’t return to work until Monday. I’m a middle school physical education teacher and am nervous about going back and answering questions about my absence.
I lost my best friend to cancer at 23 years old and truly feel like I lost a part of this life with her. so yeah just trying to figure out my new normal and found it really helpful connecting with other patients when I was there, so how does everyone manage on the daily? any tips for first getting out of inpatient?

short walk is around 20min and then gruadually symptoms raises if i keep walking, not only walking, any type of exertion. when i get tiring, this time i have anxiety too and possible it is caused from brain fogg, that i lossing control on my body and around

I normally have very typical and predictable PEM - starts with a sore throat, flu like symptoms, exhaustion and general malaise and happens when I over exert myself.
I am not able to exercise but can work from home (office type work). In the last 2 weeks, I’ve had really nasty sinus symptoms - terrible pain where my sinuses are, sore ear and again general malaise/tiredness.
Before I got cfs/me, maybe I would have concluded it was a cold and waited a few days for it to pass. Except, as we all know, our health is not normal and whatever this is is hanging around and not going away.
Weirdly, this is potentially the first time I’ve caught a virus since I’ve been formally diagnosed with CFS (I’m on Valtrex as I have HSV2 and it seems to keep most other illnesses away). But how do I know it is a cold or whether this could be a crash? If I have just picked up a virus, is it a case of just waiting a longer time for it to go away? It’s definitely been with me for almost 2 weeks now. My PEM hasn’t been triggered yet unless it has changed its nature!

All of a sudden my neck hurts And I've got some strange sore throat...
Thoughts?

Having an issue adding pictures. I had a 1 night stand 3 weeks ago and left feeling not confident in my partners truth about cleaning. I was tested before and all came back clean. 2 days after I had a sore throat went to the dr. and they said it wasn’t strep. I gave a sore throat to 2 other friends so I figured that wasn’t from an std. however, it’s been 3 weeks since the meeting and my throat is no longer sore but I still have a cough. My tongue now almost looks like small cuts are appearing. Every time I look up a symptom I feel like I have it. Might be in my head but idk anymore.
I performed fellatio, didn’t not swallow, doesn’t seem like that matters though when it comes to diseases. I know I have to get tested just feel like it’s to soon.
I guess my question is can anyone please tell me some symptoms they would worry the most about.

Back story: My 4 year old daughter was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes 3 months ago. We have no family history, but I have been hyper-aware with symptoms in my other children.
Spoke with my sons pediatrician and she wasn't concerned as of right now. Not looking for medical advise- just wondering if I'm overreacting and this is normal for a nondiabetic child. My nondiabetic 6 yr old started to feel sick yesterday (fever, sore throat) we pushed fluids and he still ate, but definitely not his normal amount. Woke up and didn't want breakfast because of an upset stomach, but chugged 2 bottles of water. I'm hyper-aware of T1D symptoms after my daughters diagnosis. I check his pee, large ketones. Trying not to freak out too much as he hasn't eaten since last night and hardly ate yesterday. Here's the thing that freaked me out even more- blood sugar was 49! 49!!! My daughter has never been this low. I tried to have him drink a juice but he started vomitting. I had him sip on pedialyte and eat a popsicle. Blood sugar went to 74. He was not feeling well when his bg was low. Said he felt like he couldn't move and thought his legs are paralyzed. He's now feeling so much better and starting to eat like normal.
I believe he had ketotic hypoglycemia. Can be somewhat common in kids especially when they're sick, from what I researched. My question is: I've come across stories of this being a super early symptom of T1D. Something about the pancreas basically malfunctioning. I guess I'm looking for people to share their stories that had a similar experience. Did you experience hypos months or even years before diagnosis? It makes me wonder as I look back on some of my daughter's symptoms before diagnosis and maybe she had hypoglycemic episodes and I just had no idea.