Nausea, hives, stomach cramps

I was diagnosed with CML at a pretty young age (I was only 25) and I've been on imatinib for just over 13 years now. I've always handled it well and only get some mild nausea after taking it about 1 out of every 10 times. Whenever that happens, it always passes within 15 minutes or less and I don't actually vomit. Until...
I was put on Ozempic for my type 2 diabetes about 6 weeks ago. The Ozempic has given me some indigestion/mild nausea issues that are totally deal-withable on their own. But now I've found that those 1 out of every 10 times my imatinib makes me nauseous sometimes result in me actually vomiting (it's happened 3 times in the past 6 weeks). My PCP gave me a prescription for zofran (unfortunately the pill- not the oral dissolving tablet). It absolutely works, but gives me some pretty painful constipation, which in theory, I do prefer to the act of vomiting. The problem is that I have no way of knowing if it's going to be a "i'm nauseous enough to puke" day until it's too late. If I'm going to actually vomit from the imatinib, it's literally just a couple minutes from "my stomach feels upset" to physically puking. So the only way I can use the zofran is to just guess and take it prior to feeling any nausea. So I've found myself painfully constipated a lot, without even knowing if I needed to take the zofran in the first place. I've been taking Miralax- it helps a bit, but not enough.
So, does anyone have any suggestions here? For either a strategy or a different anti-nausea med to ask for? I did reach out to my leukemia specialist to see if she had any recommendations, but it might be a couple days before I hear back from her.
TL;DR- the combo of being on Ozempic and imatinib results in me vomiting after I take my Imatinib sometimes. I have a zofran prescription, which works, but also gives me painful constipation and it's hard to guess when I actually will need to take a pill. What other options do I have?

I used to have periods to where I could take a Tylenol and go on with my day like normal but ever since my lupus diagnosis in 2021 it’s just been getting worse and worse every month. I know lupus causes hormonal changes during that time but I didn’t think it would make it this bad. I’ve gone through so many things because of lupus like nephritis, pleural effusion, heart problems and the typical joint pain, etc, without strong pain medications but this is just insane. The only pain medicine that has actually helped me during my menstrual cycle has been morphine during a hospital stay, and well that’s not really an easy thing to get prescribed for just a period and it’s not a good thing to continuously take.
The on and off fevers for two days, the nausea, stomach cramps, my legs have so much pain, I turn blue, my whole body shakes randomly uncontrollably like shivers when you’re cold, but I’m not cold. I’ve never felt so horrible in my life. I’ve brought it up to my rheumatologist and my primary care doctor and everytime it’s just blown over like nothing. I’ve also been given a few prescriptions for menstrual pain and they never helped so I’m at a loss, I’ve tried heating pads, warm baths, those soothing oils, etc and still nothing. Everytime it happens I feel like I need to go to the hospital but wait times are 9+ hours so I stay home to deal with it, I have no idea if this is just lupus causing this or something else on top of it but it’s driving me crazy to the point where (this is gonna sound super crazy) ever since I turned 18 I have asked multiple times to have a hysterectomy because I feel like at this point it’s my only option to get rid of the pain and it triggering my lupus, but of course I know they say “wait until you’re older” “it’s not that serious” when to me it is that serious and I’m unsure of what else I could do for it. I always just thought lupus caused a slight elevation in the amount of pain from a period but I definitely thought wrong about that.
Does anyone have anything that’s helped them during this time? I’m willing to try anything at this point.

My Cat (3M, neutered) was released from the hospital after catheterization bc he had crystals in his pee 5 days ago. We brought him in 8 hours after sx showed.
He peed little and very often during the first 2 days post-vet and the amount slowly increased by the day.
His first 2 days, he had been having an attack similar to a seizure with a tender stomach, involuntary kicking and his pee spraying uncontrollably everywhere for each cramping session, after he ate meals. This went away though since he pooped out a big, dry lump. Vet informed that he was also constipated in hospital & had to be given laxative. [see attachment]
When he pees (from 3rd day onwards), he still seems to cramp & stumble forward a bit when peeing, but not violently anymore.
He started his prescription kibbles (Royal Canin S/O) yesterday, & before that it was recovery food mixed w water. Today he started to eat the same amount of kibbles as his old normal, but I’m nervous he might’ve eaten too much and too dry?? Yesterday, he barely ate 2 tsp. of it, and I had to give him mostly recovery food with water.
He peed very nicely today (day 5). The amount every time was good, there was no whining or minor cramping vs. previous days.
At 3pm today, he peed a good ol amount (his most so far at 20mL or more)
I gave his scheduled diuretic (Nefrotec) after this & then the problem started.
After 30 minutes or so, he tried to pee again but nothing came out. I thought it might be the diuretic trying to make him pee but he just emptied his bladder out so nothing’s coming out.
He was drinking water throughout the day but, his peeing session somehow had increased struggle AKA he looks like his bladder was squeezing / cramping too strongly, the whining came back, and him stumbling forward was stronger this time. I expected a lot of pee again but no pee came out.
His 2nd attempt came 3 hrs. after diuretic. And then now, @ 9 hours after where he’s been struggling more than 3 times within the hour already.
Asking for advise as our only vet here in my area doesnt have emergency services at night, and it’s 8 hours away from opening. AGAIN.😢
.
QUESTIONS: for experienced recovered blocked cat parents, & vets
• Is it possible that it’s just (1) Overactive Bladder, (2) Constipation Cramps, or (3) Blocked again bc some sediment got in the way again?
• I have a laxative given by the vet 2 days ago, still in a syringe, taped and stored in a cool place. Should I give?
• I also have a vial of erceflora I asked from the vet to help with stomach aches (& possible cramping) since he has 2 Antibiotics rn (Doxy, Co-amoxiclav)
.
TYIA for any answers, currently trying my best not to panic and cry while waiting for our vet to open & possibility of having to give him up if ever worse comes to worst 😢

My mother has underwent 4 treatments of FolFiriNox and thankfully she’s handled it tremendously well. not only has she handled it well but the pain in her stomach and nausea has gone away almost entirely. Diarrhea seems to be her only pressing symptom.
The oncologist believes we should take a 2 week break due to risk of infection because her bloodwork was a little low in terms of white blood cell count. He said she isn’t below the threshold but just to be safe he wants to take a break.
We all agreed with him and I think it’s better to be safe than sorry. But I’ve got to ask what do the people here think? Is it common to pause a treatment or two? Would like to hear yalls story.

So last week I woke up in the middle of the night with cramps and diarrhea. I was super nauseous as well but didn’t throw up but was as close as I’ve been in a long time. Then over the weekend my husband gets a bug. He is back to work Monday and seems better. This morning I’m back to cramps, diarrhea and nausea. How is this fair or reasonable? I thought I’d lived through my once every many years bug.

This is the first time I have written some chapters. I'm not a native English speaker but I did my best. If someone can give me some pointers or help I would immensely appreciate it! It's a bit of sci-fi, if you are into it let me know. If not, that's cool too.
Thx in advance!
Chapter 1: The farm
Hagr stood at the edge of the farm, his gaze fixed on the vast expanse of Zandarius stretching out before him. The sky above was a canvas of swirling purples and blues, streaked with the faint glow of distant stars. A cool breeze whispered through the air, carrying with it the enticing scent of Heyla flowers.
With a sigh, Hagr set down his mechanic wheelbarrow, the last of his chores for the day completed. He began to make his way back towards the farm, his footsteps crunching softly against the rocky terrain. As he passed through the pink and green garden, the aroma of his mother's porridge drifted towards him, tempting his hunger.
Despite eating the same meal every day, Hagr's stomach grumbled with anticipation. The suuka porridge was all he needed right now, its warm, comforting embrace promising to chase away the chill of the evening.
Arriving at the farm, Hagr took in the familiar sight of their plascrete igloo. Half of the structure was comprised of little octagon windows, through which the warm glow of a fire emanated from the chimney. It was home, humble yet comforting in its simplicity.
Entering the igloo, Hagr found his mother, Altha, bustling about the kitchen, preparing dinner. "Hagr, dear, could you set the table?" she called out, her voice gentle yet firm. Hagr nodded, a small smile playing at his lips as he arranged the mismatched dishes in their usual places. Each plate was different, yet they always ended up in the same spot, a testament to the routines of their daily life.
Once the table was set, Hagr ignited the moonlamp, casting a soft yellow glow across the igloo walls. Altha emerged from the kitchen, carrying a steaming pot of suuka porridge. "Careful, Hagr," she warned, as she placed the pot on the table. "It's hot." Hagr nodded as he heard this many times before, his mouth watering at the sight and smell of the hearty meal before him. They ate in silence, the only sound the clinking of spoons against bowls as they savored each mouthful.
After a moment, Hagr broke the silence, his voice tinged with curiosity. "Do you ever wonder what's beyond Zandarius, Mumu?" he asked. Altha hesitated, her expression guarded. "I don't know, Hagr," she replied softly. "But we have everything we need right here on the farm." Though disappointed by her response, Hagr nodded in understanding. Perhaps someday they would have the chance to explore together. Altha caught his eye and winked, a small glimmer of hope in her gaze.
As they finished their meal, Hagr and Altha moved to the small kitchen area to wash the dishes. The kitchen was cluttered yet cozy, with shelves overflowing with pots, pans, and utensils. Beyond the kitchen, the interior of the igloo was a snug retreat from the harshness of the outside world. A small cupboard, crafted from Zandarius rare Bennam wood, stood in one corner, its doors closed tight to conceal its overflowing contents. Nearby, a plush couch with pillows offered a comfortable spot to relax after a long day's work. Opposite the couch, a large hammock hung from the ceiling. Above it, a smaller hammock swayed gently in the breeze, providing a cozy nest for Hagr during the night. Every inch of space was utilized to its fullest, creating a sense of warmth and intimacy within the cramped confines of the igloo.
As the hour grew late, Altha reminded Hagr of their upcoming journey to Kihar. With a yawn, Hagr climbed into his hammock, gazing up at the stars through the little octagon windows above. "Goodnight, Hagr," Altha whispered, her voice soft in the quiet of the night. "Goodnight, Mumu," Hagr replied, his eyes closing as sleep overtook him. And with that, he drifted off, thoughts of tomorrow's journey fading into the comforting embrace of dreams.
Chapter 2: The trip
Hagr awoke to the gentle light filtering through the little octagon windows of their igloo. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he glanced around and noticed that his mother's hammock was empty. Mu-mu?" he called out, but there was no response.
Curiosity piqued, Hagr peered outside and spotted his mother tending to the kikkamoos, their pig-like creatures with reptilian legs and Fluffy tails. With a swift motion, he leaped out of bed, his movements practiced from years of experience. After quickly dressing himself, he hurried outside, calling out to his mother. "Altha!" he yelled, using her full name in his urgency. His mother turned towards him with a warm smile. "Haggie!" she called back, using his pet name.
Hagr wasted no time and dashed off to fetch Tsjoopa, their trusty mechanical unicycle cart already loaded with goods for trade. As he returned with the cart, he found his mother waiting back at the farm. "Ready to go, Hagr?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. "Absolutely!" Hagr exclaimed, brimming with energy. And so, they set off on their journey to Kihar, the nearest town for trading.
The road ahead seemed endless, traversing through vast and barren plains broken only by occasional patches of vegetation. Sparse woods flanked the roadside, offering concealment but little wildlife, a testament to Zandarius' unforgiving environment.
After a few hours of travel, they finally reached a landmark known as the Sharp Knives, a crossroad marked by sharp rocks jutting out of the ground. "We’re here, the Sharp Knives," Altha remarked, her gaze sweeping over the rugged terrain. "We're halfway there, Hagr." Hagr nodded, his eyes scanning the horizon. "Already? Time flies when you're in good company." A mischievous glint sparkled in Altha's eyes as she reached into the cart. "Speaking of good company, I brought something special for our halfway mark." Hagr's interest was piqued. "What is it?" With a dramatic flourish, Altha revealed a small container of sosuuka, a sweeter version of yesterday's porridge. "Sosuuka!" Hagr exclaimed, trying to sound enthusiastic despite his familiarity with the dish. Altha chuckled at his feigned excitement. "I thought it might be a nice treat for our journey." Hagr grinned, playing along. "Absolutely! Thanks, best mumu on Zandarius." Lost in thought, Altha gazed into the distance, her attention drawn to the gathering ominous clouds on the horizon, a harbinger of stormy weather to come. "We might have some rough weather ahead," Altha remarked, her voice tinged with concern. Hagr glanced up at the darkening sky. "Should we stop and wait it out?" Altha shook her head. "We need to keep moving. We can't afford to delay our journey." Guess we'll have to save the view for another time," Hagr sighed, reluctantly agreeing with Altha's decision, while she nodded in understanding. "But, after all," Hagr declared, puffing out his chest with a hint of pride, "at ten years old, I'm practically a grown man! I can handle anything, even eating sosuuka on the way without spilling a drop." Altha burst into laughter at his boast. "Sosuuka without spilling? I'd sooner believe kikkamoos could fly!" Hagr joined in her laughter, the sound echoing across the desolate landscape as they continued on their journey to Kihar.
Chapter 3: Arrival in Kihar
As Hagr and Altha approached Kihar, the plascrete town sprawled out before them, its streets winding like intricate mazes through the heart of the city. In stark contrast to the barren landscape of Zandarius, Kihar was a vibrant tapestry of life, with lush vegetation adorning every corner. Hagr’s eyes roamed over the cityscape, taking in the sight of the bustling alleys and the constant mist of smoke that hung in the air. Despite having visited many times before, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe at the bustling energy of the tradetown.
As they ventured deeper into the heart of the city, the tantalizing aroma of food mingled with the sounds of chatter and laughter, tempting Hagr's senses and reminding him of the porridge-filled days back on their farm. Finally, they reached the local market, a bustling hub of activity where traders hawked their wares amidst the thick scent of spices and exotic foods. "First stop, Old Taramor's," Altha announced, her voice carrying above the din of the market. Hagr's thoughts drifted to Taramor, the old, grumpy trader who had been a fixture in Kihar for as long as he could remember. Despite his rough exterior, Taramor was one of the few honest traders left in the city, and Hagr had always respected him for it. "Sounds good to me," Hagr replied, his tone positive.
As they approached Old Taramor’s, Altha hopped off the Tsjoopa and turned to Hagr. "Hagr, could you fetch a crate of Heyla bottles from the back of the cart?" she asked. Hagr nodded silently, already moving to comply.
Entering the shop, they found Taramor snoozing behind his counter, the cluttered shelves and dusty displays a testament to his lack of care for his surroundings. Altha hesitated, reluctant to disturb the old trader, but time was of the essence. "Taramor," she whispered, her voice barely audible. No response. Again a bit louder this time “Taramor”. Still no response. Growing impatient, Hagr couldn't help but raise his voice. "Taramor!" Startled awake, Taramor shot upright, his eyes wide with surprise. "What the hell's going on?" he grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Oh, it's just you two," he muttered, recognizing Altha and Hagr. Altha gestured to Hagr to take a look around while she spoke with Taramor. Hagr nodded and wandered through the cluttered shelves, his curiosity piqued by the assortment of strange and exotic items on display. In the background, a television played the news, the volume turned low but still audible. A news reporter's voice cut through the air, reporting on the recent assassination of a high-ranking official. The military had already neutralized one suspect, but two others were still at large. The camera footage showed two figures cloaked in dark red and black, their faces obscured. Zooming in on one of the suspects, the reporter noted a tattoo of a three-headed monster on their neck, linking them to the notorious syndicate known as the Three-Headed Beast. "People are urged to remain vigilant," the reporter concluded, "and to report any sightings of the suspects to the authorities." "Hagr," Altha called out, pulling him from his thoughts. Quickly, he set down a strange-looking coffee maker he had been inspecting and hurried over to join them.
Outside, Hagr turned to his mother, concern etched on his face. "How did the trade go?" Altha hesitated before answering, her tone guarded. "It wasn't as successful as we had hoped, but we'll manage." Trying to sound confident, Hagr responded, "No need to worry, Mumu. We'll make it work."
As they made their way back through the bustling market, Hagr glanced at his mother. " Can we get some Uja skewers now?" Altha smiled warmly. "Absolutely, Hagr. Let’s grab some delicious Uja," she said, turning on their trusty, albeit rusty, Tsjoopa.
Chapter 4: Best place is home
As Altha and Hagr made their way home in the fading light, a bird soared above them, its silhouette dark against the dusky sky. They were nearing their farmstead, the exhausting trip almost at an end. Hagr turned to Altha, his curiosity piqued. “What is coffee?” he asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar word. Altha pondered for a moment before responding, “I’ve heard of it. It’s some sort of black drink. Similar to Puggatree juice, they say, it gives you energy.” Hagr wrinkled his nose in distaste. He had never been fond of Puggatree juice, finding its thick texture and slimy consistency unappealing. With a shake of his head, he decided he didn’t want to try coffee after all.
As they chatted, unaware of the figure watching them from afar, the landscape growing darker with each passing moment, they finally arrived at the farm.
Altha unloaded the traded goods from the Tsjoopa, and with a nod to Hagr, she motioned for him to stow it away in the barn. Hagr complied, placing the Tsjoopa in the barn, where sturdy plascrete walls and reinforced wooden beams protected it from the harsh winds. With the task done, he made his way back to the igloo. As he approached, he noticed that the interior was unusually dark, the comforting glow of the moonlamp absent. With a sense of unease gnawing at him, he entered cautiously.
To his horror, he found himself face to face with a cloaked figure in dark black and red, his alien eyes glowing with an otherworldly light. Before he could react, he spotted his mother on the floor, tears streaming down her face, with another figure standing over her, a scarred human face, and a sinister three-headed beast tattoo on his neck. “Mumu!” Hagr screamed in terror. The figure with glowing eyes uttered incomprehensible words, while the scarred man cursed, "We can't leave any witnesses, Deskva.” Altha whispered urgently, "Hagr, stay calm. Everything will be fine." Hagr looked at his mother in disbelief, his heart pounding in his chest. "What's going to happen?" his voice trembled with fear. The scarred human scoffed, "We can sell the boy on the black market, but the woman? She's too old to bother selling. Not worth the hassle, Des." With brute force, Deskva grabbed Hagr, who fought against his captor with all his might. "Please, let me go!" Hagr pleaded, his voice desperate as he struggled against Deskva's grip. As Hagr cast a desperate glance at his mother, tears welling in his eyes, the scarred man turned his attention to Altha, deeming her of no value. Without hesitation, he drew his pistol, aimed, and fired, the shot piercing through Altha’s skull with a sickening thud echoing through the silent igloo. Hagr’s world shattered as he watched his mother fall, tears blurring his vision, bile rising in his throat. Before he could comprehend what was happening, a brutal blow to his head sent him spiraling into darkness.

My Cat (3M, neutered) was released from the hospital after catheterization bc he had crystals in his pee 5 days ago. We brought him in 8 hours after sx showed.
He peed little and very often during the first 2 days post-vet and the amount slowly increased by the day.
His first 2 days, he had been having an attack similar to a seizure with a tender stomach, involuntary kicking and his pee spraying uncontrollably everywhere for each cramping session, after he ate meals. This went away though since he pooped out a big, dry lump. Vet informed that he was also constipated in hospital & had to be given laxative.
When he pees (from 3rd day onwards), he still seems to cramp & stumble forward a bit when peeing, but not violently anymore.
He started his prescription kibbles (Royal Canin S/O) yesterday, & before that it was recovery food mixed w water. Today he started to eat the same amount of kibbles as his old normal, but I’m nervous he might’ve eaten too much and too dry?? Yesterday, he barely ate 2 tsp. of it, and I had to give him mostly recovery food with water.
He peed very nicely today (day 5). The amount every time was good, there was no whining or minor cramping vs. previous days.
At 3pm today, he peed a good ol amount (his most so far at 20mL or more)
I gave his scheduled diuretic (Nefrotec) after this & then the problem started.
After 30 minutes or so, he tried to pee again but nothing came out. I thought it might be the diuretic trying to make him pee but he just emptied his bladder out so nothing’s coming out.
He was drinking water throughout the day but, his peeing session somehow had increased struggle AKA he looks like his bladder was squeezing / cramping too strongly, the whining came back, and him stumbling forward was stronger this time. I expected a lot of pee again but no pee came out.
His 2nd attempt came 3 hrs. after diuretic. And then now, @ 9 hours after where he’s been struggling more than 3 times within the hour already.
Asking for advise as our only vet here in my area doesnt have emergency services at night, and it’s 8 hours away from opening. AGAIN.😢
.
QUESTIONS:
• Is it possible that it’s just (1) Overactive Bladder, (2) Constipation Cramps, or (3) Blocked again bc some sediment got in the way again?
• I have a laxative given by the vet 2 days ago, still in a syringe, taped and stored in a cool place. Should I give?
• I also have a vial of erceflora I asked from the vet to help with stomach aches (& possible cramping) since he has 2 Antibiotics rn (Doxy, Co-amoxiclav)
.
TYIA for any answers, as I’m currently trying my best not to panic and cry while waiting for our vet to open. 😢

Just a little backstory, this EX was her first everything but he was also supremely emotionally abusive. He would spread rumors about her, and essentially ruined her social life in high school. They only spent 8-10 months together total before he turned on her. It has always been a source of trauma for her.
Recently, he came messaging her on FB. He kept trying to apologize and kept messaging her every few months. Finally she answered back and they started talking. I told her I supported facing him to get any closure and help heal any wounds she's carrying. I never once had an issue with her talking to this Ex or any Ex. I've never been the jealous type, I trust her completely even though I don't trust this dude for one second with his strange intentions of reaching out to her 20 years later.
Anyway, fast forward 2 weeks, I notice her texting non-stop for hours one evening. I knew immediately is wasn't just a friend, I knew it was him. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to be "that guy". But my stomach was in a knot seeing her so engaged with her Ex.
A few days later she said she wanted to let me know that they spoke on the phone and are now texting, and that he's really changed. That she unpacked this all with her therapist and they both think it would be good to forgive and move on and have this connection. They are now meeting for dinner and a movie to meet in person for the first time in 20+ years to unpack everything. She subtlety mentioned he warned him she doesn't look the same as she did in high school, and that he re-assured her she will always be beautiful and that of all the people he dated she treated him the best. I asked if that was her goal, to get this male attention from someone else from her past. And she admitted that it felt good to hear it from someone else besides me. All things I understand. I totally do. Being together with the same person for that long I'm sure brings on its monotony. But I've always strived to make her feel wanted, desired, appreciated, loved, cared for. And now I question what I'm not providing her.
I asked her if I was lacking anything that she is seeking in someone else, and she said no that we are fine and that this is something different. And to her credit she has not acted different with me at all, we are still close, there's no awkwardness or distance other than me getting stress cramps and trying to hide how all this affects me. At the end of the day it still feels like it's an "emotional affair". But I'm scared of even bringing that up because I don't want to come across as some immature "jealous" husband. He is now on her FB, "hearting/loving" every post of hers, yes even the ones with me in them. She then asked me why I was checking who likes her posts. I told her I didnt, that when I go to like a post of hers I just see right there he's already there with a "heart" on it.
I know it sounds childlike and immature, and I've seen similar posts here with this same situation. But the fact that my wife is enjoying the attention but assures me that she has zero feelings for him and that they just talk about movies and music still doesn't make me feel any better. I can't sleep most nights now, this knot in my stomach won't go away. Last night I smoked 4 joints and downed 2 glasses of scotch to try and knock myself out but it was like my body was immune to the effects, I spent the whole night wondering why she's doing this even though she's explained it from her POV several times now. I trust her 100%, but my the stress and anxiety just won't go away and now I need to hide it because I fear of making her think I'm some controlling person that wants to dictate who she can or cannot speak to. I don't want that, that's not who I am. I honestly told her I'd be fine if this was some random guy friend, or even a stranger from Reddit or something. But the fact that this guy not only has been with her, but also treated her poorly, just makes it all weird to me.
I don't know what I can possibly do without making her resent me. I don't want a world where she cuts off this guy fully and then resents me for making her feel like she needs to do that. But from the very beginning this whole thing was supposed to be about getting closure, and the surprise of it turning into texting and now meeting up took me by surprise. She's been very open about it, she isn't hiding anything. But part of me feels like he's making moves on her, hitting on her, or just being flirty with her. I haven't seen any of the texts, and I would never look unless my wife willingly showed me (I havent asked to see them because I really do trust her, I dont want to go down that road).
Anyway, it's been throwing me for a loop, and I miss being able to sleep without a painful knot in my chest and stomach. As someone who's been passed over many times before meeting my wife, those experiences naturally pop up in my head. But I know she'd never do anything since this dude is a mess. He may have a GF but he's unemployed, went to jail and has a criminal record, and never got an education. I just don't know what to make of this, is this an emotional affair? Am I being a weak selfish person wanting this dude to just go back to living in the shadows? I just feel all out of sorts over it and don't know how I can even approach this without being the bad guy.

To put a long-story short, I've had stomach problems for almost 6 years. Recently, I finally got an ultrasound (which was unremarkable) and a HIDA scan (EF was 8). My GI doctor is against removal since he does not think it is causing my main issues.
My main complaints are:

• Excessive burping
• Frequent Nausea
• Upper-abdominal tightness, slightly left of center
• Bloating
• Occasional back pain (caused by the gallbladder?)
• mild constipation

I just wanted to see if anyone else had similar issues that were resolved after removing their gallbladder. My diet is good, I eat mostly meat, eggs, yogurt, rice, potatoes, and green beans. By doing an elimination diet, I was able to identify that I was unable to eat most vegetables without experiencing extreme bloating.
I eat a diet high in fat, and I don't feel any different on a low-fat diet, so I am not sure how much my gallbladder is really affecting me.

My cat was released from the hospital after catheterization bc he had crystals in his pee 5 days ago. He peed little and very often during the first 2 days and the amount slowly increased by the day.
His first 2 days, he had been having an attack similar to a seizure with a tender stomach and his pee spraying everywhere for each cramping session, after he ate meals. This went away though as he was simply constipated. Though when he pees during those 3 days, he still seems to cramp & stumble forward a bit when peeing.
He started his prescription kibbles (Royal Canin S/O) yesterday, & before that it was recovery food mixed w water. Today he started to eat the same amount of kibbles as his old normal, but I’m nervous he might’ve eaten too much and too dry?? Yesterday, he barely ate 2 tsp. of it, and I had to give him mostly recovery food with water.
He peed very nicely today. The amount every time was good, there was no whining, minor cramping vs. previous days.
At 3pm today, he peed a good ol amount (his most so far at 20mL or more)
I gave his scheduled diuretic (Nefrotec) after this & then the problem started.
After 30 minutes or so, he tried to pee again but nothing came out. I thought it might be the diuretic trying to make him pee but he just emptied his bladder out so nothing’s coming out.
He was drinking water throughout the day but, his peeing session somehow had increase struggle AKA he looks like his bladder was squeezing / cramping too strongly, the whining came back, and him stumbling forward was stronger this time. I expected a lot of pee again but no pee came out.
His 2nd attempt came 3 hrs. after diuretic. And then now, @ 9 hours after where he’s been struggling more than 3 times within the hour already.
Asking for advise as our only vet here in my area doesnt have emergency services at night, and it’s 8 hours away from opening. 😢
.
For experienced recovered blocked cat parents & vets:
Is it possible that it’s just (1) Overactive Bladder, (2) Constipation Cramps, or (3) Blocked again bc some sediment got in the way again?
.
TYIA for any answers, as I’m currently trying my best not to panic and cry while waiting for the vet to open. 😢

So far so good. No real change in energy or mood. I wake up with a slight headache every day but it goes away. One surprising but good thing. I have had stomach issues for like a decade. Just a slightly upset stomach all the time. I’m not kidding I feel slightly queasy literally all the time. Since it’s very mild doctors have tried things then shrugged and I just lived with it. Yesterday it went away. It’s still gone today. I really hope it’s not a fluke and stays gone. Frankly if nothing else changes I’d be ecstatic. You don’t realize how much something like that wears on you until it’s gone. I keep searching for the queasy feeling and it’s just not there. Food tastes better too now because I’m not eating through slight nausea

I’m aware that this is unconventional. Believe me, I’ve tried conventional – it didn’t end well for anyone. I require a certain open mindedness that I’m hoping I might find here, but more importantly, I need my future husband to know the rules. Meet-cutes are well and good on the screen, but they don’t guarantee a partner’s ability to follow basic instructions. That was my mistake the first time.
So, begging your pardon for my bluntness, I’m going to be clear about my requirements. Please read carefully – if you can’t meet them, there’s no point in going any further.

• Must want children. At least one child, anyway. I’m open to the idea of more, but one is an absolute must.
• Must be in it for the long haul. Until our child turns eighteen, to be precise. I understand that level of commitment is a daunting prospect, particularly when we have not yet met. After our child is born, you are welcome to ignore me, if you please, or take your pleasure elsewhere – though I will warn you that it might be difficult to come by. But you will live under my roof until our child is an adult.
• Homebody preferred. It will make the next two decades easier on you.
• Must have impeccable manners. I will provide a manual outlining the required etiquette, but you must at least have a grasp of basic courtesy to begin with. If you let your tongue run away with you, or don’t bother to wish your neighbours a good morning when you pass them in the street, stop reading – this is not the opportunity for you. Seriously.

This is the part where I should talk about myself, but let’s face it, this is hardly a romantic proposal. I require commitment up-front and there’s no guarantee that, once we do meet, we’ll really even like each other. If we do? Fantastic! It’ll help the years fly by. If we don’t, you’ll still have the main prize – years of rent-free, expenses-free living at The Old Oak Hotel.
A sanctuary has stood in this spot in one form or another since before the ley lines. During its tenure, it has been flooded, put to the flame, and pounded into dust. Time and again, it has been reimagined and rebuilt. Most of the current building dates back to Victoria’s reign, though the oldest parts were constructed in the 13^th century. At the very bottom of the garden, cut into the surrounding hills, there is a cave bearing handprints of red ochre.
There has always been an Edwards at the hotel, though of course we haven’t always gone by that name. You would think a family so tied to one place would do a better job of keeping records, but no one is certain of our origins. Perhaps it was a cosmic bargain, or perhaps mere luck – whether good or bad, I have never been able to decide. Either way, our presence is required. Throughout our spotty past, there’s a story here and there of an Edwards deserting their post, and it always coincides with a particularly brutal period of history.
I inherited the position five years ago. At midnight on my eighteenth birthday, my parents took their already-packed suitcases and left. I don’t blame them for their abandonment; I intend to one day do the same thing to my – or, hopefully, our – child.
They send me postcards and photos from time-to-time, always smiling on sunny beaches. Money isn’t a concern for them. That’s part of whatever mysterious deal our ancestors made – when a caretaker leaves in good-standing, they will never want for anything again. They could travel the world for the rest of their lives, always sleeping in the softest sheets and dining in the finest restaurants, and never find their pockets empty.
Keep this point in mind, for if you can meet my requirements, you will share my good fortune.
And what must we do in return? I can all but hear you scream the question. Why, very little. The presence of an Edwards ensures that the guests can’t stray from the hotel grounds. Most of our guests are live-in residents, though we do get the occasional walk-in. Where they come from, I don’t know, for we are not visible to most people who stumble upon our lonely corner of the world. I’ve come to believe the hotel chooses to reveal itself when its lacking entertainment, or to fill a need.
Jimmy, my first husband, was one such guest.
For the most part, the guests are harmless. They’ll give you a little fright from time-to-time, popping out from a wall or turning your bathwater into blood, but I find it hard to hold it against them. I’ve found twenty-three years here dreary; I can’t imagine how bored I would be after five hundred.
There are a few exceptions you should be aware of:

• Eric. Our resident serial murderer. He claims to have been Jack the Ripper while he still drew breath, but I think he’s just a blowhard. He knows better than to harm an Edwards, but I’m afraid spouses are fair game. Years ago, my grandmother managed to confine him to the fourth floor, so you will be perfectly safe from him as long as you never set foot there. Occasionally, the lift will stop on that floor even though you haven’t pressed the button for it. Do not get out. Even if the lift appears to be on fire or starts filling with murky water. Wait for the doors to close again, then go to another floor. It should only take a few hours.
• The Thing in the Cellar. I don’t know what It is; no one ever has. We only know It eats rats and must be fed once a day. If I’m ever ill or incapacitated, this task will fall to you. Harvest the rats from the traps in the garden, then stand at the cellar door and throw them down the stairs. Do not walk down the stairs and do not forget to feed It. You don’t want to be the first person to see Its’ face.
• Mrs Jones. Old fashioned and a stickler for manners, she’s the reason I’m advertising for a husband rather than a boyfriend. She won’t abide a couple living in sin under the same roof as her. Really, though, she’s a sweet old thing. Full of stories about the war and always ready to help if I get stuck on a recipe. I don’t blame her for what happened with Jimmy at all. I’d warned him enough times.

Guests aside, there are other rules you will need to follow to ensure a safe, satisfactory stay at The Old Oak Hotel. They are listed in a book that has been re-penned many times over the centuries. If you choose to accept this opportunity, I will insist that you read it until you can recite the pages word-for-word.
However, there are some rules so critical for your survival that I feel compelled to list them here:

• With the exception of the fourth floor, you are welcome to roam the hotel and its grounds as you please. But you must never set foot outside of our land – not until our child is old enough to fulfil their duties. If I were to do so, it would unleash pandemonium – plague, peril, perhaps another world war. I’m afraid you would be less crucial to the fate of the world, but it would certainly be a personal disaster.
• Never look in the mirrors in room 33.
• I’ve touched this point already, but it bears repeating: never be rude to Mrs Jones.

Failure to observe that last rule is what got Jimmy.
She doted on him. I think he reminded her of her long-dead son, for she pampered him as if he were one of her own. Each morning, she had breakfast ready for him before I had so much as opened my eyes, and she developed a habit of trailing along after him, complimenting his skill as he oiled rusted hinges or set a crooked picture straight.
At first, Jimmy basked in the attention. But by the end of his second month, he was growing bored of Mrs Jones, me, and the hotel itself. We pride ourselves on our facilities. If you need more activity than a turn around the garden, we have a lovely indoor pool – it freezes over every now and then, but most of the time it’s perfectly usable. Our library is unmatched. Although the room is cramped, it has every book imaginable; you only need to think of a particular title, and it will appear on one of the shelves. And now that I’ve dragged us kicking and screaming into the 21^st century, we have a wide array of streaming services.
It wasn’t enough for Jimmy. He wanted to go out – eat in a restaurant, watch a film in the cinema, see any faces other than the ones he was surrounded by every day. He began having a drink each evening. One drink turned into several, and after a few weeks, the bar became his permanent residence between dusk and midnight.
He wasn’t the only one getting bored. I had been thrilled when he first arrived; ecstatic when he agreed to stay. How marvellous to feel real flesh beneath my fingers after five years of only the dead for company. What a relief to have some assistance in the many tasks required to keep the hotel running as it should.
The more he drank, the less inclined he was to help – or even spend time in my company. He no longer visited my bed, choosing a room for himself on the opposite end of the floor. When our paths did cross, at best he would ignore me. At worst, he would nitpick or outright rail against me, blaming me for his captivity.
Still, I made an effort to be present whenever he frequented the bar. As lovely as Mrs Jones can be, she does have a tendency to nag. Before and after her death, she was close to teetotal, only consenting to take a single sherry at Christmas, and drinking outside of special occasions is something of a bugbear of hers.
“Think of your health, dear,” she would tell Jimmy brusquely. “You’ll miss it when it’s gone.”
Or, “How about we switch to a nice apple juice now? You’ve had quite enough to drink for one night.”
Most of the time, Jimmy managed to pull himself together enough to flash a charming smile and distract her with a compliment about her latest meal. But after one drink too many, I’d noticed him gritting his teeth and just barely managing to hold his tongue.
It was better if I was present. Playing the doting wife, I insisted on pouring his drinks, watering them down out of his sight. When Mrs Jones’s nagging bordered on relentless, I could always distract her with a game of gin rummy.
On his final day, I was running behind. The ghoul on the second floor – usually the least demanding of our guests – had come down with some dreadful illness, or else decided he wanted to inconvenience me. Either way, I had woken that morning to the foulest stench I had ever experienced. I followed it to his room and found every surface covered in putrid green-blank gunge, its consistency somewhere between mucus and vomit.
All day I scrubbed, taking only brief breaks to step outside before I fainted. By the time the room was restored to a passable state, and I had filled several bin bags to bursting with filthy rags, it was already deep into the night. Mindful of the time, I paused only long enough to wash the streaks of muck from my arms and face before racing to the bar.
I arrived just in time to hear Jimmy’s last words. After he spat them at Mrs Jones, she only stared for a small eternity, her mouth frozen in the motherly smile she wore whenever she scolded him.
Then, like melted wax, her face began to shift.
I shouted at Jimmy to run, but he didn’t need to be told. Before the words left my mouth, he leapt from his barstool and streaked through the door. Mrs Jones followed him seconds later. Her lips were already peeling back to reveal rows upon rows of long, wickedly sharp fangs, while claws sprouted from beneath her lace-edged cuffs.
I sprinted after them, but Jimmy was fuelled by fear and Mrs Jones by whatever force propels the Mrs Joneses of the world. I followed the screeching to the lobby. Breathless, I arrived to see he had arrived within mere feet of the entrance before Mrs Jones grabbed him.
Claws wrapped around his throat, she lifted him into the air. As I watched, her jaw unhinged, the lower part dropping so that it was nearly level with her chest.
That sight drove all the sense out of my head. Forgetting every rule my parents had ever drilled into me, I lunged at her.
She batted me away as though I weighed no more than a fly.
I crashed into the reception desk, the breath bursting from my lungs in a great woosh. I was certain that I would die, for no amount of effort seemed to force air back into my aching chest. At last, as my vision began to dim, I managed to take a small gulp – then another, and another, until I was able to draw myself together enough to regain my feet.
By that time, Mrs Jones had nearly finished her dinner. Jimmy’s chest was splayed open, muscle and shattered ribs protruding every which way from his flesh, and she was devouring the last few bites of his heart.
His head was angled towards me. The light had winked out from his eyes, but they still held his final terror – and an accusation which, I was quite certain, was directed at me. I would like to say I felt only horror, but I couldn’t help my sudden jolt of irritation. How may times had I told him to mind his manners?
Mrs Jones gulped, the sound thick and wet in her gullet, and dropped what remained of Jimmy to the floor.
Then she turned to me.
Here’s another rule for you, one which I hope you never have cause to use: never interfere with a kill.
The Mrs Jones who used to kiss my grazed knees, who argued with my mother for the right to read me bedtime stories, was no longer at the wheel. No amount of pleading or reasoning would move her.
I could only run.
Spinning around, I vaulted over the reception desk and raced for the office behind it. If Jimmy had not been out of his mind with fear and booze, he might have remembered the rules and survived; it was one of several staff-only rooms throughout the hotel warded to keep out unwanted guests.
Just ten steps from desk to door, yet it was the longest journey of my life. My hard-won breath burned my throat; my heart pounded in my ears, deafening me to all other sounds than Mrs Jones’s heavy, pounding footsteps.
Grasping the handle, her hot, copper-tanged breath was on my neck. Fire exploded in my flesh as she raked her claws down my back. A step further away, and I wouldn’t have made it; the pain would have been too great. But I managed to throw myself into the office and slam the door before crumpling to the ground.
Before I passed out, I heard her grunting and shrieking outside, furious that she couldn’t get in.
Three days I spent in the office, emerging only to feed The Thing in the Cellar before scurrying back to my hiding place. Whenever I left, I tried not to look at the mangled heap that used to be Jimmy. There was no avoiding the smell, though.
With no small difficulty, and the help of a first aid kit, I managed to treat and bandage the wounds on my back. They bled sluggishly all throughout the first day, but thankfully didn’t fester.
On the morning of the fourth day, there was a tentative knock on the door followed by the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps. I waited until they had disappeared down the corridor before cracking the door open. On the floor was a freshly baked Victoria sponge and a beautifully written note of apology.
It took every ounce of courage I possessed, but that evening I forced myself to go to the dining room. Mrs Jones was waiting for me, her eyes red-rimmed, a steaming cottage pie on the table. I tried not to flinch as she took my hand, re-iterating the apology she had already delivered in writing.
The next morning, she helped me clean Jimmy up.
We treated each other cautiously for a while, but eventually we got back to playing gin rummy again. When the scars on my back twinge, as they sometimes do, she helps me rub a soothing ointment into them. Even though I’ve told her it’s not necessary, she apologises every time.
So, you’ve heard my story and you have my proposal. If you think you could be the man for me, I invite you to visit. You will need to drink a cup of ram’s blood (a pinch of nutmeg makes it a little more tolerable) and light a black candle before bedtime. When you next wake, you will find yourself at our gates. As travel arrangements go, it’s hardly the Orient Express, but it beats the airfare.
If you have read this without flinching, if you can stomach the journey to get here, if you walk up to our door and find the nerve to open it, I have one more instruction for you.
Just as you enter, look to your right. You will see a deep brown stain on the lobby carpet. I’ve scrubbed and scrubbed but it just won’t come out. Perhaps that’s for the best. It’s a good reminder of what will happen to you should you call Mrs Jones a “nosy old bat”.
And when you run into Jimmy – as you will, for he still likes hanging around the bar in the evening, his silvery wounds glistening as though they had just been inflicted – don’t let him convince you he was some sort of victim.
He knew the rules.

After anxiously reading colonoscopy prep horror stories, I wanted to share my first experience, which happened this week, to help calm nerves. I have oodles of food allergies and quite a sensitive stomach, so I was bracing for vomiting, nausea, etc. Took first Suflave dose at 5:00 pm and every 15 minutes afterward (4 doses in the first bottle), appt was 9:00 am. Taste was decent and borderline good (refrigeration encouraged), think extra syrupy yellow Gatorade. Belly rumbling started around 5:15, first trip to bathroom around 5:25, and I was clear after only 2 hours afterwards. I did 3 days low residual diet, 1 day clear liquid (thank you bone broth for protein, otherwise I’d be starving, plus drank tons of electrolytes the day before). Second bottle at midnight, every 15 minutes afterwards. Zero nausea, zero vomiting (I didn’t take any anti-nausea pills). I was surprised. The bathroom trips were sudden, but there was never any danger of not making it to the toilet in time. Green jello turned my poo stuff green, so i stuck to lemon jello (since that was the desired color). Overall, I’ve felt worse from eating too much greasy food, and any parents will be familiar with the late night trips disrupting sleep. Seriously not a big deal. The nap during the procedure was wonderful, the gas afterwards was a bit uncomfortable (since they fill you with air), but eating real food again was amazing. While this process was inconvenient, it was not tramatic. Definitely better than finding out you have colon cancer the hard way. Good luck!

I had my gallbladder removed on April 30th. Recovery was going amazingly. I could eat everything I tried and tried quite a lot of foods. Before my surgery I could only eat boiled potatoes, salt and water and had attacks daily. Post-op I have tried cheese and ketchup separately and both were fine, but then yesterday at around 7pm I tried a slice of pizza and felt super nauseous afterwards which was new as every food I’d eaten post-op had given me zero symptoms, but I managed not to vomit. The nausea passed after an hour so I later tried a piece of cake (I’d been eating this for the past days with no problem) and also felt nauseous for 30 minutes or so. I went to bed and was feeling very warm and sweaty. In bed I felt nauseous, then it passed and I went to sleep.
I woke up in the night quite a few times (normal for me) and each time I woke up I noticed a constant burning in my stomach and slight restless legs syndrome in my wrists. Upon waking up properly for the day, the burning was still there and it’s still there as of 5pm today, so 22 hours since I first started getting the nausea symptom after the slice of pizza.
So my symptoms are:
Nausea after eating for 30 minutes to an hour and intense nausea after waking up for a minute or so.
Constant burning feeling in the stomach, in the centre right below the sternum.
Sweaty and warm before I went to bed, not 100% sure it was related
Restless legs syndrome, particularly in my wrists
I also felt my intestines moving and had a loose stool after the pizza, and again after waking up this morning
All of these started after that slice of pizza yesterday. The burning started while I slept and has stayed throughout today. Before this I ate many foods with zero problems.
I am just wondering if this sounds like it could be Bile Reflux, or anything that sounds like anything you have been through or have heard someone went through.
I am really quite worried so I really appreciate and am so grateful for any thoughts 🤍😥

I’ve been on a low histamine diet for the last 3 weeks, in some ways I’ve felt a lot better, but in some ways I’ve been a lot worse/reactive and I’m very confused.
Two days ago I made a roasted red pepper sauce, in the hopes I can use it for many things (pastas, rice, as a pizza base, etc)
Bell peppers, garlic, sweet paprika, mixed herbs, ricotta.
All of those ingredients are low histamine
I boiled white rice, and combined it with the sauce, but made quite a lot, so put it in the fridge
Day 1: fine
Day 2: fine
Day 3: 15 mins after eating it, had the most horrendous stomach pain of my life, followed by nausea, itchy mouth throat and ear canals, jitters.
Took half an antihistamine, and about two hours later it started to subside. I still don’t feel 100%
So can anyone shed any light? I’m really confused..
I’ve reacted to olive oil before, so I’m wondering if it’s the peppers and perhaps I actually have a salicylate problem instead.
This is exhausting and upsetting 💔
Edit: it’s not food poisoning, symptoms came on in 10 minutes, and then I felt fine after an antihistamine 😶

Hi, my wife and I did an at home insemination 10 days ago. One of my favorite breakfast meals made me feel sick to my stomach today. I couldn’t stand the smell/taste/texture. Do you guys think it’s too early to feel symptoms this early on? I had mild cramping on days 7/8 after insemination. If anyone experienced any symptoms early on, let me know. I’m trying not to think too much into this because I don’t want to get our hopes up just in case! Thank you all!!

Have you ever experienced something that shook you to your very core? Something that makes you remember every single little detail of your surroundings from that moment in time? Even years after? I can remember so vividly the moment I realized something was wrong with me. I was in my junior year of high school sitting in class, just like any other day. I remember the smell of erasers and cheap cologne that permeated off my classmate who sat next to me. I remember the scratchy tag on my t-shirt and how I was resisting taking it off in the middle of class just to cut it off. I remember what my teacher, Mrs. Brown, was talking about; 'the fall of Constantinople'. My mouth felt dry and I kept looking at the clock, counting down the minutes until I had lunch so I could get a soda. The sound of a pen clicking behind me was synchronized with the song that was stuck in my head.
All those things were going through my brain at once. My ADHD mind went a million miles per minute when it all came down to a cashing holt when I felt it at 11:23
I felt what I can only describe as a hand grabbing at the inner lining of my stomach. It didn't necessarily hurt, not at this point. That's not why I got so scared. You see, not only do I have ADHD. I also have OCD that manifests itself in the fear of anything growing or moving inside me. Even if I think about the concept of blood moving in my body or a heart that is beating in my chest, I have to think of something else. I've had full-blown panic attacks because of it. The closest term for this is 'Tokophobia'. That's technically the fear of pregnancy. I'm a guy, so it's not completely accurate but it's really the closest term. I mean, I also do have a huge fear of pregnancy. Not necessarily of me being pregnant, but even though I knew I could never get pregnant, the thought of it still made me feel sick
I bet you can imagine the terror that overcame me as I felt something moving in me. I made an audible groan and grabbed my stomach. My whole class turned to look at me. even my teacher stopped talking to ask if I was okay. I stood up and started to run to the nurses' office without even acknowledging my teacher. My first thought wasn't thinking that something was actually in my body. Even stomach aches and the feeling of gurgling in my stomach made me feel this way before. I didn't have anything on hand to help with a stomach ache, unfortunately. However, the nurse always did.
I sprinted across the school hoping and praying that my stomach wouldn't make that awful feeling again before I got there.
I turned the corner into the nurses' office with my tennis shoes squeaking in the process. I saw the school nurse, Mrs. Kennedy sitting on the couch in her office reading a magazine. She looked up at me with a sweet smile that quickly turned into worry.
"Sam, what is it? How can I help?" She said as she stood up and hurried over to me. Putting her hand over mine which was grabbing my stomach tightly.
"It's…It's my stomach. Something is wrong with it." I mumbled with a red face.
She shuffled her way over to her large medicine cabinet and she motioned for me to sit down.
She asked me questions about my stomach. Asking if it was pain, grumbling, cramps, nausea, etc. As she was asking me what my symptoms were and digging through bottles, The feeling happened again. However, this time was different. It felt like fingers grassing against the inside of my body. I screamed and wrapped my arms around my torso. Mrs. Kenneddy ran over to me to comfort me.
"This seems a lot worse than normal, maybe we should call your parents." She said as she put her hand on my back.
It felt like some days I saw Mrs. Kennedy more than my teachers. Any small ailment would distract me so badly from class that I had to go see her. Sometimes multiple times a day. She knew at this point when something was really wrong.
Within about 30 minutes both my parents were there with us. That may seem fast, but I'm an only child and my parents are very aware of my tendencies. They know I can spiral and like to be around if it happens.
They kept asking me where the pain was. I think they assumed by the way I wasn't responding to their questions the pain must've been really bad. The reality was that I just didn't know how to tell them what was going on.
I got so frustrated after they asked me over and over again that I just yelled at them.
"Something is inside me! Get it out, get it out, get it out!" I lifted my shirt and was ripping at my stomach. Leaving red nail scratches and cuts. My mom and dad ran to either side of me to grab my arms. Mrs. Kennedy had seen me go pretty crazy, but this was the worst I've ever gotten in front of her. My parents however had seen a similar situation before. Not exactly like this, but they didn't skip a beat on trying to help me.
"Sam. Breath, sweety. Just remember everything is in you for a reason. It's keeping you alive. Nothing is going to hurt you." My mom said softly to me. Trying to calm me down with the words my therapist gave her. "Ice cubes, get him ice cubes!" She said to Mrs. Kennedy as I started to hyperventilate.
Mrs. Kennedy grabbed a ziplock bag and started to fill it with ice cubes. My mom went over to her and grabbed an ice cube right out of the bag, opened up my hand, and put the ice cube in it. This worked in the past to distract me, I knew that's what she was doing, and trust me. I wanted it to work too, but this was different. I kept trying to tell myself that it was just a different feeling I hadn't felt before. That it wasn't possible something was physically inside my body. But I couldn't help it.
Everyone in the room could see that this was getting intense. I think they assumed it was just a mental breakdown and that nothing was physically wrong with my body but I didn't care. I just wanted help.
My parents got me into the car with my mom even sitting in the backseat with me. She kept trying to distract me with conversation but my mind was only on that awful feeling in my stomach.
We pulled up to the ER and my mom guided me in while holding both my wrists. It felt like she was walking me on a leash but I didn't fight it. I knew she was just trying to stop me from scratching my stomach.
We walked in and I spoke to the receptionist. All I said was that I had terrible pain in my stomach. I didn't want to sound too crazy. I just needed a doctor to look at whatever was going on.
After giving the receptionist my name and insurance information we went to sit down. I was sitting in between my parents and I could see my mom lean back to try and mouth something to my dad without me seeing. I didn't think much of it. I was way more worried about other things.
My dad then went up to the receptionist. He pointed over to me and she looked a little concerned. I saw her pick up the clipboard that had my information on it and she started writing something else on it. I asked my dad what he did and he just said to not worry and that he wanted to let her know it was urgent.
No more than 10 minutes went by and I felt a terrible moving sensation. I cringed and grabbed my stomach. Immediately followed by not just the feeling of a hand grabbing my insides but also scratching and pinching. I yelled out in pain as the other people in the waiting room looked at me mortified.
A doctor and a couple of nurses came running over to me and helped me up. But I couldn't stand up. I was in too much pain. They put me in a wheelchair and started to head for a room. However, they didn't take me through the normal big ER doors that went to the standard examination rooms, they took me and my parents through a smaller door to the side that had a padlock on it.
We walked through a white hallway that was very quiet. The doctor and nurses showed us to my room and helped me into my bed as I was wiggling and wincing. I had one parent on either side of me. Patiently waited to stop my arms from scratching.
The doctor was trying to ask further questions but he could tell it wasn't going anywhere. I knew that my dad probably told that receptionist about my OCD tendencies and that I needed to go to the psych ward. Not just to the stranded side of the ER.
I couldn't take it anymore and blurted out that something was inside my stomach and it was trying to get out.
The doctor just looked at my parents for a reaction and they gave him a sad nod. It was like they warned him that this could happen. The doctor didn't just think I was crazy, my parents did too. The doctor took a deep breath and came up to me. I knew I was about to hear some kind of dumb speech about how this was just my OCD and everything was going to be okay.
As he came closer to me, I pulled up my shirt and he gasped. Not only was my stomach scratched up like crazy, but we saw movement. It looked like when a pregnant woman can see her baby kicking. But this was so much stronger. It was stretching my skin.
My parents stood up and gasped while the doctor looked frantic and unprepared.
"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" The doctor said as he backed out of the room. "Hang on! We are getting this taken care of, just hang tight."
Just seconds later a nurse came in to give me some painkillers. I started to feel the pain slip away, but something so much worse started to creep in. I heard a voice. Not my own. Not some creepy-sounding creature, but the voice of a normal-sounding man that I'd never heard before. But that wasn't the scary part. The scary part was what he was saying to me.
"Get me out. Get me out. Get me out!"
It started in a normal tone, but slowly became more urgent and rushed. Then demanding.
The voice would coincide with the moment inside me.
It was getting so loud that I was having a hard time hearing the people around me. The doctor came in just a few minutes after I last saw him. He was red and sweaty. Like he'd just run a marathon. He told me they needed to do just a few tests on what was inside me before taking action.
I was trying so hard to pay attention to the words coming out of his mouth but all I could hear was the voice. The voice stopped for just a second and changed what he was saying. Now he started repeating,
"Cut me out, cut me out, cut me out, now!" I now knew this thing didn't just want out but it wanted out now. I begged the doctor to just get it out now but he wouldn't listen. The voice spoke up again.
"This is taking too long. Don't be afraid. Get me out yourself."
I think it could feel me resisting. Without realizing it, I was looking around the room for something. It was like I didn't even have control over my head or eyes anymore. I knew the voice was looking for a knife but I was trying to ignore the feeling. I knew there weren't any knives around. I was in a very safe place.
Just as I had the feeling I was safe, it was immediately taken away. The thought passed through my head that my dad probably had a pocket knife on him. My heart sank. I knew this thing could hear my thoughts. I knew what it would try to do.
The next thing I knew, I was on my feet, leaping for my dad. My body hit his. luckily, he's in pretty good shape for his age and had no problems putting me in my place.
He got on top of me and pinned me to the ground. All while I could barely hear my mom in the background. Yelling at my dad to be careful. My dad knew something was going on and that I just needed to be on the ground until I calmed down.
My body tried to flail but it wasn't successful. The whole time the voice in my head, now yelling and screaming. Not saying any distinguishable words, but just having what felt like a tantrum. What made my dad the most uncomfortable was the kicking feeling coming from my stomach.
After a couple of minutes, the voice calmed down and I felt in charge of my body again. My dad slowly got up and attempted to help me up. At this point with an audience of hospital staff that looked like they were getting ready to take me somewhere for more tests.
Just as I stood up straight, I felt the voice take over and I lost all sense of my own body. I felt like a shell of myself. My dad gave me a soft yet worried smile, and in that instance, I grabbed him and reached into his pocket. My heart sank as I felt his pocket knife. The room started to panic and about 5 people tried to grab it from me. The last thing I remember is plunging the knife into my stomach. I felt a blinding pain and everything went black.
Several hours later I started to wake up. Everything was extremely blurry and fuzzy. I could hear a very faint voice telling me to relax. As the minutes passed by, things started to become a little bit clearer. I looked around and saw I was in a large room with a few other patients. A nurse was going up to all the beds and checking in on them. I tried to sit up a bit to get more comfortable and noticed an incredible sourness in my stomach. I moved my hospital gown out of the way and saw a huge scare. About 6" across. Most of the scare looked very surgical. Like what I'd imagine a c-section surgery would look like. Except where I remembered the knife going in. It looked like a bunch of extra stitches had to be added where it went in. It also looked pretty bruised. I can imagine that a dull 10-year-old knife that was harshly shoved into a body really wouldn't cleanly cut through and leave some damage.
The feeling of shock from looking at my stomach was quickly gone when I realized that meant whatever was in me was now gone. I didn't hear the voice, I didn't feel a hand in my gut anymore, I didn't see that vile kicking anymore. I felt like I could breathe.
I asked the nurse what they found and she looked flush.
"Uh, that's something that you, uh. Your doctor will talk with you once you eat something and can speak clearly." She said as she scurried off looking upset.
Shortly after that, I was wheeled into a recovery room and my parents came to see me.
As they walked in they had a very similar look on their faces as the nurse did. They looked pale and didn't want to look me in the eye. I kept asking them questions about what was going on but they said the doctor needed to discuss it with me and he wanted to make sure I wasn't feeling high from the anesthesia while we had a conversation.
The doctor didn't come and see me for another 10 hours. Which felt strange. And to add to the strangeness, my parents were taking shifts hanging out with me. There was only overlap when they switched and the other parent took over while the other one left the room. I would understand if they weren't both with me for the whole time. I'm not that needy, but they were only both in my room together for about an hour. That was the hour before the doctor came to my room.
Finally, the doctor came in to talk to me. When he walked in, the room was cold and quiet. It was evident he didn't feel the same relief I was feeling.
He seemed awkward. Like he was talking way too long to get over to me. He grabbed a chair and scooted it close to me.
"Listen Sam. I know this last 24 hours has been very challenging. I apologize for not explaining what happened during your surgery sooner, but we all needed time to figure it out, and quite frankly, process what happened. We feel we have enough information to let you in on what is going on." A silence filled the room. It felt like no one was brave enough to break it.
"And?" I said with confusion.
"I think it'll be easier if we just show you."
The doctor along with my parents helped me into a wheelchair and we started to make our way across the hospital to an entirely different section. I couldn't believe all the things running through my head at what we were about to see. It felt like cruel and unusual punishment to leave me in anticipation and not just tell me what I was about to see.
When I went around the corner I couldn't process what I was looking at. I thought they were showing me a large tumor or growth of some kind, but why would a tumor be in a big incubation chamber with tubes connected to IVs and machines coming out of it?
As I got closer, I started to see human fetchers on it. It was mostly just a 6-pound lump of flesh, but I could see a hand sticking out of it. It was small, but what made it creepy was it looked like a fully developed man's hand. Just small. I could see a patch of hair coming out of what I assumed was its head. It had no discernible facial features. Just a few teeth scattered in one section.
As I looked at it with disgust, coming to terms with this thing that was just in my body, I had a realization. I wasn't feeling sick at the thought of something being in my body. Sure, I was grossed out that this particular thing was just in me, but the thought of the bacteria in my body didn't make me want to throw up. I thought about all the blood pumping through my veins and I felt… normal. Not only was the voice and kicking gone. But my OCD was gone too. I didn't have a mental illness. It was just this thing. Trying to find its way out for years.
As I was staring at the creature, the doctor came and put his hand on my shoulder.
"We believe this is your twin brother." I immediately looked up at my parents who looked very disturbed and upset. I let the doctor finish talking. "We believe that you absorbed him in the womb and that he has been living inside you your whole life. This is an extremely rare condition called fetus-in-fetu. It seems he didn't quite have the best opportunity to develop normally. That's why he looks the way he does. Despite his appearance, he has all the organs he needs to survive. Looks like he's missing a lung and his gallbladder. Also a piece of his liver but other than that, it looks like he will live for at least a few years. He won't be able to leave this room due to him needing a feeding tube and a few other things that his body can not do on its own. He needs lots of support just to live. What makes this situation extremely unique is that your twin is still alive despite your body not sustaining him anymore. Even though we have him hooked up to a few IVs and machines, It is unexplainable how he is living while outside of your body."
I was in complete shock. I didn't want to believe it. I asked my mom why she never told me I absorbed my twin in the womb, she said she had no clue. There was never a sign when she was pregnant with me.
He also mentioned that sometimes even in pregnancies women will go their whole pregnancy without even getting a belly. It's called a 'Cryptic pregnancy'. I've always had a bit of a gut but never anything big enough to cause suspicion. I guess in my case I had a fetus-fetu and an experience similar to a cryptic pregnancy. Even though it was in my stomach. At least that was the doctor's best guess. Although, it all sounded like BS to me.
The doctor and my parents kept trying to explain more and more details to me. I don't know why they didn't slow down a little bit for my sake. How could they not tell I wasn't processing any of this?
I noticed something while they were trying to explain things to me. They kept calling it a 'He'.
Now listen. I'm not some kind of asshole that won't respect someone who wants to be called a specific pronoun. I've never been that kind of person. But this is where I draw the line.
Not just that. But this thing had a name. My parents named it and said today was its birthday. While they told me all this information, they didn't look happy about it. It seemed like they were forced to do all this nonsense. And now it was my turn to be convinced. I could tell they were trying to force it.
The doctor told me despite it not having a high probability for a long life that we should still try and give it the love it deserves. Of course, the doctor referred to it as a 'He' but I refused to.
This disgusted me. This thing tried to kill me and ruined my quality of life for so long, and now we are going to treat it like it's some kind of prince? No, absolutely not.
Luckily, it seemed like it would never leave the hospital, but my parents planned on going to visit it daily. Visiting it? Are you kidding me? it has no eyes, no ears, it's probably miserable and has no concept of people even being around it.
I'm refusing to ever see this thing again or acknowledge its existence again.
I could get in trouble for even talking about this. The hospital or anyone involved has signed NDAs to not share any information about this until it officially dies. This is because it's a medical anomaly and the first of its kind. They want to do the proper research on how this all occurred before coming out with a statement. I just have to get this all off my chest. I feel like I'm the crazy one here when I know I'm not. I don't care if I get in trouble.
I am scared that the doctors are trying to force my parents into giving this thing a proper life. I think that's why it took them so long to tell me. I think they scared my parents into keeping it alive and guilting them or even forcing them into being its parent.
I'm all for every life being important and all that stuff, but I have a feeling my parents are terrified of this thing just like I am.
I am convinced they gaslit my parents into believing this thing is my brother. If there wasn't any sign of him while my mom was pregnant with me, could this thing be something else?
This all happened about two years ago. It's still alive and they are still researching it. My parents continue to visit it despite everything. My therapist told me that I'm probably just struggling with jealousy now that I'm not an only child anymore and so much of my parents' attention is on him now, but it's so much bigger than just jealousy.
Since this thing showed up and my OCD is pretty much gone, I've hardly seen my parents. I know I'm not just jealous. There is something more to this. I know it.
Something just feels so off about this whole thing. What is this thing? Where did it come from? And what does it want?

Does anyone else struggle with extremely itchy hives? It's a common sub thyroid symptom but I get them every 6-7 months. They are usually on my ender arms, stomach, sides, lower back and inner thighs. I usually get them around seasonal allergy time. I put topical cream on to help with itching but it doesn't last long. I wake myself up scratching and it is generally just super uncomfortable. Does anyone have experience or something that works for them? Help!!!

I’ve been getting cramps around my stomach especially in my lower abdomen but can show up around the sides of my belly button or above.
They aren’t strong but I feel discomfort when o eat and press into my stomach experience a cramp like pain.
I take probiotics and lanzosprazole I’ve been on for around 3 and a half months with no improvements and tried many things that aren’t working and I’m 17
I have a constant pressure pain just below my ribs Ik is my gastritis I was wondering what this is ?

Edit: mention the times you have gone into DKA AFTER original diabetic diagnosis!!!!!!
I may be on the verge but confused if I should go in, my main symptom is I have not been under 340 in 2 days (currently on insulin pump) and I’m on a GLP-1 medication which usually causes me to go low but quite the opposite has happened.
I feel a bit weak, balance isn’t as good, some dizziness, more frequent urination, dry mouth I have these symptoms already due to GLP-1 but they’ve gotten a bit worse: stomach pain, no appetite, and somewhat bad nausea. I’ve only had a couple snacks in the last 35 hours.
I can’t check keystones because I ran out, ordered some that will be here tonight hopefully
I just want to hear what made you go in for it or if you “fixed” it yourself
Thank you all in advance for commenting!
Edit: I’ve changed my site 3 times in the past day, I don’t know how much that is affecting me. 10 minutes after posting I came down to 327!

so I started a few weeks ago and was instructed to take half dose for a week and up to full dose if no symptoms. I had a bit of dizziness the first couple days but it went away so I decided to up the dose to full after that week. the next day I had extreme dizziness, fever with chills, nausea in my throat, muscle soreness, and major headache. my doctor told me to stop until symptoms go away, then try again on half. so I waited like 2 days (symptoms literally went away in 24 hours though it was SO BAD I literally had felt like I had aged 70 years) and restarted the half dose a night routine. well, it's been over a week on half and last night about 4 hours after my regular half dose I woke up with fever and chills, muscle soreness, only a slight headache, and major nausea in my throat again! I'm so sick of this and I think I will be stopping. just was wondering if anyone else has this? this nausea is so weird, it's like a lump in my throat and when I move I get nausea and when I swallow I get nausea but it's like not stomach nausea at all. plus the muscle soreness and headache, probably will be hobbling around my house like last time :(

The system killed my brother not Cancer.
I was a MA for a long time, im not saying Im an expert but I’ve seen enough to understand something was off. My brother 23 went to the ER for stomach pain, nausea with streaks of blood, upon arriving the Dr felt a bump on the right lower side by the pelvic area, sure enough after a bunch of blood works, scans and tests turns out he had cancer. Now here is where things turn and I would like an expert to dumb it down for me. He got admitted Jan 13, 2021, a Biopsy of the right Iliac wing was done, throughout his stay at the hospital his condition only got worse, he couldn’t eat, black stools, nausea, vomiting, weakness and so on. All the doctors, oncologist, just every damn provider on his case said “don’t worry, he is young and healthy he will be okay”. He got discharged 1 week and 3 days after, so January 25, still waiting for the results of his Biopsy. We had a follow up appointment Feb 5th for his results and all they said what they had a preliminary as Ewings Sarcoma which was a very treatable Cancer as per the oncologist. during that time he only got worse and worse, the oncologist insisted that he was young and healthy and its just a symptom of cancer. Since the results were not final a few days later they requested a second Biopsy. Appointment is now scheduled for February 12, he goes in and he is immediately admitted into the ICU due to fluid in his lungs, over 1 Litter was removed with a heart rate of over 180, he is now at the cardiac ICU. He gets better 2 days later he then goes into the regular floor and the second Biopsy is done on February 15th. No results and my brother only gets worse, a PTScan was done and now he was nodules on his lungs as well. My brother then goes into the ICU one more time, days pass by and they tell us he had an infection and he is now brain dead. February 22 came and they tell us “he is the sickest patient in the hospital now and we are doing everything we can”. Dialysis gets started because his organs are failing, it doesnt work. February 23rd came and they tell us they will check his brain because he might not have any activity, they said they will check and make sure what they are seeing. Sure enough, February 24 they tell us we will need to make a decision in regard to his life and that “ oh his biopsy results came back and he has stage 4 stomach Cancer”, we might need to disconnect him. February 25th came and they do one last test to see if he has any brain activity by removing the tubes and nope, nothing. We decided to let him go February 25, 2021. I now work at a lab in the histology department and the amount of Biopsies we do and result them in less than a week baffles me, why couldn’t they figure out my brother’s cancer earlier ? He could have been saved. And now more than ever I believe the system and everyone working in this field for money and not because they actually care for a patient is what killed him.