I heard to ways work best. In mouth aimed slightly up or just above the ear level with eyes. Meant to hit the lower part of brain that controls.pain and has most arteries.

My 43 year old wife has been struggling with SFN and dysautonomia for about 8 years now as a result of what started with a lower lumbar fusion and thereafter subsequent procedures to try to resolve her neuropathies that only seemed to make matters progressively worse. Every day is now a struggle for a woman who was once a vibrant, hilarious, and active fitness model.
Her timeline is as follows:
2016, Lower lumbar fusion at 36 years old. After years of dealing with low back pain from a car accident, she decided to get the fusion due to bulging, degenerated disk. While the fusion held, she began to get some neuropathy, and pain became worse than prior to surgery. She was considered a failed back surgery patient. Later, came to find that she is a rare case that has sensitivity to titanium
2018 had titanium cage removed. For the first time in two years, she felt like she was finally recovering and was able to go back to the gym and got herself back into pre-surgery shape.
2019: She has a slip and fall in a fast food restaurant bathroom from a pipe leak they didn't cordon off and fractured her tailbone, slammed her head on the stall and the fall causing the discs above and below her fusion to buldge. This left her with more pain, which was addressed with facet injections, RF ablation of her cervical and lumbar, and coccyxgetomy. After which, her neuropathy became much worse, and she was diagnosed with SFN. She started to experience many of the vagal/sympathetic symptoms associated with dysautonomia - drop attacks, tachycardia, anxiety. She developed more frequent migraines, brain zaps, visual disturbances, auras, eye and head pressure. The common stinging, burning, and skin crawling sensations and what she sometimes says is like someone "blow torching" her legs. Insomnia and positional narcolepsy. Swirling sensations that she describes as "feeling like snakes moving all around internally." Sensations of feeling "out of phase" with her body, spacial distortions, feeling turned around/backward or what she describes as her "back is in my front or front in my back" or getting twisted like a rubix cube. These have all persisted or gotten worse to this day.
In 2022, after motion xray with a prolotherapist, she was diagnosed as having cervical instability/tendon laxity that was causing compression of her vertibular artery, and compressing her cervical spine and this was likely the cause of her neuropathy/dysautonomia/vagus disfunction. They also said upon ultrasound testing, her right jugular was compressed and operating at only 20%, which was another possible cause of her brain fog and orthostatic hypotension symptoms. Unfortunately, she did not respond well to the prolo injections and, therefore, had to discontinue treatment.
2023: She had a stoke-like event that caused her to be rushed to the hospital. Her hands and arms were seizing, talking was jumbled, incoherent. She was seeing blue flashes and could not stand. The right half of her body was numb. They ran all the tests and came back normal. She was diagnosed thereafter with complex migraine as the root cause, though I feel she may be having mini seizures.
She has not had any further surgeries since that time since each seemed to exacerbate her symptoms and increased her neuropathic pain rather than resolve them. She has been trying to manage her pain and symptoms as best she can since then, but recently had another fall and concussion that set her back once again and seems to have resulted in an increase in her symptoms. She's cried almost every day for over a month straight since the fall.
She was back in the gym at the beginning of the year, trying to core strengthen with the hopes that would help, but exercise also seemed to trigger a lot of her symptoms, even with beginner level exercise and exertion. We know conditioning is certainly a factor, but trying to excersize or physical therapy without symptoms has been difficult.
I'm quite certain that the cervical compression issues may be the main culprit. Though my fear is the RF ablation may really have damaged her nerve endings and caused more damage than good and has left her with more severe neuropathy than she started with.
She also has chronic pelvic pain and gastro/digestion issues that also seem to have developed/worsened since all this began and that no one can seem to properly diagnose.
Her nervous system just seems to be completely failing her on multiple levels, and doctors can't seem to help. It's very scary and draining on us both. She feels like she's going crazy and thinks doctors feel like she's losing it, too. In fact her eye doctor, who diagnosed her with ocular hyper tension, unsolicitedly gave her a pamhlet on schizophrenia, which didnt help make her feel any better about her insecurities about telling doctors what she is going through.
There's many days she just wants to give up. I try to be the best rock I can be for her, but I often feel helpless since there's not much I can do but try to give her emotional support and understanding, which is also difficult because I really don't truly understand what is happening inside her and can't offer her any relief.
I'm trying to find support for her with groups like this so she can feel sane and not so alone. She can't use a phone anymore because it can trigger migraines/symptoms, so I have to do the work for her and read to her some others testimonials.
If anyone has any advice or resources that may help or can corroborate that you experience some of the same or similar symptoms, that would be wonderful and helpful for her mental health, I believe.
Thank you in advance for any insights or help offered.

Bright illuminescant flashes bolted through the dark-lit sky, rushing and raging through clouds seemingly made of gossamer and finely woven felt. You could almost reach out and touch them if not for the raging storm ripping and hollering. It shone and splintered along the sky, splitting into a thousand arcs, each converging and convexing along the stars. Electrical currents spun like lavender spider webs along a farmhouse wall. The arcs traveled, painting a vibrant tapestry along its wake before reaching their climax and releasing a wicked KRAK as the lights slowly faded.
The gossamer clouds wept tears of dull acidic rain that fell, cascading downwards. Down to the swampy fetid fields below. Their droplets splashed and sizzled against the sand, slowly fizzing before hardening into a thin velvet glass before beginning all over again. A sad display of god’s fury laid bare and plain for all to see. The rain had begun just a week prior, but its assault had persisted in a constant pattern ever since. The swamp ached and squirmed in an agonizing way as the rain melted away any sign of basic life.
Puddles of the acidic deluge collected along a road leading to the once fertile silver mine, just three miles from the town of Crestfall. Near the edge of the road, a fork splits off into multiple directions. South of the fork leads to the entrance of Deep Rock Mine. The mine’s entrance stands agape, resting at the base of a mountain. The mine’s layout, a cavern of crisscrossing and haphazardly formed tunnels, awaited past the thick darkness entrapping the entrance. They curve and wind up the spine of the mountain, as well as descend deep into the now dead earth.
The face of the mountain was bare but rough. Rocks jutted and sloped along its curvature, forming a near mesmeric pattern of spiked granite. Towards the peak, a malicious and not all entirely natural pattern emerged. As the acidic rain fell, framing the mountainous backdrop, the pattern watched and waited. An almost human-like visage stretched along the face of the mountain like canvas pulled over a wooden frame. It’s design scorn into the rock itself as if meticulously laid out to warn any who dared breach the confines of the swamp.
Silence lingered amongst the misty atmospheric dredge, save for the muffled and subtle ambietic sounds of the rain. Through the dead foliage and gnarled remains of creatures recently passed, a sound rang forth. Distant exclamation and reverberated clanging rhythmically sounded from deep within the mine. Up and down the mine laid stalactites and stalagmites haphazardly stationed around every corner. Their abrupt positioning cast shadows wherever light felt unable to reach. The mine walls were smooth from years of work and toilage, along with the long uninterrupted tunnels, created an almost echo chamber for sound.
Abrupt crashes and distant thrashes echoed through the winding chamber. Its sounds detailed a fierce battle between clashing swords and fervent blows.
Or so it would seem.
A sword, emblazoned with the sigil of a raven, flew across the dimly lit room. Its body crashes and clings as it skips along the floor, its blade slashing and carving thin lines into the granite flooring as it makes contact with the ground. A fierce shadow sprawls along the cave walls, depicting a struggle between foes.
The wanderer-and recent owner of the raven crested blade-crashes to the floor. Leather straps firmly tied around his shoulder blades catch most of the weight of the fall, but pain still echoed through his nerves.
“Hells! You slimy bastard!” The wanderer winces and yells in a blinded fury. “You don’t play fair, and here I thought we were having a nice sport of it.”
No reply immediately came from his opponent, still standing off near a downed torch. Flame wisped and flicked along the ground, casting shadows and dreaded omens as if they were ripped directly from a child’s nightmare.
At once, the foe stepped forward. The shadows sprawled across the walls painted a disturbing picture of horror and grotesque form. Imaginative figures born from shadows were always so much more terrible than the beings that cast them, but in this case it was clearly the other way around. The foe opposite The Wanderer lurched forward, it's body a gnarled vestige of exoskeleton and mandibles. It almost resembled a large insect, like a praying mantis that decided its evolutionary cycle had not quite finished yet.
On multi-socketed legs, it snapped and convulsed along. Every movement of its body felt agonizing, as if the creature was hastily thrown together by a quite absent god. Various olive and violet fluids oozed and dripped from its husk like body as it vocalized terrible sounds. The creature-seemingly unable to speak-produced noises from its mouth that resembled a mix of gargles and marbles being tossed along a wooden floor. All the while, its grotesque pincer like appendage snapped and clicked almost involuntarily.
The wanderer-still recovering from his fall-slowly pushed his body along the cold rocky ground, his arm still pulsing with pain.
“Oh my, what big mouths you have.” The wanderer teased sounding much more worried than he intended. ‘Always good to keep in control of the situation. Confidence is key.’ As he was always want to say, but this wasn’t an ordinary situation.
His arm traced along the ground, reaching and prodding for his recently lost weapon. Daring not look away from the oncoming threat, he felt nothing. His sword was currently resting near the opposite side of the cave room, resting flat along the ground. Away from The Wanderer’s grasp, far away from being of any further use here it seemed.
Doubt surged through his mind, but only for a short time. ‘Doubt breeds more doubt, and further doubt breeds ruin’, another favorite.
Clenched palms moved along the granite flooring. Leather gloves scraped and bruised as The Wanderer lifted back to his feet, regaining balance and fervor. The arm that had broken his fall felt numb and altogether absent.
‘Dislocated most likely, not a big enough fall to break.’
The insect-like foe-still closing the distance between them-snapped and gurgled in an almost territorial display of aggression.
The Wanderer grinned, placing his uninjured arm against its opposite’s elbow, before violently, yet methodically, pushing it upwards. A clear snap, followed by a dull pop echoed through the room. Feeling began pouring back into his arm as the vibrating itch of numbness faded. Both arms began to raise, fists clenched, the leather gloves creased and squelched from the sheer pressure as his hands formed tightly wounded fists. Fists pointed squarely towards the all not entirely normal creature still gurgling and jerking along the shadow filled room.
“Oh...” The Wanderer began. “I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t enjoy every second of this.” His fists raised up, reaching level with the bridge of his nose. “Come one now, give us yer best.”
As if understanding -and altogether disliking- the series of vulgar remarks thrusted toward it, the creature squealed through its deformed face. The jerking motion its movement seemed to have before was replaced with a fluid dash as it quickly closed the distance between the two adversaries. Arms outstretched as its gnarled and jagged hands opened and closed with violent snaps and twinges. Reaching out, grasping the air between them. The gap closed quickly, much quicker than he anticipated, but not enough to catch him entirely off guard as he shifts weight from right the left. The slender frame of his body flanking to the side of the creature.
Shadows arched and flailed with each movement, creating a strange optical illusion across the cave walls. The subtle shifting wind and osculation of the two fighters created an almost mural of events through the flames. Clashing swords, trumpeting horns and creatures that rivaled the tallest spires in Etheral began to converge into an unrecognizable painting of events. The fire loomed, gazing at the creature, at The Wanderer. Its gaze almost purposeful and full of intent. Neither the two beings made any note of the grand display unfolding around them. Fire is known to be a harsh mentor, and an even harsher ally. If one was to wander too deeply into its wounding gaze, one might find themselves trapped, forever living in the tapestry it painted.
The creature was fast, but nowhere as fast as him. Once useless, now repaired, the dislocated arm wrapped between the creatures glistening forearm, interlocking before weight shifted again. The creature stalled as if to reorient itself to face the man, but its movements were not its own. Quickly and deftly, The Wanderer placed immense weight on his forward foot, counterbalancing against the creature as their locked arms rotated and shifted sideways. Arching forward, the shift in balance quickly broke as the creature began to lift in the air as The Wanderer’s rear leg lifted to relegate pressure onward. Flailing and spewing its noxious fluid, the creature flipped entirely, finally crashing to the floor in a savage crunch. The Wanderer stands above, looking downward as it convulses in a fit of pain (could it even quantify pain) and anger.
A greyish foul-smelling slime coated The Wanderer’s chest and forearm. Small indentions formed along the hard leather surface of his jacket, most likely from the not entirely cosmetic spikes embedded into the creature.
“Alright, now I’d say we’re fairly close to a draw here.” The Wanderer began. “How’s say we handle the rest with a bit more diplomacy and grace? No point and making a bigger stink than we already got, but telling by the state of yourself, I’d say you know all about stink.”
The maddening gurgle of the creature slowed as its body began to calm. Its arms moving outward, sprawling along the hard granite rock as its legs raise along with the rest of it. Wet dew drips along the ground, rippling and casting weird reflections from all directions as the creature steps slowly along their puddles. Slow anxious steps it takes. Its demeanor changes from a wild and disturbed animal to a more methodic and wary being. Eyes of bluish gray sink into its head, pupils moving slowly, analyzing and taking in information. It stands straight, back locked into an opposing stance. God it was big. The man couldn’t much get a good measurement before with its body slouched over in a hermit like stance. It must be at least seven feet tall, equally proportioned from its legs to its torso. The head was rounded, almost human, with its bug-like mandibles protruding in a horrific fashion.
The Wanderer had dealt with creatures before. Along his travels he had come across a litany of monstrous beings; Wargs, Secrolants, Jittering Fiends, Goblins, Spiderlings. None of them quite matched the state of this one. Although he had heard of such beings, none had crossed paths before. The way it moved, the way it thought, it all was abnormal. It's quite simple to take a beast down, some you anger and gain the advantage, some you outsmart, others you can simply scare away. But this one.... oh, he was a different breed entirely. The way its mood could change mid-fight, or how it seemingly understood what was being said. And the way it stared. Thoughts were jutting along in the bug brain of its, and when monsters start thinking, all strategy and preparation goes out the window. Unpredictable is what they become, and prediction was The Wanderer’s bread and butter.
Wary now he waits, staring back at the creature. Locked eyes, they waited. Eyes filled with thought, filled with understanding and reasoning -but most egregiously- they were filled with malice. The fight was not over, they had just reached half-time.
“Let it not be stated that I did not strive for peace and harmony at every turn.” The Wanderer quipped, his hand raised once more, ready for another assault.
A flame flickers, casting shadows once again. Shadows of a man holding wolves at bay, hands outstretched to create a distance between them. The wolves circled and plotted, looking for weakness at every tune, but finding none. Leaves fell, becoming ash as they reached the ground. A fire spreads amongst the ash laden floor, consuming the visage, the man, the wolves. All in consumed in an immense concentrated heat, until the shadows fade to nothingness once more.
The creature meanders onward, just a few steps at a time; looking on as The Wanderer holds his footing, fists raised and ready. Each step of its hard glistening exoskeleton crunches against small rocks and debris sprawled along the cave floor, knocking them aside, producing echoed wails that seemingly bounced from surface to surface. After the third step it abruptly launches at the man, arms outstretched once more in a fit of animalistic fury. Thought seemingly left its eyes as they glazed over into a dull grey, the feeling and reasoning sinking further and further to the back of its mind. The Wanderer grinned, his stance loosening as the soles of his feet began to trace an outline of movement, preparing and readying for a counteroffensive. As its dripping breached the outline, The Wanderer shifted his weight once more, quickly flanking the creature to the side once again, but something was off. His eyes traced the movements of its body, of its arms, of its legs. The animosity in them seemed to almost shift mid attack, becoming lucid and methodical. As if the creature was dancing along with him. Even tracing down to the ground, the footing was wrong. Not his footing. He was always perfect. The dance was memorized, trained, honed to a sharp edge. No, it was the creature’s.
Abruptly the creature’s body shifted, its legs tracing backwards, its torso shifting to the side. A corrective action, a counterattack to his counterattack. Shadows of the pair danced along the cave wall, depicting a wickedly abstract waltz. The creature’s arm whipped outward, its claws barreling towards the thin leather separation between his elbow and forearm. God, it was fast. Faster than The Wanderer. Rip, flash, a bright light, then the crashing of feet as the two returned to their original standing.
It all happened so fast. Faster than he could articulate. He was used to speed, used to tracking and understanding battle situations, creating countermeasures, analyzing the most likely move and executing it within a fraction of a second. All of that was done, but it was all wrong. The creature moved in peculiar fashion, acted as if it were moving on instinct while simultaneously acting with thought and strategy. How could it possibly go both ways?
As he thought, mouth slightly open, breath pouring between his lips in a hot and heavy fashion, he hardly thought of anything else. They had made contact, but there was no feeling. Checking for wounds mid-encounter was generally out of the question with beasts. Often, they gave little time for thought or first aid, but the creature stood and waited. The dull grey look in its eyes were gone again, replaced with the methodical gaze of a strategist analyzing a battlefield. The Wanderer lowered his right arm and traced it along the path of his elbow, reaching his shoulder before he felt it. A definite gash traced about two inches wide, the depth of it couldn’t be guessed, but it had breached the leather. As his hand returned to a fist, warm fresh blood dripped between the fingers, falling and coagulating against the dust and pebbles along the ground. He had indeed been injured, but there was no feeling to it. All felt well, and that’s precisely why all was, in fact, not well.
“You’re a strange one. Not quite like anything I’ve seen before, but I’ll get to know you real well soon enough.”
His eyes moved from the creature, scanning along the ground. Before when this was a simple clean-up, a weapon would be handy, but hardly required of someone with his skills, but this was anything but simple. Parameters had changed, he’d very much like his sword back now.
It was nowhere to be seen initially. The room was dark, with little else than a soft glow from the fallen torch illuminating a small area and casting shadows that obscured others. Then it appeared. Near the feet of the creature, the raven crested blade sat where it had since the beginning of this strange dual. Thoughts echoed along in his head, casting suspicions and doubt in every facet of the encounter. Things were not as they appeared.
A slight grin crept along his face again, before quickly subsiding. “Think I have enough time for one more go of it. Care to lead?”
The creature stood, watching and plotting before the dull grey of its eyes appeared once again, launching it into another fury. It lunged, arms outstretched again, running full speed to the man. He simply stood, his hands loosening from tightly wound fists of rock to loosely packed fists of snow. His palms opened slightly; his footing loosened as the heels of his feet digging into the hard rocky floor. They began to move slightly, tracing a straight horizontal line where he stood as he slowly began to back away. The creature, still in a frenzy, closes the distance fast. Seemingly faster than any previous assault as The Wanderer ceased his slow backing retreat, his feet returning to a strong stance, soles digging deep into the earth. He takes in a breath, his heartrate slowing. The light sounds of the cave begin to grow, becoming more apparent and concentrated. Small droplets of dew falling from the ceiling, wind softly blowing along, echoing through the harrowed halls and the flickering of a flame slowly speaking its ancient language. They all converged, mirroring themselves as The Wanderer’s eyes closed. Time seemed to slow as the creature came closer, its steps further apart, its maddening gurgling seemingly floating away. It stepped, stepped and stepped along the ground, pushing pebbles and dust without thought.
Finally, it reached the line carved into the rock. Its foot crunched, making contact with the earth, and in an instant its eyes reverted again. The grey dullness seeping away to its methodically stategistic norm. In that instant, The Wanderers eyes erupted open. The chittering thing’s arms stretch out for his neck, hoping to seize his artery with its horrific claws. Quickly, quicker than anything that day, The Wanderer moved in a fast range of motions that all seemingly happened at once. His weight once again shifted, flanking the creature. His arms locked into a position of counterattack. The creature quickly issued its own countermeasure, once again whipping its body and throwing its claw outward, aiming higher than before, aiming for his neck.
A flame moved. Shadows formed along the walls once more, although they showed a different scene. A scene depicting two swordsman locked in deathly combat. Their swords swinging violently but with grace and purpose. They clashed a thousand times. Each time sending a spray of bright sparks that swelled through the air creating intricate patterns that lingered before slowly fading.
The creature was stuck, unable to move, unable to continue its assault and unable to return to its desired location. The Wanderer's palm grasped the creature's wrist tightly, locking it into a hold. The grey of the creature’s eyes were completely gone now as its pupils darted around in panic. His hand arched forward, his foot kicking –what would assumedly be- the creature’s calf, buckling its knees and forcing it to the ground. Cracking and popping erupted from the joints of its arm as his grip tightened. It’s gurgling became sporadic, as if pleading to be set free. He simply watched it, once against studying its behavior, its patterns, its mannerisms.
“You really are special. Not like anything in the world I imagine, but what makes you so special.” The Wanderer clenched his hold tighter, the creature falls lower, its face pushing into the cold rock. “You were playing a game, weren’t you? You understand what I’m saying too, and that I can assure you is indeed something special. Predicting my movements, using the techniques against me. You weren’t just fighting for a meal. You were learning, weren’t you?”
The creature clicked and gurgled, chittering against the ground as the hard surface of its arm began to crack.
“Now, I’m not opposed to teaching if I aim to gain something from it, but what I won’t abide is being played with. Now...” He plants his foot against the back of the creature's neck, both arms holding its locked appendage in a pulling motion. “I think I deserve to know a little more about you my foul-smelling friend, and if I’m right up until this point, you outta know exactly what I’m saying. I also assume you know a threat when you hear one. So...” His grip tightens, his leather boot slowly crunched against the creature’s skull. “Tell me what you are, and where you learned to be so damn special.”
The creature’s eyes widen, the dull grey returning, filling its retinas as it begins to violently convulse. A shrill screech fills the room, echoing along the walls, traveling through the twisting and winding tunnels of the long-forgotten mine. Shadows creep along the cave walls once more, scattering and convulsing, twisting into horrid and unimaginable shapes. Creatures that belong to fables and horror tales begin flooding along the shapes as the flame whips and crackles. The torch quickly combusts, the flames turning a sharp blackish violet. Heat bellows from the waves of ember emitting from the now monumental display of hellfire as the shadows multiply, taking over every inch of coverage. The Wanderer’s ears tremble at the immense noise, his vision begins to weaken as the shrill echo reaches a climactic crescendo. Any more of this and it’s all over, lights out.
He looks downward to the creature, its mind warped with whatever dark arts influenced it. His grip tightens as his foot presses firmly against the back of its head. Slow crunching and cracking sounds begin to intermingle with the terrible sounds of its cry. As the boot came down, harder and harder, the creature’s terrible screech began to thin and grow in pitch, like the air being slowly released from a balloon. Then, a horrendous snap before the head was no more. Violet and green brain matter covered the area around its neck as small fragments of skull of tissue caked along the sides of his boots. All at once the cry stopped, and along with it the room slowly began to darken. The flame began to slowly dwindle back to its original size, its color returning to a soft orange glow.
The Wanderer stepped back; his eyes firmly planted on the now deceased creature lying before him. A pool of its blood slowly trickled along the floor, reaching for his sword. Slowly, his body lumbered to the lost blade. Its handle was wrapped in scaled pitch blade leather, its blade a vibrant silver, still glistening with oil. The visage of a raven prominently scorn into the finish of the blade itself. Before the foul-smelling blood reaches the blade, the man slowly leans down to collect it. His body ached, his arms felt heavy and as the world around him began to dim, he retrieved the blade. Weighing it in his hand he felt secure, like a lost piece of him was restored with its retrieval. It felt so much heavier than before, or maybe he had just been weakened from the encounter. He gazed down upon it, his hand clenched hard around the dark leather handle. A dark fluid began to pool around his hand, streaming softly down from his arm.
The Wanderer turned his arm over, now looking at the wound he had taken from the creature’s first counterattack. It didn’t seem very bad, or at least not as bad as previous wounds he’d sustained, but the bleeding was alarming. It streamed softly, almost without notice. The blood itself was dark as well, as if it had already begun coagulation. A strange wound. A worrying wound. Suddenly his head became light, the room began to dim, and the walls started to blur. No, everything about this was wrong.
In the strange lucid state he was left in, he almost didn’t notice the changes around him. A quite fell over the room, the flickering flame seemed to even quite down to a faint whisper. A soft noise crept along the ground. Soft tapping, the sound of pebbles and rock being pushed aside, dust parting between single soft strides. The pain in his head grew louder, his heartbeat thumping from his chest to his forearm, ending finally against his forehead.
What is happening to me?
As if to answer, a rapid movement jostled him back to reality as he quickly turned, sword still gripped tightly in hand. A quick flash of movement rushed towards him, its motioned and sounds all too familiar to him. As nimbly as he can muster, he raises his blade outward in an attempt to impale the newfound enemy now barreling towards him, but a twinge of searing pain in his shoulder halts the attack. All he manages is a defensive stance, sword raised, arm placed behind the blade to prepare for impact as the creature crashes into him.
They both fall, splashing into the violet puddle of dank smelling blood that has pooled along the cave floor. A creature –almost identical to the one lying dead beside him- lies atop the blade protecting his body. Its arms crash against the leather bracers protecting his soft flesh. Claws come crashing down, scrapping against leather, making large slashes in them but not enough to break fully through the thick coating. Slime and mucus drip down from its maw, coating The Wanderer’s arms and neck. His arms are placed defensively against the side end of the blade, separating the two, but he can feel himself weakening further and further. Rough outlines of the creature emerge through blurred vision. Heat travels along his arm and forehead, casting confusion and sweat to pour over his body.
What the hell is happening!?
Suddenly, the creature lunges its head down, breaching the space between the blade and The Wanderer’s neck. Its snapping pincer like mandible opening and shutting in rapid and rabid bites. Before it has a chance to make contact, The Wanderer frees one of his trapped hands and grapples the creature’s head. With strength slowly fading from his body, he fruitlessly pushed back the creature's disgusting face. With every inch he pushes, the creature seemingly gains two. A battle of attrition begins. Snapping, clawing, drooling the creature continues its unending assault. Reach for the soft part of his neck in hopes of ending the encounter in a single bite. Just one slip, and its lights out. Forgotten and left to be fed on to a host of disgusting bugs. The thought rips through his mind, his veins fill with hot fire, his muscles contract creating energy that wasn’t there before. He pushes hard against the creature’s head, pushing it past the breach in the sword until his arm reaches full length.
The energy’s fading, the small window of opportunity’s closing, and for once in his miserable life, he can’t think of a thing to do. The hand not grappling with the creatures head pulls free from the back of the sword. His fingers slowly begin moving, drawing a pattern in the air. Faint lines form, like strokes from a dry paintbrush. Lines sparkle and faintly crackle with weak power, power being sapped away. The pattern is rough and unfinished, its edges not straight, its lines fumbling. The feeling in his fingers is weak. Strength fading, the pattern breaks as his hand twitches before returning to the blade. Fire begins erupting from the torch again, the strange violet flame re-emerges and casts strange shadows once again along the cave walls. Shadows depicting men falling in the thousands, figures standing above them. A strange light emits from the wrecked battlefield as the dominant figures rise, floating above, breaching unending clouds and sending a cleansing fire downward. Fire spreads along the walls, engulfing the shadows, casting them far away as it shrieks and flickers violently. The Wanderer’s vision begins to fade. The world around begins to dull. Rocky walls, granite floors, the creature all fade, losing color and becoming shadows themselves. Heat wells in his head, as tears stream down his cheek.
I can’t.
Shadows slowly engulf him as the energy drains from his arms.
I won’t
The creature’s face inches closer and closer to its target.
This is where it ends.
The fire erupts, banishing the shadows away once more, filling the room with soft orange light as the creature lunges uninterrupted at its prize.
Then nothing. The pain of stabbing pincers ripping along his throat never occurs. Instead, a loud CLAP echoes along the walls. It’s deafening and almost endless, but it's over in an instant. A river of fluid splashes along The Wanderer’s face and body. It’s warm and thick like syrup but smells like rotten apple cores. For a moment, he contemplates if this is death. A strange death, and a strange place to end up, but who’s to know. Before long his eyes opened. The creature that stood hunched over him was still there, but its head was entirely missing. Fragments of skull and viscera lined the walls and floor around him as the creature stood cold, dead. Seemingly out of nowhere, its head just seemed to explode.
“Did...” The Wanderer began quizzically. “Did I do that?”
Before an answer could be given, a shuffle could be heard across the room, hidden against the far wall deep within the dark. Slowly The Wanderer rose, knocking the deceased creature away from him, the feeling and strength slowly returning to his body. He stared off to the dark corner, waiting in vain for his eyes to adjust to the dark. They didn’t. Bending down, he grasped his sword in one hand, and what remained of the faint torch in the other as he cautiously meandered to the muffled sound coming from the dark corner.
“Gods, if it’s one more of these disgusting fucking things, I’m straight gone.”
Slowly, the image of a man appears. He almost seemed affixed to the wall due to some form of slightly translucent webbing sprawled across his body. His feet were a few inches raised from the floor as he hung limply against the wall. A thin layer of the same substance covered his mouth as he muffled violently to The Wanderer, his eyes red and spread as wide as they could go. Near the middle of the webbing his right hand was tightly bound, unable to move. On the other side, it seemed he was able to shake loose enough to free it. A silver revolver with gold carved inlays held tightly between his fingers. Faint trails of smoke emanated from the pistol’s barrel. The smell of spent gunpowder lingered In the air, a smell The Wanderer had memorized.
The Wanderer looked puzzlingly at the man stuck to the wall, before a spark of remembrance and realization came to life in his eyes. Sweat beaded down the side of his head, slowing before soaking into his shirt collar. That chance encounter had taken its toll, and had gone on for longer than he thought, longer than he had hoped.
“Hells man, I had forgotten entirely of you. Why not speak up next time?”
The stuck man convulsed in a fit of annoyance and fury as The Wanderer laughed heartily.

Hello! I (27F, Caucasian, 189lbs, 5’4) apologize in advance as this is my first ever Reddit post and I am a little nervous, so please feel free to remove if any rules are broken.
I am currently struggling with a range of unusual sudden symptoms that have me worried as to whether or not what I am experiencing is a nerve injury of sorts or if it falls under the category of neurodegenerative/neuromuscular disorders. I do not know where to begin so I will start from the beginning (I apologize if it is lengthy):
**January 2024*\*
*Jan. 11^th, 2024*
-I get a sudden, intense, shooting pain in the back of my head along my cervical spine which causes me extreme pain, discomfort, and nausea to the point that I was unable to get out of bed as it would shoot around the back of my head and into my jaw.
-This makes me develop sudden weakness all along my left arm and shoulder as well as a sudden pain that shoots down the arm and into my wrist.
*Jan. 18^th, 2024*
-Along with shooting pain, I get a minor case of Bell’s Palsy which promptly went away with the help of medication as per the ER doctors’ orders (went to ER the morning after it happened).
*Jan. 28^th, 2024*
-I go back to ER for a follow-up and explain the worsening nerve/back of head and neck pain situation.
-They do a CT without contrast of my head and sinuses (due to the neck/back of head pain situation) and given an all clear.
**February 2024*\*
-Pain behind neck, head, and back worsens to the point that I missed several university classes and work because of severe headaches, nausea, wobbly vision, and arm weakness.
-My primary care physician tells me it's nothing and to go home.
*Feb. 14^th, 2024*
-Pain, nausea, and headache from whatever is happening behind my neck causes me to go to the ER where I do a CT without contrast of my cervical spine (C1-D1) which ended up showing (and I'm quoting the results directly):

• Mild intervertebral disc space narrowing and early-right side uncarthrosis (c4-c5)
• Mild intervertebral disc space narrowing and early bilateral uncarthrosis, right more than left (c5-c6)
• Mild intervertebral disc space narrowing with very minimal posterior disc osteophyte complex (c6-D1).
• Reversal of the normal cervical lordosis with kyphosis centered around c5-c6).

-I was simply referred to physio,
**March 2024*\*
-Weakness and shoulder, neck, and back pain persist but the headaches and nausea subside. Eventually, the pain becomes less intense but the weakness throughout the shoulder, neck, and arm continues.
*March 19^th, 2024*
-My doctor. finally reluctantly referred me to a neurologist where I do nerve conduction study of both my arms, hands, and face (my doctor initially thought I had peripheral neuralgia). I also do needle EMG on my left arm from the wrist up to the neck. The neurologist says I should wear braces for carpal and cubital tunnel syndrome (not new information, have known this for years) but that I am showing symptoms of cervical radiculopathy on my left side and need physio.
-A few days later, I developed odd fasciculations and spasming all over my body including the left side of my jaw which were relentless until they subsided on their own about two weeks later.
**April 2024*\*
*April 18^th/20^th, 2024 (Somewhere between that time I do not remember the dates)*
- I do not know if it is because I messed up at the gym, have terrible posture, and sit on my laptop too much because of finals and work and all that, or because I slept on the couch in a weird position that essentially compressed my entire left side), I really hurt myself. Symptoms start with:

• Intense burning pain behind/above the elbows, (which I initially thought was just me exacerbating my cubital tunnel syndrome as it has happened before) but then suddenly it became so painful I was nauseous.
• Further weakness in my left arm/shoulder. Developed wobbly wrists, a wobbly pinky when I try to press it onto my thumb (left more than right), shooting and burning pain up and down my arm, and burning and pins and needles in my shoulder blade, left side of my back down to my ribs when I would lie down on my back or left side.
• Trying to sleep on my right side causes me to mess up my elbow and shoulder on that side too (though not same extent as my left) and wobbly.
• Unusual throbbing, trembling rippling sensations in the back rippling from left lumbathoratic spine outward. Same thing in my shoulder blade on left side.
• Weird rippling sensation of pressure/dull squishing aches that rippled down my arms to the point that they made my wrists ripple.
• Burning/shooting pain near clavicle going down to under armpit, more so on left and right, as well as more pain in the neck.
• Unable to get up from seated/lying down position without having knees tremble and limp. Walking over the next few days worried me as I was afraid I would just drop because my knees felt like jelly. This has since subsided and I'm feeling fine and overall walking normally again.
• I had an appointment with another doctor (unrelated reason) where I also mentioned the jelly knees and the spasm/fasciculation situation from March and she said that could a be neuromuscular disorder.

**May 2024*\*
*May 1^st, 2024*
-These sensations persist so I go to ER. Doctor did cervical spine X-Ray (showed nothing), as well as an ultrasound of my lungs, liver, spleen, and heart (all clear), as well as regular blood tests to check the basics, CBCs, clotting (all good in terms of bloodwork). All the doctor ended up telling me is that everything looks fine and hopefully this goes away on its own but if it continues for another 4-6 months it might be a neuromuscular disorder. He recommended I follow up with a family doctor.
*May 5^th, 2024*
My primary care doctor says I’m stressing for nothing, and sends me home within 5 minutes.
-I get an emergency same-day appointment at another clinic where the doctor prescribed me naproxen and told me that my trap muscles were just tight, and I needed a massage. Tells me I do not need any CT scans, MRIs, or follow-ups with a neurologist.
*May 5^th, 2024-Present*
-Symptoms have subsided however the deep shooting elbow pain persists sometimes, as does the squeezing/ rippling in both my arms. Left side aches/ burns from the cervical spine down, sometimes causing headaches and I feel it in my jaw and my ear, but also between my back. My shoulder still shakes and now my hand just trembles on its own sometimes depending on what I’m doing. I no longer have continuous intense full-body tremors nor excessive pins and needles and burning in my shoulder blades but I still have exacerbated weakness in my arm and hand and I think now on the right side too. Furthermore, I noticed that I only get weird sensations (like muscle spasms? fasciculations? I don't know) on my back depending on how soft the surface I
-Sometimes I get buzzing/ fluttering around/behind my knees, in the creases where each thigh meets the pelvis (like at the front, not between legs), on my butt, and occasionally, on my sternum.
Note:
-So far, I have not lost any strength since January, I carry/hold stuff without issue though not anything too heavy on either arm because I feel a painful burn shoot from my neck down my shoulders and my left shoulder is killing me (like burning). I do not know what atrophy feels or looks like (but I think my left arm/wrist area) is weaker than my right given how my left wrist shakes, also bending my left wrist causes weird pain that happens around my arm).
-My left arm/side is my dominant side.
-I also have another appointment with a different doctor tomorrow at a private clinic because my doctor said I’m stressing for nothing. Although I am getting another doctor tomorrow, I was wondering if this is ALS or some neurodegenerative situation or if could it be the result of an injury? What steps do I take?
Thank you so much and apologies for the lengthy post. Have a great Sunday!

Sorry if I format this wrong or any other issues.
Background: Granny is 88, good health. Multiple broken bones in the last few years, first breaks of her life. On meds and supervision from her adult children due to osteoporosis.
Previous history of the above mentioned breaks and Guillian Barré many years ago (60s /70s), fully recovered. Also rheumatic fever many years ago, fully recovered. Previous bad reaction to steroid nebs, jittery, and morphine, vomiting.
Current issue: She has a trapped nerve in her spine due to some arthritis near her neck. This surfaced about a month ago and has caused horrific pain in her shoulder blade. And if this lady says she has pain, that means it has to be absolute torture. She's on a lidocaine patch, tramadol x 2 three times a day, and an anti inflammatory that starts with ex twice a day. Plus stemetil to manage nausea from drugs.
Thursday, she had no pain all day, then that night she was so weak. Couldn't walk, panting, needed to be pushed to the bathroom on her wheelie walker and even that required rest and struggle to breathe. We felt the levels from the patch had built up and overwhelmed her.
Friday, tried to go without the patch. I was minding her that day and within half an hour of waking, she was in horrific pain. Struggling to breathe, doubled over her knees, moaning involuntarily. I put the patch back on, figuring we'd try 6-8 hours instead of 12. Took a long time to kick in, but between that and tramadol she eventually got some relief. Was much better last night.
Saturday: this morning, she was in an awful state, both pain and massive struggle to breathe. She had all the drugs she was allowed, including patch, and it didn't touch it. We called the out of hours doc but weren't happy that we could give what she needed at home, so we brought her to hospital. Her stats at home were BP 120/70, ox 92%, no temp.
Hospital: did bloods, ecg, chest X ray, arterial blood due to low pulse ox (dipped below 90). She has been diagnosed with pneumonia and admitted. She's on IV fluids, oxygen (which was lowered a bit when her ox went back above 90, she was at 94% last we knew), antibiotics. And we were told she'd be given a neb (and watched due to previous history),amd strong painkillers through the night for the trapped nerve.
We're happy with the care she's receiving, and she's pain free and breathing ok at the moment. But I'm concerned how much this might affect her due to her age. Other than this, she's got bad balance so is a bit doddery, but otherwise healthy as a horse. But she is 88, and likely a bit frail. Is this likely to turn into an end of life scenario or do you think she might be ok?
Thanks so much for any answers

Race Information Name: Pittsburgh Marathon Date: May 5, 2024 Distance: 26.2 miles Location: Pittsburgh, PA Time: 3:46:41 Goals Goal Description Completed? A Sub 4 Yes B PR: Sub 3:51:29 Yes Splits Mile Time 1 8:54 2 8:31 3 8:27 4 8:30 5 8:17 6 8:25 7 8:41 8 8:27 9 8:41 10 8:13 11 8:32 12 9:05 13 8:58 14 8:37 15 8:34 16 8:49 17 8:28 18 8:39 19 8:38 20 8:48 21 8:46 22 8:41 23 8:52 24 8:21 25 8:54 26 8:25
Training: 197 days before this marathon I had ran the Kansas City marathon and all of my training was focused on zone 2 and getting my fitness back. After about six months off + getting Covid, I needed to fully rebuild by aerobic base. This was the second time I got Covid and both times I had a really tough time recovering. Had symptoms of long covid, but eventually got my lungs back to a comfortable point where I could run again. I ran a 4:45 on a relatively hilly course and was not happy with my results. I decided I would make sure to do my research this time around and landed on Pfitz 18/55 after joining this sub. At the beginning of the training cycle my goal was just sub 4 hours, but after hitting all my workouts pretty easily, I decided to up the goal to PR. I ran a 3:51:29 at the 2022 LA marathon with decent mileage, but not with the workouts that Pfitz has. I completed 83 out of the 85 workouts only skipping one due to my wife being in the hospital and one due to walking over 10 miles while on a vacation to New York. I only failed one threshold workout: week 8, 10 miles with 6 at threshold pace. I did this particular workout on a treadmill and just couldn't hold on to my 8:00/mile pace and cut it short. I only completed 3.6 miles, wasn't my day. I was able to get my confidence back after completing the week 11 workout: 11 miles with 7 at threshold averaging right around that 8:00 min/mile pace for all 7. Finally the week 13 marathon pace workout (18 with 14 at marathon pace) I ended up averaging 8:44/ mile with over 900 ft elevation and good HR numbers. I was running more miles than I ever had and definitely felt in great shape. What shocked me was that I was always hungry and actually ended up gaining 10 pounds this training block. 195 to 205. I wasn't too worried because I still felt good. Shoe rotation: I am a simple man, so the complexity (and expense) that came with shoes turned me away from diving too deep. Hoka Clifton 8s carried me through two marathons and were very comfortable for my 5'10 205 lbs build, so I rotated two pairs and kept it simple. This time around I wanted to try a couple different brands to see what really worked well for me and came to: Asics Gel Nimbus 25 for the easy long runs during the week and recovery runs, Hoka Clifton 8 for the weekend long runs and the Puma Deviate Nitro 2 for anything with speed. After finding some really good YouTube channels and understanding how to get longevity from these shoes really helped me dialing in this rotation. Pre-race: I went with a three day carb load from Featherstone Nutrition, which suggested 745 carbs per day! I had been doing more research on nutrition and the value of balancing fructose and glucose with the carb load so a good majority of these carbs came from bagels, bananas, orange juice and apple juice. I didn't actually hit the 745 total ever, but hit 559, 586 and 615. All of this while trying to keep fats down as much as possible and minimal protein to not feel too bloated on race day. This was the first time I did a proper carb load and I truly believe this was a large part of the success that this race was for me. I live in Southern California, but traveled to Pittsburgh for this race because my employer was one of the large sponsors and paid for employees to run. So being this was my first time in Pittsburgh, my father and I wanted to explore the city which may have not been the best idea before a marathon. We are huge sports fans so being able to go to a Pirates game and tour the stadium where the Steelers play was really cool. The three days there before the marathon were all over 20k steps including the 5k we did the day before the marathon as a shake out. The Friday before the race we drove the course which I think really helped with the hills and the tangents since this course has so many turns. The morning or the race I woke up at 5am (race started at 7:10 for my wave) and ate a bagel with peanut butter and honey as well as a banana. Nutrition plan during the race was a Gu every 3 miles and my dad had a bottle with 40g carbs at mile 16 waiting for me. 180g carbs total during the race. We walked from our hotel over the Roberto Clemente bridge to the start area, about 1 mile. The half marathon and marathon started together. There were 3,500 marathon runners and over 11,000 half runners so it was pretty crowded getting to the porta-potties. I then headed to corral B to line up for the race. Race: I love the beginning of races because I am able to finally soak in all the hard work I did to get here. The sacrifices my wife made for me to chase my passions and the support everyday is always something I'll be forever grateful for. I decided I would start without headphones so I had music available the second half of the race when things gat hard (old airpods that only last 1.5-2 hours). It started to drizzle right when the race started but stopped around mile 5. The first 10k or so was so crowded with so many half marathoners, there were moments I caught myself trying to keep with a group of them not realizing they were already halfway through their race. I train with heart rate, but my chest strap had broke at the end of my training block so I solely had my apple watch to rely on. My heart rate was already in the 170s (according to my watch, I know these are not super accurate) in the first mile of the race and would stay between 165-185 the whole race. After realizing this probably isn't accurate I completely ran by feel and ignored the HR. Around mile 10 I locked in with the 3:50 pacer and decided I would hang with her as long as I could. I had also put in my headphones and got a good energy bump from Dr. Dre and Lainey Wilson. At this point I was feeling great. I was fully prepared for the biggest hill in this race right after the Birmingham bridge and mile 11 that was about .75 miles and gained about 200ft elevation in that time. This was my only mile that was over 9 min. I am very proud of that. After getting up the hill I still felt great and the course finally opened up with the half marathoners splitting off from the marathoners. Mile 15 started to get really hard for me. Crowed thinned out here and I wasn't sure if I had been running beyond my fitness, but just kept on the hip of the 3:50 pacer. Now it felt like my heart was pounding and I actually checked what my heart rate was from my carotid artery on my neck. Right about 172. In a previous marathon I had gone above my fitness and right at 16 is where I bonked and ran walked the last 10 miles. I did not want this to happen again. I decided to stay at this pace until I saw my dad at 16 and re-evaluate after getting carbs and electrolytes. Right after the 16 mile marker, there he was. I was able to comfortably keep pace and talk to him so I realized I was probably ok to keep it up. I had zero physical pain at this point, but also knew the marathon starts at mile 20, so I didn't pick it up too much. The course is a tough one with the first half being pretty flat and the majority of the elevation coming after mile 12 so I knew I needed to be patient. Miles 16-22 were uneventful and I stayed pretty consistent here. Mile 23 had the last uphill, but for some reason I had been looking up too much making my neck really sore. I was still with the pacer at this point and kept asking her where the last hill was every time there was a slight undulation. Mile 23-25 is very quiet on the course making this part pretty grueling mentally. My headphones had died by this time also. I kept thinking about all the people in my life that support and love me to keep myself going. I knew if I stopped for a second it would be extremely hard to start again. I had recently lost my daughter and had her name on my bib, that kept me going. This last 5k was for her. The downhill at this point was what I was waiting for, but actually was the first time my legs started to feel sore. After mile 26 I rounded the corner and turned on the jets as best I could and saw I had achieved my goal. My family at home was watching the finish line camera and they all got to see me, which was pretty cool to get all the FaceTimes and texts after the race. Post-race: After the race my legs were so cooked from the last downhill I actually found a spot and just laid down on the pavement in the finish area after grabbing a banana and water. This training cycle was the first of the 5 marathons I've done where I became a real fan of marathoning and obsessing over how to master the distance. I know the time isn't super impressive, but beating my last marathon by almost an hour in less than 200 days was something I was very proud of. I will fully vouch for PFitz programs. The long threshold workouts and mid week long runs build up so much strength I can't wait to start the 18/70 for my next marathon. I recently purchase Jack Daniels Running Formula and will follow his 18 week 5k plan before jumping back into marathon training. Ultimately I have the same goal as so many people, BQ. For me that would mean sub 3 (probably sub 2:55). This attempt will come around sometime early 2025. Thanks if you made it this far. Happy running! Made with a new race report generator created by herumph.

NOTE FROM AUTHOR: Hello Hello! I am a first-time writer embarking on my first dumpster fire; input is most welcome. I'm not the best self-editor, so get your hiking boots on. It's rough out there. Whenever I read it, I find or create more errors (:
OPTIONAL READS: For the Retro Computer or Programming Enthusiast OR if you are open to other formats of story telling. I tried to combine my love for programming as an UNDERSTANDABLE way to tell a story through a Visual Experience in the Command Line Interface;
A Stand-Alone VISUAL ASCII 'Programming Terminal' Story Prologue. Follow through(Screen Shots of my Command Line Interface) the UNE-EYE Observational Satellite Terminal as Kable extracts Classified Data about his Beloved Military Unit, THE HUMMINGBIRDS, a flying exoskeleton unit. This includes the origin story of a Technology Tree in Book 1.

####

INDEX

1. DEADCOAST - THE HUMMINGBIRDS PROLOGUE -> HERE <-
   
2. DEADCOAST - COMPLETE ILLUSTRATED INTRO -> HERE <-
   
3. HEAT & GRIZZLY REDS - CHAPTER 1 ILLUSTRATED -> HERE <-
   

"Deadcoast Book 1: Heat and the Grizzly Reds" transports readers to a 2063 Earth, a world on the brink, where the scarcity of fresh water has led to previously unseen geopolitical tensions. Amidst this backdrop, the nation-backed militant group DAGGR has emerged as a formidable force, leveraging advanced technology to assert control over Canada’s abundant water resources. At the heart of their arsenal is 'slugTech,' a technology pioneered by James Broadshaw, intended for ecological restoration but repurposed for militaristic dominance.
The story unfolds with the chilling invasion of Vancouver, marking a turning point as DAGGR makes its ambitions clear, culminating in the assassination of the Canadian Prime Minister. This act of aggression leaves the country reeling, exposing vulnerabilities and igniting a global reaction.
The UNE-EYE satellite is central to the international response, a significant narrative element representing the world's most advanced orbital tracking system. Once decommissioned in favour of privacy, the Dutch reactivated the satellite as a strategic move to monitor DAGGR's movements and coordinate a unified international effort against the aggressors. This revival of UNE-EYE symbolizes a crucial turning point, highlighting the global stakes and the interconnectedness of nations in the face of a common enemy.
As Canada grapples with its plight, the DAMU (Deserted American Military Units) rise in solidarity, breaching borders to fight alongside their Canadian counterparts. This act of defiance is mirrored by international forces, including the Netherlands and Ukraine, each bringing their unique strengths to the coalition, underscored by the strategic oversight provided by the UNE-EYE satellite.
Amidst the geopolitical chaos, a man who had all but given up, a boxer on the ropes, emerges from Vancouver's Gastown. Known as HEAT, this leader of the Grizzly Reds becomes a symbol of resistance and hope. HEAT's story, and that of the Grizzly Reds, is one of resilience, rallying not only Canadians but also global citizens to stand against DAGGR's tyranny.
" Deadcoast Book 1: Heat and the Grizzly Reds" is a compelling narrative of survival, alliance, and resistance. It deftly weaves together elements of advanced technology, international politics, and the indomitable human spirit. The inclusion of the UNE-EYE satellite serves as a testament to the complexities of modern warfare and the critical role of global surveillance and coordination in maintaining security and freedom. But something else stirs amongst it. The UNE still shrouds its use, albeit assuring it is for record-keeping purposes- there is no way to be sure. Join HEAT and the Grizzly Reds as they navigate the challenges of Time, War, Science and liberating their fellow man in Vancouver. THE GRIZZLIES NEED YOU, in this action-packed, emotional saga, speaks to the resilience and camaraderie inherent in the human condition.
CHAPTER 1 - The Blood Spattered Maples
ILLUSTRATED VERSION -> HERE <-
The early morning sun cast a serene glow over Vancouver, its golden rays gently coaxing the city from its slumber. The harbour lay still, bathed in a tranquil blend of crimson and amber, defiantly calm as if aware of the day's latent potential for tumult. The awakening streets, pulsating with the vibrant beat of daily enterprise, transformed into bustling arteries of life.
Amidst this urban renaissance, Ryan stood by his apartment window, one eye still tinged a fading shade of deep lavender from last night's ordeals. He absorbed the duality of the world outside – a peaceful façade masking an undercurrent of chaos, much like his own existence. The apartment, a silent guardian of his life's chapters, was awash with tangible memories; some stood proudly like trophies, and others lingered like indelible scars.
"Eugh, need to sort out this money mess," Ryan muttered, his voice a gravelly mix of resolve and weariness. He gingerly touched the bruise beneath his eye, a stark reminder of the previous night's fight. He wasn't just a boxer but a living, breathing paradox. His undefeated record of 12-0 was more than a tally of victories; it was a map of a life spent dancing in and out of shadows. At 17, he was a beacon of hope for Canadian Olympic Futures. Now, at 33, he was a spotlight in his subconscious, illuminating the relentless passage of time and a road riddled with 'what ifs.' Eleven of those wins were echoes from a past steeped in the sweat and blood of the ring before life's currents swept him into the city's gritty underbelly. There, he became an enforcer, not out of choice but a necessity, bound by ties, not of blood but of unbreakable bonds forged in adversity. Stepping back into the ring at 33, Ryan wasn't chasing glory; he was hunting redemption, a chance to rewrite a narrative that had veered off course.
Today's boxing was far from what he once knew; it had transformed into a digital spectacle, a charade he refused to partake in. The sport now paraded fighters adorned with loud chains and face tattoos, pretending to live a life of crime they don't. Vile symbols of fame he doesn't wish for. Ryan had always skirted the fringes of the spotlight, respecting the sport but despising what it had become - a glorified masquerade that he believed led the youth astray. He stared out at the awakening city, contemplating his place in this ever-changing world, just as the first notes of a familiar yet unwelcome voice crackled from the vintage radio on his shelf.
"Ah, jimmy2piece," he scoffed, the name leaving a bitter taste. The vintage radio crackled on, announcing the dazzling exploits of the heavyweight boxing champion, an embodiment of everything Ryan detested about the sport's current state. Ryan's hand lingered over the old radio, a relic amidst the bountiful thrift and trinket that abundantly filled his apartment. The announcer's voice, overly flamboyant in its praise of 'jimmy2piece,' clashed with the morning's tranquillity, grating against Ryan's every nerve. With a flick brimming with contempt, he silenced the intrusive chatter. The ensuing silence was a stark reminder of his path's divergence from the once-noble art of boxing to a life mired in moral ambiguity.
"Enough of this nonsense," he muttered, the disdain in his voice mirroring the snarl on his lips as he spun the dial back to silence.
*Click*
Ryan was a man of contemplation; opening his balcony door, he let the morning breeze mingle with the memories that haunted him daily. These reflections were a tormenting ritual, no matter the joys and love surrounding him. His only respite was constant movement – hobbies, work, art – anything to fend off the sharp claws of the past that threatened to shred the remnants of his self-respect. He had lost ten years to choices and actions that replayed in his mind relentlessly every single day.
"This 'jimmy2shoes' or whatever...pal throws pillows, a poser pretending he's about that gang life; I can see it in his eyes, he's not a killer," he grumbled, gazing out at the awakening city. This day promised a respite from his underground fights – at least for a while. His recent backstreet brawls, a far cry from the glory of the boxing ring, were what paid the bills now. "At least I've bought myself three more months..."
Leaning on the railing of his miniature balcony, Ryan cradled a cup of steaming coffee, his gaze drifting over the streets below. At this moment, the chaos of his life seemed distant, replaced by a transient calm. Despite his bruised, rough presentation, a certain peace enveloped him, a rare stillness that belied the storm of his existence. His thoughts meandered through the serene hum of the city and the gentle brush of the ocean breeze. The skyscape, with clouds dancing to the ocean's rhythm, offered a brief escape from his turbulent past.
Memories of Robin, his mentor and friend, floated into his consciousness. Robin's untimely death in Dubai was a wound that never healed. The sacrifices he had made to keep Robin safe, only to be absent on the fateful trip that claimed his friend's life, weighed heavily on him. "Why did it have to be you, Robin?" he whispered to the horizon, the question, a haunting torment upon his daily routines.
Ryan was a thinker; as he slid over his ashtray from the stool, he sparked up A morning 'dart' (cigarette), as he called them. His past began to creep into his head, as it did every morning. With each inhalation of addiction-soothing nicotine, his blazing thoughts followed as his brain began to become fully active from his sleep. It was a raven on his shoulder tormenting him, pecking at him ever haunting his consciousness. No matter the love he may have found or the happiness, friends, or family surrounding him. The time to reflect was always grim and consistently unbearable. If he stood still, the Ravel's claws sunk more profoundly; the only reprieve was constant distractions. It's why he kept so busy, creative, and active. Ryan constantly kept moving with hobbies, work, or art. Pushing off the switchblade thoughts ready to cut into his subconscious and bleed out whatever self-respect he had left that day. He threw away ten years of his life, and he relives them every. Single. Day.
"Damn man, what's the point of it all?" Ryan's voice was barely a whisper, lost in the morning breeze. His gaze lingered on the horizon, eyes clouded with confusion and pain. "Robin's gone, and here I am, a ship adrift; up shits creek without a paddle. What good can I do? What purpose do I serve? My skillset? My knowledge? Ive wasted my life, nothing is applicable." The questions hung in the air, unanswered. Ryan's life had indeed been a storm of violence and turmoil, from the gritty days working alongside Robin, watching his back to his hard-fought victories in the boxing ring. He had dreamt of leaving the world of fights behind, yet fate seemed to have woven a different path for him, one that he couldn't escape...
The distant sound of boat horns broke his train of thought. These weren't the usual rhythmic calls that echoed along Vancouver's shores; they carried a sense of urgency, growing louder and more frantic by the second. Ryan leaned forward, squinting into the morning light. The sight that greeted him was anything but ordinary. Dark, ominous and foreboding shapes were cutting through the waters toward the Seawall – military-grade ships that seemed like phantoms against the sun's bright backdrop.
"What the...?" Ryan murmured, a wry smile touching his lips as he recalled a line from a 1930s radio show. "Ah yes, the 'Anti-Frackers' upping their game, bravo!" He often found solace in humour, a shield against the world's harsh realities. Ryan was an unbreakable anvil to the world, always struck to sharpen others' steel. But what about his iron resolve? He bore the burdens so others didn't have to, a silent guardian shouldering the world's weight in stoic silence. Yet beneath that armour of stoicism beat the heart of a man grappling with his vulnerabilities, a man with a core as soft as it was intense.
Just like that- The world as we knew it, changed forever.
The morning's peace shattered abruptly as sirens wailed into life, slicing through the air with a sense of impending doom. The tranquil dawn was now a backdrop to a nightmare unfolding in real time. Ryan's eyes, mirroring the turbulent hues of a stormy sea, narrowed in primal alertness. These were not friendly vessels coming to grace the city's harbour; they were harbingers of chaos, their arrival a silent scream in the gardens of Vancouver's tranquility. As the city around him carried on, blissfully unaware of the looming threat, Ryan's mind shifted into high gear, honed by years of confrontation, conflict and reading other peoples intentions. He understood the unspoken language of death, the subtle shift in the air that preluded catastrophe. The serene calm that had greeted the day now seemed like the deceptive stillness before a devastating storm.
PFFFFT~~
Ryan's coffee ejected out his mouth, a clean mist dispersed, dancing in the ocean winds.
His eyes widened in shock. "That... No, that's not right. That honeycomb structure on the bow – that's rumoured military tech, not something you'd find on a civilian vessel. That's definitely not one of our decommissioned ships; Canada has always had a modest military budget- It's not the U.S. either; they've moved on to those massive city carriers," he muttered, recalling the recent unveiling of the U.S.'s latest naval behemoth designed to be a self-sustaining war ecosystem.
"These are destroyers...carriers...and what in the world are those landing crafts?" His voice trailed off as a wave of realization washed over him. A heavy breath escaped his lips, his heartbeat thundering in unison with a growing sense of dread. This kind of military might, sleek and menacing, was straight out of the pages of a dystopian novel. Ryan's pulse quickened, adrenaline coursing through his veins, mingling with an unsettling fear. Vancouver, with its serene beauty and peaceful reputation, was the last place one would expect a military invasion. Yet, as he stood there, the city around him persevered in blissful ignorance. Laughter and the sounds of daily life echoed up to his balcony, starkly juxtaposed against the darkening horizon of his thoughts.
Something sinister was unfolding, and he felt an urgent need to act. "Ah, damn it!" he exclaimed, frustration boiling over as he hurled his mug to the ground, where it shattered into razer sharp ceramic shards—a glimpse of futures past.
The walls of Ryan's apartment, once a gallery of memories from a life half-lived, now felt like they were closing in on him. The space that had been his refuge, adorned with mementos of a tumultuous past, suddenly felt like a prison. He felt trapped, not by physical barriers, but by the weight of the unfolding crisis. Who could he call? Who would believe him about an impending military assault? Was there even time?
Each option seemed as hopeless as the next, leaving him feeling powerless. His fists, which had once brought him victory in the ring, now seemed futile in the face of this immense and unknown threat.
BOOM
A thunderous crash tore through the city's fabric, piercing the veil of laughter and routine. Giggles changed to Shrieks, the buzzing of cars in the city turned screeching of panicked tires. It was a boom resonating with such force that it seemed to shake the very resolve of the most robust steel, a sound that demands attention and captivates a person, a sound of death; it rattles you to the bone. This explosion marked a pivotal moment that would forever alter the course of Vancouver's history and, indeed, the world's.
The resounding echo of the first explosion heralded a declaration of war on all that was ordinary. In Ryan, the shockwave ignited a transformation. Despair morphed into an unyielding determination, a fire kindled deep within. His skin prickled, each hair standing on end as if his nerves were braille, spelling out the moment's urgency.
"Are they firing at us?" Ryan's voice was a mix of disbelief and rising panic. The thought seemed almost too surreal to entertain. He hesitated momentarily, grappling with the reality of the situation. The explosion's roar, so fierce it shook the foundations of his apartment, jolted him back to the present. Racing back to his balcony, what he saw confirmed his darkest fears.
The ships in the harbour were no longer silent, ominous spectators; they had unleashed their fury, sending plumes of smoke and debris skyward. Vancouver's skyline, once a proud testament to peace and progress, now served as a harrowing backdrop to an unfolding apocalypse. Below, the streets descended into chaos. People scattered in a frantic attempt to escape, their screams piercing the air, a chorus of dawning terror.
Ryan's heart pounded against his chest, each beat a call to action. He was no hero, never the 'good guy' in his story, but he did value life above all. Standing there, witnessing his city being torn apart, he knew he couldn't remain a passive observer. Indecision and shock gave way to resolve.
"MOTHA FU-" he cursed, his words lost in the burst of an explosion, spotted at the last second.
The world around him had erupted into a maelstrom of fire and fury.
An air burst shell detonated with ferocious intensity a mere 50 meters from Ryan's sanctuary. The explosion ripped through the building, an unforgiving hatred that jolted reality itself. The blast wave, a monstrous force of destruction, assaulted his apartment, shattering the windows with an ease that mocked Vancouver's fragility. Glass shards, transformed into lethal projectiles, hurtled through the air with a hunter's precision, each piece seeking its target. Instinctively, Ryan lunged for cover, his only protection a vintage oak promotional board, a relic of a bygone era. This wooden guardian, decorated with the iconic image of Stan Lee, stood as a stoic defender, a symbol of comic heroism now repurposed to shield flesh and blood from the brutal onslaught.
A low hum erupts from the depths of his being as the fireball swirled around him. "Breathe... I can't... don't fall asleep... don't...sleep..." he whispered, fighting the encroaching darkness. His cobalt eyes, glazing over open, fighting to the last light, flickered between consciousness and oblivion. The distant, muffled voices of mentors past echoed in his mind, a fading chorus in the theatre of his memories. Ryan looked to his left, cast one last lingering look at the Vancouver sky, a canvas of blue that seemed so distant now. As his vision began to narrow, a tunnel drawing him away from the light, Ryan felt the grip of darkness pulling him under heavy, yet weightless. Once so vivid and alive, the world around him was fading into shadows.
Amid shrapnel-induced unconsciousness, Ryan's mind catapulted him back to a pivotal moment from his youth – the Ontario Canadian Olympic Trials.
The stadium's noise swirled around him, but it was an entirely different world within the ring. There, it was just Ryan and his opponent, every move a testament to the sacrifices he and Robin(Ryan's longtime mentor both inside, and outside the ring) had made together.
Ryan's style in the ring was unique, a blend of calculated ferocity in speed and agility. He adopted the elusive, angular movements that Robin had honed while serving alongside the hardened Ukrainians on the frontlines of Kyiv. This style was compelling and unpredictable, frustrating his opponents with swift and efficient strikes. Ryan's ability to slip away from counters, almost serpentine in its execution, left them grasping at straws.
Point fighting for the Olympics was a system that worked well with Ryan's style but not necessarily with his mindset. Ryan was a fighter at heart, and sometimes, when pushed, the disciplined techniques would give way to a rawer form of combat. Robin, who always believed in Ryan's potential, saw this as his greatest fault and biggest asset to "push past." In his gruff but encouraging voice, Robin would often spew "The stink in that mind, You've got a head on you that'd make an onion cry," highlighting Ryan's occasionally impulsive nature, and inability to control his emotions when it mattered. This characteristic made Ryan fearless in the ring but also sloppy, open, and vulnerable. It often led him into trouble outside of the solace in prizefighting.
In these trials, Ryan's physical attributes – his slender frame, broad shoulders, wide back and a peculiarly long wingspan that gave him an imposing presence in his weight class – it made him stand out. His frame synchronized with his style, creating a truly unique spectacle of genetic gifts, hard work, and skill.
These memories blended nostalgia and pain as they flickered through Ryan's mind. They were reminders of a path once trodden, a journey shaped by the influence of a mentor and the determination of a fighter's spirit.
As the Olympic Trials set to begin, Robin looked to Ryan to instill confidence for his upcoming bouts, but Ryan was in his element. It was fight day, the fun day, the day to show off all of the hard work. Ryan had confidence, and his style in the ring displayed it in full. He moved with an angular rhythm that was both art and battle – slipping, landing a quick stiff counter cross, then gracefully stepping out of reach inches from returning fire. He made it look fun and easy, as if playing with his prey before fangs clench throat, delivering the killing bite. Looking closer, you can only see fire and determination in his bright eyes. He found purpose in the beautiful science of boxing. His strategy was that of a technical boxer, The Counterpuncher; 1. To bait his opponent into committing, then counter, fight long, fight smart. 2. Beat em' up, Frustrate em', then start slinging the heat in the uppercuts and lead hooks.
The bell rang and the fight was officially underway. Ryan controlled the ring with his long frame. Each exchange was rapid yet controlled, a dance of precise strikes and evasive maneuvers. The world's complexities faded in these moments, leaving only Ryan and the pure essence of the sport he loved. He felt invincible, a force of nature within the confines of the ring. To Ryan, the fight was more than a competition; it was a performance, an exhilarating escape from the mundane. It was true Purpose.
The intensity of the round reached a frustrating outburst by his opponent, who grabbed Ryan by the back of his head– 'SPLIT' called by the referee, his hand placed between them. A judge calls for a correction, catching the referee's attention only for a split second. In this second, Ryan's Opponent saw an opportunity. Lifting his head to move away, Ryan locks eyes with his Opponent, sporting a grin and delivering a sly headbutt as a parting gift. It's against the rules, but part of the game's harsh reality if gone unnoticed. Expelling energy and detesting it was a waste of fuel. It was a jolting reminder of "at all times"(protect yourself), a stark contrast to the discipline and respect Ryan upheld, starting his boxing journey in Thailand under "Muay Thai" rules, ideology of the worrior spirit and discipline. There was a sense of Honor in Lumpinee Stadium.
The outcome of these unsavoury tactics here is an advantage for the opponent. Ryan's inner pools erupt, his mind swirled with raging white waters, crashing and colliding against each other, two oceans with opposite currents meeting in his consciousness. His once technical thoughts, muscle memory mixed with fight iq burst with flames, erupting and incinerating all strategy in his path. His eyes widened, open like he'd found his primal genetic ancestry hidden deep within. The slaughter and the war of history. The bloodshed of 1000 lifetimes. He felt it all. Manic in thought. Ryan wanted to take his glove off and rip his cheeks open from the inside out--
BREAK - Ryan snaps back into it, erupting in stoic, silent, primal rage.

░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░ ░ ░░░ ░░░ ░░ ░ ▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒ ▒▒▒▒ ▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ ▓ ▓▓ ▓▓▓▓ ▓ ▓▓▓ ▓ ▓▓▓ █ ███ ██ █ ████ █ ███████ █ ████ █ ████ ██ ██ █ █████████████████████████████████████ 

The fight escalated, Ryan's disciplined technique unravelled under the seething tide of his rage. The finesse and agility that once defined his footwork gave way to a heavier, more aggressive stance. His feet, usually light and swift under his commanding frame, now felt anchored to the floor, each step driven more by fury than finesse. This transformation in style played perilously into his opponent's advantage. Ryan, usually a master of stick-and-move tactics, found himself engaging in close-quarter brawls, trading his advantage for a risky gamble. His in-and-out maneuvers, once a blur of grace, turned into brutish, in-the-pocket exchanges. This was a terrain where his more muscular and compact opponent had the upper hand. A raw, primal contest of power replaced the tactical dance that Ryan excelled at. Ryan's precise strikes became wild swings, his movements predictable to his seasoned adversary. Seizing the moment, the opponent unleashed a devastating barrage of inside hooks with their compact frame. A vicious right hook, lands clean in the exchange, thrown with the grace of a milkbag, the power hooks brute force, cut through Ryan's defences. The blow landed with a bone-jarring impact, sending a shockwave through Ryan's frame. His world spun as he stumbled, his once dominant presence in the ring now faltering under the weight of his unchecked emotions.
The ground rushed up to meet him as he crashed onto the canvas, the taste of iron and the sting of defeat mingling in his mouth. The crowd's roar faded into a distant echo, a stark reminder of how quickly the tides of battle could turn. Robin's voice sliced through the ringing from the corner, resonating with a force that commanded attention.
"Get your shit together, JUMPIN JESUS RYAN! HEART OF GOLD AND HEAD OF STONE – GET UP, YOU LITTLE COWARD! YOU'RE LETTING IT WIN, AGAIN! STOP THIS ONION HEAD NONSENSE AND DANCE, BOX THIS FELLA – YOU'RE BETTER THAN THIS, ACT LIKE IT, BELIEVE IN IT!"
His words were more than just a call to action; they were a lifeline thrown into the stormy seas of Ryan's mind. Each syllable was drenched in the raw, unfiltered wisdom that only a life spent in the cauldron of combat could forge. Robin's tone was a volatile cocktail of fury and concern, the urgency palpable in his voice. His palms crashed against the ring mat; each hit thunderous punctuation to his fiery sermon.
"You've got the talent, kid, but it's as good as ash if you keep burning it to the ground. I'M HERE FOR YOU, IM RIGHT HERE. SNAP OUT OF IT AND BOX THIS PLASTIC PATTY! MOVE GOD DAMNIT, GET UP!"
On the canvas, Ryan lay dazed, the echo of Robin's voice ringing in his ears. It was more than a mere pep talk; it was a wake-up call that struck a chord deep within him. Amidst the haze of the crowd murmurs and the pulsating pain that coursed through his body, clarity began to emerge. Lying there, Ryan grasped the essence of Robin's message –
"coward? letting it win? Playing my ego are ya Robin...hes right though. Im throwing this shit away."
This moment, sprawled on the canvas under the glaring lights and the crowd's gaze, became a crucible of transformation. The raw emotion and the hard-hitting truth in Robin's words ignited a spark in Ryan. It was time to rise, shake off the shadows of rage, and embrace a fighter's true spirit like he had learned in Thailand – not just with fists but with heart and mind in unison.
Staggered yet stirred by the dual impact of the physical hit and Robin's piercing words, A padded fist crushed into the rings canvas, followed by a kneee and the eruption of the crowd. Ryan was back, and he began to pull himself up from the canvas. His resolve, momentarily dimmed, now reignited with a fierce, clear, calculated intensity. Memories of the gruelling hours spent in the gym flooded back to him – the relentless sparring sessions, the time spent in Thailand, the sweat and toil, and the invaluable lessons etched into his being under Robin's stern tutelage.
With a renewed spirit, Ryan stepped back into the battle, his movements now embodying controlled power and a fluidity to his step. He recalled his time fighting beside the backdrop of the "Sarama" a traditional Thai music played when in combat. The times of learning to move, fight with the music, to flow, to be fluid, to be concise. Ryan finally put it all together in the heat of battle. He had merged his inherent ferocity with the disciplined technique that Robin relentlessly drilled into him, and the mindfull practises of the years he spent under Burklerk Pinsinchai in the jungles of Chiang Mai. His style was now fully displayed, raw and visceral yet refined by countless hours of practice in mind, body and spirit.
The final rounds bell clang to a start in a clinic of skill and sheer willpower. Ryan, driven by a blend of desperation and unwavering determination, unleashed a barrage of calculated and explosive strikes. Each punch and maneuver was a nod to the efficient, no-nonsense Ukrainian style that Robin had imparted to him. Ryan moved rhythmically across the mat, steps measured and precise, executing short, angular movements and deft outside counterpunches. He had returned to his element – the dance of combat, where he felt most alive, a symphony of movement where every step and punch was a testament to his life's journey and experiences as a human being first, and as a fighter second.
In this wake-up call, Ryan reinvigorated and reminded himself of his love for the sport, the exhilarating blend of art and athleticism. He was not just fighting to win; he was celebrating boxing, combat, honouring the path he had walked with Robin, and reclaiming what it meant to be a true fighter through Burklurk Pinsinchai's Teachings.
The round pressed on, and Ryan executed his maneuvers with a surgeon's precision. First;
-- The counterpuncher; a display in timing and accuracy, delivered with the full force of training and innate skill. --

1. He deftly slipped his opponent's cross, a move as fluid as it was swift.
   
2. He angled off, creating a space wide enough for his next move.
   
3. With an almost predatory precision, Ryan unleashed a powerful right cross, targeting his opponent's cheek from the angle he had just created. But Ryan wasn't done yet.
   
4. He slipped out again, evading any potential counter from his disoriented opponent. The rhythm, he danced in and out with his precise timing, perfected down to inches and angles.
   
5. In a final, decisive movement of the exchange, Ryan slipped in. He timed his step with a long cross that came off-beat, catching his opponent utterly off-guard. The punch landed with a satisfying impact, culminating in a perfectly executed combination. As he watched his opponent stagger, Ryan couldn't help but think, 'cya sleepy boi,' a silent acknowledgment of his dominance in this singular exchange.
   

This sequence was a statement. Ryan was not only back in the fight but also commanding it.
ONE!…TWO!…THREE!…FOUR!…FIVE!…SIX!...SEVEN!..EIGHT!
Ryan's opponent stands, admirable, but futile, driven by sheer will but hampered by sluggish movements, the man rose to his feet, it was clear the fight was reaching its zenith.
The opponent, gathering his remaining strength for a final stand, launched a jab, a last-ditch effort relying more on brute force than finesse. But this was a fatal mistake in Ryan's world – playing right into what Ryan was best at. Counters.
Ryan read the move with the clarity of a seasoned fighter. As the jab came, he effortlessly slipped to the right, evading the punch with a short angular step that spoke of his ring intelligence. Instantly, he countered with the same sharp cross from his right hand, followed by a devastating hook that cut through the air with lethal intent in his left. Grasping at straws, reeling from the counter, Ryans opponent threw a desperate, looping last stand punch, Ryan dipped down and left, rolling the punch with an elegance that made it seem almost effortless. He was Hunting for the Kill Shot. Seizing the moment, Ryan unleashed a ferocious left uppercut, the force of the blow lifting his opponent's chin skyward. He followed up with a right overhand, but just before impact, he halted the punch. There was no need for it; his opponent was already collapsing, the "Lights were on, but no one was Home". The fight was effectively over, Ryan's last combination is the final note, a crescendo that echoed through the ring.
As his opponent hit the canvas, the crowd erupted. Ryan stood in the center of the ring, his chest heaving, every fibre of his being alight with the thrill of victory. This wasn't just a win; it was a performance, a display of skill, heart, and the indomitable spirit of a fighter who had walked through fire and flames to the otherside and emerge victorious.
The final bell Rings with not a single chair in the arena warm; a thunderous clap erupts from the crowd. It was more than just applause; it was an acknowledgment of a battle fiercely fought by both men. In that moment ringside, in a triumphant victory, Ryan and Robin shared a look that spoke volumes, a connection far beyond the usual bounds of mentor and protégé. Their bond, tempered in the crucible of hardship and struggle, was now sealed in the glory of this defining triumph.
Standing amidst the cheers and the adrenaline-fueled euphoria, Ryan found himself momentarily lost in the tide of memories. It was a poignant reminder of the journey that had brought him here, a path marked by triumphs and losses. Robin's teachings transcended the confines of boxing; they were life lessons imprinted deep onto him. Ryan began to slowly step out of the ring; the weight of these reflections settled upon him. The victory was sweet, but it carried the weight of all sacrificed to achieve it. Robin's presence was felt strongly, a guiding force that continued to shape his path, illuminating the way forward even in the most challenging times.

I am in San Jose, CA. I have arrived at ER by ambulance on May 8, 1am.

BACKGROUND:

CCI, AAI, internal jugular vein compression (?) at the C1 level secondary to CCI. I’ve also been diagnosed with HSD by an EDS neurosurgeon via physical exam—therefore I could have some vascular integrity issues. Previously ME/CFS. No history of anxiety or panic attacks. No CCI or IJV surgeries or medication. Primary symptoms: - Constant pressure headaches and feeling of venous congestion in the head. As if fluid does not go through the head or gets lodged up. Pressure on the sides of the head and at the temples - Constant brain fog and difficulty finding words - Burning eyes, worsening eyesight, blurry vision, veiny red eyes - Occasional tinnitus or sudden hearing loss and loud tinnitus for 1-2 minutes in episodes - Feel better laying down and pushing occiput against bed frame as if extending my neck - Hard collar helps—stabilizing my neck is helpful for symptoms - Oscillation between symptoms of high IH and low IH (CSF leaks?) - Feel terrible on planes with barometric pressure changes - No known trauma. No known acute cause of CCI. Had headaches and fatigue since 3 y/o but did not consider medical issue until 18. Now 22. - 150 pounds, 5’10, 22M, no drugs/alcohol/smoking/caffeine

ONSET:

At the time of onset, I had just overexerted both physically and cognitively (driving and some computer work, but I am primarily housebound due to CCI so this was above average for me). As soon as it was time to relax, I started having these symptoms: - Shortness of breath - Lightheadedness & dizziness. I normally have constant pressure headaches and feeling of venous congestion. The pressure headaches were gone within minutes, which is very unusual. Felt like I was losing blood. When I started to feel better, the pressure headaches partially returned - Mucus lodged in back of my throat with blood. I had much less mucus and little to no blood when coming down from the episode - Shaking and chills for 4-6 hours - Cold hands for 30 minutes - Heart rate oscillating between normal and very rapid in 1-2 minute intervals - Lost blood flow in the right arm for 60 seconds - Blood pressure systolic 176 in the ambulance. It was likely higher prior to the ambulance - Stomach growling and discomfort - Extreme weakness, difficulty standing

IN ER:

Doctor, upon seeing my medical history, wanted a no-contrast neck CT due to CCI. I explained that I have a recent neck CT, and I suggested a CT venogram of the neck to check vasculature. Doctor said they can only do an arterial phase since the venogram requires a technician that they do not have at the hospital. Doctor said that if I were bleeding from neck, I’d be vomiting blood and would have a notable neck mass.
We did not end up getting the angiogram, and my body started to calm down after 4 hours. I was discharged.

WHEN WE GOT HOME:

I am still shaking and it is difficult to sleep. I slept 3.5 hours and woke up with lots of adrenaline.
The morning and afternoon of May 8: I started to experience rapid heart rate changes and change in lightheadedness with any positional change. It takes me 5-10 minutes to go from elevated head position to sitting upright. I am extremely weak and cannot stand. It took me hours to muster the energy to go down the hall and back. It is difficult to eat and drink. I have very little appetite, but am trying to hydrate with sodium and electrolytes.

OTHER SYMPTOMS:

A few hours prior to onset, I had a feeling of something stabbing the inside of my upper throat. After the episode, the stabbing pain periodically came back somewhere between under my right ear and under my chin. I believe this is the first time this happened.
I also have periodic shooting or stabbing pain in the chest. It only stabbed a few times after the first episode and just spontaneously happens sometimes, not extremely painful. That pain is in the front of left chest, on the side, in the back, radiating from the center sometimes, and radiating toward the left arm sometimes. I am unsure if this is related, but figured it’s important. Along with this was my right shoulder lodged up. I had to move it into multiple positions before the pain went away (this has only happened once after the first episode). I initially suspected this was some mild TOS since I’ve been having this pain for about 2 weeks prior to onset.
It is also difficult to defecate without pain. I feel stabbing pain in the stomach lower left of the belly button. Have not had this.

NEXT EPISODES:

I had my second episode the afternoon of May 8th. It was small and the after effects lasted less than an hour.
Around 1-3am on May 9, I had a third episode of worsened severity. We did not go to ER. I had just eaten half a banana. Almost felt as if it was aggravated by the action of eating/swallowing. All the same symptoms returned from coughing up blood and metallic taste to stomach discomfort, lightheadedness and dizziness, shortness of breath, adrenaline, constant shaking, etc. Blood pressure was elevated (160) and pulse was 65-90 following the episode (I did not measure during episode). Oxygen levels 93-98. At this point I was extremely tired and got 2 hours of sleep in before waking up to elevated HR again. I am now exhausted.
Around 3:30pm on May 9 next episode. Was sitting motionless holding ice in mouth. First it was throbbing in head above right forehead, vasculature was hungry for air and HR doubled. 2 mins later calm. Then 2 mins later same throbbing in left of neck and HR doubled. 2 mins later calm. Then chest radiating from the back of the chest up the left shoulder and down the left arm, and some pinching in back of chest and sometimes upper left chest and on the side of left chest. After the episodes, I felt tired and weak, and had to rest for an hour+ before getting back up.
Around 1pm on May 10 smaller episode. HR elevated for 30-60 seconds, BP dropped a little (115 systolic), oxygen levels were fine. Prior to episode experienced slow onset of dizziness and lightheadedness + shortness of breath. then feeling flushed, red, and hot. This happened while I was at urgent care. Mild shaking. Did NOT have mucus or blood or metallic taste or smell, did not have stomach discomfort or stomach growling. Followed by moderate weakness and POTS symptoms. I was able to walk fine before, now it is difficult to walk without jittering and have to do so slowly
Around 6:30pm on May 10, another small episode. HR elevated for 30-60 seconds, BP upped a little to 125 systolic, oxygen levels fine, slight chest pain radiating from the back of the left chest, felt flushed and hot. Blood pooling in the legs. Did not have bloody sputum or metallic taste

SUSPICIONS:

1. Internal jugular vein (IJV) small tear or tearupture of a capillary or other compressed vascular structure around the neck. Seems somewhat interesting due to metallic taste and blood in sputum, but a tear is theoretically unlikely without a notable mass in the neck
   1. Could get Doppler ultrasound to assess flow
   2. Could get CT venogram to assess vasculature and stenosis
   3. Anything else?
2. Pulmonary embolism—could be a result of a clot somewhere in body. Risk factors include immobility—which I am frequently in bed due to CCI and have been losing a lot of weight. IJV or other could have clotted due to stenosis and traveled into the lungs. Maybe not IJV, maybe some other body part simply due to lack of mobility. Supports the blood in sputum finding
   1. D-dimer
   2. CTA of chest
   3. Anything else?
3. Aortic dissection—very common in EDS patients, especially with vascular types. Diagnosis not sure. Had chest pain but it was not excruciating. However, I mention it because I have HSD diagnosis (pre-EDS or non-hyperflexible type EDS) and I started experiencing chest pain for 2 weeks prior to these episodes. I wrote it off as thoracic outlet syndrome which is not urgent, but figured I’d mention it.
4. TIA—seems to be the most frequent cause of ER visits among CCI and IJV compression patients. Not sure though.
5. GI tract bleed (?). Didn’t see bloody stool. Supports bloody sputum finding.

MORE NOTES:

BP systolic 110 after laying down for some time following the minor episode on May 10 from urgent care. My BP is never this low. I normally have 135 systolic, that is my norm.

WHAT I HAVE DONE FOR TESTING:

1. EKG—normal
2. Blood—fibrinogen, CBC, D-dimer, comprehensive metabolic, hepatic function panel, Sed Rate by Modified Westergren, lipid panel with reflex to direct LDL. Awaiting results

QUESTIONS:

• How urgent is this?
• Do these symptoms and episodic nature sound like PE?

Hello.
So recently, i (14M) read about de musset's sign in passing. I didnt think much of it at the time- i had recently had a bad episode of health anxiety about aortic stenosis, leading me to get a contrast mri of the chest, a couple x rays, multiple ekgs, and have multiple people listening to my heart (they even said they got an extra-clear reading because my heart was beating so loud from my anxiety.)
However, just today, i noticed my head bobbing up and down while resting in my chair. I put my hand on my heart and realised it was timed perfectly to my heart beat.
A few of the other symptoms i have are chest/left arm pain (seems to get worse with exertion sometimes), shortness of breath (has gotten worse recently which is what prompted me to go to the docs), palpable pulse in my suprasternal notch (the notch right above the clavicle), and a very "hard" heart beat that i can feel almost all the time.
i'm just so lost. i've had so many tests done on nearly every part of my body, quite literally from my head to my toes, and everything comes back fine. i would really appreciate a professional medical opinion on this.
i also have horrible health anxiety and regular anxiety, which is making this incredibly stressful for me.
I take hydroxyzine for my anxiety, fluoxetine for the same reason, and take Tylenol / Excedrin for my headaches.
edit: im obese, 5'8 (more like 5'6 but im always on my toes) and 210 or so lbs. i dont smoke or drink (obviously).

My husband has spent a few days in the hospital after having chest pain, which he then required the insertion of a stent in an artery, which is known as the widow maker.
Anyway, while he was napping and prior to discharge, he received a phone call from the hospital's billing department demanding payment for the estimated remaining balance after estimated insurance.
I was in the room and took over the call and told them absolutely not without an itemized bill and we would wait until insurance processed. The billing agent informed me I have to fill out a form to receive the itemized bill, which was something that had been xeroxed so many times it was completely illegible.
Is it legal to require we fill out "their" form? Do I have to make a written request? Will any request do?
TIA
Edit: edited for clarity
ETA: Now that I am home and can open my email. The form is a HIPAA release. I am not sure why this needs to be signed in order to receive an itemized bill. Makes not sense to me.
It reads (best I can tell):
RE: Your request for a copy of your itemized statement(s) and/or Billing Form:
In an effort to fully comply with the federal law known as The Health Insurance Portability and Accountability Act (HIPAA), effective November 1, 2020 Dignity Health requires all individuals to complete a "Release of Information Form" prior to finalizing your request.
Included with the letter is a copy of the above mentioned form. Please complete and sign the form to(?) its entirety(?) to avoid causing any delays with the processing of your request.
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Hey what’s up boys! Hope everyone is blessed and staying healthy! I have a very unusual case of testicular cancer and it be process so far has been extremely overwhelming. I am 20 years old. I started having testicular pain in February 2024 and I just thought I slept on it wrong, never really thought about it too much. It would hurt for a day and go away. In March it started to hurt again but worse (7.5/10 pain), this time though, the right side of my scrotum was huge due to a hydrocele. I went to the emergency room and got an ultrasound and they came to the conclusion that I have epididymo-orchitis with a mild hydrocele even though I tested negative for every STI. They put me on doxycycline for 2 weeks. During the course of the 2 weeks the pain went away almost completely but the swelling was still there which I thought was normal because Hydrocele don’t go away overnight. Regardless, I had a follow up ultrasound and during that ultrasound they suspected a malignant mass. Hydrocele and pain is usually never a symptom of testicular cancer so my doctors found it strange.
Follow up ultra sound: There is a heterogeneous hypoechoic mass measuring 4.2 x 3.8 x 2.9 cm with microcalcifications. The testicle is overall markedly increased in vascularity when compared to the left. The epididymal head measures 2.0 x 1.2 cm with increased flow
This ultrasound still couldn’t confirm cancer because all of my tumor markers were normal. So they ordered a CT scan of the pelvis and abdomen.
CT scan results: RETROPERITONEUM: There are several retroperitoneal lymph nodes beneath the renal veins. The largest is 2.3 cm just above the level of the aortic bifurcation, anterior to the IVC. There is also a 1.7 cm lymph node adjacent to the right internal iliac artery and vein. LOWER CHEST: There is a rounded 12 mm nodule in the right lower lobe which appears to be showing a little more enhancement along its periphery than centrally. The heart is normal size
This confirmed testicular cancer and I needed to get an Orchiectomy as soon as possible. I also needed to get another CT scan for my chest because of the small nodule on my lung.
I got the orchiectomy on April 25th. Very easy surgery. I was driving the next day and playing basketball within 5-6 days. Pain isn’t anything crazy the worst part is getting out of bed. About 8 days after my surgery, my pathology came back
Pathology results:
FINAL DIAGNOSIS Testis, right, radical orchiectomy: Germ cell tumor, pure embryonal carcinoma, at least 8.3 cm. Embryonal carcinoma is present at spermatic cord margin. Radical orchiectomy Laterality: Right Tumor Focality: Unifocal Tumor size: At least 8.3 cm Histologic type: Pure embryonal carcinoma Tumor extent: Invades rete, hilar soft tissue, epididymis, spermatic cord Lymphovascular invasion: Present Margins: Spermatic cord margin involved by carcinoma Regional lymph nodes: Not applicable (no regional lymph nodes submitted) Additional findings: Germ cell neoplasia in situ pTNM classification (AJCC 8th edition): pT3, pN not assigned Diagnosis Comments Immunohistochemical stains were performed on blocks A1 and A3. OCT3/4, CD30, and EP-CAM are positive in tumor cells. Glypican-3 show and D2-40 show equivocal nonspecific staining. hCG* and CD117* are negative. OCT 3/4 and EP-CAM confirm the presence of embryonal carcinoma at the spermatic cord margin. Grossly, the tumor measured 6.8 cm. With microscopic correlation, it invades rete testis, epididymis, and extends proximally up the spermatic cord for 1.5 cm to the margin, the latter extension of which could not be appreciated grossly. The sum of gross and microscopic tumor is listed in the above as the total tumor size.
So my pathology Came back as a pure embryonal carcinoma. I understand that it is very aggressive and rare to be in a pure form and it usually comes as a mixed germ cell tumor. Does anyone have any information on this? Information on the pure embryonal carcinoma seems very limited because of how rare it is. I also got a cat scan of my lungs on the 6th of May and it showed metastasis to my lungs. I can’t tell if it’s serious or not but ChatGPT is telling me they’re small but it’s still due to the spread of cancer. I want to know if it’ll react to chemo.
Chest cat scan: Lungs/Pleura: Multiple pulmonary lesions are present throughout the lungs. For example, the nodule seen on the previous CT of the abdomen in the right lower lobe measures 1.5 cm and previously measured 1.2 cm. A nodule in the right lower lobe that is pleural-based on image 27 of series 3 measures 1.5 cm. A left lower lobe nodule measures 1 cm on image 21 of series 3. Upper lobe pulmonary nodules are present which are smaller in size, for example 6.3 mm in the right upper lobe on image 15 of series 3 and 7.4 mm in the left upper lobe on image 24 of series 3. No pleural effusion or pneumothorax.
Should I be concerned? Will chemotherapy shrink this? Has anyone had a similar case. Here are my tumor markers on May 7th 2024. Still normal.
Tumor markers post orchiectomy: HCG, Quant Value <5 LDH , 229 Erythropoietin 12.0 APF TUMOR MARKER 2.0
I am going to Mskcc for treatment. Have you guys heard good things about them? Everyone I know says they’re the best around. Do you guys think rpnld surgery is neeeded? My oncologist that referred me to them mentioned a robotic rpnld which is way less invasive. He also mentioned chemotherapy tailoring. Do you guys have any additional information about pure embryonal carcinoma? Thank you boys!

Wanted to try something different today. This is a follow-up of not just one, but TWO previous one-shot (or so I thought at the time) stories of mine; if you haven’t already, feel free to read them first if you want a bit of background context, but it’s not necessary to understand what’s going on in this story.
As always, I hope you enjoy :)
——
Gakdra nervously paced in her transport pod, dreading the inevitability of the doors opening when she arrived at her destination. Then, she suddenly felt a familiar touch, and an even more familiar voice in her ear.
“Buttercup, at this rate you’re going to wear out your shoes.”
A weak smile crept onto Gakdra’s face as she glanced down to see Jennifer carefully hugging her from behind, placing herself perfectly to avoid her sharp quills.
Jennifer was a human who she had first met in the second year of what her adoptive human parents called “high school,” and had known for several years since as they both went through college and beyond.
A human her age who had tutored her after school, so as to help her overcome the difficulties her stunted education (courtesy of the chaos of the foster care system) brought her. Sessions that eventually became completely unnecessary as Gakdra caught up. …A fact that both parties were well aware of (and aware that they were both aware), but neither side made any attempt to acknowledge.
A human who didn’t seem repulsed by her quills, pitch-black eyes or needle-like teeth, much less the various chemicals deemed deadly neurotoxins by the galaxy at large that her kind both needed to breathe and produced from their very bodies.
A human who had insisted on getting the risky saryncite-inoculation treatments, after deciding that it might help Gakdra “learn” better if she was in the same room with her, instead of separated by sheets of diamondglass and countless layers of airtight filters.
…A human that had wasted no time in finding out that despite her inoculation against the toxins saryncites produced, her lips nonetheless still tingled when firmly pressed against Gakdra’s own.
Gakdra sighed and spoke, her auto-translator filling in the gaps for the unique language saryncites used, albeit one only the females of the species could speak audibly.*

• The males’ silence and use of a bioluminescent organ tucked in a chest cavity for “lightspeaking” in colors outside the visible range of prey species on their homeworld better served their evolutionary role as ambush hunters, in one of the most bizarre cases of sexual dimorphism the galaxy has to offer.

“Force of habit/routine/tic. …You know how nervous/afraid/worried I get going out in public.”
She turned and embraced her lover back, careful not to pierce Jennifer’s skin with her sharp claws as she wrapped them around her waist. Gakdra murmured more than spoke as she continued.
“I still don’t know how you do/perform/achieve it. And in front of all those people…”
“Lots and lots of practice, just like we’re doing right now for you.”
Gakdra let out a reluctant groan.
“I still wish we could just have them delivered to our home/nest/safe-place…”
“And have you miss out on a chance to chip away at that agoraphobia of yours? No.”
Jen gestured towards the planet’s scenery as they flew over it at great speeds, from wide swathes of terraformed forest greenery to massive colony-cities bustling with busy inhabitants.
“You deserve to be able to enjoy the outside world just as much as anyone else, and that means practicing doing just that until you’re not afraid of doing it anymore. …Remember what your therapist said? You just need a few accommodations here and there. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Jen reached up and placed a hand on one of Gakdra’s snow-pale cheeks. An impressive feat, given Gakdra stood a head or two higher than her, at over two meters. Gakdra gently rested her own clawed fingers over it, her face gently nuzzling the human’s soft palm as their fingers interlocked with one another; one set clawed, one set bearing comparably soft and fragile nails.
“…Yes, I suppose you’re right/correct/factual. Doesn’t mean I enjoy the transition process of getting to that point…”
“That’s still not an excuse to put this off to the point you’ve only got a few days left until you’re completely out of your meds.”
“I know, but what was there to say/communicate/talk? It didn’t become urgent/necessary/needed until this week.”
“I consider it urgent. …You’re anxious enough while already on your meds; I don’t want to see you even risking the pain you’d go through going without them.”
Jen’s hand fell away from Gakdra’s face as the transport pod gradually began to slow, signaling their arrival. Gakdra peered out of the diamondglass windows at the pharmacy’s walls before the view was blocked by the pressurized tunnel the pod stopped in front of. It was one of only 40 pharmacies in the entire star sector with the proper equipment to facilitate servicing saryncites like herself; and given that this sector measured in the hundreds of light years across, that was saying something.
Gakdra took a deep, shaky breath before reaching for her environmental suit.
“I can/will/shall do this… I can/will/shall…”
“That’s the spirit.”
Jennifer’s eyes flicked up and down Gakdra’s body, and she spoke again; this time with a playful grin.
“…It’s certainly more fabric than I’d prefer you be wearing, but did you need any help with the suit?”
Gakdra couldn’t help but blush at Jen’s teasing as she fastened various seals and locks into place around herself.
“No, I should be fine/satisfactory/competent.”
Jen winked at her.
“Alrighty then; I suppose I’ll just have to help you out of it later…”
Suffice to say, Gakdra’s flustered cheeks were thoroughly flushed with her species’ green blood as she stepped out of the vehicle and into the pharmacy’s saryncite entrance, clad in the suit which kept those around her safe.
She shakily walked down the sterile white corridor, listening intently for any signs that her suit may have popped a leak, but she heard nothing. The silence offered little comfort; she hadn’t heard the ever-so-slight leak that had tragically claimed one of her foster fathers’ lives either-
Stop that thought. They have safeguards. I have accommodations. I deserve to experience all the galaxy has to offer, just as anyone else. They have safeguards. I have accomodations-
She continued the internal mantra her therapist had taught her as she walked until she had eventually made her way to the end of the corridor; a wall adorned with only a diamondglass window and a microphone.
Gakdra timidly rapped on the window. It took several seconds of this before she attracted the attention of the arthro* pharmacist standing at the other end of the room, whose name tag read “Zetzana Bik’du”; it was almost as if he was pointedly ignoring her. He glanced up from his tablet with an irritated glare.

• An Arthro resembles a gigantic Terran spider for the most part, albeit with only six eyes, six legs and said legs comparably being much thicker and stronger to account for the square-cube law.

Gakdra nervously swallowed.
“Hello again. I-I’m, uh- …I h-have a prescription to pick up/acquire/take-”
Zetzana dismissively waved a limb, cutting her off.
“I know, I know; this is the third time we’ve done this little song and dance. …To answer your question, no, we still don’t have it.”
It felt as though Gakdra’s heart sank into her stomach.
“W-what‽ But- …I-I reached out directly to the manufacturemakeproducer for a replacement order, and t-they-”
“I don’t know what they told you, but neither of your ‘scripts are here.”
“S-surely the medications must have b-been misplaced/misorganized/lost somewhere in the building, o-or-”
“Listen, we’ve searched this place top to bottom. The whole staff got involved. …I don’t know what to tell you, but if you want your precious meds, you’ll have to head elsewhere.”
His species’ equivalent of a sneer crept its way onto the arthro’s face.
“So go ahead and leave-exit-leave, or whatever the gobbledegook translator you’ve got wants to hear to let you know to get out of the building. …Every extra second you spend in here is another minute we have to get the air scrubbers to decontaminate the hallway.”
Desperation crept into Gakdra’s voice.
“The manufacturer s-sent/distributed/provided me video evidence of them d-delivering the order to you, and of the d-delivery of the replacement order I requested. P-please, I-”
“I could have the authorities remove you if you’d prefer, blight-breather. …Up to you.”
Gakdra was on the verge of crying, not least because of the slur she had just been subjected to, but she slowly, reluctantly turned and walked back down the hallway with as much dignity as she could muster.
…She had long-since crossed the point of tears by the time she made it back to the doors leading out to her transport pod.
As she pulled off her helmet to reveal a face streaked with the purple of her species’ tears, Jennifer looked up from her wrist-computer with alarm.
“Buttercup? What happened-‽”
“They- …t-they don’t have it again, and the p-pharmacist was- h-he…”
Gakdra started hyperventilating, stifling her attempts to explain. In an instant, Jennifer was in front of her, gently taking her by her face, forcing Gakdra to look down at her as she wiped the tears from her face.
“Buttercup. Look at me. Look into my eyes. I’m here. I’m right here. You’re ok. Look at me. Look into my eyes-”
Jennifer’s softly repeated mantra derailed Gakdra’s panic attack before it could get up to speed. It was a skill Jen had mastered early in their relationship, while they were still separated by diamondglass; her words alone were enough to calm her. …Yet another reason Gakdra was endlessly thankful for Jen being in her life.
Gakdra’s legs were wobbling under her as Jennifer led her to her seat in the pod so they could look each other in the eyes without Jen having to crane her neck up to look at her. She took a shaky breath.
“They didn’t give me the meds. They’re there, they must/should/HAVE-TO be, but the pharmacist clerk/spokesperson/representative keeps insisting they’re not, that they searched all over, a-and he w-was so unkind/mean/rude, and threatened to sic security on me, and he- …h-he called/named/insulted me a-”
Gakdra broke down into tears again. Jennifer gently wrapped her arms around her, holding her close in a comforting embrace, just being there for Gakdra while she processed her emotions. Eventually, she calmed down enough to finish her thought, albeit in a voice barely above a whisper:
^{“He called/named/insulted me a blight-breather…”}
Jennifer’s arms fell limp at her sides. Gakdra looked up to see Jen staring at her in shock, her jaw only closing once she went to speak.
“He what‽”
“He called/named-”
Jennifer cut her off with a sharp gesture.
“Nonono, I heard you just fine the first time, no need to say that- that fucking slur again. I just-”
Jennifer faltered, her expression turning from shocked and furious to pensive.
“…What was his name, and species?”
“He was an arthro, and I think it was- …Zepzania, or something…? Why?”
Gakdra looked up to see Jennifer moving to the manual controls of the transport pod.
“…What are you doing?”
“Driving us to the pharmacy’s almost-universal species parking lot. …I’d like a conversation with a certain employee.”
Gakdra’s eyes widened.
“But-”
“Nope. Not gonna be dissuaded from this.”
Gakdra sputtered for a few moments before letting out a quiet sigh. She knew Jennifer well enough to know that there really was nothing she could say or do here that would halt whatever was coming next.
“…What do you intend to do/achieve/perform?”
Jen winked at her.
“Like I said, just a conversation or two.”
Gakdra’s eyes narrowed.
“Would this be a normal conversation, or a human euphemism for violence/hurt/pain-causing?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Completely. You know that. Even still, I have no desire/wish/hope for you to be arrested for assault.”
Jennifer chuckled as she pulled into a parking spot.
“Nor I, which is why I want you to take this.”
She held out a small tablet towards Gakdra, who glanced down at it with a confused expression.
“Your interview slate/tablet/computer? But why…?”
Jen winked at her again, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she did so.
“You’ll see.”
Her expression softened as she got up and hugged Gakdra again, before whispering in her ear.
“I just need you to keep something in mind for me; what you see me say and do next is not me, you understand? It’s a persona; one of countless others that I used to have to put on before the promotion, for my more investigative work.”
“…Ok…?”
Jennifer gave Gakdra a gentle kiss on the cheek, sending what could only be described as a warm chill rippling down the saryncite’s spine.
“Good. I’ll be right back.”
Jennifer pulled out a pair of sunglasses, and as she put them on and entered the transport-pod’s airlock she tapped a tiny, almost imperceptible button on the frame; nigh-invisible unless you already knew it was there and were deliberately looking for it. A video feed suddenly appeared on the tablet, and Gakdra’s eyes finally widened in understanding.
Jennifer walked into the pharmacy with a carefree air, looking around as subtly as she could, and allowed herself a smile as she confirmed that she was the only customer in the building. She casually walked up to the counter and rang the bell. Zetzana slowly made his way out of the back office and headed up to the register.
“Can I help you?”
Oh, can you, Jennifer thought to herself. Can you ever…
Step One of bringing about someone’s downfall: Get them to underestimate you.
With practiced ease, Jennifer put on her best “ditzy-airheaded-bimbo” act, passable valley-girl voice and all.
“Yeah, I was, like, wondering where the human painkillers were at? I’ve got a nasty hangover.”
…Back in the transport pod, Gakdra couldn’t help but descend into a snicker-fit at Jen’s antics.
Zetzana pointedly glanced around at the countless directory signs above the aisles and self-serve search terminals that could have easily prevented this interruption to his work day, then let out a weary sigh.
“…Aisle 5, second shelf from the bottom.”
“Like, thanks!”
Jennifer walked away and grabbed the cheapest store-brand meds she could find. As she went back and had the reluctant arthro begin to ring her up, she put on her best facade of innocence.
“Hey, I, like, had one more question, just cuz I’m curious and stuff; what’s the deal with that, like, weird extra entrance to the building, with the tunnel and stuff?”
Zetzana couldn’t help but let the subtlest of sneers slip onto his face for a moment before he remembered himself.
“That’s the saryncite entrance.”
Jennifer’s jaw dropped.
Step Two: Get them to think you’re on their side.
“You let those- …things into the store‽”
Zetzana’s eyss widened slightly in surprise, but he gave her an approving nod.
“Unfortunately. Officially, we’re not allowed to discriminate based on species. Unofficially, I completely understand your concern and wish it was otherwise. …If it’s any reassurance, that part of the building is brand-new, and completely hermetically sealed. It’s as safe as it gets.”
Step Three: After you help them take off their mask, plant the dagger you had behind your back in their hand and let them choose one of their own arteries to go for.
“But, like, you let blight-breathers into this place‽ Seriously‽”
Gakdra’s quills rippled in unease at this, but she just closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and remembered Jen’s reassurances.
Back in the pharmacy, Zetzana smirked.
“Not afraid to say the ‘quiet part’ out loud, I see. …Yes, ever since that portion of the building was constructed a few moons back, we do occasionally have to handle the blight-breathers. Though, thankfully, not that often so far, and I’m trying to make it as infrequent as possible.”
Step Four: As they’re bleeding out, let them keep digging their own grave.
“Like, how so?”
Zetzana smirked. They were alone in the store, he was the only one on shift, and whoever this was, she clearly wasn’t remotely intelligent enough to be with the galactic authorities; he could say the ‘quieter’ part too.
“Withholding medications, and- …other stuff like that. …I actually just had one of those animals in here about ten minutes ago, here for her precious anxiety meds. Told her the entire staff searched all over, and we didn’t have them.”
He theatrically looked from side to side before leaning closer.
“…Truth is, they were “improperly filed” straight into my trash can. ‘The entire staff looking for ‘em?’ Ha, I’m the only one who even knew about that prescription in the first place!”
In the transport pod, Gakdra felt as though her blood had turned to ice, and it only got worse as Zetzana continued.
“I’m fairly certain she’s not coming back this time; she was practically sobbing out toxins when I sent her away without her prescription. Hopefully, she’s run out at this point, and in a perfect universe she’ll off herself without them so no one has to look at her ugly, toxin-spewing face again. …Then again, the fact that her kind exist in the first place kinda disproves that notion, eh?”
Despite wanting nothing more than to rip his smug mandibles off his face and use them to gouge out his pride-filled eyes for what he had done, Jennifer smothered the inferno burning within her for the moment and just put on her best approving grin.
“Woah, that’s, like, super smart! …Is anyone else here doing stuff like that?”
“As far as I know, I’m unfortunately the only one here that’s done this so far, but at least no one else has caught on.”
Step Five: Twist the knife.
“Oh my gosh, this is all, like, so brave of you. Are there other blight-breathers you’ve screwed with like that?”
Zetzana felt a warmth in his chest at the skin-suit- or rather, human’s (she was clearly one of the good ones) kind words, and a thrill in his heart as he looked around the store to make extra sure he was safe. Finally, he had someone else to talk about this with…!
“Well, there is one other thing; the first time I did something like this.”
He leaned closer, his voice barely above a whisper.
“I had a blight-breather show up here a few weeks ago with a prescription for heart pressure medication. …I sent him home with a cocktail I whipped up myself based on my knowledge of their species that should send his blood pressure through the roof, without toxicology noticing anything amiss if he were to be autopsied. With luck, it should kill him, if it hasn’t already.”
In the transport pod, Gakdra was well into the beginning of another panic attack, and Jennifer nervously swallowed, but otherwise she held in her shocked horror and retained her composure as she replied.
“Like, nice! Hope so too. …Anyway, it was super good to meet you. I’ll, like, catch you later.”
As she turned to leave, Zetzana called after her.
“Say, have I seen you before? You look kinda- …familiar.”
Jennifer felt a slight twinge of worry, but she just gave him an innocent smile.
“I’ve been told I have, like, one of those faces, I guess?”
Zetzana shrugged.
“I guess. …Well, in any case, good to meet another kindred spirit out here.”
As Jennifer left the pharmacy and walked as fast as she could toward the transport pod without arousing suspicion, she gave endless thanks to whatever deities might be out there that his sentiment couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Step Six: kick them into the grave, and grab the shovel.
——
TWO DAYS LATER
“I’m, um… just glad that, h-he was stopped/halted/prevented b-before h-he, uh- …uh……”
Jennifer winced as Gakdra suddenly buried her face in her hands, motioning to the camera operator behind his diamondglass barrier to cut the feed. Gakdra stifled a small sob as she looked up to see the concerned face of her girlfriend staring back at her.
“I’m s-sorry, I j-just- …couldn’t I just give a written/typed/unspoken statement? I-I’m- …s-so, SO many people will see/observe/judge, and- …I…”
Jennifer kneeled down to take Gakdra’s clawed hands in her own, silencing her flustered sputtering.
“Buttercup, some statement being read aloud on a screen isn’t going to be nearly as effective at making people empathize with the story. There needs to be a person behind it- even if it’s just a blurred face with a voice filter, like we’re going to do- to show those watching that there are real people out here being hurt by him and those like him. …And we can’t exactly get a statement from the other guy until he’s stable enough to do so.”
She gently kissed Gakdra on the forehead, giving her a warm hug as a chaser.
“…Still, if you really, truly want to stop, I won’t push you; we can work with a written-”
“No.”
Gakdra took a deep breath, wiping her tears away as she shook her head and collected herself.
“No, I- …I can do/perform/complete this.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes/affirmative/indeed.”
Jen gave her an encouraging smile.
“That’s my girl. …Ok, let’s start from the top…”
——
TWO DAYS, SIX HOURS LATER
“This is Collective sector 7B news; I’m your host, Jennifer Hill-Thruximoff. …Full disclosure, I’m personally involved in this next story, so to ensure an unbiased report I’ll have my co-host, Jundo H’rissian, step in.”
“Thank you Jennifer. …Thursday evening saw the arrest of a pharmacist in the colony city Clarity on planet Hreshlaka-9, located in galactic sub-sector Mu-4, for alleged hate crimes. The pharmacist in question allegedly deliberately withheld medication from one client, and poisoned another. These actions were apparently motivated by the clients’ nature as saryncites.
“Local authorities were alerted upon receiving a video from our Jennifer, who managed to coax a shocking confession of his wrongdoing out of the individual in question. The contents of this confession were seemingly confirmed when authorities found discarded medication in the perpetrator’s personal waste bin, and sabotaged medication in the home of another victim, who was unconscious on the floor when Collective officers arrived.
It was speculated by one of the paramedics on scene that if the officers had arrived even an hour or two later, it would have been too late to save the saryncite in question. Said saryncite is now stable and recovering in a local hospital, and was even able to provide a statement, which will be played alongside an interview with the second victim after the video that started all this, which will be presented now-”
Zetzana was passing his time giving a death glare from his jail cell at the projection on the holo-vid player. One of the sector security officers nearby, a bitis involved in his arrest, gave him a grin.
“Y’know, I do believe they’re talking about you. You’re downright famous!”
Zetzana’s glare only intensified as he glanced at the officer.
“Zip it, scale-tail.”
The bitis just laughed.
“Oh boy, you just don’t stop, do you? You kiss your hatchmother with that mouth? …Ooo, speaking of-”
The bitis glanced down at her wrist-computer.
“Was doing a bit of research for the case against you, and wouldn’t you know, something quite interesting turned up from a few years back... ‘Member of school board resigns in disgrace after video of hate-filled rant goes viral.’ Sound familiar?”
Zetzana let out an angry hiss, but otherwise remained silent. …This, of course, didn’t stop the officer.
“Mm-hm, I thought it might. Let’s see here… ‘Slurs were directed at a juvenile bitis, a human, and the sexual orientation of the parents of the former.’ To borrow from the humans, ‘the apple sure doesn’t fall far from the trunk,’ eh? …At least, I think that’s how that goes…”
The officer gave him another grin.
“What is it with you, lesbians, and secret recordings of your family’s hateful rants by quick-thinking humans?”
“Shut up. …Don’t speak of my hatchmother. It’s not your business.”
If her species had eyebrows, the bitis would have slowly cocked one as she looked back at the article.
“In a perfect universe, that would be true; but in truth, it is my business to protect people from those like her and yourself. People who do things like, oh, I dunno… To quote: ‘The incident began with the circumstances surrounding an altercation between the school board member’s teenage son and a student half his age, whom he assaulted.’”
The officer looked back up at Zetzana with newfound disgust.
“You really are just a bully aspiring to mass-murder, aren’t you.”
She glanced over once again at the holovid, which currently featured a recovering saryncite sitting upright in a hospital bed, giving an interview.
“Thankfully unsuccessful, but an aspirant to it nonetheless. …Just a sad little boy, whose only source of comfort is the lies you tell yourself about you being inherently better than those around you based on meaningless differences. Your mother must be proud.”
The bitis sighed as she began to slither away from the silent-but-stewing arthro.
“…But of course, the greatest proof we don’t live in a perfect universe and saddest part of this whole mess is that she probably is.”
——
3 DAYS LATER
Jennifer walked back through the hermetically sealed airlock to her abode holding a small package.
“Mail’s here.”
She winked at Gakdra.
“Package for you…”
Gakdra glanced up at Jen’s outstretched hand from where she lay on the couch, squinting at the label for a moment before her face lit up with a relieved smile.
“My medication! I was down to my last dose...”
She went to grab the package, but Jen held it out of her reach.
“Promise me you’ll let me know you’re low on them before you ever become that desperate again. Deal?”
Gakdra faltered, her gaze suddenly gluing itself to the floor. Jennifer winced, swiftly holding the package back out to her.
“Sorry; that was mean. You know I’d never withhold your meds from you like that monster in the pharmacy…”
Gakdra sighed, shaking her head as she took the proffered medication, the weight of guilt heavy on her shoulders as she shrunk into herself on the couch.
“…I’m sorry/regretful/bad-feeling too. I- …I s-should have told you. Moreover, I should have gone out with you again for these, to get them from another-”
“Buttercup, it’s ok. I more than understand you being reticent to the idea of walking into another pharmacy any time soon. There are plenty of other ways to help you get out of the house.”
Gakdra still couldn’t meet Jennifer’s warm gaze.
“…I’m sorry you have to put so much effort into me…”
Jen’s eyes widened for a moment, but she just sighed and sat down next to Gakdra.
“I’d move mountains for you without a second thought. You know that.”
Jennifer gently lifted Gakdra’s head from its place on one of the couch cushions and rested it on her lap, beginning to softly run her fingers through the quills on her back and scalp as she went whilst careful not to prick herself with the neurotoxin-coated barbs. The intimate gesture made Gakdra relax, but still tear up a bit.
“You shouldn’t have to. I should be able to move my own mountains. But I’m too weak/unable/feeble to move so much as a pinch of soil… I can’t even go outside without-”
“Accomodations. I know. …And for the millionth time, that’s nothing to be ashamed of. That’s like saying- I dunno, a species incompatible with an oxygen-based atmosphere should be ashamed of needing a personal atmosphere conversion apparatus on Earth, or your species’ own homeworld.”
“But it’s not just the suit! I mean- …you speak to millions every day, if only indirectly, and likely tens, if not hundreds face-to-face. Meanwhile, I’m afraid/fearful/cautious of leaving the house, even when I know I’m taking every precaution feasible, because beyond fearing for the lives of those around me I can’t even handle the most basic of social interactions without turning into a nervous mess! …Compared to you, I’m-”
“Perfect.”
Gakdra glanced up at Jen.
“What?”
“You’re perfect just the way you are.”
“Wh- …I’m an anxious/feardul/frightened wreck, a- …a danger to those around me-”
“And yet, you’re a perfect being in an imperfect universe, and I love you for it.”
Gakdra’s face screwed up in confusion, speechless at the idea, so Jen continued.
“So I can go go up onto the news studio set and speak into a mic whist looking into a camera. So what? It takes barely any effort from me; I’m not afraid of public speaking whatsoever. You want to know why? Because I didn’t grow up with the burden of having to avoid all but the most necessary of social interactions for the safety of others, and thus got the privilege of plenty of worry-free practice.
“…But you? You stepped up and did it too, even though you were inexperienced, even though you were terrified. You were fighting for every word, every breath. …But you still did it, because it could make a difference. That makes you a braver woman than I could ever hope to be, even if you had decided to take my offer to stop; because at least you were willing to try to win a battle against your fears, and that’s more than can be said for most.”
Gakdra just shrugged.
“None of that changes the fact that I’m still a dangethreat/hazard to those around me, not someone who can just walk around like you-”
“So I can go on a walk without a suit. Big whoop. You? You’re willing to sacrifice your own happiness in a million different ways so any potential of that danger whatsoever is completely mitigated down to every redundancy one can think of. Hell, your brain even conditioned itself to be scared of leaving the house, or being near other people, no matter how unhealthy that is nor how much I’ve tried to help you reverse it because you deserve better. …You possess a kinder, gentler, more selfless soul than I could ever hope to have.”
“My happiness is nothing compared to a life! I kill everything around me, unless they’re willing to risk their life anyway with an inoculation, like you did…”
“That’s not your fault. You didn’t wake up one day and choose to kill, like that psycho from the pharmacy did.”
Gakdra shuddered as she recalled the image of her foster father’s lifeless corpse on that terrible night, so many years and uncountable tears ago. Her next words came as an emotionally exhausted whisper.
^{“Perhaps he is right/correct/factual to fear and hate us saryncites...”}
Above her, Jen let out a quiet sigh.
“God, I love you so much, but you are so infuriating sometimes… You’re too kind to disagree with even the worst the universe has to offer.”
She pulled Gakdra into a hug, albeit after carefully flattening her quills a bit first.
“If that repugnant, self-righteous wannabe serial-killer had to walk a mile in your shoes, deal with every restriction and burden you place upon your own shoulders, be they physical or mental? I guarantee you, he’d crack within a week and go even more crazy than he already is.”
“He doesn’t have to deal with that responsibility though. I do. I’m more dangerous than a thousand serial killers...”
The embrace around Gakdra’s form tightened, causing her to let out a small squeak of surprise, not unlike a dog toy.
“And that only proves your strength more. People like him? They could never bear that burden. They’d weaponize their nature, if anything. Barge into a crowded shopping center or something without a suit, killing all around them, because if the rest of the universe- in his eyes, his “lessers-” …don’t have to deal with the burdens he was born with by the cosmic roll of the dice, why should he?”
Jen released Gakdra from the bear-hug, instead choosing to gently rest a hand against her face as she continued.
“Did I ever tell you why I decided to tutor you in the first place?”
She winked.
“…Beyond being the prettiest girl in the entire school, I mean?”
Gakdra couldn’t help but smile and blush at this, despite the utter nadir of a mood she was in.
“Not that I can remembethink/parse, no.”
“I was in study hall with you, working on some math or science homework or whatever, and I happened to look over to your side of the room. Behind the barrier, you were messaging your parents, and I could just barely read what you were writing at that distance. I know I should have turned away, respected your privacy, but what you were writing only drew my interest more.
“You were arguing with them about the possibility of getting a tutor. You said that you shouldn’t get help with your schooling, no matter that you were years behind everyone else in some areas; that it was bad enough you were in school in the first place, that you were too dangerous, and it was unfair to whoever might teach you.
“…You were so, so willing to screw yourself over in the long run to keep those around you safe, to the point of risking not graduating on time. All so you could sit in your room completely alone for a few extra hours a day, and be less of a risk to people.”
Jen leaned in and gave Gakdra a long kiss, relishing the tingling, numbing feeling the toxins on her lover’s lips gave her as they were neutralized by her inoculation. When she broke away, she smiled as she spoke.
“I fell completely and utterly in love with you that day. Not who you were on the surface- no matter how drop-dead gorgeous you were, and remain now- you. The person. The kind soul behind that pretty face. And I vowed I would do everything I could to get you where you wanted in life, because it’s the least you deserve for being the kind, wonderful, beautiful soul you are.”
Jen’s eyes twinkled as she looked upon the pretty face in question, wondering for the millionth time how she had managed to land a girl so out of her league in every possible way.
“You’re the closest thing to perfection in an imperfect universe I’ve ever come across. …And for that matter, the best evidence for said universe being inherently imperfect is that everyone isn’t more like you.”
Gakdra was speechless for nearly a minute after Jennifer ended, with the pair passing that time just gazing into each other’s eyes.
“…I love/need/soul-match you, Jen.”
“I love you more, Buttercup.”

As the title suggests, I'm at the point where I'm returning to regular activities with no aggravation or re-appearing of symptoms! It's been a bit of a journey, so here's the story and how I recovered. I had a double crush type injury stemming from my neck, as well as my Thoracic Outlet, producing symptoms from my neck to my hand on the affected side, as well as some minor bilateral involvement into the other arm.
Firstly as some background, I have a diagnosed auto-immune inflammatory arthritis called Ankylosing Spondylitis (since age 9, I'm 30 now) - this is what made things a bit more complicated. The disease attacks your spine and essentially any other joint / tendon attachment / ligament attachment, which can lead to a whole host of muscles getting affected among other things. I am on immunosuppressant medication for this which generally keeps it well managed. It's EXTREMELY unlikely anyone here has this as a cause of their RSI - but I have this along side an RSI and have essentially fully recovered. I'm sharing this because even with a serious inflammatory condition I managed to fix the RSI issue - so there is hope.
My RSI issues started around 8-9 months ago. I was/am a regular bouldereclimber, and my day job was/is a VFX artist (self employed, so no paid holiday or sickness). I work from home, and often go long stretches of using a computer and mouse with no rest, then immediately go to a climbing gym after work and continue to assault my forearms and arms. I was also a gamer in my spare time too. Recipe for disaster...
Symptoms started minorly, and I brushed them off as usual muscle soreness or perhaps my arthritis playing up a bit (my neck basically always hurts, but was this due to AS (ankylosing spondylitis) or partly the RSI issue starting? (YES, IT WAS). Playing WoW after work, I noticed my arms getting so horribly fatigued from mashing my keyboard I could barely lift them. This is where it all began and gradually got worse and worse. I started getting shooting pains into my face. Then into my arm...
Below are the symptoms I started to have, which gradually got worse and worse, to the point I could barely use a knife and fork, wash my hair in the shower, brush my teeth, and of course, work and climbing were now impossible for me. Withing 5 minutes of work using a keyboard and mouse, my forearms would be so painfully tight I couldn't hold anything, and my hands would be cramping up. These symptoms were mostly all right sided, but maybe at 20% intensity on the left arm at the worst point.
Symptoms List

• My forearm pronators would easily fatigue, and get what I would describe as 'bricked' or 'pumped'. Like I'd been climbing for an hour, but I had just chopped up a carrot or brushed my teeth for example.
  
• Loss of dexterity - particularly in my thumb and forefinger, causing me to drop things
  
• Doing anything with my arms elevated was impossible, and my arm lacked blood flow when raised above my head
  
• Muscle Cramps and twitching from my shoulders down to my hands, and even my chest and face.
  
• Intense neck pain (back of neck)
  
• Jaw Pain
  
• Tightness and pain in my arm muscles and tendons (bicep, forearm, they literally felt like bone they were so tense)
  
• Rotator Cuff pain
  
• Incredibly tight scalene muscles
  
• My hands felt clumsy and uncoordinated
  
• Waking up with completely numb arm and pins and needles throughout the night
  
• Sudden shooting pains into my forearms and the back of my hand / fingers
  
• Terrible shoulder blade / rotator cuff pain
  
• Perceived weakness / feeling that something was 'off' in my arm
  
• Hand would go cold quickly
  
• Neuralgia/shooting pains into my face and right eye
  
• Intermittent tingling in various fingers and thumb
  
• Tingling in the side of face
  
• I'm sure there are many more symptoms I'm forgetting now, but basically my entire right arm was toast.
  

I went down various rabbit holes and made myself incredibly anxious thinking I had every possible terrible illness possible causing this. I tried stretching my arms out myself, and my neck, which only made things worse. I needed to keep working, and had just been hit with a huge repair bill for my flat. This caused my stress and anxiety levels to sky rocket even more.
I was still trying to do everything I was previously doing, and causing more damage to myself in the process. This plus stress then caused my arthritis condition to flare up too. I now was unable to use my arms, barely able to walk, unable to sleep due to my arms constantly getting pins and needles and going numb, in tremendous pain, feeling completely useless, and all in all not in a good way.
So, what was happening?
My first port of call, and ultimately the thing that made the biggest difference, was seeing an Osteopath. Luckily I know a brilliant one that has helped me since I was a child with my arthritis condition. He assessed me, and quickly noted my first right rib had become elevated and locked, and my right clavicle was swollen (the swelling was due to my arthritis, as the disease had been active here in the past). Everything pointed towards TOS, something I'd not heard of before.
My neck was also in a terrible way due to my (lack of) work ergonomics and AS, and had caused a gigantic knot of muscle to form, along with crepitus all along my traps, and into my shoulder blade. He would press in one particular region in the top of my traps / shoulder and it would send the exact shooting pain into my face and eye.
As well as my poor posture at my desk (sitting slumped slightly to one side in my chair, with one arm extended clicking a mouse) I was also sitting in a similar position on the sofa in the evenings, often to one side (leaning towards where my girlfriend sits on the sofa to watch TV). I was doing the same thing in bed, laying on my side and watching stuff on my laptop with my head in a forward posture.
The combination of poor ergonomic working position which was bleeding into my out of work activities, plus climbing on top of that (and 10 years of neck pain due to Ankylosing Spondylitis), caused a chain reaction of muscles getting overworked, and their work getting passed onto the next muscle group. This next group would then fatigue to the point of exhaustion, pass their workload to the next group, until clicking my mouse was involving muscles in my upper neck. I was so incredibly tense that basically everything from my neck downwards was locked in place, and was causing nerve compression. Not only in my neck (I have issues from C2-T3), but my brachial plexus / thoracic outlet too. This caused a host of downstream issues into my arms and hands.
This is what is typically called a Double Crush type injury where there are two areas of compression. The osteopath said it’s usually seen in people that have been in a car crash. You can get triple and quintuple crushes the more points of compression there are. He suspected there was some compression going on in my upper forearm too, luckily that area resolved the fastest. The neck however is another story!
Recovery Journey
I was still sceptical after the first osteopath visit, and couldn't help endlessly searching reddit and google for answers: Pro Tip, this will almost never help, and definitely didn't for me. I have terrible health anxiety, and this ended up making me even more tense, contributing to further symptoms and causing me to spiral.
Eventually, I gave up on endlessly googling and decided to more seriously follow the osteopaths advice, and started to see some improvement. But also made a lot of mistakes.
Mistake 1
Not following the professionals advice properly, and going too hard with stretches. He gave me just 4 stretches to do, and ICE ICE ICE my neck, this didn't directly target my forearms though which was my main complaint. The stretches I was prescribed were mostly for my Hips and Thoraccic spine, with one in what was my opinion at the time, rather tame stretch for my forearms. Despite him explaining exactly why, I couldn't see how this would help, so I added more of my own stretches into the regime thinking it would expedite my recovery. Big mistake. Suddenly everything was getting worse despite taking time off work. For example I was trying to stretch my tight scalene muscles in particular, which actually caused them to tighten even more. I told my osteopath, he told me to do exactly as he said, do not deviate, and rest.
Mistake 2
Going crazy with what I could do - running. The initial stress had died down after a month or so, and so had my arthritic symptoms. All my hobbies involve my hands, so I went balls to the wall with running, which I hadn't done that regularly in a while. Now I had issues with my knee and foot because of my tight hip. (I ran 3 10Ks within a week and a half from not having run since 10 months prior). This then meant I was spiralling even more thinking symptoms were spreading even more. Additionally, long runs then started to aggravate my neck as well which was in a fragile state. Slow running, and even better, walking, is what I switched to eventually.
Mistake 3 -- this is a MAJOR ONE
This is the biggest one, I KEPT trying to test myself to see if I was healing or getting worse. I was using a hand dynamometer to test my grip strength (I had this from climbing). I was seeing how long I could dead hang. I was seeing how many times I could blink my hands open and closed with the Roos test. I made a small amount of progress in recovery then went to the gym to see how easily I could deadlift 130kg. This immediately set me back to where I was 2 months previous. I could go on and on with all the stupid stuff I was doing. I've come to realise my health anxiety is most likely OCD because of this. I'm constantly 'checking' - and this was causing even more damage.
Mistake 4
Not managing stress and anxiety. I got off reddit and google - low and behold I was not now focusing 24/7 on my symptoms and googling various diseases all the time - this made me not only feel better mentally, but actually get better physically too.
What Worked
It's definitely easier to rule out things that didn't work or made it worse, so it's hard to say what was the most effective. But here is what I tried and what I believe gave me good results. I'll also list some of the things that didn't work so well.

• I'll say it again, but getting off google / reddit looking for answers. If you're spiralling, it wont help.
  
• Changing my desk / keyboard / mouse. I use a split keyboard, a wacom tablet as a touch pad plus use the pen and occasionally a vertical mouse. I set my desk at a proper ergonomic height, as well as my monitor.
  
• Stopped work and HEAVILY limited what I did with my arms for 2-4 months. It's a long time, but it was necessary. No cooking, no carrying shopping, no DIY, nothing. I luckily could afford to stop work for a month and a half and just rest.
  
• Ice. I Iced my neck, shoulder, elbow, forearm. Everyday constantly. I had about 4 ice packs constantly rotating in and out of the freezer.
  
• Posture - no more slouching, and even when walking, I'd focus on keeping my head up and shoulders slightly engaged. Don't use posture trainers/braces. They do more damage.
  
• Stretches focusing on full spine mobility, but in particular my Thoracic spine (Despite most of my issues being cervical). I did about 20 minutes of stretching at least 3 times a day. I used an app called Bend to help remind me to do this.
  
• Stretches focusing on my hips and lower body. Hard to make sense of, but there was one particular stretch for my hips, that when I did it, I could actually feel a pull in my forearm and across my chest. (I have arthritis in my right hip which is very tight, so issues can stem from here too, arthritis or not)
  
• Sleeping flat on my back using a contoured pillow. This was hard at first as a side sleeper.
  
• Walking, and using a spin bike with no arms - basically kept me from going stir crazy. I added in some gentle running when my knee got better and kept it casual.
  
• Once my first rib became more mobile from the back stretches, I was able to add in more full body stretches including my arms, following the osteopaths advice.
  
• Seeing my osteopath - exercise and stretching plans, and reassurance
  
• Sauna - I did this 2-3 times a week
  
• Ice Bath - Whenever I used the Sauna
  
• Getting enough sleep, I tried to get 9 hours each night and still aim to!
  
• Magnesium supplementation at bed time, and magnesium gel on my neck and arms in the day.
  
• Wim Hof Breathing. This helped with anxiety hugely and stress management. It's something I did years ago and fell out of practice with a bit. Happy to have this back.
  
• Limiting mobile phone use - it was just more stress on my arms. I used screen time and limited myself to an hour a day combined across my apps that I frequent.
  
• Arm Aid Massager - Really helped my forearm tension / tightness ease off.
  
• Increased protein intake. I eat a healthy non-processed diet already, this was my only diet change.
  

These next ones might be overkill, and you don't need to over complicate things, however...

• Additional Supplements(?) This is hard to quantify exactly how and whether they helped, but once I started on a supplement regime (My sister is a nutritionist so I got advice there) my recovery really started to progress much faster. Would it have happened anyway? Who knows. I wouldn't advise to take what I did as it is all individual based. You need to see someone qualified, but here's what I took anyway: Omega 3, Turmeric, a Joint Complex with Glucosamine and Vitamin C, Vitamin D3+K2 Spray (A couple of these I was already taking)
  
• Mushroom Extract supplements. This is something I've not seen mentioned before on the subreddit. I took Lions mane mushroom which supposedly, and has some evidence to suggest, can help with nerve healing. I also took Cordyceps mushroom extract as well to help with muscle recovery.
  
• CBD Balm - not really sure about this one - felt slightly soothing on the skin, not sure it did anything though. Save your money as it is rather expensive.
  
• Cutting out diet drinks (Coke zero etc) - again hard to say if this actually helped, but I've stopped this and I'm now better. Kombucha I find to be a great alternative.
  

What Didn't Work

• Nerve Glides - seemed to just make everything worse and exacerbate symptoms. I couldn't work out in my head how dragging an irritated nerve through a compressed tunnel would help either. (my Osteopath told me not to do these when I asked him about them after trying them myself) Some people swear by them though, and I'm sure they are effective in some cases, just not mine.
  
• Trackball mouse. Seemed to make symptoms worse. I tried the Slimblade Pro for a week, didn't like how I had to click the thing, it strained my arms.
  
• Only using a vertical mouse - the pinching of the mouse with my fingers and thumb aggravated my forearm after a while. Using a touchpad/tablet 80% of the time, and having the mouse for certain things seems to be the best balance for me.
  
• Braces - in my case they weren't helpful - I was advised against using them. I did however try a cubital tunnel one to keep my arm straight in bed (I would get more pins and needles as my arms would bend / curl up in my sleep), but the brace itself was causing irritation, and caused my arm to cease up from being in one position and also caused it to go numb. Just sleeping on my back, with my arms very slightly raised on a fairly flat pillow helped. After waking and repositioning my arms for a month, my body eventually just learnt to keep my arms straight in my sleep.
  

How Am I now?
I went climbing for the first time in many months recently. I took it very easy as I'll need to build back to where I was, but I feel absolutely fine afterwards. In my next osteopath visit we will be talking about exercises to add in to strengthen weakened muscles that contributed to this RSI. I'm sure it will be another 3-4 months, if not more until I'm climbing has caught up to where it was (If anyone else is a climber, my grade was around 6c+ font, and upon returning I could still easily climb a 6a, but tried nothing harder, and mostly stuck to climbs around 4-5b just to get moving, without putting too much pressure/load through my forearms and fingers. Slab is your friend, don't go on anything overhanging as tempting as it may look!)
I'm back to working full time with NO issues. I take regular breaks multiple times a day to stretch every, and still do all my longer stretching routine every morning and evening. I use reminders on my phone and smart watch to remind me to stand up and move around every 40 minutes.
I stripped varnish, sanded and re-varnished my kitchen counters this weekend. It took 11 hours of using my arms. Again, I'm totally fine and have none of the old symptoms back, other than some slight DOMS in my forearms.
My biggest change is my work-life balance. I was burning myself out working far too late into the evening and always in work mode. I changed my desk to one that folds up, so at the end of the day I can pack up my work stuff (despite working from home) and physically shut it away. This way I don't always have a visual reminder putting my body into a tense and stressed state. Out of sight, out of mind. This also stops me sitting in the same desk chair I work in all evening too (playing computer games, carrying on with work etc).
On that note, I've decided to pretty much stop gaming though. I wasn't finding it as fun as I once did, and figured it's probably for the best. Not to say I can't, but there are just other things I value much more now. Life is basically back to what it was before, but I will never stop stretching each day now, and keep up my new found ergonomic habits to prevent any future issues!
It is also clear to me from reading posts on this subreddit, among others, that most of us seem to have some sort of mental health involvement too, whether it be anxiety and stress (in my case) or depression, and so on. It's a self fulfilling cycle. Symptoms appear, we focus on them, become stressed and anxious, which makes the symptoms become heightened, and the cycle continues.
Did I see a medical doctor at any point?
I didn't - however two of my best friends are both medical doctors, and were in agreement with my Osteo. All 3 advised if I didn't see any improvement in a couple of months to go to the GP. I did have an appointment booked with my GP to start the whole process, but when I started seeing improvement, I ended up cancelling it. My Osteopath also reassured me if he was even .5% uncertain of the cause he'd send me off for imaging. He'd treated many people with the same symptoms as me in the past.
Given I live in the UK, the timeline of when I'd actually get seen by a specialist (would this be neurology/MSK/sports PT/back to my rheumatologist/all of the above?) would have likely have taken quite a while. I also have regular blood tests and imaging done due to my auto immune arthritis (fusion of my SI joints bilaterally, damage to my sternoclavicular joint (collarbone) and inflammation in essentially all my cervical vertebrae and large parts of thoracic), and I see my Rheumatologist 1-2 times a year for check ups. In my next appointment I will of course update them with the fun I've had in the past year! Thankfully, as I was seeing progress after I accepted the cause, I carried on with what I was advised to from my osteopath. I would advise seeing a doctor though, particularly if you can't find results with an osteopath, or symptoms get worse.
These RSI issues are complicated to treat and diagnose, and there seems to be a want to label every one of these conditions/syndromes so we fit into a set of statistics with a pre-programmed recovery program. Because so many muscles get involved, and it is NOT the same for everyone, it gets complicated when it comes to which muscles you can safely stretch/massage, and start to recover. I think this is where a lot of people go wrong, and I believe osteopathy really helps as it can be a full body problem, and the root cause needs to be addressed before you can make any sort of recovery.
Lastly, recovery is not linear, it goes up and down, so try not to get disheartened when progress feels like it isn't moving forward. Day to day the progress was imperceptible, even across weeks it was impossible for me to measure whether it was getting better, until one day it was - and that was part of my issue, as I was trying to measure it in the first place. You have to trust the process and go with it.
EDIT
As people are asking, I've added the stretches I did below. Remember depending on muscle involvement that you have, it may not work in exactly the same way, and if anything is painful, don't push it. Try the first set, and if everything feels okay move onto the more advanced versions which are in the second list. Don't push past pain!
STRETCHES - BE CAUTIOUS
First 4

1. Knees to chest. Lay on the floor, hold your knees and squeeze them gently into your chest for 5 seconds, release, rest for 10 seconds, repeat. (my forearms were so painful, I actually couldn't do this at first)
   
2. Cat Cows (simple to do, google it if unsure! I'd do these for about 3 minutes)
   
3. Thoracic Extension with a towel Link here - I also supported my head with 2 fluffy pillows, and when my arms came back, I would rest them on the pillow next to my head as well. Only move your arms as you breath out, both going up and down. I did not interlock my hands, and just had them by my side. 15 or so reps. Take it slow.
   
4. Knees side to side Link here - this was the one that really pulled my forearm muscles. 15 or so reps each side. Again, go slow and controlled.
   

Once I was comofotable with these (which was after 1 session of just these to test the waters), we also added in:
Advanced 4

1. Spinal Twist Link here This is a more advanced version of the knees side to side stretch. I'd hold each side for at least a minute and then repeat. This was quite painful on my hip at first so I had to go gently. You can really feel the stretch up your lats too, and for me, into my biceps.
   
2. Seated Twist Link here This was good for both lower and upper back mobility. Hold for 20-30 seconds, but start with lower times to ease into it. Hold for longer when you're more used to it.
   
3. Sit and reach Link Here This one I found very difficult to do at first, and couldn't reach my foot at all, I was barely halfway down my shin. now I can grab my foot! Hold for 5-10 seconds. Repeat a few times.
   
4. Revolved Lunge Pose Link here Important extra step on this one. Before twisting upwards, I was told to fold down onto my elbows in the lunge position and try drop my head to the floor too, focus on breathing. I still cant get my head anywhere close to the floor, but can just about get my elbows down. After that I'd do the upward twist part of the stretch.
   

After all of this I'd do child's pose for a couple of minutes:

1. Childs Pose Link here

I'd repeat this whole process every single morning when I got up, and run through the whole routine twice. Then again at lunch time, and bed time. Sometimes I'd do this 5 times a day. These really are the only stretches I needed, but I did add in one forearm stretch which I was told to do.
Forearm Stretch

1. Interlock fingers at waist with palms facing downwards, gently press until you feel a pull.
2. Repeat step 1 but with arms extended in front of you.
3. Repeat step one, but with fingers interlocked behind you.
4. Sit on the floor as if you are going to do child's pose. Instead of hinging forwards and dropping your chest, place your palms on the floor in front of your knees, with arms rotated so fingers are pointed towards you. Gently push palms downwards to feel the stretch.
5. Repeat previous stretch, except place the backs of your hands on the floor. This will target the top of your forearm instead.

Hope this helps!

Arn pushed the truck as fast as he felt was safe, and then some. The terrain was uneven, bouncing the truck like a paper boat in a storm. He swerved around unfamiliar trees with their pinkish trunks, the low brush scraping the sides of the truck with a sound like nails on a chalkboard.
He could’ve been back already if the road hadn’t been bombed to hell. The interlocking, grey canopy above hid the sky and any hope of navigation. He looked in the rear-view mirror and saw the gyro bed and attached seat in the back. A wounded pilot on the bed, the medic doing everything she could to keep her alive.
From his vantage point, the bed bounced and swung wildly, while from their perspective, the bed maintained little more than a gentle sway while the truck around them jerked around in response to the terrain. He couldn’t spare more than a glance, though, as speeding through the forest required his attention. He avoided notice of the body bag strapped on the floor beneath the bed.
“Luz, any luck on the radio?” he asked the medic.
“Negative. I’ve gotta find this bleeder,” she said, “we’re running low on synth blood.”
“External?” Arn asked.
“Internal. If you think we can sit still for a few minutes, I need to open her up and find it.”
“You got it.” He slowed to a stop, realizing for the first time that his hands were cramped around the wheel, his heart pounding and his breath ragged.
While Luz did field surgery on the pilot, Arn tried to raise anyone on the radio, but was met with only static and silence. He switched the radio to transmit a locator-only signal on the emergency channel.
“Hey, Arn, I need a hand.”
He slid out of the driver’s seat and stepped into the back of the ambulance. He grabbed gloves from the dispenser on the wall and pulled them on. “Where do you need me?”
“Hold these clamps. Don’t let go, but don’t squeeze too hard.”
“I know how to hold an artery,” he said.
“Look at your hands, they’re like claws right now.”
He flexed his fingers a few times. “Shit, you’re right. I’ll be careful.” He took control of the clamps, surprised that it hurt to hold his hands in the right position. The clamps were situated one on each side of a nick on the right common iliac artery.
Luz dug through the bin beside her and pulled out a tool. “Hold very still.” She used the tool to apply a screen around the artery where it was nicked, then filled the screen with a paste that sealed it closed.
She took back control of the clamps and released them with slow, deliberate movements, letting the artery settle back into its normal position. Luz let out a sigh. “Can you start up the suction so we can—”
She was interrupted by the sound of trees crashing down. Arn didn’t respond to Luz but dove back into the driver’s seat as fast as he could, strapping himself in even as he began to build up speed again.
“Sorry, Luz. Drain and staples for now?”
“Yeah, just get us away from the crawlers.”
The crawlers, alien behemoths of segmented, armored vehicles standing three meters high on twelve pairs of legs, could move almost as fast as Arn could drive the truck through the forest. Unlike the ambulance, though, the trees were no obstacle as the crawlers pushed them over like grass in front of them.
“We should’ve been back over the line to friendlies by now,” Luz said.
“I know. I think I’m going the right way, but with no sky, there’s no way to tell.” Arn grunted as he bounced the truck through a particularly rough patch. “Why are they wasting crawlers to chase an ambulance anyway?”
“Hey, Arn, I don’t know if you heard, but there’s no Geneva Convention on this planet.”
“I figured that out right away when they started shooting at us.” He sped up more, his body slammed against the restraints over and over, looking for anything to point him in a direction.
“Tell me again why we rushed across lines to rescue a downed pilot and gunner, rather than waiting for infantry?” she asked.
“We were closest, barely ten klicks, and MI wasn’t going to get there for at least an hour. They would’ve been crawler meat by then.”
“It would be safer if the ambulances were armored,” she said.
The crawlers never slowed, but he’d left them behind some when he saw a bright spot in the forest ahead. “There’s a clearing ahead. I’ll slow down and get my bearings.”
“I hope we’re close,” Luz said. “At least she’s stable for now.”
As he neared the clearing, he saw a crater surrounded by trees downed fanning out away from it. “Bomb crater. I’ll have to get out to see anything.”
“Don’t take too long.”
“No shit.” Arn jumped out of the truck, one of the razor-sharp bushes cutting his calf as he did. He ignored it and stepped into the edge of the bombed out clearing and looked to the sky. Based on the time of day and the position of the planet’s sun, he’d been running a line parallel to the front.
Arn climbed back into the truck and turned it right ninety degrees as he started driving again. “If I can maintain this direction we should hit the front soon.”
The sound of the crawlers grew closer, coming from their right. “Hold on, Luz, they’re taking the short-cut. I’ve gotta go faster.”
No sooner had he said it than he pushed down the accelerator and shot through the trees at dangerous speeds. The gyro bed made thunking noises as it hit its upper and lower stops. It wasn’t the smoothest of rides for their patient, but it would have to do.
“We should be getting close enough,” he yelled over the din of the banging truck, “try the radio again.”
He whipped the truck around a tree and started to slide. Before he could regain control, the rear of the truck hit a tree, bouncing them back into a mostly controlled direction. Arn knew he was driving too fast for the conditions, but it was that or be pulled apart by the crawlers.
The forest opened up into a road crossing in front of him with a steep grade. “Hang on!” he yelled as he gripped the wheel tight and kept the accelerator floored. The truck jumped the road. For a brief second, he was weightless, he saw two crawlers approaching on the road, then they slammed into the ditch on the other side.
The truck made a lot of noises it wasn’t supposed to, but he kept it floored as it limped into the trees before stopping with a grinding groan. In the silence, he could hear radio traffic, and the sound of tracks outside.
Arn took stock of the situation. Two tanks rumbled past him, firing rounds toward the area where he’d seen the crawlers. The ambulance was totaled. He’d hit so hard that the steering wheel was bent toward the dash on one side. A puddle of blood surrounded his left foot from where the bush had slashed him.
“How’s the patient?” he asked.
“Still stable. Evac is on the way.”
“How about you?” he asked.
“I’m fine. Banged my head a couple times, but nothing serious. You?”
“I might need some stitches. One of those bushes got me. Nothing serious, though.”
Luz stuck her head into the cab and looked Arn, and the floorboards, then back at Arn. She keyed the radio again, “Make that one for retrieval and two for evac.”
“I’m fine,” Arn said. He tried to wave her away but realized there was a sharp pain in his arm when he did. He looked down to see the extra bend in his right arm where he’d broken it. “Oh, maybe not.”
prompt: Write a story about a character driving and getting lost.
Originally posted at Reedsy

NOTICE: Sitting at a pretty 11,276 words, this chapter is even longer than the last one. That means that, by necessity once more, I have split the post into two as to fly under the character limit imposed by Reddit. This is the first post. When you reach the end, you'll want to go on to the second.
It's out! Please ignore how it takes me three months to write chapters anymore. A/N at bottom of second post.
Standard boilerplate disclaimer: Nature of Predators is property of our holy lord and savior SpacePaladin15. I am not him, and thus I do not own Nature of Predators. If at any time he wishes I take down anything related to Nature of Predators that I have posted, I shall do so immediately upon seeing the request. Thank you again to SpacePaladin15 for allowing fanworks.
File Selected: Entry 8 – 00:57, January 14th, 2137.mp3
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WARNING: THIS RECORDING IS PRIMARY EVIDENCE IN AN ONGOING INVESTIGATION. UNLAWFUL LISTENING TO, REPRODUCTION OF, OR TAMPERING WITH IN PART OR IN WHOLE OF THIS RECORDING IS A FELONY. IF YOU ARE NOT A LEGAL OFFICIAL OF THE COMMONWEALTH, STOP THIS PLAYBACK IMMEDIATELY AND CONTACT YOUR CLOSEST EXTERMINATOR FOR DISPOSAL OF ILLICIT INFORMATION. ENFORCEMENT OF THIS LAW IS REVIEWED AND APPROVED BY HIGH JUDGE HYACIDUS OF THE GLASS GARDEN METROPOLITAN ZONE.
The entry begins in an amateurish attempt at a sing-song style, Jiyuulia’s consistently basal tones swinging through her full vocal range over the course of the introduction before stabilizing in a steady, yet almost grandstanding cadence. At some points, the high notes almost reach a normal conversational pitch, though the awkward way the words are stressed ruins the effect. Nevertheless, Jiyuulia’s voice is strong, ostentatious, even, its booming volume echoing off the cavern walls with what one might go so far as to argue to be the smallest drop of pride. Aside from her poor vocals, audio quality has increased drastically in comparison to that of the previous entry, Jiyuulia’s voice clean, crisp, and otherwise without significant flaw beyond its abnormal register and lackluster talent. Much like last time, a constant wind flows in the background, creating a wind tunnel effect that is present throughout the entire entry. Unlike last time, however, the winds have slowed greatly; their previously deleterious effects on audio quality absent as the piercing howl of earlier. Actually, the sound is almost a positive thing, calming in its own way, the white noise helping to mitigate the worst of the echo whilst doing nothing to impede the clarity of the speaker. It is not quite enough, however, to mask the frantic scrabbling and squirming of a smaller creature making its way toward the microphone, almost reaching it before the being is caught and hauled away with a huff.
Greetings, Great Hunters! I, Jiyuuila, Spirit of Bounty, bring to you today the spoils of the ongoing hunt, regaling all with the in-progress tale of Hunter Potentiate Kyrix’s turbulent entry examination and the many chaotic events he encounters in his path to heaven.
*That’s me!*
With danger around every corner, greater and greater challenges presenting themselves with each and every obstacle, and even death itself stalking our brave Potentiate, Kyrix’s adventure has yet to let up! As his faithful guide and trophy, and thus dutybound to recording all of Kyrix’s great endeavors in his quest for ascension, I present to you, Great Hunters, and all those who listen in the lands above, the true tale of Kyrix’s journey through the mortal world. A thrilling adventure jam-packed with action and strife, the journey’s been long, and we’ve been through so much that it’s almost too much for me to keep up!
*Squishy never keeps up with anyone.*
…All that content won’t cover itself, so let’s get started! First off, I—
Jiyuulia pauses. A light shuffling can be heard coming from somewhere atop her.
Settled now?
…
Right, so first off, I should talk about — ow — about the situation Kyrix found himself in after our whitewater rafting trip, and — watch the earholes — the immediate challenges — that’s my eye — that nearly ended the journey — that’s my other eye — before it even — okay, Kyrix, if you can’t stop moving, I’m gonna have to take the entry without you.
*Nooo! I wanna stay! You said I could stay!*
I said you could stay if you could be good.
*I’m being good! No movement, see?*
Uh huh. Starting over. So first off, we — are you done?
A pointed silence passes. Jiyuulia’s exasperated glare is palpable, even through an audio recording.
Ahem. So. First off, we were — alright, that’s it.
A loud thud blasts the microphone as Jiyuulia’s bulk slams against the stony floor. A tentacle shoots out, quickly twisting around a loudly protesting miniature creature and yanking it from its insecure position before forcefully nestling it in a new spot somewhere in front of her. Its desperate struggles do nothing to save it — though not for lack of trying — and the Arxur is quickly restrained against the soft, fatty wall of Jiyuulia’s belly, pinned underneath a limb that individually weighs more than it does. Before its struggles can escalate to violence, two more tentacles digs into its sides, running up and down in a crude form of torture as they slither and poke at any softer bits of tissue.
*EEEEEIIII! Nooo-hehe-oo—mrph!*
Ahh, that’s better. Now, where was I?
Oh yeah, the riverbank. I, er, we, uh…
How do I put this?
…
Hmm. So, uhm, I’m sure it comes as no surprise to you listener— ers! Listeners, but the temporary respite at the end of my last entry was short-lived. I only managed to get about half an hour of peace between me signing off and Kyrix beginning to wake up, and the rest of the survivors weren’t far behind him.
Seeing as how we were, y’know, totally lost, lacking any form of equipment whatsoever beyond my pad and torn clothing, and all probably at least slightly injured, I had taken it upon myself to, during my short break, prepare a quick speech detailing our unfortunate predicament to give to the crew while they were temporarily incapacitated.
Knowing my audience, I’d even prepared a nice little presentation out of some smoothed pebbles to act as a visual aid for the Butcher. It wasn’t the most detailed thing out there, and I was totally missing both the pretty lady and the weather segment, but all in all, I was pretty happy with the “highlights” I’d setup. I wasn’t gonna be optimistic with our collective chances of survival anything so ridiculous, but it felt like I was making progress, and I figured I could rely on the recently comatose state of my audience and the near-death experience we’d all recently shared to help temper reactions and allow me to introduce a little group cohesion before somebody could panic and do whatever it is Arxur do when they freak out in confined spaces — e.g., splatter my guts all over the floor.
I needn’t have bothered. The instant everyone had finished expelling the copious amounts of water they’d swallowed and I’d managed to finagle Kyrix into somewhat of a seated position, Hothead started going off about it somehow being everyone’s else’s fault that we were all in this mess, and that all of us (minus me, who was at fault for a litany of other things) were all sorry excuses for Arxur that needed to learn from his example and do their jobs properly — after all, not even he could carry the whole team on his shoulders.
Given the nature of our crew’s fragile egos, it’s honestly a little surprising he managed to get as far as he did. He’d accused us all of being illegitimate bastards, compared our collective intellects to that of a fruit fly, gone on a rather uncomfortably long and heartfelt spiel about mucus stains and public seating, and was halfway through a tirade on property rights relating to improvised emergency flotation devices before the Butcher’s limited cognition finally managed to catch up with what was happening, resulting in her lunging at him with three limbs at once and howling “Island Piñata!”
To his credit, Hothead reacted with a speed befitting his occupation, turning and fleeing the scene before the furious ball of predatory rage that was the Butcher could manage to do anything more than tear open his lower back, but with really only one direction to go that wasn’t back into the river, that “plan” cumulated in him peeling off into the darkness of the tunnels before the Butcher could regain her footing and follow him, screeching something unintelligible about “the DPS” while trying and failing to avoid falling face-first over every larger rock in the way.
To make matters worse, somewhere between the third and fourth stumble, the blood he’d managed to smear over the last three rocks triggered something in our other crazy, and with him joining the chase, it wasn’t thirty seconds before the fading echoes of the three morons were all I had left of half my original audience, their screaming voices slowly dimming from somewhere within the unknown black and leaving us with absolutely no method of tracking them down whatsoever.
As you might imagine, a murder plot breaking out before everyone had managed to stand up straight and shake the fuzz out of their heads was somewhat… demoralizing, for those of us left behind. But if you look on the bright side, at least I wasn’t alone in my suffering this time! My most unpredictable audience member — the one real adult here on this trip aside from myself — was left especially stunned by the near-instantaneous rate at which something I’d been involved in had degraded into an uncontrollable violent chaos that put everyone’s lives at risk. I couldn’t tell you why that is — one must wonder where he’s been all this time to somehow not expect my life to fall apart at the slightest opportunity — but with his eyes bugging out and his jaw hanging half open, coupled with the fervent glances at my less-than-impressed visage… well, it’s no matter. I ought to think I managed an impression somewhere in there.
Ah, well. Whether or not he’s reconsidering his stance on the doughiest Kolshian alive, I still find it hilarious that somehow, even after all this time, he still expects the other crewmembers to need a reason for them to screw everything up.
Is it messed up that I find his naivety an endearing quirk?
Jiyuulia hums, seemingly hesitant about something. It’s fairly loud, and the resultant rumbling of her chest and stomach set off a new peal of screaming laughter from the Arxur, still totally inattentive to her words in its hysteria. Occasionally, a series of wet slapping sounds can be heard, starting and stopping whenever the Arxur begins to quiet, and the position of the Arxur relative to the microphone will shift up and down rapidly, sending it deep into further fits of laughter.
Given all this talk about him, I guess now’s as good a time as any I’ll ever get to introduce him. Listener, meet Orderly, former station guard, full-time hyper-neurotic nervous wreck.
I’ll admit I may have been perhaps a tad harsh on him in my last entry; I didn’t know the guy, and given the regular assortment of literally predatory Predator-Diseased crazies on this trip and my own poor mood at the time, I wasn’t exactly feeling optimistic about my chances of actually getting someone who was even halfway reliable down here. But fortune’s been rather indecisive as of late when it comes to me, and seeing as how I think I’m rather deserving of a chance for some actual, willingly-provided help with how things have gone thus far, I’d like to go out on a bit of a thinner limb here and tentatively say that, given my choices of Arxur, Arxur, and Arxur, he might actually be worth taking with me.
Still, though, what I wouldn’t do for a proper Gojid…
Yeah, though. Unlike every other Arxur I’ve had the pleasure of knowing so far — barring Kyrix, that is, who’s been shockingly obedient for a bloodthirsty monster — Orderly is… well, orderly. Rather than being some bullheaded retard with an inability to understand such nuances as “scheduling” or “regular duties” like I’ve come to expect from such a twisted waste of an attempt at sapience as his race tends to be, Orderly’s probably the most right-angled, waxed-crest, day-planner-in-hand kinda guy I’ve ever met.
If there’s another person on this trip who’s been having as much fun as he and I, I haven’t noticed, because so far, the only emotions I’ve caught from the overly-cortisonal disaster are reminiscent of an all-too-familiar grad student I used to know that, at the time, had been averaging two hours of sleep a night while strung out on — if my memory serves — at least seven different stimulants of varying levels of legality. In particular, she’d been having thoughts during an early-morning binge session that’d left her barely able to stand because it was three hours before her thesis defense, and rather than sleep, she’d spent six hours of the night before on a call with the student disability and accommodations office arguing over the plainly discriminatory size of the showers in Solegnolia Hall, and how it was unfair and unjust of the school to restrict the largest showers to those of certain species rather than by total body volume.
Except that in his case, rather than dealing with his emotions by drowning them in excess sugar and sleeping off the subsequent hormonal crash for two days straight afterwards, Orderly’s just been in that state the whole time I’ve known him, and so far I’ve been given no reason to doubt that he’s been like this the whole trip, his fingers constantly twitching for a stylus of some sort as he levels an incredulous, almost worrisome gaze of simultaneous fascination and envy at me whenever I pull out my exclusively tentacle-friendly pad.
Before you ask, no, I have not offered him the chance to use the calendar app. I’ve only got the one valuable possession left, I’m not just gonna lend it out without some serious incentives.
And yes, getting my “disproportional” arse out of having to play Dance Mania as a Takkan again is considered a “serious incentive.” My pride can only take so much. My cankles, even less.
Either way, from both my own light discussions I’ve managed to hold with the guy and what I’ve managed to pick up from the others, Orderly’s former job… err, more, “specialization,” really, and the other half of where his name comes from? Stampede Suppression Handler.
It might be a throwback, listener, but do you remember, back when we were in the cells on the cattle station, how I suggested that a rampaging Mazic would’ve made for a serious threat to station stability, (not that it would matter now) and that the Arxur were likely using the odd cell layout as a method of breaking their spirits in order to nullify the danger they posed? Well, as it turns out, engineering solutions aren’t the only solutions the Dominion implements when it comes to this “common issue.”
The parallels to Exterminators are a bit uncomfortable, really, but “Incongruity Reduction and Neutralization Officers” like Orderly participated in “optimization” operations related to “inefficient use of resources and manpower.” That is to say, Orderly is a professional problem-puncher, and much like the rest of his kind, he wasn’t made to be too discriminatory on who or what that problem was. Rather than dwell on the rather… unfortunate… implications of that particular phrase, I’ll just use the examples he gave me.
Suppose, for a minute, that a prized Takkan stud has escaped from his cell, deciding that his time is better spent running amok down the halls and putting a fat dent in every flat piece of metal he sees. Admin disagrees, and would like to have him put back in his cell without ruining his capacity for creating further offspring. Orderly’s en route as we speak.
Or, for a more pertinent example, say, oh, I don’t know, there’s a mentally-challenged Arxur causing a scene that you needed to neutralize immediately, but for whatever reason, they’re also somehow important enough that you can’t just slit the guy’s throat and be done with it? Well, try replacing “Arxur” with “Predator Diseased soon-to-be-patient” — because honestly we’re really not losing out on any fidelity with at least two out of the three here — and ask yourself: what would a normal, civilized society do in that situation?
…
Hah! I knew you were smart, listener! You call the Exterminators, and they deal with it. Now just make both your patient and your “Exterminator” evil monsters beyond all bounds of any ethical system ever devised, and you’ve got yourself a solid idea of what was going on here. Were he some real person back home rather than the beast he is, he’d have a solid job with the Exterminators or one of the PD facilities, either capturing those who wouldn’t turn themselves in or handling the high-risk patients undergoing treatment as an — you guessed it — orderly.
See? It fits so well!
And may the stars above forgive me, for I’ve had very few high points to go off of over the course of this whole adventure, and with my sanity where it’s at, I’ve really ought to take the humor where I can find it, but this still continues to send me: How many other prey out there can say they had a problem, and got to call Dominion Law Enforcement to come fix it?
Jiyuulia laughs.
Not many, I can tell you that!
So yeah. No points for guesses on who my favorite down here’s been. Barring Kyrix, of course.
…
Speaking of the little guy, what do you think, Great Hunters? Has it been long enough yet?
Yeah, I think so too.
Fabric rustles as a heavy limb lifts itself from the Arxur. It gasps loudly with the movement, and its breathing is ragged, coming in heavy, rapid bursts.
You gonna behave this time?
…
The limb moves again. The Arxur’s breath hitches.
Well? I need an answer!
There’s a brief flash of movement. The Arxur beings to laugh again, this time without a muffling tentacle cutting off its airway. It’s a high-pitched, chirping note, an odd sound for the conventionally drum-like noise usually associated with Arxur, but according to available materials, not a particularly unusual one for Arxur young. See Reference 46C for further examples and wave models.
*Ye-yes! Squi-shy tickles!*
And don’t you forget it. But while you were fighting for your life, I was getting some of the boring stuff out of the way. We’re doing introductions of the crew now. Did you have anything to say about him?
*About who?*
Oh, right, I’m doing… uhh… y’know… the guy. The guy who was with us. The other non-stabby one, not the pilot.
*Oh! Giznel is nice. He’s really smart, and he knows a lot of secrets! And he lets me do important work! Like, there was this one time he had me sort out the little tasty-looking blocks in the engine bay. They’re not tasty, but I didn’t know that yet, and they’d all fallen off the wall after somebody hit the other side too hard. I had to sort the oily-tasting, burny-tasting, and nothing-tasting ones into different boxes before they melted and burned the floor too much. I was fast, and he said I did a good job!*
…Right. Was this before or after the water filter failed?
*Before! I think. I don’t really remember that day very good. You should ask Giznel. He always knows that stuff.*
Jiyuulia sighs. The audio doesn’t pick it up with any clarity, but she says something as she does. The tone is remarkably disappointed.
Right. Yeah. I’ll just do that the next time I see him. That’ll go well.
*Ooh! Can I be there? I haven’t talked to him in a while. The last time was when he was confused earlier and wanted to know how I controlled you so well, something about you being “almost professional,” whatever that means. I told him it was really easy because you were special and not really a prey at all, so I actually didn’t have to control you because you could control yourself, and were even acting as my guide instead!*
…Ah. And how’d he take that?
*Really weird! Instead of being happy I answered his question, he got really nervous and started warning me about how “those above were always watching, even if it wasn’t obvious,” which I told him was dumb because I already knew you were here to watch for the Great Hunters and you’re the most obvious person I’ve ever seen, and he really should have known that you weren’t normal without having to ask. He left the room after that, and he’s been really busy since then, always needing to do something and never having any more work for me.*
…
A loud boom blasts the microphone as the pad falls to the floor, skittering along the rough stone. Jiyuulia, without a word, gets up, plods off, and crashes to the floor in a heavy thud some distance away. The cave ambiance is too loud to hear much of her after that, but the occasional high-pitched (for Jiyuulia’s unusual vocal register, that is) squeal still reaches the microphone from time to time. Whether it is raucous laughter or muffled crying is hard to tell. It’s very possible that it’s both.
*Squishy?*
The next few squeals are louder, though no less ambiguous. Note the mutterings and odd sloshing noises that occur after the second instance of the sound.
*Huh. I thought she only did this in her room.*
The recording pauses for about half an hour. When it resumes, it does so suddenly, and without any sort of fanfare. Jiyuulia is quieter, more reserved than she was before.
I think I’m good now.
A-hem. So. Disregarding some pertinent recent revelations in the interest of my continued sanity…
Giznel, apparently, was the first one to snap himself out of it, sprinting off in the direction of the soon-to-be-lost crewmembers and the unfortunately still necessary pilot. He did so with flawless grace and form, his single-minded determination evident to all those who saw him… for about thirty feet. The whole effect didn’t really last beyond the part where the predator managed to immediately trip over the same foot-tall rock shelf the pilot had first tumbled over, slamming his head into the ground the instant he’d passed over the boundary between the darkness of the tunnels and the safety of the moss’s light. He wasn’t hurt by the fall, at least not beyond his wounded pride — not that that was ever going to be salvageable to begin with after today — but even as another loud boom echoed from deeper into the tunnel and the then suddenly very audible screaming reached a pitch I hadn’t known Arxur were quite capable of until then, the hunt for the crew was over before it had even began, stalled before it could even truly begin as the lone hunter was forced to stop at the edge of the available light.
Normally, that’s where it would’ve stopped. Unlike the hooligans that had sprinted off into the darkness under the motivations of either insanity, threats of homicide, or both, it was clear to those of us who didn’t have claws wrapped around our throats that it was perhaps not the safest course of action to go barreling down a pitch-black deathtrap of a tunnel filled with an unknowable number of trip hazards and rather inconveniently located chest-high crystalline stalagmites growing out of the walls. The scenario only got worse when the whole purpose of the thing was to find and catch multiple dangerous and combative individuals that were all clearly having some sort of episode, even if the person responsible for the (de?)escalation did have some experience in the matter.
Unfortunately for us, the stakes were far too high for us to ever even consider giving up, and as much as it pains me to say, the pilot’s skillset, though rather limited, is still far too valuable for us to consider him a write off whenever things got bad. Hence, enter me, and more specifically, this pad.
I’m sure you’ve used a pad before, listener. Who hasn’t, really? They’re useful for a huge number of different applications, including but not limited to: day planning, record taking, short-range communications, time-wasting, and projecting games of skill for me to lose at to a four-year-old — along with contacting secretive government intelligence agencies, apparently.
Anyway, the point I’m trying to get at here is that most models nowadays tend to have this little thing on the back called a flashlight, and — despite what you might think — these have a purpose beyond just being something your dad can yell at you for after you fail to bend light around three separate corners while he finagles with something on the underside of the hovercar. The light-creating device came with problems, like the previously stated issue with my personal model’s exclusively tentacle-friendly nature and my status as the sole being within a dozen parsecs blessed with such useful appendages, but all in all, it only took a mere forty-five seconds of intense panicking to figure out which way to point it (not into one’s eyes) and flip it on, allowing resumption of the quickly halted hunt, except this time, extenuating factors required that the party be headed by an egregiously unfit herbivorous noncombatant rather than literally anyone else.
My opinion on being at the front has not changed since the last time I mentioned it, by the way. Alas, neither has an opportunity arisen for me to get out of it.
Oh well.
I know I’m kinda setting this whole thing up to be the start of the next great adventure I got dragged on — thankfully not literally this time — but I’ll have to let you down, listener. I’m not trying to make the story about myself here.
Actually, all things considered, the chase from there on went pretty well. Apart from the part where the dedicated tunnel blocker got stuck in the front, the actual scouting operation for the lost crewmembers was not actually all that exciting.
I mean, it absolutely involved more violence than any prey creature should ever be comfortable with; Giznel broke out some absolutely vile and most definitely illegal headlock maneuvers that I couldn’t even begin to describe, and there were more sharp objects being sent in my direction than I particularly cared for, sure. But while that’s all very well and bad, and perhaps it’s just the massive amount of desensitization and PD I’ve picked up on the way, but honestly? When put into the context of everything else that’s happened so far, watching some idiot predator get bent backwards for the fourth time that day is far from the worst thing I’ve had to witness just within the last twelve hours, and adding a drop of police brutality to the ocean of gratuitous violence this whole thing’s been is not really gonna be bursting any flood barriers here. Nobody ended up with fourteen slashing wounds and two individually fatal counts of arterial bleeding.
Stars, the Butcher didn’t even manage to make it to the fight, having ran face-first into a wall where the tunnel made an abrupt turn halfway to where the real bloodbath was going on and consequently knocking herself out. And without her, it was easy. Orderly was semi-competent, and for all Paintbrush likes his blood art, he has to be the one responsible for its creation for it to be any fun, apparently, and he’d left his tools at home. More natural methods of scattering one’s internal organs across the surrounding environment, like impaling oneself on a stalagmite in utter darkness, for example, just didn’t hold the same appeal. He surrendered without a fight.
Jiyuuila shifts slightly. It’s a careful motion.
Now, you might be forgiven for thinking that subtracting the two people trying to actually commit the murder from the murder scene would calm the situation down a little bit. And if those involved were any other species, you’d be right! Maybe even if it weren’t these specific Arxur; the crew has struck me as somewhat “below average” in most things, really. Regardless, Hothead was involved as the “victim” here, and as you may recall, Giznel had to demonstrate his moves on somebody who hadn’t already surrendered or otherwise fallen unconscious, soo…
Same old same old. You already know what happens whenever he gets involved, and it ain’t pretty. Ugh.
At least it was mostly blunt force trauma this time. Mostly.
Jiyuulia exhales loudly through her nose.
At this rate, it’ll be a miracle if there’s enough of him left to remember how to fly the ship straight by the time we make it that far, much less actually make any progress towards getting us home.
Not that any of the rest of us know how to do that either.
…Aaanyways, I sat on the floor and held a light, thinking my happy thoughts while watching an Arxur warrior beat someone to within an inch of their life a few feet in front of me. Kyrix got to sit behind me facing the wall. What more is there to say about our involvement, really?
Soo… yeah. No special glories stolen from Kyrix, here. Things went really pretty well from there on out, except for, y’know, all the times they didn’t, but hey! Such is life. Or unlife — I should really probably get that clear for my little charge here. But after all, it wouldn’t be much of a trial without hardship. They’re kinda all pains by definition.
…
Speaking of the little terror himself, I’m sure you’ve noticed that he’s been absent for this particular section. Stars above, I’m sure you’ve noticed that everyone’s been absent for a while now! And I’m getting to that, don’t worry, but as for the miniature hellspawn himself, the explanation is a little simpler: He’s recuperating after a brief “healing spell” involving a series of circular rubbing motions and a glob of “magic slime” being pressed into his brand new head wound left by the rock shard he’d managed to lodge in his forehead after I left him unsupervised for a grand total of two minutes. Don’t ask me how it happened, either, the boy literally cannot walk on his own and was feet from the nearest sharp object (that wasn’t himself) when I’d left him to deal with an “emergency.”
As it turns out, my future as a masseuse is bright, because my spell was so effective that he almost immediately calmed down and fell asleep. Unfortunately, my future as a mattress is even brighter, and this is the sixth time this week that the devious little predator has decided that I was a good place to take a nap. Safe, soft, warm, and apparently I even “smell really good sometimes,” which is a compliment one always wishes to hear from a member of the race that abducted me for sustenance less than a month ago.
Still, though, as entertaining as having an Arxur ensconced in my fat folds is, the negative effect on my already strained productivity is “not great.” I might have to try making him a blanket out of what remains of my shirt or something later, who knows. He’d probably like that.
Jiyuulia sighs.
…What am I doing with my life?
First Prev Part 2

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Fir’s first hint that he wasn’t alright was the sizable arrow embedded in his chest – alongside the frightening amount of blood emerging from it.
The second was Juniper, who looked at him with pure horror in her eyes. It pained him to see her like that, and immediately he wanted to fly over and comfort her.
But for some reason his body refused to move. That surely explained why he found himself falling rapidly. Dimly aware of the clouds rushing away, Fir braced for impact.
An impact which never came; wizened claws wrapped around his back, slowing his descent onto the roof. He turned his head and saw Elder Rowan, repressed panic visible on the old Leafwing.
Dread began to slowly settle over him.
“NO!” Juniper wailed, almost falling out of the sky herself. Next to her, Hickory and Hornbeam watched on with despair. And behind them all, Firefly’s face broke into a sickening, triumphant grin. Fir’s eyes widened as the Hivewing drew another arrow, looking straight at Juniper.
Look out! Fir wanted to shout, but the loudest he could muster was a thin gasp. Thankfully Elder Rowan heard his words, and repeated them to the rest.
“Look out behind you!” He bellowed. “The Hivewing’s taking another shot!”
Juniper whipped her head around and saw Firefly getting ready. Fir wanted to scream at her to flee, and put as much distance from the soldier as possible to avoid getting hit.
Instead she let loose a roar that seemed to scatter the winds themselves. Juniper shot after Firefly, a green and brown blur ripping through the sky with unnatural speed.
The Hivewing too looked taken aback at Juniper’s ferocity, wings fearfully flapping away. As the Leafwing drew closer the soldier frantically drew her bow in a desperate attempt to shoot her down.
It failed.
Before the arrow could even be loosed, Juniper skewered Firefly through the stomach. The tip erupted out the Hivewing’s back in a satisfying spurt of crimson as the wind began to calm.
Juniper coldly pushed her spear away, letting the impaled soldier tumble through the air. He watched Firefly disappear below the roof, knowing she had a long way to fall. Fir softly tittered at the thought before his lungs violently seized, blue blood dripping from his snout as he collapsed onto the roof, shuddering in pain.
“Fir!” Battle forgotten, Juniper hurriedly dove towards him, passing by Hornbeam, Hickory, and Azalea who also approached.
“Hold strong, Icewing.” Elder Rowan put a claw on his shoulder. “I’ll summon help, don’t worry.” With that he took flight amid fading clouds, quickly flying to the rest of the villagers.
A moment later, Juniper skidded beside him. “Spirits of the forest…” She gasped, looking at his wound. “This can’t be happening. It can’t be…” She trailed off, tears glistening from the corners of her eyes.
“Hey, Juniper.” Despite the pain, Fir cracked a smile. “Long time no see.”
“Shut up!” She bursted back. “Can’t you see this is serious? You’re– you’re –” Juniper’s voice broke.
“You’re dying.” She began to cry.
Grunting, Fir pushed himself up to a sitting position and moved towards Juniper. Once close enough he brushed his wings over her snout and wiped away her tears, just as he’d done before.
“Shh. It’s ok.” He consoled her, feeling tears in his eyes as well.
“By the trees, you’re a terrible liar.” Juniper gave him a broken smile. “Aren’t you afraid of never returning home?”
He was silent for some time.
“Maybe it was the week I spent living in Willowwood with Azalea, Sumac, and everyone else.” Fir spoke again. “Maybe it was when I confided in you my deepest fears, or when we danced together in the festival.”
He closed his eyes. “Perhaps it was when we fought side by side that night in the clearing, or when you freed me from the cells. Perhaps it was before all that, when you first offered me those dragonberries on the day we met in the meadow.”
“Fir, what are you talking abou– mmf!” Before she could finish, he threw his wings around Juniper and kissed her. After a moment of shock, the Leafwing leaned into it. As moonlight peeked through the clouds, the two remained locked together for long, precious seconds.
Finally he backed away. “Whenever it was, somewhere along the line I started to care. To love,” he emphasized that word, “this second home I’d found, and the strange tree dragons within it.”
Fir looked at Juniper, whose scales shone elegantly under the moons. “One of those dragons was particularly strange, always disagreeing with my infallible logic. Do you know where she could be?”
Juniper softly laughed and pressed her snout to his, until their eyes were less than a talon-length away from each other. “I almost forgot you said that.” She whispered, their tears mixing freely before landing on the roof.
Other sets of claws could be heard landing as well. Fir turned and saw Elder Rowan returning with a sprinting Cypress, carrying a roll of bandages. Behind her followed Azalea and the rest of the villagers. Also on the roof were Hornbeam and Hickory, standing away at a respectful distance. They watched as Juniper’s mother knelt beside him.
“Lay down now.” Cypress ordered, handing her bandage to Juniper as the healer applied pressure around the spear. “Junie, wrap this tightly around the sides to stem the blood. There isn’t time to take him to the pavilion.”
“Yes Mother.” She nodded, face set with determined professionalism.
As the two Leafwings worked in silence, Fir gazed up at the now clear sky. A tapestry of gleaming stars gazed back.
So pretty… Despite his current state, he smiled at the sight.
The Great Ice Dragon must’ve sent frostbreath to adorn the night, but it seemed to have changed on its journey to Pantala. Instead of green-blue lights snaking beyond the horizon, Fir saw waves of red and purple that twisted in between the moons before bursting across the sky.
The sight almost resembled a massive eye. It was different and strange to be sure, but no less beautiful.
“Pass me more of the bandage, Mother.” Juniper tugged, pulling up blue-soaked fabric. Fir felt his chest tighten, though he didn’t feel much better.
No matter, he could admire the hundreds of stars shining bright tonight! It didn’t take long for him to pick out all the familiar constellations.
To his left, the twin bear stars wandered into view. The pair left behind rivulets of silver stars, creating a glowing path that stood out from the dark. Among this river, Fir next spotted the rabbit star as it dipped in and out of view. For a while he played this sudden game of hide-and-seek, enjoying the unpredictability.
Further away, the reindeer constellation trotted into view as well. Its antlers were missing, however, perhaps lost somewhere within the stream left in the bears’ wake. At least it looked relieved.
“We need more pressure. Juniper, press your talons on his chest.” Cypress hurriedly pointed, sounding strangely tense.
The next moment, warm claws laid themselves over his heart. Fir felt himself relaxing as he put his own claws over her’s. He squeezed them reassuringly, looking up at Juniper. The Leafwing stiffened and turned away, shaking. He looked back down and saw most of his underbelly stained with blood.
His blood.
Before Fir could panic, a glimmer from above seized his attention. Hanging highest over the night sky like an irreplaceable jewel, the north star shone with a light only it could give. Noticing his gaze, it spoke to him at last.
Fir, son of the Icewings. It approvingly declared, the words alone filling him with pride.
Brave. The bear stars rumbled.
Loyal. The rabbit star winked.
And true. The reindeer constellation nodded. Fir preened under the praise. But before he could relish for long, a spurt of blood erupted from his mouth.
“It’s just as I feared.” He heard Cypress say. “His lung’s been hit, and probably an artery too.”
“What do we do?” Juniper’s voice rose, edged with hysteria. “Mother, tell me there’s a way!”
Cypress met Fir’s gaze, and her face fell. “I’m sorry.”
“No no no no…” Juniper murmured, violently shaking her head. “NO!” She collapsed on him, snout falling on his bloodstained chest.
Moving quickly, Fir lifted her snout and bundled her claws within his own. “Juniper, please don’t cry. You did all you could.”
“I couldn’t save you.” She sobbed. “And now you’re going to die here.”
Fir tilted her head to rest on his, whispering softly. “But you did save me, don’t you remember?”
Juniper looked at him confused.
“You saved me in the meadow. And from the cells. And during the fight in the clearing.” He coughed again, feeling something run down his jaw. “Three is an awfully large number, don’t you think?”
Juniper hugged him again, as if trying to stop the bleeding with her body. She filled half his view as she tightly twined her tail around his. The other half was left to the stars, and the frostbreath in the sky shaped like an eye.
An eye. Fir’s own widened. Is the Great Ice Dragon watching me? On cue it brightened, enveloping his view as if offering an invitation.
“Fir…” Juniper whimpered, gently nudging him. He refocused on the Leafwing’s tear-streaked face.
“Juniper…” He softly kissed her. “The pain’s fading away now.”
“Please don’t go.” She sniffled.
“I’m sorry.” Fir’s voice broke, crying just as hard as Juniper. “But you know what?”
“What?”
“Soon I’ll be among the stars.” He smiled, looking at the sky which proudly looked back. “We can see each other every night.”
“Was flying among them not enough?” Juniper quietly laughed.
“I guess not, my love.”
She gasped.
“You look lovely when you’re flustered.” Fir simpered, darkness creeping from the edges of his vision. “I’m so glad you’re here – I’d feel too afraid otherwise.”
“By the trees, what will I do without you?” Juniper murmured.
“Grieve. Cry. Mourn.” He answered, feeling it harder and harder to speak. “But I know it won’t break you, because you’re too strong for that.”
Juniper wrapped her wings around him as the two lowered flat over the roof. “Thank you for landing in Pantala, my Icewing.”
“Thank you for finding me, my Leafwing.” Fir’s eyelids grew heavy.
The Great Ice Dragon, accompanied by all the stars, beckoned for him to join. One eye looked to them while the other remained on Juniper, as she gently cradled his head. His heart could easily hold love for each.
The best of both worlds, remaining by my side. Fir beamed, feeling himself slipping away.
I’m glad I’m home.
******
They buried Fir the next sunset in the meadow where he was first found. Under the protective shade of a wide willow tree, next to a stream which cooled the soil, the area was noticeably chillier than its surroundings.
Juniper knew he’d appreciate resting here.
“It is said that more may pass in mere weeks than during whole decades.” Elder Rowan’s voice cut through the melancholy, lamp-lit air. “And I believe these past two have exemplified this saying.” He looked to the upturned grass beside him, face creased with sorrow. “For the second time in our continent’s history, a dragon from the Distant Kingdoms arrived at our shores. Now he joins the first in eternal slumber.”
The Elder looked to the assembled Leafwings, taking a breath. Practically the entire village had come, standing on the ground and in the trees in a loose semicircle. Out of all of them, Juniper stood closest to the grave.
“I first called Fir a threat, but I couldn’t have been further from the truth. He’s a hero, one who made the ultimate sacrifice to protect our home.” He continued.
The stealth team had returned in the morning, bewildered by the events of yesterday. They also arrived with no reinforcements - though they weren’t of any use now. The messengers explained that similar attacks had happened all across the Leaf Kingdom, and that by the time they’d arrived the palace could offer no more soldiers.
Juniper kept her head locked straight ahead. Someone nudged her wing, and looking up she saw a subdued Azalea giving her a sympathetic expression.
Apart from Fir, three other dragons died last night. The first was a steward, murdered in the treehouse by the Hivewings. Manihot was his name according to Hickory. The second was caught by falling debris, leading to a fatal plummet to the forest floor. The final Leafwing was asleep when a fire pot exploded right above her hut. She had no way to escape. Their funerals had been done in the afternoon. Now only one was left.
Opposite of Azalea, Mother squeezed Juniper’s talons with understanding on her face. She knew all too well the pain of losing a loved one right in front of your eyes.
Juniper offered the two a weak smile that didn’t last for long. She focused again on the Elder.
“So let us remember Fir today as one of our own, now and forevermore. May he nurture our home as he did in life.” Elder Rowan concluded. “Would anyone else like to give a few closing remarks?”
Juniper nodded. “I would.” The eyes of almost two hundred Leafwings snapped onto her as she stepped forward. The Elder backed away, giving up his spot.
Turning slowly she looked at the crowd. Juniper had been in this position before, appealing to the village to save Fir’s life. His loss still felt surreal, sending shivers up her spine – and fresh tears down her snout.
Her audience shared in this grief. Azalea and Mother, eyes dimmed to a shadow of what they once were. Hickory and Hornbeam, wings drooped from familiar guilt. Juniper even saw Sumac, peeking at her from beside Tupelo. The dragonet’s head remained downcast, and even at a distance she could see the faint glimmers of teardrops falling down.
He looked just like her, heart consumed until nothing remained. How long would Sumac feel empty after this?
Too long.
She paused for a moment. Then Juniper opened her mouth. “Have I ever told you all about about the time Fir first spoke to me?”
Confused murmurs spilled through the crowd. Elder Rowan looked at her questioningly.
“It happened when I found him sprawled unconscious in this very meadow, the day before I told the Elder. I’d just finished wrapping up his nasty side wound, and was thinking what to do next.” Juniper reminisced, looking to the exact place where it had occurred.
“All of a sudden I turned around, and found Fir staring right at me. For a long couple of moments, we both were completely quiet.” Juniper saw a small smirk grow on Azalea’s face. Her friend had an idea of what was about to happen.
“I remember thinking to myself ‘what will this mystery dragon possibly say to me?’ during those few seconds. I made a million guesses in my head, each of them wrong. Because the first thing Fir said to me was,” Juniper inhaled.
“Three moons, it really is a tree!”
Like a sapling splitting through barren earth, faint smiles emerged from the attending Leafwings. Azalea covered her snout, emitting muffled chuckles that caused Mother to glare at her.
“And that was why our very first conversation was on whether or not I was a plant.” Juniper smiled at the memory. “Obviously Fir was wrong, so he instead argued that I was a Treewing.” Scattered titters broke out at that. Even the Elder quietly snorted.
“To prove it, Fir used logic I’d never seen before. By getting me to admit that leaves were on trees, he exclaimed in a moment of triumph:” Juniper paused for effect.
“SO THERE! Treewing is right after all – you said it yourself!”
Sumac giggled, his high pitched chirps lightening the air. Even the lamps seemed to shine brighter.
“At the time I was so mad, but looking back now I can’t help but laugh.” Juniper raised an upturned claw to the other village. “That was a memory I had with Fir, one I won’t ever forget. Would anyone else like to tell theirs?”
“I would!” Azalea called, raising her voice. “Mine is from last week, during the night of our New Year of the Trees festival when I was scale painting Fir. While I had experience doing it before, that was only for Leafwings. With him, well… I had more trouble.” She sheepishly admitted.
“I’d started painting Fir in the afternoon. But because I’d never worked on an Icewing before, I spent hours just trying out different designs to see what worked. By the time I finished, the festival was already beginning.” Azalea recalled.
“But despite having to sit still for so long, Fir didn’t complain. He merely sat through my failed attempts, giving encouragement no matter the mistake.” She straightened. “I’m glad he was patient with me, and I won’t ever forget it.”
“Ooh! I have something too! I have something too!” Sumac loudly piped up, waving his arms. Tupelo shushed him with his tail, stern eyes rebuking his son for such behavior.
“No, no. It’s ok.” Juniper gestured with her wings. “You can speak, Sumac.”
Unsilenced, the dragonet eagerly began. “A few days ago, Fir did something similar with me. He took me to the beach to teach me how to fish, but instead of a net or spear, he taught me something called ‘claw fishing’.” Sumac made air quotes with his talons.
“Fir told me to wade into the bay, keep my claws underwater, and wait for the fish to come.” He stamped his foot. “I thought it was stupid. Why hope for prey to arrive when you could hunt it down? But Fir insisted, so I waited.”
Sumac reached out with a claw, squeezing the air in front of him. “And waited, and waited, until a fish finally swam up to me. But when I pounced it swam away! That’s when Fir told me about perseverance, and how claw fishing was a way to practice it. It took a while, but eventually I caught a fish all by myself.” He proudly announced. “And for the record, it was delicious. I’ll never forget the taste.”
“Fir forgave my error in judgment, despite my hostile actions.” Elder Rowan warmly praised.
“Fir had the integrity to apologize to my son, even after he’d become the village hero.” Tupelo nuzzled Sumac.
“Fir made my daughter happy.” Mother looked at Juniper. “And I couldn’t have asked for anything else.”
“I appreciated his interest in our tribe's history.” Hickory added.
“And he’s skilled with the net too!” Hornbeam grinned.
Other villagers began pitching in too, their voices overlapping into an indiscernible buzz. Yet its warmth could be clearly felt, lifting the spirits of all present.
After that Elder Rowan moved to finish the proceedings, ending the funeral on a bittersweet note. While most villagers trickled back to Willowwood, Azalea stepped towards Juniper and put a comforting wing over her.
“Juniper, if you ever feel overwhelmed, you’re always free to stop by the shop. I can teach you how to paint if you want. It’s very relaxing – and quite therapeutic.”
“Thanks Azalea, I appreciate the offer.” Juniper replied. The two remained silent for a minute.
“On the bright side, things can only get better from here.” Azalea continued. “The stealth team said that Wasp and Queen Sequoia are meeting soon for a peace summit. Once they do, this violence will be behind us for good. I’m sure of it.”
“Hm. I guess time will tell.” Juniper looked away. “Tell Mother I’ll be gone for some time.”
“I will. See you tomorrow.” Azalea turned and walked away. Once everyone had left, Juniper made her way to Fir’s grave. She sat over it and dug her forehead into the dirt, mourning alone.
“Why did you have to die, Fir?” Juniper sadly whispered. “We miss you. I miss you. So, so much.”
She squeezed her wet eyes shut. “I wish we had more time together. Time to laugh, talk, and love. Yet here we are.” Remaining motionless atop his resting place, Juniper lost track of time, oblivious to the outside world.
Eventually she opened her eyes, and looked up to the darkening sky. Faint lights could already be seen peeking through the foliage. Juniper smiled.
She didn’t know if the peace summit was enough to end the fighting. She didn't know if Wasp would finally stop. She didn’t know what would happen to her tribe or Pantala.
But there was one thing Juniper knew. As she took flight, threading through the forest until reaching the open sky, she reminded herself of what that was:
The stars were out tonight, and her Icewing was among them.

The End

I have not been diagnosed, but my experience seems to be similar to most people here and I am hoping to get another checkup soon. Obviously Reddit isn't really the place for medical advice, but if you have any info to help my anxiety about the situation before I get checked, please send it my way.
It started mostly with a dull ache and pressure above my sternum and below the clavicle, as well as shortness of breath and seemingly restricted breathing and inability to expand my chest when breathing, and when I try really hard to, it is uncomfortable and weirdly tickles/itches and makes me feel the need to clear my throat or cough. Some days I can hardly tell anything is off, but others there is pain in the chest, upper back, left ribs, as well as a bloating sensation near where I would expect my diaphragm to be on the left with mild pain that worsens with pressure. I also occasionally get armpit discomfort and pins and needles down my arm, sometimes all the way down to my hand.
One of the more common symptoms when the symptoms flare up is muscle spasms of the left chest wall between the top left and second to top ribs, I can even feel the muscle spasming with my right hand if I put light pressure in that spot and breathe out deeply in some postural positions. I also occasionally get similar spasms in my diaphragm muscles on both sides under my ribs, but these don't seem to be directly correlated with an exhale. I sometimes get spasms in the muscles on both sides of my neck as well near my corotated artery that feel very similar to the chest spasms, which lead me to thing I was having heart palpitations or something of the sort, but I have managed to feel my pulse while my neck was spasming confirming it wasn't a cardiovascular issue. I also get minor twitches in facial muscles, mainly near my temple, my left eyebrow, and the right side of the bridge of my nose. I also seem to get hiccups and diaphragm contractions that feel like a cross between a prolonged hiccup and a yawn, especially after eating.
I think a good chunk of the issue also comes from neck posture, because one of my favorite video games to play is a mobile game where the controls are tilt, and since it is way easier to tilt my head down than to hold my phone out in front of my face for long periods of time, I end up resorting to that most of the time even though I know it is HORRIBLE posture. I also catch myself stretching my neck out forward while at my computer which definitely doesn't help.
I haven't really found any solutions and I am scared of doing stretches and breathing exercises in fear of doing the wrong ones and making it worse, but I am hoping my visit to the doctor will help. all these symptom are accompanied by muscle tightness in places such as the back of my neck, my core, my traps, and sometimes my lower chest (My upper chest seems very underdeveloped comparatively to the lower if that provides additional insight). I even went to the ER once for these symptoms thinking I was having heart or lung problems and was scared it might be a heart attack, but after a chest scan and vitals they said my lungs and cardiovascular system seemed to be normal, though occasionally my breathing would get so sparse that their monitor started beeping at me, and my breath rate went as low as 6 bpm but averaged 10-12. They said it was likely acid reflux and panic attacks though the symptoms persist even when I am not very anxious if at all. I haven't noticed much improvement if any from taking the antacid (omeprazole) and after reading peoples stories with this and how posture is closely related I am fairly confident this is what I am suffering from. If anybody has tips, tricks, or anything of the sort it'd be much appreciated.
Is there a particular type of specialist I should see for this checkup, or should I just go to my general care physician?

Love is a funny thing. It can feel like infatuation at first, but over time it develops and grows, turns into something stronger.
Without love we feel hopeless. Without love we feel empty and sad, as if our life has no meaning.
But when you find true love it is like a life preserver, thrown to you in a violent sea, saving you, as you would have drowned in despair and loneliness without it. A lighthouse with a bright beacon shining in the darkness, showing us the way through the raging ocean and into the safety of the harbor.
Love is a funny thing. But it is also a powerful thing. A thing full of magic and whimsy and so much light that it can blind people who are not used to seeing it.
“What in the FUCK!?” the dark wizard screamed, as the glowing energy of my wand and Brukka’s combined, increasing in brightness until it was as white-hot as a welder’s torch.
I realized we were holding hands, and I never wanted to let go.
The dark wizard reeled backwards and cast a black shield around himself, using his staff. The light began to penetrate it slowly, causing it to become translucent. He looked uncomfortable inside, as if the light were burning his eyes.
“How are we doing this?” I whispered to Brukka.
“I don’t know. But let's keep it up. I think we're beating him. We just need to-”
Suddenly a bolt of dark energy shot out from the wizard’s staff, landing between us and sending us flying in opposite directions. I nearly tumbled off the ledge of the platform where I landed, but several cats quickly grabbed me by my robe and lifted me back up onto solid ground.
“Brukka!” I yelled, seeing her lying on the edge of another floating platform, face-down. She looked to be unconscious, and blood was trickling out from her left ear.
The dark wizard cackled laughter and began to twirl his staff in front of himself like an orchestra conductor. As he did, gray clouds rolled in from all around, booming thunder and raining on us heavily. A moment after the rain began, it became hail - first the size of small pebbles, then the size of golf balls. They grew larger and larger and began pelting me, hitting me in the chest and in the face, on my shoulder and arms. Each strike was so painful it stunned me, breaking me from my thoughts and making it impossible to focus.
“VINES!” I managed to shout, thinking of the first thing that came to mind.
The jungle dimension obliged and enormous vines and other plant life sprouted from the platform all around me, covering my head and blocking most of the hail from striking me.
Some chunks got through, but they were smaller and didn't hurt quite as badly when they pelted the top of my skull.
“Where the fuck is Xavier!?” I asked myself. “That guy always disappears when I need him most. He's worse than Gandalf!”
Now that I was distracted, the dark wizard was focused on Brukka. He began to levitate towards her, effortlessly closing the distance between them and grabbing her wand. It melded into his own staff, making it even larger than before.
He now held the biggest piece of the All World tree that had ever existed, aside from the actual tree itself. With his near-infinite power, he lifted Brukka from the ground with just a thought. He held her up in the air in front of him, as if trying to decide what to do with her.
“Where are you, Xavier!? I need your help!” I called out, causing the Dark Wizard to smile even wider.
“Don’t you get it,” he mocked in a cackling voice. “The so-called Guardian of the Universe is a coward! He ran away the moment he saw what was happening. Ran away, like he always does. That’s the only reason he’s lived so long. For half a millenia he has been running from my power. Living in squalor and despair in that disgusting hovel, trying and failing to raise apprentice after apprentice. Each one more useless than the last! With such dwindling power, as he gives it all away, piece by piece. Only for me to gobble it all up for myself. And now, finally, after all these years, it does not matter where he runs anymore! It will all be empty soon. It will all be dark and empty, and I will decide what rises from the ashes!”
As the Dark Wizard was giving the most long-winded bad guy speech I’d ever heard, I felt a weight settle around my neck. It was strange, and disconcerting at first. I thought it was the dark wizard casting a Darth Vader spell on me. But then my hand reached up and I felt something hanging from a chain around my neck.
The key.
It had been so long I had almost forgotten of its existence. Xavier had told me that one day I would be entrusted with its power, and that day was today.
All at once, it came to me. The puzzle pieces fit together so perfectly, and I realized I had a plan. And somehow I knew it would work. If there was such a thing as fate, this was mine.
“You can turn it all into darkness and abyss, sure. But there is one thing that will remain standing. And you have no power over it. None.”
His smile faltered as I held up the key.
“The All World Tree cannot be destroyed. And it is full of light. I’ve seen it myself.”
He thought about this for a second, then his horrible smile returned. My heart sank as I momentarily faltered, wondering if I’d been wrong about everything. But then he spoke again.
“I suppose I’ll just have to destroy it then, won’t I?” he said, grabbing Brukka’s arm and creating a portal.
I followed suit, and opened a portal back to Earth, using my wand. With a look back over my shoulder at Brukka, being carried by the Dark Wizard, I stepped through the gate.
When I emerged, I was back in the forest near my house. Right where I'd met Brukka and Xavier for the first time.
The woods were quiet, dark and empty. Not even the birds were singing in the trees, as if they knew something terrible was happening.
And as the dark wizard emerged from a nearby portal, I ran.
I ran as fast and hard as my legs would carry me.
I ran towards the All World Tree, knowing that it was my very last hope.
The Dark Wizard had the biggest staff which had ever been created, using pieces of the tree. But that was only a fraction of the power which belonged to the All World Tree. It contained so much strength and energy that it was thrumming with it, reflecting an aura that could be seen clearly by those who possessed magic.
He seemed to realize what I was doing as I was about to reach the tree, and threw Brukka to the forest floor. She screamed in pain, momentarily distracting me, and I looked back to see her clutching her forearm, as if it had been broken with the fall.
My distraction caused me to trip, and I stumbled to the ground, falling flat on my face.
“So close, and yet so far,” the dark wizard laughed, and cast a bolt of dark lightning in my direction.
It struck me in the chest, center mass.
I looked down to see a hole in my midsection, through which I could observe the grass and dry leaves. There wasn’t any blood, just a clean wound with edges burnt black and cauterized.
A second later he was standing over me, looking down at me and shaking his head.
“So disappointing. I was really hoping for a fight. A legendary battle. Something I could tell my great children about, as they prepare themselves to rule over my new multiverse.”
He sniffed, looking around absently.
“A shame. I suppose I’ll just have to-”
He stopped, and I saw his brow knit into confusion.
“What is this… No. No, no, no, no, NO! That’s… That’s impossible.”
I should have realized something was up when I was still able to move and think, with a basketball-sized hole in my chest. But when you’re in the heat of the moment you don’t really consider these things.
Looking down, I saw my organs being stitched back together by some miraculous force. Like the world’s most powerful 3D printer, my lungs and liver became whole again, and then my heart was there amidst a bundle of veins and arteries, stitching themselves together. The black, crusted charcoal which had been the wound edges began to flake away, revealing fresh, clean muscle underneath.
“Whoa,” I managed to say, and felt my hand touching something rough which bulged from the ground.
A root. A root from the All World Tree.
As my body became whole again, I got up on one knee, careful not to remove my hand from the tree’s root.
And then I looked up at the Dark Wizard, and I could see the fear in his eyes as the power of the multiverse blazed in my own gaze.
I wanted to take him out right then and there. I tried to channel that energy into a deadly bolt of lightning, and I lifted a finger gun at him to do just that.
But nothing happened.
I closed my hand into a fist and tried again. Still, nothing.
The Dark Wizard seemed to realize that something was off. He seized on the opportunity, and began to back away.
“Just like your mentor,” he laughed. “So foolish. You don’t even know how to use your own power.”
I hated him so much in that moment. I could feel the power coursing through me. I could feel that I was able to do SOMETHING in that moment to stop him, and yet the finger guns did nothing.
“Vines!” I yelled, needing to stop him somehow. I wanted this man dead so badly. And yet now, of all times, the multiverse was denying me its power.
Nothing happened, yet again.
I looked down at the ground, at the root just beneath me, wondering what the hell it wanted me to do. What did the multiverse want from me? Hadn’t I done everything right? Hadn’t I figured out this puzzle, laid out before me in a million disjointed pieces?
Or, was I still missing something?
Suddenly I felt a warm hand grab mine.
I looked over to see Brukka, holding my hand tightly in her grasp. She was smiling at me, looking at me kindly with those bright purple eyes of hers.
Even through all the pain of her broken wrist, she was smiling.
“What the hell?” she muttered, looking down at her forearm. It was bending back to its correct shape. It was healing itself. Or, rather, the multiverse was healing it, using me as a conduit.
Suddenly Brukka’s eyes lit up.
“That's it!”
“What? What's it?”
“My dad told me something once, back when I was training with him, in the early days. He said that the multiverse was like a rainbow, each universe its own color. But everything combines to make black or white. Like a prism or like mixing paints. You combine them all and that’s what you get.”
I thought about this for a long moment.
“How can they be black and white at the same time? Those are opposites.”
“Anything that causes pain and suffering is on the dark spectrum. Anything that heals is on the light.”
“But what does that mean?” I asked, seeing the Dark Wizard opening a portal and wondering how the hell I was going to stop him.
“How do I explain this? The tree is full of light, right?”
I nodded.
“So, it doesn’t wound people. It only does good. Everything else we’ve been doing has been a perversion of that power. We hacked off the limbs of the tree, thinking we were saving the universe with them, but really we’ve just been giving HIM more power. That’s why the Abyss is thriving right now. We need to restore the tree back to the way it was, before Xavier and all those other sorcerers tried to use it for their own gain!”
This really stunned me, and for a second I wondered if she was trying to trick me again somehow. But then I looked into her eyes and saw the honesty and vulnerability there.
“But…. How are we supposed to protect it if we don’t have magic?”
“It can protect itself, just like it did for billions of years before people came along and tried to interfere. Trust me. I’ve studied both sides of this. I’m the only one who has. And it just clicked for me. It all just made sense. We have to get that staff back from him. And we have to somehow return it to the tree. It’s the only way to heal the multiverse. To make it whole again.”
“Okay…. Assuming you're right about this… How am I gonna do that? My powers aren’t working!”
“That’s because you’re trying to kill him. The tree doesn’t wound people, remember?”
Shit, I realized, she was right.
“SAND!” I called out, making one last-ditch effort to stop the Dark Wizard as he was stepping through the portal. He’d gotten his robes stuck on a shrub, I guess that was why he was taking so long to leave.
A hole in the sky opened up just above the man in his black robes and sand began to pour down on him. It looked as if someone had opened a sewer grate in the fabric of reality, leading to a dimension full of the stuff, and I realized that was essentially what I had done. The portal the dark wizard had created disappeared, as he lost his concentration and began to drift over toward us on a moving sand dune.
“Sand hand,” I said, picturing a giant hand grabbing his staff. Just as I had imagined it, it happened. The staff was snatched out of his hands and landed in my grasp a second later.
“Shit,” the dark wizard said, and I cracked him over the head with it, as hard as I could.
His eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell over, unconscious.
Brukka looked at me, surprised.
“What? He was gonna kill, like, billions of people! He deserved it.”
She thought about this for a few seconds.
“Try trillions. Actually, quintillions of quintillions. So, yeah. I guess bonking him on the head was alright.”
The two of us turned around to face the tree, looking up at it together. I took her hand in mine, and the two of us stepped forward, to finally finish it all.
First Prev Next

Sole biguanide agent in the US.
Available in short and sustained-release formulations.
Has the best benefit-risk profile for glycemic control, weight loss and safety.
Recommended as initial treatment for type 2 diabetes.
Metformin, compared with lifestyle modification alone, is associated with a 39% reduction in myocardial infarction and a 36% reduction in all-cause mortality in type 2 diabetes.
Works primarily by decreasing hepatic glucose output and a relatively minor effect on increasing insulin sensitivity.
Hepatic gluconeogenesis may be reduced by 75%.
It decreases the amount of blood sugar that the liver produces and that the intestines or stomach absorb.
Its pleitropic affects, include decreased inflammation, increase insulin and leptin sensitivity, and decreased hunger and gherlin levels, especially with twice daily dosing.
Acts in the liver where it inhibits gluconeogenesis by blocking a mitochondrial redox shuttle.
It is an insulin sensitize and likely acts in the lumen through multiple mechanisms.
Metformin, taken with diet and exercise changes to prevent diabetes in people who are at high risk for becoming diabetic.
It is frequently used in patients with pre-diabetes, polycystic, ovary syndrome, and overweight/obesity to mitigate weight gain due to antipsychotic medications.
It increases the effects of insulin, and is termed an “insulin sensitizer”.
A biguanide, is the most widely used oral antidiabetic drug that is generally
Recommended for first-line medical treatment of type 2 diabetes.
Early initiation of metformin at the time of diagnosis, when glycosylated hemoglobin levels are not significantly elevated, has been associated with improved glycemic control over time and decreased long-term complications.
Metformin is believed to activate AMP-activated protein kinase (AMPK), a major cellular regulator of lipid and glucose metabolism.
Metformin has been shown to be highly effective at reducing the onset ofdiabetes by 31% in 3234 prediabetic adults over a period of 2.8 years in the DPP (Diabetes Prevention Program) study 72 and at reducing systemic inflammation.
Also suppresses the endogenous glucose production by the liver, which is mainly due to a reduction in the rate of gluconeogenesis and a small effect on glycogenolysis.
It activates the enzyme adenosine monophosphate kinase (AMPK) inhibiting enzymes involved in gluconeogenesis and glycogen synthesis in the liver while stimulating insulin signaling and glucose transport in muscles.
Metformin is believed to activate AMP-activated protein kinase (AMPK), a major cellular regulator of lipid and glucose metabolism.
Improves glycemic control without inducing hypoglycemia or weight gain.
Metformin has modulating effects on a pathway known to play a major role in lifespan extension.
Metformin also upregulates peroxisome proliferator–activated receptor gamma coactivator 1-alpha, a master regulator of mitochondrial function, and a transcription factor that controls antioxidant programs.
Because these molecules (AMPK, mammalian target of rapamycin, and peroxisome proliferator–activated receptor gamma coactivator 1-alpha) are interconnected through cellular signaling networks implicated in the modulation of the aging process, it has been postulated that metformin could slow aging and age-related diseases.
Metformin is believed to activate AMP-activated protein kinase (AMPK), a major cellular regulator of lipid and glucose metabolism.
Metformin has modulating effects on a pathway known to play a major role in lifespan extension.
Metformin also upregulates peroxisome proliferator–activated receptor gamma coactivator 1-alpha, a master regulator of mitochondrial function, and a transcription factor that controls antioxidant programs.
Observational studies indicate that metformin reduces mortality and frailty.
Use associated with lower rate of atrial fibrillation.
Use associated with lower incidence of atrial fibrillation.
Use associated with lower fasting insulin concentrations.
One of the few drugs that shows a significant reduction of macrovascular events and diabetes related mortality.
Antioxidants have beneficial effects such as anticancer, antidiabetes and antiatherosclerosis properties.
It has been shown to reduce visceral adiposity and insulin resistance after 8 weeks of drug therapy.
Trade name Glucophage.
Use associated with weight loss.
Metformin is associated with approximately 3% weight loss in approximately 25 to 50% of participants achieve at least 5% weight loss.
Long-term use associated with anemia-6% higher risk of anemia for every cumulative yer of metformin exposure (Donnelly L).
Decreases HgbA1C by 1 to 2%.
As much as 88% of weight loss is body fat mass.
Primarily used for the treatment of type 2 diabetes mellitus, particularly in obese.patients.
Reduce diabetes mortality and complications by thirty percent compared to insulin, and chlorpropamide.
Reduces serum glucose level by several different mechanisms, notably through nonpancreatic mechanisms without increasing insulin secretion.
Drug use contraindicated in many patients with impaired kidney function because of concerns of lactic acidosis.
The occurrence of dehydration can increase the risk of lactic acidosis.
The elderly may be at greater risk for hypoglycemia or lactic acidosis.
Its pharmacokinetics are affected by pregnancy, related to the changes in renal filtration and net tubular transport.
A fetus is exposed to variable concentrations of metformin.
Infant exposure to metformin through the breast milk is low.
Has nephroprotective activity against nephrotoxic agents.
Use in patients with diabetes and advanced chronic kidney disease is associated with greater mortality risk.
Side effects include: Nausea, vomiting, stomach upset, diarrhea, weakness, or a metallic taste in the mouth may occur.
It usually does not cause hypoglycemia; however, low blood sugar may occur if this drug is used with other anti-diabetic drugs.
Hypoglycemia is more likely to occur with metforminn with heavy exercise, drinking large amounts of alcohol, or not consuming enough calories from food.
Previous data suggesting it should be contraindicated in patients with impaired kidney function, but more up-to-date information suggests that can be used cautiously in mild to moderate chronic kidney disease.
Use in patients with advanced chronic kidney disease reveals all cause mortality is significantly higher (and is dose-dependent) than in patients with chronic kidney disease in diabetics and non-users of metformin.
Patients with diabetes and reduced kidney function persisting with monotherapy, treatment with metformin compared with a sulfonylurea is associated with a lower risk of major adverse cardiac events.
The presence of hyperinsulinemia has been noted in many patients with cardiac syndrome X, and metformin has been shown to improve vascular function and decrease myocardial ischemia in nondiabetic women with chest pain and angiographically normal coronary arteries.
Although renally cleared drug levels generally remain within the therapeutic range and lactate concentrations are not not substantially increased when used in patients with mild-moderate chronic kidney disease (estimated GFR 30-60 mils per minute per 1.73 m²) (Inzucchi SE et al).
Incidence of lactic acid doses in metformin users is approximately 3 per 100,000-person-years to 10 per 100,000 person years and is indistinguishable from the background rate in th overall population with diabetes.
Lactic acid levels do not increase in patients with normal renal function.
Recent studies suggest no increase in lactic acidosis with mild to moderate chronic kidney disease or congestive heart failure.
Major clinical effect is decreased fasting glucose levels..
Most patients have approximately 1.5 reduction in HbA1C.
Referred to as an antihyperglycemic agent rather than a hypogolycemic drug.
Incidence of associated hypoglycemia is low.
May modestly decrease triglycerides because of decreased very low density lipoprotein production.
Must be stopped 48 hours after intravenous contrast administration and restarted when normal renal function is documented to decrease the chance of lactic acidosis.
Lactic acidosis is the most severe adverse affect and is associated with older age, cardiac disease, the compensated congestive heart failure, renal insufficiency, chronic pulmonary disease, and hypoperfusion.
Can rarely cause lactic acidosis with risk related to sepsis, dehydration, excess alcohol intake liver insufficiency renal impairment and acute congestive heart failure.
Incidence of lactic acidosis very low, approximately 0.03 cases/1,000 patient- years with approximately 0.015 fatal cases/1,000 patient-years.
Lowers blood glucose levels by sensitizing the liver to the effects of insulin, thus suppressing hepatic glucose output.
Decreases the amount of glucose produced by the liver and reduces blood stream level and cellular uptake of insulin.
Improves peripheral insulin sensitivity so that it improves skeletal muscle glucose utilization.
In type 2 diabetics improves both basal and postprandial plasma glucose.
Metformin stimulates AMP-activated protein kinase and reduces hepatic glucose production.
It reduces insulin stimulation resulting in reduced activation of insulin receptors on cell membranes, triggering intracellular molecular effects such as down regulation of the RAS/RAF/MEK/ERK and P13K/AKT/mtor signaling pathways.
Upregulates AMP-activated protein kinase, a key molecule in glucose and insulin regulation and also an inhibitor of mTOR.
Activates AMP-activated protein kinase, a major sensor cellular energy levels and a key enzymes limiting growth during times of cellulitis stress.
Activated AMP protein kinase PX protein, cholesterol, and fatty acids synthesis and inhibits mTOR.
Reverses hyperinsulinemia, leading to the down regulation of insulin-like4 growth factors that can promote tumorogenesis by activating of the phosphatidylinositol 3 kinase/protein kinase B pathway.
Enhances phosphorylation of AMP-activated protein kinase,, inducing changes in the intracellular pathways, ALT is mitochondrial function and may result in improved systolic and diastolic function.
Observation studies of acute myocardial infarction and treatment with metformin is associated with lower peak CK levels, troponins and improve survival after STEMI in patients type 2 diabetes, compared with other anti-glycemic strategies.
Among patients without diabetes and who presented with a STEMI and undergo primary PCI, the use of metformin compared with placebo does not improve left ventricular ejection fraction after 4 months (Lexis CP et al.
Associated with a 31% reduction in diabetes compared to placebo in patients with impaied glucose tolerance (DDP Research Group).
Increases GLP-1 secretion and inhibits GLP-1 degradation.
Among obese adolescents with type one diabetes the addition of metformin to insulin does not improve glycemic control (Libman IM et al).
Lowers cholesterol, triglyceride, and reduces hyperinsulinemeia, improves insulin sensitivity, and assists with weight reduction.
Decreases overall mortality in overweight Type 2 diabetics.
The international Reduction of Atherothrombosis for Continued Health (REACH) Registry indicated that the use of metformin as a means of secondary prevention in diabetes was associated with a 24% reduction in all-cause mortality after two years follow-up.
In obese diabetic patients uses so Siri Siri 2% reduction in the diabetes-related endpoint, 42% reduction in diabetes related death, and 36% reduction in mortality (UKPDS).
In the above study patients receiving metformin had a 39 percent reduction in the risk of nonfatal MI.
Other studies on metformin have not shown improvement in microvascular with macrovascular morbidity or mortality.
Associated with lactic acidosis, anorexia, nausea and diarrhea.
May be associated with metallic taste, nausea, diarrhea, and abdominal pain.
Symptoms can be minimized by starting with a low dose and titrating slowly, dividing doses and taking the drug with food.
Decreased vitamin B12 levels have occurred in patients on long-term treatment and rarely has been associated with anemia.
Metformin, might reduce the absorption of vitamin B12, possibly through alterations in intestinal mobility, increased bacterial overgrowth, or alterations in the calcium-dependent uptake by ileal cells of the vitamin B12-intrinsic factor complex.
10%–30% of patients who take metformin have reduced vitamin B12 absorption.
Contraindicated: in patients older than 80 years unless normal creatinine is present, in patients with abnormal renal or hepatic function and in patients taking medications for congestive heart failure.
Improves ovarian function in polycystic ovarian syndrome.
In women with polycystic ovarian syndrome, it may make menstrual cycles more regular and increase fertility.
In a large review using 27 clinical trials found metformin was not associated with any increase in the number of live births; however, it improved ovulation rates, especially when it was used in combination with clomiphene in polycystic ovarian disease.
With polycystic ovary syndrome, it is a first choice because of positive effects on insulin resistance, hirsutism, anovulation and obesity.
Metformin improves endothelial function in women with PCOS and endothelial dysfunction independent of changes in glucose metabolism metabolism, dyslipidemia or presence of pre-diabetes.
Metformin has a direct effect on endothelial function in PCOS.
In conjunction with clomiphene citrate acts to increased ovulation and pregnancy rates in polycystic ovarian syndrome.
May reduce rate of spontaneous abortion rate.
Decreases free circulating testosterone through an effect on liver sex hormone binding globulin, modulates adrenal androgen production and decreases ovarian androgen production associated well.
Can improve hirsutism.
Crosses the placenta.
Utilization in gestational diabetes alone, or with supplemental insulin, not associated with increased perinatal complications compared to the use of insulin alone.
Metformin
Observational studies indicate the outcomes for individuals with type two diabetes receiving Metformin while undergoing cancer treatment are improved.
Metformin reduces insulin signaling through the PIK3 and RAS pathways and activates AMPK, which inhibits downstream AKT/mTOR, impairing cancer cell growth.
There is strong evidence for a lack of benefit from metformin treatment in metabolically healthy individuals.
Use probably protects against liver cancer, lower risk for oral cancer, improves prognosis of pancreatic cancer in diabetic patients, increases response rate in melanoma treated tumors with BRAF mutations and chemotherapy agents.
The risk of pancreatic cancer in patients taking metformin is a 62% lower than in placebo group who did not use metformin.
While diabetic participants having sulfonylureas or insulin were found to have a 2.5-fold and 5-fold higher risk of pancreatic cancer, respectively, in comparison to placebo group.
Diabetic patients using metformin may have a lower the risk of cancer compared to those using other anti-diabetic drugs.
Has strong antiproliferative effects on colon, pancreatic, breast, ovarian, prostate and lung cancer cells.
Diabetes is a common disease that may occur throughout human life, and can increase the likelihood of the occurrence of various types of cancer, such as colon, rectum, pancreas and liver cancers, compared to non-diabetic patients.
Metformin inhibits mTOR activity by activating ATM (ataxia telangiectasia mutated) and LKB1 (liver kinase B1) and then adenosine monophosphate-activated kinase (AMPK), and thus prevents protein synthesis and cell growth.
mTOR is a protein kinase regulating cell growth, survival, metabolism, and immunity.
metformin can activate p53 by activating AMPK and thereby ultimately stop the cell cycle.
Metformin in nondiabetic, unresectable stage III non-small cell lung cancer (NSCLC) treated with chemoradiation: survival exceeded expectations in both groups, those who received chemoradiation alone vs chemoradiation and metformin: however, the addition of metformin to chemoradiation did not improve overall or progression-free survival.
Addition of metformin to chemoradiotherapy, as a concurrent treatment as well as consolidation therapy, in patients without diabetes who have locally advanced non-small cell lung cancer
addition of metformin to chemoradiotherapy was associated with worse treatment efficacy and increased toxic effects compared with chemoradiotherapy alone.
The proportion of patients who experienced a failure event within 1 year with locoregional disease progression, distant metastases, death, or withdrawal was 69.2% in the metformin arm vs 42.9% in the control arm.
Metformin is not recommended as an adjunct to chemoradiotherapy for the treatment of unresected locally advanced non-small cell lung cancer in patients who do not have diabetes.
Addition of metformin to standard breast cancer treatment
a randomized controlled trial (RCT) found addition of metformin to standard breast cancer treatment did not improve invasive disease free survival vs placebo among patients with high-risk operable disease who did not have diabetes.
Strong evidence for a lack of benefit from metformin treatment in metabolically healthy individuals.
A review found metformin use did not have a significant effect on cancer incidence in subjects with overweight/obesity and/or prediabetes/diabetes.
A clinical trial has demonstrated a beneficial effect in colon and breast cancers.
It possesses antioxidant activity.
Use associated with impaired cognitive performance.
Compared with Sulfonylureas, metformin is associated with reduced risk of major adverse cardiac events among patients with type two diabetes and reduced kidney function.
In non diabetics does not improve carotid intima-media thickness or carotid plaque scores.
May have a Preventative role In peripheral neuropathy induced by diabetes
Treatment with metformin prevents axonal atrophy and fiber degeneration.
Metformin stimulates the expression of neurotrophic and angiogenic factors in the peripheral nerve.
Metformin attenuates inflammation of nerve tissue exposed to chronic hyperglycemia.
Metformin increases the expression of anti-inflammatory markers.
Studies have shown in patients with prostate cancer, colorectal cancer, pancreatic cancer, triple negative breast cancer,, HER2 positive breast cancer, multiple myeloma the median overall survival durations are increased in patients taking metformin than in patients who are not.
Among patients with high-risk operable breast cancer without diabetes, the addition of Met Forman versus placebo to standard breast cancer treatment did not significantly improve invasive disease free survival (Goodwin PJ).
Long-term metformin use is associated with a significantly lower risk of new onset prostate cancer and all cause mortality in patients with type two diabetes than sulfonylureas and more protective against prostate cancer but less protective against all cause mortality in those less than 65 years of age.
Metformin affects multiple key processes related to cell growth, proliferation, and survival.
Epidemiological studies suggest a decreased risk of lung cancer in diabetic patients treated with antidiabetic drugs, including metformin-39-45% decreased risk.
Lung cancer patients treated with first-line chemotherapy and metformin have superior outcomes to those treated with chemotherapy and other diabetic medications.
A study suggests patients using metformin before a diagnosis of COVID-19 only had a third of the mortality risk of their counterparts with no reported use of the drug.
In a study, which included more than 300,000 participants aged 55 or older, the use of low dose metformin was associated with a lower incidence of age-related macular degeneration (AMD).
The use of metformin was associated with a reduction in odds of developing AMD.
The association is dose-dependent, with low to moderate doses of metformin being associated with the greatest benefit.
When assessing doses greater than 1080 g, there was no association with reduced odds of developing AMD at 2 years.
Among patients with diabetes, metformin use was associated with a decreased risk of AMD in patients without existing diabetic retinopathy, but was considered a risk factor for patients with existing diabetic retinopathy.
Metformin use over 2 years in adults aged 55 years and older is associated with 5% to 10% reduced odds ratio of developing AMD.
A dose-dependent association of this potential protective effect is present, with low to moderate doses of metformin being associated with the lowest odds ratio for the development of AMD.
https://standardofcare.com/metformin/
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Hey all, so my wife got me and the family a surprise English Bulldog puppy for our 20 year anniversary. I've always wanted one and she went above and beyond with this gift and I am head over heels in love with this puppy. She's about 16 weeks old now, is not spayed, weighs probably close to 20 lbs by now, and we've had a really rough 5+ weeks with her since we got her. I don't want to write a novel here, but a lot has happened in a short amount of time and I want everyone that takes the time to read this and respond to fully understand whats going on, because I'm desperate for some genuine advice or feedback of any kind at this point. If you want me to upload any documentation like medical records, test results, x rays, ultrasound pics, etc. just let me know.
We have been having serious health issues with her since we brought her home the afternoon of Thursday 3/21. She was having very loose stools that would cause blood to leak out of her rectum after each bowel movement and trickle down her backside, to the point where she needed to be quickly wiped down after each bowel movement or the blood would trickle down and reach her vagina. So, we took her to the ER the next night on Friday 3/22 @ 10:30pm because it wasn't stopping or improving. The doctor and I both found it very hard to believe that this issue was not present before we took her home from the breeder. It couldn't just suddenly get this bad.
The ER documentation we were provided that night states:
"Puppy was presented for evaluation of hematochezia (progressing from loose but formed stool) and one episode of vomiting. Puppy was adopted yesterday from a breeder and she is still interested in eating and has a normal energy level. Puppy already has her first veterinary appointment scheduled for Wednesday."
Since she was so young and was still not fully vaccinated they needed to quarantine her and do a Parvo SNAP test, among other things. The treatment notes state:
"Puppy was brought to isolation and a Parvo SNAP test was run which returned as negative. Assessment took place which revealed a malocclusion and blood in the rectum. Puppy was otherwise bright, alert, and responsive and was barking. Her energy level seemed appropriate. Discussion with the owner took place. Radiographs were discussed but declined at this time. Cerenia was offered for nausea but declined. Puppy was discharged to be managed as an outpatient."
She was then discharged and we were given the below medications:
Panacur Suspension 100mg/ml per ml Please give 2.75 mL by mouth ONCE daily for three days until finished
Pro-Pectalin Anti-Diarrheal Gel 30ml Please give 1 mL by mouth every 8 hours as needed for loose stool
Unfortunately, things did not improve with the medications over the weekend, and thanks to the puppy time app I was using to track everything, we also noticed that she was having many accidents in the house and was urinating very small amounts every 5-15 minutes since we got her on Thursday. We assumed she had a small bladder since she wasn't even 12 weeks old yet, and research online showed that English Bulldogs can have smaller bladders than other breeds. So, we weren't concerned about that yet and just began walking her every 30 minutes or so instead of every 2 hours as we were instructed to do by the breeder.
As her condition worsened over the weekend our concerns grew, so we called the Vet she had her first appointment scheduled with for Wednesday 3/27, first thing the morning of Monday 3/25 when they opened. We explained the issues we were having and they wanted to see her right away instead of waiting.
A wellness exam and a Fecal DX Profile were done that day and no ova or parasites were found in her stool sample, so she did not have worms and the Vet was unsure why she was bleeding from her rectum so much with each bowel movement. We discussed the pee situation, and the Vet was worried that if this was going on before we got her, that blood could have gotten into her urinary tract and caused a UTI or something, but it was too early to tell without more testing.
She also received her first DA2PP vaccine, a free 1 month sample dose of Simparica TRIO for 11.1-22 lb puppies, though we were told not to give it to her until the diarrhea improved, and we didn't end up giving it to her until after Tuesday 4/9. We also were given a Proviable-Forte Small Dog Kit which included Proviable-KP paste, plus 15 Proviable-Forte sprinkle capsules. These contain probiotics and prebiotics that are meant to help firm up loose stools and help reinstate a healthy intestinal balance. I asked about her receiving other vaccines and was told we should wait until she's feeling better, so we scheduled a follow up for Wednesday 4/17 and were told to call back if things didn't improve in a few days, and that next time we should bring a urine sample along with the stool sample.
Things did not improve so I called the Vet again on Wednesday 3/27 and they gave us Royal Canin Veterinary Diet Puppy Gastrointestinal Dry Dog food. We stopped what we were feeding her which was a mix of Blue Buffalo Wilderness with Chicken/life source bits for puppy dry food, mixed with the dry food the breeder provided us with, and started feeding her the new Gastrointestinal Dry Dog Food exclusively.
With the new food and the medicine we were giving her, her loose stools began to improve enough to where there was still blood with each loose bowel movement, but not enough for it to run down her backside so quickly it needed to be wiped right away, but still enough where we had to continue to wipe her rectum before going inside or a good amount of blood would get on whatever she sat down on first.
Things stayed about the same from Wednesday 3/27 until Saturday 3/30 when I first noticed blood in her urine on the pee pads where she sleeps at night. As this continued, we saw the Vet again on the following Wednesday, 4/3 where she was given a full physical for inappropriate urination and blood being visible in her urine and stool. The notes from that visit state:
"What changes have you been noticing: has always been a frequent peer outside and having accidents in the house with the presence of blood. When did you first notice this: past 3-4 days Accidents in the house: 5-6 times an hour. Any blood/straining: blood in urine and stool, does "squat" to urinate an excessive amount of times. Increased drinking/urination: has to urinate multiple times a day, is looking for water a lot more. Leaking any urine while sleeping: yes, sees pee spots on the pads where she sleeps.".
The assessment notes from that visit state:
"Pollakiuria, pyuria, hematuria, rods in urine: UTI. Chronic soft stools with some blood, rule out parasites, food intolerance, dietary indiscretion.".
So this is when we first found out that she had a "very bad UTI" as the Vet put it, with an abnormally high amount of red and white blood cells being present in her urine. This was on Wednesday 4/3, less than 2 weeks had passed since we brought her home and she had blood in her stool and urine. Again, the first sign of blood in her urine was on Saturday 3/30, only 9 days after we brought her home. Based on our experience with her since we took her home, the Vet and I agreed that clearly the UTI was present when she came home with us, likely from the blood leaking from her rectum into her vagina, and it continued to get worse as it was left untreated for a week while we focused on her stool issues and assumed her frequent urination in the house was just because of her age and a small bladder.
So, we treated the UTI with Clavicillin 62.5mg at 1.5 tablets 2 times a day and were told to expect her to stop urinating so little so often within a few days, and to continue with the special GI diet food only. They also did another Fecal Dx Profile, this time with a Giardia - Idexx test adeed, whatever that is, even though the last profile did not show any signs of parasites or worms, because there was still enough blood in her stools to cause concerns. They also provided us with Metronidazole 50mg at 2 tablets 2 times per day, and Panacur 20 gm, which was to treat her for worms just in case she had them and they were getting a false negative. For your reference, the additional Fecal Dx Profile from today also showed no presence of worms or parasites.
We stuck with what the Vet was saying since they're very reputable and well respected in our area. They've been rated as the best vet in the entire county for 2 years straight, and they've been really great thus far. So we followed their treatment plan in hopes that things would improve. Unfortunately, they did not.
Two days later on Friday 4/5 I called the Vet to say there was still blood in her urine and now wete noticing that she sounds like she's struggling when urinating, almost like she was constipated, and according to the puppy time app I was using to track everything, she was now urinating even more frequently and having more accidents in the house. To put it into perspective, she was squatting 6-12 times to pee on normal 5-10 minute walks every 30 minutes, and was having 6 or so accidents in the house in between those walks. Also, if we took her with us to the park for a few hours with the kids, she would squat every few minutes the entire time. Eventually there was nothing coming out, but she clearly felt like she had to go since she was squatting so much.
They had me come pickup 5 tablets of Vetprofen 25mg to help with the pain over the weekend while they expected things to improve with the antibiotic that was supposed to treat her UTI. On Monday 4/8 when the vet opened again, I called to say there was still blood in her urine and she seemed to be urinating even more frequently now. So, we brought her in to the Vet again that day, Monday 4/8, and their assessment notes state:
"hematuria, pyuria: rule out resistant UTI, stones, congenital malformation"
They did another urine test, which found that there was no longer any bacteria present, but there was still very high amounts of red and white blood cells in her urine. They also did blood work (CBC/Chem 10) to check if there were any issues with her kidneys and such, and we took xrays to check for bladder stones. They found no stones and her blood work came back fine.
Now the plan was to continue with the antibiotic, start giving her Gabapentin for the pain and discomfort and we were told that if things didn't improve, the next step was to get an ultrasound to look for congenital defects or issues with her bladder or kidneys or what have you. We were told they only do the ultrasounds on Tuesdays and were all booked up for the next day, Tuesday 4/9, so we booked an appointment for the ultrasound for next Tuesday, 4/16 and just had to try and keep her as comfortable as possible while we waited, and hope that the antibiotic and other meds she was taking at this point would help.
Well, things did not improve while we waited for the ultrasound appointment. By Tuesday 4/16 there was still blood in her urine and stool, and she was still urinating very small amounts very frequently inside and out.
So, we dropped her off for the ultrasound and while waiting to do the procedure the Vet and staff confirmed what we were saying. They kept her at the front desk and walked her every 30 mins and saw how many times she was squatting outside on short walks, and how many small accidents she was having inside in between.
Notes from that day state:
"Reason for tech visit: Drop off for AUS, cysto and urine culture Concerns to note: still having diarrhea even with prescription food but much less blood seen Services performed: abdominal ultrasound Still noticing blood in urine and having accidents - they do walk her about every 30 minutes. At child's baseball game this weekend she was urinating once every 5 minutes for 2 hours - still straining to urinate. Has been walked three times already this morning by our staff. Could not get cystocentesis sample because she is urinating so frequently and bladder is thick and empty. Recommend send out culture from free catch and start Enrofloxacin.".
So, they tried to collect a urine sample to do a full urine culture directly from her bladder during the procedure, but couldn't. So they kept her for longer afterwards, gave her water, and captured enough urine while walking her over the next couple hours to send it out for culture.
The abdominal ultrasound study report from the technician stated:
"Conclusions: Thickened, irregular urinary bladder with cellular debris: O cystitis vs TCC (unlikely) Mesenteric lymphadenopathy: O reactive, common finding in young canines.
Treatment plan: The urinary bladder changes are likely secondary to cystitis and not TCC given this puppies age. Recommend submitting urine culture (despite urine sediment results) via cystocentesis and if positive, treat according to MIC for 2-3 weeks with recheck urine culture 3-5 days after completion of antibiotic to assure resolution and rule out antimicrobial resistance. If urine culture is negative and hematuria persists, recommend submitting CADET BRAF."
The abdominal study report from the technician also stated:
"1. The liver appears within normal limits in size and echogenicity without evidence of mass or cyst. No evidence of intrahepatic biliary dilatation is seen. 2. Normal gallbladder. 3. No definite abnormality of the pancreas is seen. 4. No GI masses seen. No foreign body seen. The stomach and intestines are normal in thickness. Several enlarged mesenteric lymph nodes are seen. 5. The spleen is normal. 6. Left kidney measuring 5 cm. There is no evidence of hydronephrosis, mass, cyst, stone or perinephric fluid collection on the left kidney. Right kidney measuring 5.5 cm. There is no evidence of hydronephrosis, mass, cyst, stone or perinephric fluid collection on the right kidney. Renal architecture and size are normal. The adrenal glands appear normal (0.35cm-0.4cm). 7. No definite abnormality of the aorta, caudal vena cava, or common iliac arteries is seen. 8. The urinary bladder is moderately thickened and irregular (0.3cm-0.8cm) and contains cellular debris. 9. No evidence of ascites is seen."
It also states:
"Conclusions: Thickened, irregular urinary bladder with cellular debris: O cystitis vs TCC (unlikely) Mesenteric lymphadenopathy: O reactive, common finding in young canines.
Treatment plan: The urinary bladder changes are likely secondary to cystitis and not TCC given this patients age. Recommend submitting urine culture (despite urine sediment results) via cystocentesis and if positive, treat according to MIC for 2-3 weeks with recheck urine culture 3-5 days after completion of antibiotic to assure resolution and rule out antimicrobial resistance. If urine culture is negative and hematuria persists, recommend submitting CADET BRAF."
The study quality was noted as being excellent, and the indications were:
"unresolved UTI symptoms, O resistant UTI, stones, congenital malformation, hematuria and pyuria".
So, the ultrasound found that she was suffering from Cystitis and that her bladder lining was very inflamed. The technician said they'd never seen such an inflamed bladder on a puppy of this age before. They ordered another urine test, this time with a full culture so they could find out exactly what is going on in her bladder. They also started her on another antibiotic, Enrofloxacin 22.7mg at 2 tablets once every 24 hours. She also received the remaining required vaccinations that day as well.
We got the results of the urine culture back on Monday 4/22 and it showed that the bacteria was in her bladder lining wall and was e coli based (yep, likely from the blood) and that it was not resistant to the antibiotics we'd been giving her all along. So, we continued with the Enrofloxacin and things finally started to improve a little over the last 6 days.
There's no more blood visible in her urine, and her bladder seems to be increasing in size as the inflammation goes down and she's drinking and peeing more while we continue the antibiotics, but she's still having just as many accidents in the house, they're just larger in volume now. The blood is also gone from her stools now too, even though they're still really loose.
Despite the improvements, the last 3-4 days have still been rough. Now she's literally leaking urine. She can be standing and eating from her food dish and she won't even squat to pee, it just comes out while she's standing. Not a lot, but more than a few drops. Enough to form a small 2-3 inch puddle on the hardwood floor.
She's also leaking slowly while sleeping or relaxing now. We see big wet spots in her bed after naps and sleeps and smalls spots on our cloths if she sits on our laps for a bit. She was sleeping on my chest last night and I could actually feel individual drops on the skin of my leg every minute or so for 10+ minutes straight.
I'm at a loss for words at this point. What could it be now? Is the bladder a muscle, and it's just getting to be close to a normal size for the first time and she just hasn't developed the ability to hold it yet? Or is it something more serious or permanent?
So yeah, potty training has pretty much been impossible since we got her and have had all these issues, but we've done our best by walking her every 30 minutes, and taking her outside immediately after every accident and rewarding her for peeing outside. Still no change though. She's still squatting 6-12 times on short walks with 6 or so accidents inside in between. She's a perfectly normal and happy go lucky puppy with a great attitude and temperament otherwise. She's learned to sit and stay and seems intelligent, so she should be picking up on the fact that accidents are unwelcome and thst she should be going outside. She's just clearly still struggling, and so are we.
At this point I'm trying to figure out if I'm doing something wrong here. Or multiple things wrong. We've spent more on vet bills since we got her than we did to purchase her from the breeder. And she came with a 30 day health guarantee and a 5 year congenital defect guarantee. We've been in touch with the breeder since night 2 when we took her to the ER and they said they'd refund us for the ER bill because it was odd and she had no signs of any of this before we took her home, but they haven't responded to us at all since then. Complete radio silence since 3/22. They're deliberately ignoring our calls, voice messages, texts, emails and all the medical records and invoices we've been sending all along. Even our vet has called and left messages trying to get more info. It's unreal. I can't believe they would just ignore us like this, and we've been nothing but polite and patient in all our attempts to reach them. We're getting our lawyer involved at this point. It's ridiculous. We would really like to hear back in regards to the 30 day health guarantee my wife signed on 3/21 when we took her home, which states:
"To preserve your rights under the law, you must take your newly purchased dog to a licensed veterinarian for examination within 10 days of purchase. If a veterinarian determines, within 10 days of purchase, that your dog is clinically ill or has died from an injury sustained or illness likely to have been contracted on or before the date of sale and delivery, you have the following options:
(a) Return the dog for a complete refund; (b) Return the dog for a replacement dog of equal value; OR (c) Retain the dog and receive reimbursement for reasonable veterinary fees, not exceeding the purchase price. These options do not apply where a seller, who has provided a health certificate issued by a veterinarian, discloses in writing at the time of sale the health problem for which the buyer later seeks to return the dog."
Yes, we were provided with Healthcare information from an Animal Hospital dated from 3/4/23, which was 17 days before we took her home on 3/21. That's rather outdated in my option considering the age of the dog. That document stated she had been examined and that to the best of their knowledge the animal is free from contagious and infectious diseases, including rabies. It also says that a Fecal Analysis was never performed, which is concerning to us considering the issues we had with her stools the day we took her home.
We do not wish to return or exchange her. She is a member of our family now and we love her. What we do want is for the breeder to acknowledge that she clearly had a UTI at the time of purchase, not to mention the issues with her bowel movements that started on day one, but first they have to stop ignoring us.
So that's it. That's our last 5+ weeks in a nutshell. Does anyone have any advice?
Could we be doing something wrong? Could the Vet be missing something? Did this breeder screw us over despite their good reputation and reviews and health guarantees? Am I feeding her too much or something and her full stomach is putting pressure on her bladder? Could she literally just be incontinent and need to wear a diaper for the rest of her life?!
We are exhausted and at the end of our rope, and stressed out beyond belief. We love her and just want her to be happy and healthy, but it feels like it's just one thing after another. Pet insurance won't cover anything because this all started so quickly and is all a preexisting condition. I don't know how to potty train her anymore either. Despite all my reading and research, I must be doing something wrong, right? That, or she's still sick, or its something else now. I'm sure that her spending the last 5 weeks pretty much peeing whenever wherever isn't helping, but what can I do about that aside from what I'm already doing? I'll call the Vet tomorrow with an update, but they're just going to say what they already said to do... to continue with the antibiotics that are almost done now, and to do another urinalysis and refill the prescription and keep them going for a few more weeks and hope things conti ue to improve… and then to do another urine culture 5+ days after finally stopping the antibiotics. If it doesn't get better then the next step after that is seeing an internist where they'll shove a camera up her urethra to look at the inside of her bladder, which will cost another $1500-$2000, and they really seem to want us to schedule that now since the internist is busy and our appointment may not be as soon as it needs to be.
Has anyone experienced something like this with a new puppy and/or English Bulldog puppy before? I know English Bulldogs aren't the healthiest breed, but this seems like a bit much for having her barely over a month and with her being so young. The vet feels awful and is constantly calling to check up on her and just says she has "a very sick bladder" and that we're doing all we can to help her and that we need to stay the course and keep pushing through this, but to what end? When will she get better? When will we find an answer or root cause? Will we ever? We don't know. We're just doing our best to keep our heads above water and stay calm, but it's not easy at this point. Especially with the breeder completely ignoring us the way they are. We're just… we're burnt out, and we're scared how this is going to end. We're hoping someone here has something encouraging to say because the Vet has come right m out and said that this is not normal. She should not be having health issues like this at this age. Even they are concerned and seem unsure of what's going on and are desperate for answers. It just doesn't add up.
Thank you for reading this far. I'm sorry for such a long post, I just wanted to give you all the details so you could be informed and not have a ton of questions. With that said, any and all feedback or questions are welcome.
I look forward to hearing from the community on this. I really hope there's someone out there that's seen something similar and come out on the other side with positive results. We really need some sort of confirmation that there is a light at the end of this tunnel, and that things will get better and not just continue to get worse until something bad happens, like the unthinkable... how would we explain that to our young children? I can't even let myself think about that right now.
Thanks in advance for any support you can provide. All the best to you and your families, including all your furry, fluffy, feathery, or scaly family members!

Hi everyone. I'm posting here because I'm at my wits' end, signs point to GERD, but doctors neither confirm nor deny it. Hoping to share my situation and see if anyone has similar symptoms.
This sub has been recommended to me by a friend who has GERD and thinks that I may get some useful information here.
TL;DR at the end.
So, to start with a bit of an introduction. A year and a half ago, or so, I had this undefinable pain in my abdomen, followed by a rapid heartbeat and a general sense of unease. Went to the ER, they tell me it's a panic attack and give me something to calm down. It worked for a few days and then happened again - the ER does the same and tells me to relax. I then decided to perhaps push my yearly check-up by a few months, and went to the doctor. They found that I had developed a hietal hernia, and a gallstone, but that I was otherwise healthy.
They told me I am probably having digestion issues, and told me to get pancreatin pills, and seek out a psychologist. At the time this made sense, since I was going through a very stressful period in my life, and that stress was reflected in my diet and portion sizes as well.
The psychologist, while helpful in dealing with some parts of my issue (like the overwhelming anxiety that consumed me after every time this happened) didn't manage to eliminate all the stress this was putting me under. Another benefit it had, placebo or not, was that it helped me become aware of this pain - and once I did, it kind of isolated itself into being strictly gallbladder pain that appeared after eating fatty foods, or stomach pain, which most commonly appeared after eating a larger than normal portion.
With that, however, came additional issues - I started having mild heartburn, after eating pretty much anything that wasn't poultry, fish, veggies or fruit. On its own it was manageable, since I already mostly ate a diet based on those things.
The problem was, that every couple of days, I'd get a sudden, random, sharp stabbing pain in the center of my chest, about halfway on the sternum between where the clavicles attach on the top and where the lower ribs attach on the bottom.
This pain itself would last anywhere between 15-60 minutes, but what started worrying me was the fact that every time this happened, it left me feeling weak and anxious to the point I'd have trouble sleeping until I literally dropped the next day.
I tried to fight it, but my mind went to heart issues, and conjured up other symptoms of heart attack, angina, or general failure in that department. During this period, I visited just about every cardiologist in my city, and done all the check-ups that were listed as a service (went to private clinics, because the public health waiting lists are huge where I live).
All these doctors confirmed that my heart was fine, and that I could probably do with losing a couple of kg (I was 106kg, and 190cm tall, used to do a lot of sports until recently, so not all of that extra weight is fat), but otherwise there was no reason to be worried. Regardless of their findings and reassurances, these episodes continued; first on roughly the same intervals, then gradually slowed down as I decided to pick up going to the gym again, and making adjustments to my diet.
From this point it was a lot of back and forth with whatever this that I have is, but I got it more or less under control as I resolved outstanding issues in my life, and as I got my weight and diet under a bit of control. Throughout the entire time, I had regular, monthly check-ups with a GP, paid out of pocket, where I'd do blood tests, ultrasound, and sometimes the heart test where they hook you up to a treadmill and monitor the activity. I also once went to a gastroenterologist, whose only conclusion to everything was "you probably have some digestion problems, try playing around with your diet a bit more and find out what doesn't trigger you. I don't think you have GERD, IBS, or anything similar of the sorts. You should stop googling your symptoms, but if you really want to try something out, try removing your gallbladder, it has a high chance of stopping at least your stomach pain."
Now, I am deathly afraid of being put under, to the point that my fight-or-flight instinct kicks in and I would try to assault anyone who'd approach me with anesthesia. Thus I tried to do everything in my power to avoid dealing with gallbladder pain, and possibly finding a nonsurgical way to solve it. It worked for the most part, as I haven't had any pain regarding the gallbladder in several months, and on the latest yearly check-up, they told my that my gallstone has shrunk 3mm.
The thing is, the sharp stabbing pains started returning, seemingly unprovoked, about a month ago. All my tests are fine, and due to me starting to work out again, my weight has slowly been going down to normal levels.
I already described it above, but now, this pain is sometimes followed by severe heartburn, usually an hour or so after the pain subsides. It's gotten to a point that I would sometimes wake up with a sore throat/hoarse voice the next day; and my wife has started to complain about snoring.
The last time this happened, I managed to book a same day check up at a private clinic, hoping that they would be able to tell me what is happening, and once again, they told me nothing of value: "it's just some heartburn. Your stomach and esophagus look fine. You should look into changing your diet."
I can deal with the heartburn, I can deal with the stomach pains, but what is difficult, is this sharp pain that no one can seemingly figure out. I don't have much money left to spend on doctors and check-ups, and the waiting list for a gastroscopy using public health services is two years.
If anyone can confirm or deny this specific symptom, or give some advice I'd be eternally grateful.
TL;DR
I've been having sharp, stabbing pains in my sternum occasionally, for the past year and a half with no discernible triggers. This pain lasts anywhere between 15-60 minutes, and is accompanied by a general sense of weakness and anxiety. After the pain passes, I sometimes get heartburn, the effects of which are noticeable the following day by either having a sore throat, hoarse voice, or a complaint from my wife that she couldn't sleep due to my snoring.
My doctors keep telling me I'm healthy, aside from having a gallstone and a hietal hernia, and haven't been able or willing to either confirm or deny GERD. I am both at my financial and wits' end with trying to figure this specific symptom out.
Regardless of whether you've read the entire post or just the TL;DR, I thank you for the time, and appreciate any and all stories and advice.
EDIT: This post took a while to write, I will be reading any replies come morning.

It's chapter 29 from the original book of 'it's not anymore'. I told it in flashbacks. Because of it's size, I can't post it all here, but I'll do a good chunk to get you an idea. If you want the whole thing, modmail me, or comment, there are ways. I don't want you getting too committed to it, as I'm gutting it.
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“Procrastination of the opposition is how they have succeeded time and time again. It started here.” Harry says as the image displays of their cabin; Harry is sitting at a desk writing quickly on a sheet of paper in response to the voice coming through the radio. “When I wrote those coordinates of the downed plane, no one was supposed to find them, Amanda’s design.” He says, zooming the image in to show precisely what he’d written down. “I never gave it a second thought until I was here, and it became clear that the Crystal Samantha had in her possession, picked up on and recognized the mayday call Amanda, and through her, the Emerald had made.”
Harry guides Garrett’s attention to the image. They watch as Harry rips the paper from the pad, places it in his shirt pocket, spins up from his chair, and moves to a bedroom, flipping on the light.
"Up and at 'em, Sam, We've got to go."
Sam grumbles and pulls the blankets up over her head. Harry moves over and pulls the blankets from the bed, revealing Sam wearing flannel pajamas looking to be no more than a teenager. He gives her a shake.
"You're the one who wanted to go with me; we've got a plane down up on the mountain. Come on.” He turns and is going to toss some clothes at her but finds them scattered around the room in complete disarray. "And when we get back, you are putting some organization to this room."
"Come on, dad; I'm an adult now."
“I am well aware of your actual age and experience. However, your physical appearance and the story you’ve created to explain your uniqueness; you’re seventeen, still living at home and not paying rent. Just because you know the difference doesn't mean you don't have to follow the rules that you put into place." He says, making a solid point.
“You’re taking advantage and enjoying it too much.”
“Yes, I am. What father of a teenage daughter wouldn’t? The devil is in the details, as you always say.”
"Yeah, yeah yeah. I'm coming. A little privacy please?" She asks as she works her way into wakefulness.
"I'll be outside warming up the truck; don't take too long, okay?"
"I know, dad."
Harry leaves the room with a large smile on his face, closing the door behind him gently. Sam works her way out of bed slowly; then, her pace quickens as the cold of the room gets to her.
Garrett takes momentary notice of the Crystal dangling around Sam’s neck, as it gives a subtle glimmer, then quickly he shields his eyes, embarrassed to see Sam in such a private moment. “It was active then. Was Sam aware?”
“It is my belief she wasn’t. The Crystal wasn’t fully active, but it had picked up on the distress signal the Emerald had sent out. I’ve sifted through Samantha’s history with a fine toothcomb, curious myself; this was the first it ever showed life. I was unaware that it was anything other than it appeared, a pretty little rock on a tattered leather band that Samantha cherished because it was all she had left to remember her mother. But hindsight and the ability to see all instead of just my perspective can really open your eyes.”
Sam quickly assembles a pair of long underwear, pants, t-shirt, sweatshirt and pulls them on. Next, she moves to a mirror on the dresser and looks at herself. Then, through a yawn, she tries to do something with her hair, failing to make any change; she reaches for a well-worn baseball cap and puts it on, tucking her short blonde hair over her ears and adjusting it to perfection.
“Moira?” Garrett inquires.
“Never wore it from what I was able to see through this.” He says of the mist. “But she had possession of it from the time she was a child that much I know from my recollections.” He lowers his head for a moment; strong emotion carries in his voice. “The link between Moira and me isn’t as strong as it is with Samantha.”
“Makes sense; she’s genetically linked to you whereas Moira…I’m sorry I didn’t--” Garrett quickly tries to pull back his words.
“It’s alright.”
Garrett focuses back in on Sam as she pulls on a pair of snow pants, followed shortly by thick socks and boots, then reaches for a coat resting on the back of the chair and heads out of the room. “She looks so young here this can’t be--”
“It is,” Harry says with a hint of knowledgeable laughter at his lips. “What happened up on the mountain aged her, not only in appearance but with experience. We moved around a lot and rebuilt our lives repeatedly to hide Samantha’s unique ability to age ten times slower than the rest of the world. A secret, which you knew on many occasions, made Sam a target of uncountable entities, the key to eternal youth,” Harry says sarcastic mockery on his tone.
“It wasn’t the only thing. Her ability to fight off every virus known to man added a few more targets on her back.”
“Yes,” Harry says with an understanding nod indicating there had been additional steps taken in this area as well. “A normal parent has to explain why school is important to attend once in their life. But, on the other hand, I had to do it on multiple occasions, and what an oddity to remind your child to dumb it down so as not to draw attention. And while Samantha always wanted to help by providing the answers to what ailed those she befriended in these times?”
“She couldn’t without exposing herself.” Garrett finishes for him. “But knowing Sam, she couldn’t help herself, thus prompting relocation and need to re-identify.”
“Yes,” Harry says, indicating they should continue watching.
Sam emerges from the cabin, turning the lights off inside, leaving only the exterior light of the cabin and those of the truck to light the darkness. She shivers against the cold, zipping her coat all the way up as she moves towards the truck with a plow on the front, 'Search and Rescue' painted on the side, a trailer on the back with two snowmobiles and the necessary gear. She climbs into the passenger seat, puts on her seatbelt. Harry puts the truck into gear and starts out. He reaches down and pulls up a large metal coffee cup handing it to Sam.
"Coffee, strong, to wake up my navigator."
"Yeah...yeah...yeah,” Sam says, taking the offered cup. She gives the rising steam a long enjoyed sniff, takes a small sip, then reaches for the folded maps on the dashboard in front of her. "Coordinates?"
Harry unzips his coat, removes the folded paper from his pocket, and hands it to Sam. She reaches up, turns on the light above her head, and unfolds the paper and maps.
"Why can't people have emergencies on a real people schedule?" She asks with a yawn.
"It's not the way it works, Sam."
They drive along for a few minutes; Harry slows as they approach a split in the road, seeing Sam look up making a decision. One is plowed and clear; the other has a few inches of untouched snow on it.
"Which way is going to be faster?" Harry asks.
"If we go around to the bridge, it'll be too long," She says, pointing towards the plowed road. "And depending on how they came in, that whole side of the mountain is going to be unstable if it hasn't come down on them already. So to Severin's creek, snowmobiles from there, and pack the last mile. That should keep us clear of an avalanche or on top of it if it's already down."
"I love how you do that," Harry says as he directs the vehicle towards the unplowed road.
The image freezes, and Harry looks to Garrett, wondering if he had caught the importance. “I don’t understand.” Garrett offers.
“I didn’t catch it then; it took all that transpired afterward for me to see what happened here fully. What I wrote down? And where she directed us? Significantly different. I had no reason to question, Samantha was never wrong, and she knew those mountains better than anyone.”
“It appears she wasn’t aware of it either,” Garrett says of the interaction. “The Crystal.”
“Yes, it guided us to our destination.” Harry pauses, then shakes his head as if clearing a thought he doesn’t want to voice.
“What is it?” Garrett asks, picking up easily on the avoidance.
“Nothing.”
“It’s something. I know you, and even after years, I can still read you like an open book.”
Harry works the thought together, struggling somewhat. “But you’re not an open book.”
“Never have been.”
“It’s more than that; it’s blank. Not even page numbers, indicating there was something there. Thorough.”
“It has to be.”
Harry moves his hands and queue’s the next rendering. “It’s not even re-written, missing; there are no references whatsoever.”
“What are you getting at Harry?”
The image begins to move as Harry falls into silence, formulating his response. Garrett sees the deep contemplation and leaves it for the time being.
The sun is just starting to rise as Harry and Sam spot the airplane wreckage. A small plume of smoke rises from the forward section resting in a crater to the west; the tail end eastward higher on the ridge.
"I'll take the tail," Harry says, indicating the more extensive and further section, then directing Sam towards the front. "Call it in and radio if you find anyone."
"Got it. Be careful, Dad; it doesn't look stable up here."
“She was always looking out for me, even then,” Harry offers with a smile, hiding the pain behind what he’s viewing.
Garrett’s eyes are glued to the image, taking it all in. “It’s just as she described it.”
“Yes, every intricate detail that you recall from their telling of it,” Harry says with a sarcastic yet surprised undertone.
Sam snowshoes towards the front section of the plane. There are no outward signs of life or movement as she approaches. She un-straps the snowshoes and watches her head to avoid the sharp edges of the shredded exterior of the plane. She digs down, moving large chunks of snow until she's able to get her flashlight inside.
"Anyone alive in here?"
Garrett watches, his eyes unmoving from the image, taking in every detail. “What she told me? Yes. That she held to that story, unshakeable even though there was absolutely no evidence, not even a shred. Amanda as well, and it was…” he shakes his head in disbelief, “Just the other day she confirmed it.”
“It was confirmed before, but to protect them, yourself, and the carefully covered history between the three of you, you chose to remove--very thoroughly, I might add--all previous references to them.”
“There is always a reason.” Garrett justifies his actions.
“Of that, there is no doubt. Why is it important for you now to witness and replace what was lost? It protected them then, but now, your lack of knowledge regarding the events, and inability to take their accounting of it--”
“Places them in danger.”
“Very much so.” Harry returns.
"One," Amanda says through labored breath in the mist.
"Hang in there; we'll get you out of there. How many were on the plane?" Sam asks as she continues to dig a hole to get inside the plane.
"Five, the flyers are dead, the other two I don't know." She returns with a thick British accent.
“Wow,” Garrett says under his breath.
“Wasn’t expecting it?” Harry asks.
“No, it’s…uhm,” he snaps his fingers, trying to put words to it.
“It’s what’s missing that you’re so accustomed to picking up between them. The feeling that volumes worth of information is being shared between them, in an instant.” Harry says.
“Yeah, that’s part of it.”
“And probably her accent,” Harry says with a half nod and embarrassed smile. “You always did have a weakness for the Brits, especially the women.”
“Touché.” Garrett returns with a broad smile. “Moira lost hers years before she met you, yet, when in your company, it’d always sneak back in.”
Harry smiles. “Uh-huh.”
"You're sure they're dead?" Sam asks of Amanda.
"Yes."
Sam pulls her radio. "Dad confirmed five on board; I've got one alive, two dead."
"Copy." the radio crackles.
"My name is Sam; what's yours?" Sam pauses her digging and listens when there's no response. "Are you still with me?"
"Yes."
"Are you hurt?"
"Nothing life-threatening."
Sam gets her head and flashlight in enough to see. Amanda is partially buried, her back against the side of the airplane, a slope of snow between them.
"Anything broken?"
"Right clavicle. Yes, I can walk out of here when you unbury me and get me something warm."
"On it," Sam says, not expecting the ungrateful nature of the woman. "I'm sorry; I didn't catch your name."
"I didn't give it. Just do your job."
"Yes, ma'am."
Sam's radio crackles. "Sam, two alive here. One able to walk, the other we're going to need the sled and a med-evac as soon as possible."
"Copy that. Calling it in." Sam rolls onto her back, switches the radio channel, finding difficulty with gloved fingers. "Dispatch, Rescue One on scene. Three confirmed survivors, two deceased. Two survivors are mobile, one critical. Pack unstable, advise pickup at the meadow at the fork of Severin's creek."
"Copy Rescue One."
Harry senses Garrett’s question and halts the image, and looks at him. “It’s just you and me here. What is it?”
“Why would she take that as her surname? The very location of where it all started? This is all wrong.” Garrett defends.
“There is an explanation to it, an unexpected and risky choice, I’ll admit, but a wise one nonetheless. You have to trust in what you are aware of now. It all worked out because of the choices made, and not all of them by you. Part of why you are here is to witness the decisions made, beyond your control, that shaped the current landscape.”
Garrett gives an uncomfortable nod as Harry restarts the image. “You’re saying I’m a control freak?”
“You are, but you at times, forget, either on purpose or not, that there are others just as vigilant and demanding of their control and guidance of a situation. Allies that you aren’t certain you can trust but desire to do so.”
Sam tucks the radio back into her pocket and continues to dig. Finally, when she's made the hole big enough, she squeezes through, then pulls her pack inside, sliding down to where Amanda is. She places the flashlight upward, lighting the plane's interior, and settles in to check on Amanda. A flash of recognition crosses Sam's expression as she quickly checks to see if Amanda's eyes dilate.
"I told you I was fine." Amanda snaps, moving her head quickly to the side and away from the direct light.
"Actually," Sam corrects as she starts moving the snow from around Amanda, "You said 'nothing life-threatening,' but given you've been buried up here for a couple of hours, shock, concussion, hypothermia, Internal bleeding come to mind, to mention a few."
"I am familiar."
Sam, trying to keep it light, and Amanda talking continues. "Been in situations like this before, then?"
"Not this particular one."
"Okay, not particular, but I’ll assume similar," Sam says, pausing for a moment again, sensing recognition. "This is my first rescue involving a plane."
"Hum." Amanda returns, avoiding.
"Bet it was frightening. I don't like flying, wouldn't catch me anywhere near an airplane, and this..." She rolls her eyes around. "Is why. You're probably thinking the same thing now, huh?"
Amanda nonchalantly shrugs her shoulders then winces at the pain in her shoulder. Sam pauses her digging and looks right at Amanda with a quizzical look. Amanda meets her eyes. Sam shakes her head softly as if clearing an errant thought. Amanda’s expression changes to cautious curiosity as she watches Sam.
“Sam’s not afraid of flying,” Garrett interjects, his mind working through what he sees between Sam and Amanda.
“She was,” Harry says. “Or better phrased, those before her that were starting to come to the surface at this time were affecting her recollections subconsciously.”
“The dreams of those that carried the Crystal before her obtaining it.” Garrett nods. “Amanda explained it to me, the whispers of their lives. Tragic deaths in the name of what was right and just.”
“In a nutshell, yes. But even in her own lifetime, previous to this moment, Samantha had had her fair share of rough and tumble encounters in the air. You recall the flight from Buenos Aries, the hijacking?” Garrett nods, familiar with it. “The young girl sitting four rows behind you couldn’t have been more than eight or nine years of age?”
Garrett recalls the time, the young girl in question, and while recognition doesn’t show on his face, he begins to understand. “It was Sam.”
“Yes. You’ve chosen to keep the imagery, but not the identity, the purpose, of who and what Sam was to you at the time. She was no one to you.”
“They believed I was carrying the encryption key to some highly sensitive financial materials.”
“You were, but what was on the flash drive in your pocket was an exceptionally well-falsified version and what you intended them to come after, which they did.”
“Sam’s memory was where the copy was.”
“Yes, the only one. A family vacation that was not.”
“Wait, I never used Sam--”
“You did, we all did, in our own ways. Her age, as you are aware, is deceptive. Here? This 17-year-old girl? Has the experience of a forty-year-old easily, had attended four universities under different names and piled up an immeasurable amount of education. Since she’s been able to talk and we realized her gift, she’s been used as an asset. The closest guarded secret. But it came to a head; the stress was getting to her, to all of us. She requested, and we all agreed, to let her step away, live a normal life. This was the cover and the life she chose.” He says of her digging in the snow.
“How did she…?”
“Hide it? She had some help.” Harry smiles. “At this point, she was aware of her entire past with us, who you were, what we did, who we did it for, and what her mother and I were running from with your help. It’s why the review, it’s coming to the surface again. This situation escalated far beyond what any of you, Amanda being the partial exception, have allowed yourselves to be aware.”
“By choice. Did I…?”
“Take the memories from her? No, though you’ve tried many times, you were never successful.”
“Then how?”
Harry gives a half-raised eyebrow and suggests Garrett watch the image. “If a picture is worth a thousand words?”
"Don't worry; we'll take good care of you. It's not far to the snowmobiles, and then only a half an hour to where the chopper can pick up your friend." Amanda doesn't answer as she analyzes Sam, her actions, and tone, as if reading her like a book. "Family?" Sam asks, again gaining no answer. "Co-worker? Acquaintance? Do you know them?" Sam sits up for a moment and runs her arm across her forehead; she's working up a sweat at this pace. She pulls off a glove and unzips her coat to get some air.
"Yes, I know them..." Amanda starts off, hoping it will stop her questions, but her words trail off her eyes catching the Crystal's shimmer on a necklace around Sam's neck.
“Sam knew who she was,” Garrett says, seeing the recognition between them.
“No. These two had never been made aware of each other. I know,” he says, staving off Garrett’s apparent disbelief on the matter, “You were always afraid of and never divulged of your interactions with Amanda – you didn’t even know her name then or her true identity. She was your contact, for lack of better phrasing, within the Trust. A very adversarial relationship, but one you never clued Sam in on. For a good reason, I suspect.”
“Then how is this--the Crystal,” He says, putting it together. “Her previous experiences and lives, they recognized Amanda.”
“Yes,” Harry says as they both return their focus to what is going on between Sam and Amanda.
"Anyone I can have Dispatch contact? Let them know you're okay?" Sam asks.
"No." The tone in which Amanda answers moves both of them to look directly at each other. For Sam, it is out of surprise at the response, Amanda in fear of having answered truthfully and hoping the fear in her voice didn't relay.
"Okay," Sam returns cautiously. "Didn't mean to poke a nerve.”
Amanda shakes her head slightly, indicating it was nothing of concern. "Have we met before?" she asks softly.
Sam is thrown even more with the sincerity and nicety behind the query than the question itself. "I was going to ask you the same thing. You're familiar to me, but... "
Sam's radio crackles interrupting her thought then is further interrupted by a loud bang followed by a second that echoes through the canyon. Both women are startled by the sound.
"What the hell was that?" Sam asks, scrambling for her radio; she depresses the button. "Dad? Dad?! Dad, come back?" there is nothing but a crackle. "Dad?"
“What just happened there?” Garret asks.
Harry looks down to his clothes, the wounds, “These. I fought that bastard like you would not believe, but,” Harry turns away from the image. “I apologize, but I do have difficulty watching this, but it’s important you do.”
“The impact is important, I understand,” Garrett says, not holding it against him as he looks away.
The ominous silence is interrupted by a slight rumble, which Sam isn't sure she's hearing. Sam’s eyes fill with fear as she meets those of Amanda, confirming what she's thinking.
"Avalanche!" Sam throws throwing herself on top of Amanda.
It's only seconds before the snow impacts the side of the plane, rolling it down the slope like a twig in a rapidly flowing stream. Sam and Amanda are thrown about inside the plane, the sounds of bones snapping, their bodies bending and contorting in unnatural ways as they are thrown around like rag dolls.
Garrett cringes as Amanda smashes face-first into a protruding piece of one of the windows, the entire left side of her face torn open. He directs his attention to Sam as her arms and legs fight for a position within the revolving space; then a snap is heard, her body goes limp and smashes lifelessly to the roof of the plane. Everything goes black.