Awful head pains and pneumonia

Long story short, I had an unnecessary cerebral angiogram (I trusted the doctors..) 2 weeks after I got COVID for the first time. I thought I was over COVID. Right after the angiogram I started having left ear pain and now almost 3 months later the symptoms are only getting worse. It all sounds like a CSF leak to me, but a cerebral angiogram uses a catheter that stays in your arteries...how could it even come close to puncturing the dura? I'm praying it's ANYTHING else than a CSF leak. I saw some posts on here of people with long COVID symptoms...could it be long COVID?
These are my symptoms:
left ear pain, pressure fullness - pain all around neck, vascular and muscle - recurring black spot in left peripheral vision -wet feeling in left ear - ringing tinnitus - bubbling/pop noise in head and both ears all day -neck bubbling/cracking sounds - base of skull is sore - laying on back causes pain on skull base - pressure in head on top and both sides - mild throat pain in left side - muscle spasms all over body CONSTANTLY - Pressure and pain in head when bending over - double vision - base back of neck pain - occasionally pain in left eye - brain burning feeling - ears popping - right top of foot and hand tingling and numbness -Right arm heavy and tingly, on and off

I was checking some stuff I never saw in WoD, and one of them, that really surprised me, was Demon the Fallen. If playing Hunter is alike playing the winchesters of Supernatural, playing Fallen is like playing Castiel ou Crowley. So Im sharing what I understood and what I liked.
The lore
There was a God, he created angels, to help him create and maintain reality, each angel was part of a house (a group) and each one had a purpose like: - Enforce God`s laws - Built and Shape land so things could live on earth - Create and shape life and animals - Inpire Humans - Control Fate - Renew the old and useless, decomposing stuff to its basic ingredients and returning it to earth so new stuff could be made.
and more. At the beggining humans were immortal, everything was beautiful and working. God is very much like The God Emperor Of Manking of 40k, since he has absolute power, but makes some very questionable decisions. Some of them, like removing immortality of humans as punishment, that caused things like angels of renew becoming angels of death and hating their jobs, caused a rebellion lidered by lucifer (treat him like cayne from VtM, ignore what the book says, dont make him a living character on your campaign, make him a mystery).
So God punished them, by doing something, or better nothing (the house that was the most proud and enforced gods laws were punished with nothing, he just changed the house name to Devils and ignored them, what was ironic as fuck since the most proud house wasnt even worth a punishmentl) and sent them to the Abyss, its like hell, there is no humans, there is constant suffering and I think its also like a sensory depravation chamber.
But shit happens, and some can get out, but they need a host to exist on earth. If they take a human, their sould meld to various degrees, to a person simply gaining powers and having nightmares of hell, to them having the fallen voice on his head, to it basically being the fallen with human memories.
The human soul is necessary to contain the madness of being so much time in hell, otherwise their sorrow pain and rage would bring them to madness, trying to inflict so much pain as they felt or something like that. The human memories helps them to see how reality is beautful and to anchor them to something that isnt CONSTANT SUFFERING.
Demons that go into objects are called earthbound and go crazy, trying to destroy the world and control the angels by trying to find their true name. But thats not the only treat, God isnt here anymore, or at least doesnt want to be found, neither is lucifer (lucifer was never in hell, for being the leader, he was sent to somewhere far worse, some say los angeles).
And there are fallen trying to take the place of god, some trying to find lucifer, some trying to destroy the world, since without someone to take care of it, its fated to demise, some want forgiveness from God at any means, and some just want to know WHAT DA FUK IS GOING ON.
You can do whatever you want, even embracing your human life and at least trying to live as a human. You will at the very least always be trying to fight back the torment, the memories of hell that drive you to do bad stuff, and may cause your powers to get corrupted, causing damage instead of healing or destroying and corrupting things around.
So I said you get powers, what powers are those ? besides the common ones, humanity (universal translation, getting truth out of everyone near, change their perception of you) and fundament (manipulation of the laws of physics, like manipulate gravity, innertia (throw things fast or stop bullets in mid air)) they have their own group of powers (lore) based on their houses, for example the slayers (death angels) have lores to cause death and decay (Lore of Death), summon control and unkill people (lore of spirits), go to the spirit world become intangible (Lore of Realms).
Some that I like personally is the lore of portals, that allows the fun mechanic of going through a doowindow and exiting something unconnected, like entenring from the front door of a house, and exiting in the bathroom, enter a police car and ending on the back of your friends car, entering any door in a corner and ending in vegas.
But what do you need to use them ? Is it free ? Eeeeh, no. It requires Faith, a part of divine sparkle, that comes from the human soul. You dont have it nor can generate it in your own, you used to receive infinite amounts of it from God, but now you need to receive it from humans.
You may get from them when you convince them you are supernatural (its hard then you think, just showing off powers may cause violent reactions on observers), rituals forming a cult, or getting thralls (people that pray to you and give you constant faith every morning, - for example, you start small, like being a miracle healer, that every time it meets a certain burnt victim, you use the Lore of Flesh to undo a little of the scars, it progresses more and more, until you reach the point where the person is ready for a contract, you say the last and biggest step will need a price, it will forever bind them together, by body and mind, you will never be able to meet in person again (you can do it to protect her if you want) and you can ask something like praying to you every morning while drinking a glass of water, if she ever fails the contract is broken and she becomes like she was in the beggining). You can do it in a wholesome way, or be a demon and help a model who wants to keep her looks and require her to make sacrifices to you.
You dont just use faith to activate your lores, but use it for stuff like NOT GETTING OLDER, the aging process is halted while you have at least one point of faith. The ammount of good or bad stuff adds ticks to a Torment counter, that will add or remove Permanent Torment from your character. Having higher torment, makes so the chance of your powers being corrupted is higher, and sometimes you will want to use the tormented version of skills on purpose (you can just do it, but it will add 1 temporary torment to your character), in case you need it. Like you are on a battle, and is an angel of healing, and you just need to convert healing into damaging otherwise you cant really damage stuff.
Fallen can communicate between themselves and between their tralls from anywhere in the same plane, if they know their names and can speak out loud. Actually everything needs speaking, if you cant you cannot use your lores.
True names are kinda of a big part of this as well, that is the name that everything has, and encompasses everything that thing is. By knowing somethings true name you can basically control it at will, making it a slave or even transforming it into another thing. There may be indirect investigatory battles, where two sides try to investigate one another, trying to get hints of personality to try to discover who the fallen is and their true name, before the other does.
In summary, I think its a very fun book, a very fun rpg, it has its own flavor and challenges and I would love for more people to know it. Im kinda anxious on V5, if we ever get a demon book I would love to have at least of some of this flavor back. I feel its like playing a mage, but with more purpose, where you need to interact more with the world to gain something from it, by either helping people and having a cult, or doing devilish faustian deals with people to get their faith.
*Dont know where to put it, but there is also apocaliptic form, you for a short time burns through faith like crazy and become a reflex of your divine form, its almost immune to anything, is either angelic or devilish looking depending of your torment, and will make people around go crazy in awe or terror depending of it.

I'm building some gliders that need to be lightweight, 1 wall thick, in order to fly.
When I print in something with high dimensional stability like PLA, PETG, or ABS -- it works fine but shatters when it hits the ground; even a 5g model. Also for some reason sometimes an entire layer is a little bit underextruded and it forms a weak layer. (Maybe a printer problem?)
When I print in something softer, the top parts come out awful because the material sways under the printer head as it's printing.
The best results I've had so far, are to print in ABS, and then smear acetone all over the outside in the hope that it bonds together. But that's very tricky to get right; a little too much and it melts through, too little and it does nothing, and also if you don't coat it evenly some parts end up shinier than others so it looks inconsistently greasy, like you handled it while eating pizza and potato chips.
NEW IDEA: how about coating it with a thin layer of something? Maybe some sort of epoxy resin like you do when you make carbon fiber parts? I've tried fingernail polish and it sort of works but not that great. Is there something stronger?
(PS if you're interested, I posted the model to Printables)

It’s completely ridiculous because my body has been through a lot of trauma, including busting my back recently that I’ve been in the spine doctors for every other week. And I know that you don’t have to have physical trauma to have chronic pain.
I called dozens of pain clinics who told me that they do not prescribe any kind of opioid medication. I take Norco and I am hoping to take some thing that will be a little more effective and easier on my body since I already take the max dose of ibuprofen as well
I found one that they do the disclaimer that it is not a guarantee and I was like of course, and that is good enough for me! I’m going there this week
I’m over here freaking out that this pain clinic will somehow get my primary care doctor to stop prescribing me Norco and tell me the pain is all in my head and I’m a woman and I’m fat. I’ve been to two other pain clinics before and one of the doctors refused to even look at my x-rays
I feel so scared of explaining to someone who doesn’t deal with chronic pain what my life is like. I’m scared of crying and therefore looking like a drug seeker. I’m scared of masking too hard and appearing that I am in great spirits and therefore don’t need any medication. I’m scared of them calling a mental hospital if I’m honest about how I feel with the level of pain I am living with
Just venting here, but if anybody has any advice or good words or candles or anything, I am completely here and accepting of your energy
Written on my phone, using voice to text so if anything is messed up blame Apple

Archive Link https://archive.ph/Vqnbe
Washington Post Link (opens on mobile but not desktop) https://www.washingtonpost.com/style/powe2024/04/16/prince-joachim-denmark/?utm_source=alert&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=wp_news_alert_revere&location=alert
Relevant snark from the article:
What does it mean to be a modern prince?
If you follow the British royal family, it means an heir and a spare, locked in a spiral of history, melodrama and betrayal. If you watch Hallmark movies, princes are invariably handsome but restive kings-in-waiting who find true love with scrappy American commoners.
.....
Instead, he found his calling in the Danish military. After completing his education (he speaks Danish, French, English and German), he enrolled in the reserves while also a working royal. Five years ago, he was invited to enroll in the elite École Militaire in Paris, a year-long program for officers and defense experts. Then he was named a Danish brigadier general and a military attaché at the embassy in France. Last year, the palace announced he would be moving to Washington, where he would also focus on defense.“
It’s about defense industrial cooperation,” Joachim explained. “My main task here is to pave the way — boost, help, inspire — for Danish defense industries, large and small, to enter the U.S.: Either provide or sub-supply, get into that big chain of regenerating and resupplying our armed forces.” In short: One of the thousands of diplomats in this town (who happens to be a member of the royal family).
....
As Kate and Meghan know all too well, marrying into royalty isn’t the fairy tale one might assume, even though you can become an actual princess. You fall in love with a person; you marry a country
“I had high expectations,” Princess Marie said. “I wanted to speak Danish perfectly. I wanted people to be proud of me. I wanted to fit in. So I think I put a lot of pressure on myself. But Denmark is actually an easy country to live in. Why? Because people respect each other a lot. I don’t feel there’s a lot of conflicts. Things work well.”
.... In the smaller world of European royalty, it matters — but only to a certain extent. They all know one another — many are related — and the difference between being a prince or a count may not be a game changer in the larger scheme of their lives.
..... So, no fairy tale. Just a guy — son, brother, husband, father — with a famous family trying to live his life. A modern prince, for those who care about things like that.
Some of the comments:
Here’s a prince, he said, developing the relationship between the United States and Denmark as a NATO ally, taking on a serious and sensitive responsibility instead of coasting on his title." I guess that is a dig at Harry.
“Joachim has been such a force for good in that he has always understood his role... Here’s a prince...taking on a serious and sensitive responsibility instead of coasting on his title. For him to keep his head down and do this work and be a fantastic representative of the country is something I think is extremely admirable." Too bad Harry couldn't do that--or could he before Megan?
"This is his best shot at a drama-free life away from royal reporters who obsess over the comings and goings of even minor European nobles." Thank god our medial isn't like that! /s

A real Prince of Denmark tries to live a normal Washington life. Prince Joachim and his family arrived last summer for his diplomatic post, leaving behind royal drama to raise a family here with hardly anyone noticing.

No irony lost in this story. In a very Royal move, he allows an article about his desire for normalcy away from royal drama, to be written in one of the largest newspapers in the US and certainly in his chosen hometown... So much for 'wanting' to be less noticed! Next week a centerfold spread?
kudos to another who broke away from living on an musty/moldy royal 1700-1800 compound getting very little sunlight. Wasting away waiting for someone to die to advance in life. He also managed to make sure not to marry someone with the one drop.
The contrast with Harry and Meghan is painfully obvious, and probably one of the reasons the story was published. This brother to the heir to the throne made himself an expert on military issues (he also speaks four languages) and has a diplomatic career. Things he didn't do: write a bitter tell all, trash his family and expect apologies, run away from royal opportunities and responsibilities; or adopt with his wife the role of public victim in chief. The irony is that Harry had the military background to make military affairs his profession. Good article on this impressive Danish prince.
Harry can learn from the Danish royals.
Juxtaposed to that Harry from the UK, this guy is a prince for sure.
Another Prince on a world privacy tour …
A very nice article about non-drama Royal family - with character not personality-driven. Washington DC is a great place in which to live and one great reason is the many cultural events conducted by the embassies.
Post Credit: ImNotaBatFeelmh (sorry it took me so long to make this post. But it wasn't easy to do it myself)

Down in a hole, so deep I can't see the light of day
I thought I saw a glimmer of hope, just fallen rocks and they're headed my way
I dust myself off and try to get up again
But I'm not sure if this time I can
Climb out past the sorrow and pain
I feel my heart sink and I fall back down again
I hear someone, they're calling my name
I turn in hopes to see you, But I can't see through the fire and flames
I'm crying out and reaching for your hand
But you keep getting further away I'm down in a hole,
So deep I see the earth giving way I'll never see the light again

September 2nd - 07:00 Service to London
The morning commute always felt too early for Simon. Now autumn was rolling in, and the night ate further into the morning, he could barely keep his eyes open. So when he saw it standing across the platform, he was happy to blink and rub his eyes until it was gone.
September 9th - 07:00 Service to London
The same platform, the same spot, shivering. Why had he been this stupid not to bring a jacket? Oxford station was as nondescript as you could get, for a city so beautiful and ancient, it stood out like a big grey concrete thumb. He stood under the canopy sheltering from the rain, sadly it wasn't doing much in the way of protection. Every gust of wind brought icy shards of rain scratching at his face. Looks like he wasn't the only one suffering.
Across from him stood a man. Drenched to the bone, his white shirt clung to him, a tie stained blood red cutting through his torso. With every gust he stood still. Not flinching. Not moving. His eyes locked on Simon. Simon scanned him from head to toe, like a mirror the man responded, tracing his every move. Feeling the rush of a train approaching, Simon took a step back and like a child discovering their legs for the first time, the man stumbled forwards.
Feeling anxious warmth flooded his face, Simon scrambled onto the train. He was safe here. He was safe.
September 16th - 07:00 Service to London
He approached the platform with caution today, yes last week was weird, but it was early and he was tired. When he looked up at the departures the bad mood started. 20 minutes delayed. It was as grey as usual this morning, not raining though, that was a bonus he thought. He stood endlessly scrolling through social media, head locked down. Then he heard it, a high-pitched whistle. His head shot up, and then across from him, there he stood. The same white and red clothed man staring. Simon could feel his heart beating in his throat, his stomach turning in knots. Dark cold eyes were tied to his from across the void of the platform, sucking the warmth from his body. Simon knew he couldn't move, he couldn't bear to watch the man copy him. Breathing heavily he dragged his eyes to the departures, not daring to move a single limb. 3 minutes. He had to hold out for three minutes. He was alone out there, the platform was a lonely headland out at sea, it was just him and the man.
They stayed eyes locked, standing stock still. Simon didn't dare to breathe too heavily. Time was moving, he knew that, but every second was an eternity. Out the corner of his eye he could see a faint light growing brighter and brighter. The train was coming. He would be safe. Then in a split second the man broke his gaze. He was running. His body moved in perfect symmetry flying along the platform, getting closer and closer to the passenger bridge. He can get me. He can get me! Simon's mind was screaming. Alarm bells ringing. The man was getting closer. There was a hollow thud of thunder as the man's feet stormed across the bridge.
The train was pulling in now, its brakes hissing as it glided to a stop. Simon slammed his hand against the button frantically waiting for the doors to slide open, and they did. Inviting him into the warm comfort of the carriage. The man arrived at the bottom of the steps, fixed his gaze on Simon and ran. Gaining on him, 10 metres, 5 metres, 1 metre. The doors slid shut. And the man slammed against them. Simon’s stomach clamped in on itself; he could feel the sour taste of vomit flood his throat and mouth, pouring out onto the floor. His eyes stayed fixed on the glass of the train door. He was looking at his reflection. But this was no trick of the light. The man had his face and he was smiling.
September 16th - 16:34 Service to Worcester
Simon spent his entire day scanning faces. Anyone who crossed his path was a potential threat. He made it through the work day, he would get home, call the police and get answers. Boarding the train with hundreds of other passengers he was shielded, nothing could get him. Every station they passed he checked every face twice. But his mind and body grew tired, he’d spent the day on high alert and he was feeling the effects. His breathing was slowing down, every thought came at half speed and his eyes drooped and drooped until he slipped into a dark dreamless sleep.
The thud of closing doors ripped him from his sleep. He was awake, alert, heart pounding. He could see a station by the window. Charlbury. He'd gone too far, three stations too far. He got up and looked around the cabin and not a single face turned to meet him. He was alone. It’s fine, he thought. He'd get off at the next station and turn around. He'll be home in no time. He sat there pushing every bad thought from his mind, humming a tune he didn't even recognise for comfort. Then in a matter of minutes they were pulling into a station. Standing at the door he surveyed the platform as they slowed. Empty. Completely empty. Then from the corner of his eye he saw it, a flash of white then red, and finally that face. His face. Shit. Shit. Shit. He had to hide. He ran back into the carriage and fell to the floor between two seats, making sure no part of him could be seen above the window. He heard the door hiss shut, and they were moving. He didn't dare to move. Was he alone? He sat still, not allowing a single muscle fibre to twitch. Then like rolling thunder the sound of heavy boots progressed down the carriage. Slow and methodical, they stopped at every row before moving to the next. Fuck it was coming. They were just inches from him. He craned his head up to look.
The eyes staring down at him were pure black. Obsidian marbles studded in the face he saw every day. He tried to scream but his throat clenched shut. A smile stretched across that familiar face. It was no smile he'd ever given. His breath felt like it was coming out in chunks. He couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't move. Then out of its pocket something glinted in the light. He saw his own cowering reflection in the blade. Tears streamed down his face. He knew the pain about to follow would be the last thing he'd ever feel.

Please do not use any of my details anywhere on the internet
TL;DR: how to you set conversational boundaries with well-meaning, yet nosy rosy busybodies after you have undergone a traumatic event in your life and are desperately trying to move on?
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Hello - seeking advice b/c I'm at my wits end regarding a circumstance and am struggling to handle it in the moment. Here goes:
Last year, my husband and I went through something very traumatic and public. Let's just say we were fairly well known in our mid-sized community b/c we were in a public facing business whom everyone loved. We are no longer in this business due to a nasty and terrible family fallout. This news shocked and rocked our community, and the pain we have from this ordeal is palpable even almost a year later. The details surrounding the reason for our departure are nearly unbelievable and horrifying, but most people in our community either have a firm grip on what happened by connecting the dots on their own, or figured we closed due to unrelated reasons - we have kept it classy and not publicly divulged many details regarding this schism - we tell our close friends what happened, but the public at large does not need to be looped into our family drama in our opinion - that would only serve to reflect poorly on us tbh. We are letting karma do the heavy lifting on the family members that did us dirty, and so far it's doing a truly spectacular job :)
Since this abrupt upset in our lives transpired, our capacity for social outings is virtually nil b/c of the overwhelming amount of conversations regarding our ordeal - it's all people feel they can talk to us about, therefore we rarely leave our house. Largely, people want to reminisce and express their gratitude to us, which I completely understand that their hearts are in the right place, but they are not realizing how painful it is for us to talk about this subject b/c each conversation forces us to relive this awful decision we were forced to make. If it's not kind words about the business we had and what a tragedy it was that we closed, it's very pointed questions such as what we are up to, what's next for us etc. We are still recovering from all of this and taking time off, and frankly, we owe no one any explanations on the details of our lives. It feels so objectifying for people to approach us like this b/c we feel like if they were genuinely concerned about our wellbeing, they would simply ask us how we have been, are we happy, and state that it's great to see us out and about.
We tried an "elevator speech" for a while, but boy do people have nerve - they still press on and ask the most invasive questions even after we feel that we have made it obvious we don't wish to discuss this any further. Ffwd to last night when we were in a social situation where we left early due to nonstop conversations surrounding our situation (there was a recent development that threw the situation front and center yet again, and it's now a hot topic after a period of dormancy). After about oh, the 20th person came up to us and launched in about it all, we just had to leave b/c we couldn't take it anymore - it's a broken record/ infinity loop, and the ultimate good time killer for us - it ruins our mood and it's just easier to duck out vs deal with this BS.
So. With all that said: what are some effective and polite phrases we can have in our arsenal to whip out in these circumstances? We don't want to be rude and make anyone feel shameful for asking us questions, b/c most of the curious people are folks we genuinely like on an acquaintance level, but we need some tools to shut the convo down - do we use humor, do we just say we are trying to move on - what? We know we can't keep living this way, which is avoiding social outings altogether, or even considering moving to a different city so we are not faced with this every single time we are out there trying to live our new normal.
I feel like there have to be alternative solutions that I am unable to think up b/c of the intense emotions I'm experiencing about it all, so I can't see things clearly/logically even if I tried.
Thanks so much!

My husband has been very sick since November he has been coughing very forcefully, at one point he felt like he had a broken rib every time he coughed, he's losing weight he's had a very small appetite (he is also on adderall so hes not as concerned by this) he's extremely tired and he is constantly itchy all over his body. The itchiness started before the coughing, he's scratched himself raw from head to toe. He's been to his primary care doctor about 15 times they've given him a ton of antibiotics, inhalers, steroids etc.. his blood work showed he was also anemic. The primary care doctor said there's nothing more he can do for him and we've made an appointment for a pulminologist but it's not until July. Yesterday he woke up and his elbow was extremely swollen, like there's half a tennis ball under his skin and he cant straighten his arm without pain. I'm so worried I've offered to take him to the ER but he doesn't think it's that urgent. I'm afraid he has lymphoma. My questions are is this something I should drag him to the ER for or can we wait for the pulmenology appointment and is a pulmenologist even who we should be seeing at this point? If it's lymphoma will they be able to diagnose it? Am I just wrong about lymphoma could it be something else?

My hands are trembling to the point where I've had to restart this several times. I'm a guy who doesn't scare easily, but this encounter has me shaking like a hit dog. I'm still sitting in my work truck, trying to work up the courage to step outside again. Worse, I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to tell my boss what happened. I was already on thin ice with him, and this shit might cause me to break through to the freezing water below.
But fuck it, because this was weird.
I install cable for a living. I didn't have dreams of stringing cable when I was a little kid, but my previous life choices left me with few options. In high school, I fell in with the wrong crowd. It started with skipping school, sneaking alcohol at weekend parties, and some petty theft, but it didn't stay that way for long. Soon, I dropped out and dedicated my life to committing robberies to pay for my pill addiction. I wasn't living as much as I was running on a treadmill. I did whatever I could to stay on my feet but constantly felt myself slipping.
My bottom came when I was jumped by two guys who sold me pills. I had bought from them before and trusted them, but the feeling was not mutual. Someone had dimed a buddy of theirs out to the police, and he was looking at real jail time. They assumed it was me and beat me senseless.
I was greeted at the door with a punch to the jaw that sent me reeling. My brain, already addled and slowed by Oxi, was in the middle of putting together what was happening when the next punch caught me in the temple. I collapsed to the ground and covered my neck and face as best as I could. The next few minutes were a flurry of punches, kicks, and stomps. When it was all over, I had a broken jaw, a shattered wrist, several wounds that required fifty total stitches, and a concussion.
That's how I kicked my painkiller addiction.
I can joke now, but the next six months were the hardest in my life. The withdrawals I had were the worst thing I've ever experienced. Having them while I was recuperating from my injuries was a circle of hell I didn't think existed. I wanted to die most days and felt lost in the darkness. But sobriety was the beacon on the horizon. Even during my darkest moments, I could still see the fuzzy spark of white light off in the distance. It kept me going. Six months from my beat-down day, I came out the other side healthier but weaker.
I needed a job but had limited skills. Thankfully, I had a former pill buddy who managed to keep steady employment with the cable company. We always got along, and he called in a few favors and hooked me up. I got hired, but it was a struggle. Not the work, which was easy to learn, but dealing with the public without telling them to fuck off. Worse, was trying to avoid the flood of illegal substances that are around you at all times. Customers will offer you weed or pills for all the channels, or bored co-workers will have something to "make the day pass by." It's a lot to dodge, especially if you're in recovery. Whenever I felt the itch again, I'd feel the scar tissue from my wrist surgery, and the itch would pass.
The last week has been one of those "Shit, is it Friday yet?" weeks that seem to be growing in frequency these days. I don't want to bore you with the details, but needless to say, most nights, I needed to reach out to my sponsor and have them talk me off the ledge. We recently had a turnover at the executive level, and my new boss Rory was a tremendous cock. A rager at levels science hasn't ever seen before. Just the worst dude imaginable.
Part of Rory's new crusade was coming in and firing a bunch of guys. The company called it "checking for redundancies in the labor force," but we all knew what it was. He was picking off two classes of people: high earners and guys with spotty pasts. I was in the latter group and imagined it was just a matter of time before my number got pulled. I was on pins and needles all week. I made sure I was the greatest cable installer you'd ever meet. So far, I was getting high marks but the forced joviality was wearing thin.
It's safe to say my joy had left on a one-way ticket. I have no clue when—or if—she'd return.
Back to this shit. I had just finished up my last job of the day when my work phone started buzzing. I cursed and thought about not answering, but the threat of unemployment loomed too large for me to do that. I picked up and knew from the jump my day was far from over. Denise from dispatch asked if I could cover a job left hanging because of "scheduling conflicts" (see: the original installer had been let go). It was near where I was and was a simple install.
I gritted my teeth and agreed. I liked Denise and knew she was worried about the hammer falling on her, too. She thanked me profusely, and promised to bring me cookies tomorrow. Since she's a hellcat in the kitchen and getting close to a dispatcher never hurts, I said no worries. I hung up, balled up my jacket, and screamed into it. I felt better after that.
981 Maple Street was about five minutes away, but it felt like a world away. Maple Street was at the end of the neighborhood where large swaths of grass fields faded into a thicket of woods. The woods rose up into the foothills until they graduated to mountains. To borrow a phrase from Shel Silverstein, the house resided where the sidewalk ends.
The house, an off-white birdhouse ranch type, was a little run-down but no worse than any of the others that populated this neighborhood. This place had been hit hard by economic times, and property values had plummeted. It was slowly recovering. In five years, this would be a place most current residents wouldn’t be able to afford. The front yard had a large oak tree that looked amazing but had killed the grass under its canopy. The rest of the yard looked well cared for.
I knocked and heard a few voices talking on the other side of the door. It opened, and a man in his late 40s stood there with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand. He was tall and thin, save for a middle-aged paunch. His face was starting to crinkle at the edges, but he was southern California middle-aged, which meant he was holding up pretty well. He did look tired, though—the bags under his eyes were full-on steamer trunks.
"You with the cable company?" he asked, knowing I was.
I nodded. "You requested an install, right?"
"Yes, I did. Please, come in."
He opened the door wide, and I walked in. The house was pretty bare with a bachelor pad aesthetic. That didn't make much sense since I heard a female voice talking to him. I assumed it was his wife. I believe in a lot of wild shit, but to think that a wife would be fine with their house decorated like a 23-year-old bachelor lived there was a bridge too far.
"I'm Tom," the guy said, extending his hand. I shook it. "What did you need from my end?"
"Do you know if there was a previous hookup here?"
"Ugh, yeah. There is one in this room and another in the back bedroom."
"Okay. I should put the modem in a spot that'll hit the whole house. The signal can get wonky if it's in a room behind a wall or bricks or anything."
"This room is probably the best spot then," he said.
"Perfect. I have to get under the house, check the old connections, and replace some parts. Where's your hatch to get under the house?"
"Oh, it's around back. You can exit out this side door and walk through the backyard. It's on the eastern side. You might need a screwdriver to remove the grate. Do you need one?"
I pulled a screwdriver from my pocket and showed him. "I should be good. Thank you, though."
"I should've guessed you'd have one."
"I appreciate your concern. Is there anything in the backyard I should be worried about? Dogs? Kids? Wild dogs? Wild kids?"
It was standard banter, and it always got a chuckle out of people. Same thing happened here. "Nothing to worry about," he said. "You should be good."
"Alright. I'll get started so you can get online as soon as possible."
"Great! If you need anything, I'll be doing some work in the back bedroom."
I nodded and headed for the side door. The dining room door led to the pie wedge-shaped backyard, which was larger in the back than the front made it look. The grass was as cooked as its kin in the front, but islands of green weeds seemed to be thriving. In the corner of the lot, an old metal shed stood, rusted to the point where I assumed divine intervention kept it standing. It seemed to have been there since the house had been built – or maybe several decades before.
When I turned the corner of the house, I spotted a woman and child staring into the corner of the yard, their backs facing me. The Woman wore a faded blue dress that fit her well. Tom had, it seemed, out-kicked his coverage with her. I didn't want to startle them, so I offered a friendly "hello" to the pair. The kid started to turn, but the mother placed a hand on their shoulder and kept their heads facing away from me. I squinted along the treeline, trying to see what they were concentrating on, but I didn't see anything unusual.
Just wanting to be done with the job, I let them be and moved on. I turned another corner to the house's short side and spotted the grate leading to the crawlspace. The grate looked as old as the shed, and I wasn't sure I would even need the screwdriver to open it. Hell, I was sure the thing would disintegrate in my hands as soon as I touched it.
I crouched and was about to pull it off when I heard something rustling near me. I glanced back to where I had seen the mom and kid, but they were gone. I assumed I had heard them leaving. I pulled the grate off – I was right, no screwdriver necessary – and as I set it aside, something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye.
It was the kid. A boy around eight or so. But they weren't staring at me exactly. They were looking away from me, staring up at the roof line. I found it odd. Clearly, the kid wanted to talk to me but had turned their back on me. I coughed to let them know that I knew they were there, but they didn't respond.
"Hey man, what's up there?" I said.
"Nothing nice," he said, still keeping their gaze away from me.
"Oh," I said, "Not going to hurt me, is it?"
"Maybe," he said.
Not the answer I was expecting. "What is it?"
"They told me you'd know soon enough."
As he said that, I felt something crawling across my hand. I pulled my hand away from the house and shook it. I saw a spider land in a pile of leaves and scurry away. I let out a nervous laugh. I'm not scared of spiders or anything, but the shock of being told some unseen thing was watching me and didn't look pleased, coupled with the sensation of something on my skin, was enough to justify a quickened heartbeat.
I looked back at where the kid had been standing, but he was gone. I chalked it up to kids being little weirdos and went back to work. The faster I could get this installation done, the quicker I could go home and smoke a bowl. I let Kush be my guide. I put up my hood, turned on my small flashlight, and shimmied through the opening under the house.
I know guys who've worked for the company for years and still dread going into a crawl space. Granted, it's not my favorite thing to do, but I don't mind either. The bugs can be a nuisance but if you don't bother them, they tend to not bother you. Same with rats and mice. Raccoons, though? I crawl out and call animal control. Those little dudes are cute but nasty as all get out. My path today was nothing but cobwebs, so I was okay.
I flashed my light around and saw where the cable line went up into the living room floor. My job here was to ensure the coaxial line's integrity was still good. If it had been chewed on or anything, I'd replace it. Sometimes, I just replaced it anyway—saving myself a potential job later down the line.
I crawled over to where the line came in from the pedestal and started my once-over. I not only looked for any damage but also ran the line through my hands to make sure my eyes didn't miss anything. I was under the dining room area when I heard that side door close.
I stopped. Tom said something, but it was muffled. I wanted to be nosy, so I waited a beat to hear if anyone spoke back to him. Someone did. It was soft and quiet – I assumed it was the Boy – and I didn't make out what they asked, but I did hear Tom's response. In a firm voice, he said, "No, not right now. Run along."
There were footsteps over me that faded into another section of the home. Tom said, "He always wants to jump the gun. How many times do I have to tell him?"
I suppressed a laugh at the last line. It's the official father's lament. I kept moving my hand down the line and didn't feel nicks along the cable. In fact, on closer inspection, the line looked almost new. I was planning to change it, but this looked like it had been installed last week.
I could hear someone walk into the living room as I reached the spot where the line went through the house. Another pair of footsteps followed the first, and I heard a breathy but detached woman's voice ask, "Can we show our faces now?"
"I just told the boy 'no.' What makes you any different?" Tom said, an edge to his voice.
A chill raced through my body. I knew those words, but this conversation made me feel like I spoke another language. Can we show our faces? Why would you not?
"Do you think he'll see us?"
"If I have my way," he said, not finishing that thought. "Leave me be. I must try to get some things done before he leaves, and you two keep bothering me."
What did Tom mean to get some things done before I left? What did he have in mind? While trying to process all this, I heard something shuffle in the darkness just beyond my flashlight beam. I moved it around, trying to see the telltale glowing eyes of varmints, but nothing flashed back at me.
I heard something shuffling again, this time down by my feet. I cocked my head as best as I could and shone the flashlight into that corner of the house but, again, there wasn't anything else down here but me and a thousand spiders. I sighed and finished my inspection of the wire.
As I turned to crawl back out from under the house, I heard somebody sneaking around on the floor above me. The wood groaned as the person moved slowly. I wasn't sure what they were doing, but they wanted to keep it a secret. A shadow fell over the pinprick of light from where the cable went into the house. Someone was standing over it.
"Can you hear them down there? Moving in the dark?" It was the Boy. “They like the dark.”
"What are you saying?"
"The little shadows," he said, "They live down there. Do you hear them?"
This kid was creepy as hell. "I, ugh, I can't hear you, dude," I said, inching my body away from the wire, "We can talk inside."
"They're going to get you, but that's okay," he said, "It only hurts for a little bit, and then you're fine."
Fuck. That. I had no desire to respond to that nightmare of a statement. I hastened my inch-worming, heading back towards the open hatch. As I did, I heard more movement in the darkness around me. I tried to ignore it, but it was a fool's gambit. It was impossible to ignore.
I was getting closer to the opening when I saw a pair of tiny legs walk in front of the hatch. It was the Boy. How did he get there so quickly and without me hearing him run on the floor? I didn't have time to run through the scientific method because the Boy leaned down and placed the metal grate back over the hatch.
"Hey! Hey!" I yelled. "I'm still under here!"
The Boy didn't stop. Instead, he placed a trashcan in front of the grate, enshrouding the entire crawlspace in darkness and trapping me inside.
"Hey! I need you to move that!" I screamed. No response. I raised my fist as high as possible and punched the floor above me to hopefully get Tom’s attention. That was a mistake, as I managed to punch straight into an old nail. I felt it puncture in between my knuckles. The pain was instant, and I let out a howl.
I shook my hand and swore a blue streak. I reached up with my other hand, felt the tip of the nail I had managed to punch, and found a flat spot next to it. I banged hard on the floor and yelled again for some help. Nobody responded. Not at first.
Then I heard someone chuckle under the house.
I couldn't locate where it had come from because it sounded like it was all around me. I swung my light around as best as I could but didn't see anything. No glowing eyes, nothing. I inched forward a bit, and someone laughed again – this time, it was to my right. I turned my light in that direction and saw a sudden flood of light fill the space under the house.
"What the hell?" I said, my desire to leave overtaken by a desire to know what was unfolding next to me.
A pair of kid legs dropped down from the hole in the floor. I realized then that the hole must be an interior crawlspace. The kid had blocked off the metal grate and opened this hatch for some reason. While he dropped his legs down, he didn't move any further.
"Hey, you have to open that metal grate," I yelled. "I don't want to be trapped down here."
"They told me they needed you," he said, followed by a slight chuckle.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" I said, not caring that I was talking to a child. "Open the goddamn grate!"
"The shadows are approaching," he said, pulling himself back into the house. He placed the lid back on the hole, and I was trapped in the dark again. I cursed to myself and started pounding on the floor again.
"Hey! Someone come help me!"
That's when I felt something run across my legs. I nearly jumped out of my skin. It didn't feel like the tiny claws of a passing rat. It was cold to the touch, but as it hit my skin, I felt a burn in my bones. It's hard to explain, but I felt both extremes simultaneously. Whatever it was skittered off into the darkness of the other side of the crawl space.
The kid started laughing again, which brought me back to reality. I army crawled as fast as I could to the grate. I balled up my fist and punched in the middle of the metal. The blow knocked the old nails out of the wall, and the grate broke up. I was about to push away the garbage can when it suddenly wheeled out of the way.
I saw Tom's legs standing there.
"You okay?" he asked, concern in his voice.
I got out from under the house so fast that I left a me-sized dirt cloud in my place. Once out, I shook my body loose as if I had things crawling all over me. Tom watched but didn't say anything at first. We finally locked eyes, and he could see the rage, fear, and confusion on my face. He wisely waited until I spoke first.
"What the hell is wrong with your kid? He blocked me under there and taunted me from the indoor crawlspace."
"What are you talking about?"
"He told me the shadow people or something were watching, and then he blocked me under the house!"
Tom's face twisted up into confusion. "I...I don't understand."
"I can't make it any simpler, Tom!" I screamed, letting unprofessionalism take root.
"I don't have a kid."
It hit me like an Ali right cross. My vision got dizzy, and I struggled to catch my breath. I stared at his face, looking for the sign of a lie or a joke, but he was as stone-faced as an Easter Island statue. After a beat, I found my sense again. "I heard you talking to him in the living room when I was under the house."
"One, I was on a phone call. Two, are you spying on me? What the hell, man?"
"I wasn't spying, and you weren't on the phone," I said. I also heard you talking to your wife. She asked you if she could show her face or something."
"I don't have a wife either."
I shook my head. "I fucking saw them in the backyard! They were staring at the fence!"
Tom paused and cocked his head to the side. When he spoke, it was softly, trying to calm me down. "Are you...did you have a few drinks before the appointment? Or a pill or something? No judging – I know pill heads. I won't report you or anything, but I understand if you need to come back tomorrow with a clearer head."
"I'm sober," I said, gritting my teeth. "But I know what I saw. What I heard."
"As the tree said to the lumberjack, I'm stumped," Tom said. "You look a little flush. You want a bottle of water or something? I can show you I'm here all alone."
My adrenaline had seeped out of my body, and I was starting to feel like myself again. I nodded at Tom, and he smiled. "I'll go grab you one. Do you want to come into the AC?"
"No, I'm okay. I need to double-check the connection to the pedestal."
"Sure. Be bright back," Tom said as he walked off.
But I had no intention of checking the connections. I was going to check on Tom. I didn't believe him at all. Something weird was going on, and I needed to know what. As soon as he turned the corner around the house, I broke out my flashlight and headed back to the crawlspace.
I dropped to the ground and shone my beam into the darkness. Something had crawled on me, and I wanted to see what it was. I moved my light into every section of the crawlspace but saw no eyes glowing back at me.
"If you're under there, call back."
There was nothing. I was starting to feel like a paranoid idiot. I called out once again just to be sure, but again, nothing called back. I shut off my light and sighed. I started pushing myself back to my feet when I heard a faint woman's voice call out, "Can we show our faces now?"
"Not yet," someone hissed from the trees above me. I snapped my head up, expecting to see someone hanging on a branch over my head, but I just saw green leaves.
"Can we show our faces now?" It was the Boy. It sounded like he was on the roof. I shielded my eyes and glanced at the roof but didn't see him.
"No. He's not ready yet," someone whispered in my ear. I snapped around, throwing a punch as I did, only to slam my fist into the fence. I felt one of my knuckles crack as it hit the wood, and the pain shot up my arm like lightning. Within seconds, my hand started to puff up, and blood dripped out the wounds.
The Boy chuckled again. It came from under the house. I looked down at the grate and saw his legs disappear into the darkness.
"Hey!" I called and dropped to the ground. I pulled out my flashlight and shone into the darkness again. I was confident I'd see him, but he wasn't there. Nobody was.
I sat up and felt goosebumps turn my arms into braille. I glanced over to the corner of the house and was surprised to see the disappearing hemline of the faded blue dress. I rushed over to the corner and didn't see the Woman. I saw Tom with a bottle of water.
"You okay?"
"Where did that woman go?" I asked, my voice panicking. "She was just here."
"Sir, do you need me to call your boss for you? You're starting to scare me."
"What's up with this house? Is it haunted?"
Tom started laughing. "I hope not. I just moved in. I'd hate to have roommates again, especially ones who leave ectoplasm all over the place."
As I stared at him, I saw the Woman and the Boy emerge from the other corner of the house. They looked up on the roof, their faces obscured by their hands and the sun. I pointed a finger at them and screamed, "They're right there!"
Tom spun around and looked, but there wasn't anything there. He turned back to me, not sure what to say. Instead, he handed me the bottle of water. "I gotta be honest. I didn't see anything. Drink the water...you might have heat stroke."
I threw the bottle on the ground. "I don't have fucking heat stroke. I have a man that's lying about these things." I got close to him. "What did you have planned for me? Why do they keep asking to show their faces?"
"I don't," he said, but I didn't stay to hear him finish his thought. I walked right past him and turned the corner of the house. As I did, I saw the blue hem disappear through the door that led to the kitchen. I followed right behind her.
I walked into the house, which was as silent as a corpse. The Woman and Boy were nowhere to be seen. "Hello?" I called out. "I just saw you guys walk in here. Where are you?"
The door behind me opened up. Tom walked in, his face reddening with anger. "You can't just walk into my house."
"I saw them walk in. Where are they?"
"I keep telling you, it's just me and you here. Now, if you want to finish your work…."
I walked away from him and headed toward the bedroom where I had seen the Boy standing. I wanted to check that crawl space. The room was empty, not even a moving box in there, so finding the hatch that led under the house was easy. I went into the closet and pried the hatch open.
Tom entered the room behind me, more confused now than angry. "I don't want a line run through here."
"The Boy was standing in this spot. I saw his legs. I spoke to him. He told me the shadows needed me for something." I glared down into the darkness under the house. Despite Tom's feigned declarations that there wasn't another person in the house, I knew he wasn't being honest.
"Okay, I'm pretty sure you're back on pills and in the middle of a delusion," he said.
"How did you know I had a pill addiction?"
"The way you're acting, it wasn't a hard guess."
"I'm sober, but I did have a problem with pills. I never told you. I don't tell anyone."
Tom stood there, confused about how to answer. I stood up and stared him down. He looked away, but I didn't move my gaze. "Who are you? Who put you up to this? Was it Rory? He trying to get me fired?"
Tom's shoulders sagged. "You got me," he said. "Rory hired me to get you in trouble. I'm... I'm sorry. He offered me free cable for a year and assured me you were a bad guy and, well…. I'm weak."
"That's really fuc…," I stopped. "You're lying. Right now. You're lying. Why?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw something dash past the open crawlspace hatch. I turned to the hatch opening and then back to Tom.
"Are you trying to stop me from looking in there?"
He didn't respond.
"What's under there?"
"He is," he said. "The Boy. He hides under there all the time. He has...friends down there."
"The shadow people?"
Tom shrugged, "What he calls them. I call them a menace. Impossible to get my work done with them causing a racket."
"What work?"
"Things you'd never understand in a million years," he said, "Things beyond your brain's capacity to imagine. Things that will help usher in a new world. Your kind's time is coming to a close. My work represents the new order."
I stared at him. I wasn't sure if I should run away or punch his lights out. Instead, I just spat out, "Bro, what the fuck?"
"Can we show our faces now?" the Boy called out from under the house.
I looked down at the hatch and then back at Tom. He nodded toward the opening. "Do you want to see your future?"
"Fuck it," I said. I got down, grabbed the sides of the opening, and lowered my head under the house.
I kept my eyes closed for a second, assuming I'd either see something horrifying or something would hit me in the face. When nothing struck me, I opened my eyes. It was dark, and I couldn't make out anything.
"There's nothing under here," I said.
"Can we show our faces now?" said the Boy from somewhere under the house.
"Show him," Tom said.
I sat back up, grabbed my flashlight from my pocket, and flipped it on. I looked at Tom, "If you try anything, so help me, God."
Tom just smiled. I looked back down at the hatch and sighed. I was suddenly hit with a bolt of common sense. What was I doing? My internal alarms were going off and I was ignoring them. Curiosity had gotten me this far, but my fight instincts were starting to lose to my flight. No job was worth this.
"Man, fuck this," I said, reversing course and standing. I turned to confront Tom, but he was gone. I hadn't heard him leave, but there wasn't a trace of him there. "Tom? Where the hell are you?"
He didn't respond, and I decided that I had hit my "weird shit" quota for the day. I closed the closet door and headed back into the living room to grab my gear. I'd call dispatch and tell them someone else had to come out and finish the….
The wood floor cracked, splintered, and gave way when I put my weight on it. I fell through the floor and landed with a thud on the dirt in the crawl space. On the way down, I hit my ribs on a crossbeam and heard them crack and knock the wind out of me. As I lay on the dirt, writhing in pain, my lungs did their damnedest to find a breath. It couldn't, and my vision started to blur at the edges. For a fleeting few seconds, I envisioned my death on a dirty crawlspace floor. It wasn’t comforting.
I rolled onto my back and finally took in a massive gulp of life-saving air. The blurring vision subsided, and all that remained was the aching pain of a busted rib. My muscles around my rib cage spasmed and pulled tight against my lungs. After the initial big breath, I could only take shallow gulps because the pain was searing.
I lay there for a few seconds, collecting my thoughts, when I felt something skitter across my legs again. I kicked out of instinct but didn't hit anything. Instead, I heard the chuckling again. My flashlight had fallen out of my hand. I found it and turned it on.
This time, I did see something. Pairs of eyes—dozens of them—watched me from the darkness that surrounded me. These weren't possums or rats. I never hoped to find a raccoon under the house more than I did at that moment. I knew whatever these things were, they weren't natural and they wanted to harm me.
"Still want to know what they plan to do to you?" the Boy asked from behind me.
I turned around and shone the light where I heard the voice. The Boy was lying on his stomach, his face looking down at the ground. All I could see at the moment was the top of his head.
"Wha-what's going on?" I said, the light bouncing from my trembling hand.
"I can show you my face now," he said. He raised his head and….
The Boy didn't have a face.
He had the space for a face, but there were no features whatsoever—nothing but pale pink skin pulled tight across the front of his head. At that moment, the image of a wooden art figure came to me.
“What the ever-loving fuck?"
"Want to see something really scary?" the Boy said, his lack of a mouth not stopping him from speaking. He raised himself onto the tips of his fingers and toes and started skittering toward me, laughing as he did.
I clambered out of the crawlspace as fast as my battered body could carry me. I got out of the hole and onto my feet and let out an ear-splitting scream.
The Woman in the blue dress was standing next to the hole in the floor. Like the Boy, she didn't have a face either. But I could feel her eyes on me. Looking into my mind. Into my soul. She stepped toward me, and I bolted for the front door.
I whipped it open and was greeted by Tom standing there, blocking me. He grinned. "Leaving so soon?"
"What the hell is going on?" I asked, checking behind me to see if the Woman was still coming toward me. She was, and she was gaining quickly.
"Can we show our faces now?" he asked with a laugh.
I turned back to Tom and nearly had a heart attack. His face was gone. I could feel my heart beating in my ears. My legs were jelly, but I kept myself propped up. The human desire to survive can perform miracles.
Tom reached out and pointed at a spot on the far side of the living room wall. I turned and saw three skinned human faces hanging from old nails: a man, a woman, and a boy.
"You're turn to join us," Tom whispered. But the voice wasn't said out loud. It came from inside my own head. "We can always use another body around here."
My brain clicked into action and sent an all-points bulletin to my limbs. The message was simple and actionable – "Get the fuck going, you dope."
I felt my hand ball into a fist and spun. It landed where Tom's nose would've been. It should've knocked him back, causing him to stumble and giving me time to run. But that didn't happen. Instead, his face pulled apart, letting my fist slide right through. It closed on my arm, trapping me.
I yanked and yanked, but my arm would not dislodge from his face. I glanced back and saw the Woman nearly next to me. The Boy was climbing out of the hole, moving like a cockroach. I looked back at the wall and saw Tom's hanging face silently laughing.
Something about those silent laughs cut me to my core. They were laughing because Tom thought he had outsmarted me. He had beat me. That my face would soon be hanging on the wall next to theirs. I wasn't going to let that happen.
I saw a loose brick on the walkway, and a plan flashed in my mind. I yanked hard, sending Tom stuttering forward enough for me to wrap my finger around the brick. I brought it up and sent it towards his face. As expected, the face parted again, and the brick flew through easily.
But as soon as the face curtains pulled aside, I yanked my arm free. With my limb free, I took off in a mad sprint for my truck. I got inside and fumbled my keys as I tried to start the engine. Tom, the Woman, and the Boy stood together at the front door and watched as I got the van going and rocketed down the street.
I drove like a madman for ten minutes, trying to put as much space between me and the house as possible. I finally stopped at a gas station to collect my thoughts. I was jittery, and my mind was swimming, but I was also relieved. I had gotten out.
I collected myself and called Denise to tell her I couldn't finish the installation at 981 Maple Street. I was going to suggest we cancel the order and not send another installer there. That's when the conversation took a turn I wasn't expecting.
"Where have you been? You were supposed to be off an hour ago," Denise said when I called her.
"I was trying to finish the install at 981 Maple, the one you sent me to."
"I didn't send you anywhere," she said. "With how insane Rory is being about overtime hours, I'm trying to keep everyone below the threshold."
"What are you talking about? You called and asked me. You don't remember," I said, a bad feeling growing in the pit of my stomach.
She gave me a nervous chuckle, "I swear I didn't. Are you feeling okay? You gotta come back. People are waiting for the van."
"I can prove it. I have a record of you calling me on my phone," I said. I opened my call log, and my jaw dropped. There was no call from Denise. She was telling me the truth. But if she didn't call me, who did?
"Rory wants to talk to you when you get in. I wouldn't mess around, he seems pissed" she said before hanging up.
I haven't moved since. I wanted to write this down because I felt like it needed to be recorded. Something supremely fucked up is happening at 981 Maple Street. It nearly got me. It still might. To think, on any other typical day, a surprise conversation with my boss would be the scariest thing that could happen to me. Funny how seeing a faceless ghoul can prioritize your problems. If you're hired to do work there, turn it down. Trust me, it's not worth it.
"Can we show our faces now?" they asked. "Fuck no," should be the only response.

Does anyone else get anxiety diarrhea? I’m 21 and have been dealing with anxiety since I was around 8 years old. I started getting really bad cramps in my lower stomach and it would shoot pain through my whole body and it made me feel like I might’ve had to go to the bathroom. I get really shaky, sweating, hot or cold, dizzy, and my hands and legs would start to vibrate. I also have emetephobia so I’m afraid of puking and it always makes me feel like I’m going to also throw up. I have to someetimes go to the sink and run water through my head to help with the sweats and try to help with my nerves. Does anyone else get anxiety diarrhea or am I just a different breed? And if you do, what coping mechanisms do you use while on the toilet?
TDLR; bad anxiety poop and what should I do to help?

September 2nd - 07:00 Service to London
The morning commute always felt too early for Simon. Now autumn was rolling in, and the night ate further into the morning, he could barely keep his eyes open. So when he saw it standing across the platform, he was happy to blink and rub his eyes until it was gone.
September 9th - 07:00 Service to London
The same platform, the same spot, shivering. Why had he been this stupid not to bring a jacket? Oxford station was as nondescript as you could get, for a city so beautiful and ancient, it stood out like a big grey concrete thumb. He stood under the canopy sheltering from the rain, sadly it wasn't doing much in the way of protection. Every gust of wind brought icy shards of rain scratching at his face. Looks like he wasn't the only one suffering.
Across from him stood a man. Drenched to the bone, his white shirt clung to him, a tie stained blood red cutting through his torso. With every gust he stood still. Not flinching. Not moving. His eyes locked on Simon. Simon scanned him from head to toe, like a mirror the man responded, tracing his every move. Feeling the rush of a train approaching, Simon took a step back and like a child discovering their legs for the first time, the man stumbled forwards.
Feeling anxious warmth flooded his face, Simon scrambled onto the train. He was safe here. He was safe.
September 16th - 07:00 Service to London
He approached the platform with caution today, yes last week was weird, but it was early and he was tired. When he looked up at the departures the bad mood started. 20 minutes delayed. It was as grey as usual this morning, not raining though, that was a bonus he thought. He stood endlessly scrolling through social media, head locked down. Then he heard it, a high-pitched whistle. His head shot up, and then across from him, there he stood. The same white and red clothed man staring. Simon could feel his heart beating in his throat, his stomach turning in knots. Dark cold eyes were tied to his from across the void of the platform, sucking the warmth from his body. Simon knew he couldn't move, he couldn't bear to watch the man copy him. Breathing heavily he dragged his eyes to the departures, not daring to move a single limb. 3 minutes. He had to hold out for three minutes. He was alone out there, the platform was a lonely headland out at sea, it was just him and the man.
They stayed eyes locked, standing stock still. Simon didn't dare to breathe too heavily. Time was moving, he knew that, but every second was an eternity. Out the corner of his eye he could see a faint light growing brighter and brighter. The train was coming. He would be safe. Then in a split second the man broke his gaze. He was running. His body moved in perfect symmetry flying along the platform, getting closer and closer to the passenger bridge. He can get me. He can get me! Simon's mind was screaming. Alarm bells ringing. The man was getting closer. There was a hollow thud of thunder as the man's feet stormed across the bridge.
The train was pulling in now, its brakes hissing as it glided to a stop. Simon slammed his hand against the button frantically waiting for the doors to slide open, and they did. Inviting him into the warm comfort of the carriage. The man arrived at the bottom of the steps, fixed his gaze on Simon and ran. Gaining on him, 10 metres, 5 metres, 1 metre. The doors slid shut. And the man slammed against them. Simon’s stomach clamped in on itself; he could feel the sour taste of vomit flood his throat and mouth, pouring out onto the floor. His eyes stayed fixed on the glass of the train door. He was looking at his reflection. But this was no trick of the light. The man had his face and he was smiling.
September 16th - 16:34 Service to Worcester
Simon spent his entire day scanning faces. Anyone who crossed his path was a potential threat. He made it through the work day, he would get home, call the police and get answers. Boarding the train with hundreds of other passengers he was shielded, nothing could get him. Every station they passed he checked every face twice. But his mind and body grew tired, he’d spent the day on high alert and he was feeling the effects. His breathing was slowing down, every thought came at half speed and his eyes drooped and drooped until he slipped into a dark dreamless sleep.
The thud of closing doors ripped him from his sleep. He was awake, alert, heart pounding. He could see a station by the window. Charlbury. He'd gone too far, three stations too far. He got up and looked around the cabin and not a single face turned to meet him. He was alone. It’s fine, he thought. He'd get off at the next station and turn around. He'll be home in no time. He sat there pushing every bad thought from his mind, humming a tune he didn't even recognise for comfort. Then in a matter of minutes they were pulling into a station. Standing at the door he surveyed the platform as they slowed. Empty. Completely empty. Then from the corner of his eye he saw it, a flash of white then red, and finally that face. His face. Shit. Shit. Shit. He had to hide. He ran back into the carriage and fell to the floor between two seats, making sure no part of him could be seen above the window. He heard the door hiss shut, and they were moving. He didn't dare to move. Was he alone? He sat still, not allowing a single muscle fibre to twitch. Then like rolling thunder the sound of heavy boots progressed down the carriage. Slow and methodical, they stopped at every row before moving to the next. Fuck it was coming. They were just inches from him. He craned his head up to look.
The eyes staring down at him were pure black. Obsidian marbles studded in the face he saw every day. He tried to scream but his throat clenched shut. A smile stretched across that familiar face. It was no smile he'd ever given. His breath felt like it was coming out in chunks. He couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't move. Then out of its pocket something glinted in the light. He saw his own cowering reflection in the blade. Tears streamed down his face. He knew the pain about to follow would be the last thing he'd ever feel.

For context I have confirmed endo, found in my colon via biopsy during a colonoscopy for an unrelated issue.
For years now, I swear I have been able to tell when I’m about to pass a large clot, and no doctor has ever believed me when I tell them this. I have spoken to 4 about it, 3 gyno drs and my GP who I love dearly, but is not an endo expert.
I have the regular cramps, which are awful, but then usually on days 3-5 I start getting sudden, much much worse and far more intense pains than my usual cramps. It’s one of the most horrid and disgusting pains I have ever felt. They usually only last for a few seconds up to maybe a minute or two. And then shortly after, usually I’ll just go ahead and go to the bathroom because sure enough - huge clot. But the response from Dr is always that clots don’t cause pain. And then I’m left feeling unheard and discouraged.
The last time I had a procedure done (not surgery, doc went up through the cervix) it was just exploratory, and my gyno doc went in with a scope and didn’t even finish the procedure because she was trying to look into my uterus but found so much scar tissue/lesions that was difficult to bypass and she just stopped for fear of doing damage by trying to force it.
I am now left wondering if my clots cause me pain because my scar tissue has begun narrowing the amount of room I have for the menstrual tissue to pass and because the clots are so large, it’s painful when they’re going through the canal, so to speak.
I’m not looking for medical advice, to be clear. I know any sort of actual remedy for this will between my docs and I (and almost certainly a surgery, which we are discussing) but I think I might feel a little less frustrated if I knew I wasn’t the only one who experienced this. Or if anyone has had this problem and gotten validation from their doc about it.

This incident occurred about 2 years ago now and in hindsight i feel like i was pretty dumb to do nothing about this
I had the house to myself and went out and got some Chinese food and as im sticking a movie on and eating I feel a headache coming on. I down a few glasses of water before it starts getting worse
I then become very hot I’m burning up. I go outside and sit in and I pass out for a split second (I know it was just a that because the same scene was still going in the movie)
My headache got worse and I feel like I’m going to be sick so I go to the bathroom put my head over the toilet and instantly projectile vomited. The split second after this occurs I experience the most pain I have ever felt in my life my head is in agony and I’m starting to get blurred kinda wavy vision, terrified out of my mind i reach into my pocket for my phone but then I projectile vomited a second time and…..that was it I felt amazing, headache was gone it was like the last few minutes didn’t happen.
Cleaned up brushed my teeth and some time later reheated my food and carried on eating (yeah a bit icky in hindsight)
Should I have done something after this incident ? Instead of just continuing on my night ?
I knew it wasn’t the food as it started just a few bites , but yeah what was that just.
It surely was just a migraine but it came and went in the space of a few minutes?

Hello everyone, I was really hoping to get any help/tips in relation to how to go about getting a diagnosis and oif MCAS is what I’m experiencing. I’m a 39yo female living in the US, trying to navigate the medical system, which so far, has been disheartening. I realized that my symptoms slowly started to show themselves when I was about 16? It all started with me getting the most intense heart palpitations after eating, which then would turn into headaches and a loss of energy to do anything at all. Laying down would not help either with the heart palpitations. I suffered with this ever since then, with varying intensity (it has gotten better when my diet became simple, but I still experience it). Then around my 20’s I noticed when I walked faster than my usual pace or ran, I would develop this incredible itch that would get excruciating- the itch would turn into pain and I simply had to stop to gather myself . I ignored these symptoms , thinking that I’m out of shape but even when I became active, they didn’t go away. In the past 4 years, the particular itching has spread to the rest of my body. If I walk at a faster pace, the itching starts in my legs and now goes all the way up to my face. The best way I can describe how this feels- is that I want to crawl out of my skin . There were times when I had to stop and just cry out of pain and desperation. My feet also felt like they’re on fire, too! Another thing that added onto it was that, also around 4 years ago, I started experiencing hair loss. I went to see a dermo, who told me it’s stress induced hair loss that could potentially turn into permanent hair loss. I don’t have anyone in the family who has had hair loss- because he insisted that it’s hereditary, if it does turn into a permanent thing. He suggested I take minoxidil but I can’t take it since I already have low blood pressure. For the last year , my scalp has become extremely sensitive , to a point where when I put my head on a pillow, it hurts. I can’t move my hair from side to side because that hurts too. I went to see another demo who said the same thing and basically said everything I’m experiencing is a part of hair loss. Not to mention the constant itching in my scalp- it’s literally NON STOP. I don’t use any hair products, I don’t blow dry my hair… I sense that the hair loss is connected to the bigger picture of what’s happening with my health. I’m leaving out many other symptoms out of worry that I wrote too much. I finally got an appointment with an allergist but I can’t help feeling discouraged. I’ve been dismissed by doctors many times .. I’ve been told to go to therapy - which is probably implying that they believe this is psychological. I don’t know what tests to ask for because the ones they do, all come back normal. I am always tired and I have to push through to go to work.. to try to live my life and do what I can but there’s always the underlying lethargy. My sleep isn’t good.. even when I go to bed at the same time every night. Anyway, I would appreciate any input, even if you can relate to what you’re reading - that would really help, too! I appreciate your time!

Okay I have done it all for my acne. I have been on doxy and even done a course of accutane. It was awful but the clearest my skin has ever been. I'm in a more humid area now and my skin has been breaking out like crazy. Clogged pores, blackheads, white heads, cystic ache and l literally don't know what to do. My face is just rough to look at it's like a teen going through puberty but l'm a grown adult. I will not be on birth control ever again. I have a superb skincare routine! I help friends who ask for skincare products and then they get great results. I use a salicylic acid face wash, I have dif night and day serums, the derma-E scar gel, retinol (night only) an acne friendly moisturizer and sunscreen. Throughout the day it's so hot and humid I spray my face with hypochlorite acid twice a day when I go outside and put on an oil free sunscreen. I suggest this stuff to other pol and it works for them but not me: (.I dread seeing my face in the mirror and literally don't know if I even have any options left. I might do accutane again and it's awful but I feel like I'll just relapse again. Plz send any kind of well researched or professional advice.

Aw are planning on a road trip with our 3 year old and we need something to help stop his head falling forward when he naps. Looks so uncomfortable.
Please send me your recommendations!
As his carseat is forward facing, I don't think I can tilt/recline the carseat like I could when it was backwards facing.

TLDR at the bottom
Yesterday after working a double I decided for dinner to make some Reuben’s for my wife and I. I swing by Krog’s, get all the fixins, and head to the deli for some pastrami and swiss.
I approach and there’s a stereotypical boomer man there. New balances, boat dealership hat, wrap around shades, cell phone clip, you know the type. In typical oblivious boomer fashion he’s standing right up on the counter so there’s a whole section you can’t see. But whatever. I grab my number and that’s when he feels the need to talk to me.
Now before I go any further let me set the scene. You got boomer douche doing boomer douche things, me, and a younger woman with her kid and a cart of groceries who walks up maybe 30 secs after me. Behind the counter is a very young lady. I’m talking kid. She could’ve been maybe 18, but looked 12. Probably first job. And it’s just her.
Boom in a voice loud enough for the kid behind the counter to hear: total bullshit. Not only does no one want to work but look at how slow she’s going.
Me: spins in a circle to look for who he’s talking to. I know it’s me but I did it for the effect. Hoping this fuck would get the hint. He did not. I then stare blankly at him for about 5 secs then turn to face the meat.
Boom: begins to talk some more bullshit to me
Me: mid Boom sentence I turn to woman with the kid and say, “That’s a really awesome top. It’s so cool. My wife would love that!” It was a dope TMNT shirt this lady was wearing. Now I could tell that she could see the despair in my eyes. I wanted saved. I needed it. But for reasons known only to her she wasn’t haven’t it. In a moment of pure millennial non verbal communication she said “sorry bro, I’m exhausted. Leave me be. You’re on your own with him.” Fair enough sister. I got this.
I turn back to the counter to start blankly at the meat. This is when Boom decides to flex
Boom: you know it’s rude to turn away and talk to someone else when someone is trying to speak to you.
Me: you know it’s douche move to talk shit on someone that’s trying to help you loud enough for them to hear. Probably makes them awful. It also really sucks when you have to speak to someone you really don’t want to talk to in the first place.
Boom: what did you say? You got some balls talking like that.
Me: rule one in life—when you act like an asshole don’t be surprised when you’re treated like an asshole. Now are we going to keep doing this or are you going to fuck off away from me and leave me alone?
It was at this moment when boomer.exe failed. This jabronis brain damn near melted and leaked out of his ear. Old boy stood there and stared at me for like 5 seconds, rebooted, huffed and walked away. And when I say away, like left. Dude didn’t even get his shitty old baloney or whatever fucked up thing he ordered. Probably olive loaf or some garbage like that.
I look to my left and the woman with the kid is smiling and giggling. Kid behind the counter appears and asks about boomer. I told he left. She breathed a sigh of relief and took my order. I felt like I did my good deed for the day.
Tldr: boomer tries to talk to me about some dumb shit, I tell him to fuck off, his brain melts, he fucks off.

So I (25f) had a relationship that was highly committed. It was 8 years, age 16-24. It's been a little over 16 months since we separated.
I have had enough time to know that it wasn't very healthy, pretty codependent, and my ex didn't treat me well. But it feels like it's taking a really long time to heal. It was intensely painful for about 6 months, and I went into a mental health crisis and almost died during that period. Been in therapy since then, and still go weekly. But it still hurts like it did 3-4 months into the breakup. I still think about my ex a few times a week if not daily. Can't get them out of my head.
I have been actively trying to move on and work on myself, but it feels like a part of me has been permanently broken. I yearn for companionship, but I don't know if I have it in me to open myself up like that again. Even so, I never dated anyone else besides my ex and I don't understand things like flirting, how to approach people, how to meet people, etc. My social skills and trust have been utterly destroyed. I haven't met anyone in my life since the breakup, and I just can't seem to find anyone who would remotely want to be friends with me. I have essentially spent this period of time completely alone, with the exception of my mother and my elderly grandfather (we take care of my grandfather together). It is great that my mom has been supportive, but she is getting older with health issues and won't be around forever. If she passed, I'd literally have nobody in my life.
I guess I'd just like to hear some advice or stories from people who have moved on or had improvement after their LTR. It feels like I am still in the early days of healing, and I really hope I am not like this forever. I know healing is a different process for everyone, but I am still in a lot of daily emotional pain this long afterwards. I really like my therapist, and therapy has helped me be more functional, improve my situation, and give me someone I can talk to. However, it seems limited in how much it can help. It seems like most people in my shoes have moved on by this point, and some have found other partners. (How the hell could you even date again after such a strong commitment???) I've done everything they recommend to do when you go through a breakup, I am trying to love myself but I feel like a lost cause who is unlovable and broken. I worry that something in me was permenantly broken and can't be fixed.
Thanks for reading and responding to this.

I have Ulcerative Colitis that has been in remission for nearly 15 years (very thankful for that!). Started taking Vimpat and a few weeks later am getting that awful feeling of not being able to eat/weight loss/pain and the usual UC feeling. Anyone here with UC that has found a good medication combo? Trileptal hospitalized me twice with low sodium (currently tapering off), I got a rash with Onfi, and Briviact helped a lot but didn't eliminate seizures. Current diagnoses is intractable focal epilepsy (likely temporal lobe). Thanks for any advice!

So, a week ago today I came back from a 10 day vacation with my long distance girlfriend. We hadn't seen each other or had sex in about 4 months, so naturally we were going at it quite a lot, all unprotected (she uses NuvaRing). My GF has genital HSV-1, but she was infected almost 3 years ago and she takes viral suppression drugs whenever we're going to be together. She hasn't had any outbreaks besides her first one.
My only symptoms right now are an occasional, very slight but noticeable burning sensation during and after urination, and an occasional very slight itching of the urethra near the head of my penis, which I can only relieve by squeezing just below the head of my dick. Occasionally, some watery discharge that looks and feels like precum. I also had a random sore throat starting the day before I left to go home, which lasted for 3 or 4 days, but it wasn't scratchy or painful except for when swallowing, and my lymph nodes weren't swollen.
It's worth mentioning that I tested positive for chlamydia once a long time ago, in December 2020. I did the whole treatment regimen and tested again 9-10 days later, came back negative. Given my previous experience with chlamydia and the slight chance of exposure, I'm feeling a tad paranoid. What could be causing this? Possible non-STI bacterial infection from all the unprotected sex? Not always urinating after ejaculations? Using lubricant that's 3 years old? Non-specific urethritis from oral sex? My GF and I have been each other's only sexual partners for at least 11-12 months.