Fever sweating coughing stuffy nose

I recently paid for sex with a sex worker 25 days ago. I used a condom during intercourse (insertive) the WHOLE time! Only received oral without a condom. In my consideration this was a safe encounter? Not once did the condom slip of or anything. I ended up being really paranoid so I ended up doing an at home test which is sent to laboratories for results... I received a phone call and I knew instantly what it was for, the result was reactive most likely with the p24 antigen. I am absolutely distraught. Immediately after the reactive result I went and purchased a sure check HIV rapid test kit. Negative. I also purchased one today to check again as I can't get it off my mind. Negative. These are taken exactly 24 and 25 days after the event.
Prior to the encounter I was quite ill, had a small fever and I'm still coughing up green mucus today... these symptoms started BEFORE the encounter which I'm quite sure about. Is this a possibility why I might be flagging as reactive?
I've read about a lot of reactive results turning out to be negative... what are my chances based on my encounter? The clinic has taken a proper blood test whilst I await results.

About two weeks ago I thought about writing a story under 1,000 words. Would you believe ... 2,093 words? Enjoy!
At 9 PM, my roommate Martine pulled her knees closer to her chest and corrected her balance on the bay window bench seat. She never once looked at me as I finished neatening up the living room behind her. I didn’t expect her to notice me. She was waiting for her new love interest, Baylun. Nothing short of setting her clothes on fire would break her concentration before he arrived.
That’s why I didn’t bother to ask her if I looked okay. Yes, I wanted to make a good impression on Baylun because being presentable is being polite. Also, I didn’t want to give Martine any reason to leave me without her monthly half of the rent. If she left despite me being as perfect as I can be, well, nothing I can do about that. And given how intensely she was staring out the window, I wouldn’t be surprised if she expected Baylun to propose tonight. On their third date.
As if she’d read my mind, she spoke without turning her head. “Would you add him to the lease? I mean, if you like Baylun?”
“My Aunt Gloria might okay it. There’s enough room here. We can ask.” Why did I feel the need to appease her and pretend I wouldn’t be uncomfortable as the third wheel in my aunt’s rental house? My best guess is because appeasing and pretending are the cornerstones of my life, I’m very good at them.
Luckily, Martine was already not listening. “He’s here,” she whispered, sliding off the bench seat. After picking up her silk shawl, she partially opened our front door. Footsteps coming up our front steps stopped at what I presumed was the top step.
Beaming, she opened the door and invited him in. The man who entered had to duck to get in and I had to stop myself for apologizing to him. He was well dressed, looked like the proverbial “million dollars” and as he bent to give Martine a kiss on the cheek, I saw his eyes.
I froze for a moment, staring at the wrinkles around his eyes. Inhaling sharply, I blinked and shifted my gaze to Martine. She’d described Baylun as mature for his age. She’d failed to tell me he was at least middle age. That may sound ageist and I’m sorry for that but Martine and I are both 22 years old and Baylun looked twice that. He might be kind and, as Martine mentioned more than once, rich, but he might also be constantly on the lookout for a younger model than the one currently on his arm. Far be it from me to pass judgment without proof, but I would need more than Martine’s affirmation to feel comfortable with him as a roommate.
Introductions were short if not sweet. Baylun extended his hand and shook mine, which gave me some relief. If he’d kissed my hand I would undoubtedly have done nothing except internally cringe.
“Are you ready?” he asked, looking first at Martine who nodded enthusiastically. Then he looked at me and raised his eyebrows as if waiting for a reply. My jaw dropped, in real time.
Martine stared at me for half a second before jumping in to save me. “Lise was just getting her sweater, right, Lise?”
Thanks for covering for me, Martine. My plans for the night included pjs as soon as you guys left, but how could I say no? Except for flat out saying “No” which would be unthinkable.
“Right, I forgot it, and where are we going?” I squished in behind Martine, reached into the closet and took the top sweater from the neatly folded pile in the sweater drawer.
Baylun made a noise that was probably meant to sound like laughter. “Heddon’s Hill. To see the stars. Cloudless night tonight!”
Martine clapped her hands a couple of times, giving me a jolt of second-hand embarrassment. “Baylun asked me to keep it a secret. He brought a bottle of really good wine. It’s in his car, right, babe?”
Baylun didn’t say anything as he put his hand on her cheek like she was a child. She stared at him, as if in a trance. He didn’t purr audibly but that’s the best way I can describe his facial expression. Then I looked him in the eyes and the silence that followed hurt my ears.
A wave of panic immobilized me. I looked away and struggled to put on the sweater.
When he spoke, he whispered but it felt like thunder to my ears. “Perhaps a heavier outer layer?”
Martine snapped back into reality. “You look cold. Grab a hoodie, we’ll meet you in the car.”
That was the out I needed. “You know what, I feel awful. Go ahead, enjoy. I’ll take cold meds and try to be awake when you get back, to hear all about it.” To convey sadness at missing out on being a third wheel and resigned acceptance of impending illness, I grimaced and shrugged.
Martine considered me for a moment before agreeing. She leaned gently against Baylun’s arm and squeezed his hand. “Could we be back in an hour, babe?”
He turned his full attention on her and nodded. “Yes. We will. Goodbye, Lise.”
I thought about saying goodbye and decided a coughing fit would be more suitable. As I covered my mouth with my left elbow, I waved weakly with my right hand. The two lovebirds got into the car and when I heard it backing down the driveway, I poured a couple of teaspoons of night time anti-cold liquid down the sink. To make sure I smelled like I’d taken it, I licked the spoon before washing it.
When they returned, Martine walked in at a slower pace than usual and Baylun put his arm under hers as soon as they were both inside, so she could lean on him. She didn’t seem upset. She also didn’t make eye contact with me. My first thought was she had a bit too much wine, but we’ve had drinks together. She’s always been a little louder, a little more animated after a bit of alcohol. I started wondering if she’d consumed something other than wine while stargazing. Not judging, just trying to find an explanation that didn’t scare me about her health.
Instead of speaking to me, Baylun nodded and continued supporting Martine, helping her through the house. I reasoned he was taking her to the bathroom or her bedroom, so I squeezed in beside him and ran to open her bedroom door. Baylun led her to the far side of her bed so he was facing me, and helped her to lie down.
Except he didn’t lay her down right away. He held her halfway between standing and lying down, stared into my eyes and put his mouth on her neck.
I know how this sounds. My brain undoubtedly recognized the set-up. Yet I was unprepared for what happened.
Baylun retracted his lips, revealing two bloody fangs and touched Martine’s neck as if searching for something. Just before his fingers found them, I saw two wounds on her neck. He positioned his fingers so his fangs went into the wounds. Martine shuddered for a second, then sighed and stopped moving.
I inhaled sharply. Nothing made sense and I couldn’t remember how to move. When I realized my hand was still on the door handle, I leaned on it slightly, turned and ran to the front door.
Baylun met me there. I didn’t hear him walking or running. He wasn’t at the door and then he was, positioned to prevent me from opening it. He wasn’t frowning. He didn’t lean towards me or touch me, for which I was grateful.
But his eyes. They sparkled, they were bright and lively, and they were wrinkle-free. He looked my age, not middle aged. He looked like the guy I’d met an hour earlier, only younger.
I took a step backwards.
He took a step forward and spoke, his voice quiet and calm.
“If you say anything to her about what you saw, I will deny it and she will believe me. Then I will show you what it’s like to burn in hell.”
This was the second time in one night life handed me a “get out of trouble” card and I grabbed it with both hands. Frowning with the hopes of presenting as confused, I asked, “Okay, I thought it was very kind of you to bring her home, but I think I get it. What’s our story if she asks?”
He crossed his arms and studied me for a long moment. “I’m glad you understand. You can take credit for getting her into bed.”
I nodded and brought my left hand to my mouth, trying to look thoughtful. “And you asked her to text when she gets up tomorrow? Or is that too much?”
He chuckled and uncrossed his arms. “That’s just what I was thinking.” He stared at my mouth.
A rush of fear froze me in place. “Everything okay?”
“It will be.” He pointed at the right side of my mouth.
A sharp pain on the side of my face woke me up. It was still dark. I was in my bed. I tried sitting up and learned my pillowcase was stuck to the corner of my mouth.
Instant panic. I picked up the pillow and ran to the bathroom where a quick glance in the mirror above the sink revealed the substance wasn’t glue, it was blood. As awful as that was, my initial reaction was “Better than glue.” A little warm water on a face cloth eased the pillowcase off my skin and I set the case and face cloth on the counter.
For a brief moment I felt absolute relief. I held onto the sides of the sink and took a deep breath.
A drop of blood landed on the right side of the sink.
Blood could be from biting my lip, or inside of my cheek or even my tongue in my sleep. Or a nosebleed.
Another drop of blood landed on the sink.
It was so weird. Nothing hurt. Not my nose, not my lip, not my tongue. I struggled to figure out what I did, why I would be bleeding. Did I do something foolish before I went to bed?
I couldn’t remember going to bed.
Time to look in the mirror. There wasn’t any obvious damage, so I used my fingers to move my lips away from the right side of my mouth.
My canine tooth was missing. Another, sharper tooth was working its way out of the gums. That’s where the blood was coming from.
I leaned in and looked more closely at it. The emerging canine was definitely tearing through the gum, making it bleed.
A scream worked its way up my throat. I stood up, ramrod straight, shut my mouth and gently placed the face cloth on it.
I tiptoed down the hall to Martine’s bedroom door. It was shut. She was breathing in a regular pattern, not quite snoring.
I came back to my bedroom and checked my phone. 4:45 AM. When did I come to bed? Baylun was here, I remembered him with Martine and then at the door. Seems like he’s gone, unless he’s sitting in the dark in the living room or kitchen.
Any other day, Martine would be waking up in two hours. If she does, I don’t doubt she’ll be excited to hear Baylun wants her to text him.
I want to throw up. A few hours ago, life felt so normal. Now a giant canine tooth is pushing its way into my mouth. Maybe the other one is, too. I don’t care to find out. I also don’t want to go to the hospital where I’ll run out of answers before the staff run out of questions.
Maybe I can take a couple of days off work, see if the new dental situation affects my sleep schedule. Maybe I can find a night job.
Or maybe I’m a vampire, condemned to a life of hunting humans and being hunted by humans. I’m going to wait until Martine gets up before posting this. She might have a lot more information on this.
My mind is clearer now. My memories are back. It’s time for me to disappear from Martine’s and my Aunt Gloria’s lives. I can do it. I must do it. For their safety, and for mine. Everything is not okay. Not yet.

Hello I am 21F, I went to urgent care yesterday for a lingering cough (2+ weeks) and some chest pressure/pain with shortness of breath. I have previous heart issues and have been taking phentermine so I was worried. Anyway, the doctor (who was in a rush) said my lungs sound clear but i have a low grade fever so he wants me to go on Prednisone 5 days 50mg and take a ZPak. I was hesitant on taking steroids so I did my research on the drug and quickly saw that tapering is important. If it’s 5 days should I decrease the dose everyday until it’s at 20? Does it matter if it’s only 5 days.
Also- my chest still hurts tbh. Should I see a second opinion? would phentermine+prednisone be bad on a weak heart? I also vape, but I quit almost a month ago!
more info- Cough is productive and painful. Loud “barking” sound. One instance I had a coughing fit that prompted me to vomit. I had an Atrial Septal Closure devise placed into my heart through a catheter in my vein at 7. I should be going to yearly cardiologist visits to make sure it’s stays in place but i haven’t gone in 5 years.

I am used to pvcs if I am poorly and have a fever.. cos the heart is going faster due to fever.
However, I have a cold right now (sore throat, runny nose, headache) but no fever, heart isn’t going any faster than normal… But I’m getting PVCS..
Does this happen to anyone else?

Started Paxlovid 2 weeks ago. Started on Day 3. I know where I got it and when.
First run of Paxlovid went well. No issues.
Second time went well too but I'm left with a dry cough.
I've been testing negative since the end of Paxlovid.
The cough is the only symptoms I have. No fever, no runny nose. I've gained my sense of smell and taste. I'm no longer fatigued.
I was told to use my Symbicort and Ventolin. Normally Ventolin always worked for any cough I've had but not this time.
I'm still coughing.
It's a dry cough and sometimes I cough so much it's like I'm missing air in my lungs.
Should I call my doctor for antibiotics or wait and consider it part of COVID recovery?

I had quite the weird roommate experience. To preface, my situation wasn’t terrible, but did have a major impact on my mental health, academic performance, and socialization this past freshman year of college.
To start off, I met my roommate through a college bios page. What seemed great over the phone turned into a quick nightmare as soon as the end of august rolled around. The first day we were in a room together, you could feel the awkwardness and disconnect and it never went away, even at the end of the second semester. Basically my roommate became good friends with this girl down the hall, and started to treat me and the other girls roommate like garbage.
Long story short, I became friends with the other girls roommate who was in the same situation as me. There was a football game the one day and I was getting ready with my friend in my room, and my roommate was getting ready with my friend’s roommate in her room (2 doors apart). My friend went to grab something from her room and prompted me to get out in the hallway. Not even a foot out of the door, they are blowing us up in that room to some random chick. Mind you, they had NO reason to be talking about us. Their reasoning was that my friend and I came home late and made “too much noise while they were sleeping.” HELP ME NOW BC THEY WERENT EVEN SLEEPING, AS HER ROOMMATE WAS AT A PARTY THAT NIGHT AND I DIDNT EVEN SEE HER LMAO. As for my roommate, she was in her bed on her phone with the big light on. You weren’t sleeping. It was nearing 10pm on a Friday night.
I know this sounds ridiculous up to this point but it’s just hypocritical, because she would have her friend in my room or would be in my friend’s room all the time making noise. My roommate used to let her friend in early in the morning because we all had an early class together, and she would literally come and start socializing when i wasn’t even awake yet. Talk about disturbing someone’s sleep. Well anyway, this may have been wrong on my part as im being fully transparent here, but I muted her contact that day because my friend and I were about to go to the football game, and my roommate and her friend were going separately. I saw them in the lobby and glared at them when they smiled and waved because they had no clue ts I just heard them say. I partly muted her contact for the day so I didn’t have the urge to send her something nasty if Im gonna be honest. I had simply had enough of her.
Well come the next day, I’m laying in my bed feeling so alone. I wanted for the life of me to be able to be friends with my roommate, but after hearing what she said about me, it was pretty disheartening. I put a lot of work into our room. I was the only one who ever cleaned. I was the one to buy the fridge and microwave because she was out of state and I didn’t want her to have the hassle of transporting those things. I was just in a really bad headspace and missing home that I didn’t get out of bed that morning until late. Well, I start to hear fingers slamming the keypad. You don’t have to use the keypad unless you’re in a lock out situation. Here it comes…
This annihilation of a human being bursts into the room and goes, and I quote, Is there a reason you fing blocked me? (Because I wasn’t getting her calls as she was still muted). And I straight up said, yeah there actually is, I heard all the sht you said about me yesterday. The woman was too stunned to speak. But she spoke. “Still that isn’t a reason to not answer my calls. I’m not obligated to you. I swear if you touch any of my s**t, I’m gonna call the cops.”
Runs out and slams the door
Gave me no room to talk whatsoever. And what’s funny about the last part is that my roommate and her friend, while they were talking about us, did in fact touch my friends stuff as her closet was rummaged through, her shoes were messed with, her mirror was broken. Not to mention my stuff was starting to be out of place too. She was really just reflecting herself. She helped herself to all of my food, ate an ENTIRE box of chips my mom had gotten me to take to college. This chick was loaded with money too, there was no reason she was eating my food when I could barely get by.
There’s a lot of small things that happened after that. She apologized the same night but I never saw her the same after. What really burnt me was the fact I gave her a phone wallet for her student id and she never even put it on to this day. She had no reason to be locked out given the fact she wanted the wallet and never put it on. That’s entirely her fault. And up to that point, I’m honestly glad I had her contact muted. This was her karma.
Another comical karma story was when it was a Sunday or something, and I went to the library that day for 6 hours. That’s not terrible long for me for a weekend, but that day I was exhausted. I was heading back to my room when she texted me, “how much longer will you be out of the room?” because her boyfriend was there and she wanted time alone with him. He was also from out of state and would come see her. Mind you, at this point, they weren’t even in the room. They were at a sporting event. I’ve honestly had it up to this point because I would give them PLENTY of time alone all the time, whether they were on the phone together or in person. She never did the same for me, and my relationship is longer than hers.
I simply replied “well I just got back but I guess I can leave again” which was honestly kind of passive aggressive but like atp I was so fed up with her garbage. She had my location and purposely made it a big deal that I was going back to the room. I just grinded for 6 hours, and she never even told me her boyfriend was coming that day. On the way to the room she sprained her ankle and had to be taken to urgent care. Needless to say I got some sleep that day actually. But I walked into my room and her packages were thrown all over my desk, because my space was just hers i guess lmao.
Karma is real. Don’t be a terrible, inconsiderate roommate. Also here is a list of less explained occurrences that have happened throughout this unforgettable freshman year
-took multiple pictures of me while I slept
-she got so sick and coughed all over everything, blew nose loudly all night but complained when I got sick to my face
-bribed me with a stanley cup after threatening to call the cops on me for not answering her
-flooded our room with water from the bathroom when i wasn’t there and posted about it on her instagram story without even texting me about it (the water was mostly on my side and she tried blaming in on someone else)
-left old food in the fridge, the fridge that I bought (and im talking like months old food and drinks
-would call her bf for hours every day but not talk (he could just hear and see me and i wouldn’t even know he was on the phone)
-offered me to live with her next year and oddly enough backed out last second (we were on semi good terms at this point)
-would make me feel unwelcome in my own room
-would look at me weirdly if I came in during one of her day and night long phone calls with her bf
-would be loud asf while getting ready and then expected me to tip toe around her when I got ready
-posted a picture of me on her instagram complaining about having a roommate because she couldn’t cry over her chem grades with me in the room, when she never even left the room for me to do so when I experienced 2 deaths in the span of a few months
I’m sure communication on my end could have helped some, but it came to the point where it was pointless. I didn’t care for her at all. What burnt me is that she started being super nice to me the last two weeks of school which made it hard to just block her like i originally had planned. Would I look like a bad person for doing so, or is this completely validated with my experiences with her. I’ve never met someone so oddly unaware of themselves. It makes me cringe DEEPLY whenever I think about her and what I had to put up with. I also want to mention I did go to my RA and Res Director about this early on, so it’s not like I blatantly didn’t do anything about it.

I do not live at home, my rooms smells so stale and bad and almost nose blocking and can't find the solution. Room is dirty and messy with everything on the floor or table and is just overwhelming to look at, If I try to clean it gets too hot for me or I start sweating and have to stop. My hair is ruined at the moment because I dried it wrong, everything is so bad and I can't find any solution. Everything I try makes the matter worse.

I was in China for 17 days and upon return have developed mild blisters that spread from my leg to torso. The leg regions have lightened drastically. I’ve also gone through a brief fever and am now just stuffy and clogged up in my nose. Had diarrhea for a day.
The blister? Rash spots? Don’t rlly itch but if I scratch them I will want to keep scratching.
F21

A long time ago I watched and disliked Frozen1 a lot.
Then I watched Frozen 2 a few days ago. I loved it and I liked Kristoff a lot(how he is mature emotionally etc).
Then I watched Frozen 1 again and remembered one of the reasons why I hated Frozen 1 : Kristoff is soooo dirty❗️
In the beginning of Frozen 1, the grownup Kristoff eats a carrot that's been in Sven's mouth Yuck! GROSS‼️🤮 He spits on his sled(that splashes on Anna's face), eats his own booger(also in that sled), is stinky(says it himself in Oaken's barn and Trolls agree), licks fungus(Olaf's adventure), and doesn't bathe often(Frozen Fever). (Kristoff tells Anna in the sleigh "all men pick their nose and eat it". I'm sure he himself is included in the "all men")
And a princess kisses his mouth that has all those gross things in it 🤢
Urghhhhth🤢‼️🤢 everything is just so freaking turn off.

I have pollen, hazel allergy. About month ago used to sneeze every second, itchy and watery eyes and nose, blocked nose etc. But now I only have stuffy nose so I need to blow it often. Is that normal for allergy?

I’ve tested positive with viral infection 2 weeks ago, went through all the motion, nausea congestion, runny nose, body aches but never really had a cough feeling better but the only symptom that seems to be lingering is lower abdominal pain?? This was my first symptom also doctor said more then likely just a “viral hangover” as basic tests and examination is fine just abit tender in my abdomen, anyone else experience this issue??

It was late November 2015. I was 51 and one year past my divorce (which was not related to cheating) when I became so disgusted with myself that I knew I had to pick myself up. I was alone for the long holiday, and although I wasn't really sad or lonely, I felt empty. However, I had some extra time to consider how does one picks oneself up.
I made a list of potential New Year resolutions that were individually realistic. Some were really easy and stupid like “have your chipped front tooth fixed” and “take & post a selfie”. These smaller tasks fueled my confidence and provided the energy boosts needed to tackle the more challenging resolutions, like starting a weight loss challenge at work.
Skip ahead to March 4th 2016. I had a Friday lunch date with a married client that I met two weeks prior. Of course, it was not a real date, as I wouldn't impose myself on a married woman, nor would I risk my career or my ego, especially if the signals she seemed to be sending were just a product of my wishful thinking, stimulated by checking off some boxes on the list on the fridge dated 1/1/16.
The following is my thank you note to her for a great date as well as for helping me check a lot of boxes over the past few weeks. I sent her a link to it as it is in the form of my first ever online post (one more check box, YAY!).
************************************** We were only 1 minute in the hotel room; her jeans in a ball on the floor. She sat at the foot of the king sized bed and backed her way into the stack of oversized pillows lining the headboard. I followed as If attached by a leash. I landed somewhat awkwardly on my elbows between her legs finding myself squarely face to face with the tattoo. This tattoo, that she so shamelessly revealed just a week ago, the same tattoo that has been scorching my thoughts and the same tattoo that she promised me complete and unlimited access.
It’s been a long time since I have been here or anywhere near as nice as here, between the legs of a beautiful woman 20 years younger and far out of my league....even when I was her age. I took a second to drink in my fortunate situation. I admired her panties. All day I was so hoping she would wear those same panties as before. She didn’t. These were different but similar enough. The delicate lace and silk perfectly framed the tattoo on her hip. She did not disappoint. There is a fruity jasmine scent, intoxicatingly pleasant, and oh so subtle. It is not here. I’ll need to find its source. I want more of that. (I remember being thoroughly impressed and thinking to myself “This girl is good”.)
I briefly forgot that there was someone else here besides myself and the tattoo. How long have I been down here perving out on her? I wondered. I hesitated, and then apologetically looked up half expecting a well-deserved snarky glare. What I found instead was an ear to ear compassionate smile followed by a tilt of her head and an arch of her eyebrow that said “I like that you like that, carry on”.
With confidence restored that we were still in sync, I adjusted myself so that I was in a good position to thoroughly enjoy what I came to do. I kissed the tattoo hard and gave it a good lick. The challenge for today was “Taste the Tattoo” and I won. I did a small celebration gesture that she rolled her eyes to. I continued to kiss and taste all around until every freckle got some personal attention. As I got to the upper most reaches of her inner thighs, I looked up to check in as I was about to cross a new line. For the first time she was not looking back at me but had laid her head back deep into the pillows, her eyes closed. I took that as a yes!
I marveled at the softness of her inner thighs on my cheeks as I gently placed kisses up one and down the other. As I kissed her through her panties, her hips responded by arching her up in anticipation of each next kiss. Before long, those wonderful panties were just getting in the way. I stopped and pondered whether to just slide them aside or remove them or to risk interrupting the mood and attempt a complete wardrobe removal as we were both still fully dressed except for her jeans.
I didn’t have to ponder long as she knew what she wanted and it was not any of the options I was considering. Still lying back with her head semi submerged within the pillows, she held out her arms as if gesturing for a hug. I moved up her body and when I got close enough she pulled me in for a kiss.
Unbelievably, this was our first kiss. I found it odd that we had not kissed yet and was grateful she thought to stop for a moment to have a kiss. We kissed some and then I settled in to thoroughly enjoy it. However, the kiss to come was not the kiss I was expecting or a kiss I was ready for. It was a kiss that could ruin everything.
Technically, there was one kiss before. It was an awkward kiss 5-10 minutes earlier just after we entered the room. All in about the time it took for the hotel door to close behind us, she tossed her bag on the sofa, had her jewelry off and set on the nightstand while I emptied my pockets and silenced my phone.
We approached each other, and as we met I was looking at the place where the tattoo would be under her shirt and behind her jeans. They were higher cut and could not be pulled down that far to get to the tattoo. They would have to come off. To just reach in and do that would be an uncharacteristically bold move for me. But I did have unquestionable permission to have the tattoo in any way that I desired. I reached down with both hands and took hold of the waistband on each side of the button. I didn’t see her simultaneous move in at me at first. Just as I felt the metal of the button, I felt her reaching her arms around my neck and realized that she was tip toeing up for a kiss. It caught me unexpectedly and I think it showed on my face that it did. I tried to recover and moved back in to accept her lips on to mine but it turned into an awkward peck.
I scolded myself for the selfish moment and just as I was trying to formulate a recovery gesture, she, without missing a beat, gently dismissed my fumble and gracefully restored the momentum. “Oh” she said with surprise in her tone, while looking down at my fingers ready to release her button. Then, in a more playfully quizzical tone, she followed with “I guess you want to get right to THAT then” and she stepped back away from me where I lost grip of her jeans. She replaced my fingers on the button with hers, paused, maybe waiting for me to look up to her eyes, which I finally did, then flashed me a devilishly naughty smile and pulled her jeans down to the top of her boots. She then proudly announced, mostly to herself, “You really are going to let me have fun with you, aren’t you!” seemingly shedding any doubts in her mind that I would go through with this. She then sat at the foot of the all white linen king sized bed, removed her boots and jeans and backed her way into the stack of oversized pillows lining the headboard.
Back to our kiss. The kiss that from now on I will reflect on as our first kiss
Responding to her hug gesture, I moved up her body and when I got close enough she pulled me in for a kiss. I didn’t flub it this time, but again, I didn’t know it was coming, and prolly I should have. It took only ten seconds to adjust and synchronize to each other’s kissing form. It was warm and succulent and sweet and was wonderful. I really was surprised at how nice this felt. I don’t recall married kissing being this enjoyable. I remember saying to myself “Damn, this girl can kiss”.
I was on top, in a position that wasn’t going to be comfortable for as long as I wanted this to last, so I backed away to reposition but she held tight indicating she didn’t want me to move. I gestured at the space next to her and she relented. We then settled in facing one another side by side; her smile confirming that this was a nice place. We were hugging and kissing, pulling each other closer and looking into each other’s eyes. Our legs intertwined and our hands were roaming, but not really in a sexual way, more like trying to make as much body contact as possible. I couldn’t get over how I felt so much more familiarity than there was. What I did not recognize at the time was that this was the physical intimacy catching up to match the virtual intimacy we have been sharing online.
Soon the intensity escalated and it was getting very hot very quickly. The intensity and passion that was building was not something I ever expected or planned for. This was the rare kind of making out where accidental hickeys happen and inadvertent “Oh god I love you’s” slip out. Not that either of those was going to happen but my safe, non-committal no emotional strings encounter was getting too hot to not risk introducing emotions into the situation. And that could happen.
At some point I was no longer kissing her lips and mouth but was kissing her.
I broke contact to catch a breath and maybe get some control of the fire. We stopped for a moment to breathe and cool off. She slid herself on top and I rolled over on to my back to accommodate her. She looked at me with eyes that appeared to agree that it was a good time to slow it down. She closed her eyes and she seemed to enjoy that I was rubbing her back with both hands that I slipped up under her shirt. She presented her lips for me to kiss and then her cheek for the same, then neck and ear and lips again. Her long hair had fallen down around us, surrounding our faces like a vail creating a tiny private and even more intimate space. Inside here it was darker and the temperature and humidity rose quickly. We were breathing each other’s breath between kisses. All of a sudden I noticed that Jasmine was back. Not subtle this time, but deep and fulfilling. I loved it.
This fragrance stuff really works. The next morning just after waking up, I caught an unexpected subtle whiff on my skin under my watch and my heart jumped by 20 beats. Who’d a thunk it possible?
The passion was building again but since I was aware and cautious now, I wanted to enjoy and go with it. I thought I could keep it measured and I did for a while as it does take two. The kissing slowed to half and so did the passion. However, the rest of our bodies started to make up for it and the touching evolved into the sexual. She was still on top of me and my hands were exploring and squeezing on her panty covered butt, then under and in those panties. Her body contact became more targeted as she was now very deliberately mashing her fun stuff all over my fun stuff. The kissing subsided but replaced with the audible accompaniment of her squeaks, moans and quicker breathing timed with her mashing I was no longer in control. The passion was under control but being replaced with something intimately erotic.
I abruptly escaped by gently rolling her over on to her back then getting up and knelling between her legs. I took a moment to catch my breath and wanted to say “That is getting WAY too intimate. Can we get naked and have sex now?” However, I tugged at her panties and said something dorky like “can we take these off now?” Yes, we were still both fully dressed except for her jeans
Since I am the kind of guy who doesn’t kiss and tell, (well, only tells about the kisses) and this is not the forum for it, I am not going to talk about the sexy part over the next 30 minutes. I will tell you that we did finally each get ourselves unceremoniously naked and then the sexy part finishes where it started, with me finishing all over that beautiful tattoo. Of course I did a small celebration gesture that she rolled her eyes to.
*************************************************
Cuddle time. Our snapchats leading up to this encounter were heavy on the anticipation and buildup but didn’t contain a lot of detail about or define what stuff would happen during our “fun” time together.
Me: “Ok then, tomorrow lunchtime, I’m in.”
Her: “OMG Are you saying that you are REALLY going to come here and let me have fun with you?
Me: “I’m REALLY going to come there. I am REALLY going to fully inspect that tattoo, as well as the neighborhood where the tattoo lives.
Her: “I so can’t wait to get my hands on you.”
Me: “WOW….Now that this is real and going to happen, my heart is beating so hard that I am afraid that people can see it through my shirt.”
Her: “You have to tell me, are you being SERIOUS right now? You can’t say this and not show up. It’s OK if you are teasing, but you have to say so that you are now….not tomorrow!!!”
Me: “I am SERIOUS and I PROMISE I will be there. You have gotten to me, BAD. All week with the way we have been talking..err..I mean snapchatting; I can’t get you out of my head. Then today with those tattoo snaps you sent; I can’t get up from my desk. LOL…..NOT kidding NOT teasing.”
Her: “I am BAD, and I like having FUN. I am going to have so much fun with you!!!”
************************************************
The only specific things I recall us acknowledging we would do with our “fun” was tattoo inspection and cuddle time. So as soon as cleanup from sexy time was done we both knew what time it was. For me, as good as the inspection was the cuddle was better. Just as during the sexy time we changed things up and we got to cuddle many ways. We started face to face full contact hugging just like our kissing time with some but less kissing and more being in the moment.
We were still hot (temperature hot now) and sweaty so that didn’t last long. She turned over and we spooned some. I was still craving full body contact but it was still so hot that we had to separate a bit. No contact spooning if you will, with just my one hand caressing her exposed shoulder and arm and hip with an occasional butt cheek squeeze.
It was about that time that we had our first ever personal conversation. On the project there were lots of flirty banter and some personal stories but almost always as part of a group. We had many phone calls and a few project meetings with just us two but never did the conversation get personal. Until now the only personal talks (Chats) we have had have been via Snapchat. I don’t recall who asked the first question of the other, but it was like a dam broke and we started filling in the details of our lives, our feelings and all the things we chatted about.
There was a lot to tell and we were giddy like children (child) best friends re-meeting on the first day of school catching each other up on our summer vacations. At one point she had something compelling to say and faster than a fish out of water she flipped back to facing me so she could gesture with her hand and punctuate through her expression. She landed close. Closer that I think she meant to at first and just a bit awkward I felt. But I was wrong. She didn’t back up an inch. I really couldn’t see her hand but I could feel that she was using it in the 2 to 4 inches of space between our chests. Her face was right into mine. She would lean back or up just an inch when she wanted me to see her eyes or smile or frown for emphasis, then settle back into the pillows with our foreheads or noses or cheeks touching. It was the farthest thing in the world from awkward.
If there was a recurring theme for the day it would be HOT; in every sense and synonym of the word. Again, it was getting too sweaty to remain that close. This time she broke contact to catch a breath and escape the heat. We stopped talking for a moment to breathe and cool off. She sat up, crawled to, and grabbed the (sexy time) clean-up towel that was at the far foot of the bed. She turned around so that she was kneeling facing me as she brought the towel up to her chest to absorb the beads and drips of sweat that had accumulated. As I watched, I again thought of my great fortune to be right here right now feeing what I feel and seeing the beauty before me. She pushed the towel down across her belly button and it fell into her lap.
I observed the soft sunlight reflecting off the white sheets, the white towel, and the white pillows bathed her in perfect light creating just a hint of subtle shadows in all of the right places on her angelic white skin. I started consciously taking photos with my mind. I wanted to capture every nuance and note every detail. I don’t know if I will ever be here again.
I don't recall if my next realization was comprehended in a split second, or if it took ten seconds to develop, but a terrible fear washed over me that for the first time in forever, she was beyond my touch and her next action might be to look for her panties or go jump in the shower. We were after all, deep into the second hour of her hour long lunch.
As I was preparing myself for the pain soon to come, I couldn't understand where it was coming from. I had the BEST DAY EVER, but I felt like an exhausted child who just watched the Disney fireworks finally and knows what that means.
What the hell? What is happening in my head? I don't even know this girl, let alone have feelings for her beyond she made my dick feel good at lunchtime.....and, I guess my ego is healthier since I met her. I have not cheated on my diet since she turned on the flattery the week before. I was sure it had to be somehow manipulative, but I hoped that if only a 5% chance it wasn't AND she liked me AND her mom was single, made it easy to keep my snacking to peas & carrots.
My self esteem has been skyrocketing too, as I have been checking a lot of boxes on my refrigerator. LOL, so many in fact, that I have been adding things to the list after they happened that I didn't dare put on it as they seemed pretty unobtainable just two months before. "Get sent a nude selfie, check. Have the confidence to send one back, check. Take a hottie 32 year old client out to lunch and fuck her brains out, check.
Did I just discover that I like girls who make my self esteem feel good more than I like girls who make my dick feel good?
Shit, that wasn't even on my top ten list. Smart, funny, pretty, Kind, whatever is the opposite of bitchy, fun in bed, boobs and/or an age appropriate figure is always nice, curious, someone you can trust to see you at your worst. Before today, "genuinely being a boost & support of my self esteem" was 10th.
Then BAM. I was hit in the face with the towel. Damn girl, I hope you can handle a spanking because I was just on the verge of making an interpersonal discovery of some importance over here, I thought to myself. I noticed the slightest or possibly mock look of concern on her face as she asks "you're not having any regrets or second thoughts over there are you?". I reflexively replied "Oh god no". Then with some emphasys, I continued "today was incredible. I REALLY needed this and you were PERFECT, thank you".
Again she did not disappoint. She crawled to the top of the bed on the far side and then to me over the pillows and laid down at a 90 angle to me on her stomach parallel to the headboard with her head nearly right on top of mine. She propped herself up a bit on her elbows and we kissed deeply. It was nice.
I made a few attempts to shake my internal drama, get out of my head and get back to my goal of picking my self up after my divorce. Oops, I mean back to pleasing a beautiful woman who clearly was not yet done having her fun with me. The emotional rollercoaster ride over the last hours, days & weeks completely blew out my brains ability to generate or absorb endorphins or whatever happens in a situation like this. Shortly after we had joked around while showering together, kissing goodbye (just like when I kissed my endorphin killing ex wife) and going on back to our separate lives.
I drove the hour or so home, brought my dog to the park and had healthiest and happiest cry I ever had. I don't know what I was feeling or why, but I was feeling again and it brought me much relief and contentedness.
We texted a bit that evening confirming that we each enjoyed our time together and agreeing that we should do that again sometime. The next day, Saturday, her husband took their 5 & 8 year old sons somewhere for the day. We checked in with each other again over text and chatted some about our lunch but the spark or excitement we usually had was not the same.
I reached out again that evening and asked if she was in a place that we could talk on the phone. She resisted but did call me (our first personal phone call). It took her 24 hours to let her cry bubble up. It turns out that our emotional experiences were remarkably similar, albeit from different perspectives.
She much later reveals that she felt emotionally dead for her hubby. She evolved to a bad place where she wanted fuck anyone but her hubby but still fucked him twice a week and had to appear happy to do it, killing her brain chemistry.
We rode the best and worst roller coaster in the world for 6 or 8 months....until the the Cocaine eventually wore off or the unobtainable became obtainable and it wasn't the the same rush for either of us any longer. She was the closest thing to a drug addiction that I ever felt. I never wanted anyone or anything like I wanted her.
My hope is that this story helps one person answer the question "Why the hell would he/she risk giving up their wonderful & loving family for an hour with a douchebag or a skank?"

I’ve tested positive with viral infection 2 weeks ago, went through all the motion, nausea congestion, runny nose, body aches especially my back and ribs but never really had a cough feeling better but the only symptom that seems to be lingering abdominal pain?? This was my first symptom also doctor said more then likely just a “viral hangover” as basic tests and examination is fine, anyone else experience this issue??

My partner has come down with Covid for the first time whilst away on a business trip. They’ve extended their time away and have been able to avoid coming home to the wife and kids, who are all novids and hoping to keep things that way for as long as possible!
Partner tested positive on Saturday and has started to feel better today, and is eager to come home, but still testing positive. I’d like to see a negative RAT result. GP has told him 5 days isolation only. The info online that I can find doesn’t quite support what the GP is telling him, and I’d like to know what the general consensus is? What’s everyone else doing to make sure it’s safe for them and the general public to exit isolation after they’ve had COVID?
From betterhealth.vic.gov.au website: Most people are still infectious after 5 days and you should stay home if you are still experiencing symptoms like a runny nose, sore throat, cough, shortness of breath, fever, chills, or sweats.
A negative RAT result is a helpful tool to determine whether you are still infectious. If you’re unsure about ending your isolation, you should contact a GP.
Wear a face mask when you leave home for at least 7 days after testing positive as you may still be infectious.

This is a long read sorry!
Hi, I (22F) literally just joined, I have been on reddit for a while now, I post here or there but I really need the grace that only reddit seems to have, kisses but you know it's true. So, I guess, I am screaming into the void, because the truth is I am so gutturally confused.
Like the title says- I have always fantasized of being a flower child, a changeling, of turning towards the corner of the yard, the woods beckoning me to run away, the gentleness of which the coyotes would pick my bones clean. My childhood felt like a house fire only I could see.
My father's nightcap of whiskey got less and less watered down as nights were uncomfortable to spend on the family room couch. The one that he fiercely protects, once threatening my friend who mistakenly lounged in his spot. My mother's love felt scarce, a luxury only my younger sister could afford. Between that and her ambition to become the first nurse and college graduate of both families, I was more of my father's daughter. My younger sister and I were doll-like children, meek and polite to the price of our own dignity and self. To give a brief snapshot of what it was like being raised by them \~ even though "I'm remembering it all wrong, or not at all" I will try to go in chronological order, but you can quickly see most of these were not isolated incidents and I jump around:
-daily spankings because of crying during daycare drop off (fair technique)
-tricking us out of the "broken" car, in the rain on a dirt road "get gas" and proceeded to speed past us laughing as we ran after his taillights in the mud, we were in another country, on a solo trip with just our dad, we were both elementary school age.
-In elementary school and 6th grade I lived in a sweatshirt because when I hit puberty. I pleaded to my mother how hard it was to hear my father's constant comments about my womanhood and new body. He started to compare me to a hooker around this time, calling me a slut for trying to wear what my friends wore to school- leggings, shorts shorter than the knee but not offensively short I promise, though I strongly feel as clothing does not mean consent.
-For as long as I can remember, he would take pictures of us when we looked embarrassed then show it to family, friends, whoever in conversation in front of us then scold us when we inevitably felt bad or asked him to stop. He would also promise to delete the photo but would continue the previously mentioned above.
-So far, I have just been harping on my father, but the truth is they are a match made in hell, and though I feel like my mother is a victim in her own way. It was very hard to exist without their constant horrible comments about my appearance and character. They both shamed skinny children to be thinner, critiqued my body through puberty, and felt entitled to touch my body when and how they wanted. Examples include my father's frequent ass grabbing, and then allowing his adult male friend to do the same.
-They both would ridicule me for working minimum wage jobs in high school, while my father funnels out of my sister and I's joint accounts, only when we confront him does he fess that he required the money we earned for ourselves for the "mortgage". He continues as well as set monetary account goals, right before trips or plans, he would always be surprised that we had managed to scrape together enough money. He expects me to find a place that will fire and schedule me on a winter vacation, or to amount 5k in less than 3 months, while paying for my own necessities, thank you for teaching me to live on frugality as a means of survival.
-The name calling I touched on, but I would be the first to come home from school, my father would take his lunch to come home and berate me verbally of how much of a loser I am and will continue to be. The verbal arguments were daily, I fully admit to yelling back but in truth I couldn't leave his spewing red face hurling threats, I had to stay glued in place until he had his fill.
-Another solo trip with my father and sister, my mother had cleaned my room while we were away and had found my treasures- vapes, two beers. I got pulled out of the running shower to be beaten on and off through the night whenever my father took a break from tv, my sister sob in the room with my father to stop and I sat on the couch until morning. We had a tourist excursion the next day and I got it again before we left because I was not to "ruining the rest of his vacation with my bad attitude"
-They locked away my childhood cat, sick with cancer, to die alone in the basement so she would ruin their floors with her incontinence. When she passed, they did not tell me, they buried her in the woods behind our house, I wish I could lay beside her, I'm sorry little one.
-My father would come home and yell at me for not having dinner ready for him, because when my mother worked late or was not home, the next one responsible for dinner was my younger sister or me.
-He physically corners us or refuses to let us leave. Threatened my life when I tried to leave the house during an argument.
-Put his hand through the door a couple of times because I “gave attitude” by responding with ok. Readers, please note I am capable of attitude, but this was not the case, I was scared, and I just wanted to give him whatever answer he wanted
-I'm a summer birthday, so for my big 21st I had my cousin, bf and sister have a pool party in my parents' pool. No one told me the plan all day. I was told to just relax by everyone, because normally I would be running around serving people or helping my parents. No one told me anything, so we played some games in the yard, had some wine coolers and then swam. My father flies outside and starts yelling at me from the side of the pool to get my ass out and blow out my candles because he needs to drive my cousin 20 minutes home each way. So, I blew out my candles, soaking wet staring daggers because my father has always managed to underplay or make me feel bad on my birthday too? Another grievance from my 21st birthday is that my father grilled frozen steaks, and I truly do not want to seem like a stuck-up princess, but he proceeded to buy 300$ of food from my favorite restaurant and his favorite food is steak not mine. Note his birthday is the next day following mine.
I may post in regard to the tribulation that was my childhood in this thread again, but it takes a lot out of me, and I have already had myself a day sorry. Now you're all caught up and I just want you to know-
I have long ruminated over my own words and actions; though I have many regrets I do not feel ashamed of my choices or who I am because I try to treat everyone with kindness and most importantly respectability. I know the lengths my immigrant parents have gone through to build themselves a life. I know the struggles my father had with his father, the alcoholic who raised him with cruelty reserved for not even a barn animal. I know that my mother lived in the shadows as a neglected middle child hoping to find someone who realized all her good in the way her parents did not. I can see and understand that I carry the same wounds, and now it is within my responsibility to be better.
So, my relationship with my parents is strained right now. I have been in low contact with my mother and father for nearly four years, with periods of better contact. We have tried therapy, though it's difficult as my mother uses this as an opportunity to explore her wounds rather than our history or relationship. Though the therapist was helpful in directing the conversation back, I believe that the work can only happen with the person wanting to actually work on themselves, so I feel like I am at a frustrating impasse.
Every time I feel like I can take out a brick between the wall I keep between us, my mother will say something that makes me build another layer. I try not to be sensitive, yet I know my mother likes to cut with her words, though she claims otherwise. In a recent conversation my mother admitted that my father and she spent a great effort in making sure my beauty did not go to my head and did this in order to keep me humble.
For context, my mother’s side of the family does not like my father, and this along with other childhood issues festering into adulthood drove a wedge between my mother and her younger brother. His recent divorce and my mother’s empty nest have given them much time and space to rekindle their sibling relationship. So on our already strained phone calls she hits me with these metaphors of her brother and her relationship to ours. Am I off for thinking that those are two very different relationships, yet both have.. Jealousy? Furthermore, I feel a looney because I am fighting to keep them in my life, and they are fighting to be right.? To be absolved of the guilt and shame that maybe they did do the wrong thing.?
What gives them the right? When we all have to lay away at night with our guilt you want me to hold yours? I want a mother and they want a guiltless soul
Truthfully, I do not know what kind of future lies ahead for us. I think I grieve having bullies instead of parents, of what I missed out on and who I could have been. Like I said I am low contact right now, but after a normal phone call talking about the weather and our pets today, I had an anxiety attack to the point I fought to stay conscious. This has not been the first time I have fainted due to anxiety, mostly surrounding situations that remind me of them or things they punished or did to me in the past. The day after I wished my father a happy birthday after a year of no contact, I got two pills of ativan to the face after a ER visit in which they thought my poor bf was trafficking me. Though this is maybe too much, I am always sweating, my sides literally pour, my hands shake, and I can string together a sentence if I try. I feel like a different person, a moist, meek person.. which is not me, I self tattoo and pierce, I can and have tackled an attacking dog and I have punched touchy men square in the nose. I’m tough because I fought tooth and nail to be kind and gentle, we rescued cats and recently a possum, and we let out spiders and bugs, so our cats don’t terrorize them.
Here’s the thing… we’re getting married!
We’re tying the knot in the woods at the end of May, but I feel like an asshole because I have not told my parents. They know we’re engaged.
My mother, in a recent phone call, told me of this travel nurse that she had gotten close to, that was getting married soon, and invited my mother to go dress shopping with her. My mother told me how sad this girl felt that her family was all the way across the country, coincidently much like we are. This felt like she was guilting me, but she went so far as to send me a picture of a couple, I didn’t verify who it actually was.
Another issue is I am dealing with the guilt of getting a ring and bands elsewhere. My father is a high-end jeweler whose work has been showcased by celebs, my whole life I heard that my father was going to design and make my engagement ring. After long consideration, we picked out a ring from Madrid that felt more like me. When I look at my wedding rings I want to think of my husband not my father. I am more than happy with anything else, rings for other occasions, but it makes my skin crawl and my stomach curling because part of me feels as if it's more of a collar than a ring then.
My mother wants to meet over memorial weekend, she wants me to fly out a day to visit before I’m getting married.
I do not know if I should facetime them and break the news before, after or invite them. It’s already last minute so airfare will be expensive, but I know they are going to be so heartbroken. Part of me does not want them there either because I have felt alone my whole life, I figured I would do my wedding the same way, though it's hard because my fiancé's family will be there, and I will have no one. I wish I could hire a friend... lol typed that with a tear in my eye that's ironic.
Suggestions please

“What do you mean it’s wrong?” said Tamara, becoming frustrated with Samuel.
“I'm trying to tell you that plants do not eat earth. They just absorb nutrients from it,” Samuel replied, equally annoyed as this was the fourth time he had explained it. “Look, just take my word for it, OK,” he added.
“Fine, but you will have to explain it again,” Tamara retorted.
Samuel and Tamara were partners in a scientific study of their forest home. It was genuinely idyllic in every sense of the word; the trees stretched high into the sky, and everyone was covered in succulent leaves, a deep and gorgeous shade of green. Around their trunks were rings of flowers gathered from every continent, and a thick carpet of grass lay on the ground.
The two sat underneath a chestnut tree, writing up their findings for the day. It had focused mainly on tree sizes and growth rates, and they had continued this study for, on and off, almost a year.
Samuel turned to look at his assistant and found that she was just as remarkable as the day they had first met: golden locks, like living sunlight, tied neatly in a bun. Her eyes were an emerald green, and all in all, she was gorgeous. However, it was when you came to her waist that things became truly incredible because rather than a pair of legs, there was a long and wide snake’s tail.
It was huge, at least seven metres long and as wide as her torso. The scales were the same beautiful colour as her hair and reflected the sunlight in such a way that she appeared to glow. She was wearing an ultramarine tunic with a black diamond in the centre. She was like this not because of a plague, a curse or some mutation; Tamara was a Lamia; it was how she was born.
Samuel, on the other hand, looked far less impressive. He was around five foot ten, with dull brown hair and equally dull eyes. His stomach stuck out from the rest of him. No amount of exercise was able to get rid of it.
He was by every description a ‘dull as dishwater’ human. His clothes, however, were slightly more interesting. He wore a navy blue tunic with a thick leather belt wrapped around his waist. On his feet was a pair of excellent leather boots, able to withstand whatever the world threw at them and on his forearms and shins, he wore something Tamara had never seen or even heard of before: a pair of vambraces and greaves, Samuel called it armour.
Three strips of rugged leather layered on top of one another made up each piece, and between each layer was a collection of tiny metal beads. When Tamara asked what they were for, Samuel said they were for protection.
All of this would have been inconceivable to Samuel two years ago, but he had become used to it in time. Samuel was not born into this world; he had arrived. How? He did not know, but he remembered it all vividly; his senses had been overloaded, and at first, he believed he had died.
“What’s wrong?” Tamara asked Samuel, who had been silent for over a minute.
Samuel snapped out of his daydream and said: “nothing, just thinking about that day again.”
Tamara nodded and said nothing else; she knew exactly what was wrong.
Samuel went straight back to writing. When Samuel first showed up, there had been no paper or pens, but what was even stranger than the lack of these apparent necessities was that Samuel had had to invent both of these items.
Tamara and those like her did not possess a written language; they relied entirely on their memories, and until Samuel had shown up, Tamara had not even conceived of the notion, but she had picked it up astonishingly quickly.
“It still sounds like eating to me,” said Tamara, bringing the conversation back to the original topic.
“Well, it isn’t; eating requires a mouth and stomach,” Samuel replied.
“Says who?” Tamara asked defiantly.
“Says me,” Samuel answered.
Samuel jotted down the last of his notes and left the pages to dry in the sun. Samuel then turned to his right and looked at a large book, the size of a chair’s seat, bound in yellow leather and knotted by animal tendons. He picked it up and began to leaf through the pages.
His eyes glanced over paragraphs about oak trees and orchid flowers until he finally reached the section he sought; the page was titled Silver Birch (Betula Pendula).
“Have you finished the drawing on Silver Birch yet?” Samuel asked without looking.
Tamara was currently focused on a drawing of sunflowers, but she understood his request and, without looking up or saying a word, handed him the picture he wanted.
Samuel took the drawing and took several moments admiring it. Like all her work, the picture was astounding; not only did it look like an actual Silver Birch, but it also seemed to be alive, as though it would start blowing in the breeze.
Samuel punched four holes along the sheet's left side, undid the tendon strings and then attached the drawing behind the title page. He added eight more pages to his book, four of text and four illustrations.
Their work was now done; there was no more writing or drawing today, and he placed their work into a knapsack Tamara had brought with her. Samuel turned to his partner and asked: “so what do you want to do now?”
Tamara looked up through the canopy and could make out the silhouettes of several birds and finally said: “I’d quite like to fly.”
Samuel smiled, chuckled and said, “Yes, so would I, but that would require every member of the village working together for decades.”
Tamara looked Samuel in the eye and said: “are you making fun of me?”
Samuel did not reply; he just looked Tamara dead in the eye. She observed every minute twitch on Samuel's face and concluded he was not.
“How could a person fly?” She asked, suddenly intrigued.
“I don’t know, I’m not an engineer,” Samuel answered, “So apart from flying, what else do you want to do?”
Tamara let out a sigh and said: “I guess we will just have to walk.”
These were the moments Samuel lived for, just a quiet afternoon with his best friend enjoying a stroll; he was utterly content.
“You seem chipper,” Tamara said, noticing the growing smile on Samuel’s face.
“That’s because I feel chipper” he replied
They passed through the trees, heading towards their favourite spot, a beach by the side of a lake so large you could not see the other side.
“So, how is everyone?” Samuel said, trying to spark a conversation.
“You mean every single one because that could take a while?” Tamara replied.
“Let’s start with your mother” he clarified.
Tamara’s mother, Pancha, was more or less just a larger version of her daughter, just as brash and headstrong.
“She’s fine; she has finally stopped asking me what happened every time I come to meet you,” she said.
“Really, and it only took her two and a half years,” said Samuel with a smirk.
Yes, that first year here, had been a real trial. Samuel had never felt so scared, isolated and persecuted in his life. When he thought about it, he could still feel the fear and the hopelessness.
A gust of air slammed into Samuel’s face, bringing him back to the present, and what a wonderful time it was. The water was crystal clear, the beach was covered in sparkling white sand, and the distinct aroma of water wafted through the air. Samuel breathed it all in as Tamara spread herself over the beach.
The cooling breeze that Samuel found so enjoyable, Tamara found far less agreeable. Tamara was ectothermic or cold-blooded. She could not maintain her body temperature; she needed to absorb it from her environment, and the wind was slowly draining her.
“Comfortable down there?” Samuel asked.
Tamara turned her head, looked up at him and said: “Actually, yes, not as good as my bed, but still fine.”
Samuel left Tamara to her thermoregulation and strolled down to the water’s edge, “stay where I can see you!” Tamara called.
“Yes, MOM,” Samuel answered sarcastically, though he knew it was more for Tamara’s sake than his; she had a problem with open spaces.
Samuel closed his eyes, stretched his arms above his head, feeling his muscles strain against the tension, and yawned. Small tears formed in his eyes and wiped them away. He had only been up for a few hours but was ready for bed.
“Too much thinking, that was the problem,” Samuel mumbled to himself.
The sunlight sparkled on the water’s surface. It seemed as though millions of diamonds were suddenly brought into existence, danced for a few moments, and then vanished as quickly as they came. It was beautiful, just like everything else here.
He climbed up a rock that jutted from that sand and sat down, his legs dangling over the edge. As he kicked his legs, a ray of sun caught his greaves, and although the leather was rather dull, it still dazzled him.
Samuel heard a sound reminiscent of sandpaper brushing against wood, and he knew at once what it was. He waited four more seconds and said, without moving an inch, “Don’t even think about it!”
“How did you know?” Tamara asked, feeling simultaneously impressed, confused and disappointed.
Samuel looked her in the eye and replied: “who do you think you’re dealing with?”
Tamara had not clambered up the rock like Samuel; she had simply raised herself on her tail so she stood over two metres high.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked.
Tamara smiled and answered, “yes, thanks for asking.”
Tamara moved behind Samuel and then began to coil around the boulder, and if he had not experienced it all before, it would have been unnerving. Tamara was only twelve and a half, yet she was already far stronger than him. Samuel was sure if Tamara really wanted to, she could crush a bison to death. After the graceful dance around the stone, she sat down beside Samuel.
The pair was silent for a few minutes, except for a quick coughing fit by Samuel; they took in the unnatural beauty of their surroundings.
“Hey, I have a question,” said Tamara, coming back to her senses.
“What is it?” Samuel replied.
“You still haven’t told me why we are studying the forest?” She asked.
In an instant, Samuel became deeply confused. To him, it seemed all too obvious why they were doing it.
“There is no practical reason for doing it. We do it so that we know,” Samuel answered.
Tamara became silent. Samuel realised that she was deep in thought and decided to give her all the time she needed until she finally said: “Is this one of those human things?”
Samuel, upon hearing this, gave a small chuckle and answered: “yes, if you like.”
Suddenly, something caught Samuel’s eye. It was a crab, no bigger than a golf ball. Its back was powder blue, and it held its arms upright, its claws pointing down. The tiny creature would walk forward, scoop some sand into its mouth, and then leave a small pellet behind.
“Look at that!” said Samuel, nudging Tamara’s shoulder and pointing at the tiny crustacean. Tamara turned her head and looked directly at where he was pointing; she strained her eyes at what she thought was a pebble; she was about to climb down and collect it when it suddenly moved, and she squealed.
Tamara dragged the bottom end of her tail up from the beach and timidly said, “What’s that?”
Samuel remembered that tone of voice all too well, and it brought with it some unpleasant memories, but he pushed them to the back of his mind and said: “it’s a crab.”
Samuel was certain he had seen this type of crab before but could not put a name to the image. Samuel was sure he had read about them, watched a documentary, or attended a lecture, but he could not remember. Ultimately, he decided to drop it for now and see if the answer would come to him.
Tamara kept staring at it as though she believed it would pounce if she took her eyes off it for one second.
“Is it dangerous?” she asked, her voice hushed to ensure the creature did not notice her.
Samuel sighed and answered: “it’s a crab, Tamara, unless you happen to be a nematode then…”
Samuel paused mid-sentence as his brain finally connected the dots and asked, “Wait, you have never seen a crab before?”
This perplexed Samuel for a moment until he remembered that Tamara did not have a television, a car, and she could not fly a plane, so it was not unexpected that she would not know what a crab was.
Tamara shook her head in response to his question, and Samuel added: “you know what a woodlouse is, right?”
Tamara nodded and said, “I like woodlice.”
“Well, a crab is just a type of woodlouse that lives near water,” Samuel concluded.
However, he could tell from her face that she was unconvinced, so he got off the rock, walked over to the tiny creature, wary of its pincers, and picked it up by its backside.
“What are you doing?” Tamara called in alarm.
Samuel held the animal, its legs flailing wildly in an attempt to escape, and said, “showing you there is nothing to be worried about.”
Taking care not to crush it, Samuel clambered back up the rock and presented the animal to her. Tamara stared at it for some as the crab bobbed its eye up and down and tried in vain to find a part of Samuel it could nip.
“It’s actually kind of… cute,” Tamara said after two minutes of silence.
She relaxed her tail and let it rest on the beach once more. “Can it hold it?” She asked Samuel, fear being replaced by interest.
“Of course, you can. Just make sure you hold it by its back and be careful of the pincers; if they get you, it will hurt.”
Samuel handed the crab over to her and watched as Tamara began to inspect the animal from every angle. The crab had a white underbelly and purple joints.
“You think you could draw it from memory?” Samuel asked.
“Hmm?” Tamara replied. Samuel let out a sigh and repeated. After three more attempts, Tamara finally took notice and said, “Yes.”
Five minutes later, Samuel said, “we should probably put him back now.”
Tamara moaned about it, but Samuel said: “he has his own life, Tamara; you can’t keep him!”
She conceded, grumbling under her breath, and gently placed the animal back on the sand. As the crab dashed away, the two noticed that while they had been fixated on that single crab, thousands more had emerged on the beach.
Upon seeing the swarm of animals make their way across the beach, Tamara let out a squeal and once again pulled her tail up off the beach. The army of crabs marched along the shore. The collective walking produced a sound loud enough to hear from fifty metres away, and at last, Samuel remembered what they were and said, with no small amount of satisfaction in his voice, “they’re soldier crabs.”
“What are they going to do?” Tamara asked, concerned by the sudden appearance of so many creatures.
Samuel kept staring at the gathering, but he heard her question and replied, “They’re just feeding,” and added quickly, “But we are far too big for them.”
“That's odd,” Samuel said under his breath.
“I know there are so many of them,” Tamara said, deeply unnerved by the sheer vastness of the swarm.
“No,” Samuel said, “There should be this many of them; it’s where they are that is strange.”
Tamara momentarily took her eyes off the army and asked, “So where should they be.” There was a slight flicker of fear in her voice at the prospect of being invaded; rats and mice where bad enough. They did not need another pest.
“By the sea, not a freshwater lake,” he answered.
“The Sea?” Tamara almost yelled. Samuel was a little surprised by this enthusiasm and turned to face her.
“Yes,” he said.
“Have you ever been to the sea,” she asked.
“Yes, many times,” Samuel said, uncertain where this was going.
“I bet it’s wonderful,” Tamara added with a smile.
Samuel was silent as his brain connected a few dots and asked: “how can you know about the sea if you don’t know about crabs?”
She smiled; Tamara enjoyed it when she knew something that he did not, “there is a story that my mom told me that before we came to this forest, we were a different people that lived by the sea.” Tamara paused for a breath.
“But then humans came and drove us from the water, and we fled inland. Our people split into two. One half went to the mountains, and the other settled in the forest.”
Tamara finished and waited for his reply. Samuel, however, just kept looking at her. Tamara was concerned that she had upset him; he did not like it when humans were labelled as the enemy, yet his face and posture were not those of one who was sad or angry.
“You people blame us for everything, don’t you?” Samuel said with a chuckle.
“If there is a fire, it’s a human’s fault. If there is an earthquake, it’s a human’s fault. If a little Boreray boy drinks all their apple juice in one gulp, it’s a human’s fault.”
“So, getting back on topic, where did these “Soldier crabs” come from anyway? We have visited this lake for over two years and never seen even a glimpse?” Tamara asked. Samuel looked back to the slowly advancing army, and several ideas flashed through his head.
“Maybe they have been dormant up until now; perhaps they make a large circle around the lake shore, and it’s simply luck that we were here on the day they passed by, or maybe the migrated here from somewhere else.”
They watched the crabs' ceaseless march until Tamara said, “These things are still giving me the creeps. Can we go now?” Samuel could not argue that there was something eerie about all of these animals appearing, seemingly, from nowhere; however, there was still one thing he had to be certain of.
“You think you could draw one from memory?” he asked.
Tamara’s face contorted in a scowl. Samuel, for all his good points, could become far too focused on his research, which often caused him to become ignorant of other people.
Yet she knew sitting here yelling at him would accomplish nothing, so she told him the truth: “Yes, can we go now!” Samuel nodded and then slid off the rock. Tamara copied him, and they both slinked back to the cover of the trees.
Now that she was beneath the canopy, Tamara let out an enormous sigh of relief as the anxiety slowly left, and the close air warmed her body. On the other hand, Samuel began to chafe at the stagnant air while his head began to bead with sweat, but it was nothing he had not experienced before, so he gritted his teeth and bared with it.
With their plans now ruined, Tamara and Samuel wandered aimlessly through the woods, chatting about what they could do to fill the rest of the day. Several ideas arose, including visiting a nearby waterfall and a set of monument stones, but none truly appealed to them.
In the end, Tamara said, “how about we just call it a day?”
Samuel was happy about this. Tamara was his only form of human contact, yet he could not deny the pointlessness of wandering around the woods, so he said, “Ok, but let’s take the long way.”
Samuel heard a sound above him and saw a red squirrel scampering through the trees.
“Is it difficult?” Tamara asked.
Samuel looked at Tamara and replied, “Well, it can give me a crick in my neck sometimes.”
Tamara let out a short laugh and clarified, “No, I mean, is it difficult being so inquisitive? It looks exhausting.”
He was not entirely sure what she meant by that. To Samuel, Tamara was every bit as curious as him, so he stated: “you tell me, you went out looking for me just because you wanted to know.”
“True,” answered Tamara, “and everyone has always said that I am always asking questions, but you’re like a boar that just ate sugar beat.”
“I have no idea what that means,” Samuel said, shaking his head. “But I do know that people always told me, when I was a boy, that humans are, by their nature, infinitely curious, but personally, I think that it’s just how I was born.” there was a pause, and he quickly added, “just like you.”
Tamara’s fingers started to numb as she brushed them against the bark of passing trees. She took a good look at the trees around her. Tamara had lived her entire life sheltered by these trees. This place was her home, her family’s home and her friend’s home, and she loved it, a perfect example of the innate beauty of nature.
Samuel, however, was of a different opinion this forest disturbed him, though this feeling had diminished with time. The trees all grew in perfect symmetry, four and a half strides form each other.
From Tamara’s perspective, there was nothing strange about this, yet Samuel often said that this should not be possible, that the wood should be a mess and that the trees should grow in an unorganised fashion. Yet to Tamara, the idea of messy forests was just as impossible as a structured one was to him.
Noon came and went, and Samuel’s stomach began to rumble. His breakfast was becoming a distant memory; he thought he might be able to bear it for another hour or so, but as they travelled closer to the village, Tamara started to become irritated by Samuel’s constant growling.
“We need to find you something to eat before that sound drives me nuts!” Tamara stated bluntly.
“That’s all well and good, my dear, so long as you can materialise food out of the aether,” answered Samuel, with just a hint of condescension in his voice.
Tamara did not know what the aether was, but it did not matter. “No, but I do know a nearby tree with some great fruit in it,” she replied.
Samuel found this strange for two reasons. Firstly, he found it very difficult to believe there was a source of food in this forest that either he had not found, or Tamara had not told him about yet.
Secondly that, Tamara would know much about something she could not eat. Tamara was strictly carnivorous; she ate nothing but meat.
He wanted answers fast and asked: “So why haven’t you told me about this before?”
“Because I can’t stand the smell, that’s why, and I didn’t want you stinking up the place,” she explained.
“If it smells disgusting, what makes you think I will eat it?” he asked.
“Because the Boreray can’t get enough of it, some of them say that they taste like all the best parts of every fruit and vegetable we grow, which is a shame because they smell like all the worst,” she added.
He asked no more questions. He was too busy thinking; this fruit sounded so familiar, but he could not remember. The need to survive day in day out had pushed most of his standard learning, from school and university to the back of his mind, not forgotten mind you just buried.
I'm back with Tamara and Samuel latest adventure. If you like what you've read so far and want to know where it's going you can find the complete story by following the links below.
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If you do decide to read ahead please leave a review or rating, every single one helps immensely, and helps me keep doing what I'm doing.
Also the e-book will be at a reduced price until the last chapter it published on reddit.

Mom has a cough starting and we are 1 day before her next chemo cycle. She has no fever (36.7C) but has a cough. There was a lady that was helping her at the wig store that that had a cough so we assume she got it from that. We don't believe she has covid. Should she still go or should the chemo be delayed?

Hello, I (26M) recently noticed a small, painless, immobile lump on the right side of my neck. During my company’s annual medical exam, the doctor suggested it might be my body fighting an infection, although I had no symptoms like a cough, sore throat, fever, or colds at the time. The doctor advised me to observe the lump for two weeks to see if it would go away. Two weeks later, my AME results came back normal (chest x-ray, blood test, and urine test), and I had also tested negative for HIV, Hepatitis, and Syphilis two days before my AME schedule. During my AME interpretation with a different doctor, I mentioned the lump again, and this time I was referred to a specialist since it hadn’t gone away.
I visited an ENT specialist right after that and during the consultation, the specialist asked if I smoked (I don’t, but I drink occasionally) and then he performed a nasal endoscopy. The procedure revealed a Nasopharyngeal mass at the back of my nose, and I was advised to get a CT scan, ultrasound, additional blood tests, and a biopsy. I haven’t done these procedures yet, but I’m anxious about the possibility of it being something serious. And I know googling is not best thing to do but I couldn’t help it and now it increased my anxiety, making me fear it could be the c word.
What are the chances that this mass is not serious? I’m really scared and experiencing intense anxiety right now. Sorry for the long post, but I wanted to provide as much detail as possible.
Thank you.

Hey everyone,
I'm reaching out to this community in hopes of shedding some light on a bizarre post-procedure experience I had. Yesterday, after undergoing a colonoscopy at around 11 AM, I woke up to find my face severely swollen, filled with mucus, and my sinuses inflamed. My eyes were hemorrhaging, and I was coughing non-stop, needing to blow my nose repeatedly. Even my mom hardly recognized me due to the swelling.wheb I asked the doctor who performed the procedure he said I should look in to sleep apnea and then quickly left and before I knew it I was being wheeled out to the car
Just last week, I had an endoscopy with propofol and didn't have any adverse reactions, which makes this all the more puzzling.
Within two hours of leaving the clinic, I developed a fever and a sore throat, reminiscent of flu symptoms or past COVID experiences. I rushed to urgent care around 3 PM, where they tested me for COVID, flu, and strep – all tests came back negative, and I was sent home.
After taking 800mg of ibuprofen, I dozed off, and by 10 PM, the fever and sore throat had mostly subsided, but my face remained red with petechiae. Fast forward to today, both my eyes are hemorrhaged, and my skin looks like I've got a sunburn.
Has anyone ever experienced anything like this after a colonoscopy with propofol? If it was an allergic reaction, why was there no reaction during the endoscopy the week before? Could it be due to a different dosage? I stumbled upon some articles discussing an acute febrile reaction to propofol, but I'm still trying to piece everything together. As crazy as it sounds I believe I some how quit breathing
Any insights or similar experiences would be greatly appreciated. I did ask ChatGPT lol and it said these symptoms could be caused if I stopped breathing