Pain in armpit with fever

I was diagnosed with severe fulminant Ulcerative Colitis after 4wks of illness that included bloody diareah up to 50 times a day. By the time I was ambulanced to Hospital I had a crazy heart rate, I was severely dehydrated and could barely walk I was so weak. What I didn't have was pain. 3 times that week I was sent home from Urgent care after some tests because they assumed I just had some sort of Gastro.
I was Hospitalized, diagnosed with Ulcerative Colitis that affected my whole Colon in the CT Scan, then I had my Colonoscopy and was told my bowel was so bad it was the worst the Surgeon had ever seen in 20yrs. The swelling was so extreme it was cutting off blood flow. I was told that another 48hrs and I'd have had a necrotic bowel and would likely have even died. I was told I was the sickest person in our local Hospital not in Paliative Care. Again I had zero pain.
I'm very lucky that Prednisone IV worked really well and then I started Remicade which has kept me in remission for the past 3yrs. I still get the odd bad day if I eat something hard to digest . What I never have is pain. I'm wondering how unusual this is? I know in Hospital they asked me right away what I wanted for pain and seemed surprised when I said nothing. They wrote Tylenol on my chart but the only time I had that was as prep for my first Remicade Infusion. I get minor gas cramps at times but they pass quickly.
I've read reports here of people needing narcotics and describing horrible pain. I sometimes think if I'd had pain I would have been diagnosed more quickly before getting to the point of Sepsis? I also don't seem to get fevers?

male, M28, non smoker.
Hey, I'm writing for my family member to help look for answers since they are very hard to get.
About 3months ago my family member (I'll call him Jim) felt sick - almost like a basic flu with symptoms - cough, sore throat, runny nose 37.1°C fever. After a couple of days the cough and sore throat dissappeared, but the runny nose stayed and also a upper face pains appeared. Was given antibiotics.
After a couple of weeks of this - same fever 37°C 'ish got worried ant started not to sleep (panic attacks). This went on for weeks and Jim started to feel weak even tho he was active - walking 10k steps a day.
After a month from the beggining another thing appeared - pain in the testicles, was very hard to move because of a sharp pain, went to the doctor - found something like an infection and was given antibiotics. After them it kinda dissapeared, but would come on every once in a while. Worries came in at this point so Jim was doing every test he could get his hands on - x-rays, mrt, crb, overall blood tests - everything came up as healthy.
Jim thought that this would dissapear by itself, but he was not getting better, although symptoms are not that critical - the everyday feel is very weak, head is dizzy all the time and doctors are not helping by saying it's an psychological disorder. At the time Jim did a antibody test - found 600 sars-cov2 antibodys when the norm is 20-30, also mycoplasma pneumonia 170 which goes well with a subtle pain in the left rib are, norm is also 20-30 and was given antibiotics and is currently on the course - but at the third day - still dizzy and still feeling weak.
Any suspections, I would be very very thankful. I can clear some things up if needed since everything is very hard to explain, but the main thing is that he is feeling weak and demolished when he used to be very energetic and a maximalist. Again, thank you for reeplys.

If you haven’t vaccinated your baby yet I’d advise not to read it lol. Also this is not antivax, just sad mama seeing her poor baby suffer (for their own good)
My baby boy got his second round of vaccines yesterday and it’s been hell. After getting the first ones I got over the initial pain and what that would be like for him and expected that awful cry, but I knew the next couple of days could be bad. First few hours he’s been okay, no fever, a little bit tender but laughed and smiled.
He slept well at night, I thought he might have slept it off but today has been much worse. He’s just been crying all day, and it’s not this loud, obnoxious cry. It’s small, little, constant sad whining that we just know means he’s not feeling well.
He has a sore tummy, he keeps farting, straining and puked few times today. We had to give him an extra dose of paracetamol already because his tempeture is still running. I know it’s the right thing to do, I’m wouldn’t be one to get flu vaccines each year or anything but I feel like childhood vaccinations are so important. I’d say its the rotavirus one thats bothing him the most 😭
He just drank a bit of his bottle and went to sleep, I hope he sleeps well and wakes up his normal, giggly self tomorrow. And I guess this is much better than seeing him in a hospital with meningitis or whooping cough.

My mom had follicular lymphoma when she was 40 and was able to get it resolved, but has found that it has relapsed last year. She started treatment on Rituximab+Revlimid (R2) at the end of March and this is specifically for relapsed patients. I did not find out about her cancer (nor the previous one) until one week before her first Rituximab appointment - and only because she needed a ride, so it felt like I was playing catch up on all her medical records for a bit. I do not live in the same city with her, she lives with my brother and dad, who have both been doing as much as they can as well, but they do not have flexible jobs (brother in IT agency traveling to local clients, and dad a semi-long distance trucker so he's only home 3 nights of the week). I am a small business owner so I have a bit more flexibility, so I flew back to be her appointment person during her first round of treatment. She is physically capable so at this point my only job was to drive her to and from appointments and also help talk with doctors (she does not fully understand English).
During her first IV of Rituximab, she had a reaction where she had chills and they had to pause and IV Benadryll into her (this seems common in this sub?). After her chills went away, they finished the Rituximab IV over the course of the next 4 hours. She started her Revlimid the same day as well. From then, she had 2 more injections of Rituximab over the next 2 weeks but the following blood test, they found that her WBC had gone below the ideal level and decided she should pause her injection that week. The following week, her WBC was still the same, so they skipped that week as well.
After that, she somehow caught a fever of 101 and we brought her to the ER that day on April 23rd and she was in the hospital until May 10th. During this time in the hospital, they gave her a constant IV of electrolytes + antibiotic IV. They did a ton of tests (CT Scan, Ultrasound, MRI, Spinal Tap, etc.) and did not find any sort of infection, but new problems came up.
During her time in the hospital, she had some awareness but there were moments where it seemed like she might have been delusional or imagining things - just generally not herself and it felt very off. They said her MRI showed some abnormal amount of white matter (?). She became very weak and lost her ability to move as much (again, prior to the ER, she was taking walks daily by herself, carrying things around the house like rice bags, cooking and feeding herself, etc. so she was physically capable). She couldn't lift her left hand or left leg and they were both swollen (not a stroke though). She wasn't able to feed herself anymore and didn't even have the energy to suck water from a straw. She couldn't stand on her own when they gave her physical therapy either. One of the therapists made a comment about how she would now require 24/7 care. It was shocking how much her body declined during this time. She also had a fever almost every other day in the hospital.
Finally, when she hadn't had a fever for 48 hours, they decided she could be discharged but wanted to take a second CT scan and ultrasound to ensure there were no blood clots in her body from her lying in the hospital for 2 weeks. They also decided she should be on antibiotic IV at home, so they did a midline insertion to put a line into her arm. That same day when she was doing physical therapy for that day, they found that her O2 levels dropped to 85%, but she doesn't have a history of breathing problems. After finding this out, they decided to look back at the CT scan and found that there was "more liquid in her lungs than when she first came in" - they decided they could not discharge her that day and they wanted her to go home with an oxygen tank to use at home, so we would have to wait for that to arrive at the hospital before she could be discharged. The general doctor also wanted to do a procedure to extract the liquid from her lungs, but the pulmonary doctor said there is a possibility it's from lying down here for too long without movement and that it could go away without interference. I decided I didn't want to put her through another procedure because of the psychological stress she's had with being here for so long and her other procedures during her stay (bone marrow biopsy, spinal tap, midline insertion).
In addition, this process has been emotionally taxing. She's asked every day in the hospital if she could go home, started berating me about how I'm not aggressive enough with doctors to tell them to let her out, how I just want to leave her in the hospital to die, etc. While this was all painful to hear, I'm trying to remember that she's also not fully herself during this time, but everyday still felt like a battle to stay calm and do what's best for her.
Finally when she was discharged, she's been bedridden at home. We were optimistic about getting her to start standing and eventually walking again, but it seems she has even less energy here than at the hospital (not sure if this is due to the lack of electrolyte IVs at home?). We do try to get her to eat but she's losing energy to even chew or swallow pills so we have been trying to give more soups and liquids. She's talking less and moving less.
Because of the nature of my brother and dad's jobs, I've been the one present at the hospital most of the time, and after getting discharged, I'm the one who's at home making meals, feeding, changing her diapers, etc. They do take over when they are home. When she was discharged, my husband also flew down to help out, with lifting her up and down (lol I am not as strong as I'd like to be), feeding her, and taking care of general things around the apartment.
I had a call with her oncologist yesterday and he confirmed that Rituximab was not working for her and that this scenario only happens to <5% of patients. He said the only option now is to wait for her immune system to come back before starting a different chemo.
I guess I am just looking for shared experiences / support because it feels so defeating right now. It feels a little hopeless too because since coming home, she's been doing worse. If this continues to decline, I expect we would bring her back to the hospital. I don't want to be negative or give up hope, and I know that her immune system can't just get back to normal overnight. It feels sad that lymphoma is known to have "positive outcomes" (???) and that she's having such a rough time through it. As a caregiver, I also feel exhausted and guilty/selfish that I miss my life.
I recognize that this has only been 2 months and there are worse scenarios to be in as well, I'm trying to be grateful that her body is still fighting, that I have my dad, brother, and husband to also share the workload with. I am starting the process of applying for IHSS to possibly find a caregiver as well, though I am not sure how this will pan out because my parents absolutely hate the idea of strangers in their home especially while my mom is vulnerable, and they hate the idea of hiring caregivers (we are an Asian immigrant family and they believe in the idea of kids being the caregivers).
TLDR: Mom has follicular lymphoma and is going through rough treatment process with many setbacks. I feel hopeless.

34 Male, had a string of back to back colds/illnesses in April; flu symptoms (unverified), two bouts of food poisoning, sinus infection, and then started May with what I think was strep (red and white patchy throat, painful swallowing, swollen tonsils; did not get tested because my insurance’s covered urgent care is closed on weekends - symptoms started Friday, and I felt good enough to work by Monday, though still not 100%).
It’s been a little over a week since symptoms started - my throat is still a little scratchy, my tonsils are still visibly swollen, but I’m mostly fine. No fever that lasted more than an hour or two, and never above 99 degrees. Suddenly, though, my lymph nodes on only one side of my neck feel really tender and swollen. This has gone on about two or three days with no improvement/worsening - I noticed it and it’s been about the same since I did.
Should I go to urgent care? Is this just a late onset symptom of whatever I’ve got, and I should just continue to stay hydrated, drink tea and rest? Help!

I am on Day 3 of Covid-- started out as intense joint pain, could feel every joint in my body in the worst way, then a prolonged fever. Yesterday I could hardly walk my legs hurt so badly so I took a test and urged my household to do the same-- we all tested positive. Today I am out of breath and exhausted with some intense back pain.
I feel really sad about all this-- this is my third time having it since I got it initially in January/March 2020. I've been masking for four years, even working to make sure masks were allowed at my work. I got my family sick and we're just barely able to tend to our pets and generally live socially isolated since the Pandemic began. It's been hard to get enough food because it's hard to get to the kitchen but luckily have been able to have access to ample water. Just overall feeling pitiful but have been resting as much as possible.
How do y'all cope with intense exhaustion/out of breath feeling from Covid?
EDIT: spelling

I need help before I let myself feel stupid in front of my new coworkers lol.. I'm doing volunteer coding for a non profit that sees people in low resource communities.. so the documentation is not exactly proper. I'm already struggling with my first case LOL.
"6 months pregnant G3 P1 ab1. say is at 6 montyhs, nio vitamins- just throws them up. Having sharp cramping pain on the right, The pain is worse when she lays down. Good fetal movement. No bleeding.. Lots of diarrhea,6 times/ day has mucus, watery, sometimes a bit of blood. She looks well though. No fever. The diarrhea comes and goes. This far into pregnancy. Metronidazole is fine for the dysentery. Her first birth was in 2016, in Brazil. Had C section for failure to progress after 24 hours. Baby 4300gram. advised to return for eval in 4 weeks, and that she needs to be in a hospital for close managment due to risk of needing another c section-It was a large baby. Declines PN vits."
Any advice on how and in which order to code this? I might be over thinking it. The company says to code a Dx if even it says "suspected" or "possible" so idk if i'm coding dysentery or diarrhea.. SO i'm thinking either of one those, gestation, and the history of previous pregnancy? I finished my program like a month ago and feel like i suddenly forgot everything!!!

Hello - I've recently received a PET scan for FUO. Since last July, I've been experiencing right sided abdominal pain which received no diagnosis. Last fall, I became severely ill with GI symptoms (primarily nausea) followed by chest/rib pain and neuro symptoms (shooting pain down right leg, headaches, etc.). My period had completely stopped during this time, which was likely due to the stress my body was under. They've since resumed, albeit painful ovulation and period cycles with frequent bloating all month long. Colonoscopy did not show any reasoning for my extreme bloating or abdominal pain. In January I began experiencing frequent fevers. I ended up with infectious disease and neurology referrals, and after extensive workups that did not provide any insight, we moved forward with a full-body PET Scan. Everything came back normal except the following:
ABDOMEN/PELVIS: In the posterior left adnexal region there is a 43 x 23 mm ovoid low density structure with moderately increased uptake in the peripheral posterior portion maximum SUV 7.7.
IMPRESSION: 1. Moderately increased uptake within the peripheral posterior portion of a 43 x 23 mm ovoid lesion posterior left adnexa. Findings may simply represent a physiologic ovarian cyst within an otherwise somewhat prominent ovary. In this particular patient chronic tubo-ovarian abscess or other fallopian tube or ovarian pathology could be considered. Recommend pelvic ultrasound with transabdominal and transvaginal imaging for further evaluation. 2. No other potential source of fever demonstrated.
________
The thing this I've had two ultrasounds (results below) in the past year, and my current OBGYN was quite dismissive of the results and is insistent that my symptoms are not GYN related. I'm currently waiting to see a new GYN next month, but wondering if this is urgent and should not wait that long. I'm really struggling to go back to my current OBGYN because of my experience there, and I'm not sure she'd do anything with these results. She largely double downed last time that my past US results were not a cause for worry or concern, and to manage with OTC pain relievers. No further action or testing needed.
Could the ultrasound and a CT (in relation to abdominal pain) I've had missed this?
Would love to know based on your experiences, how hard I should advocate for myself and if there's any specific testing I should explicitly ask for.
I have alot of medical fatigue and feel dismissed despite feeling so awful all the time. If you've read this far, thank you and sorry for the novel.
________
February 2024 Ultrasound:

• Myometrium: Single fibroid seen
• Right ovary: appears normal with a 21mm hemorrhagic corpus luteum containing retracting clot
• Endometrial thickness, total 4.9mm
• Endometrium: within normal limits
• Fibroids:
  • Uterine fibroid D1 11 mm
  • Uterine fibroid D2 8 mm
  • Uterine fibroid D3 9 mm
  • Uterine fibroid mean 9.3 mm
  • Uterine fibroids findings: Intramural. Anterior. Right lateral wall

November 2023 Ultrasound:

• Uterus
  • Endometrium: 4 mm cyst , no solid masses
  • Endometrial thickness, total 9.8 mm
  • Fibroids: Fibroids identified
    • Uterine fibroid D1 30 mm
    • Uterine fibroid D2 25 mm
    • Uterine fibroid D3 25 mm
    • Uterine fibroid mean 26.7 mm
    • Uterine fibroids findings: transmural FIGO 2-5 with 10 mm cyst
  • Right Ovary:Appears normal
    • Rt ovary D1 27 mm
    • Rt ovary D2 30 mm
    • Rt ovary D3 12 mm
    • Rt ovary Vol 5.1 cm³
  • Left Ovary: Appears normal
    • Lt ovary other findings: seen transabdominally only
  • Left Tube: Size 38.0 mm x 18.0 mm x 24.0 mm
  • Impression: 1. Heterogeneous mildly thickened endometrium with a 4 mm cyst. Clinical correlation recommended for potential hyperplasia or polyp. If clinically appropriate, repeat ultrasound could be performed in 4-6 months to evaluate for persistence. 2. Findings cost consistent with a degenerated fibroid. 3. Normal ovaries.

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?

An hour after getting back from the Mason apartment, Bruce Kenner had the distinct misfortune of meeting Bertha Henderson.
A plump, gaudy woman with wrinkles and sun beaten skin only an alligator could love, Bertha Henderson wore bright red lipstick, bright red rouge, and way too much mascara. Her tangled hair was a dull red color and her clothes - pink pants and a white floral top - stretched tight across her bulbous frame. She looked like the kind of woman who lived in a trailer with velvet pictures of Elvis on the wall and pink flamingos in the front yard.
She acted like one too.
From the moment she stormed into his office, she hadn’t shut up once. She scolded, chided, accused, and badgered, sometimes even wagging one fat finger in his face like he was a naughty little boy. Ten minutes into the dressing down and Bruce was beginning to fantasize about police brutality.
It took him another ten minutes to find out what the hell she even wanted.
“It’s my granddaughter,” she shot back, “she’s missing in your town.”
My town? Lady, this is barely my office. I share it with three other people.
“Well, if you’ll calm down, maybe I can help.”
Jesus Christ was that the wrong thing to say. She hit the roof and didn’t come down again until Bruce was this close to arresting her for assault on a police officer. “Young man, I do not appreciate the way you’re talking to me. My tax dollars are the only reason you have a job. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be working at a car wash.”
At least I wouldn’t have to deal with you.
Bruce took a deep breath and held his tongue in check. “How can I help you?” he asked.
“I told you, my granddaughter is missing. If you listened to me, you’d know this already.”
Bertha produced a picture and slid it across the desk. Bruce studied it. A girl, roughly sixteen with black hair, blue eyes, and dimples smiled back at him. “She;’s with that Rossi man, I just know it,” she said bitterly.
“Who?” Bruce asked.
Rolling her eyes like he was stupid, the old woman told him the story. Jessie - the dimple faced girl - had the rotten luck of having to live with Grandma Bertha after her parents went to jail on drug charges. They lived in Sand Lake, a little town in the mountains outside Albany, where Bertha was no doubt loved and admired by all. One day, Jessie, who her grandmother lovingly described as “A little troublemaker”, ran off. Bruce didn’t blame her. He’d known Bertha for half an hour and he wanted to run off. Bertha did some snooping on Jessie’s laptop and found that the “little whore” had been chatting with an older man, Joe Rossi. Rossi, or so Facebook said, lived in Albany and worked at Club Vlad.
“I want him arrested for pedophilia,” Bertha said and crossed her arms defiantly over her chest. “He’s a dog just like all men. She’s probably pregnant already. Another mouth I have to feed.”
Behind the old battle ax, Vanessa appeared in the doorway and lifted her brows as if to say What a piece of work. Knowing her, she’d probably been standing just out of sight this whole time with McKenny, the elderly evidence clerk, and snickering into her hand like a little girl. LOL she called him young man.
Bertha noticed him looking over her shoulder and started to turn. Vanessa’s face went white and she ducked out of the way, narrowly avoiding detection. “I’m glad you think this is funny,” Bertha said to Bruce. “Meanwhile, if I don’t get Jessie back, the state’s going to stop sending me my checks. I need that income. I can’t work, you know. I have gout.”
Too bad being an asshole isn’t a job, you’d be world-famous
“I’ll go talk to him,” Bruce said.
“I want more than talk, young man, I want action.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
When Bertha finally decided to waddle off and ruin someone else’s day, Vanessa came in and sat in the chair the old woman had so recently occupied. “Oh, my God,” she said, “that was intense. I was this close to radioing in a 1015.”
1015 was code for officer down.
“Funny,” Bruce said without a trace of humor. He had kids going missing, a dead guy someone moved around like a goddamn Barbie doll, and now this. What next, hemorrhoids?
“What do you think? Code 1 or code 2?”
Code 1 meant top priority. Code 2 meant not a top priority. Bruce thought for a moment. It didn’t sound like Jessie Henderson was in danger. It sounded like she met a guy - granted, one too old for her - and decided to hide out with him from her psycho grandma. Maybe it could be something more, but he had a gut feeling that it wasn’t…and his gut feelings were usually right. “2,” he finally said. “I got shit to do.”
By shit, he meant “Talk to the families of those missing boys again.” He’d been interviewing them for two days looking for clues, but there was nothing. It’s like they just vanished. Bruce didn’t like this. He didn’t like it at all.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Vanessa said and slapped the desk.
When she was gone, Bruce sighed.
Never a dull moment, he thought.
***
Ed Harris - no relation to the Hollywood actor - had been the medical examiner for the City of Albany since 2002, and in all that time, he had never seen anything quite like this.
It was Wednesday evening and Ed was locked away in the cold, sterile space beneath the city offices that comprised his domain. With its puke green tiles, harsh lights, and cloying smells of disinfectant, the .coroner's office creeped most people out, but not Ed. He was at home here, as comfortable surrounded by toe-tagged bodies as a cactus was surrounded by desert. A thin man in his fifties with curly, steel gray hair thinning in the middle, he wore a white smock, blood stained over his clothes that made him look like a butcher instead of a low level government functionary. He had a dark and dry sense of humor, but then again, so do all people who play with dead bodies for fun and profit.
The coroner’s office was a vast, utilitarian vault segmented into multiple different rooms. Here, where the magic happened, three stainless steel tables stood in a row; a bank of refrigerated drawers kept watch, making sure nothing funny happened. One of the cold fluorescent lights overhead flickered with a hum of electricity, and water dripped rhythmically from a faucet. It was a cold, eerie place, but to Ed, it was home.
On most nights, only one of the tables was occupied, but tonight, two were. On one lay an old lady who died of what appeared to be cyanide poisoning. On the other was Dominick Mason.
Naked save for a white cloth draped over his groin to protect his dignity, Dom was the most corpsy corpse you’d ever hope to see. In fact, if you looked up dead guy in the dictionary, you’d see a picture of him. His body was pale and sunken, one side covered in purple splotches where his blood had pooled, and his eyes were closed. His abdomen was slightly distended with the expected build up of gas, and his flesh stuck fast to the bones beneath. In other words, he was text book. A normal corpse.
Mostly normal.
As men of his trade are wont to do when strange bodies mysteriously appear, Ed had opened Dom up, making a Y shaped incision from his neck to his groin. He hummed to himself as he did so, his hands wielding his sharp and shiny tools with the deft assuredness of a seasoned surgeon. Done cutting, he dipped his gloved hands into the cavity and started removing organs. A spleen here, a liver there, nothing Dom would miss. When he got to the heart, however, he stopped.
There was something…off…about it. At first glance, it was black and withered like an oversized raisin. An odd and putrid odor emanated from it and though he was familiar with the various smells and stenches the human body produced after death, this wasn’t one of them. Try as he might, he couldn’t place it, couldn’t even compare it to anything. Plucking a magnifying glass from the metal cart next to the table, he peeled back part of Dom’s chest and examined the heart closer.
That’s when things got really weird.
Dominick Mason’s heart was, indeed, shriveled, but it was not black. Instead, it was almost entirely covered by an interlacing crisscross of what appeared to be black mold. Here and there, Ed could glimpse flashes of the heart beneath: It was wrinkled and a sickly gray color. “What is this?” Ed asked himself at length. He grabbed a pair of tweezers from the tray and carefully, very carefully, attempted to remove a piece of the mold for analysis. The moment the cold metal tips touched the heart, it gave a violent spasm that sent Ed falling back with a shocked gasp, the tweezers falling from his hand and clinking to the tiled floor.
The heart began to pulse like an alien egg sac, slowly at first, then more rapidly. For a moment, Ed was frozen in place, unable to comprehend what he was seeing. Once you die, your heart ceases beating. That’s that. Only living hearts beat, and Dominick Mason was certainly dead. He was dead from the moment Ed first laid eyes on him earlier that day and he was dead now. Yet there was his heart, beating anyway.
It could be a muscle spasm. They usually aren’t that violent and consistent, but dead bodies sometimes do strange things. As he watched the blackened muscle expanding and contracting, however, Ed had the most eerie feeling. He went to rub the back of his neck, realized he was still wearing blood soaked gloves, and stripped them off. He was spooking himself out; he needed a break and a hot cup of coffee. He’d come back fresh and start over again.
With that mold.
Could you really blame him for being creeped out? That stuff wasn’t normal. He’d never seen anything like that before, not even in textbooks. Dom was scrawny and didn’t get enough vitamins in life, but overall, he was healthy; that mold…or whatever it was…had no business being there.
Going over to the coffee pot, which stood in the same room to save travel time, Ed grabbed a styrofoam cup. When he was done here, he planned to go home and -
A terrible, metallic clatter rang out, and Ed jumped. He turned around, and when he saw Dominick Mason standing next to the table, hunched slightly over and staring at him, an electric burst of fright shot up his spine and exploded in his brain, so strong it made the edges turn gray. Pale, hands hooked into talons, and the flaps of his chest hanging open to reveal the cavity beneath, Dominick Mason looked for all the world like a boy who’d been caught sneaking out to meet his girlfriend. A weak, involuntary, “Oh, God,” slipped from Ed’s trembling lips, and the spell was broken. Dom came alive and ran toward the door leading out to the parking lot. He slammed through it, and the sound of it crashing open and then falling closed again echoed through the empty chamber.
Shaking, panting for air, and soaked in piss, Ed sank to the floor in a sitting position, his eyes wide and staring like those of a soldier returning damaged from the front.
It was a long time before he composed himself enough to call the police.
***
Dazed and caught in a nightmarish twilight realm where nothing made sense, Dominick Mason limped painfully down the sidewalk, a stranger lost in a strange land filled with danger and hostile creatures. Barefoot and shrouded in a white sheet, he trembled with cold and struggled to ignore the dark, threatening shapes looming from the fog in his brain, shapes that would turn into unspeakable truths if he let them.
Passersby openly stared at him, their expressions either morbidly curious, disgusted, or alarmed. A man put his arm protectively around his girlfriend; a woman pulled her little boy to her breast, and another man sneered at him, his nose crinkling. Dom, his glazed eyes narrowed against the harsh glare of the many street lamps, headlights, and storefronts, lumbered headlong toward nowhere, his fear growing until he was shambling. He imagined he could hear every cough, every whisper; smell the odor of every unwashed body. Each car horn was deafening, every whiff of ass or armpits sent his stomach churning. The rustle of a passing pedestrian’s jacket jammed into his ears like icepicks, and the approaching globes of LED headlamps burned his eyes. He gritted his teeth and groaned against the pain.
The dense mist wrapping his brain made it hard to think. Like a frightened animal, he made his way on instinct alone. Home. He needed to get home. Out here, on the street, he was exposed. At home, locked away in his small apartment, he would be safe.
A car passed in the street, bass heavy rap music blaring from its open windows, and Dom’s brain exploded with agony. He threw himself against a street sign and held on for dear life, his legs weak. Dizziness overwhelmed him, and he almost went down. He was also cold.
So, so cold.
People around him quickened their step; they never took their eyes off him, as though he were a venomous snake that would strike at any moment. He needed to get away from them. They were going to hurt him; people always hurt him.
Pushing away from the sign, he began to hobble once more toward home, wherever home was. He looked over his shoulder several times as he made his way down Central Avenue, and each time, he saw that no one was following him as he had feared.
No one, that is, except for the man in sunglasses.
Tall and lank with curly hair, he wore dark Aviators and a leather motorcycle jacket over a button up shirt. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets and his face showed no expression. He was always there, always a few steps closer. Outside Capital Fried Chicken, a group of people openly stared at him, He heard their whispers as he passed. What’s wrong with him? Dude’s straight tweakin. And the one that struck him the most. That guy looks dead.
Dom hobbled faster, as if to outrun the realization that he was, in fact, dead. The man in sunglasses was closer now, his footsteps so loud that Dom winced. He turned around, and the man was impossibly in front of him. Dom ran into him and bounced backward, going ass over tea kettle and landing on the former. They were in front of a church on a darkened corner, the lights here either burned out or shot out - you could never tell in Albany. Even though it was dark, Dom could see everything with crystal clarity. Dom tried to scurry away, but he was too weak to escape. Right there and then, he decided to give up. Come what may, he just wanted this nightmare to be over.
The man stared down at him, emotionless, unspeaking.
Dom squirmed.
“You’re real lucky I came along,” the man said. His tone was flat, even.
Dead.
“Get up,” he said, “I’ll take you home.”
Home?
Yes.
Dom wanted to go home.
The man helped him up, and Dom followed him into the night.
***
Bruce Kenner stood in the middle of the medical examiner’s office at half past nine that evening with his hands on his hips and stared doubtfully down at Ed Harris. The lonely cavern was alive with activity as cops went over everything, all of them looking either bemused or a mused. Bruce was neither. He’d been at home, sitting in his chair and having a beer in front of AEW Dynamite when Vanessa called. “You might wanna get down here,” she said, sounding confused, “something really strange is going on.”
Ed Harris - no relation to that one guy - sat in a straight back chair beside his cluttered desk and gripped a styrofoam cup of coffee in both hands, putting Bruce - for some reason - in mind of a monkey. When Bruce came in, the old man was white as a sheet and shook like a leaf. In the last half hour, little had changed.
“Tell me again,” Bruce said.
He and Ed were pretty good friends. He knew that Ed knew standard police procedure. Cops don’t ask you to repeat your story a thousand times over because they’re forgetful fucks, they do it because telling it again and again helps to jog loose details that you might have forgotten. Ed, therefore, did not protest. “I turned my back,” he said and chopped the chair like Jackie Chan, “and I heard the noise.”
His voice was thick, unsteady, and halting. He sounded as squirrely as he looked…and he looked pretty damn squirrelly right now.
“I turned around…and he was looking at me. He was standing there and he was looking at me.”
This was the fourth time he’d had Ed go through the story, and nothing had changed. Bruce felt something stirring deep inside his gut. It was either disquiet…or he had to fart. He opened his mouth to speak, but sighed.
“You don’t believe me,” Ed said.
“I dunno, Ed. Dead bodies don’t just get up and walk away.”
Ed flashed. “I know that, goddamn it, but this one did.”
Bruce glanced at Vanessa. She looked uncomfortable.
“Are you sure he was dead?” Bruce asked.
Ed opened his mouth, closed it again, and said, “I did the autopsy.” His voice broke on the last word, and he sounded almost like he was pleading. “His fucking liver’s on the floor. He stepped on it. The man has nothing in him. I-I’m telling you, there’s no way he’s alive.”
During the autopsy, Ed had sat Dominick Mason’s organs on the little tray table where he kept his pointy things. Mason knocked it over while getting up. Indeed, there were human organs on the floor, and one of them did look kind of squished. Bare, bloody footprints led to the exit door, up a set of concrete steps, and then disappeared in the alley behind the office.
“You said you left his heart,” Bruce said.
“And his brain,” Vanessa helpfully added.
Ed pinched the bridge of his nose like a put upon professor dealing with two particularly stupid students. “Even with his heart and his brain, he’s dead. You saw the livor mortis. He was cold, he was stiff. His heart wasn’t beating, he wasn’t breathing. He was in one of those drawers for nine hours, not breathing, no blood flow - it’s impossible. It’s just…it’s impossible. I don’t care what you think, he was dead. And even if somehow he wasn’t, I cut out almost everything. I opened his stomach, I took his spleen - you don’t just get up from that. You don’t walk away from that, much less run.”
Bruce chewed the inside of his bottom lip because he didn’t have a Twix. He didn’t look like the smartest man in the world…and he wasn’t…but he knew a dead body when he saw one, and the body they took out of Dominick Mason’s apartment was D.E.A.D. And like Ed said, even if by some freak fluke of nature he wasn’t, he couldn’t just get up and go about his day with no liver, spleen, or kidneys. Hell, Bruce had his gallbladder out and he couldn’t even walk away from that.
“You said there was something funny about his heart,” Vanessa said.
Ed finished off his coffee. “Yeah. It was…moldy. I-I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Is it possible that…has something to do with it?”
“Unless the rules of biology have changed overnight, no,” Ed stated.
While Ed poured himself another cup of Joe, spilling some because he was still shaking, Vanessa took Bruce aside. “So what do you think?” she asked. “Is he telling the truth?”
For that, Bruce did not have an immediate answer. All else aside, he was a cop. He followed the evidence - and his gut instinct - wherever it led him. Ed was a sober man - he was not a drunk, insane, or stupid - and no man on earth could fake the look of trauma in his eyes. Bruce’s eyes went to the bloody footprints leading away from the exam table and his stomach roiled. It might be cliched, but there had to be a rational explanation. “Yeah,” he finally said. “The kid got up like he said, but there’s no way he was dead. Maybe…I dunno, he had a surge of adrenaline or something. I’m not a doctor.”
“That’ll only get him so far,” Vanessa said. “We’ll probably find him on the street somewhere.”
He went back to the purple splotches on Dom’s face, to his cold stiffness. There’s no way he was dead?
Bruce was confused, and he hated being confused.
“I dunno,” he said, “maybe.”
But he had the gnawing feeling that they wouldn’t. They would never find him…and Bruce would be confused forever.
Goddamn it, Mason, he thought, where are you?

About 2-ish years ago I made a post about some issues that I was having. At the time I thought I may have had an internal rectal prolapse. I’ve gotten a lot of nice feedback from that post and had a lot of people contact me with questions or their own experiences, so I thought it would be good to post an update.
About 2 months ago I went to the ER with what I thought might be appendicitis. I was having fevers and sharp abdominal pain. They determined that I actually had an infection in my uterus, possibly caused by my IUD. They did an ultrasound to see if the IUD had migrated and discovered a massive tumor in my uterus! The tumor is so large that it is pressing against my rectum. My gynecologist believes this is the reason for the bowel issues that I’ve been having.
While I’m not happy about having a huge tumor, it explains so many things that I thought were unrelated that all started happening around the same time. From the imaging they can’t tell whether it is a degenerating fibroid or a cancerous sarcoma, so that is a little scary, but the treatment is the same either way: I will be having a hysterectomy next month.
Thank you all for listening and being here for me, this group has been so supportive. I’m nervous about the hysterectomy and the recovery process (especially because they won’t be able to do it laparoscopically due to the size of the tumor) and I would love to hear stories from anyone who has gone through it.

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

Hello everyone and thank you in advance for reading.
I am a 31 year old female. I don't drink, I use weed everyday, and I am in relatively good health overall (blood work always in good ranges, minimal issues, not often sick).
I work as a delivery driver for UPS, 45-50 hours a week average. For exercise, I alternate between strength training and cardio. Every day for an hour. I walk my dogs everyday for 1.5 hours total.
I eat fine. Better than most of my peers. Lots of veggies and protein. My biggest issue is eating enough food.
Last year around the end of May, I experienced intense pain starting at the top of my rotater cuff all the way down to my hips and under my armpits around my ribs. I try to continue about my day because the pain started at work. I am unloading a large amount of 20+ lb boxes and my hands fail. I drop the box, luckily it was coming off the cart so it was already like an inch from the floor. At this point my hand and shoulder are tingly and nunb. I go to the workers comp clinic concentra, get an x ray, they determine it's "soft tissue damage".
I went through 3 months of shitty physical therapy, 3 chiropractor visits, and then finally an mri where they said the issue might be herniation in my neck but they were unable to view it with the images they took and since the original complaint was about my back and shoulder, they can't image my neck.
I give up on workers comp figuring it out and turn to my primary care doctor. I explain everything to him, including offering to get the images concentra took so he could see what they are talking about. He suggests I start physical therapy at kaiser and then go from there and manage my pain with naproxen in the mean time.
I finally get an appointment for PT at kaiser and it feels like the same run around I got at concentra. I ask for neck specific exercises since I've noticed the pain begins in my neck just under my jaw. Sometimes it manifests as a migraine, most days it's just feels sore in my shoulder blade and my neck.
It's November at this point.
In December, I am slammed against the wall and floor several times and had elbows and knees shoved into my shoulder blade while face down on the floor. I suffered what was assumed to be a concussion and pain levels doubled.
Now, I get concussion headaches that are definitely separate from the migraines. I continue to manage the pain with naproxen and exercise. Some days, the pain is too much and I can't even walk the dogs.
I've brought up the headaches to my doctor and he suggested managing it with effexor, which I definitely don't want to do and I think covers up the actual problem rather than addressing it.
What's the best way to approach this? Should I have gotten any scans during this time? My insurance is through the roof, everything is covered or very very low cost. How do I tell my doctor I don't feel like I'm receiving the best care? Or am I just being whiney? Is this one of those situations where it's this or surgery? I'd rather avoid surgery as long as possible.

Hey folks, selling a few records, shipping is $5. If you're buying more than 1 deals can easily be made I'm pretty flexible, ships from Texas. Grade: (record/ sleeve).
[SOLD]Breakwater- Splashdown.VG+/VG+. Original press, excellent copy of an amazing album, I think this might be my recommended pick of the post. Beautiful blend of soul and funk here. Super hard to find clean and if you do it's not at this price. $29.[SOLD]
Ohio players- Pain. VG+/VG+. Original press on westbound. The Ohio players westbound releases are getting real hard to find clean these days, here's a great copy. $18.
100 Proof- Aged in Soul. VG/VG-. Original press on the hot wax label. I being conservative calling the wax VG, it really has very minimal light non feelable lines. The front cover has ring wear, jacket has hole punch top right corner, no splitting. Super hard to find this soul record. $19
Bob Marley & the Wailers- Exodus. Sealed/Mint. Original US press. Exodus is embossed on front, lions embossed in back. No bar code, on island. 7720 sunset boulevard Los Angeles address. So I've had two copies of this album sealed for over 10 years. Sold one earlier this year here on reddit this is the second and last copy. Absolute rarity to find an original sealed. VG copies of this are going for around 50 bucks y'all I think is a pretty fair price. I'm sure some moron would list for much more on discogs. $100
Sam Cooke- Live at the Harlem Square Club. VG+/VG. Original release. Record plays great, very few faint scuffs. Jacket in great shape with light wear. Great copy of one the greatest live albums of all time. $35
Roy Ayers Ubiquity- A tear to a smile. VG+/VG+. Original press. Vinyl is super clean, jacket in shrink. One of my favorite Roy albums, killer jazz funk. $30
Prince- Controversy. VG/VG. Original '81 pressing. The wax is really clean with a few light marks. There's a small pen mark scribble on side 1 label which is the main reason a graded vg. Jacket has some wear to the spine. This is a nice copy. $19
LTD- Love to the World. VG+/VG+. Vinyl is super clean in original pictures sleeve. Jacket in excellent shape. $14
Eugene Record- The Eugene Record. VG+/VG. Record is super clean, jacket in great shape, legible spine and no tears. Great copy of a nice soul album I don't see a lot. $18
The Modulations- It's Rough out here. VG+/VG-. Original press, the vinyl is clean, light hairline towards the end of very last track that causes a few ticks. Cover has wear on edges, light ring wear and 2" splitting top right corner at opening. Super hard to find soul record that is pretty clean. $28
[SOLD]Grace Jones- Nightclubbing. VG+/VG+. Original press on blue island label. Super clean wax. Bottom of front jacket has light ring wear. Such a well produced, fun album and man does it sound amazing on wax. Excellent copy. $18[SOLD]
Mutiny- Funk Plus the One. VG+/VG+. Original white label promo. Clean vinyl free of scratches, nice jacket. $15
Eddie Kendricks- Boogie Down. VG+/VG. Clean vinyl, jacket has edge wear. $3
Sounds of blackness- evolution of gospel. VG/VG+. Original us press. There's groove wear 30 seconds into the intro song" chains" that causes a a very quick jump. Rest of the album plays fantastic. Hype sticker on cover. I currently don't see any copies of this in the states for a reasonable price. $21
Anderson.Paak- Malibu. Mint/sealed. This is the original 2016 Europe 180 gram press with turquoise hype sticker. "SW234223" on the spine. My personal copy of this sounds great. Jacket has light corner creasing the top left corner. Note: my personal copy also initially had a corner crease and I imagine most will, two heavy 180 housed in a single pocket jacket will do that. There should be a poster in there when you open the shrink. I will bubble wrap this so the mailer is tight and the record is not moving around. $24
Donny Hathaway- The Best of Donny Hathaway. VG+/VG+. $12
Common- Be. VG+/VG+. Original 2005 pressing with STERLING in the dead wax. This is not the 2023 reissue from Canada. Both discs are in fantastic shape, jacket in great shape. $60
Clarence Smith- Whatever Happened to Love.VG+/VG. Original promo. Vinyl is clean, jacket has edge wear no seanl splits. For as long as Ive known this record it ha always been hard to find. Really nice funk, soul, gospel album. $30
Charles Lloyd- Moonman. VG+/VG+. This is the 1970 repress that came out the same year as original release with the red kapp label. Plays nicely. This is just a different album but different in a good way in my opinion. Just check it out, if you like buy it lol. 7 bucks.
Robert palmer- Pressure Drop. VG/VG. $5
Pat Lundy- Loving You-The funkiest feeling. VG+/G+. Record is clean. Jacket has splitting at the top and slight ring wear. This one is kinda rare. $8
James Brown- Live at home with his bad self. VG+/VG+. I played this one once. $15
Saturday Night Fever Soundtrack. VG+/VG. Discs are a Vg+ cover is a strong VG. $7
David T Walker- On Love. VG+/VG+. Original Us press. $26
Harvey Mason- Funk in the Mason Jar. VG+/VG. Original white label promo, vinyl iscl super clean. Play tested and sounds fantastic. The jacket has a promo cut top right corner. Just a real nice jazz funk album man. 7$
Houston person- Harmony VG+/VG. Record is pristine, jacket has very light staining due to age. $5
Thanks a bunch!

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NaughtyConfessions
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I'm 70 and have never had a kidney stone. My older brother has been plagued with them. Saturday I began running a high fever 104 and kept taking aspirin which knocked it down only to return. Bottom line my husband (gay couple) called 911 against my wishes. They took me in and the hospital admitted me because my blood pressure was dropping. Well, I have a 6 mm kidney stone at the kidney not allowing urine to pass into the bladder so the kidney was swelling up. They inserted a catheter into my kidney, out my back, and into a bag. I'm seeing my Urologist today to see what's next. I never ever felt any pain although I did unintentionally threw up in front of the ER doctor out of the blue. When I learned it was a kidney stone (TOTALLY UNEXPECTED) I called my brother laughing because I joined his club

25f, diagnoses: Crohn’s disease of both small and large intestine, generalized anxiety disorder, moderate episodes of major depressive disorder, ADHD, insomnia, immunosuppression due to drug therapy. Medications: renflexis bi-monthly infusions for Crohn’s, buspirone for anxiety.
History of the current issue: I did a course of augmentin for 10 days for a sinus infection. On day 10 I noticed blood in my urine. Sometimes it is pink other times it is brownish/orange. It was brownish/orange a few days before I noticed pink/blood on day 10. I immediately called the doctor and got a urine test. The urine test showed large amounts of blood and over 2000mg protein, and no infection, so they referred me to urology. I am peeing very frequently throughout the day and night. I am also experiencing bladder pressure/discomfort and lower back pain and hip pain. I am also very tired and feel the need to sleep a lot. No fever. I have also had lower back pain and hip pain in the past.
How can I prepare for my urology appointment? What should I expect? Any guesses on what is wrong with me?

I grew up physically and emotionally abused by my parents, in particular, my dad. I should preface this by saying my dad was stressed from working night shifts in the factory. And his parents didn’t like myself or my mom (dad married my mom who is a different Asian race) and growing up in Australia I never spoke my grandparents native language or either of my parents’ languages - mainly English, hence the disapproval. So it’s safe to say my dad was quite stressed at this time.
When I was 7 years of age, I had problems sleeping and my dad used to work night shifts. When I couldn’t sleep I would go to my parents room and tell them I couldn’t sleep. This was always followed by: “go to sleep, just lay there and you will sleep”, which I would try and follow, but after several hours of laying in bed, I would go back to my parents room to tell them I couldn’t sleep, for some reason I always felt very anxious when I couldn’t sleep as a kid. When I went back to their room it as always horrible for me ….
trigger warning*
My dad would then beat me really bad. He would hit me across the face to the point where I would go to school with a large bruise on my face. It was always hitting and punching my head or my arms (from trying to block my face). There were days I couldn’t move my arm because when I tried to block his strike, my arm would take the hit and it would be so painful. He would break down my door to get into my room after I would run into it to escape his beating. He would tape my arms and legs so that I couldn’t defend myself, and would spit on me and kick my stomach while I was taped and on the floor. He would strangle me so hard I begged him to stop multiple times. He would lock me out of the house in the middle of the night and tell me I can scream all I want, and that even if the police came, they wouldn’t be able to help me because going into foster care would be worse than what I was experiencing. I was so messed up. My mom would try to help me but eventually gave up because of dad’s force. He has never beaten my mom or my brother, just me. I was also emotionally abused if I forgot something when we were out shopping in the mall - if I spoke out of line and told him to lower his voice he would yell even louder and call me stupid. This is just the surface of what I went through…and it went on for about 8-9 years. Not everyday but most days. Their excuse was that my dad was the sole income earner, he was stressed and he was earning money to provide me with an education and better life. This is their way of showing “love”. My mom constantly reminds me that his actions were in the past and I should be appreciative of his care.
In my 20s, I had developed severe depression and anxiety and had to seek help from medical professionals to stop suicidal tendencies. Since gaining financial independence and moving away from them, it has helped my relationship with them and we are now cordial.
Fast forward and I’m now 34, happily married to a Caucasian and have a 3 year old together. Both my husband and I work full time and can only afford to place my daughter in childcare 4 days per week. One day per week we ask my parents to help us look after her while we work. They don’t like my husband, they judge my marriage and the way I parent my child. They constantly tell me that “white men” are no good and that my husband can’t offer me security. I do see they love my daughter but it feels like it is a huge burden for them to look after her. They claim they love taking care of her but then they say they have busy lives and don’t have time for themselves when they look after her. They constantly complain on the day they look after her.
Recently my daughter has been unwell with croup. We have taken her to 4 different doctors and they have all advised us to give neurofen or Panadol for discomfort and fevers. When my dad asked me what medication I give her, he said “don’t you know neurofen fu%ing causes coughing?” And I said that’s what the doctors advised and that there’s no evidence to his claim. I asked if he knew more than the doctor and he told me to “get out of my fu%ing sight”.
I should note that my parents show nothing but love towards my daughter and would do anything for her. And my daughter is so fond of them and has so much fun with them.
My question is… is this normal? I feel like I have reached my limit and want to cut out the toxicity and cut ties. My daughter loves them both but I just feel it is so unhealthy being around them. Thoughts??
**I have tried talking to them about it without any success.