Chest congestion and nausea

I'm looking for advice while I wait to see a doc. I've been to the hospital 3 times in the last 2 months for sudden chest pain, shortness of breath, and high blood pressure, thinking I'm having a heart attack. The first time I couldn't breathe, collapsed, and thought I was going to die in the hospital. Each time they've taken my tests, my heart and lungs are perfectly fine.
I just learned about GERD and think I may be experiencing this. I'm not experiencing any of the typical regurgitation, no stomach ache or nausea, the pain is really all centered in the chest with high blood pressure. It's been happening every night for at least a week. I live alone and am terrified every night, I'm so sad, feel so weak, and hyperfixated on both my health and every sensation in my body.
I guess I need to vent more than anything else. This came on so suddenly, with no warning, and no obvious cause. It's really getting to me :'(

Hey guys, I recently got a hiv rna test and I am terrified of receiving the results. I had an encounter on may 6th. Basically what happened was he put on a condom and started to insert his you know what in my ass. Once I felt it in me for about 10 to 20 seconds I immediately got off the bed and said I don’t want to do this. However a few days later I developed a cough that didn’t go away for a week and kept me up. When I tried to talk the congestion in my throat and chest caused me to cough more. I am scared about my results even though we used a condom. Do you guys think I should be ok?

Hello all. FTM to an almost 4 month old baby boy. I am waiting on a call back from the pediatrician but figured I would post here to see if I’m overreacting 🫠
Baby was born a month early. Since he’s been born he’s had pretty bad congestion on and off. A couple weeks after he was born he ended up in the hospital with bronchiolitis.
I reached out to the doctor last week because it was getting worse when he wakes up and he sounds like he’s sniffling a lot and seems like there’s a lot in his nose but when I look I don’t see anything so assuming more in the chest. They saw him and he tested negative for Covid, Flu and RSV and they said probably just a cold.
Cut to today. The congestion is just getting worse, he is coughing a good amount, doesn’t seem to have a fever but feels slightly sweaty, sneezing and has been having diarrhea minus one diaper that had one solid part and the rest liquid yesterday and his voice sounds a little hoarse and he cries some when he coughs. He also has a minor diaper rash.
We have a humidifier going 24/7, took him in the steamy bathroom, gave him a warm bath and put baby Vicks on his feet and chest. He just is fussy and miserable.
The one good thing is he still has the same appetite and is eating 5.5-6 oz of formula every 3-3.5 hours but he is needing to take a lot of breaks to catch his breath.
Could this just be a cold running its course? Is there anything that can be done to help break up chest congestion besides what I’ve been doing? Am I just worrying for nothing? It’s so hard because I wish he could just tell me what’s wrong.

I wasn't feeling okay, I felt some mild pressure around my chest and heart and I decided to fast for 36h like have been doing for the last few years occasionally when I wasn't feeling that hot.
Only this time I still wasn't feeling totally okay after the 36h so I decided to continue until I would. But then at some point I was like what the heck I'm just way too fat and I better put some weight down so I decided to cut 10kg off. My scale wouldn't even read my initial weight of 150+kg. So yeah time to drop some weight.
Summary:
Day 1-2: No issues except hunger around the 30h mark as usual for me.
Day 3: No hunger but food obsession. I spent my whole spare time checking recipe videos.
Day 4: Bad day. Struggled not to faint at times throughout the day and nausea.
Day 5: All malaise subsided. Surprisingly good day.
Day 6-8: Pretty stable. I did get occasionally lightheaded after physical effort.
At day 7 I already expected to reach the 140kg goal by the end of day 8 and despite not feeling hunger it seems like my psyche had an effect on my stomach as I've been feeling a mild heartburn in anticipation for the food.
I broke the fast with a cup of broth and a flat teaspoon of unsweetened Greek yogurt, then after an hour another cup of broth and two flat tsps of yogurt, and so on and so forth, that's my plan. I'm not going into keto but regular food. I'll just leave out gluten this time since I suspect I may be sensitive to it.
Tomorrow I will have (other than that) one scrambled egg and a whole cup (125g) of yogurt for lunch, then two scrambled eggs and two yogurts for dinner and I'll call it broken and resume to regular eating next day.
I'm not sure I'm being overly cautious for such a short fast but this is my longest fast ever and when I fasted for 5 days previously I didn't know much about fasting and I had some pretty bad experience, dizzy and struggling to even drive and I broke it all at once by ordering and eating like 3 plates, meatballs, pasta and croquettes IIRC. I thought I would regain my strength after eating but I continued to feel dizzy if not more. I may have had some degree of refeeding syndrome and I'm not sure it's related but I spent the next year or so having some sort of panic attacks around meals. Like I remember even once it happened in anticipation of eating a mandarin. This was really shitty stuff. The sudden and unexpected feeling one's gonna die is something hard to describe and I don't wish anyone. Only lying down and closing my eyes would help. But that's past and I got over it so I'm really hoping I won't have anything happen this time around.
I tried taking the recommend amount of electrolytes but they make me nauseous and make me go to the bathroom all the time so I quit and just took the occasional gulp whenever I was feeling lightheaded. That worked for me.
Thanks for reading.

I have to travel for work in a couple of days across the country, but my son got sick and passed that onto me and now I have bad chest pressure, stuffed nose, headaches, ear congestion and symptoms are not getting better. The tickets were purchased but they are fully refundable. How do I talk to my supervisor and let them know that I might not be able to make it without making them mad?

F28 with Ovarian Cancer and I really need some advice here, please don’t downvote this. I am really struggling with medical negligence not just from one doctor, but multiple. I’ve been dealing with a lot of discrimination because I’m young and “healthy looking” and doctors constantly dismiss me or discriminate me for some reason and I’m tired of it. I’ve been sick and disabled since last November and I had a job but started my LOA then.
For two years I was seeing a rheumatologist for an underlying autoimmune disorder(s) like SLE OR MS and was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis, Primary immunodeficiency, dysautonomia, fibromyalgia, CIDP and still being investigated for more issues.
In November I decided to go on a LOA because my flares were starting to become more frequent and severe. My psychiatrist was the one who filled out the LOA paperwork for the time from Nov-Dec because I was hesitant to ask my Rheumatologist. I was told by my rheumatologists office that filling out LOA paperwork was $300 out of pocket and at the time I didn’t have that money so my psychiatrist signed it because I was also struggling with my mental health and family issues that time.
I was supposed to go back to work in January but at the start of the new year I got really sick and my flares started to ramp up again so I had to request a new LOA. My psychiatrist couldn’t help me with my LOA paperwork anymore because it was more health related now and told me to go see my rheumatologist. I was still hesitant because of the fee and then when I was about to see my rheumatologist again and get my bloodwork done I got a surprise bill from the lab where I get my bloodwork done for $400 after insurance. They wouldn’t let me get additional tests until I paid the fee and I couldn’t see my rheumatologist until I had my bloodwork done. I made an appointment with my rheumatologist anyways but the soonest I could get wasn’t until after the LOA deadline in March. I also couldn’t get any disability benefits until that LOA form was filled out by my doctor so I had no income to pay for any of this.
I ended up in the Emergency Room on 2/16/24 a little over a week before I needed to submit the forms for LOA and at this point my employer was threatening to fire me for failing to provide the LOA paperwork. I tried explaining the situation to one of my managers but he wasn’t having it and didn’t care.
When I went to the first emergency room I went in for multiple serious symptoms, they knew I had an underlying autoimmune disorder causing the flares and that I had surgery 3 years prior to remove ovarian cysts on my right ovary. I told the emergency room that I had a lot of abdominal pain across multiple areas, I was really weak, fatigued, dealing with vertigo, migraines, blood in stool, persistent bloating, frequent urination, appetite loss, rapid weight gain, insomnia, tachycardia, high bp, neuropathic itch/ polyneuropathy and my symptoms were to the point where I was losing my ability to walk. My partner was holding me the entire time so I wouldn’t fall.
The emergency room did a bunch of tests that included a basic blood panel, physical exam and a CT scan of my abdomen. They didn’t find the bleeding but instead found that I had a complex 14cm tumor on my right ovary which they deemed a dermoid cyst.
When they gave me the news they officially diagnosed me with a “dermoid cyst from birth” even though I countered their diagnosis and told them that was impossible because I had surgery 3 years prior. The doctor didn’t backtrack at all, just stuttered and continued to discharge me because it “wasn’t an emergency” just because I wasn’t bleeding out despite all of my serious progressing symptoms.
I angrily left the ER knowing it was utter BS and deep down I knew it was cancer because of how sick I was. I could literally feel I didn’t have much time but because I looked young and healthy and my basic blood panel didn’t throw up any huge red flags at them even they dismissed me and misdiagnosed me. I wasn’t even given anything to manage the pain.
I even told them I was already on a medical leave and that I’ve been really sick but that it was getting bad and I couldn’t see my rheumatologist. However I didn’t know about the tumor until then. I told them I needed help with the LOA paperwork too and had they admitted me I would have been able to get an extension and still have my job and benefits. I could have started treatment sooner and received disability pay but instead was forced to continue living with this pain. It was so large that I was at risk of torsion rupture and necrosis, Not to mention permanent nerve damage.
The next day I called up every gynecologist I could to see where I could go for the soonest appointment for an ultrasound. I found a doctor who took me as an emergency appointment a few days later and he confirmed it was most likely malignant and that I needed surgery ASAP. I talked to him about my LOA situation too because I was running out of time and I was too disabled to work. He also refused to help me sign my LOA paperwork because according to him, “ovarian cancer can’t cause systemic symptoms and you’re going to need to wait until surgery before I put you on leave”. I told him I had an underlying autoimmune disorder that I think is being exasperated by the cancer and I was just dismissed yet again despite needing someone to physically help me walk so I don’t fall. He also didn’t give me anything for the pain I was in.
I had to turn in my LOA that day but because of this I was forced to resign my position or face getting fired and becoming un-hirable so I had to quit. In quitting I lost everything, benefits, stocks, my job, my health, doctors. I’m now in debt with multiple cc going to collections because I haven’t been getting an income since January and I’m just starting chemo so I have no idea when I’ll be able to work again. I don’t know what to do here. I was going to try to settle my debt but with what money?? I might be forced into bankruptcy for 7 years now.
After I lost my insurance I applied for medi-cal but something with my application in there system wasn’t right and it was in a never ending pending limbo state(Took about two months to actually sort it out). I tried waiting it out for two weeks, calling them sorting it out and doing it right by the system but every day I was getting sicker and I felt I was running out of time as I was bed ridden at this point.
Two weeks later I went to a different ER because at this point I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat and I started getting migraines. I was miserable from enduring all the symptoms and never ending anxiety and mood swings of possibly having an autoimmune disorder like SLE and ovarian cancer.
The second ER finally admit me and confirmed it was cancer. I was admitted for emergency surgery and by this time the tumor had already ruptured, twisted my ovary and grew to 20cm at the largest point. This was also a battle but that’s besides the point.
Anyways now to my current situation. I started chemo about two weeks ago and my current oncologist is also being negligent.
I found out the other day that she blindly prescribed a medication for nausea that interacts with a medication that I was already on. The interaction is known to cause arrhythmias apparently. During my first week of chemo I was taking both meds and mentioned that my chest had been feeling heavy and I had pain. I was told it was steroids. It continued and then one night as I was falling asleep my heart started to pound really hard for about 10-15 seconds. I told my doctor about it and again steroids.
That same day I went to pick up a prescription and just happened to ask if anything interacted and that’s when I found out that it was a major interaction and I literally could have died had I not luckily already been titrating off of the offending medicine. I stopped taking those meds and immediately the chest pain stopped and I haven’t had an episode like that since.
I am freaked out and don’t want to continue my care with her due to her negligence. This should have been a conversation at minimum and she didn’t even tell me she prescribed it let alone double check for interactions(she had the list of my current medications). I just got a notification from my pharmacy that it was ready. I also didn’t know about the interaction when it was picked up because my mom picked it up for me and she doesn’t speak English very well.
I talked to my care teams assistant and told her I wanted a change of doctors because I didn’t trust her after this and she said she was going to put in the request. They called me yesterday though and said they weren’t going to switch me because I had already started treatment. They refused to switch my doctors despite everything that’s happened even though she literally almost accidentally killed me. I am livid and don’t want to continue with them but they’re giving me no choice but to continue seeing her.
I already set up an appointment for a second opinion but that’s not for another two weeks before the appointment and I don’t want to interrupt the treatment.
I have a rare type of ovarian cancer with a high grade tumor. It was a germ cell tumor called an immature teratoma. They said it is stage 1 but because I had emergency surgery and everything was rushed I don’t feel this is an accurate diagnosis because I have pain in all of the surrounding areas where the tumor was pushing up against. (I also mentioned this to my oncologist but instead of running tests or anything else I was given a psych referral for anxiety because I have an adhd & bipolar diagnosis even though I’ve been stable for years and I wasn’t overreacting in this case). The tumor was exasperating all of my autoimmune symptoms and causing me to be in a never ending flare so my body has been heavily damaged. Im becoming disabled at 28 and I don’t know who to hold accountable here. I have so much anxiety with doctors now because I’m traumatized from my experience with them dismissing me and discriminating against me. Like I’m young so I “must be able to tolerate more”. I have to constantly look up my lab results, medications, conditions, because of how much negligence and dismissal I’ve been dealing with over the years. I’m scared I’m going to die from something preventable and not cancer at this rate.
I’m in a dark place right now and really need some advice here. What should I do? What CAN I DO? Who do I hold accountable? What do I need to have a solid malpractice case?? I have medical records for everything even when I went to the first ER that shows I had surgery before and their diagnosis or dermoid cyst from birth. I also have proof that my oncologist had a list of all my medications when she prescribed the anti nausea medication and she knew I was sensitive to most medications as I recently found out I’m allergic to morphine and Benadryl of all things.
I feel like the first emergency room should at least be held liable for making me lose my job, misdiagnosing me, failing to treat me or provide relief and then sending me a $1600 medical bill. Someone help me with this please I am struggling and still haven’t gotten approved for disability benefits yet so I’ve had no income since January. Thanks.

All right here it is finally, thank you all for your patience and let's hope chapter 5 is a little more expedient. As usual I hope you enjoy and would love to get everyone's thoughts.
4: Memory transcription subject: Zeak, Harchen orphan, citizen of the Venlil Republic. Date: standardized human time July 13th 2136.
The sky was a roaring mass of fire and pungent black smoke that choked out the light of the sun. As I ran down the street, green blood flowed like a broad shallow river. It splashed up with every step I took, sticking to my scales, the smell of it made me feel sick. As the piercing wail of the emergency sirens seemed to grow louder and louder with every step I took making my ears ring and filling my head with a thunderous pain. My heart pounded, my lungs were on fire, and my legs felt like they were made of lead.
A herd of towering blurry figures appeared out of nowhere and ran past me, some almost knocking me down. In their panic they began to look more like crazed wild animals than people. I cried for help but they couldn't hear me. I waved my paws then grabbed one of them a male Venlil, tightening my grip with all the strength I had hoping this would get his attention. He threw me off like I was trash, less than trash. I turned around and continued pleading for anyone to help me, reaching out for others. But their frantic idiot eyes looked only straight ahead and not down, never down, as the herd passed me.
I turned back around and continued to run, blood splashing up soaking me all the way to my knees. I stumbled, my legs were so tired I could barely stand, and I fell down catching myself, plunging my paws into blood as deep as my wrists. I felt myself scream but I couldn't hear it over the ringing in my ears. A scrap of paper gently floated past me, a single word written on it that echoed in my mind “Weakling.” It passed and four more took its place, “Coward”, “Liar”, “Oath breaker”, “Murderer.” I screamed in rage and slapped the pieces of paper aside, blood splashing onto my snout, but the meanings of those words remained. Getting back up I stumbled forward, and fell down again. Then with an effort born out of sheer desperation I managed to stand again lurching forward. My legs were too tired to run but I had to keep going, I had to save them. Or at least her, please Protector if you're listening please let me save at least her.
It felt like I was searching for an endless time. Lurching forward, stumbling, falling down, getting back up, lurching forward once more. Eventually I saw it and my heart fell into the pit of my stomach. My family's car was turned over on its roof, the driver's side had been caved in. It was engulfed in fire and thick black smoke that rose up into the sky. I struggled forward and when I reached it I collapsed, my knees hitting the hot pavement. The smell of burning metal and something else I didn't know assaulted my senses making my stomach turn. Every muscle in my body begged me to run away. Calling out their names l looked inside, and a wave of nausea and horror flooded through me.
I turned away and vomited, then reached up with my blood soaked paws and covered my eyes. Those words thundered in my head making me think it was going to burst open, as hot tears welled up. “WEAKLING! COWARD! LIAR! OATH BREAKER! MURDERER! MURDERER! MURDERER! MURDERER! “I'm sorry I'm sorry, I should have stayed, I should have helped. Why did I run?” I wailed, still unable to hear myself. Someone rested a delicate paw on my shoulder, and the world went quiet. As the pain in my head melted away.
My eyes snapped open and I was greeted by the gentle ringing of my alarm. In a rush of adrenaline I leaped out of bed not even bothering to wipe the sleep out of my eyes. Running out of my bedroom and down the narrow hallway towards the living room. Convincing myself It had all just been a horrible, horrible nightmare and everything was alright. Mom and Dad would be fixing breakfast, Dad softly singing a Harchen folk song while making something savory and delicious as mom sang along in harmony, preparing something special for my baby sister Naila. Oh yes and Naila, she would probably be sitting on a cushion in the sunny part of the living room. Holding her crooked tail, a birth defect which my parents said could be fixed when she was older. And making excited chirping noises at my arrival, while sunlight shone against her emerald scales. I loved my baby sister, I knew other kids resented having a younger sibling. Dismissing their responsibilities and spending less time with their family and more with their friends. I never once felt that way, the moment Naila hatched I devoted every spare minute I had to her. Finding music that would help her fall asleep, watching over her when my mom needed a break. Excitedly telling her about the day's events and what I learned at school, especially what I learned in computer science which was my favorite class.
“Mom! Dad!” I yelled bursting into the living room. “I just had the worst…” My voice trailed off as I was greeted with nothing “dream.” My heart tightened painfully in my chest, as I frantically ran through the house throwing open every door, knowing that they had to be here somewhere. They were just playing a game on me that was all, a game I would tell them I didn't appreciate. After the final door had been opened and no one was there to yell “Surprise!” My body slumped and I felt heavy as reality set back in, and the memories of what happened hit me like a hammer. I made my way back down the hall to my room, tail dragging behind me as I crawled back into bed. Wrapping myself tightly in a blanket, trying to find some comfort.
It must have been hours I lay there feeling numb all over, wishing I could get up the energy to just cry. I think I might have fallen asleep at one point. If I did it was a dreamless sleep, thank the stars for that. Eventually I did get up, sitting cross-legged on my bed, resting my chin in my paws, staring holes into the wall. I took a deep breath and side numbly looked out the window, searching for anything to distract myself with.
It was overcast, and eerily quiet. The emergency sirens had stopped blaring yesterday mere hours after everyone had gotten to the bunkers. The bodies of the dead had already been collected and their blood cleaned from the pavement. So as to not attract any predators into the neighborhood. I saw my neighbor A'shul was home, his white vehicle was sporting some new dents. I wondered, when he got into his vehicle yesterday morning and drove to the nearest bunker; did he try to help anyone? Or was he thinking only of himself? I suppose it didn't matter really. Nothing mattered.
I turned my head away and looked around my small room taking in everything, every trinket, misplaced item, my old second-hand desk, a big green crackle finished monster. Better suited for a Venlil than a young Harchen, heck I needed a stool just to use it. I had gotten it for basically nothing about a year ago, when the local extermination office was getting rid of their old furniture. All it took was a small bribe and they put it in my bedroom when no one was home. My parents, but especially my mom we're not happy when they saw it the next day. They would tell me at least once a week that It was too big for me and they were going to get rid of that eyesore. “Wouldn't you like something a little more modern dear?” My mom would ask, practically pleading for me to say yes. I used to pray that my parents would just shut up and stop bugging me about that stupid desk. I thought it was great, it made me think of private detective Bal from the exterminators show. Bal was a no nonsense Harchen who was so often pivotal in tracking down the predator or predator diseased person. My desk was very similar to his and that's why I wanted it. But at that moment, I would have given anything to hear those words again.
On the desk there was an ornate wooden box, with a fruit tree in full bloom delicately carved into its lid. There were also scuff marks where it had been dropped, and a deep crack running down the center. It was known as a blessing box, Naila's blessing box to be specific. When she hatched nearly ten months ago the whole neighborhood had been invited to come and write a blessing on a scrap of paper and put it in the box. I had written one too, not a blessing but a promise, a promise I couldn't keep. The belief was that if kept near the infant, the combined power of all those blessings would keep the hatchling safe until their first birthday. Where on that day the box would be set on fire and burned to ash. Releasing those blessings back into the world so they may protect someone else. It was an old tradition and not commonly practiced anymore, but as my dad always said “It is important to keep the old traditions alive my son. Both in song and action.” I remember asking him why? And he looked at me like he had been waiting for that question for a long time. “Because” He said, his tail moving with authority. “Someday when you lose your way, and you don't know where to turn to. You will always have something to guide you back to your center.”
Looking away from the box not wanting to look or think about the damn thing, I shifted my gaze down to my bedside table. There was a little holographic projector showing pictures of me, Mom, Dad and Naila on holiday back on Fahl, the Harchen home world to see family. I was born and raised on Venlil prime, so I didn't really know any of my extended family. There was a picture of my mom and Naila sleeping at the beach. Naila’s crooked tail coiled around mom’s arm, their scales a deep emerald in the light of the sun. The picture changed to me and Dad putting the finishing touches on a sand skyscraper taller than him. I had to sit on his shoulders to place the last bucket full of sand on top. Both of our scales were as blue as the ocean. My tail flicked sadly thinking of that day. I reached over and turned the holo protector off.
My holopad lay next to me flashing, alerting me to an urgent message. I hadn't really looked at my holopad since yesterday morning. Picking it up I tapped the flashing icon. It was an official government statement signed by Governor Tarva herself, saying that the humans Noah and Sarah were peaceful explorers, and that they only wished to be our friends. ‘No, that's impossible, they’re predators. Predators don't want peace, they want to conquer, kill and eat us,’ stunned and confused I kept reading. The rest of the message stated that the two human scientists were completely unaware there was intelligent life of any kind on Venlil prime. ‘No! Lies! Predator lies!’ I yelled inside my head. Something hot began to form in my chest as I read the last bit. Governor Tarver had shown the two predators footage of the Arxur torturing Venlil pups. It said that the humans were capable of empathy and felt deeply saddened and angered by what they saw. They vowed to do everything in their power to get their united nations into the war against the Arxur.
I scrolled all the way down and what I saw stopped me cold. Standing in her office being flanked by General Kam, stood Governor Tarva. Beside them looming over the two Venlil one bigger than the other, both of them covered in some sort of protective suit. Their faces were obscured by dark visored helmets. It said that the larger of the two Noah was male, and the smaller one was Sarah female. Sarah had her hands clasped in front of her, while Noah kept his to his side. Neither were acting threatening, and neither Tarva or Kam looked to be harmed in any way.
Something in me snapped, that hot thing inside my chest erupted and I could feel my scales turn black. I very carefully set my holopad down beside me, then I uncrossed my legs and got out of bed. I stood there in the center of my room shaking slightly, feeling terribly calm as white hot rage flooded my body, spreading to my paws and all the way out to the tip of my long tail. It never had to happen, the panic, the stampede, the death, we could have stayed home and avoided those people. ‘No… no not people,’ a bitter thought came over me. ‘They're not people at all, people stop and help, like that Venlil girl Kayleik, she was a person maybe the only one. But the rest of them were just wild animals, masquerading as sentient beings. ‘Do you really think you're any better, coward?’ Some internal voice said.
A sudden impulse took control of me and I grabbed my desks stool and hurled it against the wall. It dented the wall and bounced off still in one piece. Enraged, I leaped forward grabbing it by the legs, then turned around and slammed it into my desk. The sheet metal dented and the green crackle finish paint flew off, but the stool made of good dense wood from the string fruit tree stayed whole. “DAMN THEM! DAMN THEM! DAMN THEM! DAMN THEM!” I screamed, slamming the stool down again and again, my tail whipping wildly, striking the bed and the floor. The tip of my tail began to hurt, which only fueled my anger. Finally I heard cracking and wood began to splinter off. They didn't have to die, we could have stayed home. The muscles in my shoulders burned and my heart pounded as hot tears began to well up. I brought it down one final time narrowly avoiding the blessing box, and the stool broke in two. I hurled the pieces away from me, one slamming into the corner the other crashing through the window.
I leaned against the desk catching my breath as tears flowed freely. ‘Well that definitely showed them didn't it. Hey I got a great idea! Let's go break some more stuff, that will definitely make you feel better. Idiot!’ That internal voice said all coldness and bitterness. As I cried, the burning in my chest cooled, and I was filled with the same numbness as before. After a while my stomach growled, reminding me I hadn't eaten since yesterday. I moved sluggishly out of my bedroom and went straight to the kitchen, quickly grabbed some fruit and left to go and watch the view screen or something. The moment I entered the living room, memories came flooding back. Mom and Dad laughing, Naila sleeping peacefully, the lingering aroma of breakfast, and the warmth of our home. But now it was all gone and I was alone. For the first time in my life, I had no one to go to.
It was right then I realized I couldn't stay here anymore. This place felt like a tomb, all cold and filled with the memories of the dead. Besides, if I stayed here someone would eventually send the authorities to come and get me. Ship me off to an orphanage, foster care or maybe to my extended family back on Fahl. I balked at the idea of being forced to live with people I didn't know or trust. Memories of yesterday's stampede invaded my mind and I shuddered. I couldn't trust any of them not anymore. No, there was one person I could think of that maybe I could trust. Turning around I went back to my room, found my backpack and grabbed my holopad, the blessing box, the holo projector and my blanket stuffing it into my pack. Then I went to the kitchen and filled my pack up the rest of the way with dried fruit and vegetable snacks. With my backpack looking like it was going to burst I shouldered it and made my way to the front door. When I rested my scaly paw on the door handle I stopped and looked back at the place that was once my home. “Goodbye” I said in a shaky voice, knowing this would be the last time I would never set foot in this house. With my head low I opened the door and stepped out, into the dim light of a new unfamiliar world.
Previous First

Usually my seasonal allergies to pollen, ragweed, mold etc. manifest in the usual sneezy, runny nose, itchy throat and eyes, etc.
One day I woke up and felt like I couldn’t get a full breath in. I happened to check the pollen count and it was extremely elevated, and it’s been extremely elevated ever since that day. It’s been going on for a little over a week.
I’m not congested or sneezy in my nose whatsoever, my eyes aren’t itchy. I just feel like im not inhaling all the way. It’s been making me dizzy and lightheaded. I’m also experiencing extreme fatigue to the point it interferes with my daily functioning, and headaches almost every single day. The headaches border on migraines, and it’s a full head headache if that makes sense. It hurts my entire head, it’s not concentrated to just one part of my head. I’m also experiencing almost daily nausea. I’ve been taking Zofran and Ibuprofen daily.
Could this be allergies? Or should I get this checked out?

Around Thanksgiving last year, my 22 year old daughter Izzy started complaining about her back hurting. We just assumed she pulled a muscle or had a pinched nerve. After a couple weeks, the pain seemed to be getting worse. She went to urgent care on a Friday and they confirmed she probably had a pinched nerve. They gave her some meds. That following Monday (Dec. 18) she was in a lot of pain, so I rushed her to the hospital. It was her back and her left arm now bothering her. They blew her off and said that she was fine. I insisted that she get an MRI or cat scan done. Finally at my request they did a cat scan on her back and said they didn't see anything wrong. They said it's probably a pinched nerve, gave her more meds and sent us home.
The week of Christmas everything changed. She woke up each night covered in sweat. On the 28th, her heart was beating fast, she was extremely pale, and had two knots appear on the left side of her neck and one under her left underarm. I brought her to a different hospital.
When we got to the ER, they immediately took her to a room. Her vitals were extremely high (170 heart rate) from the pain she was in. They were considering that she could have meningitis or mono. They wanted to get tests ran right away. They admitted her, and did a spinal tap and MRI. 2 days later (Saturday) the doc said they found a large tumor on her spine. Can't say if it's cancer yet, she would need a biopsy first. They informed us that she would be moved that day to their sister hospital that specializes in cancer.
When we arrived, she was put on the neurology ward in a regular room. They immediately put her on a lot of meds. She was on so many pain drugs, (Oxy, Dilaudid, muscle relaxers, Morphine, Xanax, etc.) that I kept asking, "Is this end of life? Can she overdose from all these drugs?" They would respond with, "no, it's just to keep her comfortable and we're trying to get her heart rate down." On New years day they gave her Ativan. She responded horribly to it. It was a rough day. She was hallucinating and freaking out all day and night. The next day she told them to NEVER give her that again. They told her when we first arrived that anything she didn't want to take, they would respect and not put it in her charts to receive. They would put it under allergies. We assumed they would do so as they said they would.
They finally did the biopsy on Wednesday the 3rd. When she came back from surgery, she wouldn't wake up. She slept all day Wednesday and most of Thursday. I was really concerned.They kept adding more pain meds to her chart. I again was scared she would forget to breathe. That night she wasn't breathing properly and her vitals were going down. She had to be rushed to NeuroICU. They got her stable and explained it was from all the different drugs. They explained that it's trial and error. They're trying to figure out what works for her and they decided to put her on a drip line of Dilaudid. They still gave her other drugs but Dilaudid seemed to help her pain somewhat. They also said she had a spot on her lungs what looked like pneumonia starting.
All week she was constantly telling us that she was losing feeling in her legs and her left arm. By Saturday of that week she was paralyzed. They finally took her for an MRI and saw that the tumor had spread up and down her spine and to her ovaries, and it was stealing her blood supply. She would need emergency surgery asap. They of course came to explain what was happening and the surgeon informed me that Ativan would be used during surgery. I immediately told him no, and that she is allergic to it and it was supposed to be on her allergy list. I explained to him what happened when she received it before. On Sunday they rushed her into surgery and cut the blood supply to the tumor. It was too dangerous to try and remove any of the tumor. They didn't know if the paralysis was permanent, but they were hopeful that the surgery would work. It didn't we would later find out.
When she returned from surgery, she was out of control. She was violent and cursing at me. In 22 years I had never heard her curse, but she was fluent! She was hallucinating bad and kept freaking out. It was scary to watch. They decided to give her some meds to make her to sleep, to help her heal. For 2 straight days my baby screamed blood curdling screams, she would cry out "mommy, mommy" while she slept. She screamed so much and so loud that anyone in ear shot were questioning what was going on. It was heartbreaking to witness. I thought she was having a bad reaction to the anesthesia. I later found out that they were giving her Ativan anyway. They NEVER put it in her chart as an allergy the week before, and the doctor disregarded what I said about not giving her that. They had other options they could have used but he still chose to do what he wanted. I only found out because the nurse mentioned that she would be right back with her Ativan. The nurse had no knowledge that my daughter refused that medication previously. I informed her not to give that drug to her. She went and spoke with the attending physician who changed it to haldol and ketemine. That was Monday night. By Wednesday she finally calmed down from screaming, so they decided to try and wake her up.
When she woke up she could no longer speak properly, use her left arm, or move her legs. Her fingers and toes were turning black. They said it was from a certain med she was on. That it's normal. A lay person could see something was horribly wrong.
Everyday we would see up to 30 doctors. I say we, because I never left her side. One would say one thing while another would say something else. It was confusing and scary. We still didn't have a diagnosis. We just knew she had cancer. They suspected stage 4 but couldn't say until pathology came back. It was traumatic and a nightmare. It went from a diagnosis of a pinched nerve to stage 4 cancer in a matter of a week. WTF?
We finally got the diagnosis on Tuesday the 9th.. Stage 4 anaplastic large cell lymphoma. Very rare and aggressive. They said they were starting chemo immediately. They gave her the first dose that Wednesday night. We had hope. It was a rollercoaster of terror, but the doctors kept saying that she could beat this. I googled everything I could and prayed for a miracle. It's always been my girl and I, so I was desperate for her to live through this. She wasn't just my daughter, she was literally my everything.
By week 2, she needed blood on a daily basis. She couldn't eat or drink. She couldn't relieve herself. She couldn't move. She couldn't speak clearly to explain her needs or wants. Her breathing was shallow. Her vitals were not normal. They would go down and then jump extremely high. She was so out of it, that they had to come to me concerning everything. Her oxygen was dropping significantly and they had to keep changing out the masks and oxygen levels to help her breathe. They kept changing her meds and she had multiple complications from that. They couldn't find any good spots on her arms to put her IVs anymore, and her legs were so swollen that they couldn't locate a useable spot anywhere. They put it on her right side of the neck. During all this she had multiple medical emergencies. One example is they said that spot on her lungs wasn't pneumonia but they now suspected a small blood clot. That medicine she was given would hopefully help, the only problem was that medication was causing problems for her back surgery. A few days later we found out it was blood and it was completely filled up in her chest. She was drowning in her own blood. They couldn't do surgery right away because she would bleed out since her platelets were so low even while receiving blood transfusions. That blood was somehow going into her lungs. I was floored. Everyday I would ask about it and I was told it was getting better, nothing to worry about. In fact the doctor said that very morning it had cleared up significantly. Imagine my shock when the critical team comes rushing in that evening to do ultrasounds on her and tells me they suspect it's why her breathing was going downhill.
On Monday she was transferred to a MICU room on a different floor. This floor felt uneasy to me. There was death all around and you could see it. They said that this floor was where her main doctors were, so that she would get the best care. Now they introduce fentanyl to her med regimen. They explained it that it would help with her pain. She would be allowed so much every hour if needed.
The next day they decided to do the surgery to put a tube in her chest to drain the blood. She now had an extremely dangerous back surgery, staples running up her entire back with tubes, a huge scar under her arm from the biopsy with tubes, and now a huge tube coming out her chest. Her fingers and toes at this point were in a stage of necropsy. But they couldn't do anything about it. They would just have to fall off in time. It was devastating. My daughter was a trooper through out this whole time. She never complained or was negative. She was just scared when she understood what was going on. Honestly I've never seen so much courage in my life.
When it came to her pain meds she was only on fentanyl and Dilaudid drip. She would only receive it when she asked. That was her rule. She was scared she would overdose or become hooked on it and didn't want that monster on her back. She would be in so much pain but would just sit through it. Her vitals were better, but when the pain would become to much to bare, her heart rate would go into the 150 to 170 range. As soon as she got some meds it would go down to the teens to low twenty's.
On Thursday night she had a new nurse. He would administer pain meds even when she didn't request it. I saw him give her shot when she was sleeping. I walked in on him. I asked him if she requested it as I saw she was asleep and he said no. He stated he was trying to keep her comfortable. I asked him not to unless she asks. He didn't listen.Throughout the night as we slept, he would give her meds that she didn't even need. He gave her haldol. She only received that for two days after her back surgery. No one had given her that since. He would give her a shot of fentanyl behind it. I later found this out while talking with her doctors and from her records.
That Friday morning she started having these weird episodes, what later looked like seizures to me. Her vitals would drop and she would go into a deep stare. They blamed the meds. It was constant apologies for her being over medicated again. Even the doctor didn't understand why he gave her so much.She had 4 separate episodes before they (at my constant request) sent her to get a MRI done.
She had a blood clot in her brain. Again they said nothing to worry about. But after experiencing what we went through already, I was highly concerned. As I should have been. They kept apologizing and said they would change her medication up again. I told them it wasn't the medicine it was the nurse. I couldn't understand why he would give her two doses of haldol when she didn't need it. The nurse said my daughter was anxious and thought it would help. My daughter was sleeping so how could she have been anxious. I went off. Something in my spirit was telling me to get her out of there. But how could I when she was hooked up to all these tubes. She was suffering and I couldn't help her. The only thing I could do was use my voice to try and protect her and be her advocate. The next day Jan. 20th, I woke up after a couple hours of sleep, and I knew something was wrong. She was awake and trying to talk. Her vitals were back at a steady 170 with high blood pressure and a low oxygen number so I knew she was in pain. I could feel it in every bone of my body something was different that day. I felt my baby didn't have long as I thought cancer was winning. I called all of our family to come see her. I can't explain it. At one point I pulled one of her doctors out of her room and begged him to tell me what was happening. Shoot it to me straight. He kept saying she's always been critical but she would pull through. He had so much hope.
They gave her some meds to help bring her vitals down and it started to work again. Her vitals started going from 160 to 150. At this point she was having a brain scan done in her room to see what the episodes were exactly. She was awake but could no longer move from her neck down. Which had just started the 2 days before. She had a blood infection and they had to move the pic line from the right side of her neck to the left side but we're unsuccessful because she had obstructions there (2 huge tumors) They had to put the new line back on the right side in the back of the neck. I don't know what happened since I wasn't allowed in the room. I do know my daughter said after they finished, she wasn't able to feel anything but her face. She never turned her head again.
During that day she kept having flem and spit from the congestion she had due to the chest infection and surgery. I would sit there and suck it out for her. No problem, I had been doing it for days with no complaints on my end. The doctors were coming in and out constantly all day to check her brain test and at one point the doctor seeing me and my nephew take shifts suctioning her out said he wanted to try a new medicine she had never received. My daughters nurse interrupted him and said that she didn't think that it was a good idea. They went back and forth for a few minutes and I stepped in and said, it was fine, I would sit there and suction out forever if I had to. Something felt different in this exchange as well. In all of 24 days of being in the hospital, I never saw a nurse challenge a doctor. I immediately went to the computer, where the nurse had typed in the order for this drug, and googled it. The first thing that popped up, was not to give this drug to someone with high blood pressure or high heart rate. It causes a person's heart rate to shoot up high quickly. It was too late. They already administered it to her. Since her heart rate was already high it caused her to go into cardiac arrest. I just stood there in shock screaming is she in cardiac arrest? To which the doctor finally responded "I'm sorry, yes"
They ushered me and my nephew out of the room so they could work on her. After about 30 minutes they called my phone and told me she flatlined but they got her heart beating again. I went flying back in that room screaming at them. I refused to leave the room. She was now on life support, but there was no hope for her to ever wake up again. After consulting with my family and her doctors, and looking at where her vitals were, I decided to pull the plug. She passed within seconds. I feel like the doctor should have listened to the nurse, but his ego would not allow him to. I feel like he's somehow responsible, but at the same time I saw what was happening to her on a daily basis and what cancer was doing to her body. I also witnessed a lot of negligence too on their part. I've been going back and forth since January 20th, about contacting an attorney and seeing if I have a case. I requested an autopsy to be performed, because I wanted to know what all was wrong with her. They informed me they normally don't do that because of the cancer. I argued with them and said I wanted one anyway. I wanted to know what happened. I was trying to understand this whole situation. 25 days prior it was just supposed to be a pinched nerve, but it wasn't. They explained I would have to pay for the autopsy, and I was okay with that. The next day after she passed away, I received the phone call to give my permission for an autopsy. They said it would take a couple days and would let me know when it was finished so the funeral home could pick up her body.
I've been calling for months about the autopsy report with no luck. Here we are in May, I go to the hospital to get the autopsy results and it's all of five pages. It's not even an autopsy report. It doesn't even state her cause of death. It's just bullshit paperwork. All it mentions is the necropsy to her fingers and toes and her basic info like height and weight. I'm so angry right now. I have her medical records, and I noticed on the 19th of January they finally put she was allergic to Ativan. There's a lot wrong with this situation. I even asked for a CD of all her images, from pathology. What I received only two images come up. Everything else is blocked from opening. I know my daughter took multiple MRIs, ultrasounds,and CAT scans in those three and a half weeks. There's no way it's only two images.
I counted all the times the nurse gave my daughter pain meds that Thursday night and it was double what any other nurse had given her at any other time plus with other drugs she didn't need at that time. I found out that haldol and fentanyl is something they give to patients that's in end of life care. Which I was constantly told my daughter was not. Her death certificate states she passed from lymphoma related cardiac arrest. I'm just so confused on what to do. I feel like I'm letting my daughter down if I don't look into this further.
I'm sorry this a novel. I couldn't just ask a simple question with out the back story for you to understand. It was so much more believe me, this was the short version!
Do I have a case or should I just move on and accept my daughter died from cancer related complications? Thank you....

A few weeks ago I ate a lot of pizza. Resulted in severe stomach pain & projectile vomiting at the doctors office. It was very embarrassing.
About a week ago I had another big meal (I do not eat big meals a lot, I have appetite issues) and I woke up at 3am. I almost went to the ER because of how bad my stomach hurt, but I braved it out. After that I continued to vomit everything I ate, which I suspected the pot smoking disease I have (CHS) and I went to the hospital telling them it was CHS and got treated for that. The day after Mother’s Day I was feeling very well, so I went out to eat with my son and parents. Another big meal. I ended up vomiting with severe pain that night, and continued to vomit for a few more days. It was over a full week of vomiting EVERYTHING but able to keep enough water down to survive.
It’s been about a day and a half where I have kept down smoothies, watermelon and bread. Pedialyte pops as well. But, today, I have not even eaten yet and I am having these stomach pains. It’s not bad enough right now for me to worry too much, but it does suck. When it flares up real bad, it goes across my chest and to my left shoulder even. The only thing that helps with the nausea the most is my Xanax prescription. Even then I still have a tinge of nausea.
I’m scared. Both my mother and eldest brother had their gallbladder taken out at exactly my age. I requested a dr appointment but I’m not expecting to hear back until after the weekend and even then it might take weeks for the appt.
Ive found lying flat on my back helps the pain. Anyone have any other ideas? I’m 90% sure I’m going to need surgery in the next month. When is it so bad that I should go to the ER? If I have to wait a month to see my doc, I can see it getting bad enough to go. But I end up in the ER a lot and they don’t take me very seriously anymore. I don’t want to deal with it.

First/Previous
Satan was on the air, on the night, within everything in the long shadows cast by the setting sun and with him came a chill to the air that I could never hope to internalize; it might kill me.
From a rotted abode across the street, I watched the large outbuilding and the field in which we’d buried the hand and I found myself in prayer—among the torn and exposed studs of dry-rotted wood and rusted metal I caught my own whispers and forced myself to stop like I intended to convene with God right there in the dark; I wasn’t there for Allah. It was something else that compelled me there. I whispered the prayer and felt foolish at my own voice and ducked lowly among the rubble and held my breath to watch the sunlight go from the land and in a blink, the light was gone, and I was there in darkness that at first was a terror and then I slipped into it through blinks and the surroundings became clearer even in the dark.
Time went on.
I was exposed, but the yougins were safe—Trouble too. If nothing else mattered in the world, then they should go on without me. It had come to me so suddenly (maybe it was the prayer that withdrew such a sentimentality) that I liked them okay.
Before anything else, a cat’s hiss came so faintly that I plugged my ear with my pinky, shook it and listened again; the noise grew closer, and I could do nothing but watch the field and squint in the darkness and wait.
Fumbling, I counted the glass containers with touch only—two in my jacket pocket and the third by my feet—and my fingers then danced to the threadbare strap of the shotgun on my shoulder; I shed my pack for mobility.
The domineering creature lurched forcefully from the shadows and then went on display in the moonlight properly and its arched back protruded even over its own head till it lifted that muzzle, so its rattish face was cut out in a black outline; it was sniffing, and the hiss came through the air again. The Alukah kept a serpentine strut, smoothly gliding across the ground as it used its hands like forelegs to press its snout against the ground. In watching, I consciously relaxed my shoulders and refrained from biting my teeth together. That creature found the spot it had been searching for—it seemed roughly the place we’d buried the hand—and it took its claws there with bestial shovelfuls.
In a hurry, I gathered the jar I’d placed by my feet—it would not slide so gracefully into my jacket as the others—and as quietly as I could, I slinked around the rubble, through two studs, and onto the dirt. Within milliseconds, my own heartbeat pounded all over my body and I stood in the street and lit the Molotov cocktail with a lighter and took closer to the creature.
It shifted around and in that moment I wished I had a light source powerful enough to expose its body; I tossed the cocktail in a high arch and it exploded in a moment by the creature’s feet as it stood and pivoted to look at me fully; its solid white eyes were wide in a glance of moon-shine and it slung itself from the eruption of flames around its feet with violent speed. Its black hair hung down the sides of its face and its head parted midway to expose a snarl. It stalked in a circle around the concentration of flames, remaining mostly in the dark; the thing moved slowly nearer, those long arms swaying in front of itself with each step.
You should know better. It stopped midstride, coming no closer and we each stood there in the field roughly thirty feet from one another, and I refused to take my eyes from it. The boy’s mine. The flames began to flicker and die. For how long we stood like that, I couldn’t say, and I waited.
I couldn’t find a voice till it was all dark again, besides the moon and stars. “Why can’t you leave us be? There’s easier pickins.”
You offer yourself too much credit, Harlan. We remained in silence and in the darkness the creature may have been a statue—in a blink it seemed as much. You are a corpse, no? A walking corpse of a man! A terrible sickness is in you. I know it. I see it on you as plainly as I see your fear.
Rigidity took over my body and I puffed my chest out like it meant something and I shook my head, “I’m not afraid.”
Not of me, no. Of yourself? Something. The voice lingered with the ends of its words, drawing them out first guttural then it left them on hisses. Something I know.
I lit the next Molotov, and the creature didn’t move; I threw the bottle furiously and it went into the darkness like a far candleflame till it erupted in the spot the Alukah had been standing—the thing had leapt from there, leaving me unawares and I lowered myself to the ground in a crouch, swiveling my head around to catch the thing in the dark. The flames on the ground danced brightly, leaving me light-blinded.
Not again, said the thing, You will not catch me so easily with fire again. It was behind me, nearer the outbuilding and it took a moment through blinks for my eyesight to return well enough to see the grotesqueness of the misshapen massive humanoid thing.
The Molotov explosion burned then disappeared and we stood looking at one another again and I felt silly, foolish, radically unprepared, and overwhelmingly trivial in the grand scheme of the universe—if it wanted to, it could leap the distance between us and rip me to shreds. Why didn’t it kill me? Why wasn’t I dead?
That damnable night creature extended one of its massive forehands, flexing the digits on the end of its arm and whispered its words like a plea, The boy, Harlan. That is all. Take that brimstone smelly girl and carry that shell of a body—walk on to whatever hole you humans call home.
Hoping to not draw a movement from the creature, I pressed my forearm against my ribcage, feeling the last Molotov that was there in the inner pocket and I gently slid the strap from my shoulder, and held my shotgun in both hands, licking my dry lips, watching the dark frame of the Alukah, fearing even a moment of distraction; my eyes locked on the creature and I refused to speak.
No deal then. It wasn’t a question; its rattish snout offered a mild nod of understanding. You despise a good sense of words.
I readied the shotgun, legs spaced in proper formation—looking down the barrel, I held my breath and upon squeezing the trigger, the thing knocked into my shoulder, but the creature was gone. In scanning, I found the thing had moved from the field and bounded wildly across the street towards the dead ruins of Annapolis, its muscular limbs made short work of fleeing.
The outbuilding remained quiet and erectly tall, and I moved to its shadow and cussed whispers for wasting ammunition. Only three shells remained; worse, I’d wasted two of my explosives. I watched the horizon in the opposite direction of the crowded foundations of Annapolis and carefully held my breath in watching and I prayed again, hoping that the commotion would not draw attention.
An overwhelming sense of foolishness welled in my guts, and I trotted off towards the direction I’d watched the Alukah go, through the ramshackle streets haphazardly.
The darkness was maddeningly empty, so I filled it with shouts, “C’mon! This is your turf, ain’t it? This darkness is yours so come and take me if you can!” Rusty as I was, I held the shotgun like never before, squinting my eyes, keeping my pace in unison with my heartbeat. There’s a place in that darkness that is beyond reproach, beyond the comprehension of a city dweller, beyond even my own understanding and I found myself padding through those streets at an accelerated rate, hopeful to confront the demon and I only found more dead and vacant lots and I crossed more than two intersections where the signs were either gone or indecipherable in the black shadows cast there. I wished for a payback of the demon’s hunt or perhaps I wished for something even more than that—what did I need to prove and to who? “You sick and twisted and foul beast!” I went so loud I continued to hoarseness, “Slimy fuck!” I’s so mad that spit came with the words too.
Still, there was nothing and I came to a final crossroads, a place more commercial—at least for a flatland dead town—where brick storefronts half-stood on those four corners. Finding my voice again, I continued my tirade, cursing the demon, “Come get some—c’mon already! Here’s your fight?” I was scared though.
A sudden noise from the dilapidated storefront to my left startled me to pivot and watch, gun pulled up, and I focused as hard as I could on the recesses of that shadowed place; it was a large antiquated face where a window might have sat many years prior. Wet and hungry sounds emanated from that place, the disgusting noises of a fiend—even in knowing it, I was surprised in seeing the new creature spill out in a lumpish mess of slickened muscles, lubricated, its innumerable arms and legs clawed its own body forward so that it rolled like a mushy ball—each of those limbs remained human in nature. Upon the thing pulling itself onto the street, I staggered backwards, gun still raised, and watched its form take a modicum of understanding in the moonlight; its mouths—sporadically, illogically placed over its mass of a body—opened and seemed to try and speak with each one merely letting go of meekly audible, painful sighs in doing so. The eyes, spaced much the same as the mouths, blinked and rolled as if it was torture for the thing to live. The mutant was a tongue-like mass at its center, and it was almost the size of a horse—I’d seen fiends grow much larger, but this was still a great threat.
In moving away from where it spilled onto the street, I stumbled backwards and caught myself on the backfoot and clumsily spun into a sprint; my boots pounded in my flight from the thing, and it chased after.
Its mouths exhausted terrible sighs as it gained speed in the relative openness of the street and in seconds, I would not have been surprised if the thing snatched me by an ankle and devoured me without thought—not that fiends had any other thoughts above the basest urge to consume.
The pursuit kept me going in the dark, watching the still shadows of the dilapidated housing and I pushed on until I tasted copper; my breathing went raspy—it’d been so long since I’d been forced to run from such a creature in the open. I took a glance back and saw it coming, gaining speed in its perpetual roll; its body excreted some fluid across itself so that it could glide more easily.
Coming to a crossroads I’d passed earlier, or perhaps it was a new one—I couldn’t fathom in the dark—I took in the direction of what I thought was south and ran full throttle; my knees ached.
In hoping to confuse the mutant, I quickly dove towards the right side of the southbound street, towards some ramshackle, through the skeletal framing of a skinless house without a roof; I pushed through the pencil-narrow vertical beams and stumbled through, landing onto the unseen ground on the other side. My left leg spasmed and in the millisecond that it took for my nerves to register the pain, I let out a mild, “Oh.” I tried to lift myself from the spot and found that my left leg refused to bend straight; in total horror—more so from my body failing than the mutant—I swiveled my torso around and scooted on my rear across the ground, raking myself in the opposite direction of the fiend.
The mutant slammed into the frame; its many arms reached through the bars and in a moment, it began to use its hands to lift itself along the exposed wall and I scooted further away till my back met the bars of where an opposite wall would’ve gone. In a scramble, I snatched the shotgun, pushed myself sniff against the bars on my side and watched the thing down the barrel; I waited and concentrated on my own breathing. If nothing else worked, I still had that Molotov—if not for it then for me.
As it crested the top of the wall made of bars, I watched patiently and only when I was certain I fired.
The mutant, the great meatball-thing that it was, lost its grasp for a moment and slipped onto the arrangement of vertical bars; I gush of liquid, illuminated in starlight, shot from its base of its soft body; it began to try and catch its grasp on the bars and I took a moment for myself to examine my left knee—I pulled it as close to my face as I could manage which was hardly at all—some black triangular mass had lodged itself into my flesh; more accurately, I’d slammed myself onto something sharp in my panic to flee the fiend. In a second, not thinking of the repercussions, I gripped the thing with my left hand and clamped my mouth onto my right hand, biting into fat of my hand by the thumb. The debris was free from my leg, and I let it to fall to the ground; blood ran freely into my mouth and I let go of the bite and tentatively lifted the gun again, ignoring the pain; the creature continued to struggle, and I fired again. It slipped again, further impaling itself on the bars.
I had one shell left.
Using the place I’d propped my back, I pushed free from the ground and put all my weight onto my right leg, testing the left; I staggered—hopped really—around in the small square of ground surrounded by metal framing and searched the ground for something long. I unearthed the dirt around my feet and found a long piece of metal rod; setting the gun to the side, I lifted the metal rod over my head and then slowly arched it out from my body. It would give me just enough room to further injure the thing while also staying well out of its grasp.
I swung the makeshift weapon down like a bat or a sword and the fiend slid a little further down the bars, the exit wounds began to show across the top of its roundish body, and I smacked it again—its mouths spoke words that could nearly be understood. Though it took only moments, I was thoroughly exhausted by the time the creature had reached the ground again, good and dead and impaled upon six of those vertical bars. I tossed the weapon to the ground, lifted my gun, and shimmied through the bars on the opposite side of the square.
Adrenaline only lasts so long, and my left leg throbbed to the point of nausea; I did not want to inspect the wound, but on rounding the ramshackle and watching the still dead thing, I stumbled into the street and knelt and lifted my pant leg. It was dark and bloody and already it was burning. Infection was my first thought. A puncture wound could spell a terrible fate. I shifted to sit in the street. My leg didn’t bend right.
The cat’s hiss came from the darkness and there wasn’t a way I could respond in time; I felt those long nasty fingers grab me by the back of my neck and I was lifted immediately from the ground—the gun clattered to the ground and all I could do was initially freeze and stiffen and then my hands moved to the grasp which held me firmly by the throat; those massive knuckles were like stones.
The Alukah had me and situated me so that it could look into my face, its long black hair hid its eyes but I could smell its breath and see its teeth which rested in its round mouth. I could snap you. It seemed to nod its head, but to detect humanity in that damnable pale face was a mistake.
I choked.
What’s that? It relaxed its grasp on my throat.
“Do it.”
Why’re you crying? Its foot brushed against the gun at its feet, and it lifted it with its free hand, and it commented casually, Little human toy.
It moved, holding me by the throat, dragging me along the ground in an abnormal sluggish gait. It was hard to see anything but the night sky, anything but the strange angle of the demon—with its grip, it was hard to breathe, and tears indeed welled in my eyes, and I held to its forearm to distribute some of the weight of my own body away from my neck. With its tugging, I could not speak, but it spoke.
I’ll squeeze you dry, but your blood’s too tainted to drink. That won’t make it any less interesting. I’ll twist you like a rag and see which hole it comes from first. More than that, you’ll scream. You’ll scream so loud everyone will know. Everyone will know what I’ve done to you—once you’re no more than ruin. Not even Mephisto would balk at my handiwork once I’ve had my time with you. God will look on your sour corpse with so much disgust there won’t be a place for you anywhere. Only Oblivion, a place worse than any.
The creature moved us to the open field, tilted its head back and forth, rose its rattish face to the sky and snorted and then clearly sniffed, dropping the gun to its feet to brush the long black hair from its eyes; its muscular body shone in the moonlight so that even its bluish veins stood plainly from its white skin. It shifted its gaze to the outbuilding—maybe fifty yards away—where the youngins were hidden.
Deftly, the thing lifted me from where it had kept me by its side and my feet levitated over the air, I felt feet taller, suspended from that long arm the way I was. It took its free hand to my midsection and I felt the digits of its hand squeeze my ribs and it let go of my throat and I coughed and wheezed, placing my hands on its fingers to dig into that thing’s skin—it didn’t matter—in seconds, a scream escaped my rattling throat; it squeezed more and I felt the glass bottle in my jacket burst from the force then the Alukah gave relief and I tried to gulp air, but felt pangs along my body. My jacket was wetted from blood by the broken bottle shards entering my body or from the contents of the bottle or both.
Urine? It pulled me close to itself, sniffed, and shook its head. Oil? it cackled, Again! Beg for the help you do not deserve! It held me outright once more.
Again, the great hand constricted me and again I could not help but to let out a scream—my lungs were on fire, my voice stretched like a dying animal. I heard barks and saw nothing through wild choking tears. The grip softened.
I coughed more and tried to speak; the Alukah brought me close to itself as if to wait and listen to what I had to say. Weeping words fell out in a whisper, “Kill me. Do it. I don’t mind.”
Another sharp laugh exited the thing’s throat and it squeezed again, facing me out so that I could look at the black outline of the outbuilding. I heard the barking again and I saw the figures stumble out from the sidelong face of the outbuilding. I blinked to remove the tears.
A voice, neither mine nor the demon’s, shouted an attempt at authority, “Let him go!” It was Gemma. They rounded the building so that moonlight removed them from obscurity. Gemma held Trouble on a lead while Andrew followed.
Trouble growled.
The smile was audible through the Alukah’s voice, Strong words for one so dainty. I felt its grip tighten and I chuffed and couldn’t manage a word.
“Get it!” shouted Gemma; she let go of Trouble’s lead and the dog looked curiously at me and the demon where we were and tucked its tail and circled to hide behind the children.
The Alukah laughed. Scary dog.
I was lightheaded while my vision went; I should die—I’d bleed out there or some unknown medical oddity would shut me off. Perhaps I’d will myself to death. My head nodded tiredly, and I fought it, blinking, shaking my head to maintain my eyes.
“You want me?” The boy took a few steps forward and his voice cracked. “We could make a deal.”
The Alukah lowered me so that my feet skimmed the ground but shifted to keep a tight hold around only my throat. Oh?
“What are you doing?” shouted Gemma; she closed the space between herself and Andrew and shoved him.
He shoved her back. “Me for him,” he addressed the demon.
Is that the deal?
Everything in my body protested while I reached for the jean pocket on my right side; I could not reach it. I stretched and my ribs screamed in pain—it was worse than bruising. The demon did not notice me moving. Maybe because my movements were weak, subtle. I tried again while mentally asking God for help and I came short of the pocket. I cursed Him and then my shaking fingers found the pocket. I withdrew the lighter there.
“That’s right,” said Andrew.
“No, he won’t,” Gemma’s voice was aflame.
It’s not your deal to make, girly.
I took the lighter to my jacket, lit it, and the flames grew around me in a flash, feeding on the oil.
The Alukah hissed, attempted to unwrap its hand from around me while I dug into its forearm with two claws and bit onto the thing’s hand for extra purchase. It swung me around and my legs flew limply. It took every bit of strength I had.
Let go! The Alukah shrieked.
Trouble barked, the children screamed, and I bit deeper till that thick black blood filled my mouth. The flames were immaculate, cleansing, more furious than I could’ve imagined. Not for life—that’s not why I held on so strongly—it was for them, for Andrew and Gemma. Me and that creature should’ve burned together. Fitting.
Delirium took over and I swiveled overhead in the demon’s tantrum, holding onto that arm. The Alukah hissed, roared, shouted nasty epithets.
The gunshot rang out and I met ground, hard.
Exhaustion or death could’ve taken me then, but it was the former.
When consciousness came again, it was hands, smacking hands that brought me to life—then the vague smell of burnt hair, cooked flesh. My body stung and I could not move but to lift my face from the dirt where I lay belly-flat.
“You almost died,” said Gemma somewhere between hope and sorrow, “You almost killed yourself!” She shook me and shoved me hard enough so that I rolled on my back. She’d been crying, but surely, we’d won. What was there to cry for? If we’d lost, she wouldn’t be talking at all.
She left me and I stared at the sky through slits. The sun was coming but I couldn’t feel the warmth; I couldn’t feel anything (that would be a sweet memory in the time to come). It was quiet save the crackling I heard; it was like the lowness of a dying fire. It wasn’t me? I wasn’t on fire?
When she returned, she lifted my head to place my pack underneath it; it elevated my vision. I surveyed my surroundings. The outbuilding was there and the Alukah lay on the ground perhaps ten feet from me; its body charred and sizzled and caught little flames in response to the cresting sunrise; everything was a daze—we’d won.
Gemma’s eyes glittered, and she called the dog over and the dog sniffed my face and the girl’s lips remained flat, expressionless.
I saw the boy’s body—it lay motionless alongside the dead Alukah and alongside that body was my shotgun. The body’s head sat on its side, disconnected from its owner, facing away from where I lay.
“He killed it. He shot it.” Gemma sat beside me, and Trouble placed her snout on the girl’s shoulder. “We’re going to die,” she nodded.
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Hi everyone, I just need to get this off my chest while I'm awaiting diagnosis (or not). I don't want to discuss with friends/family and worry unnecessarily. Here is my story. Long post and TMI as it relates to stomach issues.
For the past several years I have been struggling with stomach cramps, diarrhea, weight loss, nausea, fatigue. The first Dr I went to I was having diarrhea roughly 20xs a day. Sometimes bloody. I had lost 15lbs. I thought I was dying. She told me I was anxious, that the horrible stomach pain was gas or IBS. Eventually I ended up in the ER and had a CT scan done which showed multiple spots of "thickening" in my colon. The thought at that time was I likely had some type of IBD.
When I saw the gastro I had tons of tests, endoscopy, colonoscopy, lots of blood work. Everything ruled out IBD and any other GI issues they could think of. I was eventually diagnosed with gastroparesis. The gastric emptying scan showed initially fast digestion, but over the course of the 4 hours it was overall slow. The gastro Dr had no explanation for my positive CT scan, just said sometimes stuff can show, but it doesn't mean anything? Well, there's no real treatment for gastroparesis, just treat the symptoms, so I'd take zofran for nausea, and Imodium for diarrhea and try to live my life.
More recently I started experiencing sweating which got me referred to an endocrinologist. He saw the CT scan in my chart and asked me about it. He also asked if I experienced flushing with the diarrhea which I do. He said this would be a rare thing, but when I looked up the likelihood, it seems about as rare as idiopathic gastroparesis. So this weekend I'm doing the 24hr 5HIAA urine test. So I'll turn that in Monday and hopefully get my results back in the next few days

Throwaway account because I don’t want my family members on Reddit worrying
Female 33 years old 5’2” 130lbs Physically active and working at a physically demanding job.
Medical Hx: Genetic Torsion Dystonia (dyt1 mutation), Stevens Johnson Syndrome (2005), cholecystectomy (2008), IVF treatments (2020), Pregnancy w/out complications 2020-4/2021 but prolonged labor and c-section, COVID-19 (December 2021), 4 total COVID vaccines. I was prone to UTI as a child and as an adult I’m prone to sinus infection and chronic cough after respiratory illnesses.
Current medications: Levocetirizine (seasonal allergies), Vitamin 2 (2000 iu/daily), Fish oil daily, fiber capsules daily (as recommended by her GI), medical cannabis for dystonia pain (less than weekly, and sometimes less than monthly).
Recent Hx and concerns:
In Fall 2021, I began experiencing epigastric pain/pressure unrelated to food consumption. The sensation also occasionally was uncomfortable enough to make breathing difficult. Doctors suggested heartburn. An upper GI fluoroscopy did not indicate reflux, chest x-ray was normal.
I tested positive for COVID-19 in mid-December 2021. My symptoms were considered “mild-moderate” though I was out of work for 3 weeks. I continued to have a persistent cough requiring multiple courses of antibiotics and inhaled steroids to clear. I also continued to experience sharp and sudden headaches for a few seconds at a time, chronic fatigue, and blurry vision. Ophthalmologist exam was normal. Around that time I began to experience pain on the outer edge of my left breast. Ultrasound was normal.
In August 2022, I began experiencing frequent (monthly) migraine headaches with aura. I have only experienced a handful of such migraines over my lifetime prior to this. I was prescribed Sumatriptan, which was ineffective. Was then given Ubrelvey (ineffective) and later (2023) Relpax and Fioricet (Relpax dulls the migraine, but does not take it away. Fioricet was ineffective) as well as Nurtec (i had an allergic reaction–hives). In winter 2022, I had a couple of instances of sudden nausea, diarrhea, and vomiting. My PCP ordered abdominal and pelvic ultrasounds, all of which were normal.
In the summer of 2023, migraines became more extreme and more frequent (only a week or 2 in between). I began experiencing jaw and tongue pain, light sensitivity (not previously experienced with migraines), tingling in the left hand, dry mouth, and sensitivity to touch and temperature sensations during migraine episodes. Medications continued to be ineffective. In August 2023, I also began experiencing dizziness/unsteadiness when moving quickly or turning, worsening fatigue with need to nap regularly, mental fog and forgetfulness, inability to focus. A sleep study was ordered and results were normal. I underwent a neuropsychological evaluation, the results of which were similar to my previous assessment 5 years prior.
In November 2023, the I began experiencing frequent sudden onset of sweating/chills and racing heart followed by diarrhea and vomiting, sometimes lasting hours. These episodes would then be followed by up to 2 weeks of constipation and sharp abdominal pains, sometimes severe enough to make breathing difficult. The pain was being similar to gallstones. I received an abdominal x-ray after an episode, which showed significant bowel buildup but not in the colon, and constipation was alleviated naturally later that day. These episodes appeared to be in connection with my menstrual cycle (onset and conclusion, or sometimes ovulation). Hormone panels were normal as were stool and urine. After consult with a gastroenterologist and an upper endoscopy, my GI system appeared normal, though with mild inflammation from the vomiting. I was prescribed a 2-month course of Pepcid to assist with the inflammation. In considering the GI exam and migraine history, I was diagnosed with abdominal migraines. I continue to experience epigastric pain with some regularity, and sometimes quite intensely.
Due to migraine severity and frequency, my neurologist ordered a brain MRI w/o contrast in early January 2024, which showed sinus swelling (I came down with a cold later that day) and no other concerns. During the month leading up to this MRI, I had a persistent sinus infection and had been on repeated courses of antibiotics and steroids. The neurologist prescribed daily Topiramate with a tapering up dose. I was only able to taper up to 50mg each night and developed the following side effects before stopping the medication after 6 weeks: significant lapses in memory, worsening fatigue and inability to stay awake, rapid weight loss, tingling in the hands, menstrual irregularity, worsening brain fog, difficulty breathing, and low stamina. An EKG and chest CT w/ and w/o were ordered and were normal. I continued to get migraines on this medication. Difficulty breathing and all other side effects were alleviated after the medication was stopped. The neurologist then prescribed nortriptyline, which the patient responded better to, and migraine frequency decreased. However, after a month, my heart rate was consistently elevated, so the medication was stopped.
CBC in early January was normal except for: WBC 11.6 (high) HCT 45.4 (high) MCHC 32.4 (low)
In late January 2024, I began to notice a squeezing sensation in both knees when I stood from sitting, and a similar sensation around the waist when she was getting dressed or undressed, or in the shower. The squeezing sensations increased in frequency and severity, but are not painful. In February, I noticed numbness in the left-most toes of my left foot while in the shower and within a month was also experiencing it in my right foot. These sensations come and go, but happen daily/near daily and throughout the day. I also now experience occasional numbness along the left side of my left hand, and occasional shooting electric sensations in the same spot. I continue to have brain fog, fatigue with the need for regular naps, blurry vision (worse after exercise/exertion, with fatigue, or with stress), squeezing sensations in my legs/knees and waist, and the numbness sensations in both feet, occasionally my knees, and left hand. I also notice I sometimes stumbles over my own feet, my legs feel heavy often and sometimes weak, and I am quick to lose stamina.
I met with a second neurologist who ordered cervical and thoracic spine MRIs w/ and w/o contrast, which appear normal. Blood panels for STDs, autoimmune diseases, vitamin deficiencies have all been ordered and are unremarkable.
I consulted with a long-Covid clinic, which does not feel my symptoms are related to long-covid except possibly the blurry vision, fatigue, and foggy headedness, based on symptom onset compared to last known infection. They prescribed speech therapy, which I will start in June at a rehabilitation center. They also suggested amantadine for the fatigue, but I haven’t started it. A nerve conduction test was mentioned as a possibility, but was not recommended as the doctor did not feel it would be accurate or beneficial.
Since March 1, 2024, I have been getting weekly acupuncture, and have been on a gluten and dairy free diet. I limit caffeine intake to only decaf coffee or tea infrequently (less than weekly), and has not consumed alcohol since the onset of the abdominal migraines in November 2023. On one occasion, I was unable to avoid gluten and dairy, and the following day experienced severe leg pain, though it could have been weather related as well.
Thanks for taking the time to read! Any thoughts or suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

Hey all, I (25M) had COVID in december 23, and probably again in February 24, in total I had it 5 or 6 times, first time for 3/4 weeks in April 2022, then mostly milder in the acute phase.
In February 24 I thought I was fit again after a week, so I went to the gym, but there I felt really bad and ended it, at home I got a fever and felt really bad in general. The next 4 weeks I was having some coughs, some nasal congestion, but all the time tachycardia, my RHR was at 90, instead of about 60. And I was much more exhausted. And my BP was always really high 180/110 from then on. (Right now I am on betablockers and losartan (ARB))
cMRI 15.3.24 LVEF40-50% slightly reduced And some LGE in the myocard indicating myocarditis but no active edema or inflammation
From the beginning of April I was feeling much worse, I could not stand working anymore, getting dizzy upon walking and I started having a lot of palpitations. (Premature atrial contractions, PACs, about 10%)
These days, I am having these palpitations, mostly PACs, sometimes in trigeminy, sometimes only one per minute or even less. Fatigue and upon walking sometimes severe dizziness/ brain fog and SOB. In my back I always have a pain which sometimes flares out to my left shoulder and sometimes also chest pain, but that it he only thing that had a peak and then pretty much got better. My heart rate upon sitting varies between 50 and 80. My oxygen saturation is basically always at 95%. Before it was basically always at 99%.
Do some of you have these symptoms or similar symtpoms and recovered or gotten better at least?

Hi, docs. M, 27 y-o, caucasian. I currently take Valproic Acid 500mg, Wellbutrin 150mg and Lexapro 20mg.
I have been feeling extremely weak, as if I have been fasting, even though I am not. I am not losing weight though, I am gaining weight because I lack the energy to exercise. I struggle with significant cognitive difficulties, finding it hard to organize my thoughts. It feels like my mind is constantly tired, which is severely affecting my studies.
Additionally, I experience motion sickness when driving and turning my head from side to side, leaving me feeling disoriented. It often feels as if my brain is not receiving enough oxygen. If I go without rest for a while, I develop headaches. I also suffer from nausea, particularly in the mornings. My bowel movements are irregular, with unusual stools and excessive gas, which worsen on bad days.
These symptoms have persisted for over a year. I have undergone numerous tests, including a Holter monitor, chest X-ray, laboratory tests, brain MRI, ophthalmological examinations, and psychiatric follow-ups, but none have provided a solution.

The house stood by itself, certainly holding darkness within. I had no doubt that inside, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone, just like any other house.
I knew it was not like any other house. My dead parents would be proud.
Actually, I had no idea whether they’d be proud. Dead things take on a life of their own in our imaginations, and become far more than they ever could have been under different circumstances.
I pulled the jacket tighter. There was no point in trying to be discreet, but I’d rather be the weirdo in an unnecessary trench coat than the weirdo who was trying to hide a weapon.
I made my way around the structure and to the back door without anyone noticing. That wasn’t a good thing. We have a way of paying attention to everything except what’s important.
Grabbing the knob with a gloved hand, I found it to be locked. This was hardly my first time breaking into a house that didn’t want me, though, so I was inside a few seconds later.
I didn’t like how quiet the kitchen was. It felt like a presence, as though it was listening. A stifling flutter of vertigo and nausea tickled me as I waded through it. Turning into the hallway, it got worse, like I was diving underwater too quickly. My head spun.
The sensation emanated from the last room on the left; even without light, sound, or smell, it was overwhelming in the absence of what I should have felt. A sudden hitch pulled in my chest: I really didn’t want to go into the final room of this suffocating house in the middle of the night. I didn’t want to be alone in the dark.
I wished I had someone in my life to disappoint. Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t have gone forward.
And so I found myself slowly stepping around the bedroom door, telling myself that I was ready to face whatever lay on the other side.
I wasn’t ready.
I didn’t learn about demons until I was grown up. While some people can see the demons inside of us, they like to stay hidden.
Not this one. It stood at the far end of the shadowy room, nine feet tall, curly goat’s horns atop the humanoid feline face of a man. Pugilist arms drooped at both sides, hanging to knees supported by cloven feet. Its tail twitched in time to the flicker of its forked tongue.
A little girl, maybe ten years old, trembled beneath her blanket, her skin alabaster white as her large eyes stared at the nightmare incarnate.
Fear chilled my blood. No matter how many times I saw the manifestation of everything vile in my mind, the terror never went away. Fear of death only stops when we’re dead.
The demon dropped its jaw – five inches, eight inches, a foot, even more – to reveal canines that dripped from infected gums to far below its jaw. It lowered its face to the terrified girl. She had nowhere to go: her bed was in the corner, and the bedroom had no windows.
“Stop.”
They both turned to me. I could smell the thing’s breath from across the room; it reeked like rotting fish had been washed using other rotten fish.
I reached into my jacket and grabbed the handle.
Our demon huffed, sending swirlies of exhaled air that threatened to melt the wallpaper. I held my breath and pointed the weapon. The thing saw how much the tip trembled, no matter how I tried to steady my hand. It smiled.
I blinked rapidly.
When it saw that I wasn’t going to move, the goat demon lurched toward me.
It had expected me to step back. When I didn’t do what it wanted, the thing got angrier. It lumbered forward, rising to its full height.
It’s impossible to appreciate just how tall nine feet is until a monster is standing right in front of you with its tongue writhing like a tortured snake. But still, I didn’t move.
Yet it knew I was afraid. The thing could smell it on me, wafting like a freshly opened Octomore whisky that had all the subtlety of a wrecking ball on fire.
I raised the handle higher. The shaky tip of my sword was now just below its chin.
This thing had the power to crush me.
“Run away.”
I peeked around the demon’s hyper-muscular frame to see the girl staring at me, the blanket pulled up to her eyes.
“You’re telling me that I should run away because it knows I’m afraid?”
She nodded, her black hair bobbing furiously.
The demon dropped its impossibly wide jaw and lowered it toward me. I could see straight past its uvula into a pulsing esophagus.
The exit was right behind me.
“I am afraid. Which is precisely why I can’t run.” I dropped the sword to the ground with a clang. Staring up at the monster, I spoke louder. “This demon’s name is Doubt. It lives among us because it will never go hungry in the presence of people.”
Its teeth stopped half an inch from my cheek. I tried not to cry. “This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waves halt.”
It didn’t move. The putrid mouth still was sitting, still was sitting just beside the bedroom door.
And yet I stayed.
It held for a few seconds longer. And then it screamed.
The thing punched a hole in the wall with a single blow that sent shock waves through the air and jolted the girl into a standing position. I wanted to run away, to cry, to do anything but stay in place, but I learned long ago that we’re often strongest in our moments of weakness.
So I waited for Doubt to tire of us, since I knew it couldn’t hurt me as I was.
Finally it subsided, heaving as it stared, content for the moment to lurk in the background so that I would always know of its presence.
The girl, still trapped in the corner of the room, glared back and forth between us. “Who are you?” she asked in a voice just above a whisper.
I had to swallow three times before I was sure I could speak without crying. “My name is Peter,” I responded, “and I’m a demon hunter like my parents before me.”
“How – how do you kill this one?” she asked, teetering on the edge of complete panic.
I raised an eyebrow. “You want to be rid of it entirely?”
She wrapped her arms around a white sleeping gown, looking ghostly, and nodded.
“The only certain cure is dying,” I answered. “Otherwise, he’ll always know how to find you.” I plucked my parents’ sword from the ground. “In the meantime, try letting go of a weapon. Most people don’t know how not to use violence.” I held out my hand, inviting her to escape.
“Is it safe?” she whispered.
“No.”
She glanced at the demon once more.
“Stop staring. It only makes the thing stronger.”
She continued to stare before leaping from the bed and trotting over toward me and slipping on a pair of shoes by the door. “We’re going away, aren’t we?”
I looked down at her. “You know why it’s hunting you?”
She looked back up with big, brown eyes that only seemed innocent on the surface. “They’ve come for the most dangerous weapon in the world.”
The words sent chills down my back. I didn’t need to affirm what we both knew.
“It’s time to leave.”
She turned at my words, and we walked side-by-side down the hallway, putting the room behind us.
We couldn’t put it behind us. I felt the demon’s first step, and I heard the second. Each footfall of ours was met by two more, just behind us.
“Is it following us?” she whispered.
I clenched my fist. “Don’t look back. Whatever you do, don’t look back.”
Hot, wet breath caressed my neck as the hair on the back of my head was graced lightly by what felt like a forked tongue.
“How can we live like this?” she asked. Her cheeks were shiny.
“Well, you never know when life is gonna twist the story like an eager titty.”
We froze. Standing before us in the kitchen was a gray-haired woman in her sixties taking a long drag on a cigarette. The skin around her eyes wrinkled in a way that made me think she’d spent a lifetime laughing at people facing the consequences of what seemed like a good idea at the time.
“Sorry, Sugar. I sometimes forget to watch my fucking mouth when kids are around.”
A million questions raced through my head at the stranger’s presence, but only one reached my lips. “Can you see what’s behind me?”
She looked between the two of us, one eyebrow raised like a skeptical proctologist hearing the same lie a hundredth time.
“So it’s visible to you,” I pressed, my pulse quickening. “Do you know what it is?”
She took another extensive drag on the cigarette, clearly more interested in nicotine than self-preservation. “No, but if I could scrub my clothes on its stomach, I’d never use a washing machine again.”
For the first time since leaving the room, I looked over my shoulder.
It was an inch away. The disgusting pubic stubble on its chin raked my neck.
“Someone is after her,” I explained to the stranger.
“Someone is after you, Peter.”
A shudder went through my bones upon hearing my name. “Why – who the hell are you?”
She took the deepest pull yet on a cigarette that was almost out, closing her eyes before answering. “My name is Patricia Barnes. I like to think of myself as the reciprocation of every testicular-based mistake.”
I shook my head. There was no way I could even attempt to understand what the hell she was saying. “We need to leave. Now.”
The little girl looked up at me. “What’s going to happen?”
The first thing that parents learn is how to lie to their children, and the last thing that children do is learn just how much their parents were lying. That’s the boundary of adulthood, and our only unifying feature is that we’re not ready for it.
“Kid, this is going to suck,” I promised. The demon wormed his tongue into my ear. I ignored it. “What’s your name?”
“Gwen,” she answered. I thought she was going to hold my hand. She didn’t.
“The sun’s about to rise,” I went on. “We need to be gone by then.” I opened the back door once again, and the two of them followed me out. I didn’t check for the demon, because I was looking forward.
“You found me,” I said to Patricia once we were standing in the still night air. “They’ll find us soon.”
She snorted. “You were only looking at what I wanted you to see.”
I turned to her and folded my arms as she lit another cigarette.
“What happened to the last one I was smoking?” she asked through clenched teeth.
I shook my head, ready to turn away from her.
She yanked it from her mouth and blew a long stream into the night air. “I set it down just before crossing the room to turn on the pilot light.”
I opened my mouth to respond.
Then I froze, staring.
“I left it on high, Sugar. You’d better run.”
I grabbed Gwen’s hand and sprinted into the trees behind her house. Patricia was surprisingly fast in her high-heeled boots and long skirt; it was clear that she’d been mentally preparing for this.
We were hiding behind the trees when the explosion sent shock waves through us. I turned back to stare at the wreckage. “Can anyone else see it?” I breathed. “I’ve watched far worse things that no one noticed.”
Before I received an answer, silhouettes moved against the flames. Two men stared up at the crimson night. One paced back and forth, clearly pissed, while the other stood placidly with his arms on his hips.
“God,” I whispered, “they were outside this whole time, waiting for us.” I turned to stare at Patricia, who was recovering from her sprint with closed eyes and another inhalation of cigarette smoke, before looking at Gwen. She seemed so vulnerable, pale almost to the point of glowing in the first gray rays of a dawning sun.
Patricia sighed. “Do you know how many cigarettes I’ve gone through explaining things to men who should have figured out my motivations the 1,913th time I made it obvious?”
I folded my arms. “That’s a random number.”
She coughed. “Not if you put together all the clues. Look, sometimes memories stick better when I slap the listener around a little. Do you need a good smacking?”
“No.”
“Offer’s on the table.” She dropped her cigarette onto the dirt, crushing it beneath her boot as she lit another. Patricia closed her eyes and sighed in contentment. “Are you ready for the truth?”
“No one is.”
She opened her eyes and cackled. “Good boy.” Looking up toward the two shadows, one still pacing, the other statue-still, she pursed her lips. “They’re not going to give up the most dangerous weapon in the world that easily,” she pressed, eyebrows raised.
I looked at her, she looked at me, and I think that we finally understood one another.
“There’s no going back,” she continued, her voice eerily calm. “Peter, this is just the beginning.”
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The house stood by itself, certainly holding darkness within. I had no doubt that inside, walls continued upright, bricks met neatly, floors were firm, and doors were sensibly shut; silence lay steadily against the wood and stone, just like any other house.
I knew it was not like any other house. My dead parents would be proud.
Actually, I had no idea whether they’d be proud. Dead things take on a life of their own in our imaginations, and become far more than they ever could have been under different circumstances.
I pulled the jacket tighter. There was no point in trying to be discreet, but I’d rather be the weirdo in an unnecessary trench coat than the weirdo who was trying to hide a weapon.
I made my way around the structure and to the back door without anyone noticing. That wasn’t a good thing. We have a way of paying attention to everything except what’s important.
Grabbing the knob with a gloved hand, I found it to be locked. This was hardly my first time breaking into a house that didn’t want me, though, so I was inside a few seconds later.
I didn’t like how quiet the kitchen was. It felt like a presence, as though it was listening. A stifling flutter of vertigo and nausea tickled me as I waded through it. Turning into the hallway, it got worse, like I was diving underwater too quickly. My head spun.
The sensation emanated from the last room on the left; even without light, sound, or smell, it was overwhelming in the absence of what I should have felt. A sudden hitch pulled in my chest: I really didn’t want to go into the final room of this suffocating house in the middle of the night. I didn’t want to be alone in the dark.
I wished I had someone in my life to disappoint. Maybe if I did, I wouldn’t have gone forward.
And so I found myself slowly stepping around the bedroom door, telling myself that I was ready to face whatever lay on the other side.
I wasn’t ready.
I didn’t learn about demons until I was grown up. While some people can see the demons inside of us, they like to stay hidden.
Not this one. It stood at the far end of the shadowy room, nine feet tall, curly goat’s horns atop the humanoid feline face of a man. Pugilist arms drooped at both sides, hanging to knees supported by cloven feet. Its tail twitched in time to the flicker of its forked tongue.
A little girl, maybe ten years old, trembled beneath her blanket, her skin alabaster white as her large eyes stared at the nightmare incarnate.
Fear chilled my blood. No matter how many times I saw the manifestation of everything vile in my mind, the terror never went away. Fear of death only stops when we’re dead.
The demon dropped its jaw – five inches, eight inches, a foot, even more – to reveal canines that dripped from infected gums to far below its jaw. It lowered its face to the terrified girl. She had nowhere to go: her bed was in the corner, and the bedroom had no windows.
“Stop.”
They both turned to me. I could smell the thing’s breath from across the room; it reeked like rotting fish had been washed using other rotten fish.
I reached into my jacket and grabbed the handle.
Our demon huffed, sending swirlies of exhaled air that threatened to melt the wallpaper. I held my breath and pointed the weapon. The thing saw how much the tip trembled, no matter how I tried to steady my hand. It smiled.
I blinked rapidly.
When it saw that I wasn’t going to move, the goat demon lurched toward me.
It had expected me to step back. When I didn’t do what it wanted, the thing got angrier. It lumbered forward, rising to its full height.
It’s impossible to appreciate just how tall nine feet is until a monster is standing right in front of you with its tongue writhing like a tortured snake. But still, I didn’t move.
Yet it knew I was afraid. The thing could smell it on me, wafting like a freshly opened Octomore whisky that had all the subtlety of a wrecking ball on fire.
I raised the handle higher. The shaky tip of my sword was now just below its chin.
This thing had the power to crush me.
“Run away.”
I peeked around the demon’s hyper-muscular frame to see the girl staring at me, the blanket pulled up to her eyes.
“You’re telling me that I should run away because it knows I’m afraid?”
She nodded, her black hair bobbing furiously.
The demon dropped its impossibly wide jaw and lowered it toward me. I could see straight past its uvula into a pulsing esophagus.
The exit was right behind me.
“I am afraid. Which is precisely why I can’t run.” I dropped the sword to the ground with a clang. Staring up at the monster, I spoke louder. “This demon’s name is Doubt. It lives among us because it will never go hungry in the presence of people.”
Its teeth stopped half an inch from my cheek. I tried not to cry. “This far you may come and no farther; here is where your proud waves halt.”
It didn’t move. The putrid mouth still was sitting, still was sitting just beside the bedroom door.
And yet I stayed.
It held for a few seconds longer. And then it screamed.
The thing punched a hole in the wall with a single blow that sent shock waves through the air and jolted the girl into a standing position. I wanted to run away, to cry, to do anything but stay in place, but I learned long ago that we’re often strongest in our moments of weakness.
So I waited for Doubt to tire of us, since I knew it couldn’t hurt me as I was.
Finally it subsided, heaving as it stared, content for the moment to lurk in the background so that I would always know of its presence.
The girl, still trapped in the corner of the room, glared back and forth between us. “Who are you?” she asked in a voice just above a whisper.
I had to swallow three times before I was sure I could speak without crying. “My name is Peter,” I responded, “and I’m a demon hunter like my parents before me.”
“How – how do you kill this one?” she asked, teetering on the edge of complete panic.
I raised an eyebrow. “You want to be rid of it entirely?”
She wrapped her arms around a white sleeping gown, looking ghostly, and nodded.
“The only certain cure is dying,” I answered. “Otherwise, he’ll always know how to find you.” I plucked my parents’ sword from the ground. “In the meantime, try letting go of a weapon. Most people don’t know how not to use violence.” I held out my hand, inviting her to escape.
“Is it safe?” she whispered.
“No.”
She glanced at the demon once more.
“Stop staring. It only makes the thing stronger.”
She continued to stare before leaping from the bed and trotting over toward me and slipping on a pair of shoes by the door. “We’re going away, aren’t we?”
I looked down at her. “You know why it’s hunting you?”
She looked back up with big, brown eyes that only seemed innocent on the surface. “They’ve come for the most dangerous weapon in the world.”
The words sent chills down my back. I didn’t need to affirm what we both knew.
“It’s time to leave.”
She turned at my words, and we walked side-by-side down the hallway, putting the room behind us.
We couldn’t put it behind us. I felt the demon’s first step, and I heard the second. Each footfall of ours was met by two more, just behind us.
“Is it following us?” she whispered.
I clenched my fist. “Don’t look back. Whatever you do, don’t look back.”
Hot, wet breath caressed my neck as the hair on the back of my head was graced lightly by what felt like a forked tongue.
“How can we live like this?” she asked. Her cheeks were shiny.
“Well, you never know when life is gonna twist the story like an eager titty.”
We froze. Standing before us in the kitchen was a gray-haired woman in her sixties taking a long drag on a cigarette. The skin around her eyes wrinkled in a way that made me think she’d spent a lifetime laughing at people facing the consequences of what seemed like a good idea at the time.
“Sorry, Sugar. I sometimes forget to watch my fucking mouth when kids are around.”
A million questions raced through my head at the stranger’s presence, but only one reached my lips. “Can you see what’s behind me?”
She looked between the two of us, one eyebrow raised like a skeptical proctologist hearing the same lie a hundredth time.
“So it’s visible to you,” I pressed, my pulse quickening. “Do you know what it is?”
She took another extensive drag on the cigarette, clearly more interested in nicotine than self-preservation. “No, but if I could scrub my clothes on its stomach, I’d never use a washing machine again.”
For the first time since leaving the room, I looked over my shoulder.
It was an inch away. The disgusting pubic stubble on its chin raked my neck.
“Someone is after her,” I explained to the stranger.
“Someone is after you, Peter.”
A shudder went through my bones upon hearing my name. “Why – who the hell are you?”
She took the deepest pull yet on a cigarette that was almost out, closing her eyes before answering. “My name is Patricia Barnes. I like to think of myself as the reciprocation of every testicular-based mistake.”
I shook my head. There was no way I could even attempt to understand what the hell she was saying. “We need to leave. Now.”
The little girl looked up at me. “What’s going to happen?”
The first thing that parents learn is how to lie to their children, and the last thing that children do is learn just how much their parents were lying. That’s the boundary of adulthood, and our only unifying feature is that we’re not ready for it.
“Kid, this is going to suck,” I promised. The demon wormed his tongue into my ear. I ignored it. “What’s your name?”
“Gwen,” she answered. I thought she was going to hold my hand. She didn’t.
“The sun’s about to rise,” I went on. “We need to be gone by then.” I opened the back door once again, and the two of them followed me out. I didn’t check for the demon, because I was looking forward.
“You found me,” I said to Patricia once we were standing in the still night air. “They’ll find us soon.”
She snorted. “You were only looking at what I wanted you to see.”
I turned to her and folded my arms as she lit another cigarette.
“What happened to the last one I was smoking?” she asked through clenched teeth.
I shook my head, ready to turn away from her.
She yanked it from her mouth and blew a long stream into the night air. “I set it down just before crossing the room to turn on the pilot light.”
I opened my mouth to respond.
Then I froze, staring.
“I left it on high, Sugar. You’d better run.”
I grabbed Gwen’s hand and sprinted into the trees behind her house. Patricia was surprisingly fast in her high-heeled boots and long skirt; it was clear that she’d been mentally preparing for this.
We were hiding behind the trees when the explosion sent shock waves through us. I turned back to stare at the wreckage. “Can anyone else see it?” I breathed. “I’ve watched far worse things that no one noticed.”
Before I received an answer, silhouettes moved against the flames. Two men stared up at the crimson night. One paced back and forth, clearly pissed, while the other stood placidly with his arms on his hips.
“God,” I whispered, “they were outside this whole time, waiting for us.” I turned to stare at Patricia, who was recovering from her sprint with closed eyes and another inhalation of cigarette smoke, before looking at Gwen. She seemed so vulnerable, pale almost to the point of glowing in the first gray rays of a dawning sun.
Patricia sighed. “Do you know how many cigarettes I’ve gone through explaining things to men who should have figured out my motivations the 1,913th time I made it obvious?”
I folded my arms. “That’s a random number.”
She coughed. “Not if you put together all the clues. Look, sometimes memories stick better when I slap the listener around a little. Do you need a good smacking?”
“No.”
“Offer’s on the table.” She dropped her cigarette onto the dirt, crushing it beneath her boot as she lit another. Patricia closed her eyes and sighed in contentment. “Are you ready for the truth?”
“No one is.”
She opened her eyes and cackled. “Good boy.” Looking up toward the two shadows, one still pacing, the other statue-still, she pursed her lips. “They’re not going to give up the most dangerous weapon in the world that easily,” she pressed, eyebrows raised.
I looked at her, she looked at me, and I think that we finally understood one another.
“There’s no going back,” she continued, her voice eerily calm. “Peter, this is just the beginning.”

I've read some similar experiences about valdoxan causing anxiety. I started taking this as an alternative for ssri (sertraline) because i couldn't take its side effects. The first time i took it was last year and it was amazing! Compared to ssri's, this had like no side effects at all. But i stopped because i also stopped taking to my psychiatrist, which meant i got no prescription. I didn't take it for some months.
A month ago, i started taking it again but after half a 25mg pill, i started shaking. Now i'm taking the full 25mg pill. I thought the shaking and nausea would stop once i got used to it but i still shake, feel nauseous, palpitate, have shortness of breath, chest pain, fatigue and anxiety! I didn't have anxiety before. I started taking antidepressants because i was depressed. My anxiety has been through the roof this past month that i even think that i could like die next week or something. Should i stop now or would my system get used to it eventually? I do like my body clock now but the other effects are too much.
I kinda don't wanna bring this up with my psychiatrist because i think she's just gonna prescribe me a different medication. I just wanna stop taking meds now because from what i know, valdoxan causes like the least side effects so i don't think i can handle the others 🫠

i’ll list my background and a ymptoms first for easy reading:
20F, diagnosed with acid reflux, ehlers danlos syndrome and emetophobic.

• can’t burp, probably done about 4 microburps in the last 10 years.
  
• hard/extremely rare for me to vomit. i have to gag HARD for a tiny amount to come up. i went 14 years without doing it.
  
• throat gurgles/croaks. sometimes have to whack my chest like a gorilla to get them up
  
• chest and stomach pressure
  
• nauseous/uncomfortable feeling which is my main symptom. mainly after food
  
• gi tract growls when i flex in and out sometimes
  
• occasionally difficulty swallowing at night
  
• prone to trapped wind and super gassy
  
• i feel very tight after eating a large meal
  

ACTUAL EXPLANATION:
20F) soooo. had stomach/chest issues after getting covid in 2022. i should also mention, covid was the first time i had thrown up in 14 years and even then i had to gag quite forcefully to get anything up and it was a pretty pathetic amount. i’ve since only vomited maybe twice more from anxiety, which again, involved me having to gag very very hard for a small amount to come up. not painful, but it took a while to get anything out. aside from that, haven’t thrown up since i was 6.
since getting covid, i’ve suffered with ‘nausea’ after i eat food, feeling very full of air and just a general sicky discomfort but not to the point where i can’t stomach food. i’m also very prone to getting trapped wind and am pretty much always bubbly.
the most obvious symptom i have, is well.. i can’t fucking burp. like at all. and i truly don’t think i ever have? the most i’ve done is one of those pathetic micro burps. put it this way, if a burp is a punch then the most i can muster up every few years is a light flick. and it always catches me off guard!
it’s like i have this pressured feeling and i have to tense my entire chest to get the gurgle up and then sometimes it goes back down and up again then eventually stops? idk. sometimes i even have to whack my chest to release it.
another weird thing i can do, is basically force my digestive system to growl and gurgle if i flex in and out. usually i use this to indicate when i need to eat before my stomach actually naturally growls. i’m just always full of fucking air.
i was diagnosed with acid reflux but no medication worked, infact i was actually better off it. i’ve also had a clear endoscopy so i’ve basically just been left in the dark. i get occasional mild heartburn but that’s about it. but i’ve always blamed the nauseous pressure i feel on acid?
i’m so fearful of food making me feel sick and just being randomly nauseous from this? maybe? that i’ve developed an eating disorder. i am also emetophobic and have ehlers danlos syndrome if that’s any help? if i do have this i’m seriously interested in the treatment.
i just don’t understand why this all started after i threw up from covid? sure i could never burp but i never had any of the other symptoms until after. could throwing up or covid trigger it?
tysm if you read and reply i’ll appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.

I have severe asthma , viruses hit me like a truck . 2 weeks ago I had an asthma episode . Since then my lungs have felt messed up . just to make sure I was okay I went to get checked out at the ER oxegen was great , no wheezing but I have a cough and shortness of breath and lots of chest congestion . Last time I was I’ll my lung function test showed restriction . I was diagnosed with a post viral cough but I feel horrible . Anyone here have asthma and been in this situation?