Hello everyone, I'm gonna start this off by saying thanks to anybody who will read this as it will be a long one, and anybody willing to offer me any advice.
PS. This post started as a post where I was asking for college advice, but as I wrote more I realized any advice would be really helpful so I changed the title a bit, Thanks in advance again!
[[ Beware: My whole lifestory coming up combined with tired midnight grammar 😅 ]]
To get to the point, I currently live in Croatia and just turned 19 a couple of months ago and a time has come when I am again thinking about college. Some background on me, from when I was very little I was always interested in engineering and art, it all started when a teacher of mine in the 5th grade of primary school introduced me to programming and robotics. From then on I was in love with everything to do with electronics, robotics, mechanics programming, and fundamental sciences, maybe even math itself, but that's beside the point. During those years the passion for all of that really grew. I went to countless robotics competitions during my time at school there and even won lots of prizes. One time I almost came to world-level competitions but sadly missed the first place by a point. When I was home I sadly didn't have much equipment for any of these interests except a computer. It seemed limitless what I could do with it, whatever I wanted to do I could make it. It's not like electronics where as a kid getting parts was difficult except from old salvaged electronic devices. I could learn and make whatever I wanted, as long as the old family computer could run it. So I started learning a lot about computers during these times like basic algorithms and some basic games random Python scripts etc. In terms of computers, I was no genius, but for the age, I'm grateful I took the time to learn even the basics of it. Other than that I was a somewhat weird kid because I couldn't really take picking off some classmates as a joke and got annoyed at it quickly when they started interrupting me while I was drawing ( My dad was an artist in his youth so I picked that up from him, been scribbling every day in primary school when class was either boring or some kind of recess ) but even though they were picking on me, I to this day still really don't mind them, we were a pretty close class at the end of the day. And that's how most of my primary school went by, me being social with only a few friends and my informatics teacher as well. Other than that I was pretty sad during those years, I couldn't understand people and was contemplating the meaning of life as well, and that combined with me inheriting some stubbornness from mom, she and I were always fighting for homework, screentime, etc. Right now we are in a very good relationship so I'm greatful for that aswell. Seeing how I didnt really talk outside of school to many people expect a few friends ( I do live in a small village so if they were the same age as me they were in my class ) i basicly spent most of my time while not staying after school in a computer club we had for few hours every couple of days a week, i was cooped upped inside my house, playing with legos, being with grandparents or my cousins or being on computer and doing some programing, scripting, photoshoping and other things you can reasonably excect a child to do. And so passed most of my primary school.
When time came to plan for highschool, I originaly wanted to go to art school, but was quickly turned down by my mother because she thought it wasnt a smart idea. Personaly didn't like it at first, but she is a smart woman so in time i understood. Basicly other then liking to draw and paint, I wanted to go there bacause my best friend from class was going there and he also wanted me to come along. ( Funny how me the least popular guy and the youngest guy in class and he the most popular guy in class while also being the oldest were best friends, but thats a story for another day ) As my mom turned down my suggestion for art school she suggested I go to a school for a Mechatronics Technician. I didnt not like the idea as well I loved everything related to it. Other than that another option was Computer Technician ( basicly a programming oriented path ) but I decided mechatronics because i said to myself i can learn programing at home because the only tools i need are a computer, and mechanics, electronics and robotics is something I dont have at home so it will be really cool to learn all of that here and so, highschool started.
Oh how fast has the reality come crashing down as I understood what the whole mess of the education system actualy was. Most of the classes didnt have any equipment to actualy do anything practical, the other small portion that did the rest lf the 95% of class didnt understand anything so we couldnt do much or what was the more often scenario is that the proffesors just didnt really care at all so we would come to class and do absolutly nothing, like literaly nothing except waiting for the bell to ring. After i realised that I just started not coming to school most quite a bit. Mostly was not comming on fridays, some wednesdays etc most of the times I was actualy abit sick, but every time i was sick i exadurated it so my mom would let me stay home. Even though i was missing quite a bit of classes, if a class had something to do with math or logical thinking ( which most were ) i would usualy either be best at it in the class or almost the best for the pure reason I was actualy really interested and loved all the cool engineering stuff. On the other side if a subject was about 0 logic, full random name memorisation like the croatian literature class, I was almost if not the worst in class managing just barely to scrape by. Other than that there was one proffesor who I admired so much for his style of teaching, as he tought me so much during the only 2 years he lectured me ( my fourth year of highschool he was out because pention ). In simply half a year we went from 0 knowledge to designing, printing, creating and soldering a whole circuit on a pcb, I was always there for his classes. On the other time we were doing something else, he always had some cool stuff prepared when i was finished with work early, he was a great guy and still respect him alot. Other than that i was really disapointed how there existed zero after school activities that i could do that had to do anything with electronic, mechanics, robotics or programing.
On the side of my social life, the summer just before starting highschool I realised this was a great opportunity to redeem myself as i really didnt want to get picked on like in primary school. So what other kind of persona would somebody come up in this situation than one being supported by my pride itself, other than that i was basicly a "chameleon" aka adapting to every person around me which was probably the reason i made some friends but it usualy tired me out completly. And so it started really great actualy, nobody was picking on me, i was socialising ( only inside of my class usualy, other than the people who went to this town from my village that i already knew, but it was a big step up for me ) and learned how to shrug of others banter by pretending it didnt effect me. It was definitly in a better possition then primary school alright, but i did realise alot of people just moving away sometimes because of how i just increased pridefulness as i got more vulnerable. I think i was able to keep my pride to just below some overflowing point as i still managed to make a few friends.
And so some time passed, at home watching more videos about everything to do with engineering, getting a 3d printer and messing with it, programing some more and even trying to learn some business, economy and more about money. I even developed a game for the school as some special thing I got by talking to a teacher of mine. Other than that at the third year, thanks to a profesor i was able to get in touch with a software development company and was able to secure an internship for basicly the whole summer, which was a blast. I learned so much new things that opened doors to alot more things. After that i focused my random "Jack of all trades" learning to be mostly focused on modern used technologies, and the needs of possible job recruiters, and well it in general. That is the point i feel i truly started learning proper programing.
More on my development of pride, in highschool and in primary school i was actualy praised quite alot and being actualy abit good at something maybe was the thing that allowed me to get even some friends by being prideful. We can call that being lucky as the stars alligned, but anyways. During those years i also had two experiences with me falling in love for the first time. The first one didnt last more than a 4ish months maybe, it was basicly a crush thing that ended in a broken heart, but o boy it was a good waking called. I wonder what would happen to me without this realisation. Then the next one lasted basicly 7-8ish months in the 4th year of highschool, and this one was much more complicated and longer, but after it i learned quite a new few things. These two things really awoken me to who i am today, as i try to live each day with as much virtue as I can. I threw out the pride out of the window, and dont really care too much of somebodies bad opinions on me, if there are currently any. I came to terms with alot of things and am just able to accept things for what they are, without judgment.
As im writing this its quite late and am tired so sorry for bad grammar i want to shorten this abit. Basicly my whole life i loved scientists, engineers and the idea of colledge. Was always dreaming of becomingba "great scientist" like albert einstein or nikola tesla but the older i got, the more things i learned, the more that dream of going to colledge got shattered by reality. As i realised the giant flaws in the education system, after learning about money and realising colledges are just big businesses trying to earn alot of money, and that that is their main motivation, combines with seeing that scientists basicly to get any money and recognition these days need to literaly hop from trend to trend, research what is "in" currently or well no bread on the table just made the academia route of my life shatter before my eyes. Seeing how i knew quite abit computers i thought i could atleast land something, but after seeing people who were much longer in the industry praise me for a impressive knowledge on alot of fields and my ability to almost instantly grasp any concept thrown at me, i actualy got a job. Well this was how I decided to start working immediatly instead of going to colledge. After weighing the options combined with the additional knowledge i got about the job market, this was an obvious choice. I believe that my key to being objective is me being realistic, so sadly i know am not some do it all genious and know i need to rely on whatever i have to use as leverage to enhance my life, so learning from Warren Buffet that out of everything I got, my time was my biggest asset. Simply being young with the above average skills i have, I believe i have a reasonably good chance to have a virtous and fulfiling life.
But i still have that burning flame in my chest, i still love the idea i had of colledge, of becoming a scientist, an engineer. I tried looking for ways to convince myself otherwise and see that i was actualy wrong about it all, but each time i look, more and more i realise my initial assumptions were right. The world is slowly moving away from official education like colledges as everything can be learnt online, because of ai the next few years are going to be revolutionary in all of these fields so either the colledge courses are going to be very outdated or just some concept of a job will not simply be needed as a diffrent one apears. The posibilities and their volatility is just so high that i dont feel even 1% safe actualy going to colledge, seeing how devoting like 5 years to it will mean loosing the onlx advantage i can use, and that is me starting out young. And as a bonus because i have a job i actualy have more time than colledge to persume my other interest like mechanics and electronics as well as actualy funds.
Thanks for reading all of this, I can trust it was quite a journey reading everything i written basicly half asleep but i hope you were able to understand everything. Im really confused what to do, as I love both options but knowing that one has a much better chance of being useful to me than the other. Any advice you can give me will be greatly appriciated, be it about college like is there an actualy good colledge in europe thats is worth it in my place, or general life stuff, about work etc. Once again I cannot thank you enough for reading this and helping me. Thanks!
Edit: I havent said much about my job because this is more of a general reddit but for people who are in the field I am a backend developer, with some freelancing and opensource contributions on the side

Can anyone tell me if I am the only one . Is it me am I the problem? I don’t know what to believe anymore I wanna know someone give me a reason an explanation fuck give me an excuse for all the moments in my life that pain so white hot and intense has wracked my body and brought me to my knees when my will to live has been brought face to face with my darkest fear. Where the only words i can hear as death whispers in my ear is my name sweetly spoken in promises of a quiet mind and peace. Can anyone hear me is this thing on. My fear is fading out and I know I should be scared at this but I don’t feel fear the same anymore. it is blurring around the edges and starts to look a lot like comfort something I just can’t seem to find or hold in my grasp, and I tell myself I should be scared at this but my soul is battered and bruised and I am running on fumes.I honestly don’t know how many more days I can wake up to this bleakness of my uncomfterably painful existence. Is my pain all in my head. Did I do something that has led the People i love to mishandle me. Do I deserve to be wrecked every day the minute consciousness returns to this weapon that is my brain. Ive torn myself apart so many times ive made myself BLEED. ive let my pain soak into me till I no longer existed in space, gone without a trace. I try so hard to do no harm. As I am falling apart. I pour and pour from my empty cup. Its been empty from my fucking start. My dad was the first to mishandle my fragle new heart. He is where my cracks did start. Home was a battle field amd my skin was where my father’s anger would wage war. I grew up being told I held the golden cup full of my father’s favor. It never would save my skin from his anger. And I was told, no reminded often, how wicked I had been to the first being my heart ever truly let in. I grew up feeling every blow they took wrapped in guilt savagely placed on my heart to go along with my skins own marks. I was Twice whipped but only one would ever heal the other would bleed me every day even till today. At 8 is when death would first whisper my name to me . I never knew never would he ever depart from my mind and heart. At 9 so small and yet already my soul felt so heavy. My wounded little family grew by one. And traveled miles back to where my first cry had taken place. Where I would be born again and die more than one time. 9 taking on a little one. The second soul who would come to know my heart. Cherished and so loved even before air would give raise to his own challenging start. My mother would finish the killing of me without stopping my heart. The tiny soul I had hoped for was ripped away from me unexpectedly. Given away to have a chance, a brand new start , Or so that is what was said. 17 years I would mourn this everyday feeling like a piece of me was lost. By 11 melancholy would already call me home. School the escape from the war at home had become a battlefield of its own. And wounds would be added to the collection that had started. My first brush with a razor and a mans warped desires would fall in this timeframe not too far apart. Ill never know why my mother would make guilt and not love in me grow. Love for my parents I have felt from the start and still with each mark on my heart they would leave on me, the only thing I would ever bleed is my desire that they would want me.that they would love me. Can a child grow up too young? I don’t think I grew up tho. Ive been trapped in the tiny body that never had a real chance to start. By 15 I had lost both parents and one sibling already I was torn apart and bleeding. My wounded heart festering as it began to rot. The razor blades became my closest friends. At least when they marked my skin, I had wanted it then. They always stayed and helped me cradle my already too heavy pain. They knew what I would feel and that it was real. They went in deeper,beneath my surface on purpose. Something no one else wanted to do or so it would seem to me that no one really wanted me. My first love found in a man would be one that would feel much like my dad. Hands too rough and words never in the only shape Ive ever really wanted L O V E He Left more torn up marks on my heart. Heartbreak at 16, you would think i would have welcomed it like an old friend . that I would have tucked it up besides my heart hidden beneath my ribs, where pain was already rattling around in. pain makes us seek out comfort wrapped in deceit. I looked to the arms that made me weep for comfort. I never would find comfort there. for me there all I found are things that broke me. 16 I was 16 when the first piece of me truly died. I watched it die in her eyes. as the words scorching up my throat and heart left my lips. I watched as they connected the dots of things that mothers should not behind her eyes as the piece of me died. I was a daughter never cherished by my father, pain the only thing he gave for me to gain. I was a daughter never loved by my Mother given to men and left to defend alone the monsters my mother let in. Pain separated me from bonds that should have been. I would later see that the monsters I fought inside of me had always really been me . I grew up lonely both on the battlefield I was forced to Fight to survive in real life and inside the prison bar confides of my own mind. I fought and waged war constantly never knowing the enemy I had been fighting the whole time was always me. I don’t know who I am I died before I got the chance to even begin . Love is supposed to fill up your heart and shape you into the person you are. Teach you to swim in the depths of our own emotions. I never learned how to swim in the oceans I hold within. Ive been slowly drowning since I was a kid. Told that the validation I would grow to need like a drug, heroin to a fiend just so that I could feel something good inside the depths of MY being, a liferaft to keep me afloat was wrong of me to ever have a need. But How do I save myself from drowning beneath each giant wave my emotions bring crashing down around me. I cant swim in the ocean beneath my skin. Waves constantly crashing in and dragging me under. My air is running out and the only thing I hear people shout is SWIM!. as water replaces my lungs empty spaces. Blood hurts more than water its true but let love boil the water and it will still hurt you just as much too. Never feeling loved by my makers I searched for it in other spaces. Except the only place it should have been. My children you will never know of the force of love I hold for them. But I am still only a human. Trapped and stunted in the child that has been calling out in pain. So many lessons I have gained I see them now neatly wrapped up in my pain. I have been told by the ones I love both with and without blood, that I am too much because of my pain. Yet when I agree and try to erase me I am told to stay as they then walk away. Why. Why. Why Do I have to stay and everyone else gets to walk away from the darkness that takes my light away. Happiness feels almost like a myth a conjured up dream to dangle just out of my reach. And I have been told that its happiness I thieve from those around me. What kind of monster does that make me. That I would take the thing I so desperately need from someone that I love. It has been told to me that I am the creator of my own misery. That I should be a better human being and stop claiming to be the victim to the things that have brought death to my mind so many times. When I reach for help. Water rushing in as my screams are ripped out. Never a hand has been held out. Only the boots of blame and shame to push me further down. My pleas have begun to fade out. my voice is weakened by the consistent beacon, the sos hanging above my head running down my eyes and out my wrists that everyone claims to miss. No one will hear me if they don’t believe me. How do I convince them my pain is real. it means its me I have to kill. Then everyone will say I had been real and not the ghost I thought I had been when i was drowning and didn’t know how to swim.

Now that I discovered this community I am pretty confident what is happening to me is all tied back to this lovely little jaw muscle. I see my GP Monday 8am . Hoping for any advice - better details - corrections on my wrong assumptions or statements and ultimately a little reassurance and validation from yall , That what is happening to me right now is all connected and I am not crazy.
10 months ago I had my last 2 upper molars pulled the "ol fashioned" way with the wiggling and the tugging and the ripping and the "Okay now you're going to feel a bit of pressure" followed by the feeling that your jaw is in fact being ripped out of your mouth.
Things started mild 6 months ago intensified around the 3 month mark and now these last 3 weeks I can barely function. I feel the definition of "Malaise" hits perfect. I'm afraid to leave my house the head pain / brain fog has me feeling like I could blackout any second, And the whoosh / vertigo / world spins has me terrified of driving.
So here is what I'm feeling in order of how they hit , everything is on the left side if that matters
Shoulder Blade - Everything is felt along the bottom of the blade.
Jolt of fire and burning on the skin -- A tearing and ripping under the skin on the muscle - Starts to vibrate a tingling fire sensation outward in a semi circle
When I put my tens unit on there the flexing caused pain on the top of shoulder and collarbone.
Always strongest when I lift or carry, random bursts when I'm sitting doing nothing and now even the weight of my phone sends it to 11
Muscles Weakness and Tremors
When the blade pain is bad, I can barely grip anything with my hand, Hands tremble and different arm muscles randomly will twitch and flex.
My jaw is now (2 weeks) shivering / chittering (IDK wtf it is) as if im cold. Digging my fingers into the facial knots will stop it. Always hits when I first get out of bed, then a few times during the day no pattern in the trigger
Eyes/Ears
Couldn't keep my contacts in more than half day , left only felt cloudy hazy blurry - They are brand new lenses and Ive been use the good "eye juice" with no changes. Tried yesterday had to take em out within an hour.
Sharp twinge zap inside the ear - cold trickling sensation down the canal - ends with a punch of pain behind ear on the thick neck tendon
The Whoosh (Is this brain fog? Something else?) Zap / Jolt of electricity on top of my brain but under my skull - The whoosh when i see everything spin a 360 for a second - And ends with me "off kilter' for minutes to hours, As if there is a delay between what my eye sees to when my brain processes. During the spell ill feel "wonky" "Out of body" "tunnelly vision"
The Exploding Head
Its a constant feeling / sensation that my head is filling with sludge.
Forehead & eye have waves of intense dull aches, This part is killing so bad right now, even with NSAIDS it never stops having pressure just relieves it slightly. When it kicks hard and throbs my eyes go really fuzzy and that im going to blackout feeling hits. I have not actually passed or blacked out thank god - my cats would eat me alive in a day -
Jaw/ cheek & gums are twitchy with tightness/fullness and pointy pain shockwaves. The M in the TMJ is a ball of rubberbands and it is so very tender. My face does not appear to have anything swelling outwards from here but poking around in there i find tons of lumps I can break up.. Opening and closing i have full range I think and right now no popping or pains when i do. The area by my ear where the bones connect is so tender, but I dont feel lumps much here. I feel such relief when I hit here with my point tool.
Side of my Neck has small mushy lumps just under the skin and some big daddies deeper in and these ones get stabbyy pains that pulse with my heart.
Back of my neck the bottom half is gravel I can break up pretty easy but I think 3 more come back in their place.
Base of skull I have golf balls burried deep,. They dont throb but when I rub them it is painful but in the best way because I feel such release everywhere else but then they hurt for days. When I rub them to hard and deep oh man sore for days.
All this ends at my upper back and this area is awful. It burns on the surface level 24/7. Icy hot tricks my brain for about and hour. I did some scraping massage here and it sounded like rice krispies and I think hese are adhesions vs knots. .Deeper is full of thick knots, I have the trigger point hook to dig in there and sometimes magic happens and the ache everywhere else gets better for a bit.
The floating bone
It was mild discomfort, odd feelings of tightness inside my actual throat, tingles and a dry feel. It started wiggling around on its own pretty often and when I felt that first water balloon pop inside yikes I was scared AF. Now it just moves whenever it wants. I barely touch it and it "shoots" to the other side. Massaging in here hurts so GOOD! Looking all the way up and feeling from chin towards throat I have many bumps all different sizes. And lastly when I move my head certain ways it feels as if there is a leak happening and almost mucus-y like I could cough but usually dont need to
If you are still with me many apologies this got longer than I thought it would. Today has been my worst day so far, all the pains I mentioned are now hitting at once. Today I was sitting here sobbing in pain it because I was at 13 / 10 and wouldn't ease no matter what I pressed on . 3 Naproxen with 3 ibuprofen gives me about 3 hours of refief right now. I know posture is a part of my pain levels and ive aready ordered some tools so I can correct.

53M. HA in Feb 2024 100%+90% blockages in both the arteries. 2 stents.
I used to feel heavy breathing, stomach muscles cramps and a lump building in my throat (the kind you feel when you are very emotional and have an urge to cry) when I was feeling very weak earlier. That feeling left me after that for a while.
Recently I caught flu, with sneezing and body ache, and the heavy breathing and the feeling like I have a lump in my throat came back. I feel ok while eating or sleeping or right after I wake up but the feeling builds up after a while. Sometimes I gasp for air and have a feeling that I cannot breathe. I talked to my cardiologist about it and he says everything is ok with me. I have the same feeling when I talk a bit more in a particular day; I get breathless and have difficulty breathing.
Anybody else feels/felt the same way anytime? When the body is weak after HA, have you ever felt breathing heaviness, chocking in throat, etc.? Will be great if you can share please.
Thanks,

Info on the dog: My boy is a rescue. He is around 8 years old and my guess is that he is a labrador mix but to be honest he looks like a Dingo. He is a male and has very unique mutations. Like an extra thumb in his back paws. He has all his vaccines and is in general very healthy.
I just found a lump on his right thigh. Its small, about the with of a pencil. It has the same color of his skin (pale pink) all around and hair growing on top of it. My guess is that it's a wart or a mole of some kind and he is getting a bit old so my instincts say is nothing to worry about but I dont know if maybe I should still take him to the vet.
I'd add a photo but I don't know how. I looked online for warts in dogs and they look very similar. Is there something I'm missing? Thanks in advance.

We are looking to buy our first (used) camper sometime next winteearly spring & are in need of some advice before we go down the rabbit hole.

• Budget: $20k max if its absolutely perfect for us and perfect condition... realistically looking for < $15k

why a camper now?
wife dreamt of a camper for the last 3+ years, and we are ready to start the research process

• we are outdoors people... but not TOO outdoors, thus us not wanting to rough it
  
• our favorite hobby is a weekend at the lake skiing & we believe that a camper will fit right in with us
  
• we would use the camper for traveling around the US, or simply camping close to home
  
• we are remote workers who are tired of not utilizing the freedom we have
  

why we think we are ready?
after owning a boat, i've learned a lot about maintenance and learned how to tackle something big and new to me. In addition, having the ability to know how to pull/back-up a trailer will make buying a camper MUCH easier than a complete newbie.
what are we pulling it with?
either an f150 or a subaru outback wilderness ("rated" for towing 3500lb)
the perfect camper can be pulled with the subaru as we prefer a smaller camper, and it frees up the truck to pull the boat for a weekend trip to the lake with both the camper & boat.
but i understand that may not be possible based on the below needs.
what size camper?
preferably < 8ft wide... and "small enough that an SUV can pull it"
what are MUST HAVES in a camper?
1) although many teardrop campers look perfect in their tiny size. We THINK that we are set on having wet bath. as the point of this camper is to be able to travel/work remotely. And if we need to stop at a campsite/hotel/etc. to shower, then it makes the whole process harder.
In addition, my wife will jump in a lake, camp in a tent... but absolutely hates most campsite showers. Being able to bathe in privacy makes this whole thing a lot more enticing for us do.
2) kitchen area + refrigerator for cooking
3) bed for 2 adults + room on floor for 35lb/12lb dogs
4) table to sit a laptop for work
5) AC/Heat
what are other considerations in a camper?
1) the camper is mainly for us, yet it would be nice to have some space for a blow up mattress in case someone else wanted to join... but that is not worth getting a huge camper for. smaller is better.
2) i think kitchen inside is better but idk

TLDR:

• based on the above, I'm looking for advice on what sizing campers we should look at for our needs.
• any specific camper recommendation is welcome
• just general advice that could help us get the process started as i dont know WHERE to even start other than looking at used "small" campers

right now this is an example camper size/style that my brain tells me is what we should look for: Bushwhacker 17FD

19
afab
5’10”
140lb
White
I take medications prescribed by doctor: lolo birth control pill 5mg and Escitalopram 20mg. I have been on Escitalopram since around 2020 and lolo since last year (mid-late summer. I have slight memory issues sometimes which i think are unfortunately due to stress). depression and autism. no known physical conditions other than scoliosis. do not smoke, do not drink (only once in my life for my birthday last year)
at around 10 am, Saturday, I noticed a bit of pain on my thigh so i sat down to examine the area. I felt a small (bigger than a singular pea, DEFINITELY smaller than a golfball) lump over where it was. There’s a bit of pain when i walk around and if i touch the area. Over the next few hours to now i observed as a bruise began to form. as of writing this post it’s been around 15 hours since i noticed the bump, and 13 since i noticed very slight discolouration on my skin which was the beginning of a bruise. The affected leg is my left leg, and my right leg is fine. while I don’t remember bumping on anything i may have done so in my sleep, but I’m curious as to why a lump has come with it this time.(could be a deep bruise? i am no medical professional and neither is anyone in my family. I’m not incredibly worried about it, but it’s driving me crazy because i just want to find out what it is.)
about the lump: not particularly soft or moveable, a bit firm. It doesn’t rise out of the skin; in order to notice it I had to touch the area myself. It’s a bit painful if i walk with that leg, but no more than a 2 on the pain scale. hurts if pressed into. i will be keeping an eye on this as it hasn’t been 24 hours since i discovered it, so probably too early to confirm anything. can still feel a bit of pain a little while after pressing into it.
pictures: (links should be in order of what time i took them; first links are earliest. the last two are around the same time, i just took one with the flash on)
https://ibb.co/ThRVzt6 https://ibb.co/zs9PVFs https://ibb.co/Y2pWGyC https://ibb.co/3RRCHxC

"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”

He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”

Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.

I don't know much about septics, so I'm going to try to information dump to get a more accurate answer. I will list as many septic specs as I can at the end.
So we recently bought a property that was listed as having city sewer, but after purchasing, we found out it indeed has a septic. It worked fine but we didn't know when it was last pumped and could occasionally smell a rank smell, and we werent sure if it was us or not so we decided to have it pumped. The dude shows up and finds the lid, but the porch stair rail was set with concrete on top of it. He broke it up, pumped the septic, and put it all back together. Now according to the previous owner, he pulled the wrong lid, but I don't think that's accurate. He did end up pumping the full septic amount which was 1250 gallons. Another guy told me they should have opened 2 lids and pumped both sides, which this guy did not, but I don't think he needed to. It looks like there's 3 doors total and the next door also opened into the first tank I believe.
Everything was fine for a couple weeks, then my wife did 4 consecutive loads of laundry and we noticed where the lid was that water rose from where the lid was. That was concerning, so we thought we'd let it dry out and it'd be okay. Well it keeps happening now even with a single load of laundry or when people spend slightly to long in the shower and we don't know what to do. I called a septic guy out who showed up a bit before he said he would, inspected the property while I was still asleep, and then left. When I called him he said the septic was functioning normally. I'm not sure how he determined that without digging it up or anything or inspecting anything inside, but the drain field does indeed to be functioning as the grass above it is very clearly still growing thicker than the rest. I did find out one toilet was constantly draining into the overflow, and I fixed that. That was about 4 days ago that I did that. There is also a very slow drip from one faucet that we have yet to fix, but it is very slow.
So to be clear, I'm trying to get everyone to conserve water usage right now so it can have time to drain out. There are currently 5-8 people living here. It's a range because some of us go back and forth between this and the old property that we're still trying to fix so we can sell it, and some of us will be there for weeks at a time. 2 of us are in an RV that is connected to a clean out into the septic. It seems like no matter how much water we conserve, it will still happen. It's not backing up into the house, we just see a small puddle from above the lid, and then it drains. If I dump the RV tank, I can dump my black tank (about 35 gallons) no problem, and then my grey tank (about 40 gallons) a little later and it will stop flowing, then water pools up above the lid, after a few min the water above the lid will drain, and then air will glug into the RV drain line slowly draining the rest in.
Now before we had it pumped, we had no issues besides maybe sometimes there is a slight wiff in the air. I could actually dump my black tank on RV and refill it 4 times, then dump the grey tank consecutively, while people are doing laundry and such with no issues. I did this before I knew it was septic and we didn't have any issues. After the pump, it seems to be overflowing as it wasn't before, when it was apparently pretty full and hadn't been pumped for a while I would guess.at least 4-5 years I think.
So for the house, it's a 4 bed 2 bath house, has 4 sinks, laundry, 2 toilets, 2 baths, and a standing shower connected to the septic. I also currently have m RV hooked up to it and my wife and I live out of that for right now. There is 8 people total.
The septic is 1250 gallons, double compartment gravity system. It has a 2 way clean out, not sure if that is relevant. There is no electronics of any kind. It was installed in 2009.
Drain field is 200 feet of 8 inch graveless pipe in 2 inch wide trench.
Soil type is listed as fine sandy loam and texture class is Ib. IDK what that means.
My questions are, are we just overloading the septic or is there something else going on? We are currently trying to conserve water where we can.
How much water per day can a septic of this type and size handle?
What can I do to mitigate this problem or fix it? I've tried calling more septic guys out but they seem to be giving me the run around.
Is there anything else I should list or anything else I should know?
Thank you for reading and for your time. Any help is appreciated!

I first started noticing that something was wrong around 3 months ago. At the time, I was working from home and would usually light a scented candle while I worked, which usually helped me relax and stay focused on my work. I would usually burn through a candle a week, but over time, the candles started to take less time to fully burn up. At first, I thought that this was because of a change in ingredients the company that made the candles used, but the problem persisted after I switched candle brands, which I once again blamed on the candle manufacturers.
I kept this belief for another week until the first incident. While getting up from my computer desk, which faces away from the candle, to take a quick bathroom break, I caught a glimpse of the lit candle. A two-inch layer of molten wax rested on another three-inch layer of solid wax, the wicks rising out at first and being somewhat visible through the molten layer, finally breaking the surface and being slowly burned away. The flames flickered as I swung the door open and walked out of the room. When I returned 10 minutes later, the molten layer was gone, and the wicks had been shortened so that the flames rested right above the solid layer of the wax. At first, I thought that the glass jar that contained the candle was leaking, but after a short inspection, I was only able to find two small drops of candle wax that had solidified right next to the candle on the bedside table. I still had 2 hours of work left to do, but I was too lost in thought and was unable to do any work for the rest of the day.
Every night before I go to sleep, I like to read for at least 30 minutes, and while reading, I usually light a candle. Around 4 days later, I had mostly forgotten about the incident and went back to using candles. Due to my naivety, it returned.
I fell asleep while reading with a candle lit on my bedside table. I woke up to loud slurping noises. As I opened my eyes, the brightness of the light I had not turned off almost blinded me. As my eyes tried to readjust to the light and focus on what was in front of me, I saw a somewhat humanoid dark gray to light blue blur that contrasted with the white paint on the walls behind it. Another gray line stretched from the shape's head to the candle on my bedside table. I could feel my heart skip five consecutive beats. I opened my mouth and tried to force out a scream for help, but the pressure I applied to my throat was way beyond what it was able to handle, leading me to only produce a light wheezing sound. I tried to sit up or to at least prop myself up, but my muscles failed me. Trying to push myself up with my arms felt impossible. As I stared at the figure that had suddenly appeared in my room, my eyes finally managed to focus, making it possible for me to see the intruder who was now staring at me. The figure was a man at least 7 feet tall, fully naked; he looked bloated; his eyes were bloodshot and looked like they would pop out of their sockets; at any point, his skin was a grayish light blue.
HIS LIPS
His lips extended from his mouth like an elephant's trunk, which had been split in half. The lips extended from the man's face to the candle; the flames had been put out. He was using his lips as a makeshift straw, slowly sucking up all the molten wax from the candle, which had fully liquified while I was asleep. I laid in bed, unable to move, unable to scream for help, staring until he emptied the jar. His lips retracted back to his face, the molten wax solidifying on their tips and cracking, flakes of wax falling off the man's lips and falling to the floor. The man grinned, staring at me. The ridges and gaps between the teeth were filled in with wax, making it impossible to make out where one tooth ended and the next one began. The man opened the door he was standing next to, but instead of walking out of the room, he stepped behind it. His face peered at me from above the door, and then once again, like he had done to drink the wax, the man puckered his lips, which stretched from his mouth and floated to me. I shook and tried to roll over away from him. I wanted to get up and run, but my fear had taken over my body. Tears flowed from my eyes. He kissed me on the cheek, leaving flakes of wax and light moisture. He retracted his lips and lowered his head behind the door.
I don't remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, I saw the empty glass jar, which at one point contained the candle. Even though I had hoped that what had happened was a dream, it wasn't. I still had flakes of wax on my cheek, and on my bedroom floor, the wax in the jar had disappeared. I called the police, but they were unable to find anyone in my apartment; they also could not find any evidence of a break-in.
After the break-in, I started looking for a new apartment to move to, thinking that the man was tied to the building I was in, but even though I had thrown out all of my candles, I could not stomach spending another hour in my apartment, constantly looking over my shoulder or walking around with my back pressed up against the wall to not allow it to creep up on me. Thankfully, my friend Emma was able to let me stay over at her apartment while I looked for a new one for myself.
Me and Emma have been friends since we were 8, and we've been there to support each other when times get rough. This isn’t the first time I've had to stay over at her house for an extended amount of time; in fact, I have had to stay over at Emma’s as many times as she has had to stay over at my apartment, whether it was because of evictions after losing a job, breakups, or a candle wax drinking squatter. I didn't even know if it was human. I mean, sure, it looked like one, but human lips are not supposed to do what his did, and somehow it didn't have a reaction to molten wax being poured down its esophagus. I didn't tell Emma about what happened—the details at least—I just told her that a man had broken into my house and was watching me sleep. The only people I told the truth to were my therapist and the cops, and all of them disregarded what I told them as my mind making things up after a traumatic event.
For a while, I believed what they said—I mean, why wouldn’t I?—but then I started seeing him again. For a few days, I thought it was my mind playing tricks on me again like it had done during the night of the incident. For split seconds out of the corner of my eye, I would see the outline of a tall, bloated figure. At first, they were hours apart, but after a while, it became constant. He was standing in each room I passed, in every single dark corner I glanced past, and then he spoke.
“FeeD MeEeee”
It stood in the kitchen, peering over from a small gap between the fridge and the sink, where the trash can that had been knocked over onto its side usually stood. His voice was raspy, and every word that came out of his mouth was distorted as if he were gargling water, but still, I could somehow clearly make out each word he said from over 15 feet away.
“Please just leave me alone I… why are you following me?”
I shouted at the figure, the same fear that had taken over my body during the night I saw him for the first time paralyzing me, making it impossible for me to move anything other than my eyes, eyelids, and mouth.
“i’M sTarviNg, I nEEd You To FeEd ME”
It replied again. Now, stepping out from behind the fridge, he stepped directly onto a rotten banana. Its mushy brown content’s seeping out of the peel under the pressure of his decomposing foot, which was covered in scabs, and took up the same grayish light blue color as the rest of his body. He mostly looked the same; his bloodshot eyes bulged from their sockets, but now his tongue was swollen. It peeked out from between his bloated, cracked gray lips; it stared at me, waiting for an answer.
“Ok, I’ll.. I’ll feed you, but please just... leave me alone.”
I replied, the tone of my voice shifting into high-pitched squeals with every quick breath I took. He looked satisfied by my response. He somehow squeezed his bloated body back into the gap that was at least four times smaller than him. After peering over at me from above the fridge, he bent over backwards, his spine releasing a series of sickening cracks until he was fully obscured by the fridge, and then he vanished.
Still barely in control of my body, I limped over to the couch tucked away in the back corner of the living room, it took me at least 10 minutes to steady my breathing and 20 more to fully regain control of my body again but as soon as I did I ran out the house and to the nearest store, during the 15-minute walk he stared at me through dark windows and the backs of cars, peered out at me from gaps between leaves in the trees and bushes, he even followed me into the store staring at me from the middle of deserted isles before disappearing right before my eyes were able to fully catch him, once I finally got the candles I randomly picked four off of the shelves and rushed to the self checkout.
When I arrived home, I had 2 hours before Emma got off work. I didn't want to feed it while she was home, and I didn't want her to see it. I pulled out two of the candles from the black plastic bag and placed them on the kitchen table, the first a light blue candle named “Garden Rain” and the second a red candle named “Juicy Watermelon." I pulled out a lighter from one of the drawers Emma used after her stove stopped lighting on its own and lit each of the 6 wicks on the candles. As soon as I started seeing the wax melt under the heat of the burning wicks, I dropped the lighter onto the table next to the candles and ran out of the room. I could not stomach seeing that thing again; even just thinking about it made me shudder and hyperventilate. The paralyzing fear that seeing him caused me made me want to vomit.
At least 30 minutes later I started to hear it drink even though the living room and kitchen were separated by a wall, even though I had closed the door I could still hear what at first started as slurping sounds which were followed up by loud gulps, then it stopped, and once again 30 minutes later it started drinking, as the slurping started once again I heard the door to the apartment crack open, it was Emma, as she stepped through the door I saw her carrying two large brown paper bags of groceries in her hands, she was headed to the kitchen.
“Hey let me grab those for you”
I said running over to her, my voice shaking.
“Oh, thanks. Are you… okay, you look scared?”
My eyes shot wide open in a mixture of fear and surprise. I said the first thing that came to mind.
“Yeah just umm… I didn't expect you to come home so early and I got a bit spooked”
“shit sorry, I know I should have called you, work let me off early today,”
I started to turn away from her walking to the kitchen.
Trying to keep her away from the kitchen I told her to wait for me in the living room because I wanted to talk to her about something. I didn't know what I would talk to her about but that was a problem for future me to resolve, somehow it worked.
“What's that sound?”
She called out to me while walking towards the living room couch. It took me a few seconds to come up with an excuse.
“I think it’s the sink, or the pipes at least”
I opened the door to the kitchen with my eyes closed at first hesitant to look knowing what would be greeting me. slowly prying my eyes open I started to see its outline, my muscles started to lose strength as the details of the man came into my view, I felt the grocery bags start to slip from my arms, my knees buckled, face first I fell onto the kitchen floor scattering the groceries all over the floor, I mixture of a light scream and a yelp escaped from my mouth as my body made contact with the floor, Emma concerned for my safety ran into the kitchen, she didn't scream, using all of the strength and mobility I had left in my muscles I rolled over expecting to see her face drenched in terror, her body frozen still unable to move just like my body had done the first time that I saw him, but Emma looked concerned, the man was gone, she crouched down beside me.
“Oh my god are you ok? What happened?”
I looked around observing my surroundings.
“I um… I… I tripped on the little thing at the bottom of the doorframe”
I finally managed to blurt out another excuse, not being able to remember what the name of a door sill was. I started to sit up using a part of the energy that had returned to my body, pain pulsed through my chest and arms, Emma looked at me with a concerned face.
“You've been acting really weird since I got home, are you sure you're ok?”
“Yeah… I think I’m just having one of those days you know”
The confusion on Emma’s face said that she didn’t know and to be honest I didn't either, I guess my luck of pulling random excuses out of my ass ran out, Emma thought that she triggered some sort of PTSD response after barging into the house unannounced at first apologizing then trying to change the subject to stop my trembling which I was still unsuccessfully trying to hide from her.
“Did you buy candles?”
Emma asked picking the groceries apart from the garbage that spilled out the can that the man had knocked over, placing them on the table next to the now half-empty glass jars, the flames flickered above the inch or so of molten wax the man was unable to finish drinking.
“Yeah I’ve been struggling with work lately, they usually help me focus”
“Huh Interesting combination you’ve got going on here”
She looked at me and smiled slightly, I smiled back and chuckled to seem normal.
“Yeah even I don't know what I was trying to accomplish here, to be honest”
I tried to help Emma clean up the spilled groceries but she did not let me, she told me that I needed to recover like I had been in a car crash instead of having taken a little tumble. After a few seconds of silence, Emma spoke again.
“Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about earlier?”
A quick jolt of stress shot through my body, in a jumbled mess of lies and fear I had forgotten what I had told Emma, I sat there in silence for a few seconds unable to come up with an excuse
“I…umm… I don’t remember, it wasn't anything serious though”
“Damn did you hit your head too?”
She said once again proudly smiling at her joke.
At this point Emma picked up the last bag of potato chips from the floor and placed it on the table, then she opened the fridge and started loading the groceries into it.
“Anyway I gotta go get back to work’’
I blurted out after a few more seconds of awkward silence.
“Alright well good luck”
I walked over into the living room and sat down in front of my workstation, which now consisted of a laptop sitting on a small foldable TV tray that had just barely enough room left on it to fit a small USB mouse.
The last thing I remember, before I fell asleep, was me mindlessly scrolling through apartment listings while Emma watched a random 90’s horror movie I’m positive only had a budget of $500.
I woke up with a light stinging pain shooting through my dry throat, and a dim hissing sound caused by thousands of water drops striking the ground outside filled the room. I pressed the spacebar on my laptop, the brightness of the screen blinding me temporarily, after taking a few seconds to let my eyes readjust I managed to make out the time, 3:45 AM. A strong smell I was unable to make out the origin of assaulted my nostrils. Lavender.
The smell hitting my nose had the same effect on me that I would expect smelling salts would have on a weightlifter right before they set a world record. Before I knew it my legs were moving on their own at an almost uncontrollable pace, fighting back against my mind which was telling them to slow down after years of being used to navigating both mine and Emma’s apartment as steadily as possible to not bother the neighbors.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity I stood before Emma’s bedroom door, a faint, yellow, pulsating light radiated from a lamp and snuck out of a small gap between the door and the doorframe, reluctantly I pushed my left hand up against the door, my right hand grasping onto the door frame for a sense of stability, once the door was fully agape I scanned the inside of the room my heart skipping a beat for every humanoid shadow cast up onto the wall by the lights from the wicks which were set ablaze and were being slowly burnt away.
I walked into Emma’s room and made my way over to her bedside table to put out the candle, as I stepped closer towards her, her face became more defined, I could finally make out her features, she was awake, but no she could not have been, even though her eyes were wide open they never blinked, she didn't even move slightly, as I moved closer I finally managed to fully make out the expression of pure terror on her face, her mouth wide agape as if she was about to release a deafening screach, but she could not have, a single drop of solidified wax dribbled out of the corner of her mouth and clung to her cheek, my eyes traced the cream colored path back towards her mouth, first up her cheek then between the corner of her mouth and finally behind her teeth, there instead of her tongue or the roof of her mouth I saw a wall of wax which had filled in the entirety of her mouth.
I fell to my knees and hunched forward supporting my body weight with my arms, I was too late, I resisted the urge to vomit and got back up onto my feet, a mixture of tears and snot slid down my face and onto my lips, shaking now I slowly started limping over towards my phone which I had left on the couch next to where I had awoken just minutes before, just minutes before my life was destroyed because of my lies if I had just told Emma what I had gone through, if I had just told her what had happened on the night of the incident which now seemed trivial, even if she thought that I was crazy, I know that she would have complied just to make me feel comfortable.
It took me at least 30 seconds of repeated attempts to stabilize my hands enough to properly dial 911. “Someone broke into my apartment and hurt my friend” was the only reasonable explanation I could come up with that would not get the operator to hang up on me thinking that this was a prank call.
I sat there in the living room for an agonizing 10 minutes, crying, my sadness slowly transformed into anger towards myself, and my mind raced thinking of all the lies I’d told, I kept thinking that if I had just told her the truth she would not have been laying there in her bed, her body bloated, “every single orifice has signs of forced penetration and has been filled with what seems to be candle wax” is what was written on her autopsy report.
For a few days I was the main suspect in Emma’s murder, but due to the almost unstoppable crying and the unresponsive state that I was in when the police arrived, mixed with the lack of evidence of me having a way to produce 30 pounds of candle wax led to me being released out of police custody, but because I was the main suspect I was not told any details about what had fully happened to Emma, for days all I had to work off of was the image of her face frozen in terror, and a short glance I caught of her bloated body as she was being carted out on a stretcher.
I recounted every single word of our last conversations over and over again until they became permanently etched into my brain.
Emma’s parents originally wanted to cremate her, as that is what she had somewhat jokingly asked for whenever the topic of funerals came up, well she had joked about wanting to have had unpopped popcorn shoved down her throat before she was sent off to “scare the shit out of the guy cremating me” but due to all the wax which would have been impossible to get out of her body they were forced to bury her.
A few days before Emma’s funeral her body disappeared.
After Emma’s death, her parents took me into their home, after reading the autopsy reports and seeing her corpse they had thrown out every single candle they owned which made their home the safest choice I had, still, this did not stop me from buying a machete and keeping it under my bed, just in case.
I was laying on the bed in their guest bedroom The day that the police informed Emma’s parents about her disappearance, the bedroom is right above the front porch of the house, at first I heard them ring the doorbell which was followed up by 3 powerful knocks on the door, for about a minute I laid there on the bed listening to muffled voices exchanging distorted words I was barely able to make out which slowly transformed into distorted weeps, curious I lifted myself up from the bed, made my way over to the window and carefully lifted the bottom panel making Shure to not make too much noise, the distorted muffled sounds started forming into coherent words “We checked the security footage but the only strange thing we could see was a 5 second time jump” one of the officers spoke in a serious and almost monotone voice “which meant that the security guard who was the only person in the building had to climb down 2 flights of stairs walk through a 40 foot long hallway and then drag her body back up stairs and out of the building in 5 seconds” Emma’s mom let out yelp “ but don’t worry ma'am that’s actually good news because we know that her corpse is still somewhere within the building and was probably brought to the wrong floor by an intern, we’ve already warned all of the staff at the hospital to keep an eye out, and we also sent 5 officers to search the hospital”
I could not believe what I was hearing, my breathing quickened, but this time instead of fear I felt anger, that fucker stole her corpse and was probably in the weird separate plane of existence he always went back to after terrorizing me, cutting off chunks of her body, melting her, and drinking her.
I closed the window Emma’s mom's cries once again turned into a muffled rumble which was only possible to make out if you knew what to look for, I took a few steps back away from the window planning to lay back down, not wanting to bother Emma’s parents. I bumped into something, not something, someone, its fleshy towering form as solid as a wall sent me tumbling forward, I knew it was him, he had returned to take me too, to stretch his swollen cracked lips, push them down my esophagus, fill my lungs and stomach with wax. But despite all of that this time I was not scared, I was angry, and I was not going to stand there in terror like I had the last time I saw him.
I fell forward onto my knees my face missing the window sill just by mere inches, I put my hands onto the floor, lifted one of my knees, and rotated 180 degrees now facing the monster, to the right of him pushed up against the wall was the bed, light from the sun reflected off of the metallic button which kept my machete in it’s sheathe, the man started to stretch his lips, they were moving towards me, waving a wiggling through the air like a snake slithering towards me.
I dove towards the bed one of my feet pushing off of the floor and the other pushing against the wall which creaked under the pressure applied to it, I flew for a few moments before slamming down onto the carpet and sliding forward, the heat generated by my skin brushing against the carpet released a sharp stinging pain throughout my body, my outstretched arm landed just a few inches short of the machete, I quickly bent my arms, pushing my body up and crawled towards the machete. my fingers wrapped around the handle I spun around, my back pushed up against the bedside table, once again facing the man, he was still facing the window but his lips faced me and were just a few feet away from me, for what felt like minutes but was most likely no longer than a second, I struggled to hook my finger under the strap securing the machete into its sheath, as the lips inched towards me the man started producing gurgling noises, he was regurgitation wax.
I finally pulled the machete out of its sheath, I swung the blade at the man's lips, the blade was not met with any resistance as it sliced through the man’s lips which landed on the carpeted floor with an audible thud, the man did not have a physical reaction to my counter-attack, his lips kept creeping towards me, once again I slashed at the lips, still no reaction, I repeated this at least 3 more times.
I wanted to kill him, I wanted to take revenge for what he had done to Emma, but fighting back was pointless. I realized that no matter how much I tried to hurt it, I could not kill him, I could not get rid of him.
My rage dissipated and a mixture of fear and sadness crept in, and soon took over my body, I screamed for help, I screamed in fear, in agony, tears streamed down my face as the man's lips finally reached my face, he wasn’t met with any resistance as his lips snuck between mine, pried my jaw open and finally started to slide down my esophagus.
I heard the cops run up the stairs, they started banging on the door asking if I was okay only to have been met with muffled screams, hot wax started to pour down inside of me, the stinging pain of the heat made me want to plunge the machete which I had dropped onto the ground next to me into my stomach to create a gaping wound that the wax would hopefully funnel out of, the texture of the man's slippery, oily lips matched with the poison like flavor of the wax caused me to start gagging, I felt my insides bulging like at any moment my intestines would have been filled to the point where they would pop, I wanted to vomit, the drain myself of the filth I was filled with, but his lips had plugged my throat not allowing anything to get out.
Hearing my muffled screams the cops started kicking the door down, the man retracted his lips, the suction aided my attempts at cleansing my insides, I got onto my hands and knees streams of molten wax pouring out of me, solidifying on the the carpet, with another loud thud the door swung open slamming into the wall, the man was gone.
That’s the last thing I remember before I passed out, but according to one of the doctors who was in the ambulance that brought me to the hospital, I was still semi-responsive during the first 10 minutes of the ride to the hospital.
Approximately 13.4 pounds of wax were removed from my body, the doctors said that I was in a critical condition and some of them did not expect me to make it.
One of the officers who was there the day the man attacked me took a report of what had happened to me, due to the unmistakable evidence of what had happened to both me and Emma, and the fact that this was the 3rd instance of me reporting something like this the police finally started investigating who this man might have been.
Around a month later I was discharged from the hospital and once again have been staying in the living room of Emma’s parent's house.
I’ve been seeing the man again, candles were not allowed in the hospital I stayed at, which means that he’s probably very hungry, he’s close to attacking me again, I know it, he wants to finish what he started and I don't know if I have the power to fight back, I’m not sure if defeating him is even possible, I’m tired.
I’ve been seeing Emma too, her bloated, reanimated corpse often appears to be standing next to the man. If I let him take me will I get to join them? I’ve tried asking but they don’t answer, they just stare, I can’t keep living in constant fear, always looking over my shoulder, I miss Emma.

Hello- wondering if I can have help interpreting this dream I had years ago when I was 16 that’s been burned into my mind since. I can recall every single detail and play the dream through my mind if I wish- it’s been such an impactful dream.
I believe it revealed home, or it was supposed to. Now I’m just trying to figure out how to revisit this place of comfort.
The first two phases of the dream is weird, one of being the perspective of a little boy- the other the perspective of a teenage girl. Third part it’s me being myself.
First phase of the dream, I’m a little boy in a car with my parents and little brother. I’m looking through this boy’s eyes. The car is surrounded in a thick blue fog, yet my parents are driving in silence with the radio playing static- my little brother just acts like a typical calm child. We soon pull up to a big blue shed converted to a house, the fog is so thick I can only see the door and the light that shines above the door. We all walk in, there’s my room ahead of me and there’s a long stretch off hallway from both left and right- but I head into my room. It’s filled with various toys- mainly red and blue ones, Spider-Man, comic hero’s, etc. it’s small, I jump onto my bunk bed and look over the edge to see a pile of “girl toys” hiding, pink various ones like littlest pet shop (I personally played with them as a child). Next thing I know I blink and I’m instantly another person.
When I open my eyes I’m a tall, lanky teenage ginger girl. I’m looking from her eyes as well and notice I’m in a tall office building. We’re quite a ways up, a couple of stories and I can see other buildings surrounding us through the large glass windows. I’m sitting at a tall table surrounded by my friends and classmates, some sitting on the seats around the tables and some sitting around the bottom or bellow the table, just chatting away happily. I’m not engaging but I am taking in the sights. This doesn’t last long, as I look to my left hearing a boy in a grey hoodie say my (this girl’s) name and look me in the eyes- familiarity. I think
Again I blink- and awaken at the edge of a pool. I would’ve drawn a demonstration, but feel as it’s in some way sacred.
I wake up at the foot of this pool shaped like an hourglass- the edges of the pool look to be a rough golden color. I’m on the end side along the edge of darkened water. It looks like charcoal has been dumped into the water and it’s murky. On the other side is this bright, tropical water- glowing like one of those Fischer price fish scenery toys. It glows and refracts like crazy and there’s plenty of colorful, tropical fish swimming around.
Where the smallest point of the pool is and where the two waters meet they’re split perfectly, I can see the shadow of a large sea creature like a pleosaur swim past the border.
Along the edges and bordering the pool are these beautiful and plentiful lush ferns, monstera, palms, various tropical plants. The sky is a deep purple, it is vast, serene and filled with tiny pinpricks of stars. The air is warm, moist and slightly thick but not uncomfortably so.
I start getting up from the pool edge and I’m wearing some loose clothing and jewelry, I have water sticking to my skin and I feel warm.. content.. peaceful. I look to my left and see a golden pyramid- about 8 feet tall at most.
It’s beautiful, I walk towards it. From this my perspective changes to third person, and I envision myself laying my hand flat against the surface of the pyramid, it’s cool, solid and moist to the touch. I then rest my forehead and nose against the pyramid and from there- I wake up.
I had never felt such serenity or peace and I feel as though a message was sent to me for me to remember such a vivid dream in detail.
I will mention that I’ve always been drawn interested and connected to cats since an incredibly young age- and now at 23 I am starting to practice working with the Egyptian goddess Bastet. This dream was before this, though and I wonder if it kicked off my calling.

50F. I am not looking for medical advice, but I’d love to learn from experts how generally to approach evaluating a matter. I have an appt with my specialist pending. I’m an academic and enjoy learning about complex puzzles.
Here’s some context:

• For years, I’ve had kidney-area pain on my left side. Deep gnawing ache that keeps me up at night. Doctors have shrugged.
• I also have plenty of medical issues: autonomic dysfunction (orthostatic hypotension), autoimmune small fiber neuropathy, deficient IgG subclasses, etc. Overall health is poor. I am on low-dose IVIG, which helps with the above.
• A week ago, I had what I am going to call “an acute episode” that lasted for a day. Deep, agonizing mid back pain, that increased like a crescendo throughout the day. It appeared to be associated with intense gut pain.
• By the end of the day, the back pain had spread horizontally to each kidney area, but far more intense on the left - my area of long-standing pain. I vomited several times in the evening, and after the last upchuck, the pain started subsiding all around. It was (and still is) immensely painful with pressure on the area, but it no longer causes agony just by existing.
• This “episode” was bad. I almost went to the hospital. Probably should have. I thought of death. I’m pretty low drama, so this is not a trivial thing.
• Of note: a few hours before this agony began, I had a vasovagal reaction to a particularly inept set of needle sticks - multiple sticks and a lot of rooting around. Not typical.
• The next day, I had standing blood orders, and added a kidney urine panel. The urine alb/creat ratio came back high, at 88. All other markers - blood (CBC and CMP) and urine - were normal. A month ago, I did a 24-hour proteinuria test that was normal.

I’m interested in how to THINK about this, how to frame an approach to thinking about it, from a medical perspective.
For example, one doctor (not my specialist) suggests it was an acute transitory event, potentially pursuant to an infection. That it probably doesn’t indicate a chronic issue or a longer term risk. This doctor is prone to minimizing everything - but she may be right. Another doctor told me to get off my low-dose IVIG (28g monthly) ASAP. I won’t see my specialist for another month.
What could be going on?
How do you approach evaluating a seemingly acute issue like this? What questions do you ask when trying to evaluate risk and severity? How to you weigh past normal tests with an abnormal test immediately after an episode? How do you factor in acute moments in the context of potential chronic issues, and come to lean in one direction or the other? If this was a transitory event, does low-dose IVIG pose a risk? Etc. Are these even the right questions?
I’m looking to learn. Would love to have smart people open up their brains and share a thought process.
Thank you!

Currently working in a small company (~150 employees total) and a little while ago new management rolled in. Started restructuring company-wide and made quite a number of new hires in analyst-level roles, almost all newly created roles by them as a result of their restructuring project, who I've had to cross-functionally work with.
The problem is that all of them have never coded in their lives and everything is pretty much built in Python and SQL. Now I have to explain how my code works without ever having to reference my code and justify the outputs of my code a-la ELI5 when the numbers "don't look right" to them so many times it's driving me nuts. Not to mention the pile of ad-hoc requests to extract or collate data.
The job adverts apparently didn't even mention Python and SQL as I later found out. None of the above problem would arise if management would actually hire people who can code or at least during the hiring process consult with the existing team members because the new hires suddenly pop into the office out of the blue.
Regardless, it's a bygone now and I guess it's time to start job hunting. To that end and per the title, are there things you've done in past interviews to get an idea of how a team or company is culturally in terms of its technical operations? Perhaps something to gauge how techincally-oriented the management is, does the company's management decision-making process respect its technical staff, etc.

Original Source: https://boringmoney.in/p/brightcom-made-a-profit-by-hiding (my newsletter Boring Money. If you like what you read, do visit the link and subscribe to receive future posts directly in your inbox)

The standard way for a company to make a profit is to produce a thing at some cost, then sell that thing at a higher cost, and pocket the difference. Another, if slightly frowned upon, way of making a profit is to not worry too much about what your company is producing or selling. Instead, at the end of the quarter, you can pick up your financial statements, take a pen, put some nice numbers under “revenue” and erase the numbers under “expenses”. On paper, the company’s making a profit either way.
The risk, apart from running out of money, is that the company might get caught. This month, Brightcom Group, an ad-tech company, got caught. [1] Here’s a SEBI enforcement order describing the stuff Brightcom did, and one of the many things it did was to show profits which didn’t exist.
Some intangible assets are under development
If your company buys, say, a truck, the standard way to account for this expense in your books is by dividing the cost of the truck by the number of years you expect this truck to last, and then adding this number to your expenses every year. This is slightly weird because you do pay cash upfront for the truck. But still, it’s useful to not have to call it an expense just for the first year because it is an asset that lasts many, many years.
If you buy a truck, account for it the standard way I described above, but then the truck meets with an accident and gets trashed the next day? Then that’s it. You have to now account for the full expense of the truck in one go and can’t split it into chunks every year.
In short, as long as an asset is “alive,” you can split its expense into chunks and account for each chunk every year. If it’s “dead,” you have to account for it right away.
Modern accounting is surprisingly thoughtful and there’s a weird in-between “alive” and “dead” that it allows for. Instead of buying an asset, if you’re building it, your asset is in some sense neither dead nor alive. So you can just, umm, add nothing to your expenses until you figure if your asset is actually dead or alive.
Brightcom was spending a lot on salaries, marketing, and stuff, but it didn’t want to show these expenses. So it decided that it wasn’t “spending” but instead “investing” in building an asset. From SEBI’s order, here’s Brightcom’s CFO:

Brightcom was building software and this software would eventually be an intangible asset. But, until Brightcom could figure whether this asset would eventually be dead or alive, it didn’t count any of its expenses as expenses, instead put it under an “intangible assets under development” category. This way, the company could show a nice profit because all its expenses were apparently assets. In all, the company hid ₹863 crore ($100 million) and showed a profit of ₹440 crore ($50 million) in 2020. If its expenses had actually been counted as expenses, Brightcom would’ve shown a loss of ₹428 crore.
https://preview.redd.it/a2xn3xc5bb1d1.jpg?width=762&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=8b9bfd5cd84b25807c6025ad9a26980abc57d2da
Asset’s dead but it’s not an expense
One problem with showing your expenses as an “asset under development” is that this asset can’t be under development forever. At some point, depending on if this asset is dead or alive, you have to account for your expenses in some way.
… Or not. If your company makes any money, you put those figures in your profit and loss statement. This is simple and straightforward. But accounting isn’t simple and straightforward. If your company makes money, but it’s not a result of your actual business, then you can’t put it under the P&L. Instead, you have to account for it under a separate subheading called “Other Comprehensive Income”.
The idea behind this new sub-head is that the company's P&L is supposed to reflect its actual ability to make money. If you hold a lot of dollars and the price of the dollar goes up (or down), your company didn’t really do anything to make that profit (or loss) so you’d put it under Other Comprehensive Income and not in your P&L. So stuff like this wouldn’t affect your profit, on paper at least. [2]
Yes, of course, Brightcom recognised the ₹863 crore loss that it had hidden under “intangible assets under development” by categorising it as Other Comprehensive Income. SEBI wasn’t excited about it.
Share this post so that Boring Money can move from “asset under development” to P&L
Sell your stake but keep quiet about it
If a company is doing well, its founders don’t usually sell stock. So if a founder sells some shares, they have to tell everyone about it by regulation, because it could be a sign that things aren’t well.
There are three entities that need to know if a founder sells stock:

1. The company itself, via its registrar and transfer agent (RTA)
2. Depositories that hold stock on behalf of investors
3. Stock exchanges

1 and #2 are important, but they’re obvious. The company has to know if its founders sell stock, and so does the depository that actually moves the stock from one account to another. #3 is how the rest of the rest of the world gets to know. A founder sells some stock, files a disclosure in a stock exchange, the exchange updates its records and screams out that this has happened, and that’s how public investors know.

In March 2014, if you had asked Brightcom’s RTA, a depository, or a stock exchange about how much stake its founders owned, they would’ve all said, “about 40%”. If you asked them again in June 2022, the RTA and the depository would say “about 3.5%”, but the stock exchange would scratch its head and say “18.47%”.
That’s because Brightcom’s founders—primarily CEO Suresh Reddy, his friends and family—sold their stock but didn’t inform the stock exchanges. Here’s what they said when SEBI asked what’s up:

Man, I’m just some dumb guy writing about finance every once in a while, and even I know that if you pledge your shares as collateral to get a loan, you don’t transfer ownership. You just inform your depository and investors about it, and you still own the shares. Reddy & Friends transferred some of their shares to someone else (that is, sold them) and decided not to inform the stock exchanges. Then they used pledging as an excuse and everyone had different answers about how much stock they really owned.
How much money they make tho
When a company’s stock price shoots up in a short period of time, and there’s no concrete reason for it to happen, in all likelihood, it’s a scam. The management of the company may or may not be involved, but it definitely helps if they are.
Last month, I wrote about Sadhna, a company that SEBI charged with running a pump-and-dump. The founders owned a lot of shares, they spread some false news, the share price shot up, then happily sold their stock to naive investors, and made a profit. If you see Brightcom’s share price trajectory without knowing any of the company’s other shenanigans, it might seem a similar story. The stock price was around ₹3 in January 2021. By December, it was at ₹117. 40X in a year is definitely not normal.
In a pump-and-dump, it’s important for those running the fraud to own shares before the price goes up. The fraud that Reddy & Friends are accused of, which I described above, was of selling stock and hiding the fact that they sold it. By early 2021, they had in fact sold 80% of their shares and it’s only later that the share price started going up.
But wait, here’s more from SEBI:

In 2020 and 2021, Brightcom sold a large chunk (almost 15% stake) of shares to a group of investors. [3] Later, Suresh Reddy—who had been selling Brightcom shares all these years—became a partner at these entities that had just bought a large chunk of stock.
It’s all a bit confusing but here’s what I think happened. In late 2020 and early 2021, it had become apparent if you called yourself a tech company, investors would push your price up. The finer details didn’t matter. Brightcom, of course, happened to be an “ad-tech” company. So there was a decent chance that its share price would go up (or it could be made to go up, there are ways). But since Reddy & Friends had already sold nearly all of their shares, they needed to buy more shares so that they could sell them when the price went up. But they couldn’t buy them directly—because how would they justify selling shares so soon?—so they got some proxy investors to do so on their behalf.
As expected, the share price did go up. A lot. Around the same time, SEBI started investigating the company because of all the shady stuff it had done over the years. If the proxy investors were to sell this stock now, SEBI would definitely catch on, it was already investigating them! So instead of selling any shares at crazy high prices, Reddy instead came out with his association with those proxy investors so that the total founder ownership would go back up to the exact amount expected [4] by the public, that is, 18.47%.
It’s possible that Reddy & Friends made some profit but SEBI says it needs more information to be sure about just how much it would be. It would’ve been easier to know had they also run a pump-and-dump for good measure.
Footnotes
[1] Technically, Brightcom got caught earlier when SEBI actually started investigating. But it’s just this month that SEBI put a nice document out with whatever its investigation found.
[2] This “Other Comprehensive Income” should be a small number. If it’s a huge figure more than your actual profit, there’s usually something fishy happening.
[3] Brightcom didn’t directly sell shares to the group of investors. Instead, it issued warrants. What this meant was that the investors had the right, but not the obligation, to buy shares from the company at a fixed price at a later date. This was a good way for these investors (who are now part of the founder group) to not risk too much money buying shares in case the price went down.
[4] Reminder, the reason that the public expected the founder group to own 18.47% was that they hadn’t informed the stock exchanges when they had reduced their stake.
Original Source: https://boringmoney.in/p/brightcom-made-a-profit-by-hiding

Original Source: https://boringmoney.in/p/brightcom-made-a-profit-by-hiding (my newsletter Boring Money. If you like what you read, do visit the link and subscribe to receive future posts directly in your inbox)

The standard way for a company to make a profit is to produce a thing at some cost, then sell that thing at a higher cost, and pocket the difference. Another, if slightly frowned upon, way of making a profit is to not worry too much about what your company is producing or selling. Instead, at the end of the quarter, you can pick up your financial statements, take a pen, put some nice numbers under “revenue” and erase the numbers under “expenses”. On paper, the company’s making a profit either way.
The risk, apart from running out of money, is that the company might get caught. This month, Brightcom Group, an ad-tech company, got caught. [1] Here’s a SEBI enforcement order describing the stuff Brightcom did, and one of the many things it did was to show profits which didn’t exist.
Some intangible assets are under development
If your company buys, say, a truck, the standard way to account for this expense in your books is by dividing the cost of the truck by the number of years you expect this truck to last, and then adding this number to your expenses every year. This is slightly weird because you do pay cash upfront for the truck. But still, it’s useful to not have to call it an expense just for the first year because it is an asset that lasts many, many years.
If you buy a truck, account for it the standard way I described above, but then the truck meets with an accident and gets trashed the next day? Then that’s it. You have to now account for the full expense of the truck in one go and can’t split it into chunks every year.
In short, as long as an asset is “alive,” you can split its expense into chunks and account for each chunk every year. If it’s “dead,” you have to account for it right away.
Modern accounting is surprisingly thoughtful and there’s a weird in-between “alive” and “dead” that it allows for. Instead of buying an asset, if you’re building it, your asset is in some sense neither dead nor alive. So you can just, umm, add nothing to your expenses until you figure if your asset is actually dead or alive.
Brightcom was spending a lot on salaries, marketing, and stuff, but it didn’t want to show these expenses. So it decided that it wasn’t “spending” but instead “investing” in building an asset. From SEBI’s order, here’s Brightcom’s CFO:

Brightcom was building software and this software would eventually be an intangible asset. But, until Brightcom could figure whether this asset would eventually be dead or alive, it didn’t count any of its expenses as expenses, instead put it under an “intangible assets under development” category. This way, the company could show a nice profit because all its expenses were apparently assets. In all, the company hid ₹863 crore ($100 million) and showed a profit of ₹440 crore ($50 million) in 2020. If its expenses had actually been counted as expenses, Brightcom would’ve shown a loss of ₹428 crore.
https://preview.redd.it/a2xn3xc5bb1d1.jpg?width=762&format=pjpg&auto=webp&s=8b9bfd5cd84b25807c6025ad9a26980abc57d2da
Asset’s dead but it’s not an expense
One problem with showing your expenses as an “asset under development” is that this asset can’t be under development forever. At some point, depending on if this asset is dead or alive, you have to account for your expenses in some way.
… Or not. If your company makes any money, you put those figures in your profit and loss statement. This is simple and straightforward. But accounting isn’t simple and straightforward. If your company makes money, but it’s not a result of your actual business, then you can’t put it under the P&L. Instead, you have to account for it under a separate subheading called “Other Comprehensive Income”.
The idea behind this new sub-head is that the company's P&L is supposed to reflect its actual ability to make money. If you hold a lot of dollars and the price of the dollar goes up (or down), your company didn’t really do anything to make that profit (or loss) so you’d put it under Other Comprehensive Income and not in your P&L. So stuff like this wouldn’t affect your profit, on paper at least. [2]
Yes, of course, Brightcom recognised the ₹863 crore loss that it had hidden under “intangible assets under development” by categorising it as Other Comprehensive Income. SEBI wasn’t excited about it.
Share this post so that Boring Money can move from “asset under development” to P&L
Sell your stake but keep quiet about it
If a company is doing well, its founders don’t usually sell stock. So if a founder sells some shares, they have to tell everyone about it by regulation, because it could be a sign that things aren’t well.
There are three entities that need to know if a founder sells stock:

1. The company itself, via its registrar and transfer agent (RTA)
2. Depositories that hold stock on behalf of investors
3. Stock exchanges

1 and #2 are important, but they’re obvious. The company has to know if its founders sell stock, and so does the depository that actually moves the stock from one account to another. #3 is how the rest of the rest of the world gets to know. A founder sells some stock, files a disclosure in a stock exchange, the exchange updates its records and screams out that this has happened, and that’s how public investors know.

In March 2014, if you had asked Brightcom’s RTA, a depository, or a stock exchange about how much stake its founders owned, they would’ve all said, “about 40%”. If you asked them again in June 2022, the RTA and the depository would say “about 3.5%”, but the stock exchange would scratch its head and say “18.47%”.
That’s because Brightcom’s founders—primarily CEO Suresh Reddy, his friends and family—sold their stock but didn’t inform the stock exchanges. Here’s what they said when SEBI asked what’s up:

Man, I’m just some dumb guy writing about finance every once in a while, and even I know that if you pledge your shares as collateral to get a loan, you don’t transfer ownership. You just inform your depository and investors about it, and you still own the shares. Reddy & Friends transferred some of their shares to someone else (that is, sold them) and decided not to inform the stock exchanges. Then they used pledging as an excuse and everyone had different answers about how much stock they really owned.
How much money they make tho
When a company’s stock price shoots up in a short period of time, and there’s no concrete reason for it to happen, in all likelihood, it’s a scam. The management of the company may or may not be involved, but it definitely helps if they are.
Last month, I wrote about Sadhna, a company that SEBI charged with running a pump-and-dump. The founders owned a lot of shares, they spread some false news, the share price shot up, then happily sold their stock to naive investors, and made a profit. If you see Brightcom’s share price trajectory without knowing any of the company’s other shenanigans, it might seem a similar story. The stock price was around ₹3 in January 2021. By December, it was at ₹117. 40X in a year is definitely not normal.
In a pump-and-dump, it’s important for those running the fraud to own shares before the price goes up. The fraud that Reddy & Friends are accused of, which I described above, was of selling stock and hiding the fact that they sold it. By early 2021, they had in fact sold 80% of their shares and it’s only later that the share price started going up.
But wait, here’s more from SEBI:

In 2020 and 2021, Brightcom sold a large chunk (almost 15% stake) of shares to a group of investors. [3] Later, Suresh Reddy—who had been selling Brightcom shares all these years—became a partner at these entities that had just bought a large chunk of stock.
It’s all a bit confusing but here’s what I think happened. In late 2020 and early 2021, it had become apparent if you called yourself a tech company, investors would push your price up. The finer details didn’t matter. Brightcom, of course, happened to be an “ad-tech” company. So there was a decent chance that its share price would go up (or it could be made to go up, there are ways). But since Reddy & Friends had already sold nearly all of their shares, they needed to buy more shares so that they could sell them when the price went up. But they couldn’t buy them directly—because how would they justify selling shares so soon?—so they got some proxy investors to do so on their behalf.
As expected, the share price did go up. A lot. Around the same time, SEBI started investigating the company because of all the shady stuff it had done over the years. If the proxy investors were to sell this stock now, SEBI would definitely catch on, it was already investigating them! So instead of selling any shares at crazy high prices, Reddy instead came out with his association with those proxy investors so that the total founder ownership would go back up to the exact amount expected [4] by the public, that is, 18.47%.
It’s possible that Reddy & Friends made some profit but SEBI says it needs more information to be sure about just how much it would be. It would’ve been easier to know had they also run a pump-and-dump for good measure.
Footnotes
[1] Technically, Brightcom got caught earlier when SEBI actually started investigating. But it’s just this month that SEBI put a nice document out with whatever its investigation found.
[2] This “Other Comprehensive Income” should be a small number. If it’s a huge figure more than your actual profit, there’s usually something fishy happening.
[3] Brightcom didn’t directly sell shares to the group of investors. Instead, it issued warrants. What this meant was that the investors had the right, but not the obligation, to buy shares from the company at a fixed price at a later date. This was a good way for these investors (who are now part of the founder group) to not risk too much money buying shares in case the price went down.
[4] Reminder, the reason that the public expected the founder group to own 18.47% was that they hadn’t informed the stock exchanges when they had reduced their stake.
Original Source: https://boringmoney.in/p/brightcom-made-a-profit-by-hiding

In October 2023, I got Strep Group A. It was definitely the worst bout for me symptom-wise. I couldn’t swallow anything without immense pain, and I was very nauseous. After my antibiotic treatment (Penicillin), my main symptoms all went away except I continued to have the chills. I went in for another test once the chills became unbearable at night and a mildly sore throat, a month after I started my 10 day antibiotic course. The rapid test came back negative.
On Thanksgiving, I had an incredibly sore throat much like last time but was less feverish. I got tested, my rapid test came back negative but my throat culture tested positive for Group B. I went through a 10 day course of Amoxicillin, and I never really felt better weeks after.
Both of the previous labs were administered by my university’s student health center. The semester had ended, so I went to MedStar’s walk in to get another throat culture as I still had the same symptoms with the new addition of chest pain. To quote the NP I saw at MedStar
“Your symptoms do not meet the scorecard. You’re 23, you have the body of a BMW and you will be fine.”
… I get younger people are naturally healthier but, what a dismissively crass thing to say. Also, I’m not built like that I’m in skinny fat with a pronounced muffin top lmao.
With that being said, she refused to administer a throat culture to make sure I still don’t have Group B despite pleading with her that my symptoms have not changed, along with the addition of chest pains. I continued to have the same symptoms for months, but the chest pains went away by the new year.
I’ve felt somewhat better since, but the occasional sore throat and chills weren’t uncommon. Actually, I’ve gotten chills pretty much everyday but seemingly only when I lay down in bed at night.
Fast forward to the end of April, my tongue was in splitting pain with a sore throat and I decided to get tested. I came back to my home town where I saw an NP in the walk in… she believed it was post nasal drip but she administered a throat culture upon my request and it turned out I had strep again, Group G this time. So thankful they agreed to give me a throat culture.
They prescribed a 5 day Azithromycin antibiotic course, which I finished on May 1st and mostly everything went away except the chills. Last weekend on the 13th, my sore throat and fever came back so I went back to the walk in, just got my results today that I still have Strep, but they can’t identify which group other than it or being Group A. I have been prescribed a 10 day course of amoxicillin.
My mind is spinning… what in the actual hell is going on?
*Something else I find strange… throughout these times when I didn’t know I had strep even though I did including last month, none of the people I have shared a vape with, a drink with, or kissed have gotten sick.
I can’t see an ENT for months because of the healthcare system, and I’m rightfully getting worried. Having strep for at least a month, and god knows for how long if Group B never went away, is making me concerned about rheumatic fever. I’m really uneasy and anxious about all of this.
Important to note, when I was taking my antibiotic courses the previous 3 times, I really screwed up and was drinking heavily while on them. I had developed alcoholism the same month when I first contracted Strep. I was not considerate or knowledgeable of how alcohol would interact with the antibiotics, and I will not be drinking on this course and I’m really hoping this will help. My throat has had small red bulging spots since October that have never went away, and it’s making me concerned that Strep has been present in my system since and simply hasn’t gone away.
I am also a chronic vaper, which could seemingly line up with my frequency to strep over the last few months. I’m treating my vape like my toothbrush head, getting rid of them.
Am I tweaking for being worried rheumatic fever? And is it strange that I’m prone to multiple groups of strep, or is this reasonable for someone with a weakened immune system? Am I tweaking for being dismissively compared to a BMW because of my age when in fact I’m built more like a 2010’s Mitsubishi?